#only to get rebuffed by him (not in a cruel way but still) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

leupagus · 2 months

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Please note that this fic is going to take the better part of 2024 and probably 2025

(and given my track record might never be done):

Sansa

"Do you like the taste?" asked Littlefinger, watching her closely as she tried the wine. He always watched her closely.

They had stopped at the Inn at the Crossroads; she hadn't wanted to, but she would have had to explain to Littlefinger why. So she had choked down a meal and refused to think about the last time she had come through this way, where the first member of her family had been murdered in the stable while Joffrey had sniveled and lied and shown her, for the first time, who he really was.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about," she answered. "Why do men love it so much?"

Littlefinger shrugged. "It gives some men courage."

"Does it give you courage?"

He smiled, the way he did when she had stung him. He would take his revenge on her somehow, she knew. He was nothing like Joffrey, but there was a smallness to him that reminded her of the king.

The dead king, now.

A flash of armor to her right made her look up; a familiar woman, tall and broad of shoulder in a suit of armor, had approached their table. "Lord Baelish. Lady Sansa. My name is Brienne of Tarth."

Sansa opened her mouth to reply, to tell her she knew who she was, of course she knew. Tyrion had mentioned her often, usually after rebuffing yet another request by the lady of Tarth for an audience with Sansa. I hope you don't mind, and Jaime vouches for her, but Cersei has made it clear she's to go nowhere near you and frankly this giantess makes me a bit nervy. He'd been glad to recount the tale of Lady Brienne and Ser Jaime, traipsing through the Riverlands on their way to King's Landing.

Before Sansa could speak a word, Littlefinger had made some cutting remark, the sort he was so good at. She'd yet to be on the receiving end of any of them but she flinched all the same, watching Brienne's face. Littlefinger was something like Joffrey — and something like herself, too, when she'd been young and pleased at her own wit. Looking back, she knew now that she had only ever been cruel.

Lady Brienne seemed not even to hear Littlefinger; as though he were no more than a gnat to be tolerated until such moment as he could be swatted. She knelt, awkward but not clumsy, and looked earnestly up at her. "Lady Sansa. Before your mother's death, I was her sworn sword. I gave my word I would find you and protect you. I will shield your back and keep your counsel, and give my life for you if needs be. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New."

Would she have given the answering vow? She would never know, because once again Littlefinger was talking, sliding his glance over to Sansa to see what remarks might prompt a reaction. Sansa stayed still and watched as Lady Brienne's attention was at least drawn away, glaring at Littlefinger.

"Strange," Littlefinger was saying. "I knew Cat since the time we were children. She never mentioned you."

"It was after Renly's murder," said Lady Brienne, direct and blunt. She and Sandor would get along well, Sansa thought suddenly. Pity they had never met.

"Ah, yes," said Littlefinger. "You were accused of killing him."

Lady Brienne blushed, a splotchy red spreading across her cheeks. Shame, Sansa thought, but not guilt. "I tried to save him," she spat out. She did not glance over, to see if Sansa would believe her.

"But you were accused."

"By men who did not see what happened."

"And what did happen?"

"He was murdered by a shadow. A shadow with the face of Stannis Baratheon."

"A shadow? With a face?" Littlefinger turned to Sansa, and that was when she knew whatever he was about to say was a lie. "This woman swore to protect Renly. She failed. She swore to protect your mother. She failed." He smirked up at Lady Brienne. "Why would I want somebody with your history of failure guarding Lady Sansa?"

Lady Brienne made a face. "Why would you have any say in her affairs?"

"Because I am her uncle. I married her Aunt Lysa shortly before my beloved's untimely death. We're family now. And you are an outsider. Forgive me, Lady Brienne. But experience has made me wary of outsiders."

She gaped at him, then looked back at Sansa. "Lady Sansa," she said, and paused, as though at a loss for how to convince her. "If we can have a word alone?"

"Yes." Sansa rose, knocking into the table. The goblet of wine spilled and ran down her dress, but she was on her feet at last. The sellswords Littlefinger had brought with him moved in, one of them putting a hand on Lady Brienne's shoulder. She tensed and in just a few seconds there would be bloodshed, there would be someone dead on the floor and it would be her fault.

"Uncle Petyr," she said loudly, her heart rabbiting out of her chest, "Thank you very much for understanding. I will speak with Lady Brienne as you suggest, and then we shall resume our journey."

The sounds of eating and talking died out as faces turned toward her. A round-faced boy came bustling up, a wide, customer-friendly smile pasted on his face. "Is there anything I can help with, milord?" he chirruped.

"A room for the ladies," said Littlefinger, still watching her. She nodded very slightly and his mouth twitched.

"Have you anything on the floor above?" she added, addressing the boy with a nervous glance toward Lady Brienne.

"Er," came the reply, "Yes? Right this way, milady. Miladies."

Sansa leaned toward Littlefinger. He smelled of wine and the oils he used on his hair. "Could some of the guards watch the door?" she whispered. "And some near the stairs. Just…in case."

"Of course," he said, though his eyes were on her mouth.

The way Littlefinger had spoken of her mother, there had been a great rivalry between himself and Ned Stark; and before that a rivalry between himself and her uncle Brandon, who'd been betrothed to Catelyn before his murder. Littlefinger had always sounded like the defeated lover, the man who had nearly won his beloved's hand.

Mother had never mentioned Littlefinger. Father had, once they were in King's Landing and he'd been forced to admit an acquaintance. He'd sounded irritated more than angry; her mother had never loved him, had hardly ever thought of him. Her parents had lived and loved each other and all the while Littlefinger had stewed in his own curdled affections, imagining a love story that had never existed.

She could never decide what had moved her to kiss him on the cheek. Perhaps it had been a clever ploy to distract him, or a way to tell him she would return. She would have liked to have been that clever. But in the moment she could remember only how sorry she felt for him. "I'll just be a few moments," she promised him, lying.

Minutes later she was in a small bedchamber, with two dirty windows on each outside wall and the ominous creak of leather and metal just outside the door, signaling that Littlefinger's sellswords had taken up position. Lady Brienne, for her part, looked as uncomfortable as she had downstairs. "Thank you for speaking with me, my lady," she said.

"Can you fight them all?" Sansa asked her, keeping her voice down. They would need to be overheard soon, but they had a few seconds. Enough time, perhaps enough time. "If there's four in the corridor, and four downstairs."

"What? Yes, of course," said Lady Brienne, expression torn between confusion and offense. She fought off a bear once, Tyrion had told her with glee. Even beat my dear brother in a sword fight. When he still had both hands.

Sansa went to the first window. A long drop onto hard ground, and it faced the road as well as the hitching posts. The second was more promising: hay bales stacked haphazardly next to the wall, and the wood only twenty hards away.

"Start talking," she hissed at Lady Brienne.

She frowned. "I'm sorry?"

Sansa mimed opening the window. "Start talking. About anything. Honor or duty or what my mother was like. Whatever you'd say if you were trying to convince me."

Lady Brienne's eyes widened in understanding. "I…am not much for speeches, my lady," she said slowly, then more loudly as Sansa pulled open the window slowly, mindful of any squeaking. "But I found your mother an honorable woman, and your brother too. I brought Ser Jaime Lannister back to King's Landing at her request, so that you might be returned to your mother in exchange."

It would never have worked; she'd known that even then. The Lannisters did not understand the notion of letting go of an advantage, once they'd sunk their teeth into one. Even Tyrion had never offered to take her to her family once they'd been married. He'd had his reasons, and they had been good ones, but she'd learned another lesson that day. "So you sacrificed your oath to protect my mother for an oath to protect me?" she asked, making sure her voice carried as she swung her legs over the sill. "How can I know you'll not abandon me, too?"

It was important not to think. If she thought about it, she wouldn't do it.

She held her breath, put her hands over her mouth, and fell.

#yes I know they stop at AN inn not necessarily THE inn at the crossroads #but any excuse to have Hot Pie in a scene #also curious how people will react to Sansa Stark: Girl Who Jumps From Windows #because she does in canon but lbr that's after some uhhh gnarly shit goes down #would sansa do that if not pushed as far as she was at the end of season 5?#let's find out!#game of thrones #got: bitches get stuff done

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altocat · 5 months

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Okay. I feel like I have to say this because I saw this argument earlier. Zack and Sephiroth WERE friends. They were friends caught up in a strained, stressful situation beyond their control. With this said, there's some understandable tension between them during the game. But Zack is NOT cruel to Sephiroth during CC, nor is he at any point responsible for Sephiroth's trauma or actions. When Zack gets annoyed at Sephiroth during the story, there are VALID reasons for him feeling this way. And, moreover, Sephiroth is not the ONLY victim of CC compared to the OCEAN OF TRAUMA Zack experiences.

For starters, Sephiroth is technically dumping all his responsibilities onto Zack, causing him to bear the emotional burden. Sephiroth is also aloof and not always communicative. Zack was mad at him in Junon because Sephiroth was not returning his calls. Zack being pissed at Sephiroth because of Nibelheim? He just murdered a ton of civilians there's realistically no way you can be nice and gentle with someone after that. Zack not checking in on Sephiroth? Well he actually MIGHT have been. How else does he know what Sephiroth is doing in there? How does Cloud have memories of Sephiroth telling him to go away? Zack likely DID express concern for Sephiroth's wellbeing and WAS rebuffed. Zack even expresses concern at the Nibelheim reactor by trying to physically comfort Sephiroth, only for SEPHIROTH to push him away. Zack was also the one telling Genesis to shut the hell up because he could see that Sephiroth was getting upset. Zack DOES care and DOES emphasize with Sephiroth. The game just isn't dwelling on it.

Sephiroth is not the only person in pain during CC. I think Zack had to deal with the MOST shit since he's the one who had to kill Angeal. He got to watch Genesis seemingly die in front of him. I think Zack has MORE THAN A FEW valid reasons for being occasionally upset and angry at Sephiroth. But even AFTER what Sephiroth did in Nibelheim, Zack still chooses to honor him at the end. Sephiroth is shown in Zack's memories of people he loves during his last stand. AND Zack stands in Sephiroth's place when he fulfills Genesis' wish to share the apples. In Opera Omnia, Zack is very clearly upset with what happened with Sephiroth, and doesn't seem to be able to truly hate him. And Sephiroth killed innocent people and tried to destroy the world. I think if Zack can still pity Sephiroth afterwards, it wasn't just an unempathetic relationship.

Also, and this is something that the game tries to convey but doesn't do a good enough job, Sephiroth and Zack spend pretty much 2 years in each other's company. The DMW cutscenes explore this idea as it shows them training together. What you are seeing are only a handful of moments in what is otherwise a period of them actually befriending each other and forming enough of a bond for Sephiroth to have grown some level of fondness for him. Nomura himself has said that Sephiroth really trusts Zack, and appreciates that Zack treats him like a human being and not a hero. He LIKES that Zack calls him out, likes that Zack challenges him. He is THANKFUL for that.

Crisis Core is a flawed game. But Sephiroth is not the only victim or the only one suffering throughout. Genesis and Angeal suffered. And god, Zack MORE than suffered. And no one was nice to HIM throughout. No one cares about HIS mental health. No one gives HIM special treatment. He has to kill his friends and deal with it. And then he dies. I love Sephiroth, you all know that. But part of loving the character is accepting the very real truth that he is STILL a villain and that he is NOT the center of suffering. His pain does NOT invalidate the pain of others.

Anyway, Zack and Sephiroth were still friends despite all this. They weren't as close as they could have been, but they were. It was a relationship with occasional bitterness, drama, and heartache, but they were still good enough friends for it to count. But we need to take into account that Zack is NOT to blame for anything related to Sephiroth's pain and actions. If anything, he is completely blameless.

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #crisis core #sephcanons #zack fair #*deep breaths*#genesis rhapsodos #angeal hewley #sephiroth #Also people should be allowed to like and even ship Sephzack #Because in two years of knowing someone I'd say there's PLENTY of room there for a bond #Don't tell them that Sephzack isn't valid because it IS #Even with the drama between them #I just can't okay #Please don't make everyone EXCEPT for Sephiroth to be the bad guy in CC #Because everyone else was in just as much pain #Please don't dilute Sephiroth and others into victim vs. everyone else #He isn't a kicked puppy he has flaws too

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sparklepoint · 4 months

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hey i saw stuff about ur asau (hermit!yusuke is perfect and kitteh ann is the fluffiest little baby and i love her) and i just wanted to ask if you have the other arcanas planned? is it a direct one to one swap or is it different?

omg. ty for giving us a chance to introduce

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ card shuffle ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

@floodbender’s and mine roleswap au in which the story roles are remixed based on randomly reassigned arcanas + canon backgrounds

it’s kind of a work in progress so this is not q definitive & some arcs are less developed than others, but we do in fact have something planned for everyone :3c let's meet the cast!!

starting with <3 bitter bitch besties <3

○ the fool – akechi

he has pretty much the same backstory as canon, but without Metaverse access; therefore his only outlet has been trying to prove himself academically etc. to show them all

it isn’t really working. even with all the effort, he still gets written off automatically most of the time

there is no arrest/probation/anything out of the ordinary that brings him to staying with Sojiro and going to Shujin, just a last minute arrangement by his previous foster placement

Akechi POV: you’ve been booted from a family who didn’t want you there for the n-th time in your life and are now moving to stay with some rando who doesn’t want you there either. and everyone at the new school immediately labels you a troublemaker with a problematic background

(of course Shujin is going to make up rumors regardless)

personality-wise, it is as you might expect from a no powers AU Akechi - at the start he’s a bitter, cynical bastard masking behind his Pleasant Boy mode

would have eventually snapped in some self-destructive way if he didn’t meet someone who gets it

rest of the story is spent rehabilitating this man with the power of friendship, mutual understanding, and insane romance. and flufy kity

akechi and makoto: the world is a cruel and unjust place. *minutes later* omg lady ann!!!

i. the magician – ann

flufy kity

backstory inherent to the arcana role

she does not have hang ups about not being human specifically and embraces cathood quite well

instead her issues stem from feelings of comparative inadequacy and not knowing what her role in life and on the team is supposed to be, especially after the PTs get a dedicated navigator

similar to her canon arc, she does mostly handle these feelings by focusing on trying harder & with more purpose rather than growing resentful

when Morgana coined the ‘Lady Ann’ nickname it stuck and now everyone calls her that

still has a widdle crush on Shiho

the only reason Akechi has any side confidants

vii. the chariot – makoto

Makoto handles pressure from Sae far worse in this one

attempted to investigate and expose Kamoshida’s behavior on her own last year and got kicked off the student council for her trouble

grades are suddenly hard to keep up even though she’s putting in the same amount of effort if not more. keeps being left ‘accidentally’ out of the loop about important info. school just kind of making it clear it doesn’t like her anymore

entire social circle crumbled and no support from Sae who at this point is simply mad at her for ‘sabotaging herself for childish reasons’

would have eventually snapped in some self-destructive way if she didn’t meet someone who gets it

disillusioned, desperately lonely, and stewing in a lot of suppressed rage

in light of this it’s not surprising that she and Akechi end up bonding pretty much right away in spite of his typically raised hackles

used to be friends with Haru in middle school

vi. the lovers – haru

while Okumura still has a Palace, his behaviour towards Haru is more distant and less outright abusive, and she does not have an engagement hanging over her

instead Kamoshida creeps on her, fixated on adding a demure chaebol princess to his conquests

Haru’s having trouble rebuffing him as she has issues setting down boundaries with men in general due to her proper upbringing, and is of course scared of his position of authority

in particular, the rooftop garden becomes a hazard for being cornered instead of a sanctuary;

(fortunately it is also a prime place to be overheard by anyone who's heading up there for definitely not a teen vigilante meeting)

Kamoshida lets out that Haru is the Okumura Foods heiress, which makes her seem like a stuck-up rich princess to the Shujin rumor mill and leaves her ostracized

with regards to Makoto: in Shujin Kamoshida Issues forced them to drift apart, and now, even though both of them want to reignite the middle school friendship, each is reluctant to involve the other in her own respective mess via association

(pictured: childhood friend matching bwacelets)

after that is sorted, they reconnect and begin a prolonged awkward romance dance

(meanwhile the rumor mill is busy debating which one of them is dating Akechi)

iv. the emperor – joker ren akira

legal name, under which he is mildly famous, is Ren Amamiya, actual name he goes by is Akira

for these claiming your chosen identity reasons, his codename is Daybreak :)

his parents are both in the entertainment industry, and the second Palace belongs to his father

Dad Amamiya is a formerly acclaimed, currently washed-up movie director. a nightmare to work with who uses his old connections to run people he doesn’t like out of the industry and ruin their careers

his wife is aware of his transgressions but is too attached to the lifestyle to care

to Akira’s parents, he is more or less a prop in their public performance as a happy picture-perfect celebrity couple; in his father’s Palace, his cognition is played by an actor

he had long since learned that going against his parents achieves nothing, and has been going through the motions keeping his head down until he meets the team

the meeting is a chance encounter prompted by Emperor-typical overwhelming fascination with Ann, which in his case is because he’s That Much Of A Cat Person

rest of his arc is about separating himself from his parents’ legacy as somebody who still wishes to pursue a career in entertainment

ii. the high priestess – morgana

he has Ann’s parents and last name since she doesn’t need them anymore

unlike her, he doesn’t handle their constant absence well and is therefore desperate for the Thieves’ companionship (while being just as tsundere about it in human form as he is in canon)

he kickstarts the Kaneshiro plot despite not being on the student council: since he is a very special smart boy, he can absolutely solve Shujin’s mafia crisis all by himself!

(it is probably rather obvious how well this goes)

his arc is a more mundane version of his canon one about recalibrating the self-worth issues and loneliness until he can be comfortable with himself and his place in the group

his awkward crush here is converted into being an even bigger Ann Stan than the rest of them

still besties with Akira. also perpetual ninth wheel

ix. the hermit – yusuke

Madarame does not have a Palace

without the international recognition from stealing Kitagawa-san’s masterwork he has to subsist on smaller-time forgery and predatory contracts and the like

his main victim is Yusuke’s mom, who lived long enough to start actually raising her son, but her poor health made her the perfect exploitable dependant

after she succumbs to her illness, Madarame proceeds to take his frustrations over losing the convenient setup out on Yusuke in his typical insidious way

over the subsequent years trapped in an abusive living situation you’re told to be grateful for, the comments about how she would have lived longer and created masterpieces if she didn’t have to take care of you accumulate to create the most depressed teenage boy in the world

as far as Madarame’s concerned, if Yusuke’s too miserable to keep up with his schoolwork, it’s just another instance of him being a drain on everyone in his life. Madarame’s not going to cater to him and pay for his scholarship – he can just stay in and keep house, if that’s all he’s good for

that leaves Yusuke just listlessly haunting the place, convinced that all he can really do with his life is wait to die and go to hell for the sin of being himself: he sees his life with Madarame as perpetual penitence for his mother’s death, his work as almost ritual sacrifices to appease him, and the shack as his purgatory [--beginning navigation]

his Palace is stylistically themed after the Shinto Yomi with more general underworld theming as well; cognitive Madarame is of course the final boss, although he only drops the benevolent underworld guide pretence once thoroughly provoked

the gang finds out about All This after a series of Mementos requests from Madarame’s latest underpaid helper

post change of heart we’re getting Yusuke the fuuuck out of there

Sojiro ends up taking him in, first temporarily and then permanently

neither of us has the vocabulary to concisely explain the respective holes in their heads this Yusuke and this Akechi have about each other

team navigator. please take a moment to imagine yusukespeak navigator lines

iii. the empress – sumire

the Okumura setup is still happening (sorry Haru), but the PTs recognize it as bait and stay away, instead ending up doing a different palace entirely

the Palace Ruler for this arc is the Yoshizawas’ abusive coach (not the one from Sumire’s confidant)

a classic unethical teen sports situation with disproportionate pressure and a concerning disregard of their physical and mental wellbeing as long as they Get Results tm

neither of the sisters is good at standing up for herself, which in Kasumi’s case spirals into continuous self-denial for the sake of The Sport and in Sumire’s exacerbates her feelings of inadequacy

at the moment Kasumi is being pushed to compete despite an injury which would put her out of commission, which is the deadline/reasoning to deal with this ASAP

the palace theme is Colosseum/gladiatorial arena, with the implication of entertainment of the masses at the expense of the athletes’ lives

(pictured gladiator!cogsumi)

xi. justice – ryuji

Ryuji is the one to get slapped with the arrest record courtesy of Shido in this one

the consequences for a 14yo on scholarship and with no support system outside of his mom (except he just feels guilty about creating problems for her) are predictably devastating

he winds up at Shido’s Palace afterwards by accident while loitering around the Diet building, which is where his awakening happens

he’s spotted entering or exiting the Metaverse, which leads to Shido making him the job offer he cannot refuse

initially framed as “help with secret research” in exchange for erasing his record and bankrolling opportunities for a sports career, but it’s not like there are any easy ways out once the requests starts getting seedier

he’s just the Metaverse assassin/errand boy for the conspiracy, no astroturfed public persona

to an extent Ryuji convinces himself this is for the best since many of his targets do very much have it coming and it’s AN outlet for letting out some steam over the bleak as shit view of society he now has, but ultimately this arrangement and all the murder involved make him utterly miserable, and on a level he understands this is not going to end well for him

gives himself away to the Phantom Thieves early and in the dumbest way possible

for all the above reasons, he’s not at all hard to persuade to switch sides and start double-agenting

did you guess who’s faith no you didn’t

○ faith – hifumi

we just really like hifumi so she’s included

at first her deal is a toned down version of her canon arc, with her mom pushing her towards an idol-like career based off of shogi. then her father actually dies

mom’s grief response is to lean in further into building her career, thinking that this is what her dad would have wanted; Hifumi’s own grief response is to start crumbling under that pressure until “I wish I could just be the person my mother wants to see” is the prevailing sentiment

this is where Maruki’s unethical therapy comes in and actualizes her into the perfect teenage celebrity personality

thirdsem Hifumi is terrified she will never be enough as herself and it takes the team effort to get her to let go of the idol persona, but conveniently there are SO many people with parent issues here to talk to her about it .

bonus: xvii. the star – futaba

Wakaba survives the assassination attempt, but is left unable to continue her scientific work, igniting Futaba’s interest in researching the topic herself

her confidant’s Mementos quest block is still her uncle, who is not as horrifically abusive, but treats them poorly and demands Futaba reimburses him for taking care of them financially

Sojiro is still a pseudo-parental figure in her life, but his role is limited since he cannot insert himself into the situation without permission and Futaba conceals the extent of it from him

she becomes available as a confidant during Yusuke’s arc, which still overlaps with the Medjed crisis

her fixation with cognitive pscience leads to digging into the Phantom Thieves leads to offering to deal with Medjed for them – but only if they prove themselves to her by sorting out a specific request that hit a little close to home. cue Yusuke arc

from then on she’s their tech guy

and that's everyone ✧∘* thank you so much for expressing interest and thank you @floodbender for cowriting this post with me ♡

#sorry for the long wait!! this needed time to cook...#someone please come read about our baby darling au i'm obsessed with it #persona 5 #auverse #card shuffle #<-- tag for more on that! although there isn't really much as of rn

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blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk · 2 years

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oho soulmate aus 👁️👁️? if so then may i mayhaps....... request last words with ciel for The Angst™?

(also: welcome back!!! it's nice to have your delightful blog and content again, i hope you're having a lovely day!! 🥺💕)

SOULMATE AU ALPHABET

l…ast words your soulmate says are written on your skin, so you do not know it is them until they are gone.

I always say “oh gosh I have other favorites, I’m not a big Ciel fangirl” but then I get to write shit like this AND I TRANSFORM INTO #1 HAPPY FUNTIME ANGSTY WHUMPY CIEL FANGIRL-

also I’m glad you’re still here enjoying content!!! it makes me so happy~ <3 <3 <3

I hope this results in all the tears you wanted!!

It’s borderline cruel, you think, for the world to work this way.

‘(Name)… Close your eyes.’

For your entire life you’ve walked around with these words on your skin, terrified of what exactly they mean. This is the last thing your soulmate is going to say to you, and it makes you angry.

Why does it have to be like this? How are you supposed to live or love, not knowing who you’re meant to have found until you lose them? How are you supposed to trust anyone around you, or yourself, knowing that anybody in your life could be the one?

Your words in particular scare you and fill you with a deep melancholy.

Whoever your soulmate is, you won’t die along with them. But you can only guess that they’re going to die in front of you, that they know what’s going to happen, and that they don’t want you to see it.

It’s driven you to a sort of paranoia, unsure who is your fated love, trying to decipher clues in everyone around you that might help. The only one you’ve ever felt a real pull toward is CIEL, but… he’s your master, and you his servant.

No matter how he has taken your hand sometimes, slipping something that he will need later into them, impressing upon you that he trusts you to guard it with your life. No matter that his fingers are always slow in pulling away. No matter that every single time, you keep what it is that he’s trusted you with safe, never failing him.

Once or twice, you’ve tried to test the waters with him. Each time, while he seems to want to return your affections, they’re always rebuffed.

It can’t be him. No matter how much you may wish it could be.

And you don’t know what woke you up tonight, aside from the possibility of your own thoughts not allowing you rest. Many other nights you’ve laid awake staring at the words branded on your skin, with them haunting you. Wondering how much longer you have until you hear these words, and you have to mourn the loss of what could have been.

Soulmates are supposed to spend their lives together, you reason, as you head down the hall from the servants’ quarters, restless. Doesn’t it defeat the whole point of that, to only know who you were supposed to spend your life with after all hope of it is shattered?

A light from the study catches your attention, too bright and pulsing for you to ignore. Surely your master can’t still be up at this hour…? He often goes to bed before you do.

There he is, though ― perched on the desk, Ciel Phantomhive sits in as typical an outfit as ever. His eye patch is discarded somewhere on the floor, and over his eye is a complicated circle design, as if it’s been tattooed there. He looks distressed… yet, at peace.

Like whatever is about to happen, he’s accepted it.

Like he’s known it was coming.

Something amorphous and deep violet, ringed with a pink halo, hovers in front of his chest. Dark-hued, shimmering threads connect it to him, thin as gossamer and ready to snap, and it pulses as if alive.

There is Sebastian, looking wild. His hair has grown, his outfit is shocking, and the heels of his boots are so sharp he could impale someone simply by stepping on them. A set of smooth black horns sit atop his head like a crown of the damned, along with wings that echo the same color, comprised of razor-sharp feathers.

His lips parted, you can see pointed eyeteeth poking out.

He looks like a monster.

“There’s no delaying this any further,” he murmurs, reaching out a hand to tilt Ciel’s chin up. “I have fulfilled my end of the contract. It almost pains me to say that things are over… but your debt is due, master.”

For his part, Ciel looks just as defiantly toward Sebastian as he does every time the once-butler does anything which irritates him. “Don’t act like I don’t understand. You’ve left the notes I’ve written here in the desk for everyone to find?”

“Yes, my lord. And I do rather hope that’s the last time I have to say that.” Sebastian smirks, betraying the impatience in his eyes. “One message for (Name), one for Elizabeth, one for the rest of the servants, and one for your business contacts. I do trust that your faithful (Name) will be the one to take care of everything; they were always so hopelessly loyal to you.”

His eyes flash a bright fuchsia. “… A crueler creature would strike a contract with them now that I’m done with you. But I’m not sure their soul would be worth it.”

Ciel’s hand shoots out, around the purple mass in front of his chest, to grab firmly around one of Sebastian’s horns. He uses the leverage to tug the former servant’s face down toward him, and he speaks in the most chilling voice you’ve ever heard him use.

“Do not touch them. If you come within a hundred meters of their soul with your disgusting maw, I will have no care for the fact that I’ll have ceased to exist. Come near them, and I will find a way to make your life a worse hell than you’ve already lived in. I will never allow you a moment’s rest. Until you devour my soul, the contract isn’t complete; so this is an order. Stay. Away. From. (Name).”

With that he practically shoves Sebastian back, though it appears not to do much. You can see it reflected in his eyes that Ciel is tired, weak. His body was already frail before, and in the past year he’s only become more sickly.

His will, however, seems to have grown stronger, despite the fact that you think something horrible is about to happen. Something he knows about.

He lets out a shudder of a breath, a brief string of coughs dripping out from the effort of threatening Sebastian and speaking with so much fervor. A hand comes up to his chest as he lifts his gaze.

“It’s time, then.”

Sebastian smiles like someone who’s just had their favorite meal set down in front of him, and this is the moment where you lose whatever was holding you back from saying a word.

You step inside the door with your heart beating hard enough to crack your chest open. “C… Ciel!” Propriety is thrown to the wind, terror running through your veins. “What’s… what’s going on?”

“Wha ― (Name)?!” His eyes go wide when just a moment ago they were nearly closed. His gaze flits from you to Sebastian, then back, then again… like he doesn’t know what to do. Mortification is written all over his features, and the dark cloud in front of his chest quivers.

Sebastian looks at you with disdain before sweeping his arm toward Ciel. With the gesture, his claw-like nails latch on to the wispy blackish shape, pulling it out of the way. “Here we are. Why don’t you give your master a parting embrace? Let me grant you at least that mercy… I should think he would be comforted to die in your arms.”

“Sebastian!” Ciel barks, his face contorting into a furious snarl. He very nearly throws himself off the desk, but… then he looks back at you.

Time ticks by. One second. Two. Three, four, five…

He’s going to die, sinks in when he beckons you closer with a shaking hand. “Come here. Let me give you one last order.”

You don’t know what moves you. Feelings for him, or fear, or both. Regardless, you’re there in an instant, your arms thrown round his neck, holding him as close as you can. One of his arms balances himself on the desk, and the other wraps tightly around you.

Tears blur your vision quickly, even as you bury your face in his chest. You can hear the gentle beating of his heart, the ragged wheezes of his body trying to draw in a decent breath, the thrum of whatever that thing is in the background.

“You’ll be alright,” Ciel murmurs softly. “You and the others will get along without me. I know you will.”

You can’t bring yourself to do anything but cry. For years now you’ve loved him, in every possible way a person can love someone, and now… what’s to become of those feelings? Even if he was never the one you were fated to be with, you love him.

“I love you.” It comes out before you mean it to, in between all the gasps and tears. Your hands are clutching the back of his shirt with so much strength, it’s like you think you can prevent this by sheer desire alone. Like you think if only you hold him tightly enough, you’ll bend reality. “Please don’t go… please.”

A crackly chuckle leaves him, and he sighs against your hair. “… Then… it was you after all. I’m sorry.” He presses a delicate kiss to the top of your head.

“(Name)…” he whispers. “Close your eyes.”

And you do, and you pretend not to feel the way he goes limp in your arms when the sick sound of Sebastian’s fangs cracking the shell of his soul fills your senses like a gunshot.

And it was him.

It was your master.

He was always the one.

#death tw #Black Butler #Kuroshitsuji #Ciel #Ciel Phantomhive #Sebastian #reader insert #meme reply #soulmate AU #romantic #angst #horror #OH MY GOD I CAN'T BELIEVE I WROTE THIS I'M SOBBING MY EYES OUT IN THE CLUB #one hell of a queue

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 1 year

Text

Song prompt:

Number of shuffles: 5

Sam/Xavier pairing!

I want to see what song comes up, and what you think about it. Also maybe just your Sam/Xavier (Savier?) pairing thoughts in general??

^^ submission from @cleosven

—

Okay so first of all, I’m thinking we have different Sams. I was talking about my OC 👉🏻👈🏻 my apologies! But I’m gonna answer this anyway because I still desperately need to talk about them 😭😭

Anyway, song: “Runaway” by AURORA

This song, to me, has this sense of “I left to explore the world and have new experiences, and I did, and it was harsh and cruel and now all I want to do is go back home” type of song. Which. Listen okay so Sam and Xavier used to be really good friends that would be like will-they-won’t-they type of flirty, and definitely ended up getting dared to kiss as a dare, or to “practice” because they’re dorks. And they were really affectionate too, like in general? But I love the idea that it’s one of those things where when you joke too much, and push the limits too far, it’s like... well, I can’t tell what’s a joke and what’s actual flirting. Or is it all a joke? Or is it all flirting? And I hc Xavier to have attachment issues since his dad is so absent and we don’t even know anything about his mom. So when someone actually showed interest in him that wasn’t a joke or easily dismissed (in my fic he and Tyler are exes shhhhhh that’s not the point) Xavier dated him instead, leaving Sam feeling that like. Maybe it WAS all a joke and not at all serious.

And Then Some Things Happened with Tyler (namely, he met Laurel and was activated as a Hyde and emotionally manipulated/abused/groomed) so he and Xavier broke up. Which left Xavier spiraling, and he ended up getting closer with Bianca (I like the idea that they knew each other before school just for funsies bc their parents are both famous) and just bonding over absentee parents and how hard relationships are. And after a few months, they started dating, once again leaving Sam feeling like chopped liver.

So he distanced himself from Xavier, and stopped being his friend and just like completely cut off communication and all the flirting and stuff. But then Wednesday comes to Nevermore, and Sam’s autistic and Wednesday’s autistic so of course they become best friends (in this version I ship Enid and Wednesday and I just loved the idea of Wednesday having a REAL and proper partner in crime who wants to be apart of the chaos and hasn’t been dragged along unwillingly/unknowingly) so when she starts to talk to Xavier more during her search of the Hyde, and ends up in his shed as he’s coming back, Sam jumps in to hide that she’s there and pretend to ask him to the Rav’n and That’s Why Hes There And That Reason Only! But as they get closer again, all the bitterness and hurt that Sam’s been holding onto pales in comparison to the goodness that Xavier makes him feel. The warmth in his touch, and the way that Xavier’s gaze makes Sam feel so seen and understood and adored, down to every flaw. Xavier has always made Sam feel deeply loved, and it doesn’t even have to be specifically romantic. He’s just... safe. And god hes missed it. He realizes that like, Xavier is home to him. Always has been, even after all these months of distance and cold shoulders and internal cursing and rebuffing. Xavier is still home.

And Sam is still in love with him

#submission #🥰🥰🥰#OC: Sam Sinclair #Xavier Thorpe #Xavier Thorpe x OC

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rexismycopilot · 2 years

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so on the subject of punishment... would obi-wan ever ban anakin from masterbation?? like i get the whole 'u can't come unless i say u can or unless i make u do it' which is usually funishment can also be applied to real punishment. but masturbating can be a type of self care and it usually falls under the umbrella of 'alone time' so what do u think? would he restrict anakin from it? would anakin have had to have done something particularly bad for his punishment to be that far reaching? and on that same subject, when anakin is being punished, (like those times when the punishment stretches over several days) do they still have sex or is there a sex ban? cuz i can't imagine feeling particularly sexy and attracted to a partner when i know they're upset with me and r trying to teach me a serious lesson. is it considered cruel to ban sex/masturbation when those 2 acts r actually a quite important factor in their relationship and dynamic? (i know that sexual activity isn't required for ppl to have a fulfilling relationship, or even a fulfilling dom/sub dynamic so i'm not implying that it's all that gives a relationship any type of value) i wonder what kind of effect it would have on their relationship if anakin was in the middle of a week long serious punishment and anakin tried to initiate sex and obi-wan rebuffed him and said there would be no sex of any kind until the end of the punishment? OR. would obi-wan allow anakin to masturbate but only with obi-wan's supervision as well as instructions to make it as efficiently quick as possible (no opportunity to derive pleasure, simply a chance to burn off restless energy and come quickly) so as to keep anakin in line and make sure he getting up to no good. this falls in line with the idea of no alone time and total supervision and it does have the added little perk of lots of humiliation (even if that's not the intent). does any of this put strain on their sexual intimacy after the punishment is over? or do they carry on where they left off, using this moment as a learning experience and moving on? anyways sorry this is so long but i just had to ask! i love ur most recent chapter btw!

No apologies necessary, friend!!

As for controlling Anakin’s masturbation, I definitely think Obi-Wan would do that. Especially because Obi-Wan is pretty into the idea of controlling Anakin’s orgasms just in general.

As for the possibility of sex during a prolonged punishment, I think they still might because that’s a way for them to connect and be comforted, but probably not quite in the same way as they normally would, if that makes sense. Like I could see it as softer sex for aftercare and comfort and reassurance versus the end goal being “getting off.”

This was an interesting question!! Thank you, Anon!

#ask #anon #obikin #fifty shades au

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tomurasprincess · 4 years

Note

quote 47 and either #17 or #7 for the word prompt. for shindou’s birthday of course 🤤

Pairing: Shindou x Reader Prompt: Don’t you want to be touched, Darling? Word: Licking Warnings: noncon, bondage, blackmail, kidnapping, quirk use, yandere Note: Horribly delayed for Shindou’s birthday, sorry about that. Hope it was worth the wait, though!

~~~~

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Grand,” you snapped at the pro hero standing in front of you. He towers above your bedside, arms crossed and with an infuriatingly smug grin on his face. “You bastard, you need to let me go NOW.”

Despite your angry bravado you feel terrified, alone with a fellow hero at the agency that you rebuffed just days ago. Tied up and covered in a sheet with no memory of how you got into this situation, no memory of how you got here.

You squirm a bit as you feel the sheet drag across your skin. Your very bare skin. Reality crashes over you as you abruptly realize with fear that you’re covered only by the sheet.

Your bravado instantly crashes, fear replacing your previous anger. You tremble a bit in the cold room as you glance at your bindings. Quirk cancelling handcuffs. Fuck, you think, there’s no way for me to overpower him without using my quirk even if it were possible to get these handcuffs off. “Shindou, please, let’s just talk about this -”

“Ohh, that look on your face, darlingt,” Shindou chuckles. “Not so high and mighty now, huh? You wouldn’t give me the time of day at the agency, but now I have your full attention, don’t I?” He begins to trace his fingers along the skin of your arm, causing goosebumps to raise up. You shiver in fear as you look into his eyes, about to tell him to stop. But your breath catches in your throat at the look in his eyes. Anger is there, yes, but so is darkness and stark possession. Of you.

“Shindou, this isn’t funny,” you try to reason, try to get him to reveal this is all a cruel joke. “I’m sorry about what I said the other day, but this is just going too -”

“Going too far?” Shindou’s eyes fill with fury as he glares down at you. “You told me that you wanted nothing to do with me, in front of other people, no less. That I was a creep.” His other hand grasps the sheet before pulling it off in one quick movement, laying you bare before his eyes. “If you want a creep, sweetheart, then I’ll be glad to show you one.”

“I said I’m sorry, I didn’t mean -” You’re startled into silence as he straddles you in bed with smooth movement and pulls you in for a heated kiss. You try to resist, but his hand wraps around your neck and begins to choke, causing you to open your mouth for him to force his tongue in. He effortlessly dominates the kiss, deepening it as his hand reaches down your body to tweak your nipples. They're already slightly hard from the coldness of the room, and he pulls and twists them until both nipples are standing at attention.

When he pulls away, he smirks at your reddened lips as drool slips down your mouth. “Where’s that sass now, huh?” He runs his hands down your body, planting hot open mouthed kisses down your chest and stomach, leaving no expanse of skin untouched.

He stops briefly as he reaches your sex before swiping a finger up your folds. “Little slut, I knew you wanted this. You’re fucking soaked.” He pulls his finger away glistening with your slick, and he brings the finger up to his mouth to suck it clean. “And fuck do you taste so good, dirty girl.”

You want to beg, to plead for him to stop, but instead you find yourself biting back a groan as you watch him lick up the side of his finger before slipping it in his mouth and sucking. He stares at you the entire time, and grins when he sees your flushed face and squirming body as you try to get more friction on your clit.

“Knew a little slut like you would love this.” He lowers himself down before spreading your lips open with one hand. He dives into your pussy with wild abandon, licking up your juices before reaching up to suck your clit into his mouth. You let out a choked gasp as his quirk activates on his tongue, and you try to jerk away. He grabs your hips with one hand, holding you in place as he slips two fingers effortlessly into your dripping wet cunt. He begins to pump his fingers inside of you as he continues to suckle on your clit, and your head falls back at the pleasure.

You let out a choked scream as he activates his quirk inside of you, pressing his fingers roughly into that sweet spot inside of you. The vibrations seem to come from deep inside of you, and your legs are shaking from the pleasure as you’re quickly thrown towards your orgasm. But he pulls away at the last minute, and you whine loudly as your orgasm is torn away from you.

He lets out a dark laugh as he begins to unzip his pants. “The only way a dirty girl like you is going to cum is from this cock.” He pushes his pants down to reveal that he is wearing no underwear, and his cock springs out. He’s rock hard already, the veins running the length of him twitching and the head already leaking precum. He pumps himself a few times before lining up with your entrance.

“Shindou, please, please don’t do this,” you plead in a deep panic. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise, just -”

He thrusts into your tight cunt in one brutal movement, and you’re not prepared for just how thick he is. You let out a small scream at the feel of him stretching you out, your wetness still not being enough to prevent the pain. “Mmm, fuck yes,” he groans loudly into your ear, “for a fucking slut, you are so damned tight.” He sets a fast pace inside of you, your walls clamping down as you feel every inch of him pressing against your soft insides.

He reaches down to rub your clit as his quirk suddenly pulses hard against you. You squeal at the intense stimulation, and you clench down around his cock, increasing the drag against your walls and causing Shindou to let out a grunt. “You going to cum for me, dirty girl?”

“No, no no, I’m not,” you plead with him, but you know your words are a lie. You feel your orgasm rising up in you already, and your whole body quivers as you try to hold back. As you try to save yourself from the humiliation of cumming around your kidnapper’s cock.

But Shindou has other thoughts in mind as his quirk increases in power along with his thrusts inside you. He raises your legs up to change his angle to fuck you deeper, harder. You keen as you reach your end, your cunt pulsing around him. He lets out a deep grunt as his thrusts get even more brutal, fucking you through your orgasm as his cock begins to throb within you.

“Please Shindou, please not inside,” you begin to plead with him as you realize he’s about to cum inside of you. “Why would I pull out,” he lets out a deep groan, “when I have this perfect fucking cunt to cum inside of?” His pace stutters, and you feel hot spurts of cum filling you up. You let out a small sob at the feeling as he holds your hips and prevents you from pulling away.

He finally slips out of you as he reaches over you to grab something from the nightstand. It takes a second for you to recognize the object, but when you do a burst of panic flies through you. He moves the camera down to your cunt, still dripping with his seed, and begins to snap a few pictures. Tears run down your face as you’re unable to do anything but lay there and accept it.

He continues to take pictures as his fingers push the cum back inside your dripping cunt. “Please stop,” you whimper, although you know that it is futile at this point. He has already accomplished everything that he wants from you. “Aww,” he coos at you, “don’t you want to be touched, Darling? Don’t you want everyone to know who you fucking belong to?”

You shake your head furiously, but he waves off your arguments before you can even begin. “I’m going to keep these pictures to myself, and in return, you’re going to be mine. You tell anyone, and suddenly the whole agency thinks you whore yourself out to pro heroes for that little promotion you’re about to get. Understand?”

Your tears roll down your face and drip down onto the pillow as you nod your agreement.

“Aww,” he grins, “I knew we could reach an agreement.” He pushes himself up towards you, moving the camera up to your face. “Now, do you wanna know what that sweet cunt looks like when it’s dripping from my cum? Because you’re going to be seeing it a whole lot more, darling.”

~~~~

Tags: @lady-bakuhoe, @thewheezingwyvern, @animewh0re, @dee-madwriter, @lildreamer93, @katsukisprincess, @yaoyorozuwrites, @redbeanteax, @kittygonyan, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @daedaep69, @heyybrittannia, @mimikarasu, @groovydreamertrash, @hisoknen, @chou-maitresse, @shoutogepi, @k-atsukidayo, @gallickingun, @togasknifes, @kingtamakimurder

#shindou x reader #shindou smut #shindou yo x reader #shindo smut #yandere shindou #yo shindo x reader #yo shindo #shindou you #yandere shindo #bnha x reader #bnha smut #mha x reader #mha smut #yandere bnha #yandere mha #yandere prompts #tw: noncon #tw: blackmail #hisoknen

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mlwritingprompts · 3 years

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Submitted Prompt: "When speculation leads to saying too much..."

While eating lunch with several of her classmates, Marinette finds herself feeling deeply uncomfortable. Not just because Adrien is with them, making her hyper-self-conscious about potentially humiliating herself in front of him yet again due to some cruel cosmic twist, but because the topic has turned towards the Miraculous heroes. Specifically, her friends are speculating about whether or not Ladybug and Chat Noir are partners in that sense of the term.

Adrien, naturally, is all for it. Alya’s likely championing the idea as well, especially since she’s got ‘photographic evidence’ of it on her blog with the Oblivio-induced kiss. Having her crush and her best friend insisting that she’s clearly meant to be with her harasser… no matter how much she reminds herself that they don’t know the full story, that they haven’t got all the details, it’s still not a good feeling.

To her surprise (and immense relief), however, not everyone is riding the 'LadyNoir’ train. Some of her classmates have noticed how the two of them don’t always get along. Given the sheer amount of times that Ladybug’s rebuffed his advances or requested that he take things more seriously, it’s all but guaranteed that some of those incidents have been witnessed. Especially coupled with how often and flagrantly he blows her off.

As they debate the matter, Nino may even remind Alya, however reluctantly, that the 'big damn kiss’ only happened when both of them had lost their memories. And when they saw her photo after regaining them, Ladybug was clearly horrified, while Chat was delighted – and immediately taunted her about it.

(This may or may not spin off into a debate about the ethics of Alya posting that photo anyway, or how she opted to withhold those particular details. As always, season to taste.)

The conversation then takes a surprising turn when somebody suggests that Ladybug may simply not be interested in guys. Listening to her classmates debate about whether her alter ego might prefer ladies, or if she perhaps falls under the ace or aro umbrellas, Marinette tries to concentrate on finishing her meal and escaping before she ends up saying or doing anything that might compromise her secret identity.

But she’s not the only one who’s unsettled. While her discomfort stems from listening to her classmates unknowingly speculate about her personal preferences, Adrien is more agitated by them suggesting things he’d really rather not be the case. There’s no concern for Ladybug’s privacy or anything of the sort, because why would he care about that? He just doesn’t like the notion that she might not swing his way.

This leads to him blurting out something he considers to be damning evidence that she couldn’t possibly be anything but heterosexual – “She told me that she has a boyfriend!" In the heat of the moment, swept up in his outrage, he doesn’t realize how damning that might be for HIM until it’s already out there, and he feels all eyes snapping to him.

Alya likely wants to know all the deets. Why didn’t he ever mention this sooner?! Wait, how did that even come up?! Was he trying to ask out Ladybug–?!

Meanwhile, Marinette slips away from the table, head whirling with all the staggering implications. Because she knows that she never said such a thing to Adrien. Not as Ladybug. But Ladybug DID say that to…

……well, shit. Now what does she do?

#Adrien salt #adrien salt prompts #ml salt #ml salt prompts #miraculous ladybug #ml writing prompts #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Ladybug #Chat Noir #submission #Show!Miraculous #Show!Marinette #Show!Adrien

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giorno-plays-piano · 4 years

Text

Treasure hunt Part 3

Pairing: dragon!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome, forced pregnancy.

Words: 1884.

Summary: No knight would dare to save a sacrificial bride of the dragon.

Part 1

Part 2

_____________

"Don't you dare hurt her!" The boy's desperate voice cut through the heavy silence, and Steve saw his long scaled tail with a razor-edged tip just like his own. "Step away, or I will burn you to ashes!"

Steve's son had his face, child's light blue eyes burning with hatred and pure savagery at the sight of his father, the one who had been chasing him before he was even born. The boy had his golden hair, too, shining in the sun. Everything in his look reminded Steve of himself when he was younger, but he could see your features in the boy's face, and the way he moved, talked and thought was yours, undoubtedly.

"You are my flesh and blood." The man whispered, amazed, confused. "Your fire can't hurt me."

His son sent him a triumphant smile, baring his sharp teeth, and reached out to his pocket to grab an odd small bottle. Oh, Steve didn't like it.

"We'll see about that."

Once the boy opened the bottle, Steve felt a repulsive scent filling his nostrils. It was the goddamn pyrite potion. Once consumed, it would give his son the power to burn both Heaven and Hell. Gods, how did he learn about the potion? Where did he find it? What did he give in return?

"Run." Your weak voice made the boy look at you with both fear and sadness, but then Steve saw determination in his face. "I'll hold him! RUN!"

Your grip on his shoulder became harder, but both of you knew no one could detain Steve here longer - except for his son and the pyrite potion in his clawed hands. His little child was only ten by now, yet he had eyes of a grown man, tired, anxious, desperate. He was well prepared to fight for you, the mother that kept him hidden when Steve roamed the earth, searching for you two for more than a decade.

The deep hatred in his child's eyes made the man shook.

"You can burn half of your face with that." The dragon said, pointing to the little bottle carefully with his human finger.

"If it means the world will get rid of you, I'm ready to burn myself, too."

_______________

Steve woke up with you hovering above him and shaking him by the shoulders in distress. His face was wet - apparently, he had been crying in his sleep, horrified by the pure nightmare he saw, the image of his son drinking the pyrite potion in front of him forever captured in his memory. Looking at your face pale with worry, the dragon wept and snuggled against your round belly. It was all a dream. It did not happen. Yet.

He let out a loud cry and kept his eyes shut while you were caressing his soft hair, afraid to ask for an explanation as he was shaking against your body. You didn't understand what was happening to him, but he felt too weak to talk.

His own son was ready to kill himself if it meant Steve would stop following him and his mother. His dear little child became so hateful and bitter he wanted nothing else than to see his father's death.

What had Steve done? How much did he hurt his boy and you to make the both of you hate him to such extent?

He couldn't bear to think of it.

"It is alright." You cooed lovingly and pressed his blond head to your bulging belly. "It is alright, dear. You're safe. I'm here with you."

Steve felt deeply disgusted at himself, listening to your lovely voice: he was the one whose rile was to keep you safe and sound, and yet he abused you instead, locking you inside his cave, making you do what you were told, forcing you to bear his child. He believed you grew to love him, but was it true? What choice did you have rather than submitting to him?

He had been blind, thinking he could make you love him. Love couldn't be forced. He had to earn it.

"I'm sorry." He uttered, afraid to look at you and keeping his eyes shut. "I'm sorry!"

You froze on the spot, unsure of what you just heard. Did he apologize? Why? For what? What did he had to do to apologize for it? You couldn't remember the last time he said sorry to you, regardless of what he did. He thought he had always been right, always. To think of it, he hadn't been too cruel to you, but you had never pushed him to. As soon as you realized his power was absolute, you gave up, not willing to risk it. Your first attempt to flee failed because of the dragon fruit you'd eaten the day you met Steve, and all other attempts were worthless as you couldn't leave the cave without his permission. What else could you do? No magic treasure of his was able to kill him, his scales and ancient dragon charms protecting him fully.

You had to live with it. Thankfully, Steve had treated you kindly once you stopped rebuffing him, even taking you outside with him when he deemed it useful to keep you healthy and content.

What was he saying sorry for, though? You didn't believe he had finally felt remorse after many months of keeping you with him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sor..." He kept whispering feverishly until you bended over and kissed the top of his head, concerned with his state. "What have I done? What have I done?"

You didn't know what dark thoughts he harboured, but you were frightened. You had never seen him like that. You wished you knew what he was thinking.

"It's alright, darling. You're going to get better."

"No, no!" He cried softly, kissing your belly over and over again. "It's all my fault. If it's going to happen, it's all my fault."

Ah, he probably saw something terrible in his sleep. That was it, you thought. Of course, what else did you expect from Steve? He wasn't human. You doubted he knew what it was like to be trapped against your will, even if you had feelings for him. He had never obeyed anyone and lived free as a jaybird. Steve was the one and only King who ruled over these lands, what could he know about your fears and pain?

"It wasn't right. What I've done... it wasn't right. I'm sorry, my love, I'm sorry, for I have hurt you."

Your eyes flew open at his words when you stared at his soft golden hair, running your hand over his lovely locks. Gods, what did he see in that nightmare of his? What had forced these words out of his mouth?

"I should have never made you to stay against your will..." Steve's cries had finally ceased and he lifted his head, his face red and puffy, blue eyes glowing in the dark. "I have been blind. I... I give you my word, I will not make you stay here any longer."

"W-what are you saying, Steve?"

Would he let you go? Would he let you return back to people instead of locking you in his dungeon? For the moment you forgot how to breath, watching the dragon with both fear and an odd excitement.

"You said you were travelling before the villagers took you away, didn't you?" He sounded calmer, but his heated gaze showed he was still agitated as his palms gently brushed against your belly. "Do you want to travel again? Do you want to see the world?"

"Yes!" Your answer was immediate, your eyes sparkling with happiness - he hadn't seen you so joyful for a long time.

"Then we will leave tomorrow morning." He whispered and moved up, sitting close to you on your spacious bed high above the ground, furs and blankets all over the bedsheets. "I will take you to the East to show you the most attractable secrets of the Orient. Or would you like to fly up to the South to see the Great Ocean? The Sacred Mountains of the Northen island? Would you want to see the waterfalls of the Acient?"

"Yes! I want to see them all!" Tears of joy filled your eyes, and Steve smiled at you, cupping your face with his hot hands. "Let's do it, my love! Let's leave this place for good!"

Then he leaned forward to you and left a tender kiss on your forehead, brushing away your hair. You looked so cheerful, contented, extremely pleased with him like never before. It was so easy to make you happy, yet he had always thought you were happy enough with him in that cave of his, stuffed with all those things you cared little for. Why was he so stuborn? Why had he forgotten what his own mother had taught him when he was a boy? He had forgotten what the true kindness meant.

"'Tomorrow morning we will leave." The dragon assured you, leaving little kisses on your face here and there, his eyes welling up. "Don't worry, you won't have to ride me as you did when I brought you here, I will make you... a rickshaw! A cart of some kind where you'll be safe and sound."

Amazed at his enthusiasm, you burst out laughing and shook your head, wiping away your tears with the back of your hand. You didn't know what he saw in his dream, but you were ready to keep thanking the gods for eternity for sending the dragon this nightmare. You were free to leave. You could see the world as you had always dreamed, a dragon at your side to protect you and the child growing fast in your belly. You couldn't pretend you wanted to abandon your own child and the man who, aside from keeping you captive, loved you like no one else did. If only Steve was more perceptive of what he was doing, realizing he might be wrong instead of claiming he always knew what was better for your and the child...

But maybe you had a chance to make him understand now. Maybe from now on everything would be different.

"We need to sleep, sweetheart." Steve whispered gently, helping you to lay down on the side - your big belly didn't let you to sleep on your back. "We'll have a lot to do tomorrow."

"Yes." You answered and snuggled closer to him, his breath tickling the top of your head. "Yes, my love. Sweet dreams."

"Sweet dreams."

Watching you close to him, Steve let out a loud breath, finally calming down. Yes, it was right. He needed to take you away from this place. He needed to give you the life you always wanted and make you happy so you would never leave his side. He needed to raise his child with affection and care, watching him grow as a boy loved deeply by his parents, not a little fugitive with a heart full of hatred and desire to kill. The boy didn't deserve a future like this. No one did.

"I will never let it happen." The dragon whispered after making sure you fell asleep. "The stars of heaven shall fall, but I will never make you suffer this fate."

_______________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @lovelydarkdaydream

#steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #steve rogers #captain america #yandere

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

After

Warnings: noncon sex and some violence; blood.

This is dark!Thor and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After the world fell into desolation, the Avengers split into factions. You are a medic in Thor’s settlement and find yourself called on to tend to a prisoner.

Note: This is pretty brutal so that’s a heads up right there in case you missed the warning above. Remember y’all, be safe, be healthy, take care of yourselves first. I’m always here for you, even if we never or rarely talk.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You weren’t supposed to be up on the third floor. Half the ceiling was on the floor and a tree branch littered the floor along with a scatter of debris. It was like a microcosm of what the world had become; broken and bleak.

From there you could see the gate but not much further. You watched the lookouts as they roused from their listless vigils and called to each other. The party was back and they were in a hurry. Trouble.

The Prince, the second-in-command, had been gone for two weeks. Scavenging, they said, but the settlement already had a stockpile of most of the goods to be found in the area. And the fields were healthy; much better than last year’s harvest.

No one ever commented how the ‘scavengers’ returned with more weapons than they left with and a piece of two of clothing that didn’t belong to them. No one said anything because those who did ended up on the other side of the gates. It was better to live among the wolves than to be a part of the herd preyed upon.

You sighed and backed away from the gaping hole in the side of the medical center. You’d have to go back down, there would be work to do. You stopped as the gates opened. Something was different.

You stepped back up to the open wall and squinted across the distance. There were only three jeeps that drove through; they’d left with four.

The Prince, Loki, climbed out. He was the only clean-shaven man in the settlement. He spoke briefly with the guard, Isaiah, then got back in the jeep stiffly. The trio of cars rumbled on and you backed away. Wounded, likely. You could tell easily by the way he moved.

You retreated and tramped heavily down the stairs. Doctor Coleman was still in surgery with Corette. A young girl had been rushed in with a bursting appendix. The other staff waded in and out of rooms with patients for the usual daily complaints; nothing too serious.

“Aleisha,” You stopped the head nurse of your fleet. Some had been nurses before and others had learned after out of necessity. Five years felt like more. “The prince has returned.”

“And?”

“Two weeks gone,” You said. “They will be coming here.”

“Alright,” She nodded and walked away.

You shook your head at her and went to the front doors. You propped them open as Owen bent over the desk that acted as triage and jotted in a folder.

“Any updates on Dr. Coleman?” You asked as you crossed your arms and kept an ear to the doors.

“We’re low on anesthetic. They gave the girl whiskey. She woke up.” Owen grumbled. “It might take all day.”

“Shit,” You huffed as you heard motors on the next street. “Well, get ready.”

“Where’s Aleisha?” He asked.

“Another smoke break? Maybe just running away from all this,” You shrugged. “Can’t really blame her but there isn’t enough tobacco around to form an addiction.”

The first jeep pulled up, the second, and the third barely puttered at the rear. The trunk of the last was thrown open and two men ambled out with bloody rags around their arms. They helped another who was barely conscious and you waved to Owen.

“Front doors!” He yelled down the hall before he rushed out past you.

You went to follow him and the passenger side of the first jeep opened. You glanced back as several nurses appeared and the second car began to unload.

“Your doctor,” The prince held onto the door as he kept it open only a few inches.

“In surgery,” You said. “We can deal with this.”

“I don’t care about this,” He hissed as he rolled his eyes. “I need him to come with me.”

“It will be at least a couple hours.” You tried to step past him and he shot his foot out to trip you up. You stopped just before your feet tangled with his leg. “If it’s nothing serious--”

“Fine, you.” He said impatiently. “So long as you know how to use a needle, I suppose it’ll do.”

“Me, I… Aleisha is our--”

“Come on, I haven’t all day,” He growled. “Get in the back.” You stared at him dumbly. “Now.”

“I’ll need a kit,” You said.

“Don’t bother,” He sneered. “Get in.”

You looked around at the chaos of bodies and reached for the door. The Prince slammed the front one and you pulled the back open. You got in and closed the door.

You didn’t like it. Coleman was the only medical personnel permitted to see the king and his brother. The doctor said it was for the good of everyone.

You winced as you looked over to the passenger beside you. A man, barely, maybe eighteen or nineteen. He was thin and his reddish brown hair clung to his forehead. He was bound and slumped against the door. A stained cloth filled his mouth and a gash ran across his shoulder blade. You blanched and reached over to touch the dry blood.

“What happened to him?” You asked.

“His own fault,” The Prince said. “No more questions.”

You exhaled and drew away from the boy. You had nothing to help him but a pen in your front pocket and the knife clipped at your waist.

The jeep pulled up to the building they called the Palace. It used to be a bank and was one of the only buildings left untouched. You climbed out as the rest did and the man in the driver’s seat pulled the boy out with a grunt.

You were ushered to the doors and searched by the guards, ever-present on their watch. They took your knife but left you your pen. You followed behind Loki, his companion, and the injured boy. The latter was slung over the driver’s shoulder as you ascended the stairs and his pained groans echoed around you.

The door fell heavy behind you and you were led to a room. Loki muttered as he entered and directed his companion to set the boy down. You stood by the door.

“Go get my brother,” Loki ordered. “You,” He pointed at you, “See to the boy.”

“With what?” You asked as the other man left and the door snapped shut behind him.

Loki turned and opened a tall cabinet. He winced as he turned back with a tin chest in his hands. He dropped it beside the chair the boy slumped on. You neared as he traipsed away and knelt to open the kit.

“What’s your name?” You asked the wounded boy.

He stared at you a moment and reached to his shoulder. “Peter,” He grunted.

“No talking,” Loki fell onto the couch heavily and held in a groan. “Just sew him up.”

You pulled on a pair of gloves from the bottom of the chest and stood. You nudged the boy so that he sat forward and pulled apart his shirt, ripping it to expose his shoulder entirely. You bent to grab some gauze and the bottle of peroxide.

“How did this happen?” You asked quietly.

“What did I say about talking?” Loki snarled.

“I need to know if I should be looking for shrapnel,” You rebuffed.

He glanced over at your sharply and waved you away.

“I fell. Caught it on the edge of a wooden platform.” The boy explained as his hands formed fists.

“I’ll have to make sure there aren’t any slivers,” You warned as you wiped away the dried blood.

“Do what you gotta,” He kept his head down. “Doesn’t matter much.”

You were quiet at that. You knew what he wasn’t saying. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t going to leave here alive. The door opened as you tossed away a square of gauze and grabbed another.

“Brother!” The King, Thor, entered with a theatrical swish of his crimson cape. The swath of red was the reason for his nickname, well, aside from his insistence. “I was certain you’d lost yourself out there.”

The door shut loudly behind him as Loki shifted on the couch. He touched his hip as he struggled to sit straight. The King combed back his thick blond hair as the beads in his beard gave a subtle jangle as the brushed together.

“Lost? No, no, I found something… someone most valuable,” Loki smirked and peered over at Peter.

Thor turned and you kept your eyes on your work. He looked over the boy and hovered at the edge of your vision.

“You ran into Stark’s men?” Thor said grimly.

“Some of them. They were getting awfully friendly with the Rogers clan.” Loki replied. “A precarious but dangerous alliance, wouldn’t you say?”

There was silence as you fished for your tweezers to dislodged a long sliver of wood. Peter yiped as you poked the metal into his torn flesh. You apologized under your breath and he nodded as he clamped his lips shut.

“I am sorry it has come to this,” Thor neared and pulled up another chair. He sat just on the other side of you as you tended to Peter. “I always did favour you.”

“Sure,” Peter scoffed. “You know, it’s not so easy to pretend to be decent these days.”

“Mercy is a form of decency,” Thor said coolly. “My brother did spare you.”

“And killed the rest. If I was anyone else, I’d be dead.”

“But you’re not,” Thor insisted.

You threaded the curved needle as you tried to fade into the tense air. You stood and focused on aligning it’s point. You pressed it to Peter’s flesh and he inhaled as if to acknowledge you. You pushed the metal through his skin and he gripped his knee.

“Or I could send the medic away. Let that rot,” Thor ventured. “I could do worse than this.”

“Like you did to Clint?” Peter rasped and slapped his leg as you continued.

“The only mistake there was that Clint could not tell you all why I did it,” Thor sneered. “I am not cruel without reason.”

“Heh, sure. Whatever helps you look in the mirror.” Peter grumbled.

You tied up the last stitch and wiped the needle clean. You placed a patch of cotton over the cut and taped it down carefully. You packed up slowly. You thought of the limited supplies at the medical centre. You doubted this was the only treasure chest at the Palace.

You took off your gloves as you stood, the chest still open. You looked at Loki expectantly.

“Well, what do you want?” He snarled. “If you’re done, go.”

“Am I?” You asked calmly.

“What- You--”

“Your lower back. Or that’s what seems to be bothering you.” You said.

“Might be the perpetual stick up his ass,” Thor chuckled.

Loki inhaled deeply and winced. He shook his head and slid forward on the couch.

“Since you’re here.” He curled his fingers in a gesture for you to approach. “Be quick about it.”

You bent and lifted the chest. It was heavy. You set it by the couch and sat on the edge as he turned away from you. You lifted his thick jacket and the shirt beneath. A clean slice; it shouldn’t be causing too much pain, especially for him.

“Hmm,” You cleaned the cut and grabbed the largest band-aid from the smaller box. “Should heal on its own.”

“Told you.” Thor stood. “Stick. Ass. You don’t happen to know how to get it out?”

“Oh, quiet, you arse,” Loki hissed.

You shoved the wrapper in your pocket as you clasped the chest shut and stood.

“Castor oil is a natural laxative,” You offered. “But there’s not much to be had these days.”

Thor boomed with laughter and Loki straightened up with a pained breath.

“Just go,” Loki said.

“I’ll show you out,” Thor backed away and turned to open the door.

“Heimdall can--” Loki began.

“Nonsense, he’s busy.” Thor held the door and motioned you through. “I won’t be long. I am certain you can handle the boy on your own.”

You stepped out into the hall, eager to be away from both brothers. It wasn’t any secret that they had their differences, even with the state of things. Thor pulled the door closed behind him and nodded you along. He came up beside you, close enough that his cape swept against your shoulder.

“You work down at the medical center?” He asked.

“Mhmm,” You answered. It was more than obvious.

“You like it?” He peeked over at you out of the corner of his eye.

“People don’t really do what they like these days,” You said. “It’s gotta be done so I do it.”

“True, not all of us have the luxury of indulging in our desires,” He spun and stepped in front of you as you reached the door to the stairwell. “But some of us get to.”

You frowned as the air caught in your chest. He couldn’t mean…

“I have to get back. They’ll need me--”

“They can spare you for a while,” He leaned back against the door and crossed his arms. “How’d you end up here?”

“What?” You blinked.

“Stark, Rogers, Romanoff…” He said. “How did you end up in this camp?”

“Most of us didn’t choose.” You shrugged. “Before this was a camp, I was just trying to help injured people and that’s all I do now.”

“I like watching those hands of yours. So deft, quick,” He pushed himself away from the door and pulled his cape straight. “I’ve an ailment myself I’ve been seeking relief for but you see, Doctor Coleman hasn’t the cure.”

You narrowed your eyes and took a step back. His blue eyes seemed to light up as he advanced.

“Okay…” You uttered as you continued your slow retreat.

“You see, this world is lonely and I’ve yet to find any comfort for that. Anything… effective.” His footsteps kept a steady pace as he closed in. “You think you could help me--”

You turned and raced back down the hall. There was another stairwell at the opposite end, if you could reach it, you might just--

He caught you swiftly. He grabbed the back of your shirt and wrenched you back so that you nearly fell on your ass. He turned and flung you so that you hit the wall. The impact knocked the wind out of you.

You wheezed and struggled to stay upright as you turned back to him. You kicked out and he caught your foot. He pulled it up so that your other leg flew out from under you and your back hit the wall as you fell to the floor.

You coughed and turned onto your stomach as you lifted yourself onto your elbows. You crawled away from him, gasping for air, searching for the strength to stand.

His boot came down between your shoulder blades and he pushed you down onto your chest. The man who’d driven with Loki emerged from a door at the end of the hall. You looked up at him desperately.

“Loki is in his chamber,” Thor said gruffly as he leaned his weight on you. “Tell him I won’t be long.”

The man disappeared and Thor pushed down until you slapped the floor desperately.

“You know,” He moved his foot so that his boots were on either side of you. “I’ve had women offer themselves for a loaf of bread and often nothing at all. Boring.”

You tried to lift yourself and he lowered himself to his knees to straddle you. He grabbed your shoulders and forced you entirely to your stomach.

“You come here a little later and these halls are… rampant with women. Money, that’s nothing. There are new commodities to be traded; fuel, food, flesh.”

“Stop, please,” You begged. “Please, I didn’t--”

“Oh, I know you didn’t do anything. Wouldn’t even look at me.” He rubbed your back as he wiggled his pelvis against you. “And when you did, there was no desperation, no hunger, no… reverence.”

His hands left your back and the red cape swept in front of you and piled on the floor. His fingers stretched over your hips and he squeezed.

“These women offer themselves because they know they owe me. For their safety, their lives. I had these walls built, I keep the generators going, and I keep worse fiends from sinking their fangs into you puny Midgardians.”

“I--I… Please.” You clawed at the floor.

“They’re so eager, so malleable, so… pathetic,” You wriggled beneath him as you kicked your legs. “And here you are, trapped, and you still try to get away. From what? I could give you a life easier than blood and bile.”

“Get… off!” You exclaimed as you tried to squirm out from beneath him.

“This is how this world works,” He lowered his voice as he leaned over you. He placed an arm across your shoulders as his other hand fumbled along the front of his pants. “You don’t ask, you take. And if you can’t take, you’re taken from.”

He sighed and his fingers hooked in the waist of your jeans. He tore them down, the button falling loose as he did. He ripped your panties down just as roughly and you felt his arousal rub against your ass.

“You can struggle, scream if you like but… if anyone hears you,” He guided his cock down your ass and rubbed against your cunt. “They’ll pretend they don’t.”

He forced himself inside of you and you cried out in pain. He impaled you to his limit and you gritted your teeth as his thick arm crushed your shoulders. He thrust so that your entire body jerked and your fingers buried in the heap of crimson fabric.

He sat back and planted a hand between your shoulders. He rocked atop you, groaning and growling as he did. You closed your eyes as the whimpers slipped from your lips. Every tilt of his hips was harder than the last. The clap of his flesh echoed down the hall and in your ears.

“I was wondering…” He panted in between ruts. “What that weaselly little doctor was hiding… from me.”

He pounded into you without pause. Your hips hit the hard floor painfully and you curled your arm around your head to hide your face. Your hot breath filled the space and mingled with the shame nestled in your cheeks.

His purrs rose to a growl and you felt as if your body would shatter. He lifted your hips as he plunged into you over and over. Your walls clenched around him and a warm gush flooded you.

Your head shot up as you tried once more to escape him.

“No…” You gasped.

“Shhh,” He jolted into you as he slowed. He stroked the back of your head and pushed it down to the floor. He bent over you and inhaled your scent. “It will be a king’s child.”

He slipped out of you and his cum leaked down your folds. He stood and let out a satisfied sigh.

“I have not given my seed to the others.” He said as he nudged you with his toe. “Clean yourself up, pet. My men have even less restraint than I.”

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #post apocalypse #apocalypse au #au #one shot #thor x reader #dark thor x reader #dead dove do not eat #dark!thor x reader #dark fic #dark!fic #oneshot #loki #read the warnings

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Note

Could I request bleeding through the bandages for TK??

thank you so much for the prompt jillian! very sorry for the wait.

@badthingshappenbingo prompt: bleeding through the bandages

also my submission for day 5 of @carlosreyesweek : “Just, hold on” + hurt/comfort

prompts are still open! please keep sending them through!

ao3

The call comes at the tail end of Carlos’s shift, and he instantly hates whichever idiot decided to ruin his night by mugging someone. It’s in one of the seedier areas of town and apparently there’s at least one casualty; things always get messy in this particular area, so Carlos just knows he’s going to be pulling overtime tonight.

It’s fucking inconsiderate, really.

He and his partner share a look as they pull up, the crowd surrounding the victim visible even in the dark. Medical hasn't arrived yet, so it’s up to them to deal with both the mugger and the injury. Which - just great.

Carlos sighs and gets out, trepidation growing as they get closer. He keeps his hand on his holster but doesn’t draw his gun; people down here don’t tend to be too friendly to cops and he doesn’t want to provoke them any more. To his left, Rachel is doing the same, the corners of her mouth pinched tight.

A woman runs up to them, phone in hand and eyes wide with shock. The witness, Carlos presumes.

“Officers, thank you for getting here so quickly; oh, it’s just awful, isn’t it, I still can’t really understand it -”

��Ma’am.” Carlos holds up a calming hand and she stops mid-rant, breathing hard. He signals to his partner to check on the victim before turning back to the witness. “Let’s all keep calm, okay? Can you tell me your name?”

“Caroline.”

“Okay, Caroline, can you tell me what happened?”

Caroline’s lips tremble, and for a second Carlos worries she’s going to launch into another incomprehensible stream of words. But she appears to steel herself, taking a deep breath before nodding. “That poor man was just running when someone came up to him - and normally I don’t pay attention to these things, Officer, but there was something not right about the other man. Anyway, I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it didn’t look too friendly and then, oh it was terrible, he - that poor man over there - moved and the other one just - stabbed him!”

Carlos pushes away a grimace, trying for a reassuring smile. “Could you see what the attacker looked like?”

“No, it was too dark, you see. But he did run off that way” - she points to Carlos’s right - “into those trees over there.”

“Thank you, that’s really helpful.” Carlos relays the information through his radio, then goes to meet Rachel. As long as medical isn’t here, they’re going to have to stay and make sure the victim lives long enough to make it to hospital.

There’s a gap in the crowd, and through it Carlos can see Rachel bent over a body on the ground. She spots him before he gets to her and immediately her face drops, eyes darting between him and the victim.

“Carlos, don’t come any closer!” she calls.

Carlos stops, frowning. “What?”

Rachel looks close to tears, though she’s clearly trying to maintain an air of professionalism for the onlookers. “Just… Please, Carlos.”

And there’s something in the way she’s looking at him - at the victim - that sends Carlos’s heart plummeting into his shoes. “No,” he whispers, breaking into a run, because it can’t be him, there’s no way the universe could be this cruel, surely -

Except it is. Carlos drops to his knees beside TK and he forgets all about being professional, his one hand reaching up to cup TK’s face while the other presses against his wound, blood already soaking through the makeshift bandages.

Distantly, he hears Rachel begin to manage the crowd, who have suddenly become very interested to know why a police officer is crying over a random jogger. He pays them no mind, though, attention wholly fixed on TK.

“TK,” he says, forcing the words past the lump in his throat. “TK, can you hear me?”

TK breathes sluggishly, his gaze barely meeting Carlos’s before drifting away again. “Carlos,” he breathes. “‘M tired.”

“Hey, no, don’t you dare.” Carlos panics as TK’s eyes begin to slide closed, pressing down harder on his wound. It elicits a gasp from TK which Carlos feels guilty about, but only just - at least he’s still awake. He can hear sirens in the distance, and he prays that they’re the medical team.

“I warned you, didn’t I?” Carlos murmurs. “Once they’ve fixed you up, you’re never getting out of the doghouse for the rest of your life.”

TK almost smiles at that. “If I remember,” he slurs, “that was about getting shot. You d-didn’t say anything ‘bout stabbing.”

“It was implied.”

The medical team finally gets to them and Carlos shifts to make room, though he keeps running his fingers through TK’s hair. One of the paramedics looks like they’re about to tell him to move, but one look at his face must make them reconsider. He keeps talking to TK, desperately trying to keep him awake, but Carlos can see the blood staining his hands and TK’s shirt and the grass and even the fresh bandages the paramedics have put on and -

And, it’s not enough. TK’s eyes slip closed.

“We have to transfer him now,” one of the paramedics says. Then, looking up at Carlos. “Officer, we’re going to have to ask you to move.”

Carlos stares. The paramedic sighs and is about to repeat herself when a hand grips Carlos’s arm. He turns to see Rachel watching him, an unbearably sympathetic look on her face.

“Come on, Carlos,” she says quietly. “He’s in good hands.”

“I can’t -” He shakes his head, wanting nothing more than to stay put, but he knows that every second he delays increases the chance of TK not making it out of this. He presses a kiss to TK’s forehead. “Hold on for me, love,” he murmurs, then allows Rachel to pull him up, using her as a means of staying upright.

He clambers into the ambulance with TK, Rachel telling him it’s all cleared with the sergeant, and stares into his pale face, hoping against hope that he’ll wake up again.

“Hold on.”

Hours later, he’s still in his uniform, having rebuffed all attempts to make him go home. The most he agreed to was washing the blood off his hands, but even then the fear was still present.

Fear that TK would wake up without him, yes, but most off all, fear that he would die, and Carlos wouldn’t have been there.

The 126 have been coming and going, the only constant besides Carlos, Owen. He’s sitting on TK’s other side, the harsh hospital lighting throwing his face into sharp relief. He looks old - older than Carlos has ever seen him, except for perhaps the last time they were in this situation.

Carlos refuses to think about that time. It had taken days for TK to wake up then; Carlos isn’t sure he could handle that this time.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been. All he knows is that he hasn’t slept, and TK hasn’t woken up. Owen’s drifted off a couple of times, every time startling awake only to look even sadder when he realises TK’s still asleep.

But, eventually, when even Carlos can feel sleep pulling at him, TK twitches. Carlos blinks, half-certain he imagined it, but, no, Owen’s alert too, both of them rising from their seats.

“TK?” Carlos says, daring to let a little hope into his voice.

There’s an agonising silence which feels like it lasts minutes, and then TK moves again, his eyes slowly blinking open. Carlos sags in relief, sitting down heavily in the chair.

“Oh, god,” he chokes out, grabbing TK’s hand and kissing his knuckles. TK’s gaze slowly focuses on Carlos’s face and a smile creeps onto his face.

“Thought I was in the doghouse,” he manages, his voice weak but still, somehow, teasing.

Carlos laughs wetly. “It’s under review,” he responds, but they both know it’s an empty threat.

Carlos is never letting TK out of his sight again.

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duraxxor · 3 years

Text

Tales of Solanthos: Shadows Chapter 1 - The Cursed Child

" Darkness has a way of permeating within every single entity. It's existence is unlimited, unlike the other five original elements. And that is why it is widely feared. Because you never know what may be lurking in the Dark. " -- ???

Solanthos. A world filled to the brim with magics that have long evolved in the passing years since it's elemental cataclysm. And with the reformation of the very earth we stand upon, the planet itself as taken on a variety of layers. Some may even argue that the deeper you go to the seething core, the more hellish it becomes. I can attest to that theory. My name is Alphus Daevara, and what I am about to explain to you is more than just my story. No, it is a revolution in a new age amongst the world as we know it.

Amongst the many races of Solanthos, there were the Wyverians. The Wyverians are said to be pointed-eared, magically-attuned mortals that had evolved over time from the blessing of the creator Sylvirra, the matron deity that is said to have rivaled Solexstras, whom the Strassian people revered as their patron. That, however, is a story for another time. Anyways, there were four divinities that split depending on what it was the Wyverians chose to worship. The Goldenthorn, for example, are widely known for their belief in nature and all it provides, exalted in the ways of Life. The Sky Nomads are another group that chose to live amongst the skies in their floating city, believing that the Air they breath is the key to living a prosperous life. Then, we have the more sects that believe themselves to be more sophisticated amongst their kin. The Houses of Radiance, noble bloods that worships the light of the day stars and it's eternal flame. This house of nobility is often lost in it's own arrogance at times and unlike the earlier two, they do not extend their hand to other races so eagerly. Unironically, however, there was one final house whom believes themselves to be even more powerful than the House of Radiance. The Duskhaven choose to live in their underground city that stands on the borders between the first layer of the planet and the darkness that lies deep within the earth. However, their light is in the form of the moon phasing. Another notable trait that defines Duskhaven from the rest is their darker pigmentation as opposed to the lighter tones from their kin amongst the surface.

You're probably expecting me to tell you which one I fall into, aren't you? A Goldenthorn that values all life? A Sky Nomad that strives for adventure? A noble among the Houses of Radiance or perhaps one of the nocturnal Duskhaven? Well, if you guessed the latter of the four, you would be right to a degree but it gets more complicated from here. For you see... My father was of Duskhaven while mother, on the other hand, was of Radiance. Their marriage was highly frowned upon, going as far as even receiving death threats as well as the guardians paying close attention to their every movement. Eventually, they earned their right to love but not without consequence...

6.16.9100 - sixth cycle, sixteenth day, nine-thousand and one hundred years after the reformation. With life comes pain, and with pain comes life. A familiar that my mother experienced and accepted well. She screamed and writhed from the contractions. My birth was nigh but alas, my father was nowhere to be seen. " Where is he?... Where is my husband?! " The Goldenthorn that were requested for her birth outside of the territories answered naught once but instead gave her advice. " Continue to breath in and push, Apolla. Your husband will be here soon. As will your child... " My mother rebuffed herself, lost in the pain from both my arrival and the separation of her beloved. Alas, the only one awaiting her outside was her brother, one who had clung to a hope that his sisters choices would not cost the house their reputation. He, who was also responsible for my father, Sephirrion, from being present as he had guards assembled to prevent what my uncle declared to be an interference. With each scream, I drew closer to existence until finally one high pitching shriek followed with the sound of a babe crying out it's first breath.

" It's a boy, Apolla! Rejoice! You have birthed a son! " The Goldenthorn practitioners cheered with the success until they looked upon the crying child's form upon the initial clean up. Neither sun-touched nor midnight complexion existed. Instead, it was as if my flesh had been touched by storm clouds or the greys of stone. A tuft of white hair sprouted from my cranium. And to some, it was a sickly sight. Specifically my uncle who had immediately rushed into the room to his displeasure. " Sister... What. Have. You... Done?! You have soiled our family name with the existence of a cursed child! " My mother was even given a chance to process what he had said in her tired state before the Goldenthorn found themselves scrambling to stop an enraged Radiance from hurdling a ball of flame at the child. It all happened so fast. Even to this day, I'm haunted by the heat that had struck my flesh. However, as the child was engulfed in flames, the hue of radiant fire twisted, discoloring into an insidious purple blaze until the scream of a babe sent the flames outward in a burst, striking almost every single person within the room. My uncle along with a few of the Goldenthorn were burned but no one was killed in the incident. House of Radiance guards came swarming in and the injured Uncle gave her command. " Take the child to his father... and tell him that he is NOT to set foot close to our territories ever again! As for my sister... Take her and have her locked in a cell! I will not allow this event to destroy my family's way! "

So from that point, the last memory I can recall was the voice of my mother shouting my name despite my birth having been but a mere moments before she was torn away from her child. The guards did as they were commanded and eventually, my father learned of what had transpired. At this point, not only was Sephirrion overwhelmed with guilt and heartache, but he was mortified by the idea that his son possessed such a destructive power. From then on, he chose to raise me under his thumb amongst the Duskhaven. While they weren't as resentful of my existence, they still held prejudice against my father's love interest and the end result. To some, I was nothing more than a motherless child and an embarrassment. While others, believe me to be a white-haired demon. The latter was personified once my eyes had opened to the cruel world around me. An iris divided into two rings of color, the outer being a crimson river of blood while the inner ring illuminated with a blend of orange and yellow. Some described it to remind them of a feral beast before they took note of the dark pupils that possessed no shine to them.

My father would carry this burden on his shoulder for as long as he would live. No one would ever learn or could explain what had transpired that day. Why a child did not burn in fire and reflected such power in such a destructive manner. It was uncommon and hadn't be displayed in any infant. My father tried to give me the most normal life any Duskhaven could offer a halfblood. Food, water, clothing, and shelter. But most importantly, enough love despite the hole that was always within his heart. And with the cycles of life would come public education so I could learn how to live amongst the other's. I still remember my first day of school how everyone stared at me. Even the teacher introduced my name and it was as if I were a criminal. Children whispered obscene things about me that they had heard from their parents.

Freak. Blasphemy. Demon. He should be dead.

I chose to ignore it the best I could and stayed in my corner. That was, until I was confronted by an unexpected occurrence. A Duskhaven girl whose hair was a golden blonde, unlike most and her eyes were as blue as the oceans that were described in geographical lessons. " Hey you, why do the other kids make fun of you? " She asked in such a sweet but prodding voice as we sat outside the academy underneath a glowtree. Incase you were wondering, a glowtree is said to be related to an type of cypress on the surface world but it adapted to the darkness and stores the light that beams from the sun and moon phasing through cavities above. Anyhow, I didn't know what to say or think, I simply stared at her a moment. " Huh? I know you can talk.. I don't understand why they make fun of you? You have pretty eyes. So what if you're different? " I remember something in my tiny, little heart clenching on my strings and I just couldn't contain myself as I began to cry at how kind and warm this girl was to me. " Hey... it'll be alright. You're name's Alphus, right? I'm Felyna. " That's a name I would remember forever. She was the second person to extend a kindness to me aside from my father who raised me. I would meet her during recess and sometimes even after school amongst the City of Undershire.

But, as years passed and I approached the age of ten cycles, her father began to take notice of how close we were. One might say he was much like my uncle and didn't take too kindly to a halfblood mingling with his noble child. I remember when day this tall, powerful man dressed in magus attire approach the two of us outside of school. " Felyna.. " His voice was deep with age and possessed a wicked octave to it. "... why are you fraternizing with this abomination? " As the question plunged my heart like a blade, his daughter protested by reflecting his own question with denial. I can remember how much his voice raised when he demanded his daughter return home at once, forcing her to respect his wishes with the threat behind his voice. But I made one more error at that moment as he told the father how mean he was being and glared at him. " Do not question my ways of parenting you ignorant, little gremli- " As I half expected my face to be lobbed off my shoulder by the strike of a hand, Felyna's father found his arm caught by my own father's. " Leave the children out of this matter... I'm the problem, not my son... " His azure gaze was locked upon my father's yellow orbs in the heat of the moment as they both retracted their arms and the opposing entity said the following words. " You have made a grave mistake, Sephirrion, and I will see to it that you both regret it... I will not have my daughter sullied by your... thing. "

At that point, my father had finally told me that night that I wasn't allowed to go back to the academy and that he would be homeschooling me in his spare time. It was peaceful for the most part but my heart ached as I feared I had gotten Felyna into more trouble that I expected. I never saw her again after that event and not long after, the quiet peace would be broken by the sound of our door being shattered to pieces. It seemed her father held true to his words as my father and I found ourselves confronted by several magi. " Run, Alphus! Run and don't look back! " Those were the last words I heard of my father ever again as I managed to escape through the window of my room and made a run for the city gates. Once again, I had made another miscalculation in my youth as there were guardsman waiting for my arrival as they caught me, the wild, unruly child and I found myself face to face with the same father who had nearly struck me for even glancing in his presence. " Take him to the Pits of Ab'bothi. Make sure that I never see his abominable presence near my daughter again.. "

During my childhood I had heard of whispers amongst the children about these pits. Ab'bothi was an unfamiliar term from a race known as the Arakne, which were apparently spider-like people. In their tongue it translated to Strong Jaws apparently or so the Duskhaven children claimed. It was said that these deep caverns were a living creature that swallowed anyone whole that plunged them for knowledge, never to return. And here I was about to be taken to these pits for only the elements knew what? Always fighting, always flailing, I tried as I might to escape but my energy reserves eventually ran out until found myself tossed onto the hard, stone floor far from the City's light. What little light graced this deepening cavern was nearly snuffed by an smoggy darkness. The entrance paying homage to the name as the ceiling and floors were decorated with jagged spikes that reminded someone of the Strong Jaws. There were even a few that had bones stuck between them, fermenting with the scent of age and death.

" Walk, halfblood. " I felt a dagger pointed directly at my back at the very tip, giving me no choice but to walk forward on their command. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six steps taken before I was told to stop and turn around. Despite my cooperation, my face was struck by the dagger, leaving a jagged scar on the bridge of my nose which was met with a harsh cry of pain as I fell backwards onto my bum, holding my bleeding face. I remember asking, even pleading with them in my painful confusion. " Why? Why are you doing this?! What did I do to deserve this treatment?! " To which, the lead of the group of hired henchmen covered in their shrouds answered. " We do not question our Lords, we only carry out their commands. But know this... that as you snuffed from the life that it is because you were born that you deserved this... " Harsh words were something that I had become familiar with, but to hear a grown man tell me that it is my life which condemns me to such treatment. It struck like a harsh chord along the strings of what remained of my heart. Even when they raised their weapons and the magi began to channeling destructive fire, it was as if I had already given up hope that I even deserved to live. My mother was gone, my father was likely dead, and my closest friend was banished from ever seeing me again. And here I was, about to die, for being a halfblood thing. And in that moment, my gaze stared blankly as I accepted the jaws of death.

" Kshhhhhh...kkkkk... How very curioussss...kkkk.... "

A series of clicking followed such words that were breathed down my spine as I felt something much more threatening approach from behind. The magics of the magi were suddenly nullified and the light was snuffed by a clouded smog. Even as the Duskhaven themselves looked around in a disturbed confusion, I dared not move a muscle as my own vision saw through the darkness at what was staring at me from above. I didn't quite know how to describe it either. A mouthful of needles wrapped in a series of bandages? How could such a beast or monster see in this darkness? Wait, how could I see in this darkness? " You sssssee me boy, don't you? " Saliva dripped from his that maw of potential murder, or at the very least, that's what I was hoping it was. It wasn't until I hesitated that I saw the elongated limbs beside me that looked at though the forearms on their own were as tall as a Duskhaven on their own. How big was this thing? I remember one of those limbs lifted to point those spiny fingers towards the men that were in a commotion. A single finger could completely gouge my eye out if it so desired. " Well? Can you sssspeak? Kkkkkk... or has the ssserpent got your tongue? " There it was, that incessant clicking that brought shivers to the bone.

A nodded to the best of my abilities, gritting my teeth as I steeled myself for whatever else may await me in these dark times. " Do you wish to live, child? It would be a wasssste to see such youth be sssnuffed by the ignorant. " In that moment, I remember my eyes cutting towards the men who were preparing themselves as they found a means to illuminate a short range, the leader calling out to find me and finish this job quickly. " Y-yes. I want to live! Please, help me! Spare me! Don't harm me, please! No more! " To most, it was a pitiful sight and it was the last time I truly had a moment of weakness as I covered my face.

" Ahhhh.... Excellent... kkkkkk.... " The insideous clicking followed with a rush of air as whatever this anomaly was, it had took flight in some way, shape, or form. And as I thought it had left me to the wolves who had spotlighted me in the distance, I began to notice that the magus were once again placed in a panic as one by one, each one was being pulled into the inky blackness that surrounded the area. Screams and cries of terror followed by the sound of tearing flesh and duskblood puddling upon the floor below. Even so, the leader of the assailants didn't give up as he set his sights upon me. " I knew you were a miserable halfblood... but to be cursed with such monstrous demons that follow you in your wake... I will end you! " I couldn't catch a break. It seemed as though one thing after another, my heart was always on some form of edge. I could do nothing but throw up my arms and hope that it softened the blade that was about to be plunged into my small body. Yet the pain did not come. Why?

" What is this?! " The leader cried out just before I pulled my arms down to look beyond the truth. The image of a familiar hand with elongated claws had wrapped completely around the Duskhaven's left arm. " Let me go! I was sent here to do my job! I won't go back empty handed! " The protestation of the assassin was met with not a glimmer of mercy. In fact, he found that this putrid substance was expelled from between the fingers of this creature. Dark magic that ate away at his arm, severing it as the flesh and bone fell completely off. Never in my life had a heard a man scream so loudly in such torment. I was shaking, perhaps even terrified from the possibility that I may be next yet... something about it seemed correct in nature.

" Tsk tsk tsk... You mortal beingss always have an excusssse for mucking around my territory. A job? More like ssssome petty squabble... " The thud of two feet as they landed from above. Much like the face and the arms of the beast, so two were these elongated legs that bent and contorted in a sharp manner. This would explain his acrobatic skills of likely being able to climb the ceilings perhaps rather than flight? Leaping perhaps. "... all thisss trouble for one whelpling? " A clicking laugh followed as the light illuminated the creatures form more than expected. The majority of the body was shrouded by a cloak that seemed to blend with the darkness, as if it were a part of it. Such enchanted relics weren't unheard of but were quite rare of the Wyverian breed.

" I'm not sure w-what you are, demon... but that child is a blight upon our kind... and if left unchecked, he could very well be a.... " The pained man suddenly felt his own bones start to contort and snap from the inside, as if he were being manipulated by an unseen hand. " Threat? Thisss... gifted child? Oh nononono... not a threat so as long as you continue to berate and abuse him... however... Ra'shi'sek... " The utterance of such a word was hissed from the needled mouth and right before my eyes, my troubles were engulfed in a violet wildfire brought a vivid light to the entrance of these cavern, revealing the true size of the being before me as he stood slightly hunched over. He was bigger than any man I had ever met in my lifetime, almost two average Duskhaven in this current state. All that remained was the wailing agony as the assassin and his desecrated underlings were sent to some malevolent hell, vanishing as if there wasn't a single trace.

" And then... kkkk... there was one... " A soft chittering followed across my eardrums as the being began to step towards my right side, which just so happened to be the entrance to the Pits of Ab'bothi. Unlike combat, the giant humanoid possessed no loud thud in his steps as they proved to be silent in nature. Calculated, perhaps. I remember pulling myself up rather carefully and slowly before the stranger came to a stop. " If I were you... I would not try returning to the City... you will likely be held resssponsible for their deaths... but... kkkkk... if you wish to give it a tr- " Not a single pause was required before the next words fell right out of my mouth. " I have nothing left there... I would be better off not returning if there was a chance my parents were still alive... I want to go with you.. sir... "

The towering shroud stood there silently for the longest moments before another series of clicks followed, tilting his covered head to the side before. "... Why? " Another faint silence was shared between the small child and the being that had saved me from death. I swallowed, despite having serpent's mouth from the lack of hydration. " You said I was gifted. I want you to teach me how to use that gift to live. I know not why you have been so kind to me but, I would not wish to waste the chance you have given me. " The being heard my case, tilting his head to the opposing direction before he chittered with his reply. " There will be rulesss. I will teach you but to pass beyond the veil, you may never return to your people without my permission. For if you do... kkkkk... I will abandon you. And if you pursssue me, I will treat you as I had the othersss. " The deadly claws fidgeting in the dark as he allowed the speech to permeate in my mind. The brief hesitation was due to a lack of trust and just before I could answer, he continued. " You are stepping into the Abyssal Wilds, child. My path will not be an easy one to walk, no matter if you are a whelpling or a mighty beast. You will be pushed to your limits ssooo that you may surpasss them. KKkkk... Are we in agreement? "

What sort of horrors may await me in the unknown? Were they more terrifying than him? To push me passed my limits? Would I be broken? Mangled? Shattered? I had already been through many turmoil. Beaten and reaped from any equality amongst my kin. I remember this red-hot fire burning within my heart as anger against my kind began to manifest in my form. And rather than answer verbally, I stood as tall as I could and followed this entity's steps until I finally stood beside him. " Tell me child... what do they call you? " He asked as we began to move in unison, despite the major height difference. " Alphus... Alphus Daevara. What are you called? " The light of the upper crevice that cascaded down onto the city soon dimmed as we stepped into the unknown abyss that lies beyond the pits.

" A name that translates in the tongue of your kin as... The Huntsman. "

#a new story #Alphus Daevara #Chapter 1 #The Huntsman

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charincharge · 4 years

Text

Cruel Summer, Elorcan Missing Scene

cruel summer masterlist

AN: Surprise Elorcan Missing Scene! Ever wondered how Elide and Lorcan officially got together? Wonder no more. For those who need slight refreshing -- this starts at Sam’s 4th of July yacht party. This is my first time writing Elorcan, so plz be gentle with me.

Elide is drunk. Not just a little drunk, but a lot of drunk. She sways on her feet, and she wishes she could blame the unsteadiness she feels on the boat she’s standing on, but she knows this massive three-story yacht isn’t so much as moving an inch.

Dorian laughs at her as he pulls her unfinished glass of sangria out of her hands. He downs the rest in one gulp, making the girl next to him giggle. Dorian has already completed his mission tonight. He and this girl disappeared into a bathroom an hour ago and came out looking rumpled and happy.

Elide is extremely jealous. It’s not that Elide hasn’t had the opportunity to find a man on this boat. In fact, it’s teaming with potential suitors, but she isn’t interested in any of them. She keeps thinking of the same dark face over and over.

It’s been a month since she and Manon began their plan, but Lorcan still hasn’t made a move. And Elide is beginning to give up hope that he likes her, too. After all, he’d have asked her out by now if he did, right? She should really just forget about him and hook up with someone on this boat. She looks around and stumbles slightly.

“So, what now?” Dorian’s girl asks. Elide searches her brain for her name but draws a blank. Katherine? Kaitlin?

“Anything you want, Kaltain,” Dorian says. Ah, yes. Kaltain. Elide tries to focus on the doe eyed brunette, but she can’t. All she can think about is how much she wishes Lorcan would kiss her. She’s harbored this crush for as long as she’s known him, and she’s starting to get desperate.

“Just call him,” Manon says with a long sigh.

“Who are we calling?” Nehemia asks, twisting her long pink braids over her shoulder.

“Elide’s coworker slash crush.” Elide watches as Manon wraps her taloned fingers around Nehemia’s waist, and Elide knows her friends are waiting on her to find someone, so they can take their new friends home. She should just put them out of their misery and tell them it’s not going to happen.

“I can’t call him,” Elide pouts. “I texted him earlier, and he didn’t even reply.”

She holds up the phone for Manon to see. She texted him a simple, “What are you up to tonight?” and he never replied. Only, when she holds up her phone, she realizes that he has, in fact, responded. She can’t believe she didn’t notice.

All my roommates are all at parties, so I’m enjoying my empty apartment.

The text is accompanied by a picture of a beer resting on his coffee table, and on his TV in the background is Community.

“El,” Manon drawls. “That is the clearest invitation to come over I’ve ever seen.”

The text is from three hours ago.

“You think?”

Dorian and his girl both nod, and Elide feels a rush of confidence. Lorcan isn’t the most outgoing guy in the world. Maybe Manon is right. This is his way of asking her over.

“No, I can’t…” Elide talks herself out of it. What is she supposed to do? Just show up on his doorstep, and hope he invites her in? She could never. But Manon tells her that’s exactly what she should do. And if she doesn’t, she’s a goddamned pussy. Elide’s mouth drops open. She hates that word. Manon and Dorian chant it together, until she finally tells them she will go to Lorcan’s, if only to stop making them call her a pussy.

Manon gives her a tight squeeze as she practically pushes Elide into an Uber, and Elide knows there’s no turning back anymore.

By the time she arrives at Lorcan’s doorstep, she feels invincible. The perfect amount of buzzed. She can do this. Manon was right. She needs to be as brave about her love life as she is with everything else she does.

She knocks on the door, three tight raps. She hears shuffling on the other side of the door, and Elide attempts to fluff her curled hair quickly before it opens. She belatedly realizes she should have looked in a mirror before showing up to profess her feelings, but it’s too late now.

A squinting Lorcan answers the door, only wearing a pair of low-slung sweatpants. His hair is mussed from sleep, and there are pillow marks on his cheek.

“Ellie?” he asks, clearly confused. “What are you doing here?”

Elide feels warm as her eyes roam his broad shoulders and bare chest. She begins to say something, but her legs sway without her permission as her gaze moves downward. She stumbles forward, and Lorcan gasps and reaches out for her. He steadies her by her waist, and Elide’s mouth drops into a small circle at his touch. He’s never been this close to her before. He smells like sleep and leather and earth and something just a tinge sweet.

“I love when you call me that,” she says, staring up at him. Her lips are loose and her filter is gone, apparently. She’s intoxicated not only by liquor, but also his scent.

As Lorcan helps her stand, his eyes narrow. “Are you… drunk?”

“No…?”

A loud hiccup erupts from her chest, giving her away, and she slaps her hand over her mouth.

Lorcan sighs and runs his hand through his long hair. “Come in…”

He ushers her into his apartment, and Elide takes a look around. The apartment is mismatched and sparse, clearly belonging to a bunch of twenty-something year old single men. The centerpiece of the room is the large leather couch, which faces a big screen TV.

Elide makes her way to the couch and collapses onto it. The well-worn leather squeaks loudly beneath her skin, and she moves again just to hear the noise. It makes her giggle. Lorcan returns with a large glass of water, and Elide graciously takes a large sip. She is thirsty, she notes to herself as her eyes wander across Lorcan’s bare skin again.

Lorcan stifles a yawn, and Elide reaches out to brush her hand against his flushed face. “Were you asleep?” she asks, and Lorcan grabs her hand and puts it down on the couch between him as he nods. But Elide notes he doesn’t pull his hand away from hers.

“It’s the middle of the night, Ellie,” he says with a low chuckle. “So…” He clears his throat as Elide twines her small fingers with his large ones. She loves how big his hands are. She wants them inside her.

Elide feels hot at the thought and takes another sip of her water.

“Do you want to go back to sleep?” Elide asks.

A small smile tugs at Lorcan’s lips as he leans back into the couch to mirror her position. “After you finish your water, then we can go to sleep,” he says.

“I’m sleeping here?” she asks, her eyes wide with feigned innocence, and Lorcan laughs outright.

“It’s too late to drive you home, and I don’t trust ride shares,” he explains. But it sounds like a convenient excuse. And Elide is so excited by the prospect of them sleeping together, she tilts the glass upward and chugs the rest of it in three large gulps.

She places the glass down on the table with a flourish. “Finished!” she announces happily. She stands too quickly and stumbles again. Before she can regain her footing, Lorcan is lifting her up and throwing her over his shoulder.

“Oh!” she exclaims, surprised by her new angle. His hands clasp the backs of her bare thighs, and her arms drape over his muscular back. From this angle she has a pretty good view of his backside, too, and it does not disappoint.

“My room is too far down the hall for you to walk,” he says. “I don’t trust your feet.” Elide’s only reply is to giggle as her hands drift down to his lower back, tracing patterns on his skin with the tips of her fingers. “Ellie, knock it off,” he chastises her, but Elide ignores him, fascinated with the feeling of his warm skin beneath her hand. She uses her finger to trace out EL + LS in a heart onto his back, and she watches as he shivers.

His bedroom is dark, and neither bothers to turn on the lights. Elide thinks she knows what’s about to happen, so she gets a head start, pulling her dress over her head and tossing it onto the ground.

Lorcan crashes into something in the darkened room and turns around, swearing as he rushes to his dresser. “What are you doing?” he hisses, and Elide falls into his large bed, immediately burrowing under the covers.

He throws a shirt onto the bed, and Elide slides it on over her head. She’s swimming in the giant t-shirt, but she doesn’t care. It smells like him. She takes a long sniff and inadvertently moans.

“Goodnight,” Lorcan stutters, trying to leave the room, but Elide calls out for him, confused.

“Where are you going?” she asks. She can’t process what’s happening or why Lorcan is running away from her.

“I’m going to sleep on the couch,” he explains, but Elide reaches out for him and grabs his arm. He pitches forward, unprepared for her grasp. “How are you this strong for someone so tiny?” he says with a laugh, and Elide says she doesn’t know. She’s too distracted by his proximity and his smell and being in his bed. All she wants to do is put her lips on his. Making her move, she leans up to kiss him, but he turns his head, so she makes contact with his cheek instead. He stands, suddenly, and takes a large step away from his bed.

Elide feels like she’s going to cry. Never has she been so outwardly rebuffed. She’s going to murder Manon for suggesting this. Lorcan doesn’t want her here. More than that, Lorcan doesn’t want her.

“Goodnight,” he says again, and this time, he doesn’t look back as he flees the room. Too tired to cry, Elide closes her eyes and hopes she remembers nothing about this night when she wakes.

An unfamiliar alarm blares loudly in the distance. Elide reaches to silence it, but it’s in the wrong spot. Everything is wrong, in fact. What she’s wearing. The room she’s in. The pounding headache attacking her skull. None of it is right.

It takes her about five seconds to remember everything that happened the night prior, and she throws the covers over her head, wanting to hide. She now has to work the rest of the summer next to the man she literally threw herself at. And he rejected her. She’s never drinking again.

“Elide,” Lorcan’s voice calls out, but she refuses to emerge from the covers. She’s going to hide here forever and die before ever facing him again. But Lorcan has another plan, so it seems. He peels his covers back, and she looks up at the ceiling to avoid having to look at his smug face. “It’s almost time for work,” he says, and Elide shakes her head.

“I’m not going…”

Lorcan puts his hand to her forehead, and she shivers beneath it. “Are you still not feeling well?”

Elide forces herself to sit up and glares at the man in front of her. Despite her raging hangover, she unleashes all the pent up frustration she wasn’t able to release last night. The rest of the summer be damned, it’s going to be awkward no matter what she says.

“Of course I’m not feeling well!” she huffs. “I came over here last night after years of being too afraid to tell you I liked you, and you rejected me! I know I’m not your type, or whatever, clearly, but… am I really that repellant that you wouldn’t even kiss me? I feel like I was owed a pity kiss, at least.” She grumbles. “I’m never going to work again, because I can’t ever look at you again. And you know what?” She’s clearly just getting started. “I’m pretty awesome, so this is absolutely your loss. You could have had all of this, Salvaterre—” She motions to herself. “But no more will I pine for you. I get it. Message received. Whatever.”

Lorcan is silent, and Elide closes her eyes, unable to face even more rejection in the light of day. So she’s shocked when she feels his hands on her cheeks. When she opens her eyes, Lorcan is staring at her, his dark gaze filled with determination.

She breathes nervously as Lorcan leans in and presses his lips to hers. She can’t believe he’s finally kissing her. Though his hands are rough against her face, his lips are soft and pliant. She moves her hands into his long hair and tugs him closer. He sighs into her mouth, and Elide feels like her whole body is on fire. She’s wanted this for as long as she’s known him.

When he eventually pulls away, he’s breathing hard, and Elide just has to ask, has to know. “Was that my pity kiss?”

Lorcan shakes his head as his hands return to her face. “You’re so stupid, Elide Lochan.”

“Gee, thanks,” she deadpans, but she can’t help but smile as he kisses her again.

“I wasn’t going to have our first kiss be with you drunk,” he says, smiling shyly. Despite his tan skin, she can see a rosy blush spot across his cheeks and nose. “You made it exceedingly hard, for what it’s worth. I nearly cracked like… three times. But, I would never take advantage of you in that state,” he assures her, and Elide’s heart blooms with affection for the giant man in front of her. “So, that said,” he begins again. “How do you feel about me taking you out tonight?”

“Pretty good,” Elide says quietly.

“Just pretty good?” he asks nervously.

“Really good,” Elide clarifies. “Excellent.” She smiles broadly. “And, hey, since we already have the first kiss nerves out of the way, now we can full on make out later.”

“Ellie…” His blush darkens as he chuckles to himself. But when he looks back at her, his eyes filled with desire, she knows that’s exactly what they’ll be doing later.

Maybe she doesn’t have to murder Manon after all.

~*~*~*~

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#elorcan #cruel summer au #amusement park au #charincharge writes #tog fanfic #throne of glass #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre

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mirageofthecrystal · 3 years

Text

FFxiv 30 Day Writing Challenge - Day 12: Adversary

(I'd like to thank Merriam-Webster's word of the day for gifting me this, because it's just further excuse to piece together all my writing prompts into pieces of a larger backstory puzzle.

I've also never in all my years of writing and roleplaying managed to perfect the art of the fight scene, so apologies if the fighting is a little clumsy.)

adversary (noun)

one's opponent in a contest, conflict, or dispute.

"I don't want to hurt you," Faiolan snarled through gritted teeth. The knights would take no heed of a 'heretic's' words, drawing their blades and surrounding him. He was most assuredly outmatched, but they left him little choice in the matter. He brought his own blade to bear, adjusting the weight of his shield in his man, staring them down and waiting to see who would make the first move. The Inquisitor looked on as his men cornered his quarry, wicked satisfaction plain on his face. "Throw down your weapon and surrender, heretic scum, or it is you who will suffer. We serve the will of Halone, and cannot allow you to prevail." "You serve the will of that cruel bastard and nothing more. I am no more a heretic than he is, but at least I'm not hunting down my fellows like animals."

Swords clashed, Faiolan dancing back a few steps only to find the foe at his back thrusting his blade. His body twisted, bouncing the blow off his shield, with a third knight thrusting his lance downward to pierce Faiolan through the calf. He raised his foot at the final moment, letting the knight find a new mark as he buried the head of his spear in the snow. He stepped down onto the spear, and smashed his shield against the knight's helmet, sending him sprawling onto the ground.

"You would call yourself a knight of Ishgard, but you fight without honor," one of the men barked. "Honor is the easiest way to get yourself killed. When you fight for your life, honor will not intercept your enemy's blows or safeguard your life. To fight with honor is to fight only half a battle..." Faiolan echoed the old wisdom of his former mentor, Sergeant Belmont, who would have loathed to look upon him now. Surely he'd critique Faiolan's form, tell him his footwork was rubbish, and that when fighting multiple foes, one needed to be entirely aware of their surroundings. How in the seven hells was he supposed to watch all of them at once, unless he grew eyes in the back of his head?

The downed knight sought to struggle back up onto his feet, but Faiolan took advantage of this slight break in formation, planting one of his greaves firmly into his foe's head and ringing his bell once more, rendering him unconscious. He was no longer completely surrounded at least, leaving him more room to maneuver. The twang of a bowstring interrupted his internal strategizing, an arrow burying itself into his shoulder, slipping through the rings of his hauberk. He broke the shaft with the downward force of his arm, but each movement caused pain to surge through his shoulder, the arrowhead embedded into his flesh. He'd have to fight through the pain, his eyes now focused on the archer who was already nocking another arrow.

The next shot Faiolan caught in his shield, and he charged the archer, risking the ire of the other knights who sought to intervene. He sidestepped a swipe from a longsword, rebuffed another strike from a mace at the cost of a large dent in his shield and something that felt suspiciously like his bone cracking from the impact, and then caught another arrow, this one in his abdomen. He growled in frustration, forcing his legs to carry him those last few steps towards the archer who immediately backpedaled, lining up another shot. Faiolan swung his blade, cleaving the bow in twain, and knocked the archer back into a tree with a thrust of his shield. The immediate threat of death by arrows being successfully abated, he turned to meet the other two combatants, keeping the archer somewhat in his awareness. Fortunate that he had, for the archer drew a dagger from his belt and came in from the rear while the other two bore down on Faiolan from the front.

"Persistent bastards, I'll give you that..." Faiolan muttered under his breath, at a severe disadvantage for his want to leave his countrymen with their lives despite the fact that they sought to bring him unto his wrongful demise. He would not claim their lives, as that would only embolden the slanderous beliefs of the Inquisitor and the charges he had been levied with. If he had any hope of escaping this, he had to find another way to slip past them. The Inquisitor, meanwhile, grew impatient. He stepped down from his steed, whip in hand as he slowly strolled towards the melee with malicious intent.

Faiolan's arm throbbed, the weight of the shield accompanied by discomfort from his likely fractured bone. He remember another of his mentor's important lessons, the need for improvisation when outnumbered by a superior foe. There was always a way to turn disadvantages into advantages, and sometimes they were extremely unorthodox. Loosening the grip on his shield, he twisted his body and launched it at the mace-wielding knight, who struck it with his weapon and sent it flying right back to sender. Faiolan dove to the side, and the shield struck the archer with full force, causing him to crumple into the snow. Two down, three to go, Faiolan thought to himself as he became aware of the Inquisitor's entrance into the fray.

Faiolan's breath was growing heavy. He was malnourished, sleep deprived, freezing his arse off, and still had to contend with the might of Ishgard's enforcers. Fate seemed to be cruel this day, as it appeared for a moment that all his efforts of escape would be for not. That is, until fate dealt the hand it held, and an outside force intervened. Seemingly from nowhere, as if they emerged from the snow itself, a hail of arrows struck one of the knights dead. The other cried out in a fury and charged toward Faiolan in a mix of confusion and retribution, but a lance caught him in the side, skewering him through and through and pinning him to a tree. Only the Inquisitor was left standing, and he came to his own conclusion about what was unfolding. "And thus do your true colors show. Leading us into an ambush by your heretic accomplices. You FILTH!"

He uncoiled his whip, cracking it into the air and striking out at Faiolan with deadly precision. It coiled around his throat, and with a hard yank brought him to his knees, struggling to breath. "Bringing you back to face trial is foolish, now that the truth is known. I will not allow you to escape the Fury's judgement. If I die this day, then so shall you." Mariuseaux pulled at the length of his whip, dragging Faiolan towards him. A snowstorm began to materialize around them, encasing their struggle in a sheet of impenetrable isolation. Faiolan felt darkness closing in around him, the whip growing tighter and tighter around his throat as he vainly attempted to draw a breath.

The din of combat rang out around them, beyond what could be seen. The rest of the Inquisitor's men, those who had completed their duty at the fort, had come to join him. He had given them specific instructions, as if he'd expected such trickery to catch him off guard. His men now met the heretic forces in combat, leaving him to finish his business with Faiolan once and for all. Seeing the light of life leaving the young man's eyes, the Inquisitor began a prayer. He closed his eyes to invoke the image of Halone in his mind, finding himself bathed in her warmth and her glory. And then Faiolan, who noticed the glint of the archer's dagger sticking out from the snow, took up the small blade, cut the whip, and plunged the dagger into Inquisitor Mariuseaux's throat.

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2021 #ffxiv crystal #ffxiv roleplay #ffxiv rp #ffxiv mateus #ffxiv blogging #faiolan penderghast

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