#red blue round sharp sun and moon you get the idea | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

secondhand-trash · 4 years ago

Text

Heart of the Ocean

A/N: this is an idea I’ve had for months and finally started working on a while back^^

Pairing: sailor!Dabi x reader

Description: You had met many sailors in your life growing up by the sea, but there was only one like him.

Warning: Dabi is Touya, drunk sailors being assholes, plot with some sort of porn (public sex, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, oral (receiving))

Word count: 10732 (omg a long boi)

Playlist:

The Sailor’s Wife//Birdeatsbaby

Playing Love//The Legend of 1900 soundtrack

Friday I’m In Love//Phoebe Bridgers cover

For your entire life, you had never been able to stay far away from the ocean. The saltiness in the air in your nostrils was the first smell you know, the horns blown from the ships every morning being the sound you woke up to each day. It was not like you ever thought of leaving the town, but there were times when you stood on the sand, feeling the tides brushing past your toes, and you wondered who you would be if you were no longer near the sea.

Night had drawn upon the little harbor town you called home but the day had barely started at the tiny tavern you spent your every waking moment in. Roars of men arm wrestling at the corner. Obscenities and vulgar slurs from drunken seamen. Loud thumps of jugs banged down onto wooden tables. The pub owner yelling at you to get faster on your feet. Your own voice that was worn out from the busy night calling back and sliding past the thin gaps between chairs.

There was nothing grand about working at the tavern by the port. Your apron always started the day clean and ended with splatters of stain on it, your arms were sore from carrying the dirty dishes, your hand wrinkly from being soaked in soap water for too long. It wasn’t a fancy job by any means, but it was a job no less.

You let out a heavy sigh as you slammed down the large basket of water, grimacing at the greasy dishes in it. You were shooed out to the alleyway behind the tavern to rinse out the dishes, the noises from inside reminding you that you either work quick or get a round of scolding from the chef. He was a nice man, but he did not tolerate anyone slacking on a busy night.

The tavern crew called it the alleyway, but it was more like a small part of the deck. If you took one wrong step, you would end up in the icy water. The only illumination you had was the dim light leaking from the window and the lamp post lining along the coast with flickering flames. It was only the sound of waves washing up against the shore, the sound of people singing from inside drowned out by the ocean water. It was only you and the moon, looking upon you as you grabbed a wooden crate lined up at the side and pulled it by the basket.

Sometimes, you wondered if this was all there was to your life, destined to grow old by the sea and never ridding the smell of salt water in your hair.

“Miss me, doll?”

You yelped, lips pursing into a frown when you heard the laughs from the man who startled you.

You had no idea what, and why Todoroki Touya liked to mess with you so much, but at that moment when you saw his stupid grin after sneaking up on you in that dark alleyway, you were sure that the reason didn’t matter.

Touya first showed up at the humble port on a summer afternoon, when the smell of sea water and the moist in the air made fabric stick to your skin. You hated summer by the sea. You had dreaded being dragged to the port but your friends insisted that you went with them. The glaring sun didn’t seem to bother them as much as it did to you when they nudged you to look at the pier, where sailors from a merchant fleet were unloading the cargo.

It did not take you a second glance to spot the fiery shade of red, standing out from the meek colours of the cotton of his shirt. He was not from here, no one around this area had hair like that. Auburn was the shade of fire, of autumn leaves shining under the sun, and the water was not forgiving towards things that burn.

Ships come and go, you had seen your fair share of pretty faces turning ugly the moment booze land on their tongues to be blinded by the thin lips and sharp jaw.

You did not expect him to look up and stare right at you, blue eyes piercing into yours as you stood there uninterested. For a while he watched, waiting for you to look away first and join in on your whispering friends. But you didn’t, you crossed your arms and tilted your head, unimpressed.

And he smiled, a glint in his eyes like a ripple in the night shore, before turning away like nothing had happened.

That night, the group of men, like any other who stopped at the harbor, barged into the pub right as the sun sank. The lean boy was held by a man much larger than he was with an arm swung around his neck, an amused smile tugging on his lips as the elder man yelled about how it would be a disrespect if he didn’t get drunk at the night of his first voyage. You had tried to pretend that his presence didn’t stand out to you that whole night but the moment your eyes stopped at his table and you saw him looking right at you. When that same sly grin slowly creeping onto his face the moment your eyes met, you knew that you were not getting rid of him anytime sooner.

He would drop by the bar every night whenever his crew anchored at the port. Sometimes with the other men of the ship, sometimes alone under the dimmed lights and waiting to hop out of his hiding corner as you show up. He was charming, a bit too try-hard at that to the point where you no longer feel even a hint of fluster under his flirtatious remarks or narrowing gaze.

There were plenty of people like him around the port. People who tried their hands at sweeping young girls off their feet and left early in the morning as their ship sails, never to come back the moment they get what they want. There were plenty of people like him, and you were smart enough to brush past your heart stammering at his colourful words knowing that there was nothing more to it than just that.

“I’m busy.” you clicked your tongue, scrubbing at the back of the plate with the sponge even harder as he kneeled down next to you.

“We haven’t seen each other for weeks and this is how you greet me?” he said, his smirk badly concealed under his forged pout, “You wound me, doll.”

You sighed, “If I don’t get back in there soon I’ll get yelled at, so I really don’t have the time to play your little games right now.”

“Games?” he said, his eyes squinting together and his expression unreadable, “I wasn’t-”

“If you’re not gonna help then please just leave.”

He huffed, but still picked up the drenched towel in the basin despite his own unwillingness. You snorted as he started scrubbing at the plates, mumbling about how he could never get a break even after leaving the ship.

“The things I do for you...”

You were expecting him to be relentless with his attempts to rekindle the conversation as he always did but somehow, he was fairly helpful in getting work done for you. It was just the two of you, crouching by the basin as the waves washed by down below the deck. The noises from within the tavern drowned out by the water.

You had met your fair share of sailors with pretty faces to not be bothered by his smooth words, or at least so you thought. There were numerous times when your eyes would wander to his hair, his nimble fingers dipping into the water and making some of the soap spill onto the wooden platform. It was an incautious slip of mind that took you to places where you convinced yourself was not worth the risk travelling to, one where fire burns bright and you wonder if his hand would feel just as hot as the flames in his eyes.

But it was best for thoughts to remain as such, sea water would only scorch you even more after you were burnt.

“How do you fancy sitting down with me after your shift ends?” Touya asked as he trailed behind you, his hands inside the pocket of his pants while leaning down to be at your level.

You scoffed, trying to keep your pace as the heavy basket of now cleaned dishes weighed you down. “As if you would wait until I can finally leave after the tavern closes up.”

He laughed, ignoring your protests as he took the basket off your hand with a yank. “Aw, you know I won’t mind waiting if it’s you.”

“Why don’t you just go find someone else?” you said, failing to take the plates back as he skillfully dodged your extended arms with a swift turn, “Plenty of people in this port would die to have you even look at them, you know that right?”

“Well, I couldn’t care less about other people. I’m still holding out for the day you look at me the way I look at you.”

You snorted. “How do you look at me then?”

“With nothing but fondness and adoration, of course.”

You could hear the bell from the light tower offshore as you walked. He looked away with a breathy laugh, seeing that you were not buying any of it. If you had done so little as lift your head up, you would see the way his eyes dimmed. But you didn’t, as always. You never looked at him when he wanted you to.

“Oi!”

A slurred yell from the other side of the road caught your attention. You groaned internally when you saw the few men sitting on the steps of the tavern door. Their hats were crooked on their heads, the top buttons of their shirts hastily undone and their faces deeply flushed. You did not need to even look to know that these men were nothing but a drunken mess. They were all wearing the same pin on the chest of their jacket, one with a crown at the top and a ribbon dangling from the edge.

The pin was a sign that these men were under the crown. You grimaced, holding back the urge to roll your eyes. Even when they were a slobbering mess, they would still wear that pin like it was a badge of pride, like that shining piece of metal made them any special than those who couldn’t afford to have a gold lining on their hats.

“Ignore them.” You whispered, your pace quickening as you beckoned Touya to catch up.

“Oi!” the man shouted again. You froze in place when you saw him standing up with a glass jug in hand from the corner of your eye. “What’s the rush, pretty thing?”

Your skin crawled when you heard his companions laughed wolfishly.

“Aren’t you a lovely one?” he swung the jar around as he slowly paced closer, forcing you to take a few steps back to distance from the drunken man, “Why don’t you come with us? It’s a long night and I’m sure we can have a lot of fun together...”

Touya was quick to react when the man was about to reach his hand out, pulling you by the arm so that he could shield you.

“Ah, what’s this?” the man snickered before letting out a choked hiccup, “Some cheap seaman protecting his whore?”

He didn’t budge even as you clutched his sleeve, trying to pull him away. “Leave them alone.” He spoke in a tone that you had never heard from him before. His voice was low, each word dripping in sternness.

“Touya, let’s just go...”

“Why don’t you let them speak for themselves, hm?” the man mocked. You watched in fear as Touya clenched his jaw when the man tried to look past his shoulder to stare at you with a creepily wide grin, “I’m sure me and my men can pay you way better than whatever this lowlife is offering you-”

You gasped when Touya lunged forward and punched the man square in the jaw. The man was too drunk to react, stumbling a few steps back before looking up with blood-shot eyes. You were too stunned to object when Touya pushed you out of the way as the other men stood up. You winced when they rolled their sleeves up. They were drunk and barely walking in straight lines but even in that state, they could still easily put Touya in a tough spot just by outnumbering him.

Your heart was leaping in your chest as you watched him threw himself into the fight, one that he could have avoided easily if he didn’t try to defend you. You barely had the heart to look as the sound of punches and grunts of pain echoed in the night street. You clutched your hands, cursing yourself for not being any more helpful.

Please be ok, you bite your lips and prayed, please be ok...

You breathe stopped when you heard the sound of glass shattering. Your eyes widened when you saw Touya barely able to stand up, the men scurrying away and leaving the sharp pieces of glass on the floor. Rushing forward, you tried to support his frame when he collapsed onto you.

All you could see was red as the smell of rust invaded your senses.

He forced out a chuckle from the back of his throat as his hand gripped your shoulder for leverage. “Don’t look so worried doll... I’m alright...”

“No you’re not! You... you...” you stuttered as you watched more blood seep out of the busted wound at the side of his head. His skin was tainted with it, blurring away the red of his hair as the strands were soaked with a darker, more gruesome shade.

“It’s just blood-”

“You’re coming in with me.” You said, trying to walk towards the door with his weight on you.

“You’ll get into trouble for it-”

“Did I ask?” You hissed, immediately softening your voice after realising that you were near yelling at him.

“Alright, alright...” he mumbled.

He stared at you the whole time as you tried to carry him into the tavern. Your brows were locked together and lips pursed into a thin line. He could see the way you struggled to walk with him latching onto you like that but you never stopped your steps. The pain was pulsing through his body and he could feel his head pounding. But at that moment, he could swear that the warmth that was erupting in his chest was close to resembling joy.

“Wow,” he said in a whisper and you glanced at him. He smiled when he saw the unmasked worry in your eyes. “you’re even prettier up close...”

You sighed and he laughed, as struggling as he was. “Shut up,” you said, ignoring that way you could feel his heartbeat at the side of your ribcage, “you are making this worse for yourself.”

Your skin heated up when he leaned down at your shoulder, his lips almost touching the skin of your neck.

“Now that’s my feisty doll...”

Even as seasons changed, the little town by the sea you lived in never showed it all that much. Birds started travelling down from the northern seas and sometimes you would shiver a little when you went for a stroll by the port without a shawl on but other than that, autumn was just like any other time when you were near the sea. You heard that in some places, all the trees would turn into shades of red and yellow by the time wind started blowing, but that was something you could only imagine.

You decided to leave our house a bit earlier than you needed to on this windy day so you could make it to the tavern way before you were needed. It was a pain to have your hands soaked in water and scrubbing with all your might when the weather gets cold, you much prefer taking your time instead of rushing.

Turning into the corner of the alleyway, you jumped when you felt a pair of arms suddenly wrapped around your torso from behind your back.

You melted when you heard the familiar voice of your lover.

“Miss me, my love?”

“Touya!” you beamed. Spinning on your heels to leap into his opened arms, yours immediately flung around his neck as he held you tight, lifting you up to do a little swirl before putting you back onto your feet again. You held his grinning face in your hands as you pulled him in for a much waited kiss.

It had been too long since you last saw him, and every time you thought of the red leaves from the faraway lands it only fueled how much you wished he could be there with you every day instead of having to wait weeks between each time you could be in his arms like this.

Touya chuckled as you pecked his face all over. First his forehead after you brushed away his hair that fitted perfectly for the season, then his nose, and along his jaw as you stood on your toes.

“So you missed me that much huh?” He laughed when you playfully hit his chest before pulling you in to taste your lips again. You sighed as you leaned against him, feeling his warmth as he wrapped his arms around your frame, hugging you close with your face snugged closely against his neck.

“It has been too long...”

“I know, love...” he muttered against your hair, placing a small kiss at the top of your head, “I know...”

He wished he could just stay at the port with you, he truly did. But he needed the money he could get from the voyages the ships made. It would take him much longer to make the same amount of money if he stayed on land, given that most of what he knew had to do with sailing the high seas. For a little longer, he thought to himself as he inhaled the sweet scent of your hair, just a little more until he could finally ask the question that has been suffocating him every night he was away from you...

“How long will you be staying this time?” Touya could feel the knot in his stomach tightening when he saw your smile after pulling away. God, how he wished he could see that every day. The guilt of what he had to tell you was forming a lump at the back of his throat, but he knew it would only hurt you more if he hide it from you.

“Actually,” he took a deep breath, “the ship is sailing out tonight.”

“What?” your eyes widened as you gasped, your grip at his forearm tightening, “So soon?”

He did not say a word. The truth was, he wasn’t even supposed to be here. He had sneaked out when the rest of the crew was loading the ships despite knowing how much trouble it would cause him if the captain finds out. He just had to see you before leaving this time, it would crush him if he couldn’t even say a proper good bye.

You caressed his chin with your thumb, staring into his eyes even as he looked everywhere but you. “When will I see you again?”

“In three months.”

He could not bring himself to look at you as he heard you gasped. “That’s so long...”

“I’m sorry love,” he brought the back of your hand to his lips, kissing every knuckle as an attempt to soothe you even just a little, “but what they are offering is far too good for me to turn it down. After I come back, I’ll have made enough to stay in town for longer than I had ever had.”

He bought your hand to his cheek, leaning into your touch as you cradled his face. You knew that there was nothing you could do to stop him from leaving. That was his job, it was destined that the sea would be the biggest obstacle between you and him but that didn’t mean you would just let him leave for months without giving him something to remember you by.

His hands were immediately on your waist when you latched onto him again, kissing him again and again near frantically without a care in the world that you were at the back of a tavern where someone could walk by at any given moment.

Decency be damned, for now all you could think about was how perfect his lips molded against yours.

Touya’s breath hitched when he felt your hand trailing down his chest, “I won’t be able to contain myself if you keep doing that.”

“Then don’t,” you whispered against him, feeling his boiling his burning skin under your palm as you tucked at the linen of his shirt, “I want you now. Don’t make me wait another three months, please...”

He growled before pushing you up against the brick wall. How could he say no when you begged so sweetly like this? His hands were clawing and grabbing at anything he could reach as his tongue salvaged your mouth, drinking in all of your scent as if he was trying to get it ironed into the back of his head.

You never pulled away, even as you were panting and gasping for air from his heated kiss. You needed to make every second count, and you wouldn’t mind suffocating yourself with all of him if it meant that you would have something to hold onto for the time he was away.

Your toes were barely touching the ground as he hoisted you up, your fingers tangled in his auburn hair for leverage as his hands fumbled to pull at the vest you were wearing underneath your overcoat.

“No. Leave it, leave it-” you panted as you hastily pulled at his belt, “we don’t have time...”

He chuckled, the rumbling of his chest hitting you in full force from the close proximity you were in. You were in an alleyway and luck was all you could count on for no one to pass by at this hour to see the scandalous act you were engaging in, but right now you just wanted to feel him, to feel his warmth on your skin and his touches on your body.

Lifting you up, he pushed down the collar of your shirt and sucked at the exposed skin of your neck as he sat you on one of the barrels by the wall. His grip on your knee was near painful as he pushed your legs apart, pressing himself snugly against your sex as he left mark after mark on your soft skin. He could feel his cock throbbing at the sight of your reddened skin, knowing full well that the bruises would be enough to tell the entire world that you already belonged to someone for long enough even though it would fade by the time he stepped on the land again.

Bunching your apron and dress up around your waist, you arched back as his hands rubbed against your sopping folds, your head hitting the brick wall whilst biting your lips to stop the moans from slipping out. Your shaking hands flew to his pants and messily pushed it down, freeing his hardened cock from its confines.

No amount of self-control could stop the mewl he ripped from the back of your throat as he hilted inside of you with one swift movement of his hips. Your legs clutched around his hips, pulling him as close as you could. It would be long until you could feel the delicious stretch only he could give you again, and you wanted your body to remember everything.

You tried to have everything printed into your mind as he snapped his hips up against you in a relentless pace. His grunts as he bottomed out inside of you. The vein at the side of his shaft that made your mind hazy every time it rubbed against your walls. The way his fingers dug into your thighs. His voice getting breathier and breathier as his climax approached, incoherent mumbles of how much he loved you again and again right by your ear. You were sure you would still sense the lingering heat of his breath at the tip of your ears even after he left you, even after he sailed away.

The smell of sweat and sex filled your senses and the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the empty alleyway. The barrel you were sitting on creaking with each thrust and your body shaking with it as his tip hit the spongey spot deep inside of you. Jolts of pleasure made every hair at the back of your neck stood up as your toes numbed at the sensation. With one final push, he brought you to ecstasy as strings of hot cum filled your insides and he moaned at the way you clenched down on him.

For a while you just stayed there, with him still inside you and your face buried into his chest. He was so warm, you closed your eyes as you drown in the bliss of having your lover’s body against yours for as long as you could have it for. He could feel his chest tightening up when you whined the moment he pulled away. He did not want to let go of and neither did you, but you had no choice.

You whimpered when his nimble fingers pushed back the leaking cum inside of your pussy. If he could, he would mark you up in every single way possible, inside and out. That way even when he was away, you would still have something of his in your every waking moment.

“I’ll miss you...” you muttered, pressing a soft kiss against his lips one more time.

“Me too, love...” He said, trying to force s smile onto his face as he soothed the wrinkles on your apron, “But I’ll be back before you know it, I promise.”

You did not seem to believe him but nodded nonetheless. He did not have the heart to look back as he walked away, knowing that he would be swayed the moment he saw the look in your eyes. Saying good bye was always difficult and the only thing that could make it hurt less was for him to keep reminding himself just exactly why he was boarding the ship.

One last voyage before he settles down, he thought to himself, then he would not have to spend a day away from you ever again. He smiled when he thought of how wonderful it would be to wake up next to you every morning, the way you would lean towards his side even in your sleep because you were always saying how he radiates warmth. Maybe he would take up some job in the seamen’s guilt, or a clerk in the store. Hell, even work in the tavern with you if that was what he could find. He couldn’t care less as long as he could go home to you every night when the sun sets down the horizons of the sea, how beautiful it would be as the golden light shines on the water, each ripple looking like gold on top of the ocean.

Gold, like the band of the ring he saw in the shops the other day. When he got back, he would have enough money to buy you that ring.

Todoroki Touya smiled at the thought of it, and how wonderful everything would be when he came back to you.

He never came back.

You were always thinking of him whenever he was away, always. No matter how long his voyages were, one day or one month, there wasn’t a moment when you shivered at the thought of what might have happened to him on sea. The ocean was a vast place, one that was mysterious and unforgiving. The only thing that kept you going on with your life like there wasn’t a looming concern at the back of your head each day was the knowing that with each agonising day passed, the time when you would be together again gets closer and closer.

The first three months were painful, but nothing you couldn’t manage. He had been away before, it was just that this time it was longer and as the temperature dropped, your mind always wandered to a time when he would hold your hand and keep you warm.

You waited for the ship to come into the port the day he was supposed to be back. Your head immediately snapping up at each blow of the horn that signaled a new ship was coming in only to lower your gaze in disappointment when none of them was the one that had your lover on deck. You waited until the town was turning dark, but there was no sign of the sailor with red hair anywhere on the otherwise blue sea. You told yourself that it would be alright as you went home with a heavy heart, that ships had to change their schedule all the time. Nothing would happen to him, it would be fine.

You struggled to fall asleep when you were tossing and turning in your bed that night, the unnerving feeling of something going wrong stuffing your chest until it felt like you couldn’t breathe.

You went back to the pier the next day, and the day after that, and the many many days to follow, but the ship never came. You could not shake away the gut feeling that something must have happened no matter how hard you tried. Each morning as you went out the door, you thought to yourself that this is the day. He would be back today and everything would go back to normal, it must be it. But alas, time flew by fast since the day that marked the end of the supposed three month sail yet you never once spot even a fragment of Touya anywhere.

You were starting to grow paranoid as the weather got colder and colder. Whenever you spot a flash of red out from the corner of your eye, your mind would instantly raced in false hope only to be let down even more when you realised that it was only your longing messing up your mind. Everything reminded you of him The dark alleyway where you last felt his lips on yours, the sound of men yelling as they unload the trunks onto the pier, the ripples in the night shore that brought you back to the first time you ever looked into his eyes.

There were rumours that the merchant’s fleet was attacked by pirates on the high seas, that all of the men were slaughtered for the stock that was at the bottom of the ship. Some said that it was a storm that sank the ship to the depths of the cold water. Stories floated around the small town by the port, but the only thing in common about them was that none of the crew survived the voyage. Some days you would walk into the town square or pass by a group of chattering people only to see the look on their faces as they spotted you. It was a look of pity as they bite their tongue in your presence, an act out of kindness but only served to nail the possible truth you tried so hard to avoid deeper into your head.

At heart, you knew the bit of hope you were clutching onto was near delusional, a blind lie to yourself to keep you going. But you did not want to just let it be, you always felt a pang of guilt straight into your chest whenever your mind did so little as start to believe that he was dead. You did not want to believe that he was gone. Because if you started to move on, who would remember him when there was no more talk of the ship that never came back?

You went and sat by the port every day without fail even as everyone around you tried to stop you, until the day you fell terribly ill. It was the wind from off shore, the doctor said to your family as you laid on the bed. You were burning up, your head pounding like drums and a dull ache shooting through your system with even the slightest movement. You could barely open your eyes without seeing white, and there was a moment when you thought that it was it. Your parents clutched your hand when they saw you weep, cooing about how it would be alright and that you would be cured in no time. But was not death you feared. Oh no, you didn’t mind the idea of your consciousness drifting away. But what if he made it back? What if one day, after spending so long floating on the sea or struggling to even survive, your love made it back to the small town only for you to be nowhere to be seen? It was the thought of him pushing open the tavern door or walking into the alleyway at the back frantically searching for you that made the droplet of water rolled down your chin.

When you closed your eyes, it was his face you see in the faint hue of white.

Much to everyone’s relieve, you recovered. They banned you from going to the pier again despite your relentless begging. No amount of tears could let them budge. They nearly lost you once and they would do anything to stop it from happening again. For a while, they did not even let you go into the tavern, fearing that you would do something impulsive and irreversible with it being right next to the shore. If you were constantly clouded by sorrow before, now you were a body without soul as you were trapped inside the house with nowhere to go. Your eyes were hollow, and often it would take several calls of your name for you to even react to anyone around you. Some days you would just sit by the window and stared outside for hours, listening to the faint sound of the ocean and the ships as your dying heart swayed to the waves crashing onto the shore.

Eventually, you returned to the tavern. Life had to go on somehow, and money didn’t grow on trees. It did not take much observation to know that you had changed. You did not have the same life to you as before, only nodding silently at whatever command that was thrown your way. Days flew past without you even trying to count it, and soon it was years after you last saw him. Many had tried to sweep you off your feet, people who did not know that your heart had already left with the young sailor with red hair who never returned from his voyage. You always turned each and every single one of them down with a smile, claiming that you already had someone in your life.

You had met plenty of sailors with pretty faces in your time by the sea, but there was only one like him, even though he too left and never came back.

Then the king’s men came.

The entire town flipped upside down when the Royal Messenger’s horses and carriages stopped in front of your humble house. The group of knights and servants filling up the streets as the horns blown. Your small town had never seen something as grand and extravagant as the march of men crowded into the narrow streets, silk flags and the finest horses looking out of place in the brick road with mosses between the gap of each tile. Your parents gingerly opened the door when the heard the messenger calling out your name with a scroll in hand. Why, of all the people in this place, would they be looking for you?

You felt nothing when you were told that the crown prince of the kingdom wanted to marry you. Told, not asked, royalty did not need to ask for permission to marry a commoner who worked at the seaside tavern. The messenger claimed that the prince spotted you by the pier when he was travelling through the kingdom in his disguise and fell head first in love. You did not look shocked, and the man with the scroll and gold badge on his chest eyed you with a sense of bewilderedness on his face, as if he was expecting you to laugh, or even cry at the news that such honor as the prince taking a liking towards someone like you would happen to you.

Your parents eyed you in fear as you stayed silent, nervous that you would say anything to offend the crown. You lowered your head, letting out a shaky breath as you shut your eyes tight. Your body resisted the thought of marrying someone that wasn’t Touya with every fiber of its being and your mind was screaming at you to say no. But you couldn’t do that, your answer was not needed as a reply to a request that was never raised to you as a question. It was a demand, a notice that you must comply with the decision that was made for you.

So you nodded as you curtsied, and you could hear the sigh of relieve from everyone around you. The man rolled up the parchment in delight before leaving, and the streets were as emptied as nothing had happened in no time. You grimaced, but hid it well under a smile. They did not need to know that your heart was ripping into a million pieces, and it was not like they cared.

You cried over your lost love for the last time that night, knowing full well that the luxury of grieving would be taken away from you the moment you were sent away to the court.

Everything was a whirlwind from there onwards. The prince sent an entire band of men to pick you up from the town and guard you on your way to the capital. As the horses trotted away and you could no longer hear the sound of waves or seagulls flying atop of your head, you realised that this would be the first time you were so far away from the sea. The court sat in the middle of the entire kingdom, surrounded by land in all four directions. You stayed in a large chamber, one with the biggest bed you had ever seen and four posts on the corners. You slept on linen and sheets made out of silk, the mattress softer than anything you had ever felt in your entire life. Yet there were numerous nights when you just lay there on the bed with our eyes wide opened. You did not know that you were so accustomed to the sound of the sea and the distant bell of the towers that sleeping in absolute silence felt absurd.

Every day you would be wakened up by a handmaiden, who will proceed to inform you of all the things you need to tend to while dressing you up. It was always things you needed to try on, fittings you needed to go to, people you needed to meet. Everything was already planned and going smoothly according to the royal family’s wishes, and you were just a doll in this game of dress up. Your opinions on the wedding were never asked for, all you needed to do was be there in your dress and walked down the aisle for the entire kingdom to see.

You met the prince several times, he would often stop by to inspect on the preparation of the wedding when he was free of his princely duties. He was nice, charming and courteous but that was about it. You did not feel anything as he looked into your eyes, or when he kissed the back of your hand. They felt like nothing but mere gestures, with no warmth to it and no meaning behind. He would often try to tell you about his day, and proceed to ask if the servants of the court were treating you well, as if he did not appoint every one of them himself. He did not seem to be interested in asking about you and you could swore he seems more confused than anything else when you brought up the way people do things back in your small town by the sea.

Sometimes, when you were shoved around in dresses and trying to laugh at unfunny jokes made by people you could not fit into, you wondered what your wedding would be like if you were marrying him instead.

You woke up at daybreak on the day of your wedding.

The noises of people rushing down the halls and the chaos in the court apparent even when the sun had barely risen. It was a big day for the kingdom. For after today, the country would have a new princess.

You were hurried off to get dressed the moment you opened your eyes. They leathered you in soup and warm water, putting fragranced oils on your wrist and your neck, where the prince would near when you danced that night. It took an entire group of maids to put you in your dress. It was a beautiful gown, made out of pearly silk and every inch of the fabric covered in gold embroidery. When you moved, it was like there were jewels all over you, a careful illusion by the finest craftsmen of the court. You sat there like a lifeless figurine as they put on jewel after jewel onto your neck, before finally placing the gold headpiece on top of your head. You looked like a princess, even you had to admit that the court’s seamstresses and jewel makers did a wonderful job at making you more glamorous than you probably were.

You stared at the reflection in the mirror that was you but didn’t quite feel like you, and felt shivers on your skin when the reality that this was what your life would be like from now on settled into depths of your soul.

“Can I have a moment to myself?” You asked, wishing to treasure the last bit of time you had still being yourself and not princess of the kingdom.

You sighed in relieve when the maid bowed before exiting the chamber, your face falling the moment the heavy wooden doors slammed shut.

How was it that it was already this time of the day? You thought as you stared at the golden light shined onto the walls through the window. In midst of the chaos of it all, you had lost your concept of time. Your heart fell when you realised that this meant it was getting closer and closer to the moment you were to walk into the cathedral and lie in front of the gathering crowd that you loved someone when you were certain that it was not something your half-dead heart was capable of doing anymore. A lie that would carry on until your final breath the moment you uttered those three words at the end of the aisle and sealed it with a band on your finger.

Your thoughts was interrupted by a frightful cry from the hallway. You snapped back, froze in fear at the unknown screams from down the halls as you stared at the door, wondering what you were supposed to do.

“The pirates are breaking into the castle!” Your blood curled at the shouts and the panic of the people outside, “Guards! Guards-”

Looking out of the window, you could see flames rising from the castle walls. They had set fire to the gates. People ran to take cover in the court as the invaders broke down the door and you did not have the guts to keep looking. You wanted to crawl into the ground when you heard the sound of weapons unleashing. The heavy steps of men rushing down the court echoed through the wooden doors and followed by yells, grunts, until you heard the thump of bodies fallling onto the floor.

“Princess!” It was the same maid that had just dressed you screaming at the top of her lungs, her voice almost breaking as she squealed, “Do not come out!”

You were just as horrified of metals clashing and men shouting as you were of silence. You had no way of knowing what was going on, no method of keeping yourself safe except staying inside and wait for everything to unfold, You felt defenseless, and in a sense, you were.

“Hello princess.”

You grabbed the closest thing you could get from the vanity as a chilling voice rang from behind your back. You spun to face the owner of the voice, gripping onto the candle holder you could get your hands and pointing it at whoever it was that broke in.

It was a man. A lean man, with a mask covering his face and a sharp blade in hand. Unlike you, he seemed to be oddly relaxed in the situation, as if everything was under his control.

“Do not come near.” You tried to hold back the shaking of your voice but the man only let out a roaring laugh at your pitiful attempt at sounding threatening.

“Oh, aren’t you a feisty one...” He mocked as he took one step forward. You stepped back, dreading as you felt the cold hard wall behind your back.

“Who are you?” You questioned, not putting your arm down even though you knew the piece of metal in your hand was no match for his sword.

“Does it matter?” He sneered. “Why would the precious princess want to know the pirate’s name?”

He snickered as he brought the blade to your face, lifting your chin up by the tip of his sword. You froze in place, one wrong move and he could easily slit your throat.

“Such a pretty face...” he taunted as he turned your face to the side, “The face of someone who spent their days breaking hearts...”

You felt your skin heating up. Not from fear but from anger. How dare this man who did not even bother to tell you his name came in and mock you?

“You know nothing about me.” You did not budge from the cold metal beneath your chin, staring straight at the man behind the mask as you spoke.

“Oh, but maybe I do,” he said. You wondered what look he was wearing as he speak, each word dripping with poison. There was an eerie feeling at the pit of your stomach that you had heard this voice before. “tell me, what poor man did you leave anyone behind when you went off to marry the prince-”

“Don’t you dare speak of him,” Your own coldness was a surprise even to you, and the man seemed to be taken back by your sudden outburst, “You think I want to be here? You think I want to leave everything I know? I loved one man and that man is gone. I spent days, months even, crying over him but he never came back.” you swallow the bitterness at your tongue, “So don’t you dare come accuse me of breaking hearts when the only heart that was shattered was mine. if you want to kill me, make it quick.”

The man stayed silent, you could feel him looking at you even though you couldn’t see his eyes.

“You’re coming with me.”

“No-”

You tried to fight back as he went to grip your wrists. You were no match to his strength and your arms hurt from the way he was twisting it behind you but you did not give in. He would not hurt you for whatever reason it was, that was one thing you came to understand because he had have many chances to just slit your throat but he didn’t. He let out a painful yelp when you bite his hand, successfully forcing him to let go. With your racing mind, your hands went right towards the edge of his mask in midst of your panic.

You gasped when you tear the mask away.

There were scars littering all across the lower half of his face, staples holding up the rough muscle from the corner of his mouth all the way to his eats. His hair was black like burned coal, like what was left after a fearful fire raged through the woods.

Nothing about him was the same as you remembered from years ago. But those eyes... Oh, those blue eyes that reminded you of the sea, of your home. You could recognise those eyes wherever you go.

“Miss me, princess?” He sneered, a million type of emotions lining his words until you could not make out what it was.

Your voice came out as nothing more than a whisper.

“...Touya?”

“No,” he grimaced, not wanting to read the look you have on your face as he watched your eyes widened, “Dabi.”

You had heard that name before. You had heard about the pirate that roamed the high seas together with his merciless crew. People of the port spoke of his name with fear and horror, about how none of his targets ever lived to survive the slaughter.

He was waiting for some hint of rejection, a look of disgust at what he had come to be like from you. He was not the same man who left you on the port years ago now, he had seen the world and how cruel it could be. There was blood on his hands and he did not wish to taint you with his filth even as he wanted nothing more than to reach out and feel your skin under his palms again. He was speechless when you crashed into him with full force, not being able to react when you wrapped him tight in your arms with your face buried into his chest.

Dabi regained his senses as your body shook with the first sob that leaked from your throat. Even after years apart, his reflex was still quick to react at any hint of your distress. You melted into his touch as you felt the pair of strong arms you had missed so much around your frame, not being able to contain your tears as you wallowed in the joy of being together with the man you loved and the pain when you imagined what he had gone through.

You were still heaving when you pulled away, and his heart broke into a million pieces when he saw your swollen eyes. You clutched his hand closed to your face when he brought it up to wipe away the tear in your eyes. “I thought... I thought you died... I-” you hiccupped, struggling to stop yourself from welling up again.

He pulled you close to him, his hand soothing your hair as he sucked in a deep breath to contain the wave of emotions that was threatening to break loose in his own head. “It’s alright,” he cooed, fingers threading into your hair as he pressed you against him, “I’m here now.”

You had thought that you would only hear those words in your dreams. Your hands gripped his arm tightly as if you were afraid that he would again like he was nothing but a fragment of your imagination if you let go. But he never did, and the pirate held you tight as you weep, reassuring you time after time in the softest voice that he was right there with you now.

A loud bang on the door interrupted you. You looked up in fear when you heard the sound of guards trying to bust the locked door open.

“Leave with me,” he whispered, looking into your teary eyes as he tilted your head up to look at you. There was nothing but fondness and affection in your eyes when you stared at him, just the way he had dreamt that you would be when he was floating on the cold sea after his ship had sank and even after he was picked up by passing group of pirates who let him live on a moment of mercy, “I’m no prince but I’ll treat you like a princess.”

You would go to the edge of the world with him if it meant that you could finally be together as one again, he never needed to ask.

He knew he had his answer the moment you swung your arms around his neck and kissed him with all these years of longing sealed into your lips.

Dabi’s hands were on you the moment the cabin door slammed shut.

His men were already waiting by the castle grounds when he sneaked you out from the window, groaning in complaint about how excessive those “filthy rich bastards” were with their jewelry and dresses as he bunched up your dress to help you on the horse. You only chuckled when he leaped up himself, your back against his chest as you made the run towards the closest shore where his ship anchored down to wait for its captain to return with his bride.

The king’s fleet was probably on its way in full force to chase after you right now, but that was none of your concern when your mind was fogged over by his hot lips against your neck. You could feel the rigid scars and the staples that were warmed up by his skin, and when your hand pulled at his hair there was still some part of you that had yet to get used to the black. But when you tasted his lips, it simply felt right.

Your Touya, finally back to your side even with a different face and a different name.

His hands were rough on you, puling and yanking each piece of jewelry that got in his way off your body all while never letting go of your lips. He pulled back to admire his work, feeling the rush of adrenaline through his veins at how disheveled you looked. Your faces was flushed and your lips swollen from his ruthless assault. Your eyes were glassy, your pupils blown out in lust and want as your hands grabbed at his shirt.

He climbed on top of your like a predator ready to devour his prey the moment he threw you on his bed. The frame creaked at the sudden weight on top and the linen of his sheets were rough against your skin. You could feel the ship swayed with each crash of waves against its body and the dent on the thin mattress when he perched on top of you. Blue eyes roamed all over your body, and you chuckled at how he was now taking the time to admire your form when he was just clawing and tearing at you like an animal just seconds ago.

Your back arched up subconsciously as he trailed his hand down from your heaving chest down to your stomach. He allowed himself the luxury to drink in the way you look in your wedding dress before he tear it to shreds, watching your every move as the calloused pad of his fingers traced the delicate gold lines on the fabric. You were so close to wearing this dress for someone else, he felt a pang of jealousy rose in his chest at the mere thought of another man seeing you like this. If he had not make it in time, there would be another person who got to have you beneath them, who got to touch you in places only he was allowed to touch, to hear the sweet noises you made as you were stretched out in bliss.

The more he thought about it, the more he felt his blood boil. As if feeling his rage, your hand reached for his face and forced him to look at you. Your thumb caressed the staple at the side of his cheek as you leaned up to kiss his scarred jaw, his head tilting back as you pressed wet kisses along his neck.

If it was anyone else, they would probably carefully undo each lace of the dress and store it well. It would make sense that way, each thread of the embroidery and the silk were probably worth more gold than someone would have ever obtained ever in their lives. But you were his bride, you wore the dress for him, and he would do whatever the fuck he wanted with it.

Pulling out the dagger by his belt, he held the collar of your dress and slit the fabric right at the center with one long drag of the sharp blade until you were left bare in your underthings. He licked his lips at the sight of your body that was barely concealed by the thin cotton chemise, his cock aching at the thought of what lay underneath.

He stopped you when you tried to push away the ripped silk from you. “Leave it on,” he said, pushing himself down so that he was leaning his jaw right at your pelvis. His breath fanning your lower stomach as he speak, his gravel tone sending heat right to your core. “I want to have you crying for me in that dress.”

A loud moan was ripped from your throat as he latched onto your pussy, his hand hooking your legs onto his shoulders so that his tongue could salvage you deeper and hit all the right spots. He groaned at the first taste of your arousal.

“Just as sweet as I remembered...”

His tongue was working wonders on you. Even after years since he last touched you, he still remember what to do and how to do it to get you singing for him. He knew your body like the back of his head, and each whimper from you was making it harder and harder to contain himself.

But it had been too long, and he did say he want you crying for him.

Your thighs clenched around his shoulder with each skillful flick of his tongue against your cunt. Your hand clawed at the sheets beneath you as he circled your puffy clit, sending numbing shocks of pleasure down your spine. This felt too good to be true but here he was, between your legs and devouring you like it was the first meal he had in days.

The loud slurping filled the cabin and your hands tugged his hair to beg for more friction. He was glad to comply, thumb pressing against the sensitive bud as his tongue dived in to rub against your walls. You could feel every hair on your body standing up as the first wave of pleasure washed over you, your scalp tingling as he licked and drank in your juices that was gushing onto his face.

Your shaking hands reached for him, and you moaned as you tasted yourself on his lips. You could smell the moisture of the wooden walls of the cabin and the sound of waves clashing against the ship as the saltiness expanded in your mouth.

You were desperate to make up for the lost years as your tongue danced with his sloppily, your hands tugging his pants down as he pulled down the sleeves of the dress of your arms and ripping the smock off of you. He let the image of your exposed form laying on top of the white silk soaked into his mind, his cock painful to be inside of you as beads of pre leaked from the tip onto the fabric you were laying on.

He let out a choked grunt as your finger trailed along the vein of his cock.

“You made me wait for years, don’t make me wait any longer.” You mused at his reaction, a sigh slipped past your lips when he lined up at your entrance. He brushed the tip past your folds but didn’t push in, making you whine as he spread the shiny liquid all over your cunt.

“You think I don’t miss this?” he let out a dry chuckle, moaning out at your warm wrapping tightly around him as he pushed in. It felt like your body was lit on fire as he leaned down to weave his fingers with yours as he started setting a vigorous pace to his thrusts. Each slap of his hips against yours had you seeing stars and your legs hooked around his waist to pull him in closer.

“When I’m alone at the bottom of the ship,” he emphasised each word with a thrusts, “cold and lonely,” he leaned down to suck at the supple skin of your neck, “this is that I think of to keep myself sane.”

You mewled when his free hand pinched your hardened nipple. “The thought of going back to you was what kept me alive.”

You were panting against his lips as he pressed against you, the tip of his pushing in and out of you driving you wild. “So when I hear that you are marrying off to the prince,” he growled, “I knew that I need to do whatever it takes to get you back.”

You could smell the sweat on his body, his hair smelt of the sea as he buried his face at the crook of your neck and leaving bite marks everywhere he could reach. “You are mine,” you whined under him as he pressed up against you, his chest right on top of yours when he pushed his cock as far as it would reach and hitting that spongey spot inside of you, “all mine and I don’t give a fuck if I have to burn down the kingdom. No one can ruin what we have.”

The coil in your stomach tightened at his possessiveness. You had made your mind up that you were all his years ago and you never truly let that thought go even when all hope of him being alive had died. You would never love anyone like you had loved him, and now it was the two of you against the world.

“Yours,” you whimpered as he swallowed your moans with a searing kiss, “all yours.”

His thrusts got sloppier as you clenched around him, your pussy fluttering from the orgasmic bliss that you were drowning in. He clutched your hand tightly as ropes of his release unloaded inside you, never once letting you go even as he slowly calmed down from his high.

It made his chest swell when he saw drips of his cum oozing out from you onto the wedding dress, your wedding dress. Your were finally his and his alone once again, and he had the evidence for it.

You clicked your tongue when he pushed the tainted fabric off to the floor as he flopped next to you, holding you close to him as he inhaled the sweet scent of you that he missed so much.

“That thing is worth more than my entire life’s worth of salary at the tavern you know-"

"Sh,” he shut you up with a peck, “you’re not the bar maid anymore, love.”

You chuckled, burying your face deeper into his chest. He was so warm, or was it the euphoria catching up to you?

“I love you.”

His gaze on you was soft, like the surface of the sea on a sunny day. Serene and lovely.

“I love you too.”

As you fell asleep in your lover’s arms that night, surrounded by the waters that raised you, you felt like you were finally back where you belong.

You could never stay far away from the ocean.

#dabi x reader #dabi imagine #dabi imagines #dabi smut #todoroki touya x reader #bnha imagines #bnha imagine #bnha x reader #bnha smut

1K notes · View notes

dreamingofaizawa · 4 years ago

Text

Rescue Me

~~~~Piece inspired by this fic~~~~

Kirishima Eijirou x Suicidal! Fem! Reader

Warnings: Themes of suicide and self harm, near character death, LOTS OF ANGST, sad times (IT GETS BETTER THOUGH I PROMISE)

Category: Angst, fluff

Word count: 2.9 k

****PLEASE do not read this if the warnings make you uncomfortable****

Author’s note: Please take care of yourselves my babies. Remember there are people that care and need you in their lives, even if you don’t know it yet. I love you all 🖤

The full moon cast a beautiful blue glow over everything in sight. As you stood on the balcony of your dorm room, you took a look at the other rooms. The last few lights finally dimmed, leaving you to bathe in the cool night air. You’d made sure to say good night to every single one of your 1-A classmates, even little perverted Mineta. For once, his incessant groping didn’t make you want to punt him into the sun. No, this time it was almost comforting.

You lay down, with your head near the balcony rails so you won’t fall and make any noise to alert your classmates. Staring up at the moon, you felt your resolve solidify. This was it. You were finally going to free yourself. You lifted the blade to the soft, pure flesh of your wrist. It was sharp enough that you didn’t feel any pain, just the way you wanted it. After a few minutes you could feel the exhaustion pulling at your mind, and you peered up into the night sky, counting the stars before you closed your eyes for the last time. But as your mind drifted, a thought occurred to you as you heard a light knock...you forgot to lock your door.

Kirishima was in his room, tossing and turning in his sheets. He was waiting, counting the minutes until the sun rose, even though everyone had only just gone to bed. His excitement could barely be contained at the thought of finally confessing his feelings to you when you all woke up. But he was restless, and impatient, and something was worrying him. You’d been acting strange today. You even let Mineta cling to you as you said good night, almost looking like you enjoyed his perverse nature.

He got up out of bed and decided he’d go check on you, and maybe, just maybe, confess a few hours earlier than he had originally planned. He slowly opened his room door and stepped out into the hallway. He took the emergency stairwell so the elevator wouldn’t wake anyone. When he arrived at your room, he knocked on the door.

You didn’t answer. He knocked again, a little bit louder. And again, and again. Nothing. He was getting really worried now, normally you’d have woken up. He tried the handle on your door, and it gave way. A cold gust swept out into the hallway as he opened the door. Why was your balcony door open? he thought. And then he saw you. Lying on the balcony, blood pooling at your side.

“MR. AIZAWA!” Kirishima’s voice boomed and rattled the entire building, “IT’S Y/N!! SOMEONE HELP! PLEASE!!”.

Within minutes, nearly all of class 1-A had gathered in your room, circling around your body in Kirishima’s arms. The redhead had ripped a piece of his shirt and wrapped it tightly around your wrist. He stood up and carried you down to the common area, where Mr. Aizawa suddenly halted mid-sprint with Iida at his side. His face paled at the sight of Kirishima’s tears rolling onto your limp body in his arms.

You woke up to pure white. Your head was spinning, and you couldn’t formulate any coherent thoughts as you stared up at the light on the ceiling. You opened your eyes a little further, but it was hard. You were extremely weak. And your throat was dry. And your left hand was warm...Why was your left hand warm, and your right so cold? You moved a finger on your left hand, only for it to press against something even warmer. Whatever it was squeezed your hand harder.

A deep voice rang in your ear, “Y/N? Y/N are you awake?”. You blinked a few times, and slowly turned your head to the left, and your eyes focused on Kirishima’s handsome face. But it wasn’t as handsome as it usually was. His face was pale, splotched with red patches. Dark circles sat under his puffy eyes, streaks of old dried tears staining his cheeks. Those ruby eyes no longer shone bright, replaced by dull red orbs riddled with exhaustion.

As you looked at him, fresh tears welled up and fell down his face, a relieved smile graced his quivering lips. He instantly stood and wrapped his arms around you, holding your head to his chest. His entire body shook as he sobbed into your hair, muttering ‘I’m so glad you’re okay’ and ‘Thank you for coming back to me’. You were still in a daze, you had no idea what was going on. You wanted to ask, but when you tried to speak your throat closed up, struggling to make noise with the lack of moisture. You were too weak to move your arms, so you let Kirishima hold you until he was satisfied.

When he finally sat back down in his chair at the side of your bed, he squeezed your hand tight. “How are you feeling, Y/N?” he asked. You opened your mouth to speak again, but choked out a short croak before closing it again and attempting to swallow. He caught on quikly, and reached for the water on the small rolling table next to him. He held the straw up to your mouth and you took small sips as he encouraged you to keep going. “That’s it, there you go. One more sip Y/N. Good girl, take your time”.

After a few minutes, the cup was empty and he placed it back on the table. He grabbed your hand again, caressing your knuckles gently. “Do you know where you are, Y/N?”. You shook your head slowly. “Use your words, pebble. Do you know where you are right now?” he repeated. You managed to croak out a small, “N-no”. He nodded, “There you go. You’re in Recovery Girl’s office”. Your eyebrows pinched lightly. “Why? How l-long?”. He gave you a soft, sad smile.

“You’ve been out for a couple days. I found you on your balcony…” he trailed off, choking on the words and squeezing your hand hard. You clenched your jaw at the memory of staring up at the night sky, remembering you’d forgotten to lock your door, hearing a knock as you drifted. You pieced together what happened after you closed your eyes that night. “Why did you bring me here? I’m supposed to be dead” you said after a few seconds of silence.

He looked at you in shock and grabbed your face to look at him in the eyes, fresh tears forming once again. His voice quivered and broke with his words, “W-why would you want to do that? I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost you… I love you so much… I was gonna ask you out on a date the next morning… Why? Why, Y/N?”. His hands shook against your face. You were staring into his eyes, the desperation and fear shone through them. You didn’t know what to say to that, but he didn’t give you a chance to.

He pulled your face toward him and rested his forehead against yours. “Please, Y/N. I can’t lose you. You’re everything to me” he whispered. He lifted his head and kissed your forehead before holding your head against his chest and kissing the top of your head, stroking your hair. Your chest burned with the sudden urge to cry. This time, your body was the one shaking. For the first time in a long time, you cried, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you belonged somewhere.

Kirishima climbed into the bed next to you and held you as you wept. You cried for what felt like hours. You cried, and cried, and cried, until exhaustion took over and you drifted off to sleep in the redhead’s strong arms. He held you as you slept, feeling your heartbeat through his hands as he rubbed slow circles into your back. He closed his eyes, and allowed himself to fall asleep for the first time in two days, with you wrapped safely in his arms.

You woke up in the same position you’d fallen asleep in, though the lights in the room had dimmed since the last time you had your eyes open. Kirishima was still laying next to you, his large arms circling your waist and shoulders, your head secured above his right pectoral. He’d fallen asleep holding you, and you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t want to stay there in his arms forever. You always had a bit of a crush on the cheery redhead.

But you needed to use the bathroom, which meant that you needed to wiggle your way out of his grasp without waking him. You took a breath and moved your arm to lift his, but you were still very weak. You guessed it was from the blood loss. Or lack of food and water for two days. Or the more likely option, a nasty combination of the two. You didn’t have the strength to get out of his arms, so you had only one choice.

You placed your hands on his face and began to pat his cheeks. “Kiri...Kiri wake up” you called. He groaned and tightened his hold round your waist. You moved your hands to his shoulders and shook him. Even if you were pushing as hard as you could, it barely moved his muscular frame. “Kirishima Eijiro, wake up. Wake up Kiri!” you said, a little louder. His eyes peeked open and looked into yours. He opened his eyes further and blinked a few times, fully taking in his current situation.

He smiled softly, “Hey there pebble. What’s going on?”. You giggled a little at the nickname. “I have to use the bathroom, Kiri. I can’t get your arms off of me, though” you tell him. He chuckles a little bit and unwraps his arms from around you. He gets up and walks around to your side of the bed to help you sit up. You hold his outstretched hand as you swing your legs over the side of the bed and lower yourself onto the cold tile.

Your legs are shaking like a newborn calf and give out under your weight, but Kirishima loops an arm around your waist and holds you up effortlessly. He lets you catch your balance and allows you to hold onto him as your legs adjust to walking again. As you walk to the bathroom, he holds you like a crutch, letting you lean your weight on him when you can’t hold up your own weight.

It’s the same as you walk back to bed, but your legs are finally adjusted and you’re almost walking normally. And once you’re back in bed, he sits in his chair and grabs your hand again. “How are you feeling, pebble? Are you hungry?” he asks gently. At the mention of food, your stomach growls softly and you giggle. “Yeah. I could eat something” you confess. He nods and stands up. “I’ll go get something. I’ll be back as soon as I can” he says, and brings your hand up to his mouth and kisses your knuckles.

You blush lightly at the gesture. He opens the door and greets someone, and as he leaves the lights brighten back up. Mr. Aizawa walked into the room, up to the bed and took the seat Kirishima had left empty. He looked just as tired as always. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. “How are you feeling, Y/N?” he asks softly, a gentle lull in the baritone of his voice.

You loved your homeroom teacher. He had unknowingly filled the empty father figure spot left behind by your biological father, who’d left you and your mother at birth. “I’m alright, Mr. Aizawa”. He gave you a look that said he didn’t believe you, but he left well enough alone. He takes a deep breath. “You do know what needs to happen next, right?”. You nod slowly. “I know” you say, and you look up at him, right into his onyx eyes. “And I think...I think I can do it”. He remains silent, urging you to continue. “I know it’s not going to be easy. But for the first time in a while I feel like I can be happy again”.

He places a hand on your shoulder, reassuring and strong. “That’s good. I need to go inform Nezu of your condition, but Kirishima will be back soon. You’ll be having quite a few visitors once everyone knows you’re awake, so you’ll need all the strength you can get”. You nod and he gets up to leave. He’s halfway to the door when you call out to him. He turns around, and you wrap your arms around his torso. He’s shocked for a second, but when it finally registers, he pats your head.

“Thank you so much Mr. Aizawa. And I’m so sorry”. He chuckles a little bit, “For what?” he questions, genuinely curious as to what you could possibly be sorry for. “Thank you for caring about all of us. And me. For being more of a father to me than anyone could. And I’m sorry for worrying you and the rest of the class. I’m sorry that things got this far before I could realize the family I have here. I’m sorry for being so blind to how much you all care for me”. As you get your last few words out, you’re tearing up. And you have no clue that so is your teacher.

He clears his throat and pats your head again. “Don’t you worry about it, kid. Just focus on getting better” he says. You let him go and nod up at him. He pats your head and leaves the room as you return to your place in bed. As you sit there waiting for Kirishima to come back, you think about everything that’s happened since you woke up with him holding onto your hand like it was his lifeline. Everything he said…

‘Holy shit’ you think to yourself. He said he loved me...He was going to ask me out...He said I was his everything...He said he can’t lose me. The redhead’s words swirl in your head like a storm, making your heart race. Why did he say all of that? Was it to make you feel better? Why would he feel that way about you? You’ve never thought of yourself as anything special.

A hand on your shoulder jolted you out of your thoughts. You jumped at the sudden contact, and were met with blazing red eyes and matching hair. “You okay pebble? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you” Kirishima said, softly rubbing your shoulder. You looked at him. Really looked at him. After sleeping, he looked more like himself. His eyes were bright again, the color in his skin returned from the sickly gray you woke up to. And his hair wasn’t styled, it hung down at his neck and around his face. It looked long enough to tie back.

You moved to sit at the edge of the bed, and told him to turn around. He was confused, but did what you asked. “Kneel down, Kiri. On your knees”. Again, he obliged, and you began to comb his hair back with your fingers. “W-what are you doing there pebble?” he asked. You could see the red at the tips of his ears and smiled. “Just give me a minute Kiri”. You took the rubber band from your wrist, gathered his hair and tied it just above the nape of his neck.

“There” you said, tapping the top of his head. He got up and turned around to face you, a faint blush still visible on his cheeks. You smiled at the redhead, “Your hair looks good down”. His cheeks flared up again, nearly matching the color of his hair. You giggled at the sight of such a handsome boy being so bashful. “Kirishima?” you asked, looking up into his eyes. “Yeah, pebble?”. You looked down at your hands in your lap. “Did you mean it?” you asked quietly.

You could tell he was confused at the rather vague question. “Mean what?” he asked. “When you said you loved me. Did you mean it?”. His breath hitched in his throat and he froze. It took him a few seconds to think carefully about his answer. He took a step closer to the bed and grabbed both your hands in his and squeezed. He kneeled down in front of you to look you in the eyes and took a deep breath before he answered. “Yeah. I meant it. And I know it’s a lot for you right now so it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I know you have a lot on your mind right n-”.

You cut him off with a finger on his lips, and he closed his mouth to silence himself. You grabbed his face, leaned down, and kissed his forehead. “I’ve had a crush on you for a while now, Kiri. I can’t say that I love you, but I do like you. I like you a lot. So, when this is all over, how about you take me on that date you wanted to ask me on before I went and screwed everything up?”.

He stood up and leaned his forehead against yours, holding your hands on his face, “You didn’t screw anything up, pebble. You didn’t do anything wrong. You could never do anything wrong. You just got a little lost, and that’s okay”. He grabbed your hands and kissed each of your palms, “And I’ll definitely take you out on a date” he said, shooting you a million-dollar grin.

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #bnha eijiro kirishima #kirishima eijiro fluff

119 notes · View notes

eyayah-oya · 3 years ago

Text

Ancient Foundations to Build Upon

Clone Haven Ship of the Month | Prompt 4 | Ancient

Waxer/Boil

Rating: G

Warnings: none

Ao3

There were thousands of planets across the galaxy and very few beings could say they’ve been to all of them, most in the galaxy never straying from their home planet. Others traveled throughout the stars, gaining experiences as they met other species and tried different cultures.

Since the war began, Boil had been to many planets, though most have been far from the Core, fighting the Separatists. He’d been to worlds that only seemed to be a single biome, and others that were so diverse, he could be in a jungle one day, and then half a klick away, find himself in a field of snow. Each world was so different and unique. Boil had even crash-landed on a fair few planets and moons throughout the galaxy. Including the one they were stranded on now.

Boil had never seen a planet like this before. Aside from the platoon of troopers that had crashed on the planet with them, there were no inhabitants. From the atmosphere, they’d managed to catch a brief glimpse of some ancient ruins in the distance, overgrown with enormous trees that must have taken eons to grow, before they crashed through the canopy and all the way to the surface far below. In fact, all around them were trees so large around, they could fit an entire gunship inside the trunk, and some were even bigger.

“Do you think this is like Kashyyyk?” Waxer mused. Boil turned to look at him, and found Waxer trying—and failing—to wrap his arms around one of the smaller trees. A tree that could fit every soldier in the platoon on the planet with room for more.

“What?” Boil asked.

“Kashyyk. You know, the home planet of the wookies? I’ve heard that they’re homes are up in trees that are as enormous as these.”

Boil looked around at the strangely spiny shrubs, the large, fallen leaves, and the damp floor of the forest then up at the leafy roof far above their heads. “I think the trees are a lot more spread out on Kashyyyk,” he said. “And I don’t remember anything about the weird glowing moss when we learned about Kashyyyk during flash training.”

“Yeah, okay, the moss is definitely a bit weird.” Waxer pulled away from the tree, and Boil immediately noticed the strange, bio-luminescent blue moss smeared across his armor, giving him an odd glow in the dimness of the forest floor.

As Waxer crouched to examine some of the small plants and fungi growing on the forest floor, Boil turned his attention back to his surroundings. He couldn’t help but feel there was something . . . other about this planet. The very air of the planet felt ancient to him, enforced by the towering ruins far in the distance. It was almost as though time flowed around this planet. The war would not touch this place beyond the troopers that had crashed to the surface. A thousand different wars across the centuries would never affect this planet. Time didn’t matter.

Maybe it was the isolation. Or perhaps the knowledge that there were no other sentient beings on the planet. Something about the air and the trees and the weird glowing moss burrowed deep in Boil’s chest and caught his breath. It gave him hope and terrified him at the same time, and he couldn’t understand it.

The air was thick with stories long lost and the knowledge that no one would ever remember the history that had built the foundations of the planet. Boil had a feeling that even if he and the other troopers made any kind of mark on this planet, it would disappear within a decade, if not sooner.

But as he stood, looking at the strangely beautiful foliage, Boil could feel a longing desire deep in his bones to stay. To allow himself to grow old with this planet, Waxer at his side. That they would live as long as the planet allowed them too, regardless of immaterial things like genetics. Nothing the Kaminoans had done to the clones would affect them here—he could feel it—and there was a deep desire to just . . . not go back.

“Boil?” Waxer laid a hand on Boil’s vambrace and gave him a small shake. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. This planet is just weird. It’s like—”

“It’s asking us to stay,” Waxer finished. “Like it wants us to stay and make memories and create a home here. Almost like it’s lonely. Do you think we could find this planet again after the war?”

“Dunno, Wax. We weren’t supposed to be here in the first place. We were supposed to meet up with the rest of the 212th on Umbara when our ships went all weird.”

“Maybe it’s some kind of Force osik,” Waxer mused. “If we’re meant to come back, then I’m sure we’ll find a way. It just feels like this place was meant for us. Us and our brothers, and maybe even the Jedi. We’d be safe here.”

And it was true. Despite how strange the planet was, Boil could practically feel the way the planet wanted them to be there. That they would all be safe until they could get a communication out to General Kenobi or someone found them. There was nothing that would harm them while they were there.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts and back into the mindset of an officer of the 212th Attack Battalion, Boil gestured to the squad of shinies that had been in his gunship when they’d crashed. “Are you all okay?” he asked.

“Yes, sir!” they all responded and snapped off sharp salutes.

Waxer waved the salutes aside. “At ease, troopers. We don’t know how long we’re gonna be stuck here, so let’s skip the formalities. We need to set up a base camp, preferably near the ships so anyone who comes looking for us can find us easily. Boil, do you want to round up some scouts and figure out if there’s anything edible for us nearby?”

Boil nodded and only paused to knock his vambrace against Waxer’s before he set off to find Wooley and a few other of the older vod’e to come with him. He certainly wasn’t taking shinies out into the mysterious forest that wanted them to stay. Between Waxer and Boil, they would make sure everyone was still alive to rescue.

Four years after the platoon of 212th troopers had gotten stranded on the mysterious planet, Boil found himself standing on his porch, looking out over the dozens of other houses built on the branches of the enormous trees. The luminescent moss lined the pathways they’d built between houses and lit up doorways. It was perfect for nighttime, when it was so dark, Boil couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. But during the day, the moss just added a gentle glow as soft sunlight filtered through the leaves, beams of light dappling over the large community that had settled down on this planet.

Red rays of light flickered down through the canopy as the sun set beyond the distant horizon, dancing across the large platform that had been built in the center of the tree, surrounded by the rest of the community. A group of children listened as Wooley told them a folk tale from Alderaan. Jedi and clones alike sat among the children, practically buried beneath several tiny bodies, nodding off to the soft lilting tone to Wooley’s voice. He had found his calling in the After. So many vod’e had. It warmed something deep in Boil’s heart to see them happy.

A soft scuff on the porch behind him had Boil turning to find Waxer standing in the doorway to their home. He had that soft, sappy smile on his face whenever he was feeling something especially happy.

(Boil wasn’t sure why, but this planet affected some of the vod’e more than others. The cadets and the Tubies were especially affected, treasured by the strange planet they now called home. General Kenobi took one step on the planet and had blacked out for days as he received vision after vision of the people who had once lived there long ago. Of the hopes the planet held to have a peaceful people for once. Ones that would treasure the land and the trees and would seek no violence but would offer protection to any who needed it. From that moment on, General Kenobi and Commander Cody had begun planning, along with several other Jedi and Commanders in the GAR. And it just so happened, when they finally were able to flee the Republic and find their new home, Waxer was one of the ones the planet affected the most. He was more attuned to the emotions of everyone around him, and would frequently spend time in the nurseries to take care of the babies. And he was most attuned to Boil’s emotions.)

“Hi,” Boil said.

Waxer took the last few steps until he stood at the edge of their porch, right beside Boil and leaned against him. “It’s a beautiful night tonight. Crys said it might rain sometime tonight, though, so it might be a good idea to bring your boots inside.”

Boil hummed in acknowledgment, bringing his arm up to wrap around Waxer’s waist.

“You’re quieter than normal tonight.”

“Just thinking about how we managed to end up here,” Boil answered. “What do you think would have happened if our ships hadn’t gone all haywire and landed us here on this planet instead of going to Umbara.”

“I think things might have been worse if we hadn’t landed here. Krell’s trap would have worked if Cody had had enough men to send to go to the coordinates. And General Kenobi might not have figured out the Sith Lord before it was too late,” Waxer said with a shudder.

“And we wouldn’t have found out about the chips in our heads. That would have been disastrous.”

Waxer was silent for several minutes. “I think it’s better to focus on what really did happen. On the lives that we have now, instead of what could have happened if we hadn’t landed on this planet. Not even a Sith Lord can change the Will of the Force, and that’s what brought us here. The Force gave us this home, gave us a chance to be safe and happy, a chance to raise the younglings on a planet without war or slavery. We can give them warm, loving homes.”

Boil looks back down at the group of children, most of them fast asleep on their chosen pillows, though not a single vod or Jedi would ever complain about it. The children were precious to them. So very precious. And there were very few feelings in the galaxy that compared to having a warm Little asleep on your chest after a long day of playing and working. The trust and the knowledge that the adults would never let them get hurt pulled emotions Boil hadn’t known existed to the surface.

“Come on,” Waxer said, turning to tug him back into their home. “Numa’s staying with Cut and Suu for the night. She wanted a sleepover with Shaeeah.”

“Is that right?” Boil asked with a grin. He followed Waxer easily into their home, shutting the door and locking it behind him. All thoughts of the life they’d built together on this beautiful, mysterious, ancient planet disappeared and all he could focus on was his husband.

#clone/clone #cloneshipping #waxer/boil #boxer #clone haven sotm #soft and fluffy #clone trooper waxer #clone trooper boil

4 notes · View notes

rosemakh · 3 years ago

Text

The Bad Game

[Blurb: An innocent game of mini-golf takes a sinister turn when a family friend demands that Naomi make good on her bet. This deep betrayal leads to an impossible choice.]

[Author’s note: I wrote this in 2020. It’s loosely based on true events, as recounted by a friend of mine. This story is a tragic family drama. It deals with emotional abuse, manipulation, substance abuse, and other things that might trigger some readers (like most of my stories!)]

The driving lesson was over, so Naomi parked the old van and turned off the ignition.

"That was good, sweetie," Pastor Rob congratulated her from the passenger's seat, "You'll be able to get your license soon, for sure!"

Naomi shook her head and smiled sheepishly, "Maybe in a month."

They climbed out of the vehicle to stretch their legs and switch seats. Naomi hopped in and fastened her seat belt while Rob slid the driver's seat back. She giggled at some birds squabbling in the grass as he lowered his weighty girth into the van.

"How about some mini-golf?" He said, rather suddenly.

Naomi liked the game but she was tired. She'd been driving all morning and still had a pile of chores to do at home. She was also tired of being under the pastor's leering gaze. Spending the rest of the day with him -- followed by a Sunday of volunteering at his tiny church -- wasn't her idea of fun but he'd been kind enough to give her driving lessons when nobody else would. She was grateful to him, so she agreed to go.

On the way to the mini-golf park, Rob said, "How about a bet, this time?"

They'd played before but never with a wager. It seemed a little strange to Naomi, so she asked, "Like what?"

Rob kept his eyes on the road, "We'll play one round. If you win, I'll do any one thing you want and if I win, you'll do any one thing I want."

Coming from any other man, this kind of proposal would have alarmed her. But this man was like a grandfather to her. They'd known each other for years. He helped her family. He was goofy, humble, and generous. She trusted him.

She looked at him and nodded, "Yeah, okay! You'll probably just force me to go to lunch with you again or somethin', right?"

They both laughed.

They drove the rest of the way in silence with Elvis Presley crooning on the radio.

***

Naomi was usually pretty good at mini-golf but that day, she missed every shot. She almost felt as if an unseen force was affecting her game. Rob, on the other hand, was on a roll, banking his bright blue golf ball around plastic gnomes as if by magic and landing holes-in-one at both the lighthouse and crocodile lake. In dozens of games, she'd never seen him play so well and she'd never played so poorly.

As the game progressed, it became clear that she would lose the bet. A faint foreboding bloomed within her. She pushed it down and continued playing but by the end of the game, she'd lost by a huge margin. While they turned in their rented putters and balls, then made their way back to the van, Rob's face grew progressively pinched and dark.

Naomi sat in the front passenger's seat and fastened her seat belt. The edge seemed unusually sharp, digging into her neck as if trying to cut her. The earlier sense of foreboding bloomed again.

Rob yanked his door open, squeezed behind the wheel, mopped his sweaty forehead with one of his tree-trunk arms, and backed out of the parking space. A few feet ahead, a small gaggle of giggling women were crossing the lane. Rob, mouth gaping and eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets, moved his head to openly gawk at them in their tiny shorts and tank tops. Naomi was used to him doing that but, for some reason, she suddenly felt uncomfortable. She folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the car door. She watched his lecherous behavior out of the corner of her eye. He didn't detach his eyes from the ladies' bodies until they'd all piled into their car.

***

Rob pulled out onto the highway and stopped at a red traffic light. He gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead for a moment. A dangerous mood emanated from him.

Without looking at her, he grunted, "If I was the Mafia, you'd be in a lot of trouble right now."

Over the years, she'd seen him behave erratically. Sometimes his sermons would devolve into tales of bloody warfare, domestic abuse, and sexual assault. She knew the man had demons to fight but now it seemed he was about to use one on her. To prevent upsetting him, she didn't speak, but merely pressed herself hard against the door and looked away as the van accelerated.

He took a deep breath as if preparing to make an important announcement.

"Naomi," he said, "God showed me something last night. I was riding my bicycle like I do every night, and I looked up and saw you in the moon."

He sounded awestruck as if he'd witnessed a miracle.

"You were floating in the big full moon, wearing the most beautiful silver dress and slippers. Your hair was blowing all around you. You looked like an angel, just for me. I watched you and you smiled so sweetly, with so much love. And you reached your hands out to me and your dress blew and you were so beautiful. You stayed with me like that until I got back home."

Naomi couldn't think of anything to say. She continued looking out the window and prayed to God for safety.

When Rob parked in his driveway, Naomi had to will herself to move. She peeled herself from the door and opened it carefully. She wanted to run next door and call the police but slowly followed him into the big house, instead.

"Is your wife home?" She managed to ask as he swung the front door open.

"She's at Dorothy's piano recital at the college. They'll be gone for hours."

He led her through the cozy living room, past wholesome family pictures and walls filled with Christian crosses. Finely-crafted angel figurines looked on from shelves and tabletops as they passed. A desk in the corner housed a huge Bible, its pages edged with gold.

Rob positioned one dining chair so that it faced toward the backyard garden, then motioned for her to enter the tiny dining room and sit. She could see his wife's award-winning roses through the sliding glass door. Their yard was carpeted with soft, well-manicured grass. A set of cute lawn furniture sat on one side of the deck, overlooking a small swimming pool.

The dining chair didn't have arms, so Naomi awkwardly placed her hands in her lap. Rob suddenly stood in front of her, looming over her and blocking out the sun like a massive obelisk. To avoid his eyes, she stared at her hands.

His voice sounded above her, "I know you're a woman of God, so you'll honor your vow."

Barely a few inches in front of her, he knelt and pulled a ring box from his pants pocket. She stared at the box, praying it wasn't what she suspected. But it was. With bloated, hairy fingers, he flipped the top open to reveal a simple wedding ring. The gold-colored ring was etched with a diamond pattern to make it look like a normal ring but Naomi understood. Feeling as if she was in imminent danger, Naomi clenched her knees together tightly and thanked God she'd decided to wear jeans instead of a skirt.

He fixed his veiny bug eyes on her, "My sweetie, I've wanted to marry you since we first met when you were 14. These four years have been the happiest of my life. I know you feel the same way. God has shown me that you do."

Naomi tried rationalizing with him, "But you're already married. How will that work?"

He leaned toward her and his big belly pressed against her shins. He looked into her face like a lying boy that desperately wanted to be believed, "I've told you about that. It's basically an arranged marriage. I was 35 and our families put us together. We never loved each other."

"But it's a sin to violate your marriage vows. Besides, I don't feel that way about you, Pastor."

"But I know you do, sweetie," he nodded his head repeatedly, "God told me."

She shook her head furiously, "No!"

"It's okay, sweetie. Don't be afraid."

His fat belly pressed harder against her shins. The fleshy sensation made her feel sick, "You're old enough to be my father. Your daughter's older than me! It wouldn't work, I'm tellin' you!"

He continued, searching for ways to convince her, "And--and I know you don't want children so I got a vasectomy so you don't have to worry about that."

"Oh, God!" Naomi couldn't hold herself together anymore. Terrified, all she could do was tuck her head into her shoulder and sob.

"Sweetie--" He briefly touched her hand.

As if she'd been burned, Naomi drew her hands up to her chest.

He craned his blubbery neck to look into her face, "What's the matter, sweetie? Everything's okay. Haven't I proved that I care about you?"

He put one massive hand on her knee. Instinctively, she gasped and clenched her knees together tighter. She looked at the ceiling, gulping back sobs and biting her lip.

He placed the other hand on her lap, still holding the ring box, "Haven't I helped your family for the past four years. With your mom not working, what would you guys have done without me?"

She managed to choke out, "I appreciate everything you've done for us--" between sobs but couldn't continue.

"Oh, sweetie," His voice was tender as if speaking to a lover, "Don't cry. I know it's a big change," He waited a few moments for her to calm down but she was far too upset, "You're overwhelmed, my love. I'm sorry. I'll take you home now. Let's talk about this tomorrow after church."

Relieved to have a way out of the situation, she nodded shakily, "Tomorrow."

***

She'd managed to pull herself together and look somewhat normal by the time he pulled into her family's driveway. She scrambled out as soon as the van stopped.

Before she closed the door, he said, "I'll pick you up for church tomorrow, sweetie," and blew her a kiss.

She shut the door and willed her shaky legs to carry her up the cracked concrete walkway and into her family's shabby home.

She stepped into the living room in its usual state: Toys and dirty clothes littered the floor; Bowls of half-eaten cereal sat in small collections upon the tables; A sticky spill had congealed under the coffee table, next to the overturned cup that once held it.

She called to her young sisters, "Nancy, Nellie! Come clean up after yourselves, please!"

Nancy, 12, and Nellie, 5, stalked out of their room with mock annoyance. They glared at Naomi, stuck out their tongues, then collapsed into a fit of giggles.

"Cut it out, silly girls," Naomi said as she walked to the kitchen.

Their mother staggered out of the master bedroom and down the hall. She walked past Naomi without a word, opened the cabinet above the sink, and retrieved a large bottle of sleeping pills.

"Hi, Mom," Naomi said gently.

Her mother merely glanced at her, then opened the bottle. She moved almost robotically as if the effort of moving required all of her concentration and energy. She dropped three pills into her hand and swallowed them with a cold cup of coffee that was sitting on the counter.

"Are you okay, mom?" Naomi asked.

Naomi's mother turned to face her, "Never," and looked her up and down, "Look at you. You're so lucky. You don't have three mouths to feed."

Naomi stayed stone-faced and silent. Her mother said this often. The first time it happened, Naomi had made the mistake of talking back. She refused to make that mistake again.

With a surprising amount of force, her mother threw the open pill bottle against the sink's backsplash. Cloud-blue pills erupted from the bottle and fell haphazardly into the dirty dishes in the sink. A few landed in water and fizzed, creating bubbling islands of blue foam.

"I'm goin' to bed," her mother grunted.

Nellie, the youngest, peeked her head around the kitchen wall and held her toy bunny to her chin, "But Momma, you were in bed all day."

Their mother bent down and stroked Nellie's chubby face with a tenderness Naomi had not received from her in years, "Momma's tired, baby. Mommies get tired."

She stood up and snapped at Naomi, "Clean this place up!" then disappeared down the hall.

After their mother closed her door, Nancy strutted in and put a small pile of dirty cereal bowls on the kitchen table, "Where have you been all day, by the way? We've been stuck here with Mom and you've been out havin' fun!"

Naomi placed the bowls in the sink, "Believe me, nobody in this family is havin' fun."

Nancy took hold of her younger sister's hand, "Come on, Nellie, let's watch a movie while we wait for Naomi's crappy dinner."

"I like her crappy dinners," Nellie replied as they climbed onto the sofa.

"Oh, shut up, Nellie."

Overhearing the exchange from the kitchen, Naomi chuckled.

While preparing dinner, Naomi prayed for guidance. The thought of seeing Rob again made her feel sick, so she leaned over the sink for a few moments until the nausea subsided. Her mind raced with possibilities and none of them were good. If they stopped attending his church, she'd have to get a job. But she was just about to enter her last year of high school. If she quit school to work full-time, they'd probably never get out of poverty. On the other hand, if she stayed in high school and worked part-time, her sisters wouldn't have anyone to take care of them. Their mother was in no state to look after anybody and the girls were too young to take care of themselves all the time. She watched the pasta boiling on the stove. It roiled and raged like the thoughts in her head.

By the time dinner was ready, she had decided to turn him down and leave his church. She had no plan beyond that but she continued to pray and search for a solution.

***

Rob pulled into the driveway bright and early on Sunday morning. It was the sisters' responsibility to set up the church room in Rob's rundown beachside inn, so they had to get there before everyone else.

"Howdy-ho, kidderoos!" Rob greeted the girls as they headed towards the van.

Naomi checked to make sure the top button of her high-collar dress was done up and raised her hem slightly to keep it from dragging through the dew-covered grass. She picked up Nellie and strapped her into the front passenger's seat, then climbed into the farthest row of seats in the back.

Rob was watching in the rearview mirror, "You can sit up here with me, Naomi!"

"Nuh-uh! She said I can, Mr. Rob!" Nellie protested.

Beaming, Nancy spread her drawing books and art supplies across the middle row of seats and said proudly, "Oh, Yeah! So roomy! This must be what it's like not havin' any sisters! We should sit this way all the time."

"Well, that settles that," Naomi said as she pulled the van's sliding door shut.

He drove through the neighborhood slowly, glancing at the rearview mirror every few seconds, "Are you sure you don't want to sit up front, Naomi? Sitting next to the driver is great driving practice."

Naomi didn't take her eyes off her book, "No thank you. I promised Nellie she could sit there."

"What if you drive, instead, and I sit next to you?"

Nancy piped up, "No way. I don't wanna die today!"

All four of them burst into laughter.

Rob dropped the subject but repeatedly flicked his eyes to the rearview mirror during the 30-minute trip. Eventually, Naomi placed her backpack in her lap in an attempt to hide her chest from his searing glances.

***

The ramshackle inn was a place of refuge where vagabonds and penny-pinching tourists could enjoy a room on the beach for next-to-nothing. Rob did all the repairs himself but, unlike Jesus, he wasn't much of a carpenter. The floors were lumpy, sagging, and did nothing to muffle the sounds of footsteps. The paint was flaking in various places both inside and outside the building, and the bare, wooden staircases wobbled and creaked. It was a humble place for humble people.

Naomi and her sisters ascended the stairs into the common room and got to work converting the tiny space into a functioning chapel.

***

That Sunday's service was no different from any other. Pastor Rob led with a spirited, yet incoherent, opening message, which seemed to be nothing more than a collection of random Bible quotes from a desktop calendar. After the opening, he jumped straight into an equally spirited sermon about men and women and all the sex passages in the Bible. Although he didn't look at her, Naomi knew who he'd written that sermon for.

He spoke with fire and the attendees responded in kind, yelling "Preach!" and "Amen, brother!" at random intervals.

Two young women came out of an adjoining room and sat together on one side of the small space. They were dressed in tiny jean shorts and string bikini tops. Pastor Rob seemed unable to keep himself from glancing at them every two seconds to ogle their exposed flesh.

After the service, the pastor mingled with the attendees. None of the smiling people shaking Rob's hand were aware of Saturday's events and no one -- maybe not even the man himself -- knew what he was going to do when he got Naomi alone again. The spongy floor shook with each of Rob's massive steps as he traveled through the cheerful crowd. Naomi felt the vibrations in her core, like a war drum signaling impending doom.

***

Just after Noon, he pulled the van up to the girls' house. Nancy and Nellie got out and said their goodbyes.

Naomi made her way to the front passenger seat.

"We're off to do more driving lessons!" Rob explained to the younger girls.

He waited until the sisters were safely inside the house, then drove to a nearby playground. He pulled into an unpaved parking space facing the park, where some families were enjoying the mild weather and fresh air. Naomi was grateful to have other people around.

The pastor turned off the van and gripped the steering wheel so hard his pudgy knuckles turned white. They both stared silently into the park for a while.

Suddenly, without looking at her, he asked, "Are you playing with me?" and continued staring ahead, awaiting her answer.

Naomi gathered her courage and calmly replied, "No."

She looked at him. A sick red color was creeping up his neck. She had to get this over quickly, "I thought about it and I'm sorry but I don't feel that way about you. You're like a grandfather to me."

He growled a reply through clenched teeth, "How could you say that?" And looked at her from the corner of his eye, "You've been flirting with me for years."

Naomi couldn't believe he was the same man who'd been laughing it up on the beach just an hour ago, "What?!"

He unclenched his jaw but the edge in his voice remained, "We've played tag on the beach--"

"Only with my sisters!"

"We kissed in the back seat of this van."

Naomi scoffed, trying to hide her panic, "I got back there with you because you asked. I didn't know you were goin' to kiss me!"

Rob finally looked at her and erupted, "Why else would I ask you to join me in a back seat!"

She had accidentally sent him into a rage, possibly putting herself in physical danger, but she could no longer control her actions. The deep feelings of betrayal, disgust, and fear were too overwhelming.

She yelled in his face, "Why would you think I wanted to kiss you?"

Rob immediately lowered his voice -- a so-called psychological tactic he loved to use when things got heated, "You told me you were saving yourself for marriage."

Naomi yelled again, "I told you that as my pastor!"

He spoke slowly, "You also told me you felt uncomfortable about your strong sexual desires."

"I thought I could confide in you!"

He removed his hands from the steering wheel and turned his body toward her. Looking deep into her eyes, he spoke gently, "I know you're a godly woman. With me, you won't have to worry about anything. I promise I'll never hurt you. You can explore your desires with me safely. No diseases. No pregnancy. And I'll take care of you, your mom, and your sisters."

Naomi couldn't believe what she was hearing, "You're tryin' to bribe me with my family?"

"It'll be a sacred union."

"You're already married, Rob!"

"It's okay," He spoke to her as if talking to an upset child, "We'll keep it a secret. Nobody has to get hurt. God's chosen few have always been misunderstood. We both know nobody will understand our love."

She screamed at the top of her lungs, "We don't have a love! How could you? I trusted you!" She smashed her fist against the dashboard, "You and no one else! And you'd do this to me? Were you doin' this all along?"

Rob maintained a steady, soothing tone, "I didn't do anything. It's God's plan, my love."

"SHUT UP!"

Naomi's hands were shaking so badly, she barely managed to undo her seat belt. She reached for the car door handle.

Rob raised his voice slightly and scolded her, "You promised me! You're not a liar!"

Her anger spent, tears ran down Naomi's cheeks as she looked him straight in his eyes.

Her voice shook as she said, "I think Jesus will forgive me for this one."

She shoved the door open, got out, then slammed it shut with a frustrated roar. Startled people in the park, who'd heard them yelling, stared at her. Avoiding their gazes, she angrily walked away.

She'd traveled several feet before Rob finished hauling his heft out of the vehicle. He called to her, "Did you buy your sisters' school supplies yet?"

She stopped on the spot.

"Or your mom's medicine?"

She lowered her head, tears cascading down her face. Her entire body shook as she clenched and unclenched her fists. A swarm of dark possibilities swirled in her mind.

A child's scream and laughter yanked her back into reality. Instinctively, she looked in the direction of the sound. The squealing toddler was being pushed on a swing by his smiling dad. Mom looked on, laughing loudly.

Naomi stared at the happy family. Memories of carefree days floated up from the depths of her mind. She could feel Rob's eyes on her.

Without looking at him, she walked back to the van, threw herself into the seat, slammed the door, and waited. After a moment, Rob squeezed behind the steering wheel, watching her. Without a glance or a word, she pulled the musty seat belt across her body and fastened it with a heavy click. It pressed against her chest and lap, pinning her to the seat. She folded her hands in her lap in a failed attempt to keep them from shaking.

She stared at the horizon, blinking away hot tears and taking measured breaths. Aware of Rob's gaze, she pressed against the car seat and bit her lip hard. Her body shook with adrenaline and terror.

Rob continued to stare at her as he started the van. He seemed to be savoring the moment as he raked his hungry eyes up and down her body.

***

The pastor sat the last grocery bag on the kitchen table.

He checked to make sure nobody else was around, then pulled Naomi close for a quick kiss on the lips, "See you Saturday, my love."

He headed out the door. She bent over the sink and washed her mouth out with dish soap.

She dried her face as Nancy came around the corner.

"Was that Pastor Rob?"

Naomi nodded.

A mischievous smile crept across Nancy's face, "Gee, I'm sure glad you two didn't die in your drivin' lesson!"

Naomi was too numb to even pretend to laugh but she forced herself to smile as sweetly as she could at her silly little sister, "That was funny, Nancy."

"Duh!"

Naomi pulled an ice cream cake from one of the grocery bags, "Look what I've got."

Nellie appeared in the doorway, curious. Naomi knelt so the kids could get a better look.

Nancy gasped, "Wow! Are we celebratin' somethin'?"

Naomi forced a warm smile for her sisters, "Yes. We're celebratin' how much I love you."

Just out of sight, their mother muttered, "Bring me some o' that to my room, Nancy," then shuffled back down the hall.

"Oh, Momma likes it, too!" Nellie said, "Thanks, Naomi!"

Nancy pulled a plate from the dish rack, "Yeah, I guess you're okay, sometimes."

At that, the three of them stuck their tongues out at each other playfully.

Naomi turned and placed the ice cream cake on the kitchen table. The golden ring on her left middle finger caught Nellie's eye.

Nellie pulled Naomi's hand to her own face so she could get a better look, "That ring's fancy! I like the diamond shapes. Did it cost a lot?"

Naomi briefly flashed a smile, "Yes, it cost me a whole lot."

"I won't tell, but Momma might get mad if she finds out."

Naomi gently pulled her hand free and stroked her precious little sister's hair, "I think you're right, honey. I bet she would."

#short fiction #short story #dark drama #drama story #family drama

1 note · View note

lemonietrinket · 4 years ago

Text

Jigsaw Puzzle ||| Ending Five - Xiaojun

Summary: Xiaojun x Reader Genre: Fluff basically Warning(s): A big nail, no one is put in danger but vague inferences to what damage a crooked unattended nail could do, some foul language (1x f**k) Word Count: 2701 Theme Song: Home - JBJ95 AN: Xiaojunnie’s ending for my masterpiece Love—I recommend reading it first (it’s worth it, even if it is a bit sad the cuddling is great and so is the emotional support and just. hell yeah)

~~~

Skipping into the kitchen, a grin immediately rose to your face as you caught sight of the hunched figure outside in the garden. Even with his back turned on the window it was clear who it was, and after your encounter last week, you knew exactly what he was doing.

Letting temptation win you decided to ignore the task you’d been sent to complete (it didn’t matter much, Ten had legs and could totally get up and fetch his own food) and join Xiaojun outside. And so you grabbed the first jacket you could find—there was no doubt it was Kun’s going by the fresh scent upon the collar—slipped on your shoes and headed outside.

It was a grey day, the wind whipping up wildly one second to then disappearing into silence the next. It had an iciness to it that plunged into your skin where the jacket didn’t protect, and you shivered a hum as you pushed through the gate into the garden.

Xiaojun heard the creak of the iron lock and threw a glance over his shoulder. Seeing it was you he got to his feet. “Oh, Y/N, hi!”

“Hey,” you chirped over the sudden buffer of the wind, “are you... doing what I think you’re doing?”

He chuckled sheepishly before taking a step to the side, revealing a plastic pet bowl. “Yeah, you got me. Red handed.” He put his hands up in faux surrender.

Reaching the grass and coming to his side you bent down, mimicking what he’d been doing earlier. “So, what we got here, sonny boy.”

You heard him scoff and blinking up into the bright grey of the clouds you eventually caught sight of his dark eyes staring off at the fence at the bottom of the garden. Enraptured by his beauty that shone like the moon in the night no matter the angle, you very nearly forgot to breathe. The way his lips pursed into a coy smile was so distracting, and you only managed to save yourself when he rubbed his nose to combat the cold, the tip blushed as if smudged with light lipstick. That gave you ideas no less.

He crouched down beside you, shuffling away slightly to give you space from him—as if that was what you wanted at all—and thumbed the rim of the blue plastic. “Well, Officer, we got a bad case of broken plastic here.” He indicated to the clear jagged edge that was extremely hard to miss.

“Yikes,” you mumbled, “what happened?”

“You know the storm last night?”

You nodded, before your eyes widened when Xiaojun retrieved a large crooked nail from the grass by his foot. “Yo what the fuck?”

“Found it sticking out of the woodwork of the fence down there,” he gestured vaguely, his gaze focused intently on the rusty iron, “you’ve got to give it to Mother Nature, it was a bullseye.”

Mouth agape in disbelief at how the wind had managed to achieve that feat you frowned at the cut plastic. It looked old so you supposed it was no surprise it would splinter so easily. Nevertheless it seemed so freak. Unnerved by how long and wide the nail was, with its etched sharp point, your voice wavered. “How long had that been down there?”

He shrugged, finally raising his eyes to meet yours. You watched as they softened and he placed the nail on the patio concrete where it could be easily spotted. “It’s ok, I’ll get rid of it today.”

You nodded a thank you. “So... what were you trying to do to the bowl? It’s clearly a goner.”

“Trying to fix it,” Xiaojun answered simply. When you offered him a quizzical look, he procured a roll of sellotape. There was a twisted strand that hung over the side, sticky side folded over on itself and encasing several shards of plastic. When your face didn’t change a single bit he chuckled sheepishly. “The wind isn’t... quite on my side.”

“Couldn’t you have done that inside?”

He stared at you silently. “Yes, that would be the smart way of doing it b-but...” he scrambled for the words, “I thought it was going to be a quick job!” he exhaled while pulling his coat collar closer to his neck. “I was just wrong.”

“Clearly the brain cell wasn’t bestowed to you today,” you muttered through a stifled snicker, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Hey!”

You met his gaze then, a small smirk on your lips that flickering out as soon as you took him in once again. His pout left your heart racing and heat ros ot your cheeks to greet the caress of his dancing eyes. You quickly changed the subject, clearing your throat and ducking your head back down to the grass, fingers picking at the blades. “So... what are you going to do about it?”

You felt his stare flutter across your cheeks before quickly darting away to where the nail rested. He spoke while he scooped it up, “Guess I’d better go buy a new one.”

“Well, I’ll come with you!” you chirped, perhaps a little too quickly for your own good. “Keep you company and make sure you don’t get lost, you know.”

“That brain cell is missing after all isn’t it,” he said, soft smile sending your heart reeling before he stood up, gaze back to avoiding yours. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed after all. Perhaps that too wasn’t for your own good either.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Hands tucked in your pockets to protect them against the brash wind, you found yourself stumbling over an uneven slab in the pavement that you were walking down towards the pet store.

Eight times, you had counted, that your elbow had brushed his.

And unlike you, he hadn’t faltered in his step nor words once as he gently rambled to you, the words spilling from his lips bitten by the cold and his own tension. He often did this, on the rare occasions that it was just the two of you. He never spoke with an urgency, but it always dawned upon you afterwards just how far his thoughts went when he was with you—the topic he began on was never anywhere near the one that he finished with. You figured he just needed to vent, as maybe the others didn’t help him come to terms with some of his problems as much as he needed, or they were the problems (which seldom surprised you), and so you never interrupted him. You instead found yourself just silently listening to him, not thinking ill of it once, because you were spending time with him and that was enough. Also his voice had a knack for helping you just relax, it was so soft and peaceful, you were pretty sure you could fall asleep to it.

However, this time was like no other, as you discovered when you could barely listen to him at all. Dipping in and out of the sun-dappled mist of daydreams, called by his voice and his small glances to you, tipped with the crests of smiles, it was no surprise you found it extremely difficult to focus, even as the crowds increased as you reached the main road.

“It’s not far now,” Xiaojun announced once his ramblings had met a natural pause.

You didn’t respond, not grounded enough to get your vocal chords working in time. Besides, the chatter of the throngs of people was likely enough to swallow anything you said whole.

Forced by the sudden onslaught of strangers heading towards you, Xiaojun shuffled close to you so to allow more pavement for them.

Nine.

He came to walk slightly behind you, his presence offering a surprising sense of comfort as you continued on, the shining sign of the shop peaking through the swathes of silhouettes. Focusing on its retro-inspired neon cursive, you found the weightlessness subside.

Thanks to the lack of a constant reminder of the man you had fallen ever so hopelessly for being right at your side, by the time you reached the store, you had managed to get your voice working once again.

Warm air washing over you harshly, you quickly shed your coat at the discomfort as soon as you entered. Xiaojun only then stood beside you once again, coaxing the two of you to begin searching for the bowls.

“Should probably get a heavier one,” he mused, so quiet you could convince yourself he wasn’t talking to anyone at all, even you.

“Sounds good.”

He led the way, sharp eyes narrowed as he scoured the aisles for the distinctive bright colours he was after. The shop itself was pretty quiet, since it was so small and people were beginning to head home for dinner. Regarding the endless walls of biscuits, treats, toys, scratching posts, beds and whatnot you were baffled by how the food bowls were nowhere to be found. That was, until you turned the corner into the leftmost aisle and spotted them instantly.

“Junnie!” you called, bobbing down to get a closer look at the plastic on the bottom shelf. You were pretty sure they were dog bowls, but you didn’t see the harm in using it for a tiny hedgehog—especially since these looked much more robust and less likely to crack when thrown into a nail.

Picking up a red one you were surprised about how light it was, and at the word ‘DOG’ written bluntly in a rather aggressive font along its side. Grimacing you put it back and began turning the others along the shelf to see what they had written along it.

PUPPY.

ROVER.

#1 DOG.

You sighed, dismayed. It wasn’t the end of the world, giving a hedgehog a bowl with ‘dog’ emblazoned on the plastic of course, but it did feel a bit wrong. Especially when there was a high chance you could do better. Unless Xiaojun had miraculously named the hedgehog something dog-related.

That was when it hit you. You had no idea what he had called her.

Standing with a frown it was as if you had summoned him from the earth, as Xiaojun popped up from round the corner. His eyes brightened as soon as they rested upon you, though you wrote it off as being relieved to have finally found what you’d come all this way for. “Ah! Anything good?”

You barely registered his question, instead entirely leading with your own. “Junnie, what did you call the hedgehog?”

It was a seemingly innocuous question. And yet as soon as you looked back fro glancing at the shelves again, you watched as his voice got stuck in his throat.

“Xiaojun?” you enquired carefully.

Before you could enquire if he was ok, he coughed rather awkwardly as if he were a cartoon clearing his throat. “Sorry,” he managed, “I called her... Hedgehog?”

He was quite unlucky in that sense—the questioning intonation was slight but you caught in nonetheless, a consequence of your habit of hanging off his every word (when you weren’t too overwhelmed by his gorgeous features).

Bemused, you chuckled. “Hedgehog? You called her Hedgehog? How imaginative...”

“Why do you ask?”

Mildly startled by his sudden enquiry, your eyes widened before you could stop them. “Oh, the bowls... they have like dog-related stuff on them. Like ‘Rover,’” you pointed vaguely before focusing entirely on him once again, “but you didn’t call the hedgehog Rover, which would’ve been kinda funny because irony. Nope, you called her Hedgehog—honestly, Xiaojunnn,” you whined, turning to skim over the china bowls instead, “I thought you were more imaginative than that...!”

Meanwhile, Xiaojun was sweating internally. And externally too, most likely, not that he was really in the state to check. Truth be told he had been a little bit more imaginative than that, but there was also no way to tell you that, without admitting every little thing that he had hidden from you. All those gazes, accidental touches, rogue thoughts and near confessions, all out in one go. A board of jigsaw pieces so unclear, yet only needing one final piece to reveal the finished, Schrödinger’s image. He was one move away from perhaps achieving his dreams or unveiling heartbreak.

And that terrified him. Despite being confronted with a thousand pieces of evidence as to why it would be the former, he would never quite believe it with his whole heart. He’d entertained the possibility for too long in his head for it to ever wholly sink into his mind that it could be real. But he didn’t want to lie to you anymore. They may have only been small but he didn’t like how they hung over him, like the crystals of a chandelier strung too low and seconds from snapping. And he certainly didn’t want to make any more. But that meant confessing.

“—Do you think of Cactus, Xiaojun? Prickles? No that’s bad... Zen?”

Catching your eyes peering over your shoulder expectantly at him, he took a deep breath. “You know what is a good name?”

You hummed, shuffling back along the aisle to hear his answer.

“Y/N,” he finally continued, voice very nearly wavering.

“Yeah?”

He swallowed. “No, I mean... Y/N is a good name.”

He could see the cogs of thought twisting behind your eyes, before the cute smile he had come to know well and love appeared, highlighted. “Thank you, b-but you can’t name the hedgehog after me.”

“Uhh, yeah, it’s...” he sighed, gathering his strength, “it’s a bit late for that.”

Your voice was dead serious. “What.”

The whole situation had caught you off guard. Never in your wildest dreams had you thought he had named the spiky little creature after you. You figured that if he had been hiding something, it was that he had named her something embarrassing like ‘Sugar-Plum’ or ‘Marshmallow’. But you? He took one look at the prickly animal, that was known for being loud and far from cuddly, and named it after you? You had to admit you weren’t exactly endeared.

However, in a seconds he changed your mind.

“Y/N, listen,” he began, panic etched across his face as he ran his hand through his hair, “I... named her after you because I... I love hedgehogs. A lot. I think they’re adorable and want to hold them even if they look spiky on the outside. So when I found that one visiting regularly and I couldn’t think of a name, I just... named her after you because it made sense at the time. I didn’t think that far ahead, after all I never thought I had a chance with you anyway, so I figured it would be...”

Once he had trailed off you didn’t speak up to fill the silence, and ended up just staring at him. He was nervous, and you had been so swept up in your own thoughts that putting his together as they tumbled from him had become a nightmare but you were almost certain that he had in essence, said what you had long hoped to hear in some shape or form.

“Was that... a confession?” you gradually eased.

He looked around dazedly. “I think so, yeah.”

A smile teased at the corner of your lips. “You named her after me because you love hedgehogs, and you love... me...?”

After a moment of coming to terms with the simpler version, he nodded.

If he had tried to backtrack out of fear, he wouldn’t have had the chance to, because as soon as the relief washed across your shoulders and the excitement burst in your heart, he found you in his arms. You fit together perfectly, as the weight of reality settled in to encompass you both.

Your hair was soft at his neck even after being blustered by the wind and the sound of your elated laughter lit his skin ablaze. He found himself smiling uncontrollably at what he finally had in the palms of his hands—the coalescence of his love and dreams and future all in one. Cradling you against his chest he finally felt that jigsaw finally come together, to reveal the final image. One of tender care and affection, and a longing now fulfilled.

~~~

AN: I got another one done! after all this stalling again, again, im sorry !!!!

i love hedgehogs. we had one near our house at the beginning of the quarantine and it was so cute. i fed it dry cat biscuits and it snuffled so loud and then ate all of it and im just happy knowing my life is not completely worthless bc i fed the good boi

pls do not question me on where they live. its a house, yes they all live together and yn lives with them. yup theyve got a garden. its not an overly big house. why? bc why not

Masterlist

#wayv #nct #xiaojun #xiaojun fluff #xiaojun x reader #xiaojun x reader fluff #xiaojun oneshot #xiaojun wayv #xiaojun imagines #wayv x reader #wayv fluff #wayv x reader fluff #wayv x reader angst #wayv angst #wayv imagines

29 notes · View notes

kurahieiritrjio · 4 years ago

Text

Original Raw Chapter

Synopsis: Equinox company find themselves taking on a feral child who has an innate magic needed to wield a legendary Crystal weapon forged by the Elder Gods for sealing away demon kind from their world. Demon kind seeks her extermination so the Evil Kings may return to devour the lands of Gyeteras. Equinox must protect the young girl plus find the Tiger’s Eye Scales of Judgment. The magical scales become a double half moon axe capable of stopping hordes of evil from overwhelming their world.

Sparkles of silver light ricocheted off mismatched buildings slipping in and out of Betlic Jetren’s feverish sight. Glimpses of Clear Brooke River and community flashed between trees like a heart felt greeting. Thick tree trunks of hickory, oak, red maple, and paper birch shaded the wide stone road of Caravan Highway. Betlic ignored alarmed calls from wagon teamsters and outriders moving in the other direction. This stretch of highway was well maintained so underbrush hindering Betlic’s sight was thinning the closer Equinox Company got to the Clear Brooke Station entrance.

The growing clamor tickled his ears with promises of medical aid. Light gusts brought delicious stomach rumbling scents into his sweat, dust, old blood, and beast musk numbed nostrils. Large stable shed complexes full of activity was flashing between trunks. All of Betlic’s remaining focus sharpened on the promise of safety and aide for the remnant of his hunting group.

Familiarity with Clear Brooke Station had Betlic envisioning throngs of gnomes, humans, dwarves, the odd troll, lesser giants, and elves bustling around multitudes of cornicuses with diverse horn configurations and foot types. His ears could hear people shouting, most likely from the open air market surrounding the merchant’s guild. It was the time of day when the market was most crowded. Behind the city loomed the deep shadows of ancient Brackenveil Forest’s mighty towering trees.

Soon long overdue medical care would be had. Better yet Clear Brooke Station was well known to Equinox Company. Betlic hoped their long standing reputation would save their lives. Unusual circumstances, broken contracts, unwanted bartered goods for payment, and time crunches continued plaguing Betlic’s demon hunting team. However, he hoped Equinox’s dubious luck was improving. Having Master Inek Copperwell hire them to escort his cart with Seth Grace and Gillian Stockton’s unconscious bodies inside his wagon was one stroke of much needed luck. If only their luck would hold long enough to get Seth and Gillian back on their feet!

Strands of saturated lentil hair flopped into his eyes. Betlic yanked it out of the way and used his tunic sleeve to swipe away sweat. The motion of his arm unleashed pulling and burning needles which left him wincing. How was it so hot when the sun had not been up very long? Were his wounds causing fever? He needed to focus on the road and his surroundings since it was his temporary job. He, Dreng, and Eldwyn only agreed to be cargo guards to get Seth and Gill the help they needed.

Betlic turned his head and felt a fluttering buzz erupt through his skull and sluice down his body like a building wave crashing on a beach. The odd sensation had him swaying in his saddle. Getting light headed was a very bad sign. Almost there. He would hold on as long as needed.

“Ho there! Looks like you’re the group needing emergency aide.” A gnome teamster bellowed from his front perch on a massive eight wheeled stock wagon. He and a pair of outriders pulled the twelve ram head heavy drafts to a stop. “Did bandits do this to you and your beasts?”

Refocusing, Betlic noted accumulating guards and outriders were staring and muttering to each other. No doubt they were looking at the sorry sight of the last of Equinox Demon Hunter Company stationed around Inek’s cart or trailing behind. Vallin was on foot pulling along their remaining cornicus mounts. Betlic did not have to look back to know several beasts were stumbling under the rocking motion of huge loads.

Betlic shook his head trying to clear his mind and almost fell off Squirrel’s back as thrums of cold electric current swirled and cascaded the length of his body a second time. Was the man talking to him?

Eldwyn’s mellow voice carried over the jangle of harness, heavy clopping hooves and quadcorn talons. “No. We ran afoul of a demon troop. Equinox Company won the fight at heavy cost. Trying to get to Crone Nelda to deal with the magic taint. We have crossed swords with three bandit groups so far. We handed them over to the magistrates in Resin Town and Lofty Oaks respectively.”

Someone yelled, “By the Thrice blasted tree! All know Equinox is the best demon fighting group in the lands but don’t you think fighting a war troop is a bit extreme?” Must be an elf in the crowd.

“We were lied to about a job we took. We found ourselves under surprise attack and surrounded. You try facing several greater demons determined to get even some time and then say we were being extreme.” Dreng’s guttural voice thundered over the babble of onlookers.

Betlic was tired of having to defend his companions. At least when told the truth most caravan owners moved out of the way of Master Inek’s cart so they could jog their beasts around the slower wagon trains to get to Clear Brooke quicker. Let his co founders deal with the chatter this round. Betlic simply wanted to be done with this trip and sleep for a week. Not that he would get to slow down before arranging everything his group needed. The idea of a bath and long sleep in a real bed was all he craved.

“We were sent by a concerned outrider. You look to sore need us.” A tanned gnome with her hair in a bun jumped in front of Squirrel reaching for his hackamore nose band. Betlic clung like a bur to Squirrel’s back as the big buckskin shied from being caught.

“Thank you for the offer, Matron. We are almost there, and short of funds.” Betlic answered once he found his balance.

“What do you think emergency aide means, young man? You won’t make it without us. Your cornicuses are bad injured and failing. They need to be brought in and tended. We will get you into town. You need the witches because you’re about to fall out of your saddle.” The older woman chastised him with such obvious fear in her voice Betlic struggled to focus on her.

Infuriating to hear, but all too true. “In our defense, Equinox has never had thirty companions and half our combat trained mounts killed in a single fight before, Ma’am. The Overseer Guild in Cryslatta called a war troop of sixty odd demons a nest. To the best of my knowledge, such has never happened before.” Several knife and lowhorns with riders were clustering around them. “Then the guild refused to make good on the outstanding debt after failing to give us accurate information. Never mind their idea of a healing guild which denies magical taint exists so we lost even more of our number while getting stripped of our funds.”

“Ignore Betlic’s sharp tongue, good people. He looks like a poorly sewn patchwork quilt under his clothes and maille. Master Inek Copperwell is helping us get our worst wounded to Clear Brooke before they die of demon taint. So please forgive him his cruel words this morning.”

“Let them take your over burdened animals and gent Vallin in. All know your reputation, Mister Jetren. Equinox Demon Hunter Company keeps it’s word and all who know you will vouch for you.” One of the outriders yelled.

Betlic argued “we’re almost broke. I cannot change reality. We are without choice but to race to Clear Brooke. The closest city with a witch enclave capable of saving their lives.”

The big buckskin Betlic rode lurched around the gnome woman still trying to grab his nose band or reins and pitched into a jog toward the city despite heavy billowing sides.

“Stop, Betlic. Our beasts are failing. They can’t finish the distance.” Eldwyn yelled from behind.

Trayhern’s voice had Betlic pulling on Squirrel’s reins. A deep groan bordering an offended whistle pulsed through Squirrel’s triad of horns as he slowed to a walk but refused to stop. A hard shake of the buckskin’s head rattled his ridge bones beneath thick cream hide.

“Looking forward to a big bin of ground meat and diced vegetable aren’t you, Squirrel?” Betlic gave his mount an affectionate rub above a seeping gash on the animal’s shoulder. Squirrel’s long ears wagged back and forth. Tired as Squirrel was he knew their location and was eager to arrive.

Needle sharp throbs of pain tore along his torso as Betlic's arm lifted so he could use his tunic sleeve to mop runnels of sweat from his eyes. His vision wavered again. Blinking rapidly to clear his sight, Betlic wondered whether grand master wizard Aulon would still send funds if Seth died. Would the protection oath ever be given by Aulon to new members of Equinox? Could Equinox even recover from this insidious blunder?

Squirrel jerking to a stop tore Betlic from disjointed thoughts. He almost toppled from the saddle yet again. “Bet, yer not a’right. Squirrel’s taking ya fer a ride. T’others dun stop’d.” Lance’s voice chided. Three long and wicked sharp horns growing out of Hobb’s dark brown forehead and face got far too close to his own as Lance’s tricorn blocked their path. “Ven’m dun gett’n ya. Fev’r gett’n worse.”

Leathery pitted skin, shocking blue eyes, and shaggy molasses hair. A very familiar looking long knife and sword sheath pair strapped to opposing hips swam into focus. Sheathed daggers strapped to biceps and forearms gave silent warning to avoid conflict. More throwing knives, darts, slim throwing axes on each side, and bolts for a Brownie sized crossbow which was palm sized for a man were confined in neat rows down the length of matching bandoleer straps hanging from each shoulder to opposing hip. Two cases of arrows for a full crossbow and a recurve bow hung off the saddle pommel. Such a deadly rogue. Betlic blinked faster. It was Lance Bullard he was facing alright.

“Sorry. Need to get things done as soon as we arrive.” Betlic responded when his eyes registered Lance waving a hand inches from his nose. “I’ll be fine, Lance.”

Lance snorted. “No ya won’. Yer see’n de witches firs’ thing. Beauty n Velvet ‘er down. Lightfoot’s bad too. Figg’r Drum ’ead ‘n Cast’way’s near ’s bad. Firebran’ gun’ drop ina minute. Eld, Dreng, ‘n Val’s mov’n der packs.”

“Shit. We can’t afford the stop.” Betlic squeezed his eyes shut and gulped air to try and stop the spinning sensation.

“Yer sick, Bet.” Lance growled. “Yer blotchy wit fev’r. Way yer sway’n, yer gun’a fall off Squir’l soon. Yer push’n too ‘ard.”

“You’re talking fringe too fast to follow. Tells me you’re in a panic. Seems I've made too many bad calls. My stupidity got most of our company killed.” Betlic gripped his saddle pommel and eased back onto the two saddle rigs tied together and lashed on the back of his own. He hoped the new position would counter his increasing lightheadedness.

Lance heaved a disgusted sounding sigh. “M tak’n lead. Yer doin' de bes’ ye can widda bad mess. Eld got at bad job. As to de talk, mos’ de old tim’rs dead is wha’ gots me shook, Bet. Know’d ‘em since I join’d. Ev’n Seth ‘n Gill’s dyin' slow. De was all tuff as you ‘n me. Don’ seem righ’.”

Lance’s rapid fire garble was still sorting itself out in Betlic’s mind as Hobb backed up and slid along Squirrel’s side. Betlic felt his reins getting yanked from his grasp. “New blood dyin’s nutt’n. But de old fight’rs? A’s summin’ differnt. I got ya, Bet. Jes hang on yer rig, n I’ll keep ya steady.”

Dreng’s deep rasp reached Betlic’s ears over the increasing babble of onlookers. “Watch it, man. Bad enough I feel like a shin guard standing next to you. You don’t need to stomp me into these paving stones while I’m trying to loose Beauty’s girth band for you.”

“Sorry, Grump. Can’t see you . . . round the rigs. Not my fault . . . your so short.” Vallin’s response was breathy and panting.

“Oh sure, pick on the dwarf why don’t you? You giants need to learn how to look down.” Dreng always grumbled when distressed. Betlic’s ears took over. He heard a weak wail from two or more horns followed by heavy thudding. “By the blazing forge, who else is going to keel over in the middle of the road? Firebrand, on your feet! Get up so I can get the saddles off you and put you in the beast wagon.”

A fiery hued chestnut tricorn with his top horns and mid nose knife stuck halfway through a pasty demon’s upper body, dual hooves pulled back to free long talon pairs for slashing the demon’s grasping arms. Firebrand’s fangs were snapping at the demon’s stomach.

Kuruk was whirling his basket hilt claymore as fast as it could be swung along both of Firebrand’s sides to maim and kill any demons he could reach. No matter how fast he moved his blade, he was being overwhelmed. Three more demons were closing from the rear as Firebrand’s whip tail cracked and lashed. A furry, feline were beast resembling demon leapt over the slashing bony flat tip of the cornicus’s tail and landed on the top of Firebrand’s rump. Betlic caught a glimpse of the demon sinking black fangs into Kuruk’s thigh, claws digging into his chest and waist, thick hind legs bulging to leap off Firebrand’s haunches. Squirrel could not disengage with the demons they were fighting. Betlic felt white hot embers slide down his back and across his side as his own hand and half pair of blades met considerable resistance. Scalding heat seeped into his leather breeches. Another demon down.

“I’ve got him.” Vallin’s now steadier voice drew Betlic’s attention. Considering how muscular and tall Vallin Skorr was he could probably pick the injured tricorn off the ground. Though it was likely Firebrand would lift his dual hollow hoof sheaths and rake him with lethal talons over the attempt. At least Vallin could pick Firebrand up if the beast cooperated and he removed his mace and deck cleaner axe. “Eld, get Lightfoot and Thunderhead’s saddles loose. I’ll be there in a minute to fetch their packs to load.”

“Sure thing, Val.”

Dreng slapped his booted foot to get his attention. “Betlic, take Lance, Kite, Katinka, and Marcus with Master Inek into Clear Brooke to get Seth, Gill, and yourself treated. I’ll handle things here with Val and Ears help.”

A shout from the rear which sounded like Marcus had Betlic turning his head back toward the disaster unfolding behind them. “Watch out for that strawberry dappled roan quad heading this way. He’s unpredictable and might attack you beast carters. Now that his Templar’s dead, Rhapsody won’t let any of us near him. Wrath and I will deflect him.”

“Stay back. Let Vallin, Dreng and myself handle getting Beauty, Velvet, and Firebrand in that contraption to load. I will deflect Rhapsody if he charges.” Eldwyn also bellowed.

“If he charges he’ll break his forelegs in that tattered mess of rags hanging from his breast band and saddle cinches.” The woman from before was arguing.

Betlic’s mind tossed the image of Rhapsody’s torn up metal chest band harness to the forefront of his memory. Half the chain linkage padding was torn from the thick metal links. Covered in old blood and trailing near the ground between Rhapsody’s fore legs. The fluttering fabric was catching on some of Rhapsody’s shin claws to make the big predator stumble. Impatient fangs and his lower jaw blades made short work of tearing the heavy fabric free from pressure pulled claws. Four horns resonated a chest deep growl as Rhapsody tore the remaining metal link protection loose. Straightening up, the chain lengths caught the edge of torn flesh and ripped another chunk of Rhapsody’s hide and muscle loose.

“I have enough magic to deal with Rhapsody if he gets surly, Marcus. I can still build barriers that he isn’t immune to.” Eldwyn’s voice drew Betlic’s mind back again. “Get Seth, Bet, and Gill into town, Inek. Go with them, Marcus.”

“Sound plan. Bet sore needs medical attention too. He’s losing focus from a high wound fever. Take the twins. We’ll get these mounts sorted out.” Dreng was rumbling next to his leg.

“S’why I got ‘im.” Lance said.

Squirrel groaned through his three horns and shook his whole body which jarred Betlic’s stitches. He gave his restless mount a couple affectionate slaps on the bony ridge crest even as pain scalded his senses. The buckskin had worrisome chest injuries which Betlic knew were hurting. His own bandaged torso, shoulder, lower back, and legs throbbed plus burned with a staccato beat.

Although Squirrel’s natural plating prevented deadly organ wounds, carrying weight with a slashed up chest had to hurt. The padded links of Squirrel’s own chest harness was abrading rows of claw marks last Betlic checked.

“Bet, can you make it or are your wits too addled by fever to function?” Dreng’s rumbling voice snapped Betlic’s eyes down to his friend and partner.

“Everyone was butchered because I noticed the danger too late, Dreng. I got too many of our friends killed.”

“Bordering delirious I see. Damned head is harder than a forge anvil today. Stayed level headed through the fight. Anyone else would have panicked and we would all be dead right now.”

“Yeah right. I should have. . .”

“Stop with the should haves. They don’t matter. Things are grim and we all know it. We’ve a strong reputation at Clear Brooke and many a favor owed which we can collect. What we fail to sell to cover expenses can be made up soon enough by a fast courier bringing us the coin we need to settle accounts. Running Stag’s bill and the healer fees for all of us will get worked out, Bet. I swear it. Master Inek offered to cover our meals, laundry, and baths while he’s here.”

“You know best how to bargain, Dreng.”

Dreng shook his head which made his shoulder length, mahogany braided mane slide like a pendulum. “The gnomes will know how to catch and cure Rhapsody, Betlic. We won’t fail him or Cliff’s memory. Get yourself, Seth, and Gill to the witches. Long Ears can keep Rhapsody calm enough until we reach Clear Brooke.”

“I hope so. Otherwise they’ll kill him because he’s acting so crazed. He’s hurting.”

“We’ll save him. We may have to muzzle him and boot his claws to manage it, but we will get Rhapsody home to Grace Manor, Bet.”

“The temple will enslave him again once we reach Prosperity. A shame because Rhapsody is one of the finest war steeds in Gyeteras.” Betlic felt his throat tighten as he spoke.

“We’ll sort it when the time comes, Bet.” Dreng announced with steel underlying his words. “Focus on getting to the witches. I’ll take care of our mounts and the rest since you aren’t in any shape to do much right now.”

“I’ll see Seth and Gill bedded down in Running Stag, and the witches called. You handle the parcel selling and mount care. I’ll send a message to Aulon. We’ll get done faster if we divide the labor.”

Dreng shot Lance a concerned glare which spoke volumes Bet could not decipher. His shoulders rose and fell. “Hickory Haven for our meeting place?”

“Sound plan.” Betlic answered automatically.

Dreng slapped Squirrel’s shoulder. “Get him to town in one piece.”

Squirrel was moving so Betlic called over his shoulder, “See you at the tavern.”

“Save us a table at the Haven.” Vallin called as Hobb sidled Squirrel up to Maple’s nose. Betlic trusted Squirrel would stay with the massive draft without him having to interfere. So long as Marcus and Lance stayed close to do the actual guarding, Betlic could sort out a plan of action to keep Equinox’s honor intact.

Rough timbered long houses came abreast of their group as the trees vanished to grant access to town. Several hitching posts in front of the long houses were half filled. It was not yet crowded. Hickory Haven Tavern served one hundred or more travelers per meal rush each day as best Betlic could recall. Hickory Haven was the main meal stop for most caravans for midday meal before pushing onward to Castle Ring. Or they got so far as Apple Grove Station if they left early enough. Hickory Haven Tavern was the closest to the stone paved highway, and therefore the most convenient. Troughs and hitching posts stood five rows deep before the complex. The tavern was the largest eating establishment outside of major metropolitan areas.

Betlic’s wavering eyes made out two tall cabin roofs which served as kitchens. Their famed pit ovens and outdoor grills were under broad, sturdy veranda roofs nestled between the two kitchen buildings. Aromatic smoke coiled and whirled on a soft breeze. His stomach clenched from a whiff of roasting venison. Verandas connected the other buildings together so that inclement weather did not spoil anyone’s meal. Serving staff were scurrying back and forth between the pit and grills, plus the kitchens. Most were laden with large trays stacked high with food, pitchers, and tankards.

The pair of main split log long houses seemed to beckon. A smaller building set back to the side was for the spell casters, traders and merchants who wished to eat separate from mercenaries and guards. Best of all, Hickory Haven had a decent sized bathhouse attachment replete with private laundry service and changing quarters around back. The only establishment on the highway where travelers got a hot bath in privacy, plus their clothes cleaned.

Master Inek seemed eager to reach their destination. He clucked to increase Maple’s pace one last time. He would wish to push onward after a hot meal most likely. If so, Betlic would forgo the bath and meal to have enough time to place Seth and Gill within an inn room under the witches care.

Sending word to Aulon that Seth was stuck in Clear Brooke Station and needed funds came hard second to the witches getting called. The worst injured mounts would be stabled until Seth and Gill were strong enough to bring the extra mounts home. It was possible that Dreng could arrange a storage space so that Seth and Gill could bring the tack, seeds, and farming tools home at a later date.

“Master Inek, do we head out after midday meal?”

Inek gave him a considering look with a sweep of his hand in the direction of the long beast sheds on the other side of the entry lane. “Cornicus Master Uric Hawthorne would be sore at me if I didn’t bring Maple in to say hello to him for an overnight visit. You’re in need of a break, and the witches care as well, Betlic. So Maple and I will stay overnight or longer. We are well ahead of my delivery schedule so you can get some rest and take care of your group without fear. I can get the nagas quartered in Evergreen Stable for up to three days. They are all in sturdy cages so Thorne won’t bicker too much about it.”

Betlic cocked his head as he looked up at the dark haired trader in his rich turquoise tunic and chocolate leather breeches. “Did not know you were on friendly terms with the Evergreen Stable Master. We usually work with Rook Ardith since most of our cornicuses come from his ranch and stable.”

“I’ve known Hawthorne since we were both clumsy youths. Maple here comes from Hawthorne’s elite draft breeding program.” Inek boasted.

“A valuable beast then.” Betlic answered to keep his mind focused.

“Indeed she is. Master Hawthorne breeds the finest beasts for long hauling without having to worry about their joints suffering fatigue syndrome. As I’m sure you noticed with how long Maple has continued to high step along despite the heavy cart she’s pulling.”

“So your mare came from his pasture lots? They say he demands a one time breeding right out of each sale. Does he truly do such?” Marcus butted into their conversation.

A side glance at the knight had Betlic lifting a brow in silent query. Marcus wiggled his brows with a sly grin. Perhaps he had also picked up on Inek’s penchant for fawning so was distracting the merchant.

Master Inek was prattling away. “He does demand a spawn if the beast sold is from his elite stock. When Maple reaches ten I’ll need to pasture her for a year since she is one of his elites. Thorne and I go back a long ways as I was saying, Sir Marcus. I used to be a rein man on one one of my parents wagons when they were in their prime. They ran nine wagons in the string. Hawthorne and I would sit in the tack shed and eat together every time my family wagons came in for the night. Hence I could buy this mare. Maple is one of the finest trained draft rams on the highways, and Hawthorne wouldn’t have sold her except she took a shine to me. You can’t go wrong with a draft ram from Beast and Stable Master Uric Hawthorne’s breeding program.”

Marcus responded, “If one has the funds to spare, the finest stock can be bought during the fairs. Most of our mounts come from the stock yards here. Most of our longest lasting mounts are Ardith Ranch trained.”

“I believe it. Your mounts have excellent conformation and heart, despite being injured. They kept a brisk pace even with all their wounds sapping their strength. Only a truly fine trained and well bred cornicus can do such. Ardith does have the best reputation for training fighting stock from all four breeds.” Inek said. “Your quadcorn war steed is well behaved considering everything. Ardith does have a knack with quadcorns or so I’ve heard tell.”

“Wrath was foaled in the Borderlands. Lord Garth’s breeding program before he was murdered by the treacherous Duke Bryce. So my war steed is older and well settled with me. Given time and a good partner, young Rhapsody should likewise mellow.”

“I’m not familiar with the Borderlands or Fringe cornicus breeders. Too dangerous for such as myself to ply trade out there. Need too many guards to make it worth the effort. Only twenty plus wagons in a train can expect to scratch out a profit. But I will say Wrath is impressive. He’s the largest and most powerful quad I’ve ever seen.”

“Since joining Equinox, I’ve come to appreciate the Clear Brooke gnomes reputation for breeding tough fighting mounts. The quads bred here are longer bodied and not so bulky boned because they don’t need to be. Wrath’s kin are the largest of the blood because they have to survive demon attacks and still carry riders to safety despite injuries with some frequency. I noticed our riding injured beasts sits wrong with those we’ve passed on the road. Border and Fringe cornicuses are used to such trials. They are asked to carry burdens out of necessity. So I hope the stable masters here can back their rumored miracle healing as well as any Borderman.”

Inek gave a sage nod. “Not just rumor, Sir knight. Hawthorne and his staff are the best beast healers in these parts. I dare say your mounts will benefit from a couple hours of Thorne’s attention. Not to mention he consults the witches as needed. Hawthorne gets help with the worst injured beasts from Crone Hilda or Dame Galiana if he believes a beast will be lost without magic reinforcement.”

Betlic interrupted, “good to know. We often use Rook Ardith’s stable, but I am willing to try Hawthorne’s. I will do my best to arrange for Seth and Gill to have care so I can finalize arrangements for our stock. I expect you will wish to continue our trip soon though it may mean changing out our own mounts for rented ones to see you to Prosperity.”

Betlic took a deep breath and continued, “It would be nice if we could lodge at Running Stag for two nights to make sure the witches can tend all our wounds so they won’t render us useless later. It would grant Dreng and me time to arrange everything, and possibly unload the farm goods to cover our companions and mounts care. If that fails, we can get the process started for Seth and Gill to have everything extra shipped to us once they recover enough to travel home.”

“As I said before, I am already planning on it, Betlic. I stay to visit with Hawthorne whenever I come through here. We’ve made excellent time so we can remain a full two or three days to help you settle things if you wish to continue with me. The witch healers will do more than was available in Cryslatta’s fancy medical guild. Neither of your companions will survive much longer on the road. They both look worse than this morning when Vallin loaded them into the hollow beneath my bench.” Inek explained.

“Thank you. The extra time will allow me to settle things.” Betlic answered as his shoulders began to sag.

Don’t mention it, Betlic. I’d like to help get Equinox Company back on solid ground. I can do some poking around to find buyers for your unwanted farming wares or anything else you and Dreng deem necessary to sell.”

“We cannot thank you enough for caring about our welfare considering Seth’s magic and staff plus Gill’s bow, war hammer, and mace are useless to you, Master Inek.” Marcus replied.

Betlic knew Dreng would be unhappy if Master Inek took over selling their goods. It was a matter of pride to the dwarf that he control the Company’s funds and bartering for supplies. However, Marcus might be onto something equally vital. They would have to convince Dreng to accept aide.

“Equinox’s demon hunters are respected. Your company has done an excellent job of protecting my freight since we met in Cryslatta despite all your injuries. More importantly you’ve done a great service to all traders and merchants across this land for near a decade.”

“It will take time to find the right people to keep it that way. I fear the demons may get a dangerous toehold again thanks to this last job.” Marcus said.

“Shame you were crippled by nefarious folks.” Inek answered in a quieter tone. “The tale of you getting double crossed spreads far and wide. People are getting angry. Equinox Company has earned everyone’s gratitude on the trade lanes. Sunny Vale is fortunate it perished. Cryslatta will feel many a merchant’s wrath soon enough. Assuming I get this particular shipment to Prosperity under the given schedule, I will take control of my family’s business. Once I am in control, I plan to move the family warehouses away from Cryslatta’s tax men’s clutches.”

“Sound plan. Sunny Vale’s chief lied to the Overseer Guild about the number of demons according to Cryslatta’s guild. From what we saw during our time there, I doubt the chief lied.” Marcus growled.

“Twas te poor look’n a haml’t. Fig’r de Crys Guil’ stripp’d em o der coin afor de sent out de ‘quest.” Lance added. “So Bet n Grump git seed n plow parts te sell af’er we di’ de job. De lies n lack o hon’r is bad der.”

“Agreed, Lance. I smell deception same as you. Had we known we were facing a troop, Betlic, Dreng, and Eldwyn would have brought funds enough to hire extra fighters and still done the cleansing despite the community being so poor. We have company funds set aside to hire extra fighters when we learn about demon numbers that high.” Marcus echoed Betlic’s thoughts.

“I’ve heard said that you do charitable cleansings each year. Few mercenary bands would bother since they don’t profit.” Inek swept blue black hair away from his eyes as he spoke.

Betlic responded through clenched teeth. “Cryslatta’s Overseer’s Guild forced Sunny Vale’s survivors to part with their grain and farming equipment. We did not want their last livelihood goods, but the ten survivors have been put in chains either way. Then the same Guild told us we could not sell anything in their city to add insult to injury.”

“Dey was all fer loot’n dat town. Seem’d to be loot’n ever’ body purses round de city. Din’t find a dec’n size meal whole time we’z der.” Lance added.

Betlic silently agreed with Lance. “The poor need not fear Equinox will refuse aid when demons are haunting their fields and streets. They can speak truth and expect aide no matter their situation. The message must become common knowledge for the day when Equinox has filled it’s roster nigh to forty again.”

“Don’t forget that the Overseer’s Guilds in each City Kingdom sets prices, my friends. The Cryslatta Guild most certainly demanded an impossible fortune of them long before the work came to your attention.” Inek added in a grim tone.

Marcus growled, “which is wrong. Perhaps we should ask the temples and holy orders to inform us of villages in need if they cannot afford to post a cleansing job through their Overseer’s Guild because of the minor kingdoms increasing greed. People could come to us directly if they are strained of purse.”

“We are fortunate you employed our sorry remnant as guards that we might get home at all.” Betlic interrupted Marcus’s tirade.

Inek waved off the comment. “Equinox badges are the best deterrent for thieves a man can secure for himself. Even injured as your members be, accosting this cargo cart has already proven deadly,” Inek answered in a conspiratorial tone. “Bandits can’t see bandages beneath clothes and maille, but you’ve done your duty better than most whole mercenaries. Plus your loose war steed has shown his fangs, claws, and talons quick enough to ensure the word’s spreading like wildfire to leave my cart alone.”

Squirrel turned into the largest stable complex’s courtyard alongside Inek’s cart. The trader’s words were true enough, but it galled Betlic that his group’s crossed sword and sorcerer staff over a demon’s skull was reduced to a ploy. As dire as some of their injuries were, their clashes with bandits could have resulted in death. He had no chance to say as much as gnomes, elves, and humans came surging forward to take their mounts.

“Where is Master Hawthorne’s Evergreen?” Inek bellowed which brought various stable hands up short. All the hands who stalled were wearing various blue, yellow, burnt orange, forest green, flame red, oak brown, or crimson dominant tunics. Burnt orange with black trim was Ardith Stable’s colors.

Betlic wavered. He knew Rook’s stable hands and prices. Yet he also owed Inek Copperwell his loyalty since he and Eldwyn accepted the emergency job. Master Inek pushed his poor ram head hard to arrive here for Equinox’s sake.

A weathered faced, bandy legged man with salt and pepper hair stalked into the courtyard with employees wearing silver and grass green tunics following at his heels. With a wave to Inek the man snapped orders and gnomes scattered to obey. The middle aged man walked closer to appraise the animals over which he was to take charge.

“Well I see you brought Maple in for a reunion, Inek.” The middle aged stable master called as he sauntered closer. “It isn’t like you to push her so hard that she’s lathered and her sides heaving like this. Your guards look like they’ve near killed their mounts defending your cargo.”

“We’ve two badly injured men laying beneath my bench seat, Thorne. A string of injured cornicuses are being brought in by foot and a beast wagon. They belong to my acquaintances here. They sore need your medical expertise. I believe you’re best able to handle demon tainted wounds.”

“What happened?” Hawthorne demanded as Inek climbed down the ladder steps he rolled out of his cart. Betlic also swung off Squirrel’s back to cling to the saddle until his head stopped spinning. Lance had a hand between his shoulder blades until he steadied. Lance crowded Betlic’s periphery as he shuffled over to Inek and Evergreen’s Stable Master.

He started evaluating the man who would take care of Equinox’s beasts. Master Hawthorne was perhaps five foot three inches, a big man for the gnome race. His longish face and deep set craggy features did not hide shrewd and concerned glints flashing in the depths of red spoked yellow eyes.

“Captain Betlic Jetren, Lance Bullard, and Sir Marcus Farcrest of Equinox Demon Hunters Company meet Beast and Stable Master Uric Hawthorne of Evergreen Stables.” Inek intoned with a hand flourish.

Hawthorne’s brows beetled as looked up at Betlic and his companions. “Rumors claim Equinox was butchered by a nest of demons. Some say Equinox is done for. But I recognize you three well enough. Same with your cornicuses. Seen them in Rook’s stalls many a times.”

Marcus growled, “try a war troop of sixty odd demons led by several greater demons and your rumors would be true. Equinox Company routed and slaughtered the troop, but paid a heavy price in the doing.”

Inek placed a hand on Hawthorne’s broad shoulder. “Old friend, their beasts have demon tainted wounds, and are in need of a true expert healer. Nineteen bad wounded cornicuses with more heart than I’ve ever witnessed outside of Maple’s. Pressing hard and fast to reach here was the only option Equinox has after enduring the unsavory business that befell them in Cryslatta. These men are proof that heart still drives Equinox. They will rebuild and keep their oaths to save lives.”

Hawthorne heaved a sigh and nodded. He pivoted on his heels and bellowed at his employees, “Get these cornicuses unsaddled and blanketed. Cool them down slow and easy. Get nineteen stalls prepped for emergency wound care. We need long shaft canvas cots to move two severely injured warriors. Move it.”

Betlic put a hand on Marcus’s shoulder to bring him back to a calmer state. “Please forgive our foul moods. We lost dear comrades, and many fine beasts because of lies.”

Hawthorne shoved his index fingers of each hand through belt loops on either side of his waist, and rocked back on his heels. “Wish I could say you were the first having such problems. Cryslatta Kingdom has gone to rot of late.”

As Hawthorne spoke a small gnome girl reached for Squirrel’s reins. She crooned as Squirrel’s long ears swiveled up, down, back, forward, and then down hard against his cheeks. “Go on, Squirrel. Let them take care of you.” The tricorn gave a short horn growl before obeying the unfamiliar stable worker.

Wrath’s talons were digging into the ground and near yanking his stable hand off his feet to get inside the stable. Epoch, Ginger, and Hobb were moving at slower paces without a fuss.

“Can we get my cart unloaded. I’ve got a live shipment this round, and two near dead men to get to the healers.”

“Yes. But I would like to know what exotic pets your moving before my stable hands go near your cart. Well, Inek?”

“Not pets. Guardian Nagas some sea faring ship captains hired for treasure escort.” Inek protested.

“Only you, Inek.” Hawthorne shook his head. “Saul, Mica, Ox! Get the cage lift and clear space in the second harness room for venomous exotics. Meet me at the North Wall.” Hawthorne gave Maple’s halter a light tug and the lumbering beast began to follow. “Lets get Maple’s cart situated where I can keep an eye on it easier.”

“Thank you, Thorne.” Inek breathed.

“Let us unload Seth and Gill before you take the cart.” Betlic stepped in the way.

“We’ll unload them, Betlic. You’re ready to drop.” Marcus growled as his palm slammed into Betlic’s chest.

“E’s right. Yer wobbl’n so migh’ drop ‘em.” Lance urged.

Rook Ardith startled Betlic by gripping his elbow. “By all the Gods of light it’s good to see you alive, Betlic!”

“We’re with Master Inek this time or I would have called for you, Rook.” Betlic felt compelled to explain.

“I’ll do what I can to help Thorne. You don’t need to worry about it. Most of your stock comes from my pastures and schooling so we will help no matter which stable holds them.” Rook’s lime and gray eyes searched his face. “You look ready to drop, man.”

Betlic turned to watch Lance and Marcus unload Seth as gently as possible. By the time they were out of the wagon the first time, two unrolled canvas carry cots were in place to rest Seth and Gillian’s bodies.

“No nest could have done this much damage to any of you!” Rook snarled as he bent over Seth.

“We were caught unaware by a full demon troop led by five greater immortal demons. Got surrounded and cut to pieces, Rook.” Betlic responded by rote.

“So I heard Marcus bellowing. Foul deeds are happening in Cryslatta these days, Betlic. It wounds my heart to see you ran afoul of the misbegotten curs now in command of that kingdom.”

One of the stable hands came to take Maple around the side of the stables so her cart could be unloaded once Lance and Marcus got Gillian onto the second stretcher.

“I’ll help get them to the witches.” Rook offered as he clasped onto Betlic’s arm even tighter.

A familiar voice cut through the air. “Slow down, Obstinate. Your going to yank Scrapper and Shadow Stalker off their feet you loony fool.”

Hawthorne headed toward the limping beasts. Eldwyn was sitting on the seat beside the team handler instead of riding Breeze. Headbutt was trotting beside Vallin with Dreng in his saddle.

The beast master held himself rigid as he watched the animals bumble closer. As Vallin reached their group, Hawthorne called his employees to take over unloading the beast wagon and walking each cornicus past him. Hawthorne scratched his chin as he appraised their injuries. The stable master’s owlish red spoked yellow eyes missed nothing, going so far as to measure how wide some of the wounds were with splayed hands. He poked his head into the front hatch of the beast hauler for several moments.

Hawthorne returned from his examination.“Some may die no matter all my skill or any others, Mister Jetren. The poison looks to have run deep in the four downed in the wagon. You will lose at least three. They were hit quite hard by foul magic, claws, and fangs it looks like.”

“Indeed. We buried most of our magic users, and fighters who rode them on the old consecrated hill overlooking Sunny Vale while the others tried to reach the medical guild in Cryslatta.” Dreng rasped. “Good to see you, Rook.”

Rook’s hawkish nose lifted as his head tilted at an angle. “Glad you’re still breathing, Dreng. I’m assisting Beast Master Hawthorne here with your animals. It’ll take two stables worth of hands and expertise to put these cornicuses back together. Even pooling our skills, Thorne’s right about some being too far gone.”

“We’re low on funds, Rook. Unless we can get in touch with Aulon and he fast couriers coin, we��re going to have to sell enough excess equipment to afford their care.” Dreng rumbled as he dismounted from Headbutt.

“Muzzle it, old friend.” Rook answered as he clasped Dreng’s forearm. “I know your beasts as well as my kin. Raised and trained almost all of them over the years.”

“Fair. We are deeply shamed over them looking such a sorry mess, Rook.”

“Hard won victories are messy, Dreng.”

Dreng held out his hand, palm facing the sky toward Master Hawthorne. “What say you we discuss the price of getting these poor steeds proper treatment? Names Dreng Ironclasp.”

Hawthorne nodded and gripped Dreng’s meaty forearm. “Beast Master Uric Hawthorne, but my friends all call me Thorne. I’ll give you a good bargain since Rook’s determined to help, Mister Dreng. Never fear Evergreen would gouge your purse. If even a fraction of the new rumors racing along this stretch of road are true, your men were sore cheated and abused by the Guilds in Cryslatta. The adventurers will no doubt make the city’s guilds wish they had done their duty by you once the truth circulates.”

Dreng nodded his assent. “By the beard of the first smith I’ll not deny it. Dreng’s fine, Thorne. Be there any farms around these parts looking for tools of their trade?”

Hawthorne blinked, brows furrowing as he side eyed Dreng. “We’ve farms a plenty in these parts. They keep Clear Brooke’s many kitchens and stables well supplied. Why do you ask?”

Dreng scratched his short trimmed beard. “In the beast wagon are huge packs which Equinox beasts were unfairly carrying. They contain dismantled farming tools, nuts and bolts to assemble them, and a variety of seeds. Such was the poor payment we were forced to accept. We cannot use any of it. I’d see our mounts rid of the weight when they head for home again. Perhaps your local farmers need or desire plow parts, hoes, rakes, and seeds if there still be time for the planting. I’m willing to haggle. Are you willing to work with me?”

“I’ll send for Squire Lister. She’ll know who needs what right enough. Some farms are still sowing crops around here. Will be for another two weeks best I know.” Hawthorne agreed. “Squire Lister does all the major trade and supply ordering for this area, so she can find homes for your wares if anyone can. With Lister’s help, I will give you fair trade, Dreng.”

“Anything which doesn’t sell to Lister, I can inquire about this evening at Hearth Shield’s main lobby.” Master Inek volunteered. “The open market tomorrow might also prove profitable to move weapons and the rest of your excess.”

“Much obliged to you both.” Dreng responded. He shifted to face their gathering team. “I’ll see to things here. Why haven’t you gotten Gill, Seth, and Betlic into beds so they can be looked after? I’ll meet you in Haven’s first long house for food once I get things sorted here.”

Eldwyn huffed, a look of disbelief loosening his jaw. “You can’t . . .”

Betlic gripped the elf’s shoulder and gave a hard shake to silence Eldwyn. The shocked look downgraded several notches but Eldwyn’s passionflower eyes remained wide. “Want us to send you some breakfast while you’re haggling, Dreng?”

Rook spoke up, “a fine idea, Bet. I’ll get things in order with speed so Squire Lister and her men won’t take up too much of Dreng’s time. I’ve enough stable hands to spare three for unpacking under Dreng’s supervision.”

Eldwyn executed a small hop and twist out from under Betlic’s grip and clapped his hands as he settled eyes on the dour looking dwarf. “Many thanks, Rook, and Beat Master Hawthorne. Let’s get Seth and Gill sorted. Dreng can manage with a good hand and face scrubbing before he eats. We’ll send him a hearty meat pie with trimmings as soon as Vallin can place the order.”

“Be sure to take all our saddlebags with you, Long Ears. Be quicker to get clean when I’m done here.” Dreng snapped the saddle bags off his shoulder and hurled them into Eldwyn’s gut.

“You got it it, Grumpy.” Eldwyn joked as he straightened back to full height.

“Vallin, get us a bathing room. You’ve been loping on and off for days. You deserve first bathing rights. See if they have something to soak your feet. Take the twins with you. They can carry our saddle bags to the bathing rooms.” Betlic suggested as he snatched Dreng’s saddle bags out of Eldwyn’s hands to hand over to Kite. He pulled too thicker silver rods from his pouch and then tossed it to Vallin. “Eldwyn, Marcus, Lance, and I will get Gill and Seth settled at Stag, and send for the healers before joining you.”

Inek lifted a hand as if to argue, but Eldwyn gave him a sharp head shake as they bent their heads closer together and whispered to each other.

“Sound plan.” Vallin croaked in his cavernous voice. “Come along twins. We’ve gear to gather.”

Instead of obeying Vallin, Katinka tapped Betlic’s arm. “Bet, don’t forget Rhapsody. Shall I bespell him to be caught easier?”

He glared down at the girl. “First of all, only sworn companions of at least three years get to use my nickname. Secondly; Vallin already has a job for you to complete. So why aren’t you following mine and Vallin’s orders, young lady?”

“I’ve got spell training. And Rhapsody’s dangerous enough to need me to offer my magic to help stop him.” Katinka snapped.

“You aren’t capable of undoing the necessary spells, you little fool. Furthermore you accepted Seth’s offer of training. Your acceptance makes you an Equinox recruit. So do your part and help Kite with the saddle bags.”

One of the Evergreen stable hands stopped beside them. “If you’ve a mount gone feral, Cleric Sedric can catch them for you.”

“Get a grasp on that strawberry dapple roan quadcorn’s hackamore to strip his war saddle to doctor his wounds, and Equinox will be eternally grateful. He’s bespelled by the Justice Templars of Prosperity. You’ll need a cleric familiar with the Order’s spells to undo the enslavement.” Betlic explained.

“If you have the Knight’s amulet, Holy Sedric can work the needed magic. We’ll catch your war steed quick as a blink,” the youthful gnome promised.

“Now there’s a show I’d love to stay and watch.” Eldwyn’s laughing voice merged with a light elbow to Betlic’s injured side.

“Let’s hope Rhapsody doesn’t kill anyone because he’s crazed by pain.” Betlic grumbled as he reached into his jerkin’s inner pocket and withdrew Sir Cliffton’s holy badge. “Will this do?

“Yes, Sedric should be able to make the proper link with this.” The stable boy snatched the necklace and raced around the stable building.

An older stable hand shaking her head stepped closer. “We’ve plenty of experience catching half feral war steeds without partners. I recognize the strawberry dappled bleeding mess near the beast wagon. With Master Rook and Holy Sedric’s help, he will be caught and doctored by midday.”

“Thank you. Rhapsody has saved all of our lives on many occasions. Failing to aide a member of Equinox is breaking our oaths to each another.” Eldwyn spoke while shoving Headbutt’s reins in her hands.

The gnome girl looked dumbfounded as she led the spiral horned pacer into the stables. Dreng was back at the wagon directing a pair of brawny humans to remove the heavy packs and saddles from the beast wagon and stow them into a pair of two wheeled barrows.

Hawthorne was working with three other men and a wheeled contraption involving a net sling to get their fallen animals out. Lightfoot was hanging in the netting. The three men pulled the hoist backwards and began rolling it to the stable doors.

“Let’s get out of their way.” Betlic said while bending over to grab the handles of Seth’s cot.

Rook pushed him aside and grabbed the handles. “Enclave or Stag? You lead the way and we’ll bring the cots, Betlic.”

“Sound plan.” Lance grabbed the other end and with a nod he and Rook lifted at the same speed.

“Stag. It’s closer.” Eldwyn answered as he and Marcus picked up Gillian’s stretcher. With Betlic leading, they wove between buildings to avoid most of the heavy foot traffic. Jaw clenching against intermittent dizziness, Betlic hurried toward the Running Stag Inn.

Although the place resembled a military barracks due to the number of men and women who needed beds each night, Running Stag was divided into rooms housing side by side beds, or different sets of bunks for each room. Some bunk rooms had as many as fourteen beds stacked along both walls. Others had as few as four to six stacked beds. Stag featured a male wing and a female bunk wing.

As they reached the stairs, Matron Matilda Everard pushed open the double doors with help from her youngest son Riley.

“Thank the Elder Gods own light you’re alive, Betlic.” The round cheeked gnome woman gushed while looking around him to see who followed in his wake. “Oh dear me, get the wounded into room six. I’ll send for the witches.” The older woman dry rung her hands on top of her apron. “Clover, fetch linen protectors to room six.”

Matilda’s slender nutmeg haired daughter leapt from behind the counter, yanking two bundles off the long shelves at her back, keys jingling in her apron pocket as she fled down the hall.

“We’re on tight funds this time, Matty. We’ll take one of your ten man bunk quarters if you have any open.”

“Bunk quarters will make it harder to care for your injured, Betlic. They will go in room six unless the Witches decide they need to be housed at the Enclave. Don’t argue.” The portly gnome’s jaw jutted forward as she glared up at him with a pointed finger ready to jab him in the abdomen.

Eldwyn intervened before he could challenge her decision. “We would appreciate it if Riley would request a witch who knows diverse demon venoms, Matty. Cryslatta’s healer guild has naught but pompous wind bags spouting nonsense. They killed several of us before we understood we wasted a fortune trying to save our own lives. We moved fast as possible to get here before the taint kills Gillian and Seth. Betlic’s bad off too. We hope we aren’t already too late.”

Matilda slapped her palms together, “Riley, fetch Crone Nelda. Tell her to bring all her demon cures with her. It’s a dire emergency.” She grabbed the second massive key ring off the side hooks attached to the counter and hurried down the hall before them. “How many do you still need to house beyond Gill and Seth?” Matilda side eyed Eldwyn as she spoke.

“Six more companions total and two recruits. So eight beyond Seth and Gill. One is Vallin. We brought a teen aged orphan girl and her twin brother.” Eldwyn answered as he followed her into the Stag with Gillian’s cot.

“Heard tell all of you were dead three days past. Word is that the Cryslatta Healer’s Hall was shipping out the last of you for burn rites. Fools were claiming Equinox got eradicated by a demon nest. Sounded queer to me since you’ve not lost to a dozen or so demons since nine years past before you got enough magic users signed on.” The buxom woman hustled behind Clover to swing room six’s door wide.

Betlic replied. “We will need time to find new members. If Seth lives, he will have to forge new mage groups into tight teams.”

“Magic flingers are competitive, Betlic. I’ll put Vallin up at Hailwick’s place. They have beds his size seeing as they cater to giants.” Matron Matilda motioned the group into the room.

Betlic had no idea how much coin and rods Dreng would bring in, or whether Aulon could get funds shipped to Clear Brooke with Prosperity’s morning couriers. It felt wrong to ask for special accommodations considering how strapped their funds were at the moment. A side by side bed arrangement was a greater silver rod and two greater silver coins per night. An eight man bunk room was three silver rods and a lesser gold coin per night. To house Vallin was a lesser gold rod and five greater silver coins per night. Even assuming Aulon would go to Grace Manor and collect the funds, it would take at least three to four days by chain stabled cornicus runners for the sum to arrive.

Matilda poked him hard enough he doubled up from pain. “Muzzle your pride, Betlic Jetren. I know you’re good for the funds so I will cover any tabs for you. Bring me the balance whenever you come this way again. Including Hailwick’s fees. The girl you brought can bunk with you in room ten since it has enough beds. Or I’ve got a trundle cot I’ll put in here if you’d rather she keep watch over Seth and Gill which is covered in the rules. You run a tight outfit and always have, so I’ll not worry about her in Equinox quarters.”

“Thanks, Matty. We’re humbled by your good faith. She can sleep in a bunk room with us.” Eldwyn inserted as he passed into the room bearing the head of Gill’s stretcher with Marcus bringing up the rear.

“You were just here with nigh on forty men and women wearing your colors and badge. Your misfortune is one of the foulest things I’ve ever heard tell. Honored Seth might as well be dressed in a blood soaked death shroud. Gill don’t look much better. I’ve no doubt you lot are bandaged under your clothes by the pain on your faces. I see you come through here several times a year injured. But you, Betlic, look the worst. Should put you in here with Seth and Gill on a trundle.”

Rook and Lance settled Seth onto the other bed as Betlic shrugged his broad shoulders and fought down a wince. “I’ll be fine in the bunk room, Matty. Got a lot to get done today so we can pay our accounts off sooner instead of later.”

Rook shook his shaggy head. “You need a bed, Betlic. Eld and Dreng look alert enough to handle things. Trust them.”

Marcus chuckled as he straightened from helping settle Gill. “You know us well, Widow Matty. Same with you, Rook. We sent Vallin to reserve a bathing room at Hickory. Master Inek insists on covering our meals, baths, and our laundry. Once we’re cleaned up, we’ll tend each other’s wounds and eat on our employer’s tab.”

“I was going to send Wulfgar to open tavern tabs for you. So tell me, where’s the sourpuss?” Matron Matilda demanded as she gripped Eldwyn’s sleeve.

“No need for a tab, Matty.” Marcus said. “But, we thank you all the same.”

“Dreng’s with Beast Master Hawthorne bartering farming goods we got stuck with for our clawed up mounts care.” Eldwyn was answering while patting her clenched fist. “Surely you didn’t think demons could kill our favorite grouch?”

Rook stepped close and beckoned Betlic to lean down. “You do know Widow Matty’s sweet on Dreng, don’t you?”

“Everyone knows but Dreng. He can’t see it, Rook.” Bet whispered.

The older cornicus breeder grinned, eyes crinkling with wrinkles. “Why am I not surprised he’s blind, Bet?” He whispered back.

“Never seen a wizard as strong as Honored Seth looking so near dead. Made me wonder if Dreng met a bad end.” Matty pulled back and smoothed her apron down. “Sir Cliffton?”

“Dead on the battlefield, Matty.” Marcus answered.

“Victoria, Handell, and Regina?”

“All ‘em ‘er dead, Wida’. Vallin ‘n Dreng er only ones missin’. De’s fine, jes busy.” Lance answered as he rolled a heavy canvas stretcher around it’s poles for easy carry. “De demons ev’n got Hellion. Ne’er knew I’d see de day she’d die. She wen’ down fight’n. Took ‘er fair share o’ dem’ns wit er.”

Marcus lifted his hand to end Matron Matilda’s interrogation. “Matty, we brought two teenage part trained magic users with us. Seth has decided to train them as a sorcerer and wizardess respectively.”

Matilda swiped her left hand across her face as she absorbed the situation described. “We faced a full war troop led by greater demons and won. The reason Equinox still won is because we’ve gained so much experience fighting nests with well ordered mixed teams. When we arrived at Sunnyvale we were caught between greater demons leading the charge from behind and in front of us. In the end, we killed a full war troop with inferior numbers. Nobody has ever done that before. The only ones not dead are a couple of the greater immortals who managed to escape once Regina and Orva were killed while Seth was drug off Epoch’s back. We found pieces enough to identify Liehdrel, but nobody knows for sure when she got torn apart. We would appreciate it if you would spread the truth to anyone who tells you our company was destroyed by a mere nest of demons, Matty. The truth needs to be shared.”

Matilda shook her head as she bent closer and smoothed back sweat drenched locks from Seth’s brow while contemplating everything revealed.

“Nobody has ever claimed to have killed greater immortals outside old legends. Honor has limits, you fools. Too many died for your lofty ideals.”

Raking his fingers through his thigh length ponytail to pull it across his chest, Eldwyn leaned against the dresser. “Seth, Regina, Liehdrel, Orva, and Abrecan combined forces and did bring down three greater demons. And they were definitely immortals, Matty. The ones to escape were in as bad a shape as Seth and Gill. I’ve never seen so much magic power piggy backed and entwined together to create a single battering ram of force such as I witnessed in Sunnyvale. If we can find more wizards and sorcerers like the ones we lost, we might even turn the tables before demons can slaughter more villages on our side of the borderlands.”

Marcus took up the tale.“He speaks the truth, Widow Matty. I saw the five form a wedge and fight the greater demons while the rest of us fought for our lives against superior numbers. We were surrounded before we understood what was happening. Even if we had known the real numbers in time, none of us can leave helpless villagers to getting tortured and eaten alive. We would have paid extra fighters and still helped Sunnyvale no matter the numbers. Equinox has always put saving lives as our first priority in the Pledge of Companions.”

“We fough’ ‘n won. None ‘zerves at kind a twisted death. Nev’r will let folk die at way if we c’n stop it.” Lance agreed as he took both wound up cloth stretchers in hand.

Matilda shrugged. “Demon hunters see how demons kill first hand. No wonder you survivors become the fiercest yet queerest brained warriors alive. Seems you lot can’t let go the hatreds and heal.”

Lance shook his head. “Twas born in de fringe, near de great’r gates. I seen dem’n kill’n as a yung’n. Can’t ne’er not hear de scream’n when I sleep, Wida.’ Got nuttin’ ta do wit hate. Jes cann’a sleep if’n I don’ try sav’n ‘em all.”

Rook spoke up. “He’s right. One in a hundred survivors become a demon hunter, Matilda. Few survivors can face demons after seeing them kill someone they know.” He pointed out. “It’s why I broadened my training program for fighting cornicuses and diversified into all four breeds instead of only focusing on tricorns and quads. I started breeding knives with the sharpest natural horns I could get my hands on. Started looking for the thickest based low horns I could find for the same reason. What they lack in natural bone armor, they make up for with speed and agility to help keep the magic users alive through evading the worst attacks. I’ve already got the best tricorn and quadcorns around these parts. I’ve redoubled my efforts to get newborn quads gentled enough to fight beside the men and women with guts enough to face demon kind without flinching.”

“I don’t understand, Rook.”

“Equinox’s determination to protect those who cannot hope to save their lives is why I’ve expanded so much over the last ten years. Betlic, Eldwyn, Seth, and Dreng’s starting vision impressed me when I first met them. Their dream isn’t about seeking glory, Matilda. Their objective is ensuring villages don’t continue to vanish from maps. Or get labeled badlands or cursed ground. They were lied to so this massacre is not about pride at all. It is about how much rot is to be found in Cryslatta and how the various Guilds in that kingdom have forsaken all honor. They have forgotten they are separate from the new rulers and their advisors.”

Matilda heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry if I jumped to the wrong conclusion. Let me open bunk room ten and get a trundle rolled in here. I’ll see to it that the witches get to Seth and Gill the moment they arrive. Strip out of your armor as soon as you get in your room, Sir Marcus. No need to wear what’s left of it around town.” Matilda tossed over her shoulder as she headed to the next room.

“Yes, Ma’am,” He answered while following her from the room and deeper into the building’s male wing. Lance headed the opposite direction, toward the front doors with Rook. Eldwyn closed the door behind himself. Betlic leaned against the wall to wait for the witches to arrive.

#original stories

1 note · View note

genuflectx · 5 years ago

Text

Mountain Spirit/Reader

Length: 5,674 words

Main Kinks: Virginity, size difference, corruption, creampie,

Other Warnings: stalking, jealousy, implications of domestic violence (human to human, not the monster), bones, death, murder, pregnancy, eating people, regurgitation,

(all images in aesthetic board are labeled for reuse with modification or are mine)

1/24/2020: REPOST

You’d just moved with your boyfriend into the mountain home you’d dreamed of as a little girl. All your life you’d lived below the misty slopes. Now, you were where you belonged, high above the valleys. Here the air was thick, the trees were green year round, and the homes were hidden. It was like a constant vacation.

You could barely remember the last time you’d been this deep into the mountains. Despite the unease in the new home around you, there was calm in your heart as you gazed out the glass doors. Trees as far as the eye could see. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. The commute would be long, but it was worth it.

“[Y/N],” called your partner from the living room.

You tore your eyes from the mountains. “Yeah?”

“You gonna get cookin’ anytime soon?”

You sighed. “Yeah.”

You let your mind crawl over the past week’s events. Things were generally settled. Boxes were nearly all unpacked, save for a few strays. Furniture was in place. You began to ease into the new routine, just as you had with the last two moves, but it was still a tedious process.

Your partner startled you from your thoughts with his hands around your waist, just as you were peeling the tin lid from a can of green beans. As you jolted your finger slipped, nicking against the sharp metal. Your boyfriend stepped back in surprised.

“Shit!” you hissed, holding the hand close. A drop of blood had got into the can, effectively spoiling the beans.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “A major klutz as always,”

You glared at him.

Dinner ended up with a side of corn instead, but not before some loud griping from your partner. The night washed across the mountain tops soon enough, and the two of you settled into slumber. When morning came around you strapped on a backpack and some good walking shoes, then headed out the door. You liked to walk.

“What are you hiding?” you whispered lovingly to the woods. “Sun-bleached elk skulls? Maybe a bear?…Well. Hopefully not a bear,” you added.

If you glanced back, you could see the top of your cute little mountain cabin poking out of the tree line. You could go back home. If you went a little further though, you’d be able to peer off the side of a cliff and look down upon the river. You ached to see the river, so you continued on.

At the cliff edge, you could faintly hear the sound of the water swimming serpentine around the ancient cut banks. The ledge had a horrible drop. You carefully sat down, hand against tree bark, so as not to slip and fall to your death. Despite fear of heights, you adored the view. You sighed and rubbed a bruise on your arm. Couldn’t you simply sit here forever? Couldn’t you just be lulled into a mid-day nap by the distant river, and then never wake?

Some branches far behind you shuttered and shook, and you turned with hopes to see a squirrel performing parkour. A gentle breeze shifted the canopy, but there was no squirrel. The branches had gone still again. You searched a while longer, simply enjoying the shades of yellow-green produced from sun spots against chlorophyll.

Your eyes moved down, attention drawn by a disturbance of bushes below. Perhaps the squirrel had transferred to the forest floor? Standing, you crept nearer. The little round leaves gave way to the head of a bear, looking right at you with twitching nose.

You were frozen in place with stance wide. You must have jinxed it earlier.

It stalked forward from the bramble before standing upright with a gentle, curious growl from between its massive bear teeth. Then, the animal plopped heavily back to fours and started to stumble away at an angle, before crying out and turning tail. It disappeared once more into the mountain, human forgotten.

For a while you remained still, as if it would return any moment. Sweat rolled down your back. You glanced around, examining the area nervously, before re-situating your backpack and hurrying home. You were horrified.

Once home, your bag was discarded on a chair and you fitfully paced as your boyfriend switched channels on the television.

“What is it?” he drawled carelessly.

You dropped onto the couch beside him. “I saw a bear,”

His brows lifted and he looked incredulously at you. “What? This close to the cabin?”

“W-well, we live in the mountains so yeah, but like-”

“Maybe moving here was a mistake,”

You were quiet. He didn’t sound concerned about you in the slightest. Besides that, his words stung deeply as it had been your idea to move up here. In fact, it was a dream come true for you. This was the one decision of yours he had, after quite the fight, accepted.

He stood up. “You know what? You’re just not going to be going out there again. You’ll only lead the bears straight back here,”

Your expression twisted. Before you could protest he had taken your backpack full of hiking gear and dropped it unceremoniously into the garbage.

“Problem solved. No more bears,” he smiled sarcastically and sat back down on the couch.

You gawked at him. It wasn’t the first time he threw something of yours away without permission, but he’d never done it in front of you.You stood abruptly and marched to the bedroom.

He called after you. “And don’t go crying or some shit, you know I hate that! Grow some fucking balls,”

You laid on the bed and cried silently anyway. Unpleasant, recent memories drifted to mind and refused to leave until the two of you went to bed later that night. Luckily, he had not noticed you crying.

The work week felt slow like maple syrup. You trudged through it, sticky as fly paper, itchy as poison ivy, icy as the river but without the calming rush. Massage therapy was rewarding. But work was work. And without the pleasure of standing among giants of bark and vines, it felt like there was nothing to rejuvenate your spirit. You wouldn’t dare disobey your partner.

Tomorrow was Saturday, thank God. You parked the car in the driveway beside your boyfriend’s and took a breath.Time to relax. Eventually you removed yourself from the car, taking extra care not to bump the fresh bruises on your leg against anything, and walked the steps up to the door. First thing you noticed was it was partially ajar and unlocked.

“H-hello?” you called quietly, pepper spray now in hand. You searched the house and no one was home. Besides the opened door and your missing partner nothing was amiss.

The evening went. No sign of him. Darkness enveloped the cabin. Still nothing. You were up extra late, awaiting a knock on the door in hopes he’d come back. The waiting made you anxious. Midnight bonged on the small grandfather clock, so you went around to triple check that all the doors and windows were locked and fastened.

The silhouette of the evergreens stuck up like knives in front of the glowing, full moon. You stared out at them, mind thick with apprehension. When some branches moved you thought nothing of it, until they sank low and disappeared into the blackness below the treeline. You eyed the evergreens, convinced you were seeing things in your uneasy state.

Needing to desperately calm your roaring head, you stepped out onto the porch and down the stairs. You stood and stared at the stars. Something rustled and you hoped a cute little raccoon would wander into the light. Instead, someone spoke.

“Hello,” he whispered softly.

You jumped and stepped back onto the stairs. “Who’s there!” you shouted. “I have pepper spray! And my boyfriend is JUST upstairs, so you’d better.. you’d better just tell me who you are!”

He laughed just as softly as he had whispered, but there felt something sinister in it. “Your mate is dead,” he explained.

Your mouth floundered open. After hesitation, you stepped further up the stairs, but refused to turn your back on the unseen man. “Wh-what? How do you know,” your voice shook.

“Because I ate him for you,”

Your eyes tore into the darkness. Then, in one swift movement, you scrambled up the last few stairs, ran across the porch, and slammed shut the door, locking it. You heard something big cause the wood boards of the porch to squeal. The voice spoke to you again, drawing your attention.

“I’ve watched you some while. I scared the bear away, who was quite hungry. And then I ate your mate, who marked your flesh,”

You put your back to the door, brows furrowed. “The bear?” you asked yourself. And how did he know about the bruises? He must be a stalker.

The boards outside creaked again, moving towards the window. You chanced a glance at the glass and screamed, leaping back and face red. At first you thought a tree had somehow fallen, or that maybe the man held a branch. But something was.. wrong.

The ‘faceplate’ of the tree was huge- it filled the whole window. In the low light of the outside bulb, his face was cast in a dim, golden hue. Four blue flowers bloomed on the surface where eyes could be. The jaw line was sharp. There seemed to be a mouth, and when he talked, the bottom jaw moved and a split that went half way up the face opened, cutting his face three ways. Inside a myriad of hooked thorns glimmered in the light. Maybe this was a mask? A huge, inhuman mask. But why?

“I have another gift for you,” he said cheerfully.

You didn’t know what to say.

He lifted his head, coughing. Something pushed up his throat and he spat up a few chunks onto your porch. You leaned to look. Human bones.

“Oh my God,” you whispered. That was not a mask, and those bones were not props. No play was being had here.

“Will you come out?”

“No!”

He watched a little longer before grunting in affirmation. “Then visit me some time. I will be waiting,”

The monster’s head was gone from the window, leaving you to watch his strange tangled body gingerly step down over the rail, as if it were a single stair.

“Wait!” you called loudly.

“Yes?”

“Where.. where would I visit? I mean.. not that I would,”

He smiled and your heart thumped. “Where you visited me last time,”

Your brows furrowed. Before he could move to leave again you quickly added. “And take the bones,”

With some despair, he returned the gift to his mouth, carefully swallowing them just in case you changed your mind later on.

“Goodnight,” he said quietly, and left.

It was the following weekend before you seriously considered going out into the woods again. Even if you had wanted to earlier, you wouldn’t have. You had had to call the police to report your missing boyfriend, despite knowing that his remains sat in the belly of a spiteful tree. Thus, the force has been all over your property. They’d searched the woods thoroughly, then searched twice more. At the moment the two theories were that he either ran off with another woman without leaving evidence, or that he had been killed by a man at work he had frequent altercations with.

No matter what the police thought, nor what you yourself already knew, you hadn’t cried once. There was a rock in your belly, but no grief. It was more the anxiousness of the new than the agony of the lost that had you feeling such a way. But still, no tears. Not one. That was what disturbed you the most.

You wandered down the trail, new backpack on your shoulders. Memory flashed the image of the bear, and how it had come and gone just as quickly. You remembered that monster had credited himself for your survival that day. Was he out here? Was he where you assume he’d be, waiting? If the apparition if your ex appeared, would he scare it away just as quickly?

The cliff edge came near, and you heard the gentle garble of the river far, far below. You settled down a distance from the edge to have a little picnic and wait.

Fifteen minutes had gone by and nothing of interest happened. Your sandwich was eaten, and you were now munching away on a light salad. The distant tree trunks adjusted unnaturally.

“Hello?” you asked.

From nowhere it seemed his face appeared, peeking around thick trunks and twisting branches in the thicket.

You stood up, on edge but not backing down. “It’s you,” you whispered, eyes wide. “So it was real?”

As he navigated through the bushes, thorns, and branches on all fours, he made little to no sound. In the light you could clearly see his four curling 'antlers,’ and the leaves they sported. It was extremely convincing camouflage.

“I thought you did not want to visit me?” he asked, keeping a comfortable distance.

Your eyes refused to move from his face. “Well.. I’m here now,”

The creature smiled and sat. He looked rather like a dog, or perhaps an antelope, when he sat. Your eyes flickered down across his thickly wound legs for a second then back up. You were blushing and hated it.

“Would you like to come with me?” he asked. “I haven’t had a sacrifice in hundreds of years. You could say that I am… lonely,” he sighed.

You took a step back. “Sacrifice? Hell no! You’re not gonna eat me,”

His head lowered a bit but remained still, like a cat aiming to pounce. “I don’t eat my offerings,” he sounded offended. “Once, I was given much. So much. Burnt cow, deer jerky. Little children and pretty virgins,”

God, this was getting worse by the second. “Children and virgins? Oookay this was a mistake, I’m just gonna, take my backpack now and uhh,” you lifted the pack to your shoulders and started to inch towards the trail back home.

“Yes, see, here is one of my sweet children now,” he said as a bright red bird landed on one of his antlers.

You stopped and glanced between the bird and his face. He was lost in the bird’s twittering, before looking back down at you cheerfully. How did he see through the petals in his eye sockets?

“I’ve made them into pretty birds for all eternity. A wonderful gift, don’t you think?”

You stopped trying to move away, but still occasionally gave the trail a sneaky glance. “What did you turn the virgins into?”

He laughed, as if you had just said the most adorable thing. “Nothing. I deflower them my dear,”

You didn’t know what to say. But it made you nervous. You were a virgin, and by the way he was watching you, he knew it too. You hadn’t ever had sex with your boyfriend, despite his goading. Well, he was dead now.

“Will you come with me? Pretty virgin?” he asked again, standing silently on fours and taking a few steps in your direction.

“No!” you waved your hands and backed up. “Absolutely not,”

He stopped, thinking. Then his big faceplate lowered to your level and one of his 'hooves’ unraveled into several individual vines. He reached into an eye socket and your face twisted as he plucked out a blue flower.

“I will convince you,” he said, holding the flower out to you.

You hesitated, but something in the gesture made your tense body relax a smidge. You took the flower. It was half the size of your head, which made it a rather sizable thing. The scent was sweet, like pure honey. You couldn’t help the involuntary smile, but wiped it off your face as soon as you noticed it.

He was pleased. Now one of his sockets was deep and dark. Open. You could see a faint red glow inside like a pupil.

“…Thank you,” you complimented. After a shared silence you asked. “How will you convince me? I mean.. you ate my fucking boyfriend. Not a p-perfect start,”

He chuckled, lifting his head back up. “You will see,”

So you did. Every evening after work there was a different gift at the foot of the front door. He had a strange sense for gift giving, but the thought warmed your mortal heart. Over the course of a week he had given you: a smooth bark-less tree branch, the rusted hood of a yellow car, a busted computer monitor, another one of his flowers, a pile of fresh fish from the river, and an uprooted blackberry bush. Today, as you walked to the door, he called to you.

“[Y/N],” he said muffled.

You turned around and found yourself smiling before you could think. “O-oh! Hi there,”

He stopped at the stairs and you noticed a lump in his mouth. Hurriedly but with great care, he dropped it onto the porch. The lump was a dead buck; fresh, with quite the hunk taken from its belly.

You covered your mouth and looked away, and he became alarmed and got the sense this was not the correct gift. Without you having to even say anything, he dejectedly picked it back up and set it down at the treeline before returning. He’d eat it later.

“I’m sorry, I will find you a better gift,” he said.

You rose your hand, stomach no longer queasy. “No no, that’s okay, you’ve.. given me enough already,” you smiled softly.

“Mmm.” he hummed, watching. “Have I convinced you?”

You sighed and sat down on the top step. You were taking too long to speak, so he became nervous. Finally you said “I bet you do this for all the girls huh,”

He sat, head at eye level. “No, just you,”

That made your cheeks flush. You stared down at the wood. “I can’t just give someone my virginity,”

He brought his head a bit closer. “I will protect you,” he said, red eyes glowing in the low light of sunset.

You smiled gently and searched his face before reaching out and hesitantly touching a lower antler. Just a comforting touch. Your hand couldn’t even envelope the whole width, and a more lewd part of you asked 'is what’s below just as thick?’ You removed your hand quickly. Why would you think that?

“I will let nobody else touch you,” he went on. “because if they do, I will eat them,” and for a moment the thorns in his mouth flashed, as if angry at even the thought. “You will be mine,”

You bit your lip and squeezed your thighs together harder. “Stop that,” you giggled awkwardly.

His head tilted forward and just barely brushed his forehead against yours, bracketing you with summer leaves. His touch was so feather light. Your lips parted and you giggled more genuinely, which made him laugh in response.

“What is so funny?”

You were smiling like an idiot, face still red. “I don’t know,” you shrugged. “You’re.. weird,”

He pulled back and had the urge to scoop you up into his branches to carry you away, but didn’t. The mountain spirit had no heart, but his body thrummed with affection despite it. He wanted you badly. But he wanted you to want it, and to say it. He wanted to corrupt the innocence in your soul, make you give into something more primal. Of course the longer you waited, the better it would feel in the end.

He leaned back again and said “Would you care to see it? Perhaps you would like it if you saw it,”

You stared, wide eyed. “See what?”

He laughed darkly. “You might guess,”

“O-oh,” you swallowed down hot saliva thickly. It wasn’t like you were agreeing to sex, and after all, you had been curious. Did it look human? You gave a single, stiff nod.

He was pleased. The spirit scooted back a bit and spread his tapered legs, giving your eyes easier access from where you sat. You tried not to appear too curious, but you were. Between his legs were vine like branches, splayed out from around a dark slit. The slit itself looked big enough for you to stick both fists into, and in any case, a slit was certainly not a phallus.

You lifted a brow. “Oh,”

He hummed. The vines moved slowly. They began to wrap around one another, forming a singular shape instead of the haphazard mess that they had been. Eventually the vines were a single tangle. One big, lumpy shape. Very dry. Very natural. Very… un-fuckable looking. It made you about as wet as looking at a tree branch would.

You lifted the other brow. “Oh!”

He smiled and watched you, waiting for you to say something more. When you just stared, he spoke. “So then, you like it?”

Your eyes flickered up then back down. Well, it wasn’t that you didn’t LIKE it. It just looked too big and too painful.

“It’s… different,” you replied quietly, still rather red.

The monster continued watching you, his pupils ever unblinking. “Would you like to touch?”

You swallowed again, taken aback. This thing really wanted to get you on his dick. Your dry lips opened a bit to say something but you closed it again. You looked around for something else to occupy your thoughts with, needing desperately to think about anything but sex.

“You don’t have to,” he went on, more gentle.

That brought your gaze back up to his face. A bubbly feeling fizzled in your belly and a tingle radiated down the back of your head and neck, perplexing you. Eventually you smiled shyly and gestured for him to bring his head closer.

Curious, he complied, his expression hopeful.

“I think I’m going to go to bed,” you whispered, leaning where you sat to press a kiss between his upper eyes.

He sighed and whimpered, but didn’t move to stop you when you stood. The poor beast had gotten himself worked up, and being treated so sweetly made it worse. He watched you reluctantly move to the door, ever so slightly swinging your hips. He laid his chin against the porch.

Something had nagged at you after you retired. You hadn’t been able to sleep, and lewd ideas swam through your fogged brain. It made you feel wrong, but you were lonely. So three hours later you went back out in your nightgown. You hadn’t expected him to still be there, resting.

He stirred when he sensed your presence padding softly towards his head. “It’s still night time,” he said quietly, confused.

You sat on the porch and picked at the wood under your bottom. “Couldn’t sleep,”

The two of you sat in silence for a few seconds, letting the crickets talk for you. Eventually you peered up at his faceplate nervously to find him looking at your bare legs.

“Did you change you mind?” he asked, not moving his gaze.

Your chest burned, like something dying to come out. “Maybe.” before he could add more you went on “You know you wouldn’t even fit. If we.. ya know,”

“I am a spirit of variability. Do you think I simply ripped past virgins in two? I will change to your needs, and relinquish control into your hands,”

You bit your lip and fidgeted. That was much more detail than you’d expected to hear, and you were embarrassed by the throbbing between your legs.

He seemed to sense your mood change and read your expression. Having been with many an inexperienced human afraid for their bodily health, he was accustomed to that expression. Unsure, but considering.

“Would you like to touch it, first?” he probed, insinuating there was a 'second.’

You pouted a little, then nodded quickly. Shit, shit shit, what were you agreeing to?

Soon he was sprawled again, his head held up. You traveled down the stairs to position between his legs, his intimidating shaft shifting to be slightly thinner. With a nod of encouragement, you placed a hand flat against the bottom and simply felt the texture. Smooth. Your hand still couldn’t fit around it, but you gave it a firm squeeze and moved your grasp upwards. This gained a little hum from the monster, who was staying deathly still. He did not want to frighten you.

“Do you like it now that you’ve touched it?” he asked.

You were still unsure and shrugged, placing your other hand around it and giving another few strokes. It made you feel insanely guilty, but the hitch in his breathing certainly did not. His cock twitched in your hands, straining heavily.

Before he knew it you gave the underside a lick and he was startled, looking down at you. “Ahh, you do not have to do that,”

You stopped and chewed the inside of your lip a little. By now your panties were damp and your nipples poked against the silk of your nightgown, giving your body away.

“I know,” you mumbled. “I think… I want to try,”

His cock twitched again and his eyes seemed to take on a more excited glow. “You’re certain?”

You nodded. He gave you another second to change your mind before he laid back, his shoulders and up being cast in gentle shadow from his sheer size. The rest of him remained bathed in the yellow porch light, including his at attention dick.

He helped you climb up to his stomach. Soon you were nice and cozy on top of him. You slowly rubbed his shaft and licked at the tip, unable to even consider sucking him off with how wide he was. With all the grace of someone who has never done this before, you rubbed yourself unevenly under your underwear. Already pretty wet, you decided it was time. How were you going to get that in, though?

“Could you, um, make it any smaller?” you peeped.

He sat back on his elbows so he could lift his head. A few seconds later and his cock had lost a few vines, making it thin enough to fit but still be snug.

“Do you really want to do this?” he rasped, watching you.

“Y-yeah,”

He sighed and tilted his head back slightly, seemingly pleased with this response. “Go on, then,”

So you sat back close to his needy member and reached between your legs. Panties came off and his cock slipped between your thighs as you started the tedious process of alignment. The smooth top side rubbed against your lips and you gasped, overly sensitive.

Eventually the tip was pressed against your virgin entrance and you glanced up at him nervously. He was watching, his mouth slightly ajar. He was already pretty close. It had been a very, very, very long time indeed, yet he didn’t move. He had the patience of a saint.

It would take you a while to be comfortably seated, so you took your time. You were unused and he was still big, after all. Your already stinging pussy shifted back and down about an inch, and you stopped, eyes closed tight.

“Does it hurt?” he asked quietly.

You breathed heavily. “A little,”

It had to have been fifteen minutes before you were barely passed the tip, and by then he was shaking. The tremors would come then go, but when he did shake there was gentle movement inside you that made you squeak. You finally pressed down further, taking in another two inches that stretched and burned despite your lubrication.

“Feel.. good?” you panted, tired from holding yourself up.

He sighed and tilted his head forward in affirmation. You couldn’t see any red in his eye sockets now, as if he had closed his eyes. “Can you move any, pretty virgin?”

You slowly pulled what you got in out, which resulted in him hissing and your stretched walls aching. Then you carefully reinserted and pushed down to the spot before, even taking in another few inches. It still stung, but not as much as it had before.

The beast shook again. You started to ride him at a pace that didn’t hurt too terribly, only taking in what you could without pain. As you moved up and seated back down you were able to adjust and introduce more and more, until your pussy was stuffed to the brim. Even when full, there was still a decent amount of length that didn’t slip inside, but it apparently didn’t bother him as he released a low murmur of appreciation.

With tired muscles you rode the ancient monster slowly. The little flower like appendages that poked out between vines stuck to the sides of his dick from being coated with a mix of your fluids and his. The pressure of it all inside your warm body was Heaven for the spirit, and a new experience for you.

Eventually the pain let up, though some burning remained from the stretch. You clasped a hand to your mouth as you sunk down again, breathing a pleased gasp between your fingers.

He opened his eyes, shivering. One of the loose vines from around his cock stiffly pressed between your folds, the tip of it touching your belly. As you moved you ground against the smooth, soft surface, stimulating your clitoris and making your movements jerky.

“If you don’t slow down more,” he warned, “I’ll come soon,”

You had to remove the hand from your mouth to support your body again. You continued despite his comment, taking pleasure from pressing hard against the vine to reach your own climax.

The determination pleased the towering monster. His cock twitched against your walls, as if the entwined parts were dying to unravel. And when he heard your shy whine as you came against him, it nearly did.

He shut his eyes once more and hissed, a wet explosion of a thin sticky substance began to ooze from between tightly coiled vines. It pooled more so at the bottom, dripping down his shaft and onto his body and thighs.

You had stopped moving, remaining very still and feeling terribly wrong to have not moved away at the first sign of his orgasm. Instead the substance was leaked into you, against throbbing, used walls. He was still coming; more goo oozed out through the twisted appendages, both inside of you and down his legs. After about a minute it slowed and stopped. God, that was a lot of cum. The better side of you felt like nothing short of a sinner. Luckily your pussy and heart didn’t care.

“Are you okay?” he asked, sighing.

You looked up at him through tired, lidded eyes, and couldn’t retain the breathless laugh that came out. It was like relief. Like you’d let something go by doing this.

He smiled, but seemed surprised. “Why are you laughing?”

With his cock still occasionally twitching inside you, you shrugged. “You’re just.. you’re sweet,”

EPILOGUE

There were rumors about those mountains; rumors about campers who placed down their tents that never came back down. Campfires set ablaze that were extinguished without a guiding human hand. There was something unknown out there, watching anyone who stepped foot among the evergreens and mist.

Some stories claimed it was a pregnant woman who ate lonely men, others claimed it was a violent monster that protected the wildlife. Both were somewhat true in certain aspects, but the public could only guess what was really occurring in those mountains.

You were no longer human. It was something of a mystery what you’d become. Something spectral, something animal, something still partially human but not quite right. You’d left that empty cabin behind and took to the land, the creature who devoured your heart and body ever looming by.

People who saw you only ever saw you when they were alone in the forest, accompanied by a light fog. If they rose a hand against you with malicious intent, they lost their lives to the spirit that protected you. Eaten in the same manner your past partner was. If they simply talked, no harm came to a hair on their heads. So anyone lost to the mountains was of no consequence to the world, no matter how fretful it became over their disappearance. Adulterous husbands who assumed they could take advantage of a lost girl. Eaten. Those with knives who thought it fun to harass a stranger. Eaten. No one could touch you.

And sometimes you were a deer. Of all the virgins he had taken, he had taken none to live immortally by his side, and certainly none who had the option to prance. So time spent as a doe was time you cherished. It was peaceful. It made you feel like a part of the forest he so loved and protected. Hunters could not harm you, and those who still tried encountered violent setbacks. Unnaturally brave bucks, hundred year old trees collapsing inches from their boots, hungry bears.

Your life was laid out before you now, and it was one of immortal moss and bark. He still loved virgins, but there was no one around who interested him more than you did. In all the hundreds of years taking sacrifices, you were his favorite. The one he wanted to stay. No one in the whole world knew besides you two wandering the thousand year old slopes.

So rumors spread about those mountains, that something was snatching up human life like it meant nothing. In reality, the mountains had simply won the heart of one specific human. It was your decision to leave. You were happy.

#terato #exophilia #monster romance #patreon #writing

61 notes · View notes

mischiefandmystics · 5 years ago

Text

LFRP: Sun’ra Zhawn

B A S I C S .

FULL NAME: Śūn'ra Yatā PRONUNCIATION: SHoon-ra Ya-ta ALIAS: Sun’ra Zhawn NICKNAME(S): Blu, Sun, various epithets from various people AGE: 25 BIRTHDAY: 16th Sun of the 6th Umbral Moon ETHNIC GROUP: Miqo’te/Keeper of the Moon NATIONALITY: Meracydian LANGUAGE(S): Common, Huntspeak, some sign language SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Open to interpretation ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Open to interpretation RELATIONSHIP STATUS: In a relationship with Maril Hawker, but still a ho HOME TOWN/AREA: An island off the coast of the main Meracydian continent CURRENT HOME: N/A, wanders and has several hideouts throughout Eorzea PROFESSION: Bandit, Street Pharmacist, Chef, Back Alley Surgeon

P H Y S I C A L .

HAIR: Cotton candy blue and pink, thick, coarse, and with the slightest of waves EYES: Bright, intense, and vivid violet in color. Almond shaped and often with constricted pupils FACE: Sharp, symmetrical, and expressive with a round, wide nose LIPS: Full, soft, and usually smirking COMPLEXION: Deep russet brown BLEMISHES: N/A SCARS: Rare, faded, but heavy around the hands and knuckles. There are none of any particular note or story. TATTOOS: Clan markings on his face HEIGHT: 5′8 WEIGHT: 162 BUILD: Muscular, athletic, compact, and broad shouldered. DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: Clan markings, hair color, intense stare, facial and ear piercings ALLERGIES: N/A USUAL HAIR STYLE: Cut short or chin length at most, no particular style, left to do what it wills. USUAL FACE LOOK: Prone to sharp toothed grins, teasing or taunting glances, and focused, unblinking stares. USUAL CLOTHING: Fitted leather and cloth, or loose linen pieces in either black or bright and vibrant colors. COMMON ACCESSORIES: Black choker, fingerless gloves, gold bracelets, and gold sunglasses(if during the day)

P S Y C H O L O G Y .

FEAR(S): Dying ASPIRATION(S): Longevity in banditry, general hedonism, and to grow and synthesize the most potent drugs with the cleanest highs. POSITIVE TRAITS: Charming, Truthful, Diligent, Loyal, Creative, Patient, Astute NEGATIVE TRAITS: Unabashedly Evil, Excessively Violent, Cunningly Manipulative, Largely Unpredictable MBTI: ENFJ-A ZODIAC: Sagittarius TEMPERAMENT: Sanguine-Choleric SOUL TYPE(S): The Warrior & The Sage ANIMAL(S): The Wolf & The Crocodile VICE HABIT(S): Murder, Fogweed, Sensation Seeking FAITH: Agnostic GHOSTS?: Unsure AFTERLIFE?: Unsure REINCARNATION?: Unsure ALIENS?: Yes POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: Vaguely anarchist leaning, but otherwise unconcerned. EDUCATION LEVEL: Homeschooled and private tutelage while young, various forms of apprenticeship after leaving home, and continues to study and practice his trade and interests as an adult.

F A M I L Y .

FATHER: Zai’zi Routak; Alive MOTHERS: Śūn Yatā; Alive SIBLINGS: 14 sisters and 4 brothers EXTENDED FAMILY: Various aunts, cousins, nieces, nephews, etc. PETS: A nutkin named Chip, a mameshiba named Bombo, and a war panther named Jean-Baptiste Sevigny. NAME MEANING(S): Fifth son of Śūn Yatā HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: N/A.

F A V O R I T E S .

BOOK: The medical journals pertaining to anatomy and physiology from Maril’s library. DEITY: Sophia HOLIDAY: Valentione's Day MONTH: July SEASON: Summer PLACE: Mor Dhona WEATHER: Sunshower SOUND(S): The cacophony of active voices in a crowded room, the rhythmic breaking of waves against the shore, and the sharp, surprised, intake of breath by a person once stabbed. SCENT(S): Petrichor, blood, medicinal herbs, and burning wood. TASTE(S): Sharp, hot, and spicy peppers, bitter and sour tastes like lemons, and the savory and rich flavor of spiced cinnamon. FEEL(S): Textures that are sticky or tacky like blood, or gritty like sand, or rough like calloused hands. ANIMAL(S): Coeurls, Nutkins, Dogs NUMBER(S): 16 COLOR(S): Red, Blue, Pink, Purple, and Yellow

E X T R A .

TALENT(S): Cooking, mathematics, sleight of hand, hand-eye coordination BAD AT: Drawing, hiding emotions, magic TURN ONS: Competence, violence, passion, assertiveness, risk-taking, vulnerability TURN OFFS: Spinelessness, arrogance, dishonesty HOBBIES: Botany, singing and songwriting, playing guitar, stalking people, exploring ruins TROPES: It Amused Me, Sadist, Pragmatic Villainy, No-Nonsense Nemesis, Because I’m Good At It, Machiavelli Was Wrong, Even Evil Can Be Loved, Even Evil Has Loved Ones QUOTE(S): N/A

T R A I T S .

extroverted / in between / introverted disorganized / in between / organized close minded / in between / open-minded calm / in between / anxious disagreeable / in between / agreeable cautious / in between / reckless patient / in between / impatient outspoken / in between / reserved leader / in between / follower empathetic / in between / apathetic optimistic / in between / pessimistic traditional / in between / modern hard-working / in between / lazy cultured / in between / uncultured loyal / in between/ disloyal faithful / in between/ unfaithful

P O S S I B L E H O O K S .

Drug Dealer: Śūn’ra is a drug dealer, and a fairly good one at that. He has his own distinct wares to offer, but will also make the effort to procure whatever a client desires beyond his normal fare. This is however, with the exception of Somnus as he refuses to deal with that particular substance in any capacity. Still, if one is looking for a quick fix, or a reliable long term supplier, he is always happy to provide.

Banditry: What Śūn’ra considers as his main “job”, is the thing he’s been doing the longest, and what he finds himself to be really good at. He has been known to take advantage of the Ala Mhigan refugees outside of Ul’dah, the Doman refugees who once made their temporary home around Mor Dhona, the various downtrodden in Gyr Abania, and generally any random, lightly armored person or persons on a dark road in and around the various housing districts. If you want to be a victim, a hero, a like-minded individual, or simply heard curious, ominous rumors of people being robbed and/or murdered in the dark, feel free to explore the possibility.

Hired Hand: As he’s generally always on the search for or considering the potential of the next thrill, Śūn’ra tends to keep his ear to the underground when it comes to offerings of various “unsavory” jobs. Whether you need an assassin, a torturer, a kidnapper, or someone to shake down those indebted to you, he’s generally up for the task. Additionally, while the Keeper himself has no grandiose plans for mass destruction, conquest, or the like, he’s more than happy to help those who do - for a price, and for as long as going along with his employer’s ambitions is more thrilling than the escapades of those attempting to put a stop to them...

Dungeon-Diving: Śūn’ra has found that he rather enjoys heading into various dungeons and ruins in search of relics to either keep for himself or to sell for overinflated prices. The threat of monsters, voidsent, and other ne'er-do-wells amuses and excites him. It is possible to run into him alone, scoping out a location for possible treasures, or to convince him to join your own expedition.

General Evil-doing: In simplest terms, Śūn’ra finds evil things to just generally be more fun than good things. He’d like to meet others of a similar mindset, and isn’t shy about tracking such individuals down if he catches wind of them.

L O O K I N G F O R .

I am looking for both short and long term RP with villainous contacts, friends, and business collaborators for various dubious plotlines, one shots, and experimental campaigns. Ideally something long term, with characters willing to get their hands dirty and not prone to passivity.

Rivals, enemies, and people to thwart and be thwarted by. It’s not fun if he always wins or gets his way. People who are able to stand up to him and hold their own are wanted too. Doesn’t have to be long running as I am open to heroic one shots as well.

Pretty much anything. There’s a wide world of RP out there to be had, and various types of plotlines. I’m always open to hear things out, and even if I’m not super into something, we can shape it into something that works well for the both of us. Śūn'ra as a character has a wide variety of interests and hobbies, and not everything has to be about violence or mayhem(though that is the main focus), so please, if you have an idea, let me know!

C O N T A C T .

Here! On Tumblr!

In game via: Sun’ra Zhawn@balmung

@ffxiv-crystal-rp

#Sun'ra IC #If we talked about something in the past #please poke me again #though I will also make the effort to reach out #lfrp #balmung lfrp #I might have made this overlong #I am sorry #I pull the cobwebs from myself

135 notes · View notes

splendidlyimperfect · 5 years ago

Link

This is my first fic for the ‘Carry On’ fandom, written for the @carryon-countdown!

shake me from my sleep (tell me it was all a dream)

Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow Characters: Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Additional Tags: Canon Universe, Pre-Slash, Pre-Relationship, Nightmares, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Claustrophobia, Crying, Accidental Cuddling, Holding Hands, Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), Carry On Countdown 2019, Angst day

-----

Simon

Baz is dreaming again.

Ever since he got back from Merlin-knows-where two weeks ago, he’s been having nightmares. He’s always been a light sleeper (every time I try to crack the window open, he’s awake and complaining about it, even if he was snoring a second before). I’ve only heard him talk in his sleep a few times before, and it’s always rubbish – “don’t feed the turnips,” or “tell the Queen to cook the cabbage rolls.”

This time, he looks scared. He’s curled up on one side with both hands tucked into fists under his chin, and every few seconds he makes a sound that’s almost a whimper.

I try to tune him out and keep reading. It’s not my business – he’s evil and he’s probably dreaming about evil things. Although, he hasn’t really been very evil lately. Probably because of the truce, because as much as he’s a prat, he won’t go back on his word.

I get a few more pages into my book and then Baz whispers, “please,” in a voice that I don’t recognize. It’s soft and trembly and he sounds a bit like a little kid. It’s hard to picture Baz being little – was his hair that ridiculous when he was a baby? Was he always pale and sneering, or did he have fat cheeks and chubby hands? Was he—

“Please,” Baz whispers again.

Continue reading on AO3

Baz

The worst part about these kinds of dreams is that no matter what I do, I can’t wake myself up.

Usually my nightmares are full of fire and blood, and my mum’s eyes closing while my neck burns. They’re more like memories than dreams, and they hurt, sure, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.

Ever since the numpties, though, the dreams have been dark. No matter how wide I open my eyes, I can’t see anything, just black that goes on and on forever in each direction. I can’t move and everything hurts, and it’s hard to breathe.

It’s not real, I think, but there’s nothing I can do to wake myself up. It feels so real – the chill and the dirt and the suffocating smell of wet earth and dried blood. I try to pinch my arm, but my hands are so cold I can’t feel them.

Even thinking about Snow doesn’t help. When I was there, it was the only thing that kept me sane. But now, even when I picture his stupid blue eyes or the moles I want to kiss, I still feel small and terrified.

I didn’t want to beg. Fiona would disown me (probably make me sit in the trunk, not just the back seat) if she knew how I’d given in, had whispered, “please,” over and over because I couldn’t fucking breathe...

Simon

It could be a trick. What if I move closer and he grabs at me, or tries to bite me? He has tried to kill me before. (Although not recently.) Does the truce apply when we’re sleeping? What if he’s dreaming about killing me and he wakes up and finishes the job?

Baz mumbles something else, then makes a choked sound, like he can’t quite catch his breath. It doesn’t sound like he’s dreaming about killing me.

I set my book down on the bed (yes, I dog-ear the page and yes, Penelope will kill me for it later), then slide down onto the floor and sit cross-legged next to Baz’s bed. Pieces of his hair fall across his face as he takes another choked, shuddering breath.

“Baz,” I whisper. I don’t want to touch him. Last time Agatha tried to wake me from a nightmare, I nearly blew up the couch. “Baz,” I try again. “Wake up.”

Baz

A voice breaks through the panic and the darkness, and of course it’s Simon fucking Snow. The Chosen One. The hero.

Part of me wants to tell him to go fuck himself, and the other part desperately needs out of this godforsaken coffin, pride be damned. I try to kick at the edge, to push the lid off, but I still can’t move.

“Baz. Wake up.”

Right. This isn’t real. Which means Simon isn’t really here, it’s just my deranged imagination dragging him out to rescue me. (Because the world loves irony, and me being in love with Simon is the most excruciating joke it could play.)

Simon

Clearly this isn’t working, because Baz’s eyes are still closed and he’s digging his nails into his palms now, hard enough to leave little half-moon divots in his skin. He’s still breathing odd, and I’m a bit worried he’s having an attack, like the ones Mick at the home used to have when he’d run a bit too hard.

I chew my lip. Penny’d told me once about this spell she used to help the kids sleep when they had bad dreams, but I can’t remember the words. (Plus, with my luck, I’d just as likely put Baz in a coma.) (Which really wouldn’t be that bad if I hadn’t promised to help him. And I’m not sure if the Anathema would let me do it anyway.)

“Wake up,” I try one more time, and when there’s no answer, I reach out carefully and touch the back of his hand.

Baz

There’s a spark in the darkness, and I suddenly feel like I’m on fire (which, as a vampire, is definitely Not a good thing). There’s a sharp pain on the back of my hand, and it runs up my arm like wildfire, tearing through nerves and burning back the darkness.

Then I’m awake, and Simon bloody Snow is sitting on the floor next to my bed.

I open my mouth to tell him to sod off, but I can’t breathe, and I realize that I’m crying.

Perfect. Just fucking perfect.

“Baz, what—”

I shake my head, pushing myself up (I can feel my arms again, thank Crowley) and taking a deep, gasping breath. Simon just sits there, staring at me like a prat, and he’s...

...glowing.

“Wh...” I can’t talk, can’t ask him what the fuck is happening, can’t breathe around this tightness in my chest. The room is dark and he’s glowing, like the fucking sun, like the Chosen One he is.

And he’s beautiful.

Simon

Baz looks like he’s going to be sick.

“Are you going to faint?” I ask, and if Baz wasn’t half-asleep and struggling to breathe, I’m pretty sure he would have just ended me right there. Instead, he shakes his head and grips the blanket in his fingers, staring at me as he takes short, sharp breaths.

“You...” He manages the one word, then chokes on another breath and brings his hand up to cover his mouth.

Oh.

Baz is crying.

Now I have absolutely no bloody idea what to do, because this isn’t the kind of situation I ever expected to find myself in – sitting on my bedroom floor, next to my mortal enemy, who’s crying after a night terror. (I didn’t even know Baz could cry.)

He takes another shaky breath, then another, and he’s still staring at me like he’s never seen me before. Can nightmares cause amnesia? Maybe I should get Penny.

I’m about to stand up when Baz finally manages, “You’re glowing.”

I frown and look down at my hands, and sure enough, he’s right. It’s a warm, golden light that sort of reminds me of Rapunzel – you know, in the movie, where her hair glows and she saves Flynn? (It was on Netflix, and my summer was boring. Sue me.)

“I am,” I say after a moment.

“Why?”

“I’m... not sure.”

Baz

“You’re an idiot,” I manage, trying to rub at my face without drawing too much attention to the fact that I can’t stop fucking crying. “How are... why...”

“I was just trying to wake you up,” Simon says, frowning at his hands. The light flares up a little more, pushing the night away, and it makes it a bit easier to breathe.

This is real. Not the dark, not the mold and the damp and the stale blood. I’m in my room, in my own bed, with the stupid, perfect boy I love lighting up the night.

Snow stands up slowly, still staring at his arms. “Sorry,” he says quietly, and the light starts to dim. Before I can stop myself, I shout, “Don’t!”

It brightens again, and I can see the puzzled shadows on Snow’s face as he looks back at me. I groan, pulling my knees to my chest and dropping my face into my arms. Maybe I’m still dreaming. Maybe this is all a nightmare.

The bed dips next to me and I flinch.

“Baz?”

I should have listened to Fiona. I should have stayed away.

“Go away,” I mumble. I’d shove Snow off the bed, but I’m shaking so badly that I’d probably miss and fall on my own face instead.

Simon

When I reach out and touch Baz’s hand again, I expect him to push me away. He hates me, after all, even if we’re tolerating each other out of necessity. And he’s clearly embarrassed – I would be too, if he caught me crying.

Baz doesn’t move, though. In fact, he shifts his hand so our fingertips are touching, and it makes my stomach do something odd.

“Are you... all right?” I ask, which I know is a stupid question, but I’m not sure what else to say.

Baz shakes his head.

“What can I do?” I ask. The light seemed to help a bit, so I focus on it, trying to make it brighter. I’m still not sure why I’m glowing, but right now it doesn’t really matter. The soft glow shifts, threads of silver and gold spilling down across my arms and toward my fingers where I’m touching Baz.

Suddenly the light is around both of us, and Baz is gazing at me. He’s paler than usual, and his eyes are red, and he looks... relieved.

“That help?” I ask, and I get my answer when he slowly, hesitantly, slides our fingers together.

Baz

I’m holding Simon Snow’s hand.

The rational part of my brain is screaming at me to get out of here, to spell Snow away and leave the tower. Go home. Hide.

But it’s so dark, and Simon is so bright and warm, and I’m so, so tired.

Snow

Baz doesn’t push me away, and I don’t let go of his hand. The sharp edges that usually spark between us are gone, rounded by the night and the golden glow that surrounds us. The frantic gasping from earlier is gone, and Baz’s breathing evens out, slow and steady, to match mine.

“Better?” I ask, and he doesn’t answer, but he squeezes my hand just enough to let me know he’s heard me. His fingers are cold (I’m not surprised), and when he shivers, I shift a little closer to him. He lets me.

We don’t talk. I desperately want to ask him what happened, what he was dreaming about, why he was crying. But the peace between us right now is held in place by a fragile thread, and I’m pretty sure anything I say will snap it.

It feels like hours later when Baz whispers a sleepy, “Thank you.” Before I can respond he’s asleep – head against my cheek, hand in mine, snoring softly as the inexplicable light around us shifts and glows.

For the rest of the night, he doesn’t dream.

#carry on #coc 2019 #carry on countdown #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #prompt: angst day

43 notes · View notes

mwub · 5 years ago

Text

Etched in Stone

Chapter 1: Celestite

Sorry for taking so long, I’ve been moving and have limited internet access so I’m not online as often as I would like😅.

Anyways this is the first chapter for my multi fic Etched in Stone, thank you @ineffable-nalu for beta reading it, it gave me some ideas how to progress the story better

Without further ado~

——————————————————————————-

“Mama!”

“Yes dear?”

“Can you tell me our story?”

“Lucy dear, you've heard that story what must be a thousand times. Are you sure you want to add another to that tally?” A regal blond woman laughed at the expense of her now pouting daughter. The little girl greatly resembled her mother both in bearing and in looks. Golden blond hair framed her round but not too round face, a light dusting of freckles crossed the bridge of her button nose underneath large chocolate brown eyes, now sparkling with wonder as her mother began the story.

“Long ago,” Layla hummed, tucking Lucy deeper into her bed. Brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “There was nothing, no animals, no plants, no people to call Earthland home. For Earthland did not yet exist. And then one day the sun and moon, who loved each other very much but could not be together began to cry for they were lonely and wanted to share what they have with others. From those tears came life.”

“When the moons tears fell, so did the stars, oceans formed and moved to the moons silent songs. When the suns fell, volcanoes reached high up for the heavens in hopes of one day meeting the stars.”

“Get to the part about how real life formed mama”

“I’m getting there sweetheart” Layla laughed in reply.

“When the volcanoes split the earth, so did the ocean in response, creating lakes, rivers, and streams. And in some areas so cold the oceans becomes living stone.”

“ But it was not enough for the Sun and Moon, for they wanted more. They wanted children of their own. So in desperation they shed more tears and breathed life into the environments of their own creation. From the sea the first mermaids and mermen sang their first songs. From the stars came the first celestial priests and priestesses. And from the volcanoes came…”

“Dragons” Came an excited squeal from underneath a mountain of blankets.

“Uh huh, from the deep depths of volcanoes came Dragons. Now, when the Sun and Moon formed their children , they warned them that they must not consort with humans, for it will bring disaster. The creatures of the sea and stars agreed but the king of the dragons did not. He believed one should love who they wanted and did so anyway.”

Lucy clutched her dragon plushie tighter in anticipation.

“The Sun and Moon grew angry with the dragon and so cursed him with his disobedience. Never to be seen again”

“Whatever happened to the rest of the creatures, mama?”

“Despite obeying the Sun and Moon, the others were punished as well for fear of rebellion. Their powers locked away in the stones for which they were born, serving as relics to a great betrayal. Living as ordinary beings amongst the humans they were told to fear.”

Lucys eyes began to droop as a deep yawn escaped her, sleep taking its toll. Layla smiled lovingly at her daughter, reaching to wind a small music box on her bedside, delicate music tinkling gently.

“What do you think happened to the Dragon mama?”

“ Well I would hope he’s found peace, one who loves too much shouldn’t suffer forever.”

“Good night my Darling... “ Was the last thing Lucy heard before letting sleep take her.

———————————————————————

“What do you mean you don’t have any of those kinds of books?”

“We sell fact not fiction mam, as I’m sure you are well aware of that by now miss Heartfilia.” A flat voice drawled in reply, timbre as dull as the face making it.

19 Year old Lucy Heartfilia couldn’t believe it, this was the third town she had visited that refused to sell any of the old lore books, believing them to be blasphemous to the sacred teachings of Zentopia. She had really hoped that Hargeons famous library would be different but no such luck.

Oh well, time for good ol’ plan T.

‘Are you sure there isn't any dusty old books hidden the back~” Batting her eyelashes with gusto, leaning onto the counter, giving the store keeper a peak at her generous cleavage.

“A-Absolutely not! For the last time miss, no one carries that type of literature anymore, the church ordered their burning years ago.” The old man blustered with a face as red as a Roma tomato. “I couldn't sell you any even if could get my hands on a tome”

“Now get out”

“Stupid old Geezer’ Lucy huffed outside the shop now, refitting her paperwork back into her leather satchel and straightening her dark blue tartan skirt and white button down blouse topped with a adorable black vest. She had even dressed the part too, a scholarly student researching for a history project. What a waste of time, Another day, another bust.

Oh right, I forgot to introduce myself didn't I? My name is Lucy Heartfilia, daughter of Layla and Jude Heartfilia, Jude being a local bank owner and Layla a seamstress, at least they were until the economy crash 13 years ago. Jude died of a stroke from over working and mama… let's just say fate had other plans for her. I’ve essentially been on my own since I was 15, with only a few belongings of my own I've been on my own ever since.

Taking out her notebook Lucy couldn’t help but sigh, there goes Hargeon off her list, uncapping her marker to cross it off. At least that’s what she was trying to do when life hit her with an unexpected surprise. A pink one in fact.

Before she could even put the tip of her permanent marker to the paper she suddenly was shoved to the hard concrete, black ink streaking across her cheek in a zigzag. Oh NO, her makeup was completely ruined.

Rising up on her elbows to give whatever hit her a piece of her mind Lucy was stopped short by something extremely odd. No, not something. Someone.

As her vision cleared she was confronted first with dark, almost black green eyes inches from her own chocolate ones, and even more oddly. Salmon pink hair sticking up in a messy disarray of spikes all over his head, almost seeming intentional in its unruly chaos.

Next was the alarmingly warm hands on either side of her waist, breaking the fall of what Lucy now realized was a boy perhaps her own age. Lucy could say for a matter of fact he was good looking, decently built with a muscular physique comparable to a pro athletes and a perfect tan to boot. Yes, definitely cute.

Lucy didn’t get to ponder for long as the stranger then suddenly jumped to his feet with surprising agility, his hands bringing her up with him in a rush that had her head swim a little dizzily. One hand on her waist and the other holding her own limp hand.

“Watch where you’re walking weirdo, don’t wanna get yourself hurt do you?’ The boy laughed, still holding her a little too close for a stranger to be doing. What’s with this guy?

“Excuse me? You bumped into me, who the heck sprints down the street like that without looking where they’re going” Lucy huffed, her head finally clearing from the shock of her present situation.

The boy only smirked. “Oh I know I where I was going, you just happened to be in the way. What's the point of going somewhere if you don’t know where you’re headed”

“I-I Know where I’m going” Lucy blushed. “I’m going to the Magnolia after I finish my work here.” Lucy finished with a sense of finality,gripping her satchel more firmly, why would he even ask that silly question? Of course she knows where she’s going.

“Ok… well in that case you were walking in the wrong direction. Magnolia isWest, not East of here.” Snickered her mystery boy.

“Oh, well thank you” Lucy coughed a little awkwardly, taking a step back finally to take in his full appearance finally. He really was in excellent shape. Broad shoulders tapered sharply under a black one armed waistcoat trimmed with gold thread, cream trousers held up by a similar colored sash around his waist and a pair of black sandals adorned his feet simply. The collar of his jacket open just enough for Lucy to get a glimpse of toned chest littered with faint white scars.

A bit of an odd outfit in Lucy’s opinion, but for whatever reason it seemed to suit him.

“What’s your name?” The boy asked suddenly, snapping Lucy back to reality.

“Lucy… Lucy Heartfilia” Answering automatically, Lucy cursed herself, she just met this boy and she already felt the need to spill all her secrets. Aquarius would be ashamed of her. Never trust a man with your secrets, secrets are a woman's best hand in a war.

“Thats a nice name,” Pinkie whistled. “My names N-”

“STOP RIGHT THERE! THIEF” A booming voice rang out over the stone courtyard, suddenly dozens of Zentopian royal guards flooded surrounding area.

“Thief..” Lucy whispered, eyes widening slowly.

“Crap” N growled, his Happy Go Lucky demeanor suddenly dropping as he made a run for it, he was practically a blur as he made a mad dash onto a more crowded street and seemed to vanish among the crowds of the local shopping district and boutiques.

“Excuse me miss” A grave looking guard approached Lucy. “Do you happen to know anything about this boy?” Holding up what appears to be a wanted poster of N. Except instead of the seemingly happy guy she just met, she was greeted with the face of a much more menacing looking criminal. Sharp soulless eyes pierced her soul with malice and a cruel sneer curved his lips. She did not know this person.

“No, nothing at all.” Lucy said curtly. Keeping a firm jaw in hopes of not giving anything away. While it was true she didn’t know anything about him, she wanted to. Gripping her satchel more firmly in an effort to stand her ground, she stared back at the guard.

Giving her a hard look the guard finally deemed her innocent enough and thankfully moved on to interrogate more passerby.

Releasing a breath she didn't know she was holding, she bent down to collect some of the papers that had fallen with her unexpected date with the ground, noting that some appeared to be missing or at the very least out of order. She’ll check on that later on the train to Magnolia.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts of pink hair and a fanged grin, Lucy slowly made her way to the train station with vague hopes of catching the last train of the evening. Better luck tomorrow she guessed.

#fairy tail #fairy tail 100 year quest #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #nalu #ft fanfiction #nalu fanfiction

38 notes · View notes

hellsbovnd · 5 years ago

Text

what its like to pretend.

wc: 2719 focus: leonnaux altoix a/n: caught a writing bug. first installment of probably a three-part series, but i have other stuff i wanna work on before i continue this! thanks ebonguard for sprinting with me and encouraging my Mess lol

and i swam in the wakes of imposters just to feel what it’s like to pretend;

[ PDF MIRROR ]

One of the greatest skills that Leonnaux possessed was the ability to blend in, despite his burning desire to stand out. It hadn’t been easy to forge these skills, and the early days were rife with trial and error while his makeup work steadily improved, while he picked up little tricks to alter his figure or the way he carried himself—gait being one of the most difficult things to consciously alter. These days, he felt as comfortable in the skin of someone else as he did in his own.

The best way to test his disguises, he’d found was of course in the midst of other people—parties, nights out on the city streets. While he always asked for at least passing approval of his disguise ideas from Edda—“I’m asking you if you think this is convincing, not if you think it’s attractive,” he would occasionally remind her for his zanier ideas—the only way to really tell was among strangers (or better yet those he knew before, but he honestly would feel bad for deceiving his friends in such a way).

If no one was suspicious, it would get added to his repertoire—filed away for future use.

Tonight he’d chosen a dive bar in one of Ul’dah’s seedier areas: far away from the sort of establishment he would usually frequent, but the food was good, at least. Never tried a drink before, didn’t want to risk it at the time just in case drinking made it harder to maintain a façade. He had used this establishment to test disguises before and the bartender remained unconvinced of his authenticity for the entire night. That had been over a year ago, though, and he liked to think that he had improved substantially since then.

As Leonnaux made his way inside, he found the bar was just as smoke-choked as he remembered it. The lanterns on each of the tables were forced to cut their way through a thick curtain of smoke to illuminate the space. Leonnaux wrinkled his nose at the smell, his hands buried in his pockets, a wry smile pulling at the corners of his lips. The establishment was very nearly filled to capacity, with a number of patrons drinking their sorrows at the bar or engaged in a merry night of banter at one of the tables.

One or two parties were even engaged in some heated card games on the balcony above, but he wasn’t in the mood for cards tonight—he was in the mood to get even.

The disguise of the night was on the subtler side of things; unlike his adventure in Ishgard during the Fury’s Moon, he tried to keep his appearance fairly close to his actual appearance. It was often the subtle changes that were the easiest to pull off, even if they went against his usual philosophy of every impression you make on a stranger should be wrong.

In Ishgard, that philosophy meant making drastic changes in both appearance and manner. Tonight, however, the policy was applied more loosely. He didn’t change the color of his hair, or even the length tonight—though the character that he had constructed presented herself in a more feminine manner than Leonnaux typically did in his day-to-day life—and more rough and tumble besides. He donned a pair of leather pants that he had picked up recently, and threw on a leather long coat on top of it. He settled on compromising with well-fitted, cropped halter top that would hide the fact that his cleavage was fake while still exposing enough abdomen to be provocative. He shed his usual gloves in favor of armguards and feathers reminiscent of a magpie’s iridescent blue-green plumage were intertwined with short braids just in front of his ears.

A little makeup work smoothed down sharp angles and strong lines in his face; eyeliner, mascara, and kohl framed his eyes—glamoured to be mismatched shades of hazel—for a suitably intense look when paired with dark lipstick. And of course, a pendant was tucked into his shirt to change his voice so that he would not have to strain to maintain a higher timbre for the night—which without magic would be the one aspect of his person that was unlikely to pass muster while wearing a feminine guise.

“Evening,” the bartender greeted with a smile, tossing the rag he was using to dry newly-cleaned glasses over his shoulder. “What can I get ya?” He was an scrutinizing fellow, a Duskwight with a discerning eye. The sun had given his skin a little more color over the years than he would have had naturally, stealing enough of the grayness from his skin that were it not for the clan tattoos running up his arm and neck—etched into his skin with a blade, not a needle, and highlighted only in certain spots with white ink—he would pass for a Wildwood. His dark gaze settled on Leonnaux, his lips twisted in a smile that was—procedural, somewhat sarcastic even.

Leonnaux tapped a manicured nail on the counter as he hauled himself up and onto the bar stool. When he spoke, it was not with his own voice, but a more feminine one—albeit one on the sultry, low side, as he figured that that sort of voice would fit the character he created for the night the best. “Sazerac. On the rocks.”

His gaze rose to the bartender as he slid some gil coins forward to provide payment for the drink—and a tip, of course.

The bartender nodded and set about making the drink. It wasn’t done with as much finesse as Leonnaux would employ if he were the one on the other side of the bar, and the ingredients here were subpar—catered towards people who were more concerned about getting nice and drunk than people who wanted a high-class experience. That suited him fine, and he tried not to watch the bartender too closely as he muddled the sugar, the water, the bitters. The cognac, the whiskey—stirred, not shaken—then slid over to Leonnaux after a lemon peel was lazily tossed into the glass and left there.

Leonnaux let it sit for a moment before bringing the glass to his lips, leaving some dark plum-red lipstick on its rim once the glass was lowered back onto its coaster. It was good—for the components used. It was what he paid for, anyway; he knew that a place like this probably didn’t have the wherewithal to obtain the nice Ishgardian cognac, and he knew that it wasn’t really ‘in-character’ to complain.

So instead he mumbled a thanks, casting his gaze about the bar. A drunk Seeker whose arms and chest were almost completely covered in tattoos was about six shots in two stools to his left. The stool immediately to his right was vacated soon after he ordered his drink, a midlander woman with eyes like daggers and a scar running down over her right eye having apparently had her fill of listening to the men upstairs gamble their paychecks away.

“So… Friendly bunch,” he started, somewhat awkwardly as the midlander held his gaze until the heavy door had fallen shut in her wake and she was back out on Ul’dah’s streets.

“Friendly’s a word. Think most of our professions down here kinda exclude us from the category,” the bartender replied, setting the Seeker up with another shot even though he definitely did not seem conscious enough that that would be a good idea. The bartender’s voice carried with it a thick accent—caught somewhere between what he had grown up hearing in the depths of the Black Shroud and what might be expected of Coerthas natives.

“I… Don’t think I could have guessed,” Leonnaux replied, squinting a bit. For the disguise he’d gone without his glasses—it wasn’t really possible to navigate around them for every single disguise he wanted to try. Thankfully the low light of the bar didn’t impact his vision too much, and he only had to deal with distance-related issues. The bartender right in front of him was just barely out-of-focus, and the rest of the room? A blur. “Between the scars and the tattoos. You got word of the street?”

The bartender huffed a laugh. “Depends on what you’re lookin’ for, missy.”

“Call me that again and I’ll break your fingers.”

“Oh, oh, this one has spunk! I like it!” The huff turned to something heartier, this time the bartender laughing from deep within his chest, shoulders heaving. “Most interesting thing anyone’s said to me all godsdamned night. Well, then, what’s your angle?”

Leonnaux’s shoulders rose and fell in a half-hearted shrug. “Just new here, just lookin’ for some fun,” he replied, setting his sazerac down on the counter and retrieving a silver cigarette case from an interior pocket of his coat, along with a box of matches. He places a cigarette between his plum-colored lips before offering one to the bartender across from him. “Looks like you are, too?”

The bartender scoffs before taking a cigarette, producing a very different implement for lighting his cigarette—a well-crafted lighter, like the ones that Leonnaux had often seen crafted through the collaborative efforts of the Goldsmith’s Guild and the Alchemist’s Guild, a small fire shard producing a small flame once it was flipped open. He huffed a bit at the sight before striking a match and using that to light his cigarette. The match was blown out before being discarded in a nearby ashtray, overflowing with ashes and cigarette butts and similarly-discarded matches.

“You could say I’m looking for a little entertainment, yeah,” the bartender replied, “It’s all the same shite ‘round here.” He blew out a cloud of smoke to punctuate the statement, a sigh. “Fun’s dried up if that’s what you’re looking for, though. Jobs, though. Plenty of jobs. Jobs that you gotta be really fuckin’ down on your luck to consider takin’, though.”

Leonnaux couldn’t help a little bit of laughter at that. “Well, let’s say I’m down on my luck then. City’s not real easy to get started in, unless you’d rather give me tips than work. But I’d really prefer the work.”

“Not a whole lot for a pretty face like you to do besides hook on street corners.”

His eyebrow couldn’t help but twitch a little in response to that—a brief expression that didn’t go unnoticed, since the bartender burst out laughing in response.

“Oh, oh, lighten up. If you can’t take a joke then you ain’t gonna last five ticks out there.”

“Rest assured, you’re not the only one who’s lacked enough sense to tell me that. Lucky for you, though, you can make a decent drink. The other ones couldn’t.” He lifted his sazerac, then, removing his cigarette from his lips and blowing out the smoke to take a sip from the glass. “Guess you have a half-decent face too. Hate to ruin it.”

“Well, color me honored.” The bartender ashed his cigarette, poured the Miqo’te gent another shot—absinthe this time, Leon realized, and though now he was wondering if the bartender was just steadily making his way up the ladder in terms of alcohol strength, he couldn’t help but think the man two stools down might need to stop if he didn’t want to end up worse than passed out in a ditch. “Laraunt, by the way. So, if you’re looking for work… Well, got some postings over in the back. But if I’m being frank, there’s been some shite going on that I’d love for someone to look into. What’s your trade, missy?”

“Call me Reine,” he corrected. “I’m serious about your fingers.”

“Sure, sure, right, right. Anyway, what’s it you do?”

Leonnaux clicked his tongue, considering for a moment, lowering his gaze to the lemon peel floating in his drink. “… This and that. Anything for the right price. Ran some drugs when I was up in Gridania—sonmus, snow, you know, that shite. Prefer to work more discreetly where I can, though—stuff what won’t give folks a paper trail to look for… Information, a favorite.”

His gaze returned to Laraunt , then, watching him carefully for any sign that he wasn’t convinced—pinning his preferred trade as information was a risk, but it was the only risk he could feasibly take. He couldn’t offer any answer that would be easy to verify; he couldn’t describe in-depth what it was like to work a job that he had no experience with whatosever, not even by proxy. To say nothing of if Laraunt decided to cross-check him, or press for more details than he had.

Laraunt considered for a moment before offering Leonnaux a half-shrug. “Information’s honest enough trade, I guess. You just a broker, or do you do groundwork?”

“Depends on my mood…” Leonnaux trailed off, then, somewhat uncertain before he nodded to Laraunt’s tattoos: raised scars and white ink against his dark skin, etching intricate runes and designs and occultic symbols into his exposed forearm and extending up his sleeve to his neck. The designs themselves were, of course, pleasing to the eye—but the runes were chiefly Duskwight in usage, sigils of power similar to the ones etched into pomanders. “But you could say I’ve always to ears out, eh?”

The bartender arched a brow, then, before nodding his assent. “Ah, more than just a pretty face, then! Seems you have some keen eyes, too. Well… Well, I suppose you’ll do, Reine. If you think you can get the job done. I’ve been through a few brokers, kind of need a dedicated investigator if I’m being honest. They all chickened out once they got a handle for the situation.”

Leonnaux perked up a bit, folding his hands in front of him on the table and ashing his cigarette. He looked the bartender over, but without his glasses his eye for detail was somewhat limited, even this close. “Well, running drugs up to the Shroud ain’t exactly a cushy fucking job, as long as no one’s gonna try and drain my body of its blood I think I can stomach getting my hands a little dirty.” He scoffed, then, as if it was a joke. “So what is it. I can’t say for sure unless you tell me what the job is.”

Laraunt met Leonnaux’s eyes, then, his lips pressing into a thin line. “My sister’s missing.”

Oh—oh.

Leonnaux had to fight off the shock when the bartender’s voice suddenly becoming quite grave, going from somewhat condescending and sarcastic to a sobering baritone is no time flat. He took a breath, considering those three words as he drew his cigarette back to his lips, puffing away quietly.

“If it’s a missing person case, I think you’re gonna want the Blades instead.”

“Not considering what all my sister was getting up to before she went and vanished.” Laraunt tapped a fingertip—hard—on the surface of the counter, pulling Leonnaux’s attention back up to his eyes. “This ain’t the best place to give details though—or time. How can I get in touch with you after this? Sit down for a more proper talk. Client to broker.”

Leonnaux paused, offering a shrug. “I’m new here. You think I already have an office? Just pick a day pick a time and—I’ll meet you out back. After a shift, maybe. So we won’t be interrupted.” He tilted his chin up, then, before he snuffed the cigarette out, grinding it in the ashtray and leaving it there in a crumpled heap. With a grimace, he slammed back the rest of his sazerac in one go, chewing on the lemon rind left behind once the glass was emptied.

“Ah, eh… Should be free at the end of the week.”

“Cool. I’ll see you then—see if I can’t turn up any leads on a missin’ Duskwight in Ul’dah in the meantime.”

“I’d appreciate it.” There’s a pause and Laraunt takes a breath, watching Leonnaux as he starts to leave. “Hey, say—this is bugging me, but have I seen you before?”

Leonnaux’s heart skipped a beat, and he paused mid-step to look over his shoulder, one hand against the heavy wooden door, poised to make his way out.

“I don’t know. Have you?”

––to be continued.

#crystal data center #ffxiv rp #balmung rp #crystal rp #ffxiv balmung #ffxiv crystal #hellsbovnd #( c: leonnaux; )#( writing; )#[ i keep saying leon is cis/gender nonconforming but honestly w how i write him he might actually just b straight up genderfluid ]#[ i just dont want transphobes crawling into my mentions to call me gamer words so i'm gonna keep him as cis on paper lol ]#[ no harm in having little a noncanon headcanons about my own character.... as a treat ]

4 notes · View notes