#the fleeting rays of light casting a glow over your face | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

and-justice-for-zoisite · 11 months

Text

𝕰𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖑𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝕯𝖆𝖗𝖐𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖘 (Kung Lao x Pregnant! Reader)

Official Masterlist

Summary: a curse threatens to shatter the happiness of Kung Lao and the expectant reader. As the curse takes hold, the reader descends into madness and paranoia, convinced that their unborn child is a demonic presence. Desperate to save themselves and their loved ones, Reader attempts to take drastic measures, leading to their confinement and protection. With time running out and hope fading, Kung Lao and his allies embark on a perilous journey to break the curse and restore Reader's sanity.

Word Count: 4.5K words

Warning/s: mega angst, self harm with the intent of killing your baby in the womb. PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION!!

This was written as a request for @eemr1000 thank you for your request and I hope you like it!!

8 months in.

The sun's gentle rays filtered through the billowing curtains, casting a soft glow upon the serene bedroom of an expectant couple, Kung Lao and his pregnant wife, who would usually be glowing with her pregnancy. Their shared sanctuary, once filled with laughter and anticipation, now exuded an undercurrent of unease.

Eight months had passed since (Y/n)'s pregnancy began, and the world outside seemed to hold its breath in anticipation of new life. Lao, ever watchful and supportive, revelled in the joy that emanated from his beloved. Their love had blossomed amidst the chaos of battle, forging a bond that could weather any storm.

But as the months wore on, a subtle shift began to take hold. It started with fleeting moments of unease, like a ripple on the surface of a calm pond. (Y/n), once vibrant and radiant, seemed to carry a weight upon her shoulders—an invisible burden that cast a shadow over their once harmonious existence.

Lao noticed the subtle changes in his wife—the way her laughter became more forced, her smiles tinged with a hint of melancholy. Concern etched lines upon his face, his heart heavy with worry. He longed to understand the source of her inner turmoil, to bring back the light that had dimmed within her eyes.

He had just been in their kitchen, preparing the woman a hearty breakfast which usually she would eat with great haste and gluttony - a trait which he loved about her. She was definitely a hungry pregnant, and even when she had put on some weight due to the pregnancy, he still adored the way she'd happily chow down on any dish he prepared for her.

This time though, it was different.

As he returned to their bedroom, a plate of toast, scrambled eggs, and bacon in hands, he observed his wife, lying on her back, drawing circles on her round belly while she stared blankly up at the ceiling.

"I made you breakfast, my love," Lao announced, his voice gentle as he approached her. "...I'm not hungry..." she croaked out, her eyes unmoving as the remained glued to the ceiling.

Lao's brow furrowed with concern, his heart sinking at the emptiness in her voice. He set the tray aside and sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching out to gently caress her cheek.

"That's not like you," he murmured, his voice laced with worry. "is something troubling you, (Y/n)?"

Her eyes flickered, momentarily meeting his gaze before drifting away once more.

"There's...something...wrong," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I can't shake this feeling, Lao. It's like a dark cloud following me wherever I go."

Lao's heart clenched, a harsh sense of fear swelling within him. He had always been her rock, the one who stood by her side through every trial they had faced. He couldn't bear to see her suffer, especially when he couldn't pinpoint the cause.

"Tell me more, my dear," he pried, clasping her hands with his and rubbing her knuckles with his thumbs.

Tears welled up in her eyes, reflecting the torment that churned within her.

"I...I fear for our child, Lao," she confessed, her voice quivering. "These thoughts...they whisper to me, saying that our baby is not what it seems. That it's something...dark...sinister."

Lao's heart shattered into a thousand pieces, the weight of her words crushing him. He couldn't bear to witness her torment, nor the doubts that gnawed at her soul. But he knew that he had to be her anchor, her unwavering support, even in the face of the unknown.

"(Y/n), you..." he began, trailing off, not entirely sure to say as he shook his head, smiling and trying to lighten the mood, "you're going to be okay. You're...you're probably just anxious and overwhelmed with everything that comes with pregnancy. It's natural to have some fears and doubts, but we'll face them together, my love."

She looked at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of longing and desperation. She wanted to believe what he was saying, to simply brush off these horrid feelings and continue her pregnancy as it was, carrying their child to term. But the darkness that consumed her thoughts refused to release its grip. It clawed at her sanity, infecting her mind with doubts and paranoia that threatened to unravel everything they held dear. Her longing for peace warred with her fear, creating an agonizing turmoil within her.

She didn't say anything, though, she simply looked at her lover, giving him a single nod.

He leaned over her, placing a gentle kiss to her temple before he left the room, his intention with going out into the courtyard and practicing his training.

As he prepared for his training, Lao closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to centre his thoughts.

As the days passed, since (Y/n) had initially admitted that she felt something off about that their child, her state seemed to worsen. She continued to refuse food, and would not sleep either. Her days would be spent staring into the void blankly, as she tapped her belly and muttered unintelligible words to herself.

Growing anxious as their baby's due date became closer, Lao called upon the thunder god, Raiden, and his friend Liu Kang, for assistance, hoping to resolve whatever was happening with his poor wife.

"Thank you for coming, Lord Raiden," Lao thanked the deity, as they entered his home. "I fear that something is deeply troubling my wife. She's been consumed by this darkness, and it's taking a toll on her physical and mental well-being."

Lord Raiden's eyes, filled with an otherworldly wisdom, scanned the surroundings. He could sense the turmoil that enveloped the place, the lingering aura of despair and fear.

"I sensed a disturbance, a darkness that clouds this place," Lord Raiden remarked, his voice resonating with an ethereal power. "But fear not, Kung Lao, we shall do everything within our power to uncover the truth and bring light to this situation."

Liu Kang stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on Lao's shoulder.

"We're here for you, my friend," he said with a determined tone.

Lao gave him a grateful nod, smiling briefly at his best friend as they continued into his home.

Lao led Lord Raiden and Liu Kang through the corridors towards (Y/n)'s chamber. The air grew heavy with tension, a palpable sense of unease filling the space. Lao's steps quickened, his heart pounding in his chest, eager to find answers and provide solace for his suffering wife.

As they entered her bedroom, a horrifying sight became evident.

(Y/n) had a knife held above her. And the target?

The womb which carried their child.

Before any of them could react, she had brought the knife down in one swift movement, driving it straight into her stomach. As she did, a cry of pain echoed throughout the bedroom, and Lao and Liu were quick to rush to her sides, restraining her so she could do no more harm to herself.

One of Lao's hands cradled the knife which was stuck in her, afraid to pull it out as to not let her lose too much blood.

She was squirming, begging to be let go, begging to carve this cursed child from her body.

The scene was a devastating tableau of despair, and Lao's heart shattered into a thousand pieces as he witnessed his wife's anguish and desperation. He knew that time was of the essence, and they had to act quickly to save both (Y/n) and their unborn child.

His eyes teared up as he looked toward Raiden.

"Lord Raiden, please! She needs help!" He begged, his voice trembling as the tears spilled from his eyes, having to shout over (Y/n)'s screaming and crying.

"Be strong, Kung Lao," Lord Raiden said, his voice firm yet comforting. "We will do everything in our power to help her."

Raiden, his demeanour calm, approached the situation, conjuring a surge of energy within his hand as he used the other to carefully draw the knife out of the woman. As he did this, he sealed the wound to the best of his abilities, enough to keep the bleeding at bay.

Tears streamed down (Y/n)'s face, her breathing laboured and weak. She had began to calm down, drowsy from the blood she had lost which had pooled on the ground below her.

As the immediate danger had passed, Liu Kang quickly fetched some clean towels to help staunch the bleeding, while Lao maintained his gentle hold on (Y/n), careful not to exert any pressure on her injured abdomen.

He gently repositioned his wife, so that he could cradle her body like she were a child. He pressed his forehead to hers, unable to stop the choked sobs which passed his lips.

"The baby is unharmed," Lord Raiden confided, sending a wave of relief over Lao. "though, I do sense something sinister within her. A curse."

"Who would've placed a curse on her?" Lao's voice trembled with a mix of confusion and anger.

Raiden approached the woman once again, kneeling down in front of her as he placed a hand on her stomach, gently as to not cause any further harm. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to concentrate on the sinister force that had infected the woman and her baby.

And suddenly, he realised the familiarity of the magic.

"...Shang Tsung." he muttered, opening his eyes again as he drew his hand away.

Kung Lao's eyes widened at the revelation.

"Why would Shang Tsung curse (Y/n) and our child?" Lao asked, his voice filled with a deep-rooted fury. "What does he gain from inflicting such pain upon us?" "I have no clear answer for you, Kung Lao," Raiden admitted regretfully, his tone tinged with frustration. "It is possible that he seeks to disrupt your life and sow chaos, relishing in the pain and suffering he inflicts upon others."

Upon this news, Liu Kang returned to the bedroom, fresh towels in hand as he came to (Y/n)'s side again.

He and Lao helped (Y/n) onto her bed, the two men removing her bloodstained clothes, mindful of her fragile state. Their movements were slow and deliberate, ensuring they didn't cause her any additional discomfort or pain. Lao didn't mind allowing his best friend and the thunder god to see her in such a vulnerable state, considering they were there to help her and two of his closest friends.

Raiden had assisted by fetching a basin of warm water, bringing it back so that they could proceed with her cleaning.

With gentle strokes, Liu began to cleanse the wound on (Y/n)'s abdomen, carefully removing any traces of blood. His touch was tender, his focus unwavering as he tended to her injuries with the utmost care. Lao stood by her side, holding her hand tightly, offering silent reassurance and love as he observed the process.

Though her eyes remained closed, the tension in her features seemed to ease slightly, as if the physical care provided by her husband and friend offered a brief respite from the torment she had endured.

The room remained hushed, filled only with the sound of gentle movements and the soft splashes of water as Liu Kang worked. As he did, Lao decided to gather some fresh clothes for his wife, his trust in his friend unparalleled.

Leaving (Y/n)'s side momentarily, Lao quietly stepped out of the bedroom and made his way to the wardrobe. He selected a soft, comfortable set of clothes, mindful of her delicate condition and the need for gentle fabrics. Each item was chosen with care, a silent gesture of love and consideration.

Returning to the bedroom, Lao placed the fresh clothes on a nearby chair. He leaned over (Y/n), brushing a gentle kiss against her forehead, his lips lingering for a moment as he silently conveyed his love and support.

Lao picked up the clean clothes and began to dress her in them. He moved with a tenderness born out of an intimate understanding of her needs, his hands moving skilfully yet gently as he adorned her in the fresh garments.

With a final kiss to her forehead, Lao whispered, "You're strong, my love. We'll get through this together."

Raiden had explained to Kung Lao that the only way to break the curse was to locate Shang Tsung and have him directly remove it, or wait until the pregnancy was over and the child was born.

The weight of the situation laid heavy upon Lao's shoulders, and he knew very well that he couldn't simply wait around while his lover suffered the horrifying effects of the curse. The thought of allowing (Y/n) to endure more pain and torment was unbearable to him.

With steely determination, Lao looked at Raiden and spoke with conviction in his voice.

"We cannot wait any longer. We must find Shang Tsung and confront him. I cannot stand idly by while (Y/n) suffers. I will do whatever it takes to protect her."

Raiden nodded in agreement, his gaze filled with a mix of empathy and resolve.

"I understand your anguish, Kung Lao. Let us track down Shang Tsung and put an end to his wicked deeds once and for all. We will not rest until (Y/n) is free from this curse."

As much as he didn't want to leave (Y/n)'s side, he knew that he had to deal with this. He had to be the one to put the sorcerer in his place, he had to be the one to ensure that Shang Tsung knew to stay far away from his family. He wouldn't rest otherwise.

He left (Y/n) in the hands of his best friend, Liu, allowing him to take care of her while he set out on this treacherous task. He trusted no one else with her.

With a heavy heart, Lao bid farewell to (Y/n), knowing that she was in capable hands. He assured her that he would return as swiftly as possible, his determination fuelling his every step.

The path to Shang Tsung's lair was fraught with danger, testing Kung Lao's physical prowess and mental fortitude. He faced formidable adversaries, engaged in gruelling battles, and overcame treacherous traps with unwavering focus.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Kung Lao stood at the threshold of Shang Tsung's domain. The sorcerer's presence loomed before him, a chilling reminder of the pain he had inflicted upon (Y/n) and their unborn child.

There, the sorcerer stood, menacing, as he looked down at Lao and Raiden from his place atop the top step of his grand staircase. He clapped his hands together a few times, providing a condescending applause to the warrior who had made it this far.

"Well done, Kung Lao, for making it this far. I sense your goals, why you're here," Shang Tsung sneered, his voice dripping with malice. "But do you truly think defeating me will erase the curse? The curse upon your wife and unborn child runs deeper than you can comprehend."

Kung Lao's grip tightened on his weapon, his eyes burning with rage.

"Tell me, sorcerer, why did you curse them? What is your sick game?"

Shang Tsung chuckled, relishing the opportunity to taunt his adversary.

"Oh, Kung Lao, it's simple. I curse those who possess something I desire. Your bloodline is powerful, and your child would have been a threat to my plans. How could I forget your ancestor, the great Kung Lao? By cursing your wife and child, I ensure that their potential is forever tainted."

Kung Lao's jaw clenched as he listened to Shang Tsung's twisted explanation.

"You dare meddle with my family's fate for your selfish desires?" Lao spat, his voice laced with defiance. "You underestimate the strength that runs through our bloodline. We will rise above this curse, and your plans will crumble."

Shang Tsung's eyes gleamed with malicious delight.

"Oh, how amusing it is to witness your futile resistance. Your confidence will be your downfall, Kung Lao. I eagerly await the day when your hopes are shattered."

Each word which fell from Shang Tsung's lips seemed to fuel Lao's rage more and more. The sorcerer's callous disregard for the lives he had affected, his arrogance in underestimating their strength, ignited a fire within Lao that burned with an intensity he had never felt before.

With a primal roar, Lao unleashed his fury upon Shang Tsung, his strikes swift and powerful. Every blow carried the weight of his love for (Y/n) and their unborn child, driving him forward with unwavering determination.

The clash of their forces echoed through the chamber, the sound of metal meeting magic reverberating in the air. Lao's resolve hardened with each exchange, his movements precise and calculated. He had honed his skills for this very moment, and he would not let Shang Tsung's curse go unanswered.

With every strike, Lao channelled his frustration, his anger, and his love into his attacks. He fought with a determination fuelled by the knowledge that he was not only fighting for his family but for all those who had suffered under Shang Tsung's cruelty.

Their battle became a dance of fury and skill, as Lao anticipated Shang Tsung's every move and countered with unparalleled precision. He weaved through the sorcerer's dark spells, dodging and deflecting them with a grace born of years of training.

Lao's weapon, a testament to his heritage and training, sliced through the air, meeting Shang Tsung's defences with unwavering force. Blow after blow, Lao pushed himself to the limits, refusing to yield to the sorcerer's malevolence.

The chamber crackled with energy as their powers clashed, the very fabric of reality trembling under their duel. Lao's determination radiated from him, his eyes burning with an intensity that matched the blazing fire within his heart.

In a final, decisive moment, Lao delivered a devastating blow, striking at the heart of Shang Tsung's defences. The sorcerer's grip on power weakened, his face contorted with a mix of disbelief and defeat.

He looked down at the sorcerer, a scowl on his face, though he felt a sense of relief wash over him. He was defeated, it was over now.

A harsh cackle echoed throughout the land, and Lao furrowed his brows when he found that the source was Shang Tsung.

"I did tell you...that defeating me would not remove the curse..." he wheezed, the smirk on his face emanating the evil in his cold heart, "she will carry the curse...until your child is born...though, she'll likely kill herself before then."

Lao's heart dropped as Shang Tsung erupted into more evil laughter. He realised what he had just done - perhaps this was an unintentional rouse, one to get him away from his self destructive wife.

Without wasting another moment, Lao began on his journey back to his home. His steps were frantic, fuelled by a mix of fear and guilt. Raiden tried to reassure him that this was not his fault, though nothing could've convinced him in that moment.

As they arrived home, the first thing Lao did was rush to his room, where his wife would be resting. However, he was shocked to find that she had been bound to the bed by ropes which were tied to each corner of the bed, with Liu Kang sitting patiently beside her. She was asleep, but breathing heavily and sweating, all pale.

"What is the meaning of this? Why is (Y/n) restrained?" Lao's voice trembled with a mix of concern and frustration as he approached his friend. "Lao, I am sorry that it had to come to this, but it's for her own good," Liu began holding his hands up in a way which he hoped would display his sincerity. "She has become too dangerous...so much that not even I can keep her safe without going to drastic measures. First, it was the baby she was trying to harm. But now...it is also herself."

Liu approached (Y/n) again, ushering for Lao to join him as he brushed the hair away from her face and pointed to her throat.

"Do you see that?" he asked, referring to the little cut which was present where he pointed, "had I not caught her wrist at the moment I did, she would've drove that knife right into her throat."

Lao's heart sank as he saw the cut on (Y/n)'s throat, realizing the gravity of the situation. The mix of concern and fear washed over him, and he struggled to hold back tears of anguish.

"(Y/n)," Lao's voice quivered as he reached out to touch her cheek gently. "I'm so sorry my love..."

Tears welled up in Lao's eyes, threatening to spill over, as he leaned closer to (Y/n), his forehead resting against hers.

"Please, hold on for me. It'll all be over soon, I promise."

As he whispered to her, the tears in his eyes finally spilled, falling onto his lover's face. He began sobbing, cupping her face in his hands.

Raiden placed a hand on Liu Kang's shoulder, catching his attention as he turned to him.

"Come, Liu Kang," he said, "let us give them a moment alone."

Liu nodded once, and they left the room.

Lao's sobs filled the room as he held (Y/n) close, pouring out his heartache and desperation in that intimate moment. He clung to her, his grip firm yet gentle, as if trying to transfer his strength and love into her wounded soul.

Outside the room, Liu Kang and Raiden stood together, their expressions solemn and resolute. Liu's eyes glistened with unshed tears, mirroring the pain he felt for his friend and the woman he considered family. Raiden's gaze held a mix of sorrow and determination, his commitment to their cause unwavering.

It was horrifying to know that nothing could be done about it except for wait it out, though they would assist Kung Lao in these trying times and ensure that (Y/n) and her baby would come out of this situation safe.

Screams of pain echoed throughout the Kung home, as the three men rushed around the house, gathering the supplies they would need for the delivery of (Y/n)'s baby.

Kung Lao asked that Liu gather towels and a basin of hot water for his wife, while he asked that Raiden stay by her side and use his powers to keep her pain to a minimum.

Though, even when the pain had subsided for the most part, the screams continued. Screams of terror.

She did not want to deliver this baby.

Even so, Lao was determined to have this baby come into the world, healthy and happy. He knew his lover was bewitched, that her heavy reluctance was only a result of Shang Tsung's evil.

He and Liu entered the room, frantic as they prepared everything for the birth of this child. Kung Lao approached his lover, who was writhing in her restraints, trying to break free. He grabbed her hand, leaning over her and brushing the hair out of her face.

"(Y/n), my love, I am here with you," he whispered, his words a soothing melody amidst the chaos. "You are a beautiful warrior, and your strength surpasses any curse."

He could feel her grip tightening on his hand, her fingers digging into his skin, seeking solace in their connection.

"I...I can't..." she shuddered, shaking her head. "I can't...I'm so scared."

"You must, (Y/n)," Lao encouraged her, squeezing her hand a little tighter, "you have come much too far to give up now. You mustn't let Shang Tsung's evil cloud your mind. Have faith in me."

In amongst all of her fear, (Y/n) couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over her when she stared up at her lover, who was just as afraid and desperate as she was in that moment. Even when she was convinced that she was about to give birth to the anti-Christ, she would always feel more compelled to trust Lao, even if all she had was his word alone.

Lao noticed the way she seemed to relax a little at his words, and he felt his own body relax as well, looking toward Liu and Raiden, ready to give them instruction and ensure the safe delivery of this baby.

He established that he wanted Raiden to use his powers to ensure that (Y/n)'s pain was kept to a minimum, while he and Liu sat by the end of the bed and delivered the baby themselves.

(Y/n) clasped onto Raiden's hand as tight as she could, while he administered his healing power through their contact. The other two men had finished preparing things on their end, watching as the baby began surfacing as Liu held a towel beneath the site and Lao had his hands ready to guide the baby's head.

With each push, (Y/n)'s determination grew stronger, fueling her resolve to bring their baby into the world. Kung Lao's hands, steady and gentle, guided the baby's head as it began to emerge, his eyes filled with a mixture of awe and tenderness.

Liu Kang swiftly and delicately caught the baby, cradling the tiny, wriggling form in the waiting towel. The room was filled with a collective gasp of awe and overwhelming joy as the cries of their new-born filled the air.

Kung Lao's eyes teared up as he took in his child for the very first time. In that moment, as he held their baby in his arms, the world seemed to fade away, and all that mattered was the precious life they had brought into existence.

Despite being covered in muck and blood, Kung Lao saw nothing but beauty in their child. Every tiny feature, every wrinkle, filled him with an overwhelming sense of awe and unconditional love.

With trembling hands, he reached out to gently wipe away the remnants of birth from their baby's delicate face. Each touch was imbued with tenderness, a silent promise to shield their child from harm and to be a constant source of love and support.

Naturally, he would approach his exhausted lover, and bring the child to her, gently laying the new soul onto (Y/n)'s chest. The baby's small form rested against her, their heartbeats synchronizing, a physical manifestation of the unbreakable connection between mother and child.

Kung Lao's hands gently supported their baby's delicate head, his touch light yet steady, as he watched (Y/n) marvel at the miracle lying in her embrace. Their child's tiny fingers curled instinctively around (Y/n)'s own, as if seeking comfort and reassurance.

Silent tears cascaded down (Y/n)'s cheeks, mixing with tears of joy and exhaustion. They looked down at their child, their eyes filled with a blend of overwhelming emotions. In that moment, a newfound strength and tenderness radiated from within them, a fierce maternal love that knew no bounds.

Upon viewing her daughter for the first time, (Y/n) felt her paranoia and fear wash away. She knew this would happen - because the curse was broken, and she and her child had survived.

Together, they basked in the miracle of their child's arrival, their hearts overflowing with a love that seemed to defy any limits. In that sacred space, time seemed to stand still, and the world outside faded away as they forged an unbreakable bond as a family.

#kung lao #kung lao mortal kombat #kung lao x reader #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 11 #angst #writing requests

84 notes · View notes

owlespresso · 7 months

Text

seafoam I. hythlodaeus tags: AU but still pretty canon compliant, Ascian!Hythlodaeus

A gulp of wet, salty air fills your lungs. Above you, there is the crash of the howling tides, covering the realm in deep, dark bluish light. The sea itself is somehow suspended, as though a lone pocket of air has formed on the floor. In the distance, formations of stone and spider web coral entangle a rough landscape. The precipice you stand upon is made of dark, wet stone. Tendrils of coral branch from the walls and cover the ground.

“Incredible view, is it not?” a voice chimes, suddenly at your side. You blink. The realization comes slow as the morning fog sets in.

“Yeah, it is,” you agree quietly, sneaking a furtive glance at the figure which now stands beside you. You hadn’t heard his approach, and that alone is enough to make you wary. Long, lavender hair is held up in a ponytail, braids interspersed through the long silken strands. One is tied around his ponytail’s base, and one frames the left side of his face. Handsome. Well-dressed in showy armor you know bards have a preference for, swishing fabric paired with gilded gold and black leather. Bangles and bracelets aplenty.

“And there is so much more still to see,” the man promises, “Would you like a tour? I know well all the worthwhile sights around here.” Before you even answer, he’s already taking a small step away. He flows like he’s floating, clothes billowing in a way gravity should not allow. This is a dream, you reason.

Light catches off the gleaming gold of his bracelets as they roll over his arm, shifting with the movement of his arm as he offers a hand. Half-gloves, the kind archers of the Twin Adders adorn.

You cast a weary glance upwards and find a sea instead of a sky, air damp and salted. It makes sense, to long for the comforting dim of the wide seas when you’re currently mired in the arid deserts of Ala Mhigo. Why not indulge in this fleeting fantasy your exhausted mind has created?

He looks tender. His smile reaches his eyes.

“I would,” you take his offered hand. “Thank you.”

You wake up.

—

The deep ocean caverns are populated by all matter of fascinating flora and fauna. The coral becomes neon in certain places, rays and pugils which roam undisturbed sport noticeable differences from their Source counterparts. A series of spread out claw marks etched in stone indicate a marked path and more interesting intelligent life. A thin, uneven stone pathway winds up a cliff face, winding behind a thin waterfall.

For once, you have no destination, only the vaguest and most easily ignored notion that something is amiss. You climb up, sticking tight to the wall as the jagged stone leads you in a spiral motion to the very top. You emerge at the current’s side, overlooking the ledge. At the edge, you spot a familiar head of hair. He’s sat with his calves dangling over the ledge, next to where the water rolls and crashes.

You don’t muffle your footsteps as you approach, let your steel toes scuff the wet stone underfoot.

“Back so soon?” he asks coyly, tilting his head to the side. He looks up at you slyly, from underneath thick, pale lashes. They flutter against his cheek whenever he blinks.

“I was promised a tour.” you respond in kind. He smiles wider and stands, stretching his arms over his head. His shirt rides up to reveal a slip of pale skin, right above his skinny hips.

“That you were.” he agrees, indulgent. “Though, I don’t recall the word ‘promise’ ever being said.”

“Should I go it alone, then? I would hate to bother you.” you say, and he looks down at you with wide eyes. for a moment taken aback, before his expression mellows back to that same, tranquil countenance, plump lips curved in that perfect smile.

“It was merely a jest. I would love nothing more than to serve as your guide,” he assures you warmly, beckoning with a shrug of his shoulder. “Come. There are sights most fantastical for us to see.”

And you do.

He takes you to clusters of glowing crystal formations which span up the walls of the caverns. The light glistens across the dark waters of the undersea currents as they rush and churn. He brings you to an opening in the cave where swarms of ray-like creatures chase schools of red and silvery fish, gliding through the waters with flutter

The most unique sight is a structure so immaculate that it cannot be anything but manmade. Rectangular in shape, carved of pale stone, embossed with straight lines and complex geometric patterns. Steep panes of glass are mounted in extended half round windows towards the top. In its heyday, it must have been large enough to house at least five stories. A grand tower which would have easily challenged Ishgard’s steepest spires. That must be why it feels so familiar.

“Incredible,” you breathe, wet sand crunching beneath your boots. “To think that such an advanced civilization once called these depths home.”

“A touching notion. However, when these husks were still grand towers, the waters had yet to set in. They couldn’t even be seen over the horizon,” your guide informs you, brushing a gloved hand over the stonework, streaked now with seaweed and clumps of pale coral.

“How do you know that?” you can’t help but prod, blinking.

“This is but a taste of what is to come,” he continues with a smile, blatantly ignoring your query. “Come, come now, before I lose you again.”

The twinge of irritation fades instantly. You deflate as he flounces on ahead, leaving you to stare at the opening in the back of his jacket, skin exposed by purposefully folded fabrics.

Of course, he hadn’t been able to give you an answer. This is a dream, after all. Your mind simply hadn’t been able to bridge the plot holes in the story in time. Your adventure away from adventuring in the waking world—if that’s what libering two entire nations could be called.

A brief touch to the small of your back jolts you from your stupor. You’re left to look up into concerned, amethyst eyes. He’s returned to your side without you even noticing. Certainly a dream, you decide, admiring his long lashes and soft lips.

“Are you alright? Feeling faint? I suppose the air down here can be difficult to acclimate to…” he says, tutting fretfully.

“I’m fine,” you insist, hastily starting in the direction he initially rushed towards. “Just lost in thought, is all! Everything you've shown me has been so breathtaking. It’s truly so much to take in.”

“Never been to the bottom of the sea before?” he teased, catching up with long, quick strides.

“No. This is my first time,” you reply with a smile. Slope of craggy rock lay ahead, resembling the aftermath of a rockslide. “Be careful.” you chide as he immediately begins to scale down the stone. His long, gangly legs roam over the rounded rocks and small boulders, knees every now and then scraping over rough surfaces and skittering pebbles. You take a more measured approach, following his chosen path at a slower pace. He awaits you at the bottom, looking none worse for wear. His thigh high boots are a little scuffed at the knees—better the leather than his skin.

He reaches out a hand, and you take it.

You wake up.

#hythlodaeus/reader #imagine ffxiv #fathoming ffxiv #hythlodaeus x reader

11 notes · View notes

universaladventures1 · 9 months

Text

My Tales Of Bhandardara Camping: When I reached Beyond Horizons in the Magic of Dawn!

Bhandardara Camping: A Journey that Redefined Adventure and Awe

Bhandardara camping has always been on my bucket list. Little did I know that my camping adventure would turn into a journey of awe, inspiration, and a sprinkle of magic. Let me take you on a virtual trip through my unforgettable experience, from setting up camp to witnessing the breathtaking Magic of Dawn.

Setting Up Camp: Where Comfort Met Wilderness

As I arrived at the Bhandardara lakeside camping site, the crisp air and the sounds of rustling leaves immediately enveloped me. The Beyond Horizons campsite greeted me with its cosy tents, forming a comfortable cocoon amidst the wild surroundings. With the assistance of the friendly camp staff, I effortlessly set up my temporary home away from home. The flickering campfire seemed to beckon, promising tales and laughter under the starlit sky. Have you ever experienced the thrill of setting up a campsite?

Nighttime Bhandardara Camping: Tales Around the Campfire

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the campfire roared to life, casting dancing shadows on eager faces. Gathering around the fire, fellow campers shared their own tales of adventure and serendipity. From recounting mishaps on hiking trails to spotting elusive constellations, every story forged a sense of camaraderie among strangers-turned-friends. Ghost stories sparked both fear and laughter, and the crackling fire served as a backdrop to our shared experiences.

What's your most cherished memory of storytelling around a campfire? Are there any spooky or heartwarming stories that still linger in your mind?

Into the Midnight: Stargazing and Whispering Breezes

As the moon claimed the sky, the Bhandardara camp site transformed into an observatory. With no city lights to obstruct the view, the constellations seemed closer than ever before. The Milky Way stretched its luminous arms across the vast expanse, inviting us to contemplate our place in the universe. Soft whispers of the night breeze created a symphony of tranquillity, encouraging introspection and gratitude for the moment.

Anticipation Builds: The Approach of Dawn

As the night wore on, a shared sense of excitement rippled through the camp. The promise of witnessing the Magic of Dawn stirred renewed energy among us. With sleeping bags and cameras in tow, we embarked on a short hike to a vantage point known for its breathtaking sunrise views. The anticipation was palpable as we made our way through the dimly lit trails, guided only by the moon's soft glow.

Magic of Dawn: Beyond Horizons Unveiled

As the first light of dawn broke over the horizon, it was as though the world itself held its breath. The sky transformed into a canvas painted with hues of pink, orange, and gold, casting a warm embrace over the landscape. The tranquil waters of Lake Arthur shimmered in response, mirroring the colours of the sky. The feeling of being on the cusp of something extraordinary hung in the air, transcending words and capturing hearts.

Farewell To Bhandardara Camp: Carrying the Magic Home

As the sun climbed higher, its rays embraced us with a gentle warmth. We lingered, savouring the Magic of Dawn, reluctant to let go of the enchantment that had woven itself into our experience. The realization dawned that this moment, although fleeting, would stay with us as a reminder of the wonder that exists beyond our daily lives. Reluctantly, we packed up our campsite, taking a piece of Bhandardara's magic with us as we left.

In the end, my Tales of Bhandardara tent camping was not just about exploring a picturesque landscape or conquering trails. It was about connecting with fellow adventurers, marvelling at the wonders of the universe, and embracing the simple joys of life. It taught me that beyond the horizons we see everyday lies a world of beauty, waiting to be discovered and cherished.

So, let me leave you with this: the next time you find yourself under a starlit sky or witnessing the birth of a new day, remember that you, too, are a part of nature's fathomless world, woven with threads of awe, inspiration, and the magic of dawn!

#bhandardara camping #bhandardara tent camping #bhandardara lakeside camping #bhandardara camp

0 notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 years

Note

Hi! May i request scenarios for Leona where his s/o goes to his room, tries to wake him up in the early morning to watch the sunrise together at the rooftop? I'm alright with gender neutral! Thank you~

Imagine this...

Savanaclaw boasted a number of spectacular sights--the grand expanse of the Magift stadium, the overview of the open sky from the topmost rope bridges, the glittering indoor waterfall pool... Even so, nothing, in your opinion, could compare to the sunrise.

The flat nature of the savanna lent itself to serving as the perfect stage for the star to slowly raise itself into the sky, almost like a perfectly placed stage prop falling into its place. A dark blue backdrop would give way to warmer hues--then that fabled orb of light would make its appearance, casting the land in its golden glow. Sparse trees framed by shadow, the sun ringing in a new day.

It was breathtakingly beautiful.

... You only wished your boyfriend would appreciate it more.

"Come on, Leona," you whined, digging your elbow into the sleeping lion's side. His room was still eclipsed in darkness, so you couldn't quite make out his face (which probably fixed in a scowl), but you could vaguely make out the shape of his body tossing.

"Five more minutes," he groaned, burying his head against his pillow.

"You already said that five minutes ago," you pointed out.

"It's too early for this," Leona protested--his voice still groggy from a long slumber.

"It's the sunrise. Getting up early is required," you murmured, a hand trailing over his lying form. You could feel the powerful muscles shifting under his skin--but what a waste it was that he so often slept on them rather than put them to some use to haul himself up for the day.

"Don't want to." Leona turned onto his other side--your hand, deflected. "Sleep now, wake later."

"Silly kitty." You prodded at his side, causing him to twitch, and his ears to stand on end. "You can sleep anytime you want, but you can only see the sunrise at this certain part of the day."

"There's nothing special about the sun," he grunted. "It's bright and shiny and an eyesore."

You rolled your eyes and added sweetly, "Plus... I came all this way to be with you, since we don't always get to see each other. That's special, isn't it? I promise it'll be worth it!'

Silence on his end.

"I'd really, really appreciate it if you'd make the effort for me. Pretty please?"

His chest rose and fell--he had taken a deep breath in and expelled it through his teeth. Then, Leona slowly drew himself up into a seated, cross-legged position.

His long locks were matted and messy, falling in a curtain over his slouched head. The lion beastman huffed, pulling back the hair from his face with a hand. And there, slicing through the darkness, were two brilliantly keen green eyes.

"... Alright, fine. Let's make this quick, herbivore."

You moved far faster than Leona, quickly scaling the ladder up to the rooftop of the Savanaclaw dorm and taking a seat amid the rock formations there. He lumbered after you at a relaxed pace, still shaking the excess sleep from himself. A yawn escaped him as he settled down beside you.

"When's the show starting?" he teased, glancing down at you. "You didn't drag me out of bed for nothing, did you?"

"Be patient!" you pouted, playfully swatting at his arm. "There's no set time for these things. It just... happens."

"So demanding." Leona lazily laid his head on you, cheek pressed up against your shoulder. "Careful, or I'll gobble you up. Then you'll never be able to see the light again."

"Haha, very funny." The sarcasm rolled off your tongue naturally. "Aren't you just a ray of sunshine?"

"Maybe if I had caught some more Zs, I'd be less moody," he retorted, "but someone insisted they wanted oh-so-desperately to bask in my presence."

"Oh, you'd be moody anyway! And don't act like you don't want to be spending time with me...!!"

"Do I? Then, since it looks like you're on the defensive... I'll go on the offense...!!"

With that declaration, Leona aggressively digging his head into the crook of your neck. You giggled, his ears and hair tickling your exposed skin.

A single laugh, perhaps, came out a bit too forcefully. That, combined with Leona's body weight on one side, knocked you over and sent you sprawling across the rooftop. He followed suit, falling on top of you and pinning you squarely beneath him.

"Hmph. Look who's come out on top again, herbivore," Leona smirked down at you.

Shadows encircled his face, making his regal features appear sharper than usual. A deadly sort of beauty that you couldn't help but be drawn to.

"You're--"

A sparkle caught in the corner of your eye, pulling you toward it. You jerked your head to the light, and you gasped, your face breaking out into a massive grin.

"Oh...!!"

Leona followed your excited gaze out into the horizon.

Dawn had started to seep through cracks in the night. Ribbons of rose, amber, and gold streaked the sky, brightening up the once bleak canvas, studded in dying stars. Black faded to blue, dark yielded to light. Hopeful, yet hopelessly fleeting, easily slipping through your fingers.

And where the land seemed to end, the sun peered out, chasing away the clouds. It was a golden coin suspended above, glimmering--winking, smothering warmth across the world. A shining beacon, rising above it all.

"It's so pretty," you breathed, utterly spellbound by the sight.

You scrambled upright, arching your head to get a better look. Leona only stared after you, brow furrowed in confusion. “Oi. What do you think you’re...”

“We came to see the sunrise!” you called back with a laugh. You gestured for Leona to join you, pointing upward with your other hand. "I told you, didn't I? I said it would be worth getting up early to see this."

He blinked--but, cool as a cat, his composure quickly returned. "... Mm, yeah. Guess it was."

But Leona wasn't looking at the sunrise.

No--it was your smiling face that was worth it all.

#twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #Leona Kingscholar #Leona Kingscholar x Reader #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #Reader #self insert #imagine this #disney twisted wonderland

282 notes · View notes

ayatosmlktea · 4 years

Text

Late Night Devil

A/N: This is my fic for the Citrus Dome Server collab! I’ve spent many hours crying over it, I hope you enjoy it! Make sure you check out the other pieces of the collab too because they’re written by amazing writers!! @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten

Read the other fics for the collab here!

Word count: 5.7k

Thank you @suckersuki for saving my ass and making this beautiful banner 💕

Worship has always been a part of your daily routine. Each season you place the fruits of your labor at the altar. Every day you pray. It’s human nature, seeking answers from the Gods. But you never expected one to answer…

Warm summer breeze tickled at your face, your hair flowing freely in front of your face making your nose itch. Tucking a stray strand behind your ear, you tune out the conversation your parents are having in favour of focusing your attention on the pavement ahead of you. Your eyes stinging and heavy from the lack of sleep you’ve been getting since the breakup. A bitter aftertaste stings the back of your throat as the events replay in your mind. The breakup had been sudden, although you couldn’t say you were completely caught off guard. Regardless of how underwhelming it had been, the way you’d been humiliated so carelessly had hurt your pride.

As you approached closer to the temple, a strange feeling of anxiety crawled into your stomach and pushed down heavily on your chest. It was unlike you to feel such unease coming to the temple of the gods, normally the divine power helped bring a sense of peace into your life.

Today was another story it seemed, maybe it was the fact that your emotions were all over the place and the pain and hate you felt slowly bubbling up over being cheated on were muddling with the rest of your feelings. Warm orange rays of sunlight slowly begin to peek over the tops of the mountains, shrouding the forest in a comforting glow. The sky is light with pinks and oranges, the dark blue night sky slowly fading away as a light cerulean takes over. It was barely six in the morning, but your family had always been adamant about being early to bring your offerings for the gods.

Nature seemed to come alive around you, birds chirping, flowers blooming with lush petals and vibrant colours. It was the summer solstice, a period of time where the gods’ presence was closer to the human world than any other time of the year.

However, despite it being such a juvinating day you were feeling anything but jovial. The basket resting on your arm was nearly filled to the brim with seasonal fruits that you had picked earlier that morning. The better quality the offerings and the more abundant they were signified a better season and prosperity blessed upon your family from the gods.

“Y/n what’s the matter?” your mother asks, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Nothing, just tired” you mumble hoping that she’ll stop questioning you before it starts.

“Well make sure you don’t walk into the temple like that, we can’t afford to attract any negativity this season” she scolds, something you’ve heard since becoming your family’s link between your world and the God’s.

When it had happened you were instantly filled with dread, the wellbeing of your entire family rested on your shoulders. Four times a year you needed to make sure that your emotions were in check, a single negative thought even for a fleeting second would have an impact on your family’s future until the next solstice. The gods were very picky when it came to their offerings, being the so-called spokesperson for your family meant that for the entire time you were in the temple you couldn’t think of anything else.

One minor distraction was enough to send a year’s worth of bad luck onto your family. You had never once messed up in the ten years that you’d been doing this, but it never stopped your parents from reminding you incessantly that you needed to be in the right state of mind. It was annoying, but you’d gotten used to it over the years.

Today however, you had little patience with your mother. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes you give her a tight smile and nod, returning your gaze ahead of you.

The sun was beginning to rise higher in the sky, light pinks and oranges gradually fading into a light blue. The ruby red pillars of the temple gradually came into view, peeking through thick tangled branches.

The closer you got to the temple, the heavier the lump of dread feels in your stomach. It’s so close to swallowing you whole that you can feel the bile creeping up your throat. Sticky black fingers made of tar wrap themselves around your throat. The second you step foot onto temple grounds you can feel the atmosphere change.

A harsh warm breeze whips against your hair, running along your exposed arms and face. Almost like a warning, you need to get yourself together. Shoving down every negative feeling that’s made itself home in your body you take a few deep breaths and focus on calming your emotions.

From the corner of your eye you can see your parents give you a wary side eye but you flash them a reassuring smile. You can do this. You’ve done it a thousand times before, one stupid break up will not be the reason you bring bad fortune upon your family. You’d never hear the end of it.

As you walk up the narrow winding steps to the shrine you can feel the spiritual energy radiating from the soles of your feet up to the top of your head. The concerned gazes of your parents burn holes into the back of your head. Not only were you more in tune with the realm of the gods during the solstice, but the energy of the earth as a whole intensified as well.

Deep breaths in and out. Focus on the wicker handle of the basket digging uncomfortably into your arm. Anything to distract your mind from thinking about finding Bakugou kissing Cami-Nope.

Your grip around the basket handle tightens, small pieces of it begin to poke at your skin giving you something to focus your attention on.

When you finally reach the top of the stairs, your rage has finally simmered down enough to allow you to ease your death grip on the basket.

A heavy hand on your shoulder draws your attention up to your father’s solemn eyes. You were usually good at hiding your emotions, the fact that everything you were feeling now was on full display was irritating you to no end.

“I’m fine!” You reassure them once more but you can tell they don’t believe you. You can’t blame them, you haven’t told them anything about your relationship ending and you don’t intend to either. You knew you were acting differently these last few weeks but you didn’t need anyone else knowing about the humiliating way things had ended between you and Bakugou.

Your parents accompany you into the temple but being the spiritual link for your family, only you are allowed to enter the inner rooms which host the shrines for each god. In the beginning it had been exciting to you, but now years later it was beginning to feel like a chore. It didn’t matter where you were, four times a year you needed to come home and pray for good health and wealth and prosperity. You pass by Izuku on your way into the room, his presence was usually calming but the sight of him now only served to remind you of Bakugou. Forcing a polite smile on your lips you give him a small nod of acknowledgement before continuing on your way towards the altars.

The prayers had gone well, at least you had assumed they had. You had no problems with the gods, other than Enji who usually gave you a hard time regardless of how good of a mood you were in so you didn’t take it personally. Grabbing the empty basket you exit the room and make your way outside. Finally able to let your emotions pour out once more, you find yourself becoming fixated on the onslaught of hatred, revenge, and hurt that were lying dormant under your skin. You wanted revenge, you wanted to humiliate him the way he’d hurt you.

You didn’t understand why he’d done it, you had been under the false presumption that your relationship was fine. If it hadn’t been for Bakugou cheating on you in your own apartment, with the girl he’d told you so many times NOT to worry about you might have felt less bitter. But there was nothing that could quench your desire for revenge other than making him regret what he’d done to you in a way that would stick with him forever.

Blinking out of your daydream you realize that you’ve wandered into a part of the temple that you’ve never been to before. It’s darker and the energy feels heavier compared to the other sections. Your feet seem to move of their own will as you approach a door that looks as though it hasn’t been opened in ages. You expect to find it locked, but much to your surprise the handle twists open with no resistance.

The room is even darker than the hallway, a small window being the only source of light casting a gloomy look throughout it. Along the back wall of the room is what you think is another altar, except as you approach it it’s covered in dust. It’s apparent to you that no one has been in this room for a long time. Cautiously you wipe away the dust covering the plaque on the front of the altar.

“God of vengeance, Dabi” The second the name leaves you lips the door slams shut making you jump in shock. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and every nerve is screaming at you to run.

“Lost, dollface?” A voice you’ve never heard before but feels so strangely familiar at the same time makes you nearly jump out of your skin and whip around to face them. You had been facing the door ready to walk out, no one had been in here before you so where did the man standing in front of you come from.

You’re suddenly so dumbstruck that you can’t even formulate a response, your eyes are too busy taking in his unusual appearance. Spiky black hair, the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen with patches of his skin on most of his face and neck that are stapled together. Your eyes travel down farther and notice that not only is his face badly burnt but a significant portion of his body is.

The energy you’re getting from his presence is overwhelmingly not human, but it’s not demonic either. At least, you’re fairly sure it isn’t. Meaning that the person standing before you was a god.

“Don’t look so shocked, you did wander in here didn’t you? What were you expecting to find?”

“Who are you?” The question feels stupid of you to ask.

“Shouldn’t you know that already?” Your mind is racing with a hundred different things to say, but none of them make it past your lips. Something about him is different from the rest of the gods you’ve met before. There’s what feels like an underlying evil in him despite being a god.

“What’s on your mind doll? It’s obviously important enough to be thinking about while you’re in the presence of a God” His coy smile and low voice laced with honey and temptation make you want to answer him even though you know you shouldn’t.

“Why do you care?” Raising an eyebrow questioningly, a tiny voice at the back of your mind begins to scold you for speaking to a god so casually. Not only could he clearly incinerate you in a flash but he could also influence the fate of your family’s fortune. But you couldn’t be bothered to give a shit. For the last decade of your life you’ve spent it dedicated to bringing your parents good fortune only to end up with your own misfortune. You knew you were pushing it, you knew that one slip up and you’d never hear the end of it. But the rage bubbling it’s way slowly up your body almost feels like it’s growing stronger in his presence.

“I always care about pretty little things who wander up to MY altar with such negative energy.”

“Your altar? Funny how I’ve never heard of you before. Can’t be that important if your altar is blocked off from the rest of the temple. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m leaving” Turning on your heel you start walking back to the door hoping that you’ll be able to leave before digging yourself a deeper grave.

“Now now, is that any way to speak to a god?” Within seconds the atmosphere changes, andBlue flames sprout up around you blocking you from leaving the room. They’re hotter than any fire you’ve ever been near before, you don’t even need to be standing directly in front of them to feel how much heat they radiate. Dabi’s eyes are glowing with such an intense gaze of lust in your eyes that it works its way under your skin.

It doesn’t take you long to understand why his shrine had been locked off from the rest of the altars. Dabi might have been a god but there was nothing heavenly about him. Gradually the smell of smoke began to fill your lungs in an unpleasant way despite nothing in the room burning.

“Wanna try that again? Maybe a little nicer this time huh?” Dabi’s body was right behind yours, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear. Hot breath hitting against you making you shiver involuntarily.

“Don’t you have better things to worry about?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, you’re standing in front of the god of vengeance. The one god who can help you work out this little problem you’ve got going on”

“Why do you want to help me so bad?”

“I like to think of myself as a generous god” He jokes but you can already tell that Dabi is anything but generous. His expression changes when you don’t lighten up at his attempt to change the mood of the conversation.

“What can I say, I love a good revenge story. It doesn’t hurt if they’re not bad to look at either”

Sighing, you begin to mull over his proposal in your mind. You can’t deny that it would be just a little satisfying to have a god on your side. It was petty, the dumbest kind of revenge that anyone could plot for but the images of Bakugou making out with someone who wasn’t you in your own bed no less were branded permanently in your mind. Maybe summoning Dabi was a blessing in disguise, besides, he was a god after all. It wasn’t like he was going to ask you for your soul.

“Fine, what do you want in exchange?”You figured the most he probably wanted was a bigger offering next season.

“We’ll discuss that when it comes up”

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

You weren’t even sure why Dabi had decided to waste his time in the human world. In his own words he was bored of being in his own realm and figured that sticking around your “depressed ass” would give him some form of entertainment.

Thankfully you didn’t live with your parents anymore, you weren’t sure how you were going to explain having a random man they’d never seen before stuck to your side twenty-four hours a day. In all honesty, you didn’t know why he’d been so interested in helping you get revenge on Bakugou but there wasn’t any need for you to question it. He was the god of vengeance after all.

Even if this did seem like a small and petty reason to help you out.

The first week you had been so caught in helping Dabi adjust to human life that you’d almost forgotten why he was there in the first place. You would have thought that for a god he’d have been at least somewhat competent at learning how to work something as simple as the shower.

You definitely hadn’t expected him to be standing in the bathtub naked, with the cockiest smirk on his face while you yelped and covered your eyes, willing with every fiber in your body for your heart to stop racing.

“Could you at least cover yourself before calling me in here?” You complain, still shielding your eyes as you walk over to turn on the shower for him.

“Can’t you just use your godly powers or whatever to just do it for you?” Mumbling mostly to yourself, you adjust the temperature before hurrying out of the bathroom, trying not to think about his dick and how badly you would’ve gotten on your knees for him if he had asked.

“That would be a waste of my godly powers then, don’t you think?”

You don’t even need to look at him to see the cocky smirk on his face. Slamming the bathroom door shut behind you, you rush back into your room hoping that he at least possesses enough common sense to know how to turn the shower off.

The following days go by with Dabi finding a new way to tease you, whether it was walking around the house shirtless or him walking in on you taking a shower. To say that you were up to your neck with the desire to have him fuck you senseless one minute and wanting to strangle the life out of him the next was an understatement. But according to Dabi, once you had both verbally agreed on the deal you’d made he couldn’t leave until the job was finished.

Meaning, that until you got revenge on Bakugou, Dabi was going to be sticking around. Throughout the time that you spent together, Dabi had told you more than you thought you would get out of him. How he’d gotten his scars, why his altar had been separated from the others. As much as people needed vengeance, praying to a god as powerful as Dabi meant that in the wrong hands his powers could very well cause irreversible damage. Not that he had a problem with it, but the priests had decided long ago that his altar needed to be kept away from vengeful hearts.

Until you came along of course, he’d immediately noticed your energy the second you had stepped foot in the temple. No matter how hard you tried to conceal your feelings, Dabi had noticed them and led you straight to his altar. You had been a little mad at first, having been so easily caught trapped but the more you thought about it the less you cared. Besides, you were beginning to enjoy his company around your empty apartment.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

Finally, after almost three weeks of putting up with him, the opportunity to get back at Bakugou presented itself.

“Have you ever been clubbing?” you ask over breakfast that morning.

Leaning back in his chair, Dabi’s curious eyes meet yours.

“What are you planning?”

“Bakugou’s best friend is having his birthday party at this club and he’s probably going to be there too. You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to. I can find someone else if you’re uncom-”

“I’m not uncomfortable. That’s what I’m here for right?”

“Well I was just asking since you’re like, what, a couple centuries old? It might be weird to go dancing with all these young people” you flash him an innocent smile at his unamused glare.

“Last time I checked your eyes were practically begging me to fuck you” He retorts making you choke on your coffee. Smirking in victory he leans in closely to whisper in your ear.

“Try harder next time doll”

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

The rest of the day flew by and the closer the time got for you to leave, the more anxious you felt. You couldn’t help but start to doubt everything about your plan for revenge. For all you knew, Bakugou could care less about who you were hooking up with as long as he was getting his dick wet.

“Are you doubting me?” Dabi teased as you make your way to the club.

“No, but you don’t know what he’s like.”

You didn’t need to wait long to get in the club, your tight black dress and Dabi’s “charm” were more than enough to allow you to skip the line and get in. His hand never leaves your lower back as you make your way through the crowd and towards the bar. The two of you down a few shots, the alcohol makes its way through your veins and before long you’re feeling pleasantly buzzed.

Grabbing Dabi’s hand you drag him to the dance floor, it doesn’t take him long to get the hang of grinding up on you and for once you’re not mad about him being a tease. His hand is firmly resting on your hip, you’re a bit more tipsy than you had wanted to get but the song the dj is playing is setting the mood making you hot and bothered. When Dabi’s lips start kissing their way along the side of your neck you’re more than willing to give him more space to leave a few marks.

Your eyes are closed as your bodies grind together and you don’t notice the way Bakugou is glaring with murderous intent at Dabi. Just as you’re starting to loosen up a distance voice snaps you out of your trance.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Opening your eyes you find Bakugou standing in front of you with his arms crossed.

“What does it look like I’m doing. I’m dancing” the song that were dancing to ends and another more upbeat one follows.

“With him? I knew your standards were low but I didn’t think you were that desperate” He snorts, your blood instantly boils making the back of your neck prickle with rage.

“Hmm, let’s take this outside. What do you say?” Dabi asks with a playful tone in his voice.

“Whatever” Bakugou grumbles before shoving his way through the crowd of drunk dancing bodies.

Dabi and Bakugou confronting each other was something you hadn’t thought was going to happen when you’d agreed to let Dabi help you get your revenge on him. But as luck would have it, here you were standing in an alley outside of the club with Dabi in front of you and Bakugou glaring daggers into him.

“Oi, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are but she’s mine.”

“Yours? Aren’t you the dickhead who cheated on her? Why would she want you back” Dabi’s laugh isn’t teasing like the ones you’ve heard before. It’s condescending, and you start to feel an energy you’ve never felt before radiating off of him.

“Tell me, dollface.” His voice is deeper and when he turns to look back at you his eyes are darker with what you hope is “Is this mutt really the one you want fucking you right now?” Bakugou’s jaw twitches and he clenches his fist ready to swing at Dabi.

“Tch, down boy” he sighs and just like that Bakugou’s body is slammed down to the cement. You’ve never seen Dabi use his powers before and it does nothing to calm the raging storm of lust about to boil over in your.

“Now, if you don’t mind I’m going to pick up where I left off before you rudely interrupted.” Your wide eyes are still focused on Bakugou’s form kneeling behind Dabi, until he grabs your jaw with one hand and backs you up against the wall.

“I’d much rather you focus on me than him” He mumbles, giving you a sly smile before claiming your lips in a heated kiss. His lips are so much better than you imagined, soft and yet rough at the same time. The cold staples on the corner of his lips lightly scrape against your skin but you don’t care. Sliding your hands underneath his shirt you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him in closer to you.

Your nails clawing at his back hard enough to make him hiss and bite down harshly on the sensitive skin where your neck and shoulders met. If your brain wasn’t so muddled with pleasure it might have been more painful but it only sent sparks throughout your whole body. It didn’t matter how tightly you grabbed him and pulled him closer into you, it wasn’t enough.

Dabi hooked your right leg over his hip, the other hand trailing up the back of your neck tangling his hand in your hair and pulling it back. The feeling of his lips sucking dark marks onto your flesh elicited a loud wanton moan from your lips. Your fingers buried themselves in his raven locks tugging his head up so you can slip your tongue between his lips. The hand holding your thigh tightens as a carnal growl makes its way up his throat.

Kissing a god was nothing like you’d ever experienced before, it felt like with each kiss he was stealing the air right from your lungs.

If you were being completely honest with yourself, Dabi could have ended your life right then and there and you would have let him. Throughout the past few weeks he’s been living with you, you’ve pictured this in your mind countless times. But you’d never thought that there was a chance in hell that it was ever going to happen. Yet here you were, back scraping against the brick wall of the club’s alley with Dabi’s fingers digging into your hips in a way that would leave their mark there for days.

His lips moved against yours like he was a man starved of touch and affection, his teeth bit harshly against your bottom lip pulling a half strangled moan from your throat. His hands, which felt like they were growing hotter every time he brushed against your bare skin, tightened their hold on your hips to grind you against his dick. The sharp hiss he lets out goes straight to your already throbbing pussy, something about knowing that you’re the one making him feel like this and lose control of himself just makes you want to push him farther and see how long it’ll take to break him.

Reaching down between your bodies you grab his hips trying to bring them closer to yours for more much needed friction. The action makes Dabi chuckle against your lips.

“Impatient aren’t we princess?” Dabi tries to come off as nonchalant but he wants it just as much you do. He’s been holding out for weeks, at first he just enjoyed making you flustered, pushing all your buttons to see how you’d react. But the longer he spent with you the more his feelings turned from curiosity to genuine interest and the small embers of lust that lay dormant in his gut had erupted into a fire that was rapidly consuming him.

It was dirty and rushed, teeth clacking together as you both tried to bring your bodies closer together until there was not an inch of space left between you. Your dress was now barely hanging on to your hips, but you couldn’t care less because the only thing on your mind was feeling Dabi inside you NOW. Rolling yourself against his dick the best you can while having one leg on the ground, you can’t help but smirk when Dabi moans into your mouth. His hand slides down your stomach, fingers teasing your thighs where the hem of your dress meets your exposed skin before inching closer to where you want him most. His arm sets your leg down in favour of spreading your legs wider for him, tugging your dress up even higher to give himself a better view.

“So fucking wet and I haven’t even touched you yet” Dabi laughs in your ear, enjoying the way you inhale sharply as his fingers circle your puffy clit.

“Dabi, don’t be a tease” you shoot back, trying to sound as dominant as you can but instead it comes out as a breathy whine. The contrast of his soft top lip combined with the roughness of his bottom lip against your neck was making you dizzy. It was the perfect combination of pain and pleasure, and it was only serving to turn you on even more knowing that you had provoked him into doing this.

“You know, I was going to fuck you anyway but don’t you think it’s a little more vengeful if I show your charming ex how to really make you scream?” You were so distracted by the feeling of finally letting out your sexual frustrations that you’d forgotten all about Bakugou who was still under Dabi’s influence.

Before you can answer him, Dabi slides two fingers into you with ease curling them at just the right angle to have you panting against his neck. His movements are anything but gentle and he gives you no time to adjust to his pace as he works his fingers in and out of your dripping pussy. Your hands wrap around his biceps, allowing you to have some sort of stability while he’s finger fucking you fast enough to leave you light headed.

“Such a fucking tight pussy you’ve got doll” he chuckles breathlessly. His thumb nudges against your clit tightening the coil of white heat rapidly building up in your lower stomach. His fingers are hitting against your sweet spot so perfectly, every thrust knocking the air out of your lungs in breathy moans as he increases his pace.

The wet sloppy sounds of his fingers in you are only heightening your arousal. Dabi’s lips start sucking against the space between your neck and shoulders, making you tilt your head to give him better access. You’re so close you can feel yourself coming undone, without warning Dabi bites down hard enough to break the skin sending you towards your first orgasm. You don’t even care that you’re moaning loud enough for anyone to hear you, Dabi’s fingers don’t stop giving you no chance to recover.

“Come on princess, I know you’ve got another one for me. Cum on my fucking fingers like a good slut” his rough voice right against your ear does nothing to help bring you down from your high. You’re helpless to do anything but let yourself become putty in his hands as another orgasm leaves you breathless and nearly sobbing against him.

You whine at the feeling of his fingers pulling out of you, but you don’t have to wait long before he turns your body around to face the wall, bending you over and unzipping his jeans to free his aching cock.

“Remember when I said we’d discuss what I wanted in exchange for helping you out?” he asks, his voice raw with arousal as he slides the tip of his cock against your dripping folds. You can barely remember what he’s talking about, your mind is so focused on wanting to feel him inside you that you can barely keep track of what he’s saying.

“I think this is a pretty good exchange don’t you think?” Not giving you a chance to respond he grabs your hip with one hand and tangles your hair with the other while sheathing his cock fully inside you with one sharp thrust. Your nails dig into the brick wall as you fail to bite back a scream. He’s so thick that you can feel the veins of his cock rubbing against your walls with each thrust. The hand fisting your hair tightens its grip, pulling your head back towards him. Dabi’s hot breaths are hitting against the base of your neck, the feeling of him inside you is making your head spin with pleasure.

“Go on, tell him who’s fucking you this good” Dabi’s hips are slapping against your ass hard enough to bruise but you could care less.

“You are” you whimper but it’s not good enough.

“Say my fucking name” he growls in your ear before reaching down to rub hard circles against your clit.

“F-fuck! Dabi! You feel so fucking good” you cry out as another orgasm washes over you making your legs feel like jelly. You’re almost certain that anyone within a two block radius can hear how loud you’re screaming but you don’t care. Before you can process what’s happening Dabi pulls out of you flipping you back around to face him and lifting you up. Wrapping your legs around his waist he slowly pushes back into your hot walls.

“Such a greedy cunt you have, dollface” he grunts and you can’t do anything except nod. Your back hits the wall as Dabi’s hips rut against yours, the new angle allowing him to hit your g-spot with every thrust. His hand wraps around your throat, restricting your air flow and making your pussy clench around him.

“You like it when I choke you? Such a nasty little whore” he laughs, tightening the grip he has around your neck until the edges of your vision start to blacken.

“Your pussy’s so good I might have to keep you” You’re not even sure how he’s still managing to speak in full sentences, if there was anything that reminded you that Dabi was a god it was his insane stamina. He’d already fucked you through three orgasms without being anywhere near cumming. Not only that, but the force he was using the fuck you with was sure to leave you unable to walk for a week.

Your thighs tighten around his waist as he begins rubbing your clit once again making you whine loudly.

“Too much”

“You can take it baby” His fingers show you no mercy causing you to throw your head back against the wall. Your hands push against his shoulders trying to move him away but Dabi is a lot stronger than you gave him credit for.

“Cum on my fucking cock, you can do it. Show him what a good little slut you are for me” Your fingers are gripping his hair so hard you’re sure you’ve pulled some out as you cum around his dick, your eyes struggling to stay open as you feel liquid splashing against your thighs.

“That’s my girl, squirt all over my cock” His fingers grip your jaw as he brings your lips together in another heated kiss. His thrusts become sloppier and more rushed as he chases his own release.

“Fuck Dabi cum in me” you moan against his lips and he curses under his breath as he spills thick ropes of hot cum inside you. Your breath is coming out in short pants and you can barely stand on your legs when Dabi puts you down. You can feel his cum start to drip down your thighs as he presses a soft kiss against your lips. Your eyes finally gaze down towards Bakugou who looks like he’s about to burst a vein. His eyes are burning holes into your neck where dozens of dark marks litter your skin. From the sounds he’s making, you can tell he wants to say something but under Dabi’s control he’s powerless to do anything.

“How was that for revenge?” Dabi smirks.

“I don’t know, might have to try again at home” you reply cheekily.

“What makes you think you’re making it back home? I meant it when I said I was keeping you”

Masterlist

913 notes · View notes

come-on-shitty-boys · 4 years

Text

//lunch date memories. sakusa kiyoomi//

Request: c-can I ask for some Omi fluff or anything actually🥺 Up to you- my brain diededed- lmfao hahhaa It's just fully shut down hue- ily Maddi 🥺

Warnings: None bby ;-; just pure unadulterated fluff

Word Count: 1.8K

Notes: Me: ah yes. Let’s do some nice, short fluff.

Me, 6 pages later: 0-0

“Omi, did we really have to come all the way up here for a picnic?” You pant, struggling to climb the steep slope of the trail. You were far behind your boyfriend who seemed less than bothered at the hike. Yet, you had sweat dripping down your face, knees weak from the constant attempt to keep up with Sakusa’s long strides.

“It’ll be worth it, I promise,” he says, turning to give you the faintest hint of a smile. He stopped, letting you catch up to him before slowing down his pace, helping you not-so-elegantly scramble over some of the particularly large rocks blocking the hiking trail that proved to not be a setback for Sakusa’s incredibly long legs, letting him easily step up and over any of nature’s obstacles.

And you know what? He was right. It was worth it. The view from the top was the most beautiful thing you had seen in a long time. Trees surrounded you, letting the sunlight filter through layers of leaves, stippling the ground with tiny golden beads of light. Clumps of wild flowers settled around the edges of the clearing, swaying daintily in the warm summer breeze.

As you catch your breath, wiping sweat from your chin, Sakusa lays the blanket down on the ground, smoothing down the fabric. In the least graceful fashion possible, you both flop down. You lay back, chest still heaving with ragged breaths. Your boyfriend only hums, looking down at you as he sets out to unpack the bag that carried the bentos he had prepared that morning.

“How are you not even the slightest bit exhausted?” You whine, rolling over onto your stomach, untying the soft purple cloth around your bento as Kiyoomi set two water bottles between you.

“It helps that I’m not a shortie,” he claims, tweaking your nose softly between his fingers.

“Hey!” You huff, holding your nose and shooting him a soft glare. He says nothing, just opens his own lunch and begins eating in silence. For many moments, the two of you sit in comfortable silence, letting the soft gusts of wind tousle your hair in every which way as it brings the sweet scent of flowers towards you.

Sakusa’s eyes are soft as he examines you. You’re lost in your meal, lazily scrolling through social media, every now and then lips shifting up in a little smile at a silly meme. Strands of hair flitting gently as the sun’s rays shined against your skin, casting a warm glow on your delicate features. It looked like a scene straight from a cheesy rom-com, but it’s not like Sakusa complaining. He’d happily be the lead in any movie if you were right there with him. It was beautiful.

You were beautiful.

If someone had told Sakusa when he was in high school that he’d be in love, he would’ve laughed in their faces. It’s not like he never wanted to be, sure, he had crushes, but most of them were just fleeting interests, lasting only a short amount of time and never really going further than a crush. Yet, here he was, five years later, sitting across from you. The first person he had ever truly fallen in love with. And hopefully, the last.

It was here, three years earlier, that he kissed you for the first time, holding your soft cheeks between his hands, letting his lips move over yours. It was awkward and clumsy, noses colliding more than once, and not at all what he had imagined a kiss being like, but it was nice and your lips felt so warm against his. He never wanted to pull away and if it weren’t for his lungs screaming for oxygen, he never would’ve.

He had been panting, face flushed, eyelids refusing to open in fear that this was all just some fervent dream. But, you had softly spoken his name and he had opened his eyes to stare down into yours. Eyes so full of life and love. Love for him. He had to move his thumbs across your skin, just to make sure one last time that this wasn’t a dream. The feeling of your face underneath his worn fingers brought a smile to his lips.

He had brought you here for a picnic, just like the one he had set up for today. But, you had made the lunches that day, promising that you washed everything properly while preparing them. Sakusa had noticed your small sigh of relief when he willingly took second, third, fourth bites until it was inevitably gone. Conversation had been much like it was now, nearly non-existent, preferring to revel in one another’s company than having meaningless discussions about things like the weather or the view.

If Sakusa Kiyoomi had been told in high school that in five years, he would be getting engaged, he wouldn’t have believed it. He would have just rolled his eyes, walking off, unamused by the conversation. But, now, there’s a small weight in his pocket and hundreds of pounds of pressure weighing down on his shoulders. Yet, the thought of it kept bringing a soft smile to his face, the mental image of you smiling down at him as he put the little diamond on your finger brought the familiar warmth to his heart. It was a warmth that he felt every single time he looked at you, thought about you when you were apart.

Bentos had long been pushed aside, crumbs being the only remnants. You had moved so that your head was laying against his thigh, every now and then poking his chin to get his attention to show him something that you thought he would enjoy. Kiyoomi’s long fingers were threaded in your hair, reaching for the right thing to say. He was sure that if you had a clear view of his face, you would be asking a million questions, trying to get inside his head and figure out what was with the weird look on his face.

“Hey,” he started, looking down at you.

You lock your phone, putting it down beside you, smiling up at him. “Hey.”

“Can I show you something?” When you just nod, he just shakes his head and tweaks your nose again. “You have to get up, shortie.”

Your lips settle into a cute pout at the nickname, but you sat up anyway, letting him pull you up from the blanket. He tugged you towards the edge of the clearing where the sun shone through the canopy in the breathtaking way. Kiyoomi wasn’t really sure what he was pointing at, but he led your gaze to something in the distance. Yet, even if there was nothing to look at, you still pretended to be mesmerized, whispering softly, “Oh, Kiyoomi. This is incredible.”

Sakusa pulled the little silver band from his pocket. He had been waiting for just the right moment for weeks now and it was here. He had every ounce of courage possible coursing through his body.

While you were distracted by nothing, Sakusa Kiyoomi sank down to a single knee. The happiness of just being here with you, ready to move your relationship forward, pushed any of those annoying thoughts about the filthiness of the dirt to the back of his mind. He didn’t care. You were the only thing that mattered to him right now.

It was the lack of his presence that made you turn your head side to side, looking around wildly for him. You stepped backwards, eyes wide in shock as you looked down into his deep brown eyes. Your boyfriend reached out his hand, taking yours so he could pull you closer towards him.

When he hadn’t even said a word and saw the tears streaming down your face, he was convinced that he had done something wrong. He was already getting up to wipe your cheeks, but you just shook your head, pushing him back to the ground. “No- No, I’m sorry. I’m just- I’m really happy, Omi. You can go ahead. I promise, I’m fine,” you say, smiling wide as you try to dry your eyes.

“Are you sure?” He asks, sinking back down, concern swimming all over his features.

“Yes, baby. I promise.”

He just nods, taking a deep breath. “I’m not really the best at words, but you’ve probably realized that by now. I didn’t really prepare a speech or anything, so this is likely not going to be the proposal you envisioned. The thing is, I have never felt like this with anyone else before. Every time I see you or think about you, I just get so stupidly happy and it took me a really long time to figure out what I was feeling. But, I realized that what I was feeling was love. I was in love with you and I don’t want to be in love with anyone ever again.” He pauses, brows furrowed tightly together as he breaks eye contact with you. “Wait- that sounded bad, didn’t it?”

You shyly shrug as if to politely say yes, but even he can’t miss the breathy laugh escaping your lips.

“Let me try that again- I don’t want to fall in love with anyone else. Was that better?” Sakusa quickly waves those thoughts away. “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I love you. I love you so incredibly much. I love every moment that we get to spend together and I want more of those moments. I don’t know if you remember, but we had our first date here. I kissed you right here in this clearing for the first time. It- It really only felt natural to do this here, where everything started all those years ago. I want to marry you and I hope that you’ll have me as your husband, so that we can share more moments like this. Y/N, will you marry me?”

“Of course, Kiyoomi. I would love that more than anything,” you say, smiling down at him, holding his face in your hands. “Or, should I say, shortie,” you tease, pinching his own nose in retaliation.

Your boyfriend, or rather, your fiancé slowly got back to his feet, looking down at you from his incredible height. “What were you saying, shortie?” There’s a gentle smile on his face as he takes your left hand, placing the ring on your finger. “I love you, honestly,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I love you more, Omi.”

And just as it had begun, this chapter of your life ended with lips connected. But this time, less awkward and significantly more graceful. There was no clumsy bumps of noses, but even after all these years, Sakusa Kiyoomi found himself unwilling to pull away.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #kiyoomi #omi #imagine #x reader #fluff

246 notes · View notes

phantompearlsalt · 3 years

Text

Sour Cherry, Chapter 8

Here it is folks!! That sweet domestic bliss so many of y’all craved 💜 It was very interesting writing this but I still had a blast — it’s quite different from chapter 7 so brace yourselves. I will also note this one is distinct in that it’s more of a modern!AU setting so no bending or LoK elements at all, really. It was fun doing something so different! Lastly, make sure you have these songs queued up in case you want to play them as you reach those parts of the chapter 😉 And lastly, quick content warning for folks reading on here: there’s mention of cooking, food, but not eating! Feel free to check this out on AO3 too okay this is long: ENJOY!!

There was a time in your life when you believed you would never have this: the comforting rustle of warm bed sheets against your toes, the muffled song of birds just outside your window, and the solid presence of Kuvira’s slumbering body beside your own.

As you gradually blink into consciousness, you come to the pleasant realization that it’s Saturday. For the first time in weeks, you have nowhere to be and neither does Kuvira so you allow yourself to savor the rare and welcome contentment of a lazy morning in bed.

You feel a faint tickle graze the nape of your neck and you realize that Kuvira is fast asleep, her arm strung loosely across your waist. Shifting carefully so as not to wake her, you move until your back is against the mattress and you can tilt your face to the side. Kuvira’s fingers twitch for a moment but she remains unperturbed by the slight motion, her jaw still slack.

Given the bustling nature of her schedule, and her own no-nonsense disposition, there is always an element of tension present in Kuvira’s features. She’s still too young to have any significant wrinkles but during the day you never fail to notice the thin grooves around her mouth and along her forehead. Even when she’s not totally ensnared in the commotion of her job, she is rarely one to exude a sense of calm around others. It isn’t quite stress either but it’s certainly imposing.

When Kuvira sleeps, she is in her most vulnerable state. Every ounce of strain she carries in her body vanishes entirely, replaced with the weight of loosened limbs and heavy eyelids. Her brow relaxes completely, sometimes her mouth parts open and air will whistle through, her hair falls over her face in a curtain of vibrant black, and her shoulders sink freely into the downy comfort of your mattress.

Sometime in the distant past, you had believed a moment like this to be too out of reach. Too idealistic or picturesque. But as you gaze upon the beauty of this simple sight, understanding the depth of Kuvira’s trust that has allowed you to witness this side of her, you are overtaken by just how much your life has changed since you met Kuvira and how intensely you have grown to love her.

The sun has fully emerged outside and the rays start filtering through your gossamer curtains, casting a lovely golden glow across Kuvira’s face. You know she’ll start to stir within moments as the light starts to fall across her eyes so you treasure each remaining moment you have left like this. Gently, you lift your arm from beneath the bedsheets and let your hand cover hers.

It doesn’t take long for her to awaken after that — a handful of minutes pass before she makes a soft sound and her eyelids start to flicker open. Her gaze roams across the adjacent wall, slightly disoriented, before finally turning to focus on you. She blinks once and a muted smile tugs at the edges of her mouth.

“Good morning,” she murmurs. This time, you twist around so you’re on your side and you can twine your legs with hers. “Good morning to you,” you respond with a grin, cupping her cheek with your palm. “Looks like someone slept well.” Kuvira hums contentedly, stretching her arms high above her head.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been able to,” she says. “Yeah well, ridiculous work hours will really do that to a woman,” you tease. She gives you a withering glance which makes you burst into giggles, pulling her face towards yours so you can press a kiss against her forehead. “I’m not actually gonna kiss you until I can brush my teeth,” you inform her when you notice the expectant look on her face. “Then I suggest we do so immediately,” she replies promptly.

However, she proceeds to wrap an arm over your shoulder and tuck you against her chest, sinking her fingers into your hair as you brush your lips over her throat. For a moment you are tempted to point out the contradiction but you are far too delighted to actually do it. Though you cherish every morning you have with Kuvira, ones like these feel particularly special because of their rarity. Between her professional engagements and your own commitments, your mornings together are often hurried and fleeting.

So right now, with Kuvira’s arms encircling your body and your senses saturated by her scent and warmth, you want to hold onto this for as long as you can.

But of course, her arm starts falling asleep and your face gets too hot so you reluctantly pull away and fall into your habitual morning activities. You take a moment to stretch and crack away the stiffness of your joints while Kuvira messily clips her hair behind her neck before entering the bathroom where you’ll eventually join her.

The next few minutes pass in a rush of running water, toothpaste, and soap bubbles. You head back into the room to make your bed while Kuvira slides the glass pane open and a gust of brisk wind rushes through. As you slide into one of Kuvira’s old sweaters, you join her by the window. “I’ll go get our tea started, okay?” you say, touching your hand to her shoulder.

She nods once before responding, “Before you go.” Kuvira slips her fingers between yours before gently tugging you forward and bringing your lips together in a sleepy kiss. You let your arms wrap around her shoulders and you smile against the touch, feeling the tips of your ears grow red and your belly tingle with excitement. When you break apart, Kuvira watches you silently with a tender expression that heightens the emotion already rushing through your veins.

The longer you stay by her side, the more you find yourself feeling less inclined to leave so you quickly peck her on the mouth before scuttling out while she chuckles behind you.

Once you’re in the kitchen you quickly get to work on brewing your tea, relishing the sensation of sunlight falling across your back. As the water begins to boil on the stove, you push the window open and sigh at the burst of crisp air that follows. You detect the unmistakable scent of morning dew and realize it drizzled overnight. Getting on your tiptoes, you notice the plants outside are glossed over with a fine layer of moisture. It’s nearly a scene directly out of a film.

Finally your water is ready and you begin steeping Kuvira’s favorite oolong leaves, flicking on the radio and humming along to the entrancing melodies of the jazz station you have both grown so fond of. You’re pouring into your respective cups when a familiar set of arms curl around you from behind. Grinning, you place the pot down and lean back into Kuvira’s embrace. “I’ve missed this,” you sigh, suddenly forgetting about the steaming beverages as you feel a tickle swell inside your chest and your ribs.

“I have too,” she responds quietly, tightening her hold infinitesimally as she leans down to brush her lips against your cheekbone. “I know it’s been some time since we’ve been able to do this and...it’s nice. I didn’t realize how much I missed it myself.” You succumb to the enticement of that magical silence you only experience with Kuvira, allowing your body to press deeper against her chest until you can feel the heavy thrum of her heart.

Eventually, you have to step away when your stomach growls and you offer her the piping cup of tea. “Drink some of this and please be careful this time. Last time you burned your tongue you whined about it for a week.” Kuvira glares at you, unimpressed, which naturally makes you laugh. “Once you’re through with that, you can get started on chopping these up.” You push the bag of potatoes on the counter towards her and she inspects it apprehensively.

“Are you sure you trust me with that?” Kuvira asks over the rim of her teacup. “You know for someone who manages to scare almost everyone at her job, you’d think you could handle cutting some potatoes…” you sigh, earning a delightfully petty snort from Kuvira. You grin while smoothing her hair down against her head and press a chaste kiss to her nose. “You just have to get them into little cubes. Leave the actual cooking to me,” you chuckle. Kuvira still doesn’t look entirely convinced but she eventually picks up a knife from a drawer and carefully begins slicing the vegetables.

After sipping through about half your tea and admiring the stern look of concentration on Kuvira’s face, you join her and the music emanating from your small radio is soon accompanied by the clicking of knives and robust scent of onion, peppers, and garlic. There is a pleasant, unspoken dynamic between you and Kuvira that you’ve come to cherish, where you can merely exist together without the expectation of filling the space with frivolous conversation. If anything, you actually talk quite a bit on most days as a way to decompress from the exigencies of your respective work lives.

When you finally have the time to luxuriate in the freedom of an empty schedule, you allow yourselves to fully bask in that simple yet compelling joy of being in the other person’s presence.

Once your ingredients are properly diced and washed, you begin assembling everything which really just entails Kuvira tossing the cubes into the skillet while you sprinkle a variety of spices for good measure. Your fingers occasionally brush together as you lean over the stove and each time you see the apples of Kuvira’s face lift from the corner of your eye.

“You know, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this,” she notes. You snort and lovingly squeeze her hand before you start mixing everything together. “C’mon Kuvira, it’s been what? Over a year? I feel like I make this every other week so I wouldn’t get too confident about that. Give it a few more months and you’ll probably be gagging at the sight of sautéed vegetables.”

She moves towards your back and slides her hand down your arm until it rests over yours, temporarily pausing the stirring motion. “While I’m certainly not complaining about your exceptional breakfast-making skills, that’s not quite what I’m referring to. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this.” The words sweep along your ear and you feel a wave of goosebumps appear all across your flesh.

“Just being here, with you. I will never, ever tire of this,” she whispers against your neck. The words evoke a low hum in your ears as your blood rushes harder until the ringing feels like it’s sinking into your bones. You feel as though you have lost all coordination of your limbs, instead feeling them thrum with the wondrous glow of infatuation and only tethered down by the reassuring weight of Kuvira’s touch.

It still surprises you how these seemingly innocuous statements can unleash such an intense surge of emotion. Perhaps it’s because Kuvira isn’t the most eloquent when it comes to voicing her affections so when she does it’s particularly moving. Or perhaps it’s the shock of knowing another human being can love you as deeply as Kuvira does when you once found it impossible to conceive of such an idea.

Perhaps it’s a combination of the two and a million other things but you don’t dwell on that too long. At this moment in time, it doesn’t matter. Instead, you ground yourself in the steady and soothing warmth of Kuvira’s body and wiggle around until you can face her.

Kuvira lifts her hands to nestle your face between them, as if you might shatter into pieces with just the slightest movement, and presses her lips reverently against your forehead. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but our breakfast is about one minute away from burning to a crisp,” she states.

Your attention returns to the skillet in a flurry of flailing arms and nonsensical shouting while Kuvira merely observes in silent amusement. Luckily, you manage to save your meal and remove it from the heat at just the right moment. A hearty aroma of crisp potatoes and caramelized onions wafts through the air and you feel your stomach rumble again.

Just as you are sliding the food onto your platters, an all-too familiar melody chimes from the radio that brings your movements to a sudden halt. Faraway memories hit you all at once and very quickly. You only see glimpses of the images as they flash through your mind in bursts of vivid colors and fuzzy sounds.

Old timey photographs framed against paisley walls. Duke Ellington, Ella Fitzgerald, Wes Montgomery.

Hazy shadows twirling beneath dim golden lights. The carefree ripple of a skirt lifting in the air and jewelry glistening against a perspiring body.

The shuffle and snap of shoes sliding against a red-tiled floor. The clink of a heel tapping to the beat of a muted drum.

Kuvira’s hand resting confidently on your lower back, patiently guiding you through the movements, while another presses against your palm.

A distinctive voice croons, “The very thought of you/ And I forget to do/ Those little ordinary things/ That everyone ought to do…”

You are dragged out of your trance by the same touch you felt all those months ago. Kuvira pulls you away from the counter, the plates of steaming food now completely forgotten, and her eyes glitter with quiet mirth.

“Do you remember this song?” she asks quietly while she brings you close against her. Your muscles freeze and you chuckle nervously. “I do but, uh, you and I both know I’m not the ex-professional dancer here,” you remind her.

Kuvira merely shrugs, leaning down to press her forehead against yours. “Just follow my lead,” she murmurs. She moves her hands from your waist to gently take your wrists and wrap your fingers around the back of her neck. She snakes her palms along your arms and down your sides until they return to their original position, resting against the small patch at the base of your spine.

The ensuing steps are so simple it barely constitutes a dance at all but you still can’t hinder the raging blush that seems to radiate across every inch of your skin. Kuvira is rarely one to initiate exchanges of this nature so when she does your body reacts accordingly.

It’s not so much a dance as it is simply swaying back and forth, occasionally stepping backwards but never once splitting away from Kuvira. Your eyes flutter closed again and you burrow your face in the crook of her neck.

“I see your face in every flower Your eyes in stars above It's just the thought of you The very thought of you, my love”

You feel as though you have fallen into a field of flowers yourself. This moment...it’s the exhilarating rush of being pulled to the ground and the blissful recognition of falling into a perfumed refuge of velvety petals. As you rest your head against Kuvira, you inhale her fresh, earthy scent that is so reminiscent of the misty air outside. In your mind, the kitchen disappears entirely and your home dissipates into a rosy mist.

Instead, you find yourself in your own dimension where everything is concentrated in this very moment. Gravity is the touch of Kuvira’s hands against your hips and air is her breath mingling with yours. In this juncture of time and space, you are the only two beings in the universe. In this little cluster of minutes far away from the rest of the world, your only thoughts are on the simple movements of your feet, the graceful way Kuvira floats you across the ground, and the overpowering truth of how profoundly you love her.

The song eventually fades away into another tune, slowly bringing you back to the present moment. Kuvira’s hands haven’t left your body and you don’t make any move to break the embrace. Breakfast lays utterly forgotten and you imagine it’s gone cold. But it doesn’t matter. Not right now.

Within moments you find yourselves calmly rocking along to the soothing vocals and eventually a drizzle starts up outside. You pay no mind and smile when Kuvira brings her mouth to yours — that simple brush of lips seems to capture every ounce of emotion brimming in your body.

She whispers something that’s drowned out by the music but somehow, somewhere in the deepest crevices of your heart, the words still make sense.

---

“This is my first affair, please be kind Handle my heart with care, please be kind This is all so grand, my dreams are on parade If you'll just understand, they'll never, never fade”

#kuvira #kuvira x reader #kuvira/reader #kuvira headcanons #kuvira legend of korra #avatar lok #x reader #modern au #fluff #sour cherry #dang I really thought the engagement chapter was fluffy this is something else ENTIRELY thank u for the request anon!!!

44 notes · View notes

cajunquandary · 4 years

Text

Whispers of the Desert

Pairing | Reader, Sam, Dean

Summary | When the reader takes time for herself in the mountainous desert of far-west Texas, the last thing she expected was to have to fight for her life.

W/C | 6100

Warnings | Canon-level violence, blood, drowning and nightmares. It’s angsty.

A/N | Several years ago, I took a trip to Big Bend State Park, which is the setting for this tale. While there, my better half shared some folklore from his heritage. This was written in part for @supernatural-jackles SPN Bi-Weekly Writing Challenge. Prompt is in bold. Happy spooky-season, y’all.

The can of beans bubbled gently over the open fire. You stirred them carefully, as not to spill the contents or allow them to burn on the bottom. Little else is worse than burned beans. Using a well-worn cotton kerchief, you reach quickly to remove the can from the flames, cussing to yourself as the smoldering metal burns straight through the thin cloth to your fingers. The can lands next to you on the ground in a whap, a few rebellious beans jumping overboard as the can tipped and wiggled to a stop. You place the burned digits in your mouth one at a time in an attempt to suck the zinging pain away quickly then give up, wiping them on your dusty jeans with a sigh of resignation.

The sleepy spotted hound to the left of you continued to snore, exhausted from the heat of the day and the journey thus far. You’d been hunting for months straight without so much as a full night of rest and decided to take a weekend to yourself, far away from humans and monsters. You smile at the dog, glad to have such a loyal companion. Training him had been surprisingly easy, you reminisced while blowing on a spoonful of dinner-in-a-can to cool it.

You don’t quite remember when you stopped being a “normal” kid, if ever you were, and became a hunter. There was no dramatic intro, no amazing story—only a few ghosts and some salt. You sniggered at the thought, recalling how you’d been hooked on the Supernatural books as a kid, reading well beyond your grade level. So, when the time came that you actually confronted the supernatural in real life, you already had the answers. It was easy. You still weren’t sure about all the larger plots, like apocalypses and the Winchester boys, but the basic lore was solid.

Just a few years ago, you remembered being so lonely that it was throwing you off your game. Even though you craved human contact, you could never give more than a one-night stand on occasion. Loving me is a death sentence, you replayed over and over in your mind.

After a not-so-great hunt, you limped into a shelter, asking for the dog least likely to ever find a home. A puppy was unceremoniously thrown into your arms, the staff begging you to take it and go, as they were already struggling and couldn’t afford to keep a dog like this for long. Walking back to your old blue truck, you looked down at the small, fragile thing. Spotted all over, ears floppy and forlorn eyes that broke your heart. “A mutt,” they’d called it. One that just wouldn’t be wanted in that town. A runt and only surviving pup in a litter from a mix of a large, skinny hound dog and an even bigger, meaner pit bull.

As he’d grown, you trained him to hunt as well, bringing home bits of monster so he could learn the different scents and be able to tell you what may be approaching before you were caught off guard. The mutt grew up strong and confident with a huge loving heart.

On the rare occasion you make a public appearance in a town—any town—young children would come running to him, pulling on his ears and shoving their hands down his throat. He loved the attention. You couldn’t help but to smile, thinking that he would have been the perfect family dog, then sink into heart ache, realizing that the life you led would never allow for such a thing… that the two of you would likely both perish bloody at the hands of beasts.

You were scraping the bottom of the can now, grateful for the nourishment, when a shadow crept closer, curious of this new thing in its home.

Mutt sensed you stiffen and slowly turn your head to the midnight intruder. His hackles raised as he sniffed the air, a low, nearly inaudible rumble beginning deep in his chest as a warning. The waning light of the fire cast short, fleeting glimpses of the visitor. You dropped your shoulders and relaxed. It was only a coyote. Most people would be frightened by the animals if confronted in such a way, but you were familiar with them and with their mannerisms. You gently laid a hand on Mutt to reassure him that all was well. He trusted you fully, hackles lowering slightly, standing down.

The coyote lowered his head, sniffing towards your discarded can. You locked eyes with the scavenger, mirroring its movements. Its jowls drew back slightly, revealing short, sharp teeth in a smiling sneer. You drew back yours as well, baring your teeth and adjusting your features until your brows furrowed and eyes dared it to move closer. After a moment, the wild dog went back to a resting face, blowing from its nose and licking the air in peace. On swift, silent paws, it turned and trotted away in defeat, using the light of the Milky Way to guide it to its next meal.

You smiled and shook your head. Though during the day, the mountainsides and valleys looked barren and empty except for cactus and an occasional pile of wild grasses, the nights were always vibrant and teeming with life. Off in the distance, a chorus of howls echoed off of the cliffs and across the canyon below, rising and falling, sounding off in one direction, then another, then both. Cool winds of night lifted the solemn song through the air, carrying it for miles as if it were a raptor weightlessly gliding over the terrain.

Mutt released a tired huff, a bit of caliche dust stirring in a small curling puff in front of his nose. You killed the now flameless glowing embers with a swift kick of dust and your boot, smooshing it until the ash was cool. You climbed into the front seat of the truck, Mutt right on your heels. He laid next to you on the faded carpet as you sprawled across the bench seat and kicked off your boots. Folding your arm under your head, it was merely seconds before your mind fell to black.

The largest owl you’ve ever seen haunted your dreams. It was persistent and aggressively following you, swooping and diving towards your head. As if being shrouded in a spell, where you could only move sluggishly as if in water and your mouth could fall open but emit no sound, was terrifying enough, the owls face would morph continuously between that of the animal and of a young woman whose face twisted in unnatural ways. More than anything, you were angry—angry at the being, angry at yourself. Frustration pushed at the seams of your sanity as your mind and body fought each other when they should have been unified and fighting against the feathered behemoth. The shape-shifting head seemed to whisper a steady string of words you couldn’t understand.

The more you labored, the heavier your limbs grew and a thick fog began creeping at the edges of your brain, poisoning every thought and emotion until there was almost nothing left. Nothing but absolute, bone-chilling, illogical fear. Quick, panicked breaths drew fire-hot air into your lungs, but you could not longer even writhe in the pain with your body completely paralyzed—suspended high above the black silhouette of desert. Every cell in your being began to swell and pull, tearing apart. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you felt it being ripped from your body.

Your soul.

With the last bit of strength left within you, you forced your eyes open.

Mutt whined as you came to, suddenly upright and back in the safety of your truck. The first rays of sunrise were creeping up over the horizon. You looked down, feeling coming back to your body in waves of numb tingles. You were soaked in sweat and nausea overcame you. Barely opening the door in time, you leaned out over the step and released your stomach violently, heaving for some time until there was nothing left. Right then and there, you swore off canned beans for the foreseeable future. Mutt laid his head on your shoulder, licking the beads of perspirant off your temple in concern.

When the retching and trembling stopped, the stars had been all but chased away and replaced by the soft, subtle rainbow hues of morning. You groaned and rolled over, staring at the cab roof and planning your recovery quickly. Starting a day out here already dehydrated and weak could be a death sentence.

The wind kicked up, blasting a sweet relief of fresh air into your lungs. Whistles and other unexpected noises on the breeze were fairly normal, especially during daylight exchange, but you could swear you heard the distant hoots of an owl. Mutt didn’t seem to hear anything, so you shrugged the spooky feeling off and put the keys in the ignition, ready to head into the nearest truck stop for a shower and a sports drink.

About an hour later, you pulled your sputtering, rattling truck into the stop and parked next to a shiny black car. With windows rolled down for Mutt, you stepped out and around to get a better view of the old beauty. It was an Impala, probably a ’67 if you were to guess. You loved old cars, always wanting an El Camino for yourself one day. Even your truck was old—a faded and mildly rusty baby blue Ford. Your eyes traced and admired the curves of the car, the shine of the chrome and the matching leather interior. Everything was in perfect condition, as if it just come off of a show truck. You knelt down until you were on hands and knees, peeking up under the front of the car, taking note of the lack of rust underneath and original suspension. In all, you were impressed.

You straightened back up on your feet, adjusting your wide-brimmed hat back in its place. You went rigid, suddenly feeling a presence too close behind you for comfort. You spun on your heels, feet spaced and ready to defend yourself. It wasn’t often you had to, but once in a while, a particularly ignorant man would try to get a little too fresh with you—the small woman travelling alone.

You weren’t prepared for this.

Only inches away, a very tall, very handsome man in flannel stood cockily, a bag of donuts in one hand, beer and jerky in the other. You slowly lifted your gaze from his chest up to his face. Shaded green eyes caught yours like a spider would a fly—you were ensnared and unable to focus on anything else around you. The rest of the world fell away bit by bit as you performed in this staring contest. He slowly popped a little donut in his mouth, the pastry filling his cheeks and dusting his lips and collar with white powder. He chewed slowly with a poker face.

“Nice car,” you managed to choke out.

The tension between the two of you was palpable now. The freckle-dusted man continued to chew, responding with a throaty, mumbled “Mhmmph.”

The door to the building opened with a ring-ding, startling you from the awkward competition. You took a step back, breaking the stare and following the alert towards an even larger man walking towards you, face buried deep in a local map. “Hey, Dean, get this—”

His eyes snapped up, assessing the standoff before him, and he shook the hair out of his face. His eyes were nothing like the other man’s—they were softer, drawn together inquisitively, the sun highlighting the different shades of green, blue and brown folded and swirled around black pupils. He stopped next to the passenger door and cocked his head to the side. “Uh, Dean. Everything alright?”

Without so much as wavering his intense regard, Dean answered the taller man. “Yeah, Sammy. She’s just admiring the car.”

Sam rolled his eyes and huffed. “Dean, we don’t have time for this. Let’s go.” He waved amicably in your direction and settled into the Impala. You crossed your arms and turned back towards Dean after shooting a smile at Sam.

A little more confident now, you returned back to your game of glares. “Can’t take a compliment, Dean?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Yeah, it’s my baby. I put a lot of work into her. Thanks.”

The man continued to stand there, looking you up and down and eyeing you warily as if you were about to explode. You shrugged off the strange encounter and turned away, throwing a “have a good day” his way before you entered the welcome air conditioning of the store.

As you pre-paid for your shower and sports drink with the clerk, you could still see the man standing there out of the corner of your eye, watching you cautiously through the window.

You took the key and headed off towards the back of the building, ready to wash away the night terrors and bizarre encounter.

When you reached your private bathroom suite, you closed and locked the door then set down your backpack and turned on the hot water in the clean, sand-colored tiled shower. Steam started to fog the mirror, but you glimpsed yourself before it went completely white. Horrified, you wiped at the mirror. Your eyes were bloodshot and there was dried blood, almost black, that had trickled down your nose. Your veins were prominent and unnaturally blue, spiderwebbing across the thinner areas of skin. Your pupils were blown wide. You reached up to touch your face, confused, but your hand wandered to an itch under your ear. You leaned in closer and angled your head to see that blood had seeped from your ears as well.

You hastily stepped into the drumming water and tried to scrub away the knowledge that the nightmare may have been more than just that.

Back at the Impala, Dean watched you through the window, unmoved from the spot he’d caught you sneaking around the Impala. When you were out of sight, he slipped into the driver’s seat, hinges protesting with a squeak.

“You okay, dude?” Sam asked.

Dean set his snacks down between them. “No, Sam. Did you see her face? I found her creeping around the car. I didn’t see any hex-bags, but I think she’s a witch.”

Sam shook his head in disbelief. “Dean, she just looked like she had a few too many last night and maybe got in a fight.”

Dean shrugged, not willing to argue with his brother. One of his favorite things about Sam was also the worst—he always saw the good in people and, all too often, was blinded by it.

He turned up the music and peeled away from the truck stop, ready to put some distance between them and you.

You walked back to your truck, fully refreshed and looking much more like your normal self. Mutt stood up in the front seat, tail wagging and you couldn’t help but grin back at him. As you popped up next to him, you pulled out your phone to search for the nearest library. It was time to figure out what the hell happened last night.

The library wasn’t too far—another town over about a half hour away. It was a relatively small place, with only two computers and a few rooms. What it lacked for in size, it certainly made up for in quality and quantity for the research you required. Mutt walked silently by your side through the long, narrow passages between bookcases. Just before you reached the end, one book caught your eye.

Folklore of West Texas

You pulled it from the shelf, a familiar green eye arresting yours once more where there should have been another book on the opposite shelf. Startled, you took a stumbling step back, spine crashing into the full bookshelves behind you and digging in uncomfortably. Mutt stood at attention then, low growl emanating from bared teeth towards the stranger on the other side. You dropped your free hand to him, knowing that if he made a ruckus, you’d both be kicked out. He quieted, but still leaned into you, rigid and on high alert.

Dean rounded the corner quickly, looking down at the hackled dog and drawing his hands up quickly, as if mildly scared. “Mind calling off the attack dog?”

“Only if you tell me why you’re following me.”

“Following you—what? You’re following us!” He hissed, barely above a whisper.

Sam trotted up behind you, footfalls heavy on the old hardwood floor.

He looked from you to Dean to Mutt then to the book you were holding. Ignoring his brother’s strange demeanor, Sam asked kindly, “Hey, uh, mind if we borrow that book from you? The librarian pointed us towards it. It for research—important research.”

You gripped it tighter, suddenly feeling quite cramped in the small space and wanting to run the other direction, away from these crazy people. “Sorry, uh… Sam, is it?”

He nodded, small, thin, friendly smile coasting his lips.

“Sorry, Sam, I need it urgently. I uh… I have a paper for my college class due in like four hours and I haven’t even started. Maybe come get it tomorrow?” You hoped they would accept your lie and let you be.

Sam sighed. “Maybe we can share? There’s seating over by the computers. You can write and when you’re not using the book, maybe we can?”

You had to hand it to him, he was thoughtful and it would have been a good compromise. Unable to think of another excuse, you nodded in agreement.

After a few hours of searching through the book and the internet, through the library computer, you found a promising lead. Something called a Lechuza bruja, a type of witch or spirit well-known around the Texas-Mexico border.

The whole time, you could feel the eyes of the men as they bore into you, watching your every move.

You stood quickly, numb legs stretching and ready to carry you away from the situation. You smiled and tipped your brim at the men and quickly walked back through the maze of shelves and to your truck. The afternoon heat hit the parts of your face not shadowed by the black hat. Once in the vehicle, you opened the cooler to check your provisions. Hmm, running low. Next stop—the market.

Sam and Dean whispered with each other, huddled so close that their heads were nearly touching.

“A lechuga?”

Sam huffed. “No Dean, a Lechu-ZA. We aren’t fighting lettuce.”

Dean hung his head in his hands, dragging them across his hair and back down, rubbing his temples. “Frickin’ witches man,” he mumbled. At least for Dean, lettuce and witches were held in the same regard—both revolting.

You were glad to be back out in the wide-open human-less landscape. You cracked open a cold beer from the cooler and let the fizz glide down your throat, both cooling and warming you in delightful ways. Sunset was fast approaching and painting wildfires through the sky. Atop your plateau, you could look down and see Texas to the North and East, Mexico to the South and West, and the Rio Grande snaking between them, forming an oasis along its banks. You were close enough to hear the constant, deep rumble of water. You closed your eyes, imagining people from a thousand years ago listening to the same sound.

Letting the peaceful daydream fade away, you set the beer on the hood and went to rifle through the tool box in the bed of the truck. You pushed aside the smaller items of necessity and heaved a large bag of salt over your shoulder with a grunt. You painstakingly dug a shallow trench with your heel all the way around the vehicle, filling it with an unbroken line of salt along the way.

After you prepped the truck for a sleepless night potentially fighting away ghosts and witches, you climbed into the bed of the truck with the cooler and opened a bag of jerky. Mutt enjoyed his kibble and curled up next to you, happy and relaxed, innocent of the danger that would likely find you tonight.

As the temperature dropped and the familiar refrains of coyotes filled the air with music, your eyes grew heavy. You curled into yourself, pulling the rough blanket over your shoulders. You looked up at the stars, trying to tally the larger ones to keep yourself awake. There were so many that the dark sky was not truly black anywhere—everywhere you looked there were more. Every time your eyes adjusted and focused on a dark spot, you could count even more of them as they appeared.

Everything was true black and silent, as if you’d gone blind and deaf. This was not the desert you knew. You turned and felt the ground with your feet, trusting that your tall boots would block any cactus or unfriendly critters. You shuffled forward and tried to call out to Mutt, but the words caught in your throat. It began to constrict, as if something had you in a vice grip, crushing your windpipe from the inside out. You reflexively tried to breathe deeply, but fell to your knees, scratching at your throat, panic rising. Your eyes bugged and strained, desperate for any miniscule bit of light. You blinked hard, just to verify that your eyes were indeed open. Gasping for breath, your lungs burned and you fell onto your side, convulsing as if drowning. As numbness creeped its dark tendrils through your body, and you began to sense gravity fall away.

You continued to struggle, allowing fear to set in. Off in the distance, a light appeared. Like a shooting star destined to destroy worlds, it hurtled towards you. In mere seconds, the bright, glowing owl was there, once again sporting the glitching face of a woman contorted in sickening ways. The owl dwarfed you, calmly flapping its wings and whispering those strange incantations that drew such agony from your breaking body.

It floated closer to you, and in the light, you could see your hair suspended as if you were fully submerged under water. When the monstrosity got within arms reach with open beak, you reeled back and punched it right in the eye.

You woke with a start, Mutt pawing at you and barking violently. Urgently.

Shaking off the nightmare, you could taste blood in your mouth. Tears had run down your face at some point, and you hurriedly wiped them away.

The blinding light of the full moon revealed otherwise—blood. You were bleeding tears?

You withdrew a kerchief from your flannel pocket and wiped your face as you scanned the salt line. The wind had blown away several areas. You looked up at the sky and tried to calm Mutt, who was trembling for the first time since he was a small pup. The full moon snatched the breath from you, and your chest heaved. It looked exactly like the eye you’d just punched in your dream.

The night was far colder than you’d expected, the chill reaching down to your bones. That was it.

It was time to leave. This was not something you could fight on your own. You jumped from the bed of the truck and Mutt joined you in the cab. You tried to start the truck, but the engine just sputtered. You tried a few more times, then nothing—as if the battery had died.

“No no no no no,” you cursed, hitting the steering wheel with both fists.

Time seemed to slow to a stop, Mutt frozen mid-bark and facing the windshield.

A large gray owl landed on the hood and its striking yellow eyes sent shockwaves through you—overwhelming pulses of anguish. You screamed, mouth falling open and eyes shutting against the spell, trying to break its hold. A vision of a small child drowning in the river filled your mind. It was screaming, choking, begging for help.

When your eyes opened, the screams of the child urged your feet forward faster, now running full speed through the desert.

You were not in control of your body anymore, but merely a hapless passenger. Your feet betrayed you and you went tumbling down the side of the cliff, catching every sharp rock and thorn on the way down. If you had your wits, you wouldn’t have been able to move, too broken to continue. The rush of the water nearby caused your veins and arteries to constrict and pulse at a dangerously high rate. Adrenaline coursed along with your blood and you rolled and stumbled towards the river once more. In a kicking leap, you crashed into the frigid waters searching for the screaming child. The shrieks were so loud that they rattled your brain and hurt your ears, threatening to consume you. You thrashed against the strong current.

The owl screeched and swooped down, tearing at your drenched hair. The freezing black water helped ground you enough to realize that there was no child—only the horrid cries of the bird.

The Lechuza, you reminded yourself. Just as you reached for the vial of salt in your pocket, the witch-owl dove into the water, catching the back of your collar in its sharp beak, dragging you to the depths with it. Its eyes glowed, the only visible thing in the dark waters.

Dean pulled the Impala slowly up to your truck, eyes locked on the salt circle. “Shit!” He shouted as he threw Baby into park. He bounded from the car towards the abandoned vehicle. He whipped back around towards Sam.

Sam picked up the blood-soaked kerchief in the bed of the truck and gave it to Dean. “I think we’re too late,” Sam noted, his voice faltering with the worry rising in his throat.

“I didn’t know she was a hunter! How did we not know?! The signs were all there!” Dean cursed and kicked the tire violently, throwing firsts in the air as he gripped the soiled kerchief. Of course, he blamed himself. In fact, the only reason they were out there was to gank you. Until this moment, they’d had no idea that you were another victim and not the bruja herself.

Mutt whined and cried a high pitched imperative. Dean ran back to the Impala with a long string of creative curses, retrieving two shotguns and extra witch-killing bullets. Sam opened the truck door and Mutt spilled out.

“Here boy, here,” Sam called to the frantic dog. “Take her to us. Go get her!”

Mutt seemed to understand and took off towards the southwest, nose close to the ground and paws practically levitating across the rough earth. Dean tossed the extra gun to Sam and they raced off, following the dog’s brays. They carefully descended the cliffside, sliding partway down and narrowly missing a large crevasse. The men watched in horror just as the large owl drug you beneath the waves.

You thrashed violently against the authority of the currents and the essence of pure evil leeching into you through osmosis. Once you were fully saturated in the foul concentrate, the Lechuza Bruja reared its ugly head back, screeching at a decibel that whales would envy, resounding through your entire being and threatening to shred you to pieces. Whether it was the spell or hypothermia kicking in, your limbs grew stiff and immovable. Your lungs screamed for air until you couldn’t fight it anymore.

In that moment, you felt your very soul being stripped away, and in the void, water filled your lungs. The pain only lasted a moment more before you started to sink towards the rocky bottom, bits of freshwater weeds outstretching soft, welcoming arms. You blinked slowly one last time, looking up at the disappearing monster above you as it emerged forcefully from the opaque waters. With the fading light, you closed your eyes, ready to greet your reaper. Your limp body fell to rest with a soft thud into the bed of river grass.

Sam dove into the water immediately, shoes and shirt flying off in a frenzy along the way. Just as he submerged, Dean angled the shotgun full of salt pellets and hit the fleeing bruja like a game of skeet. The nasty beast crumpled at his feet but did not stay still long. Dean dropped the shotgun and withdrew his pearl-handled pistol. The man-sized owl stood and flared its wings, beak agape in a blood curdling scream. Without hesitation, Dean aimed carefully and shot it center mass twice then between the eyes once in rapid succession.

The creature exploded in a ferocious affair, leaving only dust and feathers behind. Dean held his arm up, coughing into the crook of his sleeve. When the particles settled, he rushed towards where Mutt dug at the bank, barking and whining, careful not to touch the water.

“C’mon Sam,” he prayed, pacing impatiently. Just as he thrust off his own shirt and shoes to rescue both of you, Sam broke the shallow waves with a loud gasp. He held you in one arm, treading towards shore with the other. With a waterlogged body, you were more than a typical deadweight. Dean grabbed onto you when he was close enough, about waist deep in the river, feet sliding on the slippery stones. He traded a glance with Sam to make sure he was okay. Sam nodded between coughing fits.

He would be alright, but he couldn’t say the same for you. Your eyes were half open and far away, likely lost on this plane. Dean set you down on a sandy patch devoid of sharp protrusions and slammed fists on your chest. You were cold and blue.

“No no no, shit! Come on!” He yawped into the waning night. He started CPR. In desperation, he rolled you on your side and slapped your upper back hard. Your lungs rejected the water, projecting it up to a few feet away. Shallow, agonal breaths shook you furiously, your limbs going into straight, fixed positions. He sighed a minor breath of relief then picked you up and slung you over his shoulder, hoping more water would drain that way. The boys scrambled back up to the plateau where they reached the Impala in record time. Your body still racked and spasmed, trying hard to intake oxygen but still unable to expel all the water on its own. Dean handed you to Sam and jumped in the driver’s seat, breaking his “no dogs in the car EVER” rule as Mutt joined him in the front. Sam slid into the back, still pumping your chest when needed.

Dean grimaced as he flew as fast as he could down the winding, bumpy excuse for a road through Big Bend. He checked his phone, waiting anxiously for a bar of service since the nearest hospital was almost three hours away by car. “Sam, is she—?”

“Drive faster, Dean.”

The car gained air a few times, until at last Dean slammed the breaks to a sliding halt, atop a peak near the park exit. He dialed 911, pleading with the operator to send a helicopter to them like yesterday.

Minutes passed.

Dean paced outside the car, searching the sky and spinning in circles, the first rays of morning shining in his eyes. Sam pulled you from the car to the ground when you stopped breathing again. This time, he started CPR and you didn’t react.

Ten minutes.

Sam sang the Bee Gees under his breath, struggling to hold tempo and arms shaking in exhaustion. Mutt lay by your side, eyes closed and whining softly.

Dean kicked and punched at the world around him, screaming curses into the sky and towards himself, tears coming freely now as he felt the full weight of his guilt. He’d allowed another hunter to die because he couldn’t see past his own pig-headedness.

Fifteen.

Sam collapsed, arms shaking with exhaustion. Dean picked up where his brother left off with torturous thoughts raging rampant through his mind.

The long-awaited sounds of a helicopter in the distance graced their hungry ears. Sam jumped to his feet, waving wildly. He helped guide the crew to a clearing just a few yards away. Dean shielded you from the flying debris.

Two medics quickly wrapped you and continued CPR. In seconds, the helicopter was pulling away towards the rising sun.

Dean’s hands were clasped together atop his head, but internally, he was imploding.

Your eyes opened slowly, blurred vision confusing your already muddled mind with distorted images. You winced against the cool, damp cloth brushing against your temple. You groaned as your body woke in stages, each one more painful than the last.

A solid, warm hand wrapped around your forearm. You clenched your fist in response, a sharp sting in the top of your hand. “Shhh, shh shh. You’re okay. You’re at the hospital,” the soft yet gravelly voice whispered reassuringly.

Bringing your other hand to your eyes, you roughly wiped and rubbed until you could see more clearly. You started to gag and heave at the tubes connecting your lungs to a breathing machine. You pulled and flailed, panic striking fight or flight into you once again. Nurses rushed in and your eyes followed them wide open and wild. They carefully withdrew the apparatus and strapped your limbs down, replacing it with a much gentler nasal cannula, and lastly lifting the bed so that you were sitting up slightly.

You tried to choke out questions, but the more you tried, the more it hurt. You gave in to frustrated silence and took in your surroundings. Dean was there, hovering closely, tears at the corners of his red-rimmed eyes and an apology already spilling from his mouth.

You shook your head, confused, and motioned for something to write with. He handed you a small whiteboard and expo marker.

Who are you?

“Dean Winchester.”

You looked at him, unbelieving that it could be that Winchester—the one from the Supernatural books. It was only a story, right? Yet it was all right there—the character description, the car, and even Sam. Erasing your last question, you sloppily wrote a new one.

‘The’ Dean W.? SPN Legend?

He chuckled lightly. “Yeah, that one.”

You took in the view of your body—wrapped nearly head to toe in bandages, some of them still bloody.

What happened?

“You don’t remember?”

You shook your head no.

He recounted his version of the night, looking over his shoulder to make sure there were no prying ears.

You could tell it aggrieved him—the whole thing. You didn’t blame him of course; you’d almost wondered the same about him and Sam, suspecting that they may have been the evil bewitched spirit.

Sometimes, hunters die.

He placed his palm over the scribbled words, eyes cast down. “No. Not like that, not when we can stop it.” You squeezed his hand then shoved it away lightly.

I forgive you.

The words brought the large hunter to his knees. When he found the strength to lock eyes with you once more, you gave him a thin, strained smile. Looking at the band on your wrist, it was obvious he’d guessed your name and age. You jotted the correct information down and showed it to him. He smiled back.

“Nice to formally meet you, Y/N.”

You, too. What now?

Making sure the room was still clear, he leaned in. “Now, we get you out of here. Sam has your dog back at the motel. You owe me a deep clean for my car, by the way,” he quipped.

Teaming up with the Winchesters wouldn’t be the worst thing, you considered. It sure as hell beat living this empty, lonely life.

Mutt could finally have a family.

As Dean expertly snuck you out of the hospital, you weighed the pros and cons of associating with the two most wanted men on the planet. Your decision came when the Impala pulled up to the door of the first-floor room where Sam stood out front, Mutt by his feet looking happy and well fed.

Through everything, we found each other. That’s all that matters.

Come Heaven, Hell, or Beyond. You owed them your life.

FOREVERS:

@carryonmywaywardcaptain @manawhaat @supernatural-jackles @jensen-jarpad @wheresthekillswitch @bummblebeeblue @nothin-after-79-blog @docharleythegeekqueen @fangirl-writing-fiction @inmysparetime0 @impala-dreamers-mainfrigginblog @impala-dreamer @arryn-nyxx @idk-life01 @attorneyl @deathtonormalcy56 @xwing-baby

ALL ABOUT THAT DEAN:

@akshi8278 @will-winchester

Tags Open

#SPN Bi-Weekly Writing Challenge #Whispers of the Desert #chris writes things #reader insert #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #spn fanfic #no pairing #yet

43 notes · View notes

whitherliliesbloom · 4 years

Text

Ｃａｎｙｏｕｈｅａｒｍｅ？

The first time he asked was filled with the wariness of a stranger who knew not even her name. The second time he asked, was for the sole sake of himself. The third time he asked, his voice had been filled with fret. And the fourth time he asked...

Words: 1,288 || Illya/Alphinaud (WOLXAlphinaud)

ARR, Post-ARR, Post-HW & Post-ShB

“Can you hear me?”

A voice calls out, a demand for attention. The attentive gaze she’d devoted to the worn parchment in her hand now pulled upwards, and their eyes meet. A stranger, accompanied by yet another.. and yet their identical faces make them unmistakably a traveling pair.

“Y-yes?” Her head tilts up, as does the brim of her straw hat. Violet eyes peer up past the protective shadows of her bangs to who she assumes to be the boy who’d spoken. He towers over her, only because of her own incredibly petite stature.. and the ray of sunlight cast behind him almost floods his likeness in a silhouette.

“This carriage. It is bound for Gridania, yes?”

The grip of her thumb over the surface of her map tightens, eyes darting to the front of the carriage before they return to settle back on him.

“I-It is, yes.”

“Much obliged.”

The same faced pair give a curt bow. Deemed now no more deserving of their attention, they turn away to step onto the carriage, and her eyes are momentarily blinded by the view of the unobstructed sun.

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

“Can you hear me?”

The wind billowing in her ears almost deafens her, almost makes her wonder if the voice she’d heard was nothing but a figment of her overactive imagination combined with unfulfilled wishes.

The tightly wrapped package tucked under her arm almost slips as she raises a hand up to her ear, head tilted down to give a nod that he wouldn’t be able to see.

“U-um.. yes. I’m here. I got the delivery.”

“Ah, yes. Thank you, Illya.” there’s a rustle in the background, accompanied by a chorus of muffled voices and the telltale exhale of frustration from the young man on the line.

He sounds distant as ever. She couldn’t bring herself to picture the look on his face as he thanks her. She could already tell - navy blue eyes not even sparing a second glance at her, at the furrow in his brows if she so much as spoke out of line.

“I hate to impose on you again, but could I ask another favor?”

Do you really..?

There’s a tinge a guilt that claws at her heart as soon as that fleeting whisper of doubt crossed her head, and her voice sounds all too eager to make amends for a mistake he hadn’t knew she made as she gives him her reply over linkpearl.

“Y-yes.. It’s no trouble.”

“Excellent. Speak to Ilberd once you’ve returned. He will tell you what I need you to do.”

And all too suddenly, the noises stop.. left alone with the rustling of the leaves on the trees around her, a long and lonely dirt road ahead. The wind seems to pick up, and her fingers tremble from the cold.

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

“C-Can you hear me??”

A chill shoots down her spine and paralyzes her, the soaking of her collar with warmth her only comfort. And yet she feels something else, hears something else other than the howling of the wind.

Distant footsteps, the calling of somebody’s name faint and barely heard past the ringing in her ears.

When she could finally bring herself to open her eyes, all she sees is red.

Was the stain on her robe one of her own? Of the foe she just felled? Or yet another comrade she could not yet again save?

“Illya!”

His voice is clearer now, like the echo of a drop of water upon a still lake. It ripples, it stirs her, and everything snaps back into focus.

With vision still blurred, she forces her head up to look at him, and the look on his face agonizes her even more than any wounds she might have sustained before.

“Ah...Um...A-Alph-”

“Oh thank the twelve! Y-you’re... you’re okay. You’ll be okay.”

She knew not what his reassurances meant, and yet it eased her enough to turn her gaze back down to her lap.

“.....Estinien...?”

“Ah- He’s alright now. Ser Aymeric just took him away to have his wounds tended to.”

“Then...”

“You collapsed right after we threw Nidhogg’s eyes away, can you not recall?”

Her gloved hands tighten on her lap and she lifts her head up once more - this time to look up upon the cloudy sky above. The little trickles of falling snow tickle her face only to melt away in an instant, forming drips of water that do little to clean away the smear of mixed blood on her face.

But it serves to remind her, as does any longing gaze at falling snow does now.

It’s finally over.

Their journey through an endless plain of cold and white, their hard fought battles and friends they lost along the way..

And with them, the remnants of the dragon that tormented them so fallen away, never to be seen again, but never forgotten all the same.

It’s over.

“T’would seem your wounds were a lot worse than we thought. Here.”

Alphinaud extends his hand to her, her fallen staff she’d left abandoned after Nidhogg fell retrieved and held in his other.

There’s a crippling hesitation that prevents her from even lifting her hand, but her vision blurs once more when she looks upon the reassuring smile upon her companion’s face.

“Let’s go. Everyone is waiting.”

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

“Can you hear me?”

Why does she always feel cold when he asks her so? Why does the wind howl and cry, as if in defiance of any little comfort she may wish to feel?

But this time she’s tuned the sounds of the surroundings out, with ear pressed against the flat of his chest, hands gripping tightly onto his vest and refusing to let go.

As if sensing her desperation, the arms he had wrapped around her tighten, attempting to hold her closer than he already was.

For but a brief moment, Alphinaud’s eyes open to look in the distance, where the crystal tower’s glow illuminated the starry night sky like the brightest of lamp lights.

He looks upon it with pride - for it is proof of what they’ve been through together - of how far they have come.

He knew not to attribute too much of this scenery to himself, of course.

Every twinkling in the sky, the dark blanket of the night and even the moon that peaked past the gathering of much welcomed clouds... it was given to this very realm as a gift by a girl who will never be able to be given back as much as she deserves for all her sacrifice.

The Warrior of Light, the Warrior of Darkness.. His..

Alphinaud would tell Illya to look up, to savor proof of her very heroism, and to feel as much pride as he does for her.

But he cannot bring himself to, not when he hears her nuzzling closer to him.

His hand find the obscene length of her white hair and brushes through them, feeling each and every silken strand run through the gaps of his fingers and falling down her hips, almost long enough to pool around her on the floor.

And then there’s his longing to hear her voice, a longing that he never knew built up over these past five summers until now. What a fool he was.

“Can you hear me?”

He asks again before he presses his lips to meet the top of her head.

“Not yet. Just a little longer.”

Her head finally turns, though only to press her other ear against him now.. but it gives him a glimpse of the gentle smile upon her face.

“I want to hear your heart.. I want to hear proof that we’re both still here.”

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #alphinaud leveilleur #alphinaud #warrior of light #warrior of darkness #wol x alphinaud #illya skawi #fanfic #i finally write again after 100000000 years and its garbage #we've come so far

66 notes · View notes

roseskiesandbutterflies · 4 years

Text

My Melancholy Blues (Good Omens One-Shot)

Summary: 1923. When Aziraphale bumps into a rather drunk Crowley for the first time after their fight at St James's Park, he's hellbent on helping the poor dear. Pun not intended. But maybe it isn't just Crowley who needs help. After all, what is it we say about coincidences?

Warning(s): alcohol, swearing, cigarettes, angst

Word Count: 2.1k+

A/N: I’m back! I’ll be quick because this is for the DTIYS from @whiteleyfoster and it needs to be up by the end of September to be considered and September in the UK ends in 2.5 hours. Classic me leaving this until the last minute. Anyway I hope you enjoy, sorry about the angst but it just kind of happened. Whoops. Also the title comes from My Melancholy Blues by Queen! The song isn't a perfect match to this fic but the vibe is similar enough for me to like it.

"Hey, 'ziraphale," Crowley slurred from the rooftop he was perched precariously on, waving like a lunatic, "Cooee!"

He watched as the small white blob that was hopefully the angel in question stopped dead in his tracks. Something not all that dissimilar to astonishment washed over his face, before looking up warily, almost scared of what he would find. Shock soon turned to concern when he saw that Crowley was, in fact, sitting on the roof of the Ritz with a ridiculously lopsided grin on his face. Honestly, he thought to himself, a little over sixty years and not a single word, and then I find him drunk in the middle of London. Typical. He shook off the thought with a hardly noticeable eye-roll before calling back, "Crowley? What on Earth are you doing up there?"

Crowley made a face at him, "What does it look like I'm doing?" He waved the bottle of wine he was holding in Aziraphale's vague direction before taking a swig of it.

"I can see that," he said, speaking a little more slowly when he started to realise just how drunk Crowley was, "What I meant was why are you drinking on the roof of the Ritz?"

"The view up here's great! You can see Buckingham Palace from up here!" he said, quite keen at defending his choice of location.

"Surely there's a nicer place to drink in, though? Perhaps somewhere warmer?" he suggested, really quite worried now that he could see how little Crowley was wearing.

"Nah, I was in this club in the East End but the music was a bit shit so I left," he shrugged.

"Right," he nodded unsurely, "And it never occurred to you to go to another bar?"

Crowley suddenly looked very offended, pouting like an extraordinarily petulant child, "Why are you so worried about where I drink? I thought you didn't care about me or something. 'S a bit suspicious if you ask me."

"No, no. Curious is all," Aziraphale said, blatantly avoiding the issue they hadn't got round to resolving yet. No matter how annoyed he was at Crowley, and how the latter must feel towards him, he didn't think he could bear to fight with him again. He'd much rather dance around the truth for a little while longer.

Crowley, even in his not quite sober state of mind, seemed to understand, though the tension was so thick it wasn't exactly difficult. He quickly changed the subject, "You should come up here, angel, you'd like it. Promise."

He looked so hopeful and even vulnerable, as if his whole world was about to come crashing down and Aziraphale sitting with him was the only thing that could stop it. If he'd refused then that would have made him very heartless indeed, and that simply wouldn't do. Though luckily for him, he didn't have the time to even briefly consider the proposal before he found himself sitting by Crowley's side, staring down at where he'd just been standing. He shifted himself so he opposite him, with his back leaning against the chimney post, feeling considerably steadier than he was before.

"Well," Crowley looked at him expectantly, "What do you think?"

Aziraphale blinked before murmuring, "I think you look lovely, my dear. The blue of your dress really compliments the colour of your hair-"

He was cut off by Crowley's undignified snort, "Well, thanks, angel, but I meant the view. Not my dress. Though I'm glad you like it," he reassured him quickly when he noticed his mortified expression.

Aziraphale's tense expression softened like melted butter when he finally looked at the breath-taking landscape surrounding the two of them, encompassing them in the odd security that comes with strangely empty cities. Crowley was right, you could see Buckingham Palace from the rooftop, as well as St James's Park and Berkeley Square and the rest of Piccadilly. Incandescent lights shone from the streets below, but they were nothing compared to the forget-me-not blue of midnight skies above them, dusted with millions of stars like icing sugar on a cake. "Oh," he sighed softly, wholly content and at peace with the world, "Oh, Crowley, it's beautiful. It's, well, I never realised London could be so..." he trailed off, left speechless from awe.

Crowley grinned up at him, "Just wait until the sun comes up. Won't be long now."

Aziraphale's smile faded ever so slightly, "You say that like you've been up here before," he said gently, trying hard not to come off as accusatory.

Crowley's face morphed into one a child might wear when caught with their hand in the cookie jar, but he quickly shrugged it off, leaving it for Aziraphale to mull over by himself. "Drink?" he offered, holding out the bottle of wine.

"Oh, a drink would be lovely, thank you," he smiled, taking it cautiously and sipping at it, letting the alcohol seep in and ease his aching mind.

"What are you doing out this time of night, anyway?" Crowley asked innocently as he took the bottle back from him.

"I-I fancied a walk. Been spending far too much time indoors recently. Needed some fresh air," Aziraphale stammered out, passing the bottle back even though he could have easily finished it off right there and then.

Crowley hummed in response, deciding not to question it even though his gut was screaming at him, screaming that he was lying, he needs help, he needs someone, anyone.

He needs you. Just as much as you need him.

He decided to ignore his intuition because ignorance was far easier than the truth. It slid down like honey and soothed your soul, however temporarily.

"So, the nineteen-twenties," Crowley mused, letting his eyes dance over his surroundings, "'S been an interesting decade so far, hasn't it? Great nightlife. And the fashion, ooh. I've really been enjoying this whole flapper thing. What d'you make of it all, angel?"

It took Aziraphale a moment to respond, "I-I can't say I'd noticed much," he murmured, eyes hellbent on avoiding Crowley's.

Don't look into my eyes. Don't look into them, my love, because if you do, you'll know everything. I'll have no more secrets left, none at all. And I don’t think I can handle that.

The alarm bells in Crowley's head were deafening by that point, even he couldn't ignore them any longer. "Noticed what?" he asked, cautiously placing the wine bottle behind him, deathly terrified of the answer.

"Any of it," he said, voice no louder than a whisper, "I haven't noticed any of it."

Crowley's eyes widened as he tried his best to push down this rising tide of dread inside of him, "Angel-"

"Don't, Crowley," he pleaded, voice breaking but desperately trying to hide it. It was when he finally dared to glance at him that Crowley could finally see the vulnerability and the fear and the anxiety and just about every other emotion that humans had a name for. "Please, don't make me explain, I can't-" he stopped midsentence, inhaling deeply, desperately attempting to pull himself together, "I don't want to talk about it."

Crowley momentarily looked like he was about to object, and Aziraphale’s heart would have skipped a beat if he had one, but he didn’t, opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish. He let himself wonder, for a fleeting second, if perhaps he hadn’t been alone in his weird and confusing feelings. For he had felt this strange sense of loneliness for decades after their fight back in 1867. He’d spent much longer than a few decades without his angel before, but that time had been different, had stung in a way that struck him to his very core. Maybe there was a chance that Aziraphale had felt much the same way. Maybe they were more alike than he thought. He brushed off these thoughts as quickly as they’d arrived; it was unwise to ponder these things while in the presence of others. Instead of making a comment that wasn’t likely to be welcomed with open arms per se, he nodded deeply, oozing with understanding.

Crowley would be a hypocrite if he said that he wouldn’t mind being interrogated like that if he was in Aziraphale’s position, and he was sure he’d already worked most of it out.

Aziraphale softened in relief, the unshed tears in his eyes glistening like gemstones in the glow of the sun that was just starting to rise, creeping slowly up his face as it peered over the London skyline. Crowley couldn’t help it if his eyes lingered on the angel’s face. The logical side of him knew that angels were ethereal by nature, but only now was he starting to understand why. He seemed to literally glow gold with the dawn, outshining the sun and putting it to shame. His ivory suit had been dyed champagne by the sun’s rays, champagne, the colour of the drinks people downed with ease, the colour of the streetlights below them. His eyes were sapphires buried behind a veil of melancholy, framed with the wrinkles that came with centuries upon centuries of things to find joy in.

Oh, the irony, Crowley thought sadly to himself. He forced himself to cast his eyes away, feeling Aziraphale starting to squirm under his stare, instead looking at the Marlboro Red which had materialised in his hand miraculously, or not, depending on how you looked at it. He lit it with a click of his fingers, taking a drag and offering it to Aziraphale. No words had to be said; they’d known each other for long enough, they could say anything with no more than a look.

He eyed it nervously but only for a second, vulnerability taking over and impulses kicking in, and it was in his hand and he was breathing it in before he could even register what he was doing. The smoke waltzed circles around them before leaping away in the early morning breeze. Sparks flew off the cigarette as Aziraphale passed it back, glowing crimson in the sunrise, dying embers of a phoenix blowing away in the lapis blue of the sky.

They sat in the strangely comforting silence for a few moments, the dawn bringing with it its own eery peace. It wasn’t until the cigarette had nearly burnt away completely did Aziraphale finally murmured something, “Will we be okay, Crowley? You and me? Will we be alright?”

Crowley blinked back at him in surprise for a second before mumbling, “I don’t think I understand.”

“I think you do,” he said, voice filled with the spirit of the clouds above them, sweet and gentle and oh-so-soft, “Will we be alright?”

Crowley took advantage of the now burnt out cigarette to think of a response, leaving it to fall out of his hand and onto the pavement below, watching the ashes scatter over the London streets as if he was mourning them, “Yeah. I think we’ll be okay. Do you?”

“I hope so,” he said, voice no louder than a whisper but speaking volumes all the same. A single tear escaped, a drip of molten gold running down his face.

There was a lump in Crowley’s own throat just at the sight of his angel, and at the overwhelming meaning of those three simple words. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and brushing the tear away and my, hadn’t they gotten rather close. Aziraphale melted like butter under his touch and Crowley’s heart could burst just looking at him. Suddenly he was pressed up to the demon’s chest, arms hesitantly snaking around him, leaving Crowley speechless in shock for no more than a second. He quickly wrapped his arms around Aziraphale, resting his chin on the top of his head as the angel buried his face in his chest. They fit like two pieces of a puzzle that had remained unsolved for far too long, both of them internally sighing in relief and shouting for joy because they knew that this was where they needed to be. Neither let go, for neither wanted to, and they held each other as the dawn sun watched over them, casting its protective glow over a moment that deserved to be shielded from prying eyes.

And in the years to come, they would both act like that fateful night in nineteen twenty three had never happened, tucking the memory away in a far-flung corner of their minds and putting the whole thing down to alcohol’s wicked influence. But, no matter how much denial they would put themselves through in the next century or so, they both remembered in the depths of their hearts the words that had been said and the words that had been buried deep between the lines.

#whiteleyfoster dtiys #good omens #good omens imagine #good omens headcanon #1920s good omens #good omens angst #Ineffable Husbands #Aziraphale #aziraphale one-shot #aziraphale imagine #aziraphale headcanon #crowley #crowley headcanon #crowley imagine #crowley one-shot #1920s

31 notes · View notes

timeforelfnonsense · 3 years

Text

Between Heaven & Hell

Astarion x Dafni

Rating: M (no spice but its mentioned)

Ao3

Inaleth Sweet is a D&D oc belonging to one of my dear friends @ladyofthelatke from one of our old games. We were talking about Dafni liking romance novels and realized she'd be a fan of Inaleth. A fun little easter egg! The name of Dafni's book was also brainstormed by our D&D party! I don't know that I love the ending but meh!

Sunshine & Starlight: My on going bg3 series

Downtime for Dafni had become rare and fleeting in the past few days. Not that she mined being busy! She’d never been much good at sitting still. Her mind moved from thought to thought as quick as a hummingbird’s wing. A life of adventure rather agreed with her breezy disposition, that was a silver lining among the mess at least. But she found herself road-weary and overextended. Perhaps it was the tadpole or the fact she’d been in more battles in two days than she had in the last year. She couldn’t be sure. Either way, a little idle time would be good for her.

She was lounging on her belly in a grassy patch on the river bank, idly flipping through the dog-eared pages of a novel bound in soft pink leather, Between Heaven and Hell scrawled across the cover in faded gold lettering. It was a rather risqué account of an amours elf torn between the affection of her aasimar and a tiefling suiters. The first in a series penned by one Inaleth Sweet of Waterdeep - A fellow eladrin and personal favorite author of Dafni’s. She’d read it dozens of times but it never failed to enchant and intrigue her.

She’d always enjoyed reading. It was the only time she could bring herself to be (mostly) still. She could lose herself in the colorful whimsy of her imagination. She’d always been a romantic. Her headful of silly daydreams of love and adventure from a tender age. She had spent days on end in her village imagining what the world might be like beyond the shelter of Peleira and the familiar forests and shores of Faerie-Gwynneth. Books provided her wanderlust an outlet in the years before she crossed into the Material.

A pale hand snatched the book from her hands pulling her back to reality. Astarion glanced down at her with a mischievous grin, raising a singular angled brow. She clumsily fumbled to her knees attempting to reclaim it from him but Astarion simply raised the novel out of her reach.

He looked almost ethereal, shrouded in the soft, peachy glow of sunset as he flipped through his stolen prize. His loose undershirt was unbuttoned almost to his navel showing off his lanky feline-esque physique. It was completely unfair for him to be that gorgeous! Somehow he managed to mix boyish charm with noble dignity. She imagined Astarion was very much the kind of man humans pictured when they talked about the peerless beauty and grace of the elves.

“My, my, Daffodil, I never pegged you as a consumer of salacious novels. Aren’t you just full of surprises?” He said through a chuckle as he began to thumb through the pages, “You fold the corners of your books? And I thought I was despicable!”

He might have been from the Material Plane but he had that spark of mirth common to those hailing from her homeland. It was a welcome change of pace. She’d found he could be quite charming (when he wasn’t being surly or aloof). He’d taken to treating her with teasing endearment as of late. He would refer to her by little diminutives such as darling or dear. That was when he wasn’t calling her by that twee pet name, Daffodil. She knew that the majority of his doting was little more than suave twaddle but she couldn’t help but be won over by him.

There were things about himself he’d clearly chosen not to disclose. She was never one for secrets but she could hardly begrudge others for having them. Astarion’s omissions were likely connected to whatever had made him so prickly in the first place. She was curious of course but she wasn’t going to press him for anything he was unwilling to give. Dafni understood relationships much the same way she did gardens. Both required patience and dedication in order for something beautiful to flourish. She earnestly hoped a genuine friendship could blossom between them but that meant allowing him to open up to her in his own time no matter how badly she wanted to bombard him with a-million-and-one questions.

“What have I done to deserve this roguery?”

“Roguery?” Astarion snickered.

“Roguery.” She repeated. “Now find your own way to pass the time and give me mine back!”

Her brows stitched, her lower lip forming that perfect little pout of hers. She was trying very hard to appear cross but her eyes gave her away. They were sparkling with impish delight as she made another valiant effort at retrieving the silly thing. Despite her tilt towards clemency, Dafni was a bit of a puck.

“This is my way of passing the time. I can only wander among the trees so many times before the novelty wears off. Besides, making you blush is far more entertaining.”

Dafni snorted a blite smile forming at the corners of her plump lips, “You are incorrigible, you know that right?”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Well, I suppose if you are that bord I could read to you?” She yanked the book from his hands, clutching it to her chest smug and victorious. Reaching out with her free hand to tap a finger on the tip of his nose. “But, I’m skipping all the dirty bits!”

“Spoilsport.”

“It’s that or walking around the woods for the hundredth time.”

“You do raise an excellent point.” He sighed carefully arranging himself on the grass beside her, “Very well, I’ll agree to your stipulations.”

“Just be glad I’m not going to make you read for one of the characters! And because I’m just so sweet I’ll even start from the beginning for you.”

He listened intently as Dafni delivered the tale as if she were performing a one-woman play. Her face was adorably expressive as she changed her voice with each new character. Messy curls bouncing with every animated gesture. Occasionally she’d trail off feigning horror at the ‘dirty bits’ as she called them.

What would lewd words have sounded like in her lilt voice? Part of him wanted to find out right then. That wasn’t the first time such musings had crossed his mind. Dafni had made a few appearances in his private thoughts since their meeting. She had a coy, maidenly allure that conjured up all kinds of tempting images. These were nothing more than flights of fancy but fun nonetheless. Just another benefit of keeping her around.

He found himself lingering around her almost on instinct. The joy that followed her was tangible and warm as the sun on his skin. When she was near his mind felt quieted and the fear that gnawed at him would soften just a tad. He had grown to genuinely enjoy her company. He’d expected her to be dull and overly pious. Instead, he found she was rather amusing, coquettish even. She was witty and observant, always having a playful quip at the ready. The sort of whimsical woman whose effortless charm drew people in. She would have made an excellent vampire if not for her ridiculous soft heart.

Her compulsive need to care for every living thing with a sob story was somewhat vexing but he could hold his nose and deal with it most days. He’d make a comment here and there but really that was for her own good. She was painfully naïve, always seeing the best in people. It was clear to him Dafni’s life had been gentle. Free of hardships that might have taught her to approach others with such little skepticism.

A part of him was grateful for her lack of suspension. He knew gaining the trust of at least one of the members of the party would be crucial if he intended to enjoy the benefits of traveling with a group long term. Her friendship and propensity for peace making provided him with no small measure of safety. Still, that safety was at risk if she continued to offer herself up on a silver platter to every soul with even the smallest tale of woe she came across.

He glanced over at her, a found (begrudging, but found nonetheless), smile on his lips. The last rays of the setting sun casting its light on her lovely cherubic profile. While his motivations for befriending her had been far from altruistic having her near made his life provable better. When they’d first met he’d assumed her kindness would come at a price but she had surprised him, wanting nothing but his company in exchange. Without thinking he reached out cupping her cheek in his hand. The freckles, sage skin was unbearably soft and warm against his cool palm. Her heartbeat quickened bringing his attention to the tantalizing, wildflower sent of her blood. She leaned in close her eyes fluttering closed-

“We should head back to the others, it’s getting dark.” Astarion muttered, pulling back from her.

“I- Ha, of course. It’s late…” Her lower lip was caught in her teeth, her eyes darting ever so quickly from his mouth back to his eyes.

As tempting as she might be he was already in too deep with her. If he kissed her, he’d only want more. Any change to the current dynamic could disrupt the fragile safety he’d acquired. He couldn’t put himself at risk for the temporary happiness she might have brought. Perhaps when things were more settled. When he knew he could afford the risk, he would know the taste of her lips. For now though, he would have to resist.

#elf writes #astarion #bg3 early access #dafni of gwynneth #bg3 oc

14 notes · View notes