#she is a storm that leaves you breathless / visage.

[hellpierced]

.

[crowleyellestair]

Love your work! Would you mind doing the wolves (maybe sans geralt bc you’ve already done him) taking care of a reader with a migraine?

AN/// Sorry for the delay. Work and life have been crushing, but here it is!!! I really hope you like it :) Again, very sorry for the wait. I hope you’re not undergoing a migraine while reading. Much love <3

 //L//

There wasn’t much that bugged Y/n. She was strong willed and had a high tolerance for anything, thus being able to endure the force that is Lambert. She often laughed when people claimed Jaskier to be the most outspoken and dramatic, knowing the youngest witcher held that crown. Fights happened between the two and often, but they both never had any true venom behind their words. While Y/n was like most, and gave Lambert a firm hand, the grip she had was gentle, knowing that behind that angry exterior was a man who simply sought happiness and the simpler things in life. She didn’t pull any punches when joking or handling the man, but endearments and affection were also paid to him in full, if not more so.

Migraines were commonplace for Y/n, though she had medication to subdue them quickly and with ease. In Oxenfurt, she had befriended a medical student, the two of them experimenting with things to help Y/n’s headaches. It seemed dangerous, and some things they had tried could be considered that, but in the end, they found the perfect mix. Though, her medical friend stayed near Novigrad, and Y/n was currently galivanting with Lambert in the south.

It started with the pressure behind her nose, building and spreading to her cheeks and behind her eyes. She swore to whatever force it was that felt like it was trying to push the eyes out of her sockets. The heels of her hands had pressed against them, but even her eyebrows were sensitive, the hairs irritating as they moved, follicles tiny pinpricks. It spread to her temples and her skin felt tight by her ears. Ringing was heard at every noise around her. Her body felt sore as she sat up in the bedroll pile, they often created by pushing the two traveler’s beds together with the effect of a larger one to snuggle. Lambert wouldn’t admit it or bring it up, but if their cuddling was ever mentioned or joked about, the man would brag about his spooning and comfort skills.

Her hips popped as she brought her knees to her chest, and the ache rippled throughout the rest of her body. Her eyes were squinting as they gazed over the view. It was hot the previous night, so the two found a cave somewhat higher in the mountain rage they were crossing, and the view was gorgeous. She could see a crystal-clear stream running through sparse trees that grew throughout the valley below. Y/n noticed Lambert was gone, and she sighed her thanks to anyone listening to her thoughts, slowly leaning over to blindly sift through her bags, looking for water. A loud noise just outside of the cave’s mouth made her cringe and ball herself up for a moment. Ringing followed, as well as drums pounding behind her eyes and through her temples. A softer sound was heard a second later, followed by a familiar, proud, booming voice.

“Even in the steepest fucking mountain side we could have camped in, we have warm breakfast! Bon appe… you know.” Lambert’s rare forgetfulness would have been funny if his voice didn’t bounce off the walls, dropping on her eardrums like raining arrows. There was a silence that followed his statement, his hands on his hips, waiting for the retort. He squinted when he didn’t receive it, knowing full well she was awake, but went to pull the small doe into the cave. The behavior of his beloved companion set alarms off, and he was immediately on edge, though he didn’t outwardly show it. This was new territory, and he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want whatever conflict he was about to face. Out of desperation, he resorted to a Vesemir impression to try and lighten the tone.

“The early bird cannot fetch the worm if it has no desire to fly. While we cannot fly, we can find other means to get the worm that other birds can’t.” At some point, a hand found his hip and a finger started to wag.  His brows furrowed and he leaned over her form. His voice was normal, the edge somewhat showing. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but I wish it would stop-.”

“Lambert!” She shrunk away from her own voice that echoed back to her in full force. The harshness grating on her, not wanting him to feel the anger as well. Because she was angry. Y/n didn’t know why she had to suffer through these spells of headaches, wishing life would let up a bit on its berating habits. Lambert had flinched away from her, standing once more. His cat eyes were wide, and he took a step back. The true growl that came to her while she yelled his name was something he never wished to hear from her, having heard it from so many that hurt him before.

Tears started to drop, and Y/n scrunched her eyes close as tightly as possible, trying to block out the light, but also trying to turn to the man.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I can’t… It…” Her voice was a whisper, and despite his pounding heart, he dropped to a knee in front of her. He felt like a helpless child, wanting to get back into his mother’s good graces again, but it was so much more than that. He loved Y/n with all his being, and this was something he couldn’t handle. Her anger towards him is one thing, but true distain even slightly pointed in his direction was another. Lambert would do anything to right this, despite the unfamiliar fear that gripped him. His mind shrunk into itself, ready to lash out in defense despite months of being with her and being open.

“’It’ what? What’s happening?” He matched her whisper, outstretching a hand. It never landed against her skin, despite wanting to wipe the tears away and going to what their lives were before this.

“Migraine. It’s too loud. Bright. I need a minute.” The instant relief that flooded through him almost got out of hand. He didn’t know what he expected her to say, but knowing it wasn’t life changing was a relief. He nodded, now determined and grateful for the luck that has fallen upon him. Lambert stood quickly, marching out of the cave and climbing faster than when he entered. Y/n swore to herself, angry and in pain. She didn’t mean to yell or have her anger that was pointed at her body to be pointed towards her witcher, it simply happened. More tears fell as she curled back up, rubbing her temples in vain.

Lambert landed at the mouth of the cave once more, quietly walking to his lover. He placed the daisy like flowers in her lap, Y/n having shifted into a sitting position minutes ago. Her eye peeped open in question and felt even worse about yelling.

“Lambert-.”

“Shh, I have this.” His soft, coaxing tone cut off her apologies as he found a bowl in their bags to grind the plant’s leaves. After it was successfully made into a past, he opened their food pack for the bread they had, spreading it, and smiling to the loaf. He insisted they get the onion clove loaf, as he had taste despite being a witcher. It was the same price as a plane loaf, what did she expect? He knew the deliciousness of the bread wouldn’t even out the bitterness of the plant, but it would help. Lambert plopped himself in front of her, staring intently as he held out the loaf. Y/n took it, eating it quickly and trying to steel herself from expressing the gross taste. Cat eyes bore into her frame, waiting and hoping. His hands perched on his knees, teeth worrying slightly into his bottom lip. It seemed at this point, Lambert would eradicate her migraine simply through pure will, his stare taking even Y/n aback. She stared back, never backing down from his gaze until Lambert smiled. Her brow rose in question, and his voice was full once more. “See, I told you I had it.”

Y/n took inventory of her body after not flinching away from the tone. The pain had receded, and only aches were left. It wasn’t fully gone, but the plant along with Lambert’s distracting visage had worked wonders. She smiled to him, but it dropped quickly.

“Lamb, I’m sorry.” He shook his head, smirking.

“There’s no need to be.” Despite the storm passing, he was truly scared earlier. Y/n meant too much to him to have anything go wrong. Lambert knew, however, that even if she had meant to yell at him, he would endure it. He would do anything to make it better, despite what happened to him. Y/n was worth everything and more than he had to give. He made it a habit to pick Feverfew, the plant he used, as much as possible. He always carried the paste in a vile next to his potions in the ‘chest of important things’ as he liked to call it from then on.

 //E//

 “Oh, sweet Melitele.” Y/n groaned as she rolled over. She found herself alone under the covers, completely pulling the sheets over her head. The only light in the room came from the candles at the desk in the corner. Eskel had the habit of waking up after a couple of hours, the time used to check the camp perimeter or inn’s hiding spots. In Kaer Morhen, the habit didn’t change, though he simply reads. His attention was brought to the bed at the sound of a pain groan and exclamation.

“Y/n?” His voice came out as a whisper, only having an idea of what was happening. She had only been sleeping lightly for as long as he left the bed, so it could have easily been frustration due to exhaustion. His suspicions where confirmed however when the only response was a breathless grunt and the furs tightening around her form. He closed the book, walking over the bowl of water they kept near the window as Y/n often woke up thirsty in the night despite his constant reminders to stay hydrated. His feet lazily shuffled to grab a small cloth, folding it and submerging it into the cold water. Eskel blew out the candles, and made his way back to the bed. The brunette sat, Y/n slowly popping her head out from under the covers and into his lap. The towel was placed on her forehead, the cold water taking her mind to the shocking feel. His large fingers gently rubbed against her temples, the pressure trying to ease the ache.

Eskel’s lover quickly lost herself, only being tied down to the earth by the legs her head rested on and the fingers at her temples. The darkness and silence, along with the cold towel brought her mind away from the pain. After a handful of moments, Eskel started to whisper, reciting Y/n’s favorite novel. Her mind had another thing to focus on, and after a long while, the pain was gone.

“Thank you. Sorry I interrupted reading time.” Eskel gave a soft smile, leaning down and placing a kiss on the damp skin after lifting the towel.

“I love you,” he spoke softly. He said it as though it was the obvious reason why he did anything, especially helping out with her migraine. She smiled back softly, knowing he could see it.

“Not as much as I love you, cutie.” He scoffed quietly at the name, rolling his eyes. It had taken years for him to finally believe her when she called him that. It used to bring pain and make his chest hurt, but now it made him feel light. It made him proud somehow. The witcher was elated to have her as his other half, all the trust he had to give lying within her frame. They had gone through a lot together, their bond becoming unbreakable. Eskel could help her migraines in his sleep and her large heart could warm him from miles away.

He tossed the towel to the dirty pile of clothes in the corner of the room as she slowly started to shift. Eskel laid back as she turned to wrap herself around him. Her arms wound under his arms, hands resting under his shoulder blades. Her legs intertwined with his and her cheek nuzzled against his own. Light kisses dusted over his entire face, starting at the bottom of his scar at his jaw. No inch of his skin was left un-kissed in thanks for helping. His hands wrapped around her lower back, squeezing her to himself. Neither fell asleep right away, simply resorting to whispering sweet nothings to the other.

//V//

 Vesemir didn’t have many opportunities to be what he always wanted. Despite his lectures to the boys, telling them to never have a family or hope to be a parent, the old witcher always wanted to be a father. He had regrets, and one major one was not doting on his pups like he had wanted to when they were younger. But things were different now, and he could do what he liked, though they were too old to want what he wanted to give. Then Y/n came along. Geralt had a habit of bringing friends along to the keep, and no one ever refused the company, secretly wanting friendly faces, even if they belonged to a sorceress. Y/n wasn’t such entity, being merely a human, which allowed him to dote.

It was the small things that he allowed himself to do. He tried to keep his caring under lock and key, giving her just as many chores and rules as the other. The old witcher showed through giving her an extra sticky bun or lighting the only scented candle they had in the hot spring before she had her time alone in the pool. An extra fur blanket was left on her bed and the hearth in her room was always lit as she retired for the light, Vesemir lighting it as he passed to his own room.

They weren’t grandiose actions, but the hugs she graced him in thanks or the bright smiles he received made him aware how appreciated it was. And that made his old heart swell, knowing he is that figure he always wanted to be. Of course, he does the same for his sons, just in altered ways he knows they’ll appreciate more and there’s little outward thanks in return.

His parental need went into overdrive when one morning she padded down to the main hall, completely a mess. Usually, she would be completely ready for the day, up when the wolves woke, a bright smile gracing everyone. This morning, however, she had the extra fur wrapped tightly around herself. It was late in the morning, and he had waited in the hall for her, sending the boys out training already. The bags under her eyes made her whole visage look sunken and she squinted anytime she stepped out of the shadows. Vesemir met her in the shadows, his hand barely brushing her back.

“What’s wrong?” She blinked up at him, eyes droopy from exhaustion.

“Um,” her voice cracked loudly, and she flinched. “Headache.” The witcher acknowledged with a hum, turning her and leading her to the kitchen. There was only one window, and he sat her down at the end of the workspace where the light didn’t really touch. Water appeared in front of her and his voice softly drifted to her.

“You need to stay hydrated.” Y/n nodded, grabbing the cup and drinking half of its contents. There was quiet shuffling coming from the other end of the kitchen, Vesemir’s eyes frequently watching the woman. Her figure was slumped over, taking deep breaths and hands rubbing her eyes and temples. Sympathy ran through his veins, his need to help and care taking over. While he wouldn’t usually make a different meal than the food he had already prepared, he assumed this was an okay time to bend the rules. And no one was around to see it anyways.

Milk was pulled, along with oats, cinnamon, brown sugar and almonds. A pot with the milk started to boil as he tried to crush the almonds into smaller pieces as quietly as possible. The oats went into the pot, as well as the almonds. Soon, the cinnamon and sugar were dumped into a bowl with the oats and stirred, gently placed in front of Y/n’s sagging figure. He poured more water into the now empty cup, his spare hand gently placing itself on her head, letting it lightly run down her hair. He knew it was something really only done to comfort or praise a small child, but he couldn’t help himself. His ears picked up a small thank you, and he left her to watch over training. Once that was over, he made sure to check on her in her room, bringing in a small lavender plant he re potted, knowing the scent helped such things. More water was also brought, and he was relieved and content to see her in a deep sleep, a small smile on her face.

[cryinginthebackseat]

i was your insomnia, i was your grief

Fandom: Bloodbound

Pairing: Gaius Augustine x MC

Words: 3,864

Summary: "Kill me, then,“ Gaius hissed through gritted teeth, without an ounce of kindness to it and it was kinda like a sucker punch to the face. “If that should satisfy you. You and I both know my soul is yours to take.” “Mine, huh? Not even God could take that luxury from me?” Amy bit off, wanting to test his reaction. Liking the way his brows furrowed further. “Aren’t you afraid of God, Gaius?” “No,” he said. A beat, then: “But I’m afraid of you.”

Warnings: SMUT, angst, swearing, all that jazz, SMUT

Author’s note: what’s up my fellow gaius stanners! so, after a careful reconsideration, mental debate and scouring through tumblr for the motivation, I finally decided to write this fic. I would like to give a massive shoutout to @theclownandtheflame​ because of their brilliant, brilliant fic Victim, Victim, Monster it inspired me to write a Gaius x MC fic too, cause fuck the haters, alright? We should all be able to ship whoever the heck we want. And that’s the tea, as our great queen Sophie Turner would say. 

Anyway, enjoy. If you like it let me know, if you don’t let me know, and if you’re a Gaius hater, what in the sweet hell are you even doing here? 

“Our emotions Are only “incidents” In the effort to keep day and night together.” ― T.S. Eliot

She’d like to think it was the exhaustion that moved it; that choreographed her limbs, that whispered the words in her head, that betrayed her instincts, that rose the river in her head, when she, as if on strings, leaned in and kissed Gaius on the cheek.

Gaius, the bane of her existence, the sole perpetrator that nearly brought the world to its knees, the man who raised a sword and killed her, thus the repercussions that altered the course of her life forever and Amy fucking kissed his cheek. Calloused against her soft lips and oh so wrong.

Yes, she would blame it on her exhaustion from all the shit blitz she’d endured a few days back, but underneath, Amy knew it was all her.

When she pulled back, she was breathless, her lips lingered there for a fleeting moment. Her cheeks a few shades darker than she expected. Gaius barely moved a muscle, sitting like a gargoyle, his jaw hung open. He looked at her lips first, then her eyes as if she was the world’s greatest enigma, as if she had stabbed him in the heart. 

“Why?”

Amy wished Gaius hadn’t asked that because she knew that he knew she had no answer to it. Or perhaps she did, but there was no point in letting him know, was it? So she looked the other way, embarrassed, indignant, frowning like a crescent moon in reverse. 

She inhaled deeply, his scent involuntarily worked its way through her nostrils. “Because I wanted to.”

“But why?” He asked again, more insistent this time. Confusion was apparent in his voice. She wished he would stop using that word.

Amy craned her head back to meet his, under the moonlight his eyes reminded her of the Arctic ocean, pale and cold, depthless. One wrong step and she would drown. 

“I don’t know, Gaius,” she murmured, honest, her fingers still clasping around his like knots. Amy thought if she held onto him a little longer, she’d wake up from whatever realm she was in and found herself tucked neatly in her bed. “I don’t know.”

What was right, what was real, those lines blurred the moment she became a vampire. And it was all his fault. Everything was his fault and she hated him for it, with every fiber of her being. God, Jax was right, they didn’t need him anymore, especially now that they had the weapon that could secure their triumph. She might as well kill him tonight and be done with it, get the revenge she’d deserved, bring her mind the peace it’s yearned.

But then she felt Gaius gently tipped her chin up, an indescribable look on his face that slightly unnerved her. His eyes once again, as if by mistake or design, found her mouth first then her eyes and she mentally berated herself for being such a fool.

“You need to be more careful where you tread, dearest one,” he said, his voice low, his thumb smoothed down the curve of her throat and her pulse immediately leapt. “Be careful, or there will be repercussions.”

“Is that a warning or a threat?”

“Once upon a time, it would have been the latter, but now…”

“But how? You don’t even know yourself anymore.”

Something dark passed Gaius’ eyes, akin to anger, hurt, betrayal, yet she held her ground. 

Eventually, he withdrew his hand from her. Amy, as fast as the lightning scrambled up to her feet. It was a mistake comforting him. Being near him was bad enough to mess up her brain and she couldn’t have that, especially during times like these. 

Yet Amy only stood there, watching as Gaius followed suit, but instead heading toward the railings and nested his elbows there, a hand running through his dark locks, an attempt to calm the storm within him. 

“Sorry,” she said quietly, not sure if he’d heard her, not sure why she apologized. Not sure if she should go and leave him to himself. “Sorry. I-” but she didn’t know what else to say.

Gaius shot her a look over his shoulder, once upon a time– he was right, once upon a time Amy would have stood stock-still at the way he gazed at her right now. But the Gaius before her was not the same man that killed her, that burned and destroyed New York with just a touch of his power. This was a different man, but with the same visage of the man who once hurt her. A different side of the coin.

“What is it that you want from me, Amy?” Gaius hissed, caustic as he unbent himself from the railings. Facing her once more. “Would it satisfy you if you were to kill me tonight, the way I did to you?” He stepped towards her. “Would it give you great joy if you could dissect my brains out like a lab rat and study what lies beneath the violence and decisions?” Another step. “Or will you, Bloodkeeper, exploit me the way she did? Mold me into something I’m not and use me for your own means?”

“No.” I’m not her, what she meant to say. But her answer somehow didn’t satisfy Gaius the slightest bit.

“Then what do you want from me? You comforted me and kissed my cheek, yet you smote me with your words. Was all the niceties just an act then? Not that I deserve any of it, but was it?” The anger had subsided, replaced by something broken, his voice cracking. He sounded so desperate and it gave Amy’s heart an unexpected twist. 

“No. No, it’s not.”

“Then why?”

“Because you confuse me!” She blurted out, her facade finally cracked and in front of him of all people, no less. “I know you, Gaius Augustine, or at least knew. You are the man who murdered me cold-blooded, who scarred me and my friends for life, who did terrible, terrible things in the past, but then…” Amy wrapped her arms around her midsection as if it was mid-December in New York. 

“Then when I got into your head, everything I knew about you somehow meant nothing. Those violence, those-those stories I’ve heard about you. Nothing. I know you, yet at the same time I don’t and I hate it. I hate it that I’m not in control-” she snapped her mouth close.

“Control of what?” Gaius asked tightly, genuinely confused. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

She shook her head. “I- I mean-” Amy grit out, closed her mouth, groaned. “It’s-” she paused, gesticulated, seeking the right word. “Nothing. Just forget it.”

Amy didn’t dare to meet his eyes as she turned her back from Gaius, cheeks ever tinged crimson. Wanting to put as many distances as she could from him. 

But he stopped her, naturally, before she could go too far. His cold hand around her arm and spun her back to face him. He was close. Closer than they’d ever been together that Amy could almost make out her own reflection in her eyes. Hip lips dangerously close to her face, their noses almost touching and the tension immediately shifted, still dangerous but not in the cut-throat, stab-you-to-death kind that she knew so well. 

“Tell me,” Gaius whispered, on the verge of pleading. He was watching her carefully now, knowing that he was crossing the line, but so help him there were already plenty of lines they’d crossed tonight. 

This time, it was her mistake to stare at his lips. “I hate you,” Amy spat, but that was just one of the lies she told.

“I am aware.”

“I wish you weren’t here.” This too.

“Kill me, then,” Gaius hissed through gritted teeth, without an ounce of kindness to it and it was kinda like a sucker punch to the face. “If that should satisfy you. You and I both know my soul is yours to take.”

“Mine, huh? Not even God could take that luxury from me?” Amy bit off, wanting to test his reaction. Liking the way his brows furrowed further. “Aren’t you afraid of God, Gaius?”

“No,” he said. A beat, then: “But I’m afraid of you.”

His answer was unexpected and her scowl did soften, if only for a moment.

Though maybe once she had settled the score with Rheya, she would do it. If that was what he wanted, what everyone wanted.

But now, Amy’s mind was racing at a hundred miles per hour because she was losing all semblance of control, and she only trusted him to witness this side of her rather than anyone else; her eyes finding his lips again.

But the less he knew the better, and she thought let him be very afraid then.

“Good.“

Then Amy leaned in and kissed him. On the mouth.

She felt Gaius’ hesitation in the kiss, but it didn’t last long. Suddenly, Amy felt his mouth moving against her, his hand on the back of her neck, pulling her closer; hers, wrapped around his neck.

There was no exploration, no teasing, no tenderness in their kiss. He kissed her hot-blooded and raw, like millennia of pain and lust pouring out of his mouth and she gladly swallowed them all. Amy opened her mouth first, shoved her tongue against his first and heard him groan, felt him reciprocate. Making her head dizzy that she had to remind herself to breathe. He was never the one to back down from a challenge.  

Amy let out a startled gasp when he picked her up, her legs automatically wrapped around his waist as Gaius carried her toward her chamber like she weighed nothing. Not once they broke the kiss, even as they toppled down the mattress, as he wrapped his arm under her body and moved them further up the bed.

Gaius’ mouth unlatched from hers, his fangs were on full display, an unmistakable gleam of lust flashed over his features and began his journey down her jaw, her neck. The sharpest tips grazing her tender flesh, lingering over the pulse point of her carotid before putting pressure, enough to make her whimper but not to leave his mark on her. A shudder rippled up Amy’s spine. Her fingers digging into his dark locks, wanting to hurt him, to push him away, to bring him closer, to hear him groan. 

God, her head was a fucking mess. She was a fucking mess. To stoop this low and let Gaius, the man who’d murdered her once upon a dreary night, have his way with her. 

Perhaps she had gone bat-shit crazy from everything that had been happening, perhaps there was something in the water Kano gave her, perhaps it really was exhaustion clouding her mind, but whatever was this, this felt so unapologetically good in her head.

A strained moan involuntarily left her lips when she felt his hand snuck under her top, finding her nipple and gave it an experimental pinch. 

It was then when Amy channeled her vampiric strength and flipped their position. Wrenching a surprised look from his face, his eyes popped. Looking as if he’d never been outmuscled by the opposite sex before. She swung her leg over his torso, straddled him, liking the feeling of his hard curve better between her legs like this.

Amy ground down onto him, her mouth stretched into a dangerous smile as Gaius flopped his head back to the bed, groaning gutturally and bucked up against her in response. His hands gripping her hips, hot and tight. Even through the excessive layers of clothes, she could feel him, growing hard against her. Brushing onto her clothed sex just right, she bit her lip, muffling the moan that threatened to escape. Her back arched seductively while Gaius raced a hand from her throat down over her chest.

She batted it away and pinned both his hands above his head.

“No. Tonight is about me.” Her voice was deep and authoritative, breathing a little too loud than her liking. “Everything is on my terms tonight, you get me?”

“Very well, Your Highness,” he replied, but there was no trace of malice or snide like he usually did. His pupils were blown to hell, the light color of his eyes disappeared into a sliver.

Amy eyed him down, considering her next move. 

“Strip,” she commanded, watching as his eyes glint. He was going to enjoy this. Amy almost regret agreeing to do this in the first place.

Almost.

Once Amy let go of his hands, Gaius sat up, bringing her with him as she readjusted herself on his lap. He unfastened his ridiculous cape first, hurling it across the room without the slight care in the world before moving onto his ruff and suit. The whole time, his eyes never left hers and vice versa. 

By the time he was naked to the waist, Amy couldn’t help but stare. And the bastard caught it, eagle-eyed as ever, the right corner of his mouth curling up to a smirk. Fucker. But she opted to ignore him, brought her hand over his body instead, feeling his chest hitched. 

His chiseled muscles were almost statuesque, she had to admit. The battle scars were like stories waiting to be told, explored. It was sort of oddly intimate actually, seeing him like this, touching him as a lover would. Perhaps in another life, if he wasn’t what he was, if they weren’t what they were, she would have asked Gaius to recount one of them.

But not in this life.

Amy dropped her hand from him, pretending she hadn’t just admired his body like a thirsty ass vampire she was and cleared her throat.

“Pants,” she said. And Gaius obeyed once again. Sliding from the bed to stand as he worked on his trousers. A blush had risen to her face, but she forced herself not to look away. She wouldn’t be beaten on her own game.

Gaius dropped his shorts, kicked off his boots and he was naked before her. Standing tall and proud like a soldier he was. His mouth twitched but the rest of his face remained impassive, as if saying ‘do your worst’. This time, Amy allowed herself to openly stare at him. Assessing, and again, considering her next move. 

“Touch yourself.”

Gaius did a double take. “What?”

“Get on your knees and touch yourself.”

He did. Kneeling down before her like a man asking for penance before his God, his eyes glued on hers still as he ran his hand over his cock. 

Amy sat by the bed, cross-legged, licking her lower lip as she watched the show. A low grumble erupted from his throat, his gaze kept shifting between her body and her face, her thighs and her breasts. She exhaled shakily. Suddenly, the room felt thick, it was like trying to breathe in a room full of fire. 

The wet smack of his hand around his cock was enough to send her desire climbing through the roof. Her nipples grew hard under her tank top. Her hand travelled down between her legs, wondering what his reaction would be.

“Amy,” Gaius shamelessly groaned her name this time. His hand moving faster. His face contorted, visibly fighting for control.

He was close.

“Stop.” He did, panting and sweating as he did so. “Stand up.” He stood up, his arms on his side. “Now take off mine.”

He was all but pounced to the bed like an animal. Tearing her top off, pulling her pants and underwear down her smooth legs with a violent tug, Amy nearly yelped in surprise.

She was as naked as he was now. Gaius stared at Amy for a moment, drinking her in, his gaze darting up and down the curves of her soft figure. His eyes were heavily-lidded, and Amy felt a hot rush from the lewd expression on his face. He positioned himself on top of her once again, the veil of his sun-kissed brown strands falling around his face.

“What’s next, Your Highness?” Gaius asked lowly, his mouth nibbling her ear. “I await your command.”

“I-” Amy shut her eyes, shivered violently when his hardness nudged on her wet heat. “Fuck.” And slightly ground her hips against his. Her thoughts a chaotic jumble.

Amy felt him smiling against her collarbone, before closing his mouth over her nipple, sucking hard enough to sting, letting his fangs graze over the delicate skin. “Yes?”

“Shit,” she cursed again, head drooping backwards with a drawn out moan. She pushed his body off of her. “On your back.“ 

At the command, Gaius quickly rolled to the side, obedient as ever. Amy scrambled up, pushing him further until he was lying flat on the bed and settled her weight against him. Gasping whenever his tip brushed her clit.

One hand on his pecs, the other reached down and grabbed his cock. Wasting no time, no more teasing this time around as she positioned the head beneath her opening. Feeling him assisting before finally, she lowered herself in a strangled breath and fought the urge to moan his name.

So, this is how it felt, fucking the man that once brought so much destruction to the world and her own. Others might think this was her falling for the temptation, the manipulation Gaius pulled on her, losing the battle, but this was her winning the war. This was her turning the tables around them, showing them who was in control now. That she, of all people, could have the former King of Vampires knelt down before her and jerked himself off and deprived him of that pleasure just for the thrill of it.

And she was the Bloodkeeper for fuck’s sake. Probably the world’s only hope in achieving the impossible, for what’s it worth, she could fuck whoever she wanted. Let her have her moment, this one final hurrah before the shit show awaited her.

A sly arch of her back, lips dropping into a perfect circle, hips circling on his, Amy rode Gaius senselessly, bouncing and clawing at him until they left marks on his skin. Her sighs and moans intermingled with his every time she slammed her hips into his just right. He thrust upwards in time with her movements, his hands on her thighs, her hips, her breasts, her neck. All over her body. There was no inhibition now, only pleasure that drove them.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” At the increasing pitch of her voice, Gaius pulled her head down for a hungry kiss, instantly muffling her sound.

Soon, Amy began to feel her knees weakened, her movements became less rhythmic that she had to lean helplessly on his chest. Gaius noticed this, but instead thrust even faster. 

“F-flip me ove-” Amy hadn’t finished the sentence when Gaius spun her over onto her back. His left hand gripping her messy hair, his right one holding up her hips roughly, he re-entered her in a one hard, deep thrust that filled her. So powerful that she was shaken, knocking the wind out of her.

Setting a ruthless pace, he rammed himself into her. He was out of restraints, it seemed, and Amy was out of her fucking mind. Drowned in the euphoria that she didn’t realize she pulled him for another searing kiss. Grunting into her mouth, his fingers headed down over her lower abdomen and his thumb contacted her clit. Her body clenched around his cock. Her fingers dug deep into his shoulders, though the pain seemed to fire him up even more.

Then Gaius shifted the angle of his hips.

“Oh, G-god fuck!” she cried, uncertain of whether it was an unconscious attempt at calling his name or straight up blasphemy. She felt her release bubbling inside her the depth of her stomach. Her back arched.

When Amy came, Gaius dutifully put his hand over her mouth, muffling the scream that rose up from her throat. Her release also triggered Gaius’, as he suddenly went rigid above her, his thrusts became more irregular before pulling out and spilled his seeds on her thigh.

Amy was still trying to even her breath when she noticed Gaius left the bed. Disappearing into the dark corner of the room before the next thing she knew, he came back bringing a towel with him. Which was pretty considerate of him and since Gaius didn’t strike her as the type.

Her dumbfoundedness must have been apparent because the right corner of his mouth curled up into a smirk.

“If there’s one thing I learned from this ordeal, it’s that I have to start taking care of the messes I made,” he said as he handed the towel to her, an unexpected softness in his eyes.

Amy shakily propped herself up, looking down. There were bruises on her hips and his semen was dripping from her leg, creating a damp patch on the bed. 

“Thanks,” she said, then began to clean up the mess he left on her while feeling his eyes constantly roving around her figure. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but decided otherwise. 

Gaius left the bed once more and this time, she knew he was never coming back.

“You’re leaving?” Amy asked as he redressed himself, nearly smacked herself in the head at the tinge of disappointment in her voice.

“Yes,” he answered as he buttoned up his suit. “I have my own preparations to make for the battle.” Gaius knelt down to pick up his cape, dusted off unnecessarily and wore it back around his broad shoulders.

Amy could only watch him as he turned his back on her, heading toward the door. The afterglow had worn off when it was barely there. Feeling surprisingly… hollow.

She was the one who initiated this, but the gravity of the situation, of what they had done, was starting to weigh in. Not that she regretted a single second of it, but it was because she knew from this moment, she would never look at him the same way again. Not when she knew everything about him now- physically and mentally, and probably the only living person in this world who did. 

If he died, Gaius would be nothing but a story to be passed down to another generation of vampires after them, stories of his atrocities, of his mistreatment of the human race, of his manipulations. He would be condemned, shunned. Even after his death. Eventually, the name Gaius Augustine would slowly disappear with the wind and Amy couldn’t help but wonder what could have happened if Rheya hadn’t changed him. Would he have been hailed as a hero instead? Knowing his true nature, or would he even be here in the first place?

Gaius’ footsteps ceased, his hand hovering on the doorknob. 

“If we’d met in another life…” he uttered, uncertain whether he should continue or not. Still, his back on her. “I think things could have been different.”

Still, he could not be remedied or pitied. What he’d done was beyond forgiving, he still needed to be held accountable, but beneath his sins, he was just one man. A messed up, wicked and annoyingly powerful man who lost himself along the way. Who lost everything.

“Yeah. In another life.” And immortality never tasted this bitter.

[saltiestdemonloves]

Washed Up Pt. 1

Siren!Reader x Bakugou

Warnings: None!

WC: 1.7k Words

A/N: Bakugou’s a pirate who gets lost at sea and stuck on an island that happens to be inhabited by a lone siren.

“WAIT!!” As Bakugou screams after his ship which rode wave after wave, disappearing further into the storm. He could hear the desperate calls of his friends before they too faded away. He was left, paddling desperately for the surface after wave after wave crashes over him, dragging him further into the depths of the ocean.

He chokes, breaching the surface again, looking around for something - anything to save him. “Fuck!” he screams, a towering wave crashing for him. He only managed to bring his hands over his face before he and it collide, and he loses consciousness.

He was floating, drifting, unattached from everything. Am I... dead? His energy was gone, he couldn’t even open his eyes. If this is heaven, he thinks, they got it wrong. Bakugou's back brushes against something soft before he’s pushed back against it harder, then the floating stops. His weight settles against the softness beneath him and he groans, feeling gravity's pull.

Finally, Bakugou’s eyes flutter open. He winces at the bright sun, squinting in its harsh light. Taking a deep breath, he widens his eyes and looks up at the bright blue sky, not a cloud in sight.

“Ugh,” he groans, barely having the strength to push himself up onto his elbows. Trying to blink away the burning in his eyes, Bakugou looks around, trying to see where he was.

Currently, he was laying propped up on the sandy shore of some beach. The water still splashing up onto him. He grimaces, twisting to look further around him, his skin was hot and felt like dry leather, threatening to tear. After seeing a line of trees and forest a few meters behind him, Bakugou’s strength disappears and he collapses back onto the sand. 

He was breathless, exhausted. I could fall asleep right here, he thinks. He might if he doesn’t get up. The thought of the tide pulling him back into the waters was the only thing keeping him from passing out.

Inhaling a deep breath, trying to find strength, Bakugou turns onto his front and pushes himself up shakily. Then he crawls forward, away from the ocean waters. Once he’s far enough away, he falls back down with a sigh. “Fuck the water,” he grumbles. Then everything goes black.

**

Bakugou’s eyes crack open just enough to get a blurry outline of someone’s feet standing beside him. His brows furrow slightly before his eyes shut again. Then he’s woken by the feeling of being dragged by his arms, hearing the soft grunts of effort as someone pulls him. He wakes again this time by being probed, someone's hands holding his shoulders and shaking him.

He makes a growling sound and weakly shoves at their hands. “Get off,” he slurs. His mouth feels dry, he’d kill for something to drink.

Just then, he feels something press against his lips and a cool liquid spill into his mouth. He pulls back in surprise, eyes widening, but the sweetness reaches his tastebud and automatically he opens his mouth again to receive more.

“It’s medicine,” he hears, the person’s voice warbled by his lack of focus. But the moment the notes of their voice reach his ears, he felt at ease.

“‘S good,” he mumbles.

“Yes,” they agree, the voice becomes clearer and clearer. 

He blinks and forces his eyes to focus on the visage before him. A girl - his age he thinks - kneeling in front of him, a handmade cup in her hands. She looked... different. Her eyes were slightly rounder and larger than a normal person’s. When she opened her mouth to urge him to drink more, he saw razor-sharp teeth.

Bakugou exhales sharply and shoves her hands away, “Get away!”

The girl stands immediately, backing away. A flash of hurt crosses her expression. “I will not...” she blinks and looks at him nervously, “I will not harm you.”

Bakugou was panting, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest. “I don’t believe you,” he says sharply.

“I’m sorry that you feel that way,” she says softly. 

“You’re... you’re a...” Bakugou squints, “You’re a harpy, aren’t you?” He looks around, now scanning his surroundings, “Where’s the rest of your - what is it - flock?” They were in some sort of cave, he thinks.

Her eyes drop and she puts the cup aside on a makeshift table, “No, and I’m alone, I am not a part of any “flock” as you say.”

“Why?”

“Because I am,” she answers, stepping away. “I will get you some food, you need it. Please drink the rest of your medicine, you have a fever.”

“Don’t you dare leave me here,” Bakugou growls, standing on his feet shakily.

The girl stops, turning to stare at him with curious eyes. “I’ll be right back,” she promises. “Please, sit and rest.”

“Why are you helping me?”

“It’s been a... long time since I’ve seen another person.”

“But you’re not a person,” he snips. “You’re a beast.”

She smiles, giving him a grin that should chill him to the bone, but came off friendly, “Do I look beastly to you?”

“Looks can be deceiving,” Bakugou glares.

“We’ll see,” she replies, turning away towards a curtained exit. “I’ll be back with your food. Rest and drink your medicine.”

Despite Bakugou’s intense urge to spite the humanoid creature and get up, his body was weak and he collapsed back onto what he discovers to be a small bed made up of all sorts of blankets and clothes. His mouth felt dry and his eyes drift to the cup that the - what he believes to be a harpy - had left nearby on the bedside table. 

Glancing back up to where she had left, Bakugou stretches forward and downs the rest of the contents inside in one gulp. He gives a satisfied sigh afterward and a wave of sleepiness washes over him for a moment.

When the girl returns, she finds Bakugou slumped back in the bed she’d made, eyelids droopy with post medicine haze. She smiles at the sight and quietly steps forward, setting down the bowl of stew that she’d prepared.

She kneels back down in front of Bakugou and tilts her head. He must be really tired because he doesn’t even realize that he’s looking right at her. Bakugou’s face was red with sunburn, some parts of his skin blistering. She wonders how painful it must be. She wonders where he came from.

“Hm.” The girl reaches forward to softly brush the back of her knuckles against his forehead, then his cheeks. He flinches, eyes coming back into focus. He stiffens, like before, and pushes himself back against the stone wall.

“What are you-”

“I’m just checking your fever,” she says quickly, standing back up. “You were out there for a while, I think.” She takes the bowl and hands it to him, “Here, it’s fish stew. It’s hearty.”

“Why are you helping me?” demands, Bakugou, untrustworthy of this stranger's intentions. “How do I know that you’re not trying to fatten me up so you can eat me.”

The girl laughs, shaking her head, “I don’t care for people much if I’m honest. Fish and other types of small things feed me just fine.”

“So you could eat me if you wanted?”

“If I desired it, yes.” Her amused smile softens and she tries again to hand the bowl to him, “Please, eat. You need it.”

Reluctantly, Bakugou takes the bowl and begins spooning the stew in his mouth. He was surprised to find that it was delicious. Better than anything he’s had in a long time. He moans out and begins shoveling it into his mouth, barely taking the time to chew the bits he needed to.

The girl grimaces, wanting to caution him but unsure if it would even help. “D-Don’t eat too fast, you might get sick.”

Bakugou stops, looking up at her, cheeks filled and stew covering his face. He didn’t care too much what he looked like, he was just so hungry. He swallows what he had in his mouth and wipes his face with his grungy sleeve. “Right.” He sets the bowl down in his lap, deciding to let what he’s eaten so far settle. “So... what day is it?”

The girl's brows knit together and her face pulls into a grimaced look. “I’m sorry, I don’t know.”

“What? Don’t you harpies keep track of dates?”

Sighing, she puts her hands on her hips and holds out a single digit, “First, I’m not a harpy, I’m a siren. Second,” another digit, “even if I did keep track of time, who's to say that what your species considers eventful is the same as mine?” She stops and exhales softly, “Third, even if we did have the same calendar, I’ve been alone too long to be taught it.”

Bakugou’s nose scrunches and he looks her up and down, “I thought sirens had tails?”

“No, those are mermaids. Sirens are... bird-like, I suppose. Unlike harpies, we’re not practically full birds. We can walk on land like a person just as well as you.”

“Sirens are still man-eating beasts,” he says, sharply, eyeing her

“Again, I have no interest in eating men,” the girl says, now moving about the room, picking things up and decluttering the tables and shelves. Clearing a chair so that she could sit down. “I was raised by a siren who loved humans, wanted to be able to walk amongst them. Maybe even meet a nice male one, one day.”

“So that’s where you come in,” Bakugou says dully.

But the girl scoffs, “No, it is not wise to mate with human men. She knew that. They’re greedy, dangerous, murderers, idiots...” she trails off when she realizes that Bakugou was staring unamused, arms crossed against his chest. She tries laughing it off, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, “Uh, right, um what I mean is that for the most part, it’s not practical. My father flew in from someplace to mate with her and have me.”

“So where are they?”

“Gone.” She looks away and plays with the cloth of her layered dress.

Bakugou grunts, picking up his bowl to finish his stew. Once done, he handed the bowl to the girl who takes it and sets it aside. “What’s your name?”

“Y/n,” she replies.

“Y/n,” Bakugou repeats. “Well, I guess you can call me Bakugou.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Bakugou.” Y/n beamed.

***

A/N: If you liked this please let me know by liking and reblogging!!

[sea-and-storm]

BENEATH THE WAVES ;

The moment that Ghoa's back hit the water's surface, the breath came rushing from her lungs and a blinding white exploded behind her eyes. Yet just as quickly as it came, that lightness in her vision was swallowed whole by the deep dark of the sea.

Just as soon as she regained her wits and her bearings, the Mankhad's arms and legs began kicking against the water to try and propel herself back to the surface. Though no matter how hard she swam and fought, she only seemed to be moving ever downwards as if a heavy anchor were pulling her towards the sea floor. The harder she strained against the current, the more her lungs began to burn with the effort until what scant breath remained to her escaped in a small shower of bubbles. 

Though she had never feared the sea before, Ghoa could now feel the fear and panic welling up within her breast as the cold, briny seawater filled her lungs. As the darkness grew deeper around her like the walls of a shadowy coffin.

You need not be afraid, child.

A voice called out to her. At once it seemed to echo within her head and all around her, from everywhere and nowhere. Yet for its strangeness, it seemed not in the least ominous. The voice was warm and matronly. 

None shall harm you here, the presence cooed to her. Within my arms, you are safe.

Yet it was not only the words the reached Ghoa now, but sensation. What felt like two arms wrapped about her slight form, holding her in within their grasp. With it the feeling of sinking came to a gentle stop, and so too did the breathless burning within her chest. The oppressive, frightening darkness began to pull away from the edges of her vision. Now, looking upwards, she could see -- even if still murky and distorted -- the surface above. 

Her brow furrowed in confusion. It felt as if she had been sinking for so long, and even more perplexing was the way her chest had begun to rise and fall with breaths once more as if she wasn't beneath the waves. The bone-deep chill of the water receded like low tide from her body, replaced instead by comforting warmth.

Queer as it all was, a deep and soothing veil of peace had fallen over her. Her eyes batted closed, and now she could feel the heavineherand fatigue in her limbs from her struggle just moments ago. Oh, how she wanted to sleep here now, wrapped in the sea's loving embrace. 

Rest, the voice coaxed as if it had read her very thoughts. I shall watch over you, child of the sea.

Somehow, she felt she could trust this voice at its word, and so Ghoa allowed her eyes to fall shut and for the tension to fade from her body. 

Perhaps only seconds had passed as the sea craddled her, or maybe entire bells. Time seemed a remote and meaningless triviality this deep underwater. But eventually, before she could fall too deeply into the rest it afforded her, the voice called again to gently rouse her.

You must awaken now. 

Her brows furrowed as she felt a tender caress to her cheek, but her brow furrowed and her eyes stubbornly stayed shut. Reluctance swelled within her. Why would she ever choose to release her grasp upon the sweetest peace ever to take her? 

You cannot stay here.

Why would she ever choose to leave this place where she felt so safe, so far removed from any who would ever do her harm? She hadn't felt this deep sense of security since she was but a young girl, when she had still naively and mistakenly thought herself protected by old traditions and those whom watched over her.

Look, child.

That phantom, formless hand brushed her cheek once more and then gently guided her head upwards. Despite her own stubbornness, curiosity eventually won out as her eyes blinked open once again. In the water above her, she could see a shadowy, unclear figure above her. A figure that seemed to slowly grow larger as it drew nearer. But still, even as the distance between them closd, she could make out no details as to their identity.

You cannot stay here, the voice repeated, its tone ever patient and gentle. Go with them.

The figure loomed closer still, until finally a hand outstretched towards her came into focus. There was a pause before she shifted her gaze then, trying to peek past the splayed fingers beyond to the face of whomever to which it belonged. Yet even as they drew near enough for her to touch, their visage remained frustratingly hazy. Even so, despite knowing not their identity, she felt within her a sense of familiarity and trust that had her reach out her hand towards them. Yet it stopped just short of taking that hand.

She was hesitating. Though something wordless and indescribable urged her to reach for them, a voice in the far reaches of her mind whispered to her. Why leave this idyllic, peaceful place? The world beyond the waves could be so very cruel. She could stay here. No one would ever hurt her here, as the voice had said. She was, at last, safe from any who would seek to harm her.

You harbor doubts.

Once again, that motherly voice seemed to read her thoughts just as if she had spoken them aloud. 

You have suffered much, I know, and you have held fear in your heart that your path has led you beyond our sight and mind. You worry that we have forgotten you, or worse, forsaken you.

But know that though you have wandered far, all water returns to the sea in time -- and so too have the tears you've shed. I have beheld them and wept for you, longing to bring you home to my arms for succor. The Storm, she has raged for you, howling and thrashing at those who would harm her beloved. Our love for you has never faltered, my child, and when the time should come that you return to us for good we will welcome you gladly and with opened arms. 

Yet until that time, you must walk your own path. To walk it is to endure suffering and fear and doubts, yes, but so too is it to experience love and laughter and joy.. 

And though you may wander far from us along this path, you need not walk it alone. Look again. Closer.

Once more she felt the unseen hand guiding her gaze, this time back towards the figure whose hand she held loosely onto. The indistinct face she had not been able to make out before began to slowly clarify into a familiar visage, and with it a name. Arasen. No, wait.. as she blinked again, the face she saw belong to Anchor. Again, and it was Batuhan. Nabi. Shael, even.

Your friends and allies walk beside you, and it is to them that you should turn when doubt threatens to overwhelm you. Lean upon them when you want for support, cry upon their shoulders when you are pained, but also share with them in whatever happiness and moments of peace you find.

So you cannot stay here, my child. You need them, just as they have need of you. They've their own paths, their own trials and sorrows and triumphs. You must be there for them as they are for you.

Now go, the voice coaxed. Go with them, and go with our love.

Ghoa paused at the gentle push, but not from reluctance. Rather, despite being underwater, she could feel tears welling up in her eyes and rolling over cheek and scale alike -- not of sadness, but of immense relief. She wanted to say something, to say how much it meant to her to hear those reassuring words, but every word at the tip of her tongue felt wrong or woefully insufficient. But deep down, she knew that it didn't have to be spoken aloud;  the sea would know her heart and her mind well enough without words.

Indeed, as if in answer, Ghoa felt what could've been the soft brush of lips against her forehead before slowly the feeling of those arms around her began to drift away. Yet still, though they parted, their warmth and comfort remained. 

Once more, she turned her eyes towards the surface. Yet this time, her hand tightened on the others' and her feet began to kick and propel her upwards towards it. Up, up, and up.. and when she finally broke the surface again, once more her vision was overwhelmed by blinding light.

[acediian]

—𝓉𝑜𝓋𝒶𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓃'𝓈 𝑔𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝑔𝒾𝒻𝓉 (𝒾.)

thanos x original character fanfiction  |  pre-infinity war  |  1.7k words +

Millennia ago, the ancient planet Tovarion was gifted an Infinity Stone with the intent to keep it hidden. But like all great secrets, its whereabouts are ultimately uncovered by the Mad Titan, who comes to claim his prize from the secluded society. When he demands the planet's loyalty in exchange for sparing the lives of its people, the crown princess offers her own hand in marriage as a means of facilitating an alliance and protecting her people.

The blue and silver flags that lined the palace facade lapped against the swift breeze that had fallen over the imperial city. The guards that passed by them gave no second thought, however, as they marched past towering columns and out onto the veranda that flanked the palace doors. Some muttered words of shock and awe while others called upon the grace of their gods to offer them protection.

As ancient as Tovarion was, the planet and her people prided themselves on their cloistered society. Many of those who had lived for millennia had never set eyes on an offworlder. To venture beyond their world was an act reserved only for warriors and royals. The people of Tovarian were content to live peaceful lives, and the only thought of adventure came when considering journeys to the summits of the planet’s towering mountains or rides across its vast, silver-flecked plains.

It was no surprise, then, that on this day, clusters of Tovari had gathered in the city square to behold the enormous, ring-like ship that hovered not far above their heads. Their over robes lapping at their ankles, they passed thoughts and conjectures between themselves in hushed tones. Visitors from other worlds were a rare sight, indeed. Many of Tovarion’s younger citizens had seen no more than streaks of light as spacecrafts passed just outside of the planet’s atmosphere or, on the extraordinary occasion, the outline of a great ship as it flew by.

It was how the Tovari had endured for as long as they had.

Thousands upon thousands of generations had lived across millions of years. In their seclusion, they had achieved almost mythical status among the stars. Some believed that they must be gods while others had come to deny their very existence. The Tovari, of course, scoffed at hearing such rumors from the few that did venture beyond their world. Simply put, theirs was a culture that had thrived by being left well enough alone. If a matter was not their own, then there was no sense in bothering at all.

But there was simply no ignoring the “matter” that floated, stagnant, above the capital city on this particular clear, warm afternoon. The small group of Tovari gathered in the square quickly turned into a sea of dark-haired individuals, all stood aghast as royal cavalry ships whizzed towards the royal palace. The few lucky enough to stand at the front of the crowd could just make out two figures, one tall and thin and the other broader and even taller, being escorted by guards up the vast flight of stairs that led to the monumental palace doors.

A hush had already fallen on the usually lively palace, its high ceilings echoing naught but the sound of footsteps and the clanking of metal armor. The smaller of the two visitors, a skulking creature, stepped lightly, confidently, with long fingers steepled before his torso. There was no trepidation in the smirking gaze he cast to the nobles that they passed, no fear of the guards that attended them. His was an almost holy mission, one whose outcome he was all but certain of.

The look on the being’s face did not fade even as the doors to the throne room swung open before them, revealing Tovarion’s ruler as she sat waiting for her unexpected guests. She was unmistakable, an indomitable figure with raven-black hair, clad in silver and perched upon an ornate throne. On either side of her, colossal stone effigies of his planet’s four deities stood watching, protecting.

Queen Aredhyn had governed her people with a kind heart and open palms for millennia. Her dealings in intergalactic affairs (however few and far between as they had been) had been decidedly more withdrawn. Diplomacy was only practiced in such a way that ensured the protection of her people, their planet, and their way of life.

And so Aredhyn regarded the two foreigners sternly from her throne, piercing pale grey eyes staring down the bridge of her long, thin nose. She did not know their faces, but knew well enough by their harsh appearance and the theatrics of their descent onto Tovarion that they were not harbingers of fair and peaceful tidings.

The smaller of the two visitors stepped forward a single pace. As the guards moved to draw their weapons, he stopped and, with a great flourish, bowed deeply before the queen.

“Oh, noble and most benevolent Queen Aredhyn, I stand before you as herald to the Great Titan, who sends his sincerest regards to your majesty and to the people of Tovarion.” As he glanced up, he noticed the flash of recognition pass over the queen’s face, her dark brow furrowing for but an instant.

“And what is it that he wants? He did not send you all this way to simply send his regards.”

The creature’s thin lips pulled up into a half smile. “He would like to offer a chance at salvation to you and your people. The opportunity to--”

“By ‘salvation’ you mean ruin and death,” the queen interrupted, her own expression curling into a tight frown. “Do not think I am not aware of whom you speak, and what havoc he has wrought on the Universe. The only ‘salvation’ my people need is that which is bestowed upon them by our gods.”

“Naturally,” the visitor cooed, offering another bow of his head. “But, I must correct you, your highness. It is not havoc -- nay -- it is… order. Balance.”

Aredhyn drew in a long breath as she shifted on her throne. Her gaze hardened, jaw clenched tight beneath a pale complexion almost the hue of the silver in which her planet was so abundant. “Tovarion does not need balancing.”

“All life does, your highness.” The visitor made a sweeping gesture, opening his arms with his palms. It was his greatest honor to assist his father with such a monumental task, a requisite for life itself to continue. What a righteous destiny it was. “And yet… I am sure you understand that, were it his aim to balance your planet, he would not have dispatched me to seek an audience with you first.”

The queen took no enjoyment in being toyed with. In a swift motion, she rose from her throne and closed the distance between her and the visitor. Her scowl met the creature’s noseless visage. “What is it that your master wants?” she hissed.

The visitor met the queen’s quiet fury with a composed, haughty grin. “Tovarion’s greatest gift. Its endowment from Asgard -- passed in secret to your forebears from the hands of King Buri himself.”

Silence passed between the two beings for what seemed like an age, the queen breathless under the immense weight of the words that still rung in her ears. The anger in her eyes fell away like leaves blown in the wind. There was not a Tovari alive today besides she that knew of this. An Infinity Stone, a hidden thing, the knowledge of which had come to her through her mother and her mother before her. Tovarion had been the home of the artifact for millennia, kept under the protection of the royal family.

“Odeiovarion,” Aredhyn breathed, a quiet appeal to her gods in her mother tongue. “How does he know of this?” Her slow, calculated tone belied the tumultuous storm that raged beneath the surface. It was almost a whisper, punctuated only by the pounding of her own heart.

“Have you any idea how long he has sought the stones?” the creature jeered. “He has his ways of obtaining information. It was only a matter of time, your highness. But rejoice, for Tovarion can now fulfill its greatest purpose. Its destiny.”

“Its destiny…” the queen echoed. With a short breath, she turned away from the foreigner to once again face her throne. What else could she do? Send word to Odin? Even Asgard could not help protect Tovarion from the madman and his hordes should they withhold the item he sought.

The visitor continued. “I understand how deeply you value the lives of your people. To give him what he wants is to ensure their protection. To deny him would all but mean the ruin of your civilization.”

Aredhyn raised a single eyebrow, lips parting and closing within mere seconds of one another. Her silence spoke volumes to the foreigner, whose hands were once again clasped before his chest. The prophet, having shared his holy message, could only smile even as the queen’s back remained turned to him.

“Why send you first? Why not simply ravage our planet, slaughter my people, and claim the artifact as his own?” Of all the thoughts that flooded the queen’s head, this was the one she mused aloud.

“The Great Titan is generous. Tovarion is one of the very oldest planets in existence… what a shame it would be to see her suffer when her queen can so easily guarantee her safety.”

“How generous, indeed.”

“He will also ask for your loyalty to his cause.” The creature chuckled. “A small price to pay to secure a happy life for your people.”

This final request sent a jolt through the queen’s body. As she whipped around, dark tresses fell into her face and framed the intense furor in her gaze. “Tovarion will not turn her back on her allies in favor of a madman. This I cannot do.”

Her glare was met with an equivalent frown from the visitor, who drew in a deep breath. “That is disappointing.”

“We can offer anything else to him. Tovari silver for armor. Space crafts…” Aredhyn’s voice trailed off as she delved deeper into her thoughts. Fingers clenching and fiddling idly with themselves, she paced before the creature. “I… must speak with my Council. Weigh our options…” But what options truly lay before her? Succumb or suffer. The choice was already made on her behalf.

“Then I should urge you to decide forthwith, Queen Aredhyn.” The creature’s words dripped with a malice that wilted some of the queen’s resolve. This was no idle threat. Tovarion’s fate would be decided in the days to come. “You shall come face-to-face with the Great Titan and his forces in two days. Think well on his terms.”

[thedarkthatbindsus]

Here it is!

Your first peek at The Dark That Binds Us, my debut novel, due to be released in Fall 2019! 

The earth shudders as another dreadnaught drifts over the Dukcha Wood, casting a shadow like storm clouds.

Professor Gim keeps a hand on my shoulder, the both of us crouching as low as we can into the underbrush, waiting for the ground to still and the roar of the engines to fade. Its shadow is so huge that it blocks the sun, already struggling to pierce the thick canopy of the jungle.

I don’t know why I’m holding my breath, but I do, hand over my mouth as the ground finally stills and only the sounds of birdsong and buzzing insects fills the air. Professor Gim’s body relaxes next to me, but our guide Arjun’s body stays tense. When I look at him, his dark eyes are still wildly scanning the canopy, sweat pouring down his face.

Like me, he’s no stranger to invading Adosi ships

“This is…unexpected,” says Professor Gim. She doesn’t sound the least bit rattled. In fact, she’s glowing from the combination of sweat. My heart is pounding so hard, I can hear it in my ears. “I guess that peace treaty didn’t mean much.” She turns to me with a reassuring smile on her tanned face, but it quickly fades when she sees how pale I am.

“Are you well, Verity?” she asks. I nod, but of course, I’m lying. The underside of an Adosi dreadnaught is always an ill omen. I have scars left over from Adosi brutality. A cold knot of dread coils in my stomach at the mere thought of seeing the crimson armor of an Adosi soldier, but I take in a deep breath through my nose, trying to draw in some of Professor Gim’s bravery. I can’t be the apprentice of famous explorer Minji Gim and be a coward.

 She pats my shoulder, giving me a soft smile before she turns to Arjun. “Are you ready to lead us, Mr. Kang?” she asks. He seems to be having a harder time calming down. He clears his throat, shaking the sweat from his ginger beard and mustache. He gives a stiff nod, leading us out of the underbrush and back onto the path.

 We’ve been in the Dukcha Wood for a week, and we’ve spent three of those days spotting Adosi ships flying eastward to Haseul City. It’s the last bastion of civilization before the jungle and the capital of East Nal Va. I’d be a fool to think those ships were paying a friendly visit.

But Professor Gim has led us with a single-minded determination. Through rainstorms, armed checkpoints, and oppressive heat, Professor Gim has never faltered.

Even though Arjun is the guide, the professor leads us down the trail, her trousers and boots caked with mud. The handles of her pistols glint in her belt. I carry a pistol of my own, even though I hate the things.

“It’s not safe for a woman in most places,” she told me before we departed from New Argent City. “Any student of mind needs to be able to protect herself.”

I took the gun from her with shaking fingers. “Have…you ever killed anyone before, Professor?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Once.”

Now, she pauses in front of us, kneeling down to look at something in the mud. She waves me over and I rush to her side. A strand of black hair sticks to her cheek with sweat, but her face is glowing with excitement. It’s a struggle to look away from her face and down to where she points a long finger.

“What does that look like, Verity?” she asks me, nearly breathless.

I wipe away some of the mud to reveal a glint of polished stone, a sharpened length of obsidian attached to a turquoise hilt. As Professor Gim fishes her field notebook out of her satchel, I carefully pull the obsidian dagger from the mud and rotate it in my hands. The blade still gleams as though it were shaped just yesterday.

 A series of thick, intricate letters carved into the bottom of the hilt tell me exactly why the Professor is so excited.

This is of Witgan make. The characters on the hilt could either be the name of the person it belonged to or the trademark of the smith who made it.  

“We’re close,” the Professor says as she puts her notebook away. “We’re so close!”  

Already, I can feel the weight of our discovery settling on my shoulders. For years, the scholarly consensus was that the Witgan people never ventured this far north from their cluster of villages and cities to the south of the Aksenti Mountains…not until their decline two hundred years ago forced them to migrate into Ilios. But little discoveries like this dagger put doubt on that theory. Witgan literature is just as rare, but what little pieces of it the Professor found mention temples and shrines erected by Witgan people who traveled abroad to honor their gods and spirits. Of course, they may have been destroyed over the years, but finding just one here would be enough to shift all we know about Witgan history.  

Professor Gim plucks the dagger from my hands and shows it to Mr. Kang. He takes it from her almost with reverence, turning the blade over in his hands carefully. He reads the characters on the bottom, tapping them with a finger.  

“This belonged to a warrior,” he says, speaking to us in stilted, accented Varterian. “This is their family name, Tu Wabe.”  

“Astounding,” Professor Gim breathes, but excitement is cut short by another dangerous rumble of earth. This time it’s accompanied by a terrible roaring sound, like some great beast has been awakened. My body goes cold, and memories of a crumbling, burning city flood my mind. For a moment, I’m a little girl again, watching my home disappear into a crater carved by Adosi bombs.  

Professor Gim has to shake my shoulders to tear me away from the memory.  

“We keep moving,” she says, that mad determination back in her eyes. “The sooner we finish here, the better.”  

I take in a shuddering breath. I didn’t come this far to be cowed. Mr. Kang and I follow the Professor down the trail, deeper into the woods and farther south. The trail disappears into the mud and dead vegetation, and it becomes so dark that even the air chills. The canopy becomes so thick and overgrown that no light can peek through. The humidity creeps away, replaced with the kind of dry cold that proceeds winter. The stench of mold and dead things is stronger here. There were rumors in East Nal Va of the wood being cursed, either by ghosts or malevolent spirits. I’ve never been a superstitious person, but I’m having a hard time finding a logical explanation for the sudden drop in temperature.  

I pull a torch out of my satchel, shaking it to activate the mechanisms inside that cause it to glow with a bright, white light. I have no idea how it works, but I can’t help admiring my friend’s ingenuity.  

Professor Gim shakes her own torch to life and gasps when she casts the light on a wall peeking out from the trees. I join my light with hers, giving Mr. Kang room to run his fingers over the carvings on the brown stone.  

Some of the lettering is faded, but over his shoulder, I can make out the words ‘ruined’ and ‘fallen’ amidst murals of mountains crumbling and people and animals fleeing to escape whatever calamity is being described here.  

“The Akiwran’tam,” says Mr. Kang. “When Mt. Aksenti erupted.”  

And shortly after that, Ados invaded and took what was left.  

“But we’re miles away from Mt. Aksenti,” I say. I raise the torch higher and find that the ground starts to slope up into a hill. Cobblestones poke through the mud and undergrowth. A road. This used to be a road! I leave the Professor and Mr. Kang to follow it, nearly having to fall to my hands and knees to climb up the slippery incline. I breach the tree line like I’m emerging from the water and gasp like I'm taking a breath for the first time in minutes.  

A temple rises before me, and I see patches of moss growing over ancient stone hewn with arches, faces, and the bodies of gods and spirits. It rises in terraced levels, each adorned with demonic faces, intricate visages of dragons, leopards, and birds. Some of the temple has fallen, islands of stone invaded by tree roots and rot. It’s silent here. Not even wind whispers through the leaves. I don’t even hear a bird.  

“Verity!” the Professor shouts from behind me. “Don’t wander...off...”

Her voice trails into astonishment. She drops her torch, raising her hands to her mouth in shock. Mr. Kang mutters something to himself in Witgan and clutches his heart.  

“I knew it,” Professor Gim says with a gasp. “Oh, I knew it. I knew it!”  

I’m ready to join her in celebrating before I hear it: a horrible buzzing noise like a horde of locusts is approaching us fast from the east. The sweat that blossoms on my skin tells me what they truly are: Adosi wasps, the smaller ships that hover around their dreadnaughts like flies and peel off the main fleet for reconnaissance or to carry smaller squadrons. There’s no roar of a dreadnaught engine, so these ships are flying on their own.  

“We need to get inside,” I say, partly out of fear and partly because I am eager to explore this discovery.  I lead the way inside, and the Professor and Mr. Kang follow me towards the stone archway that marks the entrance. The darkness swallows us, and the stench of dust and mildew waft around us. It’s colder here, and I find myself shivering as I raise my torch to look at the walls. There are scratches on them in several places. There’s an armored figure that repeats several times amidst falling mountains and cracking skies, but each time, their face is scratched or gouged out. When I touch the stone, it’s icy cold against my fingers.  

“I...don't know this,” Mr. Kang says beside me. “They were obviously an important figure, but at some point, they must have done something unforgivable. I’ve never seen this before.”  

“This day is full of wonderful discoveries,” the Professor sighs. I wonder, does anything scare her?  

I let her lead the way deeper into the ruins. I trip over uneven stone, feeling my exhaustion creep over me. They war inside me, the desire to go home, and the urge to see what lies deeper in its ruin. If those Adosi ships keep buzzing around outside, I don’t know if I’ll make it home.  

The hallway slopes down and we slip over the wet stone. Water drips from the ceiling. We must be underwater somehow. The hallway opens up into a grand, circular chamber of stone, waterfalls roaring through an opening in the high ceiling and spilling in with the sunlight. The sound fills my ears and rumbles in my chest, the spray of the water dampening my skin and clothes. But it’s what lies in the center of the chamber that draws my attention.

It’s a body.

[dia-sana]

I will seek Spring if Winter intends to last

Pairing: Saeran/Unknown/Ray x MC Genre: Romance. Disclaimer: None. A/N: Are you my savior, dear Anon? I saw your request when I was on the 8th night (Fate!!!), I was so depressed because I cannot stand seeing Saeran in pain but you gave me an opportunity to write a happy ending and I feel slightly better ｡ﾟ(TヮT)ﾟ｡ ♥

For some reason, he was back in her room. There was no point to it. It was useless and only made him depressed. Lazily, he dropped his body on the side of her bed. He was fully aware of what Ray used to do every time he came here, since she left. Laying in there, inhaling only what remained of her presence, drowning their memories in intractable tears as he tried to find out where everything went wrong, what he did that was worth corrosive agony… And Unknown was somehow curious. What was it like to scent her? He only knew what she was like thanks to his feeble mind mate and wondered how he would feel himself. He was pretty well aware of his beating heart longing for her and his mind going places he never went before. But was he that weak for her too? Hesitantly, he laid on her sheets and took her pillow closer. To his own surprise, the process revealed to be intoxicating, pleasant beyond state. This girl was something drastically special. His heart beating faster, he clenched on the submerged agitation he choked with. If she was able to make him feel this helpless without even being here, it would definitely be even more tremendous if he got to her. Therefore, now more than ever, he wanted to get her. Worship her so he could feel all those intense sensations with a much more stirring potency. She drove him crazier than he already was and how amusing this was for him to finally find something beautifully rousing in this world. Without much daze, he chuckled at her sudden phone call. Even if she may not have had any intention on coming back, she sure was addicted to him.

“I want to have you… No matter what. Didn’t Ray also say that?”

Getting the coordinates of their positions proved to be quite easy. The redhead was good but not as much as him or Ray. Hence, he only needed to distract Luciel with a weird coding pattern and stole his informations while he was busy looking away. Half an hour later, he was in his car, not giving any thought about Mint Eye or his savior. Ray may have been the most loyal person on this planet, Unknown knew what was important now. They both were perfectly conscious that they were used by Rika but the difference between them resided on the fact that Ray could not stand alone. Thinking about that, could Unknown really do it? Probably. He had that ache pinned to his chest but his mindset and projects were enough to drive him far even by himself. If it were for him, every damn problem Mint Eye had would have been resolved since long ago. At least, that was what he thought.

The clock indicated that it was past two in the morning and he pressed on the accelerator. He had to get to her before the redhead became suspicious or this dumbass would take annoying measures in order to keep her in his little impenetrable tower. His right hand tensed around the steering wheel while his left hand was hovering outside of his opened window, to feel the cold wind in a vain attempt at calming the everlasting irked storm in him. He recalled how much Mint Eye meant to him. How his savior saved his miserable life and gave him an opportunity to avenge for his injustice. But may it be him or Ray, something became slightly more important than this to them. Or more precisely, someone. They both saw how the savior grew attached to their precious tester. Who would not? The issue was that they knew she would keep her to herself if she could. Ray may have dumbly complied because of his puppy nature but Unknown could not let such thing happen. She was his. His favorite little toy had no other place than by his side. Thus, he wondered. It may have been possible that the only outcome available for them was to do what she asked to Ray on the phone some time ago. “Can we not run away together?”. That marshmallow should have agreed. What a fucking idiot. Nonetheless, it gave the opportunity to Unknown to be the one to shine in his doll’s eyes. If he was the one to rescue her and to satisfy her plead, she would desperately fall for him. More than for Ray. That pink gummy may be all sweet, but he was such a pain in the ass. Unknown was way more fun to be with.

It was past three when his car stationed in front of the cabin where the two traitors and her were. How delicate she was to be innocent enough to fall for their trap; he would have to keep an eye on her if he did not want to see her hurt in the future. Anyhow, he had already decided on detaining her in his line of sight. Problem solved. Stepping out of the driver seat, he approached the place slowly. They heard the engine for sure. In that sense, there was no need to be stealthy nor make a fuss. Would that redhead remembered him when he would see his face? Would he be tormented? He was not here for him now but he still hoped to see some pain taint his dumb face. He was not even close to the door when this one opened, his princess running towards him at full speed. Was it relief that he witnessed on her face just before she crashed against him for a hug? His hands hesitantly made their way to her back and hair, arms wrapping around her as he exhaled in solace. She was there. Right in front of him. Right in his arms. She was there.

- Ray, you came. I missed you so much.

He sneered before placing two fingers on her chin. Temptation was delicious as he noticed how the stars gave a soft tint to her lips. Still, he fairly jumped as she unexpectedly pressed them against his, leaving him like a breathless mess. He felt drowsy for a second but soon got grip of the situation and tightened his embrace before responding to her kiss with a feverish desire. Far in his head, he could hear Ray almost fainting partly of happiness, partly of jealousy. But, overall, they were both euphoric and Unknown, for once, could not care any less about what Ray was doing. When they broke the buss, he laughed once more with his devilish octaves, pretending his cheek were not invaded by a wide mist of pink as ha gave her an amused stare.

- You know that I am not Ray, right, little doll?

Again, she surprised him as she only smiled and kissed him a second time with much more tenderness. Only a peck that left him frustrated but aroused anyway.

- I figured what was your link with Ray already.

She stated her sentence with such cute pride, he could only melt on the inside. Which kind of disgusted him because Ray was doing the same and just nope. Leisurely, he took her wrists so he could free his neck and shoulders from her hug but kept her hands in his as he was afraid she would vanish again. He understood why Ray was such an emotional wreck every time they were together; this girl was something beyond this world. Lucky her for not being able to read all the things that crossed his mind as he thought about what they would do as soon as they would find shelter away from here. For a brief second, he looked away from her just to monitor their surroundings and that is when he saw Luciel. All the cheesy sparkling delight he felt disappeared instantly as they were hunted down by anger and turmoil. His arch enemy was at the doorway, grim devastation carved in every trait of his visage. Was Saeran really satisfied with that? He wished he could have proclaimed how happy this made him but something was odd, like an old memory he could not recall properly. In this instant, he could have reach out to him, ask for his help so he could flee with his love and hide or suggest that they stayed together, the three of them. Yet, that was not what he did nor what he believe he wanted. Eight years of convincing had made his beliefs harder than carbon and there was no coming back for now.

- Saeran… What are you doing here?

Finally, he spoke. His voice was merely a whisper in the night, a sound carried by the breeze of the early hours of the new day. But it still sounded oh-so painful and Saeran was confused at how much it  seemed genuine. This was not the time for chatter and he frowned in aggravated resentment as his lips curved in his most menacing smirk.

- I am not here for you tonight, Luciel.

Saeran eyes softened to an astounding extend as he gazed back to his princess before whispering in her ear to go seat in his car. His command was muttered with tenderness but she could not miss the hazardous undertone hinting that she had no choice there. She did as she was told and Unknown watched closely until she was secured. There was no doubt that Luciel would intend on getting her back. However, that redhead was out of words, speechless. There was nothing he could do here as he was a prisoner of the situation they were in. Should he stop her or Saeran? He knew he could not encounter his brother but he had to protect his friend. What should he do? By the time he was anxiously trying to find a solution, Unknown was climbing back in his driver seat. His engine back to life, he drove to the front of the cabin, turning to the side and leaned closer to his girlfriend so Luciel could perfectly see both of them through her opened window. A laugh cracked the silence. She barely had the courage to look at the devastated Luciel while Unknown was having hysterical stomach cramps. Once he behaved out of his mania, he placed his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer while glancing at his enemy with jovial provocation.

- Do not worry Saeyoung, I will come back especially for you. For now, I have to take care of our princess.

He sniggered once more and drove out of the place as fast as possible, feeling his anxiety kicking where Ray was locked. After a few minutes, he glanced at his love and smiled. Ray was right, she was such a pretty girl. A porcelain doll he wanted to play with as soon as possible.

- Is Saeran your real name?

He tensed his fingers around the steering wheel as he heard the doomed syllables. No matter how much he hated that combination of sounds, he had to admit that he kind of liked them coming out of her delicate mouth. He only nodded and she seemed to think for a moment before looking back at him.

- Can I call you like that? At least when we are alone if this is a secret.

She was such a smart girl. He agreed and took her hand so he could kiss her knuckles before biting them playfully. Should they stop for a while? They were on a road in the middle of the woods and the sun had still some time before rising. Ray suggested that they needed to gain some distance but Unknown only wanted to make her his now. He needed to feel all his torturing thoughts being shut and replaced only by her exalting existence. He wanted to melt in her as soon as possible. Maybe she had noticed the unidentified impatience on his face because she caressed the back of hair before playing with a lock of pink hair and spoke with a calming voice.

- Let us create our own happiness, Saeran.

Happiness…? Yes, that had been the purpose of his new life for so long but he could not reach it so far. However, Saeran had the confidence that, now that she was here, they could truly make it real. Unknown chuckled and hastily pressed on the gas pedal. They needed distance, he was okay with that, but he could not wait any longer and was only pushing his patience beyond limits.

- You are such a good girl. Let me drive just a little bit further and I will give you a reward.

The sun finally rose in the horizon as Ray woke up from the best sleep he ever had. It took him a little while to comprehend why he was laying at the back of his car and to realize that his lover was resting on him. Great new habit of his, he almost blacked out from the huge amount of blood rushing to his face and choked with it, accidently waking her up in the process. She placed sleepy eyes on his redness and simply smiled as she greeted him with a loving kiss on the tip of his nose.

- Looks like Ray is back… Did you sleep well, Saeran?

Damn it, was he dreaming again? Was it one of his bothering dreams he had way too often? He made a weird panicked expression as he spluttered in embarrassment. Even worse, he almost released a high-pitched whimper as she chuckled and kissed his lips. She sat up straight on his hips, letting his jacket fall off her shoulders as she started putting her clothes back on and Ray scrambled to hide his eyes from the heady view he had. What a perv Unknown was! Damn it!

[frailesea]

          NIGHTS  LIKE  THESE,     it feels as though the sky   &   ocean rush into one,   as if they melt into an entity all encompassing.     she can suffocate   &   drown in one sitting,   &   perhaps it’d be   the  greatest  blessing   to become of the sea.     /     perhaps that’d be her greatest accomplishment     (     to  become  something  ao  always  could  love     :     just  out  of  reach.     ).     crisp night breeze that lingers on her tongue,   eyes drooping in the way she’d never allow in the light of day.     she’s the strongest person her crew knows     :     if  not  for  physical  strength,   then for the solution of her talents.     sea salt breathes into dirt -- scented lungs,   shattering glass along the reign of swaying waves.     she thinks she’d prefer the harshness that comes along with storms,   something that fits an all enveloping spat of agony     (     but  the  ocean  isn’t  agony     ;     she  is  a  much  better  fit   to  that  stolen  fabric.     ).     for the flicker of set upon the surface of waters,   there’s a frigid warmth that sits in her throat as eyes take sight of faraway waters.     it’s a stringing whistle that brings her back to her body in ways that catch in her bones,   dropping venom under the taste of her tongue as if she’ll keep it hidden from unsuspected youths.     /     HERSELF.

          LINGER,   LINGER,   LINGER     :     his presence is a paper over -- worn by intimate touch,   a spirit living in the spring of a smile,   the thump in the heart of a girl.     he’s  always  been  these  things.     the fire in the hearth of necessary winter,   &   she  is  the  winter.     when she wanders into her own quarters     (     where  he  resides,   where  they  sleep.     ),   he     ---     silence  as  a  beast  lying  underneath     ---     lifts his gaze as a fond smile bloom across his face.     a flower thrumming of the resetting blame.     /     islands of gracing reign.     a paper bundle of handwritten descriptions,   &   he could’ve been a poet had the world not forsaken his soul in the soils in grief.     &   she would have been the hand to keep eyes open,   to keep fragile body from falling in the exhaustion that’s so deeply embedded within his marrow.

          HE  GOES  TO  REMOVE     himself from the comfort of the previous captain’s sheets     (     something  she  means  to  replace.     doesn’t  ao  deserve  much  better  than  the  sheets  of  a  dead  man     ?     ).     to see him leave the bed is to feel her heart leap into her throat,   her own steps meeting his to intercept the strength he uses.     ❝   you’re  late.     this means we can’t have our walk.   ❞     his voice is a wisp of air,   &   it falls over her as if the air of   heat  combing  over  cold.     he’s all smiles as his fingers move to pull hair from her face,   but hands of her own grasp onto his in the speed of falling blooms.     her eyebrows furrow when hues latch onto the sight of one another     ;     her lips pull into   a  deeper  scowl   than he’d perhaps foreseen.

          ❝     YOU’RE  SUPPOSED  TO     be asleep right now.     &   you’re not supposed to be standing.   ❞     wrinkles on her forehead carve themselves deeper,   &   his fingers reach     ---     he’s,   on multiple occasions,   mentioned that her stress is the bane to his existence.     /     something   like   the   taste   of   poison   upon   the   tingles   of   his   tongue.     ❝   you should be resting.   ❞

          ❝   &   YOU’RE  TOO  YOUNG     to have these wrinkles already forming.   ❞     akin to sadness rises upon a visage too angelic to exude such expression,   such low born canvased.     wordlessly,   he tugs her,   TUGS  HER   until she’s sitting at the bed,   combing through wind -- tousled hair,   scented in sea salted graze.     she makes no actions to shoo his hands or to have him rest himself   &   leave her to the elements.     ❝   you need to cut your hair again.   ❞     it’s not meant to be answered,   the hum foaming at the corners of his mouth     ;     he leans forward,   tilting her head to plant a kiss at the side of her head     :     at  the  temples,   at  a  pulse     ---     alive.     there are no worded complaints,   but her body all but collapses against his chest,   his arms wrapping around bony shoulders as a sigh breathes upon his tongue,   both pairs of eyes closing in a shared tiredness.

          WITH  BOWED  HEAD     &   lowered chin,   pride vanishes within the spaces of her ribs.     there’s  an  ache  that  resounds  in  both  of  their  chests,   a breathless exhale of pained draped on mortal flesh.     ❝   we didn’t deserve this.   ❞     those are the next words that echo in the room around them.     /     just like this,   they’re the children they used to be.

          NO,   HE  DIDN’T.     ---     spoke  the  voice  in  her  head  as  her  fingers  closed  around  his.

[vulpcss]

" If you've come to hate me, say it so that I may be free. "

     she was quick to turn away, offering little more than a frigid shoulder, tension winding in her chest. she didn't want to look at her, not now, it would have been far simpler to be rid of this situation, but it was her own apartment that prevented her from just storming off.

      idle fingertips fidgeted restlessly with the buttons of her shirt's collar, all the while a foreboding silence hung over them, and for now at least, quiet seemed far better than words. her denial could only last for so long. ❝ fine — i hate you, ❞ the words came too easily, casual, cruelly monotone in their dismissal. despite herself, no matter how often she wished she did, she didn't hate Seju. if she could hate her, perhaps things would not be so complicated, nothing with Baek Seju ever felt simple.

     she needed a drink, or a cigarette, something to take the edge off, something to rid herself of the stress inhabiting her every fibre. she was with someone else now, or at least she was supposed to be, what about that is so difficult?

     it was all too much, she could feel tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, no matter how fervently she fought them. all too quickly, she found herself tasting Seju's lip gloss, and it seemed sickeningly sweet. her approach had wasted no time in closing the space between them, catching little more than a glimpse of the other's pink haired visage before their lips would clash and her eyes would fall shut. it was a desperate act, volatile and breathless, grasping for support as she took fistfuls of her ex-lover's clothing, this was her addiction and it was far more dangerous than nicotine.

     still hungry but already regretful, she tore herself away, momentarily taking in the view of the aftermath, only to turn away again. ❝ you should leave, ❞ her voice was softer now, but no less cold, desperate to keep steady, unwilling to show any more weakness.  ❝ i don’t want to see you anymore. ❞

[s-asuke]

Naruto Femslash Week - Day 1 - Mythology

A/N - I decided that I will do 7×2 prompts - so yeah, a little bit of all. Please bear with my lateness since I am doing the SS month too xP The scales vere vibrant, leaving ethereal signs in their wake. Small, hideous puffs of air came out of Shikamaru's mouth. The God of Logic was dissatisfied at the state at the Mountain. As he smoked the sacred grass, and drank the blood, drank the wine, plum and pear and grape and rice mixed on the palate, equally rambunctious as his dissatisfacion was. He couldn't focus on thinking about the newest human riddles, and it was invigorating, really – the Goddess of Earth was once again in a fight with the Goddess of Beauty. "How troublesome... do I have to call upon the Ruler Of The Sky, Sun and Heaven? They could cause a few earthquakes again, and then Naruto would become a handful." Shikamaru was rather irritated at this point, the trembling of the Holy Mountain becoming harder and heavier. Ino and Sakura had to be kidding him, he shook his head, gathering the black hair in a high ponytail, not caring for the falling vases and ornaments that adorned the hallways of the lavish palace atop the Mountain, where Gods lived. "I AM TELLING YOU TO STOP WITH YOUR SACRIFICES! I WON'T ALLOW MY TEMPLES TO BE TORN DOWN SO YOURS COULD BE CREATED!" "OOH, LIKE I CARE, BILLBOARD BROW! YOUR STATUES ARE SO UGLY, HUMANS DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO CAPTURE THE REALITY OF YOUR BEAUTY!" "ARE YOU GODDAMN IMPLYING I'M PRETTY!" "NO!" The insults and bickering went from the blonde to the pinkette – orbitating around them like a forcefield. Shikamaru coughed, just to signal his presence – he was still thankful that they fought so human-like, shruddering at the thought of the last Apocalypse that went down when Chouji and Karui argued. "Hey, you two," he tries, gently, as if not to evoke further anger from two fuming goddesses – but no use. They still shout and spew and all that all at once. He is reminded of his own spouse when she is sexually frustrated – and then it clicks. As he exits the room, forgetting the case, he teleports up the stairs, when he finds the Goddess of Love with the ruler of Heaven, sitting on their thrones, probably contemplating about a human issue. It was peace these days – but humans were a little too much, even for him. "Hinata-sama! I have a request!" She turns around, black hair like having a bluish hue under the stars and the bare universe. Shikamaru nearly snorted at the amount the blonde God held for his wife (completely akin to what Ino would do for Sakura). Ino would worship Sakura as if she were her own Goddess. "What is it, Shikamaru?" "Hinata, I would need you to calm down Ino and Sakura, they are in love!" "Calm them down? Me? And Shikamaru, what do you mean, in love?" "I will tell you along the way! Forgive me for borrowing your wife, Naruto-sama!" No matter how much we say we aren't different than humans, we are still painfully similar. We are dense, we get angry, we argue, we fall in love... - "Oh! That human's soul is so pure and clean Sasuke! Will you keep it around for a while? To light up this gloomy underworld..." "Tch. None of your business what I do with my souls." "Sasuke-kun!" "Oi, do not call me that overly familliar name!" She would flinch and the cycle would repeat. Ino, as her Godly Half and counterpart would trail after her with a dejected pout, like always when they had to do some errands in Hell and Underworld. Shikamaru and TenTen consoled the blonde goddess as she played with the edges of her pristine, white dress. "She just chases this idiot around like a lost human child! What is she? Does she have no pride? Wha-" "Ino. She will come to her senses. Just let her do so." The brunette and the blonde shared a certain look, that the God of Logic missed at the time, since he was actually immersed in the work their ruler gave him. - "Sakura, why is my ambrosia tainted with cherry essence?" "Because there was no more in yours. Be lucky I even shared something with you." Shikamaru and Chouji listened to their bickering, as the his... fuller friend consumed obscene amounts of food. "Chouji! I was telling you! Please stop with your... yourself!" "Ino! Chouji has nothing to do with your irritant self!" "What about you! What about you? Huh? Where is the omnipresence? I would never think you to be a goddess, not even a demi!" Shikamaru felt a storm coming. "Heh, Ino, can you-" "No, can you shut up for a second Shikamaru? I want to see what this lower than human, pig, actually wants to say to me." Everything stills. Sakura holds some raw and circulating emotions in herself, while also radiating tainted anger, Shikamaru could nearly taste the emotion, but it had a different note to itself when present with other people... A star falls. A meteor breaks down. Ino spills a few meaningful, crystal tears. The ground breaks. Shikamaru truly thinks that the Goddesses beat every pathway and logical algorhytm in the Universe. - And? This silly fighting needed to stop at once. Even if the Goddess of Love herself had to stop them. - In the starlit room, the ceiling gaping towards the Core of the Universe, Ino and Sakura stared at each other, neither wavering. All at once, Sakura giggled. "Hey," Ino remarked with annoyance, "don't make fun of me!" "I am not, Ino-chan. We are both making fun of ourselves." The blonde pouted, yet still allowed the starry-eyed pinkette to finish her train of thought. "Why are we even fighting? Over such dumb, meaningless things? If we hate each other so much, why do we even coexist?" Ino had something in her throat – watching Sakura so sad ripped her being apart. She felt her beautiful face distort into something that shouldn't have ever been so vulnerable – her face was a terrified one, resembling something near-human. "We should... we-" Sakura started gasping and crying, and Ino knew, even if it were Yahiko, the God of Rain who controled the weather, no God could repair the floodgate that opened up on Earth. "I don't hate you!" The stunning blonde approached the equally stunning counterpart of hers – something bitersweet left on her tongue as she softly lifted her face and with scared, trembling fingers caressed the pure sweetness oozing out of the green-eyed beauty. "In-Ino. I... have never, ever hated you." Sakura leans in the touch of the thin-fingered wonder, her lips becoming too irresistable to Ino – they always were, but now, now she wanted to kiss her as long as she existed. Eternities were not long enough. Sakura seemed to share the same thoughts, imprinting their lips together, placing her hands on Ino's waist, electrifying and cooling her skin all at the same time. They didn't need air – and they didn't stop kissing. They were hungry for each others' hands, mouths, skin, love, lips, want... Ino broke them apart – blush arisen to her heavenly visage. Her eyes were bluer than the sky above at the moment. "I have always loved you. I still do. So, so much." "Yes. Please." Sakura didn't know what she begged Ino for, but the celestiality of their joining, Ino touching her ass with fervor, Sakura melting in her hands and returning the passion equally – Ino had never seen anything more beautiful and ethereal. She snorted in her own separated conciousness. And they call me the Goddess of Beauty... Shikamaru heard Sakura's slight moans and breathless, messy kissing, so when a very smiley Hinata dragged him away from the room – he was not surprised to see Sakura's skin marred like pale pomegranates the next human day, and Ino shushing and booing away all the Gods of Death from the Uchiha pantheon, never letting go of Sakura physically. When he settled near his Scales of Thought, back in his chambers, he nuzzled the softness that Temari provided and loved the simplicity of their communication. At least he will leave complications to the Goddesses.

[diarhtre]

𝙎𝘾𝙊𝙏𝙏.

HE’S PLEASANTLY SURPRISED by the fervor of her kiss, skimming her jawline with his lips as her expression cuts him sharper than a knife. he makes his way to the nape of her neck, feeling her pulse leap to meet his lips as he peppers silky skin with needy kisses. her affection is deep, it warms him even as the night air begins to creep in. 

a smile spreads, reaching for his ears as soft fingertips dip under the underside of her shirt, the heat of her body spreading across the breadth of his hands. he’s incorrigible, wanting as much as he can take with their current time and place in mind, desperate for every inch of contact he can grant himself. more she says, he wants that too. 

unease had settled in the pit of his stomach, growing at a rapid pace as the night went on but with her, the storm calmed. excitement took place of all previous traces of fear, longing and desire old friends as far as she is concerned. while his hands race faster than his mind, plucking apart all he can to feel her against him, her words finally register and reel him back in. 

──── a ring. 

breathless, he stops himself, brows furrowing in contemplation. ❛  ring?  ❜  confusion seeps in as he parts from her ever so slightly. it’s not too long until he puts the pieces together, realizing a certain number of his own possessions must have wound up in her care after his untimely demise. rightfully so, it belonged to her –so much of him did. ❛  i –well we had never…talked about that. i wasn’t sure you’d –i didn’t know you found that. ❜

𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐍 ��𝐖𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐃 𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐑, enraptured in renewed exploration of wandering palms. he gladly ingratiates himself to her sharpened edges, craving the danger of lesser proximity. she demanded more, and he provided— lavishing to the point of near-spoiling glistening diamond. sometimes particular seraphim could disguise themselves through the allure of a devil: indulgent and needy — voraciously reaching for that which would finally quench their thirst. 

« scott..... » mental whimper focused on keeping sound encased in a place only they could hear it. the enormity of his love was broadcast on loud throughout the newly allotted expanse. over and over, chanting what he felt for her. months ago, she’d bury herself in his mind. letting it bring her a confined solace. outside world worries melting away in the shelter she found in him. this particular moment of intimacy was less about carnality, and more about reunion. to accept personal faults, and those of your partners. to flourish within a mutual enervation, while embracing the notion of fruitful happiness to come.  it is more than emma can bear——    that incessant teasing with intent to leave her gasping.

ivories gritting as she brings herself out of his thrall.  heavy lids blinking at an attempt to bring ruby gaze into focus; her desire set by the wayside. carved visage once again etches in the frustrations of his past. scott lulls away from her and she moves with him; not letting space be created enough to chill her heated skin.    ❛❛   is it a problem that I have it? alex thought I should, considering we didn’t expect to get you back, you know. I keep a lot of things that used to be yours close to me.      ——It was all I had for the longest time.     ❜❜  her hands reach for his, placing them back on her frame. chest to his, glacial optics unwavering.

[rogueslove]

I have about 2K words of a Rogue Evo fanfic first draft that I am never going to finish, so I’m putting it up here for anyone to take.  Do what to you want to it, just give me credit somewhere for it, and send me a link so I can see what you come up with.

Hank McCoy looked over his chart for the fifth time, bewildered by what he saw.  “Rogue,” he started tentatively, looking at the teenage mutant sitting restlessly on the examination bed, “I’m not sure how to tell you this. . . in fact, I’m not sure how this is possible. . .”

Rogue let out a huff and tossed back her brown and platinum hair.  She was feeling crummy and waiting around the med lab for two hours while Hank performed every medical test known to mankind had put the already moody girl in particularly nasty temper.  “Out with it, Beast.”

He tried to sooth her with a gentle smile but got only a belligerent stare in response.  “It appears, my dear, that you are pregnant.”

Rogue’s apathetic visage disappeared, replaced by utter shock, her mouth agape.  Hank continued, “I assure you I have double-checked the results.  Of course, I was initially as confounded as you.  I am assuming that you have not been entirely forthright about your control of your powers.”

“Ah . . . uh . . .” Rogue stammered, still in shock, “Yeah.  Ah’m . . . Ah’m sorry Mr. McCoy.”

“There is no need to apologize,” he whispered. “You just presented me with a medical mystery the likes of which has of been seen for two thousand years,” he continued, attempting to lighten the mood to no avail.  A cursory glance at the girl’s bewildered and frightened eyes made it clear she was still trying to take in the information.  “If there is anything I could do for you . . .” he quietly gulped before bringing up his biggest concern, “Perhaps get the father of the child to come see you.”

She snapped out of her daze suddenly, “No!”

“Rogue, if someone has hurt you—”

“It ain’t like that Mr. McCoy.  Ah was stupid, but Ah didn’t do anything Ah didn’t want to.”  She inhaled deeply, fighting the tears forming in her eyes. “We were careful, Ah swear we were,” she said more to herself than to Beast.

The blue mutant nodded and asked, “Is there anything I can do?”

“Ah—” She wiped away a tear from her eye and sniffled, “Ah don’t know what ta do yet.  Ah gotta think.  But could ya tell the professor?  Ah just . . . can’t.  But he should know, since Ah doubt he’ll want me fighting with the X-Men, or training with them in the Danger Room . . . he might want me ta leave.”  She chocked as she bit out the last words.

Beast slowly brought his arms around the now weeping girl, “Now, now, Rogue.  I’m certain he will not do that.  I am sure that he wants what is best for you, just as all of us do. I will tell him, but let’s get you to your room.  You need your rest.”

Rogue nodded weakly and let Hank guide her to her room, both of them thankful that it was dinner time and that they didn’t run into anyone else on their way. Beast tucked Rogue into her bed, gave her a reassuring smile, and left to find Professor Xavier.  Working at a boarding school full of hormonal teenagers, Hank was well aware that he might eventually have to deal with one of the girls getting pregnant.  But he was surprised it had happened now, and to the one girl who was thought to be utterly untouchable.

 Rogue had fallen asleep before her roommate Kitty came back to their room after dinner, but not before a long crying jag punctuated by serious consideration over her predicament. She had decided nothing, but had come to terms with her situation.  Since she had fallen asleep so early, she woke before dawn and quietly began getting ready for school when the Professor mentally called her.

‘Rogue, if you have a few minutes, would you join Mr. McCoy and me a half hour before you have to depart for school.’

‘Sure, professor.’

Rogue went through her morning routine in a daze, acting on autopilot.  Gazing down at her dry toast, she realized she had to head over to the professor’s study.  She wondered if she would ever be welcome in the mansion again.  She timidly knocked on the door.

“Come in, Rogue,” Xavier’s sage voice sounded through the door.

Rogue hesitantly drudged in and took a seat on the long leather couch opposite the Professor’s impressive mahogany desk.  Beast was standing to Xavier’s side, the same kindly expression on his face as when he had comforted her the night before.  Xavier looked the personification of wisdom and tolerance, as usual. If she weren’t in such a bind, it would have really bugged her.

“Mr. McCoy has informed me of your . . . situation, Rogue.”  He gave her a sad smile, “I want to start out by saying that no matter what happens, no matter what you decide, we are here for you.  You will always have a home with us.”

Rogue’s lip quivered and she hid her face in her hands as she began to sob.  She had been driven out of so many places that she had called home. She needed to know that she really had not only a place to stay, but people who accepted her.  The fact that Hank and Xavier were willing to do that meant everything to her.  Xavier moved his wheelchair to her side and placed a hand upon her shoulder.  This simple, yet comforting, gesture was all that she could hope for, up to a few weeks ago.  Her two guardians had been nothing but supportive, so she decided to tell them what she could.

“Thank you, Professor,” she sniffled, “that means more ta mean then you’ll ever know.”  She gave him a teary smile.

“You do not have to go through this alone.  Now, if I may be so bold as to ask,” she gulped as Xavier paused, “when did you get control over your powers?”

Rogue sighed internally. That was one secret she was willing to tell.  “Just a couple of months ago.  Ah’m sorry Ah didn’t tell you or anybody.  Ah almost felt like Ah’d jinx it.  If my control had just been temporary and Ah went and told everyone, Ah’d feel like a damn fool.  Ah wanted ta be sure it was here ta stay ‘fore Ah told ya.  Ah swear, Ah was planning on tellin’ ya’ll.”

“I believe you, Rogue, and I understand your hesitancy in confiding in me.”

“And, uh, ta be honest,” she looked away from him, embarrassed, “Ah kinda got used ta being the untouchable girl.  Meant people wouldn’t try too hard ta get close ta me.  An’ Ah liked that, not havn’ ta be sociable.  ‘Cause Ah ain’t.”

The professor let out a light laugh.  “Alright, that is one mystery solved.  On to the next.”

Rogue held her breath as she saw Mr. McCoy bring a file from Xavier’s desk and stood by the couch, examining it.  “From my tests, you’re approximately four weeks along.  May I ask why you weren’t concerned when you missed your last period and only came to me when you thought you had the flu?”

Rogue flushed scarlet, even through her heavy white make-up.  She hated talking about all this stuff, it embarrassed the hell out of her. “Uh, ma period’s been irregular ever since ma mutation first kicked in.  The fact that Ah missed one didn’t raise any red flags,” she winced at her unintentional pun, “so ta speak.”

“Ah, I understand,” replied Hank, his focus once more on the file, but apparently out of questions.

A silence fell in the room, all three of them deep in their own thoughts.  She knew they still had questions and just wished they’d get it over with.  She still had decisions to make and she couldn’t do it with their concern hanging over her head.

Xavier broke the peace as gently as possible.  “Now, Rogue, I’m sure that you are well aware of your options at this juncture, but if you want to go over them with either Mr. McCoy or myself—”

“No. Thanks, but no. Ah know what my options are.  Ah just don’t know what the best thing to do is.”

“If you do not wish to speak to us about this, Storm should be back this evening, and I’m sure she’d be honored if you were willing to confide in her.  Getting another woman’s perspective may help you.”  The professor sighed, “And, depending on your relationship with him, you may want to get the opinion of the man who impregnated you.”

Rogue’s eyes widened, “Yeah, sure.  Ah’ll do that.”  She knew she spat it out too quickly by the way the professor’s eyebrows had practically knitted together.  “Ah mean, Ah’ll tell him.  Ah know he cares fo’ me and all and that he’ll want ta be there for me.”  The professor looked far more relieved by that response.

His eyes fell on the clock, “I think it is about time you headed out, you don’t want to be late for school.”  She nodded and drifted towards the door.  “Rogue,” Xavier’s clear voice made her turn to face him, “I want to say again that we are here for you.  Finding yourself pregnant, and so soon after learning to control your mutation, must be very difficult for you.  But whatever you chose to do, we support you and only want the best for you.”

“Indeed we do,” chimed in Beast, “so please come to me if you have any concerns or questions. Night or day.”

Rogue found herself almost breathless, once again overwhelmed by the strange sensation of having people who genuinely cared for her.  “Thank you.  Both of you. For . . .everything.  Ah’ll be sure to keep ya informed.”

Her eyes were on the two men who had shown unceasing kindness to her.  She opened the door, her thankful gaze being returned by their sympathetic ones.  She didn’t notice the pair of eyes sinking into the hallway with a small gasp.

 “You must have misheard. It’s impossible on so many levels.”

“No, it’s like so not! She could have learned to control her powers and just like not told us.”

“Mein schwester vould never do zat, Kitty.”

“Well, she could have,” affirmed Jean, “I mean it isn’t as though she’s all that open with her feelings.”

“Exactly.  She could have learned to control her powers a long time ago.”

“Okay, even saying – hypothetically— that that was the case, she still doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

“That we know about. Like Jean said, she’s secretive.”

“I bet it’s Gambit.”

“The Cajun vat kidnapped her?” Kurt asked, incredulously.

“She has to have better taste than that.  Date an Acolyte?  She’s too loyal to the X-Men to do that.”  Scott said certainly.

Kitty rolled her eyes, “They had major chemistry, Scott, Acolyte or not.”

“Still don’t think you heard right.”

“But, like, what if I did?”

The mutants were all silent for a while, pondering the question.

“Then we support her,” offered Scott, “no matter what.  She’s an X-Man, she’s family.  We’ll be there for her.”

“Absolutely.  She’d do the same for us,” confirmed Jean.

“Well maybe not you,” Kitty muttered to herself.

“It can’t be true. But if it is, I’ll rip ve head off ve man who dare touch mein sister!”

“Aww, Kurt, you’ll be an uncle!” Kitty squealed.  Kurt groaned in response.