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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 1 year ago

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Are you requests open yet, right?

Can you make something with Fenrys, like, him and reader are mates, and they are trying to get a child for so long, and one day they discover that they are expecting.

(I really liked your writing, and very few people write about him, so I wanted to thank you for this 💕)

Had a blast writing this truly. Thank you for requesting and the kind words, I hope you'll enjoy it. 🤍✨

Little pup

At first, you didn't talk about it. You both were still young and for the most part, had wanted to explore the world together. Just you two. Try new things. See new places. Travel. Indulge in each other's company. And the mating frenzy hit you so hard that you didn't leave your house for over a month. And by then you were convinced that everyone passing by could smell the sex lingering all around.

And yet even in that month, it wasn't about getting pregnant. Fenrys was learning how to please you and you were doing the same. It was the desire to explore that drove you. To bring each other immense pleasure. Till the last breaking point. Till the moment all you could see was stars. Till furniture was breaking. But the thought of conceiving never crossed your mind.

But it's the first time your period is late and you're feeling so weird that Aelin had to drag you to the healer's level. It's the joyful smile on the woman's face when she says, "Oh you might as well be pregnant", that breaks this bubble of cold water over your head. "How exciting would that be? Babies are so rare and to have one ahh...", the healer beams as she ushers you to lay down. You reach for Aelin's hand almost instantly. The nerve suddenly so uneasy in your chest.

And then the healer's face drops and so does your heart. Sadness washes over you and it's like you had lost something you didn't even think you wanted five minutes ago. "You started your circle, darling", she says lowering your skirt down and you just want to crawl into yourself. "Ah, yes", you quickly move to get down the table. Glad your back is to the two women as you quickly wipe your tears. Suddenly feeling so frustrated. You feel Fenrys tugging on the bond yet that only makes your heart ache more so you push him out of your head quickly. Drowsing the bond in complete darkness.

Fenrys comes home way earlier than he should have been there. And you know it's because he would always drop anything for you. High stake leaders waiting for the meeting? Fuck them! His mate needs him so he's leaving and gods save the souls who try to stand in his way.

He knows by the silence that something had happened. Something that upset you. Ticked you over. Then Fenrys smells the blood. Gears turning before he realizes that your cycle had finally shown up but why the sense of sorrow then? This feeling of pain makes him rub his chest as he too tries to soothe the aching.

"My, love", Fenrys shrugs his cloak off carelessly, stepping closer to the bed. You're completely submerged by the furs all over your body. He makes a quick work of pushing them to the side until your wet cheeks come into sight and Fenry's heart drop even more. "Love", he breathes out in worry. But that only makes your tears well up more. A choked-out sob leaves your lips before you move to push away from your mate. That jabs Fenry's heart too.

"Love, if you don't tell me what's going on...", and then this shien of anger washes over you. Painting your cheeks in even more crimson shades. "Talk to you? Talk about what, huh?", you leap at him, fist coming in contact with Fenrys's strong chest.

But then you draw your hands back, looking at them with so much disgust. Fenrys steps in quickly taking your smaller palms into his. Your mind was too chaotic for him to read now. So he had to trust you to let him in on your own time. "What is going on...", you mutter, "You're overwhelmed and your body is full of hormones", even Fenrys frown at his own words but that's the truth in a way. The question still stands though. What caused all of this? "I thought I was...", you breathe through the sobs, "Thought we had...", and then it's full-on sobs, till your legs give out and Fenrys quickly wraps you up in his arms, rocking you from time to time.

There's no way to tell how long you've been crying by the time you're only sniffling. Eyes puffy and red, holding onto Fenrys for dear life. And he had run out of comforting words by then, opting for silence and love that he poured through the bond. You push away from him slightly. Knowing full well that you owe him an explanation. Because he too would have been a part of this if you had been pregnant. Your eyes well up with tears once more as you glance at him and Fenrys is ready to cradle you once more but you stop him. "I saw a healer this morning. She thought that I might...", you swallow the lump in your throat, shoulders sagging, "might be... pregnant". Fenrys's heart jumps up his throat. Suddenly he's almost hyper-aware of his surroundings. Threats. Smells. Sounds. But then nothing. And then just like before it all falls into place.

This. All of this was because you weren't. Because there wasn't a babe growing in your womb. No little Fenrys, or Y/N. And it's almost like another slap to his face because he only now realizes that you never really talked about it. Becoming parents. Growing your family. Being together and having one another was comforting enough. But seeing you like this. "I'm sorry...", you whisper and Fenrys draws his gaze back to you. "What for love? There's nothing to be sorry for", he brushes your loose hair away from your face.

"For not being pregnant", Fenrys frown at your words. And frowns so deep that his eyebrows nearly come together. "Now you take that back", his hands cup your face, "You take that back and never dare to apologize for something like this".

And you know that it comes from his heart because he loves you. Because no matter what you do he will always be there. "What if I can't?", you ask him, biting your lip, "Then we won't have any and that will be more than enough because we would have one another", he's quick to reassure you. And once more from the way his eyes are gleaming you know that he means it. "Come here", he mutters m, bringing you back into his arms, and wrapping it up in the comfort of his warmth. Drowning out the world around you.

All of this leads to a long conversation about children. One that you share late at night, both tangled between the sheets. Let the stars and the moon be the only witnesses of your wishes and dreams. And you both know that's so rare. And something that many couples don't even get close to. Fenrys knows how he and his brother Connall had come pretty late into their parent's lives. But then what a blessing it was to have two babies. Yet the time span was what scared him the most. Not because he was desperate. Don't get him wrong he wanted to see you pregnant. Know that it's his baby growing within you. But he could tell how fragile this topic made you. How you would shiver any time someone brought up the conversation of babies. How you would halt at the sight of younglings running around in the streets. How you forced a smile once Ellide got pregnant and you had brushed away your sad tears saying that it was only happy crying.

And it's only a handful of years later. Many disappointing visits to the healers later that you jolt up in the morning rushing to the bathroom. Fenrys is out of bed just as fast, darting after you and reaching to hold your hair out of your face as you emptied your stomach into the toilet. His hands rub comforting circles over your back. Your skin looks clammy and pale and it makes Fenrys sick to his stomach as well.

Because what if all the sorrows had finally eaten you from within in? What if he had missed something? Overlooked you not eating well, not sleeping enough. Your head drops to the side, and Fenrys quickly turns you over, reaching for the tap before flickering water over your face. If an illness claimed your life... if he would be left alone...it's a selfish thought but one that has been his number one fear ever since he saw you for the very first time.

"I'm fine", you groggily say and Fenrys only huffs, "Fine my ass, you're barely conscious". Those are harsher words than he wishes that thrown your way but he's so worried. So worried his own eyes are blurry. Then he moves up quickly, you tightly pressed to his chest. "Fen, I just need to lay down", but he doesn't listen as he throws the door open. Not caring that he's shirtless, or that you are only wearing one of his shirts. He rushes down the hallway, yet he's still mindful of not shaking you too much.

The healers haven't even finished their morning preparations when he storms in, eyes wild. The healer who had been tending to you for years now jumps up instantly. "I don't know what's happening", Fenrys admits as he lowers you onto the bed. The lady presses her palm onto your forehead before cradling your cheek. "Y/N, what's hurting?", she asks softly but you only shake your head. Her mouth falls into a tight frown and she orders a couple of other healers around, turning to Fenrys so he would tell her what happened.

"When was the last time you ate, girl?", she asks strictly, fingers running over your stomach. "Breakfast", you breathe out, "yesterday". Fenrys growls in frustration. He had returned home late last night, you had already been asleep and so he never even thought about the fact that he didn't ask anyone on his way up if you had been down to eat dinner. The healer shakes her head, "Silly, silly girl. Mirth, bring the lady some light breakfast and a tart", she says even though you turn to protest. "You're with child and this is all stunt you pulled here is because you didn't eat", every sound in the room dies down. Your eyes grow big and for a moment you're sure you just mistaken her words. Surely not... but it's the way Fenrys is looking at the healer with the same surprised eyes that makes you realize that he heard it too.

"Congratulations you two. A strong heartbeat", she carefully presses her palm to your shoulder. Knowing full well that once the information fully settled in Fenrys's brain anyone that would get near the slight swell in your lower stomach would be marked an enemy. The wolf closes the distance between you two. He doesn't yet trust his words so he just leans in pressing his forehead to yours. And now that it's been brought up you do smell slightly different. And the heartbeat. How did he miss the heartbeat? What kind of father will he be if he missed his child growing inside you?

"The best kind", you mutter, "the best kind of father", your hand cups his cheek, and the white wolf instantly nuzzles closer to you. He kisses the side of your head, brushing the tears from your cheeks. "Our baby", he mumbles, pressing his palm to your stomach, "Our little pup", you put your hand over his. And then Fenrys breaks into fits of giggles as he brings you closer into his arms. You too can't help the smile even if the dizziness still lingers. And you suddenly feel complete as if this was all that was missing. Now the picture would be complete. "A father, my beautiful mate will make me a father", he beams, brushing his lips against yours in a messy kiss, but the door swings open as the younger healer walks in with a trey. The laughter stops and Fenrys is snarling at the door, teeth out. Your hands push against his chest softly, "Darling, she means no harm", you reassure him yet his eyes don't leave the poor girl now shaking by the door. "Thought you seen him protective, girl? Welcome to the next stage", the older healer chuckles as she hands you the sweet bun.

#fenrys x reader #fenrys moonbeam x reader #fenrys moonbeam #fenrys moonbeam imagine #fenrys imagine #throne of glass imagine #throne of glass x reader #tog x reader #tog imagine #rowan whitethorn #lorcan lochan salvatorre #gavriel

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alienaiver · 10 months ago

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Favorite ready meal and a soft kiss.

Yamada Hizashi x afab!reader (genderneutral language, but subject is periods.) wordcount: 697!

for @dira333 - made it purposefully as vague as possible. asking for details would chance a reveal of my little gift. still hope it brings a little comfort even if im off, though!

When the front door unlocks and swings open, you’re not prepared for the boom of sound traveling through the apartment. To be honest, when you’d sent him the list of groceries, you assumed he’d realize why you needed those things.

“Hello my favorite listener!!!!”

It’s so loud that you instantly wince, hiding underneath the mountains of blankets as fast as possible. Yamada strolls in with a grocery bag in one hand and a bag from the convenience store in the other, his smile bright and wide.

Until he sees the human-shaped lump on the couch. His expression drops as he scolds himself mentally, too excited to come home to you to really think his actions through. He knew and yet, he forgot during the short travel home. He feels silly.

“Baby,” he coos gently, sneaking to the couch and crouching in front of your face. You groan from within and he reaches inside your wall of fluff to pet your hair, “I brought all the stuff you need.” he says, his voice as gentle as he’s able, albeit scratchy. It’s been a long day.

You whine before you slowly lift off the blankets to show your puffy face. Yamada smiles at you, warm and welcoming. “How’s the pain?” he asks, his hand traveling from your hair to your cheek. You lean into the touch.

As you seem to ponder how inflicted you are, he starts unpacking the bags next to him, putting the medicine and the snacks on the coffee table right next to you, together with the ion-supply water and ready meal from the convenience store. He’s hoping your favorite konbini meal will entice you to get something down because something is better than nothing.

The scent of the already heated meal seems to interest you, your nose sniffing around to see what he’s got behind him. You hum out a small thank you when you realize he went off the list in the best way. It’s just what you need.

“Can you sit, my love?” he asks, breaking the single use chopsticks apart and handing you the water first so you can re-hydrate. With a wince you start to push yourself up, sitting up slumped. He smiles at you, “good job.”

The praise feels like what he says to his students all day when they get an answer ready, so you shake your head with a smile before you take a sip of the water, the neutral taste making you gulp down another sip. He exchanges the bottle with the plastic container smoothly, “it’s a little hot. It cooled down a little on the way home, but be careful.”

Blearily, you accept and take in a deep breath through your nose, bracing for the nausea. You straighten up happily when nothing arrives but a pang of hunger. It must be your lucky day.

While you eat, Yamada puts the rest of the things he bought away that needs to go in the fridge or the cabinets. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you with his usual debriefing of the day conversation, unless you initiate it yourself. He comes back to the container empty and you lying back down, the seal of the medication already opened and the correct dosage taken.

He smiles and circle the couch, crawling at an awkward angle over the backrest to come up behind you. You huff out a laugh through your nose as you wiggle yourself forward to make room for him. He sighs contentedly when his long limps are settled around you, a hand drawing circles into the upper part of your stomach. He nuzzles into your neck, “let me know what you need whenever you need it, yeah? I’ll get it to you lickity split.”

You can’t stop the laughter from leaving you at the use of expression, pushing back towards him, “you really are my hero. Thank you.” you strain your neck to give him a soft peck on the lips and he hums into it, his lips still split into a smile. When you pull back you look into his eyes again, “really, thank you. For being here through it.”

“Anything for my favorite listener, always.”

#if theres ONE thing i miss about japan its the konbini meals that they willingly heat up for you #NOTHING tops the chicken skewers. and the inari. god i miss having inari and onigiri so readily available #bnha x reader #yamada hizashi x reader #present mic x reader #bnha fluff #bnha comfort #present mic fluff #nohr.writing #nohr.bnha

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shesjustanothergeek · 1 year ago

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Ruined

|Jacques Le Gris x Fem!Reader|

Short Story

Summary: Once you come of age, you're sent to your brother-in-law's estate to find a husband. After months of deflecting and denying suitors, old and young, you encounter the dangerous squire Jacques le Gris.

Author's Note: Jacques le Gris is a rapist. No matter which point of view you look at, he is a rapist. I would also like to say that I personally hate him. He embodies everything I hate about men and victim blaming in the modern world. Still, at the same time, I am so incredibly enamored by him, primarily due to Adam Driver's acting. Initially, I didn't want to write this story, but it would not leave me alone. Without further ado, here is Ruined. I hope you enjoy it!

WARNINGS: Mentions of rape, period-accurate sexism, noncon elements, extremely toxic masculinity, orgy (non-participating), the reader is a virgin, slight blood play, violence, degradation (Jacques receiving), rough sex, Jacques is not nice until the end, sexual blackmail, unprotected sex, PIV.

(I wrote this story almost a year ago but realized I didn't publish it here for some reason. You'll definitely see how much my writing has changed for the better.)

The obnoxious noises of people chanting draw you out of your trance, sipping wine from a silver goblet periodically to drown everything out. These parties were never your favorite, but you came, observing the party-goers dancing drunkenly as if it was your duty to attend.

You roll your eyes as the crowd cheers, Count Pierre yelling above the rest, a woman on his lap, and bringing your gaze to where the sound is directed.

A young man with raven hair draped around his neck stalks towards a maiden, a smirk on his lips, untying his white tunic. His chest is broad, a sheen of sweat glittering on his skin in the candlelight. He would be so much more attractive if this were a different situation. You could even imagine yourself being the one to pleasure his cock. You roll your eyes, understanding the intentions of this whole charade.

"Jacques, my boy, get on with it," Pierre says, growing impatient with the lack of excitement.

He nods, making wide steps to the woman, circling a wooden table as she runs in the opposite direction he follows. You can't help the groan of distaste that releases, tilting the cup to your lips and turning away, not wanting to see the show.

How could anyone like this? It was blasphemous in the eyes of the Lord. Mary would be weeping for what her son's followers do for fun. You must mention this in your confession, receiving penance for witnessing hedonistic actions, drawing the sign of the cross, wiping the stray dribbles from your lips, and making room for your bed chamber.

Pierre sticks his leather boot out, nearly tripping you as you huff, putting your hands on your hips.

"Where are you going, sister," he questions. "The party has just begun."

Your lips curl into a snarl, your white teeth reflecting the flickers of light.

"It is quite late, my dear brother-in-law. I need to rest my weary body."

Pierre tucks his leg back, a wave of shock washing over you. He fakes a pout, his eyebrows scrunching with a wet lip out. You shake your head, disbelieving his ridiculous antics. Indeed, he wouldn't let you go that easily.

"Awe, my dear sister," he pats his free thigh, "won't you find your rest here on my lap?"

The room erupts with laughter, everyone watching the exchange unfold, wondering how this will end. Your stomach turns inside, revolted by your legal brother's detailed proposal in God's eyes. Hot words of hatred sear your tongue's end, begging you to be free, but you bite it. He was, after all, above you, gifting you a home while searching for a husband. You were indebted to him. Saying no was not an option. Your eyes meet Jacques, a look of surprise as if he never knew you were here in the first place— a typical man, keeping his head trained on one hole at a time.

Pushing all the bile and anger, you plaster a smile, accepting the offer and sitting across from the finely dressed lady. Pierre runs his calloused fingers along your spine, turning you into stone as you set your gaze on the floor.

Everyone's eyes had left except for one, the only pair you didn't want on you as you sat in defeat, cheeks fuming. Jacques was intense, his facial hair dusting around the hard line of his mouth, shining with the wetness of the wine. It almost seemed you were his prey now, not the maiden with the ornate burgundy dress. You had no intention of being hunted by him.

With the clap of Pierre's hands, the merriment commences again, Jacques halting for a split second before his pupils are set back to where they were before. The woman is shouting no, over and over again, excitement barely laced in it. Your heart went out to her, a feeling of protection for the circumstance. She had no choice in who fucked her; a status of nothingness gave men the right to do what they wanted. Your gender had just as much value as theirs. Breasts and warm heat should not matter.

The position in a society fueled the eternal flame of fury in your soul, always wanting to rebel and speak your truth, but the consequences of disrespecting a man were deadly. You were just as helpless as the woman being thrown over Jacques's shoulder and flipped onto the bed, held down by other waiting women.

A hand grips your jaw, forcing your eyes to watch the poor woman be soiled.

"Watch," Pierre commands, saying your name. "Watch him fuck her, and maybe you will learn how to be a good wife for your husband."

You clench your teeth, growling in protest as you watch Jacques enter her from behind. The iniquity of the sounds is enough to stir your core, but the cries of her protest ring louder, maybe laced with a hint of pleasure as the meat from the large feast threatens to exit your throat.

"Here." Jacques's voice was smooth, rolling out his chest like a baritone into your ears, caressing them. "Take some evil inside you," he says, aligning his hips with hers.

Your body jolts, either from the erotic sounds of his words or the disgusting act he was committing on her, as you put a hand over your mouth, jumping from your spot before Pierre can stop you. Incoherent noises were mumbling out of you as you ran to the doors, bursting them open with weight. The onlookers are quiet once more, waiting for a cue from the Lord. Jacques is the only one not paying attention, his vision trained on your retreating form as the girls giggle.

You order your handmaids to draw a bath, telling them to put as many herbs and oils to soothe your racing heart. They listened, bowing their heads in respect as they went off to do their respective duties, and you were in the scented waters in no time.

Take some evil inside you.

The words echoed in your brain, fuzzing all concise thoughts and morals. These parties were always like this, orgies were the most common, but they all seemed consensual. You never heard a woman shout no until tonight. Pierre ordered him to almost rape, teetering on dubiousness and assault.

Why would someone participate in that so willingly?

Jacques could say no and leave, not chase her around like an animal until he jumped on her. He was so attractive and sensual in his movements that even Christ would be shy.

You reached over the top of the tub, picking up the leather-bound book on the stand next to you, attempting to distract your mind from the man that was viciously pounding into as many women as he could in the other wing. A book of poems written in Latin was always your choice.

You had been lost in the pages for hours; the water had turned lukewarm and your skin pruney, but you were too focused as you felt the door slam. You jumped, nearly dropping it into the tub. You were surprised to find visitors, especially this late in the night. You lift your gaze with a quizzical raised brow. The person standing in your bathing room was Jacques Le Gris. You squeal, dipping into the water and covering your chest.

"What the Hell are you doing in here?" You nearly scream, forgetting your place.

He takes a few steps closer as you turn away more, his boots thudding, sending vibrations through the floor as he bends over, picking up your book. He reads the name aloud, almost like a question, and turns the pages, looking for a certain one. Jacques reads it aloud.

"Bibe mihi nisi oculis tuis et ego confirmo in oculis tuis." (Drink to me only with thine eyes, and I will pledge with mine.) He says, eyes flickering to your submerged body. "Vel osculum sed in poculo relinque, et vinum non quaeram." (Or leave a kiss but in thine cup, and I'll not look for wine)

Your muscles relax as you listen to his voice. It sounds the same, but the feeling of it is so much better than before.

"Sitis, quae ex anima oritur, divinum potionem petit." (The thirst from the soul doth rise, doth ask a drink divine.) You turn your body towards him, still covering your chest as you study his lips, how they pucker slightly, and his pink tongue touches his teeth.

Jacques begins to read the following line, but you interrupt him, having read this poem many times, as you peek over the side of the brass tub.

"Sed, ut potui, lovis nectare supponerem, Nolo tuum mutare." (But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.) He lowers his head a few inches above yours. His intense honey-brown eyes bore into yours.

"Sera tibi roseo misi, non tam honorante, quam ut spem dare non posset arescere." (I sent thee, late, a rosy wreath, not so much honoring thee, as giving it a hope that there it could not withered be.) He reads the line, inching closer and closer.

You lick your lips, lifting yourself as you recite. "Tu autem ibi solus respirasti et mihi remisisti." (But thou thereon did'st only breathe, and sent'st it back to me.)

"Cum crescit et olet, non per se, sed te." (Since when it grows and smells, I swear, not of itself, but thee.)

Jacques closes the book with a slight slap, the tip of his prominent nose gliding across yours as your mouth parts for him. He closes his eyes, leaning in.

"Take some evil inside you."

You pull back, standing in the tub quickly as the water splashes out. Jacques's face turns pale at your rejection, embarrassment clouding his mind. You turn your back to him, grabbing a large towel.

"You know, Sir Le Gris, that poetry would sound heavenly if it wasn't for your filthy mouth." You flip your hair over your shoulder, bending slightly to wring the water out as you hear Jacques approach.

Fear stuns you for a moment, freezing, unsure of what to do or where to go because you know he will not take no for an answer if he reaches you. Suddenly, you spot a mounted dagger over the fireplace. You stroll as if you planned to walk over all along. He catches up in no time, pinning you to the stone, his form pressed into your back as he buries his nose in your neck, sniffing. You try not to cringe, even though everything in your body tells you to do so. You can't show him you're afraid.

"Would you like to rub my oils on Sir Le Gris?" You try to hide the tremble in your voice, staying frozen in place.

"Mmm," he moans, "I would love to." He moves away from you, finally giving you the chance to breathe.

"They are over there." You point to the shelf with glass bottles and vials as he nods. Turning his back on you, you reach for the dagger, silently prying it off the display. "You can pick whatever oil you want, Sir."

Jacques studies each one, popping off the corks and glass lids, smelling them until he finds something he enjoys, and walks back over. He opens the bottle, the smell of roses wafting in the air as he pours some out into his hands, massaging your neck.

If this was any other circumstance, you might adore basking in it, but it isn't. You're with a man who has no concept of consent, a man who would bend you onto the hearth and fuck your weeping body. He reaches down to your shoulders, halting when he feels your resistance on the cloth; not letting him remove it, he overpowers you, pushing it down. You clutch the dagger closer to your bare chest as his fingers glide down your biceps and back, slick with the oil.

"You are so stiff, my sweet."

You shudder at the endearment, trying to relax your tense muscles. Jacques's hand travels down your chest, encompassing the small flat area as his fingertips touch the top of your breast.

"Stop," you command with a flat voice. Jacques ignores you, continuing to massage your intimate parts.

You turn around, flying at lightning speed, and put the dagger's tip to his throat, only enough to draw a trickle of blood.

"When a woman says stop, you stop, Jacques. When a woman says no, you listen." The words fly out of your mouth, anger for seeing the filthy action he committed on that woman from the party.

His lack of terror frustrates you. Even with a knife to his throat, he radiates arrogance. You push him backward across the room, still at his throat, pinning him to the large wooden door. He stands there in surprise, his arms up in surrender, more startled than afraid.

"I could end your life in a second, you scoundrel, yet you show no fear."

Jacques laughs. He laughed dark and deep, his perfectly crooked teeth sparkling as his Adam's apple bobs. You slide the blade with your neck craned; the edge is now piercing. Your face scrunches with fury bringing your knee up to his stomach, causing him to laugh more, slightly doubled over.

"Do you have such a low view of women that you take it in jest when they threaten your life?" You spit. His joy subsides a bit, chest still slightly bouncing.

If you slid the blade across his neck at this moment, his throat would slit, spilling his tarnished blood on your naked body, yet he still doesn't seem to care. His eyes travel down you, still damp from the bath. You slam his shoulder into the door with your fist, trying to assert dominance over him, not allowing him to look. You suppose this is a precarious pose, leg hiked up, hand on his shoulder, giving him perfect access to your womanhood.

Your stance falters at the thought, Jacques taking it as the perfect opportunity to grab you. The blade slides across his arm, flinching for just enough time to run, but he grabs you at the waist, the soles of your feet sliding across the stone floor. You yelp as he flings you over his shoulder, your legs and arms kicking as you scream for him to stop. He doesn't listen, opening the door to your bed chamber and throwing you down on your mattress.

Your body displays perfectly for him, with a slight sheen on your flush body. He devours the sight of you, ripping off his sweat-stained tunic as you push yourself off the sheets and away from him, running towards the exit. Jacques cuts you off, hunched over in a stance that resembles the one at the party, his arms out. You step to the side, and he mirrors it. You step to the other, and the same thing happens again.

"If you run, I will only chase you," he says with a predator's grin.

You look around desperately for anything to help you escape him. You spot a candle stick, sprinting to it, knocking the lit wax onto the floor as it rolls to Jacques's feet; his boot steps on it, snuffing the flame.

"Oh, my darling, you must be careful. You wouldn't want to cause a fire. Our fun might end." His voice is condescending as he stalks you.

"I will set this whole castle on fire before I ever have fun with the likes of you, swine."

A glob of spit flies out of your mouth, landing on his cheek. The pads of his fingers touch it, wiping it on them and bringing them to his mouth, sucking. He hums, popping them from his lips with a smile.

"You taste so sweet." He closes the space between you. "I would shun Jove's cup away every chance if it meant I could taste your nectar instead."

You grip the brass candle stick tightly, offended that he would reference a poem so dear, ready to swing at any moment. Jacques notices, smiling to himself. Your legs rub together at his words, a mind of their own.

His lips crash on yours, destroying any thought that you might not want this, and you drop your weapon, wrapping your fingers in his raven locks. You can feel him grin, happy to have won, his hand lacing itself on your neck.

You part for air as Jacques spins you around, sliding his other hand down your body to your aching mound, parting the wet folds with his digits. You gasp at the contact, your knees buckling as his grip holds you up.

"For a lady who put up so much of a fight, you are impossibly weak under my touch," he mocks, relishing his victory.

You glare at the wall with the brutal honesty of his words. You didn't put up much of a fight when his mouth finally met yours, even dropping your only form of protection.

"Silence." You demand, not wanting to hear any more of his taunts.

An exploratory finger glides over a sensitive spot on your heat, causing you to gasp and grip Jacques's trousers. He swipes over it, and you cry out at the foreign sensation, panting. You can feel the pride radiate from his demeanor at seeing your weakness, slowly rubbing circles on the bud.

You have never felt like this before, being taught never to explore that private area of your body, leaving it only for your husband to use. This pleasure wasn't something that society taught you. Yes, you watched many people fornicate at Count Pierre d'Alençon's gatherings but never allowed yourself to participate. He would have loved it if you did, but you had one duty to attend: finding a husband.

It was already so tricky finding anyone you could stomach, all the suitors decrepit and at death's door. You wanted to marry for love when you were younger. The idea of a fairytale romance clouded your eyes as a child, but once you bled for the first time, you were sat down and told of your duties. Accept whatever man had the most money, influence, or power and fill your stomach with his kin. But you wanted something else. The suitors also knew it, as you destroyed any notion of a small and obedient wife.

At times you were sure Pierre would throw you out as you brushed off and disrespected every man that came, but some of you knew he liked the entertainment. If only he could see you now.

Naked and moaning like a whore as Jacques assaulted your heat with his fingers, you loved the sinfulness of it all, Jacques breathing heavily into your ear as he worked you like a loom, rubbing in circles as pressure began to build in your stomach. Your hips were moving, seeking more friction. You can't control your body, the lust of the devil taking over your mind, a he kept touching that exact spot.

It was so intense, the new feeling, almost too much, you wanted to scream obscenities and thrash around, but he held you firm. Your toes curled as you stomped on the ground, a wave of ecstasy crashing into you as you screamed. Your body caved in on itself as you struggled in Jacques's grip, still rubbing the used nub. You twitched and spasmed as the aftershocks of your high jolted through your body, mumbling to yourself.

"It's-it's too much. Please. Stop." You beg as tears form from the overstimulation.

Jacques shushes you with kisses along your face, calming his fingers slightly, and you breathe a sigh of relief, head dropping as his hand still chokes.

"Have you ever experienced this before, a man's touch?" He whispers seductively, nose burying in your hair.

You're too dazed to think of a witty retort, Jacques pulling your consciousness away.

"No. I have to save myself."

"For who?" Jacques asks, removing his paws from your naked skin.

"My husband." You answer plainly.

Some of you have always wanted to explore your features this way, but you are always too scared, never taking the risk. You felt they would know what you had done by the look on your face, throwing you to live with pigs for the rest of your life. He chuckles at your lack of restraint, happy to have brought your defenses to a standstill as he slowly sways you to the bed, closing your eyes. You think he might leave you there, tucking you in for the night. You wouldn't protest with your achy limbs.

"You're still intact?"

You shoot up, eyes wide, as you realize what will happen. What?" That is all you manage to say, scared to admit the truth. Maybe if you didn't, he would lose interest and leave.

He rests his knees on the bed, your legs between his as he repeats.

"You are still intact?"

"Sir le Gris, I beg you to leave my chambers." Your voice weavers, sobering up, trying to keep a modicum of strength.

You slide off the bed, Jacques grabbing and flipping you as you swipe the candle stick from the floor. He crawls over the top, dragging his hair along your back as you feel his hands dip the bed, stick biting into your chest.

"I will ruin you for every man," Jacques whispers, face centimeters away from your ear, his facial hair tickling your skin as he peppers kisses along your neck.

The logical part of your brain wanted to stop this, realizing that you would fail if your future husband wanted to see if you were still a virgin. They'll declare you a whore, a harlot, sabotaging every suiter who enters the door. With your personality, you knew that your virtue would appeal more than money to them, and Jacques Le Gris would take it away. But the way his lips delicately kissed your skin, his hair lightly stroking it, taking the words out of your mouth as he reached your hips.

He removed his body from yours, shucking his black trousers onto the floor. You grip the candle stick tighter. This was your chance to fight back, stopping him from taking your only decent quality in man's eyes, but you didn't. You just lay there, waiting patiently for him.

A part of you wanted this, to know what it felt like and to discard any chance of finding a betrothed. You couldn't be tied to domestics, organizing feasts, caring for little ones, and then laying down to a man you could never love. It would be pure Hell, and you could not accept that. You would rather die alone without your honor than live a day under a man's boot.

Jacques grips your hips again, pulling you towards the edge of the mattress, legs hanging off the end as he spits on his shaft, stroking it. You turn your head to take a peak. The length is impossible; you had never seen one this long or wide, glistening with his seed at the tip. He catches you staring, smirking at your shocked expression, glad to have finally put you in your place.

He positions himself at your entrance, rubbing his hands on your ass almost gently as he pushes into the hilt. You scream, silencing it into the blankets as he pulls out, only to slam back in again. Tears burst from your eyes at the blinding pain of being stretched, his blatant disregard for your comfort.

"Jacques, it-it hurts." You beg, body shaking, the salty streams of water cascading down your face and into your mouth. "Please, slow down."

Your trembling voice breaks him from his trance, realizing he can't treat you the way he does with other women, not if both of you were to enjoy it. He pulls out, turning your body, seeing your tear-stained face and the candle stick you had been hiding, throwing it off to the side. Jacques smirks, proud to have won your mercy. He didn't know how long he would worry about you trying to kill him. He was proud of the magic his cock could work, but he didn't think it was that powerful, willing someone as strong and aggressive as you into submission. He bent over your body, kissing you, sucking on your lips gently, as your fingers combed threw his hair.

"I'm sorry, my darling, I should have remembered you are not like the rest. So fragile and delicate." He smiles, getting a waft from the oil he put on you earlier. "Like a rose. Ma rose. Beautiful and elegant, but if you aren't wise, she will prick you with her thorns."

You're sure his terms of affection come from pure physical attraction, trying to calm you so he could get back to fucking you like a rabbit. But the feeling that crept into your bones and heart at his words wanted to tell you something different.

He slowly drags them across your velvet walls, relishing in the tiny moans and whines he pulled from your chest. This time, his hand went down to your womanhood, using your juices to coat his fingers before he slid in, stretching you but not as comprehensively as his cock. You gripped onto the arms that caged you, your fingernails digging into the toned muscles as he dipped his head into the crook of your neck, softly biting the flesh.

You felt your peak rising quickly as he stroked you with curled fingers, your heat clenching and twitching around him. Jacques didn't need you to say anything to know you were close. Your body told him everything he needed as he quickly exited before your climax, ignoring your protests. He brought the digits to his mouth, coated in blood and nectar as he sucked, eyes rolling back at the tangy taste.

You watched in awe as his tongue licked it, dipping into all the crevices. He leaned down, hesitating momentarily as he reached your lips before you parted them and then dove in, mixing the taste of you and him. You moaned through your nostrils, eyelids fluttering as your tongues danced together, wrapping your legs around his waist. You were tired of waiting now that he showed you what sex could feel like, frustrated by its denial. You pulled his hair, tugging his face away as you looked into his hazel-brown irises.

You had never been this close to Jacques to appreciate his beauty truly; the freckles and moles dotted his cheeks and around his nose. He almost looked like the Roman statues you had seen in books, with his face and body chiseled from stone.

"Please," you whispered on his damp skin, "I need you inside me."

Jacques had waited for those words his entire life, eyes rolling back at the wave of arousal he got from them. He positioned his cock at your abused mound again, sliding in slowly as he watched your expression.

It was painful again, tensing and scrunching as he held back the best he could, bottoming out. The feeling of him so impossibly deep made you gasp. You were sure he was in your guts. You slowly ground your hips against him, trying to seek the pleasure you now knew he could give you. He smiled at your eagerness, happy to have turned the stiff woman into a puddle in his hands.

He finally gave you what you wanted, pulling back and sliding back in. Your walls finally adjusted to his overall size, welcoming him in. Like earlier, he worked that sweet spot inside you, stoking the fire smoldered inside into a small flame. You wanted more now that you realized what was possible, snatching his body close to yours as you angle your hips up, inviting him to go the pace he wanted. And Jacques did, slamming into your body as he fucked you deeply, breasts bouncing from the force.

You moaned loudly, head rolling to the side as the pleasure took over, Jacques wrapping a large palm around your throat again to hold you in place.

"Oh Lord," you shouted, "please forgive me. Now that I know of this sinful ecstasy, I may never stop."

Jacques smiled, happy that he ruined and corrupted you like he said he would, a new wave of primal desire controlling him. He yanks you to the end of the bed again, slamming your body into him as he stands upright, grabbing your waist and fucking into you as hard as he can, gritting his teeth.

You pant, excited by the new position he thrusts into rapidly, the now familiar pressure quickly building in your stomach.

"I am going to ruin you for every man." Jacques reiterates from before. "So, when your husband is fucking you like an untrained dog, all you will think of is me."

His black mop of hair sticks to his sweaty forehead as he continues pumping into you, holding himself back until you climax for him. He hikes your leg over his shoulder, pistoning in you impossibly deeper, hitting the same spot repeatedly until you snap. Your vision goes white as you arch your back, screaming at the bursting pleasure in your stomach. Jacques grins, proud to have you writhing under him as he spills inside you, seed filling up your hole as you both continue panting.

Jacques pumps into you carefully, slowly riding your highs together as your pulse slows, breathing calmly. His hand slowly snakes its way to yours, hooking a cautious pinky. He pulls out, gently dropping your leg as he collapses beside you, spent from the activities together, staring up at the ceiling.

His digit is vast compared to yours, the size of your index, as he takes the invitation to wrap all of them under your plan, bringing the back of your hand to his lips. You stare at him, an eyebrow raised at the unexpected display of affection.

"Thank you for giving yourself to me, ma rose. For letting me have your virtue." You look down at the intertwined hands and then at his face, skeptical, seeing his sincere expression.

"You are welcome," you giggle. "Though I always imagined it would be my husband, now I don't think I need one for that anymore."

Jacques laughs, a naturally bellowing whole-body one, and shakes his head.

"With all due respect, my lady, I don't think you needed me to show you that." You mirror his emotions, silently agreeing with him as he gets up, searching for the lost garments during your adventures.

You attempt to stand, legs faltering as pain shoots through your core, using the bed for balance. Luckily, Jacques is in the bathing room collecting his tunic as you walk over to the candle and holder, putting them back.

Cold, wet fabric on your back causes you to jump, turning around to see Jacques fully clothed with a wash rag in hand. You wince at the freezing temperature of it, grabbing his wrist. You look at him perplexed as he leads you back to the bed, parting your legs as he drags them across your core, cleaning up the dried blood and fluids.

"I can do that, Sir." You protest, uncomfortable with the amount of concern he is showing you.

"I know you can." He chuckles to himself, shaking his head, and continues. You don't stop him, letting the man care for you this time.

Once he's done, you reach for the cloth to discard, but he yanks it out of the way, folding it and stuffing it in a pocket. You put your hands on your hips, shaking your head.

"And what are you going to do with that le Gris?" You ask in an admonishing tone.

"Oh, this?" He questions, feigning innocence. "This is just for me... and any other suiter who decides to court you."

Your face pales, your playful expression dropping as you go to grab for him, his body surprisingly fast for the bulk of it. You try again, and he expertly dodges towards the door.

"Give it back, Jacques," you demand, done with his games.

He smiles and shakes his head, patting where the tainted fabric is stored. You reach for it once more as he opens your bed chamber door and slips out, shutting it on your naked body. He knows you can't leave, or everyone will see you; although some might be pleased, you still stay inside, pounding on the door as you yell his name.

***

You sit silently at the table with Count Pierre d'Alençon and his wife, your sister, eating the day's first meal. You needed that after last night, still fuming after what Jacques did.

That damn scoundrel.

Pierre puts his knife down with a "clang," causing your sister and you to perk up, expecting an explanation for the sound as he wipes his lips.

"Jacques le Gris came to my chamber last night," he begins. A lump forms in your throat as you freeze, terrified about what his following words would be."I found it very odd, him being here that late after the party, but nevertheless, he said it was necessary."

Indeed Jacques didn't blast Pierre about what you did last night; he already had proof enough that he didn't need to say anything.

"You came up in the conversation, my dear sister," he says as he points a jeweled finger.

You swallow, plotting all the terrible things you will do to Jacques the next time you see him.

"He proposed a marriage to you."

You drop all your silverware on the floor, face in shock at the reveal. Jacques has already ruined all chances of future courtiers, even going a step further and ruining your prospects of freedom. Why the Hell would he do that?

"I, of course, said that he would have to follow the process like any other man. He would get no special treatment just because he is my friend."

He steals your virtue and now your only chance of freedom.

"What do you say, my dear sister?" He asks, ripping your mind for your thoughts.

You stare blankly, unsure how to respond to something as ridiculous as that and clear your throat.

"Jacques le Gris is like all of the men from before and will be like all of the men after," you reply.

Pierre smiles at your answer, happy to know the two most headstrong, fiery people he knows will go toe to toe. This will be a duel for the ages.

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nyrasbloodyclover · 1 year ago

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ghost stories (tate langdon x reader)

a/n: FIRST OCTOBER FIC LET'S GOOO

It was the beginning of October when my family decided to move into our new house. I was already in love with it, even though my mom said it made her feel depressed by just looking at it.

It was much bigger than our previous home, so the exploring part made me excited. We dropped our bags and I immediately went to see each room.

It was getting pretty dark but I didn't bother turning on the lights. The air smelled of rain as I entered one of the rooms. It looked like it belonged to a boy, probably around my age. There were a lot of records of many different artists, some books and even an empty hamster cage.

"What are you doing in my room?" I turned and almost screamed when a boy appeared behind me. He looked young, with blond curls and pretty brown eyes.

"What are you talking about?" I finally asked when I gathered myself.

"This is my room." He was still not answering my question.

"We just moved in, and I don't know what are you talking about or how you even managed to get in without us noticing but if you plan on staying, I suggest you explain that to me."

And he did explain. But how was I supposed to believe him that he was a ghost who died in this house and is trapped in here forever?

"Prove it." I crossed my arms.

"Fine," he almost rolled his eyes. Then he disappeared. Like literally. From thin air.

"What the fu—" But then he appeared. I shook my head in disbelief and started to laugh. "Oh my god, that's so fucking cool."

"You think so? I'm Tate, by the way." He looked genuinely happy to introduce himself to me.

And so I became friends with one of the ghosts that lived in our house. We talked most of the time, he made fun of my music taste and made me listen to Nirvana (which I surprisingly liked). I read to him sometimes and he listened. He was an amazing listener.

But my parents didn't know about him and I meant to keep it that way.

He was okay with that and it was pretty easy to hide him. I mean whenever we were in my room and someone tried to come in, Tate just had to disappear.

The more we hung out, the closer we became. Sitting beside each other on my bed turned into him laying between my legs while I did my homework and he listened to his music. But we never tried to point that out. At least I haven't.

I pretended not to notice him drawing circles on my skin or playing with my hair, his hands wandering carefully, trying not to be too obvious. That made me feel...something. Something towards him. I hated it because we had such great friendship and admitting my feelings would just ruin it.

Until one night I was pissed about my school and I was just rambling to him, saying the worst stuff I could about everything and I had a feeling that he was trying not to laugh at me, but I didn't care.

He called me to join him on my bed and take a break from studying because it was getting late. For the first time, I listened to him.

And at some point, both of us fell asleep. I was exhausted and my body was screaming thank you when I finally closed my eyes.

But in the middle of the night, I woke up in panic because I never planned to fall asleep. I didn't even finish all my work!

In all my distress, I woke up Tate and he looked at me with his adorable sleepy eyes while I ran around the room and gathered all my books. He realized what I was doing and immediately stood up with intention to drag me back to bed.

"No, Tate, I have to finish this!"

"Relax. You need sleep. It's three in the morning."

"Yes, but how will I sleep when I know I left half of my assignments unfinished?"

He smiled innocently at me while I looked at him, not understanding his sudden mood change.

"I can help you fall asleep. If you want to." I looked at him, then at my books.

I was still confused. "I do, but...You have sleeping pills or something?"

At that he grinned at the floor and my chest fluttered.

"Let's just get to bed. I'll show you, but you have to relax." I couldn't hear a thing in that moment, not even the rain, not the pounding in my chest. I wasn't oblivious anymore. I knew what he meant and I still let him do whatever he pleased.

In seconds I was on bed with Tate slowly climbing on top of me. My face was burning and I couldn't see straight, but I didn't move.

He slowly put his hand on my pants, tucking his fingers beneath the waistband. "May I?"

I just nodded, not being able to form a proper sentence, but it was enough for him to take both, my pants and my underwear down.

His dark eyes were literally glowing while his mouth watered at the sight of me. Tate spread my legs and lowered himself enough to reach my aching cunt.

He looked up, smiling innocently before he went to work. His tongue licked me, up and down and I immediately grabbed his blond locks for support. He repeated the movement and it made me want to let out ungodly sounds, but I remembered we weren't alone and my parents were probably sleeping. If they found us like this, with Tate's head between my legs and my fingers in his hair...I would be joining Tate at being dead.

He put one finger in while his tongue circled my swollen clit and I accidentally pulled his hair. He let out a soft groan and I almost smirked for myself. I did it again and Tate groaned into me.

He didn't plan on stopping, apparently. Tate wanted me to see stars. I just wasn't sure how was this going to help with my sleep. I felt like I wasn't going to be able to close an eye for the rest of the night.

Tate decided to add another finger and I almost lost it there, but I couldn't let myself ruin this perfect moment. Not yet.

"If I add one more will you stop being to stubborn?"

"Let's find out." And he wasn't kidding. He stretched me put enough to put his third finger in and I moaned into my hand, not being able to control myself anymore.

He continued working with his tongue and it didn't take me long after that to lift my hips as I came on his mouth. He pressed his hand over my stomach to pin me back on bed as I clenched around his fingers.

He got up, licking his fingers and cleaning up his swollen mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. He took it off and did the same with my mess.

My legs were weak, I could barely change, but he helped me and got under the covers.

I joined him and realized that I haven't once thought about my assignments.

"Tate?"

"Yes?"

"Are we still friends?"

"Of course. Especially when you're in the need of sleeping pills."

I fell asleep with the weight of his hand on me while rain pounded on my window.

#evan peters #american horror story #ahs #evan peters fanfic #tate langdon fic #tate ahs #tate #tate langdon x reader #tate langdon #american horror murder house #american horror story apocalypse #american horror story fanfic

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glittering-moonlillie · 2 years ago

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I Hate You, Be My Girlfriend: The Finale (Damian Wayne x Reader)

Word Count: Way too long (jk it's about 7267)

Warnings: Minor cussing

Summary: After a fight with Damian, you realize you have to come to terms with the fact that he doesn't love you, until something comes along and makes you realize he might.

France was even more gorgeous than you had expected it to be. Google images regrettably did not do the country justice and neither did your phone, but that didn’t stop you from snapping as many pictures and videos as you could in order to preserve the memory.

Yet, despite all of the wonderful scenery and the fantastic food and the exceptional people, the best part - hands down - had to be waking up in the arms of Damian fucking Wayne for the past few days. The first night - and subsequently the following morning - you were neatly tucked into his side at an arm’s reach away. It was a warm but hesitant touch, a subtle ask for something more. Days passed and suddenly instead of the tentative touch you woke up to, you found yourself sprawled out on Damian’s bare chest with his arms tightly wrapped around you.

As if he was as desperately in love with you, the small cavernous side of your mind echoed. The thought was quickly shaken away. Despite Damian becoming more affectionate, his attitude remained like a stubborn piece of gum glued to a shoe. No matter how many times he held the warmth of your hand or gave you a gentle smile, it never seemed anything more than to save face and - at most - simple kindness. That did not ease the drumming ache of your heart, and you could only beg to the most benevolent Gods that he couldn’t hear it while he held you.

The morning beams leaked out of the windows of the hotel room, spraying you both with warmth. A husked groan escaped Damian’s lips, his head tilting to escape the blinding light. Most of his raven morning hair fell flat without the immense gel he used with some strands sticking up. His glazed-over gaze caught yours, the hazy emerald color melting into your own, making you feel naked in a snowstorm.

“How do you always end up sprawled out all over me by the morning?” He mumbled, tugging at the silk sheets to cover more of his body.

“You’re the one cuddling me, Dami.” You quickly pointed out, loving the way he casually rolled his eyes but didn’t let go.

“How dare you, I refuse to call this cuddling.”

“Then what would you like to call this?” You pouted.

Damian began to draw soft circles and other miscellaneous shapes into your skin, his hands slightly calloused for inexplicable reasons. Being this close to him, you could make out the constellations of scars scattered along his body, the feathered birthmark near his collarbone that almost resembled a bird, the slight tint of crimson darkening his cheeks. It was weird being this close to your crush and part of you was close to pinching yourself to wake up from this fantasy.

“Why does this need a name? I feel like that would ruin the rapport of it, don’t you think?” He questioned gently. His hardened eyes studied you, analyzing your reaction. Damian could probably see the way your eyes widened - could feel the quickening of your heart as it pumps blood to your face as it nodded in agreement. But if he did hear or notice any of those things, he didn’t mention it. He simply stared down at you.

“I um…” You gulped. “Are you excited for the bachelor party? You’ll get a break from me for once.” You let out a yawn, rolling off Damian’s chest and taking the blankets with you. Despite it being Summer time in France, the early mornings were not kind.

“Meh, not really.” Damian groaned and got up along with you to presumably get his clothes for the day. “I think I’m beginning to enjoy your company and I really don’t feel like being at a bar for five hours listening to my brothers act like Neanderthals.”

You failed to hold back your laughter listening to Damian continue to complain about his family. Even when it came to minor things like this, Damian always argued with immense zeal. It had to be a double edged sword, both one of his greatest strengths and one of his greatest faults.

Your heart fluttered at this idea - well, not of the idea itself - but because of the meaning behind it. You were getting closer to Damian, he wanted your company. Compared to a few weeks ago, he would have scoffed at the idea of even being close to your vicinity but now everything has changed.

But as soon as that glimpse of hope burst in, it popped instantly. This was all just a game to Damian, a façade he has put on to not show any weaknesses to his family. What was going on between you - the cuddling, hand holding, and soft kisses - was not anything special like how you dreamed. It was merely an act, the same one he would use at galas or any other public events. None of this meant anything to him because he didn’t love you.

The thoughts continued to get worse and worse, the idea of Damian being affectionate because it meant nothing killed your mood. Suddenly, a bachelorette party didn’t seem as fun anymore even if it was in Bordeaux. Looking back at the bed, it seemed way more comfortable than it did prior, but then you remembered the way Damian held you and another rush of regret seeped its way into your pores.

You scolded yourself for letting this get to you. Afterall, you knew from the very beginning that there was a high probability of you getting hurt. You were so swept up by the projected romance that you forgot that this was real life; Damian wouldn’t fall in love with you and after the wedding is over, he will most likely go back to avidly hating you.

“Are you okay?” You turned behind you, catching the sight of Damian who had pulled on a tight forest green sweater and dark gray slacks all complimented with a black coat. He had worn these kinds of clothes before, so you wonder why your heart is beating faster than ever.

You clutched your clothes tighter in your grasp. “I-I’m fine…”

Damian squinted his eyes. It was obvious he didn’t believe what you told him. “Are you sure? You seem so…finicky this morning.”

You swiftly tried to escape the conversation, trying to hurry your way to the bathroom to change. “I guess I’m just a little nervous for the wedding. There’s going to be a lot of people so…”

Damian’s hand cut you off from entering the bathroom. “Tell me what’s actually going on.”

Fine. If he was being stubborn you may as well be too. “Why do you care all of a sudden? I thought you didn’t like me much.”

You tried to play off the comment as a half joke, thinking that he would laugh along with you. You weren’t expecting the borderline horrified look he gave you instead. His eyebrows knit in confusion and his jaw tightened, giving you enough time to slightly move his hand and enter the bathroom and change.

“Why do you keep thinking I hate you?” Damian’s voice was outside the doorway. His voice sounded like he accidentally stepped on his dog’s foot or his cat’s tail. Again, you weren’t expecting this reaction. Was he not the one who said he hated you? Did he not relentlessly tease you whenever you talked?

“What, are you saying that you don’t?”

“Yes. That is exactly what I am saying. Don’t be a fucking idiot.” This time, his voice seemed more agitated as if it was a ridiculous thought to have. A cloud of confusion permeated through your mind, refusing to leave and causing you to go silent. What were you supposed to say to that? Was this not a contradiction to how he acted 98 percent of the time you knew him?

Damian was standing a few feet away when you walked out. “Of course, you’re just going to act like an immature baby about things.” He stepped closer to you with an all too familiar glare. “What is the problem? We were fine a few minutes ago.”

“I don’t understand you, Damian! One minute you are charming and nice, and then the next you sling insults at me!” You snapped. “And then you act surprised when I assume you hate me?”

The intense glare you received made your skin crawl. His mouth opened once, twice, only to quickly shut. For the first time since you knew him, he was speechless.

“It’s not like you actually love me.” You continued, voice quieter and abnormally cold.

You attempted another laugh but it came off sounding like a sad sob. It was a last resort to cover up the pain you felt, a nervous tick, a bad habit. Laughing was easier than admitting how much rejection hurt. It felt like being shoved into an operating chair and having a knife rip you apart until there was nothing left. Not even hope for a miracle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damian could not believe his ears; he wasn’t sure if he wanted to break down into tears or scream in a furious rage. The latter seemed more tempting. You looked like a wounded puppy, like he had kicked you and left you out on the street during a cold winter to starve.

“I…what?” He stuttered.

It’s not like you actually love me…

The words sounded so disdainful…so frigid, the exact opposite of your optimistic personality. It startled him, left him scrambling for a reason - a reason for why it hurt, a reason for why you were hurt, a reason why this was happening in the first place.

It was ridiculous, really. Damian had fought against hundreds of villains with only his sword and his brain. If it weren’t for his wits and natural skill, he would have been long dead and buried six feet under. So why, why was it that he failed to properly articulate what he wanted to say to you?

Never in his life did Damian regret his actions more than he did now. The way your eyes sparkled with tears, how your hands crossed your chest and your legs shaked - he wanted nothing more than to be the one who comforted you, to make up for the way he treated you. Alas, he failed to actually say what was on his mind.

“You don’t actually love me.” You repeated, once again trying to laugh, but he can tell it wasn’t sincere. “That is the whole joke of this situation.”

“Shut up, Y/n. You don’t even know what you are talking about.” He said, although he wasn’t really sure why. For most of the time he knew you, he assuredly did not love you at all. He would swear by it. Other than his love for animals and the cursed blood that pumped through him, you were one of the few constants he had in his life. Every single time he saw you he got lightheaded and felt like he was under some watered down version of Joker’s laughing gas, but now that he was forced to be near you, he had grown to enjoy the feeling you gave him. It became something he would willingly flight for.

Whilst he wasn’t sure why, Damian wanted you more than anything; more than his father’s cowl, more than a pet turtle named Michelangelo, more than a cookie from Alfred.

“I mean, it’s true. You would never love someone like me, not in a hundred years.”

And there it was. The same stomach churning feeling he got whenever he did something overtly terrible to you. It made him want to take a dagger and plunge it into his heart, maybe that would stop the terrible ache it gave.

“But what if I did?” Damian blurted. “What if I really, truly did and I was just a dumbass and didn’t realize it before. Is it really impossible for you to believe that I might?”

“Well…” You took a step back, and then another, eyes twitching and breath heavy. “T-that…that wouldn’t…it wouldn’t…”

Damian noticed how you were on the verge of crying, with your lip trembling and fingers fraying the sides of your sweater. It irritated him; all of this was because of his behavior, because he was not enough, because he couldn't unravel the strange feelings that lingered in his gut.

“Why are you crying?” He immediately bit his lip, realizing how harsh that sounded. What he meant to say was Why aren’t you smiling at me? What can I do to make you smile?

You grabbed the key card for the shared room off the table, wiping away the few tears that slid across your cheeks. “Doesn’t matter…” You replied. “Let’s just ignore that this conversation happened and get breakfast.”

Despite wanting to say so much more - to argue about how it was unfeasible for him to hate you - all Damian could do was exhale and follow you to the breakfast area.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Breakfast was an absolute disaster. Considering that this was the first argument you and Damian had, it managed to ruin the mood for a majority of the afternoon. The rest of his family could tell that there was some sort of miscommunication between the two of you as well. The frequent jokes and remarks you two made were replaced with depressing silence and forlorn glances.

Damian still could not grasp the idea of you thinking he hated you. He was determined to make it up to you since he now considered your opinion of him of the utmost importance, but no matter how many times he attempted to apologize you would shoot him down. He couldn’t even tell if you were angry with him since you just stared at him with those sad abused puppy dog eyes that always seemed to be a blink away from shedding tears.

It boggled him, absolutely infuriated him to the point where he accidentally snapped at his older siblings and Alfred (who he later apologized to). The idea of him loving you raced through his mind numerous times; the proposal of it felt like greeting an old friend. It was surprising how he was not opposed to the idea in the slightest.

All Damian could think of were the times you were kind to him and saw through him like he was a transparent ghost and how he retaliated with rudeness. He allowed himself to wonder if the whole situation would have been different if he had been kinder to you, only to realize that the likelihood of you being present with him now would be near improbable if he had been.

He cursed under his breath in his mother’s tongue as he often did when he was this upset. It was one of the only few comforts he had at the moment. There were no animals he could hold and pet, no canvases to illustrate his emotions, no criminals to punch into a reddened smoothie. He only had you but he was not sure how he could approach you again. Preferably it would have been tonight but you were both dragged respectively to a bachelor/bachelorette party.

The loud music and excited chatter of his family at the circus themed bar only proved to worsen Damian’s mood. The beating lights that bounced to the music and the steady flow of acrobatic men and women who somersaulted sent Damian’s mind into a dizzying blur. The whoops and cheers next to him did not make his situation any better. He couldn't care less. As important as this night was for Dick, he would have preferred to not be there at all.

“What’s got you scowling like that, lil D?” Dick yelled across the huge bar table, his face flushed and eyes dilated to the point where the ocean in them expanded into a black sea.

“He’s having girl issues, Dick!” Tim remarked. “He probably said something really shitty to Y/n and has no idea how to say sorry.”

“Hey, I-”

“No fighting at my bachelor party!” Dick slurred. He turned back to him. “What happened, buckaroo?”

Damian cringed at the pet name. It seemed like alcohol reverted Dick back into the ancient youth he was while being Robin. “Don’t you dare call me that again, Grayson.”

“Come on, lil D! Let us help you, I am amazing with women!”

“That’s probably not the best thing to say, Dick.” Jason rolled his eyes. “Regardless, I do think the embarrassed look on Damian is amusing, so please continue.”

Everyone looked to Damian expectantly, all of them raising the iconic eyebrow learned from Alfred. It was a similar stare to the one you gave him, and the sudden thought of you sent another wave of goosebumps along his body, making him feel possessed.

Damian chose his words carefully. He could not just blatantly confess to forcing you into a fake relationship, nor could he ask for help when he didn’t know what to ask help with.

“I don’t think that I am showing enough…affection to Y/n and I…I think she is really hurt about it.” He managed to mumble. “I don’t know how to appease her.”

The stupefied look on his brothers face made his cheeks burn, his eyes furrowing in further annoyance. “Have you tried to flirt with her? Like, walking up to her and giving her a wink. Maybe saying a good pick up line or two with a devilishly sexy smirk?”

“I-” before Damian could argue, he realized that this was Dick he was talking to, and if anyone knew what they were talking about, it would be him. “Out of pure curiosity, what lines do you suggest? Flirting wise.”

The table groaned in unison. “God no, I’m not drunk enough for this.” Jason rolled his eyes. He gestured to one of the laced up women for another drink.

“Well, when Babs and I were still young I used a multitude of different ones.” Dick hiccupped, leaning against the wooden table with a wide grin. “Once I told her that I loved the new adjustments she made on the batgirl costume, but I said that it would look better on my floor. Oh! And there was this other time that I said she was so hot that my zipper was falling for her.”

Dick paused, looking up fondly to the tented color ceiling as if it were replaying those memories like a TV show rerun. It was at this time that Damian realized he should probably be taking notes; although he was confident in his memory, when it came to you, you always found a way to snatch away his words.

“The dirtier the pick up lines, the better!” Dick finished after snapping back into reality. “Oh, and you have to deliver it confidently. Confidence is super sexy! Eventually she’ll see how much you love her and want her if you do it enough.”

He hummed in affirmation, taking a few notes on his phone. Damian realized that the few pick up lines Dick used were so…dirty. Of course, Damian was not a prudish snob when it came to being dirty but the thought of being remotely dirty with you sent his mind once again spiraling like a rollercoaster. Imagining you…with your clothes on the floor…all for him…Holding you underneath the bed and finally kissing your honeyed lips…

The sound of Jason’s low, deep chuckle brought him back to focus. “What’s so funny, Todd?”

“Nothing, nothing. I just think Dick’s advice is absolutely terrible and he will probably realize that once he’s sober.” He turned to his younger brother with a look only the Devil could muster. “Plus, you are terrible at disguising your thoughts.”

“I don’t see you coming up with better advice.” He retaliated.

Jason shrugged and reclined back in his chair as he took another sip of his beer. “I think I’m having more fun laughing at how embarrassed you are. Oh, and don’t take that in a bad way - although I’m sure you will.”

“You are absolutely useless, Todd. I’m sure even Tim could offer better advice than that.”

The said brother tilted his head back with a tired indifference. “I’m lucky that Conner even loves me so I’m not sure I should be one to help. Have you tried to, I don’t know, show your appreciation by paying attention to every single detail of her life and memorizing it so that when asked, you know everything about her?”

There was a deathly pause, everyone at the table looking toward Tim. “That sounds utterly ridiculous…” Still, Damian hastily wrote it down in his notes anyway, just in case it proved to be useful. He doubted it though, since he knew almost everything about you like the back of his hand.

“It worked for me.” Tim said with yet another shrug. “Just make sure she doesn’t notice you doing it or else she will get really really weirded out.”

Damian wrote Watch her every move in his notes the same time a dark shadow stalked towards him. Looking up, Damian saw the tired yet content face of his father next to him, glancing at his phone.

“Sorry I’m late. I had to deal with another Killer Croc rampage.” His father’s voice was coarse and gruff with age, his chin clear of any stubble and his eyes an icy blue.

Dick stood up, his feet wobbly, to embrace Bruce. Although this was not a common occurrence, the two men embraced each other similar to how one would grasp a lifesaver. “I almost thought you wouldn’t come. I’m so glad you could make it, Dad.”

The two broke away almost as soon as it happened. “Good timing too. We’re all trying to help Damian with the girl he’s with.”

Damian’s face burned a bright crimson, matching the colors of the circus uniforms as they swayed by, giving him the appearance of drunkenness. He forced his cheeks to remain neutral despite the need to break out into a goofy smile at the mere mention of your existence.

Sitting down next to him, his father gave a thoughtful hum. “I’m not the best with women but-“

“Father, you have nothing to add to this conversation.” Bruce almost looked offended, frowning as he closed his mouth.

“That’s…fair.” He said eventually.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was really late at night when all the girls returned to Des Quinconces after the bachelorette party. Busy chatter filled the empty air with melodic excitement as the party filed into Barbara’s room. Everyone had decided to have a huge sleep over the night before the wedding, spurred on by Stephanie and a few of the newer arrivals. It was a sigh of relief to you, since you weren’t sure you could handle a meeting with Damian at the moment.

You were still visibly upset with the argument you had with Damian, and since you had spent this whole trip with him exclusively (and with very few meetings with his family since he was still paranoid they will catch on to the act), it was even worse being without him for this long. You already began to miss his witty comments and the friendly debates, but most of all, you missed the brief smile he gave you. Witnessing it was like finding a double rainbow after heavy rain or pinpointing a shooting star in the night sky. Without him, there were no double rainbows or shooting stars - just a gloomy night sky saturated in monochrome.

As the cluster of girls made their way up the stairs, you dragged behind like a fish poop, wondering how to salvage things with Damian before the trip was over. When expressing the problem to the rest of the group (albeit carefully so it doesn’t seem suspicious) they suggested a plethora of things ranging from making him jealous, giving him the silent treatment, and or seducing him. Despite being told by one of the girls, Kor’i, that she could probably find another guy for the scheme, it felt impossible to make Damian jealous when there was a multitude of prettier girls at the wedding.

Now that you’re thinking about it, it would be the perfect escape for him. If the two of you broke up during the trip he wouldn’t be questioned about you afterward. You were just a ragdoll after all, a puppet he could use for the sake of not being embarrassed by his family.

The image of Damian’s disappointed and heart-broken face reappeared in your mind. He looked so upset that you assumed he hated you, as if this whole trip was not a huge, perfectly photo-shopped picture. Was it because you were assuming the absolute worst of him?

Another idea crossed your mind: What if he loved you? What if you magically made him succumb to the same feelings he gave you?

Perhaps the reason why he was so hurt was because the tenderness he showed you was out of something close to love and your rejection of it angered him. Or perhaps this was you once again wishing for a miracle, hoping for something that would prevent you from the massive heartbreak you would undoubtedly endure.

Despite the earlier conversation pointing to the former, you just could not push aside the year or so of bickering that led to this moment. As you laid your head down for the night, you concluded that the best course of action was to stick with the original plan: Pretend to be Damian’s girlfriend until the trip is over. Once it is over, you may as well get over him as well. There was no use wishing for a miracle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day of the wedding arrived with the breaking of an egg yolk, the sun peering over the horizon as if it too was not ready. Gathering whatever was left of your excited energy, you did your best to help Barbara and everyone else get ready. The whole room was a technicolor war zone with different colored dresses and materials scattered carelessly.

Stephanie and Cassandra took care of Barbara for the most part, assuring her that Dick wouldn’t walk out, giving you time to look for the dress you stored away for the event. Originally, Damian wanted to be there with you to pick out the dress so that it matched his, but you thankfully were able to keep it a surprise until now. Looking at it, a wave of bittersweetness washed over you, like the taste of dark chocolate melting on your tongue. You wondered if the dress was too bold, or if it would even fit you correctly without it making you look like an unfinished sketch.

Whatever it did, it was too late to turn back now.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the bathroom mirror, trying to picture how Damian would react. You wanted a reason to look pretty, to try and attract and beguile him. Now it seemed like any other piece of clothing you owned, just with a bit more frills and lace. The magic was gone.

“Wow, you look beautiful!” Stephanie walked in with a grin, her perfect blonde hair curling like a lion’s mane. “I told Damian to wait for you downstairs, he looks pretty decent. We’ll meet you there.”

She winked, dragging you out of the bathroom and pulling you out of the door. “Stepha-”

Your fate was already sealed when the door slammed closed. You sighed, turning back around. Worry and hesitance consumed your body, eating away like moths to old fabric. Alfred was at the bottom of the stairs, seemingly talking to the youngest Wayne. At least he hadn’t noticed you yet; it made the 1,000 mile journey down more doable.

Taking one last gasp of air, you painted a happy expression on your countenance and trudged onward. It didn’t take long for Damian to notice you, he always did, the glimmer in his eyes drawing you in further.

He was smiling

No, wait…He was smirking at you.

“Ah, it is good to see you Miss L/n, right on time.” Alfred nodded at you then turned to Damian once more. “I trust you will keep our conversation in mind?”

“Of course.” When you were within reach, he extended his hand and palmed yours. Warmth flooded your senses. It only worsened when he brought your hand to his lips and planted a kiss that was as gentle as a bird’s wings.

His forest eyes connected with yours, and it was then that you noticed how amazing he was dressed. It was a normal black suit with a dark green undershirt, the cuffs of the suit embellished with a golden W. His hair was slicked back as usual, no bedhead in sight. There was no trace of sadness or anger in his face from the argument yesterday.

“Beloved, you look…absolutely stunning, ravishing even.”

“I-I…” You stuttered. “Thank you, Dami.”

You walked to the sleek black rental car, his hand in yours the whole way through. The noisy, busy street dissipated as you were enveloped in the quietness of the vehicle.

Damian shifted in his seat, buckling in and smiling back at you. “Are you ready to go, my love?”

Not trusting your ability to speak, you simply nodded. The already tight dress now seemed constricting. Silence filled the car with only the grinding of tires against the ground serving as music. You squirmed around, doing your best to make yourself comfortable.

Damian cleared his throat. “Beloved…I…I wanted to apologize for how I have treated you, not just for yesterday, but for every other time too.”

“Oh, I…” Your mind grasps for a response. “Don’t um, don’t worry about it.”

His mouth twists in a thin line, pushing on the break at the red light. He reaches for your hands again, eyes heavy with an unfamiliar emotion. “I mean it, Y/n…I should have been kinder to you.”

When he was not met with an answer, he continued hastily. “I noticed yesterday that your eyes did not have the same fiery glint in them as they usually did when we were together. You also only smiled twice that day compared to the minimum of 32 every other day. I-It made me realize how much your happiness means to me.”

The kaleidoscope of butterflies returned with gusto, a genuine smile fighting its way on your face. “That’s...oddly specific.”

Nevertheless, you couldn’t help but giggle; whether the numbers he used were accurate or not, it showed how he actually cared. This reaction seemed to vex Damian.

“If you aren’t going to take me seriously, I’ll have to pin you against a wall until you start to listen.” He grumbled.

“Wh-what?!”

His smirk reappeared, this time evidently victorious as if he took a gamble and won. “You heard me.”

"I'm not sure if I did...the Damian I know wouldn't blatantly flirt with me like that." "But how could I not flirt with you when you look so pretty all flustered for me?" He teased.

The wedding venue broadened along the horizon, revealing a gorgeous sectioned off garden or…was it a park? You weren’t able to tell. Cars were parked all along the perimeter, an ocean of people filling into the area.

“That’s a lot of people…” You exclaimed. “I thought you said this was going to be a small event?”

“Trust me, my family knows way more people than those who are at the wedding.” Damian pulled into the allotted parking area, flashing his ID to one of the valet members.

“`That doesn’t really help, Dami.” You looked into the mirror and played with your appearance. “I’m not sure how well my acting will be around so many people.”

He turned off the engine of the car, clicking his seatbelt and grabbing the keys. “The solution is simple then. Just don’t pretend anymore.”

It was almost as if Cupid himself pierced your heart with one of his infamous arrows, making you fall deeper into the pit you created for yourself. You were 100 percent certain that Damian knew the effect he had on you if his smug grin were anything to go by, serving to only worsen your sheepishness. He was flirting with you as if it were second nature, as if he wanted to draw out this side of you.

All worries of him loving you or not vanished as smooth as a sunset. When he opened the door for you, there was no hesitance; you swiftly took your place beside him. Two perfect puzzles placed next to each other, both their own picture but when put together, make an even more beautiful picture. Damian threw the keys to the valet attendant.

The summer sun felt delicious on your exposed skin. Living in Gotham, days like these were as rare as gold and twice as valuable. Fresh grass and the exuberant amount of irises and lilacs intoxicated your senses. Most of the people seemed to be seated in the white pews.

“May I ask why you are acting all flirty and endearing all of a sudden? Not that I’m complaining or anything, I just want to know what kind of trouble you are planning on getting me into.” Damian’s grip tightened.

“Who’s to say I want to get you in trouble? What if I was just being honest with you for once?” He questioned.

He leaned in closer, breath fanning against your ear, his hair tickling your skin. “Maybe after tonight I want to call you mine.”

You blinked. “Uh…”

“Is…did that not work?” Damian glanced at his phone then back at you, tilting his head and squinting. “Dick told me that would work. Why is- Are you not falling madly in love with me right now?”

“Damian, what are you talking about?” You said, just as bewildered as him.

Damian’s face contorted, green eyes tearing away from yours. “I wanted to make up for hurting you all those times. I thought that if I did that then…”

A pale visage, eyes darting everywhere but to yours - his facade was breaking right in front of you. A sigh emanated from his lips, broken and cracked. “My family…they made me realize-”

“Damian?!” A booming voice followed with a sudden gust of wind cut him off. “I haven’t seen you in so long!”

A similarly aged boy rushed in to give the Wayne a tight hug; he had swirly black hair and pale skin, his eyes a baby blue. He was a few inches taller than Damian as well.

“You have terrible timing, Jon.” Damian complained.

The man, Jon, pulled away from him but kept his arm slung around his shoulders.

“Ah, sorry. Sometimes I get carried away.” He beamed. “My name’s Jon! And you are?”

You attempted to speak but Damian cut you off before you could. “She’s my girlfriend, Y/n.”

Jon’s eyes widened, turning to the other with a gasp. “You got a girlfriend and didn’t tell me?!”

“We’re pretty new, Jon. I didn’t want to make her feel overwhelmed.”

You raised an eyebrow to Damian, who did not seem to have a problem changing the agreed upon story.

“I-I..er…it’s nice to meet you, Jon!” You finally said. The smile you gave felt like a cheap knock-off in the presence of Jon, who resembled more of a golden retriever.

“We should go, beloved. I’m afraid my brothers are probably waiting for us.” Damian tried to tug on the sleeve of your dress while you were in mid conversation with Jon. He gave you a needy whine.

“Oh, alright then.” Jon said. “See you later?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Damian replied, hand now in yours.

The two of you weaved your way towards the saved seats near the front of a flower woven arch. Familiar people greeted you and Damian, ranging from Rachel and Kara (who you met yesterday) to newer people named Conner and Wally. They all seemed nice enough, but your mind couldn’t maintain the same level of focus it usually did. How could it be when Damian was acting like a clingy, jealous boyfriend?

Not only that, but the conversation beforehand seemed to be leading to a teary eyed confession. Whether it be a confession of love or of just remorse, you weren’t sure. You desperately wanted to believe that it was the former of course. It felt natural being beside him. Acting as a couple didn’t feel as fake as it did prior, causing a flurry of bubbling adulation.

You imagined taking your place in the pews during the wedding for weeks now, imagined what it would be like to watch two people vow their love for eternity and beyond. Music began and the remaining people who were ambling about quickly found their seats.

Dick was in the front with a charming navy suit, his face twisted in a nervous smile. The pastor was a woman with flowing black hair that towered over the bridegroom.

The traditional marriage song began and suddenly Cassandra emerged, twirling and leaping with a basket of purple petals, tossing them in the air like glitter. Her dress was a little longer than a ballerina’s and her hair was accented with white flowers. The laws of physics seemed defied as Cass made her way across the aisle as if wings sprouted from her back.

Barbara made her way across the aisle with her father, her mermaid dress trailing behind her. She was absolutely stunning and she knew it. Dick’s face broke out into a goofy smile, fidgeting with the collar of his suit. Babs took her place next to Dick and the ceremony began.

You couldn’t help imagining yourself in Bab’s place, exchanging words of affection with the love of your life. Your eyes dragged to the person next to you. You were met with his eyes staring into yours, a blush dusting his face as if he could read your mind.

“Richard Grayson, do you take Barbara Gordon to be your wedded wife, to live together in marriage? Do you promise to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, and forsaking all others, be faithful only to her, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” Dick said, his voice straining.

“Barbara Gordon, do you take Richard Grayson to be your wedded husband to live together in marriage? Do you promise to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health and forsaking all others, be faithful only to him so long as you both shall live?” The woman asked.

“I do.” She answered quickly.

“Well then, I happily pronounce you husband and wife! You may now kiss the bride!” Applause erupted from the crowd as Dick pulled Barbara into his arms for a sentimental kiss.

Your applause was cut short by Damian, who attempted to drag you to the far side of the venue. You laughed as you tried to run in the heels you wore.

“Damian, I swear you are trying to kill me. What was that for?” You asked out of breath, fighting a giggle fit.

“I’ve been trying to talk to you for the past hour and a half and I am not in the mood for anyone else to interrupt it.” He softly grabbed your wrist, creating a mere few inches of distance.

“My family made me realize that I…” He took a deep breath. “They made me realize how much I care for you. The time we have spent together it’s been…it’s been one of the most enjoyable weeks of my life.”

“That’s really sweet, Damian. I’m glad we have grown to be friends.” You nuzzled into his chest.

“I, no. That’s not…” Damian huffed out of exasperation. “I don’t want to just be friends with you, Y/n. I want to be more than that. I want what we have in the late nights and early mornings when it’s just us. Not because I am afraid of what my family will say, but because you make me a better person and I long to be the one who makes you smile.”

The bomb that had been slowly ticking down to its demise finally went off, a glorious bombardment of color and sparks that hazed your mind like a Fourth of July Night.

“You…want me?”

“More than anything, Y/n. That’s why I got so upset yesterday…I was upset at myself for making you think I hated you when I didn’t.” The confession felt as soft as an everlasting Spring breeze, a promise to love during the blazing heat and decaying cold. His finger tilted your head up so you could look up at him. There was no mask hiding away his feelings, it was plain to see that he meant every word.

“I’ve had a crush on you for a long while, Dami. I- God, I’ve fantasized about you saying that to me for months. I’m sorry for assuming you hated me..it was more of a defense mechanism than anything.”

“Oh really?” He leaned in closer with his iconic smug smile. “What else did you fantasize, beloved?”

You gulped. “Kissing…maybe?”

You gave him your best version of a puppy eyed stare.

“Do you want me to let you in on a secret, Y/n?” When you nodded, he said “I don’t think I could ever deny you when you look at me like that.”

In a blink of an eye, Damian’s lips pressed to yours and it only took you a moment of processing for you to kiss back. There were no fireworks, sparkles or any other bombardments as usually described in the romance books you read. Just the simple warmth you shared.

Breaking away, you became aware of where you were and part of you felt bad for missing the immediate celebration. Barbara had her back to an array of women and some men, about to throw her bouquet of lilies. In front of it all was Tim’s boyfriend, Conner, who looked like he would shoot down anyone if he did not get the flowers. As she threw the bouquet, she managed to throw it towards the pews where Jason was sitting idly on his phone, effectively hitting him in the face and landing in his lap.

Jason stared at his lap for a few seconds, confused. He looked to the crowd and spotted Conner, throwing them in his direction.

“Mine!” He yelled, catching the bouquet with almost inhumane speed. “Hey, Timmy! Wanna head to Vegas and get married?”

Tim stared at his boyfriend, shaking his head with a flustered smile.

“I’m sad that we’ll have to leave in a day…It would have been nice to go to Champs Elysée and Place de l’etoile.”

Damian briefly spun you around so you were facing him again. “Who’s to say we can’t do that still?”

“You’re Dad and Alfred? They said we’d be going back to Gotham the day after the wedding?”

He hummed. “Too bad I’ll have to tell them we’ll be staying for another week so I can take you everywhere else you want to go to in France.”

“You what?”

“Is that a yes?” He asked. “I was hoping to take you to Paris for a date.”

“I- Yes! Of course it’s a yes, Damian!”

“Oh that’s good, because I already booked everything and I’d hate for it to go to waste.” He smiled at you like a complete dork.

“Hell yeah! Time for crab stuffed mushrooms and a huge ciambellone!” Dick hollered, Barbara in his arms.

The huge crowd seemed to be making their way to their cars, petals still drifting in the air.

Your stomach growled.

“I am starving, come on! Let’s go so we don’t have to deal with a ridiculous line for food!” You exclaimed, this time dragging Damian to his car. Your giddy laughter filled the air like a melody.

Damian couldn’t help but smile broadly. “Alright, beloved."

HOLY MOTHER OF GOD I AM DONE WITH THIS. Don't get me wrong, I had a blast with this series, but I had no idea that this final part would take this long to write. I had thought that I would have enough time to finish it on Wednesday, not realizing I would write another 5k words.

The writing towards the end is probably not as good as the beginning because I had a little bit of a hard time. Still, I hope you guys liked the ending. There was so much more I wanted to add to it too, but my writing juices were thoroughly squeezed and I didn't want to push it back further.

TAGLIST: @greenkiki, @lorosette, @noah-uhhh-what, @vanessa-boo, @herascave, @celestair, @trashmouthsahra, @littlemiss-nightshade and @itzstaticrainbow

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crystalninjaphoenix · 2 months ago

Text

To Speak the Unspeakable

Fantasy Masks AU: Chapter Forty-One

A JSE Fanfic

This is a real doozy of a chapter guys XD A 9000-word whopper. I could have cut it in half, I guess, but I think it's more effective if it's all together. Anyway. Who's ready for Lore?! :D I am! :D I've been sitting on this twist since the start of the series! Alright alright alright. Summary time. The group finally reaches their destination in the Wyldwood. A strange circle where nothing grows. When they reach the center, they realize the true nature of the spirit possessing the King. And yeah! Excited! :D Enjoy reading, everyone!

Previous Part | | From the Start | More AU | Read on AO3: CrystalNinjaPhoenix

Taglist: @brokentimewatch

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We’re getting close.”

The group had been walking through the Wyldwood for most of the day when Marvin suddenly spoke up near noon. “Hmm?” Jackie glanced at him. “You recognize this area?”

“I do.” Marvin nodded. “It would be hard to forget it even if I wasn’t trying to remember every little detail.”

The trees nearby had dark blue leaves, their trunks being either white or brown so dark it was almost black. The long, thin grass was a similar, though lighter shade. Draco’s tail was sticking up from the grass as he trotted along. This was an incredibly amazing place, even by the Wyldwood standards. Henrik had stopped to pluck some of the leaves from the branches when they first entered it, and even now Chase was looking around, taking in the depths of the unnatural colors.

Another day longer, then? Jameson asked. You said that it was a week’s walk and this is our sixth day.

Marvin nodded. “Yes, exactly. One more night... and then we’ll be there.”

Chase took a deep breath. His stomach was twisting in knots, knowing how close they were to their destination. To... whatever he needed to see. “I hope...” He trailed off. “I don’t know. I just hope.”

“I think we all understand,” Jackie said quietly. The rest of the group nodded.

They walked for a while more, continuing in silence until the Wyldwood started to grow dim at night again. They were still in that blue-leaf section when they settled down for the night.

Then the next morning, they woke up, packed up their stuff, and started walking again. All in complete silence. It wasn’t clear if they were excited or nervous or just all feeling the pressure of what they would find now that their journey was drawing close.

They left the section with the blue leaves and came into a new section that was almost... normal. The flowers were glowing, of course, but other than that, it could have been the depths of any forest with a thick canopy. Draco looked irritated as he walked, his muscles tense, and Marvin mirrored him. He was nodding slowly.

The trees were starting to thin out for the first time since they entered the Wyldwood, when suddenly—

“Do you all hear a thumping noise or is it just me?” Henrik asked.

The group paused, listening. There was, indeed, a thumping sound. It was fairly distant, but as they stood there silently, it started getting louder. It sounded like—“Is that a horse?” Chase asked, confused. “Why’s there a horse in the Wyldwood?”

“It’s probably not actually a horse,” Marvin said nervously. “Hurry! But be quiet.”

The group ran forward, going as fast as they could while not making noise. But within just a few seconds, there was something in the distance running at them. A black horse with a cape-wearing rider, galloping right at them! A blade flashed in the air—was that an axe?!

“Run!” Jackie shouted, drawing his swords. He shoved the nearest person—Henrik—forward with his shoulder.

The horse and rider were upon them! And there was something wrong with the rider. The shape of him was—too short? Not like the person themselves was short but—like they were missing something—something from the top—

“Dullahan!” Chase gasped. “Go go go!” He grabbed Jameson by the hand and pulled him along as he lagged behind. These creatures were deadly! He’d heard stories and they never ended well!

CLANG! The dullahan swiped with its axe as it passed by, aiming to lop off Jackie’s head. Jackie quickly raised one sword to defend himself, pushing the axe away, but in the process—“Holy flame!” Jackie gasped, looking down at his sword. The blade had been broken, the upper half of it now glinting in the grass.

“W-what kind of axe can do that?!” Henrik stammered, looking back at Jackie.

“It had a lot of force behind it,” Jackie said, still shocked. But then his expression hardened and he looked up. “The dullahan is circling back around. It’s going to keep attacking. Keep running! Go! Don’t look back!”

“Come on!” Marvin shouted, already pulling ahead. “We’re so close!”

Chase ran after him, still pulling Jameson along. He caught a glimpse of Henrik running next to him before he started to lag and disappeared out of his eyesight. Marvin said they were close! And Chase knew they were on the edge of something! There were less and less trees around them, their trunks thinner than they used to be. But even so, the hoofbeats were approaching once again. Chase put all his effort into running, pulling ahead of Marvin, his pulse pounding in his neck—

And then he broke out into open air, right on the edge of a sudden drop.

Chase yelped. He wasn’t able to stop his movement in time, so he prepared to roll, ducking his head and protecting it with his arms. He fell to the ground, vision rattling with the impact, and immediately began tumbling down the steep incline. Rocks bit into his back and limbs as he rolled but he made sure to keep himself pulled in tight. Until the ground suddenly leveled out. His movement carried him a bit farther before he finally stopped. He unrolled slowly, groaning as his whole body ached, and looked up.

Jameson and Marvin had also fallen down here with him, their clothes and hair now covered in gray dirt. Marvin was grabbing his knee, hissing in pain, and Jameson stared up blankly at the sky as he lied on his back. Henrik was at the back, so he was able to learn from the mistakes of the others, but even so the slope was so steep that he was practically crawling backwards down it. He reached the bottom and immediately sat down, eyes going distant.

Draco jumped down from the top of the slope—making an incredible leap—and landed on his feet. He walked over to Marvin and looked up at him. Then after a moment started purring and rubbing against his side. Marvin patted him and took a shaky breath. “Is everyone alright?”

“I’m, uh... I’m going to have bruises and scrapes but nothing is broken,” Chase said.

Jameson pushed himself upright. The same, he said. The cloth on his sleeves had been scraped away over his elbows, revealing they got scraped up.

Henrik said nothing.

“Schneep?” Marvin looked at him. When there was no answer, he sighed. “I think Henrik’s untethered. B-but he managed to actually walk down the slope, so... he should be fine. My knee feels strange, I might’ve twisted it wrong. But I think I can still walk. Jackie?” Marvin looked around. “Where... where’s Jackie?”

Everyone immediately looked up the slope again. There was still the sound of hoofbeats, and then another CLANG!

“He—D-did he decide to hold it off?” Chase asked, stomach sinking. “H-he said to—to not look back.” He scrambled to his feet, limbs still aching from the impact of rolling. “D-dullahans are very dangerous! And that one cut his sword in half with its axe! We have to help!”

“No, we can’t all go!” Marvin also stood up, wincing. “Henrik’s untethered, someone needs to stay with him. You two stay here, I’ll get Jackie!”

Your knee, though! Jameson protested.

“Here, I’ll go,” Chase said.

Jameson looked at him. No, you continue forward. I’ll go get him.

“You’re still learning combat,” Marvin said. “My magic can help more.” As if to demonstrate, he leaned over and drew a magic doorway on the steep slope, tracing it with magic from an amulet. Then he leapt through the moment it was finished, leaving it to vanish once he’d disappeared to the other side.

Chase and Jameson looked at each other. “Well... I-I... guess we... trust them?” Chase stammered.

I suppose... Jameson said. He glanced around. I wouldn’t feel right leaving you and Henrik alone here. This place is... eerie.

Chase had been too distracted by the fall and the realization that Jackie was missing to properly look around. He did so now, scanning the environment they’d fallen into. There were no trees around. The sky above was unblocked by branches or anything else, but despite the lack of obstacles, the sunlight seemed... weaker here. Odd. Maybe it was just because of how colorless everything was. Everywhere Chase looked, all he saw were shades of dead gray and black.

They’d fallen down a slope that was about twice Chase’s height, covered in dark gray and black rocks. Around them was an empty, flat field of gray dirt, pebbles, and stone. Nothing was growing here. Not even stubborn weeds. The space was big enough for all of Hilltown to fit comfortably, but there was nothing in it... nothing except for something at the center. A building. The cabin that Marvin had described, surrounded by a ring of gray, dead-looking trees.

“You’re right... very eerie.” Chase shivered. “It feels like... something bad happened here.”

Jameson nodded in agreement. He reached down and helped Henrik to his feet. Henrik didn’t respond but allowed himself to be pulled up. Let’s hurry. I don’t want to spend more time than necessary here.

The two of them glanced back at the forest, back towards where Jackie and Marvin still were. Then they started walking. Draco didn’t come with them. He was too busy picking his way up the slope, going to meet up with Marvin.

The pebbles on the ground crunched beneath their feet. Chase and Jameson were silent as they walked, both their eyes constantly darting around for any signs of threats. After the cover of the Wyldwood, this open heath left them feeling exposed. Henrik didn’t say anything either, but that was to be expected when he was untethering. Jameson tried to gently shake him out of it, but when it didn’t work, he left him alone and continued to guide him along.

Slowly, they got closer to the circle of trees around the cabin, and as they did, Chase realized that something was wrong with them. Besides the gray color. They were... shiny. And... smooth. Were... were these trees... made of metal? But... why? And how? They were so intricate that he didn’t think they were sculptures. It was like... they’d grown out of the ground as metal.

...There was a figure leaning against one of these trees. A figure in green. The figure became clearer as they got closer, but never fully clear. Because after all, they could see through the figure to the tree and sky behind them. The figure raised his head—and Chase gasped.

Marvin had said they’d meet the ghost of King Samuel. He had been very clear on that. It was shocking, but Chase had gotten used to it by now.

But he hadn’t expected King Samuel to look exactly like the spirit.

His mind flashed to the last draísling he had, the one he had right before leaving to go to the Wyldwood. The spirit had shown itself there—as much as someone could “show themself” while in a dream, of course. Chase had seen how its features were slightly different from Jack’s. He’d thought that the spirit had chosen that form to make it clear that it was different from Jack, than the body it had been possessing for years. But... this couldn’t be a coincidence.

King Samuel bore a strong resemblance to Jack—which made sense, he was his ancestor. But why did the spirit look identical to Samuel?

...Chase was getting an idea. But... it didn’t make any sense. So... he couldn’t be right.

{It’s nice to meet you, Chase,} Samuel said, his voice echoing in Chase’s thoughts despite his mouth not moving. His green eyes looked to Jameson. {And Jameson Jairsolas, nice to meet you too.} Then to Henrik. {I think... you’re Henrik Schneeple, right?}

Henrik flinched slightly.

“Um... m-maybe don’t—maybe don’t make a voice in Henrik’s head?” Chase said, stammering slightly. “H-he—he doesn’t like... doesn’t like that.”

{Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t—I’m sorry.} Samuel gave a small bow.

Chase laughed nervously. A legendary king’s ghost was apologizing and bowing to him and his friends. This was more dreamlike than any draísling he’d had so far. “Um... it’s an honor to meet you, King Samuel.” He bowed deeply, and next to him he saw Jameson do the same.

{You can just call me Sam,} the ghost said, smiling. {Everyone did when I was alive. It’s only now that the legend has spread that everyone speaks of me with this... reverence. Though, I guess there was some legendary status while I was alive, too. Hard for there not to be when you set out to unite the island.}

“...I see,” Chase said slowly. This was... very strange. He didn’t even have words for it, that’s how strange it was. And judging by Jameson’s wide-eyed expression, he felt the same. “Well... I’m here now. I’m... supposed to learn something here, aren’t I?”

King Samuel—Sam nodded. {Did Marvin tell you that something unspeakable happened here?}

“He did... He said that nobody could speak of whatever happened here because there’s some... magic preventing it?”

{Good, he remembered what I told him. Yes, that’s true. The only way to figure out what happened here is to put the puzzle together yourself.} Sam stood up straight and folded his arms behind his back, looking around. {So... what do you see, Chase?}

Chase blinked. “I see... strange metal trees.” He reached out and lightly knocked on one with his knuckles, listening to the sound. “Solid metal trees. They look... they look like real trees, except that they’re metal.”

Sam nodded. {What else?}

“Well...” The only other thing of note was the cabin. It was small, clearly only one room. The walls were essentially logs stacked on top of each other, some of them still with small branches attached, giving the whole building a strange... thorny appearance. Even the roof was the same, branches and logs piled up to form a slope. And all of the logs that had formed the cabin... they were also metal. Similar to the trees, they looked natural, but they were gray and shiny. There were no windows, but there was a chimney on one side, made of stacked stones. The door was an empty square opening. Inside, it was dark. “Do I... need to go inside?” Chase asked nervously.

{If you want to know more,} Sam said. {It’s dark in there. Do you have a lantern?} He glanced around. {I’d have thought that Marvin would be able to light the way with you—though magic does work strangely in the heath.}

“Marvin and Jackie—o-our other friend, Jackie, they... they stayed back,” Chase explained. “Th-there was a dullahan, it attacked us—”

Sam’s eyes widened. {Oh no. I’ll go help them out.}

“Help them out? You’re a ghost.”

{That doesn’t mean I’m powerless.} Sam walked past the three of them, and Chase noticed his feet weren’t actually touching the ground. {You go explore on your own. I’ll answer any questions I’m able to when I get back.} He took a few steps away, then faded from view.

Chase stared at the spot where he vanished. Then he looked at Jameson and Henrik. Jameson looked shocked, still trying to understand that they’d just spoken with a ghost. Henrik’s eyes were still distant. “Well... into the creepy dark cabin, then?” Chase asked.

Jameson nodded. Of course. Hold on, there’s a lantern attached to my pack, I brought it just in case.

The two of them removed the lantern and lit the wick. Chase carried it in one hand and held onto Henrik with the other, since Jameson needed his hands to speak. The two of them peered into the doorway, and Chase took a deep breath. He stepped forward. Something crunched under his boots, and he looked down. It looked like some sort of woven cloth that had fallen down... woven from thick plants of some sort. Except for the fact that, judging by the crunch, it had also been transformed into something inorganic. Strange. Either way, it had once been hanging up in the doorway to block it off, but was now on the ground, where it had been transmuted.

The interior of the cabin was, just as Chase thought, only one room. The walls were undecorated, the bare logs that built the cabin still exposed here. In one corner there was a square that might’ve once been a mattress with blankets, but was now a lump of stonelike material. Around the edges of the room were... words? They looked like words scratched into the ground, concentric circles of them all surrounding some lump in the center of the cabin. But Chase couldn’t read them. He looked down, squinting at them. Maybe he just didn’t know these words? “Jameson, do you know what these are for?”

Jameson didn’t answer. He was staring at the center of the cabin.

“Jameson. Jair!” Chase nudged him. “What is it?”

He gasped and looked back over at Chase. Isn’t it... That’s a... He trailed off, looking back at the center.

Chase glanced at the lump. And... then he realized what it was. The lump was something partially hidden underneath a blanket. Unlike the cloth by the door and the blankets by the mattress, the blanket in the center was still flexible, though it seemed to be covered in gray dirt and dust. Beneath the blanket... was a familiar shape.

“...a person,” Chase whispered. “No... a body.” Because the person’s chest wasn’t moving. Of course it wasn’t. With how much dust was on the blanket, there was a clear way that the body hadn’t moved for a long time.

Jameson shuddered. I think this is a good time to use that potion Henrik decided to give you.

“Right. The... shialeora. That’s... that’s in my bag. Hold on a moment.” Chase slowly set the lantern on the ground and let go of Henrik’s hand, taking his bag off and rummaging through it. The whole time, he stared at the body in the center of the cabin.

It took him a while to find the bottle Henrik had given him. It had sunk to the bottom of his pack over the journey, and he really didn’t want to look away from the body even to find it. Luckily, the bottle was a distinct square shape so it was easy to find by touch. He quickly pulled it out, looking at the liquid inside. The leaves or petals were still suspended inside, unchanged.

What did Henrik say it would do, again? Jameson asked. He looked at Henrik, then reached out and shook him slightly, but Henrik still didn’t react.

“I think I remember,” Chase said. “This shialeora potion is supposed to... sharpen my senses. And speed up my thoughts?” He hesitated. “But I can only use it once... And Henrik didn’t mention how long it will last...” He looked at Henrik. “Do you think we should... try harder to bring him back? No, no. He said he didn’t want us to do that. So... maybe we wait?”

Jameson nodded slowly. I suppose we can, for a bit. We should wait for Jackie and Marvin, too.

Chase tucked the potion into his belt. “In the meantime... what do you think this writing is?”

I’m not sure. Jameson stared at the markings on the ground. I don’t think these are words. Maybe it’s another language? Or... maybe it’s an old version of our language. Words change over time, you know.

“Hm... And what do you think it’s for?”

Clearly nothing good, Jameson said. But I think it has to be some sort of witchcraft ritual, doesn’t it? Something... involving the body...

The two of them fell quiet for a while, not wanting to move, not wanting to get closer to the body in the center of the room. But eventually, they heard a sound. Footsteps approaching. They quickly spun around to look—and Jameson gasped and ran forward. Jackie and Marvin were alright! There was a tear in Marvin’s shirt and Jackie was missing his swords, but other than that, they were alright! Jameson rushed forward and wrapped his arms around Marvin in a tight hug. Chase was quick behind to do the same to Jackie. “Whoa!” Jackie laughed. “You missed us? We weren’t gone for that long!”

“You were gone fighting a dullahan!” Chase said, pulling away. “Do you know what that thing can do to you?! There’s a reason they’re omens of death!”

“Well, I just thought that was because they showed up in graveyards,” Jackie said awkwardly. “And, uh... had no head. I didn’t realize the fight would be so... difficult.”

“It sliced your sword in half! Your sword!”

“I just... wanted to make sure the rest of you made it,” Jackie said quietly.

Chase sighed. He leaned in and squeezed Jackie in another short hug. “Thank you. But don’t do that again.”

“So... this place is... odd,” Marvin said, looking at the metal trees.

Jameson, having pulled away from the hug, nodded. Wait until you see what’s inside the cabin. And it looks like Draco doesn’t like this place. He pointed at Draco; the cat’s fur was standing up along his back, tail puffed and raised straight in the air.

“I think... I think something’s different here.” Marvin pulled out his focus. The amulet had been constantly glowing the whole time they were in the Wyldwood. But now it was dark again. “The magic of the world feels... distant. Where’s Henrik?”

“Inside,” Chase said. “Come on.”

They went back into the cabin. Henrik noticed Jackie and Marvin, eyes focusing on them for a moment before drifting away again. Jackie quickly walked to his side, gently grabbing his hand and squeezing it. Marvin stared at the interior of the cabin and quickly noticed the body. “What the fuck?!”

“I-I was going to use the shialeora potion Henrik gave me to find out more about this,” Chase swiftly said. “To find out... why that’s here.”

Jackie stared at the body. His hand went to his hip, but there was no sword there. “I don’t like this place. But... I think this is what the shialeora is meant for. This is where you’re supposed to use it.”

Chase nodded and took it out, unstoppering it but still hesitating. “Do you know how long it’s supposed to last?”

“No, sorry,” Jackie said. “I don’t think Schneep ever said that. Right?” He looked at Henrik, but received no response.

A figure formed in the doorway. The ghost of King Sam, lingering on the threshold but not stepping inside. {A shialeora will be perfect for here,} he said. {Go on.}

Chase jumped in surprise a bit as Sam appeared, but quickly recovered. He looked at the potion bottle and steeled his resolve. “Bottoms up,” he said, then tilted back the potion and tried to drink it all in one gulp.

The liquid was viscous. Not quite a syrup, but clearly not just water. It would have been hard to swallow down if it didn’t taste surprisingly sweet. Chase closed his eyes, focusing on drinking as quickly as possible. His throat tickled as the leaves brushed against the inside, but he kept going until there was nothing left. Then he lowered the bottle, straightened, and looked around.

The cabin was dark. But as he stared, he heard a rushing sound in his ears, and the room seemed to get... brighter? No, it wasn’t actually getting brighter. His eyes were just adjusting to the dimness until he could see as clear as day in here. He could hear some thumping noises—heartbeats?! Everyone’s heartbeats?! And their breathing, too. Those were the only sounds in the nearby area. Chase could smell the dust and metal all around them as strongly as if he put his nose right up to them. And his clothes were rough against his skin, his belts and packs heavy on his body. This all should have been overwhelming, but somehow, it wasn’t.

“Whoa,” Jackie said. “Your eyes... They’re really—”

“Wide?” Chase interrupted.

“Well, yeah.”

“Of course they are, your pupils widen in the dark, that makes sense. I think it’s to take everything in.” Chase looked around the cabin. His eyes were immediately drawn to the floor. Not just to the writing, but to the rocks. They weren’t actually rocks. He walked over to the nearest one and bent over to pick it up. This had been some sort of plant once. A fruit, maybe, though not one Chase had ever seen before. These not-rocks were piled up around the edge of the cabin, and Chase quickly circled around to examine them. All of them had been plants of some sort. “Marvin? Can wizardry change one thing to another thing? I mean—change the material it’s made out of?”

“Um... I don’t think so,” Marvin said, looking around.

“Could sorcery do it?”

“Maybe? But I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

Chase’s mind leaped to something else. He was suddenly remembering the huge doorway that opened up while he, Jameson, and Marvin were in the town of Miryfern. The one that let Thalia and all the soldiers suddenly travel to Wyvernlair. Marvin had reacted similarly to that, saying it seemed impossible.

And then he remembered something else, too. At Marvin’s execution. The perfectly placed lightning bolts that had destroyed the house he was hiding in, as well as the houses the other archers were in as well. That hadn’t been natural. And that huge doorway had been created by lightning.

“There are... impossible acts of magic here,” Chase said slowly, trying to put words to his rushing thoughts. “This circle of words, the metal and stone plants, the lightning, the possession—it’s connected. The spirit—it’s magic.”

Well, all spirits are magic, Jameson said.

“Unnatural magic. The spirit also looks like Sam,” Chase added, pointing at Sam’s ghost.

“It does?” Jackie was clearly confused.

“It showed itself in some form in the last dream I had,” Chase said. “And that form looked like Sam. That’s not a coincidence. It can’t be.”

Marvin frowned. He looked over at Sam. “Is that... important?”

Sam pursed his lips. {It’s important,} he said slowly. {You have an idea, Chase, don’t you?}

“I... I do, but... I’m not sure how it could be possible,” Chase said. His eyes drifted to the blanket-covered body in the center of the room. There was no use putting it off, was there? He took a deep breath and walked towards it, carefully stepping over the words scratched into the earth floor.

The blanket did not fully hide the body. As Chase circled around it, he saw one hand extending from underneath. One hand that he expected to be just bone, but which instead looked like the person had been dead no more than half a day. Its fingers were still curled around a weapon. A seax. Beneath the gray dust, its copper blade was stained red.

Part of the person’s head was also exposed, hair poking out from under the blanket. Brown hair. But that... didn’t mean anything. Brown hair was the most common shade in Glasúil. Still, Chase was getting a sinking feeling. He crouched down and reached out. It felt like ages before his hand met the edge of the dust-covered blanket. He heard the others all cluster closer together, heard his own heartbeat pounding faster, but he couldn’t stop now. He lifted up the blanket and pulled it away from the body’s face.

A face with bright green eyes.

A face identical to the face of King Samuel’s ghost.

Chase stared at it. This man was clearly dead. But even though he must have been dead for hundreds of years, the body was not decayed. Everything was perfectly preserved. Those bright green eyes stared up at nothing. Chase’s thoughts whirled as he put the pieces together, but he forced himself to keep looking at the corpse for a bit longer.

The cause of death was clear. The man’s throat was slit. Dried blood trickled down the neck to the ground, but surprisingly, there was not a pool of dried blood beneath him. Had the blood been absorbed directly into the ground? Like water into dry earth?

The man’s other hand was near the edge of the blanket. Like the last thing he’d done had been to pull the blanket over his head.

Jackie edged forward. He inhaled sharply. “S-Samuel? Is this... you?”

“What?” Marvin also walked over, and Jameson and Henrik followed close behind. “Wait—what?!”

Jameson gasped. Is this what happened to our first King?

“No, that’s impossible!” Marvin insisted. “There are records of King Samuel living a long life! This body—it’s barely thirty, if that. And they say King Samuel is buried in Suilthair...” He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“...I think I do,” Chase whispered. “Or... I have an idea.” He looked over at Sam, still hovering by the threshold of the cabin.

“What is it?” Jackie asked. “There can’t be any explanation for this!”

“They were twins,” Chase said softly.

The other four all stared at him. Even Henrik stared, latching onto the statement as he started to come out of his untethered state. But over in the doorway, Sam smiled proudly... and a bit sadly.

That... doesn’t make sense, Jameson signed shakily. The stories have never said anything about King Sam having a brother.

“They wouldn’t... if the brother was unspeakable,” Chase said. “If this strange magic that Sam’s told us about prevented anyone from speaking about him.” He paused, looking at Sam, who just made a ‘keep going’ gesture. “I think something very bad happened here.” Chase looked back down at the body. “Look, this man is holding a bloody seax. His throat’s been cut. The body is surrounded by witchcraft and unnatural metal and stone plants, in the middle of a blasted heath, a place where Marvin said that the magic was farther away despite us being in the Wyldwood, the most magical place in the kingdom.”

“Whoa, slow down, Chase, remember to breathe,” Jackie said.

“The man... did it himself,” Henrik whispered. “And it... caused everything to die? Or... change?”

“That’s what I think.” Chase nodded.

“But—but—” Marvin stammered. “What happened?!”

“I don’t know! No, wait, I think I do.” Chase hit the side of his head. His thoughts were moving so fast. “King Sam’s brother—I think he became the possessive spirit. Jack’s eyes were blue, but now they’re royal green, just like this body—just like the man’s eyes would’ve been while he was alive.”

“You can’t just become a spiolash!” Marvin shouted. “That’s not—that’s not natural!”

“Well none of this is fucking natural, is it?!” Chase snapped. “Also—that spirit has powers that normal spiolash do not! Remember, the lightning?”

“Ah... that is the name for possessing spirits, yes?” Henrik asked, still mildly confused from missing some things.

“Spiolash? Yes, sorry. We don’t use it often, remember?” Chase shook his head. “In any case... I think this is what happened. King Sam had a brother. He killed himself as some sort of ritual to become a spirit. That spirit is now possessing Jack. But... the only thing I don’t understand is why.”

“Does it matter why?!” Marvin’s face slowly dawned with horror as he began to accept the truth Chase had discovered. “This man—he’s the cause of all the suffering in the kingdom! The reason we’ve been fighting for years! He’s using the King’s enchanter powers to control people.”

“And he might be planning something more,” Jackie muttered. “There are rumors that he’s trying to build a navy.”

Marvin trembled. Not with fear. With rage. He clutched his focus in a white-knuckled grip. Light flickered around it, but steadily grew as Marvin forcibly drew more magic forward. He pulled the light away and raised his hands as the light transformed into bright blue flames—and then he threw the fire at the body. Chase quickly leapt away as the blue flames grew brighter, consuming the blanket and the body... but then it faded away. The edges of the blanket were a bit charred, but other than that, everything was undamaged. Marvin stumbled back, shocked and confused.

{It’s hard for things to change in this circle,} King Sam says. {And the magic of the world shies away from it.}

Jameson shook his head, at a loss. What happened here? What was so horrible that fire wouldn’t dare to burn?

And then, Chase heard noises outside. Faint, distant. Definitely too quiet for him to hear normally, but with the shialeora potion still affecting him, he not only heard it, but was instantly able to identify the sound. Cloven hooves stepping on the rocky ground.

Chase immediately spun around and ran outside, passing by King Sam as he did—maybe partially passing through the ghost as well. But he didn’t stop. “Chase?!” Jackie gasped, but he didn’t turn to look or stop at all.

There was something in the distance, something getting close. Chase ran towards it, and he heard the others running behind him as well. They got closer to each other, until Chase could make out the details of the form. He knew who it was immediately. He skidded to a halt, and the others did too. He heard someone inhale sharply.

A deer was walking towards them. A tall deer, its fur dark, and its antlers gilded, reflecting the sunlight. Everywhere its hooves landed, small green plants sprouted, struggling up from the rocky ground. But only a few steps later, the stone curse of this heath would consume the new plants, turning them gray as well. “E-Elder!” Jackie gasped. He fell to his knees, and Jameson knelt down as well, but Henrik and Marvin stayed standing, though they were still shocked.

“You’re... here...” Chase breathed. “A-are you... are you here to help?”

The deer—the Elder tilted their head to the side.

<Curiosity. A request.>

Chase inhaled sharply. That feeling—that’s what it was, a feeling. Not a voice, not spoken out loud or in his head, it was an emotion that he felt, but knew came from elsewhere. The Elder was asking him something. Asking if... they could... do something? “Y-yes. Of course.” Chase nodded. “G-go ahead.”

The Elder stepped forward. Their head lowered towards his. Chase felt the urge to back away. Not because he was threatened—well, the antlers were pointed, that made him a bit wary—but because it was too much. Like staring into a bright light. Still, he held his ground. The Elder’s snout tapped against the center of his forehead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two young men were sparring on a small beach. They were dressed almost identically, in loose tunics with narrow sleeves, beneath dark leather armor. Behind them, there were buildings in the distance, closer to the center of the island. Because yes, this was an island, out in the middle of the Emerald Lake. The buildings were small, made of mud brick and light wood.

They fought over and over again, one with a sword, another with a seax, several bouts. Each one ended quickly, as the two young men were really familiar with each other’s moves by now. After all, they’d been sparring with each other for years now. The one with the seax was better, though, winning most of the matches. Until the other one narrowed his eyes in concentration—and the knife wielder suddenly dropped his blade.

“Ha!” The swordsman pointed the blade at the other.

“Hey, no fair, Sam!” the knife wielder said, laughing. “Improper use of magic!”

The swordsman—Sam sheathed his weapon. “Well I need to practice using it as well. I thought it would even the odds. And if anyone would understand that, it would be my own brother, wouldn’t it?”

Sam’s brother bent over and picked up his seax. “That’s true, that’s true.” He spun it, then also sheathed it. “Part of me says it’s not honorable to enchant someone in the middle of a bout, but a greater part of me says to do what you can. Especially if this was really a life or death battle.”

“Yes, that’s a good point. Well. Let’s get some supper, why don’t we?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You are challenging me?”

It was another day. Sam and his brother stood in the middle of town, on a square paved with mud bricks. Surrounding them was a group of people—familiar people, people they had grown up with. And before Sam, looking at him with a mix of amusement and shock, is an older man: the clan chief.

“Yes,” Sam said calmly. His green eyes glinted in the light from the high sun.

The chief looked at the others around. “Do you all hear that? The older faeborn thinks he could run the clan better than me!” Some of the onlookers chuckled, but most seemed curious, interested. “Very well, boy. I assume your brother will speak for you once the duel is done?”

“Yes,” Sam said. But there was a barely-perceptible tensing in his muscles. Duels like this ended with one participant at the other’s mercy. If the chief so chose, he would be well within his rights to kill Sam. And the chief had just implied he would be doing that if he won. There would be no room for error. He was risking his life.

His brother reached out, gently taking his hand and squeezing it supportively. He nodded, showing his belief in him. Sam took a deep breath.

“When will you be doing this, then, boy?” the chief asked.

“Immediately,” Sam said, and the onlookers stirred as the chief’s eyes widened. “Unless, of course, you need time to prepare against me.”

The chief’s eyes narrowed again. “I need no time.” He drew his sword. The onlookers and Sam’s brother backed away, leaving the two of them in a circle of empty space. “No mind tricks in a duel, boy. The others will know.”

Sam nodded as he drew his sword. He would be honorable. The two of them stared at each other, then at once, lunged forward—

But the outcome didn’t need to be shared. It had already been recorded in history.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another day, another time of year. Sam and his brother were surrounded by trees, their leaves orange and red with autumn. They were not alone in the forest. Sam sat on one side of a crude table, made by balancing a stone slab on four stone bricks. On the other side of the table—another clan’s chief, as well as her various advisors and attendants. There was only Sam’s brother on his side of the table, standing next to him with one hand on the seax blade at his belt.

“And why would we agree to such an alliance?” the chief asked. “It sounds to me as though you want to set yourself up as some sort of leader.”

Sam shook his head. His hair had grown longer in the time that had passed. “On the contrary, I don’t want to be a leader,” he said. “But I don’t believe the separation of the clans helps any of us. We are more similar than we are different, and it does no good to have so many skirmishes on such a small island. Of course, those differences are still there. Which is why you will still be there to lead your people. You know them better than I ever could. I only ask that we cooperate with each other. We could trade goods. For example, here in the mountains you are known for your witchcraft talismans. Our island can provide you with fish or animal pelts that you couldn’t get up here.”

The chief tilted her head, interested, but one of the advisors stepped up. “Remember, this man has the magic of the mind,” he whispered. “He could be making you in favor.”

“I can hear your whispers,” Sam said. “And I promise, there is no magic at work here. I am coming to you with—”

Suddenly, something moved in the trees. Sam’s brother dove at him, knocking him to the side as an arrow embedded itself in the ground right where he’d been sitting. The chief shot to her feet and the advisors shouted in surprise, but Sam’s brother moved quickly, leaping to his feet and throwing a blade through the air towards the movement.

Thunk! A person fell out of the tree, painfully getting to their feet. “Death to the mind magicker!” they shouted, reaching into a quiver for another arrow.

Sam’s brother ran forward, moving incredibly quickly, forcing the assassin to drop the bow and draw a knife. The blades clashed one, two, three times—and then the assassin fell, leaving Sam’s brother still standing, breathing heavily. He spun around and quickly ran back over, helping Sam up. “Are you unhurt?” he asked.

Sam nodded. “Thank you,” he breathed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The two brothers walked through a field, packs of supplies on their backs, leather armor over their clothes. The sun was setting, but they had to keep walking if they were to reach their destination at the promised time. Or... did they? “We need to rest,” Sam said quietly. “It’ll be no use if we arrive there too tired to stand.”

His brother’s eyes darted around, taking in the details around them. “Sam,” he said. “I was... wondering something.”

“Yes?”

“You... you have your magic. It’s strong magic, very strong magic. But you... rarely use it.”

“What do you mean?” Sam looked at him. “I use my magic all the time. I’m using it right now, expanding my senses to make sure that there are no human minds approaching.”

“That’s not what I—” His brother shook his head, sighing. “You... you wanted to do great things with your magic. And I agree, uniting the clans is a great thing. But... you don’t really use your magic to do it.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying... would it not be easier if you made them listen to you?” His brother suggested. “With your power—you could do that. They would listen, they would do as you say, and they would be happy about it.”

Sam stopped walking. “That’s not... that’s not...” He paused, trying to find a way to put his thoughts into word. “Yes, I could do that, in theory. But I won’t. For several reasons. Doing something like that would make me feel... make me feel like I am as tricky as they say. And I do not want that.”

“They will say it anyway,” his brother whispered.

“Perhaps that will change with time. And also, making them do what I want is not my goal. Not really. It’s not true unity, if it’s forced.”

“Why not? The results are the same, aren’t they? We could do great things. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t want to speak about this. Not right now. Let’s focus our energy on finding a place to stop for the night.”

His brother dropped the conversation, but as they continued to walk, he stared at Sam’s back with narrowed eyes. The seed of a bitter flower began to take root in his mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Is this true?!” Sam pushed open the tent flap, heading into the round tent without so much as a greeting.

His brother looked up from where he was sitting sharpening his seax. “Is what true?”

“This.” Sam threw something down on the ground. A bit of animal skin, writing dyed onto its surface. “You sent a threat to the people of the Fíornear clan before our arrival.”

“What? I’m hurt, Sam.” His brother stood. “You don’t even know that this is my handwriting. And my choice of weapon is not the bow and arrow.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t mention that the message was tied around the shaft of an arrow. Are you... even trying to hide it at all?”

“Samuel,” his brother said. “Let me speak plainly. The Fíornear clan is the most powerful one we’ll face. They need to know that we are powerful as well, or else they won’t listen to us at all.”

“And you think that leading five other clans isn’t a sign of power? You think it’s a better sign of strength to challenge them? I was going to negotiate! You know my approach by now, that is always how I start this. We only challenge them if negotiations fail. But you—you go behind my back to—you go behind my back?!” Sam shook his head, stunned. Betrayed.

“They were not going to listen to negotiations,” his brother said stubbornly. “I was saving us the time.” His green eyes lit up with excitement. “If you’re so opposed to it, I could go in your stead. We do look the same, after all.”

“No.” Sam shook his head. “I have to do this myself.” He stared at his brother, unsure what to say in his anger. Then he spun around, cape flying, and stormed out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They were on the beach again. Time had passed. Their beards were longer, and Sam’s hair had grown to chin length. But they still looked so much the same in their green capes. Behind them, the buildings of the village were being built up, made of stone now. A tower was beginning to pierce the sky. A palace.

“Can you believe this is where it started?” Sam asked, looking up into the clear sky. “Us sparring on this stretch of sand for so long, telling each other we’d do incredible things? And now... now look where we are. The Green-Eyed twins, Kings of the Island.” He laughed. “It’s hard to believe.” Then he looked at his brother. “But things worked out, didn’t they?” He couldn’t keep the last two words from being pointed.

His brother stared at the lake waters. “Samuel,” he said quietly. “I was wondering something. You know of the lands beyond the island.”

“Of course I do. The Trábh i Dte clan spoke highly of their visitors and their boats.”

“What if we united them under us as well?”

Sam looked away from the sky, staring at his brother in shock. “You mean... leave the island?”

“We have done great things already,” his brother said steadily. “But you know we could be greater. If we could do this, what else could we do? Of course, they won’t speak the same language off there, so we must make them listen to us through means other than words.”

“You... want to...” Invade. Sam couldn’t say it out loud. “Have your senses taken leave of you?! No!”

“What do you mean ‘no’?!” His brother asked. “With our power—”

“No! I do not want to unite the lands outside the island. The clans here are similar to each other, but outside—outside they have their own ways of doing things. They wouldn’t be happy with us trying to make everyone like this island. We need to leave them be. Perhaps in the future we could come to some trade arrangements, but—”

“You could make them be happy with us,” his brother interrupted.

Sam put a hand on the sword dangling from his belt. “I don’t want to see you right now. Go.”

“But—”

“Go!”

His brother’s face twisted, and he stormed off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There were cliffs at the south of the island. Sam remembered them well. They’d made camp here once while on their journey around the island. But now, there was trouble gathering here.

...or so he thought. He and his brother had traveled here, along with a small group of warriors, but they found nothing. And yet, one of their messengers had delivered a strange report.

Perhaps it was magic. Sam told the warriors to camp far away, out of the range of his magical sense for minds. They were also far, far out of earshot. And too distant to be seen.

“Sam?” His brother called, peering over the edge of the cliffs. “I see something down there! Come, tell me if that’s a person.”

Sam hurried to join him. He leaned over the edge—

And in an instant, he caught a glimpse of his brother’s thoughts and intentions.

Quickly, Sam leapt back, avoiding the flash of movement as his brother lunged at him. His brother recovered, hurrying away from the edge of the cliffs, and drew his seax. “Aneirin!” he gasped. “You would betray me?!”

His brother, Aneirin, said nothing and swiped at him with the blade. But Sam drew his sword to block the strike. They dueled on the edge of the cliff, dancing closer and drawing away. Aneirin was still the superior fighter, but Sam knew that he couldn’t hold back his magic any more. He tried every mind trick in the book, distracting his brother, trying to make him drop the blade, and gradually, their fight moved away from the edge.

“Tell me why!” Sam demanded, putting some magic behind the command.

“You’re wasting your power!” Aneirin shouted. “You could be so much more! But you’ve squandered your strength away, and now you are weak. But I’m stronger.”

“So you push me off and take my place?!”

“We look the same, don’t we?!”

“What of the message of discontent? Of people gathering at the cliffs who are not happy with our reign?”

Aneirin laughed. “Not untrue, is it? I am at the cliffs now, and I am very discontent. You have no idea how much I had to threaten that messenger’s partner to get her to deliver that false message to you.”

Anger surged in Sam’s heart. They fought fiercely, sword swinging wildly as his magic dug into Aneirin’s mind, trying to make him surrender. Against all odds, he still did not want to kill this brother who’d betrayed him.

Their fight reached the edge of the forest, and Aneirin began to lose ground rapidly. Sam sliced through the armor on his arm, and then the armor on his legs, and then the leather covering his chest, leaving long bleeding scratches behind. Aneirin’s eyes widened with fear. His energy was draining. Sam wanted to push him down, to make him collapse. But he would not surrender. Instead of continuing to fight, he used the last of his energy to turn and run.

Sam pursued, but Aneirin lost him. So he was forced to return to his camp. He had a duty to his new kingdom, he couldn’t run into the forest... or into the Wyldwood beyond.

When he returned, he let the whole kingdom know of what his brother had done.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aneirin wandered through the forest and into the Wyldwood beyond. There was great danger here. Creatures and living plants that attacked him. But he fought. He grew strong, learning and living off the land. Several times, though, he came close to death. And every time, he gritted his teeth and forced himself to hang on. He would not let Sam win. He would not let his legacy be Sam’s weakness.

But time would claim everyone eventually. Even the trees of the Wyldwood fell on occasion.

No. No no no, he would not die out here. Not unknown, not scorned, not without the position he deserved.

And so, a thought came to him. Magic was plentiful in the Wyldwood. There were fruits that healed wounds, and creatures that lived for many hundreds of years. Magic could keep one alive.

He began to plan. He tried several things, using plants and small animals for things he didn’t want to test on himself. A body would always fail eventually. But what if there was no body? Spirits were said to roam the land. How long could these spirits live? Forever, maybe? But spirits couldn’t do much on their own. He needed form. He needed magic. He needed a perfect vessel, and he needed to last long enough until one came along.

As he delved deeper into this darkness, the plants around his makeshift home began to wither. More creatures tried to attack him, but others ran at the sight of him. The roots of the Wyldwood seemed to rise up and trip him wherever he went.

But he would not be denied.

He would not be denied.

Until, finally, it was time to leave this body behind for his new form.

Aneirin clutched his seax in his hand, staring up at the ceiling of the cabin, glaring as the bitter flower consumed him.

And...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chase gasped and fell to his knees. What had that been? Visions? Knowledge? He’d felt as though he’d been there, as though he’d seen it all.

“Chase?!” Henrik called.

Jameson and Jackie hurried over, helping him to his feet again. Chase waved them away. “I’m fine,” he breathed. “I’m fine.”

The Elder looked at him, their black eyes reflecting his face.

“I... I understand,” Chase said. “The spirit... Aneirin. He did something that defied nature. And you Elders, you’re the guardians of the natural world. That’s why you’ve been involved in trying to stop him.”

“Aneirin?” Marvin asked. “That’s the spirit’s true name?”

Chase nodded. His eyes were still locked on the Elder. “But... What I don’t understand is... W-why me?” He whispered those last words, swallowing a lump in his throat. “I’m a normal man. Any one of these four would be better suited to defeating the spirit, I’m sure. So... why?”

The Elder bowed their head. <Compassion. To reach out to a stranger.>

“H-huh?” Chase blinked. “I... I still don’t... H-how is that... going to help?”

<Reassurance. Belief in your strength.>

“You... trust me?” Chase’s eyes welled with tears. He didn’t know why. “I... I-I... Th-thank you. I... I won’t let you down.”

<Warning. Time is of the essence.>

<Reassurance. Belief in your strength.>

<Hope.>

And then, between one second and the next, the Elder was gone. In their place on the ground was Chase’s Phantom mask. He blinked, confused, then reached up. He’d been wearing it pushed back on his forehead the whole time, but now it was gone. On the ground. So he bent down to pick it up again.

...Something was slightly different. There were markings on it now. Little yellow circles in lines along the left and right edges, and the nose and inside of the ears were filled in with orange. And the antlers... as he tilted the mask back and forth, they glinted, faint golden sparkles catching the sunlight.

Chase looked at the other four. They stared back at him. All of them were speechless.

“What... just happened?” Jackie asked weakly.

“Let’s... let’s get out of this circle of dead earth,” Chase said. “Then I’ll tell you everything I saw.”

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #septic egos au #jacksepticeye au #chase brody #jackieboy man #dr schneeplestein #jameson jackson #marvin the magnificent #antisepticeye #brigid writes fanfiction #fantasymasksau

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anonymouschishiyaimaginesandmore · 1 year ago

Text

[Scrubs_MD]

Minors, do not read! Contains mentions of smutty behavior!

MASTERLIST (up-to-date)

This is Part 2 !!HERE!! is Part 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Alice in Borderland/Imawa no Kuni no Alice characters or original stories, only the plot of this fanfic. Alice in Borderland/Imawa no Kuni no Alice characters and original storyline belong to Haro Aso, who made the Manga the Series is based on.

Trigger Warning: Explicit Smut Summery: Chishiya x female OC that I gave a Name for this Story

It surprised him how aroused he has gotten at this point. His cock no longer limp, was pressing uncomfortably against his legwear and Chishiya, who hated to miss a second of the screens displayed performance, set it aside just for a moment, hurrying to pull his pants down low enough to free his cramped member.

A relieved sigh escaped him as both his pants and his boxers were pulled down to his ankles and his cock jumped up, hitting his covered abdomen, and instantly staining the light blue fabric with droplets of pre-cum. He didn’t care. It was just a shirt. He had plenty more and unlike this inviting sight, he could buy another one if he wanted.

His butt set down on the cushioned seat, getting comfortable again and licking his lips as his hands grabbed the tablet excited. Lorelay was still playing with her toy buried deep between her legs and Chishiya? He relaxed at the realization that he hasn’t missed something important as the reveal of a nipple or behold, the now surely soaking cunt.

The girl moaned constantly like a dog in heat, only interrupted, when the purple toy left her most sacred place to draw circles around her navel again, whining to the self-inducted loss of pleasure and Chishiya became aware of how ragged his breathing has gotten. He tried to stable it, to force his heart into a healthy normal rhythm, slightly angered that this girl could get him so riled up, without even giving him what he asked for, but his mind was forced away from its tries every time another angelic moan fueled his want.

As a doctor in making, naked people were nothing new to Chishiya and fazed him in no way. All just skin and bones on a stick and they all came and went daily thru the welcoming doors of the hospital, while he stayed there and waited for the next one to undress. So of course, examining a female patient gave him no more dirty thoughts than changing a tire. Still.

When he watched girls undressing, just for him, wiggling their assess and excepting money he didn’t work for, with open hands and greedy mouths, he couldn’t help but get turned on. Having the power to give them what he had in a bunch, while they followed every one of his requests like the good little puppets they are, was something he enjoyed way too much for a vigorous man his age.

Nevertheless, his sadistic side was running in loops every time he discovered someone new to toy with. Sadly, as soon as he pushed them to the limit, where they audibly would do anything for him, he lost all interest in whatever they could give.

Chishiya knew he acted like a little boy, only wanting to play with toys he doesn’t possess and not with the ones that threw themselves eagerly every day at his existence, but that was just how he was. Getting bored as soon as he had what he craved, throwing away said toy and looking bright-eyed for the next and newest one. That’s what all man did, adult or teenager. Man, all over the world wanted to have what they couldn’t reach with their grabby hands, only to bare it no thought nor eyes as soon as it was theirs. Wanting what others had and jealous of all the things woman deprived them off. So human. So needy.

So him.

The same way Lorelay deprived him, by starving his need to see what she wouldn’t show fast enough. It awakened his desire to have her. To bend her until she broke in his hands, giving him everything he asked for and more. It was so carnal. So definitely animalistic, that Chishiya, who usually had his body in good control, grabbed his leaking length, stroking it up and down, while panting to the sound of her moans losing himself slowly but steady to this girl that had no intention to become his.

Long fingers wrapped slightly too tight around his cock, vigorously provoking grunts from his chest. He wasn’t close, yet, but if this damn girl wouldn’t pick up her pace, Chishiya, the normally so patient man, would fail himself to her and cum long before her panties even left her body’s secure state.

Only having one hand to type, Chishiya made quick work to send another offer, 4 times as high as the first one and Asa, turning on her stomach, looked at the screen and smiled as the notification chimed up, batting her long eyebrows dashingly.

Thirsty Lorelay: “Not yet big boy, but I could show you something else if you want.”

The straps of her bra fell to the side, leaving behind the smooth line from her throat to her shoulder blade for everyone to admire and tracing said place with almost no touch at all.

Thirsty Lorelay: “What do you say?”

Chishiya suspected to know what she asked for and for a moment he scoffed less amused, knowing damn well her breasts were nowhere near worth the among he offered before on her disappearing panties, but right now he would do anything to get a glance, even if it wasn’t the slid between her legs, that he wished to see. Fuck it, she got him hooked and if she wouldn’t be a cam girl somewhere in this city, that he will probably never meet, like ever, he would deny her what she asked of him, for the simple view of bare chest, that he has seen alike at least a thousand times at work.

But here he was, in the safety of his home, with no one who could see and witness him losing his cool, like some idiot panting creepy over two simple tits, google could show him for free.

Amused at her boldness, Chishiya typed another offer and Asa accepted it with delight, biting her lower lip and flashing him one hell of a daring smile. The edges of her lips twitched pleased with herself, as she caged the working vibrator with her thighs, set up again on her knees and down fell the unwanted piece of annoying lingerie to reveal the two faintly heavy pieces of fat tissue.

Chishiya gasped unwanted. His thumb had creeped up to the tip of his cock, caressing it and slightly dipped into the breach, just as the first nipple made its debut. Beads of white milky pre-cum ran down his fist and then landed on the leather fabric of his seat, staining it forever, but Chishiya still didn’t care about anything else, then show he was getting and so his hand kept stroking and forcing more impatient sticky liquid to appear.

His eyes focused and unfocused rapidly, while starring at the vision he bought with his father’s money. Young and firm breasts literally caught his eye and told him never to close again, out of fear he might miss even a millisecond of what they so willingly promised him to feel like. In his head, the fantasy of running his long surgical fingers over the soft skin, played on repeat. How plum the curves would feel. How strong they would stand against his palm’s pressure on them. How they would bend and mold into his touch as he kneaded them. Fucking heavenly, but so far away.

His appetite was rising instead of lowering down, driven up by the new sight. Mouth watered so much he had to constantly swallow, or his pride would take a great damper, if he started to drool like some low-life weirdo. He felt so gluttoned and on the edge but shit, it was a wonderful feeling so he kept up his pace, hoping the girl would soon drop her tormenting antics and show him what he craved.

Thirsty Lorelay: “What is it, Scrubs? Did the cat steal your tongue?”

Chishiya instead bit said tongue, to stop himself from unnecessarily barking at his screen, making a fool of himself. He didn’t answer her. Wrote no message, that could let her know how much he yearned for her. No, he wasn’t ready to drop more of his coolness and smothering his pride with his own behavior.

Thirsty Lorelay: “Don’t tell me I have no effect on you?”

The purple working toy left her aching pussy, vibrating all over the place and Asa traced it back up to her mouth, making a show, to swallow the whole thing down to its base, like the most tasteful meal of her life, moaning muffled sounds, before pulling it out again with a small pop at the end. The sight reminded him heavily of his young teens, where his teacher showed how to place a condom on a penis, by demonstration it on some random banana and encouraging his pupils to do the same.

Chishiya remembered how he imagined, just for a mindless moment, how his own dick would feel like, caged by the small piece of lubricated latex and all that by the hands of one of his female classmates, licking her lips at the sight of his heavy cock between her fingers. For a moment he lost his cool. For a moment he wasn’t his father’s son anymore. For a moment he was nothing beside a horny teenager, just like everyone else. But this moment passed, like every other did, only to now make a strong comeback at the promising view of how much Thirsty Lorelay could swallow, if she wanted to.

While Chishiya was captured by his own keen mind, the chat went wild, busting with comments to her actions, telling her to please do it again and asking if she could also take in bigger ones. Their bigger ones. Pfft, as if they even had one. That started a whole new race, of horny guys writing down their size, to impress a girl that probably very much knew, all of those numbers were nothing but nasty lies.

Chishiya chuckled entertained. He was in no way like those greedy monkeys, that probably got off on the sweet girls face alone. However, it did make him feel better, to know that he wasn’t the only one struggling to keep himself uphold, when he wanted nothing more, then his aching dick to disappear in her weeping hole.

His hips bucked more and more against his hand and his chair had never felt so unpleasant and caging. Chishiya got up and hurried his bed, with only one thought in his mind. His knees dug deep into the mattress and the slatted frame slightly creek, as he leaned forward, grabbing one of his pillows and beginning to hump it furiously like a mad man.

His cock further stained material he didn’t paid for, nor cared about in the slightest way. After today, Chishiya would probably throw the whole thing out, but for right now, he could do nothing else, then keeping his body up with one hand on the bed, so he wouldn’t fall over, impaling himself, while his hips rapidly fucked the bolster, and his left hand gripped the tabled with no intentions to ever let it go.

His grunts became louder, and his face dripped with sweat as he watched Lorelay fumble with her chest. Kneading the soft flesh and rubbing the small bud in the middle between two fingers, while pinching it from time to time, giving herself some extra euphoric moments.

Her own desire to cum was raising too, but Asa had learned how to keep herself in check, so her viewers could and would enjoy her to their fullest, even if she overstimulated some parts with her vivid tries. Her folds long soaked the fabric that separated her privet area from the stimulating machine in her hand and as Asa’s hand went down anew, pressing excessively hard against her own clit, her body jolted upwards, yelping from the sudden pressure and panting hard, with widened eyes, as if she hasn’t done this all to herself.

“So good” she whispered as sultry as human possible, winking at the camera, tired and panting and watching the chat go crazy again, thanking and asking for more and there she was, having all the power and trashing around on her own bad, while those guys probably fucked their own hands, wishing for nothing more than them to be hers. Or her mouth. Or…

Thirsty Lorelay: “Are you ready boys?”

It was enough teasing, Asa though, deciding to show the typing mass what they all hoped so much to see. She laid down on her back again, with her pelvis facing the camera. Her legs, angled left and right and opposite of everyone’s attention, giving her fans no view of what she denied them all the time, due to crossed legs right in front of the electronic device.

Thirsty Lorelay: “You have been so good to me, let me show you what you all have been waiting for.”

Then, she opened said legs slowly, giving the chat the needed time to adjust, before raising her both limbs upwards in the air, hooking her thumbs into the hem of her underwear and pulling the clothing off of herself.

At first, she freed her hips from the unwanted hug of the panties, then came the alluring fat of her butt cheeks, exposing themselves excruciating and deliberately lazy. A gasp escaped her lips, as the damp part of her panties carefully raised off and chill air hit her puffy folds, sending shivers down her spine and making her hole clench around nothing.

Thirsty Lorelay: “What do you say? Am I giving you a good view for your money?”

As the overflowing part of her came in sight, Chishiya hips stilled for a moment. That’s how much in awe he was for finally seeing what he waited for. It was all there. Glistening lips, the pinkish abused bud, right above the gap he would love to fill up right now. He imagined how tight she would feel. How her walls would clench around him, hugging him tightly and unwilling to ever let go and shit he wouldn’t want to either.

Instead, Chishiya would love to stay in there and have his way with this starved pussy. She would love it too, he told himself, picking his rutting behavior against the pillow back up. She would love him inside of her and would surely beg him to never pull out again.

But he would. He would do it just to tease her the way she teased him. To see her fruitless tries of getting him back inside. Her wiggling spine, that trashed around just like her body did before and hearing her thirsty whines, asking him again and again why he was so mean.

She would love it and he would love it more and that was all he could think about, as she pressed the vibrators tip against her clit, jerking up with his trusts consistently.

Thirsty Lorelay: “Mhmmm...s’much…so good. Been waiting to show you guys how good you make me.”

[BabyMaker53]: And you make us feel good too baby

[ProneBoner]: Such a nice pussy

[RideMyFace]: Been waiting all day to see this

[NaughtyBoy_123]: Fuck I wish I was there

[Masturbator666]: I could make you come in seconds

[BigBratThatLovesItHard]: I’m so fucking horny right now

[SelflessLover69]: Shit my dick wants this pussy so much right now

[AnnonymousGuest]: Notice me princess I will give you dick all day long

But Asa didn’t notice anyone. Her screen was too far away, and her mind clouded with the approaching high.

Thirsty Lorelay: “M’feel like I’m gonna cum soon boys” she said moaning and tensing her butt cheeks while her small cunt clenched angrily “Wanna cum with me? Wanna make me real happy boys?”

The chat did want to make her happy. Writing novels of how close they also were and Chishiya would too, if he wasn’t too prideful to confess how good she made him feel, while literally being somewhere else. She could be in another galaxy and not in the same district. Thats how far away he felt from her, craving hungry for the smallest part of her flesh and to pound her as feverishly as he did his pillow.

Thirsty Lorelay: “Make me proud”

Asa’s hips raised high exposing her whole ass to the camera as she came hard with strangers watching her every twitch. Her hips didn’t stop jerking up, jumping up and down in front of everyone, until she felt her orgasm fading.

Surprisingly, at least for Chishiya, he did come with her. His own body fluid left his scrunching balls, squirting in more and more rounds, until his guts pumped themselves empty with nothing more to give. His eyes starred intensely over her exposed pussy until he saw her own liquid run down those already drunk folds and fuck, he loved the view.

His fingers moved fast to make a screenshot of what was shown to him, even tho he still panted hard with a half empty brain and a dying erection smooched into his once comfy pillow. His mind told him to let go, but his body was still writhing and so he stayed there and watched how Lorelay set up slowly then pressed her lower body against the lying length of the vibrator on her sheets, rocking back and forth and likely overstimulating herself.

Thirsty Lorelay: “Did everyone cum?”

She asked with a husky voice, vocal cords have turned rough after all her moans and cries, but that didn’t stop her from speaking to her loyal fans that all so craved her attention, like she craved their money.

Thirsty Lorelay: “You know my number one rule”

A long whine escaped, as her swollen clit grazed the vibrating toy.

Thirsty Lorelay: “No one is left behind”

Hips guttered back and forth, making two delicious tits jump up and down with joy. The increasing vulgar comments took no end at piling up in the chat, but Asa was too busy to register that, her mind set to not rise off the vibrating mass between her legs, bouncing harder on it as her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

Fan after fan thanked her for cumming, but mostly for not stopping. It made Chishiya realize why this girl was so beloved by each and every single one of her followers. No matter how hard she just came, or how long it took her to get there. Lorelay had no intention to stop the show until even the last of her loyal watchers has beaten his meat into euphoria.

The alarming rate at which her chest rose and fell, pressing out one pornographic moan after the other, was sign enough to let Chishiya know, the girl on the screen was approaching her second relief in a short time. Lorelay was ruthless to her own body when it came to satisfying her dear fans and Chishiya watched with lustful eyes how she humiliated that juicy cunt, while running her hands up and down her body.

The last ‘Wait for me’ turned into a sweet ‘Thank you’ and Asa allowed herself to succumb into pleasure and let herself go anew. As her body finally stopped, unable to hold itself upwards, the girl collapsed to the side, giving another wonderful view of her body bathed in her own saucy sweat.

Her lungs were heavily expanding against ribs, all while Asa tried her best to come down from the last high of the day. Her heart finally calmed, and she turned to face the camara lens smiling tired and spend.

Thirsty Lorelay: “I hope” she started, stopping to take a few more breaths before going on “You guys had a good time. I feel fantastic and for that I have to thank each one of you. You were so nice to me, I’m so spoiled thanks to you” she winked, a drained smile on her face making kiss sounds and waving everyone goodbye.

One after the other left the Chat and Chishiya also fell down on his bed. His back laid on decadently soft sheets, hugging him from each side while the tablet fell somewhere slightly out of reach but still on the bed.

Thirsty Lorelay: “Scrubs, you still there?”

Chishiya heard a voice calling out to his username. His face turned to the side and looked over at the tablet, scrunching and unwanted to move.

Thirsty Lorelay: “Don’t tell me you still don’t have enough?” a soft chuckle escaped the girl’s mouth and Asa shook slightly her head, not knowing who the guy on the other screen was “Once greedy, forever greedy I guess”

Chishiya tapped on the screen. The Chat had emptied completely, and he was the only one left. He thought about ending the stream and go for a shower, but before his finger reached the tiny red X in the right corner, his new favorite performer reached out to him again.

Thirsty Lorelay: “Hey Scrubs, I hope you enjoyed my little show today. I have seen that you are a new watcher and so I decided to personally say thank you for coming. Hopefully in both ways.”

Chishiya raised an eyebrow at the terrible joke, but he listened on, letting her end her little speech and see what would come out of it.

Thirsty Lorelay: “I hope you had a good time and liked what you saw. A lot. If that’s the case, you are whole heartly invited to come back when the next one starts.”

Oh, he will come back for sure. The blond man decided this as soon as his pants dropped to his ankles in lightning speed.

Thirsty Lorelay: “I usually make shows on the weekend but you if you are interested into some private ones, you can always hit me up during the week and ask for one. My prices are in the description with my available schedule and I’m sure we will have a good time if you decide to come and say hi yourself.”

A private chat? Chishiya stroked his non-existent beard. That sounded promising and the blond couldn’t wait to book a day just for himself. His dick was already twitching at the thought of having the streamer all to himself.

Thirsty Lorelay: “If you do, please think about sending me some uplifting advice on what you prefer I wear. After all, I want to make sure I greet you the right way.”

Some piquant ideas instantly came to his mind. Some however would need preparation beforehand and probably one or two thingsshe didn't have. He would need to look up her profile and find out if she was willing to buy the stuff herself, or if he had to find a way to deliver it to her. After all, for a good time, Chishiya was willing to spend a lot of money, if the cam girl he watched was gifted enough and fucking shit, Thirsty Lorelay was gifted in so many ways, he would buy himself a lifetime of her attention, just to feel as good as he felt moments ago.

Thirsty Lorelay: “In case you feel extra needy, you can hit me up and ask for new stuff. I am always eager to try out new things, maybe even situations. I am sure we will come to some agreement no matter what.”

Just a question of price. Chishiya knew the requirements girls like her tend to ask, but he didn’t feel averse. Rather the opposite. His desire to find out how far she would go for some of his cash was right back and his voyeuristic side already couldn’t wait for the next show.

Thirsty Lorelay: “Anyway. Thank you for joining and hopefully we will see eachother again. Maybe even outside the chat? Who knows. See ya, Scrubs. Have a wonderful spend night. Mwahh.”

The girl threw him another kiss smiling and then ending the chat.

A small dialog window opened up immediately and asked him to rate how much he enjoyed the skilled girls show and Chishiya grinned, content with himself as he pressed the 5-star button and the site thank him for his time.

No, he thought, setting the tablet aside, thank you.

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