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gildedmuse · 4 months

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ZoLaw AUs Nobody Asked For Presents....

Fairy Tale Twist

Part One: Abduction!

[This was inspired by watching the first episode of the anime Heaven Official Blessing with @jhaernyl. However, for the purpose of this ficlette all you need to know is the whole thing is your typical fanfic set up: a bunch of young women are disappearing, so in order to solve the mystery our main male character is forced to go undercover as a shy, virginal bride-to-be in hopes that the sexy bad boy will notice him and carry him off to his liar.]

[You know. The only sensible solution to a rash of kidnappings.]

"Please," the old lady begs, tears running down her face as she falls to her knees in front of the trio. "Even if there is no hope for my Liula, this village can't bear to lose another one of our daughters!"

Zoro scratches behind his ear, apparently unmoved by the old ladies tears, as well as the wet faces of the town folks who have gathered all around. It isn't that he doesn't care - he's sure it's hard to misplace a daughter or whatever, though it does seem to him as if it's at least a little the villager's own fault. Why do they keep sending the girls through the forest is they keep disappearing?

"So they're always taken in the forest?" Saga - Zoro's second best friend and training partner - always knows exactly the right questions to ask. He's just good at that kind of detective thing, the way Marines pretend to be. As a crew of bounty hunters, they may not be the most well known or most feared (they certainly aren't their richest) but between him, Kuina, and Saga, Zoro figures they have all the right talents to work their way up to the top, wherever that might be.

For Saga, Zoro is sure that eventually means becoming a marine or, as his overly dramatic friend would put it, "becoming a sword for justice!" Or that's what he says it if you get enough sake in him, though honestly it doesn't even take one drink to notice the look he gets in his eyes whenever a bunch of men in their clean white uniforms go marching pass. Not even Kuina's mocking their stupid insignia ("why do you want a shirt with a pair of boobs drawn on. I've got the real thing and they're nothing but annoying!" / "For the last time, the insignia is the mighy gull! Not a pair of blue boobies!" / "As someone who has seen plenty of both, trust me, no seagull looks like that..not unless it's had some major work done.") or Zoro pointing out he's never seen a single marine carrying a shuangshou jian, which he thinks is the far better argument. After all, Saga wouldn't want to have to get rid of his beloved sword, would be? It's the one thing he has from his parents....

If there is one person who would understand how important a sword can be, it would be Kuina, but he thought Saga would be next.

"Sounds like instead of worrying about your bridal traditions, you should have worked to make sure these girls could protect themselves," Kuina says, her voice low and steady, but there is an undercurrent of anger there. One Zoro finds adults often miss, due to Kuina's former, almost old fashioned, language and proper samurai etiquette.

Her father always said there was more to being a Kenshi than just holding a sword. Unfortunately, one of the things he believes makes for a Kenshi is....

Kuina stands up, bowing politely to the very same adults she'd just been so angry at. "We will find this pirate who is taking your lost daughters and ensure this does not happen again," she promises, and Kuina promises something it's like you can see the threads binding her, holding her to her word. It makes Zoro sit up straighter, happy to be her rival. "If what these girls want is to be married, they deserve to make that choice without some creep ruining it for them."

Kuina's small, and because of that, most everyone underestimates her. Only to be surprised when the girl they had just been laughing at is suddenly behind them, the sharp white blade of Wado Ichimonji pressed against their kidney, with Tenno Megumi clashing against their own steel, stopping them from being able to make a move. She's a fast, technical fighter and a slow, methodical thinker. She probably knows more about Zoro and Saga then the two boys know about themselves and, honestly, Zoro is alright with that. He doesn't even know where he'd keep all that knowledge, but Kuina seems to do a good

They had only come to this island to pick up some Nobody, Kuro of 1000 Cats or something stupid like that, but they had barely dragged him and his crew of losers to the local Marine base when an older woman, face wrinkled and worn from sadness, had grabbed a hold of Zoro's arm.

These people were desperate, and the small four man marine outpost they have seemed unable ("or unwilling," Kuina had muttered only once Saga was distracted - they didn't need to have that fight again) to help against what seemed to be some knd of curse.

"Qell it's not a curse," Saga decided immediately, the three of them gathering just outside of the town hall were the citizen had plead their case. And as much as Zoro hates being distracted from his goal, his one true dream, he has to admit their pleas were.... heartfelt.

"Hmm," Kuina puts her hand to her chin, her foot digging into her dirt as she stares down, her brain trying to ferment a plan of some kind. At the very least a place to begin. "It seems he only comes out when there is a bridal procession. What should we do?"

There is silence as they all contemplate this impossible task.

"I know!" It's Saga who gets a these first, slapping his fist in his hand, and with his eyes burning so bright, Kuina and Zoro are immediately doubtful. This is going to be one of those ridiculous plans like in all his marine centered manga. As far as Zoro has seen, Marines never actually do any sort of undercover work or whatever. They just stupidly fire bullets at things and hope one hits. But that's not how Saga sees them, not at all.

Saga gives a sharp, proud smile, his support of his own plan entirely unwavering. Zoro assumed they would just stare at him until sanity sunk back in but suddenly, he notices Kuina going all stiff, as if a realization had just hit.

"Not it!"

Zoro stumbles some, not used to the usually calm depth that is his number one rival and best friend moving with such a reckless, her arm flying up as of theyre back at the dojo answering questions. "Hey!" He pushes his shoulder back against her. "What are you-"

"Good point!" Saga says, his intensity still bur ing as usual. "I am also not it."

Zoro looks between his two friends. His two companions. His twisted sworn brother and sister. And the evil grins that were creeping up along their faces.

"I am NOT-"

Kuina leans in so hard, Zoro ends up squashed up against Saga. "Your mouth says no," the older girl teases, sluttering her eyelashes in a way that Zoro didn't understan. Was that supposed to make him do something? "But your eyes - and my blades," she adds that bit with a pat at the swords at her side. "Say yes."

At his other side, Saga gives him an unnaturally bright smile despite the narrowed eyes glare Zoro is giving both kenshi. "You really should try and look happier. It's your wedding day after all!" He teased, nd Zoro can only grumble.

He did call not it last, damnit.

"We will just have to set up a convincing bridal procession then!" Saga pulls back, striking what Zoro feels is an all too excited pose considering the fate they've just sealed for him. "Kuina and I will act as guards, while Zoro gakes place of the bride to be. We'll put the whole thing together and make it look just like a real bridal procession! That's how we will draw this scoundrel out!"

The two npeople only seem mildly confused by the bounty hunter's plan. Zoro isn't sure what the confusion is aboit. He's hardly looking forward to this mess, but he does think Saga and Kuina did an excellent job at setting the trap and as for his part, well, he can only hide one of his three swords under the bridal gown, but with the other two concealed in the carriage in easy reach, he doesn't imagine he'll habe any difficulty grabbing for them in time. The whole plan is actually one of their better thought out schemes, so he isn't sure why the villagers take moment to get on board, but eventually they do. They even lend them materials to help make the ruse undetectable.

"I've got this!" Kuina declares in reference to the dress. She isn't much for fu-fu clothes herself - it's all so much fabric for so little practical coverage, and it always has at least one part that hangs in the weirdest way. However, she's had years of practice learning to make men's clothes for her properly so they aren't baggy and in her way and also wouldn't.... disrespect her father (Zoro knows she would never wish to voice this, but he has also seen her on holy days with his image. Holding it as tight as if he were a long honored ancestor. Looking to the stars as if they would grant her his approval.) Plus, she definitely knew what looked good on girls. Just because she doesn't wear fancy kimono and jewelry and other useless pretty things doesn't mean Kuina can't APPRECIATE what other women look like in such elaborate get ups.

It's the make up where they run into something of an issue.

"Katatsumuri," Saga asks, holding out their den den mushi. Him and the snail wince together as Kuina gets angry enough to break the brush shed be using to try and apply Zoro's lipstick, yelling that it was a subpar tool unworthy of its title and a shame to whoever forged its.... it's.... it's stupid hairs or whatever! Grr!

"Can you play a make up tutorial," Saga requests, sitting cross legged in front of Zoro. Luckily, he is very good at copying moves even from videos. Maybe this is why he appreciates marine uniforms so much, Zor thinks, cause they're all neat and orderly and it feels like you have to keep your make up neat and orderly as well.

So with Zoro looking appropriately alluring ("You're a vision," Saga promises, his breathing just a little too rushed considering they haven't even started on the hard part of the quest just yet. "You almost look decent," Kuina laughs, making sure Katatsumuri takes a picture for future reference) they gather everything else they will need for their little nightie deceit. The procession, the carriage, the spooky nighttime forest that the temple lies in the middle of for some reason no one could adequately explained.

"just sit tight," Kuina whispers from the side of her mouth as they walk deeper and deeper into the darkness. "I'm sure this willl-"

"Kuina!?" Zoro knows he is supposed to be sitting there straight and well behaved, just the way he's practiced with that overly nice girl - the one who kept getting a little bit touchy, like Zoro couldn't figure out how to hold his hands just by LOOKING at her; there is no reason to touch - but at his friend's sudden silence he couldn't help but peak out of the carriage window.

Nothing but wind and leaves and darkness.

"Zoro," Saga growls from the other wise..Zoro turns to try and ask him to go check on Kuina. That's what he should do, rather than break character. Good call. "Keep on guar-"

Silence.

Suddenly there is nothing.. No horses. No Marines pretending to be maid in waiting. No guards. No friends. Just darkness, and a low, soft whisper of the wind. Something dark, something.... stirring.

Zoro licks his lips, that awful taste of the lipstick coming off with it. He reaches for the trap door where his two other swords are stored when -

Click.

The door opens a light storm: the fall of rain, wind sweeping through the trees, dark hair, striking eyes, and such long and slender fingers reaching out for him, not grabbing, but making an offering. Holding his hand out for the supposedly young and virginal bride.

And suddenly Zoro can feel it in his chest. This lightness. This heat.

He fumbles, trying to find the damn torch. Where were his matches? Why is he going for the stupid candle and not his swords? What is wrong with him?

"I can't help but notice," the strange is silhouettes in the darkness, out the moonlight behind him offering any glimpse. But that voice. So dark, like a shadow. Like the way a smooth sake feels sliding down your throat. "You seemed to be in trouble, my little lamb. I hope those ruffians didn't cause you any harm."

As if you didn't send those ruffians, only Zoro's voice is entirely gone. The boy's golden eyes pierce through him like an arrow. Where is his voice? It seems the only part of him that can speak is his heart, and that is beating so loud it filled the entirety of the carriage

It only gets louder when the stranger's lips quirk upward, the water running down his hair, his pale skin, sliding around his lips. Making them shimmer and shine in the low candle light. "What a remarkable beauty. How could anyone wish to hurt such an angel?" His hand is still hanging there, half way between them. Zoro licks his lip subconsciously, the water clinging to the stranger's lower lip making him want....

No! He's meant to focus! He is here on a mission, not some silly game.

Yet the way the stranger smiles does leave his stomach feeling all sorts of silly. Are those his finger tips shaking as he reaches out, gently entrusting his hand to the stranger.

Immediately he is being pulled forward, so close it Zoro can't keep the gasp escaping his lips. He's not used to these shoes, there's far too much of them for starters, and the heels catches on the fabric of his dress and-

As he falls foward, the stranger moves in close and through the low light of the moon and a single candle, those gorgeous golden eyes stare right into Zoro's soul, soft and yet certain as he reaches out, easily pulling Zoro into his arms.

Pressed against the man's chest, Zoro understands why so many of those manga he finds Saga hiding away have girls pressed up to marines just like this. The way his heart beats in Zoro's ear, the protective warmth of his arms....

"Where did-"

"You men seem to have run off," The stranger says, holding him close. The hold is gentle and yet formal, as of purposefully being polite and careful with him. "I believe they were trying to lure the attackers away."

He knows that hadn't been the plan, but he can only stare up at the stranger, his cheeks so warm he thinks of lifting the veil, just to get some fresh air. But surely if he saw him that would give them game away.

"Your physical beauty must only be surpassed by that of your heart, to have such a loyal and fearless guard. I would hate to see their bravery go to waste. I don't have much, certainly not lodging worthy of such a precious gem, but there is a small temple nearby that will offer us shealter. I can keep you safe until your entourage regroups. That is, if you will allow it."

His golden eyes are staring down at our hero, soft and intense all at once, and they leave his tongue feeling equally confused: heavy and light at the same time.

"You have my permission to do with me as you please." Zoro hadn't practiced any sort of script, the plan had been to attack and words had seemed unnecessary. He still isn't sure where such a sentiment even came from! What a silly thing to say! He must look like a gu-

Wait, that isn't the what Zoro is supposed to be concerned about. Why does he even care if he looks like a fool!?

Even as he tries to hide himself against the stranger's chest, he catches a glimpse of that smirk. That horribly cocky, confident turn of his lips that leaves the poor kenshi melting, all the heat not coloring in his face pooling much, much lower.

"I shall take you with me then, beauty-ya, and act as your guide until we can reunite you with your proper assembly."

"Mmm," Zoro mutters, voice high and breathless. Perhaps to ensure the act is believable? "Take me with you, unite with me, yes..."

Just an act, that's all. Right, that's why he's doing this. To go along with the plan.

That's why he puts up no struggle as he suddenly finds himself lifted up into the strangers arms. The man's hat keeps his face mostly hidden, but Zoro is sure to memorize the edges of his cheeks, his lips and chin where rivlets of water drip from his dark skin. The beautiful dark ink that covers the strong arms that have Zoro safely held against his chest.

All for the sake of the mission, Zoro reminds himself, leaning his cheek against the stranger's wet shirt, tucking in closer to his warmth as a blue light suddenly involves the both of them.

"Shambles."

And then the forest is quiet, nothing but an abandoned carriage left behind.

#the bounty hunting trio we deserve #shimotsuki kuina #wants to be the world's greeatest swordsman and also a great ppirate of the seas because screw samurai #if women can't be samurai then she will leave the dojo and become something better #Saga One Piece #he has a bit of a marine kink #IT'S NOT A KINK TO CELEBRATE THE BRAVERY OF THE MARINES #no but it is when you want your girlfriend to dress up like one #roronoa zoro #who only knows he wants to be the world's greatest swordsmen #one piece #trafalgar d. water law #trafalgar law #zolaw #I promise Law isn't just out here kidnapping helpless girls #okay he is but it's not as bad as it sounds - the townspeople left out some important information #not that hes helping - he's a pirate; pirates don't help people #however spoiler alert his little sister isn't a piarte and Lami has a lot of pull over her brother's heartstrings #though she's about to have some major competition #Corazon also lives #one piece au #one piece fanfic #I know no one asked for this but its the first real fic I've really written in a long time so it's what you get #the zolaw au nobody asked for #fairy tale twist #part one #law x zoro #later kuina x lami BECAUSE I CAN #all the girls live #my writings

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ask-bluesman · 2 years

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A summary of changes

I spent the past couple of weeks on sick leave after having my tonsils removed, which means I had some spare time to take another look at my characters and their colours. I'm going back to work tomorrow, so let's take a quick glance at the tweaks (that may or may not be permanent.. man, I don't know anymore)!

Boatswain got his baggy pants back, though somewhat lighter this time. I was going through my sketchbook and figured I liked those just a little bit more than the slim ones. Bos is small, so it's not odd for him to wear oversized clothes! I changed the bandana to an earthy orange & his cap is slightly off-white (dirty) now, with a brown rim. Went back to bubbles coming out of his pipe instead of regular smoke. The very, very first boatswain I've ever drawn was blowing bubbles!

I decided to keep the lighter beard, soles and toe claws, I believe they make him just a tad more interesting. Ol' gramps certainly enjoys having a full set of claws, no doubt about that. I keep making his nose turquoise instead of cyan. Maybe it wants to stay this way? I like both!

Captain's white cap got swapped for a dusty, dark blue one. I wanted each lad to have a different hat, just to highlight the difference between their ranks. Blue caps are generally associated with aviation, but I think it still works well for him! The little fish is made of cardboard. Packie draws them himself and glues them, then proudly parades with them on his head until they eventually fall off and he has to do that again, haha.

I experimented with his colour scheme for quite a bit, but eventually kept it as it was. Very minor change to the jacket colour. I also shaved the fuzz off his scarf and threw a checked pattern on it instead. He deserves fancy neckwear! I hope Sakura never discontinues manufacturing the particular pen I draw these lines with because the colour is just perfect.

The way I approached admiral was pretty intuitive. I didn't look at any older doodles of him and simply drew what felt right. His outfit lost some details this way. His white hat is here to stay - I just changed the shape and look of the badge a little; not sure if I want the rim to be this dark blue or brown. I made his shoulder insignia simpler, as I meant to do it earlier. Completely forgot that little buckle on the strap and the third row of buttons on his boobies. These might come back, I don't know yet - I'm sloppy, so I have to cover small details with masking fluid (that prevents them from being painted) and just like 90% of watercolourists... golly, I hate using masking fluid.

I had quite a dilemma with his gloves and boots. Ultimately made them much lighter and I think this is how I prefer them. They add some much-needed contrast as up to this point his colour scheme was on the darker side and, to be perfectly honest, I wasn't a fan of that. I believe I'm not skilled enough to make proper use of dark colours, especially in traditional media, but it's ok! I enjoy the vintage feel of admiral's current colour palette.

And as for the main colour of his uniform? I had to ditch that previous indigo because I couldn't stand how the paint handled :( The one you see here is a custom mix, which, hopefully, won't be too hard to replicate. What I like about it is that it looks like a duller shade of Prussian Blue. A colour I tend to use sparingly because it fades, but otherwise love very, very much!

Nothing really changed about Taffy except that I made her ribbon lighter here. For some reason my scanner wasn't happy about that! The purples are very pink-leaning in the scanned version, while in person they are considerably cooler. I like them in person, but here... not so much. It could be the paper though, so I'll give it another go once I use up this particular supply (I'm about to)!

Her eyes are ever so slightly green-tinted, but it doesn't show here, does it? I will add a touch more green next time. This thing is surprisingly hard to balance because with too much green in her eyes she starts to look kinda spooky.

You have to wait for a bit before you hit your final form, Taffy!

I like Mia's colours, but it took two attempts to get them right and my gosh, was the first try icky and clashing. I'm going work on her overall look at some point in the future. I hope I can push her proportions to be somewhat more cartoony & her face to be more expressive. I took a glance at my older doodles of her and she looked as if she was a Disney princess' horse, haha. We want none of that here! Silly & homely looking horses all the way.

Rookie didn't change much either, I only picked a more vibrant shade of yellow for her scarf. I'm most likely going to go back to the older, more toned-down version. I enjoy punchy & vibrant colours - just not on my little ol' characters!

I also didn't grab my best black for Roo, but thankfully I have a replacement. Notice the tiny white dots all over the black parts? This is an undesirable trait in watercolour, some pigments do it naturally, but in some cases it's the formula or paper (or both). Sometimes I'm tempted to colour her black parts with a pen, but I think that would look too harsh. But you never know before you try it!

*****

Whew! That's it for the changes. I know these may not look like much (and it's true), but in reality I ended up removing and replacing a good portion of my paints for better alternatives. This means I had to build a new palette from scratch, holy smokes. I'd better stick with these tweaks because I really don't want to do this one more time!

EDIT: Oy, one last thing I wanted to add - looking at those doodles, I realised I need to try and fix my inking. It's not very good! I typically ink with fineliners (that's the easiest and simplest way), then colour, then go over my lines again to make them darker and thicker. But it also gives them this unappealing, rugged look. Next time I'll do just a single round & see how that looks!

#boatswain #captain #admiral #Taffy #Mia #Rookie

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angelguk · 3 years

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dedicated to the lovely @himboksj happy (very late almost criminally late) bday present! so whew... there’s a lot happening in this one! return of jock!jk and his wonderful girl oc now featuring!!: squirting, creampie, oral (fem receiving), mild choking, biting, boobs in face!!, anime tiddy mentions, praise kink galore, multiple orgasms, the use of a vibrator, jaykay is sick actually, over-stimulation, mild spit kink, dommish!jk, (redacted) pet name, mentions (and watching) of porn, everybody is in love and horny, crying cause the dick too good, fingering but not really. 5k of words that should have never left my brain. listen to continuum & nothing without you by tanerelle (kindly check masterlist for the pretty boy drabble mini masterlist if you want to read the rest of this au!)

Jeongguk didn’t mean to go snooping through your things. It was 100% accidental. He just remembered that you kept some athletic tape in your drawers because Jeongguk usually needed to wrap his knee or ankle after practice and you ensured that he always had some near (in case he came crashing at yours instead of going back to his dorm after Coach brutalised him during drills). And, anyway, you were at a point in your relationship where Jeongguk didn’t necessarily feel the need to outright ask you if he could poke around your drawers. Of course, he respected your space, but it’s not like he wasn’t nosy when you were best friends. You were in the shower too, he didn’t want to bang on the door and ask where you kept the tape.

Imagine his surprise when he reached the final drawer in your dresser, idly rummaging around for the blue athletic tape he knows is buried somewhere, and his fingers latch around a silky cloth instead. He knew what it was immediately, the shape a dead give-away. A discreet bullet vibrator, stuffed under your unnecessarily large collection of fluffy winter socks. Perhaps he stopped breathing, the twitch in his loose workout shorts undeniable. He’s not surprised that you own one and yet, his brain can’t fathom you using it. Even now, Jeongguk’s still growing used to seeing you come undone around his length, the feeling of your walls tight on his cock as your mumble his name. It drives him mad. He’s seen you in every kind of state; sobbing hysterically, laughing until tears slip from your pretty eyes, stumbling drunk in the streets, eyebrows furrowed with anger at him, that soft tiny grin you grant him on good days, the pout your lips settle into when you don’t get your way. He never fathomed he’d ever see you in that way, skin flushed with heat, eyes cloudy with ecstasy, your heat pressed against his own. He finds new ways to fall in love with you every day but it reaches new heights when he’s deep inside of you. Maybe he’s mildly obsessed with seeing you unravel, but that’s a secret he keeps to himself.

He does take a peek at your toy though, a soft velvet-like purple vibrator. It’s cute actually, something you would definitely purchase. But then the sound of water hitting the shower tiles slows down and Jeongguk swiftly tucks the toy back into your drawers.

“Oh?” You say when you open the door to him standing stiff in your room. The steam from the shower wraps around your figure in gentle wisps, sunlight filtering in from the window behind you, the image of an innocent angel appearing right before his eyes. “You’re here.”

“Practise ended early,” Jeongguk returns, his gaze trailing the droplets of water that slip down your skin. You smell good, just like that vanilla and peach shower gel that you dearly love. And the towel hiding your body is loose. It’s not his fault that he’s hard in his pants. When he moves to hug you, your face contorts, a downward tug at your lips that Jeongguk longs to change with a kiss.

“I’m wet,” you whine, brushing past him. “Go shower, you always stink after practise.”

He huffs, strong arms catching your fleeing figure and quickly wrapping you into his chest. “No. Don’t want to. I missed you and you can’t even hug me? You’re so mean to me.”

“Guk-” Jeongguk cuts that complaint with his face in your neck, lips colouring your skin rouge with a kiss that intends to leave a mark. “You can’t,” you mumble, but your fingers settle on the nape of his neck, tangling in the growing strands of his hair. “I have to get to work soon.”

“It won’t take long,” Jeongguk returns, feathering kisses across your skin as he nudges you to the bed. “I promise. Let me do this, I’ve missed you, bunny.”

Your towel is discarded somewhere in the amble to your sheets, your thighs wrapped around Jeongguk’s face a second later. He watches your body carefully, teasing your clit with purpose before he allows himself to slip his tongue deep. He notes the twitches in your thighs, the way your buck your hips against his face. He ignores his desire, for the time being, nose buried at the apex of your cunt, tongue covered in your slick, his lips latched on your clit. You like it fast, purposeful sharp flicks that make you squirm until Jeongguk has to pin your hips down, the lave on your heat brutal. His brain can’t help but wonder how you’d behave with your toy grazing your clit and his cock burrowed deep. You’re so sensitive, response to even the softest kiss he lays on your cunt. Would you be wetter than this? You’re already dripping down his face, his mouth glistening with your desire. But he wants to see if you can do more than this, squirm more than this, make a bigger mess than this. The thought surfaces as he feels your body lock, the tension in your limbs drawn high as your hands reach for his. You cum on his face with your fingers intertwined, his name falling from your lips as the afternoon sunlight hits your skin. It’s then and there that Jeongguk decides, with his mouth wet from your release, he’s going to see you squirt one day. For him and him alone.

He waits for the moment to naturally strike, silently scheming wicked thoughts every time you crawl into his sheets. It happens one evening, an empty bottle of wine at the foot of your bed and hentai porn playing brazenly on his laptop screen. Somewhere between downing the bottle and cuddling in his sheets Jeongguk had mentioned an uncanny resemblance between your gigantic chest and the anime boobies he’d grown fond of since his introduction to hentai. You’d immediately dismissed him, whacking him hard on the head and then Jeongguk had to prove it to you, opening his favourite website and pulling up a video that had your jaw-dropping.

“Your boobs do that, you know,” he says. Which grants him a sharp kick to the shin.

“Jeongguk, what is wrong with you?” He can tell you’re not annoyed, but there’s a lilt in your voice that makes him pause, doe eyes flicking to your face. You may be kicking him under the blankets but your eyes are stuck to the video, a distance glaze colouring your gaze. He can tell by the way your thighs draw together that you’re not as averse to this as you pretend to be.

“Turn it off,” you mumble.

“Why? I can tell that you like it.”

“Jeon, I’m not joking.” There’s a glare paired with that sentence, but he reads right through it.

“Fine,” Jeongguk offers, fingers already typing what’s been on his mind since the day he discovered your vibrator.

“What are you—oh.”

There’s a quiet lull. He clicks on a video that’s more familiar to him than he’ll ever willingly admit out loud. It starts the way Jeongguk prefers it to, with a man on his knees, his head buried between the thighs of a girl.

“What are you doing, Guk?” A warning. A question. Jeongguk is not sure what you mean by that and he’s too hesitant to take a look at your face to decipher the tone in your voice just yet. He takes the jump instead, hoping you don’t mind the fantasies of his mind.

“Have you ever squirted?” Somewhere between the exchange of words in Jeongguk's room, the man on his laptop screen slipped two fingers into the girl. It doesn’t help that your boobs are falling right out of your loose camisole, resting right on his bare arm.

“Jeongguk,” you return. “Answer my question.”

“Answer mine first,” he looks at you then, trying hard to read your eyes. There’s no heat in your face, just an innocence that colours your features. Wide eyes, your legs draw together, a hard swallow that he sees in the low lights that illuminate the room.

“No,” you say, bottom lip caught between your teeth. “So why are you showing me squirting porn?”

It’s then that Jeongguk realises he wants to ruin you. As horribly cliché as it sounds, he longs for that. And the urge for it doubles when your gaze falters, flicking quickly for the screen before drifting back to his. The couple is still fucking on his screen, hard quick loud thrusts that travel to the pit in his stomach fast. He’s hard in his briefs, a painful throb ebbing through his length when your hand drops to his chest.

“Guk?”

He shuts the laptop, the moans cut off, a heated silence taking its place. The bed feels too big when he gets up, ignoring the confused look you give him.

The vibrator is exactly where he left it, oddly comforting because it means you don’t use it. You have him after all. But he needs the toy for tonight.

“What? Guk? What’s go—when did you find that?” You’re embarrassed, he knows it from the way you squirm under the blanket. He glances down at it, finger pressing the switch that turns it on. A quick run through shows ten decent vibrators at different levels, it’s rather intense even in his hands, the low buzz that it emits filling the room forbidding before he shuts it off.

“A couple of weeks ago,” he says. You groan, your head dropping into your hands.

“Put it away, Guk! And don’t go through my stuff ever again.”

“Why? I think it’s cute.”

“Cu—what is the point of this, Jeongguk? I don’t get what you’re trying to do?” And there you go, staring at him with those wide ingenuous eyes. So trusting, so clueless. He draws closer then, considers taking his underwear off so you can see just what you do to him. But when your gaze drops he halts. It’s not about him tonight. It’s about you.

The bed dips under the weight of his as he says it, the toy still in his hands. “I want to see if you can squirt.” He sees the way your back stiffens, the raise in your brow.

“I’ve never done that,” you splutter, falling back as Jeongguk crawls over you.

“I know. But you can.”

“I can’t, Guk. I don’t think I can.” Your pretty lips are drawn into a reluctant pout, but there’s a bright curiosity sparking through your gaze that Jeongguk knows all too well.

“See, you don’t think you can. You said that before. And then I made you cum five times in a row.”

“No that was different—”

“We’re just seeing if you can. We don’t have to if you don’t want to but I think it’d be fun to try.”

You pause, trying to ignore the heat blooming between your legs as you weigh the decision before you. There were times when you thought you were about to, an edge in your orgasms that felt dangerous. But your body never let you go there fully, drawing back from your slipped from heights you couldn’t handle. You can tell Jeongguk won’t grant you the same precautions. His eyes a dark, toeing a line that feels forbidding. The covers are gently pulled from you, Jeongguk staying silent as you ponder. But the moment the cool night air hits your skin you know what he’s asking for. It’s a strange level of vulnerability, a bareness that makes your skin prickle. He wants something that you’ve never given anyway else — not even yourself. It’s a lot to ask for and his directness makes you pause. The hesitation crumbles when his hand settles on your thigh, wide warm palm gently nudging your clasped legs apart.

“We really don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” Jeongguk says, honey eyes locked on you. You know he’s being honest; he wouldn’t push it if you said no. And yet, something twists in your stomach. You want this. The realisation is sudden and you don’t know if it’s because of how perfect Jeongguk looks tonight. Chestnut curls a messy halo on his head and his shirt hanging loose from his broad shoulders. Or maybe it’s how he looks at you as if this is the only he’s ever really wanted in the world. As if you’re the only thing he’s ever really wanted.

“I want to—I mean I want to try.” You let yourself fall open then, something clicking as Jeongguk slots right against you perfectly, your sleeping shorts bunching up when his hips roll with intent. His lips land on your neck a moment later, a kiss so soft that you don’t feel it at first, lost in the way he hits your clit when he bucks into you. Jeongguk draws you back with a bite, one sharp enough to leave you gasping, your back arching from the sheets. He lets his hands slip under then, the vibrator momentarily forgotten as he maps your skin, lips feather-light once more, kisses gentle enough to leave you delirious.

“So good to me,” Jeongguk mumbles, eyes drifting to your lips. He draws close then, mouth fitting yours in a dreamlike perfectness. It’s flavoured with wine and want, a clear hunger in how he parts your lips. The hands that grip you are hard but his lips are gentle, savouring the taste of you against his mouth as if he wants to commit it to memory. The softness of the act has your skin tingling, bright and wild yet slow like the turning of the Sun. When you part, the air is different — charged, the current that swims through the atmosphere finding a home in your body as it settles in the depth of your gut. Jeongguk doesn’t give you time to ponder, mouth trailing from the corner of your lips to the hollow of your neck where he bites. It hurts enough to shock your senses, sweeping you back from the heavenly haze to the alarming reality of what he’s about to do to you. Your whimper hits the air as his tongue presses into the mark, painting your skin dark. A pointed reminder. You’d thought Jeongguk would be possessive, but sometimes he surprises you with it. The purposeful touches, the harsh bruises he likes to leave high on your neck. Or anywhere on your body, really. There are times he’d press his fingertips into them when you’re willing enough to let him choke you, the flash in your eyes spurring his hips forward.

For now, he busies himself with breathing a new one to life, one you know he’ll play with tomorrow — or later tonight if you give him the chance. Your brain can’t think that fair, zoning out as his mouth works a claim on your skin. Eager fingertips are drifting down your thighs, brushing past the band of your sleeping shorts. It’s expected that you’re already wet, but Jeongguk delights in his find with a muted moan in your neck. His fingers don’t go further though, grazing light against the damp fabric of your underwear. The swivel of your hips is automatic but Jeongguk quickly stills it with a hard press of his palm into your skin. You’re forced into the mattress, freezing when he finally wanders from your neck to your chest. So slow, wet lips idly trailing until his face lands between your chest.

“Gukkie,” you hadn’t realised how gone you already sounded until you spoke, voice wavering. He hums in response, non-committal, his hands shifting from your hips as he focuses on freeing you from your top so he can get your boobs in his mouth.

“Don’t tease me today.” You’re trying to sound firm, pliantly raising your arms so he can get you bare. But that firmness shrinks when your eyes land on his. So dark in the dwindling moonlight bleeding through your half-open blinds.

“Why?” There’s that smile of his, one corner hung higher than the either. You’ve sunk yourself in a sea brimming with sharks. “You sound cute when you whine, bunny.”

“Jeong — fuck.” There’s no point in protesting when he’s buried himself between your chest, tongue already toying with your nipple. Too many guys before him had misunderstood how to touch you there, but Jeongguk knew — he had learned. Studied your body so that he knows when to nip or kiss, shifting from pain to pleasure until the line blurred and so did your vision, until the only sound filling the room are harsh breaths and the quiet murmur of his name. Your hands eventually stray to his head, the heat in your core demanding attention as you guide him down. Jeongguk complies, not because he doesn’t want to tease you any further, but because he loves tasting you too much to ever say no.

The sight he finds sends an ache down his length, already hard but now leaking into the fabric of his grey sweats. You spread yourself so easily for him, light pink panties coloured dark with your wetness.

“Cute,” Jeongguk whispers, falling naturally into his place between your legs. It wasn’t meant to grace the air, but he’s glad it did when he notes the bashful smile tugging at your lips and how you twist to shift your head into the pillows the closer he gets. Which, honestly, makes him pause. He wants you to watch, needs you to. Something in the base of his brain needing constant affirmation that he’s making you feel good driving his next set of movements.

The hand on your chin is unexpected and adamant. You can’t help but give in, wide-eyed when Jeongguk forces your gaze onto him. “Need you to look bunny, can you do that for me?” The nod you give him is instinctual, heat blossoming in your bones when Jeongguk smiles, satiated and proud. Perhaps you should have put up more of a fight, but how could have known what he would do with only the tender touches he’d lift as your guide. Even the quick kiss he plants on your clothed cunt revealed nothing of what’s to come. So gentle as he pulls he fabric down your hips, discarding it somewhere in the sheets, his eyes never leaving the wetness on your lips.

“My pretty girl,” he says, nipping the inside of your thigh. You squirm at that, futile because Jeongguk just held you closer. “All mine, right bunny?”

“All yours,” you return, voice far and your mind slipping from your hands. Jeongguk apparently takes that to heart because he devours you, nose burrowed in the apex of your cunt, breathing you in as his tongue mapped the velvet of your walls. It doesn’t take long for your legs to wrap around his head, back raising from the bed and the drip of your slick coating your inner thighs. Yet, Jeongguk relishes it, forgoing breathing as he eats you open, toying with your clit as if that was his sole life purpose. You forget the world with a speed that should concern you, thighs trembling with each determined swirl of his tongue over that bud. Again and again, until you spill into his mouth, wet and creamy, creating a mark of your own on his lips. He keeps you there, unrelenting even when your whines hit high and your chest heaves. There’s a ringing in your ears as the high wanes away, which is swiftly placed by a quiet mumbling that sinks into your skin.

“Tastes so good,” Jeongguk murmurs, licking between your folds. “So fucking good.”

“Jeon,” Something twists in your gut when he drops a final kiss onto you as if he was thanking you for letting him do that when you should be the one on your knees thanking him. When he softly drops your leg to the soiled sheets you decide it quickly, already shifting onto your elbows.

“Yes?” Such innocent eyes staring back at you like he didn’t just fuck you open with his tongue.

“I want you too,” you’re already shifting but Jeongguk is quick, fingertips hard on your jaw when he halts you. He knows what that means, reads it in how your gaze drops to the crotch of his pants, wet just like you were. But that’s not what he wants, besides, he’d rather save that for other places.

“No.” When he says that you almost deflate, but then Jeongguk drops his hand from your jaw, swiftly dragging his shirt over his back and off his body. There’s nothing that can suffocate the desire that blooms in your chest. He’s so beautiful, hard lines and warm skin, kissed by the Sun herself. There’s an itch in your palm instantly, and you hastily register that if you don’t touch him you might die. Yet, your eager hands are pinned over your head, wrists wrapped tightly in the grip of one of his wide calloused palms. There’s a brief moment where his attention is caught by the bounce of your chest before you’re suddenly overwhelmed by the fact that you’ve never asked Jeongguk to fuck your tits before. But as you stow that away for later concern, Jeongguk’s other hand drifts to the discarded vibrator, sinister now in his command.

“Don’t want to fuck your mouth, bunny. It’s not about me tonight, it’s about you.”

“But—” Jeongguk swallows that protest with a quick kiss, the taste of you on his tongue igniting a fire that crackles and consumes until you feel nothing but heat and want, all fuelled by your erratic lovesick heart. You kiss until the only thing filling your lungs is him, like a heavy smoke that envelopes you, travelling through your body until you pull away, warm chest flushed against his. There’s a stupid twinkle in his eyes and it makes you feel sick, swaying dangerously when he shifts away. You don’t want him to go, but you don’t move when he gives you that look. The devastating ache dissipates when his pants drop from his hips, hard cock meeting the cool air. The twitch that travels down his length echoes between your walls, eagerly clenching around nothing. Jeongguk just smiles, stripping bare leaving himself vulnerable to your eager eyes. You wait, behaving good because you want to for him and Jeongguk notes this, delivering a pleased slap to your cunt when he pulls you close, one hard enough to jolt through your spine when his palm hits your clit.

“I’m kind of sensitive,” you whisper, shy again. Which is funny because weren’t you begging for his cock down your throat a second ago?

“I know,” Jeongguk returns, uncaring. The vibrator comes to life a moment later, buzzing low through the room. He knocks it up to the second-highest level.

“Jeongguk! Start low then work it up. I can’t take it like that directly, it'll chafe me.” Which is right, your clit is already feeling dry, slick staying solely between your walls. Jeongguk notes that, pausing before sinking two of his fingers deep. You squeak, hips lifting when they brush against that spot in your walls. He works you open deftly, pleased when you grind your hips into his hands, spurred on by the feeling of something finally inside of you. But it’s fleeting, Jeongguk dragging his fingers out and over your clit before raising his fingers to his lips and licking them clean.

“Now it won’t,” he states, and before you can open your mouth and deliver a retort the vibrator is pressing against that bundle of nerves, tremors echoing in your bones as your legs squeeze shut in an attempt to get away. Jeongguk pins them open, cock leaking against your thigh and he rolls the edge of the toy over your clit, before you jolt so hard the sheets shift and he knows exactly where to place it. He works it out of you, praise naturally falling from his petal lips when you give in, eyes shut tight and your heart stuck in your throat. The vibration feeds the heat in your gut, drawing it to the surface of your skin, sweat beading along your forehead and a dampness forming down your spine. It feels both quick and slow, coaxed out of you with steadfastness. Jeongguk’s gaze never strays from your pussy, locked there as he etches this moment into his memory. You look gorgeous, whining and twisting underneath him. He can tell that this is a lot for you, judging from how you bury your face away from him. He would have forced your eyes on him, if he wasn’t already so enthralled by how perfect you look like this, moans low colouring the air bright with their sound. His own want multiples when your body freezes, strung tight, the edge beckoning you over.

He pulls the vibrator off then, depriving you of your release because his brain demands that he feels this one around his length.

“Jeongguk!” You’re on your elbows, eyebrows furrowed together in frustration. “Why-w-why would you do that?” There’s a waver in your tone, a lilt so pretty he can’t help but smile.

“When you squirt you’re doing it on my cock.” He states it like it's final. And it is from how he draws you close, vibrator momentarily lost in the sheets, the head of his length brushing against your wetness.

But what catches your attention is when. A loaded promise. A determined one.

You spread your legs open, shifting until he slips past walls stretching to accommodate his welcoming presence. “Okay then, make me.” You say it with your gaze on his, watching as his eyes glaze over hips already bucking deeper, before your words register in his brain and Jeongguk’s gaze shifts into a dangerous glint.

He tugs you hard, pulling close enough so that he sinks in deep, cunt already moulding to the curves of his cock. “With pleasure.” Those words are warning, painted right into the heat of your skin as he sheathes himself inside of you. The groans in the air belong to both of you melting into one distinctive sound. It’s cut by the lewd squelch of your wetness coating his length, one that settles in Jeongguk’s gut, release already creeping into the corner of his vision. But he holds it back by knocking your legs further apart, mouth returning to the bruise he left earlier, teeth sinking into the sensitive skin. You arch into him, shifting as pain bleeds through your nerves. The motion allows the last inch of him to slip past your walls, spearing you open, before Jeongguk draws himself out and returns with a hard slow thrust. He fucks you deep, right into the bed, the frame creaking with each loud meeting between the two of you. You can’t do anything but cling onto him, eyes fluttering as his cock drives into you, determined with every piston of his hips to see you unravel. And you do, with a sickening quickness, already weak with the remembrance of your past edge. You feel soft underneath him, pressed against his skin like you hope you find a home for yourself there. And Jeongguk provides — lips mapping your skin gently and a pride in his tone that makes you want to do anything for him.

“That’s it, good girl.” You can’t say anything but his name, whining with every drag of his length along your walls. “So good to me,” he whispers, sweet, unlike his unforgiving hips. “Pretty girl and she’s all mine.”

“Yes,” you gasp, wanting this more than ever. “All yours—a-all—hnghhhh—y-yours! Jeongguk, please! P-please, please, please.”

He slows, smiling into your neck. “What bunny? What do you want?”

“Wanna cum, Jeongguk p-please let me cum.” When he moves away you feel your gut drop. The vibrator is flicked back one, humming dangerously. “Guk—” you start; he shushes you with a purposeful thrust.

“You said you wanted to cum. Remember what you promised me, bunny?” You nod, slow, nervous but your need overriding your fear. Jeongguk just smiles, shifts himself a little deeper, and then places the vibrator where you need it most. It’s not instant, but it’s quick and violent, travelling through your bones and Jeongguk rocks himself deep, curls damp on his forehead and his shoulders tense but his body still giving. You match his movements with your own, shuddering the closer you feel it creep, ripping itself right out of your limbs, drawn to the surface with no remorse, your eyes falling shut and hips seizing. The vibration paired with the feeling of Jeongguk fucking you full is intoxicating, and unlike you he doesn’t hesitate, playing with your clit unforgivingly.

You don’t even hear yourself, mouth agape and your back high from the sheets, all you know is heat, burning from the inside out. No air in your lungs as it spills from you, right onto his length, walls drawn tight. It hits his abdomen, leaving his muscles wet and glimmering as the moonlight greets his skin. Jeongguk shuts down, hips moving automatically, the vibrator thrown aside, still buzzing forlornly. He couldn’t give a damn about it, bending your legs back and fucking into you hard as you coat his cock in your wetness. If it was loud before, it’s obscene now. The nails in his back spur him further, a need he’s never felt before consuming him whole. It’s already there, the white of his desire clouding his vision, but his brain suddenly stills.

Jeongguk’s hand on your chin draws you back to Earth, mind nothing but mush as he continues to fuck you open. They’re erratic thrusts, and with them, you slowly release that your cheeks are wet. Jeongguk realises it the same time you do, thumb gingerly brushing the tears falling from your eyes away. There’s a strange new awareness buzzing through your body, like your bones feel new, limbs reformed. But nothing could prepare you for that thumb on your cheek travelling down, grazing your lips until they fall open. He slips it past, lets you flick your tongue against it, before demanding. “Open.”

And you do, because what wouldn’t you do for him.

“Can I?” He questions, and somehow you know what he is asking. Another claim. Something else you’ve given nobody but him.

“Yes.”

There’s a fall in his shoulders as if he was afraid you would deny him. But how could you ever? His thumb leaves your lips, hand drifting until it settles on your neck, pressing firmly but not tight. And then his own lips part, hips unwavering, for what he sends down your throat. You swallow, oddly thrilled by it while Jeongguk watches silently, almost in marvel. It does something to you, the way he stares, like he cannot believe you’re his. And you feel that sentiment in how he kisses you next, desperate, pleading, thankful. You return it, tongue soft against his as you feel his back draw taut, a low groan spilling down your throat when Jeongguk finally snaps, euphoria bleeding through his brain. You feel it hit your walls, warm and wet, painting you white, a strange satisfaction settling through your body.

When he eventually rolls over, quiet like he’s still recovering, you can’t help but squeeze your thighs together, an attempt to keep his love locked in. His hand cups your own, guiding you back into reality with a gentle squeeze.

The still buzzing vibrator is what you hear first, followed by the joint panting of your lungs. You move to grab it, hoping to hide the revelation in your eyes by glaring at him. Jeongguk is still too lost to care, face flushed a vibrant rouge.

“Turn this stupid thing off,” you mutter, legs still stuck, fused to the bed from the shock of your orgasm. Jeongguk snatches it up, waving it through the air as he turns it off, before giving it a fond kiss.

“Gross,” you comment, smacking his hard chest.

“No,” Jeongguk returns, dropping it. He plants a ginger kiss on your forehead. “I quite like it actually, we should order another one. Do you think they do vibrating panties?”

You hit him again, rolling over until your leg swings over his. He keeps looking at you like that, and it keeps clawing right through your heart. “You’re so sick and evil,” you say instead of the annoying comments that flutter in your delirious brain. You want to call him pretty, beautiful, perfect, maybe the best thing you’ve ever had. But you can’t let Jeongguk know he has all that power over you — not when already made you squirt and spat down your throat in one sitting. “Can you clean me up? I’m getting sticky.”

Jeongguk stills like he’s suddenly remembering what he just did, where he just came. And then you feel the rise of his chest, gaze flicking up to meet his. Bright and full of something akin to adoration, before he blinks it away.

“Give me a moment, I think I just saw God.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts x reader #bts smut #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #jungkook fanfic #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #bts fanfic #bts scenario #au: jock!jaykay

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thewritetofreespeech · 3 years

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hello!! i've made a request before but this idea came in my brain and i heard your requests were open. So ive seen a lot of fics of the brothers saving mc, but what about mc kinda of saving the brothers, i mean like badass sword fighting style. Just like a stereotypical disney prince saves a princess mc kinda saves the brothers from getting killed by a lesser demon with a sword and just being badass (and sword) and the bros find it hot (weak humans? never heard of them)

*spongebob narrator voice* 400 years lat’er..... So sorry this took so long! I genuinely don’t know why I couldn’t get it done. When I actually tried, I got it done in like 2 days. My only excuse is that I’m a horrible trash munny >.<

Obey me Boys + Power Princess MC

Lucifer

It offends him that this creature, this being not fit to lick the soles of his boots, would raise their hand to him. The attack was not even what upset him, but just the gall. The utter stupidity of this decision to throw one’s life away. The fact that they had attacked with you around only made him wish to end that pathetic life that much sooner.

“Step back [Y/N]. I’ll deal with this quic—” Lucifer cut himself off when you rushed forward. A bright shining sword in your hand as you lunged. Slashing through the demon, who wailed and instantly turned to dust & ash. “What on Earth was that?”

“Oh. It’s my sword.” You reply nonchalantly. Turning around to show it to him. “It’s a holy arc sword, or something. I can summon it from my bracelet whenever I need it. Cool to know it actually works in a pinch.”

“And where did you get such a magical artifact?” Lucifer asked. Perplexed beyond reason, but trying not to show it.

“Lord Diavolo gave it to me when I first got here.” The demon arched a brow. Lord Diavolo? “It would be really irresponsible of him to just let a human wander around hell without some kind of weapon.”

He paused for a moment. Trying to piece all of what you had just said together. Then he just chuckled. “Yes, I suppose it would be.” And here he thought that he had been the only one protecting you. When all along you could do it yourself.

His hand reached out to pat your head fondly. His breast swelling with pride. “I’ll have to thank him for giving you such a thoughtful, practical gift. We’ll also have to add sword play to your lesson plans. I’d be more than happy to be your tutor.

Mammon

‘Shit!’ Mammon mentally cursed as he was hit again.

This wasn’t the first time he’d been rough up outside a club. Given his lifestyle, and his gambling track record, he’d been pummeled by a few bouncers in his life. With his immense power, he could easily take them; if he tried. But then he would be banned from the club, and ever other, and that was something he couldn’t handle over the humiliation of being beat up by these clowns. He needed this. It was all he had.

So, he took his beatings from lesser demons when they came around. He’d only wished they’d picked a different night to get their ‘payment’ back since you were supposed to be here soon.

“Come on guys. Don’t ya think you’ve had enough?”

“We’ll tell you when we’ve had enough!” One demon sneered at him, before kicking a man while he was down. Classy. “You owe us. And we’re gonna get back every cent you owe out of your hide!”

The demon reared his foot back to kick him again, and Mammon mentally sighed. Preparing himself for the kick and really being over this since it began. But….no kick came.

The demon let out a loud grunt over the sound of a metal ‘wack’ before the two, even lesser goons beside him suffer the same fate and they all slump to the ground. “Mammon! Are you ok?!”

The silver haired demon looked up at you in shock. The light from the street lamp causing a halo to form around you, highlighting your worried face as you brandished a rusty pipe like some great sword. “Yeah…I’m fine….”

“You don’t look fine! You’re all beat up!” He just sat there as you dropped the pipe and dropped down to him. Fretting over him as you looked him over. He couldn’t hear what you were saying over the beating sound of his heart in his ears.

No one had ever tried to help him before.

Mammon lifted his arms and wrapped them around you. “Mammon? What—“Let’s get out of here.” He interrupted as he hugged you. Standing up, and helping you to your feet, after a moment to walk out of the alley. “I don’t want to be here anymore. I wanna go somewhere with you.”

“But….I thought you wanted to go out tonight. Play cards. You said you were feeling lucky?”

He couldn’t tell if that was a jab or not, but replied, “well clearly I was wrong.” Though despite his bumps and bruises, he did still feel pretty lucky right not. “I just want to get out of here. I don’t need this anymore.” You both decide to head home to help Mammon nurse his wounds. He never went back to that club, or really any club, after that night.

Levi

“Levi….I don’t think this is such a good idea.”

“Nonsense!” Levi quipped in response to your perfectly reasonable, concerned feelings. “It’s just a little further. Besides, I want to see Henry 1! I’ve missed him a ton recently, and want to make sure he remembers me.” It had broken his heart to discover his poor, lost serpent had been down here, all alone, this whole time. So he made an effort to see him every now and then.

“Yeah but…isn’t this still like super-secret for Lord Diavolo’s family and stuff? What if there’s like booby traps and stuff?”

“Come on! There weren’t any booby traps or anything before. Why would he when he has Henry to keep it…..” Levi trailed off as both of you were ingulfed by a long, dark shadow. A low hissing sound growing louder as a gold, stripped serpent towered over you with a menacing glare. “That’s not Henry.”

The snake hissed loudly with bared fangs and an open mouth, and you both scream and run to get away from it.

The serpent of course chased you. Easily able to keep up, and only loosing you when the two of you duck into a narrow corridor. Levi turned around to say something to you, but you were gone. His immediate thought was that the stranger snake had gotten you, and it was all his fault, and he would never see you again!

When he came to the end of the corridor, walking out like a man on death row instead of running, he looked up to see the snake in front of him. Clearly angered by having to chase him. Levi didn’t care. He wanted to die if anything happened to you. He’d rather die than live one moment without you.

Prepared to accept his fate, the demon didn’t move when the snake unhinged his jaw to eat him in one gulp. Only for a sharp spike to thrust out from his mouth a moment later. A strange, hissing gasp escaping it before it slumped down in a lifeless heap on the floor. “[Y/N]!”

“Jesus! Not to put too fine a pin on it, but this place is literally a maze. One minute I’m next to you, and the next I’m in some armory on the other side of the hall 50 feet away. Are you alright Levi?”

The demon scrambled up the snake corpse to stand next to you and wrapped his arms tight around your being. “[Y/N]! I was so scared! I thought this Henry imposter got you, and you were dead, and I couldn’t think of anything!”

“I’m really ok Levi.” You assure him, as he wept into your shoulder. “Do you still want to see the real Henry? I think I spotted where he actually is when I was running back with the spear?” Levi nodded into your shoulder. Still not prepared to let you go.

Satan

Satan always tried to be a reasonable man.

He hated being referred to as ‘The Demon of Wrath’. It wasn’t his wrath that had caused him to be born. And he wasn’t any angrier than his brothers, so why did he have to be labeled the ‘bad seed’? So he always tried to be level headed. Calm. Patient. But there were somethings he just could not abide. Like the boorish behavior of someone talking loudly in the library.

“Excuse me,” the blonde said, attempting to remain calm, as he came over to the rude demon two tables over, “could you please keep it down? This is a library.”

“Yeah. I know what it is.” He quipped back rather snippily. “What are you? The librarian?”

“No. Just a fellow book lover.” Satan replied. Grinding his teeth now. “And one who can follow the rules and basic social decorum of keeping my conversations to myself in a place like this.”

“Are you calling me stupid?!”

“No. I’m calling you uncouth. A word meaning undignified, and without manners.”

“Why you!”

The demon rose to his feet, towering over Satan now that he was standing. Not that it mattered. Height was not an immediate representation of strength. Look at Belphie. His younger, shorter brother could level a whole city with a flick of his wrist. Satan could easily dispatch of his imbecile without even breaking a sweat.

He never got the chance though, as just after he stood the demon let out a grunt and slumped to the floor; with you standing behind him on his depleted chair with a book in your hand like you had just pulled it from The Stone. “Bet you’re glad I think Kindles are dumb now.”

Satan had to right himself on what he was seeing, and then frowned at you. “I never said that, and get down.” He insisted. Offering you his hand to get down. You hop down with ease and set your weapon book on the table. “Honestly, I could have handled him without resorting to violence or cheap theatrics.”

“Cheap?? This book was very expensive.” You insist, and Satan had to scoff.

“Be that as it may, please do not use books for more than their intended purpose. I appreciate the assist, but I can’t have you hurting yourself or fine literature in the future.”

“You’re such a buzz kill sometimes Satan…..”

Asmo

Asmo always loved going to the club. The dancing. The energy. The pulsing music. The people.

Well…usually the people. Some people, usually bro-dude demons, just couldn’t take a hint that ‘no’ meant ‘no’.

“Come on Asmo! Why are you being so stingy?!”

“I’m not being ‘stingy’,” Asmo replied with a frown marring his beautiful face. “I’m just not interested.”

“You were interested last time.” His pursuer replied. Like that somehow gave automatic permission that things would happen again.

“That was a long time ago.” The dusk haired blonde replied. Sipping his cocktail and looking thoughtful across the spacious VIP lounge over to you.

Yes, things had certainly changed. Once where it would take a whole room of people and attention to make him content, these days all he wanted was you. Just you sparing a moment to look at him made his heart feel incredibly full. He had come here to have a fun night out with you, but it seemed no matter where he went his beauty was always causing problems.

The lesser demon frowned, then looked towards the direction Asmo was looking to land on you. “Shoot, just bring them along with us.”

“Excuse me?” Asmo asked. Beautiful expression turning Ignatius as he sat down his drink.

“Bring them along. I’ve never had sex with a human. But there must be something to it if you’re willing to do them. Not that I suppose that takes much….”

At that, Asmo leapt from his chair and grabbing the brute by the collar. He wasn’t normally one for violence. He wasn’t like his dull brothers. But he couldn’t let a slight like that against you slide. “Take it back!”

The two demon’s scuffle. Clearing out the VIP lounge as everyone ran. Scared that they might transform at any moment and literally tear each other apart. Asmo somehow ended up on his back, a position that usually didn’t bother him, as the other reared back to punch him in the face.

Or, at least he would have if he didn’t start convulsing and fall on the ground a moment later.

“Asmo! Are you ok?!”

The Lust Demon looked at you for a moment. Then delicately covered his mouth with both hands. Returning to normal. “[Y/N]! You saved me!!”

“Yeah. This little thing packs a punch.” You replied. Holding out your little pink taser from She-Sword from your clutch. “I couldn’t let this jerk hurt your beautiful face.”

“No one is more beautiful than you my fierce warrior queen!” He praised. Basking in the moment for only a second before you both scamper off before security came.

You both might be beautiful, but you didn’t want to end up on the evening news.

Beel

“I want to take up kendo.” Beel announced to you one day. Out of the blue. “I’ve been looking for ways to add variety to my workout. I came across this video on kendo and thought it would be fun.”

Of course, Beel knew you had practiced kendo in the past at school. So he might have also been looking for fitness activities for you to do together. In any case, he really liked seeing you in your little workout outfit. It was super cute.

He also liked you showing him the basics of kendo; stance, footing, basic strike movement. When he felt he had gotten the hang of it, Beel jovially asked for a sparring match with you.

“I don’t know….”

“Come on [Y/N], sparring with someone is the best way to learn fighting.” He reasoned. “Besides, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I’m not worried about that….” He heard you mutter under your breath, but thought that he must have imagined it as you squared off.

Standing across from you in the arena, something changed. The hair on the back of Beel’s neck stood up. Not in the excited way that it normally did when he saw you. But something more….primal. His grip tightened a little more as he realized he might have to get a little serious with you.

It was all for nothing though as the match was over just as soon as it started.

The shinai went flying out of his hands, landing across the room just as Beel landed on his butt. His backside throbbing as his bell was rung clear as day. He rubbed his head as he looked up at you. “I may have forgotten to mention that I was three-time national kendo champ all through school.”

The demon looked up at you with a shiny, sparkly gaze only until now reserved for delicious food. “Teach me sensei!”

Belphie

He hated being out. He wanted to go home.

Being outside in the sun, with all these…..people was hell to him. Belphie would rather be home, in actual hell, with his blanket and pillow and quiet, rather than ‘top side’ with you for the whole afternoon. Not that it was you or anything. You were the only bright star on this miserable day. He’d be damned if he’d let one of his brothers spend the day with you when he could.

“Belphie, do you want an ice cream? Maybe that will help with the heat?”

He wanted to say that the only thing that would help him was getting the hell out of here. But, he bit his tongue. The demon knew how important this was to you to come ‘home’ now & then and he didn’t want to ruin it for you. So he just nodded and asked, “strawberry please.”

He sat in the shade as he watched you go over to the ice cream truck alone. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he was just a hopeless shut in. Like Levi, only worse. He just wanted humans so much that being around them was making him crankier than normal today.

“Geez, get a look at that side show over there.”

Belphie looked up from his daze at the human who was a few yards away from him. Snickering and staring with his friends in a voice that a regular human wouldn’t be able to hear. “If you have something to say, then say it, you chicken shit fuck.” Again, he was very cranky.

The human was obviously taken aback at being heard and then called out like that. “What did you say to me?!” He yelled, once he got his bearings on the situation, and took a ‘threatening’ step forward to see if he would repeat it.

“I said ‘If you have something to say, then say it, you chicken shit fuck’.” Of course he repeated it. “Don’t mutter something under your breath like a coward. Say it like a man, or keep your gross mouth shut.” This was why he hated humans. No spine.

Well, metaphorical spine. If he kept this up, Belphie was gonna prove that he had a spine when he ripped it out and made him wear it as a neck tie.

“You little fuck--!” Belphie, of course, didn’t move when he stomped closer. Not that he needed to, because he was stopped in his tracks rather abruptly when you stepped between then. Holding a knife from your pocket.

“I suggest you get out of here, before the only ‘side show’ around here is your knife swallowing act pal.” The man seemed to frozen for a moment as he tried to process if you were serious. Then his flight instincts kicked in and he took off running with his friends across the park. “Gosh, I think I’ve been spending to much time with you guys. I never would have done anything like this before.” You said after a sigh, then turned back to Belphie.

“My hero.” He cheered softly, in his typical tired voice but still with a soft smile. Seeming extremely proud of the bad influence he was on you.

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asweetprologue · 3 years

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me lámh le do lámh - Part IV

First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

They spent a few days in Oxenfurt, mostly for Jaskier’s benefit. The bard hadn’t been lying when he’d said he wasn’t prepared to head out. There was packing to be done, his rooms to see to, appointments to cancel with the university. Geralt was happy enough to wait. It wasn’t strictly a hardship to spend some time lounging in Jaskier’s rooms and wandering the university gardens during the day before following Jaskier to whatever tavern or hall he was to play at for the evening. Jaskier was away for the better part of most days, but Geralt moved his things to Jaskier’s rooms after the first night at the inn. Waking well before Jaskier in the same bed, he was greeted each morning to Jaskier’s arm slung across his chest, warm and comfortable in the predawn silence. His cheeks would be ruddy with sleep and their shared heat under the blankets, his hair flattened awkwardly to his skull where it had been pressed to the pillow.

He’d missed this. After months without Jaskier’s presence, it felt like he was drowning in it, shocked by the strength of his own reaction. With the golden light of the morning sun shining through Jaskier’s one window to fall softly across his brow and pick out the silver strands in his hair, Geralt wondered at how he could have ever misplaced this feeling in his chest. He loved him. He wanted to preserve each moment in fine amber, never to fade.

But finally Jaskier was finished making his arrangements, and they were able to set out from Oxenfurt towards their first destination. It would take them several weeks to collect the components that Ida had mentioned—weeks that Geralt would have to spend dancing around the subject of the ritual and its origins, as well as his traitorous heart. As he caught Jaskier’s bright smile from up ahead as they crossed the Oxenfurt bridge, he hoped that he wasn’t making a terrible mistake.

“So where, exactly, are these mysterious elven ruins?”

Geralt grunted, both in answer and in exertion as he swung his sword through another clump of heavy brush, clearing the path. Roach waited patiently behind him, and Jaskier less so. He turned to look back at them both, finding Jaskier giving him an unimpressed look. Geralt forced down the urge to grumble again. “They’re close,” he said, taking Roach’s reins to lead her through the cleared bushes. The path that they were following was barely a deer trail in places, clearly unused for decades. There had been no sign thus far that the area had once been populated aside from the occasional flash of white brickwork that told Geralt they were on the right track.

“Oh, really,” said Jaskier, who had likely not noticed the brickwork, based on Geralt’s past experience with his observation skills. “You know what I think, Geralt? I think we’re lost in the woods in the middle of nowhere, a day away from the nearest hamlet, and we’re just as likely to find a wyvern den as an elven temple out here.”

“Wyverns don’t populate the lowlands,” Geralt said automatically, kicking a large branch out of Roach’s path.

Jaskier made a strangled sound behind him that Geralt might call a growl if it had come from anyone else. “I know that, I was being hyperbolic, you ass. You’re avoiding the issue.”

“We’re on the right path.” Another glint of white stone caught his eye, this time the edge of an arch wrapped nearly over in vines and moss. Only fragments remained, large chunks blending in with the forest floor.

“As if you would admit it if you were lost,” Jaskier griped, shoving a branch out of his own way. “Remember that time near Spikeroog? We were lost in a boat for three days because you wouldn’t just admit that we went west for six hours—”

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, and pushed aside the last of the foliage.

Jaskier fell silent, and they both looked beyond the treeline into the clearing Geralt had revealed. Before them rose a silent, crumbling stone structure, pale as a ghost against the dark lines of the trees in the afternoon light. Much of its surface had been reclaimed already by the forest, but enough of it poked through to give a general sense of scale. It towered at least two stories above them, though the edges were uneven in a way that suggested it once may have been higher. The front facade rose in a flat wall before them, pierced by a line of arches, their edges decorated in fading but intricate reliefs. Here and there along the line of what had once been the path leading to the central arch, the occasional protrusion of a column could be seen. The path beyond the central arch was shadowed, too dark for even Geralt to see past after so long in the daylight.

Jaskier stepped forward into the narrow clearing, and Geralt followed. Wordlessly, Jaskier raised a hand to trail along the remnants of a low, circular stone wall, perhaps the remnants of an ancient well. When he looked up at Geralt, his eyes shone, two pieces of midday sky in the murky shade of the forest. “I stand corrected,” he said, offering Geralt a giddy grin.

Geralt shook his head with a small smile, drawing Roach further into the clearing. “Let’s set up camp here. You can explore when we have someplace to sleep.”

Jaskier agreed eagerly and they both launched into the process of setting up camp. They fell easily back into old patterns, Jaskier slotting seamlessly into Geralt’s routine. It was always easier to set up and break down camp when the bard was around, though Geralt thought it had very little to do with splitting the work halfway.

Within half an hour they had created a comfortable camp in the clearing and Geralt had Roach tended to, and they both stood before the dark archway into the ruins.

Jaskier hesitated over the threshold, his excitement over the history of the place apparently conceding to nerves. “Well, ah. After you, witcher,” he said, holding out an arm as if holding an imaginary door for Geralt to walk through.

Geralt rolled his eyes and stepped into the small hall beyond the archway, blinking a few times to let his eyes adjust to the gloom. “Come on, bard,” he called over his shoulder, amusement and affection swelling in his chest as he heard Jaskier mutter and quick footsteps follow after him.

The hall ended in a flight of stairs leading down, and they had to pause to light a torch when Jaskier ran directly into Geralt’s back and nearly knocked them both down it. A quick burst of igni had firelight dancing across the smooth white stones as they descended into the ruins.

Elves, Geralt had found, rarely built up. Though their cities had towered in ages past, their true magnificence had always lain below ground. The complex that they made their way down into was labyrinthian, huge open hallways with dozens of rooms and offshoots, archways that looked in on underground courtyards with pierced ceilings that let in the daylight, huge caverns expertly carved into cathedrals. Jaskier quickly brought out a bit of charcoal he often used for taking notes or sketching and began to mark their way with arrows pointing back the way they’d come, so they might not be hopelessly lost in the ruins. Geralt led them mostly by smell, at first; Triss had mentioned that any ritual chambers would likely be on the lower levels, as they were considered private and upper floors were generally public. He followed the cool, chalky scent of wet stone deeper into the ruins, down ramps and stairways until they were all but buried in the earth.

“I never knew the true breadth of them,” Jaskier breathed at one point, as they made their way down a winding spiral staircase that curved along what seemed like a natural cave shaft. “I’ve read, of course, about the scale of the old elven kingdoms, but it’s different to see it all. We’ve been walking for hours already and I feel as if there’s still miles to be seen.”

“Maybe not miles,” Geralt said, keeping one ear out for potential movement and one on Jaskier’s footsteps on the slick stone steps. “One’s I’ve been to before are usually somewhere around five and fifteen levels. We’re getting close to the bottom.”

Jaskier hummed in acknowledgment. “You could take an entire lifetime to study this place. Why hasn’t anyone surveyed it? How do you know the thing you're after for this ritual hasn’t already been taken?”

At that moment Geralt heard a gentle click, and he reached up just in time to pluck the arrow from the air as it hissed past his ear and towards Jaskier’s head. Slowly, he turned to look over his shoulder, finding Jaskier wide eyed behind him. Looking meaningfully down at Jaskier’s foot, he jerked his chin up.

Jaskier lifted up his foot, and the click of a pressure plate resetting filled the narrow space.

“That’s how,” Geralt said, tossing the arrow to the side.

“Of course,” Jaskier said weakly. “Of course the place is booby trapped.”

“And haunted probably,” Geralt agreed, continuing down the stairs. “Stay close. Wouldn’t want you to die before I can make you immortal.” The words were said as much in jest as he could make them, but he felt a brief strum of anxiety all the same.

Jaskier huffed in annoyance, but Geralt could feel him press even closer. He ignored the way that the air between them seemed to heat, the soothing warmth of Jaskier’s presence pressing back the dark more efficiently than any torch.

“Look,” Jaskier’s voice came from behind him. Geralt turned around to see Jaskier rubbing at a patch of the wall in the hall they were currently trekking through, the ancient slabs of stone crumbling a bit at his touch. “There’s writing here.”

Geralt stepped up next to him, feeling Jaskier’s warmth radiating along his side. Forcing himself to ignore the proximity, he leaned in to peer at the wall. “Elder, looks like. Can’t make it out.”

“It looks like one of the early northern dialects, closer to Laith aen Undod.” Jaskier scrambled in his small pack and pulled out his bit of charcoal and his notebook, handing the torch off to Geralt. Accepting the light, Geralt frowned at Jaskier as he made a few quick lines on the paper, referring back to the wall a few times. His tongue poked just barely out between his lips, as it always did when he was concentrating. After a moment he stood up straight, leaning towards the light to examine his own markings.

“Can you read that?” Geralt asked, genuinely surprised. He was fairly well versed in Elder, but his knowledge was more practical, learned from his interactions with the Scoia’tael and learning the Signs. The One Speech was well beyond his understanding, not to mention the various ancient dialects of Elder.

“Mm, I’m better at reading Elder than I am at speaking it, I’m afraid. Academic knowledge. Have to be able to translate the old poems and stories, after all.” He flashed Geralt a grin, the laugh lines deepening around his eyes. They sparkled in the light of the torch, turning the blue silver-gold. Geralt’s breath caught in his throat.

When Geralt didn’t respond quickly enough, Jaskier turned back to the notes he’d made on the paper. He muttered a few things to himself in Elder, the words sounding oddly musical—as if he’d learned to pronounce the language through song, which he probably had. Finally he scribbled a few notes in Common. “I think it’s a road sign, of sorts,” Jaskier said slowly. His tone took on the particular quality that Geralt had come to recognize as his “professor voice” over the years. He’d always found it rather amusing. “This complex must have been big enough to necessitate passage markers. See the sideways arrowhead under the top line? It says—well, I’m not sure, but I know the root has to do with the evening meal, so I’d guess it’s pointing to some kind of tavern or dining hall. And this one just says ‘sanctuary,’ I think. That’s a weird one, that symbol in more modern Elder just means ‘place’ but there’s a prefix here that adds a sort of defensive quality to it. Maybe ‘protected place’?” Jaskier frowned down at his own work. Already he had somehow managed to smudge charcoal across his cheek.

“Might be right,” Geralt grunted, impressed. “Triss said it would be in a safe place. ‘Ionad chosanta.’”

Jaskier hummed thoughtfully. “Could be as good a translation as any.”

“Better than wandering around,” Geralt shrugged, and turned towards the hall the arrow pointed towards. Before stepping into the darkness, he paused, looking back at Jaskier. Without letting himself think too hard about it, he reached up and rubbed away the charcoal on Jaskier’s cheekbone. The sweep of his thumb pushed back the soot and revealed the pale skin underneath, still so soft even after so many years spent traveling out in the elements. That skin care regiment Jaskier was always going on about must be worth something, he thought faintly.

Jaskier was silent, staring at him with an expression that reminded Geralt of a hare staring down the point of an arrow. Clearing his throat briefly, Geralt let his hand fall and said, “Thanks. For the… You did good.”

Even in the dim light, Geralt could see the flush that lit up Jaskier’s face at that, spilling prettily over his cheekbones. He gaped at Geralt for a moment before his mouth snapped closed with a near audible clack. Geralt expected a witty rejoinder of some kind, perhaps a jab at his historical inability to offer praise. He knew he deserved it, even if Jaskier meant it in anger rather than jest. Raising Ciri had taught him the value of voicing his appreciation and affection for others, even if he still struggled for the right words to do so. Yennefer had painstakingly beat it into his head. Ciri hadn’t known that he cared unless he said so, and so he had no other alternatives. Looking at Jaskier gaping at him, he wondered how many times Jaskier had assumed that Geralt cared little for him for lack of a kind word. His chest hurt at the thought.

After long enough that the silence had grown heavy and awkward, Jaskier coughed lightly, ducking to hide his expression. The ribbing Geralt had prepared himself for did not come. “Not a problem,” was all Jaskier said, brushing past him. “Let’s get a move on, yes? Don’t want the torch to run low.”

Geralt stared after him for a moment before shaking his head and following.

The shrine, when they found it, was hidden behind a thick patch of rubble that Geralt had to blast out of the way with a few precise applications of aard. He slipped inside first, sliding through the small opening in the stone and landing lightly on the other side. His eyes adjusted quickly to the gloom, to his surprise, and he realized that there were several glowing crystals embedded in the walls around him at even intervals. There came the sound of cascading stones and a low curse from behind him, and he turned in time to catch Jaskier’s elbow before the bard fell flat on his face.

“Ah, thank you, dear witcher,” Jaskier huffed, reaching up to fruitlessly brush the dust from his jacket. Looking up, he halted in his motions, taking in the room around them in its soft, ethereal light. “Oh,” he breathed.

It was indeed beautiful, even in its decaying state. Like everything in the tunnels, the structures were unmistakably elven, but even so they appeared alien to Geralt’s eyes. The walls were covered in delicate mosaic work, in patterns that danced in the flickering light of their torch and that of the crystals. The center of the room was dominated by a blank circle of unmarked stone, with Elder runes engraved along the edge that Geralt could not even begin to decipher. The circle was framed by a delicate canopy of carved white stone, supported on four pillars of the same material. The carvings were so minute that for a moment Geralt thought the entire structure might be built not of stone, but of some sort of webbing or silk. It was delicate enough to be blown glass, but when he set his hand against one of the pillars it was as unforgiving as a mountainside.

Jaskier ran his fingers along one of the walls, tracing a twist in the tiny shards of colored glass. “It’s beautiful,” he said, voice pitched low.

“Triss said these places were sacred to the Aes Sidhe. They mark where the elves first arrived,” Geralt said. He found his own gaze drawn back to the center of the unmarked circle beneath the canopy. “Here.”

Set into the very center of the stone circle was a small depression, no larger than Geralt’s palm. He stepped into the circle and knelt down, peering at it. Within the shallow bowl formed by the carved out floor sat an oval stone, maybe three inches long at its widest point. Drawing out his trophy knife, Geralt set the edge of it against the lip of the facet and twisted it. It popped out surprisingly easily, as if it was meant to be removed by design.

Jaskier hovered behind him as Geralt picked up the gaes carraigh. It was cool against his fingers, made of a translucent white stone that became more opaque at the edges. The center was nearly see-through, and when Geralt held it up the light played oddly in its depths. His medallion hummed faintly against his chest, warning him of the presence of magic. “Is that it?” Jaskier asked, resting one of his hands on Geralt’s shoulder to lean in closer.

“Think so,” Geralt replied, trying to ignore the weight of Jaskier pressed against him.

“What exactly does it do?” Jaskier reached out his free hand to press a finger against the center of the stone, curious as always. Geralt allowed it, and forced himself not to flinch when their fingers brushed incidentally. He could feel his ears warm regardless.

“It… binds the words of the ritual, or something. I didn’t ask.”

“Gaes carraigh… promise rock?” Jaskier tried, dropping to lean his full elbow on Geralt’s shoulder, casually slotting their forms together. His fingers barely brushed against Geralt’s collarbone, and he took a slow breath to maintain control over his heartbeat. Suddenly the proximity was overwhelming. Here they were, in a sacred space where possibly dozens of couples had made their vows to each other, fingers both lingering over the stone that would bind their oaths. In another life, perhaps they could have had something like this—Jaskier resplendent in the light of the blue crystals, eyes shining, looking at Geralt with adoration as they made their promises to each other. He would want to dress up, like he always did for a big event, but this time it would be only for himself and Geralt. Would he dress in blue? Or perhaps black, a witcher’s color, his pale skin like moonlight against the night sky. Would he wear a crown of periwinkle and sage, as was the northern custom? He would lean in close, like he was now, and murmur his vows to Geralt in words that flowed as smooth as a song.

He hadn’t known it was possible to want something so badly it was like a physical ache. Geralt was a witcher; he did not allow himself to think on things he couldn’t have. But here in this place, with Jaskier so close and yet so far away, the force of his desire felt oppressive. Jaskier didn’t know what any of this meant, and Geralt had no right to it, no right to want it. It was just a ritual. The context didn’t mean anything, because Jaskier would never feel that way about him.

After all, Geralt thought, looking down at the oathstone in his palm, who would want to marry a witcher?

Jaskier was still talking, and Geralt wrenched himself out of his thoughts when the arm on his shoulder pulled back and Jaskier patted the empty space once, as if in parting. “—probably get going, don’t you think? I do not relish the idea of being stuck here overnight. Not that I am not entirely confident in your abilities, darling, but I feel it’s best not to tempt fate when it comes to ghosts of ancient elven sages. Do you think they would count this as stealing? Probably. Anyways, I don’t want to find out what angry centuries old spirits do to trespassers.”

Geralt grunted, still gathering himself. He felt sluggish under the weight of his own emotions, pushing himself to his feet laboriously. The oathstone was heavy in his hand, and he slipped it into his potions pouch in the hope that it would feel less burdensome there. Without a word, he stood and exited the chamber the way they’d come, Jaskier fumbling after him.

#geraskier #geraltxjaskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #witcher #fic #fanfic #writing #my work #me lamh #multichapter #big bang #geraskierbigbang

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alovevigilante · 3 years

Text

Belief in one’s ability to create is the key to actually generating and experiencing it in 3D form. The brain creates the energy around the desire you feel. It’s a symbiotic relationship.

The reason why you may not be seeing your desires come to fruition in your three dimensional reality is because in some way, shape or form you, yourself, are holding it back in some capacity. How? And why? It could be one of a myriad of reasons.

One reason may be because although you may think you want it, you’re not really feeling it completely. You may be afraid to change into the new reality, and tend to lean towards the older, less desired, but easier because already established one. Like, for example not switching jobs because you are comfortable where you are. You can’t stand your boss, cause he/she/they are an ass, and ask ludicrous things of you daily that are ridiculous and no one should comply with, but, you’re used to it, and you like your cubicle and the hot lunch in the cafeteria, that serves meatloaf on Thursdays, and that’s pretty ok. So, you choose to stay in a situation you aren’t fully down with. And you know what?! The pay blows, and you feel under appreciated, but yet you still continue to hang out in that ass place regardless, cause you know how to get there, even though it’s a 2 hr commute there and back. And that’s cool and all, but not really a reason to stay, but for you, it may be. You may be afraid to navigate the city, to a new location, because Mapquest sent you on a wild goose chase one time, and you ended up in an industrial area with no outlet, when you were trying to get to an important meeting. That can happen. I know, it’s happened to me. And that’s why google maps trounced mapquest. And waze did too. I don’t even know if people use mapquest anymore, because yes, it sends you on a quest alright, but not necessarily the one you signed up for in advance. And that can upset your apple cart greatly, cause you already had the plan! The plan was set! But you are lost now, in an unestablished, incomplete part of town with no one there to guide you out, ok?! And you call where you want to be, and say, “I’m not there! I’m here! And here is ass! Ok!?” But no one answers, cause they’re busy being there, and not in the abandoned, desolate crap area, where you are, by no fault of your own. And you have to call someone yelling, because lost, and where the hell are you?! And it takes you fifty two minutes later, and a tangible map and live navigator, like Keith Richards in pirates of the Caribbean, but on land, not see, and not him, cause he’d probably lead you on a disastrous seafaring mission where you would develop scurvy, but at least you’d get to listen to a decent guitar lick before you die of dysentery, when really wanted to do was to get out of the craziest wilderness that has been given up on, in an urban area.

Cause you found a place, much like Christopher Columbus the director didn’t, that hasn’t been discovered on the map yet, and there you are! And people are counting on you to be in their place at a certain time, and not this barren place, with construction all over creation and tumble weeds that aren’t there cause it’s the city. So what do you do?! I said, what is it that you do?!?!?? You stay, in your tried and true, marginally ok place, and don’t try to move. It can happen...

Another reason may be because some things that you are choosing to partake in, in your 3D life are contradictory to the desire you believe you want. For example, you may want to be an exotic birdwatcher for a living. But you don’t live near anywhere near the exotic birds. You don’t even own a pith helmet or a pair of binoculars. And you don’t have any link to anyone that will hire you to do that, nor do you have any experience or association that would appreciate and hire you for said experience, who would also, in addition to that if you did, fly you to where the exotic birds you want to study, reside. And you refuse to buy the plane ticket yourself! So you mope, and you pout, and you say, “you know what?! I didn’t like those ole exotic birds anyway! Who do those birds think they are? With their feathers and pretty colors?! Screw them!” I mean, how’s a bird supposed to know you’re interested in them?! They can’t go to you, nutball! They’re busy being birds! So, you’re SOL, and it sucks, cause all you want to do is look at and engage in some exotic birds action. But again, you are choosing not to take steps to get near one.

And the third reason may be, because you don’t really believe you’re worthy of being happy. And that’s just ass thinking, cause everyone, is entitled and worthy of that.

All of these things, are bs. You are a creator of your own life with your feelings. So make, deliberate choices to feel good. And by that I don’t mean to mask the feelings by something that may placate the feelings of lack you decided to focus on, and feel better just in the moment, then worse later. I mean, make a conscious choice to feel better than you do right now. And do that, as much as humanly possible, and not the other crap choices that just hinder you in the end.

Creating your reality is a constant, and needs attention to detail, and clarity. The universe refuses to outright give you what it knows won’t light you up, but if you continue to contradict your own desires, it’ll throw up its hands and allows you to experience your own chosen ass flow or, in this case your resistance to your own desires, to be your reality you see through your perception, and that’s what you will experience daily. And I must definitely have have a dragging defiance to a lot of things, because here I sit, discussing all of it, and there’s still things in my life I’d like to see happen, and not just ruminate around in my head as “what if’s”. Like, for example, I’d like a few millions of dollars, a lot of few, like at least over 20, so I can help a ton of people, and myself to things I enjoy, like creative freedom, and the ability to choose my own path in life. I’d also like to pay for my boob lift, no. Ahahaha! Cause they’re ok, and I’ve decided to be cool with them, as they lower themselves down to belly button level, to defend it from countertops and other things that I may lean on from time to time... and other important things like that.

So my long winded and long boobed point is this; being you is great, no matter what your situation. You know why? Cause you’re literally making your life what it is with how you see it, and how you choose to feel about it. And yes, you can switch it up! What an awesome place to be! You’ve made your life, terrible! Which means you’re In the drivers seat of your own life! You did that! You decided, my life sucks! And you see it, in everything and in everyone you talk too! Then you open a window and yell outside, “Yes!!!!! I did that!!!!!! I made my life blow like joe!” Which means to you that you can decide every decision you make from here on out differently with a better, more positive energy. To others, they may witness that and think you’re ready for the booby hatch, cause they won’t know the context of your exclamation. But that’s none of your concern. You did it! You figured out that you can decide closer, or farther away from what you want. And the more you move towards you truth, the better you’ll feel. And that feeling will take you all kinds of places and put you in front of all kinds of fun people doing amazing things you never thought possible! And you, are the one feeling, and thinking and doing your way to it! You choose better and better, and before you know it, your ok life has turned pretty damn good, to super great! And so on, and so forth. And on and on and on we go, experiencing exactly how we want to feel minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day, month by month, and year by year, happier and better, and healthier and wealthier and wiser and more crazy and fun and silly and artsier and more and more creative and in the love til poof! You explode into another higher dimension because you’re so happy with everyone everywhere, and it’s all due to your thoughts. 🙌💕

That’s life. Pretty cool.... But you gotta believe it. Then from there it’s all about the inspired action, Jackson... 🤷‍♀️😉😆💪💕

#choose love #love matters #love manifestation #self reflection #self love #self esteem #selfworth #self improvement #self care #self development #selfie #selfie love #me #a love vigilante #life #life blogger #life choices #life is what you make it #keith richards

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darealbellabelleoftheball · 3 years

Text

A Child for Christmas

This is my Contest submission for @notaghost3 ‘s 5th annual POTO Holiday One shot challenge.

It was inspired by @hop3isaprison ‘s art. And was edited by the lovely @obesessedwbeautiesandbeasts . Thank you both and I hope you all enjoy.

~~~

Her white heels clacked a sharp staccato beat against the pavement. Her breaths coming in little shivering gasps. Though she knew he had been told not to follow her, she worried he might go against what his parents said.

Her hands held her skirts while she ran. She didn’t know where she was running to at first.

It was not like she could go back to the opera. That’s the first place he would check.

But she had not been in Paris long enough to know where to go. She needed someone to talk to...

She stopped suddenly.

A dangerous plan had formed.

She resumed her pace, steps more sure, as the snow gently fell around her. She shivered wishing she had thought to grab a wrap before leaving the church.

Her bare arms were freezing. If only she had thought to buy a long sleeved wedding dress!

Then again, she didn't think she’d be running from her groom when she woke up this morning.

Hell, she thought the nausea was just pre-wedding jitters. Until about two hours before the ceremony, when she lost her breakfast.

~~~

“Christine? Are you alright?” Meg’s timid voice reached where Christine sat on the tile floor of the little bathroom.

Christine groaned, “Meg are you alone?”

“Yes.”

There was a sound as the door unlocked.Meg opened the door to a sobbing Christine, in a pool of her own white wedding gown. Christine sniffled forlornly.

“Are you okay? Did you eat something bad?” Meg asked gently.

“No... Meg I did something bad.”

Meg closed the door and locked it, crouching down to get a better look at her friend.

“What did you do?”

“I.... I did... Erik.”

Meg blanched and slid down the wall to join her friend on the floor.

She was silent for a few moments before exclaiming, “Erik, crazy Erik? Your stalker?”

“He’s not crazy! He was just lonely.” Christine replied defensively.

Meg nodded, slowly.

“So you... slept with Erik?”

Christine hugged herself and sniffled loudly.

“You slept with Erik...and now you’re throwing up.Wait! Wasn’t that whole business at the opera about six weeks ago?”

Christine's bright blue eyes were full of tears, “I missed my cycle Meg.”

“You... Shit... Okay. I’ll get mum to stall without going into detail.”

Christine chuckled lightly. “Meg it’s your mother.”

“Right...”

She ripped the sleeve off Christine’s dress.

“Critical dress emergency!” Meg exclaimed before leaning forward, and kissing Christine on the forehead, “Stay here, open the door for no-one and I’ll be back with a test.”

Twenty minutes later as Christine sat in the dark, locked room crying softly. A soft knock made her jump.

“I’m back, let me in.”

Christine opened the door and pulled Meg into a hug. “Oh meg!”

Meg patted her back, and smiled, “You’re going to be fine, this might not even be what you think it is, but if it is, I support you no matter what happens, okay? I’m not going anywhere. Now, do you want me to wait outside or stay in here with you?”

“Stay, please! I need the moral support.”

Twelve minutes later the two women stared at the little device in Christine’s trembling hands.

“Dear lord.” Christine groaned, her face pale.

“Congratulations.” Meg smiled lightly.

“Heavens above what am I going to do?!”

“Do you love him Christine?”

“Who? Raoul? Of course I love him. He’s my best friend. I mean, he has been acting off lately, but I bet that will change after we get married.” Christine smiled, but Meg could tell it was fake.

“That’s all well and good, but I was talking about Erik.”

“Erik...” Christine blushed, thinking back to their first kiss.

“Pity, Love, How can one tell the difference?”

That haunted face flashed back into her mind, the ferocity of that man, the tenderness...

Christine took in a shuddering breath, and placed one hand on her stomach, “It’s different with him than with Raoul.”

Meg nodded in understanding.

“Raoul is safer.”

“Exactly. Less... volatile.”

It was certainly the truth. After the incident at the Opera, Raoul had withdrawn himself. There was now hardly a spark left between them. Merely a sense of duty. As Raoul had given her his word.

His parents were none too happy about that.

“Well, I think you should tell him.” Meg spoke softly, bringing Christine out of her thoughts.

Christine nodded, “Yes. I suppose that would be the right thing to do. We’ll have to postpone the wedding.”

“If he even still wants to marry you.”

Christine blinked in shock.

Meg sucked some air in through her teeth. “Sorry that wasn’t helpful.”

~~~

Christine shivered as she came nearer to the little brownstone townhouse.

And as she reached the familiar door, she rose to knock on it, but hesitated.

Could she handle being twice rejected in one day?

Gathering her courage she knocked.

“One minute!” A familiar voice called.

“Yes how may I hel-” The Daroga blinked at her. “Christine?!”

“Hello Daroga.”

“You should not be here... especially not today... Not on the day of your wedding...”

It was then that he seemed to put the pieces together. Glancing at the streaks of mascara-tears that fell down her face.

“What’s wrong?” He whispered, almost afraid that his voice would carry up the stairs to the man who had locked himself in his room.

“I- I’m pregnant,” Christine found she could not meet the man’s warm green eyes.

“Then you really should not be here...” The Daroga looked over his shoulder and up the stairs.

Christine let out a disgruntled sigh, “The child is not Raoul's.”

Nadir frowned,

“Then who...” His eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “Oh I see! Come in. I’ll fetch him for you. ERIK!”

Christine Jumped.

“What do you want you great booby?!”

Nadir smiled through grit teeth, “One moment please mademoiselle.”

He scampered up the stairs as Christine awkwardly shut the door behind her.

The warmth of the house met her chilled skin and she shivered again, not of cold. But of fright.

If Erik reacted like Raoul...

~~~

“Christine! I’m not supposed to see you before the wedding. It’s bad luck.” Raoul smiled tightly.

Christine took in a shuddering breath, “I’m afraid my dear that it’s too late to change our luck...”

“Is something wrong?” He frowned.

She nodded, and did not meet his eyes when she announced, “I’m pregnant.”

Raoul frowned,

“But... We haven't...”

He blushed,. “How... how far along are you?”

“It’s Erik’s...” She answered the question he dare not ask.

Raoul’s stance changed. He paced the room like a caged tiger.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure! How many people do you think I’ve slept with!?” She hissed.

“Well, I certainly don’t know now do I?!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sat down on a couch.

“I’ll marry you. We can pretend the child is ours. I won’t let you go through this alone. Or... Well, there is another option.”

“What?” She frowned, something in her gut telling her this would not be a pleasing answer.

“Abortion.”

“I’m not getting rid of my baby!” Christine gasped.

“You’re forgetting that it’s that monster’s baby too!” Raoul snapped. “Besides, don't look at it that way. This is our chance, to wipe the slate clean.”

“Monster?”

Raoul merely glared.

“If the child is a monster what does that make me?”

“You went to him, willingly?”

Indignation caused a flush across her skin.

“And what if I did?”

He looked her up and down in disgust.

“Alright, if that’s how you really feel, then I won’t force you to marry me.”

“Christine...”

“No, Consider me no longer your problem.”

“I can’t do that, ” he replied, grabbing her arm hard enough to leave a bruise.

“Enough, you can’t always be my white knight Raoul. Let me go! ”

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m going home.” Christine sniffled

“No. You are already a part of this family. You cannot leave with all the reporters here... just stay here I need to talk to Philippe. Perhaps you will see reason when I return.” He growled, storming past her.

“Raoul!” Christine shouted.

But the door closed between them and Raoul locked her in.

“No... No. No!!!” Christine exclaimed.

“Let me out Raoul! This isn’t funny! RAOUL!!!”

She slapped the door with her hands and tried to knock it down with her shoulder, but only succeeded in giving herself a bruise.

Finally as her panic grew, she spotted the window.

She threw up the sash and let the cool winter air caress her skin. As her panic died down she noticed the tree.

“No way in hell I’m sticking around here.”

She placed a hand on her stomach, “We’re not staying where both of us aren’t wanted.”

And with that, Christine climbed down the tree and began to run.

~~~

Erik’s eerie yellow eyes glared at the Daroga from the darkness of his room.

“What the Devil do you want Nadir?” he hissed.

“There’s a young lady here to see you.”

“What???” Erik exclaimed.

Christine froze in terror as she heard her angel’s voice.

There was a sound of a scuffle and soon a very ragged looking Erik arrived at the top of the steps.

“Christine?” he breathed, every inch as starstruck as when he had first met her.

“Hey Erik, ” she whispered.

Her blonde hair hung in ringlets, framing her angelic face. The white gown only made her glow further.

He was down the stairs in an instant, but caught himself from touching her.

“Is this real?”

“Yes.”

She took him in, he had barely changed, besides the fact that he was not wearing a suit. Instead he wore just a simple white dress shirt, though for some strange reason he still wore his cloak. His mask showed his thin macabre lips, and Christine blushed as a fire stirred in her stomach.

He took in a deep breath and pulled himself up to his full height. Like a wounded animal trying to appear threatening.

He cleared his throat, eyes like storm clouds.

“Why have you come here?” his voice thundered.

“I’m pregnant,” she replied, in a tone more confident than she felt.

“Congratulations... So you’re here to torture me further?” he snapped.

“I beg your pardon?” she gasped.

“Your little man must be very happy. So why are you here with me and not him, eh?” he fairly snarled.

“You know for a genius you really are intolerably stupid!” Christine replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

He growled in response.

“Erik the baby is not Raoul's.”

“What?” Erik frowned, deflating a bit.

“It’s our baby.”

Erik froze. Statuesque.

“How.... is this possible?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure you were there Erik...” Christine sassed.

“I’m gunna go make that tea...” Nadir muttered leaving them in the parlor.

“Should we have a seat Erik?”

He nodded mutely as Christine led him to a love seat in the parlor.

“I just found out today.” She admitted.

Erik slowly seemed to be coming to his senses. “Are you sure, it’s not his?”

“It’s not his, you were the only one... I... Well, you know.”

“Oh...” He crossed a leg over his knee, and puffed up like a bird displaying plumage.

“I just found out this morning, I was pretty shocked myself.”

Erik nodded again.

Ayesha walked into the room and hissed at Christine.

Erik shushed her, and the cat climbed up possessively onto his lap.

“Your wedding was this morning,” Erik remarked, absently stroking the cat.

“Yes, I just came from the church.”

“Well that explains the dress.” he replied.

“Raoul knows.”

That caught his attention.

“Oh? And how did that go?” he leaned closer to Christine and the air was electric around them.

“He got angry...”

A smile crept up Erik’s face.

“He locked me in the room and went to get his brother. I climbed down a tree, and... well here I am.”

Erik’s face fell and his hands clenched into fists.

“Bastard,” he muttered.

“Erik...” Christine whispered.

He looked back up to her with a bright smile, “Yes?”

“I want to let you know I don't expect anything, but I’ve decided to keep the baby. I just thought you had the right to know. I’m sorry I didn’t know where else to go.”

“You’re always welcome here my dear. I... uh, this is a lot to process.” Erik shook his head.

“Of course we’re keeping the baby... why wouldn't we?”

Christine burst into tears again. Erik gathered her into his arms as she cried. Nadir walked into the room. He set his tea tray down on the coffee table.

“The de Cagney's probably don't want a scandal, did they say something to you Christine?” Nadir asked gently.

She nodded into Erik’s chest.

“Raoul suggested... abortion.”

“I’ll kill him.” Erik announced.

“Erik, no!” Nadir and Christine chorused.

“I just need... Some support. I understand this is a lot, but they’re probably out searching for me now, and Meg was supposed to meet up with me...” Christine took a shaky breath.

“If it’s support you want, you got it,” Erik nodded firmly.

“Yes, we’re here for you Christine,” Nadir acquiesced.

Christine and Erik suddenly jolted apart as Christine’s mobile went off.

Ayesha bolted from the room.

*~Nina pretty ballerina who could ever think she could be this way?~*

“Meg?”

“I’m so glad you have your cell on you. The whole church is topsy-turvy looking for you right now. Care to fill me in?”

“I’m at Nadir’s place.”

“Oh. Oh, is Erik there?”

“Yes. I’ll text you the address.”

“Oh crap! Tine I have to go. I’ll be right there. I have your location.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I think I’m being followed.”

“Damn!”

“Hide!”

*~Beep~*

“What’s wrong?”

“Meg is on her way, but I think the de Chagney’s are not far behind.”

“I know what to do,” Erik announced.

~~~

Christine, Erik, and the Daroga stared into the closet.

“Erik,” the Daroga remarked, “Is there any particular reason you have a false back to your wardrobe?”

“Now’s not the time Nadir,” Erik reprimanded.

Nadir sighed and turned to Christine, “We’ll be right back. Just sit tight.”

Erik extended his hand to help Christine into the dark wardrobe.

There was the familiar jolt of electricity between them just as Erik went to shut her in. She grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him in for a quick kiss.

Nadir blushed as Christine made Erik swear on his music that he would not harm Raoul.

“Yes, I promise Mon Ange.” Erik blushed.

~~~

Meanwhile, Meg pulled up to the house in her sporty white convertible. The Sleek black car pulling up behind her.

Meg hopped out of the car and with the grace and speed granted to her by her art, was able to evade the people who followed behind her.

She raised her hand, but before she could knock on the door was pulled inside by Nadir, quickly shutting the door behind him.

“Mademoiselle Giry,” he purred.

Meg blushed, “Monsieur Khan.”

He smiled slightly at the petite blonde, “I see you brought company.”

“Yup nothing like the de Chagney's to liven up a party.”

A predatory growl issued from the stairs, where Erik blocked the way.

“Hello Erik.” Meg squeaked.

He nodded coolly.

Meg jumped again, still in Nadir’s arms as a pounding sounded on the door.

“Let me in! I demand to see my bride!” Raoul exclaimed.

“You’re not in a position to demand anything right now!” Erik shouted back.

“Erik,” said the Daroga, a man who had dealt with such things far too often for his liking. “Go to the living room and sit the hell down.”

Nadir gestured to the living room with a meaningful glance at Meg.

Erik huffed in annoyance, knuckles clenched and white as he led Meg to the parlor.

A fake Christmas tree sat unassembled on the floor.

“So. you and Christine, huh?” Meg asked awkwardly, sitting down in a chair near the fire.

Erik’s ears turned red.

~~~

Meanwhile at the door.

“Let me in!” Raoul hissed.

“Raoul, you know you can’t be here right now.”

“I know she’s here!”

“Who?” Nadir asked.

Raoul beat his fist on the door and shouted through it, “You know damn well who!”

The Daroga opened the first door leaving the screen door shut.

“Miss Daae?” he asked boredly.

“Yes!” Raoul puffed like a walrus. His mustache moving with the air expelled from his nose. “Don’t play coy. I know she’s here, why else would Meg Giry come here?”

There was a pause.

Nadir arched a brow at Raoul, “Mademoiselle Giry is here to see me monsieur, not that it’s any of your business.”

Meg’s pretty brown skin flushed, and despite the situation Erik had to bite back a chuckle.

“Here to see you?” Raoul frowned.

“Well don’t look so shocked!” Nadir sounded genuinely upset.

Erik raised up a hand to cover his masked mouth.

“What? You think that just because I’m older than you, women don’t find me attractive?!”

“That’s not what I-”

“Oh I SEE! So it’s because of my race?! You have a problem with mixed race couples? This isn’t the 1800s anymore, MONSIEUR!”

“I beg your pardon!” the Viscount exclaimed.

Erik was doubled over in his chair now.

“But if you really need to see proof sir... Meg, darling?” Nadir called into the living-room.

“Yes!” Meg exclaimed, pulling herself together enough to play her part.

“Come here please.”

“What is it, love?” Meg asked, walking into the parlor.

“Meg, are you really with Nadir?”

She linked her arm with Nadir’s and frowned disapprovingly at Raoul.

“That’s certainly none of your business.“

“Well, then have you seen Christine?” Raoul asked.

“No, I haven't seen her, In fact, I came over here to talk to Nadir about it... I just...”

At that moment the sound of a woman crying reached Erik’s ears.

“Meg are you okay?” Raoul asked.

“Where could she be? I checked the Opera house, I checked nearly everywhere at the venue. The only place I could think of her going would be her father’s grave. Or maybe she left the country, but I don’t understand, why would she leave you at the altar?!”

At this moment Erik could bear it no longer, he had to see Raoul’s face.

He got up and strolled to the foyer, fixing his hair and straightening his suit on the way.

“And just what is all this fuss about?”

The fire in Raoul’s eyes nearly made him break into a smile.

“Erik,” the Viscount growled.

“Bonsoir, monsieur. How may I help you?~” Erik smirked.

“You crazy son of a-”

“Hey now!” Nadir exclaimed.

Meg scurried back into the living room as The Daroga held Raoul back.

“Should you not be with your wife right now?” Erik growled, with a venom that shocked Raoul.

“Perhaps,” the Viscount thought, “She really wasn’t here.”

“Yes, I should. Bon Nuit,” With a cold nod, he spun on his heel and left.

Meg, Nadir and Erik, Crowded around the window as they watched the de Chagney clan drive off in defeat.

“Where is she?” Meg demanded.

~~~

Christine was shaking when they opened the false back to let her out.

Tears streamed down her face.

“Meg!”

“Tine!”

The two women embraced as the Daroga morphed into mum mode.

“When is the last time any of you have eaten?”

“This morning,” the girls chorused.

Erik grunted noncommittally.

“Alright I’ll order pizza.” Nadir replied.

The group trouped down the stairs, and as Nadir went to order, the others went into the parlor.

Erik drew the curtains closed as the light from the sun had already faded anyways, and flicked on a light switch as the girls sat down on the couch.

Erik frowned at the tree and started to swiftly assemble it.

The girls spoke to each other softly.

“So were you ever planning on telling me?” Meg asked, as they watched Erik’s confident movements.

“What?” Christine asked.

“Were you planning on telling me that you and Erik got together?” Meg asked,

Christine could tell she was a bit hurt.

“I’m sorry, Meg. Not really, I just... I was confused. I didn't know what to do. And after Raoul and I started courting, well, it didn't take long for me to find out that he was no longer the boy I fell in love with. He started being belligerent. Seeing other women. Drinking,” Christine sighed.

“Of course I’m not saying I’m faultless. But... I’ve always known what I was, and where I stood with Erik.”

The girls both glanced at Erik, who had wound the Christmas lights into a noose, quite subconsciously.

“That’s one of the things I love most about you, Erik,” Christine remarked.

His head turned, and his golden eyes snapped to hers.

“No games,” she clarified.

He nodded, “No more games.”

He set the festive noose down on the ground and rushed out of the room and up the stairs. Taking them two at a time.

Meg frowned in confusion at Christine. Christine shrugged with a little giggle.

“He’s an odd duck...Though his friend is quite handsome...”

Christine gasped as she looked towards the kitchen where Nadir could be heard talking on the Phone.

“Megan!” she exclaimed with a playful swat at the ballerina’s arm.

“What?!” Meg replied.

There was a rhythmic thudding, much like the sound of a heartbeat, as Erik moved down the stairs.

The girls looked up at Erik in shock, but before they could ask what he was doing, he had already knelt in front of Christine.

“I want to do right by you and our child. I swear that I’ll never leave you. You are my home, Mon Ange . My offer from all those weeks ago still stands.” With that he pulled the ring box out of his pocket.

“Will you consent to being my living bride?”

Christine gasped as he continued.

“I may not be the best father, but I promise that I will strive towards that goal. I’ll never stop learning what I can to help you raise this child, and I have no doubt that with you as it’s mother, and the help of our friends this child will be fine.”

Erik opened his mouth to say more, but Christine smiled and took his trembling hands in hers

She blinked back tears.

“Yes. I’ll marry you.”

Such joy Erik had never felt before. His heart nearly burst.

Meg and Nadir clapped, as Erik slid the ring on her finger and she pulled him towards her, taking off his mask, turning him away and pulling him into a long kiss.

The happy group finished decorating the tree, and many celebrations were had.

Christine with the help of the Daroga, got a restraining order against Raoul, who ended up being convinced by his family to give up on Christine, and married a countess to extend their fortunes.

But what seemed like only a few short months later, a child was born. He was named Gustave, after Christine’s deceased father. As he grew so did his musical genius, much to the great joy and contentment of his father.

Erik soon took to not wearing his mask around the house. Nadir and Meg, and their children really didn’t mind. Christine and Gustave certainly didn’t.

So you see they all lived quite happily. Except of course for Raoul, Whom, Erik was very confident, got his just desserts.

The End.

Thank you all for your time!

#phantomsholidaychallenge #my writing #original writing #POTO

23 notes · View notes

geodax · 3 years

Note

Dude, please tell me Dreams has a happy ending. Or at least a happy middle

Dreams, Part 4

(Dreams, Part 3)

Warnings- mentions of past torture

Ahsoka’s dreams are always nightmares now, thanks to the war. They’ve only gotten worse since Obi-wan returned. She had been among the Jedi that rescued him, though she had not recognized him at first. She had not imagined such things could be done to a living being.

He looks better now. His organs are back under his skin. His eyes are no longer gaping holes. But she cannot escape the memories.

She sets down her now empty cup of tea and looks up at Obi-wan. He sits in his medical bed, a slight smile on his face as Anakin regales him with an account of their latest training exercises and the 501st’s shipwide game of capture the flag. Obi-wan had even laughed when Anakin told him how Rex had ended up covered in blue paint as part of Fives’s booby trap around their flag.

But Obi-wan is exhausted and hurting. It leaks into the Force even as he tries to keep it contained. Anakin seems unaware, his own perception of the Force drowned out by his own powerful presence, but it won’t escape his notice for long.

And then he’ll begin to worry again. Spending anytime near a worried Anakin Skywalker was like sitting next to a faulty radio that spat out static so loudly it left her head buzzing. She doesn’t think Obi-wan would want that either. He never liked being worried over.

“Anakin,” Ahsoka says. “It’s getting late. Why don’t we get some dinner?”

“But—” Anakin says.

“Go on,” Obi-wan says. “You do have to feed your padawan.”

Anakin’s eyes narrow slightly, suspicious Obi-wan is trying to make him leave. It’s not an unfounded concern, but Ahsoka doesn’t think Obi-wan will be attempting an escape from the healers anytime soon. Anakin doesn’t need to worry about stopping him.

“I’m really hungry,” Ahsoka says, trying not to sound like she’s whining, but failing. Oh well. She can sacrifice a little dignity if it means Anakin will actually sleep tonight.

“Alright. We’ll be back tomorrow, okay?” Anakin says. He had tried to get permission to spend the night here, but Healer Che had insisted that Obi-wan be given his privacy at night. Obi-wan spent most of his day surrounded by healers, undergoing physical therapy and check-ups and occasionally additional surgeries. He needed time alone.

“Of course,” Obi-wan says. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Anakin smiles, then leaves, probably expecting Ahsoka to follow just at his heels. No doubt he’ll run off to tell Padme that Obi-wan is alive and well. He only rarely eats dinner with Ahsoka when they were on Coruscant, so it’s not a surprise when he doesn’t glance back to check on her.

Ahsoka pauses in the doorway. Her eyes finally meet Obi-wan’s. “May the Force be with you,” Ahsoka says, but it feels strangely hollow. Obi-wan has already lost so much. And she had nothing to offer, no way of taking away the pain that had been inflicted on him.

“And with you, Ahsoka,” he says, but his eyes are not on hers anymore. She dreads leaving him alone in this quiet and empty room.

But a Jedi is never really alone, she tells herself. And she’ll be back tomorrow with Anakin, who will no doubt have even more stories to fill the silence. She’ll bring her own stories and gossip, along with some of the jokes Rex had told her.

It is all she can offer him.

#Obi-Wan Kenobi #Anakin Skywalker #Ahsoka Tano #My writing

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uh-ohspaghettio · 4 years

Text

Wang Fire the Date Crasher

Description: it’s Katara and Aang’s first date and what kind of overly protective brother would Sokka be if he didn’t spy just a little

Ao3 link

“I thought this was a date” Suki pouted while gazing at her boyfriend as he continued to adjust how he sat in order to see something behind her. He looked like an overgrown child trying to get a view at the circus.

“We are on a date” Sokka said absentmindedly while still distracted with whatever was behind her.

“Well explain these” Suki argued as she reached across the table to tug at the fake beard Sokka was wearing and with the other hand tugged at the long black wig sitting atop her head. They had actually seen the wig in the market along with other Mai related memorabilia- ever since Zuko was crowned as firelord not only has his status rocketed but Mai’s had too along with her style. Many young fire nation girls sought out to copy Mai’s signature hairstyle.

Sokka sat down properly and swatted away his girlfriend’s.“Hey hey be careful this beard has been through many adventures I don’t want it to be ruined” The warrior complained as he readjusted it. He then paused and struggled to find an actual answer to his question while Suki stared at him quizzically. “ uhhhh….roleplay??” Sokka finally answered almost as a question. The smart kyoshi warrior of course didn’t buy it for a second and decided to turn around and finally sneak a peek at what Sokka was struggling to look at earlier,

As she turned she immediately recognized the waterbender and the tattooed avatar sitting across from each other. Suki snapped back around to Sokka who donned an apologetic face and smacked him in the arm.

“Sokka! You just did this so you could spy on their first date!” she yelled at him in a hushed tone so as not to create a scene in the public restaurant. She couldn’t believe he would do this, well actually she could, but she skipped out on training today for this so Suki felt justified in her reaction.

The water tribe boy resisted the urge to rub at the arm that got affiliated. His girlfriend was by no means weak but he wasn’t about to show how much it actually hurt.

“I-no-I just-I didn’t” he blubbered while trying to scramble for an answer but realized it was pointless “ fine you caught me” he resigned after a few moments.

“Why?! I thought you loved Aang, and don’t you trust your sister?!” she questioned him.

“I do! It’s just she’s my little sister and I don’t know I just want to be there for her incase something bad happens” he explained with a sigh, his secret plans were revealed. “Even if it does give me the oogies” he adds as he sees the air nomad across the room holding his little sister’s hand while they made goo goo eyes at one another.

Suki was still mad but she let out a little smile from the heartwarming sentiment. “As sweet as that is, you know better than anyone else that Katara can hold her own. You really have nothing to worry about, let’s just have a nice evening together, without you being all overprotective. Sokka reluctantly agreed. Suki was right, as always, he had nothing to worry about.

Suki took off the wig with relief because it was getting a bit hot. Sokka was quick to try to grab it and put it back on her head “What are you doing?! what if they see us?!” he exclaimed.

Suki began to laugh at her goofy boyfriend “I don’t think they’ll notice” she retorted while gesturing to a giggling Aang and Katara across the restaurant. “Besides I don’t think these disguises are all that convincing” she claimed as she dropped the wig on the floor by her feet while shaking out her hair actually attached to her head “Why don’t you take off your beard too?”.

“I - uh- I can't, I kinda glued this to my face” Sokka admitted while mumbling towards the end of his statement.

Sokka agreed to not pay attention to Aang and Katara’s date and just focus on having a fun evening with Suki. That being said he did look over the kyoshi warrior’s soldier every now and then, just to be sure.

They went on to discuss the new girls who had joined the Kyoshi Warriors. Although the war had ended not too long ago there were many girls asking to join the warriors or to just learn self defense. It certainly kept Suki occupied, even more so because Ty lee offered to teach everyone how to block Chi which will be a great asset in battle but longer training sessions. Despite this she enjoyed it and the rewarding feeling all the same. They continued chatting and every once in awhile Suki would joke about Sokka’s first interaction with the warriors, which Sokka did not laugh with out of stubbornness but he was grateful that Suki had set him in his ways, she’s really astonishing and he can’t believe he ever underestimated her. They continued like this until Sokka heard something that made him go stark white.

Three tables over there was another couple enjoying their evening, or budding couple. Aang and Katara sat across from one another not saying anything. This was their first date and although they both knew they had feelings for one another both of them have never actually been on a date before and they weren’t exactly sure how to interact. After a minute of awkwardly blushing at each other and passing pleasant casualties they both started laughing at themselves.

“ I don’t know why we’re both being so awkward, this really shouldn’t be different from all the other times we hung out” Katara pointed out.

“Only difference is I can do this,” Aang replied as he reached over to Katara’s hand that was resting on the table and held it. Katara blushed and giggled at this air nomad’s cheesiness and he began to laugh along with her. He really didn’t know what he was doing but it sure felt nice to hold her hand and Katara felt the same way. Aang was relieved Katara didn’t pull her hand away, he knew she had kissed him after the war ended but he had felt so bad after the night of the play, he didn’t want her to feel her boundaries were violated again. He hated that he made her feel pressured, he wished he knew how to do any of this. He wondered if any of the past avatars could give him guidance on this but he’s not sure that was the intention of being given worldly wisdom.

“What are you thinking about?” Katara questioned. Noticing Aang’s change in expression.

“Just how funny it is that I ended a 100 year war but I’m struggling to talk to my best friend, I always thought if I got the chance with you I’d know exactly what to do and I’d sweep you off your feet” Aang replied with a sigh.

“Don’t be silly, you have already swept me off my feet” Katara stated, making Aang give her a quizzical look. “Remember when we accidentally sent off the fire nation booby traps when we first met? You picked me up and carried me off to safety” Katara answered with a smile remembering that hectic day. He had remembered that day, before they had found the old fire nation ship that day was one of the funnest he had in awhile. After it had been announced he was the avatar none of the other kids wanted to play with him. Having Katara penguin sled with him made him feel so happy. He was terrified that when it was revealed he was the avatar, Katara would’ve reacted the same way as his best friends and distance herself from him but he’s incredibly grateful that she didn’t, even though he did put her tribe in danger. He doesn’t know how he’ll ever repay her for giving him a family when he lost his and everything he knew.

“I guess I did” Aang smiled back at Katara.

“Besides, do you think I have any idea what I’m doing either?” Katara pointed out to Aang. Although she was older than him by two years she didn’t really have any experience, all the older boys went off to war, the only boy she really interacted with was her brother. Sure during her adventures she met a few boys she found cute but none of them had the connection that she and Aang had. As much as her friends like to tease her about Jet and Haru, Aang was her first kiss, so she’s just as new to this as he is. “We'll figure it out together” she finishes as she squeezes his hand that she was still holding and leaning over to give Aang a kiss which he embraced happily. As they broke apart from their tender moment Katara noticed something, or more accurately someone, out of the corner of her eye.

“I can’t believe him!” Katara suddenly blurted, making Aang jump a little breaking him out of his trance. He instantly became alert, expecting some enemy from their past to be in the restaurant ready to fight because of the anger in Katara’s voice. When he looked around and didn’t see anyone that looked remotely threatening, Aang just stared at Katara with a puzzled face until Katara pointed to a table close to the entrance of the restaurant that had her brother wearing his ridiculous Wang Fire beard and Suki with a wig by her feet.

“Ugh, does he really not trust me to go on a date by myself” Katara complained who had turned away from her brother who hadn’t noticed that she saw him and neither had Suki. “I mean I never pulled something like this with him and Yue or him and Suki, he could at least do the same” Aang gave a shrug in consolation and was not really sure what to do in this situation. He wasn’t surprised that Sokka would do this but he was disappointed and Katara’s moment was ruined.

Suddenly Katara had a devious grin slide across her face. “How about a little prank on my brother?” Katara suggested. Aang nodded, happy to do whatever she had in mind.

Sokka had noticed Aang and Katara getting up from their table, he tried to just look down in hopes of the pair not noticing him. He shushed Sukki which caused her to glare at him until she noticed that because of the location of the table in proximity to the door that Katara and Aang would walk by them. She put her head down as well making it seem like the noodles before her were the most interesting thing in the world. Although she was against her boyfriend’s idea of spying she still felt bad for being here, but she wasn’t gonna waste an opportunity to get some delicious food.

As the new couple walked by Sokka and Sukki’s table they overheard their conversation.

“I don’t know Aang don’t you think we’re a little too young to be that intimate but I am willing to try it could be fun” Sokka overheard her sister say. Sokka went stark white, she couldn’t mean what he thinks right? They wouldn't, right? Especially not Aang, isn’t he a monk- do monks even? Is Aang even old enough to-? Oh god he doesn’t want to be thinking about these things he’s starting to wish he never came.

Suddenly his sister walked back to his table where he was having a crisis. “No not actually, we’re only kids” Katara suddenly spoke up answering the questions she knew her brother probably had. “But that's what you get for spying” she stated, she then walked back to Aang who was blushing bright as a tomato because of the nature of the prank Katara pulled, he was expecting something like using waterbending to splash Sokka’s drink in his face. The young couple left the restaurant hand in hand as Sokka kept his hands in his face and Suki was left spitting out her tea with laughter.

#kataang #kataang fanfic #atla sukka #atla #avatar #avatar the last airbender #aang #avatar aang #katara #sokka #atla katara #atla sokka #katara/aang #sokka/suki

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taetae-tea · 4 years

Text

La Farceur

A/N: I just saw the Joker and I just HAVE to write a story about it, so here ya go :). I am thinking of maybe making a part 2 of this, so just let me know if you like that idea!

Genre: Joker!Taehyung, Angst, smut, oneshot (?)

Paring: Taehyung X reader

Word-count: 6.5k

Warnings: Sexual content, groping, kissing, pinning, smoking, slapping, name-calling, Stockholm-syndrome.

Summary: You’d never thought you had to face the well-known criminal: the Joker, since he always targets rich people. Still, somehow the tables turn when you go to the famous club ‘La Farceur’ and to be faced with (maybe?) your worse nightmare.

Masterlist

‘Again, the so-called ‘Joker’ has raided another bank. 9 people have been shot during the raid, which of 4 have died. 20 people are badly wounded. This has been the fifth time this two weeks. How long do we have to wait for someone to act on this?’

You attentively watch the news as you see the blurred images of the man, who calls himself ‘the Joker’, and who does so much terrible things. You can’t imagine someone being so devilish; he doesn’t even do it for money you’ve heard. He is pure evil; he does it for his own satisfaction and happiness. People like this really do exist, which normally isn’t the case. People often do bad stuff because of lack of money or something, but he has all the money now and still continues to do bad stuff. Maybe he’s in depth with someone, it must be. It’s the only logical explanation.

‘That guy is plainly sick’, you hear your friend comment from beside you, eating cereal just like you are doing. It’s really a tradition for the both of you to watch the news together in the morning, making that your bonding-time as roommates. Discussing politics and such. ‘He must be on some shit’, Lisa continues before taking another bite. You huff before agreeing, that man can’t be right in his mind. Or maybe he was fucked up in his childhood by his father or something, anything. Luckily you’re not likely to ever have to face him, being a student. He mostly targets rich people, like banks and stuff. Well ‘being rich’ is something that you certainly aren’t.

‘He does have something hot though, I don’t know what’, Lisa comments, making you laugh out of disbelieve. ‘Damn Lisa, going out with criminals now hm?’, you tease her and she nudges you back. ‘I mean, it’s kind off wild. It isn’t a boring relationship, that’s for sure.’ You laugh even louder at that. ‘Well, true that honey. Still wouldn’t be my first pick though’, you response, shaking your head.

The both of you finish your food and get ready for your first class. You walk to the campus together, talking about anything you could think of. You’ve really grown to like Lisa. You’ve now been roommates for 5 months, you being the somewhat silent person and she being the outgoing on. You really always need one of the two between friends, otherwise it won’t work. She takes you out to parties and you make sure she goes to school. You’re always together, having grown a strong bond together.

‘So, still up for some alcohol tonight? How about a bar or something?’, Lisa suggests and you nod. ‘Why not? It’s not like we have anything else to do.’ She looks with exciting eyes at you. ‘Wow, really? Thought you would’ve refused. Do I see a new woman in front of me?’ Lisa takes a step back as she looks at you in awe. You chuckle, lightly punching her shoulder. ‘We don’t have any tests or assignments, so why not? Therewith, I haven’t gotten laid in ages. It’s time’, you confess, carrying a frustrated face. She frowns. ‘How long’, she asks and you hold up 5 fingers. She gasps as she stops her pace beside you. ‘No… I’m so sorry for you. Why didn’t you tell me?’ She puts an arm around you as she still has a worried face, making you huff. ‘Well damn, it’s not something to discuss on a daily basis.’ You look around you to see if anyone has heard your conversation, being slightly embarrassed. You don’t see anyone, except this big guy standing along the sidewalk. He does kind of seem odd to you, but you decide not to pay any attention to him and to continue your walk with your worried friend.

You both arrive at the class, entering as Lisa keeps on asking about your sex life. ‘Lisa stop! I will get laid tonight and I will be okay.’ You stop her ramble. She pouts before agreeing. ‘Okay, but you’re going to have to put my sexy clothes on. A normal skirt wont do it with this mission’, she notes and you scoff. ‘Whatever makes you satisfied’, you say before you let yourself focus on the class, which is just about to start.

‘How does one own such a tight and short dress’, you complain as you walk down the street, trying to pull your dress further down. Lisa holds your arm hooked around hers, pulling you back up. ‘Don’t bend down like that, your boobies will maybe pop out doing that’, she giggles as she shakes her head. You scoff, not liking this outfit only one bit. Yeah, you want to get laid. But like this, it’s kind of cheap and that’s not really what you had in mind. You just want a one-night-stand, but not with some gross dude. He needs to have class and be a gentleman. But knowing Lisa, she doesn’t really mind about that. And there is nothing wrong with that; the girl has needs too. Your standards are just different.

You arrive at the familiar club ‘Le Farceur’, being one of the hottest clubs in the city right now. You often come here, knowing you’d get the optimal club-experience. You’d be surprised how many clubs aren’t great at all. Some clubs have old gross men on the side who keep on looking at you with there old eyes. Others just have awkward young people who don’t know how to party nor to throw one. ‘Le Farceur’ really knows how to do it having: great DJs; cute barmen; great lights and a beautiful dance floor made out of glass. You love the club and you always feel like you walk into another universe.

‘May I get that coat?’ The doorman asks and you nod, giving him exactly that. Lisa also gives her coat to the other man standing a bit further in the hall. You can already hear the music dancing off of the walls. When you take a turn to Lisa, you already see her flirting with that very guy. You don’t know how she does it with that much ease, you simply can’t. You can already hear Lisa say: ‘What makes you different, makes you special.’ Yeah, say that to the girl who will stay alone forever in her little house with her thousand cats.

‘Ready?’, Lisa asks as she approaches you. You nod and the both of you enter the hall. The club is already full with sweaty dancing people. The smokers are fully on and everything looks blurry as you enter the room. Immediately Lisa grabs your hand and pushes through the crowd, trying to find the bar at the other side of the club. The music is loud as you walk through the people. Some people are singing, some are talking with their friends; some are trying to flirt with others. You like this, it’s as if anyone can finally let loose in this room. There are no worries, just maybe the growing feeling that you might throw up because of the many drinks one has taken. No tests, no pressure from school. Just loud music and beautiful people around you.

‘You want the usual?’ Lisa asks and you nod. You look around as Lisa starts ordering. You can see a few familiar faces in the crowd, being people you know from school. You’re not surprised, this is a well-known club. Everyone at the campus talks about it. About people who have hooked up there, or even split up.

‘Here you go, one tequila shot, a lemon and some salt. Let’s go!’ Lisa yells after putting some salt on your hand. You immediately lick it off of your hand, shot the tequila through your throat and put the lemon in your mouth. You frown out of disgust, but then laugh because of the thrill it gives you. Lisa mirrors you exact, making you laugh even more. The both of you do a few more shots before heading to the dance floor, dancing together before Lisa finds a very handsome young man to dance with.

You can feel yourself getting drunk by the second, loosing up and dancing more freely. You let yourself focus on the music, though you don’t know the song. You don’t really care though.

Suddenly you feel a hand on your shoulder, making you turn around. A tall guy stands in front of you. You giggle as you take a step closer and you can recognize his face. It’s the guy from this morning, he was standing along the sidewalk. I guess he did hear us talk and probably wants a peace. He looks mysterious, having dark glasses and this black suit on. It’s like he’s straight out of Man In Black. You just know he could take you just the way you’ve needed someone to for the last 5 months. A strong tall guy, maybe even a gentleman.

He now firmly holds your arm, almost painfully as he start dragging you through the crowd. You don’t know how to react, but you’re kind off too drunk to know how. You start pulling on your arm, hoping that the guy will just let go. It’s now that you’re beginning to panic, what does this guy want? Why is nobody stopping this guy? People see me right? They see me getting dragged out of the crowd? Or maybe I’ve done something wrong and is it security trying to escort me out. I just can’t remember myself misbehaving.

You arrive at a door in the corner of the club. The guy has been silent the whole time as you were trying to follow his fast pace through the crowd. You want to be sober so you could try to make sense out of this, but you can’t. You’re stuck being this drunk fuck that’s busy trying to keep her balance.

‘Who are you?’ you manage to get out. The man doesn’t answer and just starts dialing some number beside the door. You figured he is taking you in there. But why? This can’t be something bad, right? People didn’t just let a girl dragged through the club only to get raped. Or do things like this happen this easily? Thinking about it, drunk people don’t really keep an eye on others around them. So it’s possible. You begin to pull harder on your arm, even wiggling in hope that he magically let your arm go. The guy grunts, making the grip on your arm tighter. You let out a small yell out of pain, body falling in each other. You try to stay up, but together with your drunk mind you can’t really keep it that way.

You hear a soft beep and the door in front of you opens. The guy drags you through the door and closes it behind you. He didn’t come along with you; you’re just alone there in this room, that’s what you think at least. You don’t dare to look up; you just look down at your hands, which you can’t quite get focused because of the alcohol that flows through your system. You do notice the room is pinkish and the floor from is wood. Your eyes slowly make their way up and you now see a white carpet on the ground. Something like a sofa is on the end and a little coffee table on the side.

‘He hasn’t hurt you, has he?’ You suddenly hear someone say at the end of the room. Your body shocks by hearing this sudden voice. It does sound familiar, like you’ve heard it somewhere before, but not face-to-face. The voice doesn’t give you a good feeling though. You want to look up, but you’re a bit too dizzy to do so. At this point you don’t really know what’s real anyways.

‘You look weak, I didn’t fucking ask for a weak one’, the person says again, talking in a irritating manner. You frown, still looking down. ‘Then why don’t you fuck off’, you reply, not caring for the words you are using. You slowly sit up, finally finding your balance. You scan the room. You notice how the walls are red, the black ceiling and the golden decorations around the room. At the side you see a pole and you realize this must be some sex-room. At the end you see a big sofa with a man sitting on it. He’s sitting with his legs crossed and his head hiding behind a newspaper. You frown as you start to scan the man. He has a colorful appearance, wearing some form of a suit. You can even see the top of his head, showing a green color or maybe blue? You can’t really see that well, not with the blurry vision thanks to the alcohol. You do see some kind of smoke surrounding the man and when you start to smell, you just know it’s a cigarette.

‘So you are feisty’, you hear him say with a smug sound. You scoff, trying to prove you’re not scared, but you fucking are. You don’t know what to do, but you do know this man has power.

Then his newspaper goes down and the painted face looks back at you, a cigarette resting on his lips and showing a cocky expression. Your eyes go wide and your heart starts to race a million times faster than it already was. It’s the fucking maniac. The guy you’ve now seen for months upon months, doing terrible things against the nation. It’s the man who has stolen billons of dollars from rich people and not hesitating to make a few kills for it.

He has a dark grin on his face, as he looks you up and down, standing up from the couch in the uncanny manner. You move your body as far as possibly away from him, that being your natural actions. How the fuck did I get in this situation. You try to move further back, but your head still tolls by the alcohol you’ve been drinking merely moments ago. He walks up to you with a fast pace, making you scared. He knows what he is doing and he loves it. He loves to make people scared.

He crouches down beside you and grabs your hair, pulling it back harshly so you look into his eyes. You can hear a soft thud beside your face, being it the cigarette he puts out on the wall you’re pressed up against. His face is very close to you now, his lips hovering above yours and breath hitting against your skin. The smoke is still coming out of his mouth when he starts speaking.

‘I’ve heard you that you are looking for something naughty, my ‘lady ’, he says with a low and dark voice, now letting himself sit down on your lap. You don’t know how to react to this, but your body does the job as you feel a certain warmth stream through you. You feel yourself now breathe much louder and your body wants something, you can feel it. You know the feeling all too well, maybe even loving the adrenaline flowing through your body that goes with it.

No, stop (y/n). It’s just the alcohol. You can’t feel this way towards this ‘man’.

The Joker smirks down at you upon seeing you struggle underneath him. He yanks your hair back ever so slightly, exposing your delicate neck to him. His eyes meet yours, still as dark as they always are, before he reaches down and gently kissing the exposed skin, surprising you with the gently touches. It’s not something you’d expect from such a masterminded criminal like him, the Joker. Your body shakes as you let yourself embrace the tinkling feeling on your skin, which are vastly changing into sloppy kisses and making you moan ever so quietly. Why is he so damn good at this?

‘Let’s see what you’ve got, baby’, he whispers into your ear after parting his lips with your neck, he even had inspected the red skin it had turned to. Suddenly he yanks on your hair as he stands up himself, forcing you to get off the ground. You let out a small whine as you try to follow his forcing moves. He pushes you towards the couch, not so gentle anymore, and bends you over right on that spot. You inhale sharply upon this action, but you don’t fight it for some reason. Your brains are telling you to scream and kick your way out of it, but the alcohol is letting that voice fade into the background together with the pounding noises from outside the wall, where people are still dancing and shouting along the music. The only thing you can focus on now is his groin pressed up against your ass, feeling so thick and long, and the way it makes your body ache for more.

‘You know what ‘Le Farceur’ stands for baby?’ His hands are finding its way around your butt, tracing soothing circles and making it hard for your knees to stay up. Then, with no warner whatsoever, he pulls his hand up and lets it down with great force against your ass. You let out a small high-pitched moan, making yourself again amazed at the way this man can make you weak like this. You can hear him laugh behind you, cocky that he could make you feel this hot by only slapping you. ‘It stands for ‘the Joker’’, He says, both hands groping you harshly, your body pleading you for more. You lean into him as he does so and you can’t do anything but to plead out your pleasure.

‘F-Fuck daddy.’

You feel another slap on your butt, but this time a bit stronger and with more passion than before. You hiss this time, not feeling any pleasure by that, rather pain. But not the kind of pain you want to run away from. Your arms almost give in by the force of the slap. He grabs your hair again and pulls you up straight against his body, his hard cock pressed up against your butt with more force. You can already taste it on your mouth.

‘who?’ He asks as he moves his hips forcefully against your ass, making your back to arch into him. You love this, you love the way he makes you dripping wet, the way his cock forces its way against your ass and making you hope you didn’t have any panties on.

‘J-Joker’, you reply, almost moaning, as he remains to move against your ass from behind you. You can practically feel the way he smirks behind you, eyes printed on you as he does so. He lets go of your hair slowly, his fingers wondering down. He touches every single feature of yours, beginning from your neck, down to your arms and gently groping you and making you rill all over. His hands grab the soft fabric of your dress and pull the strings over your shoulder. The newly exposed skin are immediately marked with his wet kisses, making you arch into him. You want to be closer to him. He doesn’t react to it, he just continues his way down, letting the dress slowly slide off your body. You feel nervous as he does his action, too much anticipated and wanting him to fuck you already. You even let out a soft whine, hoping he would punish you or anything, but he doesn’t. A mastermind indeed.

When your dress finally hits the ground, only wearing your panties now, you can feel his hands caressing your breasts. You can hear him grunt when he start pinching your nipples, pleasure getting ahead of him as he does so. You hum when he gropes your breasts with more force, pulling you closer against his body and you feel his dick again close against you. He is such a tease, being so slow with you, not fucking you immediately.

‘Patience my baby girl’, He whispers into your ear as he lets go of you. You let out a small noise, feeling so naked and untouched when you don’t feel him against you anymore. You want to turn around, but you can hear a disapproving sound when you almost did. ‘No can do, baby doll. Patience I said’, he instructed and you obeyed. How hot he might be and how much you want him inside of you, he still is one of the biggest criminals. He is still dangerous and you wouldn’t want to get actually hurt by this little game he is playing with you.

You can hear something hitting the ground, some kind of fabric maybe. You don’t really know where he is in the room since the noise from outside is still pounding through the walls, music and talking people getting right through. It makes you even more wet upon knowing he’s about to fuck you so hard while people are right there outside. Oh, you want him to. So badly.

‘Lay down’, you suddenly hear from behind you. You say as you are told, lying down on the sofa in front of you. First you sit down, making eye contact with the man in the room and you are not upset with what you are met with. He is standing in front of you, fully naked. His body is painted with thick caramel-colored muscles, shining under the dim-pink lights around you. His legs look strong and his chest looks so inviting, something you want to have a taste of. His cock is standing strong and proudly, looking so good and delicious. You just know he’s going to fill you up the way you want him to and with that dazzling expression, he is promising he will just do that.

‘You like what you see, don’t you baby?’, He declares as he sees your longing eyes, finally laid down on the sofa. You swallow back your words, knowing you can’t get too excited. You’ve learned your lesson now; you won’t let him tease you that long again. You need him right now and toying with you is definitely not the way to go.

Your eyes are widened when he decides to slowly walk up to you, making your body ache of desire. His muscles move strongly, but still so delicate. You hate the fact that you can’t see his face, though you still find the façade kind of exciting. His eyes still look dark when he finally reaches you, like he is fucking you with them, but not touching you yet. You squirm on your place, trying to calm yourself down and to net get too excited.

In one swift move he had placed himself above your waist, his dick throbbing as you can basically taste him. He is so close, you just have to lean forward and you can just-

‘No no, sweetheart. I’ll guide you’, he says as he pushes you back on your place, making you whine once again. You knew you shouldn’t have whined that much, because suddenly his eyes looked angry, making you shiver. He grabs your hair once again and yanks it back. There flew a shot of pain through your neck, since he has bend your neck over the handrail. You let out a small yell upon feeling that, but before you could say anything was his face already close you yours.

‘Whine fucking once again and I will snap that neck.’ His threat got through to you and you just nod, eyes wide open, as you feel terrified. He sits back on your waist as he suddenly puts a cigarette in his mouth, lightening it with a small lighter. You look at him with awe as he pulls his hair back and taking a deep inhale of his cigarette. Though he had just threatened you, you still think he is so beautiful, in some ways.

‘Now, darling. Open wide’, He says as he suddenly closes the gab between you and his cock, his body now placed above you. You open your mouth as far as you could, your hands finding its way to his cock and placing it right in your mouth. You can hair him grunt as you lick his dick wet, making it ready for you to suck on. You begin slowly, making your mouth hallow as you let him enter your mouth. You can taste the saltiness of his skin, but still the way it’s so delicious. His hips slowly begin to rock with your movements, making a pace onto your mouth. You can now smell the smoke again and when you look up, you see him exhaling all that smoke out of his lungs.

How can one be so damn hot when smoking?

You begin to suck, making slurping sounds with your mouth as you do so. It’s now that he grabs your hair and starts to moan a little upon feeling your mouth surrounding his cock. You make sure your hands are making rotating movements around his dick while sucking him dry. He feels the urge to go faster, so he starts pulling your head and you let him guide you. His pace is fast and it’s not easy to keep on sucking, so you instead make your mouth hallow again and let him go as deep as he wants. He loved that move and immediately makes use of it.

‘Yes baby, let me fuck that mouth hmm’, he grunts as he rocks his dick as far as he could into your throat. You make gagging sounds and you have to gasp for air, but somehow that makes him hornier and he only goes faster by it. You don’t really care about it, you want him to abuse your mouth like this.

‘Fuck I need that pussy.’ He thrusts his dick as far as he could into your mouth for the last time, staying there for a few seconds, making your gasp as you almost past out for air before releasing you. You lay back as you have to come to your senses for a few seconds and look back up, seeing his cocky face with his dark eyes. He again blows out some smoke as he had just taken an inhale from that cigarette. It makes you frown in the haste of the moment, thinking of how bad smoking is. But it occurred to you that he isn’t a healthy man and that a cigarette is probably the least of his problems.

He puts the cigarette down on the edge of the coffee table beside the sofa. You look at him, anticipating on his next actions.

He grabs your hips and lays you on your belly in one swift move. He then pulls your hips up, leveling with his cock. He starts dragging his cock against your damp panties, which you sadly are still wearing. Your body leans into the touch and you start to wiggle your ass, hoping he would feel more tempted to fuck you. Instead he lets his hand fall down on your butt with a great force, making you exhale sharply and feeling the way your skin burns under his touch. If anything, that made you want him even more. You could never find a better sex partner than him.

‘P-Please’, you breathe out, arching yourself into him again. He presses his dick further up against you, rubbing up and down. ‘Please what, my princess’, he asks and you immediately reply. ‘Please… Joker’

He suddenly pulls your panties to the side and you are met with something other than his dick. You can feel his tongue gliding between your folds, licking up and down. Your body sinks down and your ass perks up, wanting him to hit certain spots. He finds your clit with ease and his hand begins to toy with the little nub, making circular motions. You moan into the sofa as he finally gives you the relieve you’ve been searching. He even ads another finger into the mix, inserting it into your hole. His fingers a tall and thick as it moves through your insides, hitting al the right spots when hit curls inside of you. Nobody has ever known to pleasure you like this, not even once.

Through all of this he hasn’t stopped to taste you and even groan when he does so. He seems to enjoy you so much; he has never felt such passion with anyone before. Nobody ever really wants to fuck him, he is the Joker nonetheless. They are always afraid of him; so he often has to force them, really, and after that probably kill these women. But you, you have the same kind of crazy mind like he has. The way you want to stay good, but for him you’d do everything. His little slut. And no way he will throw that away. He will keep you, his own little whore to enjoy.

Your body begins to shake as he keeps on pleasuring you and you feel great heath rising in you. You can’t help yourself but to reach behind you and grab his hair, you need to hold something. In return, he grabs that hand and forces it down beside you and pushing your ass way further back so he can insert his tongue into you. Out of pleasure, you begin to moan loudly, calling his name multiple times. He keeps on thrusting into you and rubbing your clit when you finally come, the heath finally bursting out of you and leaving you breathless on that sofa.

You can feel his eyes on your back, probably smirking for the thousandth time as he sees you laying there, body still weak as you’ve just cum. That rest didn’t take long as he turns you back on your back and pulling your legs upwards, hooking them on his shoulders. You look up into his eyes, still breathing loudly as you do so. He looks back in yours, an uncanny grin on his face as his cigarette is back in his mouth. He blows some smoke out into your face, making you cough slightly. His grin turns into a small laugh upon seeing you like this, taking another inhale before taking out the cigarette and connecting your lips.

You inhale the smoke into your lungs as he kisses you with all the passion he has to offer. Your tongues immediately connect an you again can feel his cock pushing up against your entrance, making your inhale against his lips. He explores your mouth with his tongue as he slowly rocks his hips up and down, feeling your wetness against him. He grunts and his breath begins to make a pace. He makes one swift move, putting his cigarette back down before saying: ‘You really are one special slut, aren’t you my love?’

With that he suddenly thrusts his cock inside of you, breaking your lips apart as you inhale sharply. The pain shoots through your body, not being used to his size and also not having had sex for a couple of months. You grab his arms out of discomfort, nails digging into his flesh and making him his too. He stops moving by that as he looks at you, expression filled with passion, though you can’t see it since your eyes are tightly closed in pain.

‘Easy baby doll, relax’, he says, leaning down to your ear. He slowly starts kissing you on that spot, trying to make you focus on his lips and not on the pain that shoots through you. Like magic, you can only focus on his kisses and you start to hum in enjoyment. You thought he wouldn’t stop for you to adjust, but he does. That isn’t something the ‘Joker’ would do, is what you thought. Maybe he is just a big softy from the inside?

As his kisses become rougher, his hips slowly start to move, at first a bit rough, but slowly better and better. You begin to moan against his shoulders as his pace goes faster with the second, eyes frowning by the pleasure it is bringing you. Your arms find their way around his neck as you try to get him closer to you, smelling his scent and savoring it in your memories. God, you hope you can remember this tomorrow.

His pace has gone up again and is now pounding into you, skin making loud noises against each other in the room. Your moans are just as loudly heard, slipping through your lips when you are not kissing his neck. You love the way his body is so close to you, how he feels so good and big inside of you. He fills you up better than you’d thought he would. Everything is better than you’d thought, he is the perfect man. He knows just the right ways to please you, like how he angles his hips to hit that special spot inside you. Damn Joker, you look like a criminal but fuck like a goddamn god.

‘Fuck, you are so tight and so good. So well behaved, my little doll’, he mutters under his breath as he grabs your throat, putting a soft pressure on it. You feel the way your air ways are getting blocked until you can barely breath and you can’t help yourself but to moan. You want him to own you like this, to make you his slut. ‘Such a fucking freak.’ His eyes are so dark as he leans down to kiss you again, hand still on your throat and hips slamming into yours. You don’t know what to do with yourself as the pleasure rushes through you, heath again growing inside of you.

It’s then that he pulls out of you, making you pout as he does so. He smirks down at you before he grabs your legs and unhooking them from his shoulders. He sits down on the couch, legs spread widely as he grabs his still-lightened cigarette from the little coffee table. He takes another inhale before exhaling again, letting the smoke wander into the room. You look at him in awe as you sit right up, admiring his looks again. His silhouette looks so beautiful from this angle and the smoke seems to almost dance around him.

‘Take a seat, darling.’ He really loves naming you things and it always seems to work on you, since you get wetter every time. You do as he tells you and sit on his lap. He looks up at you, silent as he observes every single detail of your face, taking a few smokes a he does so. He then leans in to slowly lick your breast, making circular movements around your nipple. You hum in pleasure as you push your panties to the side and lining his dick up with your entrance. You slowly sink down on it until you can’t get any fuller. He grunts against your breasts, loving the feeling of you around him.

You move your hips up and down, slowly building up. He keeps on looking at you as he takes his inhales from his cigarettes, making you feel enchanted by his state of being. He does it just so well.

He puts his cigarette down again and starts to move with your hips, making a faster pace. You now are breathing loudly again as your body works hard to keep the pace that he wants and you can’t help but moan loudly because of it. He grabs your hips as he bounces you up and down his dick, making wet noises with your pussy rushing against his skin. He seems to love the noise as he keeps on trying to go harder into you. You pull your head back as you get lost in the pleasure he is giving you, body slightly beginning to tremble as the heath slowly grows into you. It only takes a few hard strokes for you to cum even harder than the last time. Your pussy clenches by the feeling and your body twitches, as you can’t help but to fall into his arms. He holds you, but doesn’t lose his pace as he also finds his own high. He makes a few hard thrusts as he suddenly comes into you, dick buried deep inside of you as he does so.

You both breathe loudly as you lay on top of him. He holds you tightly against his body when he still makes the last few strokes inside of you. He wants to burry that cum very deep inside of you, you’re his and that’s where his cum should be too.

‘Crazy girl’, he breathes out into your neck and you can’t help but to chuckle at that. You’ve just fucked the Joker, the person you basically hated. But you couldn’t get enough of him, though he might be a criminal. This must be some Stockholm syndrome or something.

‘You’re now mine, baby girl.’

Your eyes widen for a second, but then you realize that you probably don’t have a choice. He’s one of the bad guys and is probably the best one there is. You don’t have any input in this. That’s what you tell yourself at least. What’s really going on is, he fucks well and he feels good with you. You know it’s not good for wanting him, but it’s the plain truth and you actually don’t give a shit about it anymore.

‘You will live with me, you don’t have to do anything but to fuck with me like a good girl’, he says before leaving small kisses on your neck. You hum by the feeling, again tingling your neck. ‘I don’t care, as long as I stay with you’, you answer and he huffs. ‘You really are my crazy doll, aren’t you?’

He hooks your legs around his waist, dick still buried inside of you and standing up. You cling close to him, as he seems to walk to a wall, pinning you up against it and pounding a few times into you, making you moan by the similar sensation. Then he continues his walk towards some door and opens it without hesitation, you still clinging onto him. A man is standing there, the same man who had brought you into this room. You widen your eyes and you try to hide yourself, but instead you only hear the Joker chuckle.

‘We’ll be staying here for a couple of hours, get it done’, he says to the man before closing the door again. He lets you slowly slide down, his dick now out of you as he pins you to the door, which has been closed. He looks deep into your eyes with a small smile, looking like a different person.

‘Cause I’ve finally found my soulmate.’

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randbwrite · 3 years

Text

La Comtesse Chronicles Chapter 1 Part 2

Words: 1907

TW: Blood, graphic violence, death

CW: War, attempted assassination, vampires

B: Near silent footsteps didn’t announce Derrick’s presence so much as the scampering of a happy stoat pattering across the stone ahead of him did. The man was massive, how on earth he could move so quietly was a mystery Rapscallion wanted to solve one day. Whenever he got around to it.

“They’re waiting for you upstairs.” With his bland tone of voice, Derrick could’ve been discussing the weather.

For all that Rap could be seen to care, they might as well have been. “I know.”

“It’s inadvisable to make them wait.”

“So?” Indifferent shrug.

“There’s a difference between cute and stupid. You crossed a line earlier, and you’re going to drag your feet now?”

“Yep.”

“They want me to drag you if necessary.” Both of them knew how that would end.

“Aww, I knew you cared!”

“Never tried to hide it, unlike some people.”

“Oh stop it, you’ll make me blush.” Rap’s devil may care smirk nearly brought one to Derrick’s expression, but he had to be serious!

“Palavering isn’t going to change the situation...”

“Yeah, but!! If they’re annoyed enough, they’ll give the orders without the imperious preamble and pomp. Here’s your orders and off you go! Works like a charm.”

“Right.” Massive arms were crossed over an equally broad chest, the quirk in his eyebrows reminding Rap his friend really will carry him off if need be.

A huff lifted a pesky lock off his forehead momentarily, exposing the brilliant emerald orbs beneath. “I’m going, I’m going! I’ll catch ya later. Or not.”

Derrick shook his head, one scarred hand messing up the extraordinarily unkempt rusty mop Rap called hair. He knew what was meant. They couldn’t promise anything, nor really ask, but the unspoken request every time was to take care. Try and survive, eh? Wouldn’t be quite so exciting without the other around. They should probably wonder about how much nonverbal communication went on between them, but such was life. Full of the oddities that made it...so alive.

.....

The board of impassive faces that met Rap would be unreadable to most. Decades of training had refined their poker faces, but everyone has their tells. Tiny twitches, the way certain coifs had been fixed endlessly before he arrived, notebooks, bracelets, rings all adjusted to the nth degree...they should really watch their perfection of accoutrements more carefully. It all but telegraphed their mood. Course they’d never asked him.

Uhhh...okay, wait. They all had that same creepy dead look in their eyes except one. Dude off to the left, madness gleaming usually signaling blood lust. Did he do anything to tick that one off recently? ...No, not that he could remember...few times over the years, sure. The last prank hadn’t been his, but he took the blame for it. The crazy stunt had gotten a larger contingent of the assassins caught up in it and made them all want to kill him for a few weeks. That wasn’t too much of a deviation from the norm however. With a bit of time they’d all drop it, move on to the next frustration or take it out on their targets. They’re not allowed to kill one of their own anyway.

Missions were usually handed out by one person. Not a tribunal. Must be another meeting taking place, killing two birds with one stone. This wasn’t set up as a retribution either or he’d sense more of his fellow assassins in the shadows. That’s a delayed relief and he knew it, but hey! He’ll take what he can get.

“So! Whatcha got for me? Who’s incurred the wrath of the great and powerful Assassin’s League? Besides me of course.”

A minuscule draw to the head assassins’ brows was his reward, but the gleam in the other’s traveled from his eyes to a wide, manic smile. It was also he from whom the instructions came, a mission that per the norm wouldn’t allow for denial in accepting.

“Your target is la Comtesse Arcanum. She will be taking part in a battle between the French army and the German forces. Shoo now. Off with you.”

A noble. Right! That should be easy enough. So why was that gleam now being shared among most of his peers? He almost preferred when they all were content to be blasé about everything to...this. Esh.

Rap was on his way quick enough. It only involved avoiding the booby trap someone had set for him in the hallway to his storeroom. Place didn’t so much count as a bedroom as he rarely bothered to sleep there: gathering up an array of...necessary supplies and hopping a horse he’d leave in the nearest town to the battlefield; he was good to go.

Mission was simple, least to his mind. These commanders tended to do their leading from behind, strategizing based off of reports and keeping themselves safe in a tent far removed from those who gave and lost their lives for whatever ideal or land being quibbled over. Surrounded by soldiers, they thought themselves to be safe. Protected. Untouchable. Heh. People assume in order to be an assassin you have to melt into the shadows. Not true. Humans jump at shadows! They distrust their own even. Disappear into the mundane though...no one will look twice.

Think about it. Your water boy scurrying to keep the retreat horses fresh? What about the cook’s kid running rations, a medic’s assistant supplying fresh bandages, even an officer with the bearing and urgency demanding he not be stopped for anything or anyone, ducking into the command tent. It was always some variation and pretending to be in a hurry was the only steady requirement. When he got to this battlefield however, he couldn’t stop the swear word from being muttered.

“What the—? Lemon juice.”

No bustle to a central command tent. No commander in that one large, ostentatious tent either. A map, little flags which could surely help anyone intending to spy on their contingency plans, but no female commander. He was going to have to go into the fight himself, and he was beginning to see why they’d thought this would be such great fun. Fun for them.

A survey of the map showed him the general lay of the land, an idea of the commander’s intentions, how she had spread her troops, and where he might lure her to take her out. It wouldn’t be easy as she had plenty of people who were going to be trying to kill her. An entire army as a matter of fact. But if they sent him out there, the army wasn’t going to be enough to take her out.

Something about how the pattern was laid out was bugging him: only when he discerned she wasn’t the singular high ranking officer on the field did he understand. Sort of. Who fought with their own vanguard rather than dividing forces? There must be a purpose for it... He was going to need a vantage of the battle before he went out to join it.

Donning a uniform of the French army, he fished out a spyglass and took a cursory view of the battlefield, suppositions holding true. A maelstrom of blood and chaos was the field, soldiers and grass on fire, blades flashing, one of the soldiers fighting seeming to be made of fire and still plowing on. It was a mess. Rap shrugged and put away his tool. He’d picked out a spot to lead la Comtesse and his target to distract her with, which just so happened to be the second most dangerous force on the field to contend with. Who was on fire. According to the excited rumors in camp, that was the man he was looking for all the same. His own eyes confirmed it from the way the two moved in concert as well, even if logically what he was seeing was defying rationale.

By the time his traps were laid, set for both his target and those who may get between them, the battle had become more of a slaughter than an even fight. It was a matter of time before the opposing commander sounded the retreat; with the lack of officers on the field of battle it seemed surrender wasn’t to be the intention.

Anyone approaching the man on fire had been incinerated, disturbing visions of boiled metal and bent airwaves lending credence to the notion that whatever was actually happening over there and however the frak it worked, it wouldn’t be a bright idea to get anywhere close. Instead, Rap took advantage of the pile of discarded corpses surrounding the indefatigable duo and...played dead. The winds were probably changing soon, based on the way the clouds were moving. He was gambling on the hope this fire man wouldn’t want to risk accidentally burning his commander or allies, never mind the fact Rap had NO IDEA how in the name of insane bonfires anyone could survive being in the middle of those high temperatures, let alone send them off.

It worked. It worked!! Fire man moved with the wind, using it to carry his incendiary discharges towards his enemies rather than risk his own. A useful breeze, the coat that surely served to project further fear in his enemies and protect the backs of his legs lifted. Just enough. A series of tainted projectiles fired in quick succession, more than half hitting the small target that was the back of fire man’s knee. Good thing Rap had gone with his metal options rather than the more innocuous wooden ones. Easier to hide the evidence afterward, but they wouldn’t have survived the heat. Then again, usually his targets weren’t walking infernos. A notion for further consideration later. Much later.

It didn’t take long, though fire man must’ve had an elephant’s metabolism to not have dropped immediately, but in under a minute he was finally down on one knee. It would continue to work through his system; the flames guttering along with his strength. The delay gave Rap enough time to move into position though. He would lure the commander to his choice in battlegrounds. Not far from where they were, but just enough that his traps would remain untouched by the unwitting and unintentioned. He held his blow gun aloft, a short sword in his other hand. France’s coat of arms emblazoned on his chest and a very unsoldierly smirk on his lips completed the visage.

Make her feel rage. Take away her calm. Peel back the strategy and finesse that made her a terror in her element. Force her to step into his world, one without rules of combat, and that would be the only chance he had to take her out. Then again...something made it seem like all his efforts wouldn’t matter. As if she would step just as easily from her realm into his and beat him at his own game. He would not, should not consider defeat. That would mean accepting death, and this had only just begun!

The cocksure rise of lips and brow would not betray fear’s frigid grip trailing sweat down his spine nor the faint tremor of nerves knowing this time, among all the others, the League had no intention that he should come back alive. They might just be right. But he’d never willingly give them the satisfaction.

Standing stock still in the open went against every single instinct in him, nearly all the training he’d received and the adrenaline screaming he move! Fight or flee, pick one!! But for this to work, she had to come to him. A few steps were all it would take and the first of his traps would be sprung...

#tw: blood #tw: violence #tw:death #cw: war #cw: attempted assassination #cw: vampires #oc #dark fantasy #fanfiction #au #ikemen vampire #whump #rapscallion #comtesse #assassin #battle field #derrick #whumpfic

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l0rd-0f-the-lies · 4 years

Note

*paps* It's all good M'Thude! Now.. Prompts.. Hhmm. Virgils reaction to Janus now being accepted into the "Light Sides"? Or.. Remus and Roman dealing with the fallout of the events that just transpired? Oh.. How about everyone's internal monologue upon hearing Deceit say his name? 🤗

(Disclaimer: I haven't written fic in, several years. Apologies in advance. I also can't figure out how to add a read more, unfortunately.)

Chosen Prompt: Roman and Remus deal with the fallout after SVSR

Pairings: None

Warnings: Angst, but with a happy ending. Some very minor actions that could be considered harmful to the self (digging fingers into arms/shoulders).

Roman didn't want to be in his room any more. His knees had been digging into the pacing worn carpet for far too long already, his fingertips were forming indents on his elbows, and he was tired of staring at the monuments to projects past that glared down at him, menacing reminders of when he was Thomas's ... when the others valued his ideas. Yeah, that. He also just, wanted to be somewhere the others wouldn't go looking, if they bothered to. Patton had already come by to 'check' on him, and had been forced to tell his peace to Roman's door as the prince had refused to get up to answer it. Apparently the parental side felt that Janus hadn't really meant what he'd said, and that there'd been a misunderstanding. He'd apologized for not speaking up during their... disagreement, something about not trying to take sides, and had declared that "You boys will make up in no time, I just know it," before sighing and walking off again, seeming to accept that he wouldn't be invited inside. Yeah, Roman had mentally scoffed, he's so sure. They'll just be buddy buddy in no time... It shouldn't even matter. It shouldn't.

It did.

Wiping yet again at his face, the fanciful side closed his eyes in order to avoid the judgemental gaze of his own decor, consumed by the whirl of thoughts clogging his head. Where could he go? The imagination was far too obvious, if he went to the subconscious it's likely a Function would rat him out, the only other place would be someone else's... But no. None of them would want to see him right now, nor would he want them to see him like this. The only person who might not judge his disheveled state, who wouldn't care how good or bad he might actually be... Is the only one who he really had no right to ask that of, with all the distance he'd placed between them. And yet... the thought wouldn't leave him. Maybe... maybe he would understand, whether Roman felt he deserved it or not. And so, with a deep exhale, the prince sunk down, eyes closing as he Travelled.

He rose up slowly, still settled on his knees as he reappeared, the press of hardwood harsh against them. It made sense, he supposed. Wood was easier to clean up, should... unsavory things spill on it. Eyes taking in his new surroundings, quickly flicking away from things better left unacknowledged, he almost missed the dark lump settled on his brother's bed. It was quiet, so quiet, and that terrified Roman more then if he'd triggered some sort of trumpet launched fireworks booby trap. Remus was -never- quiet, or at least, he'd never been when Roman was around.

"R-remus?" He winced as his voice cracked, vocal cords worn out from crying for so long. "What are you-" His words cut short as the lump sniffled, a loud, snotty sounding snort came from the lump, causing Roman to grimace. Tissues were invented for a reason, not that that'd matter to Remus. "Are you cr- Are you ok?" He amends, it hadn't even occured to him that Remus may be dealing with something himself.

"Just peachy. Like that giant one those kids gobble-gobbled up. Not that you care, of course." It wasn't as if Roman had ever made much effort to seek out his company in recent years, much less made any move to comfort him. No, usually he'd be the first to insult him, remind him of his 'dark side' status. So quick to remind everyone how much better he was then his 'twisted' sibling. Not that he was the cause of this particular cry session. Not directly. No, that honor didn't belong to him today.

The Duke's response caused Roman to wince, glancing down and at least having the decency to look sorry, not that Remus could see it, steadfastly facing the far wall rather then turning over. "I, I do actually." He voiced without stopping to consider why. His heart pounded harshly as the reality that his brother probably wouldn't believe him suddenly hit him, driving him to forget his own reason for coming here for the moment. Instead the crushing need to apologize was swarming, cloying his eyes once more. "I know I haven't, sometimes, and I'm sorry. I, I haven't been very fair to you, recently, and I'm so, so sorry Remus. Please, talk to me? What happened?" He forced himself to stand, knees pulsing painfully in protest after being kept in the same position for so long. Shuffling forward slowly, reminiscent of someone trying to avoid spooking a semi feral cat, he settles on the edge of Remus's bed, hands fidgeting in his lap as he debates reaching towards his sibling.

Remus scrunches his face, forcibly stuffing another wave of tears down as the seemingly genuine words meet his ears, as the bed dips, telling him his brother had taken a seat. "What happened," he grits out, quite literally grinding his teeth together, "is you and Jan decided to drag -me- into your little cat fight." The sound of a shaky inhale can be heard from him, before he slowly turns over, red, watery eyes locking onto Roman's with an unreadable expression. "Well, he did the dragging. But you just rolled right with it, let it cut you real good, didn't ya? God forbid you get compared to the horror that is -me-, right?" He bit out, anger flaring, propping himself on an elbow and a knee to sit up. "You're just here because you got compared to your 'evil twin', and obviously that means Tommy thinks you're just as bad as me, right?" His eyes watered dangerously, threatening to spill over once more. "Doesn't feel so good, does it? Being called the evil one?"

Roman sat frozen, eyes growing wide the more Remus spoke, the more hurt and anger filled the air between them. "I-" He clenched his fingers together tightly, squeezing. "I-" He stuttered out, so much for royal eloquincy. He throws his hands up, frustrated with his inability to form a response to the unexpected, raw pain in his brother's words. What did one even say to that? It had never crossed his mind that his opinion, all of their opinions really, of his brother would actually hurt him. Remus, of all people, seemed the type to -enjoy- being referred to as sinister, wicked, and yes, evil. Or, Roman supposed, that's what he'd always assumed. "I thought you liked being called that?"

Remus seemed to deflate, sighing more to himself then anything and collapsing back against his pillows again. "That's what you choose to focus on?" He asks, again more to himself then anything, before sighing a second time, eyes losing some of their heat. "It can be fun, sometimes. Winding people up until they say it. But only because they think it anyway. Even, even if -you- had said it, I probably wouldn't care. I may have even laughed. But... but Jan, Dee knows. He knows I don't really like it. Especially in comparison to you. He, he's told me before, that I'm not. Not the evil twin. Not a mistake. Not bad, just different. And then... Then he says that. Because he knows it will hurt you, knows it's one of those things you're so fucking insecure about, and don't think I haven't noticed. You have more of those then a dragon's lair does skulls. And I know, I -know- he was hurt, near devastated really, and was just reaching for the lowest, easiest one of those to dig into, to stab at -you- with, but..." He exhales slowly, salty tracks making their way down his face. "But that doesn't mean it didn't -hurt-. Doesn't mean there isn't a chance he really thinks it, no matter -what- he says otherwise. He's Deceit, right?" He huffs bitterly, wrapping his arms around himself and digging his fingers into his shoulders, anger and hurt shimmering in his gaze. Under that though, is something Roman is so, so familiar with. He sees it in the mirror far too often, when his thoughts get the better of him. Deep seated insecurity, shining and broken. It doesn't belong on his twin's face, he finds himself thinking, leaning forward and hovering a hand over Remus, ensure if the other wants to be touched right now.

"I... I didn't know." He says quietly, rushing to finish his thought as he realizes he's said that out loud. "But- but that doesn't make it okay." Roman swallows, trying to quickly comes to terms with his rapidly shifting opinion of his brother after the deeply personal admittance from him, the word 'mistake' ringing uncomfortably in his head. Suddenly, he's no longer seeing a villian, just a hurting, lonely kid, same as him. Just someone who doesn't deserve to feel this way about things they have no control over, never had a choice about. "He's right, and I wish, I wish I had thought of it that way sooner. You -aren't- evil Remus, maybe, maybe you never were. You're just, so different from me, and we were so young when I first started calling you that, but I shouldn't have judged you so harshly. You can be a bit much, but you didn't choose what pieces you got, what role you filled. It doesn't make you a villian. It never should have." He's near about to cry again himself, seeing the hurt he'd helped to cause suffocating his sibling like this. He rests his palm on Remus's arm, squeezing reassuringly. "And I'm sure that De-" He cuts himself off, "that Janice, agrees. He may be a liar, but what does he get out of telling you that you aren't really the bad guy? He knows you aren't evil, Re. It's like you said, he just went for the easiest jab, something he knew I'm afraid of. That I -was- afraid of."

And yeah, Roman hadn't known what response to that he'd expected, but it certainly wasn't the long pause followed by a string of steadily growing giggled. "What did I say? Remus? Are you al-" His question is interrupted by a rough wheeze from the side in question, punctuated by even more giggles before he manages to answer.

"Did- did you say -Janice-? You still think it's -Janice-?" Remus wheezes out, managing a giddy smile as he cackles.

"Y-yes?" His brother hesitantly responds, both looking & sounding unsure. "I, that -is- his name, isn't it? ...You even called him Jan!" Roman suddenly recalls, looking bewildered and nearly offended.

Remus's laughter only grows stronger at that, before he dramatically wipes a tear from his eye, clutching his stomach as he manages to wind down the cackles enough to speak. "Ro, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but you are dumb as a box of rocks."

"Hey!"

"It's Janus. Or as I like to call him, Jaynus." This sets off another round of chuckling from the more chaotic twin. "Ya know, as in the -Roman- god, Janus? With a u and an s? Has two fudgin' faces just like dear double Dee's logo?" If ever a grin could be described as shit eating, that was Remus's expression right now.

Roman, at this point, was bright red, embarrassment tinting his skin. "I- I knew that!" He cries, puffing up his chest and placing his fists on his hips. All it took was a skeptical, unimpressed look from his brother and he was deflating, admitting defeat with the lowering of his arms. "Ok, so maybe I didn't! But how was I supposed to know? Mythology is the nerd's thing, not mine!"

"Clearly." Remus teased, sitting up properly and moving to settle beside his brother. His grin slowly faded, replaced by a serious expression that absolutely didn't belong on his face. He clears his throat, but doesn't go on, trying to decide on what he wanted to say as his brother's gaze settled on him questioningly.

"Remus?" He asks, his own expression fading as he takes note of this. "Everything ok?"

"With me? I feel... a lot better. Probably too much. I may have to set something on fire just to get the jitters out later. But what about -you-?" He asks, inquisitive gaze locking with his twins.

"Me? What about me?" Roman scrunches his face in confusion, the quick shifts of their conversation leaving him a bit disoriented as to what his brother meant.

"What about you, what? Don't give me that, I saw how you looked when you first rose up. You came here because you were upset too, and not just about Jan's jab."

Roman unconsciously flinches at the reminder, the ghosts of the looks the other's had given him, at Thomas's lie, because Janus had confirmed it was a lie, hadn't he, clawing at his chest. "I, I'm fine." His voice sounds weak even to his own ears. The look from his brother leaves him grasping at straws. "We literally just established you aren't evil, so what he said doesn't matter, ok? I'm fine."

"You're avoiding what I really mean, Ro." Remus raises his eyebrows, slowly settling a hand on Roman's shoulder, arm tensed as if convinced his brother would pull away. "I'm talking about what -you- said. About not being-"

"What about it?" Roman chokes out, forcing himself not to throw Remus's hand off as he cuts him off. "I know I'm not evil, since you aren't, but... But I'm not the hero either. I'm not -his- hero. I get it, really, I do." He glares down at his boots, expression closing off again.

"Yes, you are."

"W-what?" He's sure he's heard wrong.

"I said, you are. Of course you're his hero Roman, making a few mistakes doesn't change that. Don't be an idiot."

He feels a treacherous bead of hope bubble in his chest, but no, he can't- "But Janus-"

Remus's brow furrowed, his fingers squeezing the other's shoulder to get him to look at him again. "Janus nodded. You assumed he meant Thomas was lying, but you know what they say about -ass-umptions, bro. Thomas was telling the truth."

"What?"

Remus just rolls his eyes, sighing. "He was telling the truth. Janus was agreeing with Thomathy when he nodded. You are that dork's hero, like it or not, and I don't see that changing anytime soon."

Roman doesn't respond, stilling as he processes this. And then-

"Oh damnit. Come here Count Cry-ula." Remus gripes, no real heat to it as he pulls his brother to him, hugging him tight in a way he hasn't since childhood.

Roman manages to laugh wetly through what was probably the second dozen round of tears that night, hugging back like it's the only chance he'll get. "R-really? You aren't, just saying that to make me feel better?"

"Do I -seem- like the feel better side to you?" His brother snorts, a few tears of his own making another run for it. "Yes, really. He loves you Roman, and even if we're all so emotionally backed up it's about to come out the other end, the others do too."

And for the first time that night, he believes it. The hope is so big now, bubbling brightly in his chest, overflowing and spilling freely down his face as he buries it into his twin's shoulder, a bright laugh managing to escape him as his heart swells. They don't hate him. -Thomas- doesn't hate him. Maybe... Maybe things will be okay after all, both twins think, and they laugh together as they cry, the sound a perfect harmony.

#sanders sides #remus #roman #creativitwins #angst with a happy ending #my writing #if you tag this as you-know-what I'll steal your fucking kneecaps #janus mention #long post

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underthewingsofthblackeagle · 4 years

Photo

“Berliner Fernsehturm” * Foto: BernardoUPloud

After her marriage with Frank Randall has failed and Claire Beauchamp flees from her violent husband, she finds refuge in the house of the Fraser/Murray family in Berlin-Wilhelmshorst. But then tensions arise between Britain (which has since left the EU) and some EU member states. All holders of an English passport are required to leave EU territory within six weeks … and suddenly Claire’s fate looks more uncertain than ever.

This story was written for the #14DaysofOutlander event, hosted by @scotsmanandsassenach

Chapter 6: 14 Men (2)

A deep breath escaped Claire’s lungs as the limousine drove on.

It seemed as if pure adrenaline was pumping through her body. The thought of leaving the country with a man who was almost a complete stranger to her had already created a strong excitement in her. She still didn’t know if she could trust this person. The way to her marital home and the stay in that room where the horrible deed had happened had cost her unspeakably much effort and strength. But it was the unexpected and repulsive encounter with that being, which she could no longer call human, that had almost pulled the ground from under her feet. It was only thanks to his alcohol level and the intervention of Etienne that Frank could not live out his hatred and brutality again. Claire was sure that she would not have survived another ‘encounter’ with him like the one the night before. And still, still, she had to gather all the strength she could find in her body, her soul and her mind. Because she had sworn an oath …

Claire opened her bag and took out her smartphone. Again she breathed in and out audibly. Then she dialed one of the numbers she had saved some time ago, albeit reluctantly. Jamie’s eyes followed her. It took a moment, then someone seemed to answer.

“Smartphone" by JESHOOTS-com

“Mrs. Travers? This is Claire Beauchamp. You know who I am, and I’ve known who you are for a long time. The man who cheated on me with you is lying on the sofa in the living room of his house. He’s drunk. He may vomit and choke on his vomit. If he means something to you, take care of him. The key to the front door is under the pot with the little buxus, which is on the top step of the stairs to the house. And when he wakes up and sobers up, tell him I left him. Once and for all. He’ll hear from my lawyer.”

Claire didn’t wait for an answer. She hung up and deleted the number. Then she turned off the phone and slipped it into her bag. She looked out the window of the limousine. Silently, she began to cry.

Jamie, who had noticed, put his arm around her and pulled her towards him. But Claire pulled her face in pain and he immediately let go.

“I’m sorry, Claire, I didn’t realize… ”

“It’s okay, you couldn’t …

She pushed her right hand over to him, which he took carefully and stroked gently.

“I’m sorry, Claire. I’m very sorry.”

“Thank you. It’s over,” she said softly, leaning against him exhausted.

“Yes, it’s over,” he replied and then added whisperingly, “By this time tomorrow we’ll be in Berlin and from then on you’ll have all the time in the world to relax … and recover.”

She closed her eyes while he continued to hold her hand. He would only let her go if she wanted him to.

An hour after they left the house, they arrived at the airport. The chauffeur parked the limousine and he unloaded the luggage onto a luggage cart, which he steered towards the check-in. Jamie and Claire followed him. Suddenly a slim, black young man came towards them. He was wearing dreadlocks, covered by a colorful knitted hat, on which large headphones were sitting. He reminded Claire of Bob Marley in other ways as well. Although the young man must have seen them, he ran straight towards Jamie and bumped into him.

“Oh, sorry, man!”

The young man raised his hands defensively. In one of them, to Claire’s amazement, he held an issue of the American magazine ‘Wine Advocate’.

“It’s all right, no problem bro!” said Jamie and smiled at the young man, “Nothing happened.” They continued on to the check-in where Carl was already waiting with the luggage.

“Etienne,” Claire said excitedly, “I think the young man booby-trapped something from your coat. He reached into the inside pocket! I saw it clearly.”

Jamie smiled at her. Then he replied:

“Shh, it’s all right, go on. Keep calm and carry on.”

Claire could only look at him in wonder.

Arriving at the baggage claim, Jamie said goodbye to his chauffeur.

“Carl, I travel a lot on business, but you’ve been the best chauffeur I’ve ever had. Thank you for the service and especially for your discretion. If I ever have business in Boston again, I’d be happy to take you up on it.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Jamie reached into the inside pocket of his coat and took out a small envelope.

“This is for you, Carl. Buy something nice for your child and take your wife out to a special dinner.”

“How did you know, sir …?”

“I happened to see the picture on your smartphone when you were holding it yesterday.”

Carl smiled, then he reached out to Jamie.

“Thank you, sir, and have a safe flight home.”

Shortly after that, Carl disappeared with the baggage car. Jamie reached back inside his coat and turned to Claire.

"The young Bob Marley fan,” he said whisperingly, “even though he reached into my coat, didn’t steal anything. He put your passport with the visa and your ticket inside. The bump-into-trick works the other way round, too.”

He smiled. Then he handed her the passport, which contained the ticket from Boston to Berlin. Claire was silent. She wouldn’t have known what she could have said. Only one thought kept going through her mind: Who on earth was this man?

A few minutes later they checked in their luggage and received their boarding cards. They went through the security and identity check, went to the gate and after passing another check, they boarded.

Jamie didn’t know how the “In Vino Veritas” team had done it, but he decided to thank them for getting Claire the seat next to him. He told her to take the one by the window.

They went through the usual introductory program and finally the plane took off, leaving Boston first under and then behind them. Although Claire loved to look out of the window while flying, she now consciously resisted this wish. She never wanted to look back at the place where the most horrible thing that had ever happened to her … had happened to her. She closed her eyes and wished for nothing more than to finally fall asleep.

Boston - General Edward Lawrence Logan International by Konstantin von Wedelstaedt - Gallery page http://www.airliners.net/photo//0171420/LPhoto http://cdn-www.airliners.net/aviation-photos/photos/0/2/4/0171420.jpg, GFDL 1.2, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=26879312

Then everything happened very quickly. On the flight to Berlin, Claire had slept most of the time. Only once did she wake up. It was at Stockholm Arlanda airport where they had to change planes. When they arrived at Berlin-Schönefeld Airport, Jamie had woken her gently.

He took care of the luggage and when they came to the exit a young man was waiting there whom he introduced to her as Felix Kloppstock. He loaded her luggage into a black Mercedes S-Class Coupe Concept. Jamie opened the door for Claire, let her in and sat down next to her.

“We’re driving to my house, but we have to stop by the company first. It won’t take long.”

Claire nodded. She was too exhausted to ask questions.

Almost half an hour later Felix Kloppstock dialled a number on the car phone and announced his arrival. When they stopped in front of a five-storey building with the name “In Vino Veritas” emblazoned in large letters on its façade, the car was spotted by a surveillance camera. Then a large steel rolling gate opened and the driver steered the car into an underground garage.

“We have to change cars now,” Jamie said and opened her door.

To Claire’s surprise, the garage was quite large. There were only a few other vehicles in it, though. They were mostly small vans, the majority of which had “In Vino Veritas” written on them. Each of the men took parts of the luggage, then Claire and Etienne followed Felix through a wide aisle and two fire doors into … another underground garage. Several passenger cars were parked there. The men walked towards a black BMW M550d xDrive Touring and loaded the luggage into its trunk. Then, Jamie opened the front passenger seat door for Claire.

“Please take a seat. I’ll be right with you.”

She nodded. Then she saw the two men walking to an elevator door. A moment later the door opened and out stepped an elderly man with gray hair, wearing a blue suit. Etienne and the man talked briefly, then Felix Kloppstock and the stranger disappeared in the elevato. Etienne returned to the car.

Although the men all smiled and patted each other on the back as they said goodbye, Claire was a little eerie.

“Etienne, what’s all this about?” she asked when Jamie got back in the car. Hoping to instill confidence and trust in her in this way, he took her left hand and smiled.

“There’s no need to worry, Claire. I’d parked my car at the company before I left on my business trip. It’s what I always do.”

He started the car and drove it towards a steel roll-up door that resembled the one they used to enter the first garage. He waited until the security camera caught him and the door opened automatically. Then he drove out. Claire noticed that they left the building in a completely different way than when they entered it. But she knew that now was not the time to ask any more questions.

For about twenty minutes, their path led them through the city, then the picture changed. For a longer time they drove through a wooded area. Finally, a few smaller villages and a large motorway junction followed.

“Potsdam / Babelsberg” by Kai_Vogel

“Now we are leaving Berlin and we are in Brandenburg,” Jamie suddenly said.

“Brandenburg?”

“One of the 16 German states. The state capital is Potsdam. It’s only ten minutes from our home. We’re just passing by Babelsberg. Maybe the name means something to you. It is the most famous film location in Germany. When the GDR still existed, its state film company, the DEFA, had its headquarters here. The place was also popularly known as “Honnywood”, a pun from “Hollywood” and “Erich Honecker”, the head of the GDR government at the time. But that was long ago.“

They drove through a small town area and then came to a less populated area. Jamie turned onto a road that led to a stately country house. The house was on a sloping hillside property that was enclosed by a limestone wall with a wooden fence on top. At the entrance of the property was a small pavilion. This pavilion, also built of limestone and with a red pointed roof, reminded Claire of an ancient guard house. The path leading to the house and the car park in front of it was framed by pine trees on both sides. When they stopped directly in front of the house, Claire saw a huge tree on the right, which she estimated to be at least fifteen meters tall. But before she could take a closer look at the house, Jamie had already got out and held the door open for her. Out of a garage door that apparently led directly to the lowest floor of the house came a friendly looking older man. He was wearing brown corduroy pants and a white shirt over which he had put a green quilted jacket. When he saw Etienne, he smiled over his whole, very round, face. The two men greeted each other warmly. Then Etienne introduced the older man, whose head was only framed by a wreath of grey hair, as Frieder Ballin.

Suddenly the big oak door had opened and a woman whom Etienne introduced to her as his sister Janet, called Jenny, had come out. Jenny had welcomed Claire with great kindness. A few minutes later, they were sitting in the living room, drinking tea and eating apple pie. An hour later, Claire was lying in a freshly made bed in a room prepared especially for her, fast asleep. When she woke up, she had slept for nearly eighteen hours. To her surprise, there was a small table with a thermos of tea, a Tupperware box with sandwiches, a bowl of fresh fruit, and a small vase of yellow and red tulips by her bed. Her suitcase and backpack stood next to the door of her room. Someone must have put all this in there while she was sleeping.

It was eleven o'clock the next morning when Jamie, who was taking a walk around the house, saw the shutters on Claire’s windows being pulled up.

He was happy to see a sign of life from Claire and hoped that the long sleep had done her good. At the same time, deep inside his stomach, a sinking feeling came over him. Now he would have to talk to her. It had to be now, it definitely had to be before the children returned from their trip. And he would have to reveal a truth to her that he didn’t know how she would react to. All he could do was hope that everything would work out.

Ten minutes later, Jamie came knocking on Claire’s door. When she opened and greeted him, he was relieved to see that she really looked more recovered.

"Claire, are you okay?”

“A little better, yeah. Thank you, Etienne.”

“I have something important to discuss with you. Would you please come with me?”

Claire nodded. Then she picked up her bag and followed him.

While they walked through the house, Jamie showed her the different rooms. About ten minutes later they were standing in front of a double door. Jamie opened the right door and pointed in:

“Please. This is our little library.”

Claire walked in. A room opened up to her, with bookshelves on three walls. On the fourth wall, a large window opened onto a garden. Jamie pointed to four comfortable leather armchairs set around a coffee table. There stood a bowl of fruit and drinks. They sat down. Then Claire, who could no longer stand the tension, asked:

“What is it, Etienne?”

Jamie took a deep breath, like he was trying to get a running start inside.

“Library” by mbahoco

“Claire, I have a confession to make …”

She didn’t say anything, just looked at him defiantly.

“I … haven’t been completely honest with you …”

Claire’s gaze changed into a state of consternation.

“It’s not that I was deliberately deceiving you …”

“Then why did you do it?”

“Because … I would have put myself, my family, and probably you in danger.”

"And what did you lie about?

Claire’s voice trembled slightly.

"My name is not Etienne Marcel de Provac Alexandre.”

She had expected many things, but not this.

"Your name is not Etienne Marcel de Provac Alexandre? But you have a passport …”

“Yes, I have a passport with that name. And this passport is not fake. It "s real. I …”

Claire saw non-Etienne kneading his hands, but he stopped immediately when he noticed her look.

“I use that name because it’s too dangerous for me to travel under my real name.”

“Why is that?”

“Because otherwise I might be kidnapped, taken to a maximum security prison and put away for life … for high treason.”

Only later would she admit, admit it only to herself. But the thought that this man, whoever he really was, would be locked up for the rest of his life stabbed Claire’s heart.

“Then who on earth are you?”

“My name is James Fraser, you can call me Jamie.”

Claire’s eyes had widened in astonishment. Then she said slowly, as if in shock:

“James Fraser? The James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser? Lord Broch Tuarach?” The shock hit his whole body like lightning. But before Jamie could ask how she knew his full name, Claire went on: “You are one of the ‘14 New Jacobites.’ You are one of the leading men of the Scottish independence movement. You have fled Scotland with your family and are said to be somewhere in Europe. Downing Street No. 10, the government of Vladimir de Salty Brownson, has put a bounty on your head!” Claire clapped her hands together in front of her face. They were silent for a moment. Then Jamie asked: "How do you know all this, Claire?” For a moment she seemed to be struggling, but then she said: “My husband, Frank. He’s not just a historian, not just a professor at Harvard. He’s also worked for the Ml5 … and still does. You … and the 14 New Jacobites are the centre of his work.”

#14DaysofOutlander #Outlander #Outlander Fan Fiction #from boston to berlin in 14 hours #Claire Beauchamp #Jamie Fraser #modern au #jenny murray #Ian Murray #Frank Randall #Sandy Travers #black jack randall #boston #Berlin

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zukofenty · 4 years

Text

always be my maybe

➜ Summary: The one where Zuko and Katara could never quite get their timing right. Especially when the universe throws a lost condom, thousands of miles, and a baby in their way.

“I will literally french braid my pubic hairs and never open my pussy to anyone ever again if this condom doesn’t kill me. Please don’t let it kill me.”

➜ Genre: Modern!AU, Celebrity Chef!Katara, Doctor!Zuko, Love, Rosie!AU

AO3 @zutaraweek

“Go a couple rounds, leave Zuko’s dick up in a casket!” Toph screams into the microphone, undeterred by the various guests who stare up at her, mouth open and half-chewed, dry-as-fuck chicken spilling out. It wasn’t her fault, really! As soon as Zuko handed the mic off to her, he basically gave her free reign to spit a Megan Thee Stallion verse in his honor. “Sing with me, bitches! Look up the lyrics on Genius.com, Cheryl!”

“Sit down !” Katara squeezes out from clenched teeth, ripping the device out from the girl’s grip.

“I didn’t even get to the chorus, you fucking whore .” A bridesmaid nervously plucks the mic from their table and avoids eye contact with both of them. “What’s going on with you, bitch?” Toph asks quietly. She could tell Katara’s been doing her fake smile for the last twenty minutes. The girl was practically going to break her face open with how hard she was grinding her teeth.

“Just thinking.” Katara wants to smack herself in the face, pinch a nipple and bring herself to reality. Everything felt too real, and Toph could sense it. She’s the type to somehow sense when Katara shifts in her seat a certain way to covertly satisfy a cooch itch, and then buys her Monistat the same day.

She hates that she could never hide any emotion from her. Toph could always figure out the puzzle pieces that were Katara. One of the few to know the real her, besides Zuko.

Sometimes Katara thinks the younger girl knows her better than him. At least now. Especially now.

“About?” Toph takes an experimental sip from the wine glass, and gags. The juice tasted like Gatorade and cum. “Why the fuck would anyone want a dry wedding? Weddings are the only time you get to see your alcoholic uncle vomit all over the bride’s shoes, and then your closeted aunt has to wipe up the puke and her reputation from the floor while thinking of her secret girlfriend at home watching Tiger King .”

“That example was extremely specific and extremely unnecessary.” Katara brushes a crunchy curl, doused in hairspray, from her eyes.

“Sorry, I got distracted. I had dick on the brain, or whatever Rihanna said,” Toph mumbles, risking a bite of the chicken.

Katara turns to see him at the couple’s table in the center of the extravagant wedding, and sighs. “And for your information, I was just thinking when will he penetrate my esophagus? You know, just girly things.”

Toph has the gall to slap the girl on the cheek.

Katara holds her stinging face, eyes narrowed in an unspoken threat for fucking up the parts of her face she didn’t set with powder (she was going for a dewy look, sue her). “Not fair! You were the one who called my throat the baby chute earlier today!”

“Ok, throat goat. One, he’s getting married. Two, you’re sick.”

“My therapist will most likely cosign that,” Katara sighs. Toph holds Katara’s hand and leans her head on her shoulder as they watch Zuko mingle with guests.

This is the happiest day of his life.

Her best friend of twenty odd years was getting married. He looked so handsome, so happy. A suit that looked like it would cost someone’s rent and a half casually hugging his muscular frame. A blinding smile on his face, cheeks flushed from champagne and excitement.

When he turns her way, his smile grows impossibly wider. Toph clinks on a champagne glass with a fork, breaking it a la Princess Diaries , and Katara could feel the stares of nearly everyone in the room, ready for her speech.

It should be the happiest day of my life, too.

Right?

Katara thinks she wants to cry.

Now, how come none of those Judy Blume, coming-of-age books have a chapter on how to write a Best Woman speech for your best friend getting married to another woman, even when you were struggling with the fact that you might have been in love with him for the past two decades?

Bitch, what the fuck do you even start that Google Doc with?

Does she start at 4 years old? When Katara thinks Zuko is an annoying piece of shit?

But, you know, he’s her piece of shit.

Guys have hepatitis, or cooties, or whatever Sokka said, she couldn’t exactly remember. All she remembered was Zuko sucked. He stole her crayons and made fun of her Hello Kitty backpack on the first day of school. He was the stupid one, not Hello Kitty . Never Hello Kitty . She’d shoved his face into the playground’s wood chips, threatened to cut off his peepee for breathing down her neck with his retainer breath, and even stuck his head in between two slices of white bread and lovingly referring to him as an ‘idiot sandwich’ (Sokka let her watch too many Gordon Ramsey hosted shows while their dad was working late).

Zuko and Katara were practically inseparable ever since.

Or 10, when you were asking for trouble if you fucked with Zuko.

He was a tiny kid, glasses too big for his head. Hair shaggy, clothes too oversized for him (just the way he liked it). His dad had tried beating it into him that it showed weakness by not making waves, not being loud and proud. But, he was quiet by nature. For him, it was just easier.

Not stirring the pot, being the observer, looking in from the outside. He was just Zuko , he liked Wonder Woman comics and figuring out what other words besides BOOBIES he could spell with his calculator instead of actually doing his math homework, because he was bad at math. Bad at everything, really. Everything but band class. Even if he did hate that stupid fucking tsungi horn.

His mom would hide his report cards from his dad, especially the ones noting how shy he was (Mrs. Kim had used the exact words ‘very antisocial, very easy to bully’). Even when Ursa would ask him to try, try to make friends outside of Katara, he was always a stubborn little thing. Something you got from your father , she would say, the smile slipping off her face just the slightest.

It was just more fun being by himself, the only exception he made was Katara. He spent his recess scribbling down a plot for a Love Amongst the Dragons Fanfiction and listening to Katara’s iPod he’d steal from her, just because he could , after she snuck it out from her backpack for the 10 minute break they had. It was the iPod she spent the last two Christmases saving up with Sokka for. Zuko insisted he could master Ludacris’s rap in Usher’s “Yeah!” and practiced the Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays she had custody of the device.

Some days, Katara would sit beside him in her signature puffy blue jacket, struggling to fold herself to fit on the blacktop beside Zuko. The patented jacket her grandmother forced her to wear every single day obstructing her abilities. He snickers, but keeps quiet, content with plotting out a story that he would hopefully get to type out on the school library’s computers if his mom picked him up late again. She usually did, much to the dismay of the ladies at the front office. They typically hissed at him (which made him cry, to which they would have to offer him a cherry Otter pop so they wouldn’t face a lawsuit) and called his mom words he couldn’t repeat without getting in trouble (“Whore”).

Katara would babble on about her day, sometimes thinking of ways for his characters to die a painful death, or cooking up Fanfic plots for Beyoncé and Britney Spears to find love among the chaos of a zombie infestation. She always insisted she brought the creative range to their friendship. Some days though, Katara forgets all about him and plays handball with all the most popular girls in school.

Zuko’s jealous.

(Sometimes.)

She’s my best friend! He wants to scream in their faces. At the end of the day, he thinks he’s going to lose her. The day she realized she was too good, too cool for the likes of him.

“Chan, stop it!” Zuko squeaked, his notebook snatched from underneath his nose. The boy was always picking a fight. Your dad buys you a Motorola flip phone and suddenly you think you’re the shit.

The boy sneers at Zuko, flipping through the pages. “What do we have here? Are you drawing Shrek with boobies? You’re gonna jack off to that later, freak?”

Before Zuko could get a word in and defend his honor, Chan’s entire body was shoved to the ground, a dainty foot cased in a light up, white Skechers sneaker pressing into his face. Zuko couldn’t help his glee as Katara could barely be peeled off and stopped from repeatedly slamming Chan’s face into the hopscotch chalk court. “It’s all ogre now, bitch!”

She made sure to pin her detention slip to her Bratz backpack with pride. Zuko buys two treats that day from the student store before he walks her home.

“You’re my best friend, forever and ever,” Katara declares, head held up high. Zuko saw through it, though. He knows she’s scared of what Hakoda has to say, what Gran Gran has to say. So, he holds her hand tight, trying to relay his gratitude in the touch.

He licks at his Spongebob popsicle. The eyes had melted off and looked more like someone’s worst nightmare than an icy treat. Katara had wanted his cherry Otter pop, and he happily handed it over. “Pinky promise?” He holds out his finger.

Katara hooks her finger around his, dwarfing his tiny digit. Her outstretched smile stained orange. “I’ll break yours if you ever forget.”

At 15, Katara came to the realization that men have the emotional intelligence of a Souplantation crouton (may Souplantation rest in peace).

Growing up, with their dad and grandma always at work at their store, Katara was always in charge of cooking. No matter how many times she’d try to get Sokka to do it, he always insisted he was far too busy with taking out the trash, killing bugs, hating women. So, she was stuck with it, and honest-to-Rihanna, really liked it. Not that she’d ever let Sokka ever get the satisfaction of knowing it. It was her time to be alone, gave her the space to pop in a Cheetah Girls CD and pretend she won Masterchef with the struggle meal straight out of a Spam can she had to pound on a few times to get it to squeeze out from its gelatinous casing, or a whitewashed recipe she tried replicating whenever she catches a Rachael Ray rerun.

Though, Katara’s favorite time was chopping up the green onions under Ursa’s careful eyes, a hand always just there in realign the knife just in case she’d carelessly cut the green onions too big to garnish. Then, Ursa would then take out scissors because nobody had time for that. When his dad wasn’t home, Zuko’s mom opened up their doors across the street to the siblings, rambling about the next big painting she was planning as they scarfed down a home cooked meal.

Zuko was similar to his mom in that regard. They were the type of people who managed to make everyday moments larger-than-life, made it infectious, too. When it’s nighttime and he’s snuck into and snug in Katara’s room, he’d tell her dreams too big for anyone’s comprehension. Sometimes he dreamed he had tits that would leak chunky chicken noodle soup. Sometimes he’d ramble until her eyes are flitting shut and he’s left talking to himself and measuring his hand with hers, securing the leg she instantly throws over his waist. He’d like to think he was her only exception in the Souplantation crouton narrative.

Her bed is starting to smell like him, too. His favorite Costco brand shampoo and conditioner that he leaves in her bathroom, permeating her nostrils when she pulled him close. She even let him put up a Drake poster right next to her plethora of Rihanna ones, but only after he let her draw a penis on both his and Drake’s face. What he didn’t account for was her using a permanent marker, or the fact he couldn’t scrub it away from his cheeks for the next two days.

It was easy like this, just the two of them.

He’s there for all the birthdays and Halloweens and Christmases that left her not quite feeling whole. When things were hard, when things fucking sucked, when she wanted nothing more but to die. He was there, (stupidly) holding out his hand and willing to be the eye to her hurricane.

At 15, Zuko decides Katara feels home.

At 18, Zuko had already been Katara’s many firsts.

He was her first buffet partner, and brought back his Justin Bieber haircut just to pretend he was 12 so they could qualify for children's rates and a complimentary Oreo cheesecake because they were always celebrating his “birthday.”

Her first clubbing partner the second she turned 18, rubbing her back when any Beyoncé song with a Jay-Z feature came on because the second he cheated on Beyoncé, he cheated on everyone in the Beyhive. The first one to have to hold her as she hurled on his shoes, the first one to have to take her to get her stomach pumped.

The first person she tried to roll a joint with.

“I don’t need to learn that.”

Katara purses her lips. “And why not?”

He gestures to his face. “I’m too pretty. Only ugly bitches know how to do that . ”

Sokka thinks he needs to intervene when he hears Zuko’s tsungi horn case being chucked across the room .

The first person she (almost) fucked.

His family life was, for lack of a better word, fucked up. Katara had been witness to the drinking, the drugs, the crying. The nights where she sometimes didn’t know if the person standing in front of her was Zuko. She just wanted one night away from it all, just one night out on the town.

“That was kind of terrible,” Katara admits easily, wincing because she was sure he spilled Papa John’s garlic dipping sauce in his shitty Corolla’s air filter last Tuesday. He tried positioning his arm naturally underneath her head while their half naked bodies were pressed together, but he ended up smacking off her glasses. He even had the audacity to contently sigh as though he accomplished something, rather than just tangle her hair and give her a tension headache.

She felt lied to! Cheated! Bamboozled! Hoodwinked! All the Shrek and Y/N stories on FF.net could not prepare her for the fact that there weren’t any tongues fighting for dominance, or any mouths that tasted like cinnamon or musk or shit like that. It was just retainer to retainer and smelled distinctly of her awkward friend (cheese). It was sweaty and a lot of weird humping and felt like a visit to the gyno.

“Hey! I thought it was pleasantly average.” He clears his throat. “You know, besides the fact you farted mid-insertion and I started crying after 20 seconds.”

“You mean right after you came, right?” She says matter-of-factly.

He glared. “Is it my fault you have a gorilla grip pussy? Is it?”

“Zuko, you’re so fucking — ”

“What happens when you put a hot dog in the microwave for 2 minutes?” He crosses his hands and folds them over his lap like a professor waiting for a volunteer to answer the equation on the board.

“So in this metaphor, are you calling my pussy a microwave?”

But in true Zuko and Katara fashion, it was clumsy and a mess and could be erased with an emergency Burger King outing where they ate in silence and pinky promised never to speak of it again.

She wonders if Zuko should’ve been her first date to prom, too.

She wants to stop feeling so bothered . She couldn’t quite pin it, but lately everything he did frustrated the shit out of her. How he was taller than her now. How he didn’t need her to fight his battles because he goes to the gym now and wears a fake Gucci belt because he’s just so cool (brooding Asian guy is the trend, and Zuko thinks he’s the blueprint). How he said yes to going to prom with Mai, the prettiest girl in their grade.

“Don’t look in there!” Katara yelps, a blush creeping on her cheeks.

“Why?” Zuko questions, taken aback. He was entirely too comfortable in her room.

“Um. Maybe I don’t want a freak going through my dirty underwear pile!” Her eyebrows are halfway done, and she only has one eyelash glued on. She was stressed, scared her dress might not fit with how many of Sokka’s cookies she stress-ate because she just wanted the night to be perfect .

“Relax, what are a few discharge stains going to do to me, huh? If anything, it gives your pussy some much-needed personality.” Zuko wasn’t going to stop until he found his fake Gucci belt in Katara’s closet.

“Zuko!” Katara screams at the top of her lungs.

“Do I have to remind you about the time you broke our friendship bracelet while masturbating and I dug the bead out of your vagina like the good friend I am?”

She shoves him back from the closet, crowding in his space. That belt was going to remain in its rightful place. “Oh, fuck you! I took the fall for you when you opened your laptop in history class and forgot to exit from your “VIBRATING PANTIES” porn tab!” She pushes him before plopping on her bed.

Katara buries her face in her pillow at that point, too entirely embarrassed and body too hot to continue to look at his nonchalant face. He doesn’t quite remember when exactly Katara became so cute .

Pretty? Definitely. Fearless? For sure.

But blushing Katara, embarrassed Katara, cute Katara?

He thinks it’s because they rarely saw each other now, despite his patented place in her bed. His band, Hello Zuko, was aiming for at least a few dive bar performances to build a reputation, especially with their new title track “Tennis Ball.” Katara was a familiar face at their town’s soup kitchens.

“Where are you going?” he would sleepily mumble as he tried taking his midday nap before late night performances.

Katara’s hands are full with ingredients, swaying side to side and eyes red and drowsy. “Trying to temper chocolate. Why? What’s up?”

She never misses a performance, though. Comes to them with a sparkly poster doused in glitter, and t-shirts with his face on them and everything. He never misses a fundraising event, making sure to bring a steaming thermos filled with tea because Katara was never the type to remember to take care of herself, and always buys out her fundraising goodies (even her overbaked brownies.)

He pulls her up by her ponytail, cupping her face in between his hands.

“You look cute.”

“You look like the human equivalent of toeless socks,” Katara mumbles, face squished in between Zuko’s hands. “Why are you giving my clit piercing a kiss kiss right now? What do you want?”

Zuko shakes her head in between his hands. “Pinky promise me you’ll drop all penises to dance with me if they play any Usher song?” It was like he was in fifth grade all over again. “Call me a Nissan because I just want you Altima-self.”

She lets out a cackle, the sound nearly deafening. “Don’t worry, the DJ will get us falling in love again in no time.”

“Do you have to go with Jet?” He asks, pouting. He lays his head in her lap, too entirely preoccupied with picking at her pilling sweatpants to look at her questioning eyes. They promised they were going to be each others’ dates at the beginning of the school year. It was more fun going to dances with Katara. She knew how to do the worm and every lyric to every Rihanna song out there (but she refuses to sing any with Chris Brown parts).

“What? You know I like my men stupid.” She runs her hands through his locks, undoing the crunchy gel job that Iroh had painstakingly spent time on. Zuko didn’t have the heart to tell him it made him look like a youth pastor.

“You do like your communal meat thermometers.” He wants to keep the hurt out of his voice.

She shoves him off her, getting up to put on the dress hanging off her closet’s door handle. “You’re going with Mai, remember?” She yells through the closed closet door.

“But the thing is, I’m not planning to fuck her afterwards at the shitty hotel like it’s some type of CW show with some old bitches playing teenagers!”

“Just say XOXO, Gossip Girl .”

He still resents her for getting him invested in Blair Waldorf’s headband collection. “It’s not my fault Jet looks old. He looks like he’s at least 27 for fuck’s sake!” His face grows more distressed as he spits out each word. He only said yes to going with Mai after finding out Jet asked Katara using some shitty poster that said “my heart is always running when I see you” with a box of Nike outlet sneakers after English class.

“I think you’re just jealous that I emptied my intestines for someone who is about to be in it within the next three hours. When have I ever done that for you?”

Zuko’s about to retort something until Katara slams open the door, flooding his eyes with a dusty blue, curve hugging dress that did weird things to him. Like make his heart beat out of his chest, and his throat all dry when he’s searching for the words to say. Looking for the right words that say he thinks it’s impossible someone’s smile could make sunsets brighter, make the stars twinkle even more, make the unthinkable just a fingertip’s grasp away.

“Can you see the outline of my underwear and/or desperation from the back?” Her spin has him bumbling like an idiot.

He wishes it was Katara that night. Letting him shyly press his sweaty fingers into her waist as Katy Perry’s “E.T.” pierced their eardrums. He knows she would have pinched his nipples as punishment, all things considered. But the fluorescent lights of the disco ball would’ve highlighted how her pretty flush would dust her cheeks, and he would hold her close to his beating heart despite her complaining her foundation would stain his Target dress shirt, and everything would make sense.

“Did you cum?” Jet was absolutely pretty with an oh-so fat horse cock. Too bad he was like the Justin Timberlakes of the world, and always spoke unprovoked.

Katara scoffs. “Yeah, I came to my senses.” She flicked his forehead. “How would I do that? Tell me. How the fuck would a few thrusts and you panting your Sweet and Sour sauce breath in my ear get me off?” She shoves the sweating boy off her. “Can I say jk and will it make me a virgin again?” The hotel room had scratchy sheets and smelled like a waterpark bathroom.

He groaned. “I’m sorry .” He’s completely unremorseful. “Your tits smell like Cinnabon’s cinnamon rolls and I couldn’t help myself!” Katara is about to cut his dick off for breathing in the same vicinity as her, before a gasp stops her entire world.

“Zuko!” she screeches, opening the hotel door with the same devastation as when Britney Spears discovered Ryan Seacrest wasn’t gay painting her features.

“You know what they say.” Zuko’s smirking, entirely ignoring Katara fuming. “Chlamydia is the powerhouse of the cell.”

“You’re. A. Dick!” She says in between smacks to his head. Jet makes a speedy exit, still pantsless and clutching his suit to his chest, while Zuko mouths a ‘ call me’ to Mai, who amusedly waves goodbye to Katara.

“Oh god, this is exactly like the bead incident all over again.”

“ You’re not helping! ”

“Maybe we’ll find Atlantis up there too,” Zuko murmurs, concentrating on positioning the hotel’s mirror under her legs.

“Please, Rihanna. Have mercy on me.” Katara’s hands are in prayer mode as Zuko turns on his phone’s flashlight. “I will literally french braid my pubic hairs and never open my pussy to anyone ever again if this condom doesn’t kill me. Please don’t let it kill me. All those times I took an extra gummy vitamin were a joke . I never wanted to die, I just wanted to feel a little thrill in my life. Please—”

Zuko screams when the squelch of the condom splatters onto the mirror.

“You’re wearing underwear under there right?” He likes the look of his blazer draping over her, buttoned to look like a chic, oversized dress and not because it was the easiest thing to throw over Katara to run and grab Plan B.

“No, because I would obviously let my fat cooter out, cute and bare and vulnerable in a Walmart.”

“A simple yes would have sufficed.”

She’s reaching for the box and wincing at the price when she feels a gentle nudge on her arm. “Ma’am, your entire pussy is out in a Walmart,” the employee breathes out pathetically.

“I am well aware.” She ekes out.

The employee eyes her up and down with a gaze that practically calls her a whore . “Please put her away.” Zuko’s face grows beet red as he tries holding back a laugh.

It was always easy like this. When the world was just Zuko and Katara, holding hands in her driveway while they watched the sun rise in his shitty Corolla. She’s still wrapped up in his blazer, he’s since loosened his cheap tie and his hair is sticking every which way. She likes his smile, especially now that it comes so easy.

He’s smiling a lot more now that his father is gone. Ozai essentially told Azula and Zuko to fuck off , and ran off to some big city to steer a hospital with too many controversies and too many white guys at the helm. Iroh came back from his meditation sabbatical, enthusiastic to take care of the siblings. Zuko seems a lot happier with Iroh around, and even spends nights sleeping in his actual bed. (Katara’s a little hurt, but keeps that to herself).

She wishes she could bottle up these moments with Zuko up and just hold them in her hands. Moments when they were still young and curious and still had time to wait for life to figure itself out. She wants to find a way to make these a permanent fixture, instead of memories that would fade with age. “Let’s get out of here,” he offers up, eyes starry.

“Yeah?” She folds her knees up to her chest, and he taps her under her chin to level their gazes.

“ Republic City . We can make something out of lives. Medical school, culinary school. Get out of this shithole. Get away from our past.” His smile is contagious. “Best friends, forever and ever, right?”

She’s so pretty, her wide eyes sparkling as they take in the rays of sun. She returns his smile. “Best friends, forever and ever.”

Katara remembers how Ursa would say Zuko always dreamt too big, his heart always wanting so, so much .

“It’s a blessing, but more of a curse,” she would note, with the wisdom only mothers are capable of possessing. Sometimes, Katara selfishly thinks the day Ursa left hurt her more than it hurt Zuko. They were impossibly close, to the point where Zuko even had to intervene when Ursa started siding with Katara during their arguments (he knows in his heart his Mother’s Day macaroni portrait of her was better).

She would wonder how the world could let her live like this, dangling something she’s always wanted right in front of her face, only to snatch it away. Wonder if it was easier to die, than live with a hole in her heart that seemingly doubled in size overnight.

“Zuko, please look at me.”

He’s mad, she could tell. With his pout and the way he was forcibly trying to squeeze his eyes in a glare. He’s been sitting in the same spot in her bed, eyes trained on tutorials on how to convincingly persuade your doctor to give you an adderall prescription and “who bit Beyonce” conspiracy videos.

“Well, what if I just wanted you to respect my privacy! For the first time in 15 years! Maybe I needed space!” She yelps after twenty minutes of the silent treatment.

Zuko sends her a look that has her freezing up on the spot. “Katara, you had a whole baby .”

She felt thoroughly scolded, but she was stubborn. “And? What about it?”

“You had an entire one, and didn’t even bother to tell the godfather? When was I supposed to find out?”

Katara didn’t think that one through, to be honest. It was easy to forget, in between diapers that smelled like a fish sauce and an expired Vagisil smoothie, and balancing work. She lays down beside him, thoroughly exhausted after putting her little girl, Yue, down for a nap. “One, who made you the godfather? And two, I guess we’re just not close like that.”

“Look, I literally have your social security number memorized, and have practically given you a Pap smear. You really want to say ‘ we’re not close like that ?” He sends her a look that has her resolve faltering the slightest. “You did your pregnancy announcement like a Sailor Moon transformation sequence with before and after pictures of you being pregnant, and you didn’t think to fucking tell me?”

Katara gasps. “I had you blocked !”

“Azula’s a snitch!” He also got a glimpse of the photo of Katara in her hoe time dress that barely fit over her belly with the caption: how the mighty have fallen . He pauses, sucking in a breath of air for strength. The hurt flashes in his eyes and the only thing she could think to do was wrap him up in a familiar embrace.

At 19, Katara is so incredibly lost, and just wants her best friend by her side.

He’s busy, the summer before everything Republic City. Everytime she tries their house, Azula answers, rolling her eyes while clad in a Harry Styles shirt, because it’s a girl’s rite of passage to go through a One Direction phase and wear badly made merchandise from Hot Topic. He’s usually busy packing, or fucking Mai until she sounds like a car alarm during Fourth of July fireworks.

“Azula, no . You cannot kidnap Mai’s younger brother and trade him in for concert tickets to send a message.”

“Not even for floor ones?” Katara’s glare summed up her answer. “I used to look up to you,” Azula retorts, returning to her stan Twitter.

She waits, waits, waits. The moans keep coming and she just rolls her eyes. Her stomach churns, mainly because she thinks Mai called Zuko’s dick The Pussy Penetrator every time he hit her g spot (you know what, good for her). But also because her scholarship to the university was less than she expected, and Hakoda didn’t want to cosign on a loan. She just wanted her best friend to be there for her.

She feels sick, sick enough to vomit in one of Iroh’s plants, while Azula rubs small circles into her back.

“You should’ve swallowed,” Toph reminds, bundling Katara’s thick hair into a ponytail as the girl hurled up her California roll. She’s so exhausted, she even leans her head against the Walmart toilet bowl, five positive pregnancy tests tossed carelessly beside her.

“Think it’s too late for that,” Katara grits out. “What are you doing?”

The last thing she expected was Toph’s hands gathering together in prayer formation. “Praying to Rihanna your period comes.”

Like many people her age, having a mental breakdown during a pregnancy scare and praying for a miracle in a public restroom was normal. But for the first time in her life, besides the time Rihanna willingly twerked on Drake at the 2011 Grammys, Ms. Robyn Fenty herself failed her.

“Fetus deletus that bitch! Fuck them kids !” She brings herself eye-level to Katara’s stomach. “Read the womb, bitch!”

“Did you just call my unborn baby a bitch?” Katara’s eyes are bleary from the smell of vomit and her future going down the drain.

“You should’ve kept that bitch-baby in the drafts,” Toph sweeps the stray hairs from Katara’s watery eyes. “My cousin saved up for her abortion by running a pyramid scheme. I can get you her number.”

Katara wanted to die. “I think I’m just going to crawl in this toilet and die. Call my brother if I don’t get flushed down all the way.”

“Again, I’m just a Walmart employee,” Toph snickers, helping the girl up. She’s rarely left her side since then. Their friendship just works, a pair of fuckups. The girl with the accident baby, and the Walmart security guard trying to figure out her own shit after running away from home.

“I should’ve been there!” Zuko reminds, tone heavy with betrayal.

Katara remembered the few moments before he boarded the plane to Republic City. She wanted to be selfish. She wanted to tell him to not get on the flight, to keep holding her like he did at the entrance of the gate. She had a kiss ready on her lips that he wasn’t ready to give, backing away when their faces were too close, when she was too close. He just couldn’t bear the thought of leaving with regrets.

“I should’ve been there holding your hand, letting you call me names, and fighting nurses if they breathed too close to this precious angel,” Yue holds his pinky with her little fingers, almost as though it was a natural reaction. His heart simply seizes up at the gesture, and he holds her tighter to his body. She was wailing after waking from her nap, colic crackling her throat for the last three months and causing her middle of the night wakeups to be painful and frequent. But with Zuko, she’s all calm and perfect and polite and beautiful and angelic.

“Didn’t know you liked kids this much,” Katara shrugs. She leans in, and Zuko throws his free arm around her.

“I’ll have you know I am the resident expert in telling children’s stories,” Zuko insists.

“Like?” Katara quirks up her brow.

“Like Rumpleforeskin, the mythical man who can weave majestic golden fleece from the ends of his pubic hair.”

She smacks him upside the head. “You’re disgusting .” She curls in deeper into his embrace. He had that twinkle in his eye that could mean he was going to masturbate to this moment in the shower later, or he was in love. It renders her breathless every time

She hopes when he looks at her he doesn’t see the eye bags, or the titty milk leaking everywhere, or the permanent crease in her brow. She hopes he could still see her, underneath it all. When she was just Katara .

“I guess, not telling you was just my way of keeping our dream alive.” She pauses, stroking Yue’s barely there hair. “I keep thinking that one day I could find the time to go to Republic City, and I don’t know. Get a chance to just be me .”

“Do you regret it?” Zuko’s rubbing circles into her back until she gets sleepy and her heart feels too full.

“I don’t know.” She tries, quiet, almost ashamed. “I don’t know.”

At 21, Katara feels like she’s at the top of the world.

Not only did she get promoted from girl wearing a dumpling costume outside handing out 15% off coupons that only worked if you left a Yelp review, to a server in a shitty dim sum restaurant, she was also accepted in the culinary program at the local university. It wasn’t Republic City per say, but Yue could attend the nearby preschool and go to the university-run childcare program afterwards while Katara was working.

She even got a hold of Jet, who refused to disclose his location or job. But judging by the copious child support mandated by some judge who hated men as much as Katara did, he was doing well. He sometimes Venmos Katara a few extra dollars on Yue’s birthdays.

Sokka and Hakoda, while hesitant to the little girl’s presence early on, spoil her absolutely rotten. When they think Katara’s passed out after her 14 hour days, they’re red in the face, screaming at Zuko over the phone about who was going to get Yue the Peppa Pig Playhouse (complete with flashing lights) she always talks about.

Hakoda even tries at therapy, wanting to be there for the apple of his eye. Sometimes, Katara’s hurt he never tried for her, tried in her childhood. She’s happy for him, nonetheless.

(Mostly) everything was working out.

“How are both my girls doing?” Zuko would always sing-song during his nightly Facetime calls. Yue would scream and snatch the phone from Katara’s hands, delighted at the sound of her one and only Uncle Zuzu. He’s an extravagant gift giver, regularly sending Yue glittery Hello Kitty and Wonder Woman backpacks. He even buys her a whole iPad for her fourth birthday, already coming with child safe settings on and YouTube loaded with her favorites (namely, Barbie: Fairytopia ). He’s guilty he couldn’t come home, but then again, he rarely ever did. Too consumed with work, grad school applications.

Katara can’t help but feel her heart pulse the slightest bit faster during those calls, even if she shuts it down as quickly as it comes.

He’s so good to her .

She used to cherish those moments he used to tell her secrets, dreams, everything in those hours early in the morning before high school would start. With approximately 3,209 miles between the two of them, she wakes up to texts instead.

Zuko: I dreamed that I was being held at gunpoint by one of those thicc caterpillars from A Bug’s Life , and if I didn’t finish the MCAT in approximately 20 minutes, they would shoot me in the face. The dump truck ass of those ants were the bullets

Katara: Please block my number

Zuko: No. <3

He’s all gentle smiles and eyes squeezing into little half moons just like Yue’s after he plays a game of Facetime patty cake and messes up on the beat just to hear the little girl laugh.

The next month, Zuko had decided enough was enough . He missed his girl.

His hospital, for the first time in a year, was letting him have the weekend off. So he books Katara a ticket straight away, because he thinks he’s going to die if he has to be around people who don’t know who Megan Thee Stallion is.

“Boys only speak two languages. English and emotional manipulation,” Toph reprimands, hugging Katara so tight she could barely get in a word. “Please remember that.”

It was her first time leaving her hometown in her life, her first time on an airplane for God’s sake. She’s jittery though, the cushioned seats Toph somehow upgraded her ticket to (after covertly whispering with the gate attendant) doing nothing to alleviate her nerves.

When she jumps in his arms in baggage claim, he breathes in deep. Her hugs have always warmed his insides, and he didn’t realize how much he craved it until he was greedy, pressing into her and refusing to let go despite her many protests.

“Come here often?” he mumbles, smiling into her shoulder.

Her cheeks grew hot at his touch. “Occasionally.” She whispers back.

He decided there and then in front of Gate 3 they needed to make up for lost time as quickly as possible.

The college party is entirely too sticky, entirely too messy for a proper (extremely) late 21st birthday celebration. Her crop top and big earrings and glittery eyeshadow and endless curves has Zuko wondering how much he’s missed in the last few years. When she hugs him close to her and screams out Nicki Minaj lyrics, he doesn’t remember her being so soft and even prettier. Beautiful. Breathtaking, knocking the wind out his lungs if she as so much blinked.

She looks like any 21 year old, without a care in the world, just figuring out their life. He wonders what this version of Zuko and Katara was.

Maybe they got to go to Republic City together. Maybe they work in the same building, and are just letting steam off from work. Maybe they loved each other. It was dangerous though. He feels as though she’s caging him in, that grip on his heart sparking up again without his permission. Her fake lashes he saw her glue on in the airport bathroom flutter about, hands coming up to accentuate her words every time she tries to scream something in his ear over the pulsating music. He just grips her waist harder between his hands, holding her tight.

In a perfect world, all she saw was him. She wishes it was him. She sometimes thinks she sees Zuko’s eyes in Yue. She sees his smile. She sees his heart.

While they’d spent the entire night stumbling through the city, his girlfriend was home. Barefoot, pregnant. Looking like the cover of some women’s lifestyle magazine, stray curls escaping her bun to frame her face in all its angelic glory. Glowy and flawless and every bit beautiful. Different from the girl Katara caught crying in the kitchen. “You can hate me all you want, you can talk shit about me all you want. But I love him,” Jin insists. “I’m his girlfriend , for fuck’s sake.

Katara has to stop herself from recoiling. She had a specific vision of their future. One that included doing taxes together and matching sweaters and teaching him her new macaroon recipe and Yue balanced on his lap.

But one look at Jin, and it becomes glaringly obvious how little she fit in with his new life.

“I don’t hate you, Jin.” It’s every bit sincere, but the girl doesn’t look convinced.

Jin rolls her eyes. A pointed look freezing Katara in her place.

“Ok, I might’ve complained once or twice about your VSCO filter choice.”

“Yeah, Zuko sent a screenshot of your texts to me instead of you by accident.”

“God, you know he always fucking does that? To be fair though, M05 is too orange and is not a good look on anyone. You can do better, I know you can.” The two girls laugh. It was devoid of any genuine emotion, just meant as an attempt to fill the empty space between them. “If I had known. Fuck, if I had just known, I’m sorry, Jin.” She had no idea Zuko had a kid on the way, that they were still living together and determined to co-parent while their relationship was in a weird limbo. If she was Jin, she would’ve kicked someone’s pussy and made a scene and set something on fire. But Jin wasn’t that type of girl. Jin was soft and pretty and looked like she smelled like an interior designer's perfectly bleached asshole.

“Do you love him?” Jin seemed to shrink into herself, small enough Katara might miss her in a blink of an eye.

Katara couldn’t quite decipher the meaning behind the question. She thinks she’s too scared to.

Katara doesn’t know how to respond. She didn’t trust herself to speak. This Zuko wasn’t the Zuko she knew. She loved the Zuko who would steal people’s Netflix passwords off of 4chan, and cosplay as Todoroki at Anime Con to make a few bucks. Not the one who can afford sky rises in the big city.

He didn’t even tell her that his big internship in the city was for his father’s hospital, and he was next in line to running it. “You’re a lawyer with health insurance and your own Netflix account! You’re good for him, Jin.” Katara falters the slightest. “I just want to see Zuko happy.”

“Me too.” Jin says quietly.

“Whatever, fuck Zuko !” She tries at extending the olive branch. “I can’t believe you’re preggers!” She puts a gentle hand on Jin's belly, and her vagina immediately winces. “You know, your vag will never look the same, and you might grow a third boob in your armpit.”

“You’re lying .”

“Yeah, a lump of breast milk can form there, too!” Katara is about to scroll to the photo in her phone when Jin laughter breaks through the night.

“I hope your dick gets bitten off mid-blowjob!” She whisper-screams, struggling with her suitcase until it smacks all at nearly every corner and edge. She was just making noise for the sake of making noise, but it made her feel better.

He didn’t expect waking up to a charge on his card for a flight booked in the last ten minutes, or Katara shoving his good mixer in her suitcase.

“You hate it don’t you?” He always loved it when Katara went into Hulk mode anytime a bully dared test her protective nature. While it was never entirely directed at him, he now understands exactly why Chan peed his pants. Katara was terrifying .

“What?” Zuko’s confused, rubbing an eye booger away.

“You loved it when I’m crying over Jet, crying over something, fucking something up in my life. Being mad at the world. You hate that I’m better, and making something of myself now!” She’s angry and grasping at straws.

Zuko furrows his brows, not sure where to progress from here. “Ok, run that by me again?”

The air vanishes when her stare cools over to absolutely icy. “There’s nothing else I can give. So what the fuck do you want from me?”

He laughs, all hollow and almost mocking . “You know, I was afraid of you coming here.” He lies.

She stops in her tracks. “What the hell do you mean?”

“I thought...I thought you wouldn’t get this new me, because it’s different!” He protests. “See, this is exactly the reason why! You’re mad I can afford real Gucci !”

Katara recoils, looking embarrassed for him. God, were men so fucking stupid, and so proud of it, too. “Are you fucking serious.”

Zuko’s frustrated, running his hands through his hair. “What the fuck are we doing, Katara?”

“You tell me!” She demands. “I’m not that kind of girl, Zuko! I’m not that kind of girl that is going to break up a fucking engagement, or whatever the fuck you weirdos are doing!”

He throws up his hands. “I’m not happy! We’re not happy.”

“What? You think now that you’ve sold your soul to your piece of shit dad and you can buy jewelry that won’t turn your fingers green that I’m going to fuck you?”

“No! I’m not saying that—”

Katara scoffs. “Then what the fuck are you saying? Grow up, Zuko. Grow the fuck up and just leave me the fuck alone .”

“You’re still Katara.” He throws his hands up in the air, trying to stop her. Even if he felt like his entire world was falling apart, there was one thing he would always be certain about. “I’m still Zuko. The same Zuko who loves you .”

Katara turns her head, not willing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her upset. “The thing is, this isn’t you, Zuko.” Katara says with finality. “It isn’t you .”

When she gets home, she spots it right away. On their dining table, white paper folded neatly, Yue was the type of little girl who looked to both sides of the street before crossing, repeating it two more times to be safe. She always took extra care to make everything even, never a wrinkle in sight on her homework.

The Crayola family portrait that brought to life everything she’d imagined and more. Katara doesn’t have the heart to look for longer than a second.

At 27, Katara’s pretending that it’s the happiest day of her life.

She didn’t think he would listen to her, you know, men rarely did anything right. Zuko, though, heeds her warning and only calls exactly two hours before Yue’s bedtime like clockwork. There weren’t any surprise texts to wake up to anymore, no more evidence of Zuko in her life. She doesn’t even find out about Jin’s affair with one of those Axe commercial guys until months later.

When she goes to unblock his number and text him, to try and talk to him, she gasps. She sees those grey iMessage bubbles, and she’s ashamed her heart splutters, awakening a feeling she thought she’s dampened. She puts her phone down for milliseconds, before checking it again and again and again. She finally threw the damn thing across the room when a week passed.

She thinks it’s for the better, especially when she was sure she finally got things right with Jet.

“ We’ll make this shit work together.” Jet reassures, gathering her close to him she could see every little detail of him. “Like Kanye said, ‘you’re a MILF, and I’m a mother-fucker.”

She covers her ears, pushing him into the restaurant’s glass door. “No thank you. No more non consensual reciting of Kanye verses.”

“Yeezy, breezy, beautiful, baby. Get into it.” Jet winks, and Katara feels herself gagging again.

Then again, Katara always had a thing for stupid. And for three easy payments of $Penis.99, he had an all access experience to her pussy and her trauma.

“And he bought me those carrot cake cupcakes I always look at when we go to the supermarket but I never want to chance it because it could have raisins instead of nuts and I think I hate raisins more than I hate white men named Nathaniel.”

Toph jabs Katara in the forehead. “Wow, he spared $5 on some dry pastries, and your pussy was suddenly screaming pick me, pick me !”

“They were gluten free, too,” she points out. “Plus, my pussy doesn’t scream!”

“Oh right, my bad! It whispers!”

“ Toph !”

“Last night I heard it go wash me! Wash me!”

It felt good with him, though. It felt good to see him help Yue with math homework, making dinner in their little kitchen, pressing kisses to her in the morning despite her breath smelling like Khloe Kardashian’s earring backing pussy. Someone to come home to.

“Piece of shit, I’ll fucking kill you!” She was punching him over and over again until her knuckles were ripped raw, sitting straight on his throat. Beating him stupid in the middle of her shift. He thought he could get away with it. With Katara now stuck in the kitchen as one of the head cooks, and the fact he had a reservation in one of the private rooms for him and his secretary to go over...numbers, he didn’t think much of it.

Too bad Toph was too invested, and had a friends-to-lovers storyline to live vicariously through.

“Scram, fuglies!” Toph screamed to other customers who had already started chanting “WorldStar!”

Katara lost her job, lost her mans, lost a section of her eyebrow because Toph accidentally tried helping and swung the wrong direction.

“Catch me outside, how ‘bout that!” She yelps triumphantly, despite the fact Katara was cradling her own bloodied face.

And here she was, about to lose her best friend, too.

She accidentally Facetimed his old number, and spent the last hour mulling over her feelings with an executive of a porn studio who picked up mid-shoot. “Just tell him you love him!” The balding man is exhausted.

“What do I even say? Do I tell him, ‘I think I’ve always loved you?’ Is that too cheesy? You know that feeling when your heart just—Oh my fucking god! Is that Sandy Cheeks from Spongebob ?!” She screams, slamming her hands over her eyes. The squirrel’s melons-for-tits would never be erased from her memory.

He only has fear in his eyes when he looks at her. “You didn’t see anything.” Robert bites out, promptly hanging up.

In her post-Jet purge, she realized she wasn’t the type of ex dead set on destroying his things. After all, she was selling his light-up keyboard to pay for Toph’s birthday boob job. Her residual anger was instead, spent hacking away at the drawer he always kept locked. Until she found it.

A letter from him.

“ I’ve always been afraid that our friendship would’ve spilled over until all I could do is categorize it with four simple letters .” Katara whispers, eyes frantically scanning the paper. “And I’m done being afraid .”

“The four letters he’s talking about is D-U-M-B B-I-C-T-H . Dumb bitch. The ‘bitch’ is silent.” Toph insists. “I can’t believe you let a balding bum, whose credit score tanked because he invested his entire savings in Shake Weight Milkshake making machines, knock you up instead of Zuko.”

“It was innovative at the time,” she whispers.

“Fill the void in your heart, not your pussy.”

She's whipping out her shitty MacBook Air, and praying his email still worked. But when she calls all she sees is her.

“You told me to come to Republic City and find him!” Mai exclaims, holding up her hand where a big ring blinding the fuck out of her.

She feels her heart crumble at the same time she crushes the letter in her hand.

“I did do that, didn’t I?” Katara winces. The time the model stopped by in their hometown, Katara was still happy and getting her pussy pounded regularly and let that shit get to her head. She thought it would be a blessing in disguise, and wanted to help Zuko out, too.

"Fuck."

Their wedding looked ripped out of a 2014 Basic Bitch Pinterest board, and she’s definitely sure she couldn’t be happier.

“Why is her name spelled like ‘Mai’ and pronounced ‘May?’ Like, shouldn’t it be spelled like ‘Mei?’”

“Katara, you’re just being a bitch,” Toph reminds while Katara stares at the sign with their wedding hashtag in front of the photobooth with all the ‘YOLO’ signs and 2013 mustaches.

“I am well aware!” She asserts, chin jutting out.

Mai’s New York Fashion Week ready body was gorgeous, perfect in Zuko’s hold.

Katara wished life was like a rom-com. Where she could burst through the doors, declare her love, piss on him in her ugly, big bridesmaid dress and mark her territory once and for all.

But life wasn’t a movie. Life was just this shitty piece of dumpster fire shit and was always fucking her over like the Target self-checkout line camera.

What could she do? Deliver some long-winded speech about how she would go to realign the stars in the heavens if it meant a chance to rewrite their fate? That she hoped she visits his dreams before his mind could settle into reality, the same way he visited hers and overstayed his welcome every single time? Make everyone uncomfortable and wonder if they boned?

Then again, she was never going to be the one to block her best friend’s blessings. Not on the happiest day of his life.

“I think this is the happiest day of my life.” Katara says seamlessly.

Zuko sees it though, sees right through her and has to stop himself from reaching out to her.

“It wasn’t ever easy being Zuko’s best friend. I mean look at him now, getting married to someone perfect . He’s not even in the same ballpark, league, or hell, stadium porta potty as her!”

Zuko ducks his head with a brief pout that breaks Katara’s heart. Everyone laughs in spite of him, until he joins in, too. “You know, it’s easy to pretend that finding love is easy. You could find love in all the little things in your life. All the people, all the details. It’s easy to say you always, completely, truly love someone. Because that’s what we want love to be, right? At the surface, sure.” She folds the flimsy paper she had on hand, nothing was written on it anyways. “You want it to be perfect.”

“But the love everyone works so hard to get, is the love that’s hard . It’s the love that isn’t safe. The love that challenges, excites you, the love that will never have limits. The love that’s messy and beautiful all at the same time.” She looks at him, truly looks at him for the first time in years and all she could do was smile.

“It’s easy to find love, but it’s near impossible to find a soulmate.” She raises her glass. “Join me in a toast to the bride and groom. I wish you a lifetime of happiness.”

And while everyone is gathered out on the dance floor, she’s sobbing pathetically and smearing the winged eyeliner she worked so hard to perfect on the car ride there. Trying to stop any of the pain from consuming her.

She’s out on the rooftop of the venue, the cold air whipping her face as she tries lighting up a blunt.

“Are you getting high at my wedding !” Zuko is incredulous, and shocks Katara enough to drop the joint off the roof.

“On all things Fenty Beauty, bitch what the fuck?” Katara wipes the tears from the corner of her eyes.

“The flower girl wanted to see her mommy.” But Katara sees right through Yue’s little act. Pretending to sleep so she could be held by Zuko (me too, girl. Me too).

It felt dangerous, the way she could toy with his heart, his own personal defibrillator shocking it back to life. She’s pretty even with red-rimmed eyes, with the fake smiles he knew was trying to appease him to leave her alone. If anything, all it does is make him want to kiss her until her troubles are gone.

He wanted to do a lot of things at that moment. He wanted to feel the warmth of her skin, tell her that above all else, he missed his girl the most. But, he had everything on his plate and then some.

“The chicken was dry as fuck.” He blurts, wiping the sweat from his face. Only Katara could send him back a few decades. “I wish you could’ve catered it.”

“Yeah?” She laughs and wants to call him out for stalking her company’s Facebook page. “Remember you tried my new recipe and you vomited all over the front row at your fourth ever Hello Zuko performance?” She misses his messy hair, when he didn’t look so clean cut and rich bitchy.

“I didn’t know you weren’t done cooking it!”

She shoves his head, and he joins her, dangling his feet precariously off the roof.

When she’s here with him, when he has her in his hold for the first time in years, he sees his whole life with just a glimpse in her eyes. And all he wants to do is build a machine and reverse all the time that’s passed them by.

“I made a mistake.” Zuko breathes out, eyes nervously darting around.

As sure as he was that Nicki Minaj deserved a Grammy, he was sure he loved her.

“W-What?” Katara blinks at him.

“I made a mistake, Katara.” He laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck, carding his hand through his hair. Looking every bit devastatingly handsome. “I realized something. After the speech, after just, everything.”

“I realized I just can’t have my cake and eat it, too.”

Just like that, just with the way he built her up, it comes tumbling down.

“So what are you saying?” Her heart was on the verge of cracking in half and he didn’t even know it. Because all he could pin her with a look she couldn’t read, and she thinks if he was a smarter man he would’ve at least pretended that it hurt him to hurt her.

But it did.

It broke him, ripped him in half to see her face turn to steel right before his eyes.

“What I’m saying is, after all these years.” He doesn’t have it in him to face her. “I think I have to finally let you go, Katara.”

#Zutara #Zuko #Katara #Zutara Week #atla #zutara fanfiction #avatar the last airbender #zutara week 2020

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thesvenqueen · 4 years

Text

The Mummy

Rating: M (to be safe; gore, language) Main Pairing: Kristanna

Summary: Hamunaptra. A place filled with history, legends and mystery. A place Anna Arendelle had only dreamed of finding since she was a little girl. When it seems faith supplies her with the opportunity to find this hidden city, she jumps head first at the chance to find it. But a revengeful mummy, an apocalyptic curse, a deadly adventure (and possibly love) where not exactly on her list of things to discover. Previous Chapters: [ P 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 ]

NOTES: this is all because @gingersweetlove made some INCREDIBLE Mummy art and it did what she was hoping lmao thnk you sweet bb <3

{Chapter 8}

For years Anna had dreamed of being here, of finally making it to the hidden city of Hamunaptra. Now, here she was, lying under the stars within the city itself, only had just begun to explore what the city held.

They’d come to the entrance early morning, finding the group of American’s also waiting with them. They had waited, for what Anna hadn’t known, until the sun came across the horizon, and she’d nearly fallen off her camel as she saw it.

As the sun’s rays came across the desert, the city slowly came into view. Somehow, some way, the city was hidden to everyone, only being accessible when the early morning sun rose. As soon as the city was fully on display, it had been a race into the city. Anna had won by a mile, beating everyone as Sven and Kristoff cheered her on.

She’d entered the city with a smile so big, her cheeks had ached.

The statue of Anubis was easy to find, and from there they found a place to propel down below. They’d found a preparation room, one that no man or woman had step foot in for nearly 3,000 years. It had brought tears to Anna’s eyes, ones that Kristoff had noticed. She had blamed it on the dust but he said nothing, letting her have this moment. Though they’d lost the chance to open the secret compartment under the statue of Anubis, only arriving moments later after the American’s had found it themselves, she was sure that they’d found something far more interesting in return one level below the statue.

It had been empty when they’d found it, but Anna still thought something must have lied within it for there to be such a room. She’d been right. Thanks to Sven and his foolery, a sarcophagus had fallen from the ceiling and onto the floor.

The sarcophagus was one of solid black, sealed by a key. It was then that Anna had discovered that the artifact Sven had swiped from Kristoff weeks before, was in fact the key. The one the men on the ship from nights before had been searching for.

The person within was either incredibly important or had done something extremely hanus to be placed there. With no name along the coffin, only the words “He who shall not be named” written across, she assumed it was more the latter. The book of the Amun-ra was interesting, sure, and the added fact of being solid gold was also alluring no doubt, but this locked sarcophagus was more curious.

Who was within it and what had they done to be buried in such a way?

“Well,” Kristoff said, as he sat beside her, bringing her out of her thoughts, “Seems we weren’t the only ones with bad luck.”

Anna furrowed her brows in curiosity, “What do you mean?”

“Three of their diggers were….melted.”

Anna sat up then, “What?!”

“How?” Sven questioned from the other side of the fire.

“Salt acid.” Kristoff said, looking across to Sven. “Pressurized salt acid, an ancient booby trap of sorts.” He looked to Anna then, a hint of worry on his face.

“Maybe this place really is cursed.” Sven muttered.

Kristoff tilted his head at her, shrugging a bit at Sven’s comment.

“Oh stop it, you two.” Anna said, rolling her eyes, fighting the blush from being under his gaze.

“What, you don’t think so?” Sven teased.

“No, I don’t actually.” Anna said with a huff, leaning back against the ruin once more, “I believe if I can see it and I can touch it, then it’s real.”

“Speak for yourself.” Sven said with a huff.

“Well, I believe in being prepared.” Kristoff said, making himself more comfortable, leaning back himself and Anna could feel his eyes on her.

“If I have a nightmare tonight I’m blaming you both.” Anna said teasingly.

“Yeah yeah sure, empty threats as usual.” Sven teased back, rolling over on his cot to face away from them.

Anna shook her head, looking back to the flames.

“Um,” Kristoff said with a cough, Anna looked to him as he turned to reach into his satchel, “I know you lost yours on the ship and I uh, I felt bad about that and uh, I found this one and um,” He turned then and she slightly gaped at the small, wrapped tool kit in his hands. “I thought...maybe, well, you could use it? Tomorrow, maybe? Or whenever I guess, it’s yours to use but uh...yeah.”

Anna smiled softly at his nervous banter, grabbing the kit. Their hands touched, just the lightest touch, but it was enough to send a jolt through Anna all the same. She looked up, her eyes locking with his. For a moment, the briefest of heartbeats they sat both holding the kit, their hands just barely touching. She hesitated for a moment, not sure what she should do till Kristoff blinked, then took his hand back with a slight cough, looking away as a blush creeped along his cheeks. She ducked her head, fighting her own blush.

“It’s perfect.” Anna whispered, turning it over in her hands, feeling the weight of it. She could see some tools sticking out from within the wrap and she looked back at him and smiled, “Thank you.”

“Of course it’s, uh, no problem.” Kristoff said with a shrug, smiling back at her.

“Where did you get it?”

Kristoff’s eyes went wide, and he glanced away from her as he grimaced a bit, “Well, let’s just say it’s a gift from our American friends.”

Anna tilted her head, “You nicked it off of them?”

“...maybe.” Kristoff said, rubbing the back of his neck, “Thought, you know, you’d get more use out of it then they would. You’d appreciate it a bit more, you know?”

“Why’s that?”

“You’re a terrible liar,” He said with a smirk, “I know it wasn’t the dust back there in the room Anna.”

Anna bit her lip, fighting back a large smile, the butterflies fluttering ever so in her stomach. This was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her. “That’s...that’s very thoughtful of you, thank you.” She sat the kit in her lap, unwrapping and rolling it out gently to look over the tools inside. It was a full kit; chisel, hammer, everything provided. It was more than what her own small kit lost on the boat had held, more than she could ever expect especially, from him. She looked back up to him, catching his eye as he looked back up to her, “Can’t believe you stole it for me.”

He chuckled, his laugh making her smile larger, “More like, borrowing.” He teased.

“You sound like my brother.” She said matter of factly, wrapping the kit back up.

“...I take full offense to that.”

“I am right here you know.” Sven called, catching their attention, not bothering to roll over.

Anna giggled, side-eyeing Kristoff, “I would too, if I was honest.” she teased.

Sven groaned, rolling over and sitting up as they both laughed, “Alright, if you two don’t--”

A shout echoed through the night, causing everyone to freeze and turn in the direction it came.

Anna watched Kristoff get to his feet, pulling his gun from his holster as he looked around. It was quiet for a moment, then the shout came again, followed by many more and Anna realized what the voice was calling in Arabic, “Yarkud!”

Run!

“Stay here.” He said, running off towards the commotion.

“Kristoff! Wait!” She shouted, standing to go after him, but Sven grabbed her arm.

“You heard him, stay here!”

“But--”

“No but’s, Anna!” Sven said, turning her around, “You need to--”

Gunshots rang out, and in the distance they could hear what seemed to be battle cries. Among them, she heard the telling sound of galloping hooves.

Heading right for them.

“Hide.” Sven cried, shoving her away as he darted for the pistol on his cot. “Go!”

Anna hesitated only for a moment, but another shot rang through the night and she took off into the ruins of the city. The preparation room was not far from them, and would no doubt be the safest place to be. However, judging by the shouts and galloping hooves, she had no time to propel herself down below. Thinking quickly, she saw a nearby fallen column, jumped over it and ducked down.

She was far enough from the campsite to not be seen from any oncoming threats, whatever they may be, but she was still able to see her brother standing ready by the fire.

He was crouched low gun in hand, using the fire as cover, waiting for someone to appear. The shouts and gunshots continued to echo through the ruins, some she recognized as Arabic and others in english.

Within them, she couldn’t make out any that sounded like Kristoff. She wasn’t sure if she should be happy or scared at that notion. He could hold his own, she knew that for certain as she had witnessed him do just that on a few occasions now, but still she couldn’t help but worry.

One false move could cost him his life, and Anna wasn’t sure if she’d be able to live with that.

Another shot rang out and she realized it was Sven who’d fired. An intruder had appeared from around the ruin they’d taken camp beside, but was now a heap on the ground. Anna fought back tears as another rounded the corner on horseback, only to fall off shortly after another shot came from Sven.

Two more men appeared, and as they crumpled to the ground, she realized the distant gunshots and shouts were beginning to slow. She waited a moment to be sure, seeing that no other intruder was coming to their site and as she saw Sven stand, she did as well.

Then, she heard it.

The sound of a sword being unsheathed, from right behind her.

Before she could move, before she could even scream for her brother, she felt the tip of the sword press against her back.

“Don’t move.”

---

They’d returned.

Kristoff had known it was only a matter of time before the Medjai would make their presence known. He knew that as soon as they’d taken off for the city when the sun had risen, they were watching.

They wouldn’t attack during the day, that was too easy. They gave them time to get comfortable, to relax, and Kristoff had nearly fallen for it.

But he knew better, knew they’d make their appearance sooner rather than later.

They had, hiding in the cover of the night.

Kristoff fended off as many as he could, trying to save as many men as he could. They were holding well for themselves but he knew it wasn’t enough.

Hell, a group of soldiers hadn’t been able to fend them off.

A shot rang out from behind, which could only mean someone had come across their campsite.

Was it Sven firing? Or had a Medjai gotten the upper hand?

What about Anna?

Hell, why had he left them alone in the first place?

With that thought, he fired off one more shot, stepping back to hide himself behind a fallen ruin. Guns still held out in front of him, he checked to make sure no one was coming for him. He watched several more Medjai take on the American’s and their crew, the American’s firing off where they could. No one was looking at him or paying him any mind.

When he was sure no one had spotted him, he turned and ran.

He wasn’t too far from the campsite, but as he approached he heard more shots ring out.

Shit.

As he rounded the corner, he saw a Medjai soldier running for Sven, sword raised. Sven was scrambling to load more bullets into his pistol, taking steps back from the fire as the man charged him.

Kristoff quickly took aim and fired, the Medjai soldier slumping to the ground.

Sven looked to him, “Oi, I had that taken care of.”

Kristoff rolled his eyes, “You’re welcome.”

Sven finished loading his gun, cocked it then looked at him. He sighed, then nodded, “Thank you.”

Kristoff shrugged, trying to catch his breath. He glanced behind Sven, looked around the site, and with a moment of dread that Anna was nowhere to be found. “Where’s Anna?”

“I told her to hide after you left and the gunfire started.” Sven said nonchalantly, “She couldn’t have gotten far.”

“She could be anywhere.” Kristoff said, “Do you know which way she took off?”

“No but I’m sure it will be easy to figure…” Sven stopped then, his face going deathly pale and Kristoff realized he was looking at something behind him.

Kristoff turned, and immediately raised his gun.

Anna had been found, but not by them.

A Medjai held her tightly, a sword pressed across her abdomen and his hand wrapped around her shoulders. Anna stood stoically, her eyes locked on Kristoff's. The only sign of fear came from the slight wobble of her bottom lip and the glimmer of fear in her eyes.

“Put your gun down.” The Medjai soldier called.

“Like hell.” Kristoff said, his hand still raised and cocked his pistols. He knew better, knew if he did that, he was completely vulnerable.

The Medjai soldier grinned, shifting the tip of his sword up to have it press against Anna’s neck. She whimpered then, only so, but Kristoff heard it.

“Don’t!” he heard Sven cry behind him.

“Then put your guns down.”

Kristoff kept his eyes on Anna, saw her lower lip begin to wobble and gritted his teeth. He hesitated, unsure what to do.

“Enough!” A voice boomed, and Kristoff looked to see another Medjai come into view.

He recognized him, knew exactly who he was as soon as his face caught the campfire light. He hadn’t seen his face, did not know what his name was nor did he care. But he knew it. Had seen it once before and never forgot it.

He was the bastard Kristoff had seen watching him from the cliffs as he had wandered into the desert months before. Leaving him to die.

Without hesitation, he pointed one of his guns at him, keeping the other still aimed at the soldier holding Anna.

“Yallah!” The man called, looking not at Kristoff but the soldier holding Anna. “We will shed no more blood tonight!” He looked to Kristoff then, “But you must leave! Leave this place or die!”

The Medjai holding Anna began to loosen his grip, but even so Kristoff did not move and kept his guns aimed.

He wasn't taking any chances.

“You have one day.” The man threatened, glaring at Kristoff before looking to the other Medjai as he turned to leave, and once more yelled, “Yallah!”

The soldier moved his sword, released his hold across Anna’s shoulders and shoved her hard into the sand. He turned then, taking off into the night with the other Medjai.

Kristoff didn’t even bother to watch the soldiers take off. His eyes were only on Anna and as soon as she hit the sand, he ran to her.

“Anna.” he murmured as he slid next to her. He gently placed his hands on her shoulders, helping her to sit up. “Are you ok?”

Anna looked up at him, tears in her eyes. She reached for his arm, grabbing hold of his bicep for stability, squeezing gently. For a moment, she just looked at him and Kristoff was reminded of how he could easily lose himself in her blue eyes, of the small jolt he had felt earlier when their hands had touched.

The same jolt he felt now.

She nodded, huffing a quiet, “Yes.”

“You sure?” he asked, idly rubbing a thumb across her shoulder in comfort.

She nodded again, “Yeah.” She whispered, looking at him with a small smile that he couldn’t help but return, “I’m ok.”

#kristanna #kristoff #anna #sven #the mummy au #jessica writes #i got tired of looking at this tbh #hopefully it's good?#idk #its been so long since i wrote in this universe tbh

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theshatteredrose · 4 years

Text

Relic Keepers: Awakening of the Red Lily (Chapter 4) - Original Fiction

AN: Happy birthday to me~ :’D Hope you enjoy reading!

Ao3 | Wattpad | Inkitt | FictionPress

Chapter 4:

Eishirou had to swallow back the panic rising in his chest. It was difficult, though. How everyone was screaming in agony, clutching their heads and withering while staying on their feet. Being the only person not suffering while everyone else was screaming was not at all pleasant.

The noise was responsible for their pain and reactions.

That high-pitched static noise. It was a negative frequency sound. It cut through the minds of Indigo Children. Elites and Passives alike.

Except for medics like him. Born with immunity (like Eishirou himself was, which was the driving force why he began his medical training) or through training, medics were literally the only Indigo Child to withstand the debilitating sound.

And as the team’s only medic, it was up to him to find the source of that noise.

Though it was difficult, he ignored the pained cries encircling him. He had to instead focus in on that debilitating static noise instead. He needed to narrow in on it.

The sound…was emitting from the right-hand corner of the clearing. Where…that wooden chest was found! Had someone opened it? Did it open by itself?

Well, that didn’t matter at the moment. He would work that out later.

He had to ducked and dived between those who were suffering as they continue to stagger about, groaning and sobbing in pain. He couldn’t help them. No healing could help them right now.

No, he needed to get to the source of the noise. And stop it.

Eishirou slipped on the grass and knelt next to the wooden chest. It wasn’t anything extraordinary. It was just a chest. A treasure chest in fairy tales.

The lid was thrown back. And inside was a relic. An orb.

That was the cause of the sound.

He slammed the lid down of the chest and quickly reengaged the lock. Again, the lock was unremarkable. Enticingly easy to open.

As soon as the lid fell shut and lock clicked into place, that debilitating noise frequency immediately dissipated.

Ugh, the chest was a trap. It may have been connected to the runestone after all. Destroying it wasn’t enough, they needed to booby-trap the area, too.

Eishirou breathed a sigh of relief. He noticed from the corner of his eye a coil of robe. He grabbed it and hastily tied it around the chest. Just in case it opened itself and not someone else.

Though, if someone did open it without inspecting it, the rope should prevent them from trying that again.

“Eishirou!” Jacob yelled, seemingly through gritted teeth. “What was that?”

Eishirou looked up from the chest to cast a quick glance at everyone. Some continued to clutch their heads, though no longer screaming. Some were on their knees. Those of Team 3 seemed to have been the most affected. Collapsed to the ground where they stood, hands over their ears in a desperate attempt to block out the pain. The residual ringing of the ears was likely to last for a while yet.

At least they were no longer screaming. That was…unnerving, to be completely honest.

He had no idea how painful that sound frequency was. Never experienced. But if it brought an Elite Team down to their knees, then it must be excruciating.

“It came from the chest when it was opened!” he replied as he pushed himself to his feet and jogged over to him.

“What? Who opened it?” Jacob demanded gruffly.

He, of course, couldn’t answer that.

Jacob was intent of finding out, however. And he glared fearsomely at the other workers. He soon narrowed in on someone. Eishirou couldn’t prevent himself from wincing as he turned to glance toward the one that earned Jacob’s ire.

And likely the ire of everyone.

“You fool!” Jacob raged at a member of their work crew. “How many times must I tell you? Do not touch anything until either Eishirou or I have had the chance to inspect it! Not only have you disobeyed direct orders, but you’ve potentially compromised the entire expedition. That sound was a trigger. And it very well may have alerted ShadowDwellers to our location.”

Oh…oh, that was bad.

“Eishirou, heal the Elites of any headaches that could compromise their ability to fight.”

“On it!”

He darted over to his shoulder bag and snatched it up off the ground. Thankfully he had remembered to pack his medical kit. Though, his passive healing should be enough to ease them of their headaches. And hopefully enough to rid them of the ringing in their ears.

The first Elite he approached was Zayne. He had managed to struggle back to his feet, though his hands continued to clutch at his head. He looked paler than before and his eyes were glazed over in pain.

“Zayne, let me.” Eishirou stood in front of Zayne and with his own hands, pushed aside Zayne’s so that he could touch his temples with his fingertips. A light green glow emanated from his hands, enveloping his hands in warmth. That warmth trickled down to his fingertips before gently slipping away completely, toward Zayne.

The green light around Eishirou’s hand faded and he took a step back, watching as the pained mist in Zayne’s dissipate. “Feeling better?”

“Y-yeah,” Zayne uttered as he came out of his dazed state.

Good. His healing was enough to at least make him conscious and mentally active again.

A light tugging at his jacket caused Eishirou to turn around to face the smallest and meekest member of Team 3. And she had her hand covering her nose and mouth as she stared blankly up at him.

Rinka then pulled her hand back, revealing bright red blood. “M-my nose is bleeding.”

Eishirou’s eyes widen in concern and he immediately dug around in his back for a handkerchief to clean up the blood. “Oh, let me have a look,” he muttered as he crouched down and began to inspect the young woman.

The bleeding was from the stress of the pain she had endured. Her vacant eyes also revealed that she was suffering from a headache. So, he wiped at the blood on her face with the handkerchief in one hand, while the other rested against the top of her head so that he could offer her some much-needed healing mana.

“You’re susceptible to sound frequency, aren’t you?”

Was it because of her age? Or was the fact that she was susceptible to debilitating noises the reason for her meekness?

“What was that?” Zayne asked as Eishirou finished healing Rinka of her restrictions.

“A defence mechanism,” he replied and handed Rinka another clean handkerchief so that she could clean her hands. “A trap of sorts. It emits a high-pitched frequency that is devastating to Indigo Children.”

To Elites in particular, it seemed. He legit did not know that. Though, that probably shouldn’t be a surprise. No one would dare speak of a possible Elite weakness.

With Rinka in relatively stable and pain free state, Eishirou turned his attention to the other members of the Elite Team. They were all on their feet, though they also held far-away gazes. The thousand-yard stare of pain.

“You…don’t seem to have been affected,” Ernesta commented as Eishirou moved to offer her some healing.

“No. I have…an immunity to it, I suppose you could say,” he admitted as he placed his fingertips against her temples. “A bit of a cop-out, probably. But a medic can’t be affected by such things. What good is a medic if they could be disabled so easily?”

After the healing was administered, her placid smile returned to Ernesta’s lips. “Ah, good point.”

Leon was the next person in need of healing and was wordlessly compliant. He was the easiest of the last to deal with, however. He expected some resistance, and maybe resentment from Tatsu.

Surprisingly, Tatsu dutifully stepped forward to receive his healing. His expression was stoic, showing no emotion. His eyes did have a slight haze to them, but other than that he did any and all discomfort. And when Eishirou healed him, he wordlessly turned from him and walked away.

…His ego might be the thing that was causing him the most pain.

Ernesta reached into the holster strapped to her thigh and she revealed the base of her chosen weapon. It appeared like a simple silver rod, but it was actually a compact lance. The blade was condensed mana, and when it was in such a condense, compact state, it had the ability to cut through just about anything.

“Everyone, be on your guard; ShadowDwellers are also affected by that sound. They may be surrounding us as we speak.”

Zayne quickly unholstered his own weapons. They appeared to be that of handguns, but as he flicked his wrists, two blades of blue condensed mana appeared from the hilts. They were effectively gun-blades.

Gun-blades weren’t uncommon. Having two, though, was a little unusual. As far as Eishirou knew at least. Not that he had must experience with the weapons of Elites.

“Eishirou, stay in the centre of the clearing,” Zayne ordered, sounded decidedly very serious. “Get ready to depart, quickly.”

Ah, yeah, that was his cue to get out of the way. “Ok. Good luck.”

He turned on his heel and lifted the strap of his bag over his head. As he laid the strap across his chest, manoeuvring the bag behind him he faintly heard Ernesta issue another order.

“Zayne; ensure Eishirou’s safety.”

“Yes.”

Well, that was a surprising command. Man, she was taking what Jacob said to heart. Though, Zayne responded rather…quickly. He sounded determined, too.

Well, they were just doing their jobs, after all. He shouldn’t think too deeply about it. It was reassuring that they were there, though. He honestly didn’t have much experience with ShadowDwellers, despite numerous ShadowDweller sightings and incidents around the city. He had always been lucky enough to avoid them.

Would his luck continue? Probably not…

“Something’s coming,” Tatsu suddenly stated.

“More than one,” Ernesta replied.

It was only then that Eishirou realised how…quiet the forest around them had become. No insects. No birds chirping. Even the rustling of leaves had disappeared.

Wilderness was never quiet. The only time silence reigned was when…a predator was around, right?

Swallowing back his trepidation, Eishirou jogged over to Jacob, who was hastily issuing orders and an attempting to all equipment and discoveries packed and ready for transport.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Help get the stone tablet ready for removal,” Jacob immediately responded. “Then stay in the centre of the clearing and wait for word from Team 3. They’ll find an escape route for us.”

So…they really were going to be running out of this forest. Still hoping they weren’t going to run out screaming, though. He…had heard enough pained and scared shrills to last him a lifetime already.

Despite the fact that he had spent time attempting to piece together the stone tablet, Eishirou helped in hastily, but carefully, packing the stones into crates and placing them on small but durable hover transporters.

A loud cracking caused Eishirou to tense. That noise was very loud. And distinct. It was the sound of a tree splitting in half. And a moment later came the sound of said tree crashing to the forest floor, breaking off branches and limbs of other trees as it fell.

From the noise alone, he estimated that the tree was tall and old. And that meant something extremely powerful was responsible.

A ShadowDweller was responsible.

Soon, the sound of rustling leaves and cracking of limbs filled his ears. The sounds were coming from behind him, so he instinctively spun around. Team 3 stood tall in anticipation like sentinels, facing the northern edge of the clearing. They were tense, but seemingly unafraid. They didn’t even flinch as the sounds grew louder and the rustling of leaves and shrubbery drew closer.

And then…they appeared.

Like shadows, but pitch black and absorbing all light, creatures known as ShadowDwellers skulked through the trees. They took on the form of mutant scorpions, but far, far more intimidating. Instead of two pincers, they had four. Instead of keeping its head low and tail high, it stood up on six insect legs, and its tail swung wildly behind it.

There were at least six of them. No, eight. Wait…there was more. They kept creeping out of the shadows. And towered over Team 3.

And yet, they still didn’t wince.

“Alright,” Zayne said as he rolled his shoulders nonchalantly, casually flicking the gun-blades in his hands. “Time for us to do our job.”

Leon idly pulled a gauntlet upon his right hand. He wiggled his fingers to ensure a snug fit, and a split-second later, claws of orange mana shot out from his gauntlet. “Let’s make this quick.”

Zayne pulled his body into a fighting stance. “Roger.”

The second a ShadowDweller set a terrifying foot into the clearing; Team 3 sprung forward.

The sweet meekness that Rinka presented just moments ago was long gone. Her expression was stoic, cold in a way. Emotionless as she ruthlessly cut through the ShadowDwellers with her single-edge blade of light pink mana.

Tatsu was, as expected, flawless yet ruthless with his duel mana pistols. He didn’t miss a single shot, taking out the ShadowDwellers pincers and stinger before they had the chance to use them. He did all that with a small smirk on his lips.

Despite his bulky stature, Leon’s agility was second to none. He effortlessly avoided all murderous flailing of the ShadowDwellers. Ducking at the right times to avoid an attack by mere inches, and then striking his own deadly assault.

Ernesta kept her placid, peaceful expression. Just…casually and effortlessly slicing through the bodies of ShadowDwellers with her yellow mana tipped lance. Attacking them so quickly that they bodies dissipated from existence before they even hit the ground. Honestly, she looked as if she was barely breaking a sweat.

Well, she was the leader of Team 3.

The members of Team 3 were impressive. But Zayne, he…he was amazing. The speed that he cut through the ShadowDwellers, shooting them with mana bullets and then cutting through them with a single slice, was incredible.

He never faltered, never second-guessed his movements and actions.

He was so…

A hand suddenly grasping his shoulder literally pulled him from his mesmerized observation.

“Don’t focus on the Elites,” Jacob said as he forced Eishirou to focus on the task at hand. “Do your job while they do theirs.”

“Right,” Eishirou replied out of instinct before doing just as he was told.

He returned to preparing the stones for transportation. He had to admit that it was difficult to focus with the stones instead of the battle playing out behind his back. The need to spin around to lay eyes on the skirmish was instinctive, almost overpowering.

When the last stone was placed, Jacob grasped his shoulder again. “Now, grab that chest and let’s get out of here.”

Eishirou managed to give the Jacob a half smile. “Sounds good.”

He jumped to his feet and ran over to where the wooden chest sat within the green foliage. The chest wasn’t all that big, thankfully, so he would be able to pick it up. And he was likely chosen to grab it because he was immune to the nasty little relic locked inside.

He quickly reached the wooden treasure. He stooped down to pick it up only for a strange sound to cause him to pause. It was the sound of breaking roots and grass vines. And the sound of rocks, large rocks rolling and bouncing across the ground.

Eishirou spun around, only to find himself staring up at the black, shadowy form of a large scorpion.

It…burst up through the ground?!

And that very same ground suddenly gave way beneath Eishirou’s feet as the ShadowDweller flailed violently. All he could really comprehend was weightlessness and the smell of fresh dirt.

After that, last thing he heard was someone calling his name before everything went dark.

#original novel #scifi fantasy #young adult #adventure #suspense #Relic Keepers Awakening of the Red Lily

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