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nestasgalpal · 4 years ago

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Walk me through it [Nessian fic]

Fixing ACOSF part 5

Masterlist | AO3

Summary: Cassian accompanies Nesta to the cottage in the Mortal Lands where she and her sisters used to live, so she can get closure.

Tagging: @gwynriel @rhaenystargaryn @clolikescloquetas @amelievrstr @t8astr8ng @wanderlustlastsforever @saltydreamcollector @lordlorcan @esrahiba @queenestarcheron @ko0mbayamylord @jemstan300 @nessiantrashh @mothergwyn @poisonus-bloom @loveadora @frosted-crackers @mireillemystique @pataytayo @968sunflower968 @caram267 @jainadurron @darkshadowqueensrule @amphiptree @finae-bookshelf @niytavia @brainlessfruit @dontgetsalmonella @messyhairday-me @sunsummoner @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @wannawriteyouabook @psychoticminx @misswonderflower

N/A: Sorry I erased the comment about Feyre painting the cabin in Illyria but I didn’t get what that had to do with anything lol.

Nesta’s heart thundered as she laid a hand against the cold wooden door. Claw marks still gouged it.

“Tamlin’s handiwork, I take it?” Cassian asked behind her.

Nesta shrugged, unable to find the words. She and Elain had rehung the door after Tamlin had broken it. Their father, his leg wrecked beyond repair and unable to bear weight, had watched them, offering unhelpful advice.

Her fingers curled into a fist and she shouldered the door open. Its rusted hinges objected, creaking, and a dusty, half-rotten scent swarmed her nose. Her cheeks heated. For Cassian to be here, to see this—

“Just a brute, remember?” He stepped to her side. “I’ve lived in far worse. At least you had walls and a roof.”

Nesta hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear those words, and her shoulders loosened as she stepped into the cottage proper. In the chill dimness, broken only by rays of sunlight, she frowned at the ceiling. “This house used to have a roof.” The damage had let in all manner of creatures and weather—the former had made themselves comfortable, judging by the nests and various scattered droppings.

Nesta’s mouth turned dry. This horrible, awful, dark place.

She couldn’t stop her shaking.

Cassian laid a hand on her shoulder. “Walk me through it.”

She couldn’t. Couldn’t find the words.

He pointed to a long worktable. One leg had collapsed, and the whole thing lay at a slant. “You ate here?”

She nodded. They’d eaten here, some meals in silence, some with her and Elain trying to fill the quiet with their idle chatter, some with her and Feyre at each other’s throats. Like those last meals they’d had with her in this house.

Nesta’s stare drifted to the paint flaking off the walls. The intricate little designs. Cassian followed her stare. “Did Feyre paint that?”

Nesta swallowed, and managed to get out, “She painted every chance she got. Any extra coin she managed to save went toward paints.”

Except for that one time she saved enough to get flower seeds for Elain.

Her two sisters had somehow found a way of keeping themselves entertained. Feyre spend every minute she could out of the house. She had to go hunting for food, but even in the summer and the spring, when they had plenty, she made excuses to be away from them. Isaac Hale had been there to help her get distracted, but Nesta knew Feyre didn’t find time for him just for the sex. Feyre had wanted to be far from them, sitting in the meadows, practicing knots or whatever she did when she went away.

She only stayed in the cabin when she had paint. She had found happiness in that —and so had Elain in her little garden.

As much happiness as they could, in a place like this.

But Nesta never did. She had never wanted to.

She had barely wanted to survive.

As if he had felt the air around her shift, Cassian took a step closer, his chest close enough to her back that Nesta could feel the heat he irradiated in the bare skin of her nape. He was there for her, to be a pillar she could lean against if she needed to —to support her.

A calloused hand brushed against hers, the touch so soft and careful, Nesta almost didn’t feel it. He gave her hand a tug, but Nesta didn’t take it. Not yet. Only when she really needed his touch to bear what they were doing in this place, she would take his hand. She would try to do this on her own first.

Cassian aimed for the bedroom. Nesta followed him, and gods, it was so cramped and dark and smelly. The bed was still covered with its stained linens. The three of them had slept here for years.

Cassian ran a hand over the painted dresser, marveling. “Feyre really did paint stars for herself before she knew Rhys was her mate. Before she knew he existed.” His fingers traced the twining vines of flowers on the second drawer. “Elain’s drawer.” They drifted lower, curling over a lick of flame. “And yours.”

Nesta managed a grunt of confirmation, her chest tight to the point of pain. There in the corner sat a pair of worn, half-rotted shoes. Her shoes. One of them was bursting at the toe’s seam. She’d worn those shoes —in public. Could still remember mud and stones creeping in.

She had asked for new ones, and that had leaded them into an argument too. Feyre didn’t understand the shame Nesta felt when she walked around wearing that in her feet —as far as she knew, Feyre didn’t even remember what their life used to be like before that village; she had known nothing else. But Nesta had, and even while they starved, she still refused to let go of the life she had once enjoyed. The silks, the pearls, the luxuries she had been surrounded by when growing up. She hadn't been raised but rather crafted by her mother and tutors to belong in palaces and great halls. No, she had been forged to thrive among dozens of other rich heiresses who shared her same goal. She had become that. And then, her world crumpled down to become this.

There were wholes in the lower parts of the rotten wood panels big enough for a small rodent to get inside the house that hadn't been there while her family inhabited the space. Nesta felt sick in her stomach, just as she had when she came inside the cabin for the first time and realized it was likely to be the place where she died. No castle and no prince awaited in her future.

She had never found a way to explain to Feyre what it was like for her. Nesta was quick with words, fast coming up with the perfect answer to make everyone wary of her, make them stay away. But when it came to opening up and risking showing vulnerability, she realized, she had never learned how to do it.

She could only hide. She could only hurt.

And Feyre never made it easy either. It was so hard for Nesta to talk to her —to anyone, but specially to her little sister. Whenever they clashed against each other, she felt judged by someone who didn't even know her. Every time, Nesta let pride win and burn bridges between them, instead of trying to explain herself to a person who wouldn't even wait and listen before she decided Nesta was too much of a brat to deserve the benefit of the doubt. Feyre never considered that there might have been a reason for her to feel and act the way she did, even if it was not the right path. Because Feyre couldn't come up with any, and fooled by her own pride, thinking herself smarter because she was able to function and Nesta was not, she concluded that there wasn't a reason in the world for Nesta to just let time consume her instead of stepping in.

She hated that, and resented Feyre for years. Because they were the same. Two side of the same coin battling to stay on top once it fell to the ground. For years, Nesta felt like the only way to win, was to make sure Feyre lost.

Every day, it grew bigger —her resentment towards her. For being able to overcome difficulties she could not. Towards their father, who saw his daughters fight one another and starve and didn't get up from his chair once to try... anything. And resentment towards herself. She got carried away by it, every emotion she felt mixing together and forming a ball of anger in her guts that burned so violently that Nesta could no longer tell what was going on.

She saw red all the time, and burned with it. Burned anyone that dared come close.

Lost in her memories of how fighting had been more abundant than food, Nesta almost forgot Cassian was there too. Her eyes had gotten caught up on the torn shoes. They were such a perfect example of how her life used to be —how they had so little, that every single thing could become the reason for a night's worth of arguing... Nesta told him the story.

"Deep down I knew that saving the money was more important, that those boots could last a few more weeks. That would give Feyre time to get more money. But I pushed the logic down and picked the fight regardless" She had hated that those shoes had been a working pair to their new family standards when not so long ago only the finest leather slippers touched her feet.

Nesta looked around the room, to the bed she and her sisters had shared. “That bed in there … I was born in that bed. My mother died in that bed.”

Her mother’s death. She remembered that as well. Too vividly still.

"My father refused to send men into fae territory looking for a cure for her". And just like him, Nesta had refused to help when they lived in the cottage. Had refused to do what she thought was a servant’s work, thinking that death was better than the shame of loosing her status. "I hated him for that."

She had been so mad at him for not even trying, that she thought she ought to do the same thing. If their father didn’t do anything, she would do even less. To her, Feyre had been only collateral damage. She was willing to sacrifice her little sister’s safety for her own. That’s what she had seen others do with her before. It had been so wrong —but Nesta hadn’t realized it until it was too late for all of them.

She hated her younger self, now that there was nothing for her to do. Now that her sisters no longer needed her to step in.

She hated that she had been so wrong, so blind.

She hated that she failed at being smarter than the adults in her life.

She hated how much time and effort she had put into hating her father and not caring about Feyre only for them to be the ones saving her in the end. How was she supposed to find peace, when she had spend years being consumed by the anger his passivity ignited in her, only for him to finally be there to help when she needed him the most? How did everyone expect her to be able to deal with that when she had failed miserably at simpler tasks?

Nesta wanted to forgive her father. To forgive him and be hugged by him. Nesta wanted to finally have by her side the father she had so desperately needed her entire life.

But when he came to her and proved that his love was true and knew no limits —that he only needed a second chance, he was killed before her eyes. How could she forgive him now, when he had died before she got a chance to let him know that she understood. That she had done the same thing to others, and she understood. She knew. And she was willing to give him the second chance he wanted to do everything again, but this time right.

Her heart thundered, and she walked out of the room, back into the main space. She didn’t mean to, but she looked toward the dark fireplace. Toward the mantel.

Her father’s wood figurines lay atop it, thickly coated with dust and cobwebs. Some had been knocked over, presumably by whatever creatures now lived here.

That familiar roaring filled her ears, and Nesta’s steps thudded too loudly on the dusty floorboards as she approached the fireplace. A carving of a rearing bear —no bigger than her fist —sat in the center. Nesta’s fingers shook as she picked it up and blew off the dust.

“He had some skill,” Cassian said quietly.

“Not enough,” Nesta said, setting the bear back onto the stone mantel. She was going to vomit.

No. She could master this. Master herself. And face what lay before her. Only then she would be able to face what she had left behind —her past.

She inhaled through her nose. Exhaled through her mouth. Counted the breaths.

Cassian stood beside her through all of it. Not speaking, not touching. Just there, should she need him. Her friend —whom she’d asked to come here with her not because he was sharing her bed, but because she wanted him here. His steadiness and kindness and understanding.

She plucked another figurine from the mantel: a rose carved from a dark sort of wood. She held it in her palm, its solid weight surprising, and traced a finger over one of the petals. “He made this one for Elain. Since it was winter and she missed the flowers.”

“Did he ever make any for you?”

“He knew better than to do that.” She inhaled a shuddering breath, held it, released it. Let her mind calm. “I think he would have, if I’d given him the smallest bit of encouragement, but … I never did. I was too angry.”

She finally voiced it —Why she had behaved like that for so many years. Cassian probably knew already, but she had needed to let it out. She had been angry. She had felt abandoned. She didn’t know what to do to keep floating against the current like her sisters did with her hobbies and new-found friends in the village.

Nesta only felt anger at everyone and everything.

“You’d had your life overturned. You were allowed to be angry.”

“That’s not what you told me the first time we met.” She pivoted to find him arching a brow. She could go back and picture that day. He was a giant in her hall, tall even among the rest of the fae Feyre had brought with her. A dormant part of her human conscience, an instinct, reminded her how dangerous his kind was. But she had never felt intimidated. Not by him. Not really.

Just a worthy opponent.

“You told me I was a piece of shit for letting my younger sister go into the woods to hunt while I did nothing.”

“I didn’t say it like that.”

“Yes, you did.”

Cassian’s gaze pierced through her. She squared her shoulders, turning to the small, broken cot in the shadows beyond the fireplace, thinking he wouldn’t reply.

“Can I still take that back?” Cassian was halted where she left him. The space was not big enough for them to be far from each other, but it certainly felt like it. A chill breeze came through a chink in the wall behind her, fluttering the bottom of her cloak and finding there the bare skin of her ankles.

Would you forgive me? He was asking. Or maybe not. Maybe he simply wanted her to pretend his words had never left his lips. Can we pretend it didn’t happen? She only had to turn around and face his burning gaze to know, but she didn’t.

Yes, Nesta wanted to tell him. Please, go back and never open my eyes to make me see what I did to my sister. Don’t let the truth of my actions ever get to me.

Nesta had always been aware of everything surrounding her, always known who she could trust, who was a tool for her to use, what buttons to push to get what she wanted from others.

She had always known, she had always seen.

Now, standing in the space where she spent some of the worst years of her life, a period of time full of hunger, cold, screaming and resentment that still hunted her, Nesta would beg on her knees for a chance to be oblivious for the first time in her life —To not see. To not feel.

“Why would you want to?” She asked instead.

Cassian didn’t come closer. Nesta wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. Standing here, in this ramshackle space where she still had to control her breath so she didn’t break down and become a crying mess, Nesta didn’t know if she was actually ready to discuss that.

To come back to face her ghosts was hard enough.

Nesta found a spot in the half rotted wood wall in front of her and locked her eyes there, not blinking, holding the tears that wanted to form in her eyes. She wasn’t ready to remember what had happened shortly after Cassian came into her house asking for her help. Her life was already almost too much for her to handle before Tamlin took Feyre, and that’s what they were trying to get closure for today. Not what had happened next, when the Inner Circle of the Night Court entered her life.

The thought threatened to make her breath erratic again, but Nesta remembered the exercices Gwyn had found for them and kept it under control. She mastered it and reminded herself why were here. Nesta forced herself to breath. Her lungs didn’t cooperate. Her mouth dry. She inhaled slowly and then exhaled the cold air. Once. Twice.

“Because I feel like that first meeting shaped everything else after, and I don't like what it did with it."

"It did nothing." It hadn't been that first encounter what had led her into the mess she was, nor had it anything to do with her choices back when they lived in this cabin that felt smaller and smaller with each of Cassian's words. She didn't want him to make excuses for her, she should have done more, and that was a fact she had already accepted.

"No, I did. I said that to you, and then the rest followed me."

"What does that have to do with this?" she vaguely waved her hands at the surrounding space. The room that had once been her house.

"Everything." he answered "Feyre wanted a peaceful meeting, you know? She wanted to do the talking, and for us to behave, and I couldn't hold my tongue. I fucked up, and only lately I've realized the damage my words actually caused.”

In the quietude of the room, his voice was a thunder. Nesta turned to face him and finally met his eyes, that were screaming for a chance to explain. But explain what? She already knew what she had to make up for, and didn't see what Cassian or the people who accompanied Feyre back to the Mortal Lands had to do with her past.

“I only thought of you as an extension of your sister.” She was curious to know when that had changed for him. She remembered the exact second the illyrian Commander had stopped being just her sister’s friend to her, earning a place of his own in her heart “I heard Feyre’s story, felt her suffering, and forgot you were a person too. You were entitled to your fears and to make mistakes as we all are, and I had no right to call you out there, when I knew close to nothing about you, and who you were. I didn't see that you had been a kid too, and your family's wellbeing wasn't just your responsibility, just as it wasn't Feyre's. I had no right to get involved in that unresolved issue between you, and I feel like when I did... I kind of gave everyone permission to do the same, and feel entitled to an opinion that weights as much as Feyre's and yours do in the matter. If I could go back…”

“You can’t” Nesta cut in. She wouldn’t let him, because if she wasn’t allowed to, then none of them would. It wasn’t fair.

Cassian still didn’t move, his presence painfully obvious. Cassian didn’t miss the shaking of her hands, but said nothing about it. She tried to put some of her usual icy rage in her eyes, but couldn’t. She tried to hide the excruciating pressure in her chest, the ache in her heart, but couldn’t either.

“I know you blame yourself for not being a caretaker and provider for your sisters, Nes” he started again when she didn’t go on “I know you already blamed yourself before we met, and I know I... we only made it worse, pushing you down thinking we were being good friends to Feyre. We actually hurt both of you in the end. I can’t speak for my friends, but I can speak for myself and tell you how sorry I am for not seeing that sooner. For not seeing you. And for making this" he looked rround towards the cot, the dinning table and the room they had just been into "worse than it already was.” The floor creaked under his weight when he took a step towards her, next to the cob. “You were barely older than she was, it wouldn’t have made a difference if it had been you in the woods. The three of you were too young to take that role”.

Then whose was it? His father? That's what she had thought for most of her life, but now... what about his leg? The pain he endured just by walking outside? She was the oldest, she should have done more, and she knew that. She didn't want them —Feyre— to just forgive her and pretend it had never happened. Because if she had done something more back then, then their live would be different now, for better or worse. She didn't want people to pitty her, and to tell her that she was an innocent and blameless soul.

"Why can't you just let me take accountability?"

"To take accountability is good, and I'm glad you are ready to do so, because you have to, in order to move on." He took her face in his hands taking one last step closer, their bodies almost touching “But I think we've let you think everything that happened to your sisters could have been avoided if you had been the one carrying the bow, and that's simply not true.” His thumb brushed over her cheek “What no one told you, Nesta, is that surviving is not only about getting food and water, or even a roof. I would know about that.” He chuckled softly, trying to lighten up the atmosphere around them in the dimness of the room ” Feyre is a great huntress, she didn’t need you carrying the bow and shooting the arrows.” Nesta would have died on her first winter hunting, both of them knew that. “You were needed as an older sister, and that doesn't equal being a provider for your family. She needed your support and care when she came back from a long day looking for food. A family.”

Enough tears to make a new sea had been shed by both her and Feyre in her art studio not so long ago. Feyre had asked for that exaclty: an older sister who had her back. And Nesta had promised she would try.

Nesta didn’t really know how to use or control her powers, and Feyre had surrounded herself with fae strong enough to never need Nesta to save her again.

But Cassian was right. That was not what Nesta could offer her little sister anyway, and that was not what Feyre needed from her either. That was not what she had ever wanted from her father, either. In the end, it all came to the four of them failing at being a family.

Feyre needed had needed that as much as Nesta did.

She was ready to be that from now on.

When she didn’t answer, Cassian stayed quiet, allowing her once again to get lost in her thoughts as long as she needed to, but wary at the same time, in case she drifted back to the dark ideas that so frequently starred in her nightmares.

Nesta freed herself from his grip and went back to the cot, running a hand over its cracking wood frame. Splinters snagged at her fingertips.

Her father’s body crawled up on the chair, the small fire burning until late at night so he wouldn’t freeze under the shabby blanket he used to keep himself warm… Nesta could picture it clearly when she looked at the cot again. “He’d drag it in front of the fire every night and curl up there, huddling under the blankets. I always thought he looked so … so weak. Like a cowering animal. It enraged me.”

That was the issue, the whole point of coming to the cabin. Her soul needed to face this chapter of her life like her lungs needed the air she breathed to keep her body alive. Nesta had to find a way to cope with the matted of feelings, nightmares and emotions —with the contradictions that formed in her heart.

It was always about him in the end. Her father. Their relationship.

She wanted to forgive him. She was sure of that. But there was still so much anger, such immense feeling of abandonment inside her that hadn’t been cured in time. He had been there for her in the end, and somehow that was even worse, because now she couldn’t even despise him for his cowardice. He died for her before he could face the consequences of his decisions, as she was trying to do now. He died, leaving his daughter with even more guilt inside. Because now she finally knew he did love her enough to get up from his chair and try anything, but was gone before she got a chance to do anything with that.

Her father had finally done what she needed from him, and she couldn’t even thank him. Tell him that she forgave him and ask him to forgive her back for all the times she picked on him. Tell him that she loved him, that she was grateful and his effort had been worth it.

“It …” Her throat worked. “I thought him sleeping here was a fitting punishment while we got the bed. It never occurred to me that he wanted us to have the bed, to keep warm and be as comfortable as we could. That we’d only been able to take a few items of furniture from our former home and he’d chosen that bed as one of them. For our comfort. So we didn’t have to sleep on cots, or on the floor.” She rubbed at her chest. “I wouldn’t even let him sleep in the bed when the debtors shattered his leg. I was so lost in my grief and rage and… and sorrow, that I wanted him to feel a fraction of what I did.” Her stomach churned.

He squeezed her shoulder, but said nothing. Nesta didn’t talk for a moment, and Cassian put an arm around her to press her body against his, hugging her without a word. The warmth from his chest felt almost too good. She needed it, and also the calmness of his heartbeat.

“He had to have known that,” she said hoarsely. “He had to have known how awful I was, and yet … he never yelled. That enraged me, too. And then he named a ship after me. Sailed it into battle. I just … I don’t understand why.”

“You were his daughter.”

“And that’s an explanation?” She rose her chin to look at him and scanned his face, the sadness etched there. Sadness —for her. For the ache in her chest and the stinging in her eyes.

“Love is complicated. But he loved you.”

“I can’t for the life of me understand why.” she answered.

Nesta didn’t even have to think the words, they came out of her mouth before she even realized what she had said.

Cassian had told her that once last year —that he couldn’t understand why her sisters loved her. That simple sentence, said by him so casually in the middle of the street, followed her home and helped her already overwhelming self-loathing bring her even lower. Nesta had often wanted to know if he went over his words as frequently as she did after that night and the following months. She wondered if the confession he had made hunted him too.

Nesta had come to the conclusion that it didn’t torment him one bit the moment he came to her apartment to pick her up and take her to Feyre’s new mansion by the river. She was convinced at that moment that he actually couldn’t come up with a single reason why Feyre and Elain still wasted their time on her.

Yet he was here, so she wasn't alone whilst facing her past. He was by her side now, not giving up on her no matter how badly she screwed up.

Cassian opened his mouth to say something, but whatever he was about to say, she didn't want to hear it now. It didn’t matter how he felt back then, she only cared about the present. And he was by her side. He was being a friend, apologizing for things he regretted that Nesta herself hadn't even consider, but somehow made sense.

She forgave him. Because she knew what it was like to crack under pressure and be hurtful towards people you care about when you don’t know how to help them and become desperate.

And Cassian somehow could read through her too, as he closed his mouth, his lips pressed tight.

Both of them let the unspoken words float between them, saying nothing, only looking at each other. Nesta was not perfect and he wasn’t either —there was no need to be perfect. Not right now. There were so many things they had yet to find the courage to discuss, that Nesta didn’t care. Looking into his hazel eyes, Nesta found the reassurance she needed that they would talk about it, with time, and that was enough.

They would talk about every unsaid thing between them.

They had all the time in the world.

The forgoten room reappeared around them at some point, as if they had been somewhere else when they got lost into each other’s eyes.

She studied the calluses already building across her fingers and palms. She made herself meet Cassian’s gaze again. “I didn’t just fail Feyre by letting her go into the woods. There were plenty of other times. I feel guilty.” Nesta said the words aloud for the first time. It was a clear feeling, as much as she hated it. She had finally found the one comprehensible spot in the mess that was her heart. Using that, she could pull the thread until she untangled the whole thing. It would take time, but it was a first step. Maybe there was hope for her after all.

Guilt. She felt guilt. She would work on that.

“Have you ever told her this?”

Nesta snorted. “No. I don’t know how.” That was still a problem.

He studied her, and she resisted the urge to squirm under the scrutiny. “You’ll learn how. When you’re ready.”

“How very wise of you.”

Cassian sketched a bow.

Despite this house, the history all around her, Nesta smiled. She pocketed the carved rose. “I’ve seen enough.”

He arched a brow. “Really?”

She clenched the wooden rose in her pocket. “I think I just needed to see this place. One last time. To know we got out. That there’s nothing left here except dust and bad memories.”

He slid an arm around her waist as they walked for the door, again surveying all the little paintings Feyre had squeezed into the cottage. “Az won’t be back for a little while. Let’s go flying.”

“What about the humans?” They’d run screaming in terror.

Cassian gave her a wicked smile, opening that half-broken door for her. Leading her into the sunlight and clean air. “It’ll add a little spice to their days.”

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ears-awake-eyes-opened · 4 years ago

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Wedding Colors (Part 2)

(Hayffie ❤️🧡💛💚💙💖. An exploration of Effie’s evolving character as she faces past and present personal intensities while making preparations for Finnick and Annie’s wedding.)

9:00—mentoring. The buzz that Haymitch had been feeling was killed even before Peeta kicked him out of the hospital room.

The boy was angry. “What if I’d murdered the people who were trying to help us because I didn’t know they were trying to help us!!? Do you think anyone would be asking me to frost a cake for Finnick’s FUNERAL if I’d slit his throat!? I can’t even look at you right now. Just go.”

It didn’t help that Haymitch’s eyes looked so much like Katniss’s.

At least Peeta was becoming more lucid. Haymitch took the boy’s justifiable anger as a positive sign and respected his request to be alone.

At the other end of the hospital, he opened the girl’s door to find Johanna plugged into Katniss’s IV. They both looked up but neither moved an inch.

“Jealous?” Johanna sneered.

“Not my drug of choice, sweetheart,” though her comment was spot-on. To Katniss he asked, “Are you okay with this?”

“It’s fine.” She winced, and he glared at Johanna.

“What? She says she’s fine. Plutarch took her for a walk yesterday afternoon. He probably just held her leash too tight.”

“I can tell them I don’t need the morphling anymore...” Her threat wasn’t far from the truth, and Johanna knew it.

“It’s nothing personal. Plutarch has us all on leashes. Even your *mentor* there.” Johanna looked pointedly at the communicuff on Haymitch’s wrist.

Her mockery pissed him off.

“Plutarch talked to you yesterday?” he asked Katniss.

“Yeah. He’s planning a circus, and he gave me the job of looking happy.”

“You. Happy? I would’ve cast somebody else.”

“I can do it. Since the circus is Finnick and Annie’s wedding.”

“Right. ...I’m going to walk away now and pretend I didn’t see you two... bonding.” He motioned to the IV then said to Johanna, “If she’s screaming in pain later, I’ll be ripping that port out of your arm myself.”

Sarcasm dripped along with the morphling. “Sobriety has had such a calming effect on you.”

“Something for YOU to look forward to soon.”

Johanna’s expression was steady as stone. ...Almost. Nobody would have noticed the subtle flinch, except for an addict.

“Katniss, I’ll see YOU later.” Haymitch closed the door behind him.

So the kids knew about the wedding before he did. What’s the point of wearing this *shackle* on my arm if Plutarch doesn’t tell me anything?!

Haymitch made his way back to Peeta’s room and stood in the corridor looking in through the one-way mirror. The boy was sitting at the art table which orderlies had brought in days before. Delly Cartwright was by his side. They were painting with watercolors. Peeta’s brush stroked out an ocean scene with cresting waves and sea life. With the paintbrush in his hand, Peeta was calm. In that moment, he seemed almost like himself.

The damn communicuff buzzed, and a message from Plutarch appeared on the screen. “Change of schedule. Report for exercise at 10:00. Details await you there.”

Being outdoors sounded better than being shut out by the kids or seeing them in pain. They were still alive, but they were messed up. Like me... Or worse.

Mentor. Johanna’s ridicule settled in his bones.

***

10:00—exercise The staircase to the surface had been rebuilt quickly after the bombing. The tight control in 13 produced efficiency. He’d give Coin that much credit.

Climbing the stairs was more exercise than he’d get in the yard. By the time he got to the top, he was breathing hard.

“Now that’s a familiar sound.” Effie’s voice came from the shadows and lit him up.

He moved toward her. “Me out of breath? Typical.”

“Last night...”

“Not typical. ...And more fun than this.”

He was surprised to see her. She wore a heavy coat and carried a large canvas sack over her shoulder. Additional bags and a set of leaf scoops were on the floor near her feet. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going for a walk in the woods —with you. Plutarch’s orders.”

Haymitch was confused, but too amused to not play along.

“I see you’re bringing a weapon.” He tugged at the pruners which were hooked through a belt loop on her pants. “Are you gonna protect us from carnivorous trees?”

“Just me, sweetheart. You’re going to protect yourself.” She held out a second set of pruners.

As he took them, he lingered on the fabric covering her hand. “Is this the latest fashion?”

“Cloth is more practical than lace, but must EVERY stitch of fabric here be gray or white?!” She held out a pair of work gloves for him too.

“If I’m wearing these, then how am I supposed to touch you?”

“No touching, honey. We have a project to do. Coin is giving us two hours to gather enough foliage for the district to make wedding decorations.”

“I heard her announcement asking for volunteers. I just didn’t think she was talking about me.”

“You are here at MY request.”

He took a half-step toward her. “So you’re giving me orders to spend two hours in the woods with you without touching you?” He took another half-step and felt the buzz return as their clothing brushed.

“We aren’t in the woods yet,” she said, “You can touch me now...”

The hair on his chin grazed her temple. “Where?”

Warmth flooded her. “You choose.”

He stepped back. “Sorry, sweetheart. If you get to make me a gardener for two hours, then I get to make you wait at least that long.”

“Haymitch! Don’t bother turning me on if you’re just going to make me wait!”

“Well, aren’t YOU the pot calling the kettle black. ...Am I turning you on?”

“You KNOW you are—“

“I have your trackers.” They were interrupted by a security guard, armed with an automatic rifle equipped with a spotting scope.

“Lex, this is Haymitch. He’ll be the other person accompanying us.”

“Glad to meet you,” the guard said as he lifted Effie’s pant leg to fit the tracker on her ankle.

“Wait a minute. This guy’s coming with us, AND he gets to touch you?”

“No need for envy. ...He’ll be touching YOU too.” Effie smirked.

The guard proceeded to clamp the second tracker onto Haymitch’s ankle.”

“Just what I need, another shackle.” He was tired of being treated like a prisoner, and he was sick of sobriety. Even if he could take the tracker off and leave, where would he go? His house was still standing, far away in 12, but that place was just a shell. Nearly every person he cared about who was still alive was in 13. And his duty was here. He’d been waiting his whole life for this stand.

Haymitch scowled when Lex’s hands skimmed Effie’s hip as he clipped a communicator onto her belt loop.

“Look, man, this is just standard procedure. I’m not interested in touching your girlfriend.”

“I’m not his girlfriend.” “She’s not my girlfriend.” They spoke in unison, then looked at each other.

“Sorry. I just assumed... I’ll position myself in the center of the search area. Don’t wander more than 50 yards from me in any direction.”

“Or what? You’ll shoot us?” Haymitch asked.

“It’s not our policy in 13 to shoot civilians.”

“See there, even cave people can be civilized.” Effie muttered under her breath, talking mostly to herself.

“If you move too far out of range, I’ll message you through the communicator. Stay together.”

Haymitch pulled on the gloves then picked up two canvas sacks and the leaf scoops. Stay together. For a moment, it sounded better than ‘stay alive’

***

In the weeks since the bombing, the exit from 13 into the woods had been cleared and secured. Effie was grateful to not have to crawl through bent metal and broken blocks of cement.

As she stepped outside, a gust of wind whipped her in the face. It carried the fragrance of cedar, like a hope chest, and the smell of approaching rain. Dry ground indicated that none had fallen recently, and she wondered when it would come. Hopefully not before noon! She unzipped her coat just enough to reach inside and pull her sunglasses out from the pocket of her shirt. The lenses tinted the world rose. That view was more familiar.

The guard split off from them to stand watch at the top of the ridge.

“We have three sacks. Let’s fill each one with foliage of a warm color: red, orange, and yellow.” Wasting no time, Effie marched straight into the woods, following a narrow trail.

“The High Priestess of Nature is on a mission,” Haymitch teased from behind her.

Much of the vegetation around them was foreign to him. 13 was far north from the woods he’d forayed into as a boy, breaking laws in order to spend time at the lake. Other plants were the same.

“Uh, priestess... is there poison ivy in the Capitol?”

“Poison?” She stopped in her tracks, imagining a coiling plant about to sink its fangs into her. “I don’t know. What does it look like?”

He pointed to a vine near her feet, and she leaped back, nearly knocking him over. He steadied them both with a hand on her waist.

“THAT!?” she exclaimed, “Well, EVERYTHING here looks like that!”

“Because you’re taking us into a thicket of it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me!?”

“I AM telling you.”

“What will it do to me?” she whispered, fearing that talking too loudly might wake it up or something.

“If you don’t touch it, then nothing.”

“What if I touch it?”

“See how the leaves are shiny? That oil gets on your clothes and transfers to your skin. It gives some people a rash that itches like hell.”

“Maybe YOU should walk in front.”

“Why? So you can look at my ass?”

“Let’s call that a side benefit to the primary goal of not getting poisoned!”

He reluctantly let go of her waist, turned around, and led them out of the thicket.

They found a wider trail and followed it to a tree with large leaves, red as cranberries. Haymitch recognized it as the same variety growing behind his house. He didn’t pay much attention to that tree at home, except when it looked like this. It’s strange... a person can be around something so often but not think about how remarkable it is until it’s changing.

The wind whipped up again, and leaves were falling like rain. Effie was already scooping them up and filling the sack she’d been carrying.

“Wait,” he said, “Look...”

“What? More poison?”

He pointed to the sky, and she tilted her face up to a shower of red. She slid the sunglasses up to her forehead so she could see the true color. Thin beams of sunlight streamed through the branches. She squinted her eyes but didn’t close them.

“In the Capitol, nature is manicured — controlled. In Capitol Park, all the trees are planted the same distance apart. When leaves fall, a crew of Avoxes carts them away before the next morning. It’s nothing like this. This is wild.”

“...And familiar.” With a gloved fingertip, he touched her windburned cheeks then pulled a red leaf from the top knot of her kerchief. Over her coat he traced from her heart to the small of her back, following the path of the tattoo buried under her layers.

The memory of him holding her there the night before was a freight train barreling through her. “Ohh... this is why we agreed to not touch each other.”

“Yeah, about that... I lied.”

The leaf scoops dropped to the ground, and she interlaced her hands behind his neck. “Just for a minute, alright? Just give me a minute...” She kissed his cut lip, soft like she’d wanted to at breakfast. “Does this hurt?”

StoppIng this is what’s gonna hurt. He kissed her like when he was trying to get her out of his system. Only he knew better now, and he kissed her anyway, slow and certain.

She felt it like madness. “My hands were on my body this morning,” she murmured, “I pretended they were yours. In all the places you touched me. Haymitch... I came so fast.”

“Jesus.”

“I’m trying to control this. But...” I’ve wondered about it so long. “I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

In defiance of gravity, he pulled back from her. “Here’s what’s going to happen... We’ll collect the leaves, and we’ll figure out the rest later. Because if you say another word now about making yourself come, then I swear I’m going to lay you down right here—“

“And you’ll fuck me. ...Say it. Tell me you will.”

He could feel himself bending to her desires. It was unsettling, and erotic. “Yeah. I will. To hell with whoever’s watching! But it’s not just the guard. It’s probably Coin; it may be Snow; it could be anybody. I’ve already shown too much of my hand out here, and the clock is ticking.”

The reminder of Plutarch’s words and of the arena made her refocus. She caressed his neck as she let go.

They channeled the intensity into the work, meandering through the woods along animal trails. Scurrying sounds in the bushes made Effie’s heart race, but she avoided a heart attack like she evaded poison ivy.

“Scurrying things are mostly lizards, field mice, and foraging birds. The real threats are the things you DON’T hear coming.”

“WHY would you say that?! With all of the words you have to choose from in this situation, THAT is what you say to me!?!”

“I’m trying to ease your mind. Good ol’ Lex is up there watching from the ridge. We’re gonna be fine.”

They scooped and clipped foliage from a dozen trees. “Every leaf we collect must be freshly fallen or plucked from the branches. Nothing brown or decomposing is acceptable.”

“Nothing decomposing?! Who’s making these rules anyway?”

“I believe you called her ‘The High Priestess of Nature’.”

“What do you think is happening to leaves when the colors change? Poetry?”

“Maybe poetry. Why not?”

“This is a deciduous forest, sweetheart. These leaves are all dying. There’s nothing poetic about it. Death is a knife in somebody’s back or poison in her veins. And then nothing.”

“If that’s all it is, then why did you tell me to watch the leaves fall? And why did we feel so alive?”

He had no answer.

***

Returning to the fortress, Effie carried a sack across her back and the scoops in her hands. He slung the other full bags over his shoulders. Neither of them had much breath left to complain about their burdens, but they talked some.

“You’re stronger than you’ve let on.”

“I used to credit cycling classes at Capitol Spin. Now it’s endless staircase climbing in *the dungeon*.”

“What about the strength inside you? Where does that come from?”

“I... I don’t know. That’s not easy for me to feel.”

I feel it. “Thanks for getting me outside today.”

“Will you come to the dining hall this afternoon?”

“I’m all thumbs when it comes to making things like garlands. My parents’ craftiness skipped my generation.”

He seldom mentioned his family. There was so much pain there. She wanted to know more. She wanted to know everything. But if she pushed, he shut down. So she took in his comments whenever they came and tried to piece together a picture of the early life his Games destroyed. The more the images came together, the more protective she felt.

And the more she knew of anger.

She’d always folded anger up tightly and locked it in a box. The act was subconscious. Compartmentalization was happening less readily now, if for no other reason than the boxes she’d stuffed unwanted aspects of herself inside were getting full.

“You don’t have to make anything... I’d just like to see you there.” I’m anxious about facing people.

“After lunch I need to check on the kids, but I’ll try to stop by later.”

“I wish Peeta was recovered enough to participate.”

“He’s decorating in his own way.”

“Is he??”

The trail widened, and Haymitch walked alongside her. “It’s Plutarch’s big secret. If I told you, then I’d have to kill you.” His smile was wide enough to show the gap between his teeth. “And that wouldn’t work because I want you alive.”

The wind rushed around them, and she thought again about how easy it would be to let it take her. “Keep those secrets for now. My world has suddenly become rather interesting. I think I’ll stay alive and find out what’s going to happen next.”

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bookwormscififan · 4 years ago

Text

Lacuna

Read on AO3!

Lacuna: A blank space; a missing part.

A/N: Happy birthday, @purp-man! I wrote this for you, inspired by my wanting to give you something when you returned to the Trail Mix, then I disappeared from the server, so have this kinda vent-y, angsty, song fic!

Song used: The World is Ugly by My Chemical Romance

Word count: 2012 words

Warnings: slight violence, self-doubt, feelings of dread, panic, and helplessness

Characters: Roman, Virgil, Guardian of the Deep Mind

These are the eyes and the lies of the taken These are their hearts but their hearts don't beat like ours They burn 'cause they are all afraid For every one of us, there's an army of them But you'll never fight alone 'Cause I wanted you to know

The clock ticked, incessantly echoing its passage of time through the room. Apart from that, the place was silent.

Darkness loomed from outside the window, drowning everything in shadows. The lamp beside the television was turned off, and the bulb had been taken out. A single spider crawled his way up the curtains, pausing to poke a leg at each cartoon spider on the fabric.

A shadowy figure created a darker spot at the stairs, moving slightly to the beat of unheard music.

As the figure sank into the calm of his music, he suddenly froze, pausing his music and lowering his headphones.

He stood up, moving slowly to the middle of the room.

He lowered his hood, revealing smudged eyeshadow.

Virgil closed his eyes against the images flashing in his mind.

“Roman…”

That the world is ugly But you're beautiful to me Well are you thinking of me now (now)

The Imagination was silent. Dust was settling, following the path of someone’s journey.

A dark-clothed figure stood at the gateway to the Deep Mind, whistling a sad, forgotten tune as they inspected their fingernails.

The sounds of frantic footsteps echoed through the area, causing the figure to straighten up.

“Roman.” The prince raised his scarlet hood, eyes defiant.

“I need to go through. I need to be a hero.”

The figure shook their head, stepping in front of the gateway and folding their arms across their chest.

Roman sighed, dropping his shoulders.

“Please, I need to do this.” Roman’s hand rested on his sword in warning.

“I cannot let you through. You will get lost. Thomas needs you.” The figure watched Roman nod in defeat, then turn and leave.

Smirking beneath their hood, the guard turned around to look into the gate.

Suddenly, a solid object hit their head, and they fell to the ground. They opened their eyes weakly as a flash of scarlet brushed past him.

Lifting a heavy arm, the figure passed out.

When they came to, the guard had no idea how much time had passed.

They raised themselves to their elbows, lifting a hand to their forehead as numb pain registered.

Roman was nowhere to be seen. The gateway to the Deep Mind looked like some sort of warzone.

The figure sighed, adjusting their hood, and slowly came to a stand.

They closed their eyes, trying, with some difficulty, to send a message to anyone in the Mindscape.

These are the nights and the lights that we fade in These are the words but the words aren't coming out They burn 'cause they are hard to say For every failing sun, there's a morning after Though I'm empty when you go I just wanted you to know

The images continued through his mind, causing Virgil’s heart to beat louder than the ticking of the clock.

Something bad was about to happen. Or was happening.

A cold, empty feeling settled in his stomach.

What was Roman doing?

Biting his nails, Virgil allowed his fringe to fall into his eyes. He knew where the images were set. He knew there was a place in Thomas’ mind where Sides go, somewhere to find themselves.

The last thing Virgil wanted was for Roman to go there, but he had no say in anything the prince did.

His voice left him, and he silently screamed as the images became overwhelming.

That the world is ugly But you're beautiful to me Are you thinking of me Like I'm thinking of you I would say I'm sorry, though Though I really need to go I just wanted you to know

The realm beyond the gateway was crowded with figures. All the colour had drained from the people, and the area was a strange monochrome.

The feeling of loss and defeat hung heavy in the air, acting as a sort of vacuum that sucked the life and strength from every side here.

The realm was infinite, and the empty Sides wandered the space with no clear destination. It seemed that every person had forgotten their purpose for being here, or that they just… no longer cared.

Roman turned as each figure brushed past him, feeling no warmth or solidity from any arm that was near his.

Fear began to settle in the pit of his stomach, and he tried to call out. His voice was swallowed in the muffled murmurs of the figures aimlessly walking past.

The prince froze, figures rushing past him, as his heartbeat began to ring in his ears.

Slowly, without his notice, Roman’s cloak began to fade.

I wanted you to know I wanted you to know I'm thinking of you every night, every day

Virgil opened his eyes as his panic began to ebb.

He took a deep breath and flexed his fingers. Pulling himself to a sitting position, he looked around the room and swallowed thickly.

Roman was still in trouble.

The images had stopped flashing in his mind, matching the slow beat of his heart.

Brief glimpses of a scarlet cape moving through a gateway kept repeating themselves behind his eyelids.

Virgil crawled to the couch, resting his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees.

“I have to help him,” he croaked to himself.

He couldn’t ask anybody for help, so he cracked his knuckles and set his jaw.

He had only managed to save Roman once, when the whole group had stupidly gone into his room.

Closing his eyes, Virgil sank out.

These are the eyes and the lies of the taken These are their hearts but their hearts don't beat like ours They burn 'cause they are all afraid When mine beats twice as hard

The anxious side stood in the middle of the Imagination, heart pounding in his ears.

He clenched his teeth, walking toward the gateway to the Deep Mind.

The closer he got, the louder the murmurs of the lost echoed in his direction.

He stopped, clasping a hand over his ears in a vain attempt to block out the echoes.

He raised his head, eyes wide, as a voice echoed above all the others.

I have to be the hero. I need to prove myself.

“Roman.”

The anxious side shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets and set off at a faster pace to the gateway.

'Cause the world is ugly But you're beautiful to me Are you thinking of me Like I'm thinking of you I would say I'm sorry, though Though I really need to go I just wanted you to know That the world is ugly (I just wanted you to know) But you're beautiful to me (I just wanted you to know) Are you thinking of me

Virgil stood at the gateway to the Deep Mind, staring at the figure on guard.

“Roman is going to lose himself,” the figure told him.

“What if he’s already lost?” Virgil’s voice echoed in the silence. His anxiety was getting the better of him, and he gripped the hem of his hoodie nervously.

“Sides don’t lose themselves that quickly. The fastest has been twelve minutes inside the Deep Mind,” the guard stated, stepping aside to let Virgil through.

The anxious side bolted through the gate, freezing immediately as he saw the flood of grey and black hooded cloaks.

This is where the Lost Sides live. Is he here? Thoughts raced in Virgil’s mind, but he pushed them down as he began to count the seconds he spent in the area.

One, two, three, four… Roman, where are you? Nine, ten, eleven, twelve…

A flash of red caught his eye. Stuck somewhere in the middle of the sea of grey.

Virgil squared his shoulders and pushed his way through the flood, arm outstretched and ready to grab his goal.

Roman watched people go past, feeling his emotions drain. Chills began to run down his spine, making him shudder. Cold set into his body, travelling from his feet up to his chest.

His breathing shallowed, and panic began to set in.

What if I never get out? I need to be a hero, but can a hero actually work on his own? I need a villain to fight. Where is my villain? Who is my –

A hand grabbed his elbow, solid and firm. Warmth flooded his body, starting from his elbow. Roman turned around to look at the person who had saved him….

Stop your crying, helpless feeling Dry your eyes and start believing There's one thing they'll never take from you

“You’re an idiot.” Virgil’s face was firm, mouth turned down in a frown, but his eyes showed multiple emotions: relief, concern, anger, fear.

“I wanted to be the hero…” Roman looked down, watching the colour at the base of his cloak fade.

“Going into the Deep Mind to prove you’re a hero is a stupid idea, Roman,” the anxious side turned the prince around and began to walk him back to the gateway.

Roman walked slowly back, mind whirling. What have I done? Why did I do that?

When they rose up in the main Mindscape, Roman sat on the couch and dropped his head into his hands.

Virgil stood opposite him, hands in his pockets.

“Thomas doesn’t see me as a hero anymore,” the prince said, voice soft.

Virgil rolled his eyes, then crouched down in front of Roman.

“Thomas has always seen you as a hero. True, you feel terrible, but you’re his creativity. You are the most important Side here. Without you, nobody would have anything to do. You cannot leave.”

“But I forced him to attend the wedding. I thought that was what he wanted, but it wasn’t. And we all made his mental health worse. That snake –”

“Don’t blame Dee for your own selfish stupidity. Not everything is your fault. I shouldn’t even have to deal with this, but you cannot go into the Deep Mind to find yourself. It’s hopeless.” Virgil stood up, adjusting his hoodie, then looked Roman in the eye.

“I want to see you at the next dilemma, Roman.” With that, he sank out, leaving the prince to sit on the couch with his thoughts.

The prince sat in the main Mindscape, thinking hard about his choices.

He still didn’t feel like the prince that Thomas needed. He felt… empty, as though he had left some of himself in the Deep Mind.

If he was supposed to be the hero in this story, why did he feel more like the villain? Why did he feel like he was just making Thomas’ problems worse?

Roman stood up, pulling his hood over his head.

If Thomas needed a prince, he would have to wait.

His prince had to find himself first. No amount of questing in the Imagination was going to help him reach his goal.

He had to go back to the Deep Mind.

(And then your face, will be lost forever, we'll never be the same Like ghosts in the snow Like ghosts in the sun)

“Roman. I cannot let you into the Deep Mind.” The figure glared at the prince.

Roman’s appearance was horrible; his eyes were red and puffy, his cloak was slightly torn, and his hair was a mess.

“I need to go in. I need to prove myself.”

With a sigh, the guard stepped to the side.

“Nobody has ever gotten out of the Deep Mind. You won’t get out.” Roman set his jaw, then stepped forward.

“I’m going to be the first.”

The next time someone asked to see Roman, they were met with Thomas’ blank look and question of, “Who’s Roman?”

Creativity was gone.

Virgil stood in his spot, staring at the floor. He felt somehow responsible for Roman’s disappearance.

Roman was gone, and there was nothing Virgil could do about it.

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ungiftedmusings · 4 years ago

Text

each in his own way, shatters

tw: referenced canon suicide, death

[vulnerable]

wave wished he could honestly say that he had never doubted pang, that he always trusted his friend’s intentions were the best even when his actions were suspect. in some ways, in the ways that really counted most of the time - namely, when mind control was involved - wave trusted pang completely. but the truth was, as wave’s feelings towards pang rushed past the line dividing platonic love and romance, that level of trust became harder to maintain. it was a different level of vulnerability, one which had served to cause wave nothing but pain in the past, and he didn’t know how to get over that.

but then, seeing pang like this… it didn’t matter. if a chunk of the trust that should have been there was missing, it was irrelevant when pang was sobbing on the floor like he’d had his heart shattered by a four-story fall.

[unarmed]

wave had known that something was wrong when pang didn’t answer the third time he’d tried calling. far too many voicemail tones later, and wave admitted to himself that things may be even worse than he’d previously thought.

he’d tried to steel himself, tried everything he could think of to prepare. he refrained from getting into a fistfight with punn. he took the worm of doubt that wriggled its way into his mind and pushed it aside to deal with another day. he harnessed his nervous energy to mentally plan a personalized pep talk, should that be what pang needed, and reminded himself of how well his group pep talk had gone just the other day. padded with confidence and care, wave figured he was ready to face whatever it was that had gone wrong.

no amount of preparation could have readied wave to hear pang’s heart-wrenching shouts. the way his blood ran cold the second he heard the pain and knew immediately who it belonged to was like nothing wave had experienced before. wave wasn’t normally one for running, but he found himself sprinting at full speed before he even knew it. pang’s voice faded out and wave kept running, because he knew the silence didn’t mean things were okay.

[broken]

wave had seen pang cry before. once, when he’d been let down by every single one of his friends and, as a result, had failed to accomplish the goal he’d spent a year working towards. again when he’d first realized that korn really had betrayed them all. wave had seen pang worn out, exhausted, confused, hurt. that was nothing, nothing at all, compared to this.

pang had always worn his heart on his sleeve and wave had always thought he was strong for doing so. it was that stubborn sort of kindness that came so naturally to pang, and sometimes wave thought he ought to replace stubborn with stupid. with his feelings so exposed, there was no way for pang protect himself from the elements, from the pain and the brutality of the world.

wave always wondered how pang had managed to keep his heart whole. there had always been chips in it, cracks, but pang always seemed to mend them without too much trouble.

wave wondered what would happen if it was too far damaged to repair. would it remain on display, or would pang relent, and finally hide it away?

now he could see it, a heart broken to pieces, and for a second, he froze, as if his gears had come to a halt. was his own heart still beating, or had that faltered, too?

[fear]

seeing pang suffering this way, wave was afraid. afraid to do the wrong thing, afraid to do the right thing, afraid that there is no right thing, but he knew he needed to try. his throat had gone dry and he forgot how to speak.

could words make a shattered heart break further?

he knelt next to pang, but his hands couldn’t find their way to comforting. they were shaking and he thought they might do more damage than good. wave had forgotten how to touch. hands hovering as if casting a spell, wave wished someone would just tell him what to do.

[fragile]

a word came back and wave croaked out pang’s name. pang just curled further into himself, so wave tried again, more loudly this time. “pang! what happened?”

“go away,” pang’s voice was thin, wavering, choked off by sobs that wouldn’t stop. “i don’t— i can’t—“ pang broke off with a shuttering, pained cry, and wave realized he was just barely managing to hold all the damaged pieces of himself together. in a seemingly careless fashion, wave very deliberately began playing with pang’s hair.

“you don’t have to,” wave said quietly. “you don’t have to explain, but i’m not going to leave you.”

at this, pang cried harder, but he latched on to wave’s free hand as soon as it was offered.

[guilt]

“it’s my fault,” pang whispered, long after wave assumed - hoped - he had fallen asleep. when he looked, pang’s eyes were red, and wide-open, staring as if wave wasn’t even there.

“what is?” wave kept his voice mellow, measured. pang opened his mouth, then closed it, and wave brushed a hand over his forehead. “pang, can you tell me?” there were tear streaks staining nearly ever centimeter of pang’s face, but he was no longer crying. his eyes looked empty, and wave wondered where pang’s heart went.

“i killed them,” pang said, his voice hollow. “time and korn, i— they’re gone. and it’s my fault.”

[voids, vacuums]

and suddenly the air rushed out of wave’s lungs all at once, leaving only a hollow and aching vacuum. fear rung in his ears, along with defiance and hurt, and he pushed what was less relevant for the moment aside, shaking his head.

“no. no, pang, listen, i don’t know what happened but you can’t blame yourself.”

pang stared at wave, blinking voids completely dry, and smiled as his grip on wave’s hand tightened. “you don’t know,” he said, aloof, almost condescending. “nothing - you know nothing.”

“but you can tell me—“

“get out.” wave’s back straightened of its own accord, as if coming to attention. “leave me alone. do not touch me again.”

wave stood up. it was the last thing he wanted to do, but he had no choice. he felt his feet carry him out the door, and tears began streaming down his own face. because of what had happened. because he hadn’t been there to help. because he couldn’t help now. because of pang’s words. because, after a split second of raw hurt, he recognized them for what they were.

do not touch me again - the void where pang’s heart used to be made one last attempt at protecting his friend.

[anger]

and wave was angry. not because of pang. because his friends were gone, and because he was shaken, but not surprised. the realization had his stomach turning. they were in high school, they were kids, and he was so sick and tired of adults making their lives hell.

with everything they’d been through, with everything they were still going through, something like this was bound to happen. wave loved pang and his optimism but among the gifted, pang was in the minority of those who would be really, genuinely caught off guard by this.

so yes. wave was angry. but not at himself. not the way pang was angry. wave knew from experience the way self loathing functioned. reckless, thoughtless destruction.

[distance]

so, wave took the protection for what it was. he left pang alone. he’d had to keep his distance from pang before, after the memory wipe, and it wasn’t any easier the second time around, especially now that he was on his own. but he didn’t want to be like channon and mr. pom, didn’t want to sacrifice happiness for temporary closeness.

wave had always been able to take a step back and look at problems from a distance - it had served him well in the past, and sometimes poorly, but right now he needed logic. and really, what more was logic than looking at an issue from the outside in? he needed that space, that safety, that comes with a particularly guarded heart - a battered and bruised one that was good at little but protecting itself. at the cost of every sense of being human that he’d obtained in the past few years, wave took a few large steps away from this problem, until he was just at the edge of it. he was just close enough to be involved, but far enough away that he could go unnoticed. close enough to watch as his best friend attempted to regain some semblance of control by stealing it out of his own friends’ hands, but distanced enough to maintain control over himself.

the days were long and lonely, but having control was his only hope, having power - it was his last resort. he’d bought himself time, time to develop his power, his potential, and wave didn’t know if it would be enough. but he had to try.

AO3

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hyucksong · 6 years ago

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vengeance. pt.2| lee taeyong

summary: You survived, somehow. And you were planning on getting your vengeance. You’d be taking down the company from the inside -- and no one could stop you. (cont. of mafiahacker!taeyong blurb)

warning: cursing, violence, angst, blood

word count: 2k

A splintering headache graced your consciousness; accompanied by indescribable pain shooting down every nerve in your battered body. With a low groan, you brought a hand up to your face, cracking your jaw loudly. As you pulled your hand away, you noticed blood covering your knuckles and bruises trailing down your arm.

Aside from the hangover-like headache and the tangible bruises and cuts, there was a deep hurt that encapsulated your heart and memories. “Damn,” You muttered, “This feels like the worse hangover ever.” With a sigh, you sat up, resting your tired arms on your knees that were pulled up close to your body.

Scanning the area, you were surprised to see no guards around, or any living thing. A sudden rattling from a nearby trashcan forced a flinch from your body, but the small raccoon that ran from about it spread a smile across your face.

“So they leave without checking if their target it actually dead?” You hoisted yourself up, dusting off the dirt and dry flaking blood from your clothes. “Totally professional.” A loud sigh left your lips as you felt around your pockets and felt your keys and wallet. “Dumbasses.” Was all you said before walking out of the back of the building towards the parking lot, and eventually towards your small apartment.

The keys fell into the bowl with a clink, the sound instilled a familiarity that calmed you as you mulled over the happenings of earlier that night. The single digital clock in your surprisingly tidy apartment beeped to signal the arrival of a new hour, 3:00 am. You paid no mind however, and instead shuffled your feet to your bathroom to inspect the damage done to your body, and most importantly your face.

After a mere few seconds of looking, you noticed the chip that was implanted behind your ear by the company must’ve short-circuited, since the area was irritated by a small but stinging burn. You clicked your tongue and touched the various cuts on your face, a strong anger taking over your senses.

The company wanted to wipe you out for not killing a kid -- how fucked was that? They forced your closest friends to watch you die or die themselves. They hurt not only you, but they hurt what meant most to you. Your heart clenched as the image of Taeyong smiling at you came up, sending your emotions into a frenzy. You rubbed your face with your hands and turned on the shower, getting ready to clean up before devising a plan to bite the sons of bitches where it most hurt them:

From the Inside.

The Inside was both a literal and tangible place while also being an idiom -- there was a place, or more so group, called the ‘Inside’, consisting of the company’s best field workers and hackers; generally just the best personnel. You were one of the best, yes, but you were never part of this, “Inside”, you were more an all-rounder for all areas of the company that concerned disguise. But the delicious taste of vengeance coated your bloody tongue as you were consumed with the want to take down this bitch of a company; SM. You slept with a smirk on your face, hoping that the company would like what you were going to give them; they could even consider it a ‘going-away’ gift. From you.

When you woke up the next morning, you immediately set your plan into motion, knowing that this would take a year at least. Not only did you have to infiltrate the company, you also had to give yourself a whole new identity, which honestly wouldn’t be hard with your level of expertise, but you’d also have to gain the trust of the president of the company to make it into the Inside. There you could have full-time access to the control panels for the security of the company. This would let you go virtually unsuspected and undetectable to cameras, including those to the presidents office. From there you could kill him however you wanted, and trust me did you have ideas.

Yes, there were probably shorter ways, but none of them would be as clean and satisfactory as infiltrating from the deepest artery of SM. Grabbing your keys determinedly, you walked out the cozy apartment preparing to go out for a vast shopping spree for new clothes, makeup, a new apartment, and a whole new self. You were willing to spend any expense to get this job done, and you undeniably excited to watch the Jenga tower of the company fall as you took a block from its unstable base.

The boys were not part of the Inside, they were part of the NCT division. They specialized, generally, in international relations, whereas other divisions specialized in professional thievery or assassinations. Taeyong was the only member part of the Inside since all hackers were unless they were just starting out. Though you longed to see the boys, you knew you wouldn’t see them just wandering around the company floors.

You walked into the company on the last day of your sixth month, adorned by your new persona. The once bubbly and extroverted girl the company previously knew was now a cold and robotic individual who was a calculating as they came. You were still doing quite mundane things around the company, like finances and supply checks -- they were boring but necessary predecessors to your end goal.

You at at your desk, keeping your uptight personality through a stick-straight posture. You hair was flat-ironed with long bangs that covered your eyebrows, which helped hide your expressions. Your coldness kept people from getting close to you, and while you missed the human contact, you grew used to the loneliness.

“Wow, kid. You sure are a natural at this stuff. It’s like you’ve done this all before.” Your supervisor chimed, smiling at you. You suppressed a grin and looked her straight in the eyes, maintaining uncomfortably tense eye contact. “Thank you. The praise is unneeded but very much appreciated.” The high-up shifted awkwardly and quickly nodded before leaving your cubicle. You smirked at your spotless acting.

“Mrs.Kim Sooyoung, please come up to meeting room five on floor three. Immediately.” You got up quickly and made your way to the said room that was announced over the intercom system. You responded to your new alias just as quick as your own name. You passed by a large mirror on the way, and you briefly glanced at your unrecognizable reflection. Your glasses,contouring and cool-toned makeup shaped a new face; your personality, living space, body language -- all was tailored to Ms.Kim Sooyoung, not L/N Y/N.

You made your way into the meeting room, almost gasping when you saw the familiar faces of your old friends. You tried hard to skip over the abyss-like eyes of Taeyong, but you couldn’t help it. You rested for a moment on him, drinking in his tired but nonetheless flawless appearance. His eyes seemed to only flick over your face, not sparing you even a second. You internally huffed, knowing that it was better like this. You sat far away from the boys, but the burn of their stare still pained you. However, you wrote on your clipboard, ignoring the curious gazes.

Chenle, however, ignored this unapproachable-ness and rolled his chair over to you with a childish smile that melted your heart. “You’re the new negotiation specialist, right? You look like it.” He laughed. “I’m Chenle, I’m part of the NCT Dream Division. I’m training to be a disguise specialist like --” He stopped himself, the room growing tense. You clenched your jaw as sadness crept through his expression. “Uh, never mind. Um, what’s your name?”

You let out an annoyed sigh and turned to him with cold eyes. “Kim Sooyoung.” He waited for the rest of your introduction, but there was none left. Your voice threw him off from his anger, why did you sound so familiar? Your voice was knocking at the innermost parts of his memories. He brushed it off with an awkward smile however, but not before the whole room got the same thoughts. You cursed inwardly at yourself for not changing the tone of your voice.

Taeyong’s heart sped up at the sound of your first words; you said Kim Sooyoung, but you sounded so much like the hole in his heart. He shook his head and even rolled his eyes, trying to take his attention off of you, but he couldn’t keep his gaze from shifting back to you every once in a while. The tension didn’t release until the click of a doorknob caught everyone’s attention. Taeyong watched as your stiff body stood up and bowed at ninety degrees at the CEO and President of SM. He scoffed, the Y/N he knew and loved would never do that -- she hated the man.

“Mr.CEO, nice to meet you. I’m Kim Sooyoung of the Trades department. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Your voice rang off the walls. It was the only sound in the room. Mr.Sooman only nodded before sitting down in his creaky seat at the head of the table. “I know. You’ve been causing quite a stir, you know. Your negotiation skills are like no other. You’ve managed to get us some new supplies for much less than what they would’ve been.

“Thank you for the praise, Mr.Sooman.”

“You’re welcome. This was why I called you to a meeting. I think your work is spectacular and I would love to promote you to a higher position for a talented division.” He motioned to the boys. “The men here are part of the --”

“The NCT Division. I know. They consist of 21 members, all in separate sub-divisions of NCT Dream, NCT 127, inactive NCT U; the original, and the Chinese division of WayV.” The president chuckled and quirked an eyebrow at you. You pushed your sliding glasses up, the light shifting and bouncing off of them.

“I did my research.”

“There’s no point in snooping. It’s annoying. What did you look into us for, anyway? Any reason other than because you’re annoying?” Your head whipped towards the sound of the hoarse voice. You met the sharp gaze of Taeyong. You narrowed your eyes at him. “Everyone knows of the divisions. This is a mafia company, after all. Everyone who joins knows. It’s not just a trade enterprise. Please,” You scoffed before continuing, “The only annoying thing here is you and your nagging voice. I’d appreciate it if you’d shut it.” The dead silence of the room made you panic, you definitely over-stepped your boundaries. His dark eyes never left yours.

“You’re much more sharp-tongued than I previously thought. I’m glad I made this decision.” You cleared your throat and fixed your posture, turning away from Taeyong. “What would that decision be, sir?” He smirked and put his chin on his folded hands. “Well, you’ll be the negotiation specialist of the NCT Division.”

You mentally cheered, knowing that your plan was drifting down the right river. But you reminded yourself that you had to keep your image. “And why would I want that?” You countered. You heard Taeyong mutter ‘ungrateful bitch’, and ignored the stab it gave your heart.

“The NCT Division is the best one there is. It’d do you good to accept it.” The threateing voice of Mr.Sooman sent unwelcomed shivers down your spine, and you weakly nodded at his forceful tone. “Yes sir. I’m sorry.” He huffed and stood up.

“That was all. I’ll leave the rest for Taeyong and the others. They’ll teach you the ropes. Dooyoung is the Negotiations leader, and you’ll shadow him for a while until you’re completely debriefed on how things run. I’ll be taking my leave now.” He left briskly and walked out, the door shutting loudly.

“Well, looks like you’re with us now.” You gathered your things and walked towards Dooyoung, who gave you a tight-lipped smile. “Please teach me well, Mr. --”

“Dooyoung. Just call me Dooyoung. I’ll take you to the offices, so please follow close behind.” You nodded and started out the door, but not before looking at Taeyong and watching how his eyes trailed over you painfully. Your throat dried up and your heart twisted.

You found yourself not paying attention to Dooyoung as you repeatedly reminded yourself that you were here to take down SM; there was no way to go back to how things were with Taeyong.

TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 3...

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yellowsugarwords · 5 years ago

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Walking Dead Game FanFiction - “Burning Up”

Title: Burning Up Characters: Clementine, Javier, Kate, Gabe Summary: When bandits storm Richmond and set a building on fire, Clementine passes out inside due to a lack of oxygen. After escaping the nightmare, Javi realizes Clementine is still inside and goes after her. Author's Note: okay I’m honestly reaaally happy with this one Requested By: ebimanami support me with ko-fi ♡ ---------♥️♥️♥️----------

Everything happened so quickly that the past hour felt like a nightmare.

Bandits had stormed Richmond in full force: slamming through the front gates with their vehicle. They began with open fire, and were holding walkers in the back ready for release. The goal, clearly, was to generate as much havoc as possible.

Due to the damage the vehicle had taken, the entire front half was starting to crumple. The engine was starting to fail, the vehicle was starting to slow, and the driver — now with a head injury — was starting to lose control.

That was when it happened.

The vehicle, full force, slammed into one of Richmond’s buildings, crashed through one of the wooden walls, and burst into flames. The entire building was quickly engulfed, and everyone — and everything — that was onboard the vehicle died instantly.

The rest of the bandits vanished without hesitation.

Richmond was thrust into utter panic.

Javi and Gabe were on the main floor, and immediately scrambled out, coughing and hacking. They ran into Kate, who pulled both of them into her shaking, terrified arms.

“Are you okay?” Javier asked.

“I’m okay,” she said. She pressed a quick, terrified kiss to Gabe’s head and shooed him behind her.

Then, watching the rush of panicked, terrified Richmond onlookers, Javier’s heart sunk at a realization.

“Clementine,” he said, the words leaving him before he could register them. That was who was missing. It was Clementine. “Where is she?”

She had been inside. She assumed she would be flooding out right behind them. He never doubted that she wouldn’t make it out — she always did. So, she wasn’t the first person on his mind when they’d evacuated. But now, glancing through the swarm frantically, a pit grew in his stomach.

She wasn’t there.

She wasn’t. There.

“Clem?” He asked again, his voice more strained and frantic. It was hardly audible given the surrounding cries — families clutching one another in panic. “Clem?” The longer he didn’t see her, the longer he didn’t get answers, the more terrified he became.

“Javi?” Kate asked, pushing her way through the crowd to grab his shoulder.

“What’s going on?” Gabe asked, his voice bubbling from the crowd.

Javi wasn’t listening. He was frantic, his shaking hands gripping and pushing aside everyone he could. Where was she? Where was she? There was no way that she was still inside that building. It was impossible.

Right?

Plowing his way through the crowd, finding nothing upon nothing, he slowed to a stop. His feet ached, his heart raced, and his head slammed against every corner of his skull.

“Javi? What’s happening?” Kate asked, spinning him around to face her.

She wasn’t there.

“Where’s Clem?” Gabe asked. “Is she missing?”

Which meant there was only one other place she could be.

Javi took off running, slamming through the swarm of people. If he explained his plan to Kate and Gabe, it would’ve done nothing. Kate would’ve asked him not to go, and Gabe would’ve become so frantic he’d either follow him or do it alone — both leaving way too much room for disaster. He knew that the only way to get Clementine back safe was for him to go alone. That meant not telling either of them anything.

He could hear Kate screaming his name and Gabe yelling out his questions. He could tell, based on the fainting bickering, that Gabe was fighting to follow. He could tell by Kate’s teary screams that she was holding him back, begging for him to not.

Javi squeezed his eyes closed, the sound of his heartbeat growing louder and drowning them out. He hated that he was doing this to them, but he didn’t have a choice. He needed to save Clementine. He needed to. He couldn’t risk losing her.

Not her too.

His heartbeat rattling in his ears meshed with the sounds of the fire. He kicked the door of the building in - the metal doorknob too hot to touch — and darted inside.

He slammed into a wall of heat; the wave overwhelming. He felt as though he was in an oven, feeling his lungs go dry and his forehead go damp. If that was how he felt instantly, how was Clementine holding up after being there for far longer?

He hated thinking about that, so he didn’t. He tried to drown the thoughts out. Instead, he tried to act.

He scanned the main floor as much as he could, his gaze latching onto every object of the room. He was double and triple checking to ensure it wasn’t a person — especially the one he was looking for — before looking elsewhere. Then, his sweep of the main floor unproductive, he scoffed and started for the stairwell.

His thoughts wouldn’t leave him.

What if she’s already dead? What if both of you are going to get killed? What’s going to happen to Kate and Gabe if you’re gone? If Clem’s gone?

Everything came to a screaming halt.

He froze on the top of the stairs, watching as an inflamed door creaked on its hinges and crumbled, scattering debris and ash all over the stairwell. Javi hacked and coughed, squeezing his eyes closed. They were burning, but he couldn’t turn back. She was here, and he needed to keep looking.

Forcing his way into the room, he saw it; though the blinding heat and ashy tears he spotted something: Clementine, collapsed on the ground, her right shoulder beginning to spark given the burning table at her side.

“Clementine!” Javi screamed, darting forward. He urgently pat down on the sparks with his bare hands, hissing at how they crackled against his skin. He would’ve taken pain over Clementine any day.

He checked for a pulse and, despite the anxious pounding of blood through his fingers, he could feel it. Faint, and exhausted, but it was there. She was alive, but barely clinging on.

“Thank fuck,” he sighed, wrapping his arms under her and lifting her from the floor.

He could feel the ash coating her clothes scorch his skin, but he bit down on his lip and darted back for the stairwell, hoping he could force his way through with as little pain as possible.

He just barely squeezed his way through the crackling door frame as more wood snapped behind him, popping under pressure and sending bits of ash scattering everything it could touch, including his arms and back. He groaned but kept going, running, pushing for the exit.

He could make it. They could make it. He knew they could.

Hitting the main floor, running full force, he finally got a good look at her. Her face was covered in black - soot and ash from the debris. She was barely breathing, and he could tell she was given that he felt her back rising and fall under his palm.

He needed fresh air. He needed to get her fresh air.

Then, he kicked open the front door and flooded out. Smoke poured from the open door, filling the air with black, bubbling clouds. He stumbled a few steps, coughing and heaving as oxygen entered his lungs. He could tell his jostling was stirring the girl in his arms, but he couldn’t help it. He could barely hold on.

“Javi!” He heard cried in the distance. People were coming to help. He would be okay. Clementine would be okay.

Javi slowed his running and slumped to his knees, cradling Clementine close to his thumping, heaving chest. He could feel her shifting, her own throat bubbling out heaves of smoke to drink in fresh air. He held her tighter.

“Javi oh my God,” a voice said. Feeling a touch on his burnt shoulders — the familiar tenderness — he knew it was Kate.

“Help her,” he heaved, the words tumbling into a cough. “Clementine, help Clementine.”

In an instant, he could feel a shift in the weight in his arms. He blinked, tears due to smoke clouding his vision, but not enough that he wasn’t able to see Gabe at Clementine’s side, eyes wide and arms frantic, clinging to her as Richmond people lifted her away.

“Javi,” Kate whispered.

Javi waved a palm, adjusted his spot on the ground. “I’m fine,”

“Lie down.”

“She’s fine.”

“Javi, please lie down.”

He obeyed, but barely realized he was doing it. He was too focused on how nice the cool breeze felt on his cheeks, how sweet the air felt in his lungs, how nice Kate’s fingers felt easing him to the ground.

“Clem's okay?” Javi asked.

Kate paused from opening the water bottle in her pocket to stare at him. Barely, he could make out tears in her eyes, but they weren’t the same as his. Hers weren’t due to burning, they were due to sorrow and gratitude. “Yes,” her voice wavered. “She’s safe, Javi. You saved her.”

Javi coughed and sat up, weakly reaching out as Kate wrapped an arm around him and slipped the bottle into one of his burned hands. “Thank God,” he sighed, taking a long, desperate drink. He paused halfway through to sputter and cough, but continued once he’d regained composure.

There, studying him, Kate felt a sweep of pride. She glanced up, watching as two of Richmond’s adults were doing the same to Clementine — passing her water and assisting with her breathing. Gabe was holding one of her hands, brushing the panicked tears away from his eyes, squeezing her as tightly as he safely could.

It was Javi who taught him that: to be caring and selfless, to love recklessly and unapologetically. Glancing down, Kate noticed that Javi’s gaze had drifted the same way, sweet tears rolling as he studied the scene.

“She’s safe,” Javi whispered, a sob bubbling in his chest.

Kate squeezed him closer. “Thanks to you,” she hushed.

They weren’t going to lose another girl. Not this time. Not today. If they could help it, not ever. ---------♥️♥️♥️----------

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bellevvalencia · 5 years ago

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i don’t like the way it hurts

It’s 2:00 AM and I’m unsurprisingly awake. I fleet between dreams and reality, going back and forth like a fucking football. If my arm could still throw as hard and my legs could run as fast, I would’ve made a show for a concrete example, but they don’t. Not anymore. If my heart could also still beat as loud when she’s here, or anywhere near, because I love her and I yearn for her every second of every day, I would’ve allowed it, but I can’t. Because she’s not here, and all this wishing and thinking and dreaming is all for nothing. She’s not here. Not anymore.

The last time I saw her was almost two weeks ago—when she broke my heart the same time my leg did, and I felt the pain not just double its intensity, but more. Because when I looked over from the field, expecting her mouth to be smiling for me as I reach for the last winning goal, I saw that it was somewhere else.

She told me she was bringing an old friend to my game to accompany her. I didn’t expect him to be a person whose mouth she’s clearly too comfortable with to put hers against. That sounds so bad.

My last game. My show-off for Yale’s coach. It all fell apart because of that fucking mouth. Stupid, beautiful mouth.

Until now I still hear my coach’s voice ringing in my ear, because it was all he said the whole time he knelt beside me. Are you a fucking moron? I got blown hard. Where the hell was your focus? My knees popped. All those training for this?! At least that’s what I thought, because I’m pretty sure I felt like I was dying. I wanted to.

I mean, yeah, I probably fucked up my only spot in Yale, but she was wearing my fucking jersey, for god’s sake. It had my name and number on it. Was I a fucking joke?

Maybe coach is right. I’m a fucking moron.

Because hold on, it gets worse—I was even ready to forgive her, while she ran her fingers through my hair in the hospital bed after a great time in the E.R. But she didn’t even want to stay anymore.

I’m sorry. And I was going to say I was sorry, too. That I was away for too long to her, probably. That I was busy during the finals, and the college applications, and football, and everything else. And I was willing to be better. For her. I’m sorry I can’t love you anymore. So all the words I was ready to spill all went running back to my throat, drying it even more, scratching their way down to my stupid chest, which, at that moment, felt like the part of my body that was injured the most.

Forget about my knee. Cure my goddamn heart.

I shake my head in isolation, looking up at the red-lighted ceiling. She’d said she always liked the red dimmed lights in my room. I should probably get them changed.

At least my knee feels a little better.

Okay, it still hurts as fuck, especially now, when the painkillers are fading and are supposed to be replaced by sleep.

But fuck if I can sleep.

And you know why else I should sleep? Because I know I’m going to try to call her again, like what I’m doing right now: my phone is pressed to my ear, my eyes are clawed shut, fucking aware of the stupidity of this whole thing, as if I hadn’t learned enough from the last other nights that my number was already blocked from getting though hers. It doesn’t even ring. It’s just the usual three painful beeps. Are you a fucking moron?

Coach is right. I am a fucking moron. I don’t even know why I want to talk to her. I don’t know what to say. But I know I don’t want to get back together, for sure. But there seems to be lacking in the break up, and it’s been bugging me all week. It’s like I was personally robbed. Robbed of my best friend for four long years. Robbed of my girlfriend for two years. It was worse than a fucking scam, because she just dropped it just like that—and it doesn’t settle right in my stomach that she didn’t even let me say anything.

I didn’t get to say anything.

After her last words at the hospital, I blinked, she was gone, and all I could think of was the warp of time from when her mouth had always said the words to get me through every day in six years, then to when it was against someone else’s in the next second.

I deserve the right to hurt this way, this long. To call her cell like this. To be lost like this. To be desperate for a closure like this. To fuck with my mind like this.

I don’t like the way it hurts.

But I allow myself to feel it anyway. Because God, I want it to be better, but I’m running short of options I can bear myself to do to make it happen. I want more than anything in my life to jump to that point where I can brush this off like it’s done, it’s over, and I don’t give a shit, but it’s difficult and it’s horrible and it kills me more than I can let myself imagine. I don’t like the way it hurts.

My phone drops from my hand to somewhere on my bed, and I try to sleep again. I try to ignore the tingling in my knee, the question in my chest, and the heating in my eyes. I let it out in one sigh—the robbed six years. But it doesn’t do anything.

I don’t like the way this hurts.

#prompt #one shot #literary #pain

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artificialqueens · 7 years ago

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Femalien (Shalaska) – Rosie

A/N: I hoped to get this up around Halloween time, but mid/late November is just as good, right? I’ve always wanted to write something based around Sharon and Alaska’s actual drag characters, so please enjoy this super smutty, super long one shot about a witch and an alien (seriously, it’s 13.5k. Grab a snack). Title has no relation to the 90’s porno.

Summary: Space queen alien Alaska Thunderfuck 5000 from the planet Glamtr0n crash lands into Sharon’s world, turning the witch’s life upside down. Injured and without a flight home, Sharon takes the gleaming alien in. But sparks fly, and as Sharon’s brain thinks of spells to help Alaska return to her home of outer space, her heart is feeling something different.

It was mid afternoon when Alaska physically crash-landed into Sharon’s world. Plummeting from the sky, her presence quickly became known as her spaceship exploded into smithereens in the middle of Sharon’s field.

Metal debris littered the dry, overgrown paddock while flames reached up to grab at the grey, overcast sky, adding to the already thick and humid air. It was a disgustingly hot summer’s day, the kind where even just breathing feels exhausting and knocks one out just as effectively as a sleeping spell.

Before the crash, Sharon was spending her Sunday like she always was - passed out in bed after a solid Saturday night of drinking. Her best friend Jinkx had just moved into a new swamp, so the previous evening was full of alcohol and celebrations as she drank with her favourite sister witch.

After shakily flying home on her broomstick and almost forgetting the spell that allowed her to enter her own property, Sharon had stumbled into her little wooden cottage in the middle of nowhere before collapsing onto her bed and falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

She was suddenly ripped out of her slumber as a blast sounded in her backyard, violently pulling her into reality. She bolted upright in bed, her heart beating rapidly and the hairs on the back of her neck standing up as all her senses sprang into action, her mind on high alert for the threat.

Was it an attack? An invasion? Or worse, humans? Something similar had happened years ago when her invisibility barrier had weakened and a group of youths had stumbled upon her humble abode.

But the intensity, force and scale of the explosion felt more sinister than teenagers.

Sharon instinctively reached for her wand resting on her bedside table before she strategically moved out of bed. She ducked under her bedroom windows and scurried into her living room, knowing that would be her best vantage point for seeing the disaster currently unfolding outside.

Moving quickly, she stealthily peered out the window, her eyes soon bulging at the sight of the flaming wreckage before her. She squinted, trying to place a function to the object outside, but the smoldering, twisted heap of metal could have been anything. From the way it crashed, Sharon could only assume it had fallen from the sky. It was too large to be a missile, but too small, flat and circular to be a plane.

A million questions filled Sharon’s mind. What is it? Where did it come from? And why is it here? Sharon thought.

She silently slid her window open and poised her wand as an attack spell rested on her tongue, ready for any and every threat that happened to burst from the blazing heap.

But what Sharon didn’t expect to come from the wreckage was a sad, strangled scream.

White-hot pain burned through Alaska’s body, starting at her heart and running throughout her veins like poison, lighting every fiber of her being on fire. It was unbearable, and unlike anything she had experience before.

With her body pinned down underneath the wreckage, Alaska could only scream, her shrieks the single outlet for the pain, which subsided ever so slightly as she cried out, only to enflame worse than before.

Devastation began to overwhelm her as the reality of the situation sank in. She had flown far too close to the Earth’s atmosphere and been sucked down. She was pulled towards Earth with such force that her desperate efforts at controlling her spaceship were rendered completely useless. She plummeted through the air before her spaceship finally stopped, exploding as it collided against the Earth’s floor.

Her once beautiful aircraft that had flown her throughout the galaxy was now destroyed and trapping her against the ground. In just a matter of moments, Alaska had gone from zipping through the stars to lying on Earth with no help, no way home, and no one to hear her scream.

Alaska cried, loud and desperate, each sob hurting as her chest contracted and her throat burned. Hot, salty tears blurred her vision as they spilled down her face, mixing with the saliva gathering around her lips.

This is the end, Alaska thought as the pain overwhelmed her. She couldn’t think straight, she couldn’t move. She had no will to live, no strength to keep going, no plan of getting out alive. Alaska closed her eyes, ready to give up.

The adrenaline coursing through Sharon’s veins turned into strength as she sprinted across her field. She reached the crash site and hauled a huge piece of debris out of the way, desperate to locate the source of the distressed cries. Someone needed her.

Pulling away a sheet of metal with all her force, Sharon lurched back in shock at what laid before her. Lying under the wreckage was a body.

But it wasn’t just any body. Sharon’s mind raced as she flicked through her lifetime of magical knowledge. What creature was this?

Lying on her side was a woman. But not just any woman.

This woman had iridescent, almost holographic skin that glowed and glittered in the light, reflecting the sun’s rays in a million directions. Black, sparkling gloves covered her arms right up past her elbows, and sharp, pointy black talons elongated her already slender fingers. Long blonde hair surrounded her, and on top of her head was a gleaming, bejewelled crown.

Sharon’s breath hitched as she noticed the dark red liquid covering the woman’s glistening skin. The trickle of blood started from her forehead and traveled down her temple.

The woman’s skin was astonishing on its own. But paired with her pouty lips, fluttering lashes, and full figure, Sharon was rendered speechless at the creature’s beauty.

You’re out of this world beautiful, Sharon thought.

And suddenly the penny dropped. The metal wreckage. The sky. The woman.

This was an alien.

Suddenly, sunlight blinded Alaska’s vision as a weight was lifted from her broken body. Disorientated, she squinted at the figure who eclipsed the sun, her tears distorting her vision.

I’ve died, Alaska thought as an angel hovered over her. Rays of light circled the angelic figure and created a halo as she led Alaska’s soul into the afterlife.

“It’s okay! It’s okay!” the angel said frantically, her voice erratic and stressed and definitely not assuring that things were okay.

Alaska blinked rapidly, her tears subsiding for a moment. She stared at the figure above her. She was met with wide and worried blue eyes at first, but Alaska’s attention was immediately pulled to the figure’s hair. Separated by a middle parting, the left side of the angel’s hair was a shocking, icy blonde, while the other half was as dark as the night sky. The angel’s skin was milky white while her plump lips were as black as her long, thick eyelashes.

“Is there anyone else here?” the angel above her exclaimed, looking around and under the rubble frantically.

Alaska couldn’t speak, her chest was too tight and her heart was throbbing. A small whimper escaped her, and the angel immediately leaned towards her, desperate for any form of communication.

Alaska shook her head from side to side, and the angel’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly as she breathed a sigh of relief.

Another streak of pain shot through Alaska’s body and tears sprang to her eyes. Confusion clouded her mind as she tried to make sense of the world. She wasn’t dead. If she was dead, there wouldn’t be any pain. Then who was this angel?

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” the figure said softly. Her fingers reached out and brushed away the strands of hair that were stuck to Alaska’s sweaty forehead.

Alaska’s heart rate both slowed and fluttered at the touch, and without realising it, her tears subsided completely. Clearly her throat and swallowing the lump of fear that had gathered there, Alaska finally spoke.

“Help me,” she sobbed.

Sharon’s heart ached at how hurt the alien sounded. Who knew an extraterrestrial being could make her feel so maternal and nurturing? She instantly and effortlessly sprang into action, her only goal being to care for the shimmering woman before her.

“Where does it hurt?” Sharon asked. Apart from the blood already drying on the alien’s temple, she didn’t appear to be bleeding anywhere else.

“My heart,” the woman said, her voice croaky from crying as she placed a shaky hand on her left side. Sharon already knew it wasn’t her heart just from her placement.

“Can I feel it?” Sharon asked. “I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

The alien nodded, and Sharon slowly placed her hand on the alien’s side, who winced in pain at the slightest touch.

“Ah, gentle!” she gasped as Sharon pressed down slightly, her arched brows knitting into a small frown.

“Sorry,” Sharon said genuinely, “but it’s what I suspected. I think you’ve broken a rib, or maybe two. But your heart’s fine.”

“I’ve never broken a bone before,” the alien said, her lower lip quivering.

“You’re going to be fine,” Sharon assured her, “I promise.”

“But it hurts!” the alien whined as she dragged out the last word, and Sharon almost found it endearing. It was such a human mannerism to complain.

“I can heal you,” Sharon said quickly, the alien’s eyes growing wide at the offer.

Sharon’s magical powers weren’t just limited to her wand. Her mother was a powerful witch and Sharon had inherited her ability to heal others with just the palm of her hands.

“You’re a witch?” Alaska breathed.

“Yeah,” Sharon replied. “My name’s Sharon, Sharon Needles.”

With her striking two tone hair, purple crystal necklace, dark lipstick and black robe, Sharon thought she looked like a witch. She wondered what the alien thought she was. Probably just an ordinary human.

“But it might not work,” Sharon started, worried she had already inflated the alien’s expectations. She suddenly feared letting this stranger down. She wanted to give her everything, she wanted to impress her.

“Why not?” the alien frowned.

“I can heal most creatures, but not all. Who… are you? Are you an alien?” Sharon asked, terrified of offending the woman. But it wasn’t like she was in any position to fight Sharon.

“Of course I’m an alien,” she scoffed. “My name is Alaska Thunderfuck 5000, reigning queen of the planet Glamtr0n.” She looked up theatrically as she said the last part, gesturing her hand and five spikey talons to the sky as she spoke, no doubt pointing to her home. Her hand dropped quickly though as she winced in pain.

Sharon breathed out in relief. Of course Alaska was an alien. No one this stunning walked on Earth.

“I’ve never healed an alien before, so this might not work,” Sharon warned her, lowering her expectations.

“It’s worth a shot,” Alaska said, moving her hand away from her hurt side for Sharon.

Trying to swallow the nerves that riddled her, Sharon forced herself to tell Alaska, who she had only met just moments ago, the next part. Why was she so nervous to ask this? They were both grown women.

“Um, the other thing is,” Sharon stalled, “the healing only works if it’s skin on skin contact… so uh…” she trailed off, her hands gesturing awkwardly around Alaska’s chest.

Alaska looked down at her body in confusion. A tight, black leather corset hugged her full breasts and her ribs. A strip of shimmering skin was exposed below before a black, high waisted skirt covered her legs.

“Oh? I can take it off,” Alaska said obviously, not understanding the awkwardness of the situation. She grabbed the zip on her side between two talons and pulled it down.

Sharon hated herself for instinctively pulsing as Alaska’s breasts sprang free from the confines of the tight, leather garment. This was inappropriate. Alaska was hurt, and Sharon was perving on her. This was purely a magically medical situation only. Sharon looked to the sky above, the overgrown ground beneath her, the cottage behind her, anywhere that wasn’t Alaska so she could give her some privacy.

“Are you ready?” Alaska asked impatiently, and Sharon whipped her head around, only to see Alaska caressing her chest lightly, making no effort to conceal herself as her sharp talons ran over her soft skin. Not that Sharon knew if Alaska’s skin was soft. It just looked like it was.

Sharon struggled to swallow as she repositioned herself next to Alaska, her mouth suddenly dry. Her cheeks felt hot, and it wasn’t because of the humid weather.

“Okay,” she forced out, “I’m going to place my hand on your hurt ribs and close my eyes, and hopefully we’ll both feel it healing, and before you know it you’ll be good as new.” She was rambling and she knew it.

Alaska bit her lip and nodded before lying back. Even though her cheeks were damp with tears, her eyes were now full of hope as she looked at Sharon.

Sharon placed her hand on Alaska’s ribs, and she was right – Alaska’s skin was incredibly soft. It felt like human skin, but hot and pulsing as it inflamed. She pressed her palm flat against the bones and closed her eyes, centering her mind and waiting for the healing to start, if it ever did.

There was no method to Sharon’s magical madness. It either happened or it didn’t. She couldn’t force it, hold it back or control it.

But as she breathed in, she instantly felt her powers working.

Her lips parted as the healing force grew stronger with every passing second. She could feel a current running down her arm, along her veins, through her skin and into Alaska. She could visualise the bones in Alaska’s body gravitating to her touch, moving and repositioning, slowly but surely returning to their original place.

Alaska felt it too.

“Ahh, oh, my god,” Alaska gasped, her eyes shooting open. She looked down at Sharon’s touch in disbelief.

Sharon peeked her eyes open. It was always a risk for one to open their eyes while healing, the chance of getting distracted and weakening the process always a possibility. But Sharon did open her eyes, and she’s so grateful she did because she would never have seen the look on Alaska’s face if she didn’t.

With her plump lips parted and back arched, Alaska withered under Sharon’s touch, her chest rising and falling quickly as she breathed rapidly.

“Ah, so good, that’s so good,” Alaska moaned, closing her eyes and letting Sharon’s touch overwhelm her.

Sharon rose off her seating position slightly, her body instinctively wanting to straddle Alaska. She pulled herself back, forcing herself to focus on the healing, but this was unlike anything she had experienced before. The magic was so strong, it was like it had a mind of its own. Sharon didn’t feel the need to force it, it was already working so well, flowing freely and effortlessly and beautifully into Alaska.

A string of gasps, whines and moans bubbled out of Alaska, who threw her head back against the grass and arched up to Sharon. From her kneeling position, Sharon squeezed her thighs together, failing to ignore the wetness that had formed around her crotch. She subconsciously placed her other hand on the other side of Alaska, caressing her skin and soothing her as she worked.

“So good baby, you’re doing so good,” Sharon assured her, her speech thick with desire, her mind not even realising what she was saying.

Alaska ran her hands all over her chest, first on top of Sharon’s before bringing them up to run over her nipples and collarbone.

Eventually the surge of healing dulled before diminishing completely. Sharon only realised she had leaned down incredibly close to Alaska when the haze of magic finally started to evaporate. Their mouths were inches apart, and they felt each other’s breath on their skin as they panted. Sharon always felt tired after healing, but right now she felt exhausted, yet energised at the same time.

She looked into Alaska’s big, dark eyes before her gaze trailed down to her full lips. Kiss her, Sharon thought, fucking kiss her right now.

But Sharon didn’t have to think, as Alaska grabbed her and brought their lips together herself.

Cupping the back of Sharon’s neck, Alaska pulled the witch towards her, bringing their lips together. She breathed in and closed her eyes, all her senses focused on warmth of Sharon’s mouth on hers. She felt Sharon relax into their kiss before deepening it, her tongue parting Alaska’s lips and lapping against her own.

Alaska had never felt this incredible in her entire life. Sharon’s magic was astonishing, and her healing abilities had completely reinvigorated every fibre of her being.

Alaska heard a long, low moan before realising it was herself. Sharon pulled away, and Alaska instinctively whimpered, already missing the witch’s embrace. But Sharon had another idea. She hitched her leg over Alaska’s hips and straddled her, her black robe exposing her pale thighs.

Sharon leaned down again, bringing their lips together and gasping into the kiss as she began to grind herself against Alaska.

Alaska cupped the back of her neck before bringing her fingers down to run along Sharon’s defined jaw.

Sharon mimicked her actions with her lips, leaving a trail of kisses down Alaska’s jaw before kissing her neck.

Alaska arched her back, pulling Sharon towards her bare chest. Sharon’s fingers gently brushed her sides before she finally cupped Alaska’s breasts in her hands. She squeezed them, eliciting a breathy whine from Alaska, who begged her to keep going.

“Ah, yes,” Alaska whimpered as Sharon leaned down, her warm tongue lapping over her left nipple. Alaska bit her lip, her fingers tangling in Sharon’s soft hair as the sun beat down on the both of them. Her out of this world skin was shimmering wildly in the direct sun, reflecting a million speckles of light back onto Sharon’s fair skin.

Heat pooled between her thighs, and she brought her legs up as Sharon grinded down on her harder and faster.

“Uh, fuck,” Sharon whined as she rolled her hips against Alaska. Her black robe was becoming loose around her body, revealing more of her cleavage as she moved and threatening to slip off her shoulder.

Alaska grabbed at the fabric of Sharon’s robe, desperate to pull it off, to expose her completely and roll around in dry, overgrown grass with her in the bright sunlight.

But suddenly, a deafening explosion sounded from the wreckage close to them, and both girls gasped in fear.

Startled, they whipped their heads around to see behind them, catching sight of bright embers bursting into the air as part of the metal wreckage fell to the ground, Alaska’s spaceship finally clunking out for good.

Sharon looked down at Alaska with an adorable, lopsided smile that made Alaska’s heart skip a beat.

“Looks like sparks are flying,” Sharon commented.

Their laughter was cut off as another blast sounded from the wreckage, the ruined aircraft continuing to break down.

“Uh, let’s get inside,” Sharon said, rolling off Alaska before helping her up.

Alaska went to put her tight, leather corset back on, but shrugged her shoulders at the effort, settling to just leave her long black skirt on. Sharon wrapped an arm around her tiny waist before the two of them made their way into her cozy wooden cottage.

Finally inside and out of the sunlight, Sharon was able to properly view Alaska now that her skin wasn’t a living disco ball. She noticed the dried trickle of blood on her temple, the dirt on her back, and the sweat on her body. Her blonde hair was tangled in places and her skirt was crumpled. She looked around Sharon’s foreign home in confusion, her wide eyes and bitten lip giving away how disorientated she felt.

“Can I run you a bath?” Sharon offered. “It’ll make you feel heaps better.”

Alaska nodded happily and followed Sharon into her tiny bathroom. A deep, white claw foot bath was positioned under open glass windows. Leafy green plants were dotted around the small room, and littered in between the various candles, empty coffee mugs and books with water damaged edges were bath concoctions in bottles in all varying shapes and sizes.

Sharon twisted the copper taps and began filling the tub before she rummaged through her possessions.

“Do you like this smell?” Sharon asked, holding an orange sphere under Alaska’s nose. Alaska sniffed the unfamiliar object hesitantly and nodded, actually liking the warm, floral scent.

To her complete surprise, Sharon threw the entire sphere into the tub, droplets of water splashing into the air as the object dissolved, turning the tub a beautiful, pastel shade of orange.

“How about this one?” Sharon asked, a small, black object in her hand that could have been mistaken for a lump of coal.

Alaska hesitantly smelled this one as well before nodding in surprise. It was a bit spicy, but also sweet. Sharon crumbled it under the running tap, the water instantly turning dark and murky while white fluffy bubbles multiplied.

Alaska gasped in surprise as she noticed speckles of silver glitter in the water.

“Wow,” breathed Alaska, sitting on the edge of the tub to run her hand through the murky, shimmery water before letting it slip through her fingers. “Is this magic? Did you make these?”

She looked at Sharon, her eyes wide with amazement and curiosity, and Sharon had to hold back a laugh.

“No,” Sharon smiled, shaking her head. “It’s just a bubble bar from Lush. It’s meant to make bubbles. The humans make them, but I really like them.”

“Lush,” Alaska repeated, drawing out the new word, feeling it roll off her tongue for the first time. “It’s so pretty…” she said, transfixed on the water before them. “Look at it shimmer.”

“Yeah,” Sharon said, “it’s gorgeous, just like you and your skin.”

Sharon didn’t even mean for it to come out like that. It was just an observation. The water was shimmery and gorgeous. Alaska was shimmery and gorgeous. It was a fact.

Alaska looked at her, her smile wide and her eyes bright. Sharon felt her face grow hot again, just like it did before she healed Alaska out in the field.

“I’ll, um, give you some privacy…” Sharon stumbled, turning to leave the bathroom.

But Alaska stopped her.

“You’re not joining me?” Alaska asked, perplexed and disheartened.

Sharon’s heart almost jumped out of her chest at the invitation.

“Do you want me to?” Sharon asked.

“Of course,” Alaska said, as if it was obvious. She stood up and shimmied her long black skirt off. The material struggled over the round curve of her ass before it quickly dropped to the floor. Grabbing the top of her long black gloves, Alaska pulled the material off her arms, the talons peeling away with the garments and revealing shorter, more human like hands.

Dropping them to the floor, she stood naked before the witch before extending her hand out, gesturing for Sharon to help her into the bathtub.

Sharon grabbed her hand to steady her, and as Alaska raised one leg up and into the tub, Sharon couldn’t stop admiring her otherworldly figure. Alaska’s limbs were long and slender, with legs that went on for miles. Her tiny waist was balanced by full, curvy breasts and a round ass, which blended into thick thighs.

Alaska lowered herself into the bubbly, warm water, which rose around her weight. She looked up expectantly at Sharon, waiting for her to undress.

Sharon’s hands shook slightly as she untied the string around her robe, the material parting like curtains and revealing her pale skin underneath. With her eyes locked with Alaska’s, the robe fell off her shoulders, joining Alaska’s skirt on the floor. She didn’t miss the way Alaska’s chest rose as her eyes trailed down Sharon’s figure. Hooking her fingers under the thin straps of her thong, Sharon pulled the lacy material of her black underwear down her legs before stepping out of it.

Sharon hopped into the water as Alaska moved back to give her room before she settled down opposite her. Their slippery limbs interlocked under the water as they moved closer together, Alaska’s legs on top of Sharon’s, as if she was sitting in her lap.

The water sloshed around them as bubbles gathered on their wet skin. Sharon felt so easy around Alaska, as if she had known her for years, not moments. She wondered if all aliens were like this, so comfortable with things like nudity, or if Alaska was different.

“Here, let me,” Sharon said, submerging a cloth in the water before cleaning the dried blood on Alaska’s temple. The cut had healed completely and the wound was now nonexistent.

Squeezing a body wash into her palm, Sharon rubbed it into Alaska’s arms, the dirt from her crash rinsing away. As she worked, Alaska leaned forward, peppering her wet skin with kisses.

Alaska was obsessed with Sharon’s skin. Even though she didn’t possess the otherworldly shimmer Alaska did, she was so soft and fair. She couldn’t stop admiring how pretty she was when she blushed, Alaska able to sense the heat radiating off her as a pink tinge blossomed under her skin. Sharon was so alive and beautiful.

Grabbing the body wash, Alaska squirted some into her own palms before massaging the lotion into Sharon’s shoulders. As she nibbled on Sharon’s earlobe, and in the process making Sharon’s eyes roll back, Alaska rubbed the wash into her skin before trailing her hands across her collarbones and bringing them down.

Sharon had completely forgotten about cleaning Alaska as her mind focused entirely on the feeling of Alaska’s hands cupping her breasts. She felt herself throb as the alien ran her thumbs over her nipples. She couldn’t help herself as her breath hitched, her arms instinctively wrapping around Alaska’s neck and pulling her closer.

Alaska massaged her breasts harder, bringing their lips together as Sharon withered under her touch. With the witch distracted, Alaska snaked a hand down her body and pressed a thumb against her clit, smiling as Sharon reacted with her entire body.

“Ah, fuck, please,” Sharon begged, spreading her thighs as much as she could in the cramped bath.

Alaska pressed down and circled her sensitive nub, admiring the way the blush in Sharon’s cheeks had spread down to her neck.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Alaska whispered, and Sharon’s chest grew warm at her words.

She didn’t know how long she would last, not after their behaviour in the field before.

Alaska intensified her touch, rubbing Sharon faster and harder as Sharon’s whines echoed around the bathroom. She trailed a finger over Sharon’s folds before spreading them, moaning at how hot she felt.

“Need you,” Sharon mumbled, her mind clouded with desire.

Alaska circled Sharon’s entrance before dipping her fingertip in, enjoying how Sharon’s eyelashes fluttered. She pushed in further, Sharon’s lust and the water allowing her to deepen her touch. Sharon brought their lips together, moaning loudly as Alaska pumped her finger inside her.

Sharon rocked her hips, and in time with her movements, Alaska slipped another finger inside. Sharon gasped as Alaska stretched her out, her walls grasping around Alaska’s rigid fingers.

“More,” Sharon whispered, and Alaska wasted no time sliding another finger inside. She rubbed her throbbing bud, and Sharon’s hips jerked at the over stimulation.

“You like that?” Alaska whispered hotly in her ear, and Sharon could only feverishly nod at the question.

Sharon whined as Alaska pumped herself harder and faster than she did before. She alternated between spreading her fingers, twisting them and thrusting them as she thumbed at her clit, Sharon praising each and every one of her movements.

Heat coiled in Sharon’s stomach as her body suddenly felt both heavy and weightless. With her eyes closed, back arched and lips parted, Sharon came, her legs shaking as water splashed around their bodies.

“Ahh! Ah, yes, Alaska, yes,” Sharon moaned as Alaska lead her through her climax, not dulling her touch in the slightest until Sharon was completely spent.

Finally coming down from her high, Sharon looked at Alaska, her eyes lust blown and her breathing ragged.

“Fuck, that was,” Sharon breathed, “so fucking good.”

Alaska laughed, pulling her in for a kiss.

“That was thank you for before, for healing me,” Alaska said. “You saved my life Sharon, thank you.”

Alaska’s huge dark eyes were teary and full of gratitude and affection, and Sharon almost stopped breathing for a moment.

“You’re-, you’re more than welcome,” Sharon stuttered, because what does one say after an alien finger fucks you as a thank you for rescuing them from their smouldering spaceship?

“I’m hungry,” Alaska said, smiling at Sharon.

Sharon laughed at the simple need.

“Alright, let’s get you something to eat.”

Sharon had never seen someone eat so fast. After cooking up a batch of pumpkin soup in her cauldron in her fireplace, Sharon had scooped the dish into two bowls before toasting some bread for the both of them.

Alaska had practically inhaled her first serve before politely asking for a second helping. She was currently sitting opposite Sharon on the living room floor and soaking every last drop up with bread.

Alaska had never had pumpkin soup before, and it was now her new favourite meal. She couldn’t stop complimenting Sharon, who blushed and talked about how she had grown the pumpkins herself – without magic. Alaska loved listening to how Sharon wanted to add more vegetables to her garden patch.

Their conversation flowed from one topic to another, and after a few glasses of red, neither of them realised they had been talking for hours. With her full belly, warmth from the fireplace and company of Sharon, Alaska felt utterly blissful.

“Tell me about how you discovered you were a witch,” Alaska asked, settling down on Sharon’s soft couch.

After their bath, she hadn’t wanted to put on her tight corset and skirt again as they were dirty from the crash. Sharon had given her one of her black robes to wear, and Alaska reveling in how freeing and comfortable it felt. Plus, it smelled like Sharon, and Alaska couldn’t help herself from breathing in deeply.

“Well,” Sharon started, sitting down next to Alaska, a glass of wine in her hand. “I was incredibly lucky because my mother was a witch. A lot of magical creatures don’t come from a magical family, its something they discover on their own. For me, magic was always present in my life. So I never really ‘found out’. I get my healing powers from my mother.”

“Aw, that’s so nice,” Alaska said, noticing how Sharon avoided her gaze and instead looked at her glass as she spoke. She fiddled with her necklace as a pause hung in the air, rolling the purple crystal between her fingertips.

Alaska bit her tongue, not wanting to ask the question that rested behind her teeth. The crackling of the fire filled the silence.

“She died,” Sharon said, dropping her hand and finally looking at Alaska.

“I’m so sorry,” Alaska said, instinctively placing her palm on Sharon’s knee.

“Thank you,” Sharon said, a small smile on her face as she placed her hand on top of Alaska’s. “It happened years ago. I’m okay with it now. I was 18. Old enough to have learnt so much from her, but still far too soon.”

Sharon grimaced, her eyes shining as she breathed in.

“She was so powerful. She was incredible. She was always creating new spells, potions, always experimenting. She was so smart. One day… one day one of her spells went awry. I wasn’t here for it, thank god. I was at the markets. But yeah, it was just so fucking random, you know? She was here one day and gone the next.”

Alaska could only nod as the words poured out of Sharon. Neither of them realised their grips on Sharon’s knee had tightened. Sharon leaned close and rested her forehead on Alaska’s shoulder.

She mumbled something, and Alaska had to ask her to repeat it.

“Her name was Elvira,” Sharon said, raising her head again. Whether she realised it or not, she had begun fiddling with her necklace again, dragging the crystal along its dainty silver chain. “I’m okay with it now. I miss her so much, but I also see a lot of her in myself.”

“She would have been so proud of you, and the way you help others,” Alaska said, rubbing her thumb against Sharon’s knee. They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment.

Sharon smiled, her eyes no longer wet. She leaned down and kissed Alaska’s shoulder.

“Holy shit, look at the time!” Sharon exclaimed, catching sight of her grandfather clock that read it was almost midnight. “No wonder we’re tired. Let’s go to bed.”

They stumbled into Sharon’s room before collapsing on the bed. The humid summer night meant it was too hot for clothes, so they stripped their robes off before laying down next to each other, the task of fixing Alaska’s spaceship left for another day.

The only thing Sharon remembered before she fell asleep was the feeling of Alaska placing a hand on hers.

That night Sharon dreamt of Alaska on top of her, her skin blinding in the sunlight as she grinded down between Sharon’s parted thighs. As a fleet of spaceships raced above them, thunder rumbled in the distance while a streak of lightning split the pink sky in two.

At some point in the night, Sharon stirred in her sleep, her eyes fluttering open to see Alaska perched on her bay window. Naked and curled up, Alaska was looking up to the dark sky, her skin reflecting a faint blue sheen in the pale moonlight.

Sharon drifted back to sleep, not able to distinguish her dreams from reality.

The next time Sharon opened her eyes, her room was filled with bright morning light, and Alaska was lying next to her, watching her.

“Hey,” Alaska said, a small smile on her face. She had pulled Sharon’s white bed sheet up to her chest, and her hair was messily arranged on her pillow. She looked beautiful.

“Hey,” Sharon replied, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer. Their mouths met, and their tired morning lips gave each other soft, slow kisses.

When Sharon pulled away, she rested her head back on her pillow, her lids heavy and begging her to fall back to sleep. She felt Alaska reach out and gently tuck a lock of her icy blonde hair behind her ear. Sharon practically purred at her touch, her heart melting at how soothing it felt. Alaska kept lightly stroking her hair before running her fingers through it.

Sharon didn’t know how long they stayed like that for. It could have been just minutes, but Sharon couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so peaceful. She almost fell right back to sleep.

“Can I ask you something?” Alaska said, her voice quiet.

Sharon peaked her eyes open, concerned at Alaska’s serious tone.

“Yeah sure, what is it?” Sharon asked.

Alaska bit her lip before finally asking.

“Can I please braid your hair? I’ve been wanting to see what it would look like since I met you.”

Sharon’s face broke into a smile as relief washed over her.

“Of course you can, Alaska.”

She sat up and turned away, brushing her hair off her shoulders. Alaska happily ran her fingers through her hair before sectioning it into three parts.

“So pretty,” Alaska commented as she weaved the black and white strands together.

Sharon couldn’t stop smiling. She never bothered with her hair, choosing to just leave it out. But she liked this idea of styling her hair. Or maybe it was just the fact that Alaska was doing it.

Picking up a stray hair tie from the bedside table, Alaska secured the bottom of the plait so it wouldn’t unravel. She almost pulled away, but leaned forward slightly and pressed a light, slow kiss on Sharon’s shoulder. Sharon’s lips parted at the sensation, and when Alaska pulled away, Sharon turned and captured her lips between hers.

They rolled around in Sharon’s bed, their limbs tangled together against her white sheets, both of them forgetting about the rest of the world.

Countless books littered the hardwood floor of Sharon’s living room. They were either spread open, dog eared, stacked on top of each other, discarded or put into piles. Sitting cross-legged in the middle of it all was Sharon, an open notebook balanced on her knee and a quill in her already ink stained left hand.

“I think I found it,” Sharon said suddenly, breaking the focused silence that had plagued the cottage all day. Alaska looked up from her spot on the couch, putting down her tea and looking over Sharon’s shoulder.

Sharon hastily flipped her notebook open to a new page before she scribbled down a spell from the textbook in front of her. They had scoped out the crash site this morning and confirmed Alaska’s extraterrestrial powers were useless on Earth. She wouldn’t be able to fix the spaceship, but Sharon could try.

Except restoration spells for the kind of vehicle Alaska had plummeted down in were not common knowledge. The rest of the day was spent scavenging through the abundant amount of spell books Sharon owned.

“I know it’s here somewhere!” Sharon had exclaimed in frustration once they had neared the third hour of researching. Black and white strands fell from her braid and dangled around her face while a bead of sweat had dripped down her temple.

Alaska didn’t understand the magic and language in Sharon’s books, but she had been a great assistant, constantly bringing and putting away stacks of books, and making Sharon and herself cups of tea, which Sharon gratefully accepted, even in the stifling heat. When Sharon didn’t need her to bring more books out, Alaska had sat on the couch and admired the pretty line illustrations on the pages. She wished she could have helped more, but Sharon assured her she would find the spell, and she had.

“That’s it, I can’t believe I finally fucking found it,” Sharon laughed, massaging her sore neck. Sharon had been a woman possessed while trying to find the spell. She remembered stumbling upon it years ago, but had dismissed the idea of ever resurrecting a broken spaceship. Besides, she never had one to practice with – until now.

Both girls ran into the yard, their black cloaks contrasting against the light beige of the dry field. Even though Alaska’s spaceship was currently a twisted heap of metal, it still stood, mostly, proud in the middle of the yard. It’s silver exterior caught the sunlight and reflected brightly. Even destroyed, it still looked beautiful.

Sharon breathed in deeply as she stretched her back and arms, her bones cracking as her nerves intensified.

“This might not work,” Sharon warned Alaska, who just smiled and rested her hands on Sharon’s waist as she stood behind her.

“You always say that, and it always works out,” Alaska said, and the two of them smiled as they reminisced on their healing experience in this very spot just yesterday.

An odd feeling settled over Sharon. The healing felt so long ago, yet it was just yesterday. So much had happened since then. A thought had nagged at Sharon’s mind all day, and she felt sick as she finally accepted her selfish desire.

She didn’t want Alaska to leave.

“Let’s see how we go,” Sharon said through a shaky breath. Alaska stepped back a few paces, giving her some space. The heat of the sun beat down on Sharon’s fair skin.

Inhaling deeply, Sharon raised her wand, focusing on the wreckage in front of her as she announced the spell, her voice crystal clear as she pronounced every syllable perfectly.

Nothing happened, and both girls stood frozen as they waited for the magic to come, if it ever did.

Sharon’s heart hammered in her chest.

Maybe she got the wrong spell. Maybe she said it incorrectly. Maybe her magic didn’t correspond with whatever made Alaska’s other worldly aircraft function. Maybe her deepest desire was preventing her magic from working.

Maybe Alaska would never have to leave, and maybe she would never return home.

But suddenly the wreckage shuddered, and sparks flew as random bits of debris vibrated.

It was an incredible sight. The wreckage stirred and trembled, like a monster waking from its slumber. Random parts would suddenly jolt to life, slowly rising into the air, straightening themselves out before floating into place. Piece by piece, Alaska’s stunning spaceship was put back together like a puzzle.

But it was a ridiculously complex puzzle. They both stood there and watched as Sharon’s magic engineered the complicated beast back to life.

It was only at sunset, when the sky turned a breathtaking blend of pink, orange and yellow, did the spaceship eventually restore itself back to its original form.

The magic current from Sharon’s wand to the aircraft finally broke, and Alaska cheered in delight at the sight before her. With its various lights flashing and standing proudly in all its glory was her most prized possession, glowing and ready for its next adventure.

“Yay Sharon! Look at it! It’s so beautiful!” Alaska cried out, running up the aircraft to admire her work.

“Sharon?”

She turned and gasped in fear as she watched Sharon stagger to the ground, her body slumping and her wand falling out of her hand.

“Sharon!” Alaska exclaimed, running towards her and kneeling over the body of the witch. “Are you okay!?”

Fear raced down Alaska’s spine when she saw how pale Sharon looked, her lips white and her eyes glassy.

“I’m okay,” Sharon reassured her softly, grabbing Alaska’s hand with a weak grip. Her hands were freezing. Alaska squeezed them, desperate to warm them up.

“Magic’s draining,” Sharon said, her voice quiet and croaky. “But I didn’t realise how big of a job that would be.”

“Thank you,” Alaska said, her eyes teary. “Thank you so much, you did an incredible job. None of this would have happened without you.”

Sharon smiled as Alaska caressed her fingers through Sharon’s hair before she leaned down and kissed her, the touch of her lips warming Sharon’s.

Sharon’s fingers brushed Alaska’s jaw, urging her to not pull away. Even though the process was slow, Sharon felt her energy return. Alaska’s kisses were like caffeine, running through Sharon’s veins and waking up her mind.

They stayed like that until Sharon felt strong enough to sit up.

“Isn’t it funny how one of us is always practically dying near this thing?” Sharon joked, tilting her head to the spaceship. Alaska cackled her infectious laugh, and Sharon’s heart ached at the thought of one day not hearing that sound.

A clap of thunder cracked in the distance, and both girls looked to the sky and saw dark clouds rolling in.

“I don’t want to impose or over stay my welcome, but would I be able to stay another night?” Alaska asked. “I don’t want to leave yet… I mean like, in the dark and the rain.”

“Of course!” Sharon said sincerely. They both knew Alaska’s spaceship could survive the dark and a bit of rain. But Sharon’s heart clenched at the thought of Alaska zooming off into space immediately. “Please stay.”

It was after dinner when Sharon felt almost back to normal. A good long sleep would do her wonders, but for now her warm dinner, glass of red in hand and Alaska curled up beside her was more than enough. It had been a quiet evening so far, and a bittersweet mood hung in the air. Even though they had accomplished so much today, they were both feeling dejected at the same thought; Alaska would be leaving tomorrow.

They sat on a wooden bench on Sharon’s deck, curled up together as they watched the lightning show play out above them in the sky. Little ohhs and ahhs punctuated their comfortable silence, and when a bolt of lightning cracked particularly loudly, Sharon hugged Alaska to her side. Alaska nuzzled into Sharon’s neck, trying to just be present in the moment and ignore what awaited her tomorrow.

She didn’t want to leave. Technically, she didn’t have to. But this was Earth. She didn’t belong here. This wasn’t her home. Her home was light years away, and there waited her family and friends, her kingdom and loyal followers.

But right now, Alaska didn’t want any of those things. She just wanted Sharon.

Leaning up slightly, Alaska pressed a kiss to Sharon’s jaw. Sharon’s eyes fluttered closed, breathing in deeply as she felt the kiss. She turned to face Alaska, capturing her lips in a kiss. Her tongue lapped against Alaska, who moaned into their embrace.

Alaska’s hand trailed down the neckline of the witch’s black robe, the material falling off Sharon’s shoulder as she pulled it open. Underneath, Sharon wore a lacy black bralette, its intricate, sheer flower pattern contrasting against her pale skin.

Alaska captured Sharon’s bottom lip between her teeth, her sharpness grazing the soft skin, and the intensity took Sharon by surprise. Alaska whined as she placed both hands on either side of Sharon’s face, pulling her closer, her movements becoming more desperate.

Sharon hauled Alaska onto her lap, the alien’s thighs parting as she settled down. Sharon pulled Alaska’s robe off, the material falling down to reveal her slightly shimmering skin underneath. Placing both her hands on Sharon’s shoulders, Alaska arched back, grinding herself down against the witch, her thrusts becoming increasingly erratic as her desire built.

Sharon’s breath hitched. She could feel the warmth radiating from Alaska’s core, even through their layers. She reached up and caressed Alaska’s breasts, the women above her arching her back and whining in pleasure. Leaning forward, Sharon buried herself between Alaska’s curves, showering her skin in kisses before dragging her tongue up her chest.

Alaska threw her head back at the feeling, her fingers tangling in Sharon’s two-toned hair. She brought their lips together, and it was pure lust. Any notion of tentative touches and gentle movements were gone.

And suddenly they were up. Not breaking their kiss, Sharon stood, her hands firmly on Alaska’s thighs as she hoisted the alien up. Alaska tightened her grip around the witch’s waist as she was carried inside.

But instead of throwing them on the bed, Sharon pressed Alaska against her bedroom wall, grinding herself against the other woman.

“Want you so badly,” she breathed as she nipped at Alaska’s earlobe.

Alaska pulsed as she withered against the hard surface. The thought of Sharon being strong enough to hold her up was hot enough, but being in her arms was something else.

“Then take me,” Alaska whispered.

Sharon wasted no time getting Alaska on her back, lying the alien down on her bed before stripping her robe and dropping it to the floor. Alaska shimmed out of what little material still concealed her body, her black robe pooling around her naked form. Bringing her knees to her chest, Alaska spread herself before dragging her middle finger over her slick folds, her eyes locked with Sharon’s the entire time.

Sharon kneeled in front of her, the bed dipping under their weight as she crawled closer to Alaska. Alaska reached out, her fingers grasping at the delicate black bra in an effort to pull it off Sharon’s body. It was pretty, but it would look better on the floor. Sharon reached around and unhooked the clasp, and Alaska sighed happily as the sheer fabric abruptly bunched together before falling from her body.

Alaska’s fingers instantly reached for Sharon’s underwear, pulling at the matching panties and dragging them down Sharon’s curves. Sharon couldn’t help but laugh at Alaska’s eagerness.

Her underwear joined her bralette on the floor, and the two girls rolled around in Sharon’s sheets, finally where they longed to be. Manoeuvring herself on top, Sharon parted her thighs, settling herself down between Alaska’s.

They both whined as Sharon grinded herself down, her slick folds rubbing against Alaska’s. Alaska cried out as Sharon thrusts hit her bundle of nerves, coursing pleasure to shoot through her veins. Their hands found each other’s, and Sharon pressed their intertwined fingers into the soft sheets, pinning Alaska’s hand down as she gathered speed.

“So, good,” Alaska whined, completely submitting to the witch above her.

She arched her back, her breasts jiggling in time with Sharon’s thrusts as she pushed her chest up. Propping herself up on her elbows, sweat gathered in the hollows of Alaska’s collarbone, which Sharon leaned down and tasted with her tongue.

Suddenly, an earsplitting crack of thunder sounded high above them as finally, finally, the sound of rain falling came into hearing. Sharon threw her head back, relief washing over her. She couldn’t remember the last time it rained.

She picked up her pace as the sound of their bodies merging mixed with the sound of the falling water. Their gasps, moans and pleas got louder, fighting for dominance over the sound of the rain, which increased with every second until it built to a defending roar against Sharon’s roof.

“I’m so close,” Alaska whined, desperate for her release, but not wanting to finish. She never wanted this to end. She never wanted to leave Sharon.

“Come for me,” Sharon urged her, grinding down against her, focused on pushing her over the edge.

“I don’t want to stop,” Alaska whimpered, her body threatening to betray her as heat pooled in her groin.

Sharon leaned down and kissed her roughly, not once breaking her pace on top of Alaska. She pulled away, her eyes locked on Alaska’s as her breath tickled her skin.

“I’m not gonna stop,” Sharon whispered.

That was it for Alaska. She cried out as pleasure overwhelmed her, starting from her core and burning throughout her body. Sharon didn’t stop. She pulled her through her climax, her body against Alaska’s as she completely unraveled underneath her.

Then suddenly it was Sharon who was shuddering, her hips thrusting erratically as she came above Alaska. Her stomach clenched as dampness spread from her core, mixing with Alaska’s wetness as she squeezed her hand, never letting go.

With trembling limbs and ragged breathing, the cloud of lust slowly began to clear. Alaska looked up at Sharon, her eyes wide and lust blown as her chest heaved, breathy sighs escaping through plump, parted lips.

With heavy lidded eyes and a smirk on her lips, Sharon crawled over Alaska, reaching to the side before pulling open her bedside table draw. Inside the wooden draw was a mess of notebooks, quills, leaking ink pots, crystals and potions. Sharon knew exactly what she was looking for.

She spotted the vivid blue liquid instantly. Sharon had rolled her eyes when, after spending days concocting the potion, it had turned such a stereotypical colour. She had tried this potion once before when she was alone and in the privacy of her own home if it all went pear shaped. But it had worked, and Sharon had been so pleased with her hard work. Grabbing the small glass vial between her fingers, Sharon shut the draw and showed Alaska.

“I told you I wouldn’t stop,” Sharon said, pulling off the cork with a satisfying pop.

Alaska bit her lip as she smiled, a million possibilities filling her mind as she wondered what the potion would do. Sharon brought the glass vial to her lips and threw her head back, downing it in one hit. It tasted like nothing, until it burned its way down her throat.

She winced before shooting Alaska reassuring grin. Excitement bubbled in her chest as she waited for the magic to kick in. Kneeling over Alaska, Sharon placed one hand on the headboard above them as she trailed her other hand down her body. Her eyes fluttered shut as she circled her throbbing bud, her thighs still quivering with aftershocks.

With wide eyes, Alaska could only watch as Sharon touched herself, her mind alight with anticipation. Sharon moaned as she felt the magic course through her blood stream, surging to her groin. Alaska only glanced at Sharon’s lips for a moment before casting her gaze back down to her hands.

But in that time, Sharon had gone from running her fingers between her slick folds, to palming a cock between her thighs. Alaska gasped at the sight of the member growing thicker and longer as the seconds went by, feeling heavier in Sharon’s hand.

With parted lips, Alaska gawked at the sight, unashamedly staring at the seamless change. She instantly reached forward, wrapping her fingers around the cock and stroking it in her hands, feeling its warmth. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the testicles now appearing between Sharon’s thighs. She cupped them, massaging them in her palm as she marvelled at their weight. Sharon’s magic was impressive, as the cock looked at natural as could be, its base blending flawlessly into her skin. It was like she was born with it.

Alaska was snapped out of her haze of disbelief when a choked moan escaped Sharon, who couldn’t stay silent as Alaska palmed her throbbing member.

“Sorry,” Alaska smiled, slowing stroking Sharon.

“Christ, don’t be sorry,” Sharon replied, gently thrusting herself into Alaska’s touch.

Placing her hands on Sharon’s hips, Alaska brought her forward. She wrapped her lips around Sharon, who jerked at the sensation. Running her tongue over Sharon’s sensitive slit, she sucked at her tip, a string of gasps and whines bubbling out of Sharon as she worked.

“Ah, fuck, Alaska,” Sharon whined, her mouth falling open as she watched Alaska take her.

Alaska pulled her forward, enveloping Sharon inch by inch, her eyes locked on the witch the entire time. She hollowed her cheeks around Sharon before wrapping a hand around the length she couldn’t reach. Thrusting Sharon into her, she moaned around the pulsing length, causing vibrations to ripple throughout the other woman’s body.

Sharon’s thighs shook, her eyes rolling back as the sensation overwhelmed her. Alaska’s mouth was so hot and warm and wet around her sensitive, throbbing cock.

Alaska felt Sharon’s balls tighten in her touch, signalling she was close. Not knowing how long she’d last, Alaska suddenly took Sharon entirely, her nose pressed against Sharon’s pubic hair as her throat accommodated for her length.

Sharon cried out, her thighs giving way as she collapsed on top of Alaska, who breathed out sharply through her nose, moaning louder and sucking Sharon harder than before.

Gripping the headboard, Sharon painstakingly pulled out, forcing herself not to unravel yet. Her cock emerged from between Alaska’s swollen lips red and slick with the alien’s spit.

“I like that potion,” Alaska said coyly, her voice husky, somehow becoming even sexier than it already was.

Sharon squeezed the base of her cock as she laughed, nodding in agreement.

“I think you’ll like it even more in a second,” Sharon replied, her thumb running over Alaska’s bud. “Ready for another round?”

“Yes, yes, please,” Alaska whined, spreading herself more for Sharon.

Sharon ran her fingers through Alaska’s wet folds before dipping her index finger into her warmth. Alaska bit her lip at the touch, her relaxed body grasping around Sharon, who slipped another finger in. Soon enough, Alaska was ready, and Sharon settled between her parted legs.

Sharon thrusted her cock between Alaska’s folds, her member gliding smoothly against the slick skin. She reached over to her bedside drawer, pulling it open for a second time tonight and grabbing a small bottle containing clear fluid.

Popping off the cork, she tilted the glass vial slightly, watching as the clear gel flowed from the bottle and dribbled along her length. She palmed herself, coating herself completely as the excess slipped between her fingers and onto Alaska before dribbling onto her sheets.

‘I’m so ready,” Alaska breathed, gently circling her bud as she watched Sharon.

“Tell me if you need to stop, okay?” Sharon asked her, only proceeding after Alaska agreed.

She guided her tip to Alaska’s entrance, pushing in slowly, two sets of lips parting as Sharon was met with resistance at first, then release.

“More,” Alaska whispered, arching up slightly, her hands clutching the sheets as she watched their bodies.

Sharon pushed in slowly, their bodies merging effortlessly from the fluid. Sharon breathed in sharply as she pushed in entirely, her base flushed against Alaska’s folds, her sensitive length completely enveloped in Alaska’s warmth.

Alaska gasped as pleasure overwhelmed her. She brought her knees to her chest, the angle making Sharon push deeper inside her.

“So full, you’re so fucking big,” Alaska moaned, her walls grasping around Sharon’s girth.

She wrapped her legs around Sharon’s waist, pulling her closer as Sharon brought their lips together. Even after their kiss ended, Sharon stayed close, her nose brushing against Alaska’s cheek as she quickened her pace.

Sharon found a rhythm, her thrusts getting faster and deeper as she went, each time hitting the spot inside Alaska that made the alien’s toes curl. A string of barely coherent phrases mumbled out of Alaska, punctuating her breathy whines.

“So… big, such a big cock… fucking me, so… good,” Alaska gasped as moisture gathered in her eyes.

“You like that?” Sharon asked, slowing down her thrusts, dragging her length out of Alaska leisurely before pushing back in gradually, making her feel every movement.

She lightly brushed across Alaska’s throbbing bud before suddenly pressing down harshly, relishing in the other woman’s satisfying reaction. Alaska cried out, her back arching up as her walls squeezed around Sharon. Her rips protruded from her skin as she arched up, and as she chest heaved, her breasts jiggled, her nipples hard and on display.

Alaska bit her lip and nodded feverishly at Sharon, her hair a mess around her on the pillows. Hooking her heels around against Sharon’s back, she pushed the witch’s hips forward, feeling her in her entirety before grabbing Sharon’s hand.

She pressed Sharon’s palm firmly against her abdomen, and both girls gasped at the feeling of Sharon inside Alaska.

“Fuck,” Sharon breathed, pressing down on Alaska’s soft tummy as she gently moved her hips, her cock twitching as she felt her length from the outside.

Alaska’s body practically vibrated at the sensation, revelling in just how submissive and delicate she felt as Sharon dominated her.

Sharon quickened her pace as a surge of pleasure gained momentum inside her, coiling up and growing stronger. She gripped the headboard, repositioning herself on top of Alaska as she rolled her hips.

Alaska’s blissful cries became higher and louder with each one of Sharon’s thrusts, her mind clouding up with lust as the moment overpowered her.

The concept of leaving tomorrow was forgotten as all that filled Alaska’s mind was the thought of Sharon, Sharon, Sharon.

And finally Alaska came, unraveling underneath the witch as pleasure overpowered her, starting from her core and surging through her body. With trembling legs, Alaska’s lips parted into a silent scream as she rode out her orgasm, her nails digging into the soft, milky white skin of Sharon’s hips. Alaska squeezed her eyes shut as stars brighter and more beautiful than any galaxy she’d seen exploded in her mind.

Her walls clenched and tightened around Sharon’s pulsing member and suddenly, Sharon’s hips were shuddering erratically as she, too, was overwhelmed with desire.

Crying out, Sharon’s hip stilled against Alaska’s body as she came, pleasuring shooting throughout her and into Alaska, her mind both simultaneously exploding and going blank as she experienced a sensation she had never felt before.

Warmth spread through Alaska’s core as Sharon shuddered above her, and Alaska could only admire the sight of her heaving chest, her bitten bottom lip, and the way the thick lashes of her closed eyes brushes against her flushed cheeks.

Exhaling, Sharon collapsed on top of Alaska, a symphony of gasps and breathy moans escaping their lips as their limbs tangled together. Alaska’s fingertips brushed away the strand of hair which were stuck to Sharon’s sweaty hairline, suddenly remembering how Sharon did this exact thing to her the first time they met.

Moving her hips slightly, Sharon pulled out of Alaska, who clenched around the sudden emptiness, already missing her presence. Sleepy lips found each other as their thighs occasionally twitched, aftershocks still quivering throughout their nerves.

Now on their sides, Alaska’s hand caressed Sharon’s ribs before trailing down her stomach. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she felt Sharon’s original form, the two of them laughing at the spell already wearing off.

Sharon brought their lips together once more, their hands meeting and their fingers intertwining as they fell asleep, their bodies entangled together, complete and utter happiness filling both their hearts.

Sharon squeezed Alaska’s hand as they glared at the glowing spaceship in front of them. It looked so arrogant, standing all beautifully and proudly, fully prepared to rip them apart, to take Alaska home, far away from Sharon.

Alaska squeezed Sharon’s hand back. They were both struggling with their words today. Everything that had needed to be said was said last night, their bodies communicating better than their words ever could.

It had been a slow morning where neither of them had wanted the day to start, because with each action, it was a step closer to leaving. But they finally found themselves outside in Sharon’s field, right where it all started just a few days prior. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Alaska was finally back in her traditional alien clothes, her tight leather corset and long black skirt hugging her figure. Paired with her black gloves, sharp talon and glistening crown, Alaska looked every bit the otherworldly alien she was.

Last night’s heavy downpour of rain had dulled, but felt in its wake was a sky that was gloomy, low hanging and miserable. The lack of sunlight meant that, while Alaska was still gorgeous, her skin wasn’t shimmering nearly as much as it could. It was the final touch to this somber day.

Goosebumps appeared up Alaska’s arms as a cold chill ran through the air. Sharon hugged her to her side before rethinking. Revealing a long sleeved, green lacy dress underneath, Sharon pulled off her robe and wrapped it around Alaska’s body, who smiled as she was draped in black material. Her pointy nails poked out through the armholes before she wrapped her arms around Sharon’s neck, pulling her close.

They stood like that for a moment, hugging and holding each other as the seconds ticked down to Alaska’s inevitable departure.

Alaska pulled away, and the two girls grimaced as they saw they were both crying, hot tears silently springing to their eyes.

“I don’t want to leave,” Alaska cried, a tear sliding down her cheek. “I don’t want to leave you.”

Sharon squeezed her eyes shut, tears bubbling over as she shook her head, trying to argue against Alaska.

“You need to go home,” Sharon whispered. “You have a family. A kingdom. They don’t know where you are. They need you.”

But I need you too, Sharon thought.

They both knew Sharon was right. But they both knew Alaska could stay. She could selfishly abandon her own life and stay here on Earth where her extra terrestrial magic was incompatible. It was a stupid choice, but right now, that’s what Alaska’s heart wanted. But she needed to listen to her head.

“I should come home with you,” Sharon joked, her eyes red with tears.

They both smiled sadly. Sharon wasn’t an alien; she wouldn’t survive a second in outer space. She didn’t belong there. She didn’t belong with Alaska.

“Oh, I can’t believe I almost forgot,” Sharon said, inhaling sharply and reaching into the pocket of the robe Alaska now wore.

She fished inside before pulling her hand out. She opened her palm and showed Alaska, revealing a silver necklace with a purple crystal. It was exactly the same as the one Sharon wore, but instead of the crystal being a dark purple, almost black, like hers, this crystal was a stunning mix of bright purple and white, the colours mixing like ink.

Alaska gasped when she saw it before picking it up in her fingers, holding it like it was the most precious thing in the world.

Sharon unhooked the clasp and secured it around Alaska’s neck, the two of them admiring how it looked on her.

“Was this your mother’s?” Alaska asked, and Sharon silently nodded her head, her fingers brushing against the crystal.

“She left me a few, now we match,” Sharon said, her eyes shining.

Alaska kissed her, and even though tears wet their lips and their tight throats gasped for air, it meant everything.

“I love you so much Sharon,” Alaska said as she pulled away, her hands on either side of the witch’s face. “I love you, I love you.”

Sharon sobbed, pressing their foreheads together.

“I love you too, Alaska,” Sharon said, her blue eyes locking with Alaska’s dark ones. “I love you so much.”

“I’ll find you again one day, Sharon Needles,” Alaska promised. “I found you once, and I’ll find you again. No matter how long it takes me. This isn’t the end.”

They were both crying down, unapologetically as the reality of the moment sank in. They stood there, their arms wrapped around each other, neither wanting to let go.

Time passed, and at some point they let go, slowly and tentatively breaking apart. A thin strip of the exterior of Alaska’s spaceship lowered itself to the ground, creating a walk way for Alaska.

After more kisses, hugs, hand squeezes and wishes of safe travel, Alaska walked across the short distance of the field to the space ship. The wet grass soaked the hem of her skirt, and she clutched Sharon’s robe around her body. She stepped onto the platform, forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other. Once inside her spaceship, she turned back to Sharon, the two of them waving at each other as the wall of the spaceship rose, slowly eclipsing Sharon’s view of Alaska.

Alaska pressed buttons, pulled levers and programmed her next destination – home. As she waited for the spaceship to take off, she raced to the window, waving out at Sharon.

Sharon ran closer to Alaska, to see her clearly, to wave one final goodbye, to catch one last glimpse of her. But as the spaceship slowly rose to the air, Sharon was thrown back against the grass, the force of the aircraft pushing her over. Alaska gasped, frightened at the sight, before she was suddenly launched into the air, her spaceship zooming off into outer pace.

Sharon looked up just in time to see Alaska’s spaceship once more before it zipped into nothingness, the aircraft moving at a lightening fast speed that it had vanished in a second.

Sharon burst into tears as, for the second time in her life now, a woman she cared about so greatly about was here one day, and gone the next.

Arching up, Sharon relished in the feeling of her back cracking. She rolled her neck, waking up the muscles there with a satisfying stretch. She returned to tending to her garden patch, pressing down on the black soil as she planted more seeds.

Her pumpkins were thriving like they always were, and she was pleased with how her corn was coming along. Her tomatoes were going strong and, while she wasn’t a huge fan of their taste, her few cabbages were looking great as well.

Sharon’s garden patch was shaping up nicely.

It had been a good distraction for her. The last few months were plagued with everything and nothing. Sharon kept going through a cycle of emotions. Firstly sadness, than anger, then confusion, more anger, loneliness, sadness, and finally emptiness. Then it would start all over again, keeping up Sharon up at night crying while she lived her days in a sort of numb haze.

She kept thinking about those few days with the shimmering woman. It had all happened so fast that at times, Sharon thought she had imagined the whole thing.

But she couldn’t make up the way Alaska made her feel. Sharon was creative, but she could never have thought up of someone like Alaska, with her extreme beauty, musical laugh, and wonderful nature. She couldn’t make up her disbelief over bath bombs and love for Sharon’s homemade pumpkin soup. She couldn’t make up the way her body moved against Sharon’s, or how she had held her face in her hands and told her she loved her.

This isn’t the end.

The words always raced through Sharon’s mind, even when she didn’t want them too. It had been just two months short of a year since that fateful day where Alaska had plummeted from the sky, crashing landing into Sharon’s life and turning her world upside down.

Sharon had been stupidly hopeful in the beginning, thinking Alaska would return quickly. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, and now Sharon sat here, watching her garden patch successfully enter a new season while Sharon was still stuck in the past, desperately holding onto something so fleeting.

Sharon abruptly let go of her small trowel, not realising she had been furiously clenching the wooden handle. It dropped onto the soil, and Sharon watched as blood began to circulate through her white hand.

She closed her eyes, not able to swallow back the sadness that washed over her. She used to fight these waves of heartbreak with screaming, tears and throwing objects. But she was tired now. She just let them happen and move on, only to be struck down by another bout soon enough.

She thought of Alaska’s pained cries when her spaceship landed. She thought of how stunning Alaska looked in the sunlight. She thought of how she felt pressed against her side when they would watch the lighting in the sky. She thought of how Alaska withered underneath her, holding her close. She thought of how they had stood there in front of Alaska’s spaceship on that last day, hugging each other.

It all felt so vivid. Sharon could swear she could even hear the roar of Alaska’s spaceship now, faintly in the back of her mind, the memory so powerful.

She opened her eyes, ready to continue with her gardening. But as she picked up her watering can, she couldn’t ignore the roar in the distance. She looked around, her heart thudding in her chest as her mind refused to accept she was having a literal hallucination.

The roar was getting louder with every passing minute, and Sharon dropped her watering can, looking into the sky with wild eyes.

Rapidly, the wind picked up, and trees leant to the side as a force grew stronger and stronger. Leaves were ripped off branches and Sharon was thrown to the floor as a force bared down on her.

Sharon’s scream was barely a whisper over the deafening roar of the force. Terror raced through her as her mind was pushed into a horrible memory, a memory where she was lying on this very ground, Alaska zooming away from her.

And suddenly, as quick as it started, the roar stopped. The wind stopped. Everything returned to normal around Sharon, who was curled up in a ball, her eyes squeezed shut and her head in her hands. Without her sight, Sharon’s hearing picked up, and she heard the faintest beep boop of a familiar aircraft.

Slowly, Sharon peaked her head up, and her eyes squinted as they adjusted to the brightness. Her jaw dropped as she saw Alaska’s spaceship standing proudly in her field, glistening and glowing, its lights flashing as it stood in all its glory.

Sharon scampered to her feet, her body shivering with anticipation. Nothing happened at first, and Sharon held her breath as birds chipped in the distance.

Then finally, the spaceship jolted, and its wall began to part from its body, like a segment of an orange opening. Slowly, it lowered itself to the floor. At the top of the walkway stood nothing, and Sharon’s heart skipped a beat at the vacant spot.

Suddenly, a woman appeared, the sight of her in the direct sunlight almost blinded Sharon, just like that first time.

It was Alaska.

Standing there in a flowing white dress draped around her body, with an even bigger and somehow more beautiful crown upon her head, was the woman Sharon had never stopped thinking about.

Alaska’s face broke into a smile before she ran down the walkway. Sharon stretched her arms out for the alien, who jumped into her embrace and wrapped her legs around the witch’s waist, not able to contain her happiness.

“Is this real?” Sharon cried, tears now in her eyes as she held Alaska. “Please tell me this is real!”

“This is real!” Alaska laughed. Their lips met, and all the anger, confusion, sadness and emptiness washed out of Sharon’s system.

Sharon’s mind exploded into a million little pieces as she kissed Alaska, her hands shaking as she held the alien in her arms. Tears of happiness sprang to Alaska’s eyes as she kissed Sharon, the moment more perfect than she could have ever imagined it.

“I told you I’d find you,” Alaska whispered as she pulled away, their foreheads pressing together.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Sharon said, running her hands over Alaska’s arms and shoulders and through her hair.

“And I didn’t crash this time!” Alaska said proudly before Sharon kissed her again, all her nerves about travelling through space to Earth again dissipating. But this time, she had more of a reason to worry.

“I,” Alaska tried to say between Sharon’s kisses, “I tried to come sooner… but…”

“But, what?” Sharon asked, kissing Alaska’s neck, not able to get enough of her.

“Stay here,” Alaska said, slightly struggling to get out of Sharon’s embrace before she was successful. She raced up the walkway and into the spaceship, leaving an anxious Sharon terrified she wouldn’t reappear again, that this was all a cruel prank.

But Alaska did reappear. She walked down the walkway again, much slower this time, with white material bundled in her arms.

Sharon’s brows knitted together in confusion. Why did a bed sheet prevent Alaska from coming here sooner?

Alaska reached her, her eyes wet with tears of happiness as she giggled at Sharon’s confusion.

“This is why I couldn’t fly through space for a while,” Alaska said, pulling back the corner of the white bundle of material.

Sharon gasped, her legs almost giving way.

In the bundle of white material in Alaska’s arms was a tiny baby.

“She’s yours,” Alaska whispered.

This time, Sharon’s legs did give away, and she collapsed to the ground, a fresh wave of tears overpowering her. Alaska slowly lowered herself to the ground, showing their baby to an awestruck Sharon.

She’s yours, she’s yours, thought Sharon.

“Oh my god,” Sharon cried, overwhelmed with happiness as she looked at her daughter. “Sorry,” she said, apologising for her tears, “this is just all so much.”

“No! I totally understand!” Alaska laughed, and Sharon couldn’t help but laugh with her.

“How?” Sharon said in disbelief.

“The potion!” Alaska said.

Sharon’s jaw dropped. She never imagined the potion would actually successfully make a baby, but there was no reason it shouldn’t have.

“This is so incredible,” Sharon breathed, looking at the tiny, sleeping baby in Alaska’s arms.

“Do you want to hold her?” Alaska asked, and Sharon nodded keenly.

She placed the baby in Sharon’s arms, and Sharon gasped softly at just how warm the little human felt. The baby’s skin was fair like Sharon’s, but had the slightest sheen to it. Even though her eyes were closed, she had a little tuff of blonde hair. She was the perfect mix of the two of them.

“She has blue eyes, by the way,” Alaska said happily, practically reading Sharon’s mind. “Just like yours.”

“Oh my goodness,” Sharon whispered, hugging the baby close to her, feeling its little body move as she breathed.

“So you’ve been pregnant this whole time?” Sharon asked.

“Yeah,” Alaska blushed. “It was uh, quiet the experience telling my father how his lesbian daughter was suddenly pregnant after returning from an unapproved weekend on Earth.”

They both cackled, but dulled it to hushed giggling when the baby fidgeted in her sleep at the disturbance.

“I can’t believe I missed the birth,” Sharon said, suddenly feeling guilty. “When was the birth? How old is she? Oh my god, I don’t even know her name.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Alaska said soothingly. “I wanted to come back so quickly, but it took me ages to even realise I was pregnant. Once I did find out, and it was announced to the kingdom, I was banned from travelling. No one wanted anything to happen to the baby, and you know how I am with my less than perfect landings. She was born just three weeks ago, soon she’ll be one month old.”

Sharon couldn’t help the little aww that left her lips as she looked down at her small daughter.

“And in a way, even though I so desperately wanted to tell you about her, I was so worried she wouldn’t make it, that neither of us would,” Alaska voice shook slightly. “No one knew if she would survive, because an alien and a witch having a baby isn’t really a common thing, you know?”

Sharon nodded, grabbing Alaska’s hand and holding it in hers as she listened. She couldn’t imagine the fear Alaska must have felt, and even though neither of them were at fault, Sharon still hated herself for not being there for her.

“But it’s all fine now!” Alaska said happily. “The birth was fine, she’s fine, she’s better than fine, actually. I told everyone that as soon as she was ready to fly, she was coming to meet her other mother.”

Sharon’s heart filled with joy as she pulled Alaska in for a kiss.

“As for her name,” Alaska started, “I… actually haven’t decided yet.”

“What?” Sharon said in surprise.

“I didn’t want to name her without you!”

“What have you thought of so far?” Sharon said, squeezing her hand encouragingly.

“Well, I was thinking of Aquaria. I’ve always loved that name. It’s so pretty. And when I look at her, she looks like an Aquaria.”

Sharon couldn’t stop the grin that spread across her face.

“Aquaria,” she said, rocking the little baby in her arms. It sounded so perfect.

“Plus, she’s an Aquarius,” Alaska added.

“I figured,” Sharon replied, the both of them laughing.

“Also…” Alaska tentatively continued, “I was thinking of making her middle name… Elvira?”

Sharon physically clutched her chest lightly, so touched at the gesture. She hugged her daughter closer as warmth spread through her chest.

“Yes, that’s perfect. Oh, she would have loved that,” Sharon said, thinking about her mother. Naming their daughter Elvira would be too much, but making it her middle name was the perfect tribute.

“Good grief,” Sharon laughed, “Miss Aquaria Elvira Thunderfuck-Needles.”

“From the planet Glamtr0n!” Alaska finished.

They laughed, and Alaska leaned forwards, wrapping her arms around Sharon lightly, careful of their little baby Aquaria in Sharon’s arms. They stayed sitting on the grass together in the sunlight, a small family of three, Alaska and Aquaria’s white clothes contrasting against Sharon’s black robe. Alaska watched in wonder as Aquaria woke up, her big blue eyes locking with Sharon’s for the first time, her chubby little fist wrapped around Sharon’s fingertip.

“What happens now?” Sharon whispered to Alaska after they had showered Aquaria in tiny kisses.

“I don’t know,” Alaska said, looking to the sky, her extraterrestrial crown glistening in the sun, a symbol of her life, and Aquaria’s true home, of outer space.

“But we’ll work it out,” Alaska said.

“We always do,” Sharon replied. She brought their lips together, marking the start of their new lives together.

#shalaska #sharon needles #alaska thunderfuck #au #cisgirl au #smut #angst #hurt/comfort #rosie #rpdr fanfiction #submission #lesbian au #witch au #alien au #parenting au

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 7 years ago

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I’ll Meet You At The Bottom (Part 4)

This chapter went so much better. Probably because my computer didn’t implode this time.

Sokka grumbled to himself. He had screwed up big time and now he was going to have to start all over. He ran his hands through his hair, in his frustration the motion was a tad to rough and had him wincing when he’d managed to pluck a few strands from his head.

Hair.

The source of all of his pain and woes that morning.

It was hair that had started his day all wrong. The hair wasn’t real of course, it was…or would have been a painted replica of it. He looked at the figure on the canvas, just as he had left it a few days ago. He was embarrassed to say that he hadn’t yet come up with a work around. He cursed himself for painting the background black, knowing very well that Azula had locks of the same color. His blunder had an upside though, in trying to work around this mistake Sokka’s mind was very far from Suki and the collection of demons that came with thinking about her. Yes, he decided, he had made a good choice in trying to paint the fire princess. Now if only he could figure out how to fix the hair situation.

“You seem stuck.” Katara looked up from her book.

“Why would you think that?” Sokka asked.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you add a drop of paint since you finished layer two.”

“Yeah well, I want her hair to be black…” he quickly added, “since she’s going to be a firebender.” He tapped the stick end of his brush on the canvas. “But I kind of already painted the whole background black.”

“That’s an easy fix Sokka, you’re over thinking it.” Katara laughed. “Just add a hint of brown to the black paint.”

“What is with you and adding brown?” Sokka threw his hands up.

“Brown is a useful color.” She shrugged.

“I guess.” He replied. Truth be told he was a little disappointed. He wanted her hair to be a glossy jet black, but he supposed adding a touch of brown—again—would have to do. He supposed it was just as well, at least if he was discovered, the brown hue to her hair would be another deceitful indicator that he wasn’t painting Azula. “Anyways,” he made a point of shuffling back in front of his painting, so to obscure it from Katara’s view. “I’m gonna get back to it.”

“Why so secretive?” Katara chuckled.

“Well I don’t want anyone to see it if it looks awful.” Sokka lied.

Katara rolled her eyes. “Okay, I can take a hint.” She stood up and collected her book. “I suppose I should see how Aang is doing.

Sokka was hit with an immediate sense of guilt. He hadn’t meant to drive her away…

Okay so that had been the goal. But he truly hadn’t minded the company. Despite the light-hearted nature of his sister’s departure he was left with a bitter aftertaste. Was he already becoming the cranky hermit artist he always used to joke about. Rather, was he falling back into that pattern. He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered, he’d already been there once…

With a new thing to rid his mind of, he put his focus back on the painting with more intensity than ever.

.oOo.

Azula could barely get out of bed, she was shaky all over and with a dull drumming behind her eyes. She let herself flop back onto her mattress. With a feeling of dread tickling her belly, she realized that she couldn’t even remember actually climbing back into bed. With all of her soul, she pleaded with the spirits that it was she who’d done it on her own. And that she hadn’t been found twitching and screaming by one of the palace guards—or worse, her mother—and carried to bed. Considering no one was pounding at her door nor looming in the corner awaiting for her to achieve full alertness, she felt rather safe in saying she’d managed to get herself to bed.

Her mouth was terribly dry and calling for her to attain water. She had every intention of listening, but as her hand reached for the glass she hadn’t finished the night before—opting to drink more cactus juice instead—she spied the small pouch. And she was staring at it again, that reddish hued dust. There was a lot she didn’t know about it; its origins, how Chan had gotten ahold of it, how much she could take in one sitting without risking too much, the plant in which it was derived from, and if it came from a plant at all. For all she knew she could be inhaling residue from one of the many war factories. The list of uncertainties went on and on. She knew very well that it was unwise to fight in uncharted territory and to tread carefully if she decided to do so anyhow. She supposed that her newly obtained powder was much the same. The only thing she knew of it was that Chan called it, Dragon’s Breath or sometimes Dragon Dust to throw people off. If he really wanted to muddy the trail he would call it Ruby Tears. All of which were very enticing, pretty names for something so risky. If it were up to Azula she’d refer to it as Dragon’s Eye, she certainly felt like she had been given a new sight—a sight that was to powerful for her body, which now seemed so small, at that.

She also assessed that it must be a potent drug. Must be? She revaluated, no it was clearly potent, that was for sure. She’d only taken a pinch last night and it had sent her into what may as well have been the dimension over. She was lucky she’d only taken a tester for her first time.

Azula closed her eyes, trying to remember just what she’d done the night before. Her cheeks flushed as the memories filtered in. She dropped back down onto the mattress and draped an arm over her eyes. No doubt, she’d made an idiot of herself and was thankful that she had been mistaken for a little boy—as degrading as that was. Not that she deserved anything else, she had and was planning on continuing to put herself in a lowly place.

She sat back up and tossed the pouch from one hand to the other, pondering whether or not she truly wanted to give it a second go. The answer was obvious, of course she didn’t want to; it would be foolish and self-destructive. But Agni, her body, was already yearning for it. And she cursed it for its weakness. But then, her mind was growing meek too and seemed to crave it just as much.

Reluctantly, as if to justify to herself what she was about to do, she deduced that the only reason her trip had been so awful was because she’d downed a good portion of cactus juice to go with it.

Indeed, she was demeaning herself. As far as she was concerned abuse of this nature was reserved for the peasant class, those who needed an extra kick to get by since they had nothing else. She’d never seen a royal nor noble hooked on what she was. Then again, she hadn’t known another person of high birth to have little as she. She hadn’t known a royal to have all the pieces in place for them and still fail as splendidly as she did.

Without any further thought, and in a burst of anger, she tore the pouch open and dumped a larger portion onto her dresser. Agni, what a sight she was; hair a mess, robe undone, and hunched over her dresser sniffing up the powder like her life depended on it. She was horrible, truly horrible.

.oOo.

Sokka beamed from ear to ear. It was going much better than he expected. Despite the dash of brown, she still looked very much like how he’d seen her at the window. In fact, he thought it made more sense. After all, he had told Katara that his painting was set during sundown. It only made sense that the sun would cast a lighter hue on her hair. For once, something he was doing just seemed to have come together for him! Of course, black still probably wasn’t an optimal choice for the background of a room during sunset. But this was a good day so he would cut himself some slack, he was still a beginner, these things would come to him in due time.

As was becoming a habit, neglected to wash his hand before wiping a bead of sweat off of his cheek. In its place he left a healthy smear of brown. He still hadn’t gotten to painting her face yet… nor her clothing for that matter, which was even more awkward now that he had her hair on there. She was looking more like Azula, but with less clothes. His face grew hot at the thought, he shook his head. He would not think about Azula like that, he could practically feel her reaching through the canvas to slap him.

He looked towards her window, wondering what the real Azula was up to. Probably something more entertaining and important than some silly painting. He shrugged to himself, at least he had a hobby now. A few months ago he couldn’t even bring himself to pretend to enjoy things like hunting and talking with friends. He smiled wider know that just a few days ago he nearly found himself back there, and prided himself on turning it around this time. With a new spark of energy he decided that he would finish painting her face.

Invested so heavily in his work he didn’t realize just how long it had been. “Hey, I thought you’d like to join us for dinner.” Zuko invited.

Sokka started, nearly dropping his paint brush. He whistled out a relieved breath, “you’re lucky I had the brush away from the canvas!”

“Sounds like you’re the lucky one.” Zuko laughed.

“Which means you are too, I would have smeared all of this paint,” he motioned to his palette, “on you if you caused me to mess my painting up.”

“Spoken like a true uppity artisan.” Zuko joked. “That looks nice so far, btw.”

Sokka jolted again, another bought of pink coming to his cheeks. He really had to start being more careful especially this far into his work. He would invest in a more private area painting spot the next day, he was painting from memory anyhow, since his subject still hadn’t made another appearance.

“Wow, Katara’s right, you really are defensive of your art. I don’t know why, it looks great.” He repeated.

At first Sokka couldn’t place where the sinking feeling had come from. He considered for the first time, that Zuko didn’t know about Azula’s haircut. That was probably the only thing that saved him from getting busted. And for the first time, he considered just how lonely Azula might be. If Zuko didn’t know what she was up to, did anyone? It sent pangs through his heart.

He eyed the portrait with a new emotion. He had painted Azula with a gaze as sharp as the woman he’d known long ago and accompanied that stare with a more neutral curve to her lips—firm and serious. He had considered that the real woman might be wearing a look of distress or despair.

“Thanks.” Sokka said at last.

He wasn’t particularly listening to what Zuko said after and he may have cut the fire lord off in asking, “hey, how has your sister been, anyways?” He hoped it sounded as nonchalant and unsuspecting as he intended.

The sudden widening of his eyes, indicated that Sokka had caught him off guard. “Well…she…I’m not quite sure…” he trailed off, confirming Sokka’s suspicions that his friend had no idea. “She’s…”

“Lonely?” Sokka filled in.

“Maybe, I guess.” Zuko replied. “I figured that if she wanted to talk to us, she would come and do it. So I just leave her alone, it’s better to keep your distance with her. She doesn’t seem to like the company when we give it to her.”

You didn’t either, Sokka almost said, but we gave it to you anyways. Instead he replied. “Maybe she’s just bad at asking for it.”

A sullenness came over him. “Maybe.” Something told Sokka that Zuko, as good hearted as he was, wouldn’t be reaching out any time soon. Not that Sokka could hold it against him; Azula wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. In fact, Sokka was willing to bet that she was one of the hardest.

She had caused him so much pain before, yet painting her had given him a much needed breath of life. It was strange how the woman who had once been the source of all of his woes, was the one helping to build him back up. Unbeknownst to her, of course. And perhaps that’s why he made a mental note to take a break from his painting and pay her a visit.

Not that he knew it, but, the woman sobbing and shaking in the corner of her room could use the visit.

#Sokkla #Azula #Sokka #Zuko #Katara #Toph #Aang #Avatar #Fanfiction

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iammarylastar · 7 years ago

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6. Sweat and blood

“Hit me.“ Jack said, fists in front of his face, getting his gloves up. This bitch could be sneaky sometimes. "Come on, don’t be shy Babe.”

He was sure to piss her off. She hated when he called her Honey, but giving her some Babe or Love would throw him into bigger troubles.

“Never call me that again.” She growled, throwing a side kick in his ribs. He blocked her kick easily with his elbow and waved at her to fight harder.

“Show me what you’re made of, Love.” He teased her, blowing her a kiss.

She attacked him, punching restlessly in his abs, hard as stone. She was not known to be a fragile pussy, she had been taught to fight like a tigress but something was keeping her from knocking him down.

“Shut the fuck up McClane. Fight back!”

Jack smirked and threw a punch towards her face which she avoided by bending her upper body to the side.

“Come closer Honey, don’t hold back. I won’t bite. Unless you ask me to.”

She had asked him to practice a bit, all those weeks spent to do nothing but filing files and snapping shots was nerve wrecking. She needed some action. Adding the frustration to have this asshole teasing her with some fucking ridiculous pet names and she was ready to kill anyone with her bare hands. Glancing at McClane doing his daily hundred push ups, muscles tight and glistening with sweat, along with the low grunts escaping from his throat from the effort didn’t help.

Fighting seemed to be the right release. So wrong. Being so close to him, touching him even through punches or elbow kicks, made her feel weird. Why did he have to practice shirtless ? Dammit!

A slap in the face made her come back to Earth. “Honey! You should focus on my eyes, this way up!” He laughed at her, pointing two fingers at his fucking blue eyes.

Why had he to wear a so damn adorable smile? Cheeky bastard!

She startled and blushed furiously. He took her off guard and hit her, which had never happened before. Which should never have happened. And he caught her in the act of staring at his abs. Goddammit McClane! Stop being so sexy, asshole!

“Don’t worry Love, let’s say those cute cheeks got red because of the slap!”

Her blood boiled, both by anger and desire. She clenched her teeth and her fists and growled.

“Shut the fuck up McClane!”

She throws a backspin kick, aiming at his damn cute face with her heel, but Jack swiftly caught her ankle and hooked her leg on his shoulder, grabbing her waist to keep balance.

A devilish smile of victory taped on his stupid face, Jack stepped forward and closed the distance between their panting and sweating bodies. Years of yoga, gymnastics and martial arts practice had her amazingly flexible, so she didn’t flinch where her thigh almost touched her shoulder.

“You’re damn loose-limbed Honey. I could already figure out nice ways to benefit from such a skill.” Jack whispered in a sultry ton, so close to her face they were breathing the same air.

“I’m tired of you McClane. Don’t you have any other focus in life than my ass and what you want to do with it?” Jack gasped for air at the thought and narrowed his eyes to stay tuned. He wasn’t sure he would be able to keep his cock in his pants if she teased him like that.

“I’m only focused on one goal: have this mission done so I could fly back home, pleased and delighted to get rid of you. Honey. ” He emphasized the last word, and leant forward, his nose grazing along her jawline.

She chuckled to hide the shiver that was running through her spine and laced her hands behind his neck. His musky scent was intoxicating and she could feel the heat coming from both their waists.

Damn, aren’t sweaty men supposed to stink? Why is he SO attractive?

Her face softened and she sighed in his ear. “Do you think you could handle me McClane?

He swallowed hard, thought hard, every piece of his body was rock hard before such a challenge. This moment was worth the wait. She’s so sexy, promising him Heaven, stuck in his arms.

"I’m so fucking ready to handle you, however you like, Honey.” His heartbeat raced twice, as the heat rose from his body. Jesus they were so close…

Shade purposely brushed her lips across his jawline, moaning and tugging on his neck.

Her knee crushing his balls knocking him out. Using her grip on his neck, she jumped and threw her knee straight in his crotch, making him drop her waist and mew like a lost kitty. Falling heavily on his knees, his face twisted in an awful grimace, his hands cupping his late crashed balls, Jack winced in pain, and growled loudly before resting his forehead on the ground.

Shade crouched down and patted his back.

“I warned you not to call me Honey.

"Bitch!” He groaned through his teeth.

“That’s better." She laughed then became serious again. "I told you, you couldn’t handle me, McLane.”

Jack rolled on his side, still curled up like a wounded animal, helplessly rocking his three set. Watching his so-called wife turning on heel and leave the living room, he just yelled in anger.

“Fuck! Shade!” *

The next couple of days were nightmares. Shade hadn’t been very talkative or receptive to Jack’s jokes before the ‘incident’, but now it was worse. Jack was pouting, mute, and humiliated. He looked so miserable Shade even didn’t want to mock him. They shared their lunch without a word and shifted silently.

Around 8 pm that day, Shade finally opened her mouth and ordered:

“They’re moving. Les Bains Douches. One hour. Get ready.” She threw her Phone for him to read the text their French contact just sent.

“What? Like bathhouse? What the fuck are they going to public bathhouse at night?”

“Jack” she sighed. “Les Bains Douches! like the famous VIP nightclub. Parisian nightlife: Champagne and cocaïne. Our friends have an appointment with their contacts. ”

“OK.” He just grumbled, somewhat happy to go out of the room. Paris had been waiting for them for weeks and they barely had put their feet on the cobbled streets since they arrived.

Shade magically showed up less than fifteen minutes later, moulded in a stunning mid thigh black dress, bare back and deep dip, the cut to the side forcing Jack’s eyes wandering along her endless thigh, his mouth suddenly dry. She was walking towards him, confidently perched on silver stilettos, with the movements of a tigress… slow, soft and swaying. Her long hair dancing around her face, cascading over her plump breasts. She stopped in front of a crumbled faced Jack and handed him a sparkling necklace.

“Please. ” she just said, turning her back to him and gathering her hair to the side.

Jack swallowed loudly, biting his lips not to blurt out some shit about her being drop dead gorgeous or eating her neck up. He was too scared to losehis freshly healed nuts.

Shade hooked matching earrings to her ears and said.

“Let’s get the party started McClane.”

“Yippi kay yay” Jack thought to himself before following her partner.

Waiting for the lift to pick them up, uncomfortably shifting on their feet, both avoided the other’s look. Shade broke the ice first.

“Jack, I’m sorry for…” she looked down at his zipper" … my kick. I shouldn’t have…It wasn’t fair.“

"I deserved it. I behaved like an asshole and it was not good. I totally understand why you don’t like me and I’m sorry.” Jack apologized.

Shade smirked and pecked his cheek.

“I like you, Jack.”

She noticed the red mark her lipstick had left on his cheek and rubbed it with her fingertips.

“Now you’re gorgeous. You forgot to compliment my outfit. What do you think?” She striked a pose like a top model.

“Shade, you’re absolutely stunning, I think… breathtaking, but…” he hesitated.

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was so scared you’d kick me in the nuts again.” He chuckled.

Shade laughed heartily, her laugh sounded like cristal.

“As long as you stop calling me Honey, your nuts are safe, Jack.”

“I’m glad you call me Jack. McLane refers to my father and I swear it’s harder to ear than Honey.” His smile was goddamn adorable.

As the lift ringed and its doors opened, he reached out his hand she gladly took, intertwining their fingers together.

“Mrs Sinclair, I’m in your debt.” He led her inside the lift and smiled.

Shade was all over Jack, one knee on the Louis XVI armchair he was loose spread on.

“Here you go. Like new.” Shade finished cleaning up Jack’s cut on his lower lips, drops of blood still resting on the front of his open shirt.

“Thanks.” He hissed in pain, his jaw still burning from the punch he received.

“No, thank you…” Shade looked straight in his eyes. “You saved me…”

“Nothing you couldn’t have handle all by yourself.

* The nightclub was hot and dark, jam-packed with glitter, Louboutin, jeroboams of Champagne and Cartier’s watches.

They spotted the Mafioso’s, gathered in the VIP square, and sat at a table next to them. French’s police had them put on the right list.

After a few alcohol free spy-drinks, Jack and Shade headed on the dance floor, as Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair, obviously a young couple in love. They danced together, sometimes touching, sometimes staring. Mrs Icecube seemed to finally melt, gracing Jack with some of stunning smiles of hers. Jack was forced to glue himself to her to whisper smart words in her ear, his humour hitting his target. Shade’s cristal laugh was music to his ears and he sneaked a hand successfully on the small of her back.

At one point, Shade had to go the bathroom. She needed to pee, check her make-up and free her sore feet from her stilettos for a minute. On her way to the ladies room, she jumped into the wrong guy.

"Sorry.” She said, brushing past him.

“Ohhh! Quelle beauté!” The guy forced her, grabbing her chin and scrutinizing her face. He stinked strong vodka and was obviously drunk. “Princesse…I Love you” he leant over to steal a kiss but Shade escaped his grip and kept walking away. The asshole turned mad and threw both his hands towards her, fisting his fingers in Shade’s hair and shoulder and yanked her back. The strap of her dress broke and her thighs spread to keep balance tore up its side. Shade screamed in surprise, and turned around ready to knock the guy down. A glance to the side, mobs are staring at the scene. No way she could beat him up without drawing attention on her fight skills. She had to play the trembling lamb.

“I’m just worried to know you’re alone. I don’t want you to spend the night all by yourself.” He growls, coming closer.

Nausea invaded her stomach at the memory. The 6 year old self had to deal with her terrifying drunk father, ordering her to be a good girl before slapping her for whatever reason, her mother too busy to sleep off her hangover in the couch to help. She needed someone to protect her but there was none.

“Elle est avec moi.” Jack popped up from nowhere and grabbed the fucker’s wrist, keeping him from touching Shade again. She was with him. She was his. And he wouldn’tlet any-fucking-one threatening her.

“Dégage connard!” The guy barks at Jack, throwing his fist in his jaw. Jack bent down to grab his gun taped on his calf but Shade stopped him.

“Don’t… put ourselves on the show, Cupcake. People are staring at us.” She insisted. Jack glanced at the men, laughing out loud at the Cupcake thing. She’s right. He couldn’t blow their cover.

Lifting both his hands in sign of abating, Jack calmly said to the drunk guy.

“It’s OK man, we don’t wanna fight and waste the party. Just let me check if my wife is OK and ̀ we’re gone.”

My wife.

Facing Shade and brushing her hair out from her face, he lovingly inquired. “Are you OK Boo?”

She nodded, took his hand and they got the hell out of the club.

* “Take off your shirt.” He followed, amazed, Shade’s fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt. “It’s covered with blood, I’ll clean it up before it’s too late.” He helped her to get rid of his clothes she carefully hung on the back of the armchair.

“It’s a shame he ruined your dress. You looked stunning in it.” Jack played with the broken strap and glanced at the extended rip that exposed the skin of her hip. Showing the tiny thin string of the thong she was wearing.

“I’ll make it. You’ll make it. Big boy. ” Shade says, pecking the wound on his lips. And again. And again.

Jack’s hands landed softly on her hips, eliciting a light moan from Shade. Jack said nothing as she let her lips press a little longer on his. He groaned when she darted her tongue through his parted lips.

“Boo, please don’t start something you shouldn’t.” Boo. He was dead serious. She loved the way his low tone ran through her core. “I’m not sure I could stop….”

“Stop rambling and kiss me, Cupcake.”

Jack could have laughed or chuckled if his lips weren’t busy tasting Shade’s tongue. She was fighting for dominance, dauntless tigress, but he let her have the lead. All those sleepless nights spent on that fucking sofa, looking at the ceiling to force his brain not to picture hot sex scenes with Shade, the hours spent fighting against his need to knock at her door, tiptoe into her bed and sneak a hand under her silky nighties. So many times forced to the shower for some quick releases, the ghost of Shade silhouette wandering across the suite with nothing but boy shorts and tight tops.

He still couldn’t believe it was really happening and didn’t dare to wake up from this sweet, perfect, hot dream.

Shade cupped his cheeks and pulled him closer, her tongue dancing with his. He sat up to deepen the kiss, his hands flying to her ribs, where they stopped, just below her delicate breasts his thumbs caressed. She tilted her head back to moan loudly, Jack took advantage of her offered breasts he covered with his mouth. Tugging on her wasted dress, he placed wet kisses on her bare stomach, while she racked her fingers through his short hair. Her feet back on the ground, Shade trailed open kisses down his neck and chest, and further down. She licked his navel while her hands unhooked his belt and unzipped his pants.

Jack shivered in anticipation and lifted his ass, his teeth hard dug in his lower lip as he witnessed his pants and boxer disappear down his legs. Shade didn’t tease him more and took his length in her mouth, twirling her tongue around the soft skin of his shaft.

“Fuck Shade!" Jack tangled his fingers in her long hair and lowered his gaze to enjoy the show, gently guiding her head as he fucked her mouth. Her moans mixed with his grunts added more fuel to his fire and he quickly felt like he couldn’t handle more of those sweet ministrations.

In a swift but rough movement, he flipped her in the chair and captured her mouth in a searing kiss. Kneeling down between her feet, he slowly slid his hands along her thighs, up to her ass and hooked the hem of her thong he pulled down and threw to the side. Shade mewled and opened her thighs for him. Grazing and nibbling at her thighs, he took his time to be met with the little patch of hair that covered her soaked pussy. Sneaking his hands back to her bottom cheeks, he roughly pulled them to his mouth and lapped her folds like his life depended on it.

Arching her back under the heavenly sensation, she clung at his neck and forced him to lick harder. Jack was losing his mind and his hardness screamed for more. He nonetheless did his best to make her pleasure last longer.

Lifting her ass up, he almost threw her on the floor, catching the force with his hands. He hovered his taut body over her and lay on her, his heavy body melting with Shade’s.

Shade could taste her own juices on Jack’s tongue as he explored her mouth again. She felt her body liquefying when Jack entered her gently and started to fuck her as slowly as he could. Resting on his elbows he broke the kiss and plunged his eyes in Shade’s. Her green wild eyes were sparkling with lust. Jack couldn’t fight the urge to eat her neck and grazed his teeth on her pulse point.

The agonizing slow pace with which he was making love to her was quickly impossible to keep, Shade was wiggling her hips under him, inviting him to free the beast he had held back for so long. Shade slammed her hands on his ass, pulling and pushing hard to emphasize his thrusts. Jack grunted in her ear, this was thousands times better than he had imagined. "Shade…” he painfully hissed, losing control.

Shade pulled at his hair, forcing him to stare at her again. Her face twisted in pleasure but she needed more time. She parted her lips and captured a sweatdrop on his forehead. The salty taste in her mouth, the tortured sounds coming from Jack’s throat, his fucking scent were sending her over the edge.

“Shade…” he couldn’t hold on anymore. “Yes!” She cried in ecstasy, her thighs tightening around his waist as she came. Her walls crushed his cock as he spilled his load out, deep inside her. In a final thrust, Jack felt his orgasm run through him, powerful and devastating.

“Jesus!” She gasped for air once Jack had rolled to her side.

“Sorry but my name is Jack…” he joked, one hand resting on his chest, breathing heavily. His other hand played with her hair, before he rested on his elbow, staring at her flushed face.

She just chuckled, enjoying the last shot of pleasure traveling down her spine.

He leant over her to taste her lips once again, and sighed.

“Shade… I…” She stopped him, her fingers on his lips.

“Don’t say something you shouldn’t.” She whispered in a smile.

She stirred up then relaxed. “I told you, you couldn’t handle me.”

Jack rolled to hover over her again but Shade was already on her feet, combing her long damp hair back, her head tilted backwards, offering the breathtaking sight of her perfect body to a crumbled-into-pieces Jack.

Without a word, she swaged to her bedroom, leaving poor Jack alone on the floor.

His short dream was over but it was fucking worth it. It was a shame he couldn’t have shown more of his skills, his hardness was quickly back at the thought.

Shade leant on the frame of the door, her sexy ass swaying to the music of her voice.

“Round 2. Now Cupcake.”

Thank God

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