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wornoutmouse · 4 years ago

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Look I wrote this for my friend but i popped the hell off with this one so if you don’t mind reading a name inbetween a few dialogue points pls read

You ran hurriedly through the halls of the school as the third bell finally rang. You had overslept and had barely made it onto the bus. Skidding to a stop, you slow down when you get to the door, catching your breath before entering. Just as you annoyingly expected, eyes dart towards you as soon as you entered, effectively catching the teacher’s attention.

“This is the second time you are late young lady, one more time and I will have no choice but to write you up.” You smile awkwardly, “Sorry Miss, it won’t happen again.” Ms. Bustier clicks her tongue disapprovingly as she watched her student walk to her seat, head hanging low. You sit down in your chair with a soft sigh as Ms. Bustier spoke about today’s lesson.

For the most part, you pay attention to the lesson being taught, that is until your attention is being interrupted by a pencil poking your side. From your peripheral vision, you see fluffy blond hair swaying gently to get your attention. You mutter under your breath, swiping the pencil with your hand, “Quit it Adrien I’m already in trouble.” The boy huffs but the playful aura still hung around making your skin buzz with excitement.

Shifting in your seat, you squint your eyes at the smartboard, writing down notes every so often. Looking down once again, you notice a small piece of paper folded, You look at Adrien who boredly watched your teacher speak. Opening the paper you roll your eyes at the note inside.

A - Late again are you Miss Mia? One more time and I might have to wake you up myself

Nibbling the tip of your pencil you write a note back, crumpling the paper before tossing it at Adrien’s head with a smirk.

You- Well maybe I wouldn’t have been so tired if you hadn’t interrupted my study time with your modeling rants

The paper is tossed back at your head, catching in your curly hair, making Adrien snort.

A- Well I can think of other ways to keep you up at night...

You cough loudly at the message, eyes darting at Adrien’s laid-back figure. You scribble down a quick snarky reply with shaking hands. You go to pass the paper but the sound of a throat clearing interrupts you. You turn to your left and are forced to look up, gulping when you notice your teacher’s signature white blazer. She holds her hand out and you reluctantly place the ball of paper in her hand.

“While I will not embarrass you by reading out your hidden messages, I will embarrass you by writing you up for detention.” Sputtering, you point an accusing finger at the smug boy behind you, “He started it first I was just..” You are hushed by a firm hand on your shoulder, “Well if that’s the case, both you and Adrien can join each other at study hall.” Adrien groans behind you and you throw a glare his way, one that he responds with a teasing wink. The sound of the bell ringing grimly reminds you of the dreadful time awaiting you in study hall after school.

When you get thereAdrien is already there and waves you over to him. You narrow your eyes at him but sit next to him anyway. “Aww don’t look at me like that Mi, it’s not my fault you aren’t stealthy enough to pass a simple note in class.” You roll your eyes, “Well if you weren’t tossing notes like a child, we wouldn’t be here either.” Adrien laughs loudly earning a sharp look from the detention monitor.

He mutters a silent apology as you busy yourself with a notepad and pencil. The study hall is silent and boring and 11 minutes feel like 11 hours as the clock ticks by. Adrien watches your small scribbles turn into different shapes and sizes. Before long, he notices you drawing a rather familiar face. “Whatcha drawing?” You shrug, watching your pencil make the shape of cat-like ears.

You continue drawing, briefly recognizing Adrien’s body heat as he watches over your shoulder. “You like Chat Noir huh?” Your precise pencil strokes outline the lean frame of one of Paris’s heros. While it is undoubtedly Chart Noir in a heroic setting, the way his eyes slant a little more than his mask allows and the way one of his hands rested on his chest did give way to a more seductive undertone.

“Yeah, I think he’s pretty hot not gonna lie.” Adrien hums, the feeling of his short breaths blowing against your shoulder makes you shiver. “Really? Well, he can’t be hotter than I can he?” Adrien fluffs his hair pompously as he stretches his body lazily. “I don’t know maybe a little.” Adrien sticks his tongue out at you.

Your monitor stands up and walks towards the door before turning around, “Listen you two, I am going to get lunch, and I better see you two here when I come back or you’ll get worse than detention.” The teacher fixes you both with a long look before leaving. “They are a little stiff in the ass.” You chuckle resting your head on your palm. Adrien slouches in his chair to play on his phone, giving you the perfect opportunity to observe him. Your friend is attractive, that is something you’ve come to terms with a long time ago, hiding your crush away deep in your mind.

“You like to stare at me when you think?” His tenor voice startles you out of thought and you realize you now have his full attention. Your face is warm and for once you are glad you couldn’t visibly blush.

“Hey, Adrien? What did you mean by that last message you passed me in class?” You tried to pass the question off as casual but you could feel your heart racing as the room filled with daunting silence. “What do you think I meant?”

Suddenly Adrien felt too close and the room felt smaller. When you made eye contact with him, his eyes were slanted just like Chat Noirs on your drawing. “You tell me.” You said boldly. Adrien pondered for a while, green eyes observing your features, going from your eyes, down your nose before finally resting on your plump lips. “Well, I think it meant exactly what it said.” Adrien placed a hand on your thigh, squeezing the flesh in his palm. “So tell me why you like Cat Noir?” You stare at nothing, unable to compute the absurd request that came seemingly out of nowhere.

“What?” Adrian’s hand doesn’t stop moving on your thigh, heating your skin through your jeans. “Come on Mi, humor me for a moment.” You hum softly in an attempt at calming your heart rate. “Well, I like how he seems to enjoy what he does, saving people...” As you speak Adrien takes the time to scoot closer to you paying a sparing glance at the door your teacher left out of a moment ago. “What would you do if you met him?” His hands got closer to your inner thigh fiddling with your belt loops.

The urge to clench your legs together was immediate as the fire within you grew stronger. “I would thank him for his service and-” Adrien shushes you with the sound of your belt clinking a loose. “Let me rephrase, what do you want him to do to you?” Before you had comprehended your predicament, Adrien’s hand had found itself inside your pants.

You were sitting rigidly in your chair, lips parted in a silent exhale. Slender fingers focused themselves on your swelling bud, pressing soft circles on it in an effort to coax it out of its hood. Noting your tensed posture, Adrien tries to distract you. He’ll admit even to himself that this was a bold move on his part and he was surprised you hadn’t pushed him off at this point. “I can stop if you want me to?” You feel his fingers stop their ministrations and you quickly grab his wrist. “No!”

His concerned demeanor is quickly wiped away by a broad smirk as his fingers resumed their task. “Okay then.” He places a kiss on your shoulder through your shirt making you shiver. “You didn’t answer my question.” You nod and try to speak in a stable manner. “I would want him to- oh god!” Adrien’s fingers began to work overtime as they went down to your lips, now wet with your arousal. “I would want him to touch me there! Please.”

Lips latched lazily on your skin, sucking hard enough for you to feel it but not hard enough for marks to be left behind. “Where is’ there’ Mia? Use your words.” Your back arched in your chair when you felt his slick index finger playfully dip inside of you before returning to your clit. “Adrien~” Your soft moans were audible now, and every small whimper made his cock ache at the thought of being the cause of your sweet noises. Adrien mockingly hummed, “Oh I see now.”

“You want him to fuck that pretty pussy of yours don’t you?” You make a strange noise that is a mix of surprise and a moan. You’d never think words like those could leave Adrien’s mouth. “Y-Yes!” Adrien nodded moving to use both hands now, it was an awkward position but it was worth it seeing you fall apart by his hands. “I bet you think of him at night, kissing you slowly, while his hands roam your body.” Adrien sinks his teeth in your shoulder blade making you jerk as a particularly hard burst of pleasure racks your body. “You look so damn sexy like this kitty cat.’

You lean forward, holding yourself up by your desk as Adrien’s fingers move faster on your clit. “I can feel how fast your heart is beating, you gonna cum?” The teasing tone in his voice ignited the smallest ounce of competitiveness within you. You grit your teeth and shake your head, “Don’t get so full of yourself Agreste.” Your eyes clenched shut at the feeling of a finger finally entering you. Adrien looked at you with narrowed eyes. He wasn’t a fan when you got competitive, especially when you were obviously bluffing.

There was a thin layer of sweat forming on your skin as your orgasm got closer. Adrien focused on the way your walls quivered around his finger. Your choked-back moans cut the air as he pumps his finger faster. Your wetness was dripping onto your underwear and around his palm making squelching noises. “Are you sure you aren’t going to cum?” Adrien whispered close to your ear taking glee when a tremor passed down your spine. Your orgasm was too damn close for him to stop so you decide to swallow your pride just this once. “F-faster, Adrien, I’m close.” Those were indeed the wrong words to say. Adrien slowed his finger down to slow pumps while his thumb pressed harshly on your clit. He laughed as he could practically feel it throbbing, “I thought you said you weren’t going to cum?” You try to grind down on his hand, bucking slightly as his rough palm stimulated your sensitive lips. “Don’t be an ass ah-fuck!”

You grip the edge of your desk as you finally cum on his hand. Your eyelids flutter and Adrien marvels that the feeling of your cunt that was squeezing him so tightly he could neither tell if it was pulling him in or pushing him out.

You grunt as he removes his finger, when you look over at him, he is preoccupied with pulling his cock out while licking his fingers clean of your cum. Adrien whimpered around his fingers as his other hand jerked his cock sharply “Ah, you taste better than I thought.” Your eyes travel down his chest to meet his junior. It was thick and surprisingly long. You couldn’t help but feel sorrow for the angry red it was at the tip. But the vein traveling up the side made your mouth water.

His hips bucked to meet his hand desperately. Curses left his soft lips as he tossed his head back in pleasure. A deep warmth flooded your gut from the vibrant imagery of him fucking you with it. “Mia-ah shit.” You raise your head up to meet his eyes, your heart skipping a beat at how the green of his eyes was almost completely drowned by his pupils. “It’s not fair if I helped you get you off, but you won’t help me.” You scootch forward a little bit, swallowing your saliva, “What do you want me to do?” Adrien spread his legs with his hands holding the sides of his chair, “Come on Mi, I haven’t even fucked you yet and you’ve already gone dumb?”

A hand comes on your shoulder and gently coaxes you down to your knees. You feel small as Adrien peers down at you, gaze disrupted as his cock begins twitching in front of you. Nervousness enters your head as you quickly come to the realization of how large his dick actually was. “What, are you afraid Mia? Or do I need to get you into the mood?” Adrien sits up straighter, “Claws out.” Your tilt your head curious as he combs his fingers through his hair, revealing...cat ears? The sight of a green glow slithering around his body was almost as unnerving as the sight of his outfit changing right before you.

In little as no time flat, Paris’s neighborhood hero sat in front of you in all his leather glory. His eyes seemed even greener than before, and his personality seemed to change right before you. “Adrien you’re Chat Noir!?” The blond shrugs nonchalantly, gripping his cock and slapping it against your cheek. “Mi I am all for the formalities, but I am so close to fucking your brains out right now, that I think it would be in your best interest to start sucking.” While still being conscious of your hairstyle, Adrien...Noir, pulls your head closer to his groin.

You resist the urge to scrunch your face at the feeling of precum being smeared on your mouth and chin. This resistance only makes Noir chuckle, “Stick your tongue out for me.” As if it was routine, you do as he says and moan softly from the feeling of his tip tapping your warm muscle. “So fucking perfect for me.” The praise makes you clench and gives you the courage to open your mouth wider. You suck on his member making him release a pleased growl. His hand laid limply on the back of your head as you take the lead.

The salty taste while slightly unpleasant, wholly addictive. Feeling your growing comfort, Adrien begins thrusting to meet your mouth. The tip of his cock goes all the way to the back of your throat making you choke before dragging back but the sounds of you struggling doesn’t dissuade him. The feeling of your tongue grazing over his vein just before your throat constricted around him drove him wild. Your tiny whimpers made his balls vibrate as he moved faster.

You place your hands on his thighs in order to stable yourself as his thrusts got more brutal. Slob collected around your mouth before dripping down your chin and finally collected by his balls every time they hit your jaw. “Fuck I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum!” Adrien’s voice pitched higher as his claws scratched into the wooden chair of his seat. His head tossed back violently as his thrusts became sloppy, legs shaking. Loud sobs left his mouth as you bright him closer to the edge each thrust is accentuated by filthy words. “Your mouth is so. fucking. Tight. Fuck Mia!”

You felt cum shoot down your throat as Adrien holds your head painfully against this crotch. He weakly thrusts into your mouth a few more times before realizing you. Gasping for air, you wipe your mouth of saliva and look up at Adrien as he catches his breath. Rough hands grip your chin making you look up at him. “You looked wrecked Mi.” Adrien laughs as he wipes cum off the corner of your mouth. You stand up wobbly and albeit a bit light-headed, Adrien stands with you and kisses your lips, enjoying the taste of himself in your mouth.

“We are going to finish this later.” Before your brain could even prompt you to ask, the bell rings signaling that detention was over. Adrien deactivates his miraculous before grabbing his backpack and leaving detention hall.

#adrien agreste smut #anime smut #miraculous smut #chat noir smut #smut

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years ago

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Debt Collection. Yan Childe x Reader [SMUT]

Tags: Mild dubcon ?, hate fucking, power bottoming, creampie, dirty talk, AFAB reader and degradation. Word count: 1.6k. Note: this could be considered apart of contractual obligations universe or something on the side. i’m not sure where it’d officially line up in the stories tl, i just wanted to write some sin .

This is the only plausible option left.

That’s what you told yourself when you walked into his office, what you told you told yourself when removing your clothes and when you climbed into his lap. He called it special treatment. Whispering huskily into your ear that you should be grateful he likes you so much, that anyone else would be dead in your position. The Fatui are not known for their leniency with debts. People go missing, their neighbors too frightened to question what might’ve happened to them.

Childe seems happy enough to remind you of this like it might make you feel better somehow. It doesn’t. All you want is for the stress on your business to be alleviated, for things to go back to how they used to be before him, even if it is wishful thinking.

Whatever his feelings are for you, you don’t care in the slightest. You’re doing this to get it over with.

“Mm, just like that,” Childe hisses out through clenched teeth, fingernails digging harshly into either side of your waist. “Take all of me in.”

Everything is so warm. His fevered touches, your face, every inch of your bare body. You do as he tells you, biting your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. Sinking down onto his dick, you despise the lascivious noises it makes from how terribly wet he’s made you. Childe’s gaze never falters from your own, watching unblinkingly as you take in every inch of his throbbing length. His grip on you tightens, steadying your trembling body, harsh pants leaving both of you.

You’re grateful for his lack of comments, already humiliated enough as is. The silence doesn’t last when he fills you completely, your walls slowly adjusting to his length. Even with the proper preparation, his considerable size causes mild pain. Each deep breath you take does little to steady your nerves. The weight of Childe’s stare is impossible to ignore.

Why is he looking at you like this? Why can’t he just silently get off and let it be over with? The passion burning in his ocean blue eyes is unmistakable, the waves of it threatening to drown you.

“Good girl,” he exhales, affectionately running a hand through your tousled hair. You let him do as he pleases. The odd intimacy behind what’s meant to be a tumble in the dark isn’t lost on you. “Now, you remember what I wanted, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, I do.” You confirm breathlessly, more blood rushing to your face upon remembering his vulgar instructions. Childe cups your face in his hands and presses a chaste kiss to your lips, pulling on your bottom lip with his teeth when he moves away. This is the first time he’s kissed you, you realize, lips tingling. He does it with such ease, as if the two of you were lovers. The thought alone is enough to make bile rise in your throat.

“I’m afraid my memory is failing me. Be a dear and remind me of what you’re going to do.”

Of course, he’d make this as difficult as he can for you, you shouldn’t have expected anything different. The lascivious words discussed during your agreement reverberate in your head, and you push past your hesitations to repeat them. “I’m going… going to fuck myself on you.”

You feel his cock twitch excitedly inside you and shiver. He urges you on, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “And?”

“And… I’ll make you cum inside of me.”

“Get to it then.” Childe leans back into his chair, pleased so far with your submission. You take a deep breath, raising your hips up, wincing at how he stretches out your walls. When nothing but the tip of his dick remains inside you, you slowly sink onto him again, earning a low noise of approval. He really isn’t going to help you, is he? While full of him, you gyrate your hips, getting yourself more accustomed to his size. Childe’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly, looking down at you through thick eyelashes.

“I didn’t expect for you to take your time like this,” he chuckles breathlessly, voice guttural and husky. “Not that I’m, ngh, complaining, I could watch this all day.”

You furrow your eyebrows, indignant at his comments. That’s the last thing you wanted...! You wanted to get this over with, to push past the embarrassment he’s inflicted on you. Spurred on by his comments, you raise and lower your hips onto his cock faster, the sensation of being stretched less painful than before. Childe lets out a breathy moan at your increased pace. No longer willing to hold himself back, he thrusts his hips up, throwing his head back at how good you feel around him. You can already tell the area he’s gripping will leave bruises. Hopefully, they can be covered up so questions don’t arise.

“Do you… do you know how much I think about you?” Childe breathes out, each word more strained than the last. The sound of skin on skin fills his office, a far cry from the normal business that goes on in here. Not that he cares in the slightest. You don’t want to know the answer, honestly, but he gives it to you regardless.

“Mm, I’ve thought about it even when we talk,” Childe confesses, head throwing back as he bucks himself up to meet your hips. “What you’d feel like… all the cute little noises you’d make when I made you pleasure yourself on my dick.”

Childe’s words strike a chord deep within you, your face getting even redder than before. You feel yourself getting closer to a release and feel frustrated by your lack of self-restraint. Childe’s chest rumbles with a low moan at how your walls tighten around him. He’s half wanting to fuck you against his desk, losing any shreds of patience that he’s somehow managed to hold on to. But knowing that you’re working oh so hard to make him cum is too tantalizing to pass up. He sees your reluctance fade into desire, no longer able to deny carnal pleasure. You’re enjoying this as much as he is but just don’t want to admit it.

He leans forward, wrapping his soft lips around your nipple and biting it gently, laughing breathlessly at the noise you let out. Childe’s hand that was on your hip goes to your chest, greedily playing with the soft mounds of flesh. He adores how you taste, how lovely and exposed you are before him now. All of the efforts that went into procuring you earned him such a ravishing sight.

Spurred on by his touches, you can no longer hold yourself back. Your movements get sloppier as you chase your own release, chest bouncing as you hold onto him for balance. Childe lets out a content noise at this. His strength is commendable, your hazy mind notices, as now he’s the one lifting you up and bringing you back down onto his cock. Strength all but gone, you lean forward, hoping to muffle your moans against his glistening neck. Your walls clench around him, a high pitch noise leaving your lips when you cum.

Childe wants nothing more than for you to remember this. For you to remember him. “That’s... right, [First]. Don’t ever forget that I’m the one who made you feel this good.”

You can barely register his words, mind far too foggy to think of anything. Curses start to leave his lips, from a foreign tongue which you assume to be his native language. His cock thrusts upwards inside you as Childe desperately seeks out his own release. Your energy is all but gone, leading you to feel silently grateful that he’s capable of getting himself off inside you without much help. A surprised yelp leaves your lips as he tugs your hair back, forcing you to look him in the eye.

“I want you to see this,” Childe manages to get out through gritted teeth. A throaty groan leaves him, hips stuttering. “Watch me as I cum inside you.”

Childe releases himself inside you, thrusting up as far as he can before stilling himself. You feel his hot seed fill you up, Childe intent on dumping all of himself as far inside you as he can. He pulls you further down onto him, head thrown back and panting as your walls milk his throbbing cock. You wince at the foreign feeling, the implications of him cumming inside you nerve-wracking. Finally, he lifts his head, a slight flush on his own face.

The room is silent, save for your panting. He keeps one hand on your already bruised hip and moves the other to cup your face. Childe’s eyes soften as you try your best to regain yourself.

It feels hot, sticky, and humiliating. You look around, looking anywhere that isn’t at Childe. He lets out an airy laugh at your obvious embarrassment, much to your displeasure, and you shoot him a hopefully threatening look. It has the opposite effect as intended. Childe coos at the endearing sight, tracing his fingers over your body.

“That’s... all you wanted, right? Can I go now?”

Childe shakes his head and you frown. “Mm... not yet, no. I’d say this only covers a portion of the debt, sweetheart.”

You knit your eyebrows together, indignation flaring, and go to slap him against your better judgment. Childe snickers, catching your wrist with ease and places unexpectedly soft kisses against your knuckles.

“Relax, relax, I was kidding,” Childe winks and you roll your eyes. “Just know this won’t be the last time I fuck you.”

“You’re... utterly shameless.”

“Maybe I am, but what can I say? Now that I’ve gotten a taste of you, I might just be addicted.”

#idk if this is really considered dubcon but i tagged it just to be safe #childe #childe x reader #yandere childe x reader #tartaglia #tartaglia x reader #yandere tartaglia x reader #genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #tw: dubcon #not sfw #my stuff

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whythinktoomuch · 4 years ago

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ii. apocalypse now & again

(pt. i)

Kara woke up and realized that she was going to die.

Too many of the drones had survived the explosions and were still closing in on her. What little strength she had left after quite literally digging her own grave was presently and painstakingly strained just from her efforts to climb onto her knees. And on top of all that—of everything that possibly could have gone wrong for her in this moment—her helmet was cracked.

The abstract red numbers warning Kara of the kryptonite levels in the area seemed redundant now, what with that unmistakable chill already flooding her bloodstream.

“… Alex,” Kara gasped out, barely able to hear herself over the ringing in her ears. “Hey, Alex… Are you there?”

Her words were met with not one whisper or even a crackle of static, and for once, Kara was inconsolably disappointed to hear no one yelling back at her. With her teeth gritted, she shoved herself off the ground as hard as she could, drifting barely a foot into the air before the first drone crashed into the back of her head.

Kara toppled back onto the ground, knees skidding across the rubble in a shower of hot sparks. The impact had her head reeling, her mouth filling with a taste that she was now idly recognizing as blood. But there was no time to consider any of that as the drone doubled back. Kara scrambled out of the way, narrowly avoiding another collision, only to be struck by a second drone smashing right against her ear.

Out of breath but swearing, Kara whirled around and snagged the fast approaching drone into a bear hug, squeezing and squeezing until it crunched in her arms with a frantic whir. Then with a burst of heat vision, she shattered the other as it came straight for her face.

Kara used her heat vision to pick off several more drones from a distance, but of course, more and more just showed up to take their place, never wavering, never slowing… and eventually, Kara just had to laugh. Because her exhaustion was catching up to her. And Alex was hundreds of miles away. And to get out of here alive, Kara would have to somehow defeat the entire horde of drones, while all they had to do was wreck her suit a little more.

Though admittedly, it’d be overkill at this point, given the crack now spiderwebbing across the glass visor of Kara’s helmet.

Either way, it was over.

So, Kara laughed, grabbed at her chest in a reflexive gesture only to meet the unforgiving metal of her suit, then dropped to her knees. “Alex!” she shouted herself hoarse, because maybe if said loudly enough, the words would still be lingering in the air by the time her sister arrived. “Alex, I’m sorry, okay? You were right, and I’m sorry!”

Then she just waited—chest heaving, eyes narrowed but never blinking despite the heat pricking at the corners—because she definitely had to see this through to the bitter fucking end. That much, she owed everyone, including herself.

Except the end didn’t come.

Not this time anyway.

No, instead came a silver sphere, emerging seemingly out of thin air to hover right before Kara’s face. It flashed a blinding white just once, and everything fell absolutely silent and still. Kara’s suit powered down completely, the drones collectively dropped from the air like marionettes with cut strings, and all the lights in the immediate vicinity blinked out.

Laughter welling up all over again, Kara could only collapse onto her side in something akin to sheer relief.

The first person to occur to her, of course, was Alex, who had already saved her ass from similar scrapes on many occasions. But that couldn’t be it. Alex was too far away. It’s why Kara had to take on this mission on her own in the first place.

Then she considered maybe Winn or James, which made even less sense, given how the deceased hardly ever came back to do things like save people’s lives. Not even hers. Not even in the most dire of situations. That’s, unfortunately, just not how life worked these days.

Then she considered Alex again because the kryptonite was clearly bleeding into her brain now, and it was getting rather difficult to remember why it couldn’t have been Alex who’d just saved her. Maybe Kara did shout loud enough after all…

But then, a set of footfalls drew near, metal scraping against metal at a steady pace until a heavy boot struck Kara firmly in the chest, flipping her onto her back where she settled with a grunt.

“So glad I got to you first,” came a self-assured drawl, and Kara promptly found herself face to face with a handheld cannon of sorts. “Would be a pity to come all this way and not get to kill you myself.”

And… Kara’s jaw just dropped.

Not because of the words, nor the intentions behind them—though perhaps they both merited some attention as well—but that voice.

Kara gaped up at her supposed knight in shining, lead-lined armor because her voice—that low, husky tone paired with that very specific lilting cadence—was making her reconsider some very fundamental things about how the world might work.

Namely, that people wouldn’t come back from the dead just to save her life.

Mind still reeling away, Kara tried to sit up, only to be slammed back into the ground, hard.

“Down, girl,” Lena said, grinding her boot into Kara’s chest, the weight of her entire body behind the gesture. But that was fine.

It was fine because Kara could still draw some breath into her lungs, could still use some of that breath to talk, and she could certainly still say some things that she hadn’t uttered aloud in many a year. Like her late wife’s name, for instance.

The cannon in Kara’s face wavered, but didn’t lower. “Shut up,” Lena hissed down at her. “Don’t talk. Don’t even think.”

“So… it is you…” Kara said, and she gently wrapped her fingers around Lena’s ankle—the only part of her that she could still reach from her position—and just cried.

With a startled gasp, Lena stumbled away, wrenching herself out of Kara’s grip. “What the fuck…? What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Kara sobbed out, trying not to choke on her own tears and snot and the slight taste of blood still lingering on her tongue. She suddenly, irrationally, wished that she could just take off her clunky suit. Just to eliminate some of that distance between her and Lena. Just so she could touch the chain hanging around her neck without any hindrance. “Just… just wanted to say, hi.”

Lena kept her distance, studying Kara in a stony silence, and Kara started to see things that she should probably would have noticed sooner if her body weren’t actively shutting down on her. Like the green glow of Lena’s weapon and the kryptonite cartridges strapped to her belt. Or that she was clearly wearing a lexo-suit. Or how the swirly edges of her own vision were starting to darken, and how the chill of kryptonite was currently all she could feel.

“Hey,” Kara called out, sniffling only slightly now. “Am I dreaming?”

“… No.”

Kara nodded thoughtfully to herself. “Okay, cool, cool… So, I think I might be dying then.”

“Yeah,” Lena said, after a brief pause. “Probably.”

“Cool.” Kara tried to flash a thumbs up, but no part of her body wanted to cooperate anymore. Her exhaustion had eaten up all her drive. “Hey, can you tell Alex something for me?”

Lena sighed, but she finally stepped closer, practically in reach. “Okay, sure.”

Kara fumbled for some words and the correct order that one might put them in, but then Lena took off her helmet, and nothing else mattered anymore. Because Kara was perfectly content to just watch that ripple of dark hair, streaked with a light gray that was just… nice to look at.

She never got to see her Lena’s hair do that.

Kara’s shoulder was being shaken so violently that she had no choice but to open her eyes and see Alex’s worry-creased face peering down at her.

“Dumbass…” Alex grumbled, releasing Kara’s shoulder with a dirty scowl. “That’s the last time I let you go anywhere without me.”

“Whatever you say, director.” Kara laughed, but it hurt. She then tried to do a salute, but her everything was still too weak to move apparently. But at least she was still alive.

… Wait.

Kara repeatedly tried to sit up on her bed, and Alex repeatedly shoved her right back down until she gave up. But still, she had to check, had to know that it wasn’t all just a dream.

“Where’s Lena?” she demanded, and the look that Alex gave her in response was so deeply pained that Kara almost felt pathetic for asking.

“… Kara.”

“No, I saw her, Alex,” Kara said, shaking her head, then immediately stopping when her entire body somehow got dizzy from it. “Shit. Ow, ow… But wait, no—But seriously, I saw her, okay?”

“I’m not surprised that you did. You almost died, Kara. Actually, I’m pretty sure that you were dead for a few minutes back there. Again, I say, you fucking dumbass.”

“But I didn’t die. Because she saved me,” Kara insisted. “No, seriously! She took out all the drones with some sort of EMP device, and, and… we talked! And she had gray hair, and I think maybe laugh lines? And yeah, I almost died because my helmet got cracked and stuff. But now, I’m here and I’m fine, so… everything’s fine, right?”

Alex frowned, then somehow settled on the least important part of Kara’s briefing, “You cracked your helmet?”

“Ugh, yeah. The glass visor part. When I fell,” Kara said, waving her hand dismissively. “So sorry about that, by the way.”

“Suit looked fine when we got to you,” Alex said with a shrug, before irritably exclaiming, “Jesus christ, Kara, enough! I’ll just have a guy get the helmet for you, okay? So, just stop trying to get up already.”

Huffing, Kara fell back onto her bed with her arms folded and waited. But when someone eventually showed up with her helmet in tow, she was surprised to see that it was somewhat worse for the wear but perfectly intact. Even up close, with the helmet out the tech’s hands and in her own, Kara couldn’t detect even the slightest blemish in the glass.

Pouting ever so slightly, Kara shoved the helmet back into the tech’s arms.

“… Satisfied?” Alex asked, rolling her eyes when Kara just shrugged one shoulder. “Great. Listen… You just need to get some rest, okay? Once you’re back to full strength, we can work through your… you know, memories together. And hopefully, it’ll make more sense by then. Sound good?”

Kara just nodded, suddenly all too willing to be left to her own devices in the relative quiet and darkness. She accepted a gentle shoulder squeeze and the promise of another session with the sun lamps within the hour, and just curled up under the sheets.

It’s not like she hadn’t conjured up images of Lena before. Kara had been close to death enough times that it was only inevitable that she’d fall back onto memories of her dead wife at some point or another. But this was different. Whenever her brain was just playing tricks on her, Lena appeared to her the way Kara remembered her: warm and loving, bright green eyes, long dark hair smelling of lavender, and alive and young.

Never before had Kara encountered an appropriately aged version of Lena, with creases gathered around her eyes and forehead, hair gloriously faded into the most lovely blend of light grays and white amongst all that black… The Lena that could have been if only she had lived out all these past years alongside Kara.

And she was never in a lexo-suit, of all things. Lena was always wearing one of her classic pencil skirts or Kara’s NCU sweatshirt, or something. Oh, and of course, her wedding band.

Instinctively, the same way she always did when it occurred to her, Kara reached for the chain around her neck, seeking out the familiar weight of the rings that hung from there… only to jolt upright with a gasp that dried up her entire throat.

She ripped the necklace off her head, almost snapping the chain, which in and of itself was telling. Because her chain had been forged out of an extraterrestrial metal amalgamation that not even the Girl of Steel would have been able to break. The one now clutched in her hand, however, was just plain white gold.

Heart pounding in her ears, Kara stared down at an engagement ring fitted with a modest cut of diamond, somehow occupying the very spot where two simple wedding bands—hers and her Lena’s—should have been. Then something drove her to check for an inscription, and sure enough, engraved on the inside of the ring was a series of kryptonian characters, denoting a term of endearment that Kara had never used, but apparently could have in another world altogether: my dearest heart.

#2222 words because that's how i get my kicks n' giggles hue hue hue hue #will there be a part three? who knows #better question is Should there be a part three amirite?#my words.

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paper-n-ashes · 4 years ago

Text

sparks and embers - chapter 4

Characters: Poe Dameron x Original Female Character, Kylo Ren x Original Female Character

Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron

Chapter 4 - Fun

Words: 5.7k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: The biggest warning I can give is that this was my first ever attempt at smut - ever. Mutual masturbation, one party technically unconsented.

Read on AO3 or Start from the beginning

It was paradise and torture, all rolled into one.

He looked unbearably delicious sitting on the ‘fresher stool, facing away, towel draped carefully below his waist. Steam rose in swirling clouds from the floor around him, making the air heavy as I drew in slow, measured breaths.

Poe didn’t look up as I moved past the open curtain, and I could only assume it was because he felt as uneasy as I did. Without much control over myself, my eyes traced the droplets wriggling down his back over his now unwound muscles, wanting nothing more than to draw my fingers over, to feel his smooth skin on the tips.

It was all so enticing, and the throb in my centre becoming harder to ignore. I was forced to put more thought into my movements as I stepped towards the shelf in front of Poe, wondering if he noticed the side glances I attempted to get a better view.

Now is not the time Alexys.

The remark shook me back into sensible thinking, realising Poe was in a vulnerable position, and he trusted me enough to see him like this. He wouldn’t want to be gawked at - he genuinely needed assistance.

With a newfound sense of responsibility, I took the shampoo from the shelf and rounded back behind Poe’s head, his hair glistening with moisture, looking at nothing but my hands. He was silent along with me, probably bracing himself for this stranger to mangle their fingers awkwardly into his hair.

I squirted a stream of liquid shampoo on his head, the icy temperature of it making him tense for a moment, noticing when he raised his bandaged hand to grasp the side railing of the chair. Timidly I began to run my fingers through the portion of I’d covered, building the soap up into a foam, continuing to spread it through the rest of his wettened mop.

There was a warmth that soon arrived, spreading through my chest as I drew my fingers in and out, a warmth that felt less salacious and more… kind. And it would have stayed that way if Poe hadn’t hummed a low moan.

Oh maker, you are not making this easy.

As soon as it bristled past his lips he bolted upright.

“S-sorry,” he stuttered, evidently surprised himself at the sound he’d made. “No one has washed my hair before, I mean if you don’t count my parents when I was a child. It just felt... nice.”

I didn’t respond, making the air hang thick with our silence. Nothing I could say was going to make the moment any less awkward for the both of us.

After briefly stopping the twirling movement of my fingers following the… sound, I continued my lather over his scalp, making sure every particle of dirt, sweat and most likely blood was caught in the froth of soap.

When content with my work I reached over his shoulder and unhooked the detachable shower head, my eyes still trained on anything other than his bare skin. After angling it down, I pressed the start button on the handle, the flow of water hitting my bare feet as I made sure the water was an acceptable temperature before letting the cascade of soapy water rush down his spine.

With my hand I began to guide him to tilt back so I could safely wash out the soap just above his forehead. In this position I could see more of his face, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, eyebrows wrinkled like he was uncomfortable.

“Is the water too hot?” I peeped, pulling the shower head away.

His eyes opened in a flash, startled by my question. “No! Not at all! I was just lost in thought about… Uh… How to fix BB-8. It’s fine, really.” He shifted in the chair, his bandaged arm still gripping onto the rail while his casted arm rested rigidly over his lap. As I moved the water stream back to his hair, his eyes closed again, this time without the tautness I’d noticed before.

After all the shampoo had been thoroughly rinsed I began the process again, only this time with conditioner. I didn’t ask if he actually wanted it, since it was more out of my own habit, but he didn’t stop me when I grabbed the bottle and jetted the thicker liquid into his hair, continuing to slowly massage it into his tresses.

It became somewhat relaxing, methodically weaving my fingers to evenly spread the silky lotion to every strand. He moved uneasily again, and I noticed the hand holding the rail was clutching tightly, his bicep tensed hard.

Maybe I’m terrible at this.

Deciding it was time to finish this embarrassing experience, I started up the water and rinsed Poe’s head free of conditioner, again seeing the strain washing over his face as he leaned back, like he was trying to conceal it from my view.

I rustled a fresh towel over his scalp, leaving his hair only slightly dampened. “I’m sorry if I hurt you,” I mumbled. “I’m not used to washing patients’ hair.”

Poe immediately twisted his torso, looking up to my face. I gritted my teeth as I registered his contracted abdominals. “What are you talking about? You didn’t hurt me.”

My eyes flickered to his arm. “You just seemed really... tense.”

“Uh,” Poe mouthed, the sound muted. I watched his eyes move down my chest, pupils swollen against his brown irises. He didn’t continue. He seemed lost for words.

I followed the trail his stare had made down my torso, sucking in an alarmed breath. I’d diverted so much of my thoughts towards Poe I hadn’t recognised the spray of water that’d soaked through my white cotton shirt, my bra now starkly visible through the dampened fabric. The cloth clung tightly to the curves of my breasts, leaving extremely little to imagination.

Of-fracking-course.

I laughed. A body shaking cackle that bounced off the tiled walls around us.

Any embarrassment in me simmered to hilarity at the thought of Poe’s face with my chest readily on show. His illuminating smile continued to flash as he chuckled along with me, and I couldn’t help but relish in it for the moments in which we continued to snicker.

When my laughter died down, I sighed, not exactly attempting to cover myself. He’d already seen what I had on display. “Well I think I’ve done just about as much as I can,” I jested, a smirk still drawn on my lips. “Do you think you can get yourself dressed? There are more night-clothes in the cupboard behind you.”

“I think I can manage,” he grinned back, seemingly relieved at the disruption from whatever tension had risen during this whole endeavour.

And with that, I sauntered out from the ‘fresher, closing the door gently behind me. My heart pounded to the beats of memories dashing into my mind, barely able to strangle a coherent understanding of everything I’d felt. It was all I could deliberate on as I entered my living quarters at the end of the hall and changed into new shirt - navy blue this time. My mind desperately tried to collect all the emotions I had experienced in the last 30 minutes and render some form of comprehension from them.

It was clear, I’d grown unprofessionally attached to Poe, so quickly, and more than any other human I’d encountered.

You like him.

It was a simple answer, yet it felt childish, to have developed a juvenile-like crush so soon after our meeting. I knew it was more to do with his appearance than our limited interactions, even though they were still somewhat endearing. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d experienced any of this heart fluttering emotion.

There were a few men that littered my past, but I had yet to experience the all-consuming, overwhelming need for someone that made people do irrational things, and I was sure no-one had ever thought of me in that way.

Only fleetingly had I endured any type of loneliness during my time on Raxus, and it usually passed as I woke to a new day - my work and my patients being wonderful distractions. I’d become so independent, so self-sufficient, that I never yearned to have someone become the centre of my universe.

Come now Alexys. You know that is not the reason why.

I gripped the sheets at the edge of my bed I had found myself sitting on.

You cannot let anyone too close. Not unless you want them to die along with you.

Before I could let the voice cause me to dive into an ocean of panic, I heard the ‘fresher door click closed.

“Alex?” Poe called from the hallway.

My feet planted onto the floor as I stood, letting the anxiety dissipate into the air around me. “Back here Poe.” I listened to his footsteps plod along the floor as he limped towards my living quarters, along with a few quiet huffs of effort. When he came into view at the entrance he still looked as appealing as before, even without his bare skin on show.

“You live in your clinic?” he questioned, looking around the apartment style quarters I’d constructed with the help of a few locals.

It was simple, efficient. The sizable room had everything a normal home would contain, all pulled into one. Kitchenette and dining table to the left, living room with a small two-seater sofa at the back wall, and my bed and closet to the right. A door leading to an ensuite ‘fresher was in the far right corner, one I only used if an overnighter patient was with me.

“It’s so I can still monitor a patient’s condition when they’re unable to return home yet. Remember, I’m the only doctor for thousands of kilometres.” I motioned to the holoscreen on my bedside table that would usually be displaying the vitals for any patients connected to monitor lines. There were only flat lines and zeros there now.

Poe cocked his head. “You don’t ever stop do you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Being a doctor, looking after people. Even in your own quarters you’re still in that mode.” He hobbled further into the room, taking in the space around him.

“I’m sure you’re the same with your work for the Resistance.”

“True,” he conceded. “Being in the middle of a war tends to do that to people.”

I couldn’t hold back a cynical snort.

His eyebrows crinkled together. “What did that mean?”

Kriff. I wish I hadn’t done that.

“I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Just tell me,” he grumbled.

I pressed my lips into a hard line. I didn’t really want to start a heated discussion about the futility of this war with a Resistancepilot. But from the interactions I’d had with Poe so far, I doubted he was going to let this go.

“It’s just… Don’t you see the pointlessness of it all? Even if you overcome the First Order – how long will it be before another enemy rises up, or your new leaders become the same ruthless dictators themselves?” My voice grew less apprehensive, straightening myself into a more confident pose. “People are fickle. They change. Their emotions rule them beyond anything else, and because of that they can be manipulated so easily. People who swore fealty to one side can be dragged onto the other. The cycle never ends. There will always be more war, more fighting, more innocent deaths.”

Poe stared at me, bewildered. “You think it’s pointless to fight back against the First Order? People who conquer or destroy planets simply for more power? You’d rather we let them do as they please, letting billionsof innocent people die?”

“No of course not-” I started, already regretting every word I’d said.

“But that’s what you just implied, isn’t it? How can a doctorhave such a bleak view of the galaxy?”

I sighed, more at myself for opening my big mouth. “I’m just a realist Poe. People fight, we can’t help it. And those with the most power will fight to keep it, no matter how. I’ve just… I’ve seen too many people die, or damaged for the rest of their lives, for me to think war can ever generate peace.”

Poe’s eyes narrowed, his demeanour darkening. “You don’t think I’ve seen people, my friends, die or horribly injure themselves? You don’t think I’ve seen what war does? I still want to keep on fighting. I haveto. For the people that I’ve lost, who gave their lives for the rest of us, and the people I could save. Because people deserve a galaxy without a tyrant like Kylo Ren deciding who should live and who should die. Somehow, in your eyes, you think it’s pointless to even try?”

I didn’t have any type of acceptable answer. It was rude of me to point out the flaws of war with someone who had risked their life, and most likely come close to death because of it. “I’m… sorry Poe,” I insisted softly, settling back down on the edge of the bed. “It’s not my place to give my opinion on matters like this. I truly apologise if I offended you.”

I glanced up from twiddling fingers to see his delicately confused expression. He exhaled loudly, as he wobbled painfully to one of the chairs of the circular dining table across the room, straightening his injured leg out to rest it.

“I’m sorry too," he said, exhaling. “I’ve been living my life with the Resistance for so long I forgot there might be people who don’t believe in the cause like we do.”

“It makes sense,” I remarked. “Sometimes you get caught up in the bubble of the world around you, it’s hard to see beyond it.”

He nodded. “That’s very true.”

We sat in silence for a moment, both letting the heated exchange dry out into passing memories. Poe continued to peer around the room, his eyes scanning with a subtle scrutiny. “So what do you do when you’re not being a doctor?” he asked, the fierceness from before completely replaced by his normal cheerful tone.

“You mean in my free time?”

“Yeah. Do you have anything that keeps your mind away from all that... doctor work?”

I felt my face crinkle into confusion. “I… I don’t really.”

His expression mirrored mine. “You don’t have any hobbies? Something you do just for fun?”

“Uh…” I started, raking through my brain for anything I did outside the realm of my work. “Huh. I guess I don’t. I may just be the most boring person alive.”

Poe chuckled, and shook his head. “That’s definitely not true.” He met my eyes, flashing me a comforting grin. “You’re just hyper-focused on your work. Trust me, I get that. Sometimes all I even dream about are war council sessions and my ship interface. But you’ve got to switch off eventually, otherwise you’ll go insane.”

I was slightly dubious at that sentiment, since I’d made it over 4 years without slipping into insanity, but Poe’s question made me take check. Truthfully, I couldn’t remember the last time I had fun, when I felt joy in something other than making ill people better again.

Poe could see my face begin to fall. “Hey come on, let’s try now. You’ve only got me as a patient, and I am in no need for your treatment right now. Think of something you used to do, or always wanted to, and we can have a go of it together.”

His sudden eagerness to help made my heart swell. “Uh... sure. Okay.”

Poe nodded once without speaking, urging me to search through my mind for an idea. But it was hard to think when I kept looking at his face, now melted into an enthusiastic smile. I made my eyes glare at my feet, since they would be significantly less distracting while I attempted to think of a supposedly fun activity.

Even when I’d finished my work for the day, on the rare occasion I had no overnighters staying with me, I simply returned to these quarters to have dinner and prepare myself for sleep. In the moments between, all I tended to do was read over current news and research on my data pad, sometimes flicking through medical texts if I was stumped on how to deal with a patient’s condition, especially when it came to rarer alien species. Generally, I would be so tired from the day that I never needed to pass my time with anything remotely hobby based. My focus would be to eat, use the ‘fresher and settle into an easy slumber.

And in this singular moment, I realised how monotonous it all was.

Poe saw me struggling, although probably not knowing it was at the realisation that I had no idea what fun was anymore. “Okay, how about games? Surely you’ve played at least one holo or card game in your life?”

“Well yeah, but that was years ago, and I don’t have any-” I stopped mid-sentence, the flicker of a memory rising into my mind’s view. “Wait here a second.” Hopping up from my bed, I made my way to the office, switching on the light. A large wooden desk sat in the centre, littered with old patient notes I had been in the middle of updating when my life had been so suddenly interrupted with Poe’s appearance.

I ignored them to walk towards the storage cupboard behind it. It took a few minutes of rummaging through stacks of files and old pieces of obsolete medical equipment to find what I’d come in here for - a small, rectangular metal case the size of my two hands, snatching it from the shelf I’d mindlessly placed it on nearly 3 years ago.

Bringing it back with me into my quarters, I quickly sat at the dining table next to Poe, who turned to face me with a look of intrigue. I opened the case, exposing the contents inside. “An old patient of mine gifted this to me, promised to teach me how to play. He… never got the chance to.”

My mind wandered in the memory of the older gentleman who had been struck down with Quannot’s syndrome, only lasting a few days before his unavoidable death. I recalled how much I mourned his passing, distressed at how little I could do to ease his pain before he left this world.

“Sabbac!” Poe burst, interrupting my sombre reminiscing.

I shook myself back into the current reality. “You know how to play?”

“Of course, almost every being in the galaxy knows how,” he scoffed. Only after he noticed me shifting awkwardly in my seat did he realise what he’d said. “Uh, sorry. Come on, I’ll teach you.” He continued to pull the cards out of the case, laying them out face up in a specific order. “Okay, so this is the Flask suit...”

If we were playing for real money, Poe would have put me in the red.

“23? Again? You’re definitely cheating,” I grumbled, huffing into my seat, not for the first time of the evening. After I’d grasped the basic concept of the game, we’d played for hours, time passing quickly in the midst of bluffing and strategy.

Poe was evidently enjoying the immaturity of my tantrum, laughing softly as he pulled the last of my chips towards his already immense pile. “I guess beginner’s luck didn’t really work out for you in this case,” he sniggered.

I pouted, watching him stack the chips neatly in coloured towers. “Well, I’m out. You took me for all I’ve got.”

“But didn’t you have fun?”

I nodded and grinned, conceding even when I’d been horrendously beaten, but was a combination of both him and the game we’d played that made me feel an unfamiliar contentment warm my body. I eyed him marvelling his chips, an expression of pride filling his features. “You really like winning, don’t you?”

“Being with the Resistance, you kind of get used to savouring the wins when they occur. Doesn’t happen exceedingly often.” His thoughts seemed to drift away, and in his face I knew he was pondering over the state of affairs back at base with him missing.

“I have no doubt they’ll be searching day and night for you,” I soothed, hoping I guessed correctly.

Poe attempted a smile, but it dissolved when a large sigh breathed past his lips. “I’m doing my best not to worry. The people there, they’re all smart and capable, but we had a plan… and I haven’t been able to see it through. We were running out of time as it is. I can only imagine how concerned they'll be after not receiving a report in over two day cycles.”

“It’ll be okay,” I said softly, tentatively placing a hand on his upper arm, above where I’d placed the plastic cast. “I know it sounds kind of naïve, but when I’m overwhelmed, especially in my work, I break everything down into smaller problems, and try to face the most pressing one. The big picture doesn’t matter, it’s all about solving the most concerning challenge at the time. And little by little, the whole situation becomes… easier.”

“It does sound a little naïve. But… I like it.”

“It worked for me when I was trying to save you.” I gave his arm a reassuring squeeze.

Poe didn’t respond. He seemed to ruminate in his own mind, his mouth in a forced, hard line. I watched as his eyes glanced down to where my palm rested around his bicep, then back to me.

His gaze was suddenly heated, smouldering, so intense it locked me into place, a ribbon of flames darting through my veins. I noticed the speckles of gold hidden through his irises, as it occurred to me how close our bodies had become during the time spent sitting at the dining table. The air around felt dense, the only sound I could register my own gradual breathing.

Poe's vision wouldn’t move from mine, his blazing stare a stark difference from the rest of his softened features. It felt as if his movements were in slow motion, the way he lifted his bandaged arm, a hand reaching up to my face.

I remained unmoving, even when my entire being began to flicker with electricity, igniting sparks at every nerve ending on my skin. Fingertips finally touched my cheek, grazing over it so delicately, yet still making the energy glowing through me intensify, as if trying to break free from my body.

Poe began to lean closer, and unconsciously I mirrored his movement, wanting nothing more in this moment than to feel his lips on mine.

Stop this Alexys. Stop it now.

The voice caused me to jerk backwards, pulling myself away from Poe’s touch, rising abruptly out of the chair. “This is… this is inappropriate,” I peeped, rushing directly to my ensuite ‘fresher, clicking the door closed. With my back pressed against the door, I slid slowly down until my rear hit the tiled floor.

I could still feel the heat of Poe’s fingertips on my cheek, a painful reminder of what I’d run away from. But the echo of what the voice had demanded still rattled through, and I knew it was right. I knew I couldn’t let myself get too close - I couldn’t give in to the sudden desire that had shimmered inside my chest.

It would cost me my safety, my work, my purpose of being. I’d risked everything to get here, given up all I knew of home. I wouldn’t let it all be in vain on the whim of my emotions.

There was no way to stop it, the lone tear that strolled down my cheek. It was a mere fraction of the sobs I wanted to express, both despair and frustration gripping me in a strangling hold.

With shaking palms held front of me, I traced each creased line in the flesh with my eyes. Not for the first time, I cursed at the energy that flowed through them, unlocked from the depths of my consciousness and healed those who needed it the most, those who would have otherwise died when even the greatest medical care couldn’t save them.

I’d kept it hidden for my whole life, the Force I’d been born with and couldn’t escape from. I’d concealed it from everyone, including my parents, keeping a far enough distance to hold my secret within my mind.

Only two outcomes came with exposure. One being I would be recruited, trained as a Jedi and guilted by the Resistance to join a war I didn’t believe in. The other being hunted by the Sith, or any kind of dark side user, and killed for showing any type of prowess with the Force like so many younglings before, or swayed into the war to fight on their behalf.

There was no way either side would allow me to slip from their grasp once they knew. They would never tolerate my neutrality and let me stay here in the countryside of an Outer Rim planet, doing exactly what I wanted to do. Heal.

Why me? Why did this have to happen to me?

Because you do not want it.

That’s cruel.

Such is life.

I wasn’t sure how long I spent sitting on the ‘fresher floor, ceaselessly on the verge of tears, yet never allowing the emotion to fully break. A creeping feeling of humiliation had started to filter in a short time ago as I recounted over and over how abruptly I’d run from Poe.

My eyes hadn’t caught the glimpse his face after I wrenched myself away from his hand, yet all I could do was imagine it now, features struck with shock and rejection. I’d barely heard him leave my quarters after I’d shut myself away, faintly recalling his right leg still making a larger thumping sound when he walked into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

That memory had taken place hours ago, and my body was beginning to ache after another large portion of time connected to hard tile.

The only thing I wished for now was the comfort of my bed, to sleep away this evening and wake to a fresh day. But I couldn’t. There was still a patient to look after. I needed check on Poe’s condition, update vitals, make sure his wounds were still healing. For my own benefit, I would rather wait for the morning when some of the lingering awkwardness would have dissipated, but there was no possibility of sleep without being sure he was still in good health.

Plus, I hadn’t told him about the food supplies waiting in the clinic cupboard. Being so distracted by playing cards I'd never made us dinner, and he needed all the sustenance he could get to heal properly.

With a fragile resolve to get it done and over with, I peeled myself from my sitting position, joints popping at the movement after being inactive for so long. I peered slowly through the door, on the small chance Poe was out there waiting to greet me, but it was just the empty quarters that filled my view.

For a reason I couldn’t discern, I began to tread lightly towards the hallway door, the stillness of night sending a quick shiver down my spine. Before opening it I glanced back at my chronometer on the bedside table.0200.

He was probably asleep by now.

Hesitation washed through me, knowing if that were true I shouldn’t go poking him awake just to assess basic vitals. But the urge was too strong, pushing me to step into the hallway, tip-toeing cautiously over the floor.

I was halfway down when I heard Poe’s low exhale echo through the passageway.

Hm, maybe he was dreaming.

My movements halted, waiting for another sound to confirm my guess. Soon enough, a louder sigh floated towards my ears, tainted with an emotion I couldn’t name.

I continued to tread ever so lightly towards the clinic entrance, noticing the lights had been shut off except for the lamp at Poe’s bedside softly illuminating the room. I shifted carefully closer, almost at the doorway, Poe’s relaxed breaths still filling my ears as I took nimble steps towards the noise.

When a low, breathy moan swirled into the air, my body froze.

The fire in my lower abdomen crackled to life at the sound, making my limbs heavy, locking me where I stood, hidden from view.

Another moan, louder this time, rumbled past Poe’s lips, and I savoured the way it hit my body. My hearing strained to collect every wavelength of sound coming from just outside the hallway entrance. There was movement, a rustling of fabric of some sort, a slight creak of the bed frame.

I could feel my throat growing tighter, fearful of my breath alerting him to my presence, as the realisation of what was happening - what he was doing - finally dug its claws into my skin.

Poe groaned in pleasure as I began to recognise the sound of a repetitive slippery motion over flesh, the flames inside bursting into an inferno, the fever hottest between my legs.

I leant my back on the hallway wall closest to Poe’s hospital bed, fearing my knees would buckle underneath me. His breathing became faster, more passionate, as the pace of his movement grew more rapid.

Inside my mind, I was bombarded with hypothetical images of his body in the next room, a strong hand gripped tightly around the shaft of his length, shifting up and down. The gasps he continued to make fell into time with my imagination, the sound of skin making a slicking friction keeping rhythm with the urgent pumping of his hand I visualised with impeccable realism.

My fingernails scraped at the wall, eyelids shut tightly while Poe’s delicious moans sent shockwaves through my circulatory system. I’d never felt so much lust in my life, knowing if I caught any other male in this vulnerable position I would have scuttled away quickly, mortified. Yet the reality of Poe touching himself a few metres away, not knowing I was here listening to his rising pleasure, made an urgent craving throb between my legs, one that needed to be relieved. Now.

Little care had been paid to my sexual needs in the last 4 years on this planet. Suddenly, it felt like I had to give into it otherwise I might die.

Poe’s breath hitched, a sharp inhale indicating he was getting closer to his peak. The singular noise made me slip my hand down past the border of my leggings and under my panties, sliding a finger down in between my folds. A slick moisture was waiting, more than I’d ever felt in previous encounters.

Dragging two fingers through it, preparing myself, Poe’s groans became hungrier, desperate. As soon as I began the motion of relieving the ache below, fingers gliding gently over my swollen clit, the flames fizzled, only to be replaced with an immense sparkle of electricity radiating from low in my core.

I inhaled sharply, like Poe had done, and hoped he was too lost in his own pleasure to notice the sound I’d made. When the steady noise of his hand running smoothly over his shaft continued without pause, I knew I’d not broken my cover.

My thoughts intensified to him, envisioning his arm tensing as he held himself within his grasp, his chest bare with muscles contracting along with his movements, a thin layer of sweat glistening on his skin.

Fingertips slid quickly back and forth over my pleasure point as I pictured his face contorted in both effort and enjoyment, his mouth opening only slightly as luscious groans seeped from his throat. I grit my teeth to stop from moaning myself, an undeniable bliss growing stronger with each swirling motion. My chest heaved through silent breaths I couldn’t articulate with noise, mind muddled with overwhelming images of every part of Poe’s body I so desperately wanted to see with my own eyes.

But I refused to move. I didn’t want to break the course of the moment, wishing for nothing more than to hear the sound of his release, knowing it would push me into my own. He wasn’t rushing into it, almost as if savouring this time alone, moans rising only to fall as he slowed his pace again.

I didn’t do the same.

The circling over my clitoris continued to accelerate, tiny instances of my waiting climax peeking their way out every so often, telling me I was getting closer to falling over the edge.

My legs were shaking, being held up by pure resolve to prevent any noise resonating from my body. Poe was speeding up his movement again, but this time he didn’t slow, stuttered sighs escaping his chest, and it hastened my climbing pleasure. I was close, I could feel the tipping point bubbling under the surface of my skin.

Slowly, I heard him growl a few barely comprehensible words.

“Ugh… Alex... yes...”

My release abruptly exploded through me at the sound of my name on his lips, pleasure pulsing in overflowing waves over every portion of flesh. Front teeth bit hard into my bottom lip, preventing the whine I desperately wanted to set free. It was the most intense sensation I’d ever felt, sparks flickering in both the deepest part of my core and the nerves of my limbs, making me shiver in delight.

Quickly, I was all too sensitive, pulling my fingers away, eyeing the sheen of moisture that covered them. My attention was again caught in Poe’s moaning, as he too reached his peak, muted gasps coming in jolts as he finally came, obviously attempting much like me not to make any excessive noise.

Eventually he began to heave in relief, breaths hissing gradually through his teeth. We both stayed in our positions for a minute or so, relishing in the afterglow of our separate orgasms, the flames I’d felt down below settling into smouldering embers.

I was mulling over the pleasure I’d gone without for years, when I heard Poe rustle in his bed, feet softly plodding on the floor. It took two steps for me to finally realise.

He’s coming this way.

Next Chapter

Tag list: @tlcwrites @roanniom @foxilayde @blackberries45 @hopeamarsu @caillea @princessxkenobi @leatherboundbirate @blowthatpieceofjunk @mylifeisactuallyamess @poedameronloverx @lightsinthedistancee @paterson-blue

#poe dameron #poe dameron x original female character #kylo ren #kylo ren x original female character #star wars #star wars fanfiction #adcu #adcu fanfiction #poe dameron x reader #kylo ren x reader

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atinybitofau · 4 years ago

Text

S E O N G H W A ⥈ mafia au series

RECAP: training with the boys begins and frustrations between you all get heated. Seonghwa offers you a kind gesture of motivation to get you to learn how to fight.

word count: 1600+ , tags: angst fluff

characters: ateez (ensemble), reader

⤩ CHAPTER 3 ⤩

character list . one shot

“So what DO you know how to do?”

Yunho has never recalled seeing such a pathetic attempt at shooting in his entire life. Up until today when he saw the way your hand trembles around a gun. San, on the other hand, was elated to watch you suck at every single thing you tried to do. You were downright frustrated knowing: learning how to shoot, physically defend yourself, and fighting back wasn’t something you sought to learn.

He kept his hopes high though, Yunho, wanting to see you prosper at the side of his ruthless boss. And even if San thinks otherwise of the circumstances, Yunho assumed your place beside Seonghwa would do the heartless southside king justice. Being with him for so long, Yunho knew of Seonghwa’s shortcomings. Love was undoubtedly one of the assets Seonghwa never had. Seeing as he’s at least trying, Yunho wanted to help out the fact.

He had become frustrated too whilst teaching you and decided maybe you needed a breather.

You were quiet despite San’s failed efforts to get into your head with his rambunctious insults. You only stared at the ground while the other two pondered over new ideas. You weren’t trying at all. You’d like to think it’s because you refuse to take part in justifying yourself for a self proclaimed husband. Honestly, you just had little motivation to try let alone exert any unnecessary efforts.

“Your husband’s arrived early.” A meddling voice fills your empty mind. “He‘s on his way to pick your ass up so look alive.”

Your lips curt a faint affirmation before taking your things and beelining for the building’s locker room. There was soft excitement that frenzied deep down in your stomach as you changed. Not that being around a bunch of buffoons bothered you much but you’d much more prefer the company of a senile swine like your husband than them any day. As pathetic as they sounds to you...

San’s picking at his nails cooly on the outside patio while Yunho leans against a pillar. You’re sat cozy in a chair with your bag over your lap as you all await the said mob boss’ arrival.

“Fashionably fucking late, as always.” San seethes through gritted teeth. “Does that asshole not know I have better things to do than babysit his sorry excuse for a wife?”

San was getting sick and tired of it already. Of course, unbeknownst to you, San absolutely adored his precious leader. It doesn’t excuse the fact that your obnoxiously attractive self gets to settle down with his own first love. To add to it, Seonghwa was effortlessly throwing you around like a treasure that must be watched at all times. Somehow, San realizes the time Seonghwa claimed he had when bargaining his new gift did not exist. So here San was doing Seonghwa’s bidding yet again.

Yunho notices the clench in San’s tight look and glares into his own. “Sannie. Let’s not get careless.”

“Bastard better think twice if he thinks I’m gonna still be sleeping in his house after this.”

San glances at you with no momentary comfort before sticking a cigarette into his lips. You note the face of shock that masks on Yunho’s face but says nothing at all.

“He’s here.” Yunho coughs out while glaring at the cancer stuck between San’s lips. “Kill that stupid thing.”

“With pleasure.” San growls back eyes groveling at you.

“San.”

You stand up upon seeing Seonghwa’s knowing glare from the cracked window of his sleek black SUV. The tables turned on the fellows around you when your heels flick on an opposite direction. Being unwanted never bothered you. Being unwanted forced into a situation has not once bothered you. Being victim to it and having the choice to walk out? Now that’s an additional option you’ve never always have and will always willingly take. You don’t do unnecessary efforts. And you know when you aren’t wanted.

“Y/n!”

You ignore them with heavy feet trudging in no resolute destination in mind. Your fingers play with the earphones in your bag before placing them in your deafening ears. You’re joined by a slow moving car at your side while you walk in no particular direction away from your fiancé.

“Honey, get in.”

You ignore him with a long press of your volume up button.

“Stop being stubborn, y/n.” His voice gets harder. “If I have to get out of this car so help me god I’ll—“

You snatch an earphone out of your ear. “You’ll have San deal with me?”

He abruptly brakes when you do. You let out a grunt of vexation before placing an earbud back in your ear.

Seonghwa decides to park his car right then and there to throw you over his shoulder like a sack of rice. Your face flushes in the hottest color of pink as you try to break free.

“S-SEONGHWA WHAT THE HELL?”

“This’ll be what stubborn gets you from now on.”

You resort to sulking in the front seat as your husband possesively holds his hand on the surface of your thigh. You don’t bother even looking back at where the both of you left San and Yunho, irritated eyes strewn on the outside of the moving vehicle.

“I’m assuming your training didn’t go too well.” He comments while driving faster this time.

You don’t reply making Seonghwa’s fingers twitch on your lap. So much for convincing yourself you aren’t wanted.

“Y/n, I’m no psychic. You need to tell me if something bothers you.”

You scoff. “And what, Seonghwa? You’re gonna fix it?”

“I most definitely will try if that’s what you entail me to do.”

You don’t move from your position as your husband drives you to what you know is back home. The eerie silence that fills the both of you in the car makes your gut clench. His fingers on your thigh aren’t helping the entire car ride either.

Seonghwa’s presence to you reminded you of air. He wasn’t a nuisance to have around and for an appraising relationship to move forth with lesser issues, that’s a good thing. Actually, to add to the fact, Seonghwa was much more meaningful company than anyone else. He never crossed any unnecessary lines and if he did, he did so with grace. It was hardly something you can’t sleep on.

He escorts you, with a distance between you two, towards your shared room and it feels domestic. There’s little need for words. Needn’t questions either. Seonghwa was far from an open book, but he’s not the type of novel that pegged your fancy anyway.

Seonghwa’s back was to you as he stripped out of his dark suit, shoulders bared with torturous temptation. Your mind was clouded no thoughts head empty when he brings you out of your trance with a slight quirk of his chin around his shoulder.

“I can at least draw to a conclusion,” He just keeps pushing the subject of matter you refuse to shed light on. “that the basics of living with a man like me weren’t taught to you properly then.”

Your face becomes shaded with amusement. “Living with a man like you requires basic training?”

“You always think so little of me, my precious wife.”

You feel like you’re in some fanatical love story— how fast he is to getting to your place, finger upon the tip of your chin. He lifts your gaze up onto his eyes with certainty and slight amusement too.

“I may not be of some threat to you but some people will think of you to them. I’m an expensive man and I don’t spend my money and the likes of it on just anybody.”

A twitched smile screws your expression. “And that’s supposed to impress me?”

“Scare you a better word for it.” He slips on a low cut long sleeve and a pair of casual pants before dropping you onto his lap. “I need to know. That at all times I’m never with you.. you’re prepared to take down the worst.”

Your breath hitches at the back of your throat as his fingers grace the exposed skin on your neck. His lips take upon the deed of pressing a sweet kiss, the feel of pain besting you. You don’t realize in the blur of the pleasure how a throbbing pain lingers where his lips lift.

“I know I promised not to take things too far but if you have no reason to fight, I’ll have to offer you one.”

It’s not a mark of lust nor was it a bite of love. It was a mark for people to see. It was a caligraphy of his own sort, making itvlegible for anyone to read. His lips relieves the vibrating pain and you’re curious. You turn to face him and his breath meets yours. You get caught up in something that isn’t there but you can taste. It was like something you need. A lot like air.

“It was meant for your skin.” He reassures you taking an inch of space back. “It’s not inclined for you to believe it’s also for your lips sake.”

You chuckle softly no blush apparent to his notion. “What a romanticist.”

He boredly hums. “Seems so.”

You wear a shirt that reveals the mark as if you’re proud to bear it. No, it’s not pride you feel entitled to, it’s the meaning. It gives you reason to fight.

Seonghwa stands beside you while you throw punches; in front of you when you kick and swing so he can teach you how it’s done.

It’s then you realize why he’s Southside’s king and why he deserves his title.

“Yunho informed me that your lack of skill was overbearing this afternoon.” Seonghwa speaks highly, eyes dawned with amusement and amazement. “That or I’m just one hell of a good teacher.”

You lean over to help him up. “I didn’t have a reason to defend myself. I think I do now.”

“While fighting me?”

“Something like that..”

@atinybitofau

a/n: ROUGH EDIT

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angelanimedesaray · 4 years ago

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Investment Part 6: Another Treatment

AN: There’s a bit of a time skip in this chapter. Also, since we’re finally seeing the budding of the relationship between Levi and Reader, I just want to take a moment to remind everyone this story was started with a groundwork for a relationship already laid out between Reader and Levi, as it was established that there was a mutual care for one another in the first chapter before shit hit the fan.

Sorry if this seems to go a little rushed, but I couldn’t really think of something solid to go in between these events to draw it out, so it all got put into one chapter.

Characters: Vampire!Levi, Erwin, Hange, Reader, Various BG Characters

Pairing: Vampire!Levi x Reader

Warnings: Language, Violence, Blood, Death, Blood Drinking, Injury

Word Count: 9171

<----Previous Part Masterlist

*Levi's POV*

After so long where feeding was his outlet, where he let his control slip away and his emotions take over, it was strange to have to force himself to try and stop before he killed his prey. Even when he was feeding off the lowest scum in the Underground, he found it difficult to pull away, too bent on satiating his hunger when he was hunting to focus on the much-needed goal.

The pressure on him to change his diet had increased significantly since the expedition, and while he finally had a solid idea of what he was going to do about it, he needed to be able to stop himself, first. If he couldn't even do that with this low quality blood, how could he expect to stop when the clean stuff was dangled in front of him?

But for this to work, he had to make sure he could stop, first.

Of course, no one but Y/N knew how truly difficult it was for Levi to stop himself once he had a taste. They kept pushing, not aware of how difficult of a task stopping was for him. They were too focused on how potent the rumors of The Ripper below ground were becoming, with Erwin officially worried about the body count Levi seemed to have racked up...

"Levi, this is getting out of hand. You can't keep going to the Underground to feed, the attention is too much, and that diet won't keep you satiated much longer."

"What do you expect me to do about it, Erwin? Either we keep pushing despite the risk until I'm ready, or bodies start showing up above ground. We both know that will be much hotter water than what I'm in right now."

"I get that it's not an easy thing to break, but you're almost out of time, Levi. Do something about it, before it's too late for us to help you any more."

Levi growled in the darkness, pulling the prey currently in his hands away with effort, the only sign of life a few twitches and the still-running blood pushed through a large wound from a weak heartbeat. They were on death’s door, no longer conscious, moments from death.

It wasn’t good enough. He needed to stop sooner, he needed to stop before they were on death’s door. The diet he wanted to shift to depended entirely upon his restraint and being able to stop himself from killing the people he fed off--he couldn’t afford to be leaving them in states like this.

Hell, it would help to make it a little less painful for them, too.

Frustrated, Levi ripped back into his current prey’s throat, the body twitching beneath him before going completely still, the life finally leaving them entirely. After that, he fed in silence, sullen mood dissipating as he temporarily lost himself in the end of his feed.

*Reader’s POV*

Approaching Hange’s office quickly turned from a normal part of your routine to something you were doing with apprehension when you heard the raised voices inside. Not the usual excited raised voice Hange could have when she got particularly carried away--this was angry, frustrated conversation.

And the other raised voice--not shouting and screaming, but still raised, which was scary by itself--was Levi’s voice.

They were at least not reaching the point where the details of their conversation could be sussed out, but the argument was clear, and people seemed to be avoiding this hall. Considering the few touchy subjects you knew they could get into an argument like this about right now, you were reluctant to walk into the middle of it.

“I knew you could be pig-headed, but this is getting ridiculous!”

“It’s not ridiculous--you’re out of your damn mind if you think I’m going to let you pull a stunt like that.”

“Levi, we’re at the point where I’m not going to be able to help you more without seeing you in action.”

“Hange--”

You went into the room at that point, both of them pausing in their argument momentarily at your appearance. Levi turned partially towards you, about to say something before he decided it was the best time to drive the point home, turning quickly back to Hange.

“It’s out of the question, Hange, it’s too dangerous, despite what your crazy theories are telling you,” he snapped after you’d shut the door again.

“Y/N, back me up here! There’s so much we still don’t know, but I can’t even start looking into it if he won’t let me see him feed,” Hange practically begged, and your skin crawled at the topic.

Of course they were arguing about this.

“Leave her out of this, Hange, this is about your suicidal impulses--”

“But Levi--”

“You are not following me into the Underground to watch me kill people!” Levi hissed venomously.

“You’re going to have to let me see you in action eventually. And if you go forward with this plan of yours for your diet change, then I’m not going to have another chance to see before you move on from the Underground! It has to be within the next few times you go down there, or I’m not going to be able to help you anymore.”

“She has a point, Levi,” You ventured to say carefully, even though you knew you had one of the best reasons to side with Levi on this. He shot you a disbelieving look that you were taking her side in the matter, his eyes turning stormy.

“It’s too dangerous,” he said flatly. “I know how you are with Titans, Hange. If you get too close, or if you get even a little hurt when I’m focused on hunting, it could be over in seconds,” Levi said bitingly.

“I can handle myself, Levi--” Hange started to scoff, but you cut in again to correct her.

“Levi also has a point, Hange. You have less time to react with his speed than you do with a Titan. It is dangerous, and you can’t go into it lightly,” you said softly, your quiet tone forcing both of them to calm down by having to quiet and settle to listen to what you had to say. “And even though we gloss over it all the time, he is killing people. It’s not like your Titan experiments.”

You had to watch what you said, careful not to let your thoughts spill out that compared being excited to watch Levi hunt in the Underground to being excited to let a Titan loose and watch it eat someone. That was not a comparison you wanted to make with Levi--no one wanted to make the Titan comparisons to whatever had happened to Levi, but it was glaring, and you were certain everyone had at least thought of them.

The mood in the room shifted from tense to grim, and you took advantage of the silence to push a little in Hange’s favor.

“But Hange has a point about needing to see what happens when you feed. Most of her current questions and theories revolve around that, so you are going to have to let it happen eventually. And your plan for what to do besides feed off people in the Underground will make it impossible for her to tag along,” you told Levi pointedly.

“That doesn’t help settle the debate, Y/N, we’re still in the same rut. It’s too dangerous, but it is necessary,” Hange said in exasperation.

“How about this, then,” you said with a sigh, turning to look at Levi. “I know you don’t like the thought of it, but have Hange and Erwin follow, at least one time. That way there’s someone to keep her in check...Not to mention, it’ll be a good reality check,” you finished quietly, arms folded over your chest.

You could have suggested that you came along, but after last time, you weren’t keen to follow him on another hunt. Not to mention, you’d promised you’d never follow him on one again...and you didn’t think you could stomach witnessing it, even with the progress you were making in coping with your trauma from last time.

You were aware that you’d just significantly lowered the mood in the room, but it seemed everyone was keeping the truth about what was happening down there an arm’s length away from them, causing them to get out-of-touch with the reality of what happened to Levi. In your opinion, they did need a reality check to what those trips really meant. It was a horrible reality check, and you wanted desperately to not think about what they would see, but it would definitely help them approach Levi’s diet with a bit more...tact.

It wasn’t easy for him, you knew that firsthand. The bloodlust was a real and dangerous thing, and he had to be careful. They--namely Hange--wouldn’t push him so hard to do things before he was ready if they were faced with the gravity of the reality.

Ideally. Erwin was on an entirely different level, and you couldn’t predict what that man would do in any situation beyond surprise you, so you weren’t going to attempt to predict how he’d react to this reality check. You personally felt Hange needed to see it for herself. She would still be Hange, but at least she would finally know the gravity that this needed to be handled with instead of constantly having to rely upon shifty second-hand accounts.

Shifty because no one wanted to talk about what happened when Levi fed.

Hange turned back to Levi. “It sounds like a fair compromise. What do you say, Levi?”

Levi was sizing you up, trying to gauge what you were thinking and mulling over your words with a more-serious than normal feel in the air around him, expression grim. He’d been backed into a corner, now, and there was really only one way for this to go.

“Fine,” he relented, teeth grit and grinding against one another. “One time. That’s it.”

Hange brightened with glee at the thought of finally getting to observe Levi’s recent change in action like she’d been chomping at the bit to do for so long. “Great! You’re going back down in less than a week, right? We’ll go then--I’ll get everything arranged with Erwin.”

Levi let out a long-suffering sigh as Hange darted around the room to grab a few papers before rushing out the door, leaving just you and Levi in the room. He--understandably--looked gloomy and grim, apprehensive about the entire thing. Based on your own experience and what Hange had told you about her experiences, you knew he was not keen on letting Hange and Erwin see him like that.

Everyone was keeping the reality of the situation at arm’s length, and it was about time they all faced it. Strange how you were the one making the push for that confrontation.

“Look, I know it’s not at all what you want to do, but I think at this point, it’s needed. Everyone can’t keep turning a blind eye to the uglier side of this, it will only make things worse,” you told him, breaking the silence in the room. Levi didn’t say anything, his head turned away, holding perfectly still where he was leaning against one of the tables. “At least it will only be this one time.”

Levi turned to look at you, his eyes enough to tell you that you both knew if Hange got the chance or thought of a way, she would push for more. But what neither of them were talking about was the concern thick in the air about how they would react to this--Levi included. Up until now he’d been able to keep them relatively in the dark about his transformation--at least in what it looked like. Now they were going to see it in action as he ripped into and killed someone. Even if he wouldn’t admit it, he was probably terrified at what that was going to do to the relationship between the three of them.

You straightened, turning to the door. “Well...when it happens, and you come back, I’ll be in the mess hall with some tea if you want to talk afterwards. Or just want some company.”

Maybe it would help if afterwards he had some company with someone who had been on the receiving end and was still accepting of him nonetheless, even if you were still working through the forgiveness process to forgive him fully.

That night, your nightmares returned. They had lessened to off and on occurrences since the expedition, thanks to Levi’s efforts to apologize and the comfort he had offered that night after your nightmare. It wasn’t a complete cure, but you were getting better.

However, the argument between Hange and Levi about watching him hunt and the discussion had riled your bad memories, making it almost predictable that you would have a nightmare tonight.

As such, you awoke with a cry to your darkened room, squeezing your eyes shut and fumbling for the light to try and give yourself a bubble of protection while your panicked heart rate evened out and your mind reassured itself there wasn’t anything in the darkness lying in wait to pounce on you.

After a few moments, you managed to strike the match and light the lamp, providing you with a little light to push the shadows further away, giving you enough confidence to open your eyes. You ran your fingers through your hair, trying to get your breathing under control again.

You sat alone on your bed in the same position for what must have been several long minutes before a soft knock on your door had you raising your head.

He came again, then.

Grabbing the oil lamp that was sitting on the nightstand beside your bed, you shimmied out of bed and made your way quickly through the dark room to the door, unlocking it and stepping aside to let Levi inside.

Since coming back from the expedition, Levi was being more proactive in making things up to you. Maybe he didn't know exactly how to go about it, but he was still making an effort. When he spoke with you, his usual brisk, blunt way of speaking was softened. And when you had one of your nightmares…

Levi pressed a warm cup into your hand, taking the oil lamp from you once his hand was free, considering he had a cup of his own in his other hand.

"Go back to sleep when you're done with that," he told you quietly as he stepped inside, giving you enough space to shut the door behind him while you took a sip from your cup.

Like routine, Levi found his way to the desk in your room, setting down the lamp and his cup while you shuffled over to the bed. He sat down with a sigh at your desk, hand lingering over the cup as he watched you quietly for a few moments.

When you finished the tea, you settled back into your bed, turned so that you were facing where Levi sat.

It was an odd arrangement, perhaps, but since the expedition, this was what happened when your night terrors were bad enough to wake you. Levi would knock on your door minutes later if you hadn't managed to calm down, a calming tea for you in hand, and he would stay in the room as a reassurance that none of the demons that plagued you, waking or sleeping, were going to hurt you. Because he was right there, and he was going to stay there until you were truly okay. He didn't say much, and sometimes he brought paperwork to do while he was there, but for the most part, he would simply sit quietly at your desk keeping an eye on you, nothing more.

Facing the light and Levi helped to keep you calm as your mind slowly settled, your heart rate that had been pounding with anxiety gradually calming down. Your eyelids fluttered as you started to drift off towards sleep, watching Levi contently as he sipped on his tea and stewed on his thoughts. The slight curve downwards of his lips told you he was probably still thinking about Hange and Erwin coming along the next time he went to the Underground to feed. It was still bothering him, and she felt it would continue to bother him up to and most likely after it happened.

You hoped, all things considered, it wouldn’t turn out terribly. Levi had enough on his plate without worrying about how this could change how Erwin and Hange saw him.

*Levi’s POV*

Irritable and sullen was an understatement for how Levi felt as he led the way down to the Underground, Erwin and Hange flanking him in plain cloaks similar to his own, hoods drawn. They were supposed to stick close to him all the way down, at least until he had his target. At that point, he’d tell them where to go and break off to trap his prey on his own. Ideally, they would arrive where he told them to before it was over, but after he had his prey pinned so that they wouldn’t interfere with the actual hunt.

While Erwin and Levi pressed forward unfazed by their surroundings, Hange’s head was on a swivel, looking around at the Underground for the first time. Erwin kept her focused for the most part, occasionally having to pull her back into their group while Levi ignored them both, doing his best to put their presence out of his mind. Besides, he needed to focus in order to find who he was going to corner tonight--because of all the deaths recently, the criminals with brains were trying to be more subtle about their crimes instead of committing them out in the open, hoping that would help them dodge The Ripper.

Levi’s mood darkened further as the moniker flashed through his mind, sulking through the streets as he listened intently for a sign of trouble.

At least Erwin and Hange knew they could be down here for a little while before Levi managed to find someone up to no good that he wouldn’t mind preying upon.

“You really just come down here and wander until you find someone?” Hange eventually piped up after they’d been wandering for what felt like an hour. It looked like they were walking aimlessly, but Levi was being careful to bring a new part of the Underground within range of his hearing while they walked, covering new ground in his search for trouble.

“There’s always trouble down here if you know where to look,” Levi murmured in a low voice, gaze sweeping across the streets. They seemed more deserted than normal. Had his predatory presence made that much of an impact down here already?

As much as he hated to admit it and he knew he wasn’t in a position to try and force the change, Hange and Erwin were right--he needed to ditch the Underground diet as soon as possible and switch to his low risk plan.

This might have been a night that would go easier if he had taken the time to poke around and hear about some cruel top dog in one of the Underground criminal elements, that way he had a predetermined target he simply had to locate instead of wandering around waiting for an act of violence to happen. With most of the rats in hiding after the arrival of a cat, he was either going to have to start finding targets, or…

At long last, he heard a commotion that fit his criteria for a target. It was a little ways away, but the volume of hysterical screaming and crying made the words ring clear in his ears and painted a clear picture in his mind, expression darkening dangerously beneath his hood.

“Mommy!”

“Get the hell away from my son you sick son of a bitch! Get out!”

“Listen here you slut--”

“I’ll kill you myself--Don’t you ever come near us again! Get out! Out! Out!”

Levi spoke up, his tone low and dangerous and he interrupted whatever quiet conversation Erwin and Hange had been having behind him. “There’s a warehouse two streets over. I’ll be there in a few moments,” he deadpanned before abruptly breaking away from their group, stalking in the direction of the screaming at a jog before he turned a corner and it blurred into a run, the streets bleeding away at inhuman speeds as he rushed towards the sound of the commotion that seemed to be escalating in the home itself. Normally he’d wait until the creep was on the streets to snatch up his prey, but he was going to make an exception in this case, before anyone else got hurt.

With the sounds of someone getting thrown around inside, Levi busted through the door, prompting a shriek of panic. Making sure his face couldn’t be seen, he grabbed the man who had gotten himself marked for death, dragging him out the door and throwing him into the street before he grabbed the man by the throat, taking off at a full sprint and dragging the man along as he rushed for the warehouse.

When he reached the building he’d told Erwin and Hange to wait for him in, he threw his catch through the window, hearing a shout of surprise inside the building which told him Erwin and Hange were indeed already inside.

The man--now bleeding, judging by the smell in the air--attempted to plead with Hange and Erwin for help.

Hmm, he probably should have just dragged him through the door to try and avoid them getting even briefly dragged into the actual act.

“Please, The Ripper, he’s after me, please--”

Agitated by the use of that awful name, Levi followed close behind his now wounded prey, jumping cleanly through the shattered window and landing gracefully with a crunch of glass the only sound he made. His prey shrieked and clawed at Erwin’s shirt desperately in a last plea for help from the two people just standing there before Levi ripped his prey off Erwin and tossed him back several feet. His foot planted itself on his prey’s chest before they could even sit up, dark eyes boring down on him with his head tilted to the side as he debated the best way to go about this, every passing moment allowing him to put more and more distance between himself and his humanity as he let his monstrous instincts take charge.

Nothing about this hunt was normal, though. The entire thing was emotionally charged, with people he considered himself close to seeing this vicious, inhumane side of him he’d been hoping to keep hidden. It made the entire matter feel more personal, which was why he was desperately attempting to abandon his emotions and focus on the hunt.

He was, admittedly, playing with his food a little, though he was doing it between a mix of rage over what he had interrupted, and because Hange needed to see what happened when Levi let this new monstrous side of himself take over. It gave her time to observe like she wanted so badly to do.

“Is there anything in particular you need to see?” he asked in a monotone voice, his foot still holding down his prey effortlessly as the man struggled and cried trying to get free. When he didn’t initially get an answer, he turned to look at Hange to make it clear she was the one he was addressing.

Hange’s eyes went wide--even Erwin’s did, where he was standing just behind her--when Levi turned to look at her. Judging by the ache in his jaw from the scent of spilled blood and his hunger, and the fact he was on the verge of feeding, he knew his eyes were most likely glowing red in the darkness. Taken aback by the sight, it took a moment for Hange to respond, Erwin’s gaze sliding to her with her hesitation and Levi’s hunger-driven impatience causing him to shift his foot higher and press down on his prey’s throat to silence the blubbering.

“I...I just need to observe, for once,” Hange said in a serious voice, pulling herself back together and snapping to attention after Levi’s foot silenced the man beneath him. At that Levi picked up his prey--lovely, they’d pissed themselves--and shoved him up against a pillar with a low snarl, lips pulled back to show his fangs.

“But we could...also test the theory that you heal faster when you’re feeding,” Hange added hastily before he could bite into the sobbing man.

Levi turned slightly to glare back at Hange, that ravenous monster inside him already chomping at the bit to rip this man’s throat out and aggravated that it kept getting stopped. In his momentary distraction, the man Levi was keeping pinned grabbed the unlit torch on the pillar above them, ripped it down, and stabbed it blindly into Levi’s torso.

Now, Levi had been stabbed before, but the amount of pain that came from the mostly blunt edge of a wooden torch being stabbed into his chest was excruciating--and he’d been impaled by now. Of course, then he’d had the luxury of shock to numb the pain. This time, he felt every moment of it.

Levi recoiled with a gasp of pain, his prey slipping through his fingers and attempting to bolt down the hall. A wild snarl ripped past Levi’s lips as he pulled the torch out of his body and tossed it carelessly aside, eyes flashing as he darted towards the prey trying to escape.

Levi cut him off in the darkness, standing directly in front of the man and grabbing his chin, forcing his head aside before he hissed, fangs flashing moment’s before burying into his prey’s neck.

Any other parts of the world drowned out as Levi quickly lost himself in the feed, the rush of fresh blood soothing any pain he’d had from the stab. He was aware of the man bleating in his ear, so his hand shifted to force his mouth close and muffle the sound, his other hand stretching the exposed skin of his neck wider to give Levi a prime opening for his jugular. Blood trailed down the back of the man’s neck as Levi greedily gulped down what he could, initially thinking he would simply drain the man dry and move on.

However, he was still trying to stop himself before a person would pass the point of dying. He wasn’t sure now was the time for that experiment, but for the sake of his own progress away from this nightmare and not giving himself the chance to slip, Levi tried.

His prey was fighting back, fists pounding against Levi’s unmoving chest and arms, fingers clawing at him and drawing blood, but Levi didn’t move. If anything, it made him clamp down harder, feeling the struggles grow weaker and weaker…

While he still had enough strength to pound weakly against Levi’s chest, Levi managed to pull himself back, blood smeared across his lips and teeth with his tongue licking away stray drops, all thoughts of an audience forgotten as a slight groan escaped him.

Hold...hold...hold…

Once he was certain he’d paused long enough he would have been able to pull away if he so desired, Levi sank his teeth back into his prey at a much better angle this time. The pulls of blood he took were hard and long, his prey quickly going limp and turning cold in his arms as Levi bled him dry of his lifeblood, until he couldn’t draw any more blood without chewing on the man’s flesh like he’d done several times out of pure instinct when he’d first started feeding.

At that point, Levi let the body drop, stepping back with heavy breaths of air now that he was no longer gulping down blood, hand coming up instinctively to keep any wet blood from dribbling down his chin, licking up the traces around his mouth that he could reach, tongue careful of his still exposed fangs, before he pulled out a dark red handkerchief to wipe up anything he’d missed.

Levi wasn’t looking up at his audience he’d forgotten about in the midst of the feed, keeping his head down and focused on himself as he checked himself over to see how much of a mess he’d made. He was still getting blood down his chin and throat, and some around his collar, but he was no longer smearing blood all down his front.

He was nearly there, nearly able to leave this gruesome approach behind in favor of a more forgiving treatment for his curse.

But for now, he had two friends who had just seen him slowly murder a man in front of them for blood. Hearing about it was one thing. Seeing it in action...was entirely different.

“Did you get what you wanted so badly, Hange?” Levi asked as his handkerchief mopped up the blood attempting to stain his skin, his tone hollow--and not the kind of hollow that suggested he felt nothing over what he’d just done. It was more like...he felt something inside him dying, and he worried there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it.

“Levi…”

Levi finally looked up, swallowing hard at the looks of fear he could see in their eyes. Shutting down the thoughts of why they were looking at him that way before it could crack his composure, Levi stepped over the body and approached Hange, spreading open the hole in his shirt where he’d been stabbed so she could see it was already healed with a quickly disappearing scar.

“Looks like Y/N’s theory was right,” he said bluntly, turning partially back to the body. “You can head back. I’ll clean up here.”

“But we--” Hange reached out to grab his sleeve and stop him as he started to walk towards the body, but Levi shrugged her off without looking back. He didn’t want to see that look in their eyes while they stared at him any more than he had to.

“Discussion can come tomorrow. Take the night,” Levi returned before she could suggest they talk about this right now. He’d rather they both had time to process what they’d seen and for emotions to cool before discussing how he’d just murdered a man so casually...and cruelly.

He’d known this was a bad idea, that it wouldn’t end well, that it would do damage in an entirely different kind of way. But he’d been ganged up on and had to relent, and now here they were.

Levi crouched down next to the body in the darkness, mind already coming up with clever places to hide it as Erwin quietly spoke to Hange and got her to leave Levi be, guiding her away from the scene and back into the night.

Levi’s gaze lowered to his hands, the bloodied handkerchief still held in one hand, the bloodstains hard to catch with the color cloth he’d chosen.

I did it to survive, he was a stain on humanity, it was going to be someone, better him than an innocent...

So started the rationalization to help ease the guilt, except this time he couldn’t get the looks in their eyes out of his head, and the many things he tried to tell himself weren’t sticking properly.

How far from human have I drifted?

*Reader’s POV*

You were at the mess hall table for hours, trying your damndest not to fall asleep while you waited for Levi. Sure, it wasn’t a guarantee that he was going to show up after the hunt since you’d simply made an offer for companionship if he wanted it, but you wanted to make sure you were here if he decided to take you up on the offer. As such, you kept getting up to make tea as a way to keep yourself awake, nibbling on a small loaf of bread you’d pilfered from the food storage. Picking at it kept your hands busy, and eating the tiny pieces gave you something to do besides stare blankly into the darkness.

You looked up sharply when you heard the door creak open, relieved to see it was, in fact, Levi who was walking inside, his eyes downcast, expression mostly hidden in darkness. He seemed to still be wearing what he’d been in when he left, cloak and all, as he walked past the table you were sitting at and into the back, likely to make himself a cup of tea before joining you. He didn’t acknowledge you in any way, though you knew he knew you were there.

You’d known this was going to be rough for him, but this was giving you a foreboding feeling in your gut.

After several minutes spent in silence, Levi reappeared with his cloak draped over one arm and his cup in hand, taking a seat on the opposite side of the table, almost at the other end. He set his cup down carefully against the table and laid the cloak on the back of the chair next to him, and now that he was within range of the light of the lamp you’d lit on the table, you could see a hole in his shirt around his upper chest.

“Did something happen?” you asked in concern, nodding towards the tear. Levi glanced down at the hole, taking a short sip from his tea.

“I got distracted,” he said bluntly, his voice quiet and hardly piercing the dark silence between the two of you. As the silence settled once more between the two of you, you gazed at him in concern, thinking about his slightly disheveled appearance, the solemn air around him, his quiet tone that lacked it’s usual snarky bite, the hollow look in his eyes, the way his shoulders seemed slightly hunched forward.

You were worried about him. No, worried wasn’t strong enough. You might have been on the brink of being afraid for him, with that look in his eyes.

Just when you thought you wouldn’t be able to take the depressing silence any longer, Levi finally spoke up, though his words did nothing to brighten the mood.

“I’m running out of things to tell myself.”

At first, his words didn’t make much sense. What was he talking about? You studied his face closely as he gazed into his cup, trying to discern his inner thoughts based off context clues. He had just come back from a hunt, and considering his stance on human life, his current attitude, and what made this one so different, you could come up with a few guesses.

He could be talking about how he saw himself after what happened, or about hunting in general. Having to go out regularly and find someone to kill in order to survive was no doubt taking a toll on him, even if he tried to make it less terrible by choosing to go after bad people.

Were the rationalizations for what he was doing not enough anymore?

Whatever it was, specifically, that he meant, he was in pain. Pain wasn’t the emotion he was wearing openly right now, but you were certain it was there, even if it was buried under the gloom and solemnness. And he was coming to you, now, like you’d offered. But what could you possibly offer him at a time like this to help ease that pain? He would be going back to repeat the process within the next week, with how unsustainable his current diet had become, and he would continue to go back to kill someone until he could switch to another method that ideally was less of a risk.

Not to mention, you had the feeling he didn’t want to talk about what happened down there tonight, if the look in his eyes was anything to go by.

You scooted down a seat so you were a little closer, the rustling of your movement loud in the silence before you settled down again, now within arm’s reach of Levi. He hadn’t looked up from his drink, yet, but you didn’t need him to, not right away. Carefully, you reached out and put your hand over his, feeling him twitch underneath you at the gentle, almost intimate gesture. You waited until he finally looked up at you, a question in his eyes at what you were doing, why you were touching him like this.

“I forgive you,” you told him sincerely, your words soft even in contrast to the silence of the room.

It was a bit of a switch after what he’d just stated. The only reason why your words weren’t confusing was because you both knew what you had to forgive him for. It might not necessarily have to do with what was on his mind right now, but it was one of the many weights dragging him down right now. If there was ever a time he needed to be free of it so he wouldn’t drown, it was now.

Levi’s eyes widened marginally, lips parting in surprise before his eyes darkened and dulled, and he looked away, hand starting to pull free from under yours. “Maybe you shouldn’t.”

“Maybe,” you admitted, reaching out to hold onto his hand a little more firmly before he could fully retreat, giving it a small squeeze of reassurance. “But I have. I’m the one who decides if I can forgive you or not, and I have. Not out of pity, either, so don’t get that twisted. I forgave you in my heart a while ago. I just needed to say it out loud.”

When Levi didn’t outwardly react, you pushed a little more, just to be sure that you were getting it through to him. Right now, you needed him to know that you forgave him. You needed him to know that you didn’t hold any malice in your heart for him after what happened.

“Levi...I forgive you,” you stressed to him quietly.

Levi cleared his throat, pulling his hand free of your grasp and using it to pick up his tea so you couldn’t grab his hand again.

You could tell him you forgave him all you wanted. That didn’t mean he could forgive himself and accept it, yet.

What the hell happened down there that had put Levi in this state? You were going to have to talk to Hange in the morning about this, if only so you could get on the same page as everyone else.

Once more the silence permeated the air around them, with you sitting quietly with Levi, concern for him growing stronger with every passing moment. When he was just about out of tea, you decided you needed to speak up before he had an excuse to leave before you could make a visible difference in his mood.

You didn’t expect to make him smile and laugh, but you at least didn’t want to feel that air of self-loathing hovering around him.

“Why don’t you tell me about your plan--the one so you don’t have to keep hunting in the Underground,” you suggested, a hand coming up to rest your head against.

“You already know it.”

“Tell me again, anyway.”

Maybe talking about what almost was, his alternative that would free him from killing people regularly, would help ease his mind, at least a little. He wasn’t the kind of person to let this body count go, but if he could be reminded by himself that it wasn’t going to last forever, maybe it would help to soothe his conscience.

Levi sighed, as if repeating himself was a great annoyance he would rather avoid. For a moment, you thought he would refuse, but thankfully he decided to humor you.

“I’ve been looking for people that no one listens to, that others write off as ‘crazy,’ or people who can’t say anything. If no one listens to them on a normal day, then no one is going to think anything of it if they ramble about some creature taking their blood. Especially if there’s no evidence to prove it’s happening. I’m learning to stop before killing someone and to be cleaner so I can feed off someone without leaving more than a bite mark or the ramblings of a crazy person behind as evidence. Since my blood can apparently heal someone without turning them into what I am, I can make the bite disappear by giving them a little blood. No one dies, no one that will be believed outs me, I stay fed and get a better quality blood in the process. That’s the theory, anyway. We won’t know until I try, and I can’t try until I can stop myself and feed without getting blood everywhere.”

“Do you already have some names?” you asked him, prompting him to keep talking and get his mind off the present by focusing how he was going to improve his situation in the future.

“Some. It’s mostly the elderly or the sick, considering what I’m looking for. You’d be surprised how few we actually have behind the walls.”

Now it was just a matter of him having enough control not to accidentally kill someone while feeding. You had the strong sense now wasn’t the time to be saying that out loud, though, so you kept that comment to yourself.

“Well, it sounds like you’re almost ready to start. It won’t be much longer, then,” you said instead, soft gaze still watching Levi’s features. He seemed to have grown slightly more at ease, as you’d hoped, but that grimness was still hanging over him.

His tea now finished, Levi got to his feet, gathering his stuff to clean up after himself before he finally met your gaze again, eyes softening slightly when he looked at you. “It’s late. Get some sleep,” he said simply before leaving you alone in the mess hall.

The next day, you were somehow the one to go to Hange first, between you and Levi. As such, you were able to get the story from her about what happened and just how...borderline personal this hunt became between the man’s begging and Levi playing with his food. His dark mood upon his return made more sense to you, now, and Hange was still coming to terms with what she'd seen.

"I knew what he was doing down there, we talk about it while trying to learn more about what he is all the time, but seeing it was…" Hange sought out the correct words for what she was trying to say, and after a few moments, you filled it in for her.

"Horrifying? Much more real? Made things more personal?"

"I felt like I was standing by watching and letting a Titan eat someone," Hange admitted quietly. "I know it's not quite the same, at least Levi actually needs to drink blood to survive, but--"

"The comparison is still there. Believe me, I know, I've thought of it a couple times myself. I'm sure Levi is well aware of the comparison, as well."

"The scariest part was how...casual he was about the whole thing after he got his hands on them. It was like he didn't even care. I know he's mentioned he gets lost in the feed, but it was scary seeing him enjoy it that much at one point."

No matter how they looked at it, once you stripped it down to the bare bones they still had stood by and let a civilian get ripped into and drained of blood--eaten--right in front of them, not even doing anything when the man pleaded with them for help and his life. The only consolation they could give themselves was the trust that Levi had picked someone who'd done something truly awful and wasn't some innocent plucked off the streets.

"Don't think that because he's able to distance himself and surrender to instinct in the moment that makes this any easier for him," you admonished. You weren't entirely sure if that was the direction Hange was going with this, that it was concern Levi might be losing a part of himself and his humanity, but you wanted to get ahead of that assumption before it could form, if that was the case. For Levi’s sake. Even if he was losing a part of himself, it wasn’t gone yet, and you were certain it could be restored if need be. "It still weighs on him when he gets back, probably kills him on the inside, not that Levi would ever be open about that part. I don't think he could do what he needed to survive if he didn't distance himself from his humanity while he hunts. The night he turned, he was talking about hating the thought of people dying so he could live. Even if we can't see it, I think it's taken a toll on him to go down there and feed, especially as often as he does, now."

"I know. I got so wrapped up in learning more about what he is now that I didn't fully realize how difficult certain parts had to be for Levi. I know better, now. It was a…" Hange sighed, shaking her head, "reality check, as you suggested it would be."

"And Erwin?"

Hange snorted. "Erwin is Erwin, as straight faced and silent on the matter as ever. Though, even he looked disturbed last night at what we saw."

"Do you think you'll treat him any differently? He's still Levi any other time."

Hange looked up at the ceiling, pondering your words. "I think I'll treat talking about his diet and hunting a little more seriously. And I think I have more respect for what you went through and how you still manage to see Levi. It might be strange for a few days, but I'll readjust. Erwin too, I suspect."

You nodded, feeling a bit of relief at her words. You weren’t sure how you would have felt if your pushing for them to face what happened to Levi had led to a division between them, but it wouldn’t have been pretty.

"Make sure Levi knows. He had to have been worried about how you two would see him after this."

Hange’s eyes closed, and she stayed where she was sitting with her head tilted up to the ceiling for several long moments, taking a deep breath before suddenly springing to her feet.

"Enough of the depressing stuff! There is now plenty to talk about and go over about what I was able to observe, and some theories that need confirming or fleshing out. Not to mention I've finally seen his change firsthand and can make a proper record of what it looks like."

Your lips quirked slightly towards a smile, leaning back in your seat. "We should probably get started on that, then."

(Three weeks later)

*Levi’s POV*

With his hood drawn and his mind focused to a razor’s edge on the task at hand, Levi walked through the dark streets of one of the many towns inside Wall Rose. He stuck to the shadows to lessen the chance of being seen, his footsteps only heard by his ears as he crept forward silently, following a predetermined route to the home that was his destination.

He had to dodge the occasional Garrison soldier, but he managed to make his trip without being spotted, coming to a stop in front of the three story apartment building and looking up at the window four down from the left. He took a moment to listen to the surrounding area, making sure there was no one around to witness what he was about to do. Once he was certain he was in the clear, Levi coiled, kicked off the ground with those new abilities of his, and leapt up to the window he’d been eyeing. His hand connected with the windowsill, allowing him to pull himself up and open the window, easily sliding inside with relative quiet. He couldn’t help the sound of the window opening, or the dull thud from the impact as he landed from his jump, but he could control what noise he made.

Leaving the window open in case he needed a quick escape, Levi straightened up from his crouched position in the bedroom, his hood having fallen away. He wasn’t too concerned about it, considering the only person in this room was the same person he’d marked as one of his...victims.

Shaking the thought from his mind, Levi went over to the side of the bed where he could see someone’s slumbering form. He stayed silent for now, listening to the rest of the apartment in case the caretaker was awake. So far, it was just him moving around. As long as he stayed quiet, and his quarry stayed quiet, he wouldn’t be discovered.

Continuing his quiet motions, Levi reached out and carefully touched the older gentleman’s shoulder, attempting to wake him.

Mostly for the sake of his own conscious, he was going to try and get consent before he tried drinking from anyone. Most of the people on his list probably were incapable of giving it or comprehending, but he was still going to make the effort. It was so different from what he’d been doing up until now, but at the same time, it was almost relieving.

The man stirred, shifting slightly in bed and opening his eyes to spy the strange dark figure standing beside his bed. His eyes went wide, mouth agape and arm stretching out as if to shoo him away, but the most sound he mustered was quiet croaks.

And this was why he was Levi’s first. He had the least chance of being discovered here, which meant it was the perfect place for his first try at this new diet.

Levi grasped the man’s wrist carefully, placing it over the man’s midriff as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “I’m not here to hurt you, not really,” Levi reassured him, his voice low to keep it from carrying out of the bedroom. “I’m here to ask you for something I need.”

The man stopped croaking and waving his arm around, but his eyes were still wide, following Levi’s every movement.

“I need your blood. Not enough to hurt you,” he amended when the man started to panic again. “I need it to live. I’ll take some from you, heal you, and leave. That’s all. You don’t have to do anything but lie there and try not to piss yourself.”

The man started to reach for a little bell on his nightstand, but Levi casually pushed it out of reach before the man could even get halfway there with his slow movements. “I’m going to do it whether you consent or not, but I’d rather you did.”

The man continued to grasp in vain at the bell, and Levi sighed, accepting that this one wasn’t going to give him any consent. Pulling the man’s arm back to the bed, Levi turned the man’s head to the side, ignoring the panicked croaks he was making as he lowered his mouth to this throat before the hunger even took over.

It would probably be better if the man didn’t have to see his fangs and the glow of his eyes in the darkness. He was well aware the sight was nightmare inducing, and he didn’t need to scare the older man any more than he already had.

Levi’s fangs dug into the man’s neck, a raspy whine escaping the man beneath him as fresh, clean blood rushed into his mouth. It tasted so much better than the shit below ground, that the world around him almost immediately bled away, eyes closed and body relaxing as he felt something truly sustaining rushing into his system. It wasn’t as good as Y/N’s blood, but it was definitely going to satiate him, and keep him satiated far longer than his Underground diet had been keeping him.

When he ended up taking a hard pull to keep the steady flow coming, Levi realized he’d hit the point he needed to stop. His hands dug into the bed, eyes squeezing tightly shut as he tried to pull away. It was so much easier to stop when he’d been drinking the tainted blood from before, which was saying something considering it took him so damn long to be able to stop at all.

Levi grunted, and through sheer force of will, he forced himself to release the man’s throat, pulling out his handkerchief and pressing it against the man’s neck for the time being, his tongue running across his lips to catch any stray blood.

Once he was certain he wasn’t going to attempt to attach himself to the man’s neck again, Levi put the man’s hand over the handkerchief to keep the pressure applied, pulling out a dagger he was keeping stashed on his person. He cut open his palm without flinching, hand curling into a fist to let the blood dribble down his hand and down against the man’s lips, into his mouth. It was dark, so ideally he couldn’t see what was being put to his mouth and would swallow reflexively, saving Levi the trouble of having to force him to drink a little of his blood in return.

A few moments later, the cut in his hand had healed, and Levi peeled back the handkerchief at the man’s neck to see that he was, in fact, healing, though it was happening slower than Levi’s injuries healed.

Taking back the handkerchief, Levi cleaned up what mess of blood he had made, which wasn’t much, thanks to his practice towards being neater when he drank. He stood up from the side of the bed, and picked up the bell he’d moved out of the man’s reach.

“You’ll be fine,” he told him bluntly, watching and waiting until the bite mark on the man’s neck had disappeared entirely before he placed the little bell back within the man’s reach. “I’ll be back, but not for a while.”

Levi pulled his hood back up as the man reached for his bell, crawling out of the window and sliding it shut behind him before disappearing into the night again.

Though he lingered to see if the bell would be rung, making sure that even though he’d chosen his newest victims for the fact they couldn’t raise the alarm about him, that the older man wouldn’t somehow find a way. The bell was rung, but the caretaker assumed the older man had simply had a nightmare, and Levi was free to disappear into the darkness to seek out the second and last house of the night.

Levi Tags: @clary-quinn @humanitys-hottestsoldier @whalerus @sunny-flo @thirstyforsometea

Vampire!Levi Tags: @mysteriousmagicx @thesilencebeforeastorm @super-peace-fangirl @psychiccvampire

Investment Tags: @regalillegal @cecldcecld @soft-levi-girl-blog @kitomashi @hurwen-calaeril @doragonraitoningu

54 notes · View notes

one-boring-person · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! Could you do an imagine of David with an S/O that is a painter? Maybe of him trying to incentive her to continue and to don't give up on herself.

Of course I can! Thank you for requesting, I hope you like it!😊💛

Are You Serious?

David (The Lost Boys) x reader

Warnings: none

Masterlist

With yet another groan of frustration, I throw down my paintbrush and turn away from the object of my irritation. Cupping my face in my hands, I go to rub at my eyes, only to remember that there is a myriad of colourful pigments adorning my fingertips, which I'd rather not wear as a form of abstract eye make-up. Annoyed, I clench my fists and press them to my sides, trying to calm myself down again before I turn back to face the canvas.

I regret doing so immediately, a wave of insecurity flooding me as I look over the carefully crafted painting, my eyes roaming over every brushstroke and every slight imperfection, a desperation coming over me with each passing second. Stepping back from the desk, I go to check if it looks any better from afar, letting out a sound of despair when my critical mind makes sure to pick out every slight problem with the work, even if it isn't as bad as I'm making it out to be. Gritting my teeth, I look away and go to the window, staring out at the dark expanse of houses behind my own home, the view as depressing as it always has been.

A single tear rolls down my cheek as the overwhelming onslaught of emotions becomes too much, small sniffs filling the room as I slump forward slightly, my forehead now resting against the glass. Squeezing my eyes shut, I dig my nails into my palm in an effort to calm myself again, though the pain only serves to make me more incensed, my shoulders starting to shake lightly as my crying becomes harder. Through my stressed haze, I don't notice as the door opens and closes until the newcomer is stood behind me, his arms wrapping gently around my waist. Carefully, he presses his face into the back of my neck, his lips kissing at the sensitive area as he pulls me tighter against him, his comforting scent enveloping me quickly.

"What happened, kitten? Why are you crying?" David's smooth voice is soft and reassuring to me, the tone concerned as opposed to the usual sarcasm it generally contains.

"N-nothing." I sniffle, embarrassed to tell him the real reason for my distress.

He chuckles quietly, the sound somehow calming to me.

"Come on, (Y/n), I know you too well for that to work. Tell me what's wrong." He urges, lightly caressing my stomach as my hands come to rest on his.

Taking a breath, I look down at our hands, my face heating up as I go to reply.

"It's not working." Is all I say at first, blinking away another tear.

"What's not working?"

"Everything. Nothing I paint or draw at the moment is going right for me! Nothing! It all looks terrible, I've messed up all the commissions I've got. I'm going to lose so much income because of that and I'll never have any clients again because no one wants artwork from an incompetent artist." I blurt out, speaking almost exactly what's on my mind.

David pulls back a moment, his movements slowing at my stomach as he absorbs what I've said.

"Are you being serious?" Is all he finally says, voice laced with disbelief.

Turning on him, I scowl at him through the tears and push him back from me.

"Yes, I'm being serious! Look at them! They look horrible!" I point at the line of canvases leaning against the wall, each of them depicting something different.

David looks over at them briefly, before turning back to me and frowning in confusion, a look of understanding dawning on him.

"(Y/n), I think you should get your eyes checked," He remarks, smiling encouragingly at me, "Because you're definitely seeing something that I can't. These are outstanding! The talent you have to produce this stuff is out of this world! Trust me, in the decades that I've lived I've never seen such amazing artwork as this. None of this is "horrible", or "terrible" as you put it, it's all of an exceptional standard."

Scoffing, I wave him off and gesture to the work in progress on my desk.

"If anyone needs their eyes checking, it's you. Look at that! There is no skill, or talent there! It's a mess, an ugly, childish mess." I spit out, turning away from the canvas once more.

"Stop it, (Y/n). Stop putting yourself down and convincing yourself that the lies your mind is playing with are true, because they're not. These are incredible, just as you are an incredible artist, and I know full well I'm not the only person who thinks so. Think about it, if you were such a terrible artist, would people still ask you to paint for them? Would you still be getting too many clients for you to keep up with?" His words are matter-of-fact, knowing full well that his point is irrefutable.

Looking away, I glare down at my feet as I struggle to come up with a counter argument, my mind scrambling to find anything. I am distracted as David comes over me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me into him again so that our foreheads are pressed together.

"Come on, kitten, you know I'm right." He whispers to me, kissing the tip of my nose.

I pout, refusing to make eye contact with him. Rolling his eyes, he places two fingers under my chin and tilts my head up to face him.

"I think you just need a bit of a break." I nod at this, agreeing that he had a point.

"And I think I know the best thing for it." The platinum blonde smirks, pulling me from the room with a low chuckle as I follow him, a blush rising to my face.

#the lost boys #joel schumacher #vampire #david(thelostboys)#kiefer sutherland #paul(the lost boys)#dwayne(the lost boys)#santa carla #marko(the lost boys)#star(the lost boys)

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lordoftermites · 4 years ago

Text

Fairy Chess ‖ p. ⅱ

Desire, I'm hungry I hope you feed me How do you want me, how do you want me? Pairing: Roiben x Kaye Rating: M/E for Myself is a deviant and Everybody about to know about it Part Ⅰ

――――――

"I warned you, little fox," he whispers roughly. "I do not play fair."

The halls on the way to his rooms are near empty and quiet—a stark contrast to the liveliness of the throne room, much to Roiben’s relief. He leads Kaye along, passing the odd servant every few paces; they shuffle out of the kitchens, carrying silver trays piled high with replenishments and crystal bowls overflowing with varying shades of equally-diverse liquor. They stumble into bowing when they see the king among them, to which he gives a nod in response, releasing them to continue their tasks.

As they pass the still-bustling kitchens, he wonders, absently, if any of them have had a moment’s reprieve through the near-month-long revelry. He concludes not likely, and makes a mental note to be sure they are given proper respite when this is all over. Roiben had promised he would be different—better than those who held his station before him. He could start with this.

Suddenly, Kaye is pulling on his arm, tugging him out of his reverie and into a dark corridor splitting off from the main hallway. Roiben frowns; she knows the way to his chambers, and this isn’t it.

“What—?” he starts, but the question is abruptly silenced when Kaye pushes him back into the packed earth wall and covers his mouth with her own.

Her kisses are furious, burning things. Her hands, as they slide up the front of his doublet to grasp the buttons fastening it closed, are echoes of that ferocity.

Before Roiben can protest (not that he had a mind to in the first place), she’s already loosed the three silver clasps at his collar and is fumbling to undo those remaining. His own hands find their place at her hips to pull her into him. The sigh she gives when his fingers sink into the soft flesh there sends a spreading warmth through his lower abdomen, to the hardening length between his legs. They begin their own dance, tongue over teeth in the abandoned hall, the only sound that of their own breath quickening.

After freeing the last clasp of his doublet, Roiben’s already-labored breathing catches in his throat when Kaye’s hand slips farther down, to grasp him through his trousers. He shudders, fingers digging into her sides at the shock of the sensation. “Kaye,” he cautions against her swollen mouth, but she answers him only with a teasing squeeze. A groan rattles his chest. It’s almost painful for how good just this small action feels. Then he realizes, like a strike of lightning: she had made her first move of the game when she pulled him into this corridor, and now she’s advancing her turn without allowing him his.

A pixie, indeed.

Before she can steal another victory, Roiben encircles her wrist with his thumb and forefinger and spins them in one motion, until she is the one backed against the earthen wall. He pins her arm at her side, then forces a knee between her legs, parting them roughly. Kaye makes a small gasp at his sudden forcefulness, but doesn't protest. Instead, her leg snakes up to curl around his hip encouragingly.

He presses himself against her other thigh, near to throbbing now after her first wicked move. When he meets her eyes, he can see the greed in them even in the dim light. Her breathing is shallow, but she looks as though she’s ready to devour him in one gulp. He feels himself twitch at the thought of that. Kaye must have felt it too, because she grinds herself against his knee and bites her bottom lip in the same, ruinous way she had in the throne room.

This time, however, there are no onlookers to witness him leaning in to grab that bottom lip with his own teeth, no courtiers to gasp when he sucks on the swollen flesh—nor are there any other ears to hear the delicious moan she gives him for his checkmate.

Releasing her wrist, Roiben pauses only long enough to allow her to think it’s her move; sure enough, the hand he’d been holding against her side reaches out for him again, but he stops her short by crossing an arm over her chest, pinioning her there against the wall. Kaye huffs in frustration, wriggling against the bar of his arm.

A dangerous smile tugs at the corner of Roiben’s mouth. He brings his lips to her ear again, snaking his tongue out to lick the lobe. “I warned you, little fox,” he whispers roughly, his free hand gliding under the sheer fabric of her dress to thumb the band of her underwear, “I do not play fair.”

With a wink much like the one she’d given him earlier, he slips his hand down to the heat at the junction of her thighs.

Kaye’s gasp is divine, her arching back and the feel of her pulse against his stationary palm setting his mouth to water. She tries to grind against his hand, but he moves with her, refusing her the friction. Her fingers claw at his forearm in feral protest as he presses against her bundle of nerves yet makes no further move to give her what she wants. She lets out a whine, while her leg squeezes against his hip. Roiben can’t help but grin at the petulant sound.

“That’s… not… fair,” she pants, then seems to remember what he’d just finished reminding her; she relaxes, minutely and begrudgingly, against him and lets her head fall back against the wall.

Another point to the king.

Roiben takes this small sign of surrender with another smile and begins to move, drawing a languid line up, then down her slick petals. Without warning, he pushes a single finger into her core. Kaye makes a sound bearing close resemblance to a sob.

Just the feel of her, warm and trembling around him, is enough to make him stifle his own moan against her neck. But it’s Kaye’s mewling gasps in tandem, the agonizing pleasure as she bites down on his exposed shoulder in retaliation, that causes his hips to buck of their own accord against her other leg.

He draws back to look at her, wavering on a salacious faultline of his own making. It’s a measured effort to keep himself from taking her, right there in the dark of the hall—and by the look in her eyes, she knows it. “Now, that was unfair,” he grits out, reciprocating her low blow by adding another digit to his rhythm.

Kaye’s eyes widen before rolling closed, enraptured as his fingers curl inside her. He’s unrelenting now, driven by his own building desire as well as Kaye's own, picking up speed and then slowing to a painful withdrawal before sliding back in to the base of his knuckles. He can tell she’s every bit as furious as she is aroused; by the way she sinks her nails into his chest and drags them down his torso, her frenetic gasps; her leg a vice around his back; her walls clenching around his fingers.

She’s growing frantic—a wild creature lashing out at her captor. Fortunately for the both of them, Roiben has no interest in taming her any longer.

He traces his tongue along the pulsing vein in her neck as he finally gives her leave to move, withdrawing his arm from where it braced against her chest. “Go ahead,” he encourages her, palming her breast with his now-free hand through her dress. Kaye needs little more incentivizing than that; tangling her fingers in his hair, she rocks down onto his hand, setting her own chaotic speed. Her head falls against his shoulder, her lips going to caress the spot she’d bitten earlier.

Her other hand finds him again, stroking his length through his trousers. Roiben's eyes roll and he sucks in a breath at the touch, but he forces himself to keep focus; over and over he thrusts his fingers into her core, as deep as he can get them, curling and pressing into the spot that makes her cry out.

Kaye's whimpering, coupled with her unfettered rutting against his fingers while she palms him, is drawing him closer to the edge of his already-wavering control. His cock is overhard in her hand, his trousers too constricting. It is no small effort to keep his composure from crumbling.

Adding a third finger, he swirls his thumb over her soft petal of nerves and dips his head lower, closing his mouth over the thin fabric to get to the pert nipple beneath it.

He isn’t sure which of these—if not all of them at once—is the one to send her careening over the edge of rapture, but she topples all the same.

“Oh—oh, god. Ohfuckoh—fuck, Roiben!”

She’s attempting to stifle herself in the hall, but seems to struggle in maintaining a steady octave. When she buries her face in his shoulder to muffle her curses, he doesn’t restrain his pleased smirk.

Kaye bows off of the wall, spasming around his fingers as she rides the tempestuous wave of her release. Determined to see her through it, Roiben continues the pumping rhythm she set, teeth raking the sensitive area of her breast. She writhes and convulses against him, until her moaning declines into quiet whimpering at his neck. She collapses back against the cool earth, breath ragged, seemingly spent.

When Roiben finally straightens and withdraws his hand, however, Kaye catches him at the wrist, surprising him.

She brings that hand up to her clover-green lips; his eyes widen.

“Rath Roiben Rye…” His true name is hardly an exhaling of breath—though he hears her as clear as if she'd screamed it—before licking herself off his fingers.

He can’t decide, at the moment, which act is most shocking, but he can do nothing about either—even if he could work it out: He goes still as stone with the instant power of her invocation.

And while he knows Kaye can’t mean to do him any harm, that this must be some perverse ace up her sleeve to win their little game, not an ounce of that knowledge does anything to stop the old panic from clawing its way up to close his throat.

It does not balm the sudden stinging behind his vision.

His breathing comes in too short. Too shallow.

He realizes the irrationality of these feelings against Kaye. They are unnecessary—unwarranted. They are old nightmares.

She knows now what it means to conjure that power. What it means to him.

His heart is yet a wild animal beating against its own cage.

She won’t hurt him. She loves him. She knows.

Say something, he pleads without speaking.

He cannot diffuse his thoughts. He cannot bear this fear of suspension, the hovering step, seconds before the floor is stolen out from under him; of watching—of feeling every muscle, every joint, every nerve in his own body go rigid against his will, as it does every time. He knows he’s trembling, and yet he cannot stop himself. Not unless it comes from Kaye's mouth. Not unless she speaks the order.

Do it. Make me move.

Command me, Kaye. Command me, or release me.

It’s only a moment, a breath as she regains her bearings, but it is a long enough stretch of time that when she does speak, he is near to spiraling.

“Take me to your room, now.”

#*just... sets this down right here*#yeah i uh-#need a cold shower #maybe an ice bath #still working on part 3 tho - it's giving me shit #but enjoy the slowburn in the meantime i guess #roiben #rath roiben rye #kaye fierch #kaye x roiben #modern faerie tales #mft #tfota #also if you know why i had to put 'little fox' in here come get your cookie pls #also i'm still trying to get my feel for how roiben would get down #he'd either be a body-worshipping suppliant or a rabid animal and i don't think there's an in between

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eddie-gluskin-and-i · 3 years ago

Note

Picture this:

I wrapped my fingers gingerly around the wooden lining of the door. I pressed my cheek to the cold wood.

Following my trail, you stepped into the doorway. Standing, your hand wrapped high around the same lining as I, as you swing into the dark room. There was a bitter scent of blood and sweat that overwhelmed the doorway. I curled closer into myself. I kept my gaze low, as if you wouldn’t notice me crouched directly beside you. My breath was almost silent under yours, thunderous and wild. I shuddered quietly. I closed my eyes in preparation, then opened them again.

You were looking directly at me. You knew I was there the entire time, and you dragged the inevitable. You grinned, wide and pretty.

“There you are, darling!” You hushed excitedly. You dug your nails into my arm, and threw me into the light.

You let me stumble to my feet, taking the time to pull a long, thin bladed knife from a loop around your waist. I take a wide stance, loosely mimicking yours. My hands, although slightly raised, were not cowering over my face.

You came at me quickly, which I hope is something that only did during a fight. You came at my stomach, one arm over the other, to fold my torso over your blade. I didn’t expect it. The knife was sharp and parted through the meat of my gut cleanly, and would have went through my body if the handle did not stop it.

Your chest pressed to mine, your broad shoulders catching my chin and pressing against my throat. Your arm snaked around my bare waist, your fingers tapping gently on the bone of my hips.

My stomach burned hot, like January embers. I gritted my teeth and groaned breathlessly. You took my breath away, once again.

You pulled the knife from my stomach, but you did not move away to leave me to bleed. You moved to worsen the wound. I grit my teeth. I was still alive.

I catch your wrist before you could stab me again, slick with blood. There was effort, and strength behind my fight. Although afraid, my gaze was thick with determination, the natural need to survive.

Your move.

"Oh, darling..." Eddie groans. It's a passionate groan, bordering on lustful. It makes your blood curdle.

He takes your bloody hand and presses it to his lips. You feel his warm tongue lap at the sticky redness as it drips down your fingers and over your palm. His tongue follows the trail in a frenzied act of twisted desire.

You're still in shock. Disgusted. It takes all your strength to remain upright as a pang of pain flares in your gut, as you feel that lascivious tongue laving your hand.

Then he twists the knife, and you groan in turn. It amplifies into a muffled scream as he presses his heavy body into you. The weight drives the knife further into you and your knees buckle as the searing pain saps you of any remaining strength. He quickly catches you and draws you close in a cruel parody of tenderness.

"Darling, you're so obscene," he purrs into your ear with bloodied lips. "Though you must wait for the wedding night. It will be worth it, I swear."

The last thing you remember before giving in to the darkness is his eyes boring straight into yours. They're empty, but a wide and cruel smile softens his face.

*Oh my stars: "You came at me quickly, which I hope is something that only did during a fight" 😂

#eddie gluskin #outlast #outlast whistleblower #ask blog #rp #story time #picture this #weird kinda spicy #yes it was uncomfortable to write

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bonjour-rainycity · 4 years ago

Text

The Long Way Around ~ Chapter 16

Link to previous part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/625552318938611712/the-long-way-around-chapter-15

Pairing: Jasper x Reader

Word count: 3050

Warnings: None

Y/n’s POV

I sigh, pulling on my tennis shoes. “Can we do this later? I’m not feeling it.” It’s only been six hours since our last drill, I haven’t heard from Jasper, and the burn in my throat has yet to fade from six hours ago. I just want to be left alone.

“No.” Rosalie’s voice is firm, and she reaches down a hand to pull me up. “You need to be consistent otherwise you’ll lose progress. No more moping.” Now, she gives me a shove towards my bedroom door, “I’ve let this go on for too long.”

Childishly, I take slow steps towards the door. I really just want to get back in bed and watch some Netflix or something. “It’s not like it’s your fault. I’m just not in the mood.”

“Look,” Rosalie sighs, placing her hands on her hips. “Being away from your mate is hard, I get it. Emmett and I hate being away from each other, but-”

Her words register, and I have to cut her off. It’s something that’s been bothering me since the fight, when Cora addressed Jasper. She’d asked him if he was willing to die in the place of his mate, and she’d meant me. And now, Rosalie throws the term casually into conversation. My mind floats back to that discussion Jasper and I had all those months ago, about mates, and I know that the term is anything but casual; it’s equivalent to an eternal, undying commitment.

“Yeah, about that.” Rosalie’s eyebrows raise, presumably at being interrupted, but she speaks no further. I play with my fingers, glad Jasper’s not here to feel my insecurity and nervousness. It might give him the wrong impression. “That word has been thrown around a lot recently.”

Now, a smile quirks across Rosalie’s lips. “Does that bother you?”

“No, not bother,” I’m quick to correct. “It definitely does not bother me, it just…y’know, means a lot.”

“And that worries you?” This time, her guess is correct.

Timidly, I nod. It feels dumb to be admitting all of this, but it’s the truth. “It just feels so fast to be feeling this way.”

Rosalie takes a small step towards me, and her voice is kind when she speaks. “You guys go at whatever pace feels comfortable for you. All I’ll say, is when you know, you know. And there’s no going back.” She heaves a sigh, and then smiles. “Now, get your butt in the backyard. You are not getting out of training just cause you’re in love.”

Rolling my eyes, I follow her out of the house. I’ll have to make time to mull over my thoughts later, when I’m alone.

When we reach the backyard, which is really just a clearing in between the massive house and the forest, Emmett is waiting, and so is a scent that throws me into an immediate predator-like crouch.

“Emmett, you’re supposed to wait until she’s prepared to open the bag,” Rosalie chides, looking at me warily.

Emmett shrugs, a wide, unbothered grin across his face. “I’m taking it up a notch.”

Just the fact that I can register their conversation shows me how far I’ve come. A few weeks ago, I would’ve been laser-focused on the squishy bag fifty yards from me. I use the knowledge of my progress as a lifeline and force myself out of my crouch.

The footsteps racing toward me give barely a second to react before I’m slammed onto the ground with the force of a freight train. I snarl, fighting to get the dead weight off of me. The weight snarls back, and I recognize the sound instantly as that of another vampire. He must have smelled the blood and come to fight me for it. With that knowledge, my new goal becomes escape and, if possible, escape plus satisfaction in the form of guzzling the packaged human blood. But my first priority is set. With a growl, I grip the shoulders of my assailant, using my strength and my ability to put him on the ground. The man gasps in response to my attack, and soon a groan is drawn from his lips. My hands tingle, the only physical sign that I’d used my powers. Once the man is on the ground, I hold him down with a knee on his chest. I’m about to hit him with a wave of fire to further incapacitate him, when I notice the contorted, yet familiar, face below me.

“Arthur,” I gasp, hurrying off of him.

He takes a few steadying breaths but looks at me with a glint in his eye. “Nice job.”

“Yes,” another voice agrees as Edward hurries to join our group. “That was very controlled, Y/n.”

“Controlled?” I’m sure my eyes must be bulging comically. “I about made my friend think he’d been set on fire just so I could have some packaged blood.”

The blood. I freeze as I realize I had been ignoring it. Not unaware of it, exactly, just not prioritizing it. Experimentally, I take a shallow breath through my mouth. The fire ignites, but I fight through it. I take another breath, and another, eventually working up to a deep breath through my nose. That hits me the hardest, but with gritted teeth and much effort, I push down the urge to follow the scent.

Oh wow.

My face breaks in a grin to match that of Rose, Emmett, Arthur, and Edward.

Even now, fully aware of the sweet smell, I can ignore the urge to go after it. The temptation, as well as the painful burn in my throat, are very much present, but I can control my instincts. I am controlled.

“Aha!” I exclaim in joy and jump in the air, elevating about twelve feet before crashing back into the ground, leaving a small crater.

I bask in the congratulation from my friends as well as in my newfound optimism. Maybe Jasper is right. We might actually be able to go on a trip soon, just the two of us.

I swallow at the implication.

We’ve never been alone before for an extended period of time. Even our two trips to the waterfall were relatively brief.

Now that I know it’s a real possibility, I ache for uninterrupted time with Jasper.

But then my thoughts shift and I’m returned to a state of worry as I face the harsh reality that none of us have heard from either Carlisle, Esme, or Jasper in well over six hours.

The fact that Edward hears my thoughts and can offer no reassurance makes me feel even worse.

Emmett notices the shift in my mood. “Wanna wrestle?”

Usually I refrain, but right now, that actually sounds kind of fun. At the very least, it will distract me.

Hesitantly, I nod, and Emmett grins widely. After tossing the now tightly closed bag to Rosalie (who discards it safely), Emmett draws me further away from the house.

“Esme will kill us if she comes back to crushed brick,” he explains.

Edward chortles. “What, again?”

“Hey you’re next baby bro,” Emmett teases, his grin never slipping.

We circle each other for a few minutes. Then, with barely any warning, he lunges.

We grapple. I’ve been a vampire for nearly eleven months now, and my newborn strength is all but gone. Emmett is definitely stronger than me. My advantages lie in my speed—Emmett’s size makes him slightly slower than others—and in my ability. Still, I’m very hesitant to cause my lovable friend pain, so I keep a tight reign on my powers.

Emmett manages to get his arms around my middle and tosses me about two hundred yards. I slam into a tree, taking it down with me. But before it has a chance to hit the ground, I’m standing in front of Emmett, using his shoulders to throw him off balance. Just as I’m about to kick him in the stomach, a low move, I know, Edward’s phone rings. Immediately, we all freeze, guessing who will be on the other end of the call, but in the dark as to what news they will provide.

“Carlisle?” Edward’s voice is terse, a vocal expression of the feelings raging inside my heart. Please, please let Jasper be okay.

“Edward, we are on our way home. The conversation went well.” Carlisle’s voice is calm, optimistic even, and my friends exhale sighs of relief. I can’t quite relax yet though. Not until…

Thankfully, Edward hears the frantic tone to my thoughts and takes pity.

“Is everyone alright? Where are Esme and Jasper?”

“Everyone is just fine. Esme is checking us out and Jasper’s running a quick errand before we leave for the airport.”

I let out a shaky breath, nearly falling to the ground as all the tension leaves my body. He’s okay. He’s coming home.

“Wonderful,” Edward enthuses. “When should we expect you?”

“Our flight is supposed to land around five tomorrow morning, and we should reach the house around eight.”

The three hour drive between our small town and the nearest international airport suddenly seems incredibly rude. Perhaps…

Immediately, Edward shakes his head in my direction. “You’re not ready for that.”

“But you said I was controlled!” Inwardly, I cringe. My voice sounds like that of a whiny teenager.

“Controlled for the exercises, yes, but it will be completely different when you’re surrounded by humans, even if you stay in the car,” he tacks on, knowing my next argument. “Besides, Carlisle parked his Mercedes at the airport. It makes no sense to drive there when he already has a car waiting.”

I fight back a groan. I just want to see Jasper. I miss his hugs, his scent, the feel of his hand in mine, the way he smirks when I tug on his hair, cuddling up and reading or watching movies, the sound of his laugh-

Edward’s kind chuckle breaks through my thoughts. “Just eighteen more hours.”

Pursing my lips, I check my watch. It’s just past two-thirty. I can distract myself for seventeen hours and twenty-four minutes. Right?

Edward focuses back on his conversation with Carlisle, but I tune him out. I can get all the details later, from Jasper. All that matters now is that they’re safe, they’re coming home, and that the mission was successful.

I think of ways to fill my time. Hunting would certainly be a fun occupation, but I quickly dismiss the idea. Jasper will want to go when he returns, and I would rather go with him. Heck, we might get a whole family trip out of it if Carlisle and Esme need to go, too. I could kill a few more hours wrestling with Emmett though, eventually, we were sure to get sick of throwing each other around. Randomly, a thought strikes me, and a smile spreads across my face.

“Bella, Alice, Rose” I call, hurrying back towards the house.

{***}

Seven grueling hours later, we’ve amassed our supplies. Paint cans and pillows and fabric and wood and brushes and tools and baskets and a million other tiny objects crowd my room. It seemed much larger before we crammed all this in.

While the girls had kindly set up a room for me after my transformation, it lacked, well, me. The style was very generic and resembled more of a guest room than someone’s personal space.

I decided it was time for a change.

Bella lost interest hours ago and was now off somewhere with Edward, so Rose had roped Emmett into being our fourth set of hands.

“I like the pink, but that’s just me,” Emmett contributes, sounding surprisingly emphatic.

Rosalie groans. “I asked for base colors, not accent colors.”

Emmett makes a face that quite explicitly communicates the word, ‘geesh.’

I hold back a laugh and instead focus on studying the samples of paint in front of me. One in particular stands out, and I relay my decision to the group. We begin painting, each of us taking a wall. Arthur seems to feel left out and joins us about halfway through, and Rosalie puts him to work building a window seat.

Soon, my walls boast a calming sage color, and I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. Yes. Arthur’s constructed a lovely window seat complete with little doors on the bottom to give me extra storage, and I thank him profusely. It’s truly beautiful. Alice disappears and comes back with the perfect lace curtains, and I actually squeal. I would have never thought to include lace but, seeing it in context, I can’t deny that it’s just perfect.

To add a bit of depth (in Rosalie’s words, anyway), we throw in some hints of lavender, cream, and brown. Pleased with my reaction to his window seat, Arthur and Alice craft a bookshelf, and then leave in search of the perfect chair and table. While they’re gone, Rosalie, Emmett, and I talk bedding. After a surprising amount of arguing, we decide on a cream duvet and many pillows in variations of cream, lavender, and coffee.

Alice must have been notified of our decisions (by means of text or supernatural premonition, I don’t know), and returns bearing many gifts. She and Arthur set the items gently on my bedroom floor: a dusty pink vintage chair, a carefully distressed cream circular end table, a small cream pillow (presumably for the chair), a handful of startlingly large blankets, and hanging twinkly lights for above my bed. I about burst with excitement.

Not about to be outdone, Emmett leaves and returns exactly one hour later bearing a huge flat-screen TV. He grins as he and Arthur rebuild the bookshelf into a larger bookshelf-entertainment center-combo. It’s truly awesome.

With five hours before Jasper’s arrival, my room is finished. I can’t help but beam as we slide the last of my books into place on the carefully organized shelf.

“You guys….” Emotion makes my voice tight. In my, albeit fuzzy, human memory, I can’t locate a time when my friends had gone to such lengths to help me, to make me happy. I’m truly, deeply grateful for these people I get to call my friends. More than that, my family. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

They respond with smiles and an easy chorus of phrases diminishing their instrumental roles. I just pull them in for a group hug, which is met with varying levels of appreciation, and can’t help but laugh.

They leave me alone to enjoy my new space but also so they can finish cleaning up before Esme gets home. I feel bad, them having to take trips to the dump and various stores on my behalf, but Edward is right. I’m not ready to be surrounded by actual humans. Still, I’m eager to show Jasper my progress. He’ll be proud of me.

The thought of my love—for, as much as it scares me to think of him that way, he surely is— causes me to pause. Now that my room is all nice, it seems unfair for him to have to come home to find his untouched. A flash of a weak human memory confirms my theory: I had just returned from a week long school trip and found my room clean with freshly washed sheets. Someone—my mom or my dad?—had figured I would be tired and knew I would appreciate the act. Hopefully, Jasper would too. I exit my room and turn up the staircase to the top floor. Jasper’s room is located at the eastern corner of the house, and I head in that direction. When I get to his door, I pause. I��d been in here many times before, but never without him. Would he be upset? Would he consider this an invasion of his privacy? Those fears nearly send me back down the stairs but, reviewing what I know of his character, Jasper wouldn’t be angry. He probably wouldn’t even care. So, I push the door open.

Jasper’s scent, while faint, hits me, and I close my eyes, savoring. It’s been days since I’ve been surrounded by the comforting warmth of him, and my heart aches for his return.

I want to kick myself for being so besotted. Who was I, that I would be reduced to such sadness at just a few days away from my boyfriend?

I sigh, knowing the truth.

But he’s not just my boyfriend. Jasper is my mate. Neither of us is human anymore, so human standards cannot apply to us. What I feel for him is so completely…more than any human could ever even conceive of feeling.

I swallow under the weight of my admission. Put simply, I know deep in my gut that Jasper and I will be together for eternity. And, if death ever tries to do us part, it will not succeed. Whether in after-life or whatever comes next, we will be together.

Oof.

Needing to focus on something other than these intensities, I hurry to Jasper’s bed and strip the sheets and pillowcases. His room is spotless, so there’s not much work for me there. Still, while his bedding is in the washer, I busy myself with dusting, While wiping off one of his shelves, I find a couple of my books I’d noticed were missing, and roll my eyes. Thief. In retaliation, I take his favorite chessboard and shove it under my bed. Now, we’re even.

Once the bedding is finished drying, I replace it and smooth it out, making the bed as best I can. Vampirism is supposed to make you good at everything, but I can’t quite replicate the tightly fitted corners Jasper creates with ease. Eh, good enough. Besides, it’s the thought that counts, right?

I replenish the washing machine with Carlisle and Esme’s bedding next, not wanting to leave them out. Just because I’m not ridiculously in love with them doesn’t mean they shouldn’t have freshly washed sheets too, right?

By the time I’m done with my various cleaning, it’s only two hours until Jasper’s arrival. Alice can sense my anticipation, and invites me to watch a movie with her. I accept but, instead of focusing on the classic plot, count down the minutes until I can hear the car’s wheels on the drive.

A/n Thank you for all your kind words on my last update! Each reply, like, and reblog makes me smile and I truly appreciate you taking the time out of your day to do that! Don’t forget to let me know what you thought of this chapter and if you would like to be added to the tag list :)

xx,

Bjr

Link to next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/625820783935160320/the-long-way-around-chapter-17

Tag list: @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @one-thread-can-save-a-life @salsameter @enchantedcruelsummer @meashy-moo @sana-li @femflorals @80strashbag @tomisbaeholland @heyimval13 @triscuitcracker @deviantly-gayy @sleepywinnie847 @vexingcosmos @avalongrey @artms-blnd

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frostsinth · 4 years ago

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Royal Flush - Pt. 6

Part 1|2|3|4|5 - MasterList - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art

Shit, it’s already part 6??!! Ok, so this update is REALLY long, but I assumed you guys wouldn’t mind. I hope you will enjoy the dynamics bewteen the characters I tried to play on here.

I’m already working on the next chapter, which will be a bit juicier. And there will probably be more art, since I love drawing these two, so be sure to keep an eye out for both!

If you like this story, check out my others on my MasterList above. Feel free to BuyMeACoffee while you are there. As always, drop me a ask/comment/reblog if you have any questions or thoughts! I always love to hear back from you guys.

“Well…” Damjan wheezed breathlessly, then hoisted himself up into a sitting position, “It seems you are in peak form today,” He looked up at me from where I had just laid him low, giving me a lopsided grin, “I’m guessing you and the King worked things out then, Your Highness?”

I offered him a hand sheepishly. “Apologies, General,” I replied as I hauled him back to his feet, which took the majority of my strength, “I hope I caused no injury nor insult.”

“Bah!” He grunted, releasing my hand and slapping his own down the front of his trousers to release the worst of the dirt. “I’d be a rotten wassa indeed if I let a fancypants shiba Prince keep me down.”

I considered the strange words only briefly before he forced me back into my defensive stance with a soft lunge. It didn’t surprise me; the half-goblin General always seemed to be poised to strike. More than once he had caught me off guard. But I was a fast learner, and he gave me a toothy grin in acknowledgement of my successful block. I nodded, and he executed another series of attacks that had me dancing back on my toes. For his size, Damjan was very quick. I was less attentive to the spar, however, and more so to his constant peppering of goblinese into our conversation. It was certainly a change from our previous meetings.

“Well, Your Highness?” He called as he dodged my returning attack, sending me shooting past him and spinning on heel to prepare for the next onslaught, “Did you two manage to reconcile your differences after all? And keep your knees up!”

I raised the edge of one eyebrow at him, side stepping his feint and landing a solid blow on his shoulder. “My apologies again, General,” I shot back, hiding a blush as I loosened my stance to circle around his outside, “But I don’t believe that is any of your business.”

“On the contrary.” He argued, lobbing two heavy blows towards my middle. I dodged one, deflected the other, taking a skimming hit for my efforts. “As the General of his Armed Forces, I am responsible for protecting him from attacks-” He caught my swinging fist in his, yanking me towards him “-Whatever form it may take.”

I gritted my teeth, rolling my hand free and spinning to launch my elbow up towards his chin. I knew what he was doing. Just like his seemingly random attacks, Damjan used constant verbal assaults as well. Anything to give him an edge. Generally I could tune out his taunts. But he seemed to have found my weak spot, and I couldn’t help lingering on his comment. He dodged my elbow effectively, laughing and dropping low to swing a leg out at my feet. I leapt up and kicked out, sacrificing a balanced landing for a hard hit that had Damjan falling back a few steps. I staggered, breathless, but had time to fix my grounding as he righted himself and squared me up. We paced around each other.

“I haven’t seen him yet today;” he began, my only warning before he charged in. A flurry of blows followed before he and I found ourselves grappling in close quarters for the upper hand. “So tell me, Your Highness... was he still asleep when you left him this morning?”

My focus slipped in my absolute bewilderment of his implication, and just like that, I found myself flat on my back. Jaw dropped open, eyes wide and staring at the blue mountain sky overhead. Damjan’s loud guffaw rippled through the air, and I jumped when his face appeared in my line of sight. He placed his hands on his knees, bending over me and cocking his head to the side.

“Don’t let anyone in your head if you don’t want them there, Your Highness.” He advised. His big, grey-green hand came down, grabbing my shoulder and yanking me back up. “Not everyone will use their advantage quite so charmingly as I.”

I scrambled to get my feet beneath me properly, blushing furiously. And hot with anger at such an intensely personal attack. I didn’t wait for him to ready himself, shamefully knocking off two quick blows before I had even regained my own solid footing. Damjan slapped both aside easily. One quick feint and sweep later, and I was staring slack jawed at the blue sky again.

“Don’t let them ruffle your feathers either.” He suggested, smirking down at me knowingly. He tapped his temple. “You can’t think straight if your head’s burning too hot.”

It took me an extra moment until the wind returned to my lungs, and I gasped. The General helped me up more delicately, patting my back helpfully as I sputtered.

“How.. How dare-” I gasped, trying to form the words at the same time I tried to regain my breath. I pushed away his hand.

He raised his palms, patting the air soothingly. “Apologies, Your Highness. I know that humans are not so comfortable with intimacy as goblins.” His ears flopped as he tilted his head to the side to consider me as I shifted my stance warily. “But I would be a poor teacher indeed if I didn’t try to prepare you.”

My lungs finally having resumed their normal function of breathing, I straightened slowly. Considering him with a stony glare while rubbing at an errant rib. He grinned sheepishly in the face of my look, raising his palms again.

“... Prepare me for what?”

“The Goblin Court.” His toothy grin widened. “There isn’t a goblin alive who doesn’t love to mess with anyone they can. And you will be the main target, as not only our future King, but also a shiba Prince.”

“Shiba?” I echoed dumbly, staring at him. It was not the first time he had used that word in reference to me.

“Human.” He translated, then placed his hand on his hip. “Seems I’m going to have to teach you a little goblinese as well.”

“Hibik is already finding an instructor for me.” I shot back defensively, wiping my hands together.

The General scoffed. “Yeah, and they’ll teach you real good book goblinese. But what about when one of those creampuffs at court calls you a baka lo minsa? Or mumbles diavrit? Hmmm? How much faith do you have in a little eincha from the academy teaching you proper goblinese vulgarities?”

My mouth opened and closed slowly, and I blinked at him again. “I… I don’t think-”

He shook his head. “The Goblin Royal Court is more ruthless than any battlefield. They think it's all in good fun, but I doubt you’d much enjoy it, Your Highness.” His grin returned, and he walked over to pat me on the back good naturedly. “Tell you what, we can trade! You teach me some good human curses, and I’ll teach you the goblin ones.”

I felt my face flush even hotter, and he laughed amiably. “... May I ask, General,” I started, rubbing at the back of my neck as he started walking over to the wall of the ring, “.... Why are you…ah..” ‘Helping’ seemed like the wrong word to use, based upon my sore back and ego. So I let the question hang without definition.

He grinned, picking up his towel and dabbing at the sweat across his chest. “You are a member of the Royal Family now, Your Highness,” He explained, “Which means you’re under my protection too.” He tossed me my own towel, his grin growing. “So don’t make me work too hard.”

The notion he proposed… being a part of their Royal Family. It set my stomach into an acrobatic routine. It was a concept I hadn’t fully realized yet, despite everything else. That not just my living situation was changing, but my family was changing. Into a completely new world with its own dynamic and history that I had no part in until this very week... I stared numbly at the towel in my hands for a moment before I wiped down my own torso. A breath later I grabbed my tunic and slipped on my boots then followed Damjan back into the castle. My spine itched with nerves now that the spar was over, and I peeked nervously down the dark halls. He cast a glance at me out the corner of his eyes, lips still twitching.

“‘Baka lo minsa’ means something like… brainless, uncultured fool. But much cruder.” He explained, despite the fact I hadn’t asked. “And ‘diavrit’ is… well, literally it means to defecate, though it's more specific as to the manner of defecation.”

I cleared my throat, nearly stumbling over the carpeted hallway. Damjan laughed, wringing his towel in his hands. “I’m not sure this is appropriate-”

“Goblins don’t care.” The General interrupted. “Appropriate, inappropriate. Those words just have less sway with us. There is nothing off the table when it comes to an interaction; whatever you can use to gain the upper hand, you use.” He steered us up towards my tower rooms. “Proper einchak like Hibik may prefer what you would call a more “appropriate” attack, but even they aren’t above calling out your mother’s sexual partners, or your own natural bodily functions. Or standing uncomfortably close. The game, you see, is to do it eloquently. To attack your companion, set them off balance, gain the upper hand, and to do so with a delicate, poetic flourish.”

My head was spinning and I wasn’t sure if it was my heartbeat or footsteps echoing in my ears. I swallowed hard, checking the edges of my mask to make sure I had maintained it throughout our conversation. It seemed by some miracle I had; I wondered if it was enough.

“I appreciate your… candor, General,” I replied finally, feeling secure and confident in my form, and he turned to face me as we reached the door to my rooms, “However, I do not require such vulgarities to ‘gain the upper hand’ as you say.”

He nodded, crossing his arms over his still bare chest and leaning against the wall. “Fair enough, Your Highness.” He agreed. “I have no doubt you are clever enough to outwit anyone, human or goblin. But even if you do not need to use such topics or language, you should still find a comfort and familiarity with them.” His big head dipped to the side. “In order to maintain your composure under heavy fire… Which will include hearing talk of your sexual relationship with the King.”

I nearly cracked my jaw with how hard I clenched it, and I was certain my mask slipped a little. I stammered something uselessly incoherent, and felt my face flush even darker. I pulled at the hem of my newly donned tunic and shuffled slightly, glancing around. Thankfully, we seemed to be alone. I quickly considered a range of different methods of excusing myself from the conversation and ducking into my chambers.

“We are very comfortable talking about sex.” Damjan interjected before I could find the right method. “It is certainly not taboo to discuss our lovers and antics. I myself am currently entangled with a delightful woman… and sometimes her brother instead.” He grinned. “Goblins are very open and accepting of all things of such a nature. The King’s previous partners are well known, and such discussion is commonplace amid the court.” He looked me up and down. “They will expect you to be equally open, and if they find you are unsettled by it, they will never let it go unaddressed.”

I swallowed hard, giving him a curt nod and fixing my stance. “Thank you for the advice General,” I told him, then quickly continued as he opened his mouth as if to add more, “I do apologize, but I must take my leave. I have to prepare for the rest of my day. Until tomorrow then.”

I barely gave him a chance to formally nod and offer a farewell before I ducked into my chambers. I wasn’t able to completely ignore the amused smile on his lips, and his words lingered in my mind even as I closed the door heavily behind me.

By the Gods and all that was holy. I leaned against the wall next to the door and slowly sank to the floor, cupping my head in my hands. Trying to calm my racing heart. How was I supposed to be comfortable speaking about such vulgar and intimate topics when the mere thought of them made me break down into an incoherent mess?! I didn’t even know how I felt about the King, or where our private relationship was headed. Yet I should expect everyone ELSE to be constantly discussing it around me??

I groaned, letting my head fall back and hit the wall. Of course, obviously the general consensus for any level headed person was that we were to be married; which implied there would be some form of… intimacy… My head throbbed with the amount of blood rushing through it, and I tugged at my collar. My mouth went dry at the thought, but I couldn’t help but wonder about… such things. Especially what Damjan had said about Grier’s previous partners… Exactly how many were we talking about?? Not that it mattered, I reminded myself. We had only known each other for a week, and he was a King after all. Young, handsome… virile. I certainly had not shared my own romantic history with him (not that there was much of a history to share), and I found myself surprised to be pleasantly comforted by the fact that at least one of us would know what we were doing in… that department. It sent a chilly rush down my spine as I wondered what Grier himself expected for such matters of physical intimacy. My fingers came up to my lips of their own accord, and I felt the tingling ghost of his hand at my cheek. Certainly I had… enjoyed our interactions so far… I shifted, not unfamiliar with my body’s response to his advances, but never having needed to really assess such things before. I had only ever been able to… By the Gods, I couldn’t even think about my own intimate exploits in a coherent sentence. I had no words, no real thoughts I could describe it with. I settled for images. Memories of the one time I had slipped up, and let my emotions get ahead of my sound reasoning. It filled me with heat, and my breath became shallow.

There was also the lingering guilt, the stab of regret. Painfully twisting cruel fingers into my heart. I sighed again, rubbing my hand over the top of my head. This was not going to be easy. I gritted my teeth, then forced myself to my feet. I didn’t have time to linger on such things though. I was due to meet the Dowager Queen soon. And found it less daunting that she was a notoriously sharp witted and harsh Goblin Monarch than the fact that she was Grier’s mother… I swallowed painfully and headed over to the bathing room.

I wasn’t sure exactly when the introductions would happen, and wanted to be prepared as best I was able. Damjan had given me a little insight into the former Queen, mostly regarding her reputation as an indomitable force. But he had been frustratingly unhelpful in advice on meeting her myself. He had merely grinned and said something along the lines of ‘that’s a personal matter between you and Grier’. I kicked the soiled towel aside from where I had dropped it on the floor, scowling. So our personal intimate life was up for discussion, but not what I was supposed to do when meeting my intended’s mother? Hardly seemed fair.

I was scrubbed and polished clean by the time a light knock came on the door nearly an hour later, and I rushed to pull the fresh tunic over my head. My wardrobe options were becoming painfully repetitive; soon all my things would be soiled beyond respectable use. I wondered how to brooch the topic with Grier, which conjured a horrible image of myself in bright, lavish colors with ridiculous necklines, streaming lace and frills and… Perhaps I could send for my own things instead. Though I dreaded composing that letter almost as much.

A different goblin than the one on my mind stood at the door, and he bowed his head respectfully as I opened my chambers. Beside him was a silver cart filled to nearly unbalancing it with covered plates and bowls. I considered him briefly; I was certain it was the same goblin whom had been attending me since my arrival. Bringing my food the previous days, and walking with me and Hibik to the gardens the evening before those.

“The King has sent word that he will call upon you shortly,” He began, his voice quiet, “And requested your shared breakfast be sent ahead. If Your Highness would permit me?”

I nodded quickly, stepping aside to allow him into the chambers. “Of course, thank you.”

The goblin bounded lightly at my words, a small smile coming to his large lips. He barely came to my navel, and had dark curls that fell about his copper eyes as he moved despite an obvious attempt to keep them out of his face with some sort of grease and a hair thong. I followed him as he pushed the cart in, bringing it to the bed chambers where he had set the previous meals at the small table there.

I idled momentarily on the impropriety of dining in my private chambers, and felt a little flush to my cheeks at the thought. Certainly it was not commonplace, though I had heard that my father occasionally took counsel in his rooms when needs arose early in the morning… I assumed Grier had not given nearly so much thought to it as I was now, however, and didn’t want to be a bother about it. Perhaps it was not unheard of for goblins. It wouldn’t surprise me at any rate, given what I had seen of them thus far. I distracted myself by considering the dark haired goblin again.

“I apologize for my rudeness,” I told him as he began to set out the dishes, “I never requested your name. Might I have it now?”

He gave me a small grin, averting his eyes politely. “It is Seoc, Your Highness. I have been assigned as your personal attendant. In whatever capacity you have need of me.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” I replied graciously, “I beg your forgiveness for not having made an effort to do so sooner.”

Seoc bowed lightly, a small smile on his lips, having finished setting the dishes out on the small table before the couch. “Quite understandable, Your Highness. It has been an eventful few days for you.” He cocked his head to the side. “Can I be of any further assistance at this time?”

I paused, if only momentarily, thinking back to my lack of attire, but then shook my head. “No, thank you, Seoc. I appreciate your time.”

He grinned, nodding respectfully. “I will be within ear shot, should you think of anything, Your Highness. Please do not hesitate to call.”

Just as he bobbed out, Grier strode in through the open door, and I had to work hard to keep from starting at the sight of him. Not only because of his sudden, light footed and casual entrance into my private chambers, but also due to his overall appearance. He wore a tight emerald vest with yellow embroidery over a billowous, fluffy cream colored shirt that spilled out the edges of the vest as if unable to be contained and ballooned at the sleeves. His pants were a dark grey, and were equally tight all the way up to his navel with large gold buttons the size of his palm along the midseam. The vest reached just past the top of his trousers, but the cream colored shirt spilled out the back like a puffy tail. His hair seemed particularly wild, and he had a scowl set onto his lips. Hibik trailed behind him, babbling something and scrambling to keep the parchment in his arms from dropping.

“The sun has only been up for a few hours, Hibik,” The King grumbled, waving his secretary into silence, “Allow me time to fully come to my senses before you test them.”

I tucked my hands behind my back, squaring my shoulders and swallowing my nerves as the goblin turned to face me. “Good morning, Your Majesty.” I greeted him, though felt a tingle of unease that threatened to burst into a fully formed tension.

His scarlet eyes considered me, and he sighed heavily. “Don’t start with that again.”

“I’m afraid I do not know what-”

He waved his hand again, cutting me off. I pursed my lips as he turned to his secretary. “Another hour’s peace, Hibik, at least. Let me have some coffee, and hopefully some pleasant company. I trust your judgement on these things.”

Hibik nodded, bobbing nervously. “Of course, my King.”

Grier turned back to me as the other goblin darted out, closing the door behind him. “Did you sleep well?”

I blinked momentarily, confused by his switch. Eventually I nodded, though slowly. “... I did, thank you.” I noticed him looking about, the small scowl on his lips seeming to deepen. “Ah… did you as well, Your-”

“I will scream.” He threatened me curtly, narrowing his scarlet eyes. I clamped my mouth shut, my eyes widening slightly. Grier gave another deep sigh, shaking his head.

He strode to the bedroom without waiting for my invitation. I stiffened at that, but followed behind quietly. Again, I saw him look about, placing his hands on his hips. His brow scrunched, yet he said nothing, plopping down on the couch with a huff. My tongue itched to speak out against that, and I felt a tingling of insult at his behavior. But I settled into practiced temperance and withheld my comments. I reminded myself that it was likely just a simple misunderstanding… After all, I was his guest, and his future spouse. Perhaps it was not rude to assume such casual familiarity. I saw his nose twitch, and he looked over the plates and dishes before reaching for a decanter and cup. I too could smell the thick aroma of the hot brown liquid as he poured himself a serving. What had he called it? Yes, that’s right, coffee-

“HIBIK!” He shouted loudly, and I jumped in surprise.

There was a clatter and a crash from the hallway beyond the foyer. Then the small man quickly darted in, bowing repeatedly. I stared at him, a little taken aback.

“Y-yes my King?”

Grier waved his hand about. “Do I even have to say?”

“Ah, no, my King… Apologies I-”

“Who is his attendant again?” The King leaned back, his brow dark and his scowl somehow even deeper.

“Ah, that.. That would be-” Hibik scrambled through the parchment in his hands.

“Seoc.” I informed him, my voice a little tight. Both goblins froze, staring at me with surprise. As if they had forgotten I was there for a moment. I considered them both. “Is something wrong?”

Grier made a soft ‘tch’ with his mouth, sipping at his coffee slowly. Hibik glanced at him, then offered me a polite bow. “My fervent apologies, Your Highness, for the state of your rooms. I had intended to send up a designer for your consult as we discussed, but there was a delay in procuring the usual Royal decorators.”

I tried to puzzle together the implications of his response, but found I could not fathom what had them both in such a tizzy. “No apologies necessary, Lord Hibik-”

“It is unacceptable!” Snapped Grier, interrupting me. I felt my own temper flare, and clenched my jaw. “You, a Royal guest who is also my betrothed, to be treated so shamefully. No wonder you would think us uncivilized.” He started to turn back to Hibik. “No further delays. I want these rooms properly furnished before-”

“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty,” I interjected, a little louder than I had intended, taking a bold step closer, “But I will remind you that you have given me these rooms to do with ‘as I wish’, and as such, I will not be accepting any additional furnishings or decor at this time.”

The sharpness in my voice had him falling silent, and his slender brows shot up. Hibik glanced nervously between the two of us. I waited a breath, holding the goblin King’s scarlet eyes.

“... You mean, you like your chambers like-?”

“Lord Hibik, thank you, but we will not require your services at this time. You may go. I am sure you already have enough to keep you busy.” I informed him, ignoring Grier for a moment. I heard him begin to sputter behind me, but nodded to the smaller goblin who hesitated for a moment with a glance to the King before bowing and making his exit.

“You would dismiss my secretary-”

“Apologies, Your Majesty,” I interrupted him again as he had me, turning to face him properly, “However, if this is not to your satisfaction, I am certain as King you have numerous options available for where you may take your breakfast. I will not keep you from them.”

“Are you… kicking me out?” He sounded both equally astonished and perhaps arrogantly bemused that I would dare order anything of him at all. Perhaps he was not used to be refused so pointedly. Or eloquently.

I stiffened, squaring my jaw and considering him. “I would hate for Your Majesty to be uncomfortable. If you feel the setting is not to your standards, you are welcome to leave it.”

Again, he fell silent. Staring at me in unsuppressed surprise. Part of me hoped he would leave. I had never seen him so rude and demanding. It was off putting and I did not enjoy it in the least, and it left a bitter anger rolling in my gut. Was this the real Grier, I wondered? Had the rest been some act? The other part of me hoped there was some rational explanation… certainly he had shown his emotional range in such a manner before, but this time seemed wholly unprovoked. I held his gaze, unwavering in my stubbornness. Pitting my will against his. Finally, he broke the stalemate by slowly raising his cup to his lips and taking a careful sip. I wasn’t sure how he managed to make even that look arrogant. I continued to wait, my anger still twisting in my gut, hands still clasped behind my back.

“... Forgive me,” He grumbled, leaning back and taking another deep sip, “I am told I am not a ‘morning person’... I would like to stay, if that’s alright.” A small smirk played across his lips. “Though I have to say… I rather like this authoritative side of you.”

I felt my face flush, and just like that the bastard gained the upper hand again. His grin grew, and he patted the couch next to him. I paused, looking him up and down. Not entirely sure I was willing to forgive his earlier rudeness so easily. He finished off the last of his coffee and reached for the pot to refill his cup, flipping over another as he did and filling it as well. Slowly, I moved over. He held out the cup as humbly as he could manage, and I took his peace offering warily, sitting down at the opposite arm of the couch

“... I am often… less than courteous before noon.” He told me conversationally. “But I am sorry if I came off as… ah…” I checked on him out of the corner of my eye. “... More of an ass than usual, yes?”

“I believe Lord Hibik received the brunt of your ‘morning person’.” I replied lightly, keeping my tone as formal as possible and still not looking at him directly.

Grier sighed again, wincing. “Yes… I shall have to apologize to him… Though I fear he is far too accustomed to my morning antics.” He gave me a tiny, mischievous grin. “Despite the circumstances surrounding it... It is nice to see you speaking out… If I can otherwise encourage you to speak your mind, I will hasten to do so.”

I took a sip of the coffee in my hands, dropping my gaze. Silence spread between us for a long moment, and I felt my ears burn as it gave me time to remember the last time I had seen the King. More specifically, how his lips had tasted against mine. What did he expect of this interaction? I recalled the way he had so casually sauntered into my rooms, without asking my leave. For that matter, what did I expect? I was suddenly painfully aware of the proximity of my bed to us, and the invitation I had proposed to him last night. As well as how it could have been taken... I wondered if by goblin standards, that invitation had carried over until today. I swallowed my nervousness with another sip as he straightened, reaching out and plucking up what looked to be some strange baked treat from the trays in front of us. I saw his eyes skim about the room again as he leaned back and took a small bite.

“You really like your rooms like this?” I followed his eyes, considering the mostly bare room. I hesitated, chewing over an appropriate response. “Speak your mind, yes?” He reminded me. “You most of all should always be free to do so.”

I looked down into my cup, quiet for a moment longer. “... They are sufficient.”

“They are boring.” He mused, taking another bite of his pastry. “I know you said the rest of the castle was too loud, but surely you’d at least like some more furniture?”

I rolled my thumb along the edge of my cup before taking a slow sip, casting my eye around the room. The large four poster bed, the fireplace. The simple couch and small table. The bare walls and floors, devoid of personal effects and most color. It felt… strange. Empty and hollow, the shell of a real life. But somehow I found I preferred it this way. It felt… safe. A place to hide away and avoid facing the daunting spans of the rest of my life.

“... They are sufficient.” I repeated softly.

Grier plucked another of the baked treats from the tray and held it out to me. “It’s a bit early to dig for the emotional confession behind that answer. Can I perhaps tempt you with a goblin pastry instead?”

I almost smiled at his teasing, but lightly took the roll from his hand. He made sure our fingers brushed and I glanced at his eyes as they did. I pretended the heat wasn’t returning to my face, bringing the roll to my nose for an experimental sniff before taking a bite.

The dough was warm and flaky, and the inside was filled with some sort of ground meat. There was a burst of flavor, spicy and tart, quickly overlaid by the buttery softness of the dough. My eyes widened slightly in surprise, and I chewed thoughtfully. Very aware of his scarlet eyes watching me carefully.

“They are called uyapi,” He told me, turning to pick up another one for himself, “The outside dough is universal, but the fillings change depending on the meal and occasion. For breakfast, usually the goblin equivalent of sausage.”

He bared his sharp pointy teeth as he spread his jaw as wide as it would go to fit the entire roll in his mouth in one oversized bite. I observed him in bewilderment as he chewed, his cheeks ballooned out almost comically.

I took a more delicate bite of the remainder of mine, nodding slightly. “It is good.” I told him quietly.

He swallowed the last of his. “The nice thing about them is they have a bit of everything, so are almost like a small meal in every bite.” He noted. “There’s meat, diced vegetables, and often cheese as well as the dough.” I watched as he brought his long fingers to his mouth, licking each one slowly.

My mouth went dry at the sight of his long tongue, and I quickly looked for something else to occupy my thoughts. Even as my face grew hot. I took a deep sip of the coffee before placing the cup back on the small table, straightening a little in my seat. I finished the last of the pastry and reached for another.

“I will be trying to spend as much time with you as possible,” He told me, unaware of my internal struggle and leaning back with a third cup of coffee, “To hopefully… ease the transition. I hope you don’t mind.”

I shook my head slowly, swallowing the last of the uyapi and reaching for my drink again. “It sounds like the appropriate course of action… given our circumstances.”

His thin lips spread in a wide smile, and he cocked his head to the side as I took a slow sip. “Our circumstances, hm? You mean how I have already fallen hopelessly head over heels for you while I can only assume that even if you did feel the same way, you wouldn’t even know?”

I sputtered into my coffee, my face burning hotter than my drink. I coughed to clear my airway, placing the cup back on the table. I saw his grin grow, but his eyes were soft. I watched him out the corner of my eye as I dabbed a napkin at my mouth and chin. There was a warmth in the edges of his ruby reds, an echo of what I had seen the day before. I swallowed hard, my head spinning, and stared down at the napkin in my hands.

“.... Forgive me yet again… You are just always so serious and proper,” He swirled his coffee, considering me with a tiny smirk, “It is amusing to see you all flustered, knowing that I put you there.”

I remembered what Damjan had said about the Royal Court, and squared my jaw. Taking a steadying breath and relaxing my features to the best of my ability. I couldn’t help a glance at him again, and noticed him place his half finished drink on the table by mine. I felt the cushion beneath us shift as he slid a little closer.

“.... Not to mention you look very cute when you are surprised.”’

I slid as far away as I could manage, blinking rapidly. “I-I do not like to be.” I stammered, my lips feeling numb and mostly useless. “I prefer to always have control.”

His grin grew, and I felt my flush deepen, wondering what hidden meaning he had taken from my response. “Noted.” He pushed his hair back out of his face. “However, as I was saying, it would make things easier for you to accompany me as I complete my regular duties. Then not only could we become more… accustomed to each other’s presence and preferences, you would also be able to become more familiar with goblin society.” He cocked his head to the side. “You would be a greater boon as a husband if you were able to help me govern my people. Though I would also relish simply keeping you as a trophy in my chambers as well. You are certainly handsome enough-”

“I have spent my life training in royal duties and assisting the Crown Prince,” I interrupted him quickly, and ignoring the flash of his sharp teeth as he smiled again, “I would be pleased to utilize those skills and obtain new ones in the aid of your people.”

“Our people.” He corrected, sounding amused. “Soon enough, at least. And I suspected you might not be the type to sit idly by. However, I believe this might be easier accomplished if you might permit me to cast the charm on your eyes we discussed.” His smile faded, and one long finger came up to tap his pointed chin. “Though perhaps not today, as you wished to better understand the magic before it was cast upon you. I can procure a book I am certain, though it may take a few days to find one in common or have one translated.”

“I-I…” I stopped as soon as my words stammered out, and swallowed hard. Grier looked back at me, curious. “If… If you think it would be best,” I started again, then reached up to rub at the back of my neck, “I… I would trust your judgement and… and you.”

Now it was his turn to look surprised, and I looked at him through my dark lashes. He stayed silent for a moment, then the warmth returned to his eyes. “... You would trust me?” I nodded shyly. “... I don’t mind waiting. Your request is quite reasonable-”

“I trust you.” I spoke the words softly, timid and sheepish. But their honesty was undeniable to either of us, and I felt him shift slightly in his seat even as those words settled deep into my chest. It was odd to admit… but I did trust him.

“... I’ll have to touch you.” He explained, lifting his hands with his palms out as if to illustrate his meaning.

I nodded my consent, and he continued, sliding closer. Reaching up and gently cupping my face with his fingers on my temples and his palms against my cheeks. I bowed my shoulders and leaned a little lower so he could reach me more easily. I felt him skim his thumbs against my eyelashes, and blinked instinctually. His touch was light, but his skin was warm. My head swam as soon as it touched mine, and I almost missed his next words as my heart thundered in my ears.

“This won’t hurt,” He assured me gently, “But it will feel a bit strange… Try not to move.”

I nodded again, my movement slightly impeded by his hands. I saw him stiffen slightly. Noticed his eyes flick down to my lips. I wasn’t entirely sure if my heart had stopped, but I was pretty positive my breathing had. And he hadn’t even started the spell yet. He cleared his throat lightly, then closed those startling ruby reds. Freeing me to look down at his own lips without scrutiny. I watched them begin to move slowly, and could almost see them tracing the sounds out in the air with each syllable. The words he spoke were entirely foreign to me, but I felt a strange tingling sensation at his fingertips against my temples. It spread, like cool, trickling water, or hundreds of tiny little pine needles. It didn’t hurt, as he had promised, and as it reached my eyes his thumbs moved. I closed my eyes, felt him trace his thumbs over the lids. Still murmuring softly. It was warm then, like I was looking at the sun through my eyelids. It seemed to seep back, deeper than my eyes, and I let out a little breath as his thumbs moved away and the sensations faded with his voice.

I knew the shape of his mouth now, as it brushed against my own. I drew back in the breath I had released silently, but otherwise didn’t move. I kept my eyes closed as he gently trailed his lips along mine. It was brief, just a feather light kiss. Yet still my head spun like a top and it took me more than a single breathing cycle to let my eyes flutter back open after he leaned back.

He was watching me, his hands lingering on my face. I adjusted my tongue in my mouth, studying those scarlet eyes of his. “... Was that part of the spell?”

“No.” He admitted sheepishly. “I just... couldn’t resist the temptation.”

“...Well… you’d make a terrible monk...” I mumbled.

He laughed, running his thumb across my cheekbone. I flushed hotter at his delighted smile, and after another moment deigned to straighten. Slowly pulling my face out of his hands. He shook his head, still grinning like a fool.

“Obviously you are a morning person.” He said, bemused. “All quick witted and reserved… how long have you been up?”

“Since dawn.” I replied, looking around the room curiously. But nothing seemed to look different.

“An ungodly hour.” Grier grumbled, shaking his head, then his voice became tender. “Though, perhaps you could convert me to… What are you doing?”

I jumped from my slow rotation of studying the bedchamber, turning back to him embarrassedly. “I-I was… Just seeing if…”

He smiled knowingly. “You won’t notice a difference in here. You could already see in this light before.” Then he stood, straightening his vest before looking down at me. “You can see if it works sufficiently in the halls on our way to my mother’s quarters. Come.”

I jumped up at his words, my heart skipping, then quickly tried to brush away my suddenness with a glance around. His smile quirked to one side, and I cleared my throat. Fixing my composure back into place. He gestured to the table, but I shook my head before he could ask. I certainly wasn’t going to be able to eat any more now.

“Relax.” He told me comfortingly as he led the way towards the foyer. “She doesn’t bite.” I tried to listen to him, burying my fretfulness and following him out into the hall. “... Not that hard, anyway.”

“Grier,” I let slip unintentionally and unable to completely keep the exasperation from my voice.

His laughter proceeded us down the hallway.

….

“Mother?” Grier called softly following his knock, cracking the door open and poking his head around. “Are you decent?”

A scoff came from the room beyond him, and I resisted the urge to shift nervously at his shoulder. “Am I ever, mo apawiwi?”

Grier sighed heavily, shaking his head. “I meant that I have brought a visitor, inana. May I bring him in?”

“Do as you like!” Came the hazardous voice, thin but still strong. “You are King, are you not?”

He groaned, shouldering the door open and walking in. He gestured for me to follow him, which I did. Though much more slowly and less languidly than he. I kept my spine stiff, my shoulders squared, with my hands tucked into the small of my back and my heart in my throat.

The room we entered was grandiose, with high ceilings and thick draping curtains around the walls. There were a great many items of furniture; here a desk, there an armoire. In the corner a long table with a shelf built along one end. Most in a dark, polished wood though occasionally a lighter pine sprinkled amid the others. And of course, each of these available surfaces was covered in items. Delicate and expensive looking bottles of what I imagined must be perfume. Gems and jewels, necklaces and earrings. Books and large hats. Maps and parchment, quills and inkwells, globes and strange models of things I had no name for. A few small stone busts or statues, some of stone, others of wood, still more of copper. I wasn’t sure where to place my focus, as each time I shifted it I found a million things to see. I found that my enchanted eyes were easily able to define the shapes of everything, down to minute details. But the colors, which I imagined were just as loud as in every other part of the castle, were subdued. For which I was grateful; the clutter alone was overwhelming, not to mention the heavy smell of old perfume and worn cotton.

The King led the way towards the center of the room, where a great chair with a high, plush back was set amid piles and piles of trinkets like a dragon’s hoard. It was perpendicular to the door, requiring us to walk around to the side to approach it head on. Which we did, and which also gave a pair of beady red eyes time to carefully run us over from head to toe.

The Dowager Queen was small, her thin shoulders hunched and bowed with age. I could see the distinct shape of her bones in her skinny arms as they extended to rest her thin hands on the head of an ornate cane that tapped the ground between her knobby knees. She wore a large dress, poofy and full of lace and frills, which enveloped her tiny form like a cloud, spilling over the arms of the chair and bunching at her little shoulders. Her nose was similar to Grier’s, though a little longer and more hooked at the end. She had the same eyes, the same brows, though her face was more rounded than his, and her ears, while wider around the middle, still curled back towards her face in the same way his did. It was impossible to say what color her hair had once been, as it was bleached as white as fresh snow, but looked equally as soft piled into a neat bun on the top of her head. She jingled like a bell from all the jewelry she was adorned with as she tilted her head, scarlet eyes studying me as I came around to her front. I stopped a respectable distance away, tucking my heels together and dipping my head politely.

“Mother, this is Prince Nikostratus.” Grier introduced me, going to his mother’s side and dropping to one knee by the arm of her chair. “Prince Nikostratus, allow me to introduce the Dowager Queen Morag.”

I bowed slightly at the waist, dropping my eyes respectfully. “Your Grace.”

My neck itched from the weight of her gaze on me, but I kept my head bowed for a long moment. Trying to deny the twitch in my fist clasped tightly behind my back. When I finally did straighten, her eyes followed me, and her head tilted to the other side.

“Khos kala ka, spaye halshalen shiba wa.” She intoned, considering me still.

I was incapable of hiding the helpless flick of my eyes to Grier at her words. He seemed embarrassed, and rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Ah… She said-”

“If I had been speaking for his ears, I would have spoken in Common, apawi.” She snapped, then flicked her fingers. “Cuir om, my child. Who is this shiba? Why have you brought him?”

“Well, Mother, Prince Nikostratus is to be my husband.” He explained, and I could see the anxiousness plainly on his face as he shifted on his knees by her side. “We-”

“Kashta vol! What is this nonsense you speak?” She cut him off again, her voice louder, and he winced, opening his mouth just to have her wave her hand to silence him and turn to me. “Non, come closer, shibakin. You will answer, not this abhama who would try to lie to his ina, and let me see your eyes when you do.”

I did as bidden, though my heart thrummed loudly in my ears. I took a few steps towards her, maintaining a respectable distance. I shifted my stance, shrinking my body as much as possible without actually bending or crouching down and making an effort not to loom over her. She seemed to consider this, reaching up to run her long fingers along her chin. I met her eyes firmly, burying my nerves and fretfulness deep down. Etching my face into stone to hide whatever she might try to pry from me. I saw Grier wince again, but ignored him. I didn’t have time to focus on appeasing both goblins at the same time.

“Why do you marry my son?” She demanded, her Common thickly accented with the rolling syllables of goblinese but still clear to the ear.

“We broker a peace between our two kingdoms with our marriage.” I told her honestly.

“Shiba men do not enjoy shiba men.”

My jaw stiffened. “Not openly.”

“You are a Prince?” She pressed.

“Yes.”

“The firstborn?”

“Secondborn. I would not take the throne.” I replied.

“So you seek one.”

“No.”

“Then why marry a King?”

“To end a war.”

“Even though he is goblin?”

“Yes.”

“For whom do you end the war? Yourself? For renown?”

“No.”

“Then whom?”

“My sister. My people.”

“For shiba.”

“For shiba and goblin.”

“Not for your King.”

“... No.”

She fell silent for a moment after her rapid fire, steepling her fingers before her chin. Her eyes studied my face. I was careful to keep it blank, but firm. Certain and undeniable. I saw Grier’s eyes darting back and forth between us. Thought I saw him chewing his bottom lip. But I refused to look away from the diminutive goblin in front of me. She straightened, shifting in her seat. As relaxed as I was on edge, though I hoped my composure held well beneath her scrutiny.

“PAYE!” She shouted, and we both jumped. “Bring chairs for my guests.”

An attendant darted from the next room, quickly dragging over two chairs. I hastened to help them as soon as I saw them nearly buckle under the weight, and they offered me a grateful look. I was vehemently aware of the Queen’s eyes still following me, and noticed Grier nearly trip over himself as he stood and settled in the offered chair.

“When will you wed?” She demanded as I took my own seat.

“It will take time to plan, inana,” Grier explained, rubbing his hands over his knees, “Perhaps next spring-”

“Pah!” She scoffed, waving her hand at him. “I am old, mo apawi. I do not have such time to wait about. You!” She turned on me, pointing with one bony finger. “Shibakin. You will send for your mother. You learn the most about a boy from his mother.”

I stiffened, and felt my jaw clench a little tighter. I saw Grier open his mouth, looking a little pained, but I shook my head slightly. Catching his words before they left his mouth.

“I am afraid my mother passed when I was a teenager, Your Grace.” I told her myself, hoping my voice didn’t sound too thin.

She clicked her tongue, making a soft sound in her throat as she considered this. “You have a sister, yes?” I nodded. “Then you will bring her.”

“...She is nine.”

“All the better.” She scoffed. “Children are always honest.”

“Mother, I don’t think it’s the best-”

“PAH!” She shouted, silencing her son again. “You don’t think Grier. That is your greatest fault. You have no patience.” Her scarlet eyes flicked over to me. “How am I to know what kind of man this Prince is if I cannot speak to his family?”

“You could ask me.” I replied dryly. Then instantly clamped my mouth shut as her beady eyes narrowed. Internally I kicked myself. What had ever possessed me to-

“PAH!” She barked, though this time it sounded more like a laugh. Her thin lips twisted into a smirk. “Would you answer? Do you know yourself, shibakin?”

I hesitated, then dropped my eyes. “... No.”

“PAH!” She laughed again, rubbing her hands over the head of her cane. “He is a clever one then.” I jumped as the end of the stick came up and tapped my knee. “Let me tell you, shibakin. No one knows who they are. Many think they do, but they are wrong.” She tapped my knee again, and I met her eyes. “If you wish to know someone, see them through the eyes of those they love. That is where you will find your answer.”

“That is wise, Your Grace.” I said humbly. “...What may I learn from you of the King then?” I noticed Grier shoot me an embittered look. I hid my amusement well.

“Of course it is!” She cried, then turned and smacked her cane against his leg. “Pah! I like this one, apawiwi! You will keep him.” She glanced back at me. “As for this abhama!” She whacked him again. “He never thinks! He never waits! He just acts acts acts!” She punctuated each repetition of the word with a whack against his leg. Grier scowled, trying to swat the stick to the side unsuccessfully. She was quicker than I would have expected.

“Mother!” He hissed, and I thought I saw his cheeks burn a little darker. “I am a grown man. You cannot-”

“PAH!” She shouted, smacking him one last time for emphasis. “You are a child still, apawi, because you still act like one. Perhaps marrying this shiba will calm your passion.” Morag turned back to me, and I eyed her cane warily. “He is passionate, yes? He is heat and fire and burns at both ends. He feels everything. And he wears it on his ridiculous looking sleeves.” I pursed my lips to keep them from twitching. “You! You, shiba. You are cool, and calm. You are stone in a storm. You think before you act. Two minutes and I see this plain!” She banged her cane on the ground at the foot of her chair. “Teach this abhama some of your ways. And he will help you crack your mask to burn hot as he does, shibakin.” She nodded, as if agreeing with herself as she thought her words through.

“His name is Nikostratus, ina.” Grier grumbled, crossing his arms in a pout over his chest. “Not shibakin.”

“Pah!” She scoffed. “I am old, cai thani, I do not have time for such a long name.” She banged her cane against the floor. “PAYE! Bring us drinks! Ash usi yage!”

“Ina!” He scolded. “It is not even noon!”

He jerked his legs up to avoid her swinging cane. “PAH! I am cai thani, what do I care for noon? It does not wait for me. I shall not wait for it.” Morag turned back to me. “You, mo shiba, shall bring me your sister. I have always wanted a daughter. And this siut abhama,” She swung at Grier again, “Is quick in everything but giving me grandchildren.”

I tried to sort out her words, blinking slowly. The goblin attendant returned, and I found a glass pressed into my hand. It was filled with a clear liquid, and I could already smell the strong vapors wafting from it. I glanced at Grier, who had a different shaped glass in his own hand. But considering the grimace on his face, I was guessing his held the same liquor as mine.

“I would be honored to bring my sister here,” I started carefully, watching the little old goblin draw in a deep, pleased breath from her own glass, “But I am afraid there may be… other complications Your Grace-”

“PAH!” She shouted, and clapped the bottom of her cane on the ground again. “You will call me ina, mo shibakin. Ina Morag. And what what? What is this you speak? ‘Complications’? PAH! You are a Prince, no?”

“Yes, but-”

“There is no but!” She snapped. “You want her to come? You bring her. There, I make it simple.” Scarlet eyes darted to her son. “Perhaps I am wrong. Perhaps you are better match because you are both abhamak.”

“Your Grace-”

“Ina Morag! Ina Morag!” She practically shouted. Snapping her cane against the floor. “You are deaf, mo shibakin?” She turned back to Grier. “You are not teaching him goblinese? Gunum! That I should have a son that would not know my own language. Nare!”

“Nikostratus has barely been here a week, ina,” He breathed exasperatedly, rubbing at his brow with one hand, “We already decided to procure-”

“Gunum! You make excuses, Grier. Teach the boy goblinese. Nisle! Yes?”

He nodded, smirking. “Yes, inana. I hear you.”

“Pah!” She leaned over to me, holding one hand by her mouth conspiratorially. “He says this, and then as soon as I am out of ear, he will do what he wants anyway.” She nodded to me. “Do not let your manwe pull this on you, mo shiba.” A familiar mischievous grin spread her thin lips. “I will teach you his tricks, mo shiba. I am his inana. I know them all.” She tapped her cane lightly on the floor. “Come and visit your ina Morag. You are welcome here.”

I dropped my gaze, flattered and feeling heat rising to my ears. I heard her laugh, and recognized in its echo another thing her son had inherited from her. I chanced a peek at him out of the corner of my eye, and saw him hiding a small smile, his face equally flushed.

“Hechi!” She proclaimed, her voice softer than I had yet heard it. She held her glass high. “To your union, yes? And your future together.”

I recognized a toast when I heard one, and raised my own glass in a soft salute. I gritted my teeth as I brought the strong smelling liquor to my lips. I tried not to let it linger in my mouth longer than necessary. But I wasn’t entirely sure I hadn’t just swallowed fire. I heard Grier coughing as he downed his own, and felt the corners of my eyes water as I tightened my jaw and resisted the burn in my own throat.

Morag chuckled, seemingly unaffected by hers. She tapped one long boney finger and the attendant returned to refill her glass. They didn’t bother to offer more to us, for which I was glad. Manners aside, I wasn’t certain I would be able manage a second. The burn settled heavily in my stomach, and I swallowed a few times trying to clear it.

Suddenly, the old Queen began to speak again, long and flowing sentences in goblinese. I couldn’t even attempt to follow along, let alone pull individual words out. Again, her voice was soft, and though she looked at me as she spoke, I could see Grier stiffen in his seat. When she finished, there was silence for a long moment, and it rang in my ears. I turned to the King to find his face a little pale and his lips tight.

Finally, he nodded, looking down at the floor. “... Tasu, inana.”

I didn’t know the word, but it sounded affirmative, as if he were confirming something she had said. Her eyes finally fixed on him, her head tilting to the side. She spoke a shorter sentence in goblinese, and I could feel the tender warmth in it. I shifted, uncomfortable to sense such a moment between mother and son, even if I couldn’t understand what was being said. It was intimate, and I felt as though I were trespassing. After she finished, Grier hesitated before nodding. A moment later he stood.

“She wishes to speak to you alone for a moment,” He told me as I started to follow him, “...I’ll wait in the hall.”

My composure almost slipped, but I managed to keep it as he took up his mother’s hand. Then bent down and gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek. She smiled, patting his face fondly. He passed me one last look, which I couldn’t quite read, then left. Leaving me alone with the Dowager Queen.

She waited until the door clicked closed behind him, eyeing me all the while. I stayed still under her scrutiny, but felt my heart going a mile a minute in my breast. The minutes ticked by in silence, and I waited with practiced patience despite the knots slowly tying and untying themselves in my stomach.

“I have but one son.” She began finally, tapping her glass quietly. “One child. Grier is my everything, shibakin. And I would see him happy before I die.” She sighed, taking a sip and leaning back in her chair. “It does not matter what I say, he will do what he wants in the end. But I would know you, so that perhaps when my time comes I can go in peace.”

I straightened slightly, rolling the empty glass in my own hands. “I will give you whatever peace I can offer, Your Grace.”

“Hmmm. I see you do that.” She jerked her chin at me. “I have known you ten minutes, and I see it. You hide yourself, whenever emotions might show. You become stone.” I tried not to tighten more at her words, and therefore prove their weight of truth. “... But I sense you feel things strongly. Perhaps even more strongly than Grier does.” I said nothing, yet felt her words sink inside me like an anchor off the side of a ship. Dragging me down to dark depths. “... Do you love my son?”

I felt cold at her words, and my jaw clenched. “I barely know him, Your Grace. We just met a few days ago.”

“So? Does this matter?”

“... I am not sure I know what it means..” I admitted to her weakly, my voice soft but honest.

“You love your sister.” She pointed out. “You build a peace for her.”

“Yes, but... that is different.”

“Can you love my son?”

I almost winced. “I do not know.”

“Does he make you happy? Or is this a marriage of necessity?”

I thought about that for a long, quiet moment. I considered just telling her what she wanted to hear. Just speaking sweetly to soothe her conscience. I shifted, looking down at the ground without really seeing it. Knowing I couldn’t do it.

“... It started with my responsibility to my Kingdom. To bring peace.” I told her honestly, my voice hesitant and uncertain. “But… He’s been… I-I…” I gritted my teeth. “I am… not very good at expressing myself.”

“Hmmm.” She tilted her head to the other side. “When you touch, does your mind spin?”

“... Yes.”

“When you see him, does your heart skip?”

“... Yes.”

“Have you kissed him?” I blushed furiously. She scoffed at that, and her jewels jangled as she shook her head. “And?”

I thumbed the glass, and felt my blush deepen. But I forced the words from my lips. “A-and … I can’t breathe… I can’t… think… I have no words, but feel I have so much to say…” I shook my own head. “I apologize, that makes no sense.”

“Love doesn’t make sense, abhama shibakin mo.” She replied, sounding amused. “I was not sure I loved his father when we married. Perhaps I did not then. But I came to love him.” Her voice became pained. “I miss him every day now.”

“I am sorry for your loss, Your Grace.”

“I am sorry for yours, shiba apawi mo.” She tapped my boot lightly with her cane. “Call me ina, yes? Ina Morag. Make an old lady happy.”

“As you wish… Ina Morag.” I tried not to mumble, and glanced up at her as I spoke.

She gave me a kind smile. “You do make him happy, mo shiba. It is obvious to anyone who knows him. Just in the way he looks at you. I never thought Grier would be one to settle his wild spirit with one heart. But, I believe he has settled his heart on yours… And I believe one day your heart will settle into his.” She smirked. “Though you may not notice when it does.” A laugh this time. “You may just wake up one day and realize it's there, and has been for a while.”

My blush returned. “...I would be lucky then, ina Morag… You have a good son.”

“Pah!” She exclaimed then waved her hand at me. “Now away with you, mo shibakin. Your youth has drained mine, and I must rest now.” She smacked me lightly with her cane as I moved to stand. “But come back soon, yes?” A familiar grin settled on her lips. “I would know more about my new child. And bring your sister!” She sighed. “It would do an old heart good to see a child’s face in this palace again.”

I bowed low at the waist, and her hand came up. Patting my head lightly. “As you wish, ina Morag. I will do what I can.”

“Toksor, mo shibakin.” She called lightly after me as I made my way to the door.

Grier waited anxiously in the hallway beyond, pacing back and forth. He jumped at the sound of the door opening, and rushed over quickly as I stepped out.

“How did it go? Are you alright? What did she say?”

I shook my head, slowly closing the door behind me, trying to settle my swirling thoughts. “Well, she was right about one thing at least.”

He peered up at me, his anxiousness settling into lines at the corners of his eyes. “What’s that?”

I hid my smile as I turned to stride down the hall. “Your sleeves are ridiculous.”

...

UPDATE: Part seven HERE

#Royal Flush #goblin romance #goblin king #goblin lover #goblin husband #mlm #male x male #monster x male #terato #exophilia #slow burn #monster romance #monster lover #monster husband #monster royalty #arranged marriage #angst

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literalprincess · 5 years ago

Text

Essence of Murlap and Moonlight

Pairing: Fremione

Summary: Hermione finds Fred after one of his detentions with Umbridge.

Excerpt: “Fred? I need you to look at me.” She knelt in front of him, carefully placing a hand on his knee to rouse him.

He moaned groggily, turning his head to her.

“Hey, Fred. I’m going to help you, okay?”

He furrowed his brow at her. “‘Mione?” He took in the towels, the bottles collected by her feet. “Okay.” His head fell back onto the cushion.

Word count: 2500

AO3

The biting sting on his hand once again froze Fred in place. It was a tolerable pain, but now and then it would flare to near excruciating. This was one of those times, he had just brushed his hand on the back of one of the chairs. He sunk to the floor, rigidly trying to suppress a cry.

“You coming, Fred?” came George’s voice from up the stairs. He had gone ahead to crash in bed after their detention with Umbridge, eager for the day to be over.

“I’m just gonna hang out down here, maybe try and think of some way to retaliate.” Fred exerted the last of his composure to keep the pain from his voice. Thankfully the pain had subsided slightly.

“Okay. I’ll see you in bed in a bit then, yeah?”

Fred gritted his teeth, the pain flaring aggressively once again as he tried to raise himself to the sofa. “Sure.” It sounded choked but it was the best he could manage.

He managed to pull himself into a sitting position on the sofa, his hand cradled in his lap before the pain overtook him.

Hermione had been at the library late. A risky decision, she knew, especially considering Umbridge’s new educational decree enforcing a curfew. It had been important though- she needed to see if she could disband Umbridge as High Inquisitor. There must be an old rule that forbids it, she reasoned to herself as she spent hours scouring old student handbooks.

It was well past eleven as she snuck in through the portrait hole, immensely grateful for the shortcut Harry had shown her. She crept in, mindful someone may see her and report her for breaking curfew, but there were no spies watching the door. She was almost to the doorway leading out to the bedrooms when she heard the muffled whimper.

Her head shot back to the common room. At first glance, it had appeared empty, but after closer inspection, Hermione saw the top of a ginger head peeking out from the back of the sofa. She slowly approached, still unsure if she was about to spring a trap and land herself in trouble.

No such trap was set, however, she saw when she found one of the twins with their faces pressed into the cushions of the sofa. She gave him a once over, noting his uncomfortable position despite his unconscious state. It was Fred, she could tell by the lack of a mole on his neck. She continued to look him over but her eyes halted when they landed on his lap. He clutched his hand to him tentatively, blood coating the entire back of his palm.

She gasped. Surely this was not a common occurrence. With Harry, she reasoned that he had been on the receiving end of all the anger of the ministry but if Fred had received the same punishment...

She dashed out of the common room and to her bedroom, returning with armfuls of supplies.

“Fred? I need you to look at me.” She knelt in front of him, carefully placing a hand on his knee to rouse him.

He moaned groggily, turning his head to her.

“Hey, Fred. I’m going to help you, okay?”

He furrowed his brow at her. “‘Mione?” He took in the towels, the bottles collected by her feet. “Okay.” His head fell back onto the cushion.

Hermione carefully got to work cleaning up his soaked hand. When she had removed the majority of the blood to reveal a gouged I must not break rules. She choked. How could this have been done to a student? A seventeen-year-old boy. She soldiered on knowing he would remain in pain until she could help him.

She needed to remove his jumper, the sleeve fell to just past his wrist and got dangerously close to the wound on his hand.

“Fred, listen we need to take this off.” She said as she tugged slightly at the sleeve of his jumper. “I’m going to bunch it so nothing touches your hand, okay? You’re going to have to trust me, but I promise it will make it better.”

He barely responded but when she stretched the wrist of the sleeve and fed his hand carefully through. He didn’t wince, and she took that as a victory. Now that his long sleeves were out of the way, she could focus on fixing his hand.

He watched her as she collected ingredients into a bowl through the haze of pain obscuring his vision. Her messy hair was pulled back in a haphazard bun, a pencil still resting behind her ear. She met his gaze when she had finished mixing the paste.

“I’m going to put this on your hand. It’s going to sting slightly but it should soothe it quickly. When it’s been on for a while, we can soak your whole hand in this Murlap essence, alright?”

“Okay, Granger.” His voice was groggy but strong. He sharply inhaled when she first put on the paste, but as she finished coating his hand, the tension in his body slackened. The cooling sensation of the medicine felt like it was drawing his pain from him.

Hermione was relieved to watch the strain leave his face. After a few minutes, she moved his hand into a bowl and he instantly relaxed.

“Better?”

He sighed. “Much.”

She got up from the floor when she was sure he had the bowl balanced surely on his lap, coming around to instead sit beside him.

“What did you do?” She asked tentatively.

“The usual.” He shrugged. “Suppose we’ll just have to get better at getting away next time.”

“Is George okay?” Hermione asked, eyes fleeting to the door leading to the bedrooms.

“He’s fine. She focused on me after I said she was an old bint. He should be okay after some rest.”

“Are you mad? Why did you do that? Why provoke her?” Her tone took on a slightly hysterical edge.

He looked into his lap. “She was going ballistic on some second years, really hammering down on them. We set off some fireworks to draw her away and if she’s focusing on me , she’s not focusing on George .”

Hermione studied him until his eyes raised again from his hand. “You’re a good guy, Fred.”

“That sounds almost like a compliment.” He gave her a half-smile.

She huffed a laugh. “How’s the hand?”

“Much better, thank you.” Fred looked around, for the first time realising the lateness of the time. “Why were you down here? Couldn’t sleep?”

“Not quite, I just got in. I was in the library.”

Fred looked at her disapprovingly. “You call me the mad one. You realise if you’re spotted, you’ll get punished as well.” He raised his hand in the bowl slightly.

“Well perhaps not quite so drastically, maybe I’d just get a flogging.” Hermione tried to joke but Fred’s face remained unamused. “It was important,” She tried to reason.

“I should certainly hope so. You have to be more careful than ever now, if she does this to you there’ll be hell to pay.”

Hermione studied him for a moment. “She wouldn’t do that for breaking curfew and besides-”

“It doesn’t matter! Filch is chomping at the bit for any excuse to punish students nowadays. You can’t take that risk again and if you do I’ll go with you, I know far more short cuts and my legs are longer so I can help you run away faster.”

He had a point, if she wanted to evade the inquisitorial squad it would be a lot easier with Fred. “Alright fine, next time I want to go I’ll tell you first.”

“Good.”

“I’m tired of all this,” Hermione admitted quietly after a moment. “I wish I could just go back to when my biggest fear was expulsion.”

“Me too, though I can honestly say I never feared being kicked out. I guess I was more scared of the potential hearing loss from the bollocking Mum would give me.”

“We were quite different people when we were eleven.”

“Life was certainly easier back then.” Fred released a wistful sigh.

“I like to remember when I first came to the Burrow. Everything was all so amazing and new and everyone was so welcoming. It was the first place I think I’ve ever felt at home immediately.”

“I’m glad because, well, it is your home. We all love you being there, Dad especially, I think. You’re a lot more help with explaining how things like solar panels work. He honestly went on about it for a week after you left.”

Hermione smiled, remembering how she had made an effort to bring a textbook with diagrams explaining the conversion of light into electricity on the visit after Arthur had asked her and she wasn’t sure.

“What about you, what’s your favourite memory?”

He slid his eyes to her, his eyes squinted slightly and one eyebrow quirked. The chaotic flames of the fire casting a mischievous light on his face. “Do you remember the day you took us to muggle London last year?”

“Yeah, you insisted on going ‘full native’ so you left your wand at home.”

“Exactly. We got caught in the rain on the way home and due to my adhering to the strict rules of full immersion, I couldn’t cast an umbrella charm to shield myself from the downfall. Everyone was resolute that I deserved the soak but when they started to walk on, you offered to share your bright red umbrella with me. That was probably one of the happiest moments in my life.”

Hermione felt her throat catch. She remembered the day in vivid detail. Fred, being nearly a foot taller than her, had huddled low to share her umbrella. He had had to walk with the front of his arm pressed to the back of her shoulder to fit. When it rained Hermione could still hear his steady breaths near her ear, the warmth of his body against her side if she closed her eyes.

“Oh.”

Fred pursed his lips and nodded slowly, eyes locked on the dwindling fire.

“I think about that a lot,” Hermione admitted. Fred turned to consider her. “I enjoyed it probably more than I should have.” Emboldened by the dim light and the sincere mood, she shuffled closer beside Fred.

He looked down at her with a soft smile. Perhaps it was the exhaustion from the pain but he felt brave and he took her hand in his, resting them both in her lap.

“Your hand is warm,” Hermione noted. She brought her other hand to enclose his, drawing from the warmth. “It’s nice.”

Fred smirked at her. “We should do this more often then.”

“I think we should,” Hermione said, curling into his side.

“Hermione?” Fred asked after a few minutes.

“Yes, Fred?”

“This is real isn’t it, I’m not passed out on the sofa in some pain-induced dream? Because if it is, just admit it now and I promise I won’t be angry.”

Hermione laughed slightly at this. “You really think it might be?”

“Well, you haven’t told me to get lost yet. I’ll have to make the most of it,” Fred said as he adjusted his position. Much to Hermione’s surprise, he settled his head in her lap. “How very comfortable. The view’s not bad either.”

Hermione snorted, rolling her eyes at him.

“What? It’s one of my favourites.”

“Careful,” Hermione warned even as her hand came up to curl in his hair. “If you keep being so sweet, I’ll start thinking you’re in love with me.”

Fred chuckled from his spot. “What could I ever have possibly done, to make you think that I’m not?”

“Maybe taking Angelina to the Yule Ball.” There it was, the thing that had kept Hermione from hoping Fred liked her back.

Fred raised himself on one hand, turning his upper body so their faces were level. They were half-visible to each other now the light had died to glowing coals.

“You went with Krum.” It was a statement and an accusation.

She had, and she would be lying if she said she had had a terrible time. But she had spent a large section of the night watching him.

“You didn’t ask me.”

“You didn’t want me to.”

“Didn’t I?”

Fred stared at her sternly, trying to decipher her gaze through the darkness. “You didn’t even notice me last year unless George and I were causing mayhem.”

“I always notice you,” Hermione replied just as vehemently.

Surprise crashed into him. His previous feelings of insecurity and jealousy washed away in the riptide. All that was left ashore was his love for the short, frizzy-haired girl in front of him.

“I always notice you, too.”

The blanket of darkness shrouded them from the world. The only thing each of them could make out in the wisps of moonlight was the face of the other. Hermione raised her hand slowly, hesitantly, to cup Fred’s cheek. As her soft palm slid across Fred’s skin he leaned into her touch, his face softening. They continued to stare at each other for a while, neither wanting to break the spell cast around them.

“Hermione, love,” Fred said with shaking courage. “Would you mind if I kissed you.”

Hermione brushed her thumb across his lips, her hand glided up further to again curl in his hair. She used her grip to slightly pull him towards her. Fred needed no more encouragement. He leant the rest of the way for a chaste, fleeting kiss.

When he pulled back, remaining close enough that they still shared breaths, Hermione huffed a laugh. Fred joined her with a smile before recapturing her mouth. This kiss was deeper, their longing for the other bleeding through. They held each other tightly, hands occasionally roaming to rest in a new spot.

Fred was more annoyed at Umbridge than ever. He had the use of only one of his hands, the other still soaking in the bowl. He groaned his frustration which fuelled Hermione’s impulse. She barely realised she was moving but she came to rest on her back below Fred. When his kisses lowered from her mouth to her chin, her neck, her collarbone, her eyes shot open in surprised pleasure. She could barely see anything in the silver-cast room, only felt Fred as he hovered above her.

“Fred?”

“Hmm?” He asked, trailing kisses back up her neck to her ear.

“I love you.”

Fred pulled back slightly, trying but failing to see her. All that he could do was give a light squeeze of her waist, a kiss on her cheek.

“I love you too.”

They spent the rest of the evening bundled together on the sofa, the world a distant worry in their minds.

Fred would find out in the morning if it was indeed a dream. If it was, he figured it was worth the pain in his hand when he woke up.

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yandere-daydreams · 5 years ago

Text

A Yandere!Hawks/OC piece for a very lovely anonymous commissioner, featuring her character, Miya, and the foul-feather man himself. This might be my first time writing for Keigo, but I feel like it went well enough. I may have taken a few creative liberties with his dialogue, though...

Word Count: 2.1k

TW: Non-Con, Semi-Public Sex, Groping, Entitlement and Delusional Mindsets.

It wasn’t that Miya didn’t like Keigo.

She didn’t like him, but she couldn’t say she disliked him, either. She respected his work as a hero, and appreciated the levity his reputation held, even if she wasn’t particularly fond of the young Pro when he was out of costume. Like everyone else, she’d had her run-ins with him, but as time went on and her life progressed, she seemed to see more of him, hear more of him, whether it was that laugh or that smirk or that lazy, smug tone that permeated his voice like rainwater overflowing from a gutter after a heavy storm. She couldn’t bring herself to hate him, but one day, she might.

One day soon, preferably.

That’d make rejecting him much easier than it was now.

Even now, it was difficult not to grit her teeth as her eyes darted towards his shoes, moving in pace with her own as she walked, her stride much faster than it had to be despite Keigo offering to take the lead. The incident had been over an hour ago, and Miya would like to think that she hadn’t seemed shaken. It was just a petty criminal, a thief looking for someone who’d cower at the first sight of claws and scales, but she’d always found it difficult to be intimidated by a quirk, however villainous it appeared. She’d been ready to defend herself, but Keigo was on the attack before she could make a move, and he was more than happy to take the credit when all the newscasters and amateur journalists arrived to document his feat, leaving Miya swept up in the chaos. He’d insisted on walking her home, afterward, and she hadn’t been able to think of a good excuse to tell him to fuck off.

How many times had he saved her, now? It could’ve been that they followed similar routes, or the recent influx in crime, but this had to be the fifth time he’d come to her rescue, if not the sixth. Vigilant crime-fighters weren’t an issue, but it was hard not to feel… unnerved by the frequency. Up until a few months ago, she’d never even seen a hero on patrol, and now one was trailing her, ready to lunge at the slightest hint of a treat. It was just her ego talking, she knew that, but her ego could be loud. Unignorable at the worst of times, unfortunately.

Keigo huffed, drawing her out of her thoughts, raising his arms and cupping his hands behind his head, forming a make-shift support as he glanced idly towards the sky. “Awfully thoughtful tonight,” He commented, filling the uncomfortable silence. He was smiling, but it was one of his reflexive grins, reassuring to most but off-putting to anyone who spent more than a moment in his company. Miya wasn’t proud to belong to the latter group. “You’re not gettin’ sick of me, are you? I’d hate to turn you off your favorite hero.”

“I prefer Endeavor,” She mumbled, more for herself than for him. Her eyes darted to the sidewalk, then the buildings on either side of the road. It was late, by now, so most of the shops were closed, but she could still see the signs and brands posted outside, each name more unrecognizable than the last. “Hawks--”

Keigo clicked his tongue, his smile faltering, a frown beginning to pull at the corners of his lips. “I thought I told you to call me--”

“Hawks,” She affirmed, her tone more authoritative than it had to be. “Are you sure this is a shortcut? None of this seems familiar, and it feels like we’ve gone too far… I think I’d know the best way to get to my own apartment, by now.”

Her skepticism earned her a glance out of the corner of his eye, half-obscured by his sleeve as he shifted to get a better look at her. With an inaudible sigh, he dropped his arms back to his sides, his smile softening as he took her wrist. She opened her mouth, but Keigo didn’t give her a chance to get anything out, holding a finger to his lips as he spoke. “Have I ever been wrong?” He asked, ignoring her hasty nod. “Just trust me, I’ll have you home in no time.”

Before she could protest, he was pulling her into a narrow alleyway between a convenience store and a larger, unnamed building, the space so narrow, they struggled to walk side-by-side. Away from the streetlights, it took her eyes a moment to adjust, but sight did little to alleviate her confusion. Rather, she only grew more unnerved as a fence came into view, chainlink but tall, too tall to easily be scaled. Again, she moved to voice her thoughts and again, Keigo had other plans. Plans that seemed to have less and less to do with keeping her safe.

She wasn’t sure how it happened. One second, she was just turning towards him, and the next, she was facing a brick wall, her hands coming up reflexively to support herself, Hawks’ arm wrapped around her waist and his chest pressed against her back, the bulk of his attire doing little to stifle how suffocated she suddenly felt, dread welling up and boiling over before she had a chance to stifle it. She tried to scream, but a downy glove was quick to stop her, shooting to her mouth and muffling the sound. Keigo only kissed the nape of her neck, cooing something unintelligible, like he had the right to try and calm her down.

“C’mon, baby, don’t make this harder than it had to be,” He muttered, a finger slipping below the waistband of her shorts. Instantly, panic set in, and she threw her weight against him, grappling and fighting for any opening she could get. Keigo’s hold tightened, and he let out a soft growl as he shoved her against the wall, two feathers shooting out from his wings and finding her sweater, long sleeves soon pinned to the solid stone, trapping Miya with them. Still, Keigo was gentle, slow, taking his time to work her shorts down to her thighs as if he didn’t have any place better to be. “We could’ve done this your way, but you just had to huff and groan until you lost your chance. We’re gonna do this how I want to, now.”

“Fucking pervert,” She spat, but her voice died in her throat as he pawed at her ass, pressing another kiss into the dip of her shoulder. Fabric rustled, something soft falling to the ground, his now free hand brushing past her thigh to rub against the seat of her panties, tracing her slit for a moment before pushing distinct, measured circles into her clit. Even with a layer of cloth and disgust separating them, his expertise was undeniable, each tic of his fingers and buck of his hips against her sending a shock through her system, uninvited but not unpleasant. Miya grit her teeth, her jaw locking into place and her eyes clenching shut in an effort to block him out, but there was nothing she could do to ignore the long, low whistle he let out as her hips twitched, dampness just beginning to accumulate on his fingertips. Keigo only nuzzled into her back, nearly purring in satisfaction.

“This might’ve been more romantic, if you weren’t so stubborn,” He mumbled, absentmindedly pulling her panties to the side as he spoke. Abruptly, two fingers were pushed inside of her, leaving her to clench and adjust as he scissored her open, alternating between curling and pumping, whichever made her knees buckle and needy, pathetic whimpers work their way past her lips. “Been planning it out for a while, since the first time I saved my little damsel in distress. Woulda bought you roses, taken you back to my place, all that shit. Guess we’ll save that for that later, though.” His palm came up, grinding against her clit, and Miya gasped, involuntarily pushing herself into his chest. Keigo chuckled, his ministrations becoming more aggressive. “Shoulda waited this time, too. You were just bein’ so cold, I didn’t think I could help myself.”

Miya tried to speak, but all that came out was a pitiful, incoherent stutter as he pulled away, his grip moving to her waist as he dragged her back, forcing her to brace herself against the unforgiving wall and pray for mercy. She felt the tip of his cock press against her cunt, but that was all the warning she got before he was pushing inside her, refusing to stop until he’d bottomed out with a blatant, shameless groan. The stretch was painful, too snug to mean anything good, but that didn’t stop Keigo from grinding against her, starting to thrust just as her legs gave out, leaving Keigo to hold her up. If he cared, though, she couldn’t tell, his hold on her hips growing bruising as he moved inside her, spikes of pleasure and pain striking at her core in unforgiving, unyielding waves. Tears blurred her vision, welling in the corners of her eyes, but moans mixed with the sobs, forming something hellish in the middle ground. Keigo cooed, his tone turning delicate, infantilizing. Adoring, if she was being optimistic, but Miya couldn’t find it in herself to be so positive.

“You’re so tight, baby. Are you still scared of me?” He snapped his hips against hers, making a point of relishing in the high-pitched whine that crawled out of her throat. She stopped making an effort to be quiet, suddenly finding herself thankful for the passing cars, the footsteps of distant pedestrians, her own breathy, heated pants. Anything to distract her from the wet, sloppy sounds of Keigo fucking into her cunt. “Don’t worry, we’ll change that,” He assured, before the air hitched in his lungs, his pace losing rhythm for the blink of an eye. “Or, maybe we won’t. I’m gonna take such good care of you… I get to be selfish about this, yeah?”

It might’ve been the adrenaline, or the fear or Keigo’s intensity or anything, but when one of his hands fell past her waist, reaching around to tease her clit… That was all she needed to clench around him, her chest seizing up and her knees knocking together as she came, the break from that constant, thudding pressure coming as a relief. And yet, it didn’t do anything to block out the feeling of Keigo pulling out, barely getting a fist around his cock before something thick and hot coated the back of her thigh.

There was silence, for a moment, only broken by the labored breaths both of them struggled to take. Miya didn’t have to worry about it for very long, though.

He kissed her jaw, the two red fathers keeping her pinned falling to the ground, lifeless. She could hear him fishing something out of his coat’s pocket, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at what it was. “Close your eyes, alright? We’re going home.”

A rag pressed against her lower face, and the world around her went black.

Miya was sore when she woke up, her head pounding and her legs aching despite the plush surface she’d been laid on. She was almost tempted to lean into it, to go back to sleep and worry about the pain another time, but a dip in the mattress was enough to inject a cold, sobering dose of reality into her veins, the severity of her situation slowly beginning to dawn on her. Hesitantly, she sat up, keeping her gaze focused on satin sheets and more pillows than any one person could ever need, her survey ending when her eyes landed on the sleek, polished metal shackle wrapped around her ankle, connected to a seamless tether that fell off the side of the bed. Miya felt herself deflate, her hope spiraling as quickly as her pride had.

She almost didn’t feel the lithe fingertips soon rubbing at her shoulders, a familiar face leaning into her side. “Don’t be too mad at me, princess,” Keigo mumbled, his voice quiet, comforting. As soothing as it was repulsive. “The chain’ll come off as soon as you come around. Be good for me, and I won’t have to make things any worse.”

“You kidnapped me,” She retorted, but her voice was weak, barely audible. She just glared, biting the inside of her cheek. “Hawks--”

“Keigo. You’re supposed to call me Keigo.” His hold around her shoulder tightened, and Miya cringed, crying out breathlessly, but Keigo only laughed, the sound forced, volatile.

Cruel.

“But, we’ll have plenty of time to work on that, won’t we?”

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