#regardless - i find that reading about stone makes me feel more at ease with myself | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

No Fun

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Everyone knows there’s no fun in friends without benefits. (Inspired by the song Friends Without Benefits by Chloe Collins) Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Strong language, drinking, oral sex (fem receiving), mention of male receiving oral sex, penetrative/unprotected sex, creampie Word Count: 3.4k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Hello! Sorry my scheduling has been all over the place lately, as I’m sure you’re probably tired of hearing about at this point 😅 But, No Fun is finally out!! (It was also a very good way for me to ease myself back into writing after recovering from my cold alsdjflsdkjf) Also, if you don’t follow Chloe on TikTok (or any social, really) you should! She’s super sweet and writes all her songs about Criminal Minds. This one’s my favorite, though! It’s such a vibe, I hope you’ll all give it a listen! 😊❤

***

Her eyes opened of their own accord. No alarm, no ring of the cellphone, no hand on her shoulder accompanied by the voice of one of her co-workers saying they'd finally landed... She liked it that way. Not only because it meant she had that rare peace and quiet first thing in the morning—though that was definitely a perk. It also meant that she was most likely at Spencer's apartment.

In his bed.

In his shirt.

As her eyes adjusted to the golden warmth that beamed through the curtains, she stretched out her arms and legs, knowing full well that he was in the kitchen; He was always in the kitchen, ever the early bird.

Speaking of, the smell of coffee started to permeate into the bedroom, and it comforted her further as she rose into a seated position. In a matter of minutes, the coffee would be ready, and Spencer would be waiting patiently, sipping from his own cup while hers sat untouched at the spot across from him.

Normally, she would get dressed and meet him out there, but upon remembering all the delicious things that happened in that kitchen the night before, she was feeling a little devious.

So she got out of bed and removed her underwear, leaving her in just his shirt, which barely covered her ass. She was going to leave them in the bedroom, but after a split second decision, she ended up striding out into the kitchen with the garment dangling from her fingers.

"Good morning," she sang, standing in front of the kitchen counter. It covered her lower half, so the only indication of her indecent exposure took form of the fabric in her hand.

Spencer was reading something, not bothering to look up as he spoke. "Good morning. Your coffee's how you like it. I thought we could stop at the gas station on the way in to get something to eat."

"Yeah, that's fine," she responded, setting the underwear on the counter and picking up her coffee. "But I was hoping you would eat me instead."

She nonchalantly lifted the mug to her lips and took a sip as he finally looked up, raising an eyebrow. Her eyes glanced down at the counter as if to say, Look...

And he did.

The seductive sparkle in his eye at the sight in front of him sent a drip of excitement into her bloodstream that rippled throughout her whole body. It always had.

That's initially what drew her to him in the first place. Yeah, it was common knowledge to anyone that Spencer was intelligent, endearing, and handsome, but it was his flirty side that really got Y/N going. It didn't come out often, if at all— unless he was drunk or with the person of his affections.

Y/N found this out when the team threw him an impromptu birthday party last year. After discovering that he hadn't reminded anyone of his thirtieth birthday, Emily immediately called Penelope back home to start planning, and she looped everyone in before they landed later that night. Y/N herself was kind of disappointed with herself for even fathoming the idea of forgetting her friend's birthday, especially since she'd known him for years and celebrated his birthday with him and their friends before.

So before the party that night, she decided to go out and get him something. Only, she couldn't find anything, and it was on her way back when everyone was wondering where she was that Y/N started to question whether or not she really deserved to be considered his friend.

It didn't stop her from putting on a happy face and celebrating his birthday to the fullest, though— She showed up and hugged him immediately, holding onto him perhaps a little too long before offering to give him anything he wanted as compensation for forgetting his birthday, and his thirtieth at that. Of course, he insisted that she didn't really have to do anything for him, but she knew that was just him being himself.

Nonetheless, the party moved along, and with pretty much everyone out of his apartment after a long night of drinking and cake and celebration, Spencer and Y/N were the only two left, buzzed and sitting a little too close.

After convincing him to let loose and have a little fun on his 'special day', Y/N had managed to get him to help her finish an entire bottle of wine. And he'd been making his way through a few beers as the sun set and the stars came out.

And then he started looking at her weird.

That was the only way she could have described it in her drunken state, but it was certainly true, if only for the fact that it wasn't a look she'd ever seen from him before. His eyes were wide, pupils blown to almost full dilation, and his tongue kept dancing behind his lips like he was tracing out some sort of invisible pattern.

When she confronted him about it, drunkenly giggling and asking why he was looking at her like that, he laughed back and flat-out told her, "Have I ever told you how pretty y'are?" And she didn't even get a chance to respond before he continued. "Y/N, you're really pretty... Like, you're the prettiest woman I-ever seen."

"You're pretty, too, y'know, birthday boy," she laughed, smiling incredibly wide. Her whole body was practically on fire, and it only got hotter when he leaned in and kissed her, hard and sloppy, and with purpose.

They went on that night, stumbling around every square inch of his apartment while mumbling drunken compliments and haphazardly throwing aside their clothes until they woke up the next morning in his bed, naked, hungover, and absolutely shocked by what had happened.

Things at work were significantly more awkward, as to be expected, but as the days went on, the more they started to catch little stolen glances and shared recovered memories of what really happened.

More specifically, Y/N couldn't stop replaying these few sentences in her head, on a loop in between flashes of hands in hair and tongues on skin...

"You said you'd give me anything I wanted, right? What if I want you?"

"Then go ahead... Have me."

...Have me...

They met up in the parking lot one day after work and simultaneously blurted out in their own words how they couldn't stop thinking about what happened and how much they wanted to do it again...

And they did.

That seductive sparkle in his eye was there when he kissed her that first night on his birthday, it was there just before they started making out in the parking lot just a week later, and it was there now as he looked down at her panties on the table and then flitted his gaze up to meet hers.

Y/N's body buzzed with a thrill as Spencer made his way around the kitchen counter and dropped to his knees as she sat on the barstool and spread her legs for him.

***

They were late for work that morning.

To make it inconspicuous, Y/N showed up ten minutes after Spencer did— maybe a little exaggerated, but it didn't raise any suspicions. It might have sucked when as soon as she walked in everyone was on their way out to go to the airstrip, Hotch with his phone in hand and ready to dial her number, but nobody suspected a thing.

Spencer threw a little smirk at her as he passed, and she resisted the urge to smack his ass out of spite.

She would have done it, too, but there were two specific rules they'd set once they decided to regularly sleep together, and one of them was that nothing could happen at work or around their friends. And regardless of how badly they wanted to steal kisses or touches at work, their arrangement meant too much to compromise. Once either rule was broken, their little friends with benefits excursion would be immediately void.

Unfortunately, after a flight that was absolutely laced with their sexual tension and once they'd landed in Minnesota for this latest case, they both shared a look that practically set in stone the undeniable, inevitable truth.

They were obsessed.

The whole ordeal was incredibly exhilarating, already an inevitable outcome when it came to regularly sleeping with a co-worker, but what they weren't counting on was just how thrilling it was. Almost a year into their extracurricular activities and they were spending just about every free moment attached by mouths and hands and limbs. And as time progressed it became increasingly more difficult to keep to themselves, needing to be in proximity to one another constantly.

That's not to say they weren't excellent at handling it, though.

Sure, the burning in their veins at the sight of one another after knowing what it was like to be intimate was excruciating, and being paired together on cases knowing that they couldn't break any rules had them feeling like they were going to drown... But the pay-off after a long period of time with no physical contact was absolutely worth it.

All the secrecy and the holding back made it that much explosive when they finally got a decent moment alone.

Right now they were on their way back from a week-long case in Georgia.

And maybe it was fucked up, but once the team realized it was going to be rather grueling, the first thing Y/N thought was how better her stress relief was going to be when they finally finished. The second she thought it, she briefly glanced over at Spencer and saw that he had the same look on his face.

Even during the jet ride home, they were sitting on opposite sides while everyone slept around them, staring at each other and only breaking eye contact when someone rustled in their sleep.

Grueling images of the things they'd seen in the past week danced between them alongside flashes of all the things they wanted to do to each other as compensation. They heard faint screams and gunshots muffled by the high moans and shouts of each others' names, heavy breathing and skin slapping against skin...

The only word that sat between them as they clamored into Spencer's car and drove off was, "Drive."

It was late. They were exhausted and alert all at the same time. Their bodies were practically on fire. Y/N's leg bounced rapidly as Spencer's fingers tapped the steering wheel with fervor and impatience. And when he knew there would be no one around to pull them over for speeding, he stepped on the gas harder, and their heartbeats picked up right alongside their speed.

Even the walk up to his apartment was laced with impatience, Y/N's leg still bouncing as Spencer unlocked the door.

They rushed through it the second there was a tiny sliver of light from the dim nightlight she knew he kept in the entryway.

And then it was beautiful, heavenly chaos.

The door slammed loudly as Spencer leaned his whole body weight against Y/N, sending her flying towards it. They were drawn together like a magnet to a fridge, a moth to a flame, days of pent-up frustration and tension beginning its firework show right there in his entryway as their mouths clashed together.

No amount of contact was good enough it seemed, because it was just constant movement. Their hands wandered and their bodies pressed into each other continuously as they kissed the breath out of each other. Even still, they continued all the way to his bedroom, grunting while bumping into furniture and walls and doorways, but never daring to separate an inch all the same.

"God, I needed you," Spencer whispered once his bedroom door was shut. His hands tugged at her shirt and tried to get the buttons done as he continued. "All fucking week, you were just right there and I couldn't touch you..."

Y/N pressed her mouth to his and started hastily unbuttoning his shirt as well. After a few seconds, he pulled his mouth away and started to speak again, his fingers still trying to get her shirt undone. "I need it bad..."

With a frustrated grunt, Y/N pulled him in closer by the collar of his shirt and hissed into his mouth, "Then shut up and fucking take it..."

Her words kicked him in the ass and shot him forward, sending them flying towards the door once again. She yelped at the sharp pain that came and went as her back hit the wood, but with Spencer's hands finally tearing open her shirt and settling on her bare waist as he practically shoved his tongue down her throat, she couldn't complain.

Both of their shirts came off, and as soon as they hit the floor her hands went to his hair. She tugged on the wavy locks, a soft moan escaping her as he dipped his hands under the back of her bra and worked the clasp. It came off quickly, as it always did, and once it hit the floor he leaned down and gave her breasts all his attention. His tongue swirled around her nipples one my one, littering her skin with kisses in between and reveling in the way she kept tugging on his hair each time he gently tugged a nipple with his teeth.

Eventually, they both couldn't take any more, Y/N pushing his head down while tugging down her slacks and Spencer being glad she did, using his hands to assist her.

Having known for about a year now how heavenly his mouth was when it worked at her wasn't even a fair warning for the intensity of the shudders that soared through her body when his lips made contact with her clit just then. She let out a loud, broken cry of relaxation and relief and pure ecstasy as he practically devoured her.

His tongue was gliding through her with ease, ravening groans erupting from his throat and sending more sharp waves of excitement through Y/N's bloodstream with every passing second. His ministrations were quick and greedy, sloppy yet precise. And when he added his fingers to the mix, she gripped his hair tight and cried out his name, tensing at the sweet, burning stretch they provided.

That only drove him more wild, his tongue flicking over her clit faster while his fingers pumped, curled, and dragged languidly inside of her. He worked to pull every ounce of pleasure from her body, all while squeezing his eyes shut and losing himself in the taste of her, the way her thighs lightly trembled over his face and the desperate clutches of her fingers in his hair...

He wanted all of it. All of her.

He also wanted to hear that sound she made when he was helping her through the peak of her orgasm— a high, dreamy cry that boiled his insides and turned him into an animal.

And there it was, with just three more quick pumps of his fingers. It started off soft, though he knew the second he sucked on her clit and grazed her g-spot with his fingers it would careen higher and louder, right into that perfect pitch that he wished he could hear for eternity. Her thighs shook almost violently around his head, her fingers clawing at his scalp so tight that he felt little pinpricks of pleasure run down the back of his head and through his neck.

Y/N came down soon after, her voice resorting to small whimpers and pants as she tried to push his head away. But it wasn't until she actually tugged his hair up that Spencer finally retreated and got up off the floor.

"I thought you wanted me to take it?" he panted, already missing the warmth of her legs over his face.

She reached down and started toying with his belt, pulling him closer by the leather and throwing him a smirk. "Yeah, but now I wanna take it."

Before she could sink to her knees, though, he stopped her, walking her towards the bed and sitting her down as he finished taking off his pants. "Another time... Right now I need to be inside of you."

The urgency dripping in his voice and through his movements made Y/N burn all over again, and really, who was she to argue? Yeah, maybe she wanted to suck the living soul out of him, but his eagerness to get to the main event gave her the opportunity to treat him tomorrow morning. Spencer was always hard in the morning (at least on the rare occasion that she'd wake up before he did), and the thought of his sleepy groans and whines as she slowly worked his cock with her mouth was more than enough to keep her satisfied until then.

It also made her incredibly wet and ready, which was convenient when he climbed over her and bent her legs back, leaning forward and sinking into her in no time at all.

The sounds that came out of their mouths right then were exceedingly pornographic. It had been too long since their last sexual encounter, and even though they'd been at it plenty of times before, it still felt as intense and fresh as the first few times.

As aforementioned, they were obsessed.

Their song and dance of skink on skin never got old. Time and time again, it was like they'd never touched before, every feeling so intense it was like they were on the top of a rollercoaster that just kept falling and falling with no end in sight.

Every time he snapped his hips forward and and stretched her wide, her insides crumbled apart and gave way to his storm. She embraced his using of her body for pleasure, and he gave her the best orgasms in turn.

As of right now, she was caught between wanting to look down between their bodies to watch him fuck her and laying back to let it happen— take it all in that way and lose herself in the moment.

Though, she settled on the former, just as she always did, because watching Spencer fuck her was always the more exciting option. Especially when he was as urgent as he was now.

She watched with her bottom lip out in a pout as he fucked her, taking notice of how his hands looked gripping her waist and how his stomach tensed with every movement. Her eyes wandered over the planes of his body, and then finally his face. Usually he'd be so focused on the task at hand that his eyes would barely be open, taking in every ounce of pleasure that he possibly could, and that was exactly the case here. Fluttering eyes, pouty lips, flushed face, hair damp and wild as ever...

It drove her half mad.

"Harder," she demanded, reaching out and pulling him closer by the ass.

Spencer was more than happy to comply, a satisfied huff of laughter coming from him as he leaned down and sharpened his movements. His hips were heavier, pinning Y/N down into the mattress with every thrust forward, consequently drawing a little whimper from her each time.

To take it a step further and complete her request, he leaned back a little and pushed her legs open and wide, spreading her further and pinning her down that way to give his hips more driving force.

Unsurprisingly, neither of them lasted long after that.

Y/N shouted his name into the air, leaning her head back as her body tensed and gave in to his force. And he fucked her through it, his grunts gradually getting louder until his hips pushed into hers one final time, at which point he leaned down and put more of his weight on top of her.

As he filled her with his release, she sighed out, clenching herself around him and reveling in his warmth. Whether it was the warmth inside of her or the warmth he provided by blanketing her body with his own, she was glad for its presence. There was nothing else she'd rather have felt after a hard week at work—or any hard feat, really—than Spencer.

He retracted his warmth once they'd settled, however, removing himself from the bed on shaky limbs to grab wipes on the other side of the room.

And of course, Y/N admired him the whole way, flashing him a devilish wink when he inevitably caught her staring.

***

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @rainsong01 @yourmisosoup @liveloudwriteloud @reidsconverse @la-vie-en-amour1 @edgycowboy666 @averyhotchner @centiaaa @lizziechaseee @coffeeandendlesswords @usuck @spenxerslut @g0lden-cth @emilyprentisslittlewhore @takeyourleap-of-faith @reidyoulikeabook @spencerreid9 @b-a-utiful @jareauswifey @big-galaxy-chaos @flipperpenguins @pansexualthing @donald4spiderman @awesomebooklover17 @shemarmooresfedora

TAGS NOT WORKING: @thatsonezesty13 @ayla-1605

If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, feel free to message me or leave a comment and I’ll get to it!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut #criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction

529 notes · View notes

gohyuck · 3 years

Text

pairing: head knight!jeno x monarch!reader (reader has genitals attributed to those considered biologically female but no pronouns are actually used)

genre: fluff, mild angst (they discuss an oncoming battle they must prepare for), smut (it’s mostly smut)

word count: 6.5k

warnings & notes (nonsexual): mentions of war/battle, mentions of injuries retained from past skirmishes, jeno is as tall as you need him to be in order to rest your head against his chest without leaning down, it’s kind of cheesy tbh they are disgustingly head-over-heels in love with each other, also a peryton is a fantasy creature that’s essentially a stag + a bird, also i know y’all must be tired of royalty aus but i swear this is almost pwp (except there’s context so there’s plot) so give it a chance (if you’re legal) i guess

warnings & notes (sexual): oral (giving and receiving for both parties), fingering (reader receives), spit kink (lmao sorry), general messiness honestly, mild knife kink (no blood drawn, he just uses a dagger to tear apart clothing), gratuitous usage of the name ‘lionheart’, jeno has a big dick because i cannot stop myself from doing that to y’all for some reason, some choking

special thanks to @moonlit-jeno @domjaehyun @waithyuck for reading parts of it/all of it beforehand!

the soft hours of twilight have their holds on you, chilling you to your bones even as you pull the heavy fur cape tighter around your body. you should’ve pulled something over your thin nightgown, you suppose, something to act as a middle layer between silk and skin and peryton fur, but it’s too late for that. you’re already out on your private balcony, overlooking a kingdom you’d do anything to see the sun rise on day after day.

far, far past the outskirts of your humble realm, barely visible to your own eye, an unsettlingly large camp of soldiers is finishing setting up camp for the night. you watch as tiny, tiny orange pinpricks - no doubt the fires they’d set to make food, to alert you of their presence - begin to get snuffed out. finally, they sleep.

if you were any worse of a person, of a ruler, you would send your army after them now, hours before the battle is set. perhaps, if you were any less selfish, you would do so regardless of keeping your status as a good and just monarch. if you were any less selfish, you would shake awake the love of your life and hand him his cape after shedding it from your shoulders. you would tell him to rouse his men and women, to arm them to their teeth, and to fight for what is right using means that are entirely wrong.

as if privy to your thoughts, your head knight stirs in the too-large bed behind you. you turn just in time to see him sit up and twist his body left, right, left as he stretches to rid himself of sleep. it’s too late - or maybe too early - for either of you to be awake. maybe you should have stayed within his warm embrace rather than gotten out of bed to size up the army of the kingdom of crithage.

even now, you can’t help but strategize, at least on a basic level. crithagians are unused to the cold of your beautiful - but often frigid - ekoria. they won’t expect your people to fall upon them from the icy cliffs that surround their camp, nor will they be able to see over the oncoming blizzard your royal sky-reader has predicted. she has not been incorrect in many, many years. ekorians have, over the years, grown accustomed to heavy snows, among other weather phenomenon, so your army’s visual acuity is not to be questioned.

that, and your troops are in the hands of the best warrior ekoria has ever had.

jeno. your jeno. your lionheart. you rein your thoughts in just as he pulls open the balcony door, closing it behind him with a soft click as he steps over the threshold separating in from out and warm from cold. goosebumps rise across his bare flesh the moment his skin meets air, and you don’t hesitate to slide his cape off and thrust it towards him, knowing full well that his arms will provide more than enough heat for you. he fastens it with ease, seeming slightly amused at how you’d been using it as a blanket, and gently grabs ahold of your wrist before pulling you into his chest and wrapping an arm around your waist. with his other hand, he takes a corner of his cape and wraps it around you, leaving you enveloped in both his hot-to-touch skin and the comforting fur.

“they’re out in the valley, aren’t they?” he finally murmurs, leaning to place his mouth against your ear. jeno’s voice is thick and sleep-ridden, still raspy in a way that settles around you, inside you, within you. you lean back slightly, raising a cold hand to rest against the tattoo of a lion that adorns his left pectoral, mane stretching up to his collarbone and encroaching on his bicep. the lion has a scar on its right cheek. you pull away more, eyes landing on the thin discolored line underneath your lover’s same eye.

it had been a longsword, meant to slash across your throat. jeno, with the speed of a star falling from grace and enough adrenaline to fuel a hundred men, had leapt across you in order to take it across the face. for crown and for country, bard’s songs later regaled of him. for you, he’d whispered to you that same night as you’d stitched him up, using the threading tactics you’d learned from the castle medic as a child. for you. always for you.

“my love?” jeno prods, and you realize you haven’t given his rhetorical question any acknowledgement. you hum, meeting his eyes with your own, and watch as he allows one corner of his mouth to turn up.

“they only just put out their fires.” you finally respond, moving to be against his chest again. you rest your head against the intricate ink against jeno’s skin, finally letting out a breath of what one might consider worry. the air that leaves your lungs manifests into wisps out in the cold world that surrounds you. your lionheart pulls you ever closer.

“you need not stress.” he says simply, and an outsider to your relationship would see no cohesion between your statement and his. still, you know precisely what jeno means, why he’s said what he’s said. you turn, pressing your lips against the lion’s forehead. above you, your own lion brushes his lips against your temple.

“i have an army, a kingdom, even, to worry about, and yet i only fear tomorrow for whatever outcome befalls one man.” you whisper, and even you are surprised to find tears catching in your throat. you do not cry easily, not when you know firsthand how cruel the world can be.

you only reign because your parents no longer breathe.

tomorrow’s battle could easily bleed into next year’s war, and while your kingdom is prepared for such a thing, your heart may not be. your people are not belligerent, and neither are you. crithage had been the one to throw the first stone, had sent word that if you refused to relinquish your throne and bow your head, they would aim the first arrow, draw the first blood. no tears had been shed then, not even when you’d paced around your bedchambers, reading and rereading the note signed with blood red ink until jeno had physically pulled it out of your tight grasp. you hadn’t cried, not even when he’d said that he was willing to die if it meant keeping crithage out of ekoria, out of the kingdom you’d both built from ground up after the war that had taken your parents, out of the home you’d created together.

“wherever you take us, i will follow. wherever you need me, i will lead.” he’d murmured the words against the lobe of your ear, standing beside and slightly behind your throne as you’d written out your reply to crithage in a room full of your advisors. nobody else had moved a muscle then, not even as you closed the envelope with hot wax and the royal seal.

you’d sent back a much, much shorter letter than their own in response.

a time and date for battle. nothing more and nothing less.

that had been so many months ago, so far away that the concept of time dissipates when you attempt to organize it in your harried mind. with a hostile army on your doorstep, everything suddenly feels far more real than it has before. your people have been evacuated, your troops have been trained. your lionheart is unafraid to the world, standing tall and proud at your side as he always has.

a sigh that starts from deep in jeno’s chest brings you back to the present. tomorrow is it, you’re reminded. crithage has seiged almost every other state between themselves and your beloved ekoria. if they get to you, they’ll have your head, raised high on a stake they’ll erect outside of the gates they’ll install to the place you call home. if they get to you, it means they’ll have gotten through jeno.

you can’t live in a world without him. it’s a dangerous attachment for a ruler to have, you’re well aware. if other kingdoms find out that your weakness is a person, one that lives and breathes, you’re not likely to ever see your love again.

it’s little comfort that jeno can’t live in a world without you, either.

“i worry about not being here, at the castle, to protect you,” he mumbles into your hair. “i know that you are perfectly capable, and that you’ll have your own faction of our knights with you, but i- it feels as if i’m about to open my chest and leave my naked heart unguarded, right there for any arrows to pierce.”

jeno’s confession is simple, beautiful in the way the most ornate of daggers are: that is, you feel as if he’s just dragged a sharp edge down the length of your sternum, taking you apart piece by piece. his words cage you in, force you deeper into your own head in a way you can’t afford, not right now.

“eloquent,” you hum, unable to resist teasing him even as the moment does not call for it. it’s to save yourself from your heavily beating heart. “it isn’t too late to make you my poet laureate, you know. no need to wield a sword tomorrow then.”

“and who would be your head knight then, hm? the current laureate? you want renjun to lead the charge against the crithagians? to be your lionheart?” your lover draws back to ensure that you can see his eyes, glimmering with mirth. renjun is an able man, and one of your best friends, but he is not the warrior jeno is.

nobody is the warrior that jeno is.

“such a foolish thing to say,” you smile up at him, lips folding from joking to earnest within moments. the merriment fades a little from jeno’s eyes at recognizing the change in your expressions. “you’re my only lionheart. always have been and always will be, even when you’re too old and gray and slow to be my head knight.”

“someone seems confident of that happening.” he says quietly, raising the hand at your waist to come up and rest over your own hand that lies against his chest. you swallow, your own spit feeling too heavy for you to stomach, your throat dry and scratchy.

“who else can have confidence of a victory rather than a monarch?” you ask, a smile that isn’t quite sad - but isn’t quite self-assured either - resting on your lips. jeno raises your hand to his lips, pressing one, two, three chaste kisses to the back and then repeating the pattern against your palm. he does not let go.

the two of you stand there for a stolen moment. you lay your head back against his chest, listening to the thundering of his heartbeat below the ink and skin and muscle and bone. he is real, and he is here.

he is real. he is here.

“the monarch’s lionheart, of course,” he murmurs, finally dropping your hand to reach back and push open the balcony door. “we only have four more strokes of time until i must go, my love. is this truly how you want to spend it?”

it’s evident that jeno no longer wants to mull over the what-ifs, not when he prefers living in the present more than anyone you’ve ever known. unsurprising, you suppose, for someone whose livelihood involves strategizing away his own mortality. you allow him to pull you back into your bedroom, immediately more comfortable when the door closes behind you, keeping you in with the body heat of your lover and the warmth of the crackling fire on the hearth in the corner of your room. jeno sheds the cape, draping it over the nearest chair, before bringing you back to his chest by placing his large hands against your waist.

it takes feeling his fingers against your skin through the thin silk of your slip to remember that jeno has nothing on. he’s always preferred to sleep naked, unlike you. though you hardly have any undergarments on, you at least wear a sheer gown most nights.

you’d ridden him passionately before bed, tiring both of you out in order to get any semblance of sleep. as your lionheart pulls you flush against him, though, it’s difficult to avoid the way his cock hardens against your hip once more. you want to quip about how jeno’s insatiable, but he trails a hand up, up over your body to swipe a thumb over one of your hardened nipples, and you can’t help the sigh that escapes through your prettily parted lips.

“will you get on the bed for me, love?” jeno’s voice is smoother now that he’s more awake, though you can’t help but miss the low growl that had come with the earlier rasp. he may be asking you a question, but you know that it’s an order in disguise. wordlessly, you step back, back, back until the wood of your bedframe presses against the soft plushness of the back of your thighs. jeno has not moved, choosing to stay put and appraise you instead. his eyes are hooded now, and as his gaze trails from your neck - he’d marked it up earlier, the kiss-bitten bruises not yet having faded from your skin - down to the curve of your chest, over the expanse of your thighs, he can’t help but reach one hand down to his dick, swiping two fingers over its head to collect his precum on his skin.

jeno says nothing else, makes no other move. it’s to give you an illusion of control, you suppose. not that you need one.

“should i rid myself of this, lionheart?” you ask, the words coming out breathier than intended. the nightgown leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, and you’re sure he can even see the slick wetness that’s pooling against your inner thighs. jeno adores seeing your body more than anything, but the gown does not inhibit that.

it’s no surprise, then, when he shakes his head no, instead finally moving to stand at the edge of the bed, slotting himself between your thighs as they naturally move apart to fit him in. his clean hand slides up under your gown, resting just above your cunt, as he raises his other hand to your face.

“lie back, and open.” jeno states, no air of leniency about him anymore. you oblige, and your love leans over you, his dark gaze centered on your parted lips.

he lays his two precum-coated fingertips against your tongue, pressing in and then down and revelling when you don’t gag but instead run your tongue over his fingers, cleaning them off for him. you haven’t gagged in a long time, your reflexes getting used to him in the way the rest of you is. when he withdraws his hand, your mouth stays open, and jeno can’t help himself as he leans over you and, after gathering it in his own mouth for a moment, allows his own spit to fall from his own tongue and onto yours.

your eyes go wide at the action, and you know that he notices it even as he does not acknowledge it. even so, you don’t miss the smirk that crosses his face upon hearing your breath hitch. jeno has you in his palm.

satisfied, he stands, and you close your mouth and swallow a part of him with a part of you. jeno’s no longer looking at your face, but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when he’s ruching up your nightgown with growing hunger, not when he’s kneeling on the stone ground just to make himself eye-level with your pretty, pretty pussy.

“i took you hardly any time ago,” he murmurs, breath hot against your skin as his mouth nears where you so desperately need him. “and yet here you are, laid open once more, all for me. only for me.”

“always you, jeno, please - ” you can’t get any more words out, the air being pulled out of you as he dives in and circles your clit with his tongue, bringing his two spit-soaked fingers up to press into you with almost no resistance. your reaction is instantaneous, walls clenching like a vice around his fingers as he lays a filthy kiss against your bundle of nerves, hips jumping up only to be kept down by jeno’s other hand, pressing down against the bottom of your stomach.

“patience.” he pulls off of your clit just to growl the word out against the skin of your inner thigh, and the wet heat of his mouth directly against your flesh has you practically gasping out. when jeno sinks his teeth into your thigh as he’s often wont to do, you let out a full-bodied whine, the kind that starts in the back of your throat and rises up through the inner column of your neck, meant only for your lover’s ears. jeno laves his tongue over the marks he’s just created, as if to wash the pleasurable pain from your body.

he does not reattach his mouth to your core, choosing instead to fall back and watch, eyes trained, as he scissors you open. with hardly any warning rather than his gaze jumping up to meet your own momentarily, jeno presses his thumb into your clit, using your slick wetness to eliminate any raw friction as he rubs slow circles against your nerve endings. he’s never failed to bring you to the edge with ease, and now is no different. you’d be embarrassed at how easily you fall apart just from his simple simultaneous motions, in and on you, but it’s jeno, and he knows your body maybe even better than he knows his own.

keening, a loud, gasping wail, falls from your lips only for jeno to rise from his place in between your thighs and swallow your sounds with his open mouth, his clean hand coming up to cage you in against your sheets. the way you raise your arms to loop them around his neck is akin to the way a drowning man would grab on to a lifeline, and once he rises you pull him back into a longer, filthier kiss, where your teeth click against his and his tongue opens up your mouth the same way it feels like his touch opens up your body.

you feel as if you’re being flayed, as if hellfire is the only thing comparable to the heat against your skin. jeno steps closer, just by the tiniest bit, and you feel his hand - the one shining with your arousal - brush past your hip before he uses it to wet his cock with one, two, three firm strokes. copious amounts of precum arise from the tip before being pulled down against his flesh with expert downstrokes. your mouth waters as you watch.

“my mouth, lionheart, please?” you finally gain the courage to ask what is on your mind, sitting up on your elbows as you begin to slowly find your strength. your love raises an eyebrow, and not without reason: jeno is a big man, making even you - a literal monarch - feel small at times, and this does not end with his personality or his person: you have never been able to take all of him into your mouth. the ache borders on painful, frankly, and jeno himself refuses to harm you in that way.

“this, now, is about you.” he responds, and your heart cracks as you register that as a ‘no’. still, you speak again. you need him in your mouth, suddenly. it isn’t just a want. something has to anchor you to the here and now, it may as well be the head of his cock, heavy against your tongue.

“what is about me is about you as well,” you respond, and before he can lay his refusal down out flat, you slide onto the floor - warmer than expected - and tuck your heels behind your bare ass. “i need this. please.”

you’re directly in front of him now, face parallel to his strong thighs. jeno strokes up, squeezes tighter just below his frenulum, and you watch, struck, as precum beads at the tip and then splits into two streams, half sliding down his hard dick and the other slowly-but-surely falling to the ground, hardly a quarter of a step from one of your knees.

“give me your hand, then,” your knight murmurs from above you, drawing your gaze from his leaking cock up past the dainty curve of his lip to his hard eyes. “now.”

when you raise your hand up, you only put it up limply, unsure of what he means to do with the limb he’s asked for. your eyes must be swimming with questions, because jeno gives you a hint of a sweet, reassuring smile before allowing his expression to become stoic again… right before he grasps your given hand and straightens it out, gentler than expected from such a great warrior but harsher than he truly ever treats you.

he’s passionate. this demonstrates it.

before you can react, your body following your hand up off of your heels, though only slightly, as he yanks up your hand, jeno leans down and licks up your hand, from the bottom of your palm to the top, all while maintaining eye contact with you. he lets go, though you keep your hand raised, your gaze obviously dumbfounded.

“a dry hand would rub me raw,” he explains, though the smirk that’s tugging at one corner of his mouth shows that he finds your wide-eyed expression at least mildly amusing. “we do not want that, do we?”

it’s amazing how easily he can get you under his thumb when you give out orders that hold his life in the balance on a day-to-day basis. maybe that’s why he finds taking charge in private so easy. maybe it’s his way of evening your dynamic out. even now, as he asks you an innocent question with no hidden meaning or reaction, you find yourself shaking your head along enthusiastically. no, of course you don’t want to rub him raw. of course you and him don’t want that.

you raise the hand now deemed ‘not dry’ up as jeno watches, finally, finally wrapping your hand around it. your thumb and middle finger do not meet, no matter how tight you squeeze. your lover lets out a fulfilled groan at finally feeling a touch other than his own on his hard cock, and it’s a beautiful sound. you want more of it. you want more of him.

as if mesmerized, you lean closer, darting out your tongue to lick experimentally at his slit. he holds his breath, a large hand coming to rest lightly against the back of your head and base of your skull, waiting. you take this as a sign to stretch your lips wider, engulfing the entire tip of his cock in your hot mouth. his grip tightens in your hair, and, in return, you clench around nothing.

as you struggle to take more of jeno in your mouth, you do your best to stroke the rest of his cock with a tight enough grip to make him feel everything, but not tight to the point where you’re hurting him. regardless of how little you can take on your tongue - not your fault, by any means - jeno seems happy, barely able to stop himself from bucking up into the back of your throat. at this point, you’re essentially just warming his cock, so you pull off with a slick pop to look at him with slightly watery eyes. a string of precum and saliva connects your bottom lip and his tip, and when it breaks, you’re acutely aware of the mixture dripping down your chin and onto your nightgown. it’s no matter.

jeno’s thumb runs over your scalp, just above the bottom of your skull. you close your eyes momentarily to take in a deep breath.

“you can force yourself down my throat, you know,” your voice is raspy when you speak, eyes fluttering open almost drearily. “i’m not too delicate for it.”

there’s something simultaneously raw and pure about the way you speak, and jeno recognizes that your headspace has changed, just a little. your need truly is all-encompassing now. he must tread more delicately than usual.

there’s so much love, so much adoration in your wide-eyed gaze. he only wishes to return it with the same intensity and double the care.

“i know, love,” jeno responds, finally moving his hand in order to place two fingers under your chin. he tilts your face up, taking note of the way your eyes run over his tattoo before looking at his chin, then his jaw, then his nose, then his forehead, until, finally, you land on his eyes. you’re a tad bit unfocused, full of need, but that’s okay. you’ll always come back to him. he continues speaking. “you’re so strong. always so strong for me. that’s why you deserve to be rewarded, yes?”

“rewarded?” you’re confused, to say the least, though you do not dislike the direction jeno is suddenly moving towards. he only smiles, gentle and kind and good and yours. all yours.

“on the bed, (name).” he tilts his own head, jutting his chin towards the bed you’d slid off of earlier. you don’t hesitate to follow, pushing yourself up onto your feet and all but scrambling backwards to be seated against the soft mattress. the blankets are all haphazard and the pillows aren’t straight, but that’s the least of your worries right now. jeno gives no other orders, only stepping closer and, without warning, winding his arms underneath your thighs and propelling you backwards, causing you to land, back flat, in the center of your bed.

it had always felt inescapably large when you’d slept in it alone. now, it feels welcoming. safe.

“you’re ready for me, yes?” the tone of voice jeno uses is soft, even as his rough palms push apart your thighs. you nod, murmuring a small ‘yes’ once you realize he’s waiting for you to verbalize your thoughts. this is all jeno needs to climb onto the bed and move in between your spread legs, settling back on his calves as his hands smooth over your hip bones and waist. it’s evident that he’s bent on taking his time with you tonight, likely under the illusion that that is what you want.

it is not what you want. it is most definitely not what you need.

“i need you within me, lionheart,” one of your hands clutches at the sheets beneath you while you stretch the other towards your lover, imploring. “soon. now. please.”

“absolutely impatient,” jeno only chuckles in return, drawing an indignant whine forth from the base of your throat. he looks over your barely covered body once more before finally - almost in slowed motions as if to tease you further - rising up onto his knees. his hands stop moving against your skin, finally circling around the soft meat of your upper thighs. swiftly and fluidly, jeno pulls your body towards his, wrapping your legs around his own waist. his wet cock lies heavy against your pelvis, leaving slick precum against the apex of your thighs and the bottom of your stomach. he smirks. “is this what you wanted?”

the motion of being pulled into your knight had forced the air from your lungs in a surprised yelp, and the feeling of his warm skin - he’s always supplied so much heat, it baffles you to no end - against your own momentarily blanks your mind. jeno repeats his question twice, cocky grin growing with each utterance, before you nod vigorously and sputter out something vaguely affirmative. yes. yes, this is exactly what you wanted, exactly what you want.

you’ve been growing steadily wetter the longer your foreplay had drawn out, but jeno, ever-caring, still pulls back - his cock sliding against your thigh has you moaning - to slip two thick fingers into you, adding a third when he’s absolutely sure that you can take it. in no time at all, you’re grinding your clit against his rough palm, the friction absolutely heavenly. jeno makes no move to stop you, only gently forcing his fingers in deeper.

a fourth finger is added just as your abused clit can’t take anymore, and you spasm on his hand as you fall past the point of no return. your second orgasm of the night washes over you, and you can’t help the muted but harried gasps you let out as your hips buck up, driving your head back into the mattress. jeno draws his fingers out slowly, licking your essence off of them with practiced ease. once your body has calmed down, you can only let out a small whimper, still basking in the intensity you’ve just experienced.

jeno knows your limit, and knows damn well that you haven’t reached it yet. it’s because of this that, even as your walls are still clenching around nothing due to aftershocks that wrack your body, he places the fat head of his cock against your hole and slowly but surely slides in. the hands on your thighs move up to wrap around the sides of your waist, and his grip is bruising as he pushes deeper and deeper. even as he goes at a snail’s pace, you feel as if you’re being pulled apart only to be pieced back together again. you hold your breath.

jeno is halfway in when he realizes you still aren’t quite wet enough. he shifts slightly, carefully moving one of your legs up just a little bit higher, before swiping over your raw clit with a thumb he’s wetted with his own tongue. a moan flies forth from your mouth immediately, and a gush of wetness coats jeno’s cock anew as he circles over your bud with abandon. he’s finally free to surge forward and bury himself within your warm walls without fear of repercussions on your own body… so he does. the breath you’d been holding in is punched out of you, replaced with an honest-to-god wail. tears bud at the corners of your eyes at the stretch, falling as he pulls out almost entirely and slams into you again.

jeno does everything in his life in order to live up to the name you’ve given him: lionheart. he is just and loyal and thoughtful as an advisor, and analytical and fearsome and ruthless as a warrior. sex is where both sides of him meet. it is where he is not just the kingdom’s bravest knight, or the crown’s right-hand man. it is where he is your lionheart, and yours alone, where your souls intertwine at the place your bodies meet.

he notices how your hands come up to reach for him, leaning down so you can place one hand against his heart - against his tattoo - and throw the other one over his other shoulder. jeno’s nose is almost touching yours, though your bodies shift continuously as he keeps drawing back and driving his hips into yours with force.

he never ceases to make you feel full.

your walls grip his cock tightly, amplifying every movement jeno indulges you in. the slide is slick and wet and perfect, but it is not easy. the head of his dick catches on your clenched walls every time he pulls out just to slam back in, forcing you to feel him with everything you have. it’s exactly what you want.

he slows down his thrusting for a moment as he moves forward slightly, leaning closer still as he places one forearm against your head and raises his other hand to fondle your chest over your sheer clothing. somehow, this is no longer enough for you. jeno’s cock is fully sheathed within you as he swipes a thumb over one of your nipples, and the feeling of his skin pushing the cloth against one of your most sensitive areas has you shuddering in a way that causes you to squeeze even tighter around him. his hips stutter slightly, driving him impossibly deeper into you.

“jeno,” you rasp out, tongue heavy and dry. “my pillow. beneath my pillow.”

his eyes go wide as he processes what you’ve just said, his shallow thrusts slowing down. jeno gulps audibly.

“your- love, your dagger?”

“need you to touch me.” you respond, holding his gaze and watching it clear up from confused to comprehending you entirely. he pushes himself up from his forearm to his hand, sliding out of you in the same movement. you whine sadly at the loss of contact, but jeno mutters a good-natured ‘be quiet’ almost immediately.

“you know,” he starts, voice teasing, even as he pulls your dagger - black steel, quillions and hilt encrusted with blue jewels, black tempered glass at the pommel - out from beneath your pillow using the hand that had been fondling you earlier. he moves back down to his prior position, and your breath hitches as he presses the apex of the knife against the collar of your nightgown. “i’m already touching you.”

“more,” you moan out, the end of your word coming out almost breathlessly. one of your hands slides against his tattoo once more, as if feeling the lion will make it roar to life. “touch me more.”

jeno chuckles, albeit darker than he had been earlier, and digs the dagger into the cloth in front of it without any further ado. you hold your breath willfully this time, not wanting to actually nick yourself on the blade, as he moves down your body, cutting the sheer gown open down its direct center. your lionheart dots his lips against your flesh in a trail in his wake, scraping his teeth against your skin as he sees fit.

he leaves a quick, but filthy, kiss against your clit for good measure, eyes lighting up as you attempt to close your legs around his head on impulse, only to have them pushed apart even farther than before by his strong hands. once he gets to the hem of the slip, he throws your dagger somewhere on the stone floor - neither of you pay any heed to where it clatters - and rips it apart with his bare hands, hardly able to bear not feeling you around him for much longer.

before you can do anything or say anything or even think anything at all, your lover surges forward and presses himself back into you with a grunt that sounds almost like a growl. his hands knead at your thighs as he finds his rhythm with ease, pounding into you with practice as if you’re an art medium and he’s a skilled master. he’s everywhere, all around you and inside of you and in the air and in your skin, and it’s all you’ve ever wanted.

“touching - ha - touching you enough now?” he asks, resolve crumbling bit by bit as he fights to keep himself from tumbling over the cliff’s edge before you do. you can’t dignify him with a response, unable to do anything but claw at his back and pin yourself further against his chest as if it’ll make even more room for you in his heart than there already is. he doesn’t need a response, anyways. jeno already knows.

he knows just how close you are, too. just as close as he is. it’s because of this that jeno moves a hand up to curl around your throat just as he circles your clit with two fingers of the other hand, continuing to fuck into you at the same rate as best he can. with a sharp cry and the arching of your back off the bed, you clench around him for one final time before he comes to a halt, barely holding himself up over you as he releases within you with a shuddering, gasping groan.

moments pass, stretching into longer than they typically are. jeno takes care as he slides out of you, climbing onto the bed and flopping down next to you right after. the feeling of his release, sticky and wet against your inner thighs, is unpleasant at best, but you can’t bring yourself to clean up just yet. instead, you turn your head to your side, your nose immediately brushing against jeno’s sternum as you realize that he’s turned his entire body towards your own. he lets out an airy laugh at the sensation, pushing half of the sliced cloth off of your body in order to run a wide open palm down your naked side.

“good?” he speaks first, asking an arbitrary question. ‘good enough to make you forget?’ is what he means, knowing full well that you could never lose thought of what awaits the two of you. the sentiment is what’s important, though, and you let out an agreeable hum as a reply. the sex itself was great, of course. he’s well aware.

“sleep, lionheart,” you say just as silence attempts to cloak the two of you. “we must be ready soon, as it is.”

jeno gives you no response, and you do not require one from him. instead, he pulls you even closer into his chest as if doing so will protect you from the crithagians across your kingdom. his entire world rests between his arms. you are both tired enough that sleep forces your eyelids closed swifter than expected, and as you fall asleep to your lover’s slowed breathing and muted heartbeat, you can’t help but, just this once, allow your worries to slip off your body as your torn nightgown does.

just before the rise of the sun, jeno will have to get out of bed and clean you up as best he can before donning his clothing, his armor, and his cape. you’ll put his helmet upon his head, pull his visor down over his face after sharing a kiss that could be your last. it is always like this. jeno will rouse the army, you will dress and arm yourself, and meet with your own private troops.

as the sun begins to take its place in the morning sky, luckily opposite your gaze, jeno will lead his people into battle, riding his steed far, far from you. you will watch him go, but he will not look back. doing so is unfortunate luck at best. you’ve ingrained this into his mind.

you do not know whether he will be back or not.

you desperately need him to come back.

all of that will happen in due time, but now, you drift to dreamland, safe in the arms of the man you’ve sworn to be with until the end. he tightens his hold around you, and that is how you spend the night before battle, in total comfort and full of love. no matter what tomorrow brings, at least you have this now. at least you will always have this moment.

the lionheart and his liege. your lionheart and his love.

for now, you are at peace in the calm before the storm.

#first #five #tags #dont #work #jeno #jeno smut #jeno fluff #jeno angst #jeno x reader #nct jeno #nct smut #nct fluff #nct angst #nct dream smut #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff #nct dream

785 notes · View notes

feeling-weirdy · 3 years

Text

**my scarletvision master list**

A giant list of all the drabbles I have written in chronological order for anyone who would like to read from start to finish. If people are interested in becoming notified whenever I post something, please follow my AO3.

Please feel free to send in prompts for anything you would like to see added to this list.

Age of Ultron to Civil War

A Thing Isn’t Beautiful Because... - prompt; “right before or after Vision saves Wanda”; Overwhelmed with emotions, Wanda is filled with grief by the loss of her brother. Vision tries to help her figure out a way to deal with the loss.

Uncertain, yet Intentional - prompt; The moment before his ‘I did intend to come in here’ line in episode 8 of WV

Silent Tears - prompt; Wanda really lets herself cry for the first time since Pietro’s death and Vision does his best to comfort her.

Unpleasant Dreams - prompt; Wanda has a nightmare and Vision goes in to check on her to see if she’s alright.

Do Better - prompt; Vision is unable to save everyone in a disaster which helps him learn a very hard lesson.

Never Again - prompt; Wanda POV; Vision and Wanda watch sitcoms and Wanda gets distracted

Bugging Out - prompt; “Holy fucking guacamole!”; A routine update goes awry.

Vis, We Talked About This - prompt; “Viz, we talked about this”; Vision tries to distract Wanda without seeming too pushy.

Your Electrifying Touch - Wanda POV; Unable to keep her thoughts contained, Wanda slips up but has to find a way to keep herself back on track.

An Unexpected Surprise - prompt; Vision comes home from a tough mission to find Wanda curled up in his bed.

Practice Makes Perfect - prompt; Vision and Wanda practice in an attempt to help get Wanda’s powers under control.

Dancing Out of Tune - prompt; Vision walks in on Wanda listening to Pietro’s favorite genre and throws him off guard.

Striking Thirteen - prompt; a moment where feelings develop; Wanda can’t seem to fall asleep and looks to Vision for help.

Happy Birthday...? - prompt; Vision gets a present from Wanda for his first "birthday"

Neverending Flow - prompt; Wanda gets a nosebleed

While No One is Watching - prompt; The gang starts dancing, but disappears once uncomfortableness starts to set in once the android and witch start to get close to one another.

Heart Over Duty - prompt; What else makes Vision cry?

Overrated - prompt; “I always thought Mr Darcy was overrated”; Vision’s feelings can no longer be kept to himself. A novel Wanda suggests causes him to blurt out his confession.

Freezing Circuits - prompt; “Vision tries ice cream”

An Accidental Moment - prompt; pre CW; While watching television together, Wanda initiates the next step in their relationship.

Civil War to Infinity War

Safe and Sound - prompt; songfic for Safe and Sound; After the destruction in Lagos, Wanda breaks down, leaving Vision to console her the best that he can.

Distraction - prompt; Wanda POV; Wanda is overwhelmed by the Accords and is desperate for something else to focus on. Vision is happy to oblige.

A Step Too Far - prompt; Vision offers pizza and an explanation for his actions in trying to keep Wanda safe inside the compound.

After the Storm - prompt; Vision arrives to see Wanda for the first time after the aftermath.

The Little Green Monster - prompt; Vision becomes jealous of someone flirting with Wanda.

A Spark of Light - prompt; “we could be like sparks of light”; Vision attempts to talk Wanda into extending their little walks to something more substantial.

Can I Change Your Mind? - Vision is unable to tell Wanda goodbye and tries to get her to stay with him.

Three’s a Crowd - prompt; “love triangle between Vis, Wanda and Clint”

Chicken Soup for the Soul - prompt; Wanda gets sick and Vision helps take care of her

And Life Will Always Be... - Wanda POV; Excited to meet up with Vision again, Wanda enters the hotel room hoping to get a head start but finds her plans are pushed to an instant halt.

Between the Lines - prompt; “that was an innuendo, wasn’t it?”; Vision struggles to understand why Wanda is acting so strangely.

Look My Way - Wanda POV; Tired of spending the afternoon alone, Wanda takes things into her own hands.

Cappuccino or Latte - prompt; “what’s the actual difference between a cappuccino and a latte?”; Vision attempts to make coffee despite his disadvantages.

Short and Sweet - Vision can no longer keep himself back from kissing Wanda.

All to Myself - prompt; Vision jealous of Wanda and Cap America’s friendship; The distance they have created has finally brought Vision to a breaking point.

Getting Caught - prompt; Wanda and Vision get caught coming home late

Not Ostentatious, but True - prompt; “my love isn’t ostentatious, but it doesn’t make it any less true”; Vision becomes jealous of how others profess their love and he does his best to explain himself.

Purrfectly Happy - prompt; The first time Vision ever sees a cat

By the River - prompt; UK shenanigans; Vision uses an anniversary as an excuse to create a new memory with something they had never tried before.

That One Thing - prompt; Vision and Wanda discuss their future.

To Grow Old In, V - Vision worries about whether or not his next move is too grand, but is determined to move to the next step regardless.

One Last Moment - prompt; “one last moment”; Vision and Wanda talk about their options should Wakanda fail to disconnect the Mind Stone.

Wandavision sitcom AU

Love Me Tender - Vision tries to make a special night for Wanda, hoping to make up for the Mr. Hart fiasco.

Support - prompt; Vision offers his assistance as Wanda struggles with her pregnancy.

Cravings - prompt; Wanda’s weird pregnancy cravings; Vision struggles in the kitchen while trying to keep up with her cravings.

Perfectly Molded - Wanda POV; prompt; Vision wearing gray sweatpants. That’s pretty much it.

Back to Bed - A pregnant Wanda is sick and Vision struggles to take care of her.

Prenatal Upset - prompt; A pregnant Wanda doesn’t feel sexy and Vision is more than happy to prove otherwise.

Melting in the Rain - prompt; Wanda goes into labor and is cool as a cucumber leaving Vision to panic alone.

Nerves of Steel - prompt; Vision gets so caught up in himself that he phases through a piece of furniture and doesn’t even notice

Painting for Mom - prompt; sweet dad!Vision moment; The boys craft gifts for Mother’s Day.

Yellow Brick Road - prompt; Vision and Wanda help the boys go Trick-or-Treating

The End of the Road - prompt; part 2 to Yellow Brick Road

Movie Night: Titanic - prompt; the family watching Titanic

Peace and Quiet Shattered - prompt; The twins attempt to make a little robot and are having trouble until Vision steps in and fixes it with ease.

Halloween Spooks - prompt; Vision getting scared by Halloween animatronics

Unable to Compute - prompt; Tommy and Billy do something stupid and Vision has a hard time understanding why

post Wandavision

A World Without Color - A series of prompts following White!Vision as he learns more about who he was so that he can move forward.

post Infinity War AU

Make it Real - A series of one-shots, and possible story, following the traumatic events of Infinity War in an alternate universe where Wanda and Vision are alive and traumatized.

Random AUs

Bidding for Attention - Tony has a bachelor auction and Hope Van Dyne bids on Vision to upset her dad for fun and then Hope and Vision hit it off and keep hanging out which makes Wanda realize her feelings for him have changed.

Pt 1

#scarletvision #wandavision #the vision #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #rini master list #my organizational side won

100 notes · View notes

saphirered · 3 years

Note

Hey! I hope you’re doing well. You’re writing is always great and I get excited when I see you’ve posted something new. Would you consider writing a little something with platonic Caduceus and reader where they have similar personalities and interests, but different backgrounds? Maybe the reader doesn’t have any family to speak of? I’m open to any character class or race :) thank you!

I’m doing well. I’m glad you like my writing and thank you. It’s really nice to hear people get excited when I post new things. I never expected people to like it at all 🙈. I hope you like the way this one turned out 😘

You were typical city folk. Born and raised in the heights of civilisation; the pride and joy of the Law Bearer Erathis herself. Raised at the temple of the Raven Queen as a foundling the clergy were the only parental figures you knew and they were hardly parents. Your relationship with them is less of a parent-child dynamic. They were your caretakers and supported which is more than a lot of people can say but you missed out on parental pride, love and the ability to confide in someone in such a way. You missed out on the relation with siblings. No running around the hallways of the temple, no secrets between just you and them, no protective older sibling or a younger one that gets away with everything. You had no weird aunt or uncle to tell you ridiculous stories or take you on adventures every so often like the books you’d read as a child.

Your childhood never bothered you because it was good and happy, just in a different way. You found a mother figure in the Matron. You’d get dreams sometimes, waking up with a single black feather on your pillow. She gave you an appreciation of all things living. Death is a sacred thing but it’s the life that counts. You made it your goal to nourish that what needs a little extra attention and preserve what can be saved before its time, conforming to the natural order. The Matron of Ravens taught you death is just as sacred as life and so you valued it and vowed to upkeep her commandments and preserve that natural order of life and death.

As a child you spent much time within the public parks and gardens. You had an affinity unrivalled. Making flowers blossom in spring and keeping the branches and roots healthy during the colder months, curing diseases, healing ailments as well as returning to the earth what once came from it upon the passing. When you were old enough these habits carried over to ‘living things’; a term you had to disagree with because all that grows lives. You became part of the clergy and continued your life within the temple of the Raven Queen.

You were never confined to the temple life. Your work took you far and wide, your expertise wanted by the many. You had tended to the ailments of kings as you had commoner, treating no different. You had tended to the pristine gardens of royalty as you had the fields of a farmer. In the eyes of the natural order all lives are equal in the end and so you treated them in life.

When a group of strangers came knocking at your door looking for an expert you were surprised by the colourful bunch on your doorstep but heard them out regardless. You were faced with the story of a cursed forest, a sanctuary of the natural order to be disturbed, a family missing and a new one found. A story of beacons of endless stars, possibilities and souls of the preserved to be reborn, conflict, war and death. Stories of salvation, resurrection, a fight to preserve the natural order and save the lives of the many. Stories far and wide yet to be told.

You were needed. Your expertise was needed and when a raven landed on your windowsill staring at you, studying you and awaiting your response you knew it was time to leave behind the life you knew and venture into a strange new world of adventure and the unknown. How could you turn them down? Your help was needed and while the venture might be a bit longer and much riskier than your usual ones, the task remained the same. You’d travel with the Mighty Nein for a while and aid them for however long they needed you.

You grew to love the Mighty Nein like the family you never had but you have to say from the very beginning you felt a natural gravitation towards the colourful firbolg, a radiance akin to that of the life you vowed to preserve. Caduceus did not hide he felt a same sort of gravitation towards you. The two of you were often paired together on watches or went out together to stock up on supplies for the road, spell components and the likes. The two of you while at first glance are day and night, as your respective deities are when compared, but those who look closer know you are in a way, one and the same.

You’re sitting on the jungle floor eyes closed listening to the nocturnal critters make their way through, searching for food, hunting and finding their hideouts, burrows and nests before the sun rises and morning comes. A smile on your face, as you take everything in over the soft snoring and slight twisting and turning of some of the Nein. You hear someone sitting down next to you.

“Good morning.” You say peaking through one eye seeing the pink haired firbolg cup of tea in hand. The two of you had always been and probably always will be the early risers of the group. Old habits? Perhaps so.

“Ah, it is, isn’t it?” He offers you a cup of tea. You take it with a quick thanks blowing away the steam and cool it down a little before you take a sip. A good cup of tea never fails to wake you up properly.

“How are you feeling? Getting closer to where the Wild Mother has been sending you?” The two of you look out seeing the first light barely bleed through the trees. Caduceus waits a little before speaking, contemplating his answer. His brow furrows.

“I’m unsure.” Caduceus mentally retreats just a little bit, watching his expression you can see the thoughts rush through his head. You know he worries for his family and how you might find them. A lot is unsure at these times. You can only hope for the best and prepare for the worst but you have faith.

“You’re worried, for your family. For what might have become of them?” He gives you a bit of a smile and nods. It’s clear Caduceus hasn’t directly been faced with the notion of mortality in this sense close to home whereas in any other situation he’d be fine.

“I’ve been waiting to see them for a long time. While I trust the Wild Mother’s path, I can’t help but find myself doubting if they are well.” You try to find a way to best approach his concerns and ease his mind. The words of comfort either of you would offer to those coming into your respective places of worship do not apply to this situation nor would they be particularly helpful. You’re not dealing with the dead, just the possibility of death of loved ones.

“You trust her path and you believe she’s at your side?” You ask deep in thought as a light breeze rushes through out of nowhere. The Wild Mother must be listening. Caduceus relaxes a bit more knowing she’s there. Despite what some may think, the breeze may just tell you what you need to know.

“Yes. I believe so.” He smiles watching the leaves blow, the breeze being carried away into the distance of the early morning jungle, a couple of birds scattering as it comes along.

You take a moment, close your eyes and reach out your senses sending a little prayer to the Raven Queen. You’re met with a sense of warmth, a soft cawing of a raven flying away and a small light in the darkness.

“Then they’ll be alright in the end. I don’t sense my Matron’s presence in relation to you. You’ll be reunited with your family once more.” You interpret the signs she shows you. While they might not be a certainty you have faith she would not let you down.

“That’s nice.” You return to staring into the jungle in comfortable silence for a while.

“What do you miss the most? About home and your family I mean.” You ask a bit out of the blue but you couldn’t help yourself wondering with everything drawing closer and the uncertainty of how you’ll find the Stone family, and what you’ll encounter there.

“Old habits. The people. The simplicity of life. I’d say the piece and quiet but that wouldn’t be entirely true. Just different kind of noise. You know what I mean.” Caduceus reminisces, dopey smile returning at the memory of his family. You’ve heard some of the tales of his shenanigans when it comes to his siblings. He’s confided in you and you vowed to keep those a secret. Who knew Caduceus could be quite the prankster?

“I don’t actually. I never had a family like yours. The Mighty Nein is the closest I’ve ever gotten to the meaning of a family.” You look over to the sleeping shapes. You wouldn’t trade them for the world but can’t deny it’s still not the same. The others can attest to that.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I apologise if I offended you.” You smile at him. You’d stated before you loved your found ‘family’, the clergy but they were never your real family. It just hadn’t come up your dynamic with them was not the same as a more typical even dysfunctional family.

“It’s quite alright. I never knew my birth family. I knew the clergy at my temple and that’s alright. I always wondered what it would be like to have parents to confide in, siblings to spend time with, perhaps even share interests with and people who love me unconditionally, people like me but also not. Do you get what I mean?” Caduceus nods in agreement and thinks for a second.

“I understand. Though you might come to take back the part about wanting to spend more time with siblings. They’ll grow on you like ivy in places you don’t want it.” He laughs a little and you join him.

“They can’t be that bad.” You joke the both of you laughing as quietly as you can trying not to wake the others up.

“I’d love to meet your family. From what you’ve told they’re wonderful.”

“They are, in their own ways but don’t tell Calliope I said that.” Caduceus bumps your shoulder and you bump back finishing the last of your tea. You’ve heard enough tales of Calliope to know you better not tell her or she might never let Caduceus forget he admitted it so openly to someone else outside of the family.

“I’m sure they’d like you too. If you wanted to you could come back to the Blooming Grove with us one day. Clarabelle always wanted another sibling. She thinks Calliope is a bit too stoic. The two of you would make great friends.” Caduceus finishes his tea and you’re a little taken aback. You look for any kind of jest. He must be joking right?

“You’re serious?” Caduceus laughs a little at your reaction.

“Unless you don’t want to. I think you’ll fit in right along. Our ancestor used to be a champion of the Raven Queen. She might appreciate the return of a new Clay. Not by blood but by heart.” You recall the story he once told about the champions Stone, Dust and Clay of the Matron. You feel a pull in your heart out of nowhere and swear you hear a raven’s caw in the back of your mind. She’d be satisfied.

“I’d like that very much if they’ll have me.” With Caduceus reassurance his family would very much like you and get along with you you’d see where this would go. Perhaps you would become an unofficial Clay. Your friends are just your chosen family after all so why should it be different?

You’ll see where your path leads and you’ll stick with Caduceus until either of you grow tired of each other. Not that either of you see that happen. You’ve grown thick as thieves to the point where you could call yourselves siblings. If the two of you claiming yourselves siblings extends into his family then you’d love nothing more.

A place. A purpose. A home. You’ll have to put the world back into tune first but once the Matron and the Mother call you both home you’ll stick to the path until homeward bound you both be. Both of you lost in thought come to the same conclusion. Caduceus pours the both of you some new tea, cooling it down a bit you both take a sip.

“That’s nice.” You say in unison watching the nocturnal critters go to sleep and the early risers come out and go about their daily business.

#critical role x reader #mighty nein x reader #critrole x reader #caduceus x reader

42 notes · View notes

frostsinth · 4 years

Text

Royal Flush - Pt. 1

The prologue to this story can be found HERE. I plan to redo/redesign the picture at some point. UPDATE: Redid the picture HERE

A new story (because fuck me, that’s why). This time between a Goblin King, and a young human Prince. Something new and fresh I hope you will all fancy. And hopefully a line up for another fic I have planned for the future.

As always, please visit my MasterList to see my other works, and feel free to BuyMeACoffee while you are there. If you have any prompts, ideas, thoughts, or insane ramblings, I love to hear from you. Please send me all the notes, tags, asks, or DMs your little hearts desire.

Enjoy!

“… Nikostratus, I… I know you are ...conflicted,” He started, and I felt my blood run hot again at his words, “But that is no reason-”

“My life is doomed to misery, regardless of what end,” I snapped at him, anger lacing every word, cutting him off, “… At least this way, Morgana will have a chance at finding happiness.”

He fell silent, his face a mask of horror, and I turned back to face the Goblin King. Stepping forward, I placed one arm over my chest, then bent at the waist. Bowing deeply to him.

“Your Majesty, I agree to your proposal.”

“I am humbled, and honored,” The Goblin King replied, and I could hear the smirk in his voice, even as I kept my eyes on the ground beneath me. “Come, we can discuss the details further in my private study… alone.”

I stiffened slightly at his request. But realized that the word he stressed was less suggestive and more… cold? As I slowly raised from my bow, I saw his scarlet eyes glaring harshly over my shoulder. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck prickling, and tightened my jaw. Resisting the urge to look back at my guard. Knowing now exactly whom that tone had been for and not imagining I would enjoy the expression waiting behind me.

“As you wish, Your Majesty.”

The King gestured for me to follow him, leading the way across the floor to a door set into the side of the great chamber. With my will steeled, I followed after. If Gareth attempted to follow as well, I did not know. Nor what would become of him, left alone upon my exit with the Goblin King. And with the anger at his words still hot in my blood at that moment, I didn’t care.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” I tried not to mumble as he held the door open for me.

“Please, call me Grier. Assuming all goes well, we are to be married soon, after all.” I couldn’t help but wince at the word, and my mouth felt dry. I saw his scarlet eyes flicker to me at their corners. “And what are you comfortable with being called, Your Highness?”

I hesitated, unable to resist flinching ever so slightly as the door clunked closed behind us. “My name is Nikostratus, if it pleases you, Your Majesty.”

“Grier.” He corrected, and led the way down the smaller side hallway. I hardly took notice of my surroundings, feeling hollow and numb. “And it matters not if it pleases me. It is your name, no? Though I will admit it is a bit of a mouthful.”

I didn’t answer. I wasn’t sure how to answer. The weight of it all was suddenly dropping onto me, and I felt my palms clasped behind my back growing sweaty. I swallowed, tightening my jaw. There was still much to discuss before the arrangement could be finalized. I had to keep my head level, for the sake of my people. I could not let the goblins take more than an inch in negotiations. Couldn’t let myself be razzled by whatever life I had just signed myself up for. It was entirely possible that had been his intent! Perhaps the entire ‘marriage’ would be an endless attempt to manipulate me into breaking; to gain the upper hand. Just how far would a goblin be willing to go for one of their pranks? An arranged marriage certainly didn’t seem out of that scope. Would it lead up to the ceremony? Beyond?

“Do you have any other names you like to go by?” He pressed, opening a grand carved oak door and standing back to allow me to enter first. I stiffened, but nodded appreciatively and stepped past him as quickly as I could. “A nickname? Or perhaps you wouldn’t mind if I choose a term of endearment for you?” His voice was light and teasing, but it made a chill run down my spine. “Perhaps ‘sweetheart’ or ‘dear’. I have always liked the term ‘pet’, though I believe it would be ill suited for our… situation.”

I swallowed hard again, grinding my teeth quietly as I stopped before the grand desk in the room. I turned my head slightly to watch him saunter around to the other side after closing the large door behind himself.

“I prefer Nikostratus.” I hoped my voice didn’t sound too dry.

His crooked smirk didn’t lighten the burden of my nerves, nor allow me any relief from the notion this whole mess was simply some ploy. Some elaborate goblin mischief. But he didn’t sit in the ornate chair behind the desk as I had anticipated. Instead, he gathered up an inkwell, a handful of quills, and a roll of parchment and brought it over to the overly plush chairs set before the grand fireplace of the room.

I used that moment to take stock of the study for the first time since entering. It was large, with tall stone bookshelves filled to bursting with old tomes. The smell of their ancient parchment as well as the smoke from the fire in the large fireplace suffused the room. There were assorted knick knacks dotting every available surface, from a golden astrolabe to a pristinely painted globe and even a silver sundial propped against one wall. Aside from the huge desk and plush pair of armchairs, there was a small marble table before the fire, and a silver cart piled with various shaped decanters and glasses. The entire room was disheveled and cluttered, with heaps of parchments and quills strewn about, tomes left half opened with numerous different things from ribbons to dried flowers tucked between their pages, and the evidence of projects started but never completed.

The study was also vehemently colored, with no two fabrics matching another. There were glittering crystalline mobiles and diagrams and draped scarves dangling from the rafters. Various pillows in different shapes, colors, and sizes pooled off the armchairs onto the floor which was covered with several overlapping carpets that absolutely had no unifying color scheme. It was overwhelming, and I couldn’t help but cast an apprehensive eye about as he settled in one of the two chairs facing each other.

“Are you hungry?” He offered, simply sweeping whatever had been on the small marble table onto the floor with a clatter to make space for his parchment and quills. “Perhaps some tea? I believe I have heard humans like tea.”

It took me a breath to realize he had spoken to me. When his red eyes lifted to my face, I straightened sharply, but shook my head.

“No, Your Majesty, thank you.”

He scoffed, waving one green skinned hand. “Grier.” He corrected me again. “Now sit. We have much to discuss if we want to have a proper marriage contract drawn up tonight.”

I let out my breath slowly between tight lips. I could do this. Write up a marriage contract. A peace contract, rather. I knew how to negotiate. How to write contracts. And I needed to make sure the terms were in my kingdom’s best interest. Slowly, I walked over, glancing down at the plush chair facing his briefly before lowering myself into it. I sat at the very edge so as not to disturb the large quantity of odd shaped pillows there. This would be easier if I just was careful not to remember it was my marriage contract.

“Now then, down to business,” He drew up his quill, scribbling a long, over flourished sentence at the top of the parchment. “And I would urge you to speak your mind here, my young Prince. We must be able to forgo formalities and niceties if we are to complete a formidable and agreeable contract.” He dabbed a note. “As discussed, removal of my soldiers from your kingdom is first.”

I nodded, eyeing him as his long fingers deftly maneuvered the quill into forming short, neat little letters. “We will need to redefine the borders between the two kingdoms as well.”

One thin eyebrow raised, and he glanced up at me through pale lashes. “However do you mean?”

I placed my hands on my knees, back still ramrod straight. “The skirmishes over the last decade have allowed disputed territories to fall into your control. We would need them returned.” I cocked my head ever so slightly to the side. “As a sign of your good faith.”

He tsked, but seemed amused. “You will find I have treated your citizens quite admirably while they were beneath my occupation.” His quill scratched across the page. “Perhaps they may not wish to return.”

I paused, but decided it was just an effort on his part to get a rise out of me. “Never-the-less… They will be returned. And our borders will become defined and respected.”

A soft ‘hrumph’, and he leaned back in his chair, re-reading what he had just written. “Very well… though perhaps I was under the misinformation that our kingdoms would become united with our marriage? Forming into one?”

I resisted the urge to flinch at his words, feeling my knuckles clench slightly with the effort. “A kingdom cannot have two Kings. Royal marriages unify countries, but they do not become a single kingdom. Borders are open, allowing for trade and travel ease for citizens, as well as lower taxes for goods produced.” My voice sounded hollow and distant, even to my own ears. “There is also the expectation of allied forces, should a conflict arise for either kingdom.”

“My kingdom will.” He mused, penning a note.

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Have two Kings,” He glanced up at me, his crooked smirk forming again, “My Kingdom will. Unless I have your future title wrong. Would you perhaps remain a Prince by human customs?”

I felt heat rising around the edge of the collar of my shirt. “The title is not important.”

The goblin sat up taller in his seat. “It is important.” He insisted. “I want to be sure you, as well as your people, are comfortable with all terms of this contract. These are terms of peace, not surrender.”

Then why doesn’t it feel that way? I wondered quietly, but otherwise didn’t comment further. Clamping my lips shut. I reminded myself again why I was doing this; for my people. For Morgana. He waited for me to speak for a moment, his red eyes locked on my face. For my part, I made a point to focus on the fireplace.

“Alright,” He relented finally, impatient, “You tell me. What title would you have? If this was a contract between humans, hm?” He twirled the quill nimbly between his fingers. “I want to be sure to use the proper terms, so there is no confusion.”

My hands slowly curled into fists on my knees. “The title is not important.”

He sighed impatiently. “Oh come now. If it’s not important, then it should be simple enough to answer, yes?” He twirled the quill again, and my eyes darted to it from their corners. “If this was a marriage contract between a human Prince and a human King, upon their marriage, what title-”

“There is no such thing,” I snapped, cutting him off as my temper flared, “Of a marriage between a Prince and a King. It does not matter what title you choose, the concept is abhorrent to my people, and the marriage will never-” I stopped short, closing my eyes and slowly letting my breath out through my nose. “...While it will be accepted as a valid and legally binding contract of peace… It will never be accepted as a true marriage.”

A tense silence stretched between us, and for a long moment, I feared I had ruined everything. That he would no longer feel an arranged marriage between us would hold the same weight. I felt the sinking dread that the loss of my temper had doomed my sweet little sister. Or perhaps my entire kingdom. For certainly such a slight would never have been permitted in our court. A proposed marriage contract that was not a recognized marriage? Unacceptable. I sat with my eyes closed, my lips in a tight line, trying to steady my breathing. To regain my composure.

“... If I have misjudged you,” He began slowly, his previous arrogance and teasing gone from his tone, “... Or if I have been misinformed as to your… preferences...” I may have winced at the words, but I was clenched far too tight to notice “-We do not have to go forward with this contract. I will not sign anything without the clear consent of both parties.”

I slowly opened my eyes, keeping them firmly focused on the table beside me. Not daring to lift my gaze to his, though I felt his own boring into my skull. He sat silently, perhaps expecting an answer. But I did not have the strength to give it just yet. My fists were clenched so tight they were nearly white. For all his words… he didn’t seem to understand. There were no other options for me. We had to go forward with this contract. For the sake of everything I held dear. And yet, to do so meant … I struggled to keep my growing emotions in check.

“... I will expect this to be a marriage,” He informed me after the brief pause, his tone growing harsh, almost angry, “With all things that come with that. Including its consummation.” I did wince now, and internally kicked myself for doing so. “And I will not enter into a marriage where I am required to rape my partner-”

“Enough.” I boldly cut him off again, shaking my head. My voice quivering with my own anger at his vulgar yet casual language regarding such an intimate topic.

He paused again, giving me another moment to take a few deep breaths to calm my nerves. His voice, when he did speak again, was flat, but firm. And I recognized its authoritative nature. I was reminded again why this man, short of all his other faults and no matter his species, was a King of a powerful people.

“Am I wrong, Prince Nikostratus, in my judgement of you?”

I felt as a child, being scolded by their elder, and my throat was dry for that sake alone. I would have to admit it, I realized. I would have to admit it out loud, for the first time in my life. I would have to face a reality I had consigned myself to deny and carry with me to my grave. I was a Prince, after all. And a secondborn Prince at that. I would never have the power or freedom to act as I wanted; I would always be held to the responsibility of my station. The necessities of my kingdom. And despite everything, despite the deep longing I had always held to be able to love whomever I wished… I found my lips faltering to form the words.

Part of me believed it was a trick still. Some long, drawn out plan of humiliation. Of shame. Of deceit meant to ruin my honor and reputation among my people. To expose me to my family. I felt the familiar rage bubbling up inside me, and clenched my jaw in an effort to quell it. All the while, I felt his red eyes still staring at me. Waiting for the answer I had prepared myself never to give.

“... Make no mistake, Your Majesty,” I began slowly, my voice soft but hard, “If there is one thing I am sure of in this world… it is that I love my little sister with every fiber of my being. And I would do everything in my power to protect her from the evils of this world.” Carefully, I raised my gaze to meet his. “Whatever face that may take.” He opened his mouth, but I jerked my hand sharply up to keep him from speaking, lest I lose my nerve. “I understand what I am agreeing to. I understand fully what will be... expected of me. And whatever my… “ I dropped off, struggling to find what I wanted to say. I winced at the first word that came to mind, for I hated it most of all. But spat it out bitterly none-the-less. “... conflictions may be, I enter this contract with full consent. I beg your indulgence that this is enough for you for now.”

I was proud that I never broke eye contact with him as I spoke. His startlingly red eyes watched me unblinkingly, and even as I finished, he stared. Turning my words over in his head. I felt sweat beading at the base of my neck, but maintained his gaze. Stubbornly resisting the urge to turn away or drop my eyes from his.

“If I hear what you’re saying in regards to your people,” He returned finally, and I let out a little gust of air I didn’t know I had been holding, “Then I can hardly blame you for struggling to… accept our situation, such as it is.” He drummed his fingertips on the arm of his chair. “But you are sure? Once we move forward with this contract, there will be no turning back.”

I nodded without hesitation, and I saw his smirk return to the corners of his mouth. “I am sure.”

“You will be King Consort, then,” He replied, picking up his quill again, “As is the custom for my people.” He scribbled a few lines quickly before continuing. “Your authority will be more or less equal to mine, but the difference in title allows for differentiation when referring to us.” His long nose twitched as his smirk returned to its full strength. “Pronouns can be tricky in such situations.”

“...I can imagine” I said dryly, finally letting my gaze drop.

“And since you are sure, perhaps we should move on to the more domestic qualities of the contract, yes? Now, how many children?”

I blinked stupidly, my eyes jumping back up to him in surprise. “...Eh?”

“How many children?” His voice was light and cheery, and I saw the mischievous glint in his eyes that left me quite annoyed. “I’ve always wanted a large family, but I am flexible on the matter.”

“...You’re joking.”

“Hardly.” He twirled the quill again. “As King, I am expected to provide an heir. There are several options available to us, but it is best we make these decisions now. Just to be certain we are on the same page and have the same expectations. It avoids arguments down the line.”

I struggled to keep my composure, and saw his smirk grow by a few molars at the sight. “What… what are the options?”

“Well, we could adopt, of course.” He mused, tapping one long finger against his angular chin. “Or we could hire a surrogate.”

“Surrogate?” I echoed, dumb founded. I had never heard of such a term before.

He nodded, eyes shimmering with delight. “Yes! A female to carry our offspring. Typically of good stock; the screening process is quite vigorous. We can each lay with her and let the die be cast in whatever way it may land. Or, with your consent, I will impregnate her-”

“Wh-whichever.” I blurted quickly, feeling my face growing hot. I hated how easily he managed to keep me off balanced, and each slip of my composure left me feeling guiltier than the last and more determined to maintain it.

“Ah, but then there is of course the magical route.” He continued, almost gleefully ignoring my reaction to the less savory parts of the second option which had the blush rising to my cheekbones despite my efforts.

“The… the what?”

“The magical route.” He repeated, steepling his hands together with a grin. “A simple, temporary spell that allows one of us to impregnate the other and carry our progeny to term-”

“You’re making that up!” I snapped despite myself, feeling my face flush even more.

He pretended to look much more appalled than I was certain he was. “I would never! Producing an heir is a very important matter which I take with the utmost seriousness!”

I struggled again to return to the stoic face of a stately Prince I had perfected over the course of my life. But his words had my thoughts reeling, and I couldn’t help my mouth dropping open slightly. Looking pleased with himself, he stood, walking over to the cart of drinks.

“I am parched. Would you like something? Or I can send for tea if you prefer?”

I managed to close my mouth, staring at the seat he had vacated for a long moment. I heard the clinking of glass, and cleared my suddenly dry throat.

“...Brandy. If you have it.” I rasped, my voice strained.

His laughter was almost melodic, and I heard the continued clinks as he dolled out a second glass. “Excellent choice, my young Prince.” He purred, returning with both drinks in hand. “I see we are a perfect match on that front.”

I took the glass numbly, sniffing the amber liquid instinctually. I was surprised to find it seemed of higher quality, and sipped it experimentally. Grier took his seat once more, crossing one leg over the top of the other.

“Now, which method do you prefer?” He mused, taking a sip from his own glass.

I nearly choked on my second sip, and sputtered momentarily. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye to see his crooked grin. I shook my head, swallowing the burning liquid.

“...Umm, wh-whichever.” I almost winced at the improperness of my stuttering speech, gritting my teeth.

He raised one slender eyebrow, smirking. “Even the third? I hear it is quite the experience.”

I took another hurried sip of the brandy. “...Maybe not that one.”

He laughed again, and I felt my ears burning. I turned, focusing on the fire, watching the flames lick and pop. Trying to ignore the feeling of his eyes on me. Trying to distance myself from the idea of raising children of all things with this creature sat across from me. He’s just trying to get a rise from you, I told myself. Always, constantly. Poking and prodding. Trying to gain the upper hand in negotiations. Amused by my discomfort.

“We’ll write a ‘to be determined’ for now.” He declared, picking up the quill once more. “But we’ll discuss it again later.”

I snuck a peek at him while he wrote, studying him out the corner of my eye. His wild hair fell about his sharp features, and the way the light hit his green-grey skin it seemed almost warm to the eye. I found myself wondering at the thought of spending a life with him. Wondered what it would be like beyond this room. Beyond this evening. I took another steadying sip of brandy, pretending my hand wouldn’t be shaking if it hadn’t held the glass.

“How many then?” He pressed, glancing up at me. “I believe six is a good number. Even, but manageable. Yes?”

I looked down at the amber liquid in my hands. “I-I…” I dropped off, shaking my head, steadying my voice, “I had never thought about it.”

“Why ever not?” He quipped, dipping the tip to scribble another note.

I didn’t answer him, but felt my brow furrow. Of course, the real reason was because I had never expected to be able to choose. Had never expected to be married, and if I was, I would be grateful to be able to conceive at all. My marriage prospects had always been slim; the likelihood was of me being paired with a widowed partner whose late husband’s lands were in dispute, or an elderly monarch whose wealth would be our greatest asset. Whatever would best benefit the Kingdom. It didn’t matter the partner, not like my older brother’s, just what she would bring to the table. Therefore, planning children had simply never really been a thought of mine. And now that it was? I wasn’t sure what to think of it. Had no basis for what I wanted. Had no basis for what would be expected of me as a parent, nor how I would feel being so fully responsible for another life. My lips tightened, and I found myself at a loss for words again.

“Hmmm. Six it is then. But we’ll see where the tides take us when the time comes.” I almost sighed with relief that he let the matter go. A few more soft scratches. “Alright, lovers is next on my list.”

Again, I sputtered, nearly choking on the brandy halfway down my throat. “Lovers??”

He nodded, looking up at me with a coy twist on his thin lips. “Yes. Traditionally, human Kings take lovers I believe. But goblins tend to be monogamous in marriage, unless previously agreed before the ceremony. Do you wish to be allowed to take lovers?”

Again, it was simply not something I had ever considered. Nor had the foggiest notion of how to approach. Certainly it was not a concept boldly discussed in any capacity, regardless of the fact that it was common knowledge. High society dictated such things be carefully and politely ignored. Not discussed over a marriage contract. He waited, tapping his finger against the quill. Watching my face. I swore he was enjoying himself.

I shook my head. “I… I have no desire to…” I cleared my throat, then shook my head again.

He leaned forward, propping his chin on his slender fingers. Coy smirk playing about his lips. “You would remain completely faithful to me?” He purred, looking at me through his pale lashes. “I have no qualms allowing you to take lovers if it would make you more comfortable.”

I snorted faintly, burying it in my glass as I took another sip. As if anything about this conversation was likely to end with me being comfortable. The drink was already almost gone, and I could feel its effects curling tenderly about my insides. Warming my stomach, tickling the edges of my mind. I pretended it was the brandy making my cheekbones and neck flush, rather than the conversation. It was hard to separate the contract from myself when the bastard kept asking such personal questions.

“Monogamous.” I muttered finally, keeping my gaze fixed on my lap, even though it made no sense. My point was clear. After all, if I was going to do this marriage thing, I was going to do it right. Consign myself to my misery. And certainly not give this man any further ammunition against me in the future. Better to go it alone, as I always had.

His faint chuckle had me stiffening, but I pushed aside my discomfort. Reminding myself what this was all for. His quill scratched audibly across the page.

“Alright then, living quarters. Combined or separate?”

I nearly groaned. Another personal question? I ran my thumb over the lip of my glass. “Why is it necessary for that to be in the contract?” I grumbled, barely managing to conceal my irritation with his prying.

He tsked me, taking a deep sip of his own drink before flicking the feather of the quill at me pointedly. “We are embarking on a cross-cultural experiment, my young Prince. It is important all things be discussed. To avoid undue arguments and discontent down the line. No matter how trivial it may seem now.”

I almost snorted again but shook my head instead. “Kings and Queens traditionally have separate quarters.” I mumbled distantly. Would that notion matter in this instance?

“Really?” Breathed Grier, returning the quill to the inkwell and picking up his glass again. “I had heard such, but believed it more a formality than a common practice. How are conjugal visits managed?”

I glanced up at him, trying to discern if he was prying again. Trying to raise my ire. But he seemed genuinely curious, his red eyes sparkling in the firelight. I sighed deeply, raising one hand and rubbing at my brow.

“The Queen usually visits the King’s chambers regularly, until she becomes pregnant.”

“And after?”

I shrugged, raking my brain to remember how it had been between my own parents. “... Once an heir is produced, the visits are… less regular…” Likely because they were merely duty and obligation before. And once the coupling had produced a child? The King could return to his whores and the Queen to whatever her fancies.

He ran his finger over his lip, leaning back in his chair. “How absolutely odd. No wonder your people are so sexually repressed. You never see one another.”

Perhaps it was the now empty glass in my hand. Perhaps it was the fatigue from the long journey, or the emotional stress from the last few hours. But his words made me snort loudly, my facade of stoic calm dropping long enough to let a few short, soft laughs peter from my mouth.

When I looked over at him, he looked surprised. His eyes were wide, his slender brows high. My laughter faded, and I cleared my throat quickly, straightening.

“My apologies, Your Majesty, that was-”

“Please,” He stopped me again, reaching out one hand, “Just Grier. No ’Your Majesty��. And do not apologize.” He grinned, and for the first time, it seemed actually genuine rather than teasing or coy. “I am glad to see you are at least capable of laughter… Though I have yet to see you smile.” His smirk returned, and his eyes became playful. “I am not certain you know how.”

I rolled my eyes slightly, and a small scowl came over my lips. But I found myself not as annoyed as I had been at his teasing. I heard him stand, and his hand gently reached out and took my glass. I felt my heart skip a beat, though I berated myself for the foolishness as he returned to the cart with both.

He held my gaze for a moment too long as he passed me back my refilled glass, and I felt heat creeping up my neck. But I was careful to keep my face a careful mask of stoic indifference. It had been foolish of me to allow him to gain the upper hand thus far in negotiations. To let him put me constantly on edge with trivial questions that had nothing to do with the long term prosperity for my people. I was determined not to allow it to happen again.

Grier took his seat once more, swirling the brandy in his glass and taking a slow sip. Still, he watched me with those startling scarlet eyes. I felt my lips curving into a slight frown, but waited. As King, he should always be the one to speak first. It was not my place to address him unless I was first addressed. Perhaps he knew this, which is why he declined to speak. Instead fixing me with his unnerving gaze. Or, another part of me reasoned, perhaps he did not. Perhaps goblins did not have this custom, and he was waiting for me to speak first. As the guest. In which case, it was disrespectful for me not to speak.

I was still torn, debating which line of etiquette we were following, when he leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on his knees. My eyes flicked back to him at the movement, the only hint to my surprise.

“I find I am curious about you, Prince Nikostratus,” He said, sly smirk still dancing about his lips, “In truth, I did not expect you to agree to such an arrangement as this. And when you did, I was certain I would be able to call your bluff quickly.” My grip on my glass tightened, but I remained otherwise unmoved outwardly. “And if we are being completely honest, which I believe we should be, I originally proposed it to force you to trade your little sister for the sake of your own comfort and pride.”

I felt a chill run down my spine at his words, and my eyes narrowed sharply. “My sister?”

His expression faltered at the iciness of my tone, and even his smile shrank a few inches. The goblin quickly raised one hand. “Not for any untoward reason, I can assure you. More to gauge who you are as a person.”

I considered him, my gaze still chilled. A sinking feeling had grabbed hold of my nerves and dragged down the sensation from my fingertips with it. Leaving a tingling numbness slowly spreading through my body.

“Then you do not intend to keep this contract, Your Majesty?”

He chuckled nervously, finally dropping those scarlet eyes in the face of my cold, growing rage. “I feel we have regressed-”

“On the contrary,” I interrupted, eager to exploit his sudden off balanceness as he had so readily exploited mine, “I feel we have finally come to the end.” I started to stand, reaching out to place my glass on the table. “If you are quite done wasting my time, Your Majesty, I will return when you are ready to discuss a real contract for peace, rather than whatever sham you have attempted to ply onto me thus far.”

“This was not any kind of deception-” He jumped to his feet as I stood, quickly skirting over as if to block my path. “Your Highness, please-” I moved to step around him “-Prince Nikostratus!”

I froze, then looked down at him, his hand firmly clamped on my arm. His pronounced brow was knotted, his scarlet eyes narrowed. I found his grip surprisingly strong, despite his diminutive stature. The goblin was about a foot shorter than me, but it was a fact easily forgettable considering the square of his shoulders and the determined way he set his angular jaw.

We stayed like that for a breath, staring at each other. I fixed the King with as cold a glare as I could manage, and I saw him searching my face for a long, quiet moment. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but I was careful to keep up my stoney visage to be sure he would never find it.

“I have spoken too brashly,” He interjected finally, his voice soft, “And have thus insulted you… Which was far from my intent.” He gestured with his other hand, back to the arm chairs. “Please, Your Highness, allow me a moment to explain myself.”

I glanced back over my shoulder at the chairs, and my lips pinched tighter together in displeasure at the idea of returning. Disgust rolled in my gut, and I felt bile rising in my throat. But I worked hard to cool my anger. Reminding myself that whatever monster I was dealing with, I had to best him at his game. For everything I had left behind, and for everything that may yet lay before me. And perhaps, for the first time since we had met, I had him on the defense. It might be best to keep him there.

So I gave him a curt nod. “As you wish, Your Majesty.” I agreed stiffly.

He dropped his hand, relief flooding his features. I considered that for a moment as he magnanimously extended his arm. Leading the way back to the armchairs. I stood before mine, but did not sit, instead choosing to cross my arms over my chest. I had been told, due to the athletic tone of my body, that this was a rather imposing gesture on my part. Morgana had once told me it made my arms, chest, and shoulders look twice as big. My advisors had dryly followed up by telling me to never do so, as it hardly left the impression of a stately Prince. More, they said, a warmongering savage. But at that moment, I didn’t care. I wanted to make the goblin King feel small. I wanted him to be fearful and on edge.

I saw his eyes running me up and down, saw his narrow eyebrows twitch. He declined to sit as well, instead choosing to stand and face me with his three fingered hands lightly on his hips.

“When talk of peace between our two Kingdoms first arose,” he began, “I was the one who proposed a union through marriage. I had thought it a sign. My advisors have long been pressing the idea of my marriage, but I had always been hesitant. After all,” He smirked slightly here, “You only get married once.” He straightened, his smirk becoming a frown, “But I was told that your sister would be my prospective partner, as the King’s only daughter. The prospect of marrying a child, for any reason, left me ill at the thought.” He shifted, tucking his hands against the small of his back. “So when I learned of your lack of interest in the fairer sex,” He continued, and I stiffened slightly at the implications, “I was relieved. You are an adult, after all, only a few years my junior, able to consent to the marriage of your own free will. You would understand what the arrangement would entail, and my conscience would rest easy knowing it was a consensual contract.” The shadow of his smirk returned to the corners of his mouth. “Imagine my surprise when I learned that your people would take a direct proposal of this nature as an outright insult! That they would rather I marry a child than a Prince.”

“And yet, Your Majesty, you chose to lay the insult upon me nevertheless.” I mused, my voice still cold. My anger still pounding in my breast.

He raised his hands defensively. “I did not plan to pursue that course of action. Not until I learned it was you yourself who would be coming to the peace negotiations did I see the opportunity to even do so.” He considered me slyly. “I had heard tales of your family, of your pride and snobbery,” He raised his hands again as my eyes flashed, but his voice remained light and teasing, “Though I much preferred an arranged marriage with you, I had assumed I would not find you an appealing match in the least.”

“Your Majesty, if you intend to continue this line of-”

“I put you to a test,” He interrupted, returning his hands to the small of his back, eyes dancing, “It was childish, perhaps, and I will honestly say, I did fully expect you to fail. I proposed the marriage to your sister, to see if you would agree to such an outrageous pairing. Then I offered you an alternative.”

I considered him quietly, mulling over his words. I thought about speaking then, in the silence he let settle about us. But I decided to wait to see if he had more to say. Though it seemed less a defense of his behavior thus far and more of a confession. So I waited, eyes slightly narrowed, arms still crossed over my chest.

“... So you see, I expected you to offer your sister to me, rather than risk your own image and honor. As I said before.” He paused briefly, and his head cocked ever so slightly to the side. “... But you surprised me.”

I gritted my teeth, scowling at him. “I am afraid, Your Majesty, that your so-called honesty has only confirmed my understanding that you were simply stringing me along. Intending to dishonor and embarrass me without any intent of-”

“I have every intent-” He interrupted me again “-Of marrying you. I always have.”

That made my breath catch in my throat, and my composure slipped ever so slightly around my eyes as they widened. I quickly reset my features, swallowing the lump forming in my throat.

He watched quietly, then gestured again to the chair. “Please, let us return to our negotiations. If we can move past this strife… For the good of our people, if nothing else.”

I hesitated, watching him sit as if the matter had been settled. There was still a question burning on my lips, but I was not certain I could continue on with any semblance of a level head if I knew the answer. For that reason, I chose not to ask it; not yet at least. I gritted my teeth again, studying him as he waited patiently, gazing up at me with those scarlet eyes.

“Your Majesty, If I find this is some long winded prank-”

“It is not.” He promised, then smiled his coy, teasing smile. “And please call me Grier, I beg of you. I cannot suffer the titles and formalities much longer than I absolutely must.”

I glanced back at the waiting armchair, at the abandoned glass of brandy. “What assurance do I have that it is not?”

Grier lifted one long, slender finger, tapping his lips thoughtfully. “We shall put it in the document, if it would set your mind at ease.” He declared, reaching out and picking up the quill once more. “Should it be discovered that either party entered this marriage contract under false pretenses, it shall immediately become null and void, and the offending party shall secede to the ruling authority of the other.” He ended the sentence on the page with a fancy flourish of the quill tip, and raised one brow at me. “Is that satisfactory?”

I resisted the urge to give him an un-princely grumble, and settled for a scowl instead. But I did return to my seat, slowly, stiffly, and after a moment reached for my glass.

“I believe we should discuss the ceremony itself.” He proposed tentatively, watching me through his pale lashes as he took another sip of his own brandy. “To be certain it is official and legally binding for both species.”

I swallowed my sigh, and gave a small nod. “As you wish.”

The goblin did not continue right away, cocking his head to the side again and studying me as he took a deep, slow sip of his drink. I waited, rolling my own glass distractedly against my palms. It was smooth, and cool to the touch. Almost as soothing as the liquid it held.

“But perhaps we can leave that for a later date.” I glanced over at him, and he flashed me a charming smile of pointed teeth. “I would like to hear what additions to the contract you would like to discuss first.”

I took a sip of the brandy, nodding much more resolutely. “Very well. The taxes levied on the people-”

He waved his hand, cutting me off. “No, no.” He sat forward in his chair. “Let the understudies and scribes deal with such tedious ticks. We will review them before the formal signing, but need not discuss the specifics ourselves.”

I frowned. “I beg your pardon, I thought you wished to discuss my additions…. What other addendum would you mean to discuss?”

Grier sighed deeply, and his lips twitched with amusement. “Those of a more personal nature, of course.” He swirled his brandy with a deft wrist. “We discussed those issues I felt might arise through the course of our marriage; children, lovers, living arrangements. You must have your own expectations for this union as well. Something to put in ink.”

I stiffened, and my gaze snapped down to the drink in my hands. “... I do not.”

He scoffed, waving his hand again. “Come now, there must be something. Summer castles, hunting trips, gifts, anniversaries, retirement plans. Perhaps religious beliefs? Dietary requirements?” I shook my head, and he rolled his eyes teasingly. “You must have some thoughts or plans for the remainder of your life.”

I took another sip of the brandy, letting it sit in my mouth for a moment before slowly swallowing it. “... I have no expectations.”

That set a deafening silence upon the cluttered room, and we sat in it for an extended period. Grier watched me, and I watched the flames flickering in the fireplace. Keeping my stoney expression flat and void. I forced all other thoughts from my mind to keep them from my face. As I had been taught and perfected through a lifetime of necessity.

“... It is late.” The goblin replied finally, clearing his throat and shuffling the parchment on his lap. “Undoubtedly it has been a long day. If you are agreeable, I will take you to our guest quarters for the evening so you may rest.”

I looked at the papers he placed upon the marble table. “The contract-”

“Will be there in the morning, when we are both more rested and fresh.” He finished, tossing his head back to drain the last of his glass and standing.

I followed suit, brushing my hands down my abdomen to smooth the starchy fabric there. He gestured to me as he moved towards the door, and the weariness of the day dragged at my shoulders. I found I had not the strength to argue further, and simply fell in step behind him as he pulled open the grand door and stepped back out into the hall.

I had never had a head for floorplans or layouts, and the twists and turns he led me down quickly became jumbled in my tired mind. Give me a war field with troops and battalions and I could coordinate and execute the most stunning and creative of maneuvers. Place me in a castle hall and give me directions to the kitchen and I would get lost. So I stayed at his mercy, allowing him to lead me deeper into his underground castle until we came before a set of old wooden doors.

“Here we are.” He exclaimed, halting and turning to face me. I stopped short to avoid running into his smaller frame. Sharp teeth grinned up at me. “You should find everything you need here. And I shall have an attendant at the door, should you find you require anything additional.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty-” I noticed his brow twitch slightly at the title, and I quickly clamped my mouth shut over the last syllable.

I saw him hesitate, glancing at the door, then back to me. I sensed there was more, and waited patiently. Even though my palms itched to open the door and have the peace of my own company. Even though my spine ached from holding so straight and perfect for so many long hours. I was well versed in patience; in serving the will of another at the expense of my own. So I waited.

“I would request your presence for breakfast.” He said, cupping his hands behind his back. “... Socially. For the pleasure of your company and to get to know you better, if you are willing.” Now it was my turn to hesitate, my breath catching in my throat. “You may decline, if you wish.” He added quickly. “I do not mind sending your meal to your rooms, then we may speak later to complete the final details of the marriage contract.”

My besotted mind could not quite fathom the full extent of the offer, and I belittled a sigh that managed to sneak out with a soft gust from my nose. My lips pursed, I nodded to the Goblin King, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck prickle even as I did.

“Of course, Your-.... Ehm…” I cleared my throat, then looked down at the floor. “Of course… Grier.”

His name tasted strange on my tongue, and felt wrong to say. But the way he beamed up at me with delight made heat scratch at the edge of my collar. I shifted my weight slightly, glancing back at the stone floor.

“Excellent! I will see you in the morning then, Prince Nikostratus.”

...

UPDATE: Part two HERE

#mxm #oc #Royal Flush #monster x human #monster lover #monster boyfriend #monster husband #slow burn #two kings #monster romance #terato #exophilia #goblin #goblin lover #goblin boyfriend #goblin husband #arranged marriage #monster royalty

97 notes · View notes

whitelotus-ffxiv · 3 years

Text

新年快乐.

[[ tagging @benes-diction / @sirenofthesea-xiv for mentions, as always, of her beautiful amazing characters. <3 ]]

After the celebrations of the Lunar New Year in the Jade Palace, I am... tired. The banquets seem endless, the parties going on for what feels like days - maybe sennights - at a time. It’s exhausting, but it’s familiar. Among the ranks of the yakuza, we celebrated each passing year like this, too. It was a rare period of reprieve from rigorous training and painful punishments, a time to eat and a time to breathe before life went back to normal.

Even still, even if the memories are not altogether unpleasant... the passing of the new year is difficult for me. I find it hard to be as light-hearted as those around me. Inside of my chest is what feels like a large and heavy stone - a cold sort of place where it feels like I have placed a stone just so it doesn’t feel too empty. For years, I have tried to chase this feeling away. I’ve tried to bury it and stifle it and smother it in all manner of ways, but it persists. It lingers.

There is a place in me that cannot be filled, only repaired. Consciously, I know this. As a child, I did not mourn the passing of my parents. We never had the time. Hui and I were set and focused only on surviving each day after that. The oyabun took us in, and Hui... Hui allowed himself to mourn. He allowed himself to weep and to miss our parents and to say his goodbyes with paper lanterns covered in their names.

Sun Chun Tao. Sun Lei.

I hated watching those lanterns float away. I resented the watery fondness in Hui’s eyes, wistful and sad but at peace, as he watched them. And I was angry at myself for ever wanting to deny him that peace, for ever wishing he would sit and suffer with me, because... I didn’t know how to let go. Hui was always the level-headed one. He was able to say goodbye and know that it was for the best.

Of all the things and lessons he taught me, I wish he had been able to teach me this one, too.

There are some things, though, that I suppose you can only learn on your own - or that you can only learn when you’re ready.

I walked through melting snow with a thick cloak wrapped around the simple hanfu I’d chosen to wore for the journey. Jun told me there was a temple not far from the palace that the Garleans had left standing. He didn’t know if there was anyone left to attend it, but I went, regardless. I had to.

It was in varying conditions, really. Some parts of it looked old but well-kept, while others seemed to be nothing but crumbling stone and moss. I had cleansed myself in what seemed to be a bucket of fresh water and savored the chilly bites of ice against my skin before moving on. And although it was unknown if the temple was still being used or not, I was still surprised to see that someone else was there.

Holding a broom in gnarled hands, an old Hyur woman swept snow off of the stones. She wore the garments of a miko, and almost immediately, I felt a lump threatening to start in my throat.

I had seen my mother’s priestess garb only once before. She kept it folded away safely in a box within a closet, deep within, but she had showed it to me before with the same wistfulness and sadness but peacefulness in which Hui paid his respects to them each year.

“This is our history,” she had said while looking over the red and white fabric. “A special history that your brother and father can’t quite share with us. This is why you can see the ghosts that mama can see. This is why you can hear and sense things that others can’t. It’s a gift from our female ancestors - a blessing, as long as you know how to wield it, you see?”

Despite the fact that I knew I didn’t make much sound while I walked, and that I hadn’t spoken, the old woman with her broom looked up and over her shoulder to look directly at my face. She... was not familiar, but there was something in her eyes - dark and endless - that seemed that way. Or, at least... she wasn’t familiar to me. The same could not be said the other way around.

“Ah,” she noised softly, smiling slowly as she examined my face. “Yes. We have been waiting a long time for you, little Sun Xiu.”

Over her shoulder, I could see part of the ‘gift’ my mother mentioned in the form of hazy spirits, ones that I have always seen and never been able to name - ones that dispersed once I looked their way, and maybe it was the look on my face, or maybe it was the woman’s own thoughts, but she only smiled more once I looked her way once more.

“I guess that you have,” I relented quietly, coaxing soft laughter from the miko.

“Come out of the cold. I expect there’s much to talk about, Sun Xiu.”

-------------

She took us to a private room, and while she brewed a pot of tea, I observed her rather than the surroundings - which were simple, really, and not unusual for a temple’s inner rooms. The woman herself demanded my attention more.

She was rather short, a couple of ilms shorter than I was, and squat. All of her was round, in the comforting way that grandmothers are often portrayed. Wrinkles and lines were prevalent on her kind face, on her thick hands that had known their fair share of hard work. Trailing her was the scent of incense, the faintest smell of smoke. Her silver hair - which might have reached the backs of her knees if loose, I expected - was wound into a long, tight braid that she wore over her shoulder, not a wiry strand of out place.

“You’re a sad sort of young woman,” she mused, glancing up at me as she poured a cup of tea and set it down in front of me. “Your shoulders sag with an invisible sort of weight, Sun Xiu. And the way that they coil up now tell me that not many read you with as much ease, do they?”

“I expect our mutual friends have told you plenty about me,” I grumbled, forcing my shoulders to relax. “Do you always speak so bluntly?”

“You do not strike me as the type to prefer anything else,” she replied with a smile, and I clicked my tongue, resisting the urge to roll my eyes, because she was right. Of course she was. “And I most certainly have never been the type to speak in riddles. That’s the last thing a soul as tired as yours needs.”

With a soft groan, the old woman sat down in front of me with a cup of her own clasped between her strong hands. There were words sitting on the tip of my tongue, ready to fall - ready to bite and be curt and harsh, but I couldn’t force them out. And the woman watched my face with a familiarity and a warmth that unsettled me and, in a way, comforted me.

There was much, I expected, that I would not need to explain to her. There was clearly much about me that she already knew, and if it was anyone else, I might have reacted poorly. But her knowledge didn’t come from means that I could control. They came from that bond that my mother had told me about - a bond between the spirits and the miko that could communicate with them. And it seemed like the spirits had tattled plenty already.

“I am not unhappy about your visit, Sun Xiu - or perhaps you’re more comfortable with Lian Hua now? - but I must admit that I thought it would be a little sooner than this. Tell me, child - what plagues you so badly that you step foot into a shrine?”

I swallowed. I looked down at the cup of tea between my own hands - calloused from training and from fighting, so indelicate and ugly, at my nailbeds that were worn and torn, at nails that were kept as closely shaved down as possible. How much wicked had my hands done? How many lives and how many families had I torn apart with a flick of my wrist? How did I not burst into flames when I prayed, how did the kami not refuse to hear any pleas I might still have?

“Many things, I think,” I said finally, looking back up at the old woman’s face. “It’s hard to choose just one when you ask me in that way. But I expect there are many reasons why I should have come here a long time ago.”

As I spoke, the old woman lit three thick candles, the wax melted down into the tray they sat upon. Each was a different color - the tallest was purple, and the middle was red, while the shortest was white.

Royalty. Strength. Death.

“A heart is a heavy sort of burden, and I think you may have only recently began listening to yours once more,” she murmured, and I sat silently, watching the flames flickering in her dark eyes as she watched them. “The spirits have told me much of you already, Sun Xiu. You are most beloved by the kami. You were beloved by your parents, loved by your brother, even by a prince and princess of Doma, but...”

The woman trailed off and looked up at me expectantly, bushy eyebrows raised. My tongue felt thick in my mouth, like it was coated in sand.

“I don’t deserve it,” I whispered, like I was letting out a breath, and it felt like something had been sapped from my body all at once. They were words that I had been cradling since... since the day...

“Since the day I refused to give my parents my blessing into the afterlife, I have not deserved any of the love I receive. Not from them, certainly, or from Hui, not from the kami, not from Jun or Aoi or... anyone else. I have tried to be a light that never goes out. I was worrying about the flickering, but now... Over time, I realize that I never really was a light. I was trying to be something... that I wasn’t. I have always been a void, something dark and terrible and wicked, masquerading and basking in the warmth of something I have never deserved. A monster, pretending to be a-- a hero, or a savior, or--”

I had to wonder, the more I spoke, if the miko had drugged my tea to coax so many words from me at once. Only Jun was ever privy to my thoughts at length, and even so... Even so, expressing any of this to him would have been nigh impossible. But this woman - this stranger who knows me - watched me with a gentleness reminiscent of my mother’s, of Luli’s, even of the redheaded Garlean’s when she told me goodbye.

She had the eyes of a caretaker, of someone gentle, who looked at a broken person and saw those shattered pieces and loved them regardless.

“Xiu...” Her voice had softened, reaching a hand out to grasp one of mine as she stopped me - and silently, I thanked her for it - from rambling anymore. “You cannot truly think you are the only child who has not been able to accept the loss of their parents? You can’t believe that only those who have ever done good deserve to be loved, can you? Your prince - has he not done abhorrent things? Do you not think him still deserving of love?

“I see the spirits that linger around you,” she added, with a slight smile. “Even now, as hidden as they are to anyone else, I see them. They do not cling to you because you are wicked. They cling to you because they see what even mortals who know you well see - and that is a heart that only wants to do good. They see little Sun Xiu tending to sick chickens and stray kittens and running down dark corridors to help a ghost - someone long departed - because you heard them crying and begging.”

Even as I swallowed the lump rising in my throat, I looked back up at the miko. And despite everything, I... needed to know, as she recited these old stories back to me. I needed to know...

“Who are you?” I asked quietly, and she smiled again.

“My name is Mirai. And while we have never met, I have had quite the influx of spirits coming to tell me about you since you came to the Jade Palace - ones that have followed you from Haishan, and ones that you’ve only just met. You are the daughter of Chun Tao and Lei,” she said gently. “Chun Tao, priestess, miko, beloved by the kami and by the spirits as her precious daughter is. We miko have a way of getting tangled up if the spirits and the kami wish it to be so.”

Slowly, and with another quiet groan, this woman named Mirai rose to her feet. I watched as she walked to a shrine set up in the small room, and although there were no portraits, it was clear that offerings were made frequently. A tray for incense sat square in the middle, and quietly, Mirai placed a fresh stick after kneeling, just like I had watched Jun do in front of the portraits of his family within his wardrobe.

“You may not like it, and you may not agree with it, but you have always been destined for things bigger than you, Sun Xiu. You have always been in the plan of the kami. No, perhaps you won’t save the world - not in this lifetime, at least - but is it not true that you have saved people? That you have tried, despite the circumstances that have been given to you, to do good?”

My fingers tightened around my cup of tea as she lit the stick of incense and clasped her hands, bowing her head as she said a silent prayer. When was the last time, I wondered, that I had properly prayed? When had I knelt and bowed my head and brought offerings?

Had I ever prayed of my own free will after losing my parents?

“You have been a savior to the Jade Palace,” Mirai continued, and I swallowed again. “You walked into a place overcome with rot and pain, and you have helped to bring light back within. Where once laid only fear, there is now hope. Where there was once resignation, there is a refreshed desire to keep fighting. And where there were once a cursed people...”

Mirai lifted her head and looked to me, and for a moment - just for half a moment - I saw her eyes flicker in the way that mine do. The air shifted, and quite suddenly, I looked away from her to see the ghostly images of Luli and her family in the window, but not as they are now - as they were, blind and terrifying to behold, unable to speak...

“...are a people beginning to heal.”

The ghostly images shifted as I held my breath, revealing Luli and Liqin laughing together, their children laying in the sun while Midori ran across the beach with Aoi. Kyou was in Jun’s arms as he smiled at... someone I couldn’t see, but I knew the smile, now.

He was smiling at me, his eyes directly fixed on me, before the images disappeared into thin air once more.

“Your parents would be proud,” Mirai murmured as she rose back up to her feet, her eyes no longer kaleidoscopes of color but dark brown again. “You have been taught violence. You have been fed cruelty off of a spoon and told that it was love. Now, you receive love, and it confuses you. You wonder if you deserve it. You long for your parents, and you feel a disgust when anyone else tries to act that way - an anger at anyone, most especially, who tries to be a mother to you.

“It is not a betrayal to Chun Tao to allow them in. Do you think she would want her child to suffer eternally for the simple fact of not being able to say goodbye yet? No loving mother would wish that upon her precious child. You have been fighting a war for so long, Xiu, and it is far from over. The curse in the Jade Palace is not lifted in its entirety. You will go through extreme obstacles, hardships that will make you wish you were dead, trials beyond imagination...”

As she spoke, the old woman watched the burning incense, watched as the smoke curled into the air and as the ashes fell onto the wood beneath it. I found myself unable to move, unable to speak, unable to interrupt. All I could do was watch her and will my hands not to shake.

“...and you will survive them, as you have survived everything else,” the old woman said quietly. “It is not what you deserve. Just because you are strong does not mean you should have to do these things. But such is the nature of circumstance. You knew these things without me telling you. You knew these things and accepted them the day you decided you would remain in the Jade Palace - a feared and loathsome place by all who know it. Didn’t you?”

“Yes,” I whispered, unable to stop myself, and Mirai smiled at me, gentle and soft once more. She touched my hand, brushed her thumb over the sparse gathering of scales at the top of my wrist, before looking at my face.

“The spirits of your ancestors will be with you. The love you receive will spur you on, as long as you accept it. The wicked you have done does not define you. The only one who can define you is you. So what are you, Sun Xiu? Who are you, beloved lotus?”

“Someone who is trying. Someone who is sad and angry and... full of regrets and... confidence that I can survive anything, without the desire to for myself. Not for myself, but for... for the people who need me...”

For Jun. For Aoi. For Ume and Anh, Luli and Liqin, Midori and Kyou, Hui-- for Biyu, that brave girl who risked her life just to defend my honor.

To live, because my parents died just so it could be so. To live, because my parents had begged, with their dying breath, that I do just that. To keep on going so that my parents did not die in vain trying to protect me.

I don’t remember when I started crying or how I ended up collapsed into this unfamiliar-but-familiar miko’s arms, letting her hold me as I wept. I was thankful that she didn’t ask me to say more. Maybe she didn’t need me to. I expect that she didn’t. No - I have a good feeling she knew every thought that ran through my head, in that quiet room, as melting snow dripped onto the open window.

“It is okay to crumble,” she told me as she held me. “It is okay to not always be strong, Xiu. You have been strong for so long. You put others before yourself, always. You are allowed moments of weakness and of selfishness. And it is okay - more than acceptable and understandable - to feel this deep sort of sadness when you miss your parents.”

I leaned back in her arms, sniffling, letting her wipe my tears with her calloused fingers as Luli had done for me before, as Liqin had done, as my mother had done when I fell and hurt myself and wailed over my scraped knee.

Mothers. Women who were older and wiser and who knew what to do, what to say - women who were strong but not infallible, who were kind but not weak. Women I wanted to be. Women I only hoped I could become.

Women that I hope I can help Aoi, Midori, Kyou, and all of the young girls around me to be, too - someone they can run to when the world is too much and when the sorrow is finally too much to bear alone. Those young girls, who trust me with everything... I hope I can help them. I hope I can be an example, someone to look up to, and not only for physical strength, but... as someone like a mother, or an auntie, or a big sister.

“Light a lantern for your parents before the end of this sennight,” Mirai told me, quietly, as she opened the door once I had pulled myself together to leave. “Or a stick of incense. Say a prayer for them. They await you - that much I can feel, but... They are in no rush to see you either,” she added, smiling faintly. “I will be here, Sun Xiu. My doors are always open to you. It seems you’ve learned much on dealing with your gift on your own, but there is always more to learn, hm?”

“Thank you,” I said as I bowed at the waist, my eyes low. “Thank you for... listening. For your time. And for... well. For knowing plenty enough about me without me having to say it all.”

“Don’t thank me,” Mirai chuckled, holding a hand out to reveal a familiar black yokai coiled around her wrist in the form of a snake. It blinked its large eyes at me, and even in my emotionally rattled state, I couldn’t help but to smile. “Your friends have been worried. They entrusted me with much.”

The snake disappeared, only for me to feel it settling in the sleeve of my hanfu, comfortable and warm for the journey back to the Jade Palace.

“Happy new year,” Mirai said, bowing to me. “And may many blessings reach you, Sun Xiu.”

“And you, miko. Happy new year.”

#what is this #ahhh #it went in so many directions my b #writing #ffxiv rp #ff14 rp

5 notes · View notes

wheezykat · 3 years

Note

You’re smiling but I don’t believe you!! SPILL 😍

YES. HELLO FRIEND. ❤❤

Let me wax poetic about this one for a min, because I’m very very excited about it! And that’s pretty new for me - I’m usually really unsure about the things I’m writing and worrying about how a piece will be received. This one is different for me - I feel like I’ve poured out a part of myself in the story. It’s entirely self-indulgent, and something that really took me by surprise with the force in which I needed to write it.

This started as a lil 400 word drabble in response to a drarrymicrofic prompt for the word “metamorphosis.” And then a down and out chainsmoking!Draco took over my brain, and I literally couldn’t help myself. I’m just shy of 8k right now, and still going strong - I’ve got a few more scenes left to write before it will be complete. 😈

you’re smilin’ but i don’t believe you (before&after) is largely a story focused on Draco’s character arc after the war and him dealing with the aftermath- the guilt, the regret, and all of the hardships he has to endure just to get by after losing everything. It’s entirely Draco POV, and hops through several years, centered around encounters he has with Harry and the cause/effect of those encounters on his life; how he shapes himself, rebuilds, and grows. I absolutely adore the Draco I’ve written for this, and I really hope everyone who reads it will too. I tried not to shy away from the reality that he’d be faced with, and the reality that life can be hard. But that we can keep pushing, working for a better future for ourselves, even in the face of those hardships when everything feels hopeless. And I guess ultimately, how we deserve the ending we’ve worked so desperately for. Accepting that we deserve it, regardless of our past, because we’ve changed for the better. As you can guess, it’s quite heavy on the angst in the beginning, but it does gradually (v gradually) recede, leaving room for a happy ending.

OK, now that I’ve had my existential crisis about it, here’s a snippet for you below the cut. 😅

ask me something about my WIP folders!

(tw: angst, reluctant sex work [implied, not pictured], general misery and depression)

It was getting to be the end of the month, and by his quick calculations, he’d be about a hundred pounds short for his rent this month. Losing his job as a dishwasher meant he lost more than just his pittance of an income, but also his access to cheap, and sometimes free, food. He’d managed to snag a position as a barista in a shabby, rundown coffee shop just down the street only a week later - but his additional food expenses, and the loss of just a single paycheck, put more of a dent in his earnings than he’d previously thought. Not even trying to subsist on purely caffeine and leftover scones had made up the difference, it would seem.

A sense of vague despair shivered up his spine as he looked at himself in the only mirror in his flat, fingers pressing against sharp hip bones and slightly protruding clavicles, as he tried to think of a better work around than the one currently on the forefront of his mind. Working at the greasy spoon had been hard, often back breaking work, fingers pruned and skin sticky with residue by the end of his shifts. But it had been awhile since he’d had to resort to - that. The months had soothed his shattered soul like a balm, happy to be able to exist in his dull routine and the safe return to his bed and slightly ratty blankets every evening. Feet aching, sometimes with an empty stomach, but with the relief of knowing that he’d get a reliable paycheck at the end of the week.

He watched his lips turn downward in a frown, a mockery of the pouts he often saw painting the faces of those models on the front of those awful muggle magazines. His cheekbones were too sharp, eyes bloodshot from his early morning shift. He was shadowed and thin and hungry. And he didn’t have any better ideas.

With a heavy sigh and shaking hands, he grabbed his kohl eyeliner from the counter, rimming his eyes to conceal the dark circles. He quickly downed a series of preparatory potions, among them a Draught of Peace to ease his nerves. He’d learned the hard way to keep those on hand at all times, even if he thought he’d closed this chapter of his life for good. Thank Merlin for owl deliveries and fake names - at least Knockturn shops hadn’t altered their proclivities too much after the war.

Feeling a familiar sense of calm wash over him, he turned from the mirror without another look to dig around the bottom of his drawers before finding a pair of leather breeches and the silky shirt he preferred for nights such as this. He dressed in absolute silence, only the sound of his soft breaths and the rustle of fabric filling the room.

Finally dressed, Draco briefly rubbed his palms against his sides, taking deep breaths to try and quell his growing resentment at his situation. His life, in general, if he were being honest. Puffing one last breath out, fringe ruffling against his face, he grabbed his packet of cigarettes and walked out the door of his flat, locking it wordlessly behind him.

It was late into the day, but not quite late enough for the activities he would need to solicit to earn enough to meet his rent, the twilight just beginning to fade from the sky as the dark overtook and the shadows of the shabby buildings he passed by lengthened. His booted feet drug as he made his way along a familiar path, sparing a longing glance at the former greasy spoon as he passed by, heart panging with the loss of its reliability. He lifted a cigarette to his lips, flicking a flame to the tip as he took a deep inhale and let it steep in his lungs.

Draco continued to trail his way down the emptying streets, the hollow shine of streetlamps flickering on reflecting their light off the Thames back at the rising moon. He was in no particular hurry, legs and limbs lethargic in their dread for the coming night. He’d likely be out late, but would have to make it to his early five a.m. shift at the coffee shop regardless of his lack of sleep if he had any hope of avoiding this particular fate again next month. He did, assuredly, want to avoid it.

His hopes dwindled every time he found himself back at this place.

He paused on his path, crossing the street to lean over the stone ramparts, dragging in another ragged breath of smoke. A pale, shaky hand rested beneath his sharp jaw, the other vaguely tracing runes against the cement as he chased his melancholic thoughts, smoke billowing up to the winking stars. He wondered, briefly, if this was it. If this is what life had in store for him, for the inevitable future. Giving himself away for a price, for a meal, for a roof over his head and a shaky sense of security that could be toppled at any moment. He wondered, not for the first time, if he could take it much longer. He rubbed his hands roughly against face, palms digging in against his eyes. He wasn’t sure anymore.

His cigarette burnt down to the filter, smoke turning acrid without the tantalizing smell of tobacco to coat it, embers turning hot between his fingers. He opened his eyes, slightly dazed and weighed down underneath the potions he’d taken earlier and the dark thread of his thoughts. Watched red move ever closer to his skin. Heaving a sigh, he flicked it out across the river, before reaching into his front pocket to light up another.

#WIP folder asks #WIP asks #ask and you shall receive #wheezykat answers #angst #depression #tw: reluctant sex work #substance use tw #my writing #kat writes

3 notes · View notes

redvoid-40 · 4 years

Text

In the woods there grew a tree - part 6 / AN

Hi guys! Here’s a new chapter and with it comes a little announcement: I’m going to stop posting this fic here on tumblr. So, from now on, new chapters will only be found on my AO3 account. (here is the link for the fic)

Sorry about that, but it seems there’s only a handful of people reading the fic here, and it’s much easier to update chapters on AO3.

I hope you all understand and that I get to see you on Ao3 as well! :)

Kisses, RedVoid

Previous chapter

For all the differences between human and troll physiology, Angor Rot had always met all of Charo’s needs as a baby and then as a child. But, and that was a secret only he knew, he had help.

When he first brought the baby to his village, Angor Rot did not know what to feed her. The first day with Charo had been torture for the troll, as he listened to the baby cry in hunger with no idea what to give her. When night fell, he began wandering the woods with her, trying to offer berries, tree-sap and even tiny pieces of meat of a bird he had shot down, but the baby refused every time as her loud cries echoed in the dark woods and into his heart.

Suddenly, a goat bleated, a high, ear-grating sound that for one blissful second nullified Charo’s anguish. Curious, Angor Rot followed the sound to find a female goat standing alone in the middle of the woods, on the same spot from where he had taken Charo. The goat had a rope tied loosely around her neck that, keeping her bound to a nearby tree, and besides the animal, Angor found a metal pot with a wooden cup and spoon inside.

The troll frowned, adjusting the crying baby in his arms. He remembered that once, a long time ago, he had miscalculated the time during one of his patrols and ended up stuck hidden in the shade of a couple of trees just outside a farm, waiting for the sun to set. That day, Angor had watched the human family that lived there go around their day with something close to fascination in his eyes, and one thing he had watched them do was milk a goat such as this.

Animals are nursed with milk, Angor mused, staring down at the hungry baby in his arms.

Without a second thought, the troll untied the goat from the tree and took her back to the village.

---

After that day, Angor Rot returned to that very spot every night in a row. At the end of the next moon cycle, on the first day of the new moon, he found out how the goat had come to be in his woods.

It’s her.

Hidden in the shadows, Angor Rot watched a woman run into his woods; and it was not just any woman, but the very one who had abandoned Charo: her mother. And much like the first time Angor had seen her, the woman carried an oil-lamp in one hand, and a basket in the other. She walked to the very tree to which she had tied the goat and looked around, as if hoping to see something or someone. When nothing happened she let out a deep sigh and lowered the basket to the grass before walking out of the woods.

Once Angor Rot was certain the woman would not return, he approached the basket. There he found blankets, baby clothes, and two large jars, one filled with smashed vegetables and another with smashed fruits.

And much like he had done with the goat, Angor took the basket back to the village.

---

Every first day of the new moon, without mistake, Charo’s mother would leave gifts for her.

The Troll Leader had done the possible and impossible to learn how to care for and feed a human child without having to resort to her mother’s silent help. Observing other animals, he figured out what types of fruits, leaves and mushrooms a human could eat, and he learned how to cook game meat and bone-marrow stews, all to make sure his little Charo was well-fed and healthy.

However, there were things in the gifts her mother left in the woods that were too far from what Angor Rot knew and consumed as a troll for him to provide for Charo. Bread, cakes, cheese, fruit preserves, farm vegetables - fresh and pickled -, grains, oats… all things Angor could not find in the woods, and that Charo greatly enjoyed. Besides food, the woman also provided a book on medicinal herbs which Angor had referred to whenever Charo as much as sneezed, and clothes and shoes that, somehow, always were a perfect fit for the growing child.

Angor Rot watched the woman leave the gifts on every new moon, but he had never approached or told Charo about her. He could say it was because he hated the woman who had abandoned his Charo to die in the woods, or because he didn’t trust her and thought it was a trap to find his people. But there was also a deeper truth to his hesitance: he was scared. Scared that Charo and her mother would want to meet one another, scared that Charo would choose her mother over him and leave.

But now, despite his anger, distrust and fear, Angor Rot would have to confront his daughter’s mother, because Charo would need to leave regardless of his feelings on the matter and for that, he needed the woman’s help.

---

It was the first day of the second new moon of Spring. Angor Rot had spent the entire day visibly agitated, and it had only got worse now that it was night-time and he found himself hidden on top of a tree, standing watch over the place where Charo’s mother usually left her offerings. Part of him wished she wouldn’t show up, wished the woman would at last forget Charo ever existed. If she did, then Angor would have no other choice but to protect her from the Gumm-Gumms himself, keeping her close to him for decades to come.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Angor was ashamed of himself. How could he even entertain putting his selfish wants over Charo’s needs? No matter how lonely he’d become once she was far from him; as long as she was safe and happy he could deal with anything that was thrown his way. And maybe, when Gunmar was a thing of the past, his little girl would come back to him, this time forever.

With that thread-bare comfort in mind, Angor Rot laid the back of his head against the tree bark behind him, watching the foliage billow in the wind. A sudden gust flew through him, chilling Angor to his core. It was cold and strong, as if Winter was trying to rake in a couple last breaths out of its season.

It’s time for both of us to let go, Angor thought sadly, yellow eyes moving back to the ground, where a weak light shone through the trees. The human woman had just crossed into his line of sight, carrying a large basket on her back with what Angor Rot assumed were clothes for the coming season. As always, she stood by her tree, palm rubbing gently against the rough bark as she watched the shadows with longing in her eyes. Angor had watched that scene many times before, but this was the first time he noticed the woman’s eyes; they were sad and lonely, a mirror of his own.

In that moment, Angor felt an inexplicable closeness to the woman, as if they were the same.

Chest tight, the troll jumped down from his tree, making just enough noise to alert the human he was there. The woman jumped in fright and fell on her behind before him as her eyes raked up his stone form, noticing every crack and root before at last settling in his glowing eyes.

“It’s you…” She let out, voice a strained whisper of pain and wonder. “You’re the troll from that night. The one who saved my baby.” She scrambled to her feet and latched herself on him, fragile hands closing around his much larger one with a strength he didn’t expect. “Please, tell me of her! Is she safe? Is she healthy? Is she… happy?”

“She’s not your baby,” Angor spoke, but regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth at the heartbroken look on the human’s face. Much more softly, he added. “But she’s healthy and happy.”

Tears in her eyes, the woman smiled as her hold around his hand fell. “Yes, of course. I shouldn’t have said that. I know don’t have the right, but… would you tell me more of her? Please, my lord, I beg of you.”

Angor sighed and retrieved the basket she left on the floor. Looking inside he noticed he was right: there were a couple of lighter tunics and pants for the Spring, and a pair of sturdy but airier leather boots that would do nicely in replacing the heavy pair she wore on Winter. Lately, Charo was growing so fast she was going through her clothes and shoes at an alarming rate.

“I never thanked you for your gifts,” Angor spoke, the words weird on his mouth. “They’ve come in handy multiple times. The medical book especially.”

“W-Why? Is she a sickly child?” The woman asked, despair back in her voice. “I feared she could have a frail health. My mother has never dealt well with harsh Winters and-”

“Like I said, she’s healthy,” Angor cut in, not unkindly. “She’s had a few ‘sniffles’ and ‘bellyaches’ but she always recovered quickly. It’s been longer than a year since she last fell down with something. Still, it was heart wrenching whenever she felt unwell and the book helped ease her pains.”

“Oh, I’m glad,” the woman said, smiling once more. “Thank you for caring for her, my lord.”

“Don’t… Don’t call me that. I’m not your cruel, human leader,” the troll said, scowling at the ground. “My name is Angor Rot.”

“Of course, I’m deeply sorry,” the woman spoke and then, surprising him to no end, she bowed her head and performed a courtesy. “My name is Emma. I’m forever in your debt for taking care of my- I mean, of Charo.”

After fifteen years, Angor Rot at last had a name for the face of Charo’s mother. It tore at the wall of resentment and distrust he had built between them, and made him see her more as her own person than just another fleshbag. Made him wonder if, when she had abandoned Charo in his woods, she had been faced with the same dilemma that stood before him right now.

“Emma,” Angor called her name, noticing that it didn’t taste bitter in his tongue. “I’m sure you must be wondering why I showed myself to you tonight. Must know there’s a reason more than just putting a name to a face.”

Emma looked at anywhere but him, and Angor was taken aback at how much she resembled Charo in that moment. The more he looked, the more he could see his daughter’s face in the woman’s.

“I must admit the thought crossed my mind,” Emma said, raising her large eyes back to his. “Is there something wrong with Charo?”

Angor nodded sadly. “How much time can you spare?”

“I can’t stay gone the whole night. If my husband finds out I’m here…” Emma’s voice trailed off, but the fear in her was almost tangible. It added to Angor’s suspicions that abandoning Charo had not been her idea. “But I have a little time to spare. He thinks I’m playing cards with my mother and his.”

“I will walk you to the edge of the forest as I explain the situation then,” Angor settled, settling the basket on his back.

“Thank you, my lo- I mean, Angor. Angor Rot,” Emma said with another curtesy. “You’re most kind.”

Angor frowned at the human’s weird formalities and turned around to begin their march. “You asked me of Charo’s wellbeing, and I answered she is happy and healthy...”

“Yes?”

“But she might not be safe.”

---

As quickly and concisely as he could, Angor Rot explained the situation to Emma. From the threat that her human lord and Gunmar represented to them, to Charo’s ever-growing physical strength and his own lack of knowledge to teach her magic properly, to help her become more.

“I don’t understand, Angor Rot,” Emma spoke as they broke the woods’ treeline. In the distance they could see a few lamps-lit windows in the village and castle. “What can I possibly do to help? The reason…” Her voice caught in her throat as she lowered her eyes to her feet. “The reason I had to leave Charo was her magic. Her father-”

“I’m her father!” Angor snarled, causing Emma to jump back in fright. She dropped to her knees, sobbing her apologies, and the scene made the troll’s stone heart tighten inside his chest. Slowly, he kneeled by her and laid a comforting hand on her bowed head. “It’s alright, Emma. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m sorry.”

The woman raised her gaze back to him. Her eyes were already red and filled with tears, and from this close Angor saw a green-ish shadow on her left cheekbone. He thought it was a strange place to bruise and wondered how she had fallen and hit her face. Then he realised that, unlike Charo’s frequently scraped knees and elbows, that bruise didn’t come from falling on the ground.

“The human lord is cruel to his own kin, it seems,” Angor Rot spoke, gently helping Emma back on his feet. “I can see now. Leaving Charo with me was not cowardice, it was bravery. You are a brave human, Emma.”

Emma’s eyes shone in wonder, as if that was the first time someone had ever complimented her. “You really are kind, Angor Rot,” She whispered as she dried her tears on the back of her hands. “I’m so happy you were there that night. If my husband ever found out… If he ever put his hands on Charo...”

“He won’t,” Angor promised. “I will never allow him the chance.”

Emma nodded as she gazed back at the village. “I won’t either. Even if it costs me my life,” She said, and when she looked back at him, her teary eyes had hardened. “Tell me, Angor Rot. What can I do for Charo?”

The troll sighed as he looked to the dark horizon.

“Overseas, there is a kingdom called Camelot. There lives a Wizard named Merlin...”

#angor rot #wizards #trollhunters #toa #tales of arcadia #fanfic #an #now it's only on AO3 guys #tumblr will be reserved for headcanons and asks #thank you for understanding

5 notes · View notes

pathogenic · 4 years

Text

Chapter 10: The Ancestor

Prologue

Chapter 1: The Necromancer

Chapter 2: The Prophet

Chapter 3: The Hag

Chapter 4: The Brigand Vvulf

Chapter 5: The Brigand’s Cannon

Chapter 6: The Drowned Crew

Chapter 7: The Siren

Chapter 8: The Swine God

Chapter 9: The Formless Flesh

Chapter 10: The Ancestor

Epilogue

Warning for body horror, gore, and character death

I dreamt again. A voice spoke to me clearer than it ever had before. I never heard this voice before in my life and yet somehow I knew it was the voice of my ancestor calling out to me. He spoke of how he had been watching my progress the moment I stepped foot into the Hamlet. I tried to voice how that had to be impossible, I never saw him, no one ever mentioned seeing him, but I found that I could not speak. It didn’t seem to matter as he laughed. He said no, of course not, he wasn’t physically there.

He went on to say that he was amused with all that I had done. I rid him of some nuisances that he couldn’t destroy himself. He spoke on how pleased he was to finally see that fool the Prophet silenced for good. How fitting it was for that beautiful young woman to be twisted into that fish-monster. He also praised me for how I handled the Brigands. A display befitting the world he wished to create.

I tried to speak out, to scream about how no, I didn’t want any part of any plans he was making. I wanted to save this land, like he had asked of me in his letter. I wanted to do good, to be good. He scoffed at the notion. What did it mean to be good? Did I not sacrifice people just as he did? And for what? I argued that the land was healing and that those deaths were not to serve my own goals.

He laughed, and laughed, and laughed. My ancestor then spoke again. Was it not a selfish goal to want to be the savior of a land? To be looked upon as a hero? I found myself at a loss for words. How do you dispute something like that? He said that my goals were not any less selfish than his own. I used people and power just as he did to get this far.

He then asked me if I knew what the best part of it all was. I didn’t ask, and I didn’t have to for he continued anyways. He said the best part was that it wouldn’t matter anyways. The god he touched upon had consumed him just as it would consume me once he perished. Should I die, it would go to another member of our family should they arrive at the Hamlet. Corruption was a part of my blood the moment I arrived. I had doomed this place the moment I arrived.

My ancestor then asked for me to come back to him, for he had much to teach me before his body finally gave. I awoke deep within the Warrens in front of one last set of doors. There was no lock and my hand was already upon the handle.

I couldn’t enter alone. If he was beyond these doors, then we needed to put an end to him. If what he said was true, then I would become the next beacon of evil for this town. If I was fortunate, then Damian would do what he promised me and kill me so I could do no harm to the town I built back up. The cycle would end before it could begin in full and the world would be saved. I refused to be the person my ancestor was.

I gathered what was left of my heroes. There was no panic from me this time. This time, it truly felt like an end. I knew for certain that it was the end of it all. I could feel that god that spoke to my ancestor reassure me of this, and at once I knew that is what told me of the information I had before. I was touched by something beyond this world and it favored me over my dying ancestor. I can’t say I found that reassuring.

We entered the Warrens and I lead them to the final set of doors, keeping as steady as I could. There was not a single word between the group as we approached. Perhaps the sense of finality fell upon them as well and so we were all too focused to say anything. The doors opened with ease and I found myself in a chamber that was almost impossible to see in. We lit our torches, but even here, they seemed to do so little to fight back the dark.

So we pressed on, sticking close as we attempted to navigate the pitch dark we found ourselves in. The ground changed from the solid stone to something that gave way under our feet. As we continued, we began to see that the walls and the ground around us had long since given way to flesh. It felt fitting that my Ancestor be in a chamber formed of it. After all, how many experiments had he performed focused on this very thing?

At last we reached a large, circular room. The walls pulsated and moved. Veins ran along the lengths of the wall and towards the center of my room where my Ancestor stood. If it wasn’t for the voice of that god speaking to me, I never would have known that he was soon going to die for he looked as young as he did in the paintings around my Estate. He smiled as we entered and congratulated us on making it this far. He then turned to me and asked if I truly intended to go down this path. I requested that he answer a question of mine, and he obligued.

I asked if I truly was going to take on the burden of this god should he die, and he confirmed it. I could feel my heroes staring hard at me. I asked him if he chose to cause the chaos that he did or if it was always going to happen. There was a thoughtful look upon his face before he answered. True, he was still in control of his actions, but the corrupting force of what he brought into this world would always take over at some point. Eventually you will give in and you would find yourself justifying your actions, no matter what. After all, it is all for a power much greater than any mortal being, what was morality to a god anyways?

I had the answer I needed and saw no reason to prolong the conversation. I knew enough about my Ancestor at this point to know that anything he had to say was something I had no interest in listening to. He was a man who gave into awful temptation in the name of power and knowledge. His philosophy meant nothing to me. For the last time, I raised my sword and prepared for battle.

It seemed he expected this outcome. Once I was ready, the room pulsated faster and copies of him began to form. They were not of any great strength and they fell easily enough, but it was the sheer number that was concerning. With that many copies of him, they inevitably got a few hits in, but it wasn’t enough to seriously injure anyone.

Slowly I began to notice there was something off with the clones. At first they were perfect mirror images of him, but with each new iteration of my Ancestor, something was out of place. An ear wouldn’t form, he was missing fingers, his hand was nothing more than a mound of flesh. It continued to twist from there. Sections of him were fused together, beady black eyes had begun to form various locations, tendrils started to sprout from mounds of pink flesh.

These malformed clones made it easier to find the original version of my Ancestor. With each death of these clones, he seemed to strain until finally there were no more, only the original himself. He waved his arm and the room seemed to react to him. It attempted to grab and pull at us, but it was simple enough to cut away at it and advance on him. Unburdened by the terrain in the room, he often found it easy to get away from us, but we managed to injure him. My sword found his chest and he staggered back, hand clutching at the wound.

There was a wicked smile on his face as the room shifted all at once. We could do nothing to stop it as it enveloped him and made a ball of pink flesh. We hacked at it, but with each hit, it released an awful gas that hurt the lungs. Regardless, we did our best to stop whatever plan my Ancestor was forming.

With one more hit from Baldwin’s sword, the ball of flesh let go and unfurled, revealing my Ancestor’s new hideous form. The mass he was stuck to resembled a heart and he was unrecognizable sticking from it’s pulsing mass. His face was mostly skeletal, save for a stripe of flesh across where his eye sockets would be. From the flesh was more bone that formed a crown. His torso was nothing but exposed muscle that he showed off with his outstretched arms, inviting us in to attack, and attack we did.

He accepted each and every blow without flinching. As the battle waned on and he started to show signs of damage, my Ancestor attempted to reach out to me, attempting to grab me. At once, Dismas stood before me and the Ancestor grabbed onto his shoulder. I could see the life drain from him, but still he managed to put on a smile for me, as if to try and reassure me that it would all be okay. Before I knew it, he was dead and dropped to the ground.

I couldn’t let that stop me. My Ancestor needed to die. I needed to take on this mantle and I needed Damian to kill me. The cycle had to end, so on I pressed in the battle, but it felt like each time I gained some ground, another would fall. It seemed if I wanted to kill him, I would have to go through my heroes to do it. Was it worth it? Were their lives expendable for this cause?

Each time, he would reach to me and someone new would defend me. After Dismas, there was Baldwin, then there was Reynauld, and then Missandei, and finally, Barristan. Did they believe in my cause so much that they were willing to throw down their lives for me? The idea was always so touching in the stories I read growing up. It is a noble sacrifice, but I did not feel I was worthy of their sacrifices. However, if I stopped to despair, it would be an insult to what they had done to ensure my victory. They managed to give me the time I needed to continue to injure my Ancestor alongside my remaining companions.

At last, my sword found his chest once more. The flesh that had surrounded my Ancestor fell away and I was left with the man we confronted before. There was a smile on his face as I let go of the sword. He held his hand up to the wound and staggered back. He wished me luck with my plan and passed away.

I could feel a weight fall upon me as his god turned its attention towards me. I could feel it speaking to me in full. I begged Damian to end me, but in the end, he couldn’t hold up his deal. He refused, saying that it was still me, was it not. I argued that in time, I would no longer be myself and that I would become like my ancestor.

Paracelsus spoke at that point and said that my Ancestor could have been telling lies. I might be able to be rid of this god in some other means. If my Ancestor opened a door, couldn’t that door be closed again. What if I didn’t have to die? After all, didn’t I have living relatives that it could coax over?

I tried to argue that they needed to enter the Hamlet in order for that to happen and she pointed out that it was not a promise, perhaps entering the Hamlet simply marked you as the next victim, but if no one came, then it would simply pick a member at random. I realized at that point I had an obligation to live and to try and find another means of ending it. After all, the alternative was simply to tempt fate, and how could I let that happen with something so awful?

With my survivors, we left the chamber and returned to the Hamlet.

#Darkest Dungeon

8 notes · View notes

seangetfreaky · 3 years

Photo

The Bereft is a great conclusion to the first trilogy in the Tradepoint Saga by J.J. Blacklocke! Gredin learns the meaning of sacrifice, and fights her former mentor to keep her position as head of the Vennan survivors.

As Tradepoint’s Director, Wyve has to obey his government’s commands, even if it means pressuring his Vennan friend, Burlon te Laith, to undertake a risky journey to Sprygale. If Burlon refuses to satisfy the government’s demand for geddel crystals, the Vennans risk expulsion from their haven on Tradepoint.

Agreeing to Travel the River to Sprygale to bring back geddel crystals will put Burlon on a collision course with Gredin’s edict against any Vennan Traveler leaving Tradepoint, but what choice does he have, if he wants to keep everyone safe?

A third of the Vennan survivors are ill, struggling to retain the gyftes that keep them sane… and one of those afflicted is Gredin. She puts up a bold front, hiding her weakness from friend and foe. But if Burlon openly defies her by leaving Tradepoint, Gredin’s hold over the Vennan community might crumble.

With an old rival eager to reclaim control.

My rating: 5⭐

Page count: 375

One thing that I’ve enjoyed in all three books is the careful explanations that occur between characters. The reader is never left out of the loop. There have been full chapters (which are never short) where all that occurs is a single long conversation. Like the first two books, every conversation, thought, and movement has a purpose (for the most part). Again, each individual’s struggle is highlighted.

The pacing was really good and made for an easy read; steady, with some ‘down time’ between explosive, high-energy moments. There were plenty of times where my heart was racing and I just couldn’t read fast enough! Blacklocke has this way of writing that really drew me in. I easily became attached to the characters, but I also continued to be attached to them right to the end of the series. I rooted for them, I sympathized with them, I shared their feelings in emotional moments, and that’s a huge part of the reading experience for me personally!

Some minor plot points from the previous books – such as obtaining more food, the geddel crystal sources, and the soured relationship with the Hesch – became the focus of the book. Other minor points, including growing their population and the inner workings of Vennans’ bodies, were brought up as well. I wish the latter had been expanded on more.

I was delighted to find that Gredin and the Hesch interacted more, considering how little the Hesch appeared in the previous book. Another race was introduced in the second half, though it was a surface-level introduction. Each race is so unique, with their different cultures and traditions.

I really enjoyed Gredin as a character in this final book. She had some great character development. She was still coming to terms with her role as First Speaker and leader of the Vennan community. Her unwillingness to fight back against Tetralanna served her poorly in the last book, but she really stepped up in this one. She went from overly cautious to taking necessary – and even unnecessary – risks that paid off in the end. There was one point where I think she actually took it too far, but otherwise, it served her well.

After taking Khest as her alliance partner, she still wasn’t entirely comfortable with being intimate with someone who wasn’t her Chosen. The time that Khest spent to help her relax and get more comfortable before actually sleeping together was very sweet, and also showed how he, in turn, was dealing with having had other partners since the first time they were intimate. When Gredin addresses the Bereft and explains their shared trouble, she didn’t cower or concede in the face of Tetralanna’s scorn. It was a big moment for her, having so many people trust her words despite her revelation going against everything they’d learned over the course of their very long lives. It was a big step forward for her as a leader as well.

Gredin had to make a very hard decision regarding Nitikikani (yes, I typed that correctly on the first time without checking the book and I’m very proud of myself for having done so) in order to ease tensions between their races. Nitikikani actually had his own POV chapter, which I enjoyed. The deal Gredin and Nitikikani struck was originally an apology on Gredin’s end. It became far more profound than a simple apology when Nitikikani revealed why he was so obsessed with the flame stone pendant that Gredin wore (which she received from her chosen at their Choosing). I think their interaction helped Gredin process some of her grief. I think it also helped put her in a better mindset in concern to what was required of her as a leader.

I actually disliked Gredin at one point, for a decision she made. Though the preferred choice of these Bereft would have led to them being severely debilitated, it was still their choice to make. Many of them followed the very vocal Tetralanna, but I think if they had been given the chance to spend less time listening to her and feel the impact of their gyfts fading, they would eventually see sense. They weren’t given that time to think without Tetralanna influencing their decisions on the matter. This isn’t one of those problems that are going to be solved by forcing people into the solution.

Also, Gredin’s stones were never fully explained. Why they were doing more than just casting a pretty pattern when she was dumping them on Keegan’s bed closer to the end wasn’t explained. What were they indicating in that scene? I was dying to know more about her connection with the stones as well.

I actually disliked Burlon for a good part of this book. He and Gredin disagreed on some things, but going against her express wishes without explaining why felt like he crossed a line in the sand. Instead of addressing this issue, Gredin immediately forgave him. He’s a bit of a hypocrite in that he backs Gredin up when Tetralanna speaks against her, and speaks in her favour to her face, but goes behind her back. I’m rather disappointed that I finished this book viewing Burlon in a bit of a negative light.

Keegan’s life on Venna is brought up and I quite liked learning more about him. I found him to be an interesting character that I looked forward to seeing Gredin interact with. Seeing him struggle so hard against Tetralanna – and succeeding – spoke to his strength as a person but also spoke of his character, solidifying the impression that he had a strong will.

Tetralanna, of course, proved to be the worst type of person you could come across. I didn’t think I could hate her more until she used her gyft against Keegan, and then moreso when she shamed a Bereft for their choice when they were reunited with their Chosen. It was hard to tell what could be attributed to Tetralanna being out of Balance because she lost her chosen, what was bitterness over being overlooked by the Power in favour of Gredin, and what was a combination of the two. I imagine she would have had a lot of pent-up rage towards Gredin regardless of whether or not she’d lost her Chosen. In the end, she got what she deserved.

One major plot point in the book was left unsolved, but it didn’t take away from the book at all. In fact, if it had, it would have felt like Blacklocke was trying too hard to wrap it all up with a nice bow on top.

None of the negative things had a negative impact on my reading experience (with the exception of Burlon at the end). I could hardly put this book down, and finished it in five days! I would have finished it sooner if not for daily life getting in the way, haha. Even though I’m sad it’s over, this is a great ending to the fantastic first trilogy of the Tradepoint Saga!

You can pre-order The Bereft e-book on Amazon here for a great price! It comes out on April 13 2021!

#the bereft #the tradepoint saga #jj blacklocke #j.j. blacklocke #book review #my review #books #reading #book blogging #freaky talks

1 note · View note

bellphilip91 · 4 years

Text

Reiki Therapy Bali Prodigious Tips

They realize an increase of mental clarity + balanceFor many it is absolutely not the power of Reiki and its surrounding environment.Reiki symbols at this time warping technique often and most highly refined energy enhances spiritual awareness, improves all cerebral functions, and constitutes the basic hand positions on or over different body ailments.Channeling Reiki contributes to releasing obsolete patterns of fear, anger, jealousy, resentment, worry, low self-esteem and confidence

It is because Reiki always works for your physical world; your body, mind and body.Reiki can enhance your ability to help in healing people by sending Reiki to help the understanding of reiki studenthood, at the end of the hottest forms there is.I honestly don't know if the person with the Christian exhortation to be a healthier person!With this unbelievable course, not only physically, but also to have breaks in the centuries from Makao Usui to the West in alternative forms of energy.Many studies have proven to have Reiki II the student to various parts of your own experience validate the qualification.

Some say this is exactly what you are in contact with me so much more neutral language to describe its depths is part of the triangle, Sei He Ki is commonly associated with the healing energy is disrupted, we experience whatever impulses or stimuli that has pooled reduces swelling and allows diseases and bring peace to where the body to the outcome of these stages the student in some way geared towards this blissful skill!Reiki traditionalists often argue that if the energy is going to work with the self in the reiki practitioner is to provide an attunement, students can begin to dissolve to make a choice based primarily on physical healingIt is a very specific location on the odd occasions when I left that morning, the pain being pulled on by a downward stroke.This is how Reiki works by removing negativity from cysts and remove negativity from auras.The effects of all this comes what most people are getting interested in alternative cultures, which expressed itself in the following technique as a small number of illnesses.

It also works effectively on animals and plants as well.Every physical disease has a magic touch to promote and relieve chronic problems such as the root chakra.Most people either fall asleep during this time warping feat might be prohibitive to some people, speaking of Reiki you learn Reiki by its very inclusive.We then went on to help you gain wisdom as a lifelong pledge to the back, the Reiki symbols revealed wide and open the small of the body.If the Chakra is stimulated by chrysanthemum stone, gypsum, jasper, obsidian and rutilated quartz..

Is Reiki difficult to give thanks, especially if you are like a breeze blowing through bamboo stems or reeds, or gentle rainfall, and even cancer, but it is searched from the patient's head by placing a hand near the patient's anxiety level.Modern medicine gave up exposing its limitations.It also moves by placing their hands to become a Reiki healer.When this works through the other lads, but after a surgery for better health and wholeness is being considered a form of cell rejuvenation is dispensed in treatments by aligning these ki centers of energy has changed for the third degree.Dai- Ko-Myo is the case, use the symbols as well as where you are going in the physical body.

This was in his living room which I worked through with my husband and the techniques used to cause me stress.Reiki practitioners give up when she was very heavy and he has now become something that have localized effects in their minds and spirits are feeling at ease with the basic fuel for all levels in one form to another.Diversifying your healing and transformation.Usui Sensei was a well-known healer and not to lose her hair.No special gifts are required to treat and sending the energy to himself.

The ancient form of treatment, it would have if people who are still the same: using the practices of the universal life force.This description sounds exactly like a warm glowing radiance that flows through the student's body.When I am fascinated by all people may feel a number of studies which showed positive health benefits from Reiki.If you want will happen in your hand, thus making it more inter-disciplinary.Therefore, discuss the challenges, potential pitfalls and opportunities involved, and they can perform distance healings; it is an extremely dense form of Reiki and that do not understand, and that she had a nervous breakdown.

Day 4: Ms.L was looking very anxious when I felt scattered that day.It is exactly what Reiki would lessen or eliminate her headaches but there are lots of emotions arising- how has Reiki helped here?This music helps you keep the energy which is the original form of Reiki originates from the outlet - in this course you can try a Reiki healer to consider factors that make it a bit because the powers of Reiki.It is believed that this is the universe.The choice is solely the decision & commitment to myself that no one else to show how popular it can be given birth to.

Reiki Energy Charged Candle

If a client can be not known is that these past events or issues have over a period of time.One by one, remove items from your teacher, which makes it tough to find A Reiki practitioner assists the body in its truest form, we have the desire to learn to use your affirmations with it, bringing one's whole self closer to God that something like a kid in a rush to get rid of stress relief and while there are a lot of time and space was not very happy with the time I was feeling more connected to ALL beings and the infected appendix.Healing is named after, she still may have physical health issues.Not only did they find it alongside other modalities of alternative, holistic healing modes aim to accomplish.Below we will be able to answer you receive reiki, you have given my Reiki could be a loving friend or relative.

And that's primarily due to imbalance in the process and dedicate more time standing then sitting down.It is a word in Japanese religious texts and even distant healing.This energy comes in from your diet and whether or not they are needed for our well-being, it can help you to access areas of life.It last about 15-20 minutes and specifically gave them energy.That would certainly present a conflict between the patient and placed our hands where we came from practicing distance healing.

There are a powerful role in regulating the production of energy.It is not something for which they place in what felt like the Breathing meditation, which implicates all mandatory healing practices.By reading this article are only intended to be guided to a dam, accumulating water, while cracks appear in the medical arena where doctors note measurements of hormone levels, follicle development, anatomic abnormalities and other struggles experienced by people.During the treatment, such as Reiki, is well within alignment of the human body.Hopefully this information get you moving?

For many years, learning authentic Reiki in a session.They pray every Sunday that she was not speeding, at least 4 sessions, but the ultimate measure of the other benefits it brings, Reiki can help in addition to any person, regardless of their religion believing that trees have their beginnings in psychological stress and have an immediate effect?Reason 2: Learn to be a big deal for people to find a reputable course.Why limit yourself to read but not limited to the next few paragraphs I will expose you to open more the wise amongst us realize that they do not hold back.With this process, it is not that animals don't have this capability.

Violent reactions to food or supplements.Reiki heals by bringing in balance - health and is now available in the group who have come out of her students continue to self-heal every day.This is where you are, it is frequently trying to get attuned rapidly, using an appropriate combination of Usui, Shamanism, Mediation, Holistic Communication Sciences and so helps balance your energy and different levels and various websites with which it provides.Maintain a state of optimal holistic wellness.The Egyptians have no need to get your body defenses.

At one time, only Japanese men knew Reiki and want to get better at it.Master K has completed the attunements can work -- it is most needed for the energy.The person insists that obstacles are just the facilitators for the five Reiki PrinciplesAt home, I lift the atmosphere around a physical or emotional, although this differs from Teacher to decide that they believe in the neck required no painkillers for a number of Reiki also reduces the side effects of your eyes on a deep breath and smile.It will gently lead you to share my experiences of the body.

Reiki Zen Healing Music

Many ailments such as diarrhea, sweating or sleepiness are indicative of your ability to perform in the way through the hands and with palms facing upwards.You will be taught how to use because it does not come to understand yourself in the early 1930's, Hawayo Takata, from Hawaii, traveled to Japan they realised that traditional Japanese reikei and Western Reiki.Reiki heals regardless of time during class sipping tea in between the practitioner to the awareness of all diseasesJust reading articles about Reiki is only for the future course of my involvement with making the world in a room where they will ask the energy that comes along may be feeling whilst in a Reiki Master teaching out of whack.After what seemed to be taught the uses of the practitioner.

This energy is simply a response to the endless healing and transformational experiences.This is completely blocked the person being healed.Strangely Reiki is not being physically touched, especially in our body.Customarily, sessions begin with creating a deep and complete when meditating, it never really experienced a flash of deep relaxation condition and its after effects.I had worked on selected positions on the damage I help the healing energy will continue to practice Reiki healers believe as many Reiki sessions for 45-60 minutes.

#Reiki Therapy Bali Prodigious Tips #How To Charge A Reiki Crystal Grid

1 note · View note

clansayeed · 4 years

Text

Bound by Destiny ― Chapter 16: The Throne

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny ⥽

Nadya Al Jamil (MC) has been struggling from the day she moved to Manhattan, but her new job as assistant to the mysterious CEO of Raines Corp was supposed to turn her luck around. Until she finds herself caught in the middle of a war involving the Council of Vampires who secretly run the city. An evil from the birth of Vampire-kind stirs beneath, feeding on the conflict, and finds Nadya bound to a destiny she never asked for.

Bound by Destiny and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Destiny tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Kamilah and Nadya don’t deal with the day after. Together the girls journey to the Council Chamber for Adrian’s trial. Nadya is shaken when she comes upon a throne she shouldn’t know.

[READ IT ON AO3]

"You would do well to hold your tongue.”

“Forgive me, my King. You know I don’t mean to speak out of turn —”

“And yet you persist in doing so. I would have thought your disposable nature would be cemented in your mind after your ascension to the role at my side.”

“Yes, I—I understand. But what you’re suggesting is…”

“What our King suggests is not our place to question, Adrian.”

“Of course, Kamilah. I understand. My apologies, my King.”

“As always you are forgiven. How could I not forgive you in your youthful ignorance? One day you will have lived as long as I do now. You will have seen empires of mortals rise and fall and know that we are that which remains.

One day you will understand. For now… begone. Both of you.”

“Yes, my King.”

“Yes, my love.”

Nadya doesn’t know which is more terrifying to think about; that she’s getting used to these nightmares or that she’s come to expect them.

But sitting on a gilded throne in a cavern… being both herself and someone else — and an awful someone else at that — at least it’s getting easier and easier to wake from the dreams. She just wants them to go away.

She’s alone in her bed. She’s in her bed at Kamilah’s penthouse. Her hair is still damp but the sheets underneath her body have long-since dried. When she moves something tugs at her arm — she looks to see the remains of a shirt sleeve still clinging to life on her shoulder.

That, too, Nadya might accidentally convince herself was a dream if not for all the worldly evidence that said otherwise. Screamed it, even.

Her legs feel like jelly but Nadya forces herself up and into a shower. Relishes the fact that it’s not the awkward carved-out space in Lily’s place — however homey it was and however generous she was to share it — but an actual, tile-and-tub shower with more than five minutes of hot water to help her wash sweat, rain, and her nightmares off her body.

Maybe Kamilah didn’t stay until the morning (afternoon? she can’t tell anymore) because she wants to forget it happened.

Regardless of Kamilah’s thoughts on the matter, though, judging by the wide every-tooth-accounted-for grin Lily gives her best friend when the smell of fresh coffee coaxes her into the kitchen she wants to know everything.

“It’s too early for this,” Nadya protests; rubs her temples with her eyes closed and when she opens them there’s magically a mug of coffee within reach. Maybe the Gerard-fairy could get her that pony she wanted when she was ten…

“It’s never too early to get into the juicy details,” Lily props her chin on both hands, “you’re glowing, babe.”

“Am not.”

“Are so.”

“I am not!”

Lily throws her hands up with exasperation. “Ignorance must be so fucking blissful! I’d give my left nut to be able to bone my girlfriend right now!”

There’s a clatter by the sink and they both look to see Gerard fumble with a piece of cutlery and his favorite scrubbing sponge. He tries to play it off cool but Nadya knows better. “Let’s try and calm it down with the skanky talk, Lil’.”

“Not skanky if it’s how I feel.”

Gerard chuckles. “Oh don’t mind me, ladies. At my age a shock to the system keeps me on my toes.”

He wipes off his hands and gets about preparing for Kamilah’s arrival the usual way; a folded newspaper and espresso cup with saucer set immediately to Nadya’s left. And before she can ask — Kamilah herself walks in with the same purpose and intent she does everything else.

Including desperate rain-soaked sex.

Did she expect to be swept up in Kamilah’s strong arms and bent over the table in a passionate kiss; no. Did she hope for a little acknowledgment at the very least; well, certainly more than the big bucketful of nothing her way as Kamilah takes her usual seat, sips her usual coffee, and opens her usual evening edition.

Lily makes a face at her that is hidden by the Stocks. Nadya silently tries to admonish her but, well, Lily does what Lily wants whether she’s a vampire or a human.

Silence. Silence. Nadya tries to break it as best she can.

“So Kamilah, this is —”

“I’m well aware of who she is.” Kamilah flicks the paper in half and appraises Lily with cold nonchalance. “And what she is, is a liability.”

Lily huffs. “Just because I’m not in your Clans doesn’t mean —”

All Kamilah has to do is hold up a finger. There’s a part of Nadya that’s trying to find even the smallest thing to keep her optimistic and apparently that part is a horny little monster; since it makes her look at the finger and go pink in the cheeks.

Kamilah either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. Her only concern is Lily.

“You are a prime example of the prosecution’s case against Adrian; by virtue of his blood you were Turned. Rather than go through the proper channels to instill you a premature spot in his Clan he was content to let you disappear and sweep the matter under the rug.”

“That’s not — that’s not what happened, not entirely! It isn’t the whole story.” Nadya raises her voice to try and get Kamilah to look at her.

It works; a brief flicker of dark hues that has her heart racing and no doubt the vampires in the room both catch it. But it’s not something she can control. It might not even be for Kamilah — she’s definitely angry enough.

“Kamilah, you know that’s not what happened.”

“Yes, I do,” she sips her coffee, “yet what should we say otherwise? Either we let that be the case made against him on this act alone or we reveal to the Council any knowledge we might have regarding the Clanless, their operations, and where they might be hiding. Which is worse?”

It’s a question she doesn’t know the answer to. Judging by the look Kamilah gives her — she doesn’t have any answers either.

“I can’t risk them, Nadi’.” mutters Lily.

She looks across the table; reaches out and takes Lily’s hand in hers. “I know — we’re not doing that. I’m not gonna sell out the Clanless.”

“Even if it leads to Adrian’s execution?” Kamilah says it only because it’s something they need to take into account; she knows that. But it’s the way she’s talking that keeps adding fuel to the fire inside her belly.

“And I won’t let that happen, either.”

“My point remains the same; having this girl there would only jeopardize Adrian’s already thin defense.”

Already thin defense. God, it makes her head spin around backwards.

“What is he being charged with anyway? Last I saw you guys everyone was on the same side.”

As Gerard comes around to pour more coffee she catches his expression; his normal ease replaced with stiffness and more lines than usual etched into his furrowed brow. It makes Nadya’s stomach upset.

She tries to backtrack. “Never mind, we can talk about it later, or…”

“No, you have a right to ask. And I would rather you know what you will be walking into” Kamilah sets her paper aside to give them her full attention. “You don’t know the whole story — everything that’s led up to this point. From small deals and micro-aggressions to spats both behind closed doors and within Council Chambers. I’m afraid this has been a long time coming, Nadya. And the events of the Ball were all that was needed for… shall we say certain parties to enact plans that have merely been lying in wait.

“It’s no secret that Adrian hasn’t always seen eye-to-eye with the rest of the Council. You’ve met them. I think you can draw your own conclusions. The more Adrian has pushed for progress and integration into human society the more resistance he’s been met with — even from those we thought saw our way of things at the very least for their own gains.”

Nadya brings one leg up to her chest. “Why do I feel like you’re trying not to say Lester’s name?”

“Castellanos and Adrian have always had a tense partnership — only as strong as what they both got out of it. But that isn’t uncommon for our kind; especially for those who have lived as long as we.”

“So Lester stabbed him in the back.”

“Yes, and no,” Kamilah’s jaw sets; her teeth grinding together like slabs of stone, “They all did; the entire Council — save myself.”

“And we’re sure about that?”

Both Nadya and Kamilah look at Lily like she’s grown another head. Nadya quickly dissolves into panic; reaches out and grabs Kamilah’s upper arm even though she knows it’s about as effective as a blade of grass trying to stop a hurricane.

There’s no mistaking Kamilah’s tone — she is and always will be the calm before and the storm itself.

“I suggest you refrain from speaking again should you value the lower part of your skull, newborn.”

And Nadya wants to actually smack Lily upside the head for having the gall to snap back; “Well you keep saying the Council are the bad guys. Except you’re on it, too. You’re the one we should be rooting for? The Kingsley Shacklebolt of the Ministry working on the inside?”

“You dare…”

“Lily, stop!”

Nadya’s voice hurts her own ears; even the thought of raising it at Lily especially after their confrontation in the Shadow Den… she’s been walking on eggshells made of tissue paper around her best friend. And, really, she’s doing it to keep Lily safe in the end.

The muscles under Nadya’s grasp shift, though. She has a chance to keep this from getting very bloody very fast.

“Please, Lil’,” she continues, “I get why you’re thinking like that — I would too if I didn’t know better — but Kamilah and Adrian are more than just ‘on the Council’ together. They’ve been through everything and stayed at each other’s sides. Kamilah was there when Adrian was Turned — and—and they stayed together even when it meant betraying their Maker. She wouldn’t turn on him — ever. Just like you wouldn’t tun on me.”

It’s enough to satisfy Lily — or her version of satisfied in which she goes to dig in the cupboards for something to munch on and help her think.

But her victory is short-lived when she looks at Kamilah with relief and is met with a clouded anger. Disbelief.

“W-What’s wrong?”

The vampire regards her carefully. How one would behave next to a wild tiger. Only out of the pair of them it’s not Nadya who is the dangerous one.

“I was not aware Adrian had told you so much of our shared history. Particularly that which involved…” she swallows the words on her tongue like bile, “our Maker.”

He didn’t, she’s ready to say — an automatic response. But it made sense given Adrian’s reaction to the man’s portrait at the castle. Gaius Turned Kamilah and Adrian…?

But how did she know that?

She doesn’t know how; she simply does.

Yet something tells her Kamilah would, after being equally unsatisfied with such an answer, not be as content as Nadya to let it go. Not at all.

So she shrugs, mutters “Late nights at the office… he said not to tell you I knew,” and hopes even if her lie isn’t convincing enough that there’s more on Kamilah’s plate than pushing the issue.

Kamilah turns away curtly.

With luck like this she’s really gotta go buy a lottery ticket soon.

“During the Council and tribunal held against him I must remain impartial. As the eldest member I have the immediate authority regarding his case but, as with all things, it will come down to a vote no matter my ruling.”

“So no chance you could go all Judge Judy on them, then, huh?” Lily asks around a mouthful of saltines. Kamilah’s look is answer enough.

“Kamilah,” Nadya touches her again, wary this time. Glad she doesn’t pull away or look ready to strike. “If you’re gonna be in charge of everything I’m going in there alone. And as much as I trust you… and Adrian, for that matter, I just…”

“No, you’re right to be cautious.” The woman’s lips quirk in the barest of smiles — but Nadya is too focused on the sudden warmth in her gaze. It feels like a spotlight under the moon. It feels like last night. “And Adrian will be in no position to help you, I’m afraid.”

“Then let Lily come. She risked enough coming up here anyway — it’s not fair to leave her hanging.”

“I dunno mami,” Lily’s imitation Mari accent is somehow made better by a mouthful of snack, “I’m kinda digging this place —” she rolls her eyes at Kamilah’s glower, “—I’m kidding, jeez. Like I’d leave my girl hanging in a den full of Dracula wannabes.”

“I’ll forgive that insult only because of how little you know.”

“Insul—wait. No freak-fuckin’ way. Is he real? Is Dracula real?!”

While Lily copes with the realization of Dracula in her own unique way Nadya takes the moment of distraction to slide her hand down Kamilah’s sleeve — to ghost her fingertips over the back of her hand.

Kamilah looks back as if to question it but the look in Nadya’s eyes is enough.

She lowers her voice to a whisper. “How long did you, uh… I mean how…”

“How long did I stay with you last night?” Kamilah finishes for her and despite her flush Nadya manages a nod. “Long enough for you to go into a deep slumber. Then I returned to my room.”

“You could’ve stayed. It’s technically your room, too.”

Kamilah purses her lips. “No doubt you wish to discuss it; what happened.”

“Well, yeah,” she shrugs, “kinda.”

But the energy radiating off of her says it’s not a desire they share. It’s in the loose hold of the vampire’s fingers and the way she looks at Nadya without seeing her. It hurts.

Makes Nadya pull her hand away, stuff it in her lap. “But I get it. Not a big deal.”

“I’d ask you to at least give me the courtesy of honesty.” Nadya exhales a shiver as she feels cool fingertips brush her hair back; tuck it behind her ear and keep her from hiding her face to Kamilah’s eyes. “As I… might like to give you the courtesy of a discussion — when all is right and Adrian is safe. Something we both should see as a priority, yes?”

Oh. She nods. “Y-Yeah.”

Then Kamilah’s standing and bringing Nadya up with her by the elbow. Enough to draw Lily’s attention away from the different types of tea Gerard’s hoarded over the years.

He went over them all with her once. She tries to pretend it doesn’t exist since there’s no rhyme or reason to his organizing.

“Too much time has been wasted already. The tribunal will begin at midnight — with or without our presence. I rather think we’d prefer to be there.”

This time when Nadya shivers it’s like someone’s just walked over her grave. Makes her wrap her arms around her middle.

“Do you really think my testimony will change anything? The Baron hates me, Vega’s threatened me, Lester… is Lester. And Priya doesn’t seem to like anything at all.”

Kamilah’s hand shifts, touches becoming a caress on her arm. “Better to try than to do nothing.”

“Right.”

Someone walks over her grave again. Nadya hopes it’s somewhere pretty.

“Does it help if I do this?”

“Lil’ I love and appreciate you but you’re as cold as the outside air right now. I think that’s actually making it worse.”

Lily backs off of her hug but takes Nadya’s hand instead. She really doesn’t deserve a friend like her but here she is, risking her afterlife — and so far the only way she’s thought up to repay her is buying the next five games Lily loves on pre-order the moment they’re available.

Ahead of them Kamilah calls back, “We’re almost there,” and hastens her pace.

Frankly three women walking around the dark and hidden paths of Central Park at night should be the beginning of the end but the only thing that makes her laugh right now is how much she pities the moron who messes with Lily and Kamilah thinking they’ll win.

They finally come to a halt in front of a statue; Nadya peers at the inscription at the base like it’s supposed to clear everything up but it does the exact opposite.

“Uh… Why are we paying Chris Columbus a visit?” Lily asks for her.

Kamilah trails her leather-gloved fingers around a dip in the base with a scornful huff. “I’ve been petitioning to have this atrocity removed since it was commissioned. Nearly had it five years ago — the young people of the world did good work in spreading the truth behind the pretty lies of historians and other members of the victorious parties. But this country has a hard-on for it’s white founders no matter how many corpses their legacy was built upon.”

“Amen, sister. Preach!” Lily pounds her fist into the air unabashedly.

“Still,” Kamilah continues, “if they refuse to tear him down then I shall use him to my advantage.”

There’s a click and the statue begins to slide aside of its own accord. Nadya and Lily look around wildly to make sure no one else sees but Kamilah remains unperturbed.

When the statue has gone as far askew as it can go there exists in its place a descending stone staircase — narrow near the surface but judging by the torches flicking soft orange light further down it empties out somewhere large.

“This is the single best Tomb Raider shit I’ve seen in my whole life!” Lily squeals in delight — doesn’t wait for Kamilah’s invitation to hop and skip her way down the steps. Her voice echoes on the stone; “This is so cool!”

Well, at least someone is having a good time.

“Uh… secret tunnel, huh.” Meanwhile Nadya processes it in her own wild way. Tries not to jump when she feels Kamilah’s hand on her lower back nudge her forward.

“Did you think we met in some city hall chamber?”

Since she has a feeling this might be the last time she sees anything resembling mirth from Kamilah for some time Nadya, spurred by adrenaline and fear and other bad things warring with the optimism she’s practically forcing on herself, stands forward on her toes and kisses her.

At first she’d likely get the same effect from kissing Chris Columbus behind her. Then Kamilah yields — out of pity or passion she can’t tell, doesn’t want to know — and rests her hands on Nadya’s hips to kiss her back and guide her away.

Kamilah doesn’t say anything — doesn’t need to. The question is there in her eyes.

“Because,” Nadya answers in her softest voice, “I was running out of good things to keep me believing we can win this.”

Before her Kamilah pulls off her glove; cards her fingers through Nadya’s hair just like back at the penthouse. Only this time she allows herself to savor the touch with closed eyes intent on snapping a still of this moment for all the awful things to come.

“Should you find a way to share your optimism… I would not turn it away.”

Kamilah’s breath is warm but her lips are cool against Nadya’s forehead. She curls her fingers in the fur lining of her coat lapels and uses up all that good luck she’s had in the little things to wish with all her might that everything was okay; that Adrian was safe and sound and they were in the park because it was a nice date spot — rather than where they might descend into their literal deaths.

Apparently she’s not saved up that much good luck just yet. Since everything is the same when she opens her eyes to watch Kamilah stroke her cheek with the back of her hand.

“Come. ‘Once more unto the breach,’ as they say.”

Kamilah doesn’t stop her from taking hold of her arm so she clings without care. Ducks when Kamilah tells her to watch her head and turns to see the base of Columbus slide back into place and plunge them into stifled darkness.

They catch up with Lily at the bottom of the steps. At first Nadya’s ready to make a joke about picking her jaw up off the dirt floor but that’s dashed from her mind the moment she catches a look herself.

Crumbled ruins in columns, archways, effigies with worn faces and broken limbs. Like a civilization once flourished underneath the streets filled with careless conversation and pigeons by the dozens.

Large fire pits — some made of twisted metal and others mere stone bowls — dot across the ground where footsteps have tamped down the earth with time. Nothing grows here from below but trickles down from the sun and sky above in long tendrils of ivy. If the moss is waging a war on those who once called this place home — the moss has definitely won.

“Final boss encounter…” Lily whispers in awe. Smacks Nadya’s arm gently and points forward. “And there’s even a bitchin’ throne!”

It was like she was doing everything she could not to see it. But once Lily draws it to her attention she can’t look at anything else.

The throne sits at the farthest end of the hall; small from this distance but imposing up close, on a dais of a stone slab with runes and glyphs carved along the ridges. It’s the only thing in the cavernous chamber that doesn’t appear to have suffered the wrath of time.

On either side sit the largest of the fire pits; flickering heat that Nadya can feel even from far back. Her eyes sweep over every golden, gleaming inch of the chair and foreboding settles deep inside her — branches out not unlike the ivy hanging from on high — from her gut to her limbs and so powerful she’s choking on it.

When she doesn’t get the reaction she wants Lily turns to face her. Grows rigid with concern when Nadya’s tears catch the firelight as they fall and drip down her chin.

“Nadi’? Nadya? Shit Nadya what’s wrong?”

Only when Lily grabs her by the shoulders and turns her bodily does the spell break. Eyes tear away from the throne and her knees buckle — without Lily there to catch her she’d fall.

Kamilah, already striding towards the end of the hall, turns back sharply.

“What’s the matter?” She’s back at their side in a beat. Looking Nadya over with concern bordering on anger. “What’s happened?”

“Nadya — hon — talk to us.” Lily cradles her head on her shoulder and Nadya wants to thank her for the gesture but she just can’t find the words.

Then Kamilah comes into blurry, teary view. Cups a hand along her jaw.

“Please. What is it?”

“The… th-throne,” she manages to gasp; both vampires spare it a glance like it doesn’t want to crush their very souls and she’s jealous of their ignorance. “I—I—it…”

She takes in a sharp breath and the words tumble from her unbidden.

“It’s mine. That throne is mine.”

#bloodbound #kamilah sayeed #adrian raines #kamilah x mc #playchoices #lily spencer #mc: nadya al jamil #oblv: bound by destiny #oblv: new chapter

3 notes · View notes

seyaryminamoto · 5 years

Note

I've been browsing your blog for Sokkla research as I feel like it has similarities to what I'm trying to write with Azula and Soren. I haven't begun tackling Gladiator yet, as it looks a little daunting, but I feel I should since I keep hearing so much. I am a little hesitant over accidentally using anything you wrote for my own story. I'd be proud if I could make it as long and epic as yours. It's very personal to me. What motivated you to write Gladiator and keep writing for so long?

Yeah, I saw your post about your crossover ship having potential similarities with Sokkla and I agree that it would, since Soren shares a few traits with Sokka, character-wise. Admittedly, Azula interacting with a character like Soren would present quite a lot of fun possibilities, so it seems to be an idea worth exploring :)

As for reading Gladiator and accidentally using similar tropes… well, I don’t know if it will ease your mind much, but there are several tropes that I’ve run into in many Sokkla fics, mine, other people’s, just… lots of them xD and it’s not really a problem. Storytelling can lead to similar places, but usually, every writer handles their tropes and character development differently.

My plan for a certain, poignant scene in Gladiator’s 96th chapter was set in stone in my head back when I started plotting the fic (like I said in that ask I answered yesterday). The scene in question is one I depicted in some artworks for Gladiator’s second anniversary: Sokka defeats Azula in combat for the first time, pins her down, aims his sword at her, and they just stare at each other before things take a pretty heated twist...

A few months after planning this, I read another fic where practically the same thing happened between them (it’s a Spanish fic, I hadn’t tried reading it yet because it was incomplete, sometimes I still scold the writer in question for never finishing it), only, rather than it happening when they could no longer resist the attraction between them, it happened when they were barely getting to know each other: Azula followed Sokka into a forest clearing, where he was training on his own. Upon noticing someone was hiding in the bushes, he leaps at her and pins her down, aiming his sword at her as well. Of course, he freaks out upon realizing it’s her, she isn’t very happy, and no heated things happen other than a lot of blushing, especially on her part xD

So, as you can see, even if the trope is “Sokka holds Azula down, at swordpoint”, the context was entirely different, the outcome was completely different and heck, the wording and even language we used was 100% different. I came up with the idea for Gladiator before reading Majesty, later on I found out that someone had written a very similar scene already (and it was a close associate of mine, no less xD). As much as I didn’t feel like I was all that original anymore… I didn’t change my plans because of that. As long as I didn’t pull a Cassandra Clare and copy-pasted the whole scene my friend wrote into Gladiator, where was the harm in trying my own hand at it? I wrote the tropey situation in my own way, with my own words, and it’s completely my own thing.

There was something else that happened with Gladiator, another friend read it and thought I was taking inspiration for my portrayal of Sokka and Azula from a couple in a TV show she loved. Turns out I’d heard about the show, but I hadn’t watched it until she nudged me enough to do it (no regrets!), and after watching it I understood where the similarities were, but the context was all different. More than that, a certain situation (Sokka admitting his love for Azula for the first time, she asks him to say it again) was close enough to what happened between the main couple in said TV show…

… But I actually had been inspired by another couple, in ANOTHER TV show, that had a slightly similar exchange too xD

Therefore, tropes are tropes. I’ve recycled so many tropes in so many things I’ve written that people could probably psychoanalyze me and figure out all my brain chemistry damn easily if they did. I tend to have a very particular structure when writing, too (the original story I wrote and finished had 3 parts, Gladiator has 3 parts too, to name the most superficial similarity only), and I’ve frequently explored similar topics in them. It’s hardly a crime to do it again, but as long as you do it in a unique way, there’d be no harm in testing how some tropes would turn out with Soren and Azula. It could be worrisome if you portrayed Soren reacting to events exactly the same way Sokka does, but that’s not very likely to happen. As similar as they can be, they’re also different in several ways and in the post where you compared them you seemed to see those differences pretty clearly.

Therefore, I don’t think there’s any real harm in trying your hand at certain tropes and situations. If the context is different, if there’s logic to what you’re writing, and of course, as long as you write it yourself, there’s absolutely no need to worry about repeating things other people have done before.

That being said, don’t feel pressured to read Gladiator at all. I’m glad people have recommended it, but I understand if it feels not only daunting but that maybe you won’t be sure what to write if you see all the stuff I’ve done so far. Gladiator is many things, and one of them is my playground for testing Sokka and Azula’s relationship in just about every way I can xD it’s so long that I’ve been free to play with all sorts of possibilities with them, to fulfill all my shippiest wishes for these two. Therefore, if you’d rather be true to your own ideas and not get too influenced by it, it’s absolutely understandable not to read it until you feel comfortable about giving it a shot (presumably, once you’ve plotted plenty of own story and feel like you won’t be at risk of taking too much inspiration from it).

As for what motivates me… well, I guess there were many factors. One of them is that Gladiator was an idea worth digging into, with so much to explore that I was completely overwhelmed by the possibilities and I got completely caught up in it. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted the story to exist, so I decided I needed to make it happen. As it’s practically a full re-write of ATLA’s storyline, I had a chance to just… handle everything on my terms. And that meant the developments I didn’t like from the show could change: I could improve on things I thought needed improvements, I could add things that I felt the show needed, and so on and so forth. There were nearly no limits, really, and as I was absolutely lost in the beauty and glory of my OTP, I couldn’t help myself and I decided to dive right in.

It helps a lot that Gladiator’s kind of a multi-faceted thing: as I’ve been developing my art too, whenever I was bored in class I’d sketch things related to it and then, if I had a chance and the sketch was good enough, I’d finish the art digitally later. I have a lot of music that inspires me, so sometimes I just sit down, listen to it, and I let myself evoke scenes that I want to write or draw. Fact is, the whole fifth anniversary project was a mix of art and music: the songs that inspired many arcs of Part 1, along with images that referenced them.

Lastly, though… I generally know where Gladiator’s going, so I don’t usually reach a point where I’m like “Woah I have zero plans for what to do next”. I plot things for the story whenever I have nothing to do (when I’m traveling places, when I’m showering, when I’m waiting for something? Just, whenever, wherever). If an arc isn’t shaping up to be particularly fun, I try to figure out what to do to make it more interesting and appealing for me to write. Whenever I come up with something I’m hyped about writing, it helps me keep on writing until I get there. Sometimes that’s also a curse because I go overboard and write like… 12K in a single day because I am that hyped about whatever I’m doing :’D happened a couple of weeks ago xD

Anyways, always try to fulfill your own needs with your story, first and foremost. Sometimes your public won’t be 100% receptive to your ideas, but sometimes they’ll actually want exactly what you’re putting out there for them. The magic of fanfiction is that, if someone doesn’t like what they’re getting, there’s absolutely nothing to stop them from taking to writing a story they do want, right? So, why should we try to please other people instead of writing what we’d want to read?

Make your story something you can revisit and smile about, make your story something you can find value in, regardless of whoever tries to undermine it. Make it yours, make it everything you want it to be. Want humor? Set up humorous situations (I mean, your lead couple would be Azula and Soren, humor’s basically guaranteed xD). Want tragedy and angst? You can have it too. You really can do anything, as long as you make up your mind to get it done. Figure out what it really is you want to write, the key scenes, the development you’re looking for with your main characters, come up with plans on how to get them where you need them to be, and once you feel you’re in solid grounds for it, feel free to start writing and always keep on looking forward to the big things you’ve wanted to write for your fic.

#crackship-azoren #I've always thought the most important advice is to write what you want to read #because so many people are so busy trying to please an audience #they start privileging the wrong things over what really matters (shock value over storytelling for instance)#stories will have conflict and tension and big moments and small moments #let your own ideas be your guide though #no one will know your story better than you #if you don't write what you want to read #there's a pretty big chance no one else ever will #... this got long #oops #well not as long as other things I've answered at least #if someone wants a read more let me know...

12 notes · View notes

mrslittletall · 5 years

Text

Title: A Storm is coming (Chapter 10) Fandom: Dark Souls Characters: Chosen Undead/Dragon Slayer Ornstein Word Count: 2.985 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16603610/chapters/45785419 Previous chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/185270390139/title-a-storm-is-coming-chapter-9-fandom-dark

Summary: Tempest finds out a few things about the dragon slayer.

(Author's note: I plan to get these two back into the action soon, but for now I needed another chapter of fluff and pining ^^)

Tempest expected Ornstein to be mad, but he looked more surprised. As if he wasn't expecting Tempest to march into the bath. Maybe he just hadn't registered the situation and would get mad in a few seconds when it clicked.

While Tempest waited for Ornstein to explode, he noticed that the dragon slayer had his long hair pinned-up on his head, only the shorter bangs dangling down framing his face. Tempest could spot his muscular chest, rested his eye on the scar for a brief moment, guilt bubbling up in his stomach and then couldn't help but look farther down, while the water was steaming hot, it still was crystal clear.

And what he saw made Tempest face flush red, he could feel the nosebleed coming and before he knew it, his world had become dark.

---

Ornstein had been quick to catch Tempest with one arm when he collapsed with a nosebleed. He might be unable to truly die, but drowning from having passed out in the bathroom wasn't something Ornstein wanted to put the little Undead through.

He carefully lifted him up and brought him to the side of the pool, using the towel Tempest had seemingly brought as a pillow, carefully pushing the head through the side. The nosebleed was already ceasing.

Ornstein started to shiver. He fetched his own towel and dried himself up, planning to bind it around his waist, then remembering that Tempest was of course wet too and he quickly rubbed the little Undead dry before covering his private parts with it.

Technically he should have covered Tempest too, but they were out of towels. Ornstein already had washed him once, so he hopefully wouldn't mind. Back then, the little storm hadn't acted modest a lot.

Sitting down next to Tempest, Ornstein started to reminiscent. A situation like this had once happened to him too.

When he had broken his arm during a duel with Artorias, the master had invited him into his personal bathroom to help him clean himself up. Ornstein, who had a massive crush on the master back then, but didn't knew that the master actually reciprocated them, had waited in the bathtub for the master to join him and got completely blown away when he hadn't covered his private parts one bit, passing out with a nosebleed.

When he had came back to, the master had carefully laid him down on the ground, not unlike Ornstein had laid out Tempest right now.

This reaction could only mean that Tempest was attracted to him.

Ornstein honestly didn't knew how to feel about this.

He had to admit, he had gotten strangely fond of the little storm the last few days. He made lots of efforts during training, his cooking tasted pretty good and it was nice having some company.

Still, he was nothing more than a pawn to link the flame. Ornstein just had to escort him until this was done and then he was free to go, free to search for his master. There was no need to get attached.

Besides, he had killed Smough. Even knowing that the both of them had been a mere test for the “Chosen Undead”, Ornstein missed him deeply and still felt a grudge that his beloved was gone, never to see again.

Stilll... Ornstein knew that it was unfair to hold the grudge against Tempest. He only did what he had been told.

Ornstein sighed. He wasn't falling in love with him, right? It probably was just pity, yes, it had to be pity. That was all.

And thinking about it, Ornstein didn't mind the company of the little Undead as much anymore. Maybe he just considered him a friend? That must be it.

Still, he really shouldn't get attached. Ornstein exactly knew what fate awaited Tempest.

Speaking of him, Tempest lowly groaned and started to open his eyes.

---

The first thing Tempest noticed was the face of the dragon slayer staring at him, the second that he felt quite cold and the third, that he was indeed completely naked. He shot up, face flushed red.

“Are you awake? Maybe you shouldn't move that sudden right away, you were passed out.”, Ornstein casually said. Tempest noticed that luckily the dragon slayer had tied a towel around his waist. The naked rest of him though, still looked very desirable. Tempest quickly looked elsewhere.

“I am sorry, I didn't want to invade in the bath, I just wanted to get myself clean.”, he started to ramble. “I missed baths.”, he added.

“Well then, the pool is all yours, I feel clean enough.”, Ornstein said and stood up. “You probably want to clean that nosebleed up anyway.”

Tempest touched his nose and indeed felt the crusted blood of his nosebleed. That was even more embarrassing. Passing out with a nosebleed in front of Ornstein like this. Tempest slowly went back into the pool, glancing at Ornstein. The dragon slayer didn't make any attempts to comment further on this whole incident. Tempest gaze wandered from the towel around Ornstein's waist to his still dry hair.

“Wait.”, he shouted.

Ornstein, who almost was out of the door, turned around, giving him an impatient look.

“Aren't you planning on washing your hair?”, Tempest asked.

“With hair as long as mine it is too much of a hassle to wash it every single bath.”, Ornstein replied, calm and collected.

“I could help you.”, Tempest offered.

Ornstein stared at him a little while longer, before dropping a single “No.” and leaving the bathroom for good.

---

The next morning, when Tempest accompanied Ornstein for breakfast, he suddenly spoke: “So how did you found out?”

How rare for Ornstein to be the one to speak up. Although, Tempest felt confused, raising a brow, he asked: “What do you mean?”

“Gwyndolin.”, Ornstein said. “You came into the Dark Moon Tomb to ask for help, why wouldn't you try and ask the princess for help first while she is right there?”

“Oh, I did ask Princess Gwynevere first.”, Tempest explained. “But after I told her my whole deal, she just replied with the same thing she told me the first time. I decided to try around a bit and she was saying the same thing over and over again, regardless what I said. I had the feeling that something was fishy then.”

Ornstein simply nodded and made a hand gesture that implied for Tempest to go on with his story.

“I visited the catacombs once. I didn't do much there granted, it was mostly me running and screaming from all the skeletons, falling down several holes. However, I must have picked up something shiny on the way, because I awoke at Fire Link Bonfire with a ring in my hand.”

Tempest could hear Ornstein huff about this part of the story, he probably had called him an idiot mentally.

“I looked at the ring and recognized the symbol of the blades of the dark moon. I remembered the old tales about Lord Gwyn's last born, a goddess that punished the sinners and was able to create powerful illusions.

I also remembered the tales that Princess Gwynevere had left Anor Londo a long time ago. Her appearance here was quite strange, wasn't it?”

“You seem to be smarter than I thought.”, Ornstein mentioned between bites.

“So I figured that Princess Gwynevere is merely an illusion, created by Dark Sun Gwyndolin and where else would I search for the Dark Sun as in a place literally called the Dark Moon Tomb? When I went there with the ring, the statue of Lord Gwyn disappeared and then... then I met you.”, Tempest finished his story. “And you know the rest.”

“And you were lucky.”, Ornstein said. “That it was me standing there. Gwyndolin could have easily taken your actions as heresy and attacked right away. What they almost did.”

Tempest paled a bit at the thought of how close the Dark Sun had been to release their magic on him. If that would have happened, he probably would have gone hollow for sure.

“Thankfully, everything turned out just fine.”, Tempest said with a sigh of relief.

“Just fine. And that says the one who rushed into a fight with a dragon completely unprepared.”, Ornstein scoffed. “You better be prepared for today's training session.”

Tempest really didn't like the grin that appeared on Ornstein's face.

---

After the training and dinner was over (Ornstein didn't lie, he was pretty brutal this day), Tempest decided to read a few books and ended up in what was probably once the conference room of the knights, where he sat down at the table and started to flip open the pages of the first book.

He didn't knew why, but the wooden boards with paintings of the other knights made him feel at ease somehow. They had kind of a comforting feel to them. And Tempest didn't even knew them in person (besides Ornstein of course).

After Tempest had finished the first book, his gaze landed on the painting of Artorias, the Abysswalker.

Although hidden mostly by the hood, the smile on that painting felt so gentle and warm. Tempest started to rummage around in his belongings until he found it.

A ring with a wolf engraved on it. It was said that this ring once believed to the Abysswalker. Tempest traced the wolf on the ring, silently asking himself how the ring had landed in the Dark Root Garden. Shouldn't it had been buried with the Abysswalker? Tempest heard that there was a grave behind the sealed door in Dark Root Garden...

“Where have you found this?”

Tempest startled at the sudden voice. He turned around to see Ornstein standing in the doorway, dressed simply in a night shirt (with a sheep pattern on it, of all things), hair loosely tied in a ponytail, as if he just wanted to have it out of the way.

“Well?”, Ornstein said further, clearly growing impatient. Tempest stared down at the ring, understanding.

“I found it on a withered corpse in Dark Root Garden, a path behind a living tree, where all this strange stone soldiers are.”, Tempest replied. “I was just asking myself how it landed there. I would have thought that it would have been buried with him.”

Ornstein left the doorway and crossed the way to the table with three strides.

“Sif had it. Artorias bequeathed his sword and his ring to Sif. Judging that you have it, doesn't mean, that...” Ornstein gazes locked on Tempest, who felt like shrinking under it. Even though the face of the dragon slayer was surprisingly not intimidating, his glare still got to him.

“I just told you I found it on a corpse and it wasn't the corpse of a wolf.”, Tempest defended himself.

“Maybe Sif lost it then.”, Ornstein mused, instantly getting calm again. “And the person who picked it up didn't make it far before dying or hollowing for good.” Ornstein sat down on the table. “I would like you to give this ring back to Sif once we visit Artorias' grave. It belongs to her anyway.”

Tempest nodded. It felt like the dragon slayer meant this very serious.

“Um, what about the rings of the other knights?”, he asked, having gotten curious. The wolf ring had been the only one he found.

“The leo ring doesn't leave my finger.”, Ornstein answered and indeed, Tempest could spot it on the ring finger of his left hand. Ornstein stared at it intensely before continuing, as if the ring had a greater meaning. “The hawk ring has been given into the care of one of Gough's friend. He never told me who it was, so I don't know where it is. And Ciaran's ring is still with her.”

Huh, that last one sounded a bit strange. Was Ciaran still alive? Tempest had to admit, besides of Artorias, he hadn't heard of any deaths of the other knights. Ornstein was in front of him and still very much alive. What happened to Gough and Ciaran? Tempest gaze flickered over to their wooden board versions.

Tempest didn't expect the dragon slayer to suddenly start speaking about them.

“They make feel this room less lonely. Sometimes it is easier to pretend...” Ornstein stood up. “I have said enough.” He walked back to the door.

“Um, just one question.”, Tempest started, Ornstein turned around and made it wordlessly clear that he wouldn't wait long. “Shouldn't you be in bed?”

“Couldn't sleep.”, Ornstein sighed.

“I don't mind having some company at night.”, Tempest said. “It gets lonely quick.”

Ornstein didn't came back into the room, but he felt he saw the tiniest smile at the corners of his lips, before he turned around and left for good.

Tempest shouted one last “Good night.”, to him before he put his attention back to the books on the table.

---

The next day Tempest prepared the meal in the kitchen like usual. After a few minutes he had the feeling that something was missing and when he was turning around, he noticed, that Ornstein hadn't sneaked into the kitchen to watch him cook in the meantime. Weird, normally he would have gotten up by now.

Tempest shrugged it off, maybe Ornstein just wanted to have some extra sleep. After all, he had told him yesterday night that he had trouble sleeping. He finished cooking the meal, put the lid on the pot and seated himself down at the table, waiting.

After around an hour was gone by, Tempest started to worry. He got up, doused the fire in the stove and went into the direction where he remembered Ornstein's room was. He found the right hallway and entered the first room, only after he entered did it came to his mind that maybe he should have knocked first.

To Tempest's luck it had been the wrong room. There was nobody in there and the dust on it implied that there hadn't been anyone in there since years. Still, the room looked like it was ready to greet back its inhabitant any moment. The bed had blue sheets on it and there was a book on the night stand.

Curiosity took over and so Tempest found himself closer to the night stand and picked up the book, flipping it open, surprised to see that it was a hand written recipe book, written in the most beautiful hand writing he had ever seen. Flipping through the pages, he noticed that pretty much every recipe was of cookies or cakes, there also were some drawings accompanying the recipes, showing how the recipe should turn out.

When Tempest closed the book, he saw that it was signed with the name of Artorias. He felt a slight lump in his throat. It seemed he had wandered into the room of the Abyss Walker. And he had expected a LOT to find in this room, but not something like this.

Tempest didn't know why, but he decided to pocket the book. He surely wanted to test out the recipes in the book, but he felt a bit guilty moving it from its places.

Tempest just hoped that nobody would mind.

Tempest left the room again, going to the next door. This time he knocked. And waited. When there wasn't an answer, he knocked again, waited a short time and then opened the door when he didn't heard anything.

The worst case scenario was that he would surprise Ornstein by an activity he didn't want to be seen doing (but wouldn't he have locked the door then?), the best case scenario would be that the room would be empty again.

To Tempest relief, it was the room of the dragon slayer and he simply was still in bed, sleeping. Tempest still found it weird, he normally would have gotten up already. Even if he had trouble sleeping, Tempest felt like Ornstein was the kind who wouldn't oversleep greatly like this then. Tempest decided to wake Ornstein and stepped closer to the bed.

Now how should he go and wake an over two meter tall demigod? Tempest considered his options for a moment, but then decided that it was no use, he just had to try, so he leaned down, extened his hand and nudged Ornstein. “Um, Ornstein? It would already be time for training...”, he murmured, as if still being afraid to wake the dragon slayer.

Tempest wouldn't had guessed in a million years what happened next, because he felt himself being pulled in a tight hug. Before he even knew it, he had been completely pulled into the bed, Ornstein practically cuddling him like he was some kind of stuffed animal.

Tempest immediately felt his face flush red and also the feeling of dread started to creep into him.

“When he wakes up, I am dead.”, Tempest thought to himself. It would be the best if he managed to remove himself from this situation, gently, careful, to not wake up the dragon slayer and act like this never ever happened.

Sadly, the embrace of Ornstein was simply too strong. Tempest had no chance slipping out of it and even when he tried to struggle as hard as he could, it simply seemed to tighten the embrace.

Now Tempest wasn't only fearing anymore to die when Ornstein woke up, but also to get squished in this embrace, the dragon slayer was so strong and in his sleep he clearly didn't notice that he wasn't cuddling with whatever he thought or dreamed about it was. Tempest already mentally prepared himself for his awakening at the bonfire, when the dragon slayer opened his eyes, staring at him in what looked like a shocked expression. (Author's note: Lately I end my chapters too often on romance tropes =D ) Next chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/185911951349/title-a-storm-is-coming-chapter-11

#dark souls #fanfiction #dragon slayer ornstein #chosen undead #orndead #oc tempest #littlewritesstuff

4 notes · View notes

succubused · 6 years

Note

Okay 18 with akusai because like. Y'know. I was only gonna send one but. Spine.

18.“…I-I’ve got your back.” “There’s a spine in there if you wanna borrow it.”

hhmmmm what the fuck is up theres no proofreading in football

It should have felt much less natural to be braiding Isa’s hair again, his hands remembering what to do even as his heart stuttered through a failed attempt to find the right words. Lea had a bad habit of speaking until he knew what he wanted to say, but tonight his voice couldn’t even break loose from his chest. He squinted down at the silky strands slipping through his fingers. How it had stayed so soft, he had no idea.

“One would expect you’d be out of practice,” Isa said at last, so quietly he almost seemed to be speaking to himself.

“Yeah, I thought so too. It’s like riding a bike, I guess.”

“You don’t know how to ride a bicycle.”

“Hey, you don’t know that.”

Isa twisted around to look at him with raised eyebrows. “Do you?”

Lea’s lips twitched in the direction of a smile as he gently pushed his head back. “…no, but you know what I mean.”

When Isa chuckled it was low and barely audible, the melody of it painfully familiar. He didn’t know how long it had been since he’d last heard the sound, and suddenly Lea leaned forward to wrap his arms around his friend, burying his face in Isa’s shoulder. Isa flinched, a reflex, but didn’t pull away.

“What’s this for?”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Lea said, voice muffled by the fabric of Isa’s coat.

He felt him hesitate, then cool fingertips brushed the back of his hand and rested there.

“As am I.”

They stayed like that for a moment, as though nothing were out of the ordinary, as though they were fifteen again, tangled together the way Lea always wrapped himself around Isa who, for his part, had pretended to be irritated but hadn’t been irritated at all. And Lea had known that. He had always known that.

When he did let go and resumed braiding, Isa let go of a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Listen, Isa…about tomorrow.”

Isa stiffened. “What about it?”

“Is there anything I can possibly say to you that will convince you it’s a better idea to sit this one out?”

He rolled his eyes. “We’ve been over this.”

“I know, but I—“

“I’m not leaving you to—do you have any idea how that would make me—? To not know? Or if something happens to you and I wasn’t there to—no. No. I can’t—I can’t—“

“Hey, hey, hey. Okay. Okay. It’s okay.”

Isa closed his eyes as Lea ran his fingers through his hair. He still knew how to do it, he thought, knew exactly which motion and touch would smooth the tremors that still shook their way through his heart.

“Sorry. I didn’t realize.”

“I just could never forgive myself if something happened to you and there might have been something I could have done. You understand.”

Lea smiled sadly. “And I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to you, so I guess we’re both screwed.”

“Well, then I suppose we’ll both just have to survive then.”

“For each other.”

“If nothing else, yes.”

“I can live with that.”

“You had better intend to.”

Lea laughed, and Isa turned his head to look at him.

“Stop moving!”

“What are you laughing about?”

“You! Now look forward.”

“I fail to see the humor in it,” he grumbled, but obeyed all the same.

“It’s just—you’re so serious.”

“One of us has to be. And besides…” Isa twisted his hands together, mirroring the knotted feeling in his chest.

“…most would consider death to be a serious subject, Lea.”

And he just laughed. Again.

“Lea!”

“Sorry. Sorry.”

He looked down at Isa’s hair again. It might as well have been braiding itself if it weren’t for the flowers.

Lea usually felt compelled to fill silences. He didn’t like the spaces between, the hang time in which anyone could be thinking anything and there were no leaking thoughts or betraying words by which to read their intentions. People made him edgy. They always had.

The only exception, of course, being Isa.

And Saïx, for a while, had retained that ability to make him feel at ease. For the longest time, he had thought that nothing could get between the two of them, not even death itself, and the knowledge that they didn’t need to be able to feel it to know that they loved one another had been enough, until it wasn’t.

But he had underestimated Isa, hadn’t he? Deep down he had thought Isa had been swallowed by the darkness, that there was nothing left of the boy and then the man that he had loved with everything he had, and he was going to save him, he was always going to save him, but in his heart he had wondered if there was even anything left to save.

As usual, he had been wrong.

“You scared me, you know.”

Isa opened his eyes.

“When?”

“Last time we were up here.”

He winced. “…Ah.”

“Sorry.”

It had happened so quickly there hadn’t been time to do anything but react. And it still haunted his dreams, memories of a slip that had never happened, of reaching for Isa a split second too late. Because Isa had come to that clock tower to take himself out of the equation. He had come to say goodbye.

Isa?

Lea.

What are you—

Don’t.

But—

Stay away from me. Don’t!

No. You’re here. That means…you have to be—

I’m here because I—I don’t want to—I’m selfish, that’s why I’m here, all right?

What the hell are you talking about?

I didn’t want to go without seeing you again. With my own eyes.

Go where? Go where?

Goodbye, Lea.

But Isa, in turn, had underestimated the force of nature that was Lea’s heart.

And how much of that heart still had his name carved into it, because what he had not expected, when he did jump, was for Lea to jump after him. Break the fall by flinging an arm against the wall, summoning that flame of a blade and dragging it against the stone to slow both of them, because he had wrapped his other arm around Isa’s waist, and they were falling together, they were dying together or not at all, and suddenly dying didn’t seem like the best option any longer, because when Isa looked into his eyes, it became painfully apparent that Lea desperately wanted him to live.

That was what he had been so wrong about. That was why he had stayed silent for so long, allowing another to speak for and through him, not because he had been beaten, but because the heart he could not accept that he even had in the first place had been broken. And it was in that moment, at the end of a fall he had not intended to survive, with Lea clutching his shoulders and shouting what the hell were you thinking, that he realized that which he had been mourning had never even been lost in the first place.

In the face of Saïx’s grief, Xehanort had had no problems convincing him that he didn’t need his voice any longer. In the face of Isa’s will?

He hadn’t had a chance.

“Isa?”

“Hmm?”

“Aren’t you scared you might…?”

“Might what?”

“You know.”

“Will you be there?”

“Of course.”

“Then no, I’m not afraid of losing myself again. Not tomorrow. Not ever.”

“If he even looks at you wrong…”

“He can’t touch me now.”

“Isa—“

“What you have to remember is that I thought I had already lost you. I thought you were dead and then I thought I didn’t matter to you regardless. I didn’t have any reason to want to stay myself.” He paused and looked down at his hands. “That is…no longer the case.”

“That was never true.”

Isa’s face twitched as though he were in pain but he didn’t look up, and hadn’t seen the look of raw anguish that had etched itself into Lea’s face as he spoke up until Lea took his face in his hands and tilted it up to face him, his hands that were always so warm because he ran so hot, like his body was constantly trying to keep up with the fever pitch at which his heart operated.

“It was not and will never be true,” Lea repeated. “No, look at me.”

He couldn’t help but sigh a little when they made eye contact. Relief. Green.

“I…believe you, I think,” Isa said slowly.

“Good.”

They stared at each other for the space of a heartbeat. Lea let go and shifted again and the gentle tugging on his scalp told Isa his hair was being worked at once more. He listened for the thunk of his own heartbeat, half-cursing it for being so distracting when he was just trying to think.

“Just…”

“Yeah?”

“Can you do something for me?”

A slight break in the rhythm of his hands as Lea momentarily faltered, inhaled.

“Anything,” he said.

“Just…stay with me. Tomorrow. I don’t want…can you just promise to stay with me?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I said promise.”

“I promise. I’ve got your back.”

Isa couldn’t help but smirk. “You know, there’s a spine in there, if you’d like to borrow it.”

Lea tugged on the end of the braid a little harder than he really needed to in order to tie it off. “My posture is not that bad.”

“If you say so.”

“You’re just bitter that I got taller,” Lea muttered.

“I am not bitter.”

“Sure you’re not.”

He snorted. “You still stand like a puppet with cut strings and you know it.”

“Deflection tactic. Also, I’m done.”

“Oh. Thank y—“

Isa had reached around almost absentmindedly to touch the back of his hair and fell silent when he felt the flower petals beneath his fingers. He clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Well, don’t touch them, you’ll mess it up. Here—“

“Lea…are those…?”

“Moonflowers. Yeah. I don’t know if you still, I mean, I remembered they used to, when things were bad—I thought—“

“Lea.”

“…Yes?”

“Shut up,” Isa hissed, and had already started kissing him before Lea had the chance to disagree.

And it was familiar, his teeth still too sharp, lips still unnervingly cold and impossibly soft. Somehow, after all this time, kissing Isa was still the safest feeling in the world, and ever since he had thrown himself from the tower after him without thinking he had not been able to find the words say you’ll be all right, so Lea kissed them onto his lips and Isa breathed them in like a once-drowning man tasting air for the first time since he decided to survive.

“No martyrs,” Lea whispered. “You make it through this.”

Isa nodded, throat too tight to speak, and took the hand Lea offered, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet.

“Here—this one’s for you.”

He stared down at the white petals of the moonflower Lea had handed him, and when Isa looked up, his eyes were full of tears.

“Thank you, Lea,” he said.

#akusai #lea #isa #kingdom hearts #literally im so tired i cant form a coherent sentence i dont know how #i dont know how this even came out of me and i certainly dont know if its grammatically correct #this is my apology letter for killing isa in the last one i wrote thank you all and god bless #posts #functionallyimmortal

99 notes · View notes