#you can’t see the head wound even if he takes the scarf off but you can feel the evident scar

[hello-galad]

Hello friends, here i am again with my headcanons that no one asked for:

Ilfana and Gast dressed Vincent when Hojo decided to lock him in the coffin.

First things first, I think after being killed, Vincent was given the Jenova cells. He was their test dummy before Sephiroth. Vincent was revived and got enhanced like SOLDIER do and THEN Lucretia decided to put the three demonic entities inside him to see if his body could be a vessel for them so they could study them, like they had been doing when Grimoire died. Shocking everyone, Vincent was able to stand them and that is when Lucretia puts Chaos in him. Chaos latched onto Vincent as his host/connection to the physical planet and obviously refused to cooperate with them proving to them that they couldn’t control them even when in a physical body.

Nothing new was figured out about Chaos or the other entities, no more than they already knew and that is when Lucretia starts spiraling down because a) she just had a baby. Also, they have been experimenting on from said baby from day one. Vincent tried to stop them and they killed him and b) She has caused the death of not one but TWO Valentines. The last Valentine currently strapped to a surgical bed screaming his throat out while her hubby probably takes an organ out to see how much Vincent can take.

I think Lucretia loved Sephiroth, but she also loved the magnificent being he could become once the experimentation was complete, those feelings clashed inside her brain until she decided she couldn’t take it anymore, says nope and goes to die in a cave.

Hojo is ANGRY, then. He blames Vincent for being the cause Lucretia is dead. Let’s remember that Dr. Lucretia Crescent was one of the top scientist at Shinra and a key scientist of the Jenova project. So Hojo starts experimenting with Vincent in earnest. He takes many organs to see if and how they regenerate, cuts him up and sews him up. He is trying to control his transformations, the demons inside him but he can’t. Eventually his body can’t take it anymore and Vincent ‘dies’. Truth is, Chaos puts him in a sort of coma to preserve his psyche because they are tired of the scientist prodding around, ruining the body that hosts him.

Gast and Ilfana (who was not in the lab but was living with Gast there) dress him up in a way that resembles Grimoire’s attire as a fucked up way (but kind of understandable) to say sorry to both father and son, after all Gast is a scientists and just like Lucretia, he believes that what they are doing will ultimately be worth the means since they are creating something that will revolutionize everything. Hojo expects to be able to retake his experiments on him in the future, although with Vincent dead, they don’t know if the entities inside him have left too.

They give lock him up in the coffin inside the Nibelheim mansion in Grimoire’s coat and scarf, which now hides a head wound…you see I believe Hojo shot him in the chest when Vincent threatened the Jenova program, he thought that it was Hojo who had brainwashed Lucretia into giving her own child to be a test subject. Vincent doesn’t die from a bullet to the chest. He dies from a bullet to the head from Lucretia who can’t allow him to have the program closed.

Let’s remember that Lucretia is a scientist, she is not in love with Vincent, she is not in a love triangle because she rejected Vincent’s love for her. This is the project she has worked for for years, the Chaos project was a failure but this could be it!

Vincent is the one in love with her, a love that probably was born of infatuation and as I like to headcanon as a promise Vincent made to Grimoire before he died. He promised his father he would protect Lucretia, Grimoire already knew they were working with dangerous things and he wanted her to be safe. (Because daddy issues make people do weird things and if his relationship with his father was already strained and Vincent failed in the one thing he promised his father, he truly believes he has to atone for his sins i.e. getting Lucretia killed by not being able to protect her even from herself. Also, he feels guilty about Sephiroth, in his head he could have stopped the Jenova project and spared him but he got distracted and he, Shinra’s best marksman, was killed of a gunshot because he couldn’t control his emotions and underestimated a dangerous person.

Now, here is something I like to think about: just like it happens when people are subjected to abuse by the person they love or have created an attachment to: selective memory. Vincent starts making excuses for her in his head. He blacks out the fact that Lucretia shot and also experimented on him as a way to cope. It is until the events of DoC that he has to face everything and he accepts the truth and lets go of her for good.

[hwan-g]

𝑺𝑨𝒀 𝒀𝑬𝑺 𝑻𝑶 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑽𝑬𝑵 (18+)

𐙚˙⋆.˚ pair. music professor! chris x fem! reader | genre. teacher/student, chris’ pov, age gap, smut, dark romance, angst | warnings. power imbalance, obsession, flawed characters, profanity, unprotected sex, use of pet names, dirty talk, graphic sexual content — mdni ! | word count. 8.1k

𐙚˙⋆.˚ synopsis. I’m too weak to let you be, to walk away from you. It’s a twisted, distorted thing, what’s going on inside me. I see no end to it, no relief. Only suffering. I did this to you, my heart, and I cannot apologize. I don’t want to. I’m jealous, I’m jealous, I’m wretched.

I watch you.

That’s a new dress. You walk different in it, your hips sway like you want everyone to notice, and they fucking have. I have. It’s hard not to when you’re so oblivious to your wanting, but I know you, I know what you want. There’s a scarf wrapped around your hair, and the boots you wear make you almost as tall as me, bring you up to my shoulders. I’m jealous of your calves, how they get to carry you all throughout the day, how they lay down with you at night. Your eyes, how they stare at you from every reflection, attached to you, able to see every inch of you from up close.

I’m jealous of your hands, how they brush through your hair as you sit down on the chair across from my desk, the chair you’ve been sitting at for three semesters now, the best view I get to have of you. The only time I’m able to be so close to you without anyone’s suspicion, the only time you’re required to answer to me and all my questions. I have so many of those, but I want to start with your skin. Is it as soft as it looks? When the air blows your way, how would you feel under my palm, shivering, a million tiny goosebumps rising on the surface?

You’re talking to the girl that trails you like a lost puppy, not quite a friend, always around you, yet suddenly I’m glad, because you laugh at something she said, a sound so clear, so light, it lifts the furniture and cures the wood, it builds the room and covers the cracks, pure fucking magic, until all is right again, until I am left with a gaping wound where that beautiful sound nests when it’s gone from the air. It suspends in my head and I let it. I can’t take my eyes off you. You command everything. 

Satie is in your hand, what we’re studying, the copy I gave you, my personal one, with all my marks and annotations. You treat the pages carefully, aware of my watching you, yet you don’t turn to me once. You won’t look at me at all. A beast rattles inside me, begging to grab you, to hold you, to never let go. I haven’t seen you in private for weeks and I’m mad with desire, the urge to bury into your sweet cunt and wrap my hand around your warm throat, feel the pulse there, see the gasp of your mouth, the red of your tongue, your eyes on me, me, me, afraid of what I can do, of the power you give me over you, your attention, the hollow ache in my chest; I’m angry at you for being happy without me while I’m being tormented by your absence, no matter how small, no matter how big, and you still won’t fucking look at me. 

(Y/N). I think of your name how I think of God. This mythical creature that has the ability to save me. Will you? (Y/N). Look at me. Look at me.

“I am tired of always dying with a broken heart.” I speak this from memory and stare directly at the boy who’s been tailing you lately. A mediocre student, unremarkable. Nothing at all.

You can’t possibly entertain him, I’ve already told you this. He doesn’t see you, couldn’t possibly. He’ll fuck you once—even at merely the thought of this I bristle, I want to crack his fucking head open—and move onto the next pretty thing, blind to you, to what you are, to all you have yet to become. It’s unbearable to me that no one seems to realize how incredible you are; your mind, vast in all directions, insightful, and your music compositions, profound and disturbing, the little I’ve taught you and all that you’ve taught me, the way you hold the pen between your fingers, how you curl around your notebook, the way your eyes skim the pages I’ve toiled over for five years, six more prior to becoming a professor, all leading to the beginning of this school year, how you walked in my class and brought me to my knees.

“So dramatic,” someone in the back mumbles. Someone else giggles, a girl I had last year. Mundane.

I wait for your reaction, but it never comes. You stare pointedly down at my book and ignore me. You’re gonna force me to get your attention some way else. You’re punishing me for something, and I’ve no fucking clue what. You want this. Me. Begging for you. Risking everything. My God, look at your wrists, so goddamn delicate, so small. I picture wrapping my hand around them how I did the first time I stopped you from leaving, I picture myself shaking you, demanding to know what’s wrong, making you see how you make my heart bleed.

I need to know you’re okay. I need you to look at me.

“Satie was an absurdly spiritual composer for his time,” I explain, leaning against my desk, crossing my ankles, my arms over my chest. One glance at everyone else, then I stop at you. I speak to you. Let me in. Let me see you, (Y/N). “A very solitary man that was capable of inventing his own religion in order to break further from society. A character like that would be a tad dramatic, albeit entirely genius, yes?”

“How do we study this guy? There’s nothing  to learn from his techniques!” Your friend shook her head, slamming the book in front of her shut. “Child’s play. Overly simplistic. Only two noteworthy compositions in an entire career. Seriously, does anyone know anything besides Gymnopedies by him?”

“Gnossiennes,” another deadpanned. “Your point is shallow. He changed the tides. Music before the work you mention was entirely different from what it was after. Debussy, Poulenc, Ravel—all legendary figures that were deeply impressed by his so-called simplified style.”

A few heads nod in agreement. You remain still as ever, unmovable. What is in that brilliant little brain of yours? Why won’t you share with me? I know you best of all, I’d understand anything. Tell me. Tell me how a girl ruined an already troubled man, and we’re studying it a hundred and thirty-one years later. Tell me about obsession that rules over the mind, of the living digging graves of the dead and hugging their bones, of loneliness so haggard it chokes the air from my fucking lungs. Let me in, and I’ll point at you, my Suzanne Valadon.

“He fell in love once,” barely a sound, barely anything, yet it’s all I hear. I focus on your voice, the lull of it. Your castrating words, my baby. You’re here. You’re burning alive.

“He did.” I jump at the opportunity to talk to you in public. I’d give my blackened soul to hold your hand, to walk you to class. They’ll paint me a monster, but I’d be yours, I wouldn’t care. They’d whisper scandal, unethical, but I’d have stood next to you, defending what I feel for you, knowing very well they’ve only seen a sliver of my monstrous need for you.

This is not enough for me, but I can’t ask for any more of it.

“They tie many meanings to us, meanings that forsaken them, per their request. Satie loved Suzanne, but only because she was the only woman that ever paid him any attention. He wanted to possess her, so that he’d never be alone. It was a selfish love, barely a love at all, more like a torn house looking for an exorcist.”

There you go. Come on. Fight with me on this. Let me hear your voice, wash over me.

“You cannot fault a man, a man of music no less, for the way he loves. We are wicked by nature, we do not possess the softness you do. Even then, Valadon was a painter, as wildly eccentric as him. She refused to be put in a box. She saw only a mirror, and in that way, she saw herself. You could say her love was narcissistic.”

“Bonjour, Biqui, bonjour!” I hear somewhere from the side, but I only see you. I'm tuned in to you, your opinion about what I have to say.

I only ever care about what you think. When I grade your papers, my hands tremble to touch something so precious as your mind. I am the weakest man when it comes to you, I cave in like a house of cards. Pick me up and shuffle me. Toss me across the table, face down. Only use me, let me feel you. Visions of my cock entering you render me blind. Your voice, then. My name on your mouth as I push all the way in, right there on your desk, lights off, door locked. I can’t see no one but you, (Y/N), I’m tortured by the memories.

Can I see you after this? Will you stay? Will you let me lock the door again?

Your eyes scorch me. They light me on fire and leave me to die, I can’t bear the heat of them. How have I wronged you? What did I do to get your hate? And if this is it, then give me all of it, let it be the last thing before an afterlife wandering through a black forest, cursed with only the echo of you. I love you insane, battered and bruised. I love you with a dying breath, a horrible ending.

“Perhaps,” you say and it takes all of my willpower not to crawl to you. “Perhaps they deserved each other, in all their terrible love. Him obsessed, her always leaving. She got married to a banker. He wrote a twenty-eight second, four bar song, after all the portraits and love notes.”

You’re humiliating me. This. What I feel for you. You haven’t been in my office in days, you’ve become a stranger to your soul, and now you come back and shame me. You’ve found someone else. Who is he? Have I seen him? I’ll fucking end him. I’ll kill him, I swear. Don’t fucking test me. You don’t want to see that part of me, you don’t want to see what I’m capable of doing for you. 

“‘Her whole being, lovely eyes, gentle hands,’” You pin me down, you stab into me. “We enter the Romantic Era, page two hundred and seventy-nine. Known characteristics of this movement: a greater emphasis on melody to sustain interest, a focus on the nocturnal, the ghostly, and terrifying…”

I go the entire lecture desperately trying not to stare at your face, that beautiful openness you offered me now tightly shut, entirely passive. How do I survive this, even as I know I am a grown man and should not think this way. I cannot, for the life of me, remember who I was before you walked in this room, what I was doing, why, there was no reason; you, you, you, I was waiting, maybe, an empty train station, and you the flying bullet train, cutting oxygen supply as you passed in front of me, making your stop slowly then all at once, sighing into me, giving me back my life or a semblance of it.

I assign passages and give examples, muscle memory on the piano; I grill the fucking kid that has a crush on you, I make his life miserable, and I think, that’s it, that’s right. You do it to me. You do it to me so easily. This is how it is to love her, man. You’re not made for it, but I am. I’ve survived, and she’ll acknowledge it. I’ll make her.

I sound childish to myself, petty. Truth is, you’re mine. You’re fucking mine. You can’t do this to me.

You jot down notes, you burn through the board, you raise your hand and say all the correct answers, picture perfect student, and I’m as good as dead to you. I’ve been inside you, baby, you can’t forget that. I’ve felt your warm slick clamp around my cock, I’ve had your mouth on my neck moaning my name. You can’t get rid of me. I can’t rid myself of you.

I dismiss the class at eleven sharp, and call you to me. A minute, I say, about the extra credit, even as your friend eyes me, even as the boy glares at me, even as rumors have started to circulate. She’s fucking the teacher, it’s obvious. She’s with him all the time. Except you’re not, not even close, not nearly as much as I want you to be. If I had it my way, I’d hold you to me so tight you’d become an extension of me, unable to escape me whenever you feel like.

I wait until everyone exits, then inconspicuously close the door half way, grab your arm and drag you all the way to the other side of the room. You don’t put up a fight, but your dress has risen on your hips, and I’m suddenly furious. I pull at it and trap you against me and the wall. The lack of reaction sickens me. How is it possible I’ve lost you already?

“What the fuck have I done to you that was so bad, huh?” I speak low so only you can hear, but I’m boiling inside, I’m as dangerous as I’m hurt.

I want to fuck you senseless. Dead. I want to kill you. I want to bury inside you so deep I can’t ever get out. Your breathing pattern changes, you must see it on my face. I don’t feel like being fucked with right now. You’re scared of me, but not really. I would never hurt you. It’s all fantasies, all obsession. I can’t bear the thought of losing you is all, but I need to know what’s going on. This has cost me, it will cost me even more.

I grab you by the hair, tug softly at the ends, and your chin lifts. I trace it. Your eyes widen a fraction but you don’t give in, not yet. I press my erection against you, I breathe like a wild animal. You’re so small in my arms, I could do whatever I want with you. You’d let me. You have already. I just need to find that girl in you again, pull her out.

“I won’t be the teacher’s slut,” you spit out, your lips cherry red and begging to be kissed.

“Too fucking late, isn’t it?”

You try to push me away but I keep you there, your wrists above your head, your face close to mine. I’m lost on you, my mouth goes for the soft skin of your earlobe, I suck on it and feel you melt, I move to your neck and you let me, you’re rubbing your thighs together, you’re begging for friction. I have to close the door. I have to close the door and make sure I’m quick. Classes are still in session on this side of the building. I can’t let myself get sloppy. I’m not gonna risk losing this.

I bite on your neck and you gasp. I’m hard for you. My free hand reaches under your dress, cups you over the thin fabric of your underwear. Wet, goddamn soaked. A string of curses escapes me, as I glance back at the door.

“Stay here, don’t fucking move.”

I take four long strides and lock the damned thing separating us and them, though I know I still have to be quick with you. I held you back in front of the entire class. It’s already been a considerable amount of time for a simple back and forth.

“I can come back later,” you say as I near you again. “After hours.”

In my office, where it’s private and secluded. Where no one will interrupt us or hear us. What you’re suggesting is more sane than what I want to do right now. The logical part of my brain wants to agree. The rest of me lifts your dress and shoves two fingers where I know you want them the most. You writhe against me, and hook your thigh around my hip, opening. That’s it. I knew that’s all you needed. It’d been too long, that was all. I just had to show you how good it is again.

There’s my good girl. Fucking yourself on my digits, your cunt throbbing for my cock.

“I need you, please, please, please, please…”

I cup your breast in my palm, free your nipple with my teeth and bite on it. You hiss, and say my name. I almost finish in my pants, hearing that filthy mouth mutter my name, but your hands are quicker, they’re unzipping and pulling me out, red veins popping, leaking precum, hard as a fucking rock. I want to tear you apart, I want you to feel me for days after.

You jump in my arms and I lift you up. You guide me inside, and I slip into you so easily. A well rehearsed game between us, how fast we can fuck, the thrill of getting caught too great, the adrenaline rushing through my veins pistoling through you, and I pump, I fuck your little soaking cunt until you’re a blabbering mess, until all you can moan is yes yes yes, just like that, right there, right there, and I know where that is, I got you, I’ll take care of you, I’ve done it so many times before.

Where did you think of going? No one can give this to you better than me. You love my cock. There’s no other girl that will do it for me like you do. I tell you this, my forehead dropping to meet yours, your mouth seeking mine. I kiss you, my tongue tasting the strawberry bubblegum you were chewing on earlier, my dick impossibly hard. You’re milking me dry, you’re so horny, I never want to stop, (Y/N).

“I’ll never get sick of how your body responds to me, baby. Come on. I know you’re close.”

You get so whiny when you’re on the verge, your voice raspy from all the hard breathing, and I meet you thrust to thrust, I fuck into you with all I have until I shoot inside you, until my arms give out and I have to lay you on the closest desk, and still I don’t stop, I keep going until I feel your cream, until I reach between us and shove it all inside you, three fingers this time, then kneel down and taste us. You’re so far gone by that point, and I’m distantly aware that we’ve overstayed our time.

I can’t bring myself to care. I want you. I want you so much, my heart is screaming at me. I need to eat you out until you’re coming apart for me again. My hand shoots up and grabs your throat to pull you to sit up, rough, how you like it. Your face is flushed, your hair a mess. I’m proud I got you looking this way. My seed will be inside you for days, you won’t be able to wash it out. I lift your dress once more, your smooth, swollen cunt fucked nice and raw, before I give it a stern slap and bring your underwear over your other leg, dressing you.

We smell like sex. I know we’re not careful anymore. I can’t bring myself to care. Sometimes it happens, it’s a good enough excuse. This, between us. Especially between us. We’re two consenting adults. There was no way to escape you. There was nothing I could’ve done. You grew roots inside me and have been growing ever since.

“Come visit me tonight,” I tell you as I walk you to the door. I unlock briskly, and look outside, left then right. 

No one within earshot.

“Perhaps we should…” I look at you. Whatever’s in my gaze, makes you pause. “Don’t look at me like that. I can’t get a reputation, Chris. I won’t.”

“Two minutes ago you told me to call you a good-for-nothing fucking whore as I fucked you dumb. I think we’re past lying to ourselves, yeah, baby?”

You blush and look down. “I just…”

“Do I need to put you on all fours?”

“That’s not fair. You can’t wave sex in my face and get me to stay.”

I retreat like a wounded dog at your feet. “Is that what I’m doing?” I ask you honestly, Heaven and Hell fighting inside me. Yes, one side says while the other soothes, you’ve done only what you know. You’ve been desperate, clinging onto whatever scraps she throws at you.

You kiss me suddenly, your hand resting on the nape of my neck, pulling me down. I move away a burned man. The door is wide open. You study my reaction and sigh. I can’t help but feel this was some sort of test and I just failed terribly.

I have more to lose than you, a regrettable and bitter realization. If the board takes this entirely the wrong way, I could get fired and my license suspended. The power imbalance is too much. If I can’t teach, I won’t be able to see you how I want to. You’ll be here and I’ll be God knows where. You want to protect me. I haven’t been doing the same. I’ve been taking and taking, I’ve been the selfish one.

“Go,” I whisper. “Leave.”

“Chris…we can still—”

“For fuck’s sake, do what you’re told for once!”

You run away from me faster than you ever have before. And for once, I don’t feel like stopping you. My body is another story. My hands tremble at my sides, my fists clenched so tight I’m afraid to move.

I want to hit something. Anything. I want you back here, telling me it’s okay, no one will know, not if we’re careful, not if we keep our distance otherwise. How I say yes, yes, as long as I get to have you like this, as long as I can get lost in you, and how I lay you down, how I never once thought of the consequences then.

Night comes, and we’re back to this. You, knocking softly on my door, and me, forever answering to your summoning, forever bound by the chains that lead only to you. The hallways are dark, the rest of the faculty having locked up long before, probably enjoying dinner in the common room, wondering once again where I am, why I never join them, how I’m no better than the rest, despite teaching Music Theory at one of the oldest universities at my twenty-nine years. I’ve earned my time of solitude. I don’t need to answer to anyone.

Anyone but you, (Y/N).

I hug you to me, and pull you inside, locking behind us. You’re tender in my hands, so impossibly soft, and I feel your melancholy mood, your glistening eyes, full of unshed tears. I wipe at them, I kiss them until they’re mine, I pacify you by whispering your name, very very quietly, my baby girl, so I can convince you that this is real, that you will never lose me, that I have nowhere else to go but you. That I would choose you over and over, that I’m so fucking sorry I ever made you doubt this singular truth.

How I regret meeting you under these circumstances, and if I had it my way, we’d be moving in together by now, we’d be browsing for a couch and a dining table. You laugh at that and call me silly. I don’t care. I got you to laugh, I shook the dreaded uncertainty away. I would do anything for you, my heart.

I sit you down in my chair and get on my knees. Your hand reaches out and I keep mine at your hips, afraid of all the things I want to do to you, with you. Your skirt is black, it reaches just above your knee; all that expanse of naked skin, smooth and unbearable. I rest my head on your lap, the stubble of my jaw rubbing against it, and you shiver, your breath turning quick, excited to have me so close to your core.

“Did you shower?” I ask you, getting hard at the thought of you walking around all day with my scent on every inch of you.

I feel you shake your head, and I smile, kissing the side of your thigh, fingers roaming down down down, the curve of your calf, down down down, your ankle, the delicate bone there. I stretch your leg and kiss all that I can. I smell your arousal, I’m so close to where I wanna be. You exhale a small breath, and I look at you. Your eyes have gone dark, wanting. My baby. I know you. I got you.

“Take your jacket off, let me see you.”

You comply, and I give you time. I make space in my desk, I turn off the lamp, I drench you in absence. All the while my need grows savage, my stomach knots. I feel like a fucking teenager, so eager to slip into warm pussy and never come out. Your warm pussy. For me, only yours.

When I turn around again, you’re taking off your skirt. No underwear. My body goes taunt, I all but fucking growl, as I grab you and smash our mouths together. My fucking girl, mine mine mine, you exist only for me, I’m going to fuck you so good, I’m going to eat you alive.

“I did it for you,” you mumble on my skin, shy, and I put you on the desk, open your legs wide. “I’ve never done it before.”

I dive right into the heat of you. Wet and sweet and slightly musky. So filthy. I love you, every part of me beats this. I love you like this, I love you, I love you. I suck your clit in my mouth, nibble it, bite it. You gasp and moan and move, your fingers in my hair, pushing me away, pulling me closer. You’re a tide, I’m at your mercy. My tongue slips in your hole, and I get to fuck you like this too. I’m so lucky. I’m so fucking privileged that it’s you under me. No one will ever compare again.

You’ve ruined me for everyone else.

What we do after this—you come, violent and thrashing, and I drink every last drop, a thirsty beast at your feet, under trance, under powerful spells and your smell, your smell, baby, your juices. I’m parched. I can’t get enough, I’m greedy, I ache all over; I pull you up and I kiss you. I kiss you and I die. You want to get down, you say, you want me in your mouth. You’re so impatient, so hungry, my love. I deny you nothing.

I grab your hair into a makeshift ponytail and let you undress me. Your fingers, working my buttons, lowering, stroking—I close my eyes, the picture of you etched behind my eyelids—I see you, stuffed with cock, slurped cunt satiated; you’re orgasmic, baby, I contemplate shoving your face on my carpet and taking you from behind, tight and ready for me. I groan, fuck your face until I see white, slapping your red cheeks, spitting in your mouth and shoving myself back in there. You’ve unlocked something primal in me and you’re enabling it, because you love having sex like this, you love being told what to do, you love being manhandled.

At the sight of you crying, I bust. You swallow everything. “Fuck, baby, god fucking damn me…” as I get on your level and wipe your face, lick the salt off your tears, bruise your lips. I take you in my arms and you fall against me, exhausted. I lay you down slowly, an angel being consumed by sin, me the devil, the defiler, and for a moment I’m ashamed; I took you a sophomore, music only your minor, literature your true passion, where your loyalty lied, and I changed your entire plan. I didn’t mean to. I only wanted to keep seeing you, to hear more of what you have to say, to witness it first hand, mere steps from you, so close I could touch, so close I could reach you.

The piano lessons I gave you in those first months, the stolen touches, glimpses of your profile as you learned the keys, as I explained the five finger scale, and then your first song, your second, the way you kept getting better and better, the fastest student I’ve ever had, your ability to write music with no idea how to play it. Teaching you was falling in love with you. It couldn’t have happened any other way. As I stare at you underneath me, hair fanning around your fucked out face, all I wanna do is lay next to you and fall asleep. 

Watching you sleep. Being next to you, trusting me with your eyes closed—I can’t have it like this. You’ve never stayed the night. I’ve never let you. It’s my responsibility to keep you safe from what I’ve dragged you into. It can only go so far until I stop it. I do it with my heart breaking, an open cage. This emotion slams into me, like I’m holding you back from some amazing thing somewhere else, anywhere else, like you could have more; all this could ever be is this dark room with the lock in place, the piano on the side, quiet, in the dead of nothing. You’re attached to a ghost, you love no one.

I’m jealous of your shadow, how it follows you around unbothered, with no shame. My head would hang, a pariah paraded, they’d throw stones, scream names. It’d be all they see, all they’d talk about—see this girl, she’d disappear every evening, and after class, yeah, so many people saw her, she’d chase after him like a lost puppy, what a strange thing—but it was me chasing, it’s me lost, the sick dog begging at your doorstep, the stranger, the disturbing.

“Chris?”

I dig my nails in your hips and lift you up, flip you around, press on your back, your ass flush against my hardening length. I refuse to let you see the monster. I’m too weak to let you be, to walk away from you. It’s a twisted, distorted thing, what’s going on inside me. I see no end to it, no relief. Only suffering. I did this to you, my heart, and I cannot apologize. I don’t want to. I’m jealous, I’m jealous, I’m wretched.

You reach and grab me from behind, rubbing your slick, coating me in your wetness. I’m in shambles, baby, and can’t you tell? You hold me by the balls. I can’t see anything but you. I’m dying. You’re killing me. I enter you, dripping, bleeding. You whimper, backing up to meet me, and I bottom out. Being inside you like this, I’m burning in the last circle of hell. There’s nothing as agonizing, no form of torture more severe. 

It’s here, like this, when I can truly lose myself entirely, where I can let go of any inhibitions; I am not a professor or a member of fuck all, or even a person, I’m nowhere near a man, surely, instead almost completely animal, because I fuck you, I’m getting what I want, I pistol into you, a mad thing, a predator, and I lean my body to cover yours, my mouth breathing hot over your ear, and you’re whining, you’re sobbing onto the carpet, where I’ve taken you over and over and over again, my perfect fucking girl, perfect little whore, how you fucking like it, yeah, just like this, helpless, desperate—yes, yes, please, please, God—I’m going to fucking ruin you, (Y/N), feel this fucking cock, so fucking full of me, baby—I’m gonna come, I’m gonna fucking come, Chris, don’t stop, please, please, please—

“Stop begging,” I groan into your skin, biting your shoulder, lifting you entire as I shove myself in you. “Stop fucking begging. Clamp me. Drain me, baby, come on.”

“I can’t, I can’t—”

I’m digging into you, I’m scavenging, exorcizing. This is the roughest I’ve ever had you, and you’re taking it all so well. I’m swelling with pride, I feel so deeply for how your body receives me that I can’t hold out any longer. You let me come inside every time. I know you’re on the pill, but my mind races, primal instincts and caveman thoughts—you, swollen with my child, naked, always naked, as I slowly make love to you, staring into the face of my truth, my only right, the only thing I can never regret—you’re so goddamn beautiful it hurts.

“I love the way your come drips down my thighs,” you say breathless, lost in your lust. I’m still moving inside you, still so fucking horny for you. “I sound insane.”

I collapse next to you, but keep your back tight against my chest, lifting your leg to keep fucking into your warmth, unable to stop. Sweat runs down my brow. I’m never not impossibly hard for you. No matter how many times I have you, no matter how aggressive I am, how brutal—you take it all, you fucking amazing girl. My death. 

“Tell me,” I rasp. “I could do this all night, (Y/N). Say the fucking word.”

You tilt your neck and kiss me. I salvage your mouth, run my tongue over the roof of it, and your hole engulfs me. Your pussy tightens, refuses to let go.

“Keep fucking me,” you whisper, avoiding my eyes, embarrassed. “I’m so close, Chris.”

“Tell me what you need, baby. Let me hear you.”

You mewl, and turn away from me. I quicken my pace again, this position allowing me to get deeper, and I do, I ram into you hard and fast, just how you like it, and your voice propels me, it drives me crazy, it wraps my arm around your neck and chokes.

“Your cock…I need it so bad, I crave it every night…please, Chris, don’t stop, don’t fucking stop…”

“That’s my fucking girl. Come on, baby, come on…”

I need to fucking taste you, I can’t wait any longer. I slip out of you, your wail of protest loud enough that I have to slap my palm over your mouth, slap your fucking face for disobeying the one rule I’ve set for you.

And then I dive right into your raw cunt. I slurp and lick and lap, so wet I have to reach down and stroke my dick, the sound of you so fucking filthy it’s pornographic. I growl and spit on my palm, masturbating to the sight in front of me. You climax with a gasp, and I persevere through all of it, keeping you still, but desperate for a last dip.

Once, twice, I slam back inside, and scramble to come on your stomach, thick spurts shooting out, my vision blurry, my chest heavy. A fucking mirage, covered in my cum, spent and destroyed. I love you. I love you.

“I’m goddamned obsessed with you,” I confess, falling back on my heels, breathing ruggedly, running a hand through my hair. You’re a mess all over. My fucking cumdoll. “I am a ruined man, (Y/N). I can’t think of nothing else except this. How I can spend the most amount of my time inside you.”

You laugh, and bite your lip, closing your legs on me. I slap them open, stare at what I created, a visceral feeling tearing through me. I want to cut you down, slip myself inside you, wear your skin as mine. I’m the insane one, not you. You were made to want, while my wishes condemn me.

“You’re never fucking leaving me,” I’m not proud to admit this toxic, acid thought. “I won’t survive it if you do. You’re stuck, do you understand? I’m not going to apologize, and I’ll never mention it again, but,” I rub my thumb on the inside of your thigh, braving a glance at your spent face. You’re scared, you love me. You’re afraid of the fact. “What we have… it’s not fucking normal, (Y/N). I can barely explain it myself. I need to fucking possess you, baby; I have terrible, god-forsaken thoughts of—of crawling inside your bones and carving a place for me there, a place I can never escape.”

I kiss your wet cheeks and wrap myself around you. I rest my head on your stomach, and close my burning eyes; I listen to your heartbeat, your deep breathing. You’re falling asleep, but still, your fingers reach down and soothe my demons away. I’m so devastated by you, (Y/N). I have ruined my entire life to have you. It is the highest form of happiness, the worst imaginable punishment. I need you like I need my own breath.

I drift off with my cock erect, and tears running down my face. It will never be easy, will it? Being close to you. 

It shakes the very fucking foundation of me.

They find out eventually, as we always knew they would.

The board of trustees propose a meeting, a formality, really, since I’m well aware of the rules of the school, and the ethical standpoint of these kinds of things. I’m the big bad monster that seduced you, and you hold no power over me. What do they fucking know, as I stare each of them in the eye and accept their decision. What do they fucking know. You haven’t come to class in four days. Are you okay? Are you embarrassed of us?

“Seeing as you are both adults, I’m sure we can end this unfortunate event amicably. Miss (Y/L/N) will willingly withdraw from your class, and you will be taking an extensive absence of leave for the rest of the semester. The council’s vote was unanimous on this—as a brilliant established member of the university, and a graduate of it, as such, we find it a grave disadvantage to us to let you go. Therefore, an exception has been made. Do you agree with this?”

I have no choice. I pray for whoever tipped off the Chancellor that I never find them. A severe thought crosses my mind—they’ve taken you from me. How will I be able to see you now? What will become of us if we are found disregarding their rules again? Surely death. I couldn’t possibly bear a different kind of separation, one where I lose you beyond just the classroom. It’s unimaginable and it fills me with a freezing dread, a pure horror that I feel down to my fucking core.

“Will you guarantee that this will be kept under wraps? (Y/N)—Miss (Y/L/N) is an exceptional student, one that does not deserve the public outrage something like this would cause her,” I keep my face straight, my expression contained. “It was a mishap, a lack of judgment on my part, nothing more. She remains a brilliant girl, and I wish for nothing more than to see her excel and graduate with utmost respect.”

“Of course. This is a private matter. But, Mr. Bahng, if we receive a similar document again… you understand our position, surely?”

One last time. I need to see you one last time.

“Certainly. Thank you for your time.”

Your phone sends me straight to voicemail. I’m not brave enough to try your dorm room, not with all those girls in there and their judgy eyes, and you refuse to step foot in my class even though you still have two lectures before we’re both to leave. They must’ve told you it was better to stay away for a bit, as to not make it so obvious, and yet I cannot for the life of me see the logic behind you being so far away from me, where I can’t reach you.

I’ve told you this. It won’t end well if I lose you.

I am over myself. I look for you everywhere. I see you in everything, in my dreams, to what little I manage to sleep, in the corners of my office, all the places I’ve had you writhing underneath me, your seat in the very front now occupied by that stupid boy—they all seem to know. Not for certain, but it’s in the glint of their eyes, the silences your voice would fill with such certainty it would steal my fucking breath away.

I ignore them all. I DON’T HAVE YOU, I want to scream at them. My worst nightmare came true, and I can only remember your sweet laugh as I’d bite on your neck, your honey exclamation—oh, it tickles!—as I did it over and over again. I can only remember the warmth of your cunt, the vivid smell of it, and your heart, the fluttering of it against my chest, how I held you to me, and you were safe from all of them, how we should’ve stayed in that office and never unlocked the door.

Leave a message after the tone. Beep.

“Answer your fucking phone, (Y/N). You’re driving me crazy.”

A day later, there you are, getting coffee, a book in your hand, your entire face smiling, so kind it messes with my head, the inner workings of my chest cavity.

I watch you from afar, notice how absentminded you look, how ignorant I must’ve been those past few days thinking this all hasn’t meant a thing to you, because it’s always been in the little things your face makes. Your tells, the things that give you away. How you listen without having heard a thing, how you play with your hair when you’re nervous. I’ve noticed them all, my love, and I can tell right now, that you’re thinking of me.

I think of approaching you, of showing myself to you, but it’s too soon. I can’t walk up to you in public, not on campus. I weigh the risk, the consequences—they’re the same, they haven’t changed, because to me this was always the outcome, this was always the end of us.

I call your name in my grief. Only to myself, a gentle summoning, just so I can pretend your name still belongs in my mouth. It does. It always will.

You do not see me. Or, if you do, you pretend not to. I can’t be sure which hurts more. You shatter me.

I try again the next day, a Saturday. As soon as we’re out of school grounds, a good distance away, I pinch the fabric of your jacket, jilting you. You turn around terrified—this is how I feel, I want to yell and shake you.

Alone, lost, in a labyrinth where I cannot find myself, I cannot find you. Endless loops, unbearable darkness.

“We can’t do this,” you say immediately, flinching away from me. From me. I’m ugly then, I’m dangerous, I can’t seem to control my temper. “I told you we can’t do this.”

I lunge for you, I grab your face in my hands, and force your ruinous eyes to look into my blind ones. I’ve seen nothing since that night we slept together. I’ve been walking around without knowing what day it is, without direction.

“I’ve called you,” I rasp. “Where’s your goddamn phone?”

“I didn’t want to talk to you.”

Oh, my baby. You’re sick with grief, aren’t you? Just like me. Your eyes are raw underneath all that black liner.

Still, I ask, “Why?”

You place your hands on top of mine, and remove them slowly. I cherish even your rejection. At least you’re here, in front of me, corporeal and talking to me.

“I got off easy,” you admit, head dropping in regret. “I didn’t know what they did to you, I didn’t want to make it worse.”

“I can’t be near you. They sent me on ‘vacation’.”

You nod, and it takes every last bit of willpower to not smash you into my chest and keep you there, safe and sound.

“It will never be the same between us, will it?” You sound so eternally sad. I want to fix it. Fix all of it.

But I can’t. And it eats me alive.

“It will not.” In admitting this, I lose a piece of myself. My heart wails.

Look at me again, (Y/N). Meet me halfway and I’ll always choose you. Nothing has changed for me. Meet my eyes, see that I love you. That I’ve loved you from the beginning, that I was made to love you, that nothing ever existed before you, and that I cannot see in front of me.

“Then, we should end it.” 

No. No.

“If we end it once and for all here—”

“I won’t,” I say, keeping my hands to myself, biting down my anger, the pain rising up to choke me. “End it? What does that—I’ve buried myself in you, (Y/N). You’re in me like my own fucking spirit. End it? This will never end. We can never end.”

I got you crying now. As much as it tugs at me, I’m glad of your tears. They show you care, that you don’t really believe the bullshit words coming out of your mouth. I won’t hear any of it, I fucking won’t. You reach for any part of me to hold, fingers lifting in desperate attempt, and I pull you to me by the nape of your neck, our bodies crushing, the wave coming up to meet the shore.

I’ll remain astute as you come and go. You don’t have any choice but to return. It’s where you belong. With me, I whisper in your hair. Stay with me.

“To what end?” You mumble, your voice broken with emotion.

I bring my other arm around you, hold you close against me. “Ours. Until I’m dead. There’s no one else for me, baby. You. It’s always gonna be you.”

You won’t hear any of it. “I can’t ask you to do this for me, Chris.”

I silence you, kiss your forehead, your eyelids. “This is for me. I’m the fucking— I’m the selfish son of a bitch that can’t quit you. If it happens again, I’ll resign,” I made a promise to myself then. “I’ll resign and wait for you to graduate. Once you do, we’ll leave this damned place and go wherever you want. I’ll take care of you, you know that right?”

You nod, and I feel your fists bunching the material of my shirt, as if being this impossibly close isn’t enough for you. As if you’d wear my own clothes if you could, coexist in this body of mine. That’s all I’ve been asking for, you know. To somehow become one entity, to never have to part from you.

Why were our souls split? Not ours, I think bitterly. Ours should’ve never parted. What a cataclysmic event it must’ve been.

“I’ll rent an apartment, I’ll leave campus,” I whisper my plans to you, as we walk along the maple trees wrapped in each other’s arms. “It’ll be ours, you can come whenever you please. You’ll have your own key.”

“I’ll buy my stupid couch and a matching coffee table,” you laugh softly, and I’m ready. I’m sure about this.

I need you to be happy like this, to not have a care in the world. I’ll make it happen, I fucking swear it to you, my heart.

“And the island chairs, and ridiculous knick knacks that I won’t have a say over?”

Your unadulterated giggles set me on fire. “All of them, yes! It’ll be out of an IKEA catalog.”

All I want, all I want—my very soul beats this. A life with you. Beyond the class. It’s always been beyond it.

I say this to you that evening, as I make love to you in a borrowed bed, my name coming from your lips still the sweetest sound I’ve ever had the privilege to hear. My heart’s song, the greatest one. The rise and fall of your breath. My own. Its unique composition.

I love you. I love you so much my chest bleeds open with the truth of it. I’ll gladly run dry at your feet. 

“You’re everything, (Y/N). You’re everything.”

Nothing will ever take you from me. Not even death itself. Especially death.

I will find you there as well, if I have to. 

[themultifandomgal]

Shelby Sister- Troublesome Twins

This was requested, but I can’t find the actual request sorry.

Although YN and Finn were twins, YN was the youngest. Being 3 minutes younger than Finn and a female meant that everyone was protective of her, but she was just as dangerous as her brothers hence how they both got into this little pickle.

"YN stay behind me" Isaiah YN's boyfriend says earning an eye roll off the girl. She takes her own gun out with her brother and they sneakily walk up the stairs. Tommy told YN and Finn to stay out of the business, but they both love to defy Tommys orders, in their minds it's to prove themselves, in Tommys eyes they're just stupid. While YN stays by her brothers side they reach a door. Finn goes to open it but a gun shot it fired leaving a hole in the middle of the door. Finn goes to open the door again but this time he gets shot in the arm

"Fuck" he whispers. YN bends down wrapping her scarf around the wound Aberama Gold shoots the man before he can harm anyone else, killing him

"Damn it Finn"

"Ow" he groans as YN tightens the scarf around his arm more

"Aberama help 'im up would ya. We're going to Ada's"

"The couch, put something down on the couch or my sister will fucking kill me" Finn shouts at Isaiah who yanks a blanket off another chair

"Oi be carful" YN scolds her boyfriend

"She spends thousands of pounds in this shit"

"Finn shut the fuck up and sit down" YN sighs getting some alcohol for the wound and some for Finn to drink

"Peaky boy give me your blade" Isaiah looks at me asking for what I think

"Is give Aberama your blade" YN tells him taking a swig of the vodka she had found

"Why the fuck you drinking?"

"Because I still have to deal with the wrath of Tommy, getting yourself bloody shot Finn" YN shakes her head annoyed. Finn snatched the alcohol from YN and takes a swig himself

"Don't want you throwing up on your sister's furniture"

"Is hold 'im. Finns gonna squirm" Isaiah gives YN a nod and holds Finn down "what do you want me to do?"

"Pour the vodka and pressure on the wound as soon as I get the bullet out" YN nods ready with her scarf once again

"You know what you're doing?" Isaiah asks

"I've done this a thousand times" Aberama replies before cutting the bullet out. YN quickly pours the vodka on the wound and then applies pressure while Finn shouts and pants

"There you go just a little one"

"What the fuck is going on?" YN jumps hearing her sisters voice

"Hi Ada" she tries to sweetly smile

"What has Tommy told the pare of you. Shelbys stay out of the sporting

stuff"

"I know" YN pouts.

The following day YN hears the doors the the garrison open while she's cleaning up Finns mess. She walks to the bar and sees Tommy sat down and Arthur looking around

"Ok before you say anything I have no clue who she is" YN points to the girl Finn brought back with him "and Isaiah isn't here I promise we're still waiting for marriage" YN puts her hands in the air even though they all know she's lying straight between her teeth. Of course YN and Isaiah haven't waiting for marriage but at least they aren't flashing their relationship about

"Go home" Tommy tells the girl who's just woken up

"Come 'ere you. Put this on. Wrap up warm" Arthur says holding out a coat trying to give the girl some dignity even if that was YNs coat. She huffs crossing her arms

"You owe me a new coat"

"No he doesn't, but you owe us an explanation" Tommy grumbles

"Fine but you wanna hear it from the mastermind" YN clears her throat walking over to Finn

"Oi!" she shouts making him jump awake "wake up time" she then sweetly says smiling

"Rise and shine" Arthur says standing by Tommy

"What are you two doing here?"

"Wasting our fucking time you you both"

"Oi" YN says frowning "I'm not the one who trashed this place"

"No but you didn't do as I asked. You never fucking do" that's when the bottom lip comes out. Normally this works on her brothers but not today "don't do that" YN sighs "sit down" YN sits down next to her twin taking a drink off the table "what do I have to do, to make you both fucking listen to me?" both Tommy and Arthur now join YN and Finn in one of the booths "you took a bullet. You could have been shot. You've both been running around the streets with fucking guns in your hands"

"Somebody has to" Finn says

"Finn, we've got people for that kind of work. And what's your excuse?" Arthur looks at YN who shrugs

"You all left, just me, Finn and Isaiah here now"

"Ahh your jealous"

"Am not"

"Your acting out to get our attention" Tommy catches on to YN's game "what about you Finn your a fucking Shelby, a general. When was the last time you saw a general near the blood and puke eh? Now on ya feet"

"I thought you ust said I was a general"

"I did just say you were"

"Get on your fucking feet" Arthur grabs his younger and tries to yank him up

"Arthur..." Tommy steps in "Finn, YN look at this" tommy holds a bullet in his hand "this is the bullet that Aberama Gold cut from you. First and last. That goes to you YN as well. I don't want to be hurrying my little sister in the ground or having to hunt down whoever shot her do you understand?"

"Yes Tommy" YN looks down

"Go get dressed" Arthur tells Finn

"Oh and while your here. I've met this girl we wanna get marrrie"

"Ha what 'ave I told you. They'll say no. I've been with Isaiah for 4 years and I'm still not to allowed get married" YN chuckles

"This girl your trying to impress. Tell me 'bout her"

"She like the life"

"She likes the life eh? Do what I've been telling YN for years. Find someone who hates the life. Look at him" Tommy nods to Arthur "that's what he did and now he's chairman of the board"

"Now off you go" Arthur says to Finn

"And you. Go home"

"Fine" YN sighs

"And I'm mean home. Not Isaiah's"

"One of these days I will marry Isaiah and there nothing you will be able to do" with that YN walks out of the pub to go to Isaiah's not caring what Tommy says.

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2023: October 4th

Day 4: Overstimulation, Oviposition/Egglaying, Human Urinal

Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Alien creatures, bites, mentions of weight gain, changing bodies, sex, unprotected sex, eggs, egg fertilization, egg transfer.

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

China changed you. You can feel it in your body, simmering under the surface even as you deny it. Sweating and cramping when you think that no one is paying attention to you. The nasty wound from one of those creatures, the Tao Tei, slowly healing and fevered as it seeps and oozes. 

“She eats too much.” The grumble from across the fire is barely even heard, too busy stuffing your face with the contents of the generous plate you had dished up for yourself just as soon as the food was hot and partially cooked. Unable to wait until it was completely done before you start scarfing it down. 

“She is eating a lot.” William watches with a sense of bewilderment as he tears a hunk of bread in two and tosses a bite into his mouth. 

Pero Tovar sneers and narrows his eyes as you greedily gulp down your meal. “She’s getting fat.” 

“Fuck you.” That captures your attention and you look up at the Spaniard, glaring at him even as you shovel another spoon of food into your mouth. “See if I let you fuck me again.” 

It was true that your stomach was starting to poke out. Your armor and clothes are starting to tighten on your frame and making dismounting the horse a pain in the ass. 

Tovar scowls even harder, shoving William when he starts laughing at the obvious cut down. “Pendejo.” He hisses, hating how you just banned him from your bedroll. “I worry.” He grunts at you. “The food will not last if you keep eating like this.” 

You can’t explain why you need so much food. Why the pangs in your stomach are only satisfied when you eat to the point where you are gorging yourself. Feeling as if you are starving if you don’t. 

It’s later when Tovar shuffles up to you. The horses bedded down and William is already curled up and snoring in his own blankets next to the fire. You hiss as you pull away the rag from the bite the creature had given you. It was lucky that it hadn’t killed you, freezing right as it started to bite down. Only causing a flesh wound that was slowly starting to close up. 

“It looks better.” He grunts, kneeling next to your leg and his hands cradle your calf. “Not as ugly.” 

You roll your eyes and resist pulling your leg away from him. Wanting to snap that he should go off and tug his cock if he wants some pleasure because there is none to be had in your bed tonight. 

The thing with Tovar was simple. You fucked because he was a rough and decent lover. He wanted a warm cunt to fill and you wanted the weight of a man on top of you. It had started while you were at the wall and continued on as you make your way back west. 

The only reason that you don’t is because your appetite for more than just food has increased. Always wet and eager to take his cock, you feel like whore at a brothel, unable to think of anything else but the next time he fills you up. You had even rubbed your clit while riding your horse you had been so desperate for relief. 

“Are you going to fuck me?” You ask. “Or am I too fat for you now?” 

Pero snorts and shakes his head. “Too fat to fight, not fuck.” He smirks, making you reach out and pinch him. “Ow!” He hisses, jerking back from your fingers. 

You slap away his hands from your body and drag him close for a kiss. Since starting to fuck you, he had kept his beard trimmed. Noticing how you liked it shorn. Eagerly reaching down and palming his rapidly hardening cock through his breeches. “Then fuck me, you asshole.” 

Pero hisses when you squeeze him, twitching under your rough touch and pushes you back on your blankets. “You are always demanding my cock now.” He’s not complaining, just like he wasn’t complaining about the belly that is expanding under your leathers. If he were the type of man who lived that kind of life, he would imagine you even rounder. Keeping his home and riding his cock every night. Plump from giving him babies to raise into strong sons. But he’s not that kind of man. 

When you both are bare, Tovar sinks into your wet cunt without any loving words or soft touches. Need is what is driving you and your moan fills his ears. Wrapping your legs around him to push him deeper, clenching around him as your stomach cramps. 

The pains have been consistent, but you thought it was the hunger, now you aren’t so sure. Not painful, but they are squeezing your insides. Making your entire body contract. 

Not that Pero either notices or minds. His groans are filthy as he starts to frantically rut into you. Fucking you like he’s not fucked a cunt in years rather than less than a day. 

“More, Pero, more.” You beg, nails digging into his back as he rocks into you and your own body responds by squeezing his cock like a vice. 

“Mierda.” Pero hisses, feeling like you’re going to squeeze his cock off as he fucks you. Every time you clench down it gets harder. Not that he minds. It’s the tightest fucking cunt he’s ever had and he loves fucking you. 

The pressure builds, like an ache in your stomach and every harsh thrust makes the belly that you’ve developed shake. The softness of your stomach becomes a rock under the skin. 

Your eyes roll back and you beg for more, needing him to fill you up. To bathe your womb in his seed as your stomach cramps up again. Feeling like some of the pains you have during your monthly, but more intense. 

For his part, Pero doesn’t stop. Continues to fuck into like you begged him too. Enjoying the tightness that seemingly gets tighter every few seconds. “Fuck.”

You cry out, not caring that you might wake William. Nothing matters but for Pero to cum, for you to have him deep inside you as he fills you. Your fingernails score down his back hard enough to make Pero hiss, hips bucking out of rhythm and it throws you over the edge. 

Clenching down, your cunt spasms and the pressure of something being released from your womb makes your eyes widen with a loud gasp. Pero can feel it too, his own expression startled right before he gives out a strangled grunt and pushes deep. 

There’s something inside you. Something being pushed back as Pero cums. Wave after wave of his seed making whatever has just pushed out of your womb move in your cunt with his cock. 

“What the hell is happening?” He demands tightly, his jaw tightening and his face contorting in surprise and perhaps a bit of pain as you cling to him, not letting him pull away from your cunt. Legs wrapped around him and locking him deep inside your body. 

Rationally, you don’t know. Instinctively, you know that Pero needs to stay inside you while he rides out his high. Moaning his name as the egg that has been growing inside your body is transferred to the male of your species. Pushing inside him to hold and grow until it is ready to emerge. 

Pero doesn’t realize it yet, but he is going to be a father. The egg is your child. You had changed in China, and now that is going to give way to a new breed of humans. 

[oneweirdbookaddict]

Whumptober day thirteen!

Legend has an infection, Wars helps him out.

847 words.

Warnings for injury (not graphic but there), and implied illness (no vomiting), and a bit of delirium. Let me know if there should be more!

It’s a nice day. 

Stupidly nice. 

Sunny, warm but not too hot, a nice breeze blowing… beautiful. 

So of course something has to happen and they can’t enjoy it. 

No, why would they ever get a day to relax? 

He moves to Legend’s side, rolling the other’s sleeve up to look again at the cut there. 

It’s a nasty one- even without the infection. 

Deep, long, clearly having been ignored for a few days. In the process of healing, but the infection will stop that. 

The bandages he’d removed from Legend’s arm lay next to the sleeping hero, stained with blood and dirt. He can’t help but to sigh at them- it’s almost like he’d been trying to get an infection. 

The wound needs cleaned. Leg’s temperature had spiked… so he needed a cool compress, too. 

So he fills a bucket with water, sticking an ice arrow in it so it’ll cool down, gets a towel damp with the still-warm water, moving back to the veteran. 

Takes his scarf off- it’d just been getting in the way- and carefully cleans the cut out. 

It looks like it should’ve been stitched up- but he can’t do that now with the infection. 

So he focuses on what he can do. 

Moves back to the water, testing to see how cold it is, gets another rag damp, and laying the cool rag on the Vet’s forehead. 

Jumps when Legend’s expression pulls into a frown, eyes opening and blearily finding him. 

“Hey, Vet, how you feeling?” He asks. 

Another frown. He puts a hand on Legend’s shoulder to stop him from sitting up. 

“Take it easy, man, you’ve got a nasty fever. That lovely slice on your arm you decided not to tell us about got infected.” 

“It’s just a cut, I’m fine-”

He shoots the other a glare. Legend, to his surprise, flinches ever so slightly and lays back again. 

“It’s infected, Leg. Like it or not, you’re just gonna have to fight this one off. Take it easy.” 

“Where are the others?” 

“Don’t wor-”

“Warriors you tell me where they are or I swear by all the goddesses-”

“Goddess above, Veteran, they’re just trying to find something for you! Medicine, a town, something!” 

The vet’s expression pulls into a scowl. 

“Don’t you even argue with me, they’re already gone and you have a fever.” He says before Legend can say anything. 

He gets a glare, but Legend falls silent. 

But lets him carefully clean the cut out again and dry it off. 

“You need anything? Food, water, a blanket?” “Just some water.” Leg mutters, slowly sitting up when he grabs a waterskin and hands it to him. 

Takes a few drinks, then lays back. 

It’s quiet through the night, they speak little and Legend falls back asleep rather quickly.

He doesn’t mean to doze off, but he’s exhausted. 

And he wakes up to Legend weakly rasping out his name. 

“Wars.” 

He jolts, glancing at the vet. And his heart sinks as he quickly makes his way over to him.

The veteran is clammy, out of breath, incredibly pale, eyes half lidded and dazed. 

“I don’t… I don’t feel so good.” 

And if Legend is admitting to not feeling well, that by itself is a cause for concern. 

The veteran never admitted to feeling anything- any sort of pain, emotion, nothing. 

“Ok, ok… lay down, are you cold?” He says, Legend shaking his head weakly. 

He nudges the half cooperating Vet into his bedroll. 

Sticks an ice arrow and some water in a bucket, uses his hand to take Legend’s temperature, noticing how it’s spiked. 

“Easy… let me take a look at that cut, yeah?” He says, taking his arm and pulling the sleeve up. 

It looks the same- red and inflamed, head radiating off of it. 

Ok. Two rags, one for his forehead and one for the cut. 

Which is what he does. 

Puts a damp one on his forehead, Legend's eyes fluttering slowly. Then moves down and slowly cleans the cut out. 

Legend groans softly, making him wince. “Sorry, Vet.” 

He stands to move, but Leg’s hand grasps his hand suddenly. “Don’t leave.” The vet whispers. 

“Hey… I’m not leaving. Just moving, ok?” 

“Don’t leave me.” Legend pleads. He stares. 

“Woah… hey, I won’t. Promise.” 

Legend’s eyes are feverish when they flutter open, slowly finding him. “Don’t… please stay. You’re… real. Don’t… know what's real anymore. I thought… she was real. But it wasn’t.” 

“This is real, Vet, I promise.” He says quietly. 

“It was just a dream…” 

“You’re not dreaming, Leg, this is real. I swear. Do you trust me?” 

“Can’t trust anyone. They just leave. And you get hurt. You always get hurt.” Legend mumbles. 

He falters, unsure of how to reply to that. 

And then it’s been too long. 

Legend looks away from him, closing his eyes again. 

He squeezes his friend's hand softly, using his other one to brush back the vet’s hair. 

Looks into the woods, silently begging for one of the others to find something, to return. 

But the woods stay silent.

~~~~

[yrsdf]

The cold wind cuts across his face. His vision is blurred from the condensation that forms over his breath. He pulls the scarf tighter around his neck and adjusts the goggles on his head that lay above his mask. He squints at the dark, snowy landscape and begins walking towards his girlfriend, eyes focused on the ground for any landmines or traps that might have been left by the enemy. His left hand is holding the radio antenna, listening for any messages from the other squads, while the right pulls up his sleeve revealing the wristwatch that’s been strapped around it for the last month. He isn’t paying attention and you trail off ahead of him walking beside an abandoned house, your gun in hand as a loud boom is heard, his eyes look forward and all he sees is a large thick cloud of smoke, and his girlfriend not in sight.

Konig makes it to the house, and the smell of smoke and destruction fills his nostrils and burns his throat.

"Damn it, where are you?" 

He coughs, and his vision still hasn't fully corrected itself, making it even harder to make a clear path toward his goal.

Frustration and fear begin to build as his hands grasp at anything, desperately searching.

he hears her, the sound of gasping and small sobbing

Konig scrambles toward the sound. He pushes the door open, and staggers as he pushes his way through the debris littering the floor. The smoke forces him to double over, and he coughs and wipes away tears from his eyes.

As his vision starts to return, he reaches his hand out blindly, and finally comes in contact with her. 

"___! I'm here."

He falls to his knees beside her, gently feeling her face, then moving to her side, searching for more wounds or anything to stem the blood. 

"my love… darling!?"

Konig takes her hand and whispers to her. His vision is still hazy and his ears ring with the sound of the explosion, and tears well in his eyes. The smoke makes it hard to breathe and his vision becomes blurred as he tries to clear away the tears.

He leans close to her, gently touching her cheeks and the sides of her face.

 "___, you can't leave me,"

 he says, his voice wavering.

she can’t really make out his face, she shakily places a bloody hand on his face, gently rubbing his cheek until her arms begin to go weak, her hand falls limp against his leg, her gasps turn into smaller shallower breathing

Her hand is cold and frail against his warm face, and tears stream down his cheeks.

Konig holds her close, wrapping his arms about her as she lies in his lap.

 "Please, _____. Please hold on,"

 he pleads.

He buries his face between his arms, and weeps. 

"This can't be happening."

 A feeling of despair and emptiness fills his chest. 

"Please."

she leans her head against his shoulder as her breathing comes to an end, her small body limp against his, her heart beat slow and almost gone

"No..No,No,NoNoNo.."

 he slurs as his voice breaks.

 "Please, ____."

Konig holds her close, and for a moment closes his eyes. His hands gently cup her head, and he kisses her hair. 

"What am I going to do without you, ___?"

 he whispers. 

"How will I live with myself for not keeping you safe? What was I supposed to do?" 

His voice wavers, and he trembles.

___________________

back to the base

As Konig returns to base, he passes by the lifeless bodies of his fellow soldiers, the sight causing him to stumble.

Once he gets inside, he collapses to the floor as exhaustion and anguish wash over him. A sudden sense of guilt consumes him, and he presses his hands into his temples and presses hard in an effort to hold back an explosion of tears within him.

He lays there for a long time, feeling each breath like a burning sensation in his lungs. 

"It's not fair-,"

 he says, and his voice breaks as he buries his head into his knees.

___________

years pass

The years have changed everything. Konig once saw himself as a boy scout, a well-mannered, level-headed, and calm individual. But now he feels a great emptiness where his heart used to be. Instead, it was replaced with a cold, calculating attitude where he views all others as either useful or worthless.

He is filled with a constant anger, and a desire for vengeance, for redemption. He sees all those around him as weak and soft and he despises their apathy. He pushes himself harder than ever before, in combat training, in his career, in everything.

Konig lies in his bed, drifting between sleep and wakefulness. He can feel a warmth against him as if someone is lying with him, and he smiles. 

-___? Is that you?-

he thinks, and turns over to search for her.

[breannasfluff]

A Little Time to Kill

Whump Rating: 5/5 Whumptober: Bridal Carry TW: MCD

It’s just a cold.

Wild plays a silly prank on Time and Wind, dumping a bucket of water on them he rigged up to a tree. Wind squeals—like a girl, Wild laughs—and Time fixes him with his best why do I put up with you face.

The weather is fitful rather than sunny. The heat of the previous days vanishes and they walk under an overcast sky, wind nipping at their clothes. Sky offers his sailcloth to Wind, but the sailor brushes him off.

“Wet clothes won’t stop me! I get wet on the sea all the time.”

Time says nothing, but he’s their leader. He can take care of himself.

When the portal comes, it opens into cold mountains. They finally pin it down as Twilight’s era.

“We should stop and make a fire,” Time says, glancing at Wind, who sneezes.

“Do you mind pushing on a little further?” Twilight glances at the group, then the surroundings. “Another hour or so and we’ll hit the yetis. We can warm up there and have some soup.”

The old man wavers, then nods. “You know your era the best. If you think we should push on, we will.”

Twilight leads the way, energetic despite the cold. Wind continues to sneeze and his nose starts to run. Time starts to sniff as well, but it is cold and snowy. Everyone is miserable.

It takes more than an hour to reach the yetis cottage. Rather than smoke from the chimney and hot soup, the house is dark and cold. Wherever Twilight’s friends are, they haven’t been home for a while. There’s no hot soup and they are low on supplies, but Wild has wood for a fire and they roast hot apples.

It’s no worse than situations they’ve been in before and no one in the chain is worried.

The cold gets worse. Wind and Time both wake up with runny noses. The old man’s sneezes are explosive, making the others jump. Hyrule reaches out with magic, but it’s not a wound he can heal.

They spend another day at the cottage, hoping the heat will help the two to heal. Wind is miserable, bundled in Sky’s sailcloth and Warriors’ scarf on top of it. Time bears up with much more patience.

By the third day, they have to move on. Supplies are running lower and Wind isn’t getting better. Bright spots of fever are starting in his cheeks. Their best bet is to find somewhere they can restock with supplies and medicine.

When they set out, Wind is wrapped up in as many blankets and clothing as they can spare. He whines, but Time carries him, trading with Twilight when he needs a break. The sailor may not be a child, but they can’t help but coddle and worry over him.

Twilight offers Wind back to Time, who shakes his head. “I think I need a break for a bit.”

“How are you doing old man? I know you’re sick, too.”

Time smiles and waves the question away. “I’ve been worse. Don’t worry about me. Let’s press on, see if we can get out of this snow.”

They continue forgoing an early evening to make it out of the snow line.

The next day brings not a town, but a merchant. The chain pays dearly for medicine, but that and a few more supplies lift their spirits.

Hyrule looks at the bottle, clutching it like someone might take it away. “We don’t have enough for both of you.”

“I’m fine,” Time says. “Wind can’t handle a cold as well.”

“Yeah…” The healer presses a hand to Wind’s forehead. “The fever is going down, but I’d feel better if he had some medicine to speed it along. Coughs can linger and turn into something worse.”

Wind drinks the medicine. Time, still bundled in a blanket, accepts the hot cup of soup from Wild. He only takes a few sips before setting it aside. The group are too focused on their youngest to notice.

Read the rest on AO3!

[lune-de-miel-au-paradis]

Collision

Summary: Maul and Nina have their first fight. Both of their lack of communication and trust issues show up. It’s long and heated. 

Pairing: Darth Maul x OC Nina Cerasus

Warnings: Mention of wounds, medication, anxiety, mutual pining, miscommunication, idiots in love, angst (Let me know if I left out something.) Minors DNI! Every sentence in italics is an inner monologue.

AN: This fic means a lot to me and I worked on it a lot. If you have any advice or comments, please share them with me kindly. I'm posting for the first time in years and I don't want nasty comments to discourage me from posting again. Remember it’s a slow burn! If you don't like it, please go to another blog. I did my best to translate it, so pls forgive me, English is not my first language.

Please enjoy reading!

previous chapter

divider by the lovely Saradika

“Get out of my head if you can’t face me in person!”

Maul heard her firm words toward him. She didn’t even turn, just stared at the landscape.

Earlier that day Maul was meditating by the lake, deeply hidden in the forest of Naboo. 

Rays of sunlight danced warmly on his tattooed chest. This time, thanks to the pleasant weather, he only wore his black pants.

Being in nature meant that one of the purest manifestations of the Force could be felt more strongly and unobtrusively. He could feel it in the soft grassy ground, the gentle trickle of the water, the leaves of the trees and all the living things that were nearby, whether in the lake or in the sky. He could sense the mossy smell of approaching summer in the air.

The Force hummed around Maul, which helped him go deeper in his meditation, helped him concentrate and see and feel everything more clearly. It was as if he saw everything he wanted to see through a crystal mirror.

Zabrak was preoccupied with so many things. His mind was filled with questions that he knew he could not address to his Master. Most revolved around a young woman with particularly green eyes.

The appearance of Nina in the last few days caused a serious disturbance in the relationship that bound Maul to the Force. 

It felt like taking a wrong turn off his path, a misstep from his goal. 

For once, he didn't understand the path he was on, he saw the final outcome towards the big Greatness only as a very uncertainty. 

He had been sitting upright, eyes closed, motionless since coming from the hospital. From the outside, he looked like a statue. A fearsome warrior stuck and frozen in time. Awaiting the adequate moment of awakening, the command to act, spilling filthy Jedi blood.

In his mind, he held the fragments of memories stolen from Nina like pieces of a puzzle. He tried to match and interpret them chronologically. He knew exactly what he was searching for. A presence of his Master. For that unmistakable characteristic, immense kind of darkness. It’s so intense he sometimes even tastes it on his tounge.

He found himself disappointed. Nina was not in contact with his Master, or at least not in these bit’s he could see in her mind. That's why he continued to look at the memory fragments continuously. Scrutinizing every moment. Childhood memories filled with light, music and stars. There weren't many of those. He saw fingers on piano keys, on a telescope, among holobooks. He sensed the smells of paint and sweet cherry. A colorful scarf, a woman's laugh, a gentle caress. Neon lights, bitter taste of alcohol and dancing in bars. Smiling girl with pink hair. An older lady sits with tea in her hand, her face tired but peaceful.

These were followed by memorial images that were imbued with grief and sorrow. A little girl clings to a man -but Maul see this one quite blurry- 

"Don't go! Stay! We need you!" cried the little girl. The man just shook the little girl off him. "This will be the best my little Comet." 

The visions then became vivid of a woman lying on a bed, pale and obviously ill. He felt a strong hand gripping the arm of the little girl he had just seen, albeit already older. "I'm not ready to leave yet! I don't want to leave you my little Star!" 

Maul could feel the fear and panic emanating from the little girl. She was traumatized and understandably horrified by the woman's death, since she was too young to see and understand the occurrence of another death.

Other memories were not particularly significant. 

He noticed a pattern. After each bad memory the next one was more and more vague, confusing and short. He concentrated and with the Force guidance he manipulated them to see them in his mind over and over again, like a holofilm with big breaks. Every rift was dark, filled with anger and grief. He probably accessed and stole some of Nina’s deeply repressed memories. 

He also saw fragments of today's event, her mind showed him. He felt Nina's fear, but her firm resistance when she was attacked today in the city. He saw the attacking Clawdite's face. He saw another man, a man with forest green eyes. He looked at Nina with angry and deep hatred. Who could he be? What if his Master made some sort of deal with the young woman but erased his presence to hide it from Maul? Maul learned a long time ago that he can't be suspicious or careless enough when it comes to his Master’s mind games. 

Pondering the memories didn't solve anything or answer Maul's further questions. He needed to know more. He was sure that there was some significance to their meeting. He felt conflicted. 

He formed a plan. When the starry night reclaimed its territory above the daylight, he dressed and left the lake and the old villa behind. He knew the location of her apartment downtown, but something told him deep inside that he didn't have to go that far for Nina. So Maul decided to rely on the Force, which would lead him to the young woman eventually.

He barely reached the edge of the forest when he saw her. In the darkness, he watched her carefully from among the trees, like a shadow.

Maul didn’t know the answer why but seeing Nina being hurt and vulnerable angered him, made his breathing hard, his hands were both forming thigh fists on his sides. He saw her small form facing him with her back.

Her hair was still a bit damp from an earlier shower, her braid slightly sticking to the back of her a loose knit sweater that evoked the colors of the dawn. Under the sweater her dress was green.

He was so close he could hear her heart breathing which was slow, slower than a normal human heart should beat. Her scent filled his nostrils. Cherry, almonds and mint tea. This time it was more fresh and it mixed with the sweetness of the milla flowers that bloomed at night on Naboo. He closed his eyes, he memorized her nosie, just being and breathing quietly. He liked it. The sound of her existence made him feel light in a way. As if despite all the bad things that happened in the universe, her existence was the only good thing. As suspicious as she made him, Maul had to admit that she still had a peaceful effect on him. He felt an unfamiliar warmth, which was not anger, it was soft.

This kind of feeling of lightness surrounded him, and weighed on his soul. He felt it since they both shook hands a few nights earlier. Then the Force infused this warmth, this lightness, into Maul's being through her touch. This, among others, piqued his interest. That it was the Force or Nina herself? What is the purpose of this? And why right now, before the Great Plan is starting its steps set into motion? If it’s the Force is it prue or is it manipulated by his Master?

He had so much to lose, and he was not ready to fail. He needed more information, and quickly before this wave of new emotions washed over him and made a damage that will be incapable of improving by him.

He needed to dig deeper in her mind, search for more information that’ll answer this feeling he has, and take it.

If he wants to get what he needs to make sense for this whole situation, he has to be ruthless. Yes, he was too weak, too compassionate last time with her. How pathetic of him, that he let Nina get under his skin even for a pathetic minute. To let her be a wedge between him and his revenge, and him and between his destiny: power and greatness. Maul would have chosen these, and sacrificed everything for these without second guessing until now..... 

Why would Nina have an intention with him if this is not a test? What could he offer other than serving his Master's Great Plan? Nina does not fit into this goal, to his life. Yet he wants to be with her. What a conflicting situation…

He was there again. She felt him before she saw him.

He was there. Calm, Collected and powerful energy surrounded the air.

She waited to fill her lungs with the fresh night air, then she spoke, her back still facing him. She wiped her face with the sleeve of her sweater, she didn't even notice she was crying. The moon phases tattooed on her back were slightly visible to him.

She felt something in her mind, barely noticeable, shadowy dark hands with clawed ends tried to reach into her thoughts. They were so careful that Nina almost failed to recognize the strange sensation.

“Get out of my head if you can’t face me in person!” she ordered the darkness. 

He didn’t answer, instead she heard his barely audible soft footsteps coming closer. 

“One is a coincidence, twice is a pattern. What should we call the third occasion?” she said and plucked off a cluster of fragrant jasmine, elegantly lifting it to her nose, inhaling its sweet scent, then fiddling with the flowers in her hands.

First the Pantheon club, then her favorite place by the lake, and now the garden that extends towards the forest and becomes one with the backyard of her home. She wasn’t sure if the hospital visit was real or a vivid fever dream.

“Fate.” His voice was velvety like a lover's touch.

He stepped next to her and began to admire the dawn, whose colorful lights slowly brightened from the obsidian dark night, but even the first rays licked their silhouette warmly. She chuckled softly and turned to Maul, leaning her hips against one of the rock walls.

"You might be able to convince me of coincidences, but you'll never convince me that you believe in fate. It's an ideal for dreamers and romantics. Something says you're not one to be one of them, Maul."

“You’re injured..” Instead of an answer, he just said this, referring to the bandage on the girl's hairline and the bruises on her body.

The deep, rich voice brushed over her skin like a dark whisper, followed by a shiver that meant equal parts of waring and pleasure. She recognized it immediately; she heard it only two times in her life, but it was enough to etch itself into her memories. It was unforgettable, just like the owner of it. 

“You have a talent to turn every question into an observation.” 

“Who did this to you?” he asked, faceing her, his glooming irises searching for her green ones.

“So you were worried about me then?” she asked in a teasing playful tone.

It was not a worry he felt, because there was no bond nor fondness. He felt some sort of curiosity mixed with lust and a little amount of amusement for her. The Force tried to tell him something he yet could not understand, that was the part that made him curious. The problem was that she was not immune to the touch of darkness. So he couldn’t know her without being familiar with her acts and the way she uses truth and information.

“I’m merely curious.”

“Let’s just say this attack was a response to my bold move. The consequences of my decisions.” she shrugged her shoulders.

“Why did all of her answers have to be so nonsensical, yet suggestive at the same time?” he thought.

Maul started to lose his patience toward this situation and toward Nina he wanted answers, and he wanted them now. 

“Why did that man want you to quit? Who is he? And why did you get attacked after talking with him?” he asked in a demanding tone. 

Maul towered over Nina like a hungry sinister shadow, dressed in black to the feet, scrutinizing the young woman's movements and the micro-mimics of her words from under his hood.

“What? How did you..?  Were you spying on me?!” Nina's voice dripped with surprise and Maul could feel the distrust in her with a hint of fear. This filled him with satisfaction.

Nina’s posture shifted, she didn’t step back, she stretched and straightened her spine and shoulders, looking like a cobra before biting.

"I thought you made it clear in our first conversation that you weren't some sort of stalker."

"I am waiting for my question to be answered." Maul said.

The condescending style of tone irritated Nina. Jade eyes were searching for him. She tossed the jasmine branch away. She let it fall down into the depths towards the waterfalls that surrounded her planet. She touched the upper side of her arm, where the fall of the sweater allowed her shoulders and upper arms to be seen. It still had the four horizontal and one vertical mark on her pale flesh. Her dad's hand print.

Maul held out his gloved hand. Nina controlled her first reaction to pull away, inhaled as his fingers tingled over her skin. Baerly and almost gently ran over the bruise. She had goosebumps.

"What do you want from me?" she breathed out the question.

Maybe even Maul himself didn't know exactly.

“Everything”-He thought -“I want everything.”

Instead he said this, pulling back his hand.

“Answers. But if it brings you comfort, if I wanted to kill you I would, on our first meeting.”

“Then ask.”

So he did. 

“Do you know my Master?”

“No. Maybe. What is his name?”

Already with the first question, they entered dangerous territory. Nina souldn't even know about Maul's existence let alone his Master’s. She is always so twisted with her words. Maul has to reframe his questions to get the answer implicitly but clearly.

"Did someone pay you to be there that night at the club? And later in the woods."

"No." she answered firmly but raising her eyebrows questioningly.

"So they blackmailed you? They instructed you? Maybe in a message or in person."

"What? No! YOU were the one who came to me that night in case your memory fails you." Nina stepped closer. “ Are you in any kind of trouble?"

"Answer the question!"

"I already did."

"Why don't I believe you then?

“That sounds like a YOU problem.” 

Maul looked at her with such a sternness that it seemed to Nina that the quiet darkness surrounding him was taking physical form. She inhaled and exhaled a long breath.

“So, if I understand  you correctly, you think that I have some sort of ulterior motive toward you? Except, that I find you attractive?”

Maul just stared at her with piercing golden eyes. She read them easily.

“You imply that not only am I some sort of threat but I am a liar too?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. You twist my words.”

“Well, it jolly well sure sounds like it!” she was angry, he could tell. 

Anger was good, familiar. He could work with that. It was a familiar field, an emotion he could cope with.That he could provoke and manipulate just as he pleased.

“Is this an interrogation? Should I call my lawyer? ” she mused.

“Who was that man who sent you to hospital?” he pushed further.

"This is absolutely none of your business! He is nobody.”

Maul stepped closer, intimidation pouring into the young woman's aura. He can't leave room to dodge. He has to take advantage of the opportunity while Nina is still so vulnerable. He lifted her chin with his index finger. 

“That's a lie. Why do you lie, Starlight?

That name again. That voice!

Maul's voice affected her like a seductive melody, menacing yet veiled in the air between them. Endless wild night, darkness and the promise of freedom mixed with violence. Maul was like the dawn around them, a wild and vivid red beam of light penetrating the calm colors of the night. Orange, purple, rich colors of crimson. Nina never knew she had a voice kink. Now he unlocked this in her.

Her heart fluttered. She didn't welcome the feeling in her chest. She needed space but also yearned for the warmth of his darkness. She felt the butterflies flutter inside her. She needed something to distract herself. She needed space as well as distance.

“You are observing me too closely! I’m not a little bug in your palm!” she pushed his hand away.

“Why are you making this much effort to avoid the question? Are you afraid, Starlight? It's a natural emotion, but it makes you seem like a coward.”

He stepped on thin ice of her patience. 

“You call me a coward?! Funny. If the Force using path doesn’t work out, you should be a comedian!” she laughed dryly. “I'm not sure what exactly you want from me to answer. But I have this feeling that no matter what I say, it’ll never go through your thick skull. You already decided about me. Let’s negotiate then. What is it you except from me?”

“I want your confession.”

“A confession? About what? I didn't do anything!” 

“A confession about me. What did you do to me? Why are you holding me back from my path?” he thought silently.

“I know there was a reason behind today's incident. I know you have something planned. I’m interested in who is involved in this case? What is your goal?"

"Stars above! Felix hired you? It's him, isn't it? I succeeded, I found something and now he's afraid. How much did he pay you to get close to me?"

Nina's gaze was surprised and enlightened, her green eyes glittered triumphantly. She surprised Maul with this question. He had to admit, the young woman proved to be a really good negotiator. She had this gift which she apparently used well.

He did not expect such a turn. Or is she just trying to confuse him?

“I was clearly wrong about you.” he said, implying that he thought she was a weak outsider, a beautiful but ordinary person on this planet. 

“It's okay, most people are. They underestimate what I'm capable of.” She held eye contact. 

Realization hit him. Nina won't say anything on her own. But she was clearly hiding something. The time for asking and answering questions has ended. This time, the Force is needed. Maul was annoyed, she was convoluted with her answers and his patience was running out. He was amazed that it had been this far at all.

He stepped closer until Nina was trapped between him and the stone wall. Nina looked back, the stone wall was up to her waist, behind her was only the dark abyss and night, the stars had already started to speckle the sky, the crescents of the moon provided enough light for her to see the male clearly. 

Damn those eyes! she cursed them. She had to force herself to look away. They were so captivating. So pretty. How could she not get hypnotized by them? 

The stone wall separated her from falling down into the chasm, the place where a few nearby waterfalls cascaded. She certainly wouldn't survive. The other way out is to somehow get them through Maul. This solution also seemed unrealistic, the man didn't hurt her, but Nina could feel the blood beating violently in her ears from the adrenaline and her lungs taking in more air.

With a light movement, he swept a few locks from her face, carefully avoiding her freshly bandaged wounds. Meanwhile, he noticed that several lighter freckles were hiding next to the darker ones.

"Are you afraid Starlight?" he asked, voice low but his tone was light and casual just like he was small talking about the weather, insignificant compared to what really interested him at the moment.

"Yes." she said honestly. "But not from you."

Maul lifted his brow. She licked her dry lips.

"More like, afraid of what you're capable of."

"You should be…  But. Do not fear Starlight, this will not hurt, if you let me in.” he said in a calm voice, cupping her face with his gloved hands. 

“What are you doing?”

He closed his eyes and concentrated. He felt her mental walls,as he smoothed the wall around, looking for a gap. They were still weak from the concussion, but he sensed some attempt at resistance, though he slipped in successfully.

This time he avoided the deeply buried memories, concentrating on searching for traces of his Master's presence, any sign that this was a trap. But he found nothing. Nina resisted and pushed him out of consciousness, even if a little clumsily, but Maul still appreciated her attempt more than anyone he'd ever faced. Compared to himself, he was gentle, he did not touch other areas, but there was something that Nina's mind revealed to him unintentionally. The man she was threatened by was her relative. This made her snap. 

A sudden movement jolted him out of his meditative state. She wanted to slap him, but he caught her wrist in the process. 

She was staring at him, she trembled with anger in every cell of her body. Maul couldn't get in deep or full, he saw what she allowed him. Even in weak conditions her mindfulness was strong. She lost her compliant calmness, and she fighted him. 

His hand wrapped around her throat the gold irises that pinned her down burnt like twin suns in the darkness of night. Nina’s hands tore his wrist from her, touching the small part where his cloak and leather gloves don't cover his skin. She shoved at the strong wall of his chest, yet, he didn’ move, he was way stronger than to be pushed by a weak woman like her.

“Don’t kriffing touch me like that”

He searched for her. She was frustrated. He slipped in her mind again, under that frustration he felt her panic, her post traumatic stress. Her attacker tried to suffocate her by squeezing her throat. It was still a fresh memory. She lived it through again now. It was playing on her mind like a holofilm. His expression softened. He slowly removed his hand, and whispered.

“Breathe.” his voice grounded her just like at the hospital. 

He didn’t feel his Master's presence in any way. This calmed him. But when he opened his eyes, he saw her.

Her face flushed, blooming red covered her freckles spreading towards her ears. Her jade green eyes turned dark. She stared at him and if looks could kill, he’d be a dead male by now. He had never seen her this beautiful before. Her beauty became ethereal for him, her anger oosed around them deliciously. Cold fire gleamed in her green eyes. 

“Don’t you ever do this again!” she told through gritted teeth.

Tension twisted between them like an invisible rope, he felt it, as it kept wrapping its limbs around his words and around his neck. It was maddening. Maul felt the urge to push her against the wall, fist her soft hair, claim her mouth and taste her and ignite a fire in his chest.

They were observing each other with cold gaze and anger. None of them had such warmth in their hearts.

“This isn’t the Jedi way!” she breathed hard, panting heavily. Ruby red blood dripped from her nose onto the ground. Probably the side effect of resisting Maul’s telepathic power. " I have to admit I don’t usually like Jedi, and you mister are certainly not fun to be around.”

“I’m no Jedi.” he sounded offended, almost harsh as he snapped at her.

“Says the man with the light saber. So you’re some kind of Force user then?” she raised a brow. 

“A specific kind of Force user.”

“What does this even mean?! So not only Jedi can use and connect to the Force?”

Silence. He made a statement, but didn't add anything to it, and Nina understood that it was a "Leave it !" kind of silence.

“Never mind. Did you at least find what you were looking for, if you've sneaked into my mind so brazenly?”

“Yes and no. I still don’t know what your motivation is.”

“Stars above! You don’t get it! ” she laughed at him. 

Maul lifted his brows; she was clearly a lunatic. Laughing in a Sith's face while it’s cornering her. To laugh in the face of darkness, power, death.

“You still don’t get it! You saw my memories, my thoughts and you couldn’t figure it out.” she was shaking while he still pinned her down. See was shaking from laughing, not from fear.

“You poor man. Here I am thinking he was the one who hired you to get me. Silly boy! I have no plans for you! I’m gonna have my revenge on someone that I used to call my father.”

Her voice was raspy but it dripped with contempt and pride. 

Maul didn't understand why he was so insecure about her. Nina clearly posed no physical threat to him. Nina merely existed in the orbit of her own life, completely independent of Maul's celestial body. Yet... Maul could still feel the gravitational pull between the two of them. He felt mesmerized, like the light of the night lights on a moth. He considered the approach dangerous, but he could not resist.

"So you really are insignificant."

It was a big mistake on Nina's part to make fun of him. Maul stabbed back mercilessly, unable to let the previous insults pass without a counter strike. And she might as well be thankful for him not using his light saber in the process. Nina went silent, stern. The light from her eyes faded. 

His sentence clearly hurt her. Deeply. He saw it in her eyes, yet the satisfaction never came to him. 

“I need space!” She stepped away creating a few steps between them. She thought about hurting him hard with a chair or something heavy. 

“Maybe you have power I will never understand nor carry, but one thing I understand clearly, that you truly are an asshole! We’re done here!” 

She passed by him and went away. He looked at her receding silhouette for a long time, never saying a word, only observing her. Again she left without permission and without fear.

Green eyes. Green dress. The symbol of life and nature.

He always thought red was a powerful color, the symbolism for power and destruction. But turned out green was his new fucking favorite color.

next chapter

Taglist: @stardustbee @hellhound5925 @cloneloverrrrr @the-chains-are-the-easy-part @firstofficerwiggles

Let me know if you want to be added 💖

[blutopaz15]

Visual ficlet request! Heal our hearts that Zuppi broke!

It was drawn as the follow-up reunion after that scene where he finds her blade, but in this fluffy-ish version, instead of being gravely injured, she’s just temporarily knocked out or taking a post-battle nap when frantic Callum finds her. But however you interpret the drawing is cool 🤗

Ahhhh, numpty this is SUCH gorgeous artwork!!! I'm so happy to write a little something based on it!! have some soft and thoroughly cheesy knocked out rayla/frantic callum <3

He’s shaking when she wakes.

It’s not new: he’s held her like this before—for dear life, his grip practically bruising, everything in him trembling with panic—and for good reason, too…but it’s never been this bad, she thinks, feeling his heart pound against her cheek. 

Not even at the Pinnacle.

Not even at the Nexus. 

Rayla blinks bleary eyes open, trying to make sense of the gray sky dappled with flickers of magic above them, the field under her fingertips that that same spell had flung her far away to, the familiar smell of his scarf in her nose, the words Callum’s chanting in her ear like a prayer…

It’s not just that he’s shaking, she realizes after a few uneven breaths. 

It’s that he’s shaking her.

It’s her name he’s saying, and it’s getting louder. 

It’d been just a whisper when she’d first stirred, but he’s shouting now, desperate to rouse her. He’s propped her upright, hands seizing her shoulders…and her jumbled head is wide-awake, at least, even if the rest of her is catching up.

“Please, Rayla.” he begs, exhausted, tears falling fast against her scalp.

It takes effort—she’d gone down hard—but, feebly, Rayla reaches and closes her fist in the scarf at his neck, wanting to pull herself up, wanting to hold him as close as he’s holding her, wanting to catch his lips, even, with hers...but all her tugging is for naught. The scarf slips off his neck and into her lap, and he’s oblivious, sobbing against her forehead.

His voice cracks as he draws her close against his chest, shaking subsiding to rock her back and forth instead. “I can’t—I can’t lose you again. Please, Rayla—you have to stay with me.”

Weakly, her throat ragged, breath still knocked from her chest, she manages:

“H-hey, Sad Prince.”

Her name is a choked sob this time—a question, like he doesn’t dare to believe it—and then it’s a gasp once he holds her away, his mouth hanging agape as her open eyes meet his. He beams, trembling still, but she barely even gets to see him smile like that—all teary-eyed and tender and so heartachingly soft that it takes her breath away all over again—before he’s burying kisses in her hair, his lips humming and warm on her scalp. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, frantic kisses becoming frantic hands, gripping hurriedly up and down each limb. “Are you hurt?”

“I think—” she blinks at him, waiting to wince, but the only thing that pains her is squinting up at the brightening sky. It’s just her head, it seems, and the sting of the cut on her face that Callum’s fingertips have found. “Hit my head, maybe? But I think—I think I’m okay.”

“You’re bleeding.” Callum’s thumb traces the gash on her cheek, frown deepening when he finds the blood fresh and flowing, and then he searches his collar—for the scarf, she thinks—blinking and confused when he comes up empty-handed.

“Needed this,” she breathes with a muted snicker, offering him the scarf strewn across her lap, “for the luck.”

“I thought—” His fingers shake still, as he lifts the edge of his scarf to dab at the wound, and more tears slip out too, even just at the subtle way the red darkens with blood. “—I thought I lost you. I…I just got you back, and I thought—”

She presses her fingertip to his lips, and he lets her cut him off, his lips puckering against her in response, eyes shut and breath warm.

“It’s okay, Callum,” Rayla says, her hand slipping across his cheek, catching a few stray tears, and he lets the scarf fall from his hand to copy her, cradling her face in his palm still. “You haven’t lost me. I’m okay, and—” Gently, she guides his lips to hers. “—and I’m here.”

“I love you, Rayla,” he responds, like it's the first time—which it is, in such a long while. His voice is soft, and his lips find her forehead, and he cradles her against his chest once more. 

The shaking starts to still, and sunlight streams down around the clearing clouds. 

“I really do.”

[ipsen]

How do you think Shuu and Eto would interact?

lucky for you, i have a draft sitting in my... drafts demonstrating this ever so slightly. takes place shortly after re 57. enjoy!

---

“Even a ghoul can’t survive from this height.”

If only it were that simple, Eto thought, as she tumbled through open air, half a body and bleeding out.

Her kagune burst out and latched onto a nearby building, slowing her fall. As she slid, the mouths spoke in hushed tones, just loud enough for her to hear.

“Idiot.” “Eto.” “Corpse.” “Not yet.” “Almost!” “Excited…”

Tendrils burst out of her torso to make ‘legs’, then her skin slowly crept over it. Shards of glass and crumbled bricks bounced harmlessly off her skin until she made it to the bottom.

She glanced up at the top of Lunatic Eclipse. “Bon appétit,” she muttered, smirking to herself.

She looked down at herself, the fresh skin all red and raw and exposed, and realized she’d left him her coat too. Maybe he’d use it to wipe off the blood soaking his hair. Or not.

Either way, it wasn’t like she was going to use it anyway; she wasn’t going to be hiding for much longer. She’d tossed away her floral scarf for a similar reason, passing it on to a shivering stranger when they were asleep— If she wasn’t going to use it, better to give it to someone who would. 

Still, it was rather chilly tonight. A mark of change in the narrative: the return of reality for Ken Kaneki.

One of her kakuhou— the one situated at the small of her back— unfurled to make a kilt to maintain some semblance of dignity. The RC cells linked together like chain mail and then overlapped in broad strokes of red tissue and muscle.

She spotted two objects— her last project and his darling— falling from the top of the building. She caught bits and pieces of Kanae’s final confession before flinging the Gourmet to safety.

Eto smiled and shook her head. Kaneki could hide it all he wanted, but he was still a kind boy under that frigid demeanor. She sighed, hoofing it over; what was she going to do with him?

Following the fresh potholes in the streets, she found the Gourmet half-conscious and collapsed against a rack of abandoned bikes. Oh, dear, she thought, noting his legs bent in the wrong direction and the gaping hole in his chest. That wouldn’t do, either.

Her wounds had already begun to close; a shame, but no matter. She formed a short kagune from her shoulder and sliced it off, approaching Tsukiyama.

“Eat up,” she said, tossing the meal into his lap. “It’s a long walk where you’re going.”

He groaned in response, then sat up and let the meal fall onto the ground. “You…?” he rasped. “Kanae… Why did you…?”

(“you monster”)

“Is that what you’re going to fixate on? I’m throwing you a bone here, as a favor to your actual favorite.” She squatted in front of him, chin in her hands. “Kanae missed you so much while you were out galavanting with Ken Kaneki, Monsieur. Yet even after you abandoned him for a human ghoul, he still went through all that trouble just to see you happy. He’s even dead now because of you.”

Tsukiyama couldn’t even get up in his state, but she could taste the heat of his anger. “I… I…”

“Come to think of it, this whole thing is your fault, isn’t it? Your voracious habits and descent into despair all caused this. And yet, here you are! A survivor. Kudos are in order.” She stood back up and felt her toes grow back in. “Your whole family sacrificed themselves for you. Will you join them? After all, you’re the cause.”

“I won’t die.” Tsukiyama seized the kagune and devoured it. “Not yet. This body is not just mine now…”

Oh, good. Eto wasn’t wasting her time.

“It belongs to everyone who gave their life for me, and everyone I have ever eaten…” His legs snapped back in place, and he struggled to his feet. “I’m going to live, as long as I can…”

She grinned and pointed. “Then head down that way. There’s less Doves there.”

And, if the hint of a familiar stench told her anything, help was there too.

[ahawkinhallownest]

There was once a Wyrm, mighty and wise who slept among the mountains as the worn blue flag she wore upon her horn flapped in the alpine wind. Her coils wound around ancient rocky spires as she dreamed of a land unlike her own, one filled with mortal creatures of all shapes and sizes. She saw a town that sat in the protective shadow of two towers that pierced the sky, where the body of a long deceased Root took on a life of its own and became a sacred tree that purified the ground and air. Bugs of every kind walked through the streets, from Bees to Ants to Beetles, all ignorant of the Void brewing beneath their feet. As the ground cracked open and unleashed a hoard of dark creatures, the bugs fled into their houses, only for their doors to be torn down and for them to be dragged out and killed. Some ran to the tree, and while the sacred aura of the towering arbor kept the dark monsters at bay, it would only be a matter of time before the tree too would wither and die as the ground became polluted with Void.

What started as a pleasant dream about bugs had quickly turned into a nightmare of death and destruction, but there seemed to be a single glimmer of hope. A blonde-maned Moth wearing a crimson scarf his way fought through the horde with a golden Pure Nail in one hand and a magic nailgun in the other. He slaughtered as many as he could until he was able to make his way out of the village, where he was able to spread his wings and take to the sky. Where he intended on going was unknown to the Wyrm, for she woke before she could see where it was.

Something had entered her territory, stirring her from her slumber. Vibrations from feet as her uninvited guest climbing cliffs and mountains and the subtle shift in air currents as wings flapped directed her attention to near the border of the mountain range. The ground lurched as the Wyrm unwound her elongated body from the pinnacles of her mountains, with boulders tumbling down their slopes as she began slithering down, careful not to allow the flag she wore on her horn to catch on any debris. Her tremorsense afforded her an accurate map of every inch of ground in her domain, and she was able to easily locate the intruder.

A blonde-maned Moth wearing a crimson scarf stood before her, eyes wide in both terror and fascination. “I have been waiting for you, Ringo of San Miguel.” She rumbled, her voice shaking the ground below her as she loomed over the insect. “You come seeking my aid.”

“I have, but how did you know?” Ringo replied, jaw dropping at the realization that she had him completely figured out.

“Have you forgotten? I am a Wyrm, dearest golden one.” The Wyrm wormed her tail towards Ringo and placed it behind him, blocking off his ground route to escaping her if she were to attack. In spite of the obvious threat, he remained firm, afraid as he was. “I knew you were coming all along. I had dreamed about you.”

“You did?”

She nodded her huge, horned head. “I had been waiting so long for you.” She leaned in, her mandibles so massive that they could crunch through boulders with ease. “You are brave for coming all the way here to seek my help in saving your homeland.”

“Well,” Ringo started and took a defiant step forward with his hands balled up into fists. “If you know why I’m here, will you help us? My home is being attacked by monsters from underground, and we can’t fight them off by ourselves!” He reached out to her pleadingly. “Please, you have to!”

“Be calm, dearest golden one.” She raised the fan of uropods at the end of her tail to get his attention. “I will agree to join you in your crusade, for I have also dreamed that you will succeed with my help. But I ask for one thing in return.”

Ringo eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed in confusion. “You want something from me?”

“It’s only natural, is it not? No one does anything for free, even you should know that.” The Wyrm leaned down, her colossal mandibles becoming a deadly cage to prevent the Moth from escaping. Though he was afraid, he kept his eyes on her face. “I only ask that you do something very important for me...”

Mani is a wyrm in this alternate world, which is basically the Hollow Knight setting’s equivalent of a dragon. She’s big, she’s purple, and she has lunar markings, and when she turns into a mortal bug later on, she becomes a luna moth, thus continuing her lunar aesthetic. She even has the blue scarf that Sabat would eventually wear on her horn, a small detail I was happy to somehow work into this design, though I describe it as an old flag. I wonder where the flag came from?

[writingwithjade]

In pursuit of the fragile heart

Chapter 2

Primrose drops her belongings on the floor as she walks to her bed, plopping down onto the soft, cozy blanket. She doesn’t care to take off her shoes, or that her manuscripts are scattered on the floor, she just wants to stay here, unbothered by her surroundings.

The scarf around her neck feels warm and fluffy. The greyish color reminds her of those beautiful eyes, the silver orbs shine brightly like the stars in the sky. Even to this day, she is still captivated by them. Never in her life has Primrose thought about seeing him again, and yet, this scarf and the warmth that still lingers around her prove her wrong…

Caleb Vatore…

Just the thought of his name makes her face heat up…

She remembers very well, those memories of many years ago when she was just a teenager attending a summer camp in Glimmerbrook, meeting Caleb for the first time.

If she had to describe their situation back then, Primrose would say that they had been through thick and thin together. From healing his wound to joining his quest to save his friend, Inna Cent, to celebrate their victory after defeating Professor Thebe. They have been through them all…

And during that time together, Primrose developed feelings for him. How could she not? He was the one who took her in after she was being chased by Professor Thebe, aiding her on the quest to find Marlin Ember and helping her destroy Thebe’s wicked plan to turn the magic town of Glimmerbrook into the blood bank of house Straud. With Caleb by her side, she felt like she could conquer everything. His kindness and how he cared for her, the tenderness in his eyes whenever he patted her head gently, how safe she felt whenever he pulled her into a hug. Everything he did made her feel so special, so loved…

Caleb Vatore was her first love…

But falling in love with him was her mistake…

He said no to her feelings but never gave her a reason. He told her that he couldn’t accept them, even though he was grateful that she loved him. Her heart shattered into pieces upon hearing this and then, the next morning, Caleb was no longer with her. He left before she could say goodbye, telling L.Faba and Marlin that it would be better if they hadn’t met.

The intensity of her heartbreak was too much to bear to the point Primrose could no longer attend classes at Glimmerbrook School of Magic. So she went home, crying in her mom’s arms as she mended her broken heart. But even when many years have passed by, somewhere in her heart still holds a small space for him.

“I’m crazy…” she murmurs under her breath, hanging onto the scarf tightly “I am crazy…”

She is crazy to believe that he came to see her after all these years. There is a fire light up in her heart, warm and cozy, something that she has pushed aside and ignored for too long. However, the way Caleb appeared in front of her, saying that he misses her dearly, something about that doesn’t sit right and it would be a lie if she said that it’s not painful to see him.

Too painful that she thought she might burst into tears in front of him…

But Primrose is proud of herself, she has to keep her dignity and it is not worth wasting her tears on the man who abandoned her years ago. She needs to keep her mind straight, she can’t allow herself to be the victim anymore. This peaceful life of hers, he doesn’t have the right to enter and be a part of it, and Primrose will make sure that he stays out of it.

She will make sure he can never enter her life anymore…

************************************************************************ The first thing Caleb sees when he walks into his mansion is his sister’s beautiful chocolate orbs shining with hope, the hope that her brother is able to find the woman of his life.

“Caleb!” Lilith walks up to him, behind her is a young man around her age whom she calls her husband, Kian “How was it? Did you find her?”

“Yeah, I did…”

The smile on his face is rueful as he trails off, slipping off his long coat and giving it to the butler.

“Thank you, Richard.”

“Of course, my lord.” the elderly man nods his head “I will prepare some tea. A good cup of chamomile will surely chase away those negative thoughts of yours.”

Caleb chuckles as he sits on the elegant burgundy sofa, watching his younger sister and her husband settle down on the opposite side of the coffee table.

“How was it? Did she say anything?” Lilith’s face beams up “She must be very happy to see you, yeah?”

“Lilith, calm down. Caleb can’t answer anything if you keep asking him questions.” Kian sweatdrops, tapping his wife lightly on her shoulders.

“O-of course…” she blushes at his comment “Sorry brother, I got a little too excited…”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind. Besides, it’s not like she is happy to see me…”

Lilith bites her bottom lips, knowing that her excitement is inappropriate for his situation right now. She can see how those silver eyes are filled with sadness and disappointment as if he is blaming himself for everything that has happened up to now. She hates to see her brother sad, he has sacrificed everything for this family, for everyone around him, and for the world of vampires to live peacefully with humans once again.

When the war between house Vatore and house Straud broke out, Caleb left behind all his dreams and ambitions to devote himself fully to the future of his family. And along with those dreams, he let go of the person he loves and holds dearly to his heart, the young girl he met at Glimmerbrook when he was rescuing Inna Cent.

Caleb, with his vision of living peacefully with humans and no longer relying on human blood to survive, was too progressive for an old vampire lord like Vladislaus Straud to handle. To Vladislaus, humans were only mere blood sources, a weak species that deserved no respect from them. However, house Vatore’s idea became more prominent in the vampire world and Caleb rose to become an important figure, Vladislaud knew that only a war could settle the differences, once and for all.

A civil war broke out between House Vatore and House Straud, a battle to determine whose ideas would influence the next generation of vampires of years to come.

During such a critical time, Caleb had to put his family and people above everything, even if it meant casting away his own feelings for his beloved Primrose. No matter how deep and genuine his love for her was, it was not the right time for both of them. On top of that, Primrose was a human and to have a dhampir as the next heir of the family would throw house Vatore into another chaos, so Caleb chose to let her go.

Lilith remembers very well when his friends came and tried to talk him out of that silly crush of his. It was when they got home after the successful rescue mission and Inna Cent called out his feelings for Primrose, believing that the love he had for her would cause a huge outrage and demoralize their army.

While the decision to leave Primrose lies solely on Caleb, Lilith can’t help but want to blame his friends too. Those who force her brother to push aside his own needs and feelings and then have the nerve to introduce him to many female vampires to ensure a pureblood heir for the Vatore family.

“Don’t worry, Caleb. I’m sure she will open her heart to you eventually…”

Kian looks at his brother-in-law, offering an encouraging smile. But his comment doesn’t make Caleb feel any better. The way Primrose’s eyes look at him, he can see how agonizing they are, as if she is looking at a ghost. To appear in front of her many years after their separation, he is not proud of himself for scaring her like that.

“I will go to bed now, it has been a long day…”

“Of course, Caleb. You deserve a good rest.”

Lilith’s brown eyes glued on her brother’s back, sighing. Even when he is able to protect his family and people, even when he is praised to be the hero coming out of the civil war, even when he has many people who would lie down their lives for him, Caleb always looks so lonely, as if no one can understand the pain he carries in his heart.

“Don’t worry, Lilith. Caleb is more capable of dealing with this.”

Knowing his wife’s worries, Kian steps in with words of advice, smiling as he plants a kiss on her cheek.

“But Kian, how can I not worry? Caleb, he’s…” Lilith’s voice trails off, not knowing what to say.

It hurts her to see that somber look in her older brother’s eyes, the pain and disappointment that have haunted him for so many years, the guilt of leaving the person he holds dear to his heart and now, seeking for that person’s forgiveness.

“Lilith, the way to one’s heart is not an easy path to walk on. You know that, right…?” Kian’s lilac eyes shine a light of understanding “Caleb will be alright. He is more than ready to take on this task, remember?”

“I guess you’re right…”

************************************************************************ Caleb closes the door behind him, running his hand through his hair and sighing heavily. The young vampire lord lays on the bed, ignoring the possibility of his clothes getting wrinkly. It is only behind the door of his private quarters that Caleb is able to strip off his professionalism and become more mundane with his life.

His body, despite its lack of natural heat, is surprisingly warm. The lingering of her apple scent is surprisingly soothing. His vampire nature gives him an enhanced sense of smell, which sometimes can be quite troublesome, especially when he is in a party setting, where the heavy perfume worn by the ladies can give him a headache.

But Primrose’s bright apple scent is different, maybe it’s because she only puts a little bit of perfume on herself, or maybe it’s her natural fragrance. Either way, it’s nice and soothing, and it keeps lingering on his clothes.

Primrose…

She has changed so much since the last time he saw her. But then again, it has been years since that day.

Her previous short hair is now reaching her waist, shining and lush. Her midnight-colored eyes shine bright like the sea of celestials in the sky, yet they hold a dreaded expression upon seeing him. The sweet and innocent face she had years ago is now replaced by a more mature and complex look, the light makeup adds a touch of color to her porcelain skin.

Primrose is no longer the little girl he knew years ago, she is an adult, a beautiful young woman…

But if there is anything that stays the same, it’s probably Primrose’s height. Her petite stature is a stark contrast to the mature and alluring vibe around her.

The thought draws out a chuckle from him…

But the reality is hitting him, that dreaded look on her face, how terrified she was upon seeing him, how she looked like she was going to cry. Primrose didn’t want to see him…

Caleb can’t blame her, he knows the pain he caused her. He was the one who chose to deny her feelings and left without saying anything. For a young girl at the age between teenage and adulthood, the rejection hurts Primrose deeply.

It was for the sake of his people that he had made that choice, a choice that had left Primrose heartbroken. Even when he had reasons for what he did, to Caleb, they were unacceptable.

He could have done it a different way, but the thought of seeing her again the morning after rejecting her feelings made his stomach turn, so Caleb left. The rejection and abandonment cause Primrose her heartbreak to the point that she can not continue her studies at Glimmerbrook. Caleb knows about this because it was Marlin who informed him about this. If it wasn’t for Marlin Ember, Caleb would never be able to find Primrose.

For the fire sage to set aside his irritation and give Caleb a second chance to redeem himself, the vampire lord is forever grateful.

After the civil war ended and he ascended the hierarchy ladder to become the most influential vampire lord of the supernatural world, Caleb found himself always looking out to the window with guilt slowly eating him. He had never forgiven himself for doing that to her. Days turned into months, months turned into years, and Caleb still yearned to see her again.

Lilith, his forever supportive little sister, told him to face reality and follow the calling of his heart. Caleb hesitated at first, but the thought of seeing her again lighted a warm fire inside him, something that no woman had been able to do.

He wanted to see her, he yearned to meet her, his lovely raven head...

Inna Cent, his friend, tried to reason with him but no more would Caleb allow anyone to dictate his heart. He had followed her advice and left Primrose heartbroken, while his action was for the greater good, he hurt her, the woman that Caleb swore to always protect.

Caleb contacted Marlin Ember, an acquaintance of his and Primrose, and asked about her whereabouts. There were scoffing and sneering here and there, but the blond mage gave in and asked him to come to Glimmerbrook School of Magic if he wanted to learn more about Primrose. Caleb accepted the request.

Upon arrival, he is greeted by a nonchalant Marlin Ember and a disappointed L.Faba. They told him everything they knew about Primrose, her heartbreak, her decision to leave Glimmerbrook, and her request to learn magic under them instead, they let him know it all. To Caleb, these were valuable intel but at the same time, they were also the constant reminder of the pain he caused her.

Marlin agreed to give him Primrose’s location, but L.Faba fought against it, believing that Caleb had no right to know anything after his grave mistake. She refused to let him hurt her precious student again. But the fire sage stepped in and offered a piece of advice for Lumera, telling her that what Caleb did was valid due to the intensity of the civil war at that time.

Lumera, still holding skepticism over Caleb’s wish to see Primrose again, knew that she could not argue her husband out of this, decided to drop the topic and left angrily. But before she teleported away, Lumera gave Caleb a warning of what she would do if he hurt Primrose again. The venomous look in her deep purple eyes is as if I can strike him down immediately.

And now, finally able to see her after years of longing almost makes Caleb acts on his own instinct, to whisk her away and tell her how much he misses her and how sorry he is for breaking her heart. But the young lord knows that it takes more than just a few heartfelt words to work things out between them.

The scar he has left in her heart is undeniable, the pain that even after so many years passed by still resides in her mind. Caleb is not a fool to be oblivious to this, he too holds onto the guilt of leaving her. Primrose has never been a good liar, his lovely raven head is someone who wears her heart in her sleeves.

When she tells him to leave her alone, those pretty onyx orbs have betrayed her. The vampire lord can see through her lies, that spark of affection still resides in the depths of her eyes, longing but also afraid. She is afraid of this, of his sudden appearance, of what can possibly happen between them, of how she can not endure another heartbreak. The once beautiful bud of blossom finally grows, but her growth is nothing but agonizing and despairing, as the lovely flower – Primrose – is fragile and vulnerable. Her heart, guarded by many layers of walls, protects its owner from the potential pain and heartache.

Caleb knows that he can't rush this delicate process of rebuilding what he has broken. Primrose needs time to process what is going on and he has to earn her trust again. But despite the future hardship of his quest for Primrose’s heart, Caleb is determined to do whatever it takes to make amends for the pain he has caused and give her the love Primrose truly deserves.

[sl-newsie]

Cool Your Jets- Ch. 10: Stabbed (Riff x newcomer)

It’s not easy to slip through the streets. Everywhere I look I see cop cars patrolling everywhere, but they pay little attention to an innocent-looking girl walking the streets at night. One copper even calls out to say if I need a ride home, but I just smile and politely decline.

I follow the railroad tracks down to the trainyards, and up ahead I see Anybodys following Tony. Guess I’ll just follow everyone to the rumble.

I finally reach my destination: a metal warehouse. I see Tony and a Shark member slip in, and then Anybodys creeps in afterwards, but that leads me with no means of getting in myself. But when I look up I see a small window next to some crates, one big enough for me to squeeze through. After climbing the makeshift ladder I quietly sneak across the catwalk up in the warehouse rafters.

It’s a big warehouse, used for storing salt for winter roads. They keep the lights off, which only makes my vision on the situation worse. Another downfall is that the rumble’s already started, with Riff fighting Bernardo dead-on in the center of a circle-a both gangs.

Wait- is that a knife? They’re fighting with switchblades!

Quickly, I scramble down from the rafters and rush up to where Anybodys is hiding. Now that I’m closer I can see the fear in Riff’s eyes, like a caged animal. But he’ll never back down-

And just like that, Bernardo suddenly jerks forward and drives his knife right into Riff’s chest.

“NO!” I screech.

I try to struggle past a chainline fence but Anybodys pulls me back.

“No, Marilyn! You can’t-!”

“Watch me!” I hiss as I climb the fence and swing over.

Meanwhile Riff just stands there, looking between Bernardo and the switchblade in his chest. Slowly, he turns around to put a hand on Tony’s shoulder and shake his head.

“‘S ok. It’s ok.” Then he falls flat to the ground in a pile of blood, and I sprint over to kneel next to him.

It’s also nearly dead-quiet so you could hear a pin drop, until Tony’s eyes fill with murderous rage and he goes to jab Riff’s knife into Bernardo’s chest. I don’t pay attention to the violence that emerges all around me- all I can focus on is the life draining from Riff’s eyes. I hear police sirens blur in and out of my thinking, and the cops must be on their way because the two gangs start dispersing.

“I tried to stop him!” Tony sobs as he holds Riff’s hand. “I tried to talk with Bernardo-!”

“Tony, you gotta go! C’mon!” Anybodys drags Tony away, leaving only me with Riff.

Riff’s almost gone- I can see it.

When he sees me, he starts panicking.

“N-No- Marylin. You gotta leave- get outta here! Get-!” Riff goes off in a coughing fit and clutches his chest.

I rub his wrist and try to calm him down, already pushing my scarf against Riff’s bleeding wound. “Shh, shh. I ain’t going anywhere without you, Riff. But ya gotta breathe steady to keep your pulse down so ya don’t bleed out. Now-” I wrap my arms around his neck and legs. “I’m gonna carry you-” I grunt as I attempt to lift his nearly-dead weight.

“No- I’m too heavy. Just leave me and get outta here!” Riff moans. 

“I’ll be damned if I leave you to die alone here, Gariff Lorton!” A quick adrenaline rush helps me find extra energy and I begin to stagger towards the exit, but not before a police siren blares outside.

“Shit!” I huff as I frantically look for a way out. 

“Señorita! Over here!” 

I look over and see Juano holding a gate open. Quickly, I heave Riff’s limp body over and follow the Shark towards a scrap metal pile.

“We can’t stay here,” I pant as I gently lay Riff down. “I- I have to get Riff outta here! To a doctor!”

Juano shakes his head. “Señorita, you are too weak to carry him. Besides, the cops will arrest him if he lives.”

I glare at the Puerto Rican. “And I will not be able to live with myself if he dies! I’m taking him to a doctor!”

Beside me I hear Riff groan in pain. “N-No- Can’t go there- you’ll be caught-”

“Shh.” I lift Riff’s torso up so I can pick him up again. “It’s ok, Riff. I have a connection in the local clinic, and they won’t ask questions. Just- just stay alive long enough to get you stitched up.” I look up at Juano. “Will Bernardo be ok?”

He nods. “Last I knew they patched up the bleeding, but he was still unconscious when Pepe and the others carried him out.”

“Ok. Let me know if there’s any news. Not all the Sharks saw him get taken, so they think he’s still dead. Same with Riff. But part-a me thinks that if we let everybody know they lived then they’ll be want’n to set up another rumble. You know as well as I do that both Bernardo and Riff need to recuperate, so we should keep this quiet ‘til they’re patched up.”

Riff groans again, and I pick him up all the way.

“Hang on, Riff. It’ll only take a few minutes.” I try run’n as best I can towards the hospital.

¡Que Dios te acompañe! Godspeed, my friend!” Juano calls after me.

I hurry as fast as I can to the clinic, ducking in and out of alleys to avoid the cops- but they seem to all be swarming over the warehouse. When I get to the clinic I immediately flag down Josephina, and when she sees Riff her face freezes.

“Dear God! What happened?”

“Riff- he got stabbed,” I pant as I still try to hold up his dead weight. “Please, Josephine! You gotta help me stitch him up!”

She frowns. “He’s that Jet boy that’s always in trouble! Does he deserve another chance?”

“Josephina- please! I’ll pay whatever it costs, just please help him! I luv him!”

“I’m not talking about costs, chica. How many times does he have to learn his lesson?”

“He needs my help, and I’ll always regret it if I can’t save him!” I sob.

Josephina comes over to pat my shoulder and take some of Riff’s weight. “Shh, shh. Just get him on an operating table and I’ll get my supplies.”

I quickly wipe my face and lift Riff up again. “Thank you- thank you!” I set him on a table in a private room and start ripping off his blood-soaked clothes. It’s a simple but deep wound, which means it might be easier to close. God I hope his organs didn’t get pierced.

“Marilyn… Marilyn...” Riff slurs.

“It’s ok, Riff. We’re gonna stitch you up.”

“No… don’t…” He drifts off again.

Josephina comes back in and starts prepping the surgery equipment. Here we go…

After what seems like an eternity, we’ve finally gotten Riff fixed up as best we can. He’s still asleep, so I stay with him while Josephine goes to check on other patients. God, what a night. I sit in a chair across the room and start to drift off as the comforting sound-a Riff’s breathing lulls me to sleep…

“Ah!”

I jolt awake and remember where I am, then react to Riff’s scream.

He’s awake and try’n to sit up, look’n around and unsure of where he is. I quickly stand up and go over to the bedside.

“It’s ok, Riff! It’s ok! It’s me!”

“Lynnie? Marilyn... What happened? Where am I?”

“West Side Emergency Clinic. I brought you here after the rumble. God… you nearly died, Riff.”

“You- you didn’t leave me? Why- why did ya do that? You coulda just left me to die.”

“Well the Jets couldn’t tie their shoes without you, so I had to do someth’n.” I try to tease, but Riff won’t have it.

“Damn it, Marylin. I was supposed to die- I wanted to die!” He groans.

My face freezes. “What? Riff, you- you try’n to tell me that you were gonna commit suicide by gangfight? Why the Hell would you do that?!”

“You’ve heard what the cops say, Lynnie. Pretty soon all-a my turf is gonna be gone, and I’ll just be some poor bum in the streets without two nickels to rub togedda.”

“Life without the Jets is still life, Riff! There are odda things that give life meaning! You could get a job, see the woild- there’s so much opportunity but you’ve been so stubborn to ignore it! A dumb gang shouldn’t make you wanna die. Do you know how many people would miss you?” I fight back tears.

Riff huffs. “Not much. There’s kind’ve a grow’n list-a people that hate me, Lynnie.”

“Not everyone hates you, Riff. Tony was devastated when he saw you get stabbed, and right now he’s probably at Doc’s right now beat’n himself up over it ‘cause he still thinks you’re dead. And…” I take a deep breath and rethink one last time before I spill the truth. “I care too, Riff. Believe it or not, you helped me adjust to this big city life and if it’s selfish to want to keep the man I luv alive then God can send me to Hell!” I  choke down a sob.

There. That’s it. I told him, and now he’ll just start laugh’n.

“Marilyn... you luv me?”

I nod, unable to speak anymore.

Then, I nearly faint when I feel Riff’s hand touch my cheek. I look up with watery eyes and see him with a wide smile on his face. Not a tease’n one, one that makes him look as if he’s won a million bucks.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

I gulp and try to look away again, but Riff won’t let me. “‘Cause I thought it was just me be’n a hopeless romantic and that you’d never want me around. I’d rather keep quiet and be your friend than spill my guts and have you hate me.”

“Oh, Lynnie.”

Riff gently grips my face and crashes his lips against mine, causing me to gasp in surprise. He leans back again and smirks. “What? You didn’t think I ever thought-a you as just a friend, didja?”

I moan and pull his shirt to smash our faces togedda again. “Who told you to stop?”

Riff’s eyes brighten and he pulls me into the bed with him in a big hug. 

“God, I don’t wanna leave you, Lynnie. I didn’t think anyone would ever care or notice if I suddenly fell dead in the dirt, and right now you’re the only one I’d miss. You sweet, wonderful goil.”

I try to answer, but I just start smiling and leaking tears of joy.

“I’m never letting you go to another rumble again, Jet Boy.

(Could We Start Again, Please? from Jesus Christ Superstar)

I've been living to see you

Dying to see you

But it shouldn't be like this

This was unexpected

What do I do now?

Could we start again, please?

I've been very hopeful, so far

Now, for the first time

I think we're going wrong

Hurry up and tell me

This is just a dream

Or could we start again, please?

I think you've made your point now

You've even gone a bit too far to get the message home

Before it gets too frightening

We ought to call a halt

So, could we start again, please?”

When I finish, Riff’s looking at me with a tired, grateful smile, and it suddenly occurs to me just how exhausted he must be.

“Riff, you should get some sleep-” I try to lay him down.

“Oh no, I can’t sleep after I just learned the goil I’m sweet on luvs me back!”

I shake my head. “Riff, you’ve lost a lotta blood. You’re too weak to sit up, let alone walk. Just lay down and get some sleep.”

The Jet leader thinks for a minute, then says; “Alright. But only if you come sleep next to me.”

He pats a spot on the bed next to him and looks at me with a giddy smile. 

I sigh. “You won’t go to sleep willingly unless I agree, huh?”

“Yup.”

“Fine,” I smile as I gently settle down next to Riff, careful not to touch his bandages. “If you need anything, just wake me up.”

Riff doesn’t answer. He just holds my hand and lays his head back with a blissful look on his face, as if he’s finally at peace.

“I luv you, Lynnie.”

I’m startled at the comment, but it feels… right.

“I luv you too, Jet Boy.”

[sunspray-peak]

Ch. 51: Pathetic

MONDAY - WINTER 1

Achilles had spent the last day of Fall in bed, rising once to use the restroom and once to clean out Voltaire’s litter box. 

Shane had come a-knocking in the afternoon—to collect the last harvest of the season, no doubt—but Achilles, half-asleep, had only tossed the cigarette he’d been smoking into the ash tray on the floor and punched his pillow. The man needed neither him nor his approval for whatever farm-related task was at hand. Shane knew what he was doing, better than Achilles ever did, that was for sure… 

The fresh start Fall had once foreshadowed had petered out, to be replaced by a terribly drastic decrease in both temperature and mood. Achilles had already wasted his second day of being 28, and was quite a bit inclined to waste another. But plans and promises made by a more functional Achilles of seasons past were now waiting to be fulfilled, and he had little choice but to drag himself out of bed before the dawn of a late rising Winter sun. 

Today was to be his final visit to Meteor Elementary and his somehow still-stubborn pride wouldn’t allow him to let Penny down. 

Besides, perhaps it would be good to get out, right? Be… somewhat productive. 

Right. You tell yourself that… 

After deciding he didn’t really need to shave, he tugged on a scarf, grabbed his messenger bag from the back of his chair, and hurriedly made for the kitchen to scoop some more food into Voltaire’s automatic feeder before heading out. 

“Meow.”

“Yeah, yeah, go meow yourself,” Achilles grumbled, chucking his early morning cigarette into the sink. “Chill, I’m not bringing it to the school, who do you think I am?” 

To emphasize his point to the cat, he withdrew the lighter from his pea coat pocket and slid it across the kitchen table. It was just a plastic little thing, part of the “mental breakdown emergency supply kit” that he always kept under the bed (it was also where the cigarettes had come from), and it ricocheted off the edge of the typewriter that he and Alex had placed there three days before. 

It was still in its packaging. Still untouched.

Achilles paused to study the box, a small frown on his face. 

And then he left, slamming the door behind him. 

*****

The children had been sorry to see him go.

Earlier in the Fall, he had offered to have the students’ stories professionally bound by one of his old contacts in the industry, but the slim paperbacks would be mailed directly to the school, and so today’s visit was to be his last.

It had been tough to sound alive, when all he wanted to do was return to his bed. But he sat himself down on the stool at the front of the classroom, feeling like an open wound and yet plastering on a smile. He even managed to flash a thumbs up to little Jacob Carney who complimented his six day old stubble, and answered any final questions from the enthusiastic crowd with as jovial a tone as he could muster before handing back his final edits and notes to each of the students. 

They had been sweet. Had gifted him a small, potted crocus flower, a handwritten card, and a bevy of hugs when it was time to go. He would miss them, he was sure. But the brief elation those clamoring kids had inspired was quickly soured by a new thought. 

Really just can’t help but miss even the tiniest bit of attention, can you? Pathetic. 

*****

Take the bus back. Grab food. Go home. Three bullet points to check off in his brain. Simple. Easy.

He flung up his hood as he shuffled into Pelican Town. It was scarcely past noon and already getting much too cold for his comfort. He’d done his research, he knew Winters in Zuzu could be tough… at least, compared to those in Hyacinthia and Monstera…

Soup would be nice. Maybe a grilled cheese… Did Gus make tuna melts? Ooh with a slice of tomato… sourdough bread and extra sharp cheddar… 

“Achilles! Oh, how are you holding up, my dear?” 

“Ah.” With a start, Achilles turned to his right—he hadn’t removed his hood when he’d entered the Stardrop Saloon, and had to fully pivot to make out Evelyn standing beside him at the bar. “I’m… doing well. And yourself, Evelyn?” 

“I’m doing very well, dear, thank you for asking! Oh, and how lovely it is to see you up and about, George and I were just so concerned after Spirit’s Eve, now, weren’t we? Alex had mentioned the maze had been an awful fright for him this year. Now I’ve said this to Lewis before and I said it to him again…”

Achilles smiled wearily and turned back to the counter, but Evelyn continued to prattle on.

“…now George and I have got a rare evening alone tonight! I thought it might be nice to surprise him and order something special for dinner. No one fries mushrooms better than Gus.” 

“Oh? Is Alex not around? I was thinking of—” He cut himself off. What was he thinking of? Surely nothing. Must’ve been a slip of the tongue, something out of habit. To be honest, he hadn’t allowed Alex to occupy much of his thoughts lately, not since Spirit’s Eve. 

“I’m afraid not, dear. He likely won’t be back until quite late, he’s got a big date of his own tonight, I believe! Were you looking for him?” 

A big date? 

Gus had returned with the rather large order Achilles had placed, but as he clutched the steaming boxes, he found he hadn’t much of an appetite; the plastic containers burned his fingertips, but the pain felt strangely distant. 

“Oh. I see. No, that’s quite all right—”

“I can let him know you were looking for him—”

Achilles cut her off with another tight-lipped smile. “It’s nothing important.” It was nothing at all. “Just… was simply thinking of going for a run. Thought he might want to join.” 

“Oh, yes, you boys and your runs.” Evelyn patted Achilles’ hand as Gus returned to the kitchen. “He can’t join today, but you stay warm, dear! And do stay safe—the paths can be quite slippery in the Winter, especially the bridges.” 

“Of course. Thank you, Evelyn.”

He nodded curtly, left the saloon, and returned home. 

Check, check, check. 

[oneweirdbookaddict]

Whumptober day fifteen!

Time is a hypocrite... nothing bad will come of him hiding injuries, right..?

Special shout out to the lovely @akchimp75 (sorry for the tag if you don't want it!)

804 words

Warnings for injuries (not described much but there), stitches (again, not described much, but it's there), lying, and needles.

~~~~

He gets back to camp, finding one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight sleeping heroes… 

Wild’s curled up next to Twi, the older in wolf form. Hyrule’s next to Legend, one hand grasping the veteran’s tunic. Wars is next to Wind on the other side of camp, his scarf covering both of them like a blanket. Sky’s fast asleep, snuggled in a ridiculous amount of blankets, as if in a nest, and Four’s asleep with a book on his chest. 

All perfectly fine. 

He gives a relieved breath, sinking down to sit by the fire. 

Takes a second to scan over his injuries… then sets off to taking care of himself. 

One slow breath, two slow breaths- and he pops his shoulder back into place. 

Groans under his breath, but the ache slowly fades as he takes a minute for his vision to return and sips some water. 

He takes a deep breath, tying a strip of his blanket around the cut on his am. Watches for a minute, but blood doesn’t seep through it. 

Digs through his bag, grabbing his med kit and the stitches in it. No antiseptic, but he’ll manage.

Washes the needle off, shaking his head slightly at himself. 

So he takes a slow breath, bunches his shirt up and bites it tightly in his mouth, looking down at his leg. The cut gushing blood. 

One. Two. Three. One stitch. Two. Three. 

Carefully moving up his calf, hands shaking worse by the minute, he gives himself eight deep tissue sutures, twenty normal ones. 

Manages not to wake any of the boys in the process, too.

He lets himself take a few minutes after that, leaning back against his tree and taking a few slow, controlled breaths, wiping his face off. 

The wound is nasty- trailing from the top of his ankle halfway up his calf, but no longer in dire need of medical attention. 

Blood loss exhausts him, but he can’t let his eyes close. 

One more deep breath, then continue. 

The wound at his side isn’t nearly as bad as he’d feared- just a scrape, really. He cleans it easily and lets it be for now. His knee throbs, but he sees no damage. On the outside, at least. 

Other than that, he’s just banged up. Bruised, battered, sore, but… not going to die. 

He has the slightest limp when he walks- it’ll be gone by morning, and if it’s not he can blame his old joints if anyone notices. 

His clothing covers any injuries, and the armor will hide it even more, so he won’t have to worry about that, and Wild had said they’re on course to reach town early tomorrow. So he shouldn’t have to worry about fighting again. 

He hadn’t used bandages or a potion for the sake of anyone inquiring about missing one, so that’s covered… and no one will notice the stitches. He’ll be fine. 

Any soreness that lingers in the morning he’ll be able to push through. 

He lets himself settle, but he has no other disturbances for the rest of his watch. No other monsters come near. 

Once the moon gets low enough, he takes a slow breath and stands. Aching muscles scream in protest, but he pushes through and gently shakes the captain awake. 

Wars wakes easily, squinting blearily at him. “Is it my watch?” He mumbles groggily, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. 

“Yeah, good morning.” 

“Maybe for you it was. Third watch is the worst.” The captain grumbles lightly, taking his scarf off when Wind refuses to let it go. 

They both smile softly, watching the sailor sleep for a moment. 

Then Wars stands with a sigh, stretching his arms above his head, moving to the fire he’d just abandoned. “Sleep well, Old Man.” 

He winces slightly as he stands. The captain catches it, eyes flicking to him. 

“You alright?” 

“Of course,” He says easily. “My old man back just isn’t keeping up as well these days.” 

Wars gives a smile, shaking his head. “Want me to-” 

“That’s alright. I don’t need anything, I’m fine.” He shrugs Wars off before he can finish, and Wars nods unconcernedly. 

Part of him feels bad lying to the Captain- they’ve already had talks about trust, but… Wars doesn’t need to worry about him. He’s fine, and he treated his injuries already, so there’s no point in telling anyone. There’s nothing else they can do. 

Taking the time to rest so he can heal is unnecessary- he’s mainly just banged up and sore, two bad cuts to worry about. He can walk just fine without injuring himself further. 

He doesn’t need any help. He can handle himself. 

So he gives Wars one final nod, settling into his bedroll and falling asleep easily past the lingering aches and throbbing of his injuries. 

~~~~

[tickly-trashcan]

Warm Hands {Akihito and Hiroomi}

A/N: this is for the 1k event!! the prompt was for two of my faves hehe i hope that the person who requested enjoys this!! I love these two dorks so much they are my happy place and I miss this show so I might watch it again after I catch up with a few other shows i’ve been watching hehe~ This one takes place a little bit before the events of the actual show, but not too early bc it’s just Hiroomi finding out that Akihito is a walking heater LOL

Summary: Hiroomi’s hands are always cold, but Akihito might just be his solution.

Word Count: 1.2k (under the cut)

“Akkey, it’s so cold,” Hiroomi whined as he and Akihito walked to the school together. It was early October so it was starting to get a bit more chilly, but it was hardly noticeable at this point.

“No it’s not. You’ve got a scarf anyway, that should keep you warm,” Akihito said bluntly, clearly not caring whether or not Hiroomi was cold. Hiroomi only whined again, bumping Akihito with his shoulder.

“Easy for you to say. You’re half Youmu, so you’re naturally warmer than me.”

Akihito hummed in mild disinterest and kept walking. They eventually came up to the train crossing, where they stopped. Hiroomi shivered.

“Autumn is too cold. I don’t think I’ll survive the winter.”

“Wouldn’t that be a shame,” Akihito drawled, walking forward as soon as the train passed. Hiroomi gasped softly in offense.

“You wound me, Akkey!” Hiroomi exclaimed, running after Akihito, who was nearly to the school.

“Maybe you should wear mittens if the scarf isn’t enough. Just how cold are you to be complaining non-stop?” Akihito asked, turning his head to look at Hiroomi, who had finally caught up.

“I might as well be a popsicle at this point. Here,” Hiroomi took Akihito’s hand, making him flinch. “See?”

“You are cold… Eh, just get some mittens, like I said. That’ll fix it.”

“But we have to go to school, Akkey! How am I supposed to survive the whole day when I’m this cold? I’ll freeze to death!” Hiroomi complained, making Akihito sigh.

“I can’t do anything about it, I don’t know why you’re asking me.”

Hiroomi frowned. “But your hands are warm… Wait, you’re warmer than me!”

Akihito’s eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t like where this is going…”

“We could hold hands today!” Hiroomi declared.

Akihito quickly walked off, ignoring Hiroomi when he called after him. “Akkey, surely you wouldn’t mind holding hands with me?!”

“Actually, I would. One, you’re not a cute girl with glasses. Two, you’re weird. So no, I’m not holding hands with you.”

“Can’t you just pretend I’m a cute girl with glasses?” Hiroomi whined, clinging to Akihito’s sleeve as he hindered Akihito’s walk.

Akihito glared at Hiroomi in disgust. Hiroomi cleared his throat and put on a high-pitched voice. “Oh, Akihito, do you prefer when I wear cat eye glasses or tortoise shell glasses?”

Akihito shoved Hiroomi away, groaning as he dusted off his sleeve. “I can see why Mitsuki avoids you.”

Hiroomi frowned at the mention of his sister and went back up to Akihito, trying to bargain. “Well, if we don’t hold hands, how about something else? You’re so warm, Akkey, it would save me from dying of hypothermia.”

“You’re not gonna die of hypothermia, Hiroomi,” Akihito said in exasperation, but Hiroomi was having none of it.

“I’m so cold! My neck is cold too, even with this scarf! Is your neck warm?”

Hiroomi placed his hand against Akihito’s neck, making him yelp at the sudden touch. It was so cold and unexpected that Akihito couldn’t help his reaction. The two of them stared at each other with wide eyes for a few moments. Akihito glared at Hiroomi and took a step back.

“Don’t you dare,” Akihito started, but Hiroomi ignored him.

“Akkey, you’re neck is warm too. You’re like a walking heater!”

Akihito turned away and went to walk off, but Hiroomi put both hands on his neck to warm them up, making Akihito yelp again. “Stop that!”

He tried to shake off Hiroomi, who was sighing in relief with how warm Akihito’s neck was. Akihito shivered, both from Hiroomi’s cold hands and from being mildly uncomfortable. “Put your hands somewhere else, weirdo!”

“Hmm… It is hard to keep my hands here, and they aren’t getting equal warmth… Where else could I put them?”

“In your pockets! Not me!”

Hiroomi ignored Akihito, looking for another place where he could put his hands. Pockets might work, but Akihito didn’t have good pockets on his jacket. He finally looked by Akihito’s arms, and an idea popped into his head.

“I know just the spot.”

He shoved his hands under Akihito’s arms.

Akihito nearly jumped ten feet in the air as he shrieked, expecting anything other than his underarms being touched. “Don’t!”

Hiroomi blinked. “That was quite a reaction.”

Akihito shook Hiroomi’s hands away and grumbled, walking off. “We’re gonna be late.”

Hiroomi nodded, catching up to Akihito as the two of them attended school. Hiroomi thought about Akihito’s big reaction throughout the day, trying to place what it was that had made him jump like that. Was it because he wasn’t expecting it? Or was Hiroomi really just that cold? Or was it something else?

No matter what it was, Hiroomi was going to find out.

As the day wrapped up, Hiroomi found Akihito in the Literary Club room after school. Akihito was leafing through a book when Hiroomi arrived, and he didn’t even spare him a glance.

“Where’s Mitsuki?” Akihito asked when Hiroomi shut the door.

“She left early. Apparently Yakiimo was being fussy.”

Akihito hummed and continued to read the book, ignoring Hiroomi. Hiroomi hummed, standing behind Akihito, who was somewhat engrossed. He slowly moved his hands towards his underarms again, but as soon as he touched them, Akihito jumped and turned to glare at him. 

“Don’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it–” Akihito stopped, turning his head. “It feels weird.”

Hiroomi raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Would you stop asking questions?” Akihito snapped. Hiroomi shrugged.

“Alright,” He said. He didn’t move from behind Akihito, and instead reached forward again. “But if I can’t ask questions, I’ll have to find out some other way.”

Akihito was about to protest, but Hiroomi had already buried his hands under Akihito’s arms, making him shriek again. He dropped the book he was holding and clamped his arms down, nearly knocking himself out of the chair. Hiroomi hummed.

“Are my hands that cold?”

“No, it tickles! Now stahap!”

Hiroomi raised an eyebrow, processing for a moment. Then he grinned. “It tickles? Well, why didn’t you say so?”

Akihito sighed, thinking Hiroomi would move his hands now. Instead, he began to feel a tingly sensation as Hiroomi’s fingers moved. “It would be easier to warm up my hands if I moved them a little bit anyway.”

“No–!”

Akihito broke into loud laughter as soon as Hiroomi began to tickle him, falling out of his chair as Hiroomi followed him to the ground, making sure he didn’t hurt himself as they went. Akihito kicked his legs and cackled, shaking his head as Hiroomi smirked at him.

“We’ve known each other for how long? How come I never knew you were ticklish?”

“Behehecause it’s embahahaharrassing! GAha! Plehehease, not thehere!”

Hiroomi frowned. “It’s not embarrassing, Akkey. I think it’s rather cute.”

“Shuhuhut up!”

Hiroomi chuckled, continuing to scribble under Akihito’s arms as Akihito hollered, kicking his legs as he tried to push Hiroomi away weakly, but he could hardly pull his arms away from his body. Every time he tried, the tickling would somehow get worse and he’d immediately retract his arms. Eventually he just gave up and resigned himself to laughter as Hiroomi chuckled.

“I suppose my hands are sufficiently warm now,” Hiroomi commented. He stopped his fingers, but didn’t pull his hands away from Akihito’s underarms. Akihito managed to catch his breath after a little while and he glanced up at Hiroomi, his face flushed with pink.

“Wh-Why don’t you mohove your hands?” He said, still a bit giggly. Hiroomi shrugged.

“You’re still warm. I think I’ll leave them there just a little while longer until they’re extra toasty.”

Akihito sighed, rolling his eyes. If this was what he had to do for Hiroomi, he decided that it wasn’t too bad. He did owe him, after all.