#also originally a romantic target for himself and also someone he just finds interest in interacting with.. frkm | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

namig42 · 4 months

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Hello there, I finally finished the first part of a Wyllstarion fic I started writing ages ago. Please enjoy.

Just One Yesterday (Ch. 1)

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Read it on Ao3 as well!

Summary: Originally inspired by the lyric "anything you say can and will be held against you, so only say my name. It will be held against you," from Fall Out Boy's song "Just One Yesterday."

This is a modern AU where Wyll is a police officer and Astarion is a sex worker. Despite a problematic start, the two manage to find a connection and have it build in time into something more.

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Wyll Ravengard was a young rookie on the police force of Baldur City. He's been working the scene for a few years now, but has yet to feel like he has made any real difference. Part of that is due to his chief, Mizora, who makes a point of sending Wyll to do all the more unsavory jobs that are passed down directly from her own boss, Zariel. Early on in his time on the force, Wyll was optimistic and very loyal to the people of the city. Mizora saw this and used it against Wyll, leading him down a dark path of less than legal actions that Wyll now cannot afford anyone knowing. In exchange for her silence, Mizora has now made Wyll her personal pet. She sends him on secret missions to chase down certain felons, detain criminals of seemingly victimless crimes, and on one occasion, even taking the life of someone before things could get out of hand with a case. Wyll detests his career now because of Mizora, but if he stepped out of her shadow, the things that he's done would solely be on his head and he would be seen as the villain, not the hero. For now, he grins and bears his duty, telling himself that at least he can still help people while also serving Mizora’s means.

On this evening in particular, Wyll was sent on a mission to detain some of the countless streetwalkers that have been reported downtown. One too many problematic incidents have taken place with some higher ups in the city, and Zariel has decided that the field needed to be weeded out. Mizora had left this job to Wyll, deeming it unfit for the rest of the force to be seen doing these jobs since it would bring awareness to the drama happening with those problematic higher ups she was supposed to be protecting. Wyll was expected to go undercover for this case and arrest anyone who approached him offering a service without making a scene.

And that is exactly what he planned for, though he already felt a wave of guilt and anxiety at the notion that he needed to allow himself to be seduced and lured. When it came to exploits of lust and love, Wyll was a traditional romantic. He was genuine and authentic and wasn’t interested in acts solely of the flesh. Whether Mizora knew that and decided she wanted to watch Wyll suffer or not or was simply unaware, Wyll still had to deliver on the mission. One step at a time , he thought to himself as he made his way downtown for the evening.

Wyll was dressed in some worn jeans and a burgundy henley that he'd owned since his teenage years. It was an old shirt that was a little tight now, but it still got the job done. He looked like a regular guy out for a late night stroll near the downtown park, as if he was on his way to a bar to meet some friends or play some pool. Just a normal person. That’s all he had to be for now, but Wyll knew that he was anything but a normal guy with casual plans, and it made the guilt surge through his body all the more, leaving his hands clammy and his mouth dry.

His intel had told him that this park was a common spot for a certain gang that was known for its promiscuous services. They were a group of beautiful, pale people that often stalked in groups of two or three, luring people away with their charm and promises of a good time according to the reports. Sometimes the victims came back with empty wallets, but more often, they were never seen again. If Wyll walked around enough, he was likely to find a target or two to detain.

Wyll was feeling nervous about this whole endeavor. He hadn't ever had a job like this before, and he wasn't known for being the best liar. Omitting information, sure, that was understandable, but pure deception? That was something he was afraid of screwing up immediately. He had never had a knack for it, and his father taught him that honesty was the truest way to justice. He had hammered that notion into his son, leaving Wyll without the skillset he needed for this scenario. Wyll knew how much his father would disapprove of him these past few years, but he couldn’t bear to tell his father the truth. His father, Uldur Ravengaurd, the pinnacle example of honor and justice, would arrest his own son on the spot if he knew the terrible things Wyll had done for Mizora, even if Wyll has always tried to mean well and do these heinous jobs on his own terms.

It was as he was thinking about his father and the dread that filled his stomach that Wyll spotted a group of three people standing in the main square of the park, leaning on a fountain and surrounded by street lamps emitting a soft white glow. There were two women and one man, and they were all extremely attractive and fair-skinned. All three were dressed in attire that seemed more fitting for a nightclub rather than a night in the park, fitted with tight pants that left little to the imagination, skin tight tops, and their hair pulled away from their faces. Both women had their hair pulled back in a bun with lips painted ruby red, and the man’s curly hair was short and sculpted to frame his handsome face.

He was still feeling nervous, so instead of approaching the group, Wyll leaned himself against a nearby fence and glanced at the group every now and then. He noticed that the group of three began to stare back and began whispering amongst themselves. Wyll looked down at the ground and tried to calm his nerves as he felt the eyes of the beautiful strangers piercing him. After a moment of pointing and the small sound of soft voices, the handsome man with white, curly locks approached him.

"Well hello there darling~." The man approached Wyll from the side and casually leaned against the fence. His voice was low and dripped with sex. Wyll had to swallow before looking into the man's red eyes. "Whatever is a dashing thing like you doing in a place like this~?"

"Just out for a late night stroll.” Wyll choked out, sounding fine enough but feeling somehow even more nervous under the predatory gaze of this handsome stranger. “Lovely night, isn't it?" Wyll looked up and gestured to the full moon that sat directly above the two of them. Wyll hadn't noticed it before, but now that he saw the pale glow of moonlight, he realized the color was very similar to the man's hair. It was a lovely color… Wyll began to wonder if the stranger’s hair was naturally that silver.

"A lovely night indeed," the man said, his eyes not moving from Wyll’s face. "What's to say we make it an even better one?"

Wyll made eye contact again before asking, "what do you mean?" He had a feeling he knew, but he didn't want to mess this up and blow his cover so quickly.

"I know a charming little spot not too far from here. Perhaps we could steal away for a bit and… get to enjoy each other's company?" As he spoke those last words, the man's fingers gently grazed the back of Wyll's hand. Wyll wanted to recoil as if he had been electrocuted, but he resisted the urge. This was definitely a target he was supposed to take back to the station. He needed to get this beautiful man alone first, that way the other two in his group wouldn't immediately be on high alert.

Though he was tense, Wyll managed a soft, polite smile. "Lead the way."

The man with the hair like moonlight smiled devilishly before gently taking Wyll's hand and leading him deeper into the park. As they walked in the night air, Wyll got a better look at the man he was about to arrest. They were about the same height, though Wyll's frame looked a bit stronger and more filled out than his newfound companion. The other man was a bit thin and gaunt, as if he hadn’t eaten a proper meal in a while. His skin was almost as pale as his hair, and his eyes were a bright red. Wyll wondered if they were contacts. The silver-haired man wore tight leather pants and a leather jacket with only a top made of fishnets underneath. His nails were painted black, though they looked a bit chipped, almost as if they had been bitten slightly. Wyll looked at the back of the stranger’s head and saw just how soft the man’s curls looked. The front of the man’s hair had looked polished and styled, though the back looked as if the curls had been left in their natural state.

Wyll pondered this mysterious man, but quickly tried to block out the thoughts. He couldn't let himself get distracted or attached. The more he humanized his target, the harder it would be to do his job. A job like this was hard for Wyll to justify for himself already. After all, sex workers weren't offering any services that harmed others. Though it isn't the most honorable line of work, he didn't think that they deserved to be arrested for providing the services they did, especially if they were being pressured by a boss of their own. Wyll could relate a bit with his own predicament, but he shoved that thought right out just as fast as it came into his mind. If he felt himself relating to a hypothetical, he’d have an even harder time following through on the job he was supposed to do. It didn't matter though what he thought in all of this. Mizora told him to do his job, and so his job had to be done. If not… it may not even be worth going back to the station.

After a few moments of strolling in silence, the man led Wyll through a shrub and entered a small clearing near the edge of the park where a little shack was stowed away. It didn't look like more than a storage shed, but that didn't seem to matter. The mysterious stranger led Wyll with that same gentle grip through the door and into the small building. Inside was a bit dusty and barren, save for a few large crates in one corner and a mattress on the ground on the other side of the space. A bit of the pale moonlight seeped into the room from the small windows that lined the tops of the walls along with the remnant glows from nearby street lights, just like the ones back in the main square. Besides that, the room was quite dim.

"Well now, we should introduce ourselves properly before getting down to business, hm~?” The stranger dropped Wyll’s hand and turned to face his client. With a dramatic flourish of one hand and the other on his hip, he introduced himself. “My name is Astarion."

Astarion, little star. A lovely name fit for a gentleman of the night. Gods, it rolled off the tongue so well. Was that his real name, or one he simply used for this line of work? Either way, it was beautiful.

Wyll was still a bit frazzled as Astarion stared at him with that hand on his hip. He leaned to the side so casually and gracefully, as if he was posing for a piece of art. It was incredibly alluring. Wyll could feel himself falling into the trap that he was sure many others did as well at the hands of this mysterious man. Astarion gestured to him with a relaxed flourish and asked, "what should I call you, darling?"

The way he spoke was like music. He was so captivating, Wyll lost himself almost entirely for a moment, wanting to drop the mission and be engulfed by this stranger of the night. He had a false name that he had planned to utilize for this mission, but before he could even think about it, his mind slipped and he simply said, "Wyll."

"Wyll," Astarion said in that theatrical tone of his. Wyll took a small gulp after hearing his name on Astarion’s lips. "A fitting name for a proper gentleman." Astarion began to step a little closer to Wyll. Wyll took a step back, but after only one step, he felt his back press against the cold brick wall behind him. "It's funny, most people are upon me before we even reach this spot. I appreciate someone with manners and decency. No need to be afraid though…" Astarion began to enter Wyll's space even more, trailing a finger up Wyll’s chest, then his neck, and then his jawline. Wyll could feel the other man's cool breath on his face as the mysterious man leaned in a bit closer. Just as Wyll tightly shut his eyes and thought he was about to be kissed, Astarion leaned into Wyll's ear instead and whispered seductively, "I won't bite."

Wyll had never been with anyone in this capacity before. Yes, he had had sex. He was a young man in his mid 20’s, after all, but that was less about sex and more about making love. There were the few girls he dated seriously in his past and a couple handsome men he fancied, though never approached or engaged with. The women were all lovely at first, but the sex had been mediocre at best. Eventually, they all left Wyll because apparently he wasn’t exciting enough for them. Everyone loved a hopeless romantic until the novelty of chivalry wore off, and they ended up bored and uninterested. They loved the fantasy it seemed, not Wyll Ravenguard. In regards to men, Wyll had never allowed himself to pursue another man before. The culture he grew up in didn’t shame the idea of homosexuality, but Wyll had this feeling that if he didn’t do things traditionally, then his father would’ve resented him, but that was a tale for another time.

The point was that in all his escapades, nothing had ever been like this. All his other experiences had been so tame, so simple and focused on romance with people Wyll had tried to establish a connection with. Already though, just the way Astarion moved and spoke, it was enough to excite Wyll and send a flush to his dark cheeks. This wasn’t romance. This was lust. Pure, intoxicating desire filled Wyll’s mind, and it was beginning to be too much.

As Astarion’s mouth began kissing down Wyll’s neck, Wyll decided he needed to stop this before things got out of hand. He already felt himself slipping away from control, and there was a part of him that felt… scared? Empty? He couldn’t be sure why, but it was likely due to how unfamiliar this situation had been for him. He grabbed Astarion by the wrist and flipped the man around so that it was Astarion against the wall instead of Wyll, though it was Astarion's front instead of back being pressed against the wall this time. Astarion’s arm was pinned behind him in Wyll’s strong grip, holding the pale man stiffly in place.

"Well, aren't you a cheeky thing~?” Astarion said coyly. “You really know how to lower a man's guard. I didn’t take you for the forceful type.” Though he spoke with that same theatrical style, there was a small anxious tone that entered his melodious voice. Wyll didn’t like how that new tone made him feel, but he shoved the unease to the side of his mind to think about later.

"You're under arrest," Wyll spoke firmly, regaining his composure and sense of duty. Astarion sighed, sounding more annoyed and disappointed than worried. "Of course, the handsome ones are always too good to be true…"

Wyll tried to ignore that comment as he continued. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you-"

"’Anything,’ you say?" Astarion interrupted, that playful coyness coming back to him. Wyll paused in the middle of his speech, taken aback by Astarion’s interjection. What kind of question was that?

"What if I were to only say your name~?" The tone of voice filled with sex came back as Astarion asked the question. He moved his hips back and grazed Wyll's front with his ass, grinding ever so gently on the officer. Wyll jumped back, beginning to lose his composure again at the prospect of what was just said. Astarion took the opportunity of freedom to turn himself around and step away from the wall, leaning towards Wyll and giving him that same devilish grin from earlier. Wyll hated to admit how well it was working.

"Wyll, would you hold yourself against me this evening~?" Astarion asked the seductive question with such ease, as if it wasn’t the first time he had said those words. Wyll noticed now that Astarion’s actions were so perfect in this moment, as if he was performing in some kind of film. Every action and word was so perfectly alluring and so flawlessly executed, as if he had performed this scene a million times. Wyll, not knowing the script that Astarion was working with, took a step back once more and felt himself lean against one of the larger crates on the other side of the shed. His hands moved back to grip the edge and support himself as Astarion stepped closer and moved into his space once again. The pale man put one hand on the crate behind Wyll, leaning into the younger man and using his other hand to gently caress Wyll's chin. With the most tender of touches, Astarion pulled the officer in for a kiss.

As much as Wyll should’ve resisted, he allowed himself to be kissed. His hands dug into the wood of the crate as he felt the erotic sensation course through his body. The soft, cool feeling on his lips felt like a shock, sending waves of strange, terrifying pleasure through him and down to his lower half. He had never kissed a man before, and no other kiss had ever felt like this. Though it wasn’t all that different from kissing a woman, this scenario felt more exciting and terrifying than anything he had ever felt. The charming stranger seduced him so effortlessly. Perhaps Wyll was weak, maybe even a bit lonely, but he allowed himself to be swept off his feet for a moment. Astarion pressed his body against the cop’s, using the hand that wasn’t supporting himself on the crate to move gently down Wyll’s side and to his lower back, pulling the young officer even closer. He could feel Wyll’s excitement starting to build in his jeans, and Wyll even heard a moan escape his own lips as he felt Astarion’s cold body press against his.

Astarion broke the kiss and moved to whisper Wyll’s name in his ear again, this time a bit softer and filled with quiet desire, as his hand trailed down Wyll’s side once more and moved to the front of his pants. At the sensation of being palmed, Wyll inhaled sharply and his whole body jolted. In his panic, he grabbed Astarion’s wrist that had just grazed his front and pulled it to the side, gripping it tight. Astarion made a small, pained noise as Wyll tried that same flip again, though Astarion was better prepared and resisted this time around. He pulled his arm towards his chest so Wyll couldn’t twist him around as easily. Instead, Wyll used his leg and hooked it behind Astarion’s ankle, sending the pale man falling onto the mattress behind him. Wyll quickly flipped Astarion over while the man was still surprised and sat firmly on Astarion’s lower back, that way he couldn’t flip over again. Now that he had the advantage once more, Wyll didn’t hesitate to pull out his handcuffs that were stashed in his back pocket and begin cuffing his newfound companion.

“Wait, please!” The cool, seductive confidence had left Astarion’s voice. Wyll did pause, surprised by the quick change of tone. He kept his grip tight on Astarion’s wrist, but had only cuffed one hand so far. The pause didn’t last long though as Wyll regained his sense of duty and began cuffing the other wrist. Astarion’s breathing began to quicken, almost like a cornered animal. “I’ll give you anything you want, I’ll do anything, just please don’t take me away.” He was panicked, but there was still some sense of composure behind his words.

“You’ve committed solicitation of sexual acts and prostitution. As an officer of the law, it is my duty to take you in.”

Astarion wriggled under Wyll, the sensation of his squirming body sending a guilty wave of pleasure through Wyll as the friction in his pants rubbed against him, but Wyll held out strong. As he tried to break free, a thought clicked in Astarion’s mind and he went still under Wyll. “What evidence do you have?”

Wyll froze. “I’m sorry?”

“What evidence do you have that I have charged money for sex?”

Wyll opened his mouth to speak, but then realized that he had none, not officially anyway. All his assumptions this evening have been based on the intel he received from Mizora, but he had no actual proof that Astarion was one of the members of the group he came to this park looking for. Though he made a slew of incriminating remarks, there was nothing that would work as evidence in a court of law to accuse Astarion of prostitution. All he had as of now was speculation and conjecture. As Wyll pondered this new set of circumstances, Astarion continued, “all I’ve done is offer a bit of fun, which you consented to. The only crime I’m guilty of is being a whore, but there’s nothing illegal in what I’ve done tonight.”

Wyll sat there, still holding Astarion’s wrists in place and pinning him against the mattress, though his grip began to soften. God, did he already screw this job up? He didn’t even think to try to get evidence. He was so inexperienced with work like this, with interactions like these, he hadn’t even thought past allowing someone to lure him to a secluded area. After that, his plans fizzled out. God… I’m such a fool.

He didn’t confirm or deny Astarion’s accusations, but he did move to uncuff Astarion. Once he was free, Wyll rolled off of Astarion and to the side. Astarion moved to his knees and stretched his back, then rubbed his wrists where the cuffs had dug in and left faint, red lines on his fair skin.

“I’m sorry,” was all the rookie could muster up, pulling his knees to his chest.

“Oh, no need to apologize. I’ve been handled much rougher than that.” There was a lingering, awkward silence that thankfully Astarion broke quickly. “You’re not a virgin, are you?” The question was sincere and non-judgemental. The bluntness of it turned Wyll’s face a new color that he didn’t even know he was capable of.

“No!” he said, a bit louder than he intended.

“I see,” Astarion said dismissively, turning and sitting back against the wall to face Wyll as he continued his questioning, “but I take it you’ve only been with women?” The flush that burned Wyll’s face only got deeper at the accusation, but he couldn’t deny it. He turned and buried his face in his knees. “Is it that obvious…?”

Astarion giggled. It sounded so light and playful, ringing in Wyll’s head afterwards. That may have been the first sound that Wyll heard from Astarion all evening that didn’t sound so rehearsed. “You’re not as subtle as you may think, officer.” Astarion moved his foot and nudged Wyll’s leg with it. Wyll’s face immediately lifted from his knees and turned to look at Astarion, who had another smirk on those lovely lips of his, though this time, it seemed a bit more relaxed. His eyes were softer, and there was a sense of desire in them this time that seemed more genuine than before. Would he still want an inexperienced fool like Wyll after all that?

“Would you still like to hold yourself against me this evening, Wyll?” Astarion asked, a new, softer, more genuine tone appearing in his voice. There was a bit of exhaustion and sincerity that was now apparent on his face as well.

“I… I don’t know…” Wyll said, the nerves returning. He had to turn his eyes away from Astarion’s face again. The nerves were coming back, and he still had a job to do. He couldn’t do something like this. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted to. Astarion was incredibly attractive, that wasn’t the problem, but there was a hollow feeling in his stomach, one that left him nervous and worried. What would Mizora do to him if he didn’t come back with at least one arrest tonight? Would he be committing a felony if he slept with Astarion, even if he technically didn’t have any solid evidence against him that proved he was a prostitute? Why would Astarion want to spend the night with an officer anyways?

As the questions ran wild in Wyll’s mind, Astarion nudged Wyll’s leg again to get his attention. Once Wyll finally met his gaze again, Astarion asked, “what would you like then, darling?”

Wyll stared at the man of the night blankly. Astarion had a soft, exhausted expression that resonated with something in Wyll. He had thought of Astarion as handsome and alluring all evening, but that soft expression was something that he could only describe as beautiful.

“Maybe, for now… we could just… talk?” Wyll said, his voice shrinking in embarrassment. Thankfully, Astarion didn’t seem put off by the suggestion. Instead, he moved to lie down on the mattress and stretch out his legs. “Alright, we can talk. Did you have a topic for discussion in mind?”

“Well… can I ask why you invited me to this place?” Wyll asked, not comfortable enough to lie down. He remained in his fetal position towards the foot of the mattress.

Astarion sighed, “well, to have a little bit of fun, obviously. I thought that was fairly clear.”

“Well, yes, but… why me? Why didn’t one of those other women you were with invite me somewhere instead?”

“Well,” Astarion began, rolling on his side and resting his head on his hand to get a better look at Wyll. “I thought you were adorable, sitting and showing interest while nervously dodging our stares. You’re a handsome young man, you know.” Wyll blushed at the compliment, averting his gaze again. He had never had the chance to flirt with another man before, and Astarion had so much experience that left Wyll feeling like a babe in the woods. Astarion was amused by Wyll’s darkened cheek, then posed a question of his own. “Did you not intend on having a bit of fun this evening? Were you simply a good officer trying to do your job?”

“It’s… complicated, but yes, I was out here solely for work.” There was no point in trying to be coy about it. He had already tried to arrest Astarion, so he already blew his cover.

“Well, darling, in the future, if you’re scouting for workers of certain occupations, might I suggest trying to pay them first or requesting their rate?”

“Yes… I didn’t… think about the details before jumping into this…”

Astarion scoffed playfully. “Clearly.”

Wyll wanted to curl in on himself in embarrassment and his lack of experience. Astarion saw the reaction and only felt moderately guilty. He rolled onto his back once more and decided to be courteous enough to change the subject. “Well, what do you enjoy doing in your free time then, Officer Wyll?”

“I enjoy reading…” Wyll couldn’t help but feel a bit self-conscious about his hobby, but the new topic relaxed him a bit. His shoulders softened and his knees relaxed away from his chest a bit.

“I do as well,” Astarion admitted. Wyll was a bit surprised, honestly. Astarion continued the conversation. “What do you like to read?”

“Stories of fantasy and… romance, mainly.”

“Of course you’re a romantic,” Astarion said with a tone of pseudo judgment, unsurprised by Wyll’s taste.

“And what’s so wrong with that?” Wyll asked with a curious grin, turning his body to face Astarion a bit better.

“Nothing, nothing at all,” Astarion said with a dramatic flourish of his hand. “It’s just so predictable that someone as polite as you would be a hopeless romantic. Let me guess,” Astarion turned on his side again and began to gesticulate even more as he proposed his theory of Wyll. “You love a good fantastical story where a vigilante of justice comes in and saves a poor heroine, and the two of them fall deeply and madly in love and live happily ever after?”

“And if I did?” Wyll said, managing to regain some composure and enjoying the turn of conversation. It wasn’t the first time he had been teased for his taste, though he had to admit, it was more fun coming from Astarion. Astarion scoffed and fell on his back again, waving his hand above his face and dismissing the comment. “It just means you’re horribly predictable, but there’s no shame in that, darling~.” The last statement had that playful snarkiness return, and it put a smile on Wyll’s face.

“Alright, then what do you like to read, Astarion?”

“Oh, nothing in particular. Fiction, non-fiction, histories, whatever I can get my hands on, really.”

“Well, what kind of stories are you fond of? I take it you’re not one for romance?”

“I don’t mind a good deal of romance,” Astarion said, a bit offended, “but I much rather prefer stories of adventurers, revenge, and deception. They are much more interesting reads, if you ask me.”

The two continued on like this for hours, talking about stories that they were fond of and wanted to share. Wyll even admitted to his appreciation for more promiscuous types of fiction, and Astarion was impressed that Wyll managed to even quote one particularly bad erotica that they had both happened to read at one point in their youths. As the conversation continued, Wyll felt more and more comfortable around the beautiful stranger. He wasn’t comfortable enough to lie down, but he did move to rest against the wall at the head of the bed, sitting right next to Astarion’s face and watching the man’s dramatic expressions as he talked about one of his favorite stories, The Count of Candlekeep . It was the story of a man who was falsely arrested after being accused by four other men and forced into prison for over twenty years. During that time, he met a wise man and learned about a hidden treasure that, after escaping the prison, he found and made his own. Soon, he became one of the richest men in the world, and through the power he gained for himself, he was able to get terrible, gruesome, satisfying revenge on all four of the men who had betrayed him. As Wyll watched Astarion passionately recount the tale, he couldn’t help but admire him. The smile that appeared as Astarion talked about the Count and how fascinating his character is, the way his brow creased slightly as he recounted more intense scenes, the way his hair fell to the side on the bed and slowly became a bit messier throughout the evening as the mattress ruffled it. He really was handsome, but he seemed to grow more alive as the night continued, and it captivated Wyll immensely.

“Of course there’s romance involved as well, and it’s incredibly well written, but there’s so much more to the story than just that. I can’t believe you’ve never even heard of the book, but you can quote The Salty Mermaid .”

Wyll shrugged. “It never came up in my father’s library, it seems.”

“Well, your father should develop better tastes.” Astarion said, waving his hand dismissively. Wyll laughed and responded, “perhaps you’re right.”

The two sat in a moment of silence for the first time in a while, though this time, it was comfortable. Astarion lay next to Wyll with his eyes closed. He looked so serene. Wyll couldn’t help but stare and take in the delicate yet chiseled features of his companion’s face. His soft, delicate white lashes, his strong, lovely nose, those soft, slightly thin lips… He was truly a vision. Wyll was tempted to reach out and place a hand on Astarion’s head, maybe even petting him and feeling how soft his curls really were, but he resisted the urge. He didn’t want to be too forward.

After sitting in the silence for who knows how long, Astarion yawned and rubbed the exhaustion from his eyes. “Do you happen to have the time, darling?” Wyll looked at his watch and saw that it was already past three in the morning. Upon hearing the time, Astarion’s eyes shot open and he shot straight up. “Is everything alright…?” Wyll asked, concerned by the sudden shift in Astarion’s demeanor.

“Yes, of course, I simply lost track of the time is all. It’s quite late and I should be getting home,” he then turned and gave Wyll a concerningly serious stare. “As should you.”

“I suppose so… but what’s wrong?” Wyll asked, genuinely worried now. He reached out and placed his hand softly on Astarion’s shoulder. Astarion jolted away from the touch and stood up from the mattress. “It’s nothing… “ he said, brushing off his leather pants. “I just think that it’s late and you should be on your way. You’d be much more comfortable in your own bed, surely.”

“Well, yes, but are you alright?” Wyll asked as he stared up from where he sat.

“Of course I am!” Astarion turned to face Wyll, but that rehearsed feeling returned to his demeanor. His voice lilted in a way like it did when they first made their way to this shed, and Wyll felt a bit nervous. He stood up as well, brushing dust off his backside and looking at Astarion with what must’ve been visible concern. “Wyll, darling, I’m perfectly alright~. I just don’t want a young, handsome thing such as yourself losing out on your much needed beauty sleep. How do you think I kept this face as charming as it is all these years~?”

“Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?” Wyll asked. He couldn’t imagine what he had done, but he had an even harder time understanding Astarion’s new urgency.

“Darling, of course not,” he sighed and placed a hand on Wyll’s arm, and this time, Wyll enjoyed the touch. There was a warmth to the sensation that had been missing earlier. “You’ve been the perfect gentleman all evening. Well… besides our little wrestling match, of course.” Astarion said with a small giggle and a smile that seemed a little too perfect. “It’s just… well…” Astarion paused for a long moment, then finally managed to continue. “You failed in your mission this evening, and so I think it’s only fair that I fail in mine as well.”

“Fail? What mission? What do you mean? Are you in danger?” Wyll asked, a sense of urgency rising in his own throat. Astarion shook his head and made his way over to the door. “No, nothing like that, I’ll be alright.” From the way he spoke, Wyll had a strong suspicion that this new companion of his was lying. Astarion turned his gaze to the door and opened it for his guest, then motioned and smiled at Wyll. “You should go.”

Wyll walked slowly to the door, standing in the doorway for a moment and staring at Astarion. The man with the silver hair couldn’t bear to make eye contact with Wyll, it seemed, but managed to speak. “It’s been a pleasure spending an evening with you, Wyll.”

“The pleasure’s been mine. Perhaps… it doesn’t have to be the only evening we spend together?” This seemed to catch Astarion’s attention. The pale gentleman looked at Wyll’s expression and saw that the young man seemed sincere. There was a softness in his face that made Astarion freeze for a moment. Though he was concerned, Wyll was pleasantly surprised to see Astarion fumble for the first time all evening.

“I’m… not sure if that’s the best idea…” Astarion said tensely.

“Well, I won’t force you, of course, but I’d like to enjoy your company more, if you’d permit me.” Wyll grazed the back of Astarion’s hand with a finger, and Astarion seemed surprised. Instead of running away from the touch, Astarion turned his hand and let Wyll hold his with a soft grip. He sighed, “Wyll, I don’t think it’s a wise decision for us to associate further.”

“Well… could I ask why?”

“My… occupation. It involves certain people that… I don’t like them knowing who I associate with, and I’m afraid if we spend any more time together, they might become curious.”

“Are they often that nosey in your personal affairs?” Wyll asked with a small hint of disbelief.

“You have no idea. ” Astarion said with a deep sigh. Wyll squeezed his hand and offered him a smile. “Well, if I did happen to want to search out your company again, is there a way I could find you?”

Astarion cocked his head to the side and looked at Wyll with admiration and frustration. “You won’t leave me alone, will you?”

“I will if you want me to,” Wyll responded.

Astarion stood for a moment and looked at their entwined hands. After what seemed like a long moment of heavy contemplation, he met Wyll’s gaze. “There’s a bar near the park. It’s called the Elfsong. I tend to spend my Saturday evenings there starting at dusk. If you’d like to search out my company again, then I’d suggest there. For now,” he released Wyll’s hand and motioned to the open door again, “I believe this is where we should say goodnight.”

Wyll sighed and nodded reluctantly. “The Elfsong at dusk, I’ll keep it in mind. Have a good evening, Astarion.” He stood for a moment, wondering if he should offer a handshake or even a hug before leaving. Instead, Astarion leaned in and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. Wyll’s eyes opened a bit wider as he stared at Astarion, who was now smiling nervously. “Good night, Officer Wyll.”

With that, Wyll stepped outside the shed and Astarion closed the door behind him. He stood there for a moment and touched his cheek where Astarion had kissed him. It wasn’t like the kisses they exchanged earlier in the evening. This one left a sensation not of nervous electricity, but of something pleasant and ethereal. There was a warmth that lingered on his skin. Wyll never recalled kisses from his girlfriends ever feeling like this. It was something special.

As he began to exit the park the way he came, he had a feeling of something watching him. The feeling made Wyll nervous, but he did his best to maintain his composure and walk just a bit faster than he usually would. It was a Sunday, so if Wyll was lucky, he would get to see Astarion next Saturday. That’s if Mizora or this gnawing sensation of being watched didn’t get him first.

---

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

#wyllstarion #astarion x wyll #bg3 #fanfic #astarion #wyll ravengard #demisexual #modern au #police #sex worker #writing #long post #mizora #ulder ravengard #mine #just one yesterday

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years

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Yandere Behavior: Chrollo Lucilfer

→ Yandere MBTI type: CAMS. (Cruel, Aware, Manipulative, Strict).

Chrollo as a yandere is difficult to grasp. There’s a lot that’s up in the air. You might believe you’re beginning to understand him, only to have that way of thinking torn away. The main problem can be attributed to Chrollo not even fully knowing what he wants from his relationship with you himself. For someone so introspective, Chrollo doesn’t have solid reasoning for what he does, and he even acknowledges this. Not that you’ll ever be privy to this information.

From his point of view, he thinks of you in between a material obsession and someone he cares for. Chrollo has a vague idea of what love is from reading. He just doesn’t have his own experience with love to draw comparisons and knowledge from, and sees it all through a tainted lens. For the sake of manipulating you he’ll call what he feels love. It stops just short enough of valuing you as a fully functioning human being, yet isn’t belittling enough to classify you as a thing. You’re in a limbo.

While he’s technically the least cruel of the yandere adult trio, that doesn’t amount to much; as he has his own unique ways of being awful. Chrollo has a charisma to him that brings you into conversation, whether you’re verbally responding to him or not. The meager amount of tact he possesses isn’t enough to make up for the sharp as knives discussions he broaches. His bluntness is hidden behind a thin veil of charm, disguising the distressing questions and comments as good-natured.

That being said, he’s not wholly sadistic. Chrollo isn’t talking to you with the intention of upsetting you like some others (*cough* Hisoka *cough* Pariston), he wants to pick your brain, and gain insight. You being upset is more of a... byproduct, as he sees it. Another aspect to learn from. You’re so different from him, growing distraught at things he could care less about. He finds it interesting. He’s the devil’s advocate type of guy with you.

You’re likely pictured in his head as a belonging at first, that fleshes out into something beyond that. A way to pass the time that wouldn’t leave his mind. Chrollo would genuinely be surprised by this development, especially when he picks up on hints of affection towards you. He’d dislike the thought if anyone bothering you.It doesn't sit well with him and he’s not sure exactly why. He’s seen far worse and turned his back. Then there’s you, someone capable of stirring up emotions within him in a way that shouldn’t be possible.

Chrollo has absolutely no qualms about plucking you from your carefree life for his own benefit. He’s a thief, and you just so happened to be the next target to catch his eye. You’re either going to be tagging along with him, or staying in a home far removed from society. He’s made it painfully clear that resistance will only serve to make your situation worse. The gap in power between you two is downright laughable, his connections to the underworld vast. He won’t actively flaunt this unless you make a point of testing him.

Travelling with Chrollo is both the best, and worst part of your relationship. It beats being cooped up in a stuffy house full of nothing but books you can’t read and boarded up windows, but god is it tiring. By the time your jet lag is improving and you’re getting used to your hotel room, he’s already telling you to pack your stuff for a new destination. Half the time he doesn’t even bother telling you where you’re going.

Chrollo also leaves at unholy hours of the night. Then he comes back with items that you swear you’ve seen in a pamphlet or something before. If he catches you staring at it long enough he’ll tell you, or hint at its origin with a weird smile. You get the feeling the clothes you caught him discarding with blood splotches on them have a connection, but feel too sickened to confirm the suspicions.

There’s a good chance you’ll run into a Troupe member or two. Their interactions with you range from either ignoring you entirely, or being so friendly that it’s creepy. Chrollo describes you as his lover to them, but the label does not feel fitting whatsoever. When the more outgoing members ask you questions to be polite, you get a feeling they already know the answers. You don’t want to know why they have so much information on you. How long was he running surveillance on you exactly...?

He’ll take you to a variety of places, since he feels confident in his ability to keep you from acting out. The places you frequent the most are: museums, art galleries, local bookshops, and the highest rated restaurants in the area. You’ll be taken aback by how talkative he can be in some areas, subtly flaunting his vast knowledge to you. He’ll take your hand and lead you from place to place, acting almost like a tour guide. Reciting the history, importance, and other trivia about the places you go.

The illusion of freedom that getting to explore the world brings is fleeting. At the end of the day, you’re still imprisoned, even if it’s in a world class suite. You’re expected to go along with his whims without complaint. Chrollo tells you that he’ll make it worth your while, but that doesn’t do much for you.

His romantic gestures can feel... hollow, in a way. They’re too perfect, uncanny even. You can never fully tell how genuine he’s being with you. He’ll compliment you but it feels almost degrading, or he’ll give you a kiss and stare just a bit too long to see if your reaction is the one he wants. The times where he’s most real with you is when you get him started on a topic of interest. Any other forms of vulnerability that you witness are planned to the letter, to get you to trust him more. It’s easier to mold you as he pleases if you’re more amiable to him, after all.

Quotes.

“We’ll be leaving early tomorrow morning, so pack you stuff before going to bed. It’ll be a long flight.”

“You’re wondering where I got this from? Admittedly, it’s a long story... if you think you can stomach it, I’ll tell you.”

“It’s understandable that you’re distraught, new situations can be intimidating. With time, all pain fades. I’m willing to wait.”

#basically chrollo is an asshole but a different kind #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo #chrollo imagine #chrollo lucilfer imagine #chrollo x reader #HunterXHunter #hunter x hunter imagine #hunter x hunter imagines #Hunter X Hunter #yandere hunter x hunter #hxh #yandere hxh #hxh imagines #hxh x reader #yandere hxh x reader #yandere behavior #my stuff

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tenthgrove · 3 years

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Yandere La Squadra- Illuso, Prosciutto, and Pesci

(Cw: Abduction, Forced Relationships, Obsessive Behavior, Murder)

Illuso

It’s probably a given that Illuso never intended to find love. For a person so proud and jealous, a romantic obsession would most likely arise out of just that- jealousy. You were a bystander, a mere distant relative of Illuso’s mark. He probably never would have even heard of you, had it not been for the party.

As Illuso watched the happy revellers from the safety of his mirror world, his efforts to observe the target were hampered by a far more appealing distraction. You. You were exactly his type, beautiful and amicable. As you spoke to your friends and family, he found himself wishing you were saying those words to him and not those worthless nobodies.

He tried to shake off his captivation, leave the room you were in to focus just on his target. But when he returned, you were talking with another man. As envy cut through his chest, he came to understand how he really felt. You were not something he could leave alone.

For months, Illuso did nothing but watch you. When he would normally go down to the bar or for a walk around town, he would head into the mirror world and watch you go through your day. He would even talk to you, secure and yet saddened in the knowledge that you wouldn’t be able to hear him.

Then one day, Illuso had a stroke of luck. Another individual vaguely in your social circle has been pinned as La Squadra’s target, and this time, Illuso is going to use it to the fullest. He goes out of his way to exaggerate the connection between you and the target, saboutaging all the usual routes the team would use to hunt them down until the only option seems to be going through you. Finally, Illuso gets permission to abduct you and take you in for interrogation. His plan is to be your saviour, to convince the team to let you go and carry you home in his arms like a knight in shining armous. Unfortunately for him, it takes all of 5 seconds of talking to you for Risotto to realise what’s really going on.

Illuso gets hauled to one side, and after getting one of the biggest dressing-downs of his life, is informed that he could have very well gotten you killed since La Squadra can’t let witnesses go. Risotto informs him that if he wants you to live, he’s going to have to keep you captive himself now. He started this mess, so he’s going to deal with it.

Illuso always intended to have a ‘normal’ relationship after the whole kidnapping stunt, but he supposes keeping you prisoner is a close second. Since he never planned for this to happen, his home is completely unprepared for holding you, and he has to keep you in the mirror world for the first few days.

Once he has a suitably secure room set up, you’re allowed to come out of the mirror world again but on the strict conditions you don’t act up. After spending days in an alternate dimension at his control, you would have to be very brave indeed to ever go against Illuso’s word.

Illuso tries to win you over with gifts. He misses the way you acted when your life was happy and is annoyed he can’t see that side of you now you’re finally together in person. Don’t be surprised if he offsets his anger by hunting down those you loved. If you had a partner before, you can be certain they’ll be first to go.

Despite this cruelty, Illuso genuinely begins to feel remorse for your sorry state. It will lead to him doing some self-reflection for the first time in his life, and he will genuinely try to be a better person around you to make you smile again.

Prosciutto

By the time Prosciutto fell for you, you had already been having a bad time of things. Trapped in Passione through no fault of your own, you were unfortunately no stranger to peril. It’s this reason that attracted Prosciutto to you in the first place.

As a standless, low-ranking newcomer to the syndicate, you were as vulnerable as they come. And yet, as Prosciutto listened to your story from someone who knew of it, he felt intrigue. You presented to him the opportunity of a project. Someone to mold.

Prosciutto sought you out a few days later. His offer was simple- a friendship and nothing more. In exchange, you would gain the company of a far more distinguished member of Passione who could teach you the unspoken rules of survival. For some weeks, this is how things were. He would teach you his skills in his spare time and talk with you afterwards. The two of you began to develop a genuine, warm bond.

That’s where the problems started, however. As Prosciutto learned more and more about your story, he began to question his original plan. You didn’t belong here, there were no two ways about it. You may be showing potential in your training, yes, but would you ever truly belong in such a syndicate? Prosciutto didn’t think so, and he couldn’t bear to imagine you spending the rest of your life this way. Second, there was the issue of his romantic feelings. They were getting hard to ignore.

So, Prosciutto comes up with a proposition for you. Disappear off the map entirely. Prosciutto will handle everything, and you can live comfortably with him in hiding for however long is necessary. He also pleads with you to become his lover.

However, you just can’t find it in you to trust him on something so important. You turn him down, thank him for all he’s done for you, and leave. Prosciutto is heartbroken. He can’t let you continue like this, especially not without his protection, and so, he’s going to do something he knows you’ll hate him for. Prosciutto breaks into your hideout and murders your entire team, planting evidence to look like a rival gang did it. As you cower in the corner, tears streaking down your face, Prosciutto whispers an apology and presses a chloroform rag to your nose and mouth. He takes you to his house.

The next day, Prosciutto is holding you against his chest as you cry, even as you hurl frightened profanities about how much you hate him for doing this. He’ll take it all, and remind you calmly everything he does is for your sake. He promises again and again that he loves you, unconditionally.

Prosciutto tries to make things as bearable as possible for you to make up for keeping you captive. He buys you anything you want on a whim, and looks after you when you refuse to look after yourself. He encourages you to find new interests, since your life is no longer dominated by Passione’s orders and you can be yourself again.

As much as he wishes, he can’t let you leave the house, except on closely supervised trips in the dead of night where you can’t possibly be spotted. If Passione were to find out you were alive all along, they would surely have both of you killed. Prosciutto dreams that one day, perhaps when La Squadra has the status they deserve, he can give you the freedom he owes you. Maybe then you will find it in you to forgive his betrayal.

Pesci

Pesci is certainly not the type to resort to the extreme actions of a yandere unless he felt truly desperate. It’s for this reason he becomes a yandere for someone he has an existing relationship with.

Pesci didn’t think he would find love at all now he worked for Passione, especially not a squad as feared as La Squadra. And yet the stars aligned and brought him you- a wonderful, kind-hearted civilian he met by chance and began a steady, loving relationship with. Several months in, the pair of you couldn’t be happier together.

There was just one thorn in this relationship threatening to bring it all down: you didn’t know that Pesci was a mobster. He couldn’t bear to tell you. Would you hate him? Fear him? He didn’t want to even think about it. All he could do was hold you tight and pray, pray to whatever would listen, that the two of you could be like this forever.

What made Pesci’s worst dreams true was a simple, awful coincidence. You were out shopping alone, when, across the street, you spotted your boyfriend headed in the other direction. Pleasently surprised, you chased after him and called out, but he didn’t seem to hear you. Not giving up, you followed him into an alleyway, and what you saw turned your stomach.

There on the ground was the writhing body of an injured man. Above him, stood Pesci and a stranger, a tall, well-dressed blond man who spoke to your boyfriend with an air of authority. As you watched in horror, the stranger took a knife to the injured man’s throat while your boyfriend watched emotionlessly. You turned tail and ran.

By the time Pesci gets home, you have already gone through everything. His phone, his diary, his checkbook. You know everything, and you can’t stand to be a part of it any longer. With tearful eyes, you announce you are leaving. If he doesn’t want to be turned in to the police, he won’t try and stop you.

Pesci panics. He can’t let you go! Can’t! You’re the first person who has ever loved him! In a brief act of fear, Pesci hits you over the head to stop you leaving. He’s knocked you unconscious.

Dismayed at his actions and cradling your body in his arms, Pesci breaks down crying. But then he makes a decision. He regrets that it came down to hurting you, but he isn’t letting you go. He isn’t letting his love leave him. When you wake up, you’re in Pesci’s apartment, tied to the bed with a gag in your mouth. As much as it hurts him to hear your distress, Pesci forces himself to hold to his promise. He isn’t letting himself lose you.

Pesci comforts you as best he can, but knows it could be a long time before you trust him again. He explains his actions whenever you show signs of sadness, and tries to tell stories of his team that will paint them in a better light. He knows deep down, however, that what he’s done is unforgiveable.

Should the day come when your bitterness finally disappears, and Pesci can trust you full-heartedly not to tell anyone of what he really does, he is more than happy to return all your normal freedoms. You can even return to living part-time in your old house, if it helps. Just remember, should you ever abuse this freedom to try and flee, don’t think he won’t hunt you down. Pesci swore to himself he wouldn’t let himself lose you, and that promise doesn’t end now your original abduction is over.

#la squadra di esecuzione #la squadra #la squadra x reader #illuso #illuso x reader #prosciutto #prosciutto x reader #pesci #pesci x reader #yandere cw

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rbbalmung · 4 years

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Pokemon SwSh GPL AU: Character Analysis P2

Hey all! I was going to call this “Gym Leader Analysis”, but I really wanted to talk about Leon and Sonia too. We’re just keeping this series going! Keep an eye out for P3 (It’ll probably be posted in the same night).

LEON:

AGE: 26

ETHNICITY: Half Hispanic, Half Black

GENERAL HEADCANNONS:

Leon is definitely cool uncle friend. I know he is a hot mess and can barely look after himself, but I just feel like he is so good at taking care of other people.

Leon is a man of many faces. He can pump up a crowd one moment and rid his face of emotion the next. It is definitely jarring when someone first gets to know him.

Leon is pansexual. He pretty much flirts with anyone (within his age range, of course). That being said, he isn’t out to the public yet. He isn’t ashamed of it at all; he just doesn’t want his sexuality to be the only thing he’s known for.

Speaking of flirting, there is nobody he flirts harder with than Raihan ;)

Leon was 12 when his dad died, and it hit him really hard. Since the rest of his family took it even harder than he did, he internalised a lot of his pain and focused on trying to help raise Hop. He doesn’t really feel like he ever got the closure he needed.

Oh boy, is Leon protective over Hop. There is a 10 year age difference between them, so he will always feel like Hop is his “Baby Brother”.

(Fun fact: He develops a similar relationship to Gloria when he becomes her Champion Mentor).

Leon is a bit of an adrenaline junkie. He doesn’t really process the fact that some of the things he deals with are incredibly dangerous, which is a bit concerning to his friends. On a more lighthearted note, this means that he will ride any roller coaster without breaking a sweat.

Cannot cook to save his life.

Leon, like Hop, has ADD. That’s why he’s always getting lost/seems to have trouble keeping focus.

SONIA:

AGE: 26

ETHNICITY: White

GENERAL HEADCANNONS:

Sonia is the smartest out of our gaggle of characters and she knows it.

She and Leon entered the GPL together, but she dropped out before going to Hammerlock. Sonia originally joined the league thinking it was something she wanted to do because she was good at pokemon battles, but she quickly learned that the rigorous lifestyle trainers live wasn’t for her.

Sonia had an uncertain period of her life where her best friends had all become gym leaders and she was stuck in Wedgehurst helping her grandmother. She definitely had imposter syndrome when hanging around them, so for a few years, she kept her distance. Attending University really helped her start to find her footing, though she wasn’t sure what branch of pokemon studies she wanted to focus on (until the game starts).

She has a strong pokemon team, but she doesn’t fight with them anymore. She mostly keeps them around for company and they help her with her research!

Sonia is super close with Hop. After becoming champion, Leon asked her to keep an eye on him. They very much have a sibling relationship (though neither will admit it).

She is the friend that is overly invested in everyone’s love lives. Sonia is constantly trying to set everyone up together because she “just loves love”.

RAIHAN:

AGE: 25

ETHNICITY: Black

GENERAL HEADCANNONS:

Tall boy! Raihan is freaking huge, and being around everyone else in the League only heightens this fact. He jokes that the one thing he will always hold over Leon is their height difference.

You would think Sonia is the biggest gossip, but we all know that Raihan is. You can trust him if it’s something serious, but you have to preface that. If you don’t, you may as well kiss your secrets goodbye.

Raihan is the best person to go to when you need help. He has big Gryffindor energy and will literally do anything you need him to. If he doesn’t, you just have to call him out for “being a coward”. His pride will definitely be the death of him.

Raihan has the biggest social media presence despite not being champion. He is really good to his fans and will try to interact with them as much as possible. Will always sign autographs or stop to take a picture.

He met Sonia, Leon, and Nessa through the GPL (they were all in the same season). He beat out Nessa but lost to Leon in the finals. Raihan took the defeat pretty hard and made it his goal to dethrone Leon, so he fought Hammerlocke’s previous gym leader and the rest is history.

He really wants to impress Leon ;)

Bede once challenged his for his throne, but lost. Raihan always brings this up to him now that they’re both gym leaders just to piss Bede off.

He really likes egging on his friends. Raihan never crosses the line, but he’ll say just the right thing to make you challenge him to a pokemon battle.

Puts on a brave face, but definitely lets negative comments get to him.

The chaotic one in the friend group.

PIERS:

AGE: 22

ETHNICITY: White

GENERAL HEADCANNONS:

Such a pure, soft boy. Literally the nicest, chillest person. He just scares people off with his edgy demeanour.

He cares a lot about the people in his town. Since Spikemuth is small, it definitely feels like everyone there is a family. It was the main reason he refused to move the Dark Type Gym to a different location to obtain a Dynamax hotspot. (That, and he hates Dynamaxing).

Speaking of, he is fairly new as a gym leader! Leon nominated him to participate in the GPL after noticing his raw talent in the GJPL (Galarian Junior Pokemon League). Piers didn’t expect to make it as far as he did, but he was truly the dark horse of his season. He made it all the way to finals and wiped the floor with the gym leaders he went up against. He did end up losing, but he used the newfound fame he received from participating to kickstart his band.

Two years later, Leon approached him again and asked if he was still interested in becoming a new gym leader. It started as a small, non league Gym, but his notoriety quickly gained Spikemuth new attention. He joined the League only one year after debuting.

Despite being crazy talented at being a pokemon trainer, Piers really isn’t interested in it anymore. He likes the freedom that comes with pursuing his music career. (It definitely helped that his little sister shaped up to be an astounding pokemon trainer herself).

Coolest big brother ever. Marnie chastises him for pampering her, but they are definitely best friends. They’re the type of siblings that, if one of them goes to the grocery store, the other will just tag along.

Dad Friend. 100% a Dad Friend. Literally adopts Marnie’s friends the second he sees them. (Who are these twerps? Ok, I guess they’re my children now). Would never admit to this fact.

Vegan.

Piers and Marnie grew up in an artsy family with three other brothers (he is the exact middle child). They weren’t rich, but they are all super close and supportive of each other.

NESSA:

AGE: 25

ETHNICITY: Black

GENERAL HEADCANNONS:

Looks are definitely deceiving with this one. Nessa is good at keeping a serene face, but if she loses, she is definitely seething underneath.

So pretty, oh my god. She was scouted by a modelling agent during her GPL season. Nessa only signed after she lost the Finals Tournament. Her career started as something to keep food on the table now that she couldn’t become champion, but she has grown to respect her craft. She likes to use it to promote small businesses and make political statements.

Nessa was trained by the previous gym leader of Hulbury (another water type trainer), so it was no surprise to anybody when she tried to hand their title off to her. Nessa refused to take it without winning a pokemon battle, fair and square.

She is super athletic! Nessa was on the swimming team throughout school and won several region championships! Sometimes during the off season, she’ll help teach swim classes to younger kids.

Best friends to lovers with Sonia! They met during their GPL but didn’t start to get romantic feelings towards each other until 6 years later. Everyone knows that Nessa has a girlfriend, but she keeps the fact that it is Sonia private because she doesn’t want the crazy fanboys to target her.

Nessa takes on a big-sister-role to all of the new female gym leaders (Gloria, Marnie, and Bea). She and Melody will literally strike down anyone who even looks at their girls funny.

Her relationship with Milo is hilarious to anyone who isn’t them. Nessa is convinced that they are rivals and must constantly train against each other in order to get stronger. Milo sees her as his best friend and will bake her treats for when they meet up. (Also, Kabu is their dad. I’m just stating facts).

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

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The Broken Soul of TK Strand (1/?)

so, that bonus fic i mentioned. i cannot take credit for it - it is a translation of 'la esencia rota de tk strand' by road1985, which in turn was inspired by my fic, 'out, damned spot'

i am so grateful to the original author for not only taking the time to write something based on one of my works, but also for allowing me to discuss the plot with her and translate it into english, especially when i am still learning her language. the only thing of this that is mine is the translation, and i sincerely apologise for any mistakes on this front 💚

ao3 | 3k | hurt tk, worried carlos, rituals, kidnapping, angst and hurt/comfort

The man leaned out from the alley and watched the scene. He had spent so much time preparing, he had carefully chosen the victim from many candidates weeks ago, and now it had all gone to shit because of a cigarette and some curtains embroidered by an old woman for her grandson.

He liked the fire. It was erratic, unpredictable, and powerful, just like his Lord, just as he himself aspired to be.

He watched the flames and longed to get closer, to touch them and know first hand the home of his master. But he still wasn’t prepared; he was missing one more sacrifice, the last one. He just needed one more soul, and then the doorway to hell would be open for him.

But it wasn’t just any soul he needed; he couldn’t choose the first stranger who crossed his path. That would be too easy - his Lord had told him so in dreams. To open the door to hell, he had to find pure souls which were close to the dark side, good souls that had been through horrible experiences and whose pain could be extracted together with their body’s vital liquid.

With each one of the souls he had already extracted, he had improved the ritual a little more. It was becoming cleaner, more discrete, and it seemed that the police still hadn’t found the other three bodies. With luck, he would finish the ritual before that happened.

But because everything couldn’t be perfect, the fire had ruined his plans.

He had spent days researching the people living in that building. All of them had problems, but David Archings was his target. An orphan and divorced, it was said that his parents died because of him, and this had destroyed his marriage even though the police found no proof. Now he lived alone in a small flat where no-one ever visited him.

He was a sad man, consumed by grief, and few would miss him.

But the fire had taken him before he could do anything, and this delayed his plans.

Or not.

Whilst he watched the flames consuming the building, the firefighters arrived. They worked quickly and in a matter of minutes, the fire was under control and almost extinguished.

He hated these people who always destroyed the work of his Lord. Who were they to put out the flames of the kingdom of darkness?

On more than one occasion, he had thought out teaching the firefighters a lesson, showing that that they weren’t and never would be stronger than the power of his master.

But there were always so many of them, always with police involved. For someone who enjoyed going unseen and carrying out assignments quickly, it would be too complicated and too much work to hurt them.

Despite everything, that night, the cards played a very different hand, one which could solve all his problems.

In that first moment, he didn’t know why he noticed the young paramedic, but there had been something about that that caught his attention. He had a special aura, which changed from dark to light and dark again, depending on the moment.

It was easy to focus on him. If men interested him, he would say that he was truly attractive. If he were searching for a pretty face, there was no doubt that the boy had it. He didn’t know him at all, but he could tell that he had a sad smile which hid fear and regrets - exactly the kind of darkness that he wanted and needed.

“TK,” an older man said, one of the firefighters who, judging by the resemblance, was clearly his father. “We couldn’t have done anything even if we had arrived earlier.”

“I know, but I can’t get the idea out of my head that it was my fault we got here late.”

“It could have happened to anyone.” The older man put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You are one of the best firefighters I know, and now one of the best paramedics. We all have the right to make mistakes sometimes.”

The man began to see some of the darkness he needed for the ritual, but he needed more.

Another man, a police officer, came closer to the young man and opened his arms. The firefighter buried himself in them and the officer kissed his head. It was obvious that they were a couple; they weren’t hiding that they were together, and there was a great love between them. The officer was worried for the paramedic - it almost seemed like it had been taken from a romantic novel.

“Ty, your father is right. You shouldn’t blame yourself for what happened. Tommy said that the man was dead before you got here.”

“I know, but I always think that it’s not fair, that things could have gone another way.”

The man smiled; the paramedic blamed himself for these two deaths but it was easy to see that he carried more guilt inside him.

“When these things happen, I remember what happened to me. If it hadn’t been for my dad always worrying about me, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

“That’s a thing of the past and, look, thanks to it, you are here. Have you thought about it that way?” The police officer kissed him and they hugged again before leaving.

It was incredible. He had only thought about taking a soul who was close enough to what he needed. But that paramedic who had been a firefighter, that TK, was exactly what he needed. He was a broken soul, an aged vase in danger of shattering into a million pieces. A firefighter, perfect for punishing those meddlers, and, further, in a relationship with a police officer.

But he was surrounded by people and in the middle of a shift; he wouldn’t be able to take him that night. His master had taught him to have patience, so he let him go, taking note of the firefighters’ station number, so he knew where he worked.

The idea that he would have the soul he was sure was the perfect subject excited him greatly. He didn’t want any mistakes or to find him with a perfect family at home, so he decided to wait and do things right.

TK didn’t sleep well that night. They returned to the station after the fire, but he needed time to get to sleep and he woke up many times. When he finally did manage to sleep, he had nightmares about the idea that they could have saved those two strangers.

It wasn’t his fault, not directly at least, but if he had been ready earlier, if he hadn’t forgotten to replace the bandages in the ambulance, they would have arrived on time. Maybe then things would have turned out differently. He couldn’t be sure of course, but the nightmares did nothing but tell him just that.

He got up. Everything was still; with a little bit of luck nothing else would happen and they could finish the shift calmly and go home. But this didn’t make him feel any better, so he made himself a tea - if he had a coffee he wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink - and left the station. There were barely any buildings around it, so there was always a beautiful view of the sky.

A little while ago, they had placed some deck chairs on the small back patio and TK sat on one, with a blanket around his shoulders as it was a cool night. He drank the tea slowly as he watched the stars; they never changed, no matter what happened below. Whether people lived or died, the stars remained unshakeable and, in a certain way, this comforted him.

He liked the idea that there were things that couldn’t be changed, things that always happened in a certain way and, as much as he or anyone tried, it couldn’t change.

He closed his eyes - maybe he would be able to sleep out here, and in the worst case, he would catch a cold and spend a couple of days in bed with Carlos. That didn’t sound bad at all. TK drank the last drop of the tea and tried to relax; he had almost managed it when a noise at his back grabbed his attention.

It sounded like a crack, like branches breaking or something similar. He got up and peered into the darkness but there was no-one there and nothing moved. The sound returned, a little closer; maybe it was a wounded animal or one that was trying to get into the station’s trash in search of food.

“Hello?” TK called, only to feel like an idiot a second later; he already knew that there was no-one there.

He headed towards the trash cans but there was nothing there, and he sighed in relief - he would not have wanted a pissed-off raccoon to throw itself at him. TK turned around, but a dark figure, wearing a large coat or cape that didn’t even show a centimetre of skin, appeared in front of him.

“Who are you?” he asked, taking a step back and throwing two of the dumpsters to the floor.

He received no response other than seeing the gleaming edge of a knife the man had taken from under his clothes as he approached him.

The station lights turned on - throwing the dumpsters had raised the alarm. The stranger turned - he wouldn’t be able to do what he wanted, but before Paul and Judd arrived, he used the knife against him. TK raised his arm in defence and shouted at the sensation of the blade cutting his skin. He stumbled backwards and fell to the floor, but no-one was there save for his friends running towards him.

“TK, are you okay? What happened?”

He looked around him, but the stranger had already managed to disappear. “Where did he go?”

“Who? Hey, that cut looks bad,” Judd said, helping him to his feet.

“There was someone here, he attacked me with a knife.”

Owen and the others arrived a moment later, and searched the station, but found no-one. Judd pushed TK to go back inside so that Tommy could treat his arm.

“It’s not a deep cut, but it has nicked a couple of veins so it looks worse than it is,” his captain said as she finished bandaging his arm. “You said that a hooded stranger did this? It’s possible that you tripped and cut it on glass or a broken bottle.”

“There was someone in front of me, he had a knife.”

“Something tells me that the fire today affected you a lot,” Owen said behind him. “Captain Vega, don’t you think it would be a good idea for him to go home and rest?”

“No! I’m fine, really. That man attacked me and then disappeared.”

But they forced him to go home.

Carlos was waiting for him; he had been asleep but he always left the sound on his phone in case anything happened to TK. Judd had called him and told him what had happened and that TK had been put in a car home.

He met him at the door, barely having time to prepare himself before TK was hugging him.

“I’m not crazy, babe, and the fire didn’t affect me so much that I’m having hallucinations of people attacking me.”

“Shhh, I know. I know you’re not crazy.” Carlos left kisses on TK’s forehead and cheek, and did the same when he took his hands, kissing the palms and the back as he led him to the sofa. “You need to sleep and relax. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“But…”

“But nothing, baby. Sleep, and I’ll stay awake so no-one else tries to hurt you.”

TK wasn’t sure if Carlos believed him or not, but he always felt safe in his arms. He let go and, without bothering to change his clothes, curled up next to Carlos on the sofa. He sighed, feeling his arms surrounding him, and closed his eyes.

They were all right about something - between the last shift and what had happened by the dumpsters, he was exhausted and needed sleep, so it wouldn’t hurt to do it.

When he woke up, Carlos was still awake, reading. By the yawn he gave, it was clear that he had fulfilled his promise and not slept all night.

“Are you feeling better?”

TK looked at his arm, hoping that what had happened the previous night had been a dream. But the bandage was still there.

He nodded. It was stupid to think that someone wanted to hurt him, or that they’d wait around the station until dawn to do it. Maybe it was true, maybe he had had a nightmare about the fire and ended up cutting himself with glass, like Tommy had said.

The kiss to his cheek brought him back to reality.

“Should I make breakfast?”

“We could do it together?” TK offered, but Carlos clicked his tongue and laughed. “Okay, sorry, what I meant is that you make breakfast and I’ll lend a hand.”

“Perfect.” With another kiss to the forehead, Carlos circled his waist and made him get up. He looked happy, with that warm, perfect smile that made TK feel as if nothing could go wrong. “What’s up? Why are you looking at me like that?” Carlos asked.

TK shook his head and the smile returned. His arm didn’t hurt and the fear of the hooded stranger disappeared all at once. He took Carlos’s hand to go to the kitchen and they spent the next hour making a breakfast that, between laughs, games, caresses, and a round of sex on the kitchen island, ended up more on them instead of being eaten.

“Happy anniversary,” Carlos whispered in TK’s ear, feeling the fast beat of his heart.

“Oh, are you serious? We’ve been together for a year today?”

“You forgot, right?”

“Babe, I’m so sorry, I… No, I did forget, but I’ll make it up to you.”

Carlos took off his flour-covered shirt and gave him a quick kiss. “You don’t have to, don’t worry,” he said, before heading to the bathroom.

“Carlos, babe, wait.” TK tugged at him. “Everything’s been so perfect with you. And it’s gone so fast too. When we started dating for real, I didn’t want to give myself hope that we would last and I decided to take it day by day. I was always scared that…”

Carlos took his face in both hands. “I’m not Alex, nor could I ever be Alex.” He never lost his smile; even now that he was hurt, he kept smiling and kissing TK. “And I’m going to be here, with you, forever. I love you, Ty. I love you so much, so I’m going to carry on as if I hadn’t heard anything, and I’ll wait for you at the precinct at six tonight so we can celebrate our anniversary.”

“Okay, though what we just did…”

“That was just the appetiser. Babe, you have no idea what I have prepared for tonight.”

TK worked that shift like normal, though every once in a while, he looked at his arm. He’d convinced himself that it was impossible that someone would have attacked him. Why go to the station to hurt him? Why him? It didn’t make sense.

Luckily, the shift was quiet and it enabled him to rest; they only went on one call and the rest of the day, Tommy and his father both told him to take it easy. But now that he wasn’t thinking about the fire, he couldn’t get out of his head how bad Carlos must be feeling after TK forgot their anniversary.

He had to do something, to somehow make it up to him.

“Can I leave a little early today?” he asked Captain Vega, before telling her everything that had happened.

“Go, buy him something pretty - forgetting the first anniversary is very serious.”

He had studied the area, parking the car somewhere that wouldn’t appear suspicious, but also a place where he could see the soul he lacked.

His blood was perfect; the ritual he had done last night had been a success, and its taste was exquisite. Now all that was left was to take him and prepare him for the final ritual.

He had decided to wait until his shift was over, but there was no doubt that fate was helping him, as he saw him leave two hours early. He got out of the car, seeing him put in his headphones, and raised his hood to avoid the wind.

“Hey, TK!” a voice behind them said, the only thing that hadn’t gone as he expected, the only thing that made him improvise.

He hid the syringe he carried in his jacket pocket and, gripping tightly to the iron bar he’d found nearby, hit his victim in the head.

TK fell to the floor, sounds reverberating around him, barely able to see anything other than white lights.

“He’s already left,” said another voice inside the station.

“I’m… I’m here. Help,” TK breathed, his voice barely there. Even that was painful as he watched the stranger, the same from the previous night, approached him with an iron bar in his hand. “Dad… Judd… Please.”

“For the return of the Great Dark Lord,” said the other man, closing the gap that separated him from TK. He knelt in front of him and placed the iron on his chest. “For the Lord of the Dark to walk the earth, you will give your life, your blood, and your soul. You are the fourth chosen. The fourth cardinal point to mark his return.”

“Please, you’re wrong… I’m not the one you’re looking for.”

“You are. Soon you will see.”

Before TK could say anything else, a second blow to his head left him sprawled on the ground, like a broken toy.

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #tk strand #carlos reyes #owen strand #tommy vega #judd ryder #911ls #lone star #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing

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vamp95x97 · 4 years

Text

The Crimson Kingdom. One of the few remaining empires belonging to the vampire race that still exist to this day. They reside in a vast valley with lush green hills and crystal clear springs, protected from the eyes of normal humans by the Mirage, a sort of misty magic veil that wraps itself around the outskirts of the country.

Although sharing the land with some humans, they prefer keeping to themselves. Only ever making communication with other vampires despite some of their kind already being accepted into human society alongside other supernatural creatures. Though, far away from prying mortal eyes, the capital of the Crimson Kingdom; Sillage, was being painted a shade of crimson itself. The nation had been swept by a revolution, the castle turned to a bloodbath as bodies littered the marble floors. A new age had arrived, a new set of rulers taking over after a few centuries of being under the rule of King Choi Jiho the II.

The Diamond Era.

𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐒𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐥

𝙄 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙮 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙮 𝙛𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙧𝙩 𝙗𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙩. 𝙒𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣'𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙡𝙨𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙖𝙞𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙖𝙣 𝙪𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙩 𝙢𝙚? 𝙏𝙨𝙠, 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩'𝙨 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙘𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙤𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜?

• is 2600 years old

• born as heir to the throne, first child and son to his father

• killed his father and slaughtered the original lineup of ministers with the other princes due to their unjust traditions and corrupt ways

• has since taken the throne as the new king and rules fairly but with an iron fist

• had to bear the loss of his mother, the first queen who died because of his father's carelessness during a public event, his mother being the target of an assassination

• was put through quite the childhood by his father, absolutely despising the role as his successor due to the merciless training and reshaping his father had him undergo to be the "perfect" heir

• especially after his mother's death

• his vampiric quirk is telekinesis

• eye colour is a ruby red whenever he shows his vampirism

• usually level-headed, mature, fair and wise

• can also be indecisive, ruthless and cold to those he doesn't know well or dislikes

• his brothers are his most prized possession (you can argue that they're not objects) that he would protect with his life, willing to risk everything for their safety

• has claimed the human Hong Jisoo @17-bot

talks like this tagged with v.cheol

𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐚𝐧

𝘿𝙞𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙧𝙮 𝙩𝙤 𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙢𝙥𝙩 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙣 𝙢𝙚? 𝙒𝙝𝙮, 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙄 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙢 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙠 𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙤𝙮𝙖𝙡 𝙛𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙮? 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙖𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩 𝙢𝙮 𝙗𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙨? 𝙒𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙄 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙣. 𝙄 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙣𝙤𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙩𝙤 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙢𝙚. 𝙉𝙤𝙩 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙩𝙘𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙗𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙮 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙄 𝙗𝙪𝙧𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚.

• is 2600 years old

• born from the King's second wife, second child and son to his father, second in line to the throne but has rejected the position as crown prince

• he is still however Seungcheol's advisor due to his calm and witty nature, managing to put up with the latter's random outbursts and calm him better than anyone else

• dislikes the fact that his father had multiple wives, resulting in multiple queens and the infamous Choi Harem, making his distaste clear by constantly reminding Seungcheol to abolish the law during their reshaping of the kingdom

• his vampiric quirk is pyrokinesis

• is known to be icy to those he dislikes, just like his eyes when he shows his vampirism

• always underplayed for his more slender and delicate features but can burn anybody that crosses him to a crisp if he chooses to do so

• cool, calm and collected. Never raises his voice unless he has to, regarded as pure and reliable

• can also be aloof and a tsundere, unpredictable and snarky when he's threatened

• most people would be surprised when finding out that he had fire manipulation as his power due to his appearance, but he proves that he is a master at controlling the inferno within himself— honing his ability to perfection

• has claimed the human King Arthur Seokmin @musicalroyalties-cb

talks like this tagged with v.hannie

𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐨 [𝐉𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐚]

𝘼𝙝, 𝙜𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙖𝙘𝙝 𝙢𝙚, 𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙣'𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪? 𝙎𝙤 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚, 𝙥𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧? 𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙨? 𝙍𝙞𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙨? 𝘿𝙤 𝙄 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙮 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪? 𝘽𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙤𝙝 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙮 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙣. 𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙮, 𝙄 𝙬𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙙𝙧𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙤𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙗𝙚𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙙. 𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙗𝙚 𝙖 𝙬𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙘𝙚𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙𝙣'𝙩 𝙞𝙩? 𝙉𝙤 𝙣𝙤. 𝙄'𝙡𝙡 𝙙𝙞𝙜 𝙢𝙮 𝙩𝙚𝙚𝙩𝙝 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙖𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙪𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙙, 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙘 𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙪𝙨. 𝘼𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙡𝙡, 𝙄 𝙖𝙢 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙮~

• is 2600 years old

• born from the king's third wife, third child and son to his father, third in line to the throne and is one of the candidates for the crown prince position

• unlike Jeonghan who outrightly rejected the position, he has accepted being the second in command and upon further discussion between their council has been appointed as the new crown prince

• known to be somewhat of a party animal, never rejecting any offers to drink and waste the night (or day) with other nobles

• he's flirtatious, laid-back and known to take things lightly which alerted most of the other ministers about wether or not he was suitable to become the crown prince

• but despite his fun-loving and chill nature, when the situation requires him to be serious he won't hesitate to show the steely and unforgiving side of himself

• his vampiric quirk is hydrokinesis, his irises turning a shade of amber when his ability is used and also shows his vampirism

• although he rolls in and out of stranger's beds most nights like it's a casual hobby of himself, he has never truly experienced love, thus leading him to be a little oblivious when it comes to romantic advances

• but when he does fall in love however, he falls hard

• deep down what he wants the most is to be considered equal to his older brothers, as he's usually seen as the weaker and lesser one compared to them both

• pining after someone but is unsure of himself

talks like this tagged with v.shua

𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐤𝐦𝐢𝐧

𝙋𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙬𝙤𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙮 𝙄 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙥𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙥𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧. 𝙒𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙙𝙤 𝙖𝙨𝙠 𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩, 𝙄 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠. 𝘿𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙤𝙨? 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙣 𝙚𝙜𝙜𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙨? 𝙄 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙞𝙢𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙚, 𝙘𝙖𝙣'𝙩 𝙖 𝙜𝙪𝙮 𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙞𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚? 𝙄'𝙢 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙖 𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙚𝙛𝙪𝙡 𝙜𝙪𝙮 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙡𝙡.

• is 2400 years old

• born from the king's first noble consort, fourth child and son to the king, fifth in line to the throne and was one of the candidates for the crown prince position

• with his birth being a lesser one than his hyungs and Mingyu's, he's set to inherit the throne after Mingyu does according to birth and status

• despite the slight difference in status he doesn't mind and is not interested in becoming crown prince or king

• sports a cheerful and positive attitude, easily befriending anyone and because of this he was granted the position of Public Relations Minister by Seungcheol after their reforming of the new government

• his vampiric quirk is healing

• eyes turning a shade of amethyst to show vampirism

• known to also assist the health department when any disasters strike due to his healing powers

• is often regarded as a softie and pushover due to not only negligence by the King and also because of his lower birth yet still being considered a prince

• but just as he can heal others he can also reverse the affects of his powers which leads him to becoming an asset Seungcheol was too afraid to lose

• currently showing fascination towards a certain person

talks like this tagged with v.seok

𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐲𝐮

𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙖 𝙨𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙤𝙣𝙚, 𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙣'𝙩 𝙮𝙖? 𝘿𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙪𝙥 𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙜𝙪𝙞𝙨𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙖𝙩 𝙢𝙮 𝙚𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙗𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙢𝙥𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙚𝙙𝙪𝙘𝙚 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙚. 𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙠 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨, 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙗𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙙. 𝙔𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙪𝙮 𝙎𝙚𝙪𝙣𝙜𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙤𝙡 𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙙 𝙪𝙥 𝙚𝙭𝙚𝙘𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙣'𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪? 𝙋𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙘𝙖𝙣'𝙩 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙖 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠— 𝙮𝙚𝙚𝙨𝙝. 𝙒𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙗𝙖𝙙, 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙄'𝙡𝙡 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙢𝙮 𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝙖 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙮 𝙩𝙤𝙤.

• is 2400 years old

• born from the king's fourth wife, fifth child and son to the king, fourth in line to the throne and was one of the candidates for the crown prince position

• he had been by Seungcheol's side a lot since they were kids, aside from Jeonghan and Joshua, he is the third closest to him

• often times regarded as Seungcheol's bodyguard, he had grown an interest towards combat and took the initiative to join the army

• after years of training he was since bestowed the position and title of General of the Crimson Army after their successful overthrowing of the previous king and government

• he's known to be ruthless on the battlefield, leading their kingdom to multiple victories in war even before he was given the opportunity to command the army

• striking fear in the opponents through his sharp eyes and large build, it comes as a surprise to most people when they find that his personality is a complete opposite of his image

• he's very gentle with almost everyone, most of the time having his facial expression be smiles and easy grins

• his vampiric quirk is electrokinesis

• eyes turning a deep golden yellow that shows his vampirism

• although his princely side that is away from the battlefield may not be able to hurt a fly, that doesn't mean he will sit around when his loved ones and the royal family are at risk

• currently single and ready to mingle 👌

talks like this tagged with v.gyu

𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐗𝐮 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐚𝐨

𝙎𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙥𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙨𝙤 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙪𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙪𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙛𝙖𝙞𝙡 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨𝙣'𝙩 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙣 𝙬𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙗𝙪𝙣𝙘𝙝 𝙤𝙛 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙖𝙣𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙝𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙧𝙤𝙨𝙨 𝙥𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝. 𝙒𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙛𝙖𝙧𝙢𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙤𝙣𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙖 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙤𝙣. 𝙃𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙡𝙮, 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙧𝙪𝙙𝙚 𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙖 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙫𝙖𝙢𝙥𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙘 𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙚. 𝙒𝙝𝙮 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙖 𝙝𝙤𝙗𝙗𝙮? 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬, 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜.

• is 2400 years old

• born from the king's second noble consort, sixth child and son to the king, sixth in line to the throne and was one of the candidates for the crown prince position

• has a reputation within the palace for being a mix of Korean and Chinese blood, being his birth was more of a sealing of diplomacy than one of love

• still loved by his half brothers and mother however

• was not interested in taking the throne whatsoever, preferring to keep to himself on most days

• like the others he could care less for power and status, instead taking the opportunity of every social event to lock himself up in the library and study

• is the most studious out of his brothers which ultimately led him to be elected as Minister of Education by Seungcheol and overseeing public entrance exams and scholar intakes

• his vampiric quirk is cryokinesis

• eyes turning a stunning shade of silver that shows his vampirism

• quiet, somewhat shy— reserved and only speaking when needed

• but don't take his peaceful personality as meekness because once he's angered you're in for a treat

• blunt and sharp, Minghao is someone you should never pick a fight with for his words can sting more than his actions do

• and when he does attack he feels no remorse whatsoever, heart icy cold when pissed

• currently trying to process having his heart stolen

talks like this tagged with v.hao

Now that you've met the royals, I'm sure you'll be better off on your own now. Would you like to continue within the Crimson Kingdom, dearest traveller?

𝖁𝖆𝖒𝖕𝖎𝖗𝖊! 95 𝖝 97 𝕷𝖎𝖓𝖊

— 𝘾𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙎𝙤𝙤𝙣 —

OG: @yanlee @adonis-jeonghan @/demon-seungcheol @/ceo-joshua @switchxu @/daddyseokmin (og mingyu?) (og vampire?)

Tags: @sirenscb @hybrid-ateez-straykids-nct @goddess-jieun @urboyz @babie-sanie @tattooartistjaemin @greenwitch-felix @botville @yvespunk @subby-superm @sktaem @boyfie-superm @mxmeko @killerchaeyoung @sk-nancy @sallyface-cb @vampire-prince-woo @sadist-jaebum @kimmiesana @daycare-x-bot @lover-mina @wizards-of-idol-place @sydney-oc @sana-foxy @doll-hyunjin @four-straykids-apocalypse @vlogsquad-cb @hybrid-kpop-cb @fairykingdom-bot @daemon-ryu @heathenxbots @lilith-doyeon @sweethomebot @incubus-hwa @yanderenayeon @femteez-cb @ky-yeji @thecbcollective @outcastxlisa @yanjihyo @witch-seulgi @killerbots @obey-ateez @shadowxjaemin @bloodlustbots @cb-museclub <and more>

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curechocolattymilk · 3 years

Text

TES V OC Thingie

[Got tagged by @jessaryss ! ]

Pause your game! Wherever your OC is in their game currently, tell me about their story so far.

✧✧✧ General

Current Level: 56

Name: Jeer-Tei Perdes

Name Meaning: Literally got it from a name generator lol. But lore wise it was a name gifted to them in honor of an Argonian who served beside Tei’s mother during the Great War

Pronouns: They/Them

Age: Early 30s where they are story wise???

Race(s): Argonian

Place of Origin: Hammerfell

Pick A Theme Song For Them: oof that's tough... From a Crowded Wound or maybe even Firstwake? If you really played around w personal interpretation/the lyrics that is haha

✧✧✧ Locations

Where Did You Begin Their Game?: Argonian Assemblage, Windhelm (Alternative Start)

Where Are They Currently In Your Game?: Whiterun

What Are They Doing There?: Just finished attending a party held in their honor (Post Blood of Kings)

Homes?: Breezehome, Proudspire, Lakeview & Autmnwatch

# of Locations Discovered?: 274

Dungeons Cleared: 104

Misc. Quests Completed: 87

Favorite Areas and/or Locations: Falkreath / Lakewview Manor. Both areas are where Tei heads off to in order to collect their thoughts/feel some sense of calm.

✧✧✧ Main Quest

Are They Dragonborn / Do They Know It At This Point?: Yes & yes

How Do They Feel About Being Dragonborn: It's...complicated, being thrust into the role of savior by gods of the Cult, which in turn are followed by the folk who see you lesser than them. Tei already has a dislike towards the Divines, this doesn't really help lol

Main Quests Completed: 21

Where Are They In The Main Story Line: Alduin's dead, currently trying to ignore the Civil War as long as they can before the Empire forces its hand into forcing them to join their ranks

Dragon Souls Absorbed: In total overall? 147. The amount currently stored in Tei? 45

Words of Power Learned: 64

Shouts Mastered: 21

Favorite Shout: Firebreath / Dragonrend

✧✧✧ Combat

Most Used Weapon(s): Daedric war axe OR Dragonbone battle axe. Tei technically has both on them at all times during adventuring, alongside a shield, so which they used depends on the situation/which they grab fastest.

Combat Style: Two/One-handed tank. Main tactic is to rush in, cause as much damage/chaos as possible to shake up the opponent, & clean up what the ranged attackers of the party (usually Rumarin, Inigo and/or Lucien) weren't able to deal with.

Armor Type / Level In It: HEAVY ARMOR BABYYYYY (Level 100 + 35 extra points via enchantments)

# of Training Sessions: 99 in-game, lore wise its a lot of self-teaching/keeping their skills learned from Hammerfell sharp. Some of these are magic but lore-wise this doesn't happen cus Tei is not a magic user, save for shouts. I just did those in-game for exp OR so I can help Lucien raise his magic skills :'D

Who Taught Them?: In-game?? Fuuuck so many npcs. Lore-wise? They learned this from their schooling in Hammerfell, going off the canon-lore that it's p much expected for everyone to have a grasp on combat & weaponry! Though they did learn a few things from Kaidan & Anum-La.

Favorite Enemy Type: Dragons! Despite the fact Tei does not have the best magic resistance, it's one hell of a challenge they love to meet.

Least Favorite Enemy Type: Automatons, because of a bad experience with them as a child. Also Undead, because they were raised not to disturb them & it just feels so wrong having to fight them/go into tombs.

People Killed: 945

Animals Killed: 749 (Hunterborn makes hunting fun lol)

Undead Killed: 766

Automatons Killed: 105

Daedra Killed: 136

✧✧✧ Magic

Favorite School(s): None, actually. Destruction is okay though....they guess

Most Used Spell(s): Firebreath or Dragon Aspect. Tei doesn't consider shouts spells though. It's totally different guys shut up they ain't no smelly mage gods

Spells Learned: 9 in-game, mainly due to the spells you're kinda forced to learn for some quests/the ones you automatically know

Items Enchanted: 19 (Tei technically doesn't enchant, and wont next playthrough for sure I wont give in this time >:[ )

College of Winterhold Quests Completed: 8

Where Are They At In The Questline?: Main quest is done bcus i dont like seeing unfinished quests in my journal lmao. Tei's involvement is completely different from canon though in my take. Moreso was hired as a guard for the expedition & was, unwillingly, dragged into the rest of the mess. Is not offered the Archmage position, that went straight to Tolfdir.

Opinions on Magical Guilds (Arcane University, Winterhold, Psijics, Synod, Radiant Dark, etc.): As they get older, they tolerate the guild & magic users more n more, BUT, Tei grew up in an environment that frowns upon the practice of magic, & it shows. They mainly mistrust necromancers/illusionists & still hold onto that belief that reliance on magic, especially for combat, is a weakness.

Bold words for someone with shit magic resistance.

✧✧✧ Crime

Current Gold: 10,640

How Did They Acquire Their Gold?: Odd jobs, selling a lot of the items they made/harvested from smithing & hunting (jewelers are their go-to hirers bcus Tei is great at getting things like ivory), Dwemer ruin diving (they refuse to loot the tombs), also yknow....being part of the Dark Brotherhood helps

Largest Bounty On Their Head: 11,240

For...?: Unfortunately they did not stand down when they were being falsely accused of murder in Markarth. First time Tei called down dragons (Sahrotaar, specifically, Tei managed to get command of Miraak's dragons post-Dragonborn) to absolutely smite some fools.

Current Bounty: None! They're good at not getting caught/threatening and/or bribing guards. :)

Locks Picked: 15 i think?

Jail Time: 1, Cidhna Mine

Jail Escapes: 1, teamed up w the Forsworn lol

Murders: 28

Assaults: 307....In their defense people keep getting in their way during dragon attacks

Items Stolen: 37, most of them from the nobles of Windhelm

Thieves Guild Quests Completed: N/A (wont be doing this storyline unless i cant find a mod that'll let me get the shouts locked behind it)

Dark Brotherhood Quests Completed: 20

Where Are They At In Those Questlines?: DB is completed main arc wise!

✧✧✧ Relationships

Relationship Status: Married to two lovely fellas

Current Companions: atm? none

Housecarls: Lydia & Rayya

Friends (outside of party): Zora Fair-Child, Inigo, Lucien, Anum-La, Morndas, Aela the Huntress, Nazir, Babette, Scouts-Many-Marshes, Isobel, Madesi

Children: Khash, Chases-Starlight, Ram-Ku. (going of where Tei is now - Otero & Mei come around later on in Tei's story!)

Romantic Interest(s): Kaidan & Rumarin.

Sexual Orientation:

GAY

✧✧✧ Religion

Pantheon: Yokudan, with a hint of Hircine worship in there

Patron Deity(ies): From the Yokudan pantheon: Tei mainly views HoonDing as their main patron, but also prays to/pays respect to Satakal.

They are also Hircine's champion.

Daedric Quests Completed: 3 (Hircine, Vile, Dagon - the last Tei didn't really help, moreso pissed off)

Aedric Quests Completed: 1 if you count the whole Alduin thing I guess?

How Devout Are They?: Tei is rather devout, esp to their Yokudan patrons, praying or making offerings daily. They aren't the type to really push it in your face though, but have no issues answering questions one might have.

How Do They Feel About Talos Worship?: Deep down they acknowledge & admit trying to ban worship is terrible, but....Tei also lets their bias/experience with Windhelm, the Stormcloaks & especially Ulfric kinda cloud over this. If the Nords want their old ways so damn much, why fight for a divine from the Imperial Cult? Why not go back to the actual old ways? No, this isn't about worship, not to the men leading this so-called rebellion, they just needed something other than their racist bullshit to fool the common man into throwing their lives away for the nobles sitting comfortable in their thrones.

Also during their whole thing of getting into their role of dragonborn, they get a bonus 'fuck this dude actually' towards Talos, Ysmir, whatever the fuck he calls himself. (tldr; it sucks but good luck hearing Tei say that fully)

✧✧✧ Politics

Gray-Mane or Battle-Born?: Neither, ask them again they will punch you for the love of Ruptga they get asked that every time they enter Whiterun.

Stormcloaks or Imperials?: Also neither, Tei hates em both n think they can all choke. Unfortunately they were forced to join the latter due to, yknow, calling dragons & causing massive damage in Imperial territories during isolated fits of rage and the group being more aggressive in wanting something in return for "letting it slide"....oops

Opinion on the Thalmor?: Oh absolutely despises them, they loudly complained having to work with them during the CW & would go out their way to disrupt their plans/piss them off. Sneaking was an option they did not take during the Embassy quest, if it helps paint the picture.

Opinion Of Ulfric Stormcloak?: Tei doens't say they hate people often...but they sure as hell hate Ulfric. Again, their experience in Windhelm added to this heavily, how both the Dunmer & Argonians were treated like shit, with no help whatsoever from the Jarl or guards when the local Nords targeted them. It's still up in the air if I keep this for Tei's story, but I have it where they knew Chases-Starlight's parents, who were killed. When Tei went up & demanded justice/an investigation, only to be brushed off because it "wasn't a priority," it completely destroyed what little empathy or hope they had left for Windhelm as a whole.

Opinion of The Empire?: Cowards too weak to continue fighting back against the Thalmor, in their opinion, & holds these views they grew up with even when being strong-armed into aiding them. If anything they're at least attempting to use their influence to hint towards a rebellion against the Thalmor, but the Empire could also full-on dissolve & they could give less of a shit.

Civil War Quests Completed: 0

✧✧✧ Personal

How Are They Doing? Need Some Juice? A Nap? A Hug?: The whole event of Blood of Kings has fucked with their head, to say the least. It's the starting point of Tei's eventual spiral. So uh...yeah they're not sure how they're doing everything they knew about reality was kinda challenged & they don't rlly have anyone to talk to about it so its cool, its fine, its all good.

A nap is probably needed, not sure about a hug theough they're super flinchy rn

Days Past In Game: 196

Hours of Sleep: 846

Food Items Consumed: 1833

How Many Playthroughs Have You Done With This Character: Tei actually is an older character from the 360 days so uh...maybe 5 at most? This playthrough & their S:EC one coming up when the mod releases being the main ones focusing on their story

Overall How's Your Level Of Fun: Alright I would say! I just been stepping away from Skyrim more often lately to avoid burning out from it

Must Have Mods To Play This Character (for story or other reasons): Ordinator, Wintersun Faiths, Immersive Armors, Sarcastic Player Dialogue, 3DNPC, Inigo, Lucien Flavius, Kaidan 2, Khash the Argonian, Alternative Start, Leviathan Animations, Beast Race Body Paints, Beast HHBB, Apocalypse Magic, Deadly Dragons, Growl: Werewolf Overhaul, Pronouns, uhhh....idk what else without actually listing my current modlist lmao

----

And that's it for Tei! Anyone who wants to do this go on ahead!

#tes v #tes v skyrim #last dragonborn #ldb oc #jeerteiperdes #tes #skyrimblogging #oc meme #long post #character meme #finished this just in time for me to start registering for my online courses neato #also its almost 12am so if you notice any misgendering of tei (calling them he) lmk im tired haha

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neverendingstories00 · 4 years

Text

Past The Point Of No Return (Ch.4)

Summary: Safin grows Impatient with you as you reject his romantic advances. Taking advice from his right-hand man, he whisks you off of the island for an intimate weekend getaway.

Word Count: 6.4K

Warnings: Minor mentions of PTSD, amputation, and drug use.

A/n: Ik I promised this yesterday, I’m so sorry if this is a day late. School got a little crazy. We’re starting our real work tomorrow but I promise ya’ll I’m going to make sure this keeps coming. Also, this chappie is going to talk about Safin’s origins (scarpin the surface btw). I have simply specluated about his orgins (thanks to reddit). But once again, Thank you for all of your support Hope y’all enjoy❣️😌

Previous Chapter | Masterlist

No matter how many times Safin told you were a guest that it was your lair now, you still felt like a prisoner. Safin claimed you were a bird trapped in a cage he had freed, but you still felt trapped. You were free to roam around the Submarine Pen as you pleased. Every corner there was a guard who would stare at like you were from another planet or Safin would find you and accompany you If he wasn’t busy trying to push Europe into a civil war. All you wanted to be was alone with your thoughts. No matter what, you always felt like you were being watched.

Your sanity was beginning to break as you had been on Safin’s island for a month. Some days went by fast while others had dragged on. Safin, seeing your boredom, understood you wanted something to keep you busy. His intention wasn’t to keep you only for marriage, but as someone, he could work by. You were useful in many ways, whether it be on the field or at a computer. So he had given you codes to encrypt for his new bases around Europe. As much as it made you feel guilty for helping Safin, you truly had no choice but to unfourenlty comply. One wrong move and the last bit of family you had left would be gone. Everyday you thought about M16. You had been there for four years and considered some of your co-workers to be family, even Bond (who could be irritating at times). When you encrypted codes, all you could think about was how you possibly let the double oh’s all die because of a foolish mistake. Safin had nerve giving you the job, but with your family being mentioned, all you could do was do what you were told. He had been generous enough to let you range shooting and even had let you teach some of his men how to properly shoot.

Every night, whether it was at dinner or when Safin would knock at your door to bid you good night, he would ask that same damn question you hated.

“Do you love me?”

Your response was always “no”. For as long as you could, you wanted to refrain from marrying Safin. The thought of being married to someone such as himself truly scared you. Having to lay in the same bed and consummate with Safin was haunting to any normal human. Yet the reason you were there was that Safin had an unhealthy obsession with you. Safin seemed like the type of man who would want to have his way with a woman, but he never forced himself upon you once. Sure he had touched your hair or (forcefully) made you hold his arm, but you rather would to deal with that.

One time, Safin had knocked on your bedroom door to say goodnight to you with a gift in hand. It was a beautiful gold necklace with a ring. Safin had placed it on your neck. You’d never forget the way he stood behind you, admiring your body and plush lips. “That necklace will look beautiful when we get married,” He whispered into your ear. You tried to take it off, but he had locked the clasp. The ring was a constant reminder that you were his even if you weren’t married.

Another time was when you were hiding in the gardens from Safin. He had found you and asked what you had been doing. You said you had been gardening since some of the plants had been dying. It seemed like a nice moment between you two as he asked about the type of flowers that resided in the garden. As you walked by blue Hydrangeas, he calmly stated, “Those would look good at our wedding, wouldn’t they y/n?”

Safin was delusional if you thought you were going to marry him right away. You had only known him a month, cringing at the fact that he loved you, but marriage? It all seemed like it was taken out of an overdramatic soap opera. Marriage would be a last resort if he truly threatened your family. You didn’t care about the gifts and attention he was showing you. Knowing that man was possibly responsible for your friends’ and families’ deaths disgusted you. All you wanted to be was alone, enjoying the small bit of freedom you had left. Away from a monster who considered you his bride.

-----

Serrano had noticed Safin’s obsession with y/n immetidly after Athens. Ever since she not only killed (but removed the expolsive lenses on an atomic bomb), Safin knew he needed her. Serrano had originally thought it was for business but soon learned Safin wanted her as his and his only. He would never say it to Safin’s face, but he pited the poor girl who was forced to love him. Y/n wasn’t some receptionist, but a markswoman with a kill count of over a hundred men. She was also the only person that ever talked back, even sassed, Safin. If one of his soldiers had done that, they would be dead within seconds since Safin had a short temper. But y/n had managed to live (somehow). The last romance Safin was involved in had endly so horribly that he ruined his career as an assassin and was forced to relocate. The last thing Serrano wanted to happen was to see a dead girl. He knew Safin better than anyone else did. Safin was a mysterious man that was unpredictable. But he was determined and would do anything to get what he wanted, whether it be bringing agencies to there knees or marrying a woman who didn’t love him back.

Walking through the hallways, Serrano towered over Safin. Just before there meeting, he saw Safin enter the gardens that he had made for the cyrptographer. He then walked up, seeming annoyed and pissier than usual. The anarchist was stressing over the fact that a woman he truly loved more than anything didn’t love him back. According to Safin, he was going to ask if y/n loved him every night until she said yes.

“Is everything alright, sir?” Serrano asks as he walks down the hallway.

Safin looks up at him, sighing. “Not quite. Y/n is beginning to get on my nerves. She doesn’t appreciate how much I have sacrificed for her. All I ask is for to be my wife and nothing more.”

Before losing his family, Serrano had been married to his university sweetheart. It took them three years to know and trust each other before they married. Safin wasn’t the best with emotions. He was impatient and demanded things to happen. But y/n’s being the woman she was, it didn’t seem like it was going to happen anytime soon.

“You were married,” Safin noted. “How did you get your wife to love you?”

“Patience, honesty, and respect,” Serrano replied. “It took us years before we married. You can’t rush love, it has to happen. You did take him from her home and threaten her family if you didn’t love her.”

“Yes, but it was the only way I could ever have y/n.” Safin tried to justify his actions. He had been hurt so many times over the years that he had become numb to other’s feelings and only thought of his own as important. “I give her gifts, clothing, a garden, and my heart yet all she ever does is scowl at me. I have tried everything I could with her. I was patient, and I’ve had enough.”

“If you want her to geniuenly love you then you cannot force it.” Serrano states. Safin huffed in response. He just wanted to skip past all of the difficulty and tell the world that you were his.

“I have an idea on how to get her to love you. It would be a start.”

Safin raises an eyebrow, nodding for Serrano to go on.

“I’m supposed to go with you to Mykonos this weekend for the shipment of weapons. But, what if y/n goes with you? I can set you up in a villa and even a private, romantic dinner. Take the girl shopping and get to know her better.” He proposes. Safin seemed to like the idea even if he was scared of the cyrotprgapher running off. Y/n had stated that she did need proper clothes that fit her.

“But I know everything I need to know about her.” He remarked.

“Well then tell her about yourself.”

“Y/n lacks interest in me.” The anarchist pointed. He didn’t want to talk about the past and let y/n know about his horrid past even if he had stalked every detail of her life.

“Safin, do you want her to love you or not?” Serrano reiterated. “It won’t happen immediately, but it’s a start. Don’t threaten her family and treat her as if she’s not a prisoner.”

“I have told her she is a guest! Once we marry, she will be the lady of this house.”

“You say that, yet don’t let her leave the island or have any contact with her family.” Serrano points out. Safin hated that he was right. He had a more stable romance than Safin had ever had in his life.

“What I am implying is make her feel like your a normal man taking your girlfriend on a romantic weekend trip.” He clarifies.

“She’s my fiance,” Safin corrects.

Serrano huffs in response. Stopping by the glass range door, the two men see Y/n shooting the pratice targets. Going through the packs of caliber, she had never missed the target once. He takes a glance at y/n before looking at Safin who is simply memroized by her.

“Just...offer it to her. Since you backed her into a corner, she’ll probably say this. But whatever you do, do not treat it like a deal. Treat it...like a normal date with your normal fiance.” With that. Serrano turned around the walked away to leave Safin and Y/n alone.

Safin walked into the empty range with the only occupant being y/n. She was dressed in a white shirt tucked into black cargo pants, aiming for the center of the target. Instead of standing, she curled down as if she were cuddling the weapon. Safin didn’t want to disturb her, watching her shift and fiddle with the trigger. Y/n hands were shaky and sweating, but with a deep breath, she released the trigger and let the bummer fly clean into the bullseye.

Resting the sniper rifle that was bigger then your body, you notice Safin’s eyes meet your form. Even with the noise-canceling headphones, you could tell it was him. Taking them off, you sighed as you wipe the sweat from your forehead. “Safin.”

“Y/n.” He responds, calm and cool. Offering his hand, you accepted it as he pulls up with no issue. Safin always wore bulky clothes that never revealed his form, but he was considerably strong. His hand wanted to hold yours, but you pulled away.

He looked over at the targets, seeing the bullet holes on the dummy. “It’s true. You truly do never miss.”

“That’s a lie.” You spat as you throw your kimono jacket back on. “Use to. Now I’m like a shaky camera.”

“You always doubt yourself, girl.” He grabbed your shoulders and turned you to the target. “My men could never do what you do. Your remarkable young women, truly.”

You shrugged his hands off and began walking towards the exit. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Wait, y/n,” He follows after you. Resiting an eyeroll, you spin on your heel and raise your eyebrows at him. You predicted that he was going to mention something about your appearance or the “wedding”.

“I have to leave the island this weekend for a small business trip. I was wondering if you would want to accompany me.” He offered. “It’s just for the weekend. I know you wanted to get some clothing, which I’m sure I could arrange for.”

“I thought you didn’t want me leaving this island.’ You replied, tying a belt around your jacket.

“You’re getting depressed. I thought you would enjoy a change of pace. But if not, that’s understandable.” Safin lamented as he walked past you. He had truly been looking forward to it. At that point, he had felt like giving up. There was no change y/n was going to fall in love with him, no matter what he did.

“Wait,” You reply, walking behind him. Gently tapping his shoulder, he turned to look into your [y/e/c] orbs. “I...would like to go with you.”

“You...would.”

“I mean, you offered it…” You awkwardly chuckled. If it was an escape off of the dreaded island, you would take it.

A smile appeared on his face as he grabs your hands, putting them to his chest. You looked surprised as your cheeks burn as you feel woozy looking into his milky orbs.

“I’m glad to hear it. We’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning,” Safin said as he lead you out of the shooting range and back to your chambers. He never let go of your hand and held it like you were a couple. In his eyes you were, in yours, you weren’t. But lately the thought had been haunting you. Safin didn’t seem he wanted to hurt you or keep you as a sex slave. As much as he knew about you, you knew little to nothing about him. He made sure you felt comfortable, even introducing you to his closest allies. If you had an issue, Safin was always on top of it. He had threatened to kill your friends and family if you didn’t love him back which still haunted you. But if you were to live your final days out, would it be the worse thing in the world. It wouldn’t be ideal, but it was better than being dead. “Shall I have the maids pack for you?”

“No, I’m fine. I can pack myself,” You nodded, a subtle smile your face. There wasn’t much for you to pack. You really wanted him to let go of your hand, but he still held on. His face looked like a boy with a schoolgirl crush (taken to the next level). “Thank you though.”

After he let go of your hand it moves up to the top of your head and gently pats it. “You’re ever so humble, my sweet.”

Seeing him walk off, you gently shut the door and look into the mirror. Your [y/s/c] skin is becoming grey, clothes careless, and overall look like you just came back from the dead. You were going on a weekend trip with an anarchist who created a romance in his head.

What the hell had gotten yourself into?

------

Like Safin had promised, the two of you left the next morning. None of his men, even Serrano, had come with him. You had no idea that you would be taking a luxurious sailing yacht to the mainland. Coming up from the cabin, you see Safin looking over the bright blue water and cloudless sky. Walking right beside him, he didn’t even bat an eye to your presence. Instead of his traditional kimono and lab outfit, he donned highwasted tan slacks, a long-sleeved navy button-down, sunglasses, and deck mules.

“What island are we going to?” You asked with your hands behind your back.

Safin didn’t look over at you. He was too distracted in his thoughts. Here he was, an infamous anarchist, worried about impressing a girl he’s keeping prisoner. Under his breath, he muttered, “None of your concern.”

“So you think I’m going to leave you?” You smirk, crossing your arms.

Safin couldn’t make eye contact with you. He wants to say something, but he can’t. Nobody ever talked back to him, except her. His fear was being alone and abandoned all over again. “Yes, you’re a smart girl. Remember your…”

As he turned to say something to y/n, she was already gone with her perfume leaving a lingering scent.

“Place...” He finishes. He’s not speaking to anyone but the air. They hadn’t even arrived at the villa and it seemed like the trip was going to be disastrous. Safin had to think of a plan.

-----

Your boredom was beginning to grow. You arrived at the villa in the early afternoon. It was far from any form of civilization, located in the middle of a hillside. It was luxurious and modern but still kept the Ancient Greek feel. Even if you didn’t know the islands, you were confident that you were in or near the Medterrian. Safin had given you a tour of the villa, showing you the pool and private beach. He had business to deal with and promised to be back by sunset. Patting your head, he was off into town with every door locked but the backyard.

Returning from a brief swim, you notice the sun is beginning to set. It leaves the sky orange and lavender, creating a beautiful hue. Drying your hair against a towel, you’d noticed Safin had been acting rather odd. He seemed more distant and even anxious about being around you. Like a young boy trying to pronounce his love for his crush. Except that you were Safin’s fiance and he was holding you against your will. You didn’t care about the expensive gifts that he used to win you over. Over the years, you refused to focus on anyone but yourself. But if you were to be in a relationship, all you wanted was true and raw love. To be adored and truly cared about. You saw that Safin loved you, but what was his true purpose of keeping you there? Out of all of the women, he could have had, he chooses you; a cyrptographer. Your not Bond or a double oh and would never be near that category. Safin had given you attention that no partner in your life could have ever given to you. But he threatened you and kept you in a Submarine pen as his forced bride.

No. You couldn’t love a monster. Marrying him didn’t mean you loved him.

It was for Bond, Nomi, Q, [y/m/n], [y/s/n], all of the people you had let die because of a catostrophic mistake.

Walking into your pristine bedroom, you notice an item on the bed you hadn’t seen before. It was a dress and a white note with rose petals spread on the bed. You roll your eyes, sighing at Safin’s dramatic attempt at romance. This man knew that you weren’t going to sleep him with anytime soon. Picking up the note it read,

“Follow the candles

Down the beach

A gift for you and only you

See you at seven my dear y/n,

Safin”

Oh god! He had left a heart by your name. It was cheesy and cringey. His attempts at romance were a hit or miss. Looking at the dress on the bed it looked like it cost more than your life. It was a navy blue satin dress that was lowcut and backless. It was long and had a confident slip. The dress reminded you of what the female double oh’s would wear out on missions. Classy and quite sexy. The most revealing outfit you had worn to work as a skirt an inch above your knee with tights. Both of your legs always stay covered since you found them embarrassing, but they would somewhat exposed tonight. Then again, Safin’s face was horribly disfigured. He thought you were one of the most beautiful women he had laid eyes on (which you found hard to believe).

Putting on the dress, you head towards the bathroom to do your hair and look somewhat presentable. You had been dressing like a man for the past month and needed something refreshing. A few minutes later you had pieced together a simple, yet elegant look. You left your hair loose and applied a bit of mascara and eyeliner. To match with the navy blue dress, you applied a daring red lipstick. Instead of looking like a young boy, you appeared more of a nervous teenage girl preparing for a dance. The dangling pearl earrings you wore matched with the ring necklace Safin had gifted you. You had a strong belief he had chosen this outfit for you. Of course Safin would do something like that for you.

After you finished getting ready, you leave behind the villa and notice a trail of white candles leading you down to the beach. The beach is dark, but the candles guide you to the only visible light. You saw Safin as he paced around a candlelit table. He wore a short-sleeved olive button up and black dress pants.

Hearing the clicks of your sandals, Safin turned around to lay his eyes on y/n. All of his worries had suddenly gone away, breath taken by her sheer appearance. She was already beautiful in his eyes, but there was something that was different about her specifically tonight. The dress complimented her fit body well, showing a sliver of her thigh and cleavage. Your lips were a nice shade of red as it gave a pop of color to your outfit.

Safin snapped out of his thoughts and pulled himself together. He walked up to y/n to get a closer look and greet her. “Good evening Y/n,” Safin greeted. He grabbed her hand, leaving a kiss mark on her soft skin. “You look lovely, as always.”

“Thank you, Safin,” Y/n thanked, her voice low. She had never experienced such a romantic gesture before. “You look..nice.”

Nice. Nice. Nice.

Those words rung through his head. He nearly froze and almost mentally broke down. Y/n had complimented him. Not a sassy remark, but admired his appearance. Not once in his previous relationship did his ex-lover compliment the way he looked. He thought his face was too repellent to be complimented, let alone loved. But here was his fiance, shining like a bright star, boosting his ego.

Safin smiled in response, leading the cartographer to her chair and pushing her in. His hand tenderly finessed your bare shoulder. “Says the woman speaking.”

The two of you sat at the candlelit table on the beach. A waiter came over and poured the two of a class of red wine.

“So I’m assuming you weren’t doing business..” You remarked, taking a sip of the wine. It had been months since you’d had been drunk, which had let Q forcing you to enroll in therapy once again.

“I was. I’m bringing military smuggled weapons for the recruits. You are allowed to experiment with them if you please,” Safin said, “But I had planned this for the two of us. I wanted to give you the best since you deserve the best.”

You wouldn’t lie, the dinner was quite nice and romantic. What girl didn’t dream of being spoiled on the beach? Did Safin spoil you to slide away from the fact that you were his prisoner? It didn’t make any sense.

You huffed, looking down as you spun the wine in your glass around. “Why did you even bring me out here in the first place? To have your way with me?”

The anarchist furrowed an eyebrow, “Force me upon you? Y/n, I’m not as brutish as you believe me to be. I brought you here because I saw you...become dispirited. I know my island can void of all life. It pained me to see you in such a pained state. I thought a break from isolation and so called “retail therapy” would raise your spirits.”

“I wanted to bring you here since it was more intimate than the Submarine pen. I want you to feel...comfortable around me. You can deny as much as you want, but I know I unnerve you with my appearance.”

“The hell?” You puzzled, a little confused. There was no denying his scars were obvious. Seeing his arms and neck, they decorated his whole body. Upon first seeing them, you were taken aback. Nobody had ever seen his face except for you and his men. Was he truly insecure?

Safin looked into your sighs and sighed, “What I’m saying is that I know I make you uncomfortable. Here you are, a gorgeous young woman. What am I? A misshapen and hideous animal. If that’s the reason wh-”

“Ok, back it up,” You interrupted. “I never said those things about your appearance. Your face doesn’t bother me at all…”

“What do you mean?” Safin perplexed. His ex-lover hated his appearance and was afraid if they convevinced then the child would be just like this.

“Your face is fine the way it is. When I look you…” You’re at a loss for words, but gather yourself. “I see a..man. Not an animal, a man. Here..”

Getting up, you walk over to Safin and pull the slit of your scandalous slit to reveal your prosthetic. You had forgotten the skin slip, so it was more exposed than usual. Hating your leg, you always wore pants and socks to conceal a memory you wanted to lock away. Most of your leg had been spared except for everything below your knee.

Safin’s green eyes looked at your prosthetic, surprised. Your record never mentioned a prosthetic, nor did you. He knew about your time in the military but never knew why you had left for a desk job. “Your leg...I’m sorry. I never knew.” He apologized.

You shrugged before returning to your seat. “It’s not the worst. I could had lost my ability to walk, but I didn’t. I choose not to tell people. I rather have lost a limb than die.”

“If you mind me asking, Did you loose in it the battle?’

You nodded. “I was twenty-three, so around six years ago. Me and my team were on a sting operation in Iraq. It turned out to be a damn trap. Most of us had been caught off guard. A suicide bomber ran up to our captain and...everything went dark. I was stuck under the rubble for three days, I couldn’t feel anything below my waist. The only person who survived on my team was me and another man.”

“It was too traumatizing. I refused to be on the field. They discharged me and let me and my family with medical bills and a broken girl. After therapy, I went to study in Edinburgh and try to live somewhat of a normal life. I majored in Language and My don informed me about an opening proposition in London for M16. They needed a cyrtoprgapher, someone who could speak the military language. I knew a tad bit of coding, so I packed everything, and well, the rest is history. Now I’m here.” You casually explained. Over the years, losing your leg had become numb to you. You hated showing your emotions in front of other.

“You never told me. I’m sorry, I truly never knew about your leg.” He sounded sympathetic, not condescending. The only person at M16 that knew about your leg was Q, your closest friend.

Your shoulders loose there tension as your expression softens. Did Safin...truly not know about your leg. “It’s not a big deal…” There was a silence between you, before you reverted back to your typical self. “I thought you knew everything about me.”

“I want to know everything about you, y/n.” Safin responded. His hand laid on the side of the table, itching to lay on top of yours. “When I first saw you, I was intrigued. You don’t see a woman of your stature, jumping rooftops with a gun bigger than your whole body.”

“You know everything about me. My flat address, military background, fuck...even my clothing size. But enough about me..” You looked at Safin, staring into his eyes. “Tell me about yourself.”

“I would bore you with it.” He refused. “I’m sure the last thing you want to hear is me talk about myself.”

“If I’m going to be stuck with you forever, then I expect to know a little about my....fiance.” You said. You held back the vomit that was coming up from your throat. All you spoke was the truth. Safin was truly a man of mystery. His scars, lair, past, everything truly intrigued you.

“I suppose it’s only fair, my betrothed.” He smirks as he grabbed your hand giving it a small sqeeuze Flirting was definitely not your strong suit (nor was acting). Holding back a fight, you reluctantly agree. Everything came at a price.

“I was born in Egypt and brought over a ship to Switzerland. I never had any parents, or family. Me and some other young men were the test subjects of Hans Heinrich …”

“ Dr.Heinrich? The Nazi human experimenter?” You asked. Heinrich had embedded his name in the world of espionage. After World War Two ended, he had fled to Switzerland to continue his sick experiments. His men smuggled young children that weren’t part of the Aryan race and perfomed all kinds of experiments on their bodies for “science” and other horrifying facts.

Safin nodded in response, squeezing your hand for comfort. “Unfournealty. He believed in genetic cloning, wanting to carry on the Aryan race. He smuggled young children from all over the world. As long as they weren’t white, they qualified to be tested upon. He burned, amputated, drugged, posioned whoever he had to for science. Many of the test subjects had died. It was like a concentration camp. I was a scrawny, young boy who couldn’t even squeeze a lemon. I was weak and naive. I was Heinrich’s favorite lab rat. Whenever I didn’t comply with his orders, he would burn me. The injections he put in my skin irritated and scared them. All I wanted was death’s sweet release.”

“So When I turned twenty, I killed him and set the place ablaze. I escaped into the Swiss Alps and learned to survive on my own. Before I joined Spectre, I took on the job as an assassin for personal gain. I had met Blofield and he supplied me well for four decades. After I left Spectre, I returned to Switzerland to find that Heinrich’s work was still alive. I thought he had been crazy and just a sadist, but he...had cloned me. The reason I didn’t die and my skin wrinkled as a teenager was because I was rapidly aging. The blood he had kept of some of the lab rats was still somehow useable. On my island, we experimented and had made our first clones. The maids, the recruits, they’re all clones of Heinrich’s lab rats. When I die..my body and skills will forever live on. I appear as If I’m in my thirties, but...I’m in my sixties.”

You raised your eyebrows, intrigued with the story. It was definitely not what you had been expecting. Safin was so unpredictable, so he could have had any backstory. You couldn’t believe Safin was abused as a child, permenatly scaring him and drove him to kill his abuser. As much as he hated his abuser, he proceeded to carry on his genetic cloning work.

“Are you a Nazi?” You asked.

He shook his head. “No. But Heinrich’s work...it was full of possibilities. I wanted to turn an ugly creature into a beautiful butterfly. Genetic cloning is the future. When I eradicate the world of people such as Heinrich and clone people such as myself, the world be will tidy once again. We can live together, in harmony.” He brings your hand close to face, leaning into your palm to feel your satiny, floral smelling skin.

“Your tidying a world that has always been corrupt. No matter what, there will be corruption.” You implied.

Safin responded. “Y/n, you know so much, yet so little. That is why I saved you. You are a woman the world needs. Intelligent, strong, powerful, and beautiful. With you by my side, we can dominate the people who have wronged us. There is no going back now, my dear. We are far past the point of no return.”

Was Safin going to clone you? The man was insane. You tried to sympathize with him, but your head and heart screamed all red flags. Broken, all Safin ever wanted was to show the world that he could make them feel the pain he had felt as a child. Safin was an anarchist who wanted the world to be in his imagine, full of people such as yourself and him for a “perfect” future. All Safin would most likely get is a dystopian, war-torn globe. But he had taken down countless of organizations and govermtnets in post-soviet countries, especially the one you had worked for. Maybe he truly was one step away from world domination.

“It’s getting late. We should retire.” Safin announced. You snapped out of your thoughts and nodded, sliding your hand away from his. The Seabreeze was strong during the night. In your revealing slip dress, to say you were freezing was an understatement. While feeling confident, you were freezing your ass off. Safin had given you his coat, which you proceeded to take off.

You remember his whispered into your ear as his calloused, cold hands massaged your bare shoulders. “Don’t resist, my sweet y/n.”

When you arrived at your room, you sighed in relief to be back in your villa. It was warm, and you didn’t feel so exposed. The dinner was wonderful in many ways. Learning about Safin, your finance, plans for world domination through cloning was bone-chilling. Thousands of people to choose, and he chose you, the unlucky one.

But with the life he had given you, were you truly unlucky?

“Safin, dinner was wonderful. Thank you.” You thanked, a small smile on your face. Your expecting him to ask the dreaded question he knows you hate. But now that you were both alone, he wasn’t going to hold himself back.

He bows his head, before looking back up. “No, thank you. I have a simple request to ask of you. Will you kiss me?”

Raising your eyebrows, it takes you a second to process the request he has asked of you. You don’t respond since your in shock. He wasn’t afraid to grab your hand or play with your hair, but kiss you? That was a huge step.

“Just once, and I won’t ask again.” Safin said as you snapped out of your little daydream. “You looked so lovely tonight. I bet your [y/m/n] would think so as well…”

Your mother. You hadn’t through about her in a while, too distracted with Safin. The reason you didn’t want to think about her was that the poor woman was probably dying each day, worried about your safety. Knowing that you would never see her again depressed you. Safin was sadly your new life. If he didn’t get his way then you would have to suffer. You suffered for the sake of your family.

“I suppose if it only happens once.” You replied, looking down.

Safin hadn’t kissed a woman in years but knew how to properly woo a woman. He knew you were doing it for your mother and sister. But tonight you were irresistible in your dress. Seeing the ring necklace and red lipstick would make any man mad, he had someone so beautiful as you all to himself. Pushing your hair behind your ear, he grabbed your chin as your red lips met with his.

Safin was not a kisser you were expecting. Seeing him as a brute, you expected him to have his way. But instead, he was tender and even loving. He hadn’t grabbed you in any vulgar way. In the first few seconds, your mind told you to not enjoy the kiss. But you began to ignore your mind and listened to your heart. Safin was a cruel man but a toxic lover. He knew you as well as you knew yourself. To stabilize yourself, you wrapped an arm around his neck. In response, Safin’s hand snaked to your exposed lower back. His hands began to travel dangerously close to your bottom. The more his hands traveled down, the hungrier he got into the kiss. You backed up against a wall, feeling his surprisingly soft lips. A part of you enjoyed the kiss but remembered that Safin was a monster. You shouldn’t have been doing this. A small kiss was turning into a full-on make-out session.

As your hands traveled to your chest, Safin’s lips moved away from your lips as he held onto your hips. Small pieces of hair fell from his neatly gelled hair. His breathing pattern was heavier, right up against your body.

His eyes looked down at your frame, seeing your cheeks burn up. A smile curves onto his face as his hand caresses your cheek. You don’t feel yourself, like your in a sick dream. You lean into his hand, feeling exhausted.

“Oh y/n, y/n, my love..” He purred into your ear in his husky, accented voice. “I cannot wait for the day I see you in your wedding dress.”

His hand moves away from your face as he walks down the hallway to retire his chambers. Safin had disappeared into the night after your very intimate moment. That was the first time in years you had truly felt adrenaline rush through your body. But it wasn’t just adrenaline. It was a sick, twisted form of warmth. You felt like a young woman in love with a teacher. Your romance was forbidden. Safin was a monster who wanted to wipe the world and leave it in his name. He had turned your life upside down, forcing you to be his bride. Safin was a greedy and evil man, someone you would never be attracted to. A part of you hated him and wanted to do nothing more than watch him pay for his actions. You couldn’t believe that your thoughts you even come to this, but a small part of believed you were falling for Safin. A beauty falling for the evil beast.

#rami malek x reader #safin x reader #rami malek #safin #no time to die #james bond #my writing

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komoryriku · 4 years

Text

Queering KH Part 3: A JoshNeku Aside

An Example In Practice

If you already feel like you understand queer coding then you can skip this but I wanna play here for a minute x). KH as a series is rather subliminal in its queer coding, which makes sense since it was originally released in 2002, which meant its gay story would need to be highly censored. As such, I don’t wanna just jump in without giving you a clear sense of how to decode a queer text and what you’ll wanna look for when queering a text. So let’s do something super fun and easy as fuck. Let’s Queer Joshua! As if he doesn't do that himself already lmao

Joshua Kiryuu is one of my favorite characters- ever lol he is so shameless in how gay he is. But I’m getting ahead of myself here, let’s go back to how we’re gonna decode Joshua as gay.

So Joshua Kiryuu is a- character in The World Ends With You (TWEWY), a game developed by the same team as Kingdom Hearts, and creatively produced by KH’s Nomura Tetsuya himself. Spoilers ahead btw.

Just from looking at him, he isn’t necessarily gay coded. He looks like your stereotypical angelic bishonen but as I said before, that doesn’t mean anything in Japan. Only an American like me would look at this guy and say “This asshole is one dangerous twink” lol. What you should know about TWEWY however is it is a very contemporary fantasy story about dead kids in Shibuya receiving game instructions from (gay) reapers in the form of memes on their cell phones. This may be a stretch, but Nomura’s KH team already has to keep in mind how things come off to American audiences, especially with a game like this so targeted to teens. As such, I suppose it could be worth considering that Joshua was designed to be so feminine looking, on top of everything else I’m about to drop, which would make him seem gay coded to American players. Him displaying feminine behavior in the form of constant wrist flicks sure wouldn’t go unnoticed in America either… intentional or not that’s top tier gay coding in ‘merica right there. But like I said, probably meaningless by Japanese standards.

Here is what clear coding IS given to us though: Joshua’s text.

Joshua spends a whole scene demanding he be given Pink for his code-color during this cute little kid adventure he’s a part of. A menial, fun little task for Kami-Sama in his off time lol.

Pink is also typically a feminine color. This is true in Japan as well, that’s why Eri and Kairi are covered in Pink, as they are femme and it is standard for a girly girl. In America, its also a gay code, though I can’t say for sure if that counts as one Japan. The fact that a male here is actively embracing Pink for his code color still signals a non-normative personality though. And they certainly recognized its place in romantic coded symbolism:

“Blue and Pink go together.” Blue being Neku. See below.

I love reappropriating heteronormative tropes for our own gay agenda~

Joshua insists on going into the tunnel with Neku, and flirts with him in doing so. Yes you heard me, he flirts. Serious or unserious, Joshua flirts with Neku. He says he could never live with himself if he let Neku go it alone, and proposes they “spend some quality time” together.

Shiki and Beat then make the flustered comment that they didn’t realize Joshua and Neku were a couple, embarrassing Neku but amusing Joshua who leans right into it by calling him “dear.” This coding might actually be too easy lol that’s almost just gay text in itself, really. The characters insinuate that Joshua and Neku are a couple, due to Joshua’s unabashed flirting with Neku, and Joshua never once shies away from it.

Neku’s response might leave us rather unsure of his own sexuality or feelings about Joshua, but he hardly fights the assumption they’re a couple beyond angrily shaking his fist at how Joshua just embarrassed him. But even so, either way, Joshua never once gives us a reason to think he himself is not gay, even if he isn’t interested in Neku as a partner. (Play TWEWY so you can learn about how likely it is that Neku actually likes Joshua back though 8)). Joshua should be well aware of how gay he is coming off to these people so if he cared to follow heteronormative rules, he would’ve stopped by now if he wanted to. He clearly doesn’t want to lol. Near-explicit as this may be, it is still text that depended on the Blue x Pink coding of romantic archetypes to be discussed by the characters. The only thing working against the fact that Joshua is gay is that you could argue that Joshua is just flirting with Neku to make him uncomfortable… But even as Yoshiya-, a Lamb of a Boy, a Joshua with no godliness or memories of TWEWY, the meek version of himself, -Joshua is still trying to read Neku poetry as soon as they meet. Reading poetry to someone is typically a signal or code that this character likes that person.

If these two were a boy and a girl, there would be no doubt at this point that Joshua is highly attracted to Neku. Always remember that standard in coding. If it makes sense for a boy and a girl to be romantic based on the coding, then it should and surely will make as much sense for 2 boys to be romantic with the same coding. If Shiki were to read Neku a poem, heteronormativity would assume she likes him romantically. Now, remove that heteronormative lens. If Joshua were to read Neku a poem, queer coding should tell you that Joshua likes Neku romantically.

It’s simple math. Straight: a+b=c Gay: a+b=c Straight: Shiki + poetry = Crush on Neku Gay: Joshua + poetry = Crush on Neku

The only difference being that the gay equations go unrecognized most of the time lol. Shiki is also coded as a lesbian so I hope you can forgive me for just using her as a hetero example.;;

Just as blue and pink go together with male and female, so do they go together with male and male. Blue and Pink are still kinda heterosexual-based symbols though..

But you know what IS definitely a gay symbol?

Rainbow.

As if there were any doubts left about where Joshua’s sexuality lies, he gave us the most damning symbol possible besides explicitly kissing Neku or screaming “I’m Gay”, censors be damned. After all Joshua’s fuss about demanding to be Pink in their group’s color coding, he sees a Rainbow pin and IMMEDIATELY demands to be the Rainbow Pin. MVP Chef Doi making the rainbow pin just for Joshua specifically is so sweet too<3

And that’s not even covering the subtext about Joshua in the rest of TWEWY, (I didn’t even mention the Ramen Date he took Neku on), or even in Dream Drop Distance (didn’t comment on the longing he expresses to be with his friends, to be with Neku again). These are just some of the most explicit codings I know of for him. Hopefully you can agree with me when I say in the end, despite how much straight players might try to dismiss Joshua as gay, it is honestly just easier to believe he is gay, loves being gay, and actively wants to be with Neku.

So now we’ve gotten through the preliminary, back to KH. The reasonI had us do that is that Kingdom Hearts, while still very gay, relies a lot harder on subtext than Joshua gives enough of a fuck to bother with. So I wanted to exercise us in some easy coding that is much harder to get past a straight pair of eyes before going into KH in which trained eyes are a greater requirement for finding and analyzing the subtext in various places. Fret not though, because this is Kingdom Heart’s secret weapon: the overt gay is so well hidden that the straight people who would cancel the gay agenda simply Cannot see it. Cannot touch it. Cannot stop it. Thankfully, WE will have the tools and power to uncover the gay subtext within. Now let’s deep dive into Kingdom Hearts.~

See you in Part 4 for Dream Drop Distance fun~

#kingdom hearts #twewy #the world ends with you #joshua kiryuu #joshneku #nekujosh

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mommymooze · 3 years

Text

The Dating Game!

Lights are flashing different colors on the words written on the wall. Cheezy trumpet music blares as the announcer speaks,”“Welcome! Welcome! to Fodlan’s greatest craze, the Dating Game, and here’s your host, Chuck Margolis!!”

“Hey, Hey lovers, its Chuck Margolis here with you again for the Dating game! We have a new lucky lady as our contestant and three available bachelors ready to play our game. At the end of the show, our lucky lady will choose who she will go out with on their date!” The MC is boisterous and walking quickly about the stage.

“First, let’s meet the men that are vying for our beauty’s attention.

A light shines brightly over the head of the first seated male. The announcer begins, “Hailing from Fraldarius territory in the Kingdom is none other than the son of the Duke himself, Felix Fraldarius. Felix is a swordsman.”

The announcer goes quiet, you can hear him talking to someone “but that’s all he wrote, what else can I say?”

Chuck steps up, waving in the direction of the men. “Welcome Felix!” he announces too boisterously for the succinct introduction. Felix grimaces in return

A second light comes on, shining on the next seated male. The announcer, “Hailing from the Leicester Alliance is Raphael Kirsten. He is studying to be a Knight but hopes someday to open his own restaurant. He loves his little sister and building his muscles.”

“Greetings soon to be Sir Raphael!” Chuck bows dramatically. Raphael waves eagerly and smiles widely.

The light finally illuminates the last chair on the stage revealing a sleeping male. Our announcer, “Direct from Enbarr to you is Linhardt von Hevring. A proven healer and self-proclaimed genius, Linhardt’s interest focuses primarily on the study of Crests. He also enjoys fishing and naps.” The green haired man is fast asleep sitting up on his chair.

Chuck chortles, “He seems to be enjoying himself with a nap right now!”

Now we will bring out our fair maiden, we’ve kept her in a silenced room to not find out about our handsome bachelors. She will have to ask them questions in order to determine which one she will invite on a date at our expense.

“Let’s welcome the lovely--- Sailor!” Chuck proclaims.

The announcer reads her details, “Born in the Kingdom’s territory our guest originally hails from the Kleiman region. She’s 20 years old, 5’11’’ tall and until recently worked as a ship hand on the Flying Mermaid. She’s come to Garreg Mach to find her destiny and also to find true love!”

“Welcome, Sailor! Aren’t you a beauty. I bet you would love romantic strolls along the beach, eh?” Chuck makes waggly eyebrows at her.

“I suppose.” She smiles, quite confused at all of this.

“Well, Miss Sailor, it’s time for you to ask questions of the eligible bachelors on the other side of the wall in hopes of gaining a date with them, and who knows, perhaps you will fall in love…” Chuck waggles his eyebrows.

Sailor gets comfortable in her chair. “Okay, Bachelor number 2. What is your favorite time of the day?”

Raphael thinks for a second. “Well, I gotta say lunch time, no, dinner time, wait. MEAL TIME. That’s the best, makes me hungry just thinking about it.”

She nods while listening to him speak. “Bachelor number 1, same question.”

Felix groans. “When it is time to spar, or time to fight. You must spar to get strong, if you are not the strongest, you will die.”

Sailor nods at his response. “Bachelor number 3, same question.”

Raph nudges Linhardt in his very loud whisper voice, “Dude, you’re up.”

Linhardt yawns and stretches. “Is it nap time yet? That’s my favorite time of day.”

From him that seems to Make sense. Sailor agrees. “Next question If I were to turn the tables and get you flowers, what kind should I get you? Number 1?”

Felix, “Why am I here? I don’t care about flowers. I just need a sword and a target and I’m fine.” He grunts, crossing his arms and frowning more fiercely.

“Number 3?” Sailor asks.

“Urughhh” Lin yawns again. “Camomile is a wonderful flower, it makes the perfect tea to relax you and give you pleasant dreams when sleeping.”

Sailor, smiling: “Number 2?”

Raphael is all excited, “I was at this amazing restaurant and this Chef made flowers out of meat sticks and bacon! It was the most beautiful thing I ever seen. Give me those flowers,yeah!”

Sailor laughs pleasantly. Just like it said on the card for her to do. “Bachelor 3, what is your favorite smell?”

Linhardt looks wistfully into the distance, “Freshly laundered sheets, hung out in the sunshine, they smell like a beautiful day, perfect for sleep. “

“Bachelor 2?”

Raph drools, “The smell of pure protein cooking! Gotta build my muscles, I got lots but always need more!”

Bachelor 1?

Felix grunts, “The smell of steel, sweat and hard work. “

Sailor reads the card, “Ok. I am making a huge beef roast. Perfectly spiced, rare in the middle. Will you be joining me for dinner?”

Bachelor 1? “I suppose”

Bachelor 2? “Yeah, let me at it. Sounds delish!”

Bachelor 3? “Eueggh blood. Count me out.”

Ding!! Ding!!!

Chuch stqnds next to the girl, having her stand and moving the chair back. “That is our signal. That is all the time she has! Our beautiful contestant must now choose the lucky person she will go on an all expenses date with. Will it be bachelor 1, bachelor 2 or bachelor 3?

Sailor looks a little panicked. “Oh. This is so sudden..hmm. Who should I pick” :::Nibbles on fingernails::: “I choose….I choose…Bachelor 2!”

Chuck pats her on the shoulder. “Okay. But first let’s meet the 2 you did not choose. Bachelor 1, come on over. It’s the son of duke Fraldarius himself, Felix!”

Felix stomps around the corner nods his head and walks off the other end of the stage. Chuck keeps the show rolling. “Here is bachelor 3, Linhardt von Hevring. An aspiring crestologist in the territory that shares his name.” Linhardt politely walks up to the girl, shakes her hand and kisses her cheek. He then notices the comfy chair behind her and lays back on it to get more sleept.

Chuck waves his hand, “And here is the big reveal, you chose bachelor 2, Raphael.!! A knight in training and loving brother to his baby sister maya!!!”

Raphael comes around the corner and is all smiles and flexing his muscles. He shakes her hand then turns beet red when he kisses her on the cheek.

Chuck continues: “Congratulations you two! You’ve won an all expense paid holiday in Remire Village!. The quaint getaway spot at the foot of the Oghma mountains. The wildlife is plentiful, and the feasting is incredible!”

Raphael gives a cheer. “I can’t wait.!!” He gets so excited he picks up his date and starts lifting her up and down over his head. “Yeah!”

See you next time on the Dating Game!

Side note: My husband watches too many old tv shows. Got this stuck in my head. Enjoy.

#fe16 #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #felix hugo fraldarius #raphael kirsten #linhardt von hevring #linhardt fire emblem

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elesianne · 4 years

Text

A Silmarillion fanfic for @finweanladiesweek day 6 – original characters

Summary: Moriel, daughter of Caranthir, practises archery, gets advice from her father and receives a new name from her mother.

Wordcount: ~3,700 words; Rating: General audiences

Some keywords: family, father-daughter relationship, insecurity, names, Years of the Trees

A/N: This is a sequel to several fics in my Fëanorian marriages series but I don't think you don't need to have read them to read this.

This fic is dedicated to @alkarinqque, as I promised many months ago, because you have inspired me with yourenthusiasm and support to write more about Moriel. I hope that you like this.

Warning: There is discussion about looks, a sense of belonging, and beauty standards in the first chapter. There is no heavy angst or dysmorphia but I thought I'd warn anyway.

Moriel is the elven equivalent of about nine or ten years here.

Daughter of arrows and stars

On most days Carnistir enjoys teaching his older daughter mathematics and the other subjects that he is more equipped to handle than Tuilindien. On days like this, though, when Moriel cannot keep still for five seconds at a time, he has to breathe deep to keep his fragile patience from fraying too far.

'Do you have ants in your socks and sleeves?' he snaps when her slate falls to the floor from her tapping her chalk on it too forcefully. 'As it seems you cannot keep your hands or feet still at all.'

For a reply, his daughter scowls. She is good at it, with her expressive black brows and her hair falling to her face as a curly dark curtain.

Carnistir stands up. 'Let's go outside.' Something physical to do will be easier for them both.

Moriel looks confused. 'We always do mathematics in the morning and outdoor and workshop lessons in the afternoons.'

'Today we're going to have archery practice in the morning and return to tackling arithmetic after lunch.'

He is not going to interrogate Moriel about why she is so restless. She will tell him when he is ready, he knows. He was the same as a child.

He picks up Vaniel from the sturdy wicker basket where she has been babbling quietly to herself. Her chubby cheeks spread to a wide answering smile when he smiles down at her. She is such a happy baby, content to wait in her basket during Moriel's morning lessons, easily soothed by warm thoughts from Carnistir if she becomes bored or disgruntled.

'Let us go see if your mother can look after you, sweetheart', Carnistir says to Vaniel, smoothing down her wrinkled tunic. She says something in reply but for now, her words are all her own, incomprehensible to others. She will speak soon, though, Tuilindien says, and her intuitions about their children tend to be right.

Moriel grabs the empty basket and the three of them make their way to Tuilindien's study a few doors down.

Moriel throws open the door and declares loudly to her mother, swinging the basket in her hands, 'I cannot keep still and arithmetic is boring today so papa and I are going to shoot some arrows.'

Carnistir wonders how his child inherited Makalaurë and Curufinwë's flair for drama. Well, it is Fëanáro's flair for drama, originally, so his father is to blame for this too.

Tuilindien puts down her quill. Carnistir is sorry to have interrupted her writing.

'Is that so?' she asks and comes to them, wide yellow skirt swishing quietly. 'Vaniel will be staying with me, then.' She takes the baby from Carnistir and kisses her cheek. 'Yes, my little darling, you are far too young for archery.'

'I am sorry for the intrusion on your work', Carnistir says while Moriel puts down the basket on Tuilindien's long desk and then sets to making faces for Vaniel to laugh at.

'It is all right. I would probably have had to come to feed her soon anyway. Well, Moriel dear, I wish you the best of luck. Any day now you'll outshoot your father.'

Moriel preens. 'He's not very good.'

Carnistir gives in to the childish temptation to roll his eyes while Tuilindien tries to hide her grin. 'I'm better with a hunting spear', he says.

'You should teach me to use it, then', says Moriel, snake-quick to take the opportunity.

'I'm not giving you a spear yet.'

'You could', Moriel argues, and they argue about it all the while they go change for archery and gather the things they need and make their way to the little practice area that is partially in the garden and partially in the orchard behind it.

It is a years-long argument already. Carnistir knows he will give in soon.

They practise for a while, starting by stretching and then Moriel shoots at the different targets while Carnistir corrects her stance and grip and other small things that he still knows a little better than she does. If Moriel's interest and improvement in archery endures, Carnistir will soon have to ask Tyelkormo to take over teaching her.

Suddenly, in the middle of attempting to hit the farthest target, Moriel lowers her bow and says, 'I don't like the way I look. I don't look like anyone.'

Carnistir's confusion must show because Moriel clarifies, 'Not like anyone in the family.'

Carnistir takes her bow and his and puts them down on the bench, sitting down next to them and drawing Moriel with him to sit beside him.

'I could list all your body parts and who they look like', he offers lamely. Her mother's skin tone, his freckles and eyes, the same texture as hair as Tuilindien has but the colour from him…

'No.' Moriel scoffs. 'As a whole I don't look like anyone in the family and I don't like it.'

Carnistir's first instinct is to protest, to deny that it matters at all who or what she looks like. But he knows from painful personal experience that it does – it took him until the moment of Moriel's birth to make his peace with his own looks – and he knows that Moriel often finds more value in logic and method than simple declarations of what is important in the speaker's opinion.

He begins at her very expanded family. 'I think that when you have more cousins – more great-grandchildren of grandfather Finwë, I mean – there will be more people in the family who look like you. Itarillë does, though she is still small.'

'Very small.' Moriel scrunches up her nose. 'She is never going to be tall, even when she grows up.'

'Well, her Vanya mother is short unlike yours. Let's see.' He leans against the back of the bench, warm in the light, Moriel a light, warm weight against his side. 'Cousin Findekáno –'

'Half-cousin', Moriel corrects, parroting her grandfather. This once Carnistir wishes she didn't. It is not conducive to what he is trying to say.

'Findekáno looks a lot like you', Carnistir plods on. 'With curly black hair and grey eyes and brown skin –'

'Darker than mine', Moriel interrupts again.

Carnistir ruffles her hair. 'Let me make my point, pipsqueak. He looks a lot like you. Perhaps, if you want to give your grandfather conniptions, you should wear your hair braided with gold one day.'

Moriel snorts. 'Only if I'm very angry with him some day.'

'There's a plan. To my next point: yes, you don't look very much like any of your cousins or aunts or uncles. Well, no one looks like Tyelkormo either, do they? Or me. My face is so different from Curvo and Cáno's.'

Moriel nods, grudgingly admitting the point.

'I still wish', she says. 'All of my Vanyarin cousins look so different from me, too.'

'They do', Carnistir admits. 'Because unfortunately none of your aunts had the good sense to marry a Noldo.'

That doesn't inspire laughter. Carnistir thought it rather funny.

Detaching Moriel from his side and turning to face her, he says, drawing gentleness from within himself and resorting to the approach he originally abandoned, 'It does not matter if you don't look much like anyone in the family. In our closest little family – you, me, your mama and Vaniel – no one looks much like anyone else but we belong together anyway.'

'We do.' Moriel sighs, and Carnistir can practically see her shoulders lose some of their tension.

He draws her in for a long hug, and she comes willingly now. Blowing frizzy curls out of his mouth and carding his fingers through them, Carnistir says, 'You will likely have more little sisters or brothers someday and they may well look like you.'

Without lifting her head, Moriel mumbles, 'It is not just that I don't look much like anyone I'm related to but also that… sometimes I feel that I am too tall and too strong. I have big hands and I'm as broad and tall as Tyelpë. It isn't… no maiden of song ever looks like that. I don't think I'm very pretty.'

What rot, Carnistir thinks, and considers saying so. Then he realises that he should not pause to think for too long lest she think that he agrees with her.

'I don't agree', he says, to make it as clear as possible.

'Of course you think I'm pretty. I am your daughter so you are biased.' She pulls away from him.

And she is sullen again. Carnistir sighs.

His father said something once about temperamental children usually growing into parents of temperamental children. Carnistir hates it when he is proven right.

'I think that songs and poems are often utter rot when it comes to people', he says, picking words one by one like flowers, careful. 'Too many of them only describe some stereotypical ideals. Only maidens with dark hair and white skin and maidens with golden hair and dark skin, isn't that so? Only the extremes, somehow that is poetic or romantic or something. But it is not true at all that only women who look like that are beautiful.

'The truth is', he says, growing rather heated now, 'that people think all sorts of people are pretty or handsome and like all sorts of people. And just as true is that when one day you start thinking of… marrying sort of things...'

He realises that he has raised his voice. Perhaps that is good? Perhaps it will help Moriel believe him.

He carries on doggedly even though, as he utters each word, he fears failing her. 'When you meet someone you love, even then it doesn't matter what those over-decorated peacocks at court think a beautiful person looks like, or the over-romantic souls who write the popular songs.

'When it matters – when it is someone that matters to you, and you matter to them – that is the only time that your looks will matter –'

Too many matters, he thinks, yet carries on.

'Then they – that person – will not be measuring you up in their mind or summing up your flaws. They'll be looking at you and they'll see you and if they find your – your strong will and your keen eye and your vigilant care of your sister beautiful, then they'll find you beautiful.'

Moriel listens quietly, dark eyes intent on his, clutching a bent arrow in her hand still.

Carnistir ends, words still sticky on his tongue, with, 'What is to you beauty unseen will be blindingly bright for someone who loves you. As it already is to your mother and me.'

'Is that from a poem?' Moriel asks. 'From beauty unseen to blindingly bright.'

Carnistir can feel colour rise to his cheeks. 'No, it is just… the words that I arrived at when I thought about this.'

'You're always saying that you're not a poet. But you might be, secretly', Moriel says in the same tone as she might say an insult. It is hypocritical of her since she enjoys almost all music and much of poetry, too.

'I'm not a poet', Carnistir says. 'Only your father. And – and I'm not handsome', he adds. Tuilindien is always telling him not to say so but he has always believed in being honest to himself and about himself. 'But your mother loves me', he says to Moriel. 'The reason she did not marry me as soon as I'd have liked had nothing to do with what I look like, or it did in that way that only she can see.'

Moriel still looks dubious but she says, 'You are very happy. You and mama.'

'Yes, we are. Moriel, my darling, there is – I do not have good words for it but as I said there is a connection of spirits between friends and family that has little to do with looks and everything with, with what sort of a spirit you have.' The words are pouring out of him. 'If you like what a person's fëa is like you will like their hröa too. I never thought the Vanyar so beautiful before I met your mother.'

'I am brave', Moriel says, and she is, too foolhardy for even Carnistir's taste. 'I'm loyal like grandpapa Fëanáro is always saying we should be to our family and friends. I learn many things fast and I am a good sister to Vaniel and a good cousin to Tyelpë.'

'You are', Carnistir agrees, his chest tight at his brave girl's summary of herself. His lesson to her has become all muddled, but she seems to be taking some solace in it, and that is the important thing. 'You are smart and strong. Strength is beautiful, and skill.' Thinking of Moriel's patience and care with her baby sister, he adds, 'And kindness. A deeper beauty.'

'I also get grumpy too easily like you.' And she is honest like him, straight-spoken. 'But I know how to ask for forgiveness.'

'You have learned to do it much faster than I did.'

'You're a good teacher, papa.' Moriel pulls a grimy handkerchief out of her pocket and blows her nose on it. Carnistir makes a mental note to get her a clean one when they go inside.

She drops the bent arrow on the ground and picks up her bow. 'Let's shoot again.'

'Alright', Carnistir concedes. If Moriel doesn't have more to say, he doesn't know what to say either. 'Let us start by fetching the arrows you have shot so far.'

He goes to pull out the arrows Moriel managed to shoot into the targets while she searches around for the ones that fell short.

She sees that two embedded themselves into trees, and grimaces as she pulls them out.

'We will hear about this from the gardener and your mother both', Carnistir notes, grimacing as well.

He watches Moriel use all her strength to pull a stubbornly embedded arrow from a yavannamírë tree, the muscles in her bare forearms tensing.

'I know who you look like', he says. He doesn't know how he did not see it before.

With a hoop of victory and a few stumbling steps backwards, Moriel manages to pull out the arrow.

'Who?' she asks, bringing the arrows to their shooting line.

'My mother.' Even as Moriel begins protesting, Carnistir begins listing. 'You are tall and broad-shouldered, and nimble-fingered and strong-armed, and you have freckles you inherited from me and her. The different hair and skin is a small thing compared to all that. I believe that when you are grown and stand side by side with her, the resemblance will be remarkable.'

Moriel is quiet, the bunch of arrows still in her hand. 'I think I would like that. Especially if I will be as skilled as she is.'

'You will be. You have the same passion, and learning will be easier when you are naturally strong.'

As long as Moriel has known how to say it, she has been saying that she wants to be a smith. What kind of smith she intends to become changes every week, but the passion burns steady.

'Thank you, papa', Moriel says abruptly. 'I know you don't like talking about things like this and you think that mama is better at it. But sometimes I need… she is so nice; you know how she is. Sometimes it is too much for me.'

Carnistir clears his throat. 'Let's shoot twenty arrows, then we go inside for lunch. And then you need to talk with your mother, too, about whatever it is she wanted to talk to you about.'

Moriel stares at the targets, then turns to Carnistir with a grin, almost herself again. 'If I hit the farthest target on more than half of my tries, can I get two portions of dessert?'

He is too soft with her, he knows he is, yet he says, 'If you promise to eat enough actual lunch too.'

'I promise.'

She hits that target on all but one of her tries.

Part II

At dinner that evening, Moriel can see her mother stealing glances at her, probably to see if what was causing her restlessness earlier in the day has passed. Her mother is not much good at subtlety, and it doesn't take long for Moriel to grow tired of her concerned looks.

She puts down her spoon with too much of a clatter. 'Mama, I am all right', she says.

'Blurgh', says Vaniel who is getting acquainted with soup for the first time. She does not seem very impressed.

'I am glad if you are', mother says. 'Did the archery help, then?'

'Mm.' Moriel picks up her spoon and starts eating her soup again. It is good even if Vaniel doesn't think so. 'And papa and I talked.'

'You did?' Mother glances at father in that way they have. Moriel knows they are talking about her without saying anything.

'Don't do that', she grumbles. 'Please', she remembers to add though not before her mother's chastising look.

'Very well, I will ask you directly, then', mother acquiesces. 'Did talking with your papa help with whatever was on your mind?'

'It did.' Vaniel splashes at her soup, poking at it with a finger before father can stop her. Moriel gives her her dessert spoon to play with instead.

'I am glad', mother says again. 'There is something I have been meaning to talk to you about as well, Moriel dear.'

In her excitement, Moriel drops her spoon again. 'My name?'

She does not have a mother-name. She is unusually old for that but she hasn't minded it much so far, not really.

Many years ago mother asked her if it would be all right with her to wait a bit longer to see if she gets some special insight for a name, like mothers sometimes do, and Moriel said that it was. Then, a year ago, when she hadn't received any foresight or anything like that, mother had told Moriel of a name she'd thought of for her, a bird's name. Mother has a bird name – from tuilindo, swallow – and so do her sisters and many of their children.

She had asked, 'Do you like the name?' and Moriel had said no, because she didn't. It didn't feel like hers.

Mother had looked sad but said, 'Then it is not your name.'

'Maybe – maybe not a bird name', Moriel had said. She couldn't say why not, though; she didn't know. She does like birds.

Mother had accepted it. 'I will think of another kind of name, then. It will likely take some time. It turns out that I am very slow at naming children.'

Now mother says, with a smile at Moriel's enthusiasm, 'Yes, your name.'

'Tell me! Please', Moriel adds at a disapproving grunt from her father's direction.

Mother laughs and asks, 'Do you want to know right here and now, or wait until after dinner when we can talk, just you and I? Either way', she continues despite Moriel beginning to ask for her name now, 'please, mama'.

'Either way', mother says, 'you can refuse it if it doesn't feel like yours, and I will keep trying.'

'Now', says Moriel. She tries to keep from falling off her chair in her excitement.

(She is very old not to have a mother-name. Even Tyelpë, who is almost always nice and incidentally received his mother-name at one day old, has remarked on it.)

'Elerrína', says mother, her smile the same nervous one now that it is when she talks with grandpapa Fëanáro. 'I hope that perhaps you do not mind being named after a mountain?'

Elerrína is one of the names of Taniquetil, the holy mountain where mother grew up. Moriel thinks that it might be the least used one. She knows it only from songs, but she knows that it means 'crowned with stars'. Taniquetil is very high but not so high as to reach the stars, so it is a sort of poetic near-sensible name.

'Elerrína', Moriel says, testing the weight and shape of it on her tongue. It is longer and prettier than Moriel. It is similar in meaning if not form to aunt Tinweriel's name.

'For your freckles, my darling', mother says.

'Oh', says Moriel. She likes that. The name makes her freckles sound beautiful.

'I don't mind being named after a mountain', she says to her mother decisively. 'I want to be Elerrína. It's a mountain where Vanyar live and it's my Vanyarin name. Moriel is my Noldorin name.'

'You can take some time to decide which you prefer to be called.'

'I don't need time. I want to be called Moriel in Tirion and Elerrína on the plains and in Valmar and on Taniquetil. But you can always call me Moriel', she nods at her father, 'and mama, I like the way you say Elerrína, you can call me by it anywhere.'

'Being called by a different name in a different place is unconventional but it sounds like something that will fit you well', her mother. She gets up and comes to hug Moriel, pressing a kiss on her head. 'I am glad that you like the name', she whispers in her ear. 'I am sorry it took me so long to think of it.'

Moriel hugs her back. 'I didn't mind. I like being Moriel, too. Moriel Elerrína', she says, feeling out the combination. 'My name has rather a lot of r's.'

'Suits you', says father.

Moriel squints at him dubiously. She decides that she is too happy to get vexed.

Mother goes back to her own chair. 'I am already considering mother-names for Vaniel so that she might not have to wait as long', she says. 'I have learned, now, that I should not wait for any sort of foresight to inspire a name. It seems that that gift has passed me by though my father sometimes has inklings of things yet to happen.'

And from there mother and father launch into a long discussion about knowing things in advance of them happening. Moriel is not interested in it so she goes back to eating, tasting and savouring her new name along with every spoonful of soup.

'Elerrína, Elerrína', she whispers to herself. 'Star-crowned.'

'Sarrrb', says Vaniel.

'Quite so', Moriel agrees. 'Star-crowned.' She wipes mushed pea from Vaniel's cheek. Father is distracted with mother and not keeping much of an eye on Vaniel. It's alright; Moriel likes helping her during meals.

'I hope that mother will think of as pretty a name for you', Moriel says to her little sister.

A/N: In Names of insight, foresight, love I had Nerdanel asking her children whether they liked their mother-names before making the final choice of naming them thus. Tuilindien has the kind of nature where she would happily follow Nerdanel's example so I wrote her doing so.

Thank you for reading, I would love to hear what you guys thought about this!

#finweanladiesweek #I should have edited this one more round perhaps but I wanted to post it today #moriel #caranthir #tuilindien #my ocs #caranthir's daughters #daughter of arrows and stars #my fics #elesianne's fics

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yoon-kooks · 5 years

Text

Blood to Spare

Pairing: Prince!Jimin x Knight!Reader

Genre: Angst, Smut, Royal!AU

Summary: When a malicious threat is made against Prince Jimin’s life just hours before Garreg Mach’s annual ball, it is your sworn duty to accompany him as his date and ensure he makes it through the night unscathed. For as the Prince’s personal guard, you must be willing to cut down any blade that takes aim at him, even if it’s your own heart.

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: blood, death, fingering, unprotected sex, it’s honestly super vanilla

A/N: wooooooo 2020 is finally here and so is prince jimin;;;;; this fic is based around fire emblem three houses, but you don’t need to know anything about the game to enjoy the story! but if you do love fire emblem like me, you’ll pick up on some references here and there. also lmk if you guys are interested in a prequel and sequel! ++special shoutouts to @d-noona and @scalbra for the love and support💖

You examine the bright red trail streaming down the set of ribs in front of you. The boy lies there in pain, but you offer him no sympathy. It’s his own fault, after all.

“Agh!” He tightens his fists as you press the weight of your body down onto the wound. And if the pressure alone is not enough to make the boy beg for mercy, you know what is. Alcohol and ointment seep into the depth of his gash until the burning sensation draws the response you’re looking for. “Is all of the pressing and stinging really necessary, Y/N?” he yelps.

“It wouldn’t be necessary if you had been more careful like I advised, Jimin,” you shake your head, bandaging up the boy’s disinfected ribs. “But we can’t afford to have our beloved professor and future ruler of Fodlan bleed to death after a mock battle with his students. Especially not with the ball tomorrow evening.”

In the land of Fodlan, an annual ball is held during the Ethereal Moon to celebrate both the year’s end and the founding of Garreg Mach Monastery. For this year in particular, it is crucial for Fodlan’s Prince Jimin to be present and act as a bridge that unifies the continent’s three main nations: Adrestia, Faerghus, and Leicester.

And although you despise formal gatherings such as this one, it is your mission as one of the Knights of Seiros and Jimin’s personal guard to ensure that the Prince is well and able enough to fulfill his political affairs for the night.

“Speaking of the ball, I have yet to find myself a date,” Jimin says as he reclothes his upper half. “It seems no one is interested in sharing a dance with me…”

You know that’s a big fat lie. Jimin may not be the only professor at the Officers Academy, but he is certainly the most popular one amongst both students and faculty due to his charm and royal status. Even back when he was a student himself, he always seemed to have everyone wrapped around his finger. Everyone except you. Though you suppose that’s the reason you were appointed to be his personal guard since becoming a Knight of Seiros.

“That’s too bad,” you say. Again, you offer no sympathy or solution to the boy’s misfortune.

“Well since all of the Knights of Seiros have to be at the ball anyway, I wouldn't mind if you were my date, Y/N.” He tilts his head to the side and smiles, as if that’s going to make the offer any more tempting.

“No thanks. My job at the ball is to protect you, not dance with you,” you shake him off. This isn’t the first or last time he’s tried to make a romantic advance on you. The naïve teenage you might’ve been swooned, but ever since devoting your life to protecting Jimin, romantic affairs have become of little significance to you. “And besides, if you’re not in immediate danger, it’s better for us to keep a distance at the ball.”

Jimin’s smile fades because he knows you’re right. It would reflect poorly on Fodlan’s future ruler to be associated on an intimate level with someone who lacks nobility and a crest. With a heavy sigh, there’s nothing the boy can do but concede defeat to your rejection. You, on the other hand, have more to say.

“Rather than worrying about finding a date to dance with, keep in mind your responsibilities as the prince. Tomorrow is an opportunity to build a stronger relationship between-”

“-the three nations,” he interrupts your scolding to end the conversation. “You don’t have to remind me, Y/N.”

It is not often that the Prince speaks with bitterness towards you. You don’t take personal offense from it, though, because you know it comes from a place of built-up stress and frustration. To be born into a position of power has its cons too, and you know better than anyone that this isn’t a path Jimin would’ve chosen for himself.

Still, it’s your duty to make sure the Prince is properly fulfilling all of his duties. And sometimes he needs to learn to set aside his personal feelings, just as you’ve done with yours.

“Very well,” you say, stepping out of his room. “I’ll see you in the morning, Your Highness.”

When morning comes, the walk to the Knight’s Hall feels exceptionally long and quiet. Students are rushing to set up last-minute décor and finishing touches before sundown when the ball is set to begin. However, all that chaos and chatter is drowned out by the piercing tension between you and the boy you’re escorting.

It’s clear he’s still mad at you. Probably because you last referred to him, not by name, but by status. Ever since you became his personal guard years ago, he’s always encouraged you to simply call him Jimin. It took a while, but you eventually picked up the habit and noticed the delight on Jimin’s face whenever he heard his name. As far as you know, you’re the only one who drops the formalities with him.

But because you had purposely called him “Your Highness” out of spite, you’ve now reopened the gap between you and him. Like cutting back into an old scar.

You’re thankful when you finally reach the Knight’s Hall and your fellow Knights of Seiros waste no time in filling the void of silence that had followed you into the room.

“Early this morning, a student found this letter posted on the doors to the Entrance Hall,” Seokjin hands you a torn parchment paper to look at.

“We cannot allow the nations of Fodlan to become one under the absolute rule of the Central Church here at Garreg Mach. We urge the Archbishop to consider canceling the annual ball, and with it, the meeting between Adrestia, Faerghus, and Leicester. If not, we will have no choice but to burn the bridge that seeks to unify Fodlan as one. Peace shall never be found in an allegiance that blindly sides where power lies.”

It only takes a second for you to piece together who the target in question is—the bridge that seeks to unify Fodlan, Prince Jimin.

“They want the ball cancelled or they want the Prince’s head,” you grind your teeth.

To an extent, you understand the point of disagreement between political views. The current rule, for example, does not exactly favor the Crestless or have plans of changing that any time soon. Even if Fodlan were to unite as a single nation as it had hundreds of years ago, the divide between nobility and the Crestless would only continue to increase.

That being said, a threat on the Prince’s life is enough for you to set aside your own feelings as a Crestless. If someone is willing to go as far as point their blade in Jimin’s direction, they are already dead in your eyes.

“I’ve already spoken with the Archbishop and she wishes for the ball to proceed as planned. For all we know, this could be an empty threat. I doubt the enemy has the means to break through our defenses,” Namjoon says. “However, we, the Knights of Seiros, will still need to be on high alert to ensure the night runs smoothly.”

“Understood,” you say, glancing at the boy whose life is on the line. “I will not allow anything to happen to the Prince.”

“Actually,” Namjoon continues, “the Archbishop has requested for you to act as Prince Jimin’s date for the night as a precaution to any assassin that may be lurking from within the monastery.”

“Understood,” you say again, but with an awkwardness far worse than the silent void from earlier. The last thing you need is to act all lovey-dovey with the boy you just rejected and are not on good speaking terms with.

Once the other knights have left to stand guard and investigate the origins behind the letter, your mind starts spinning. You don’t want to formally attend the ball, you know nothing about the proper etiquette of nobility, Jimin probably hates your guts, you don’t know how to dance, you have no gown to wear, and Jimin probably hates your—

The boy motions for you to follow him, pulling you out of your daze and into town to grab all the essentials for the Garreg Mach annual ball.

Several hours later, you sit in the Prince’s quarters, staring at the long flowy gown you’re supposed to be wearing. As a knight with a commoner upbringing, the occasion to wear such a fancy garment never arose, so you feel a bit perplexed with what to do next. For starters, you don’t even have a clue how to get it on.

“Do you need help?” Jimin raises an eyebrow at you as he straightens up his royal blue uniform, one very well suited for a prince.

“I got it,” you shake your head. Succumbing to the Prince’s assistance would only be a sign of weakness. You’ll find a way to figure it out on your own if it means avoiding Jimin’s gaze as you struggle to get the dress on. “Just turn around for a second and don't watch me from the mirror either.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” he hums, lowkey throwing shade as he turns his back to you. You haven’t yet apologized for calling him that, but he’s definitely making sure you’re aware of it.

You bite your tongue until you’ve stepped into the dress. It still feels a bit loose, but you put it on to the best of your ability. When you give him the okay to turn around again, the first thing he does is crack a smirk.

“What?” You shoot him a dirty look.

He gestures for you to come closer and spins you around. As he reties your dress’ complex ribbons from behind, you feel the gown becoming snugger in the appropriate places. Very slightly, you feel the cold tips of Jimin’s fingers tickle your skin as he ties the last ribbon at the back of your neck. You don’t say anything, but your body reacts accordingly.

“Oh? Someone has goose bumps,” he snickers, spinning you back around to face him. Before you can blame it on his cold hands, he gives you a good look from head to toe. “The dress looks pretty on you, by the way.”

“Thank you, Jimin.” More than his compliment, you’re thankful that he’s at least speaking kindly to you again. “And my apologies for yesterday.”

The chilling tips of his fingers have since wandered up to your cheeks, and the only reason you don’t swat him away is because it’s something he’s done since the two of you were little. He cups your cheeks and gives them a gentle squeeze before jumping back to the conversation as if it were nothing. You’ve never questioned him about it, but given the context of all the times you can recall, you assume it’s his way of showing forgiveness.

“I should not have lashed out at you in the first place. The thought of becoming Fodlan’s ruler is just… a lot for one person to bear,” Jimin finally releases your cheeks and backs away to the edge of his bed. “But that’s why it’s a relief to have you with me at my side tonight.”

“That’s what I’m here for. Not just tonight,” you remind him. “Always.”

“Yeah, but it’s not every night I get to see the cold-blooded Y/N all dolled up and without a swor-” He cuts himself off when he sees you lifting up the skirt of your gown as if you’ve forgotten a (handsome and needy) boy is still in the room with you.

You’re so focused on trying to hide your trusty Hero’s Relic sword, Blutgang, beneath your dress that you do not realize how much of your lower body you’ve exposed. “A knight can never be without their blade.”

“What if it tears the gown open…?” Jimin’s question gives the illusion of concern, though he probably would not be opposed to that scenario.

“It would be embarrassing, but I’d rather be embarrassed than unprepared,” you blink at the boy.

“I suppose you’re going to stick the whole Aegis Shield down there as well then?” He blinks back. You know he’s trying to clown you, but it’s also no secret that you’ve never been without the shield since it was gifted to you from the Prince himself.

You shake your head. “It’s too big to hide. I don’t want to stand out anymore than I already will.” Because amongst a crowd of nobles and royalty, a Crestless like you will be no more than a fish out of water. Even the most beautiful gown cannot hide that reality.

“If anyone says something about you, I’ll-”

“You’ll smile and move on because you have a reputation to maintain,” you finish the statement for him.

“Will you really be okay with that?” Jimin frowns.

All you do is nod. You don’t need protecting or for your feelings to be spared. It’s your job to defend him; not the other way around.

As the sun sets later that evening, you follow the Prince’s lead into the glamor and prestige of Garreg Mach’s annual ball. Aside from keeping an eye out for anything suspicious, all you need to do is act pretty and proper. You’ve learned at least that much after observing the event from afar all these years as a Knight of Seiros.

You don’t hold his hand, but rather, you hook your arm around his. If you were truly in love with your date, you’d much prefer to intertwine your fingers with his and never let go. That, to you, would feel more comforting and secure. But love is not the game you’re playing.

As Jimin makes his rounds to greet each and every guest, you evaluate their individual intentions. Fortune, luxury, reputation, power. From years past, you recall that many female guests had also made romantic advances on the Prince through not-so-subtle caresses, bedroom eyes, and the like. The way you stare at them with such intensity of judgment must be quite intimidating because not a single romantic advance is made on Jimin this year with you beside him.

Even through the casual, yet all important, gathering of Fodlan’s leaders, you observe no sign of suspicious activity and sense no danger to the Prince’s life. The King of Faerghus, the Emperor of Adrestia, the Leader of Leicester, and Jimin all chat as though they are one big happy family, each expressing interest in moving forward with the unification of their nations.

If the letter turns out to be an empty threat as Namjoon suggested, perhaps the unification of Fodlan can be settled without any casualties. That would be the best case scenario, though you’re still skeptical that anything could ever be that simple.

Once handshakes are exchanged and the meeting is adjourned, Jimin sends his fellow leaders off with that charming smile of his, and you try to do the same. You wouldn’t exactly describe your own smile as charming—“forced” is probably a better word for it—but it seems to be satisfactory enough for all but the Adrestrian Emperor.

She doesn’t say anything, but her long stare in your direction tells you she knows something. Whether it’s that you’re the only Crestless in attendance, or that you were once a child of Adrestia, she finally returns a smile similar to your own before heading back out of the meeting room.

“That went pretty well, didn’t it?” Jimin pulls you in closer to him as the two of you step back into the lively reception hall where most of the guests are gathered. When you turn to face him, he radiates. Part of you wants to mention the off-putting vibe you got from the Adrestian Emperor, but a larger part of you wishes not to put a damper on Jimin’s high spirits. So you keep your mouth shut.

Besides, you believe the Emperor’s intentions, if any, are not directed toward the Prince. And that assumption is quickly confirmed based on the gossip now floating around amongst the noble guests.

“What business does a Crestless have with the Prince?”

“Prince Jimin can do so much better.”

“I heard that’s the one who slaughtered an entire army with a stolen Hero’s Relic.”

“The one also responsible for Prince Hoseok’s death?”

“Such a sinful Crestless exists?”

“At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter who he’s fooling around with. As heir to the Fodlan throne, there’s no way anyone would allow him to marry below nobility.”

You do your best not to roll your eyes at the comments made about yourself. They don’t upset you, but you are annoyed. You certainly do not need to be reminded of your worth, your sins, or that Jimin would be better off with literally anyone else as his date. You don’t need to hear the very thoughts that have haunted and tormented your mind for as long as you can remember.

They don’t know your whole story, and you don’t care to share it with them either. Let them think what they will.

You suddenly spin Jimin in front of you, close the distance as much you can without kissing his ear, and whisper, “Can we get a change of scenery?” The boy agrees and pulls you away from the festivities of the ball.

“I wish you didn’t have to hear all that nonsense,” he says after closing the door to his quarters. Luckily, his room is not too far from the reception hall.

“Oh, I wasn’t bothered by that,” you shrug, unhooking the sword from the garter on your thigh and leaning it with the unused shield. “I just wanted those foul guests to believe we eloped or something. Maybe they’ll start a rumor about that too.”

“Y/N,” Jimin sits you down on his bed, “I can tell when something bothers you, you know.”

“How?”

“You start acting petty out of spite.”

He’s not wrong. Your pettiness is one habit you’ve never been able to shake from your soul. “Regardless, those nobles can think or say whatever they please about me. Nothing will ever change the worth of a Crestless anyway.”

“It shouldn’t matter if you bear a crest or not,” he says softly.

“It shouldn’t, but it does. It matters plenty to the nations of Fodlan. Crests hold a lot of power, which means bearers are not exiled from their own bloodline, they are not expendable objects, and they do not have to fight for their right to exist. If not for the Central Church, you and I-”

“You and I would not have met.” He’s wrong.

“We wouldn’t have met under these circumstances, but we would’ve met,” you say, “as enemies of war.” Because had the church not taken you from your birthplace of Adrestia as a child, you’d surely want to stop Fodlan’s unification like the ones who wrote that letter.

“Then I’m forever grateful we met the way we did,” Jimin leans over you until your back is down against the bed. From above, he has you in a place of vulnerability. “Because I will always fancy you more than any bearer of a crest.”

From below, you look up into his eyes and find solace in the one person you want to trust. It’s just a matter of accepting that solace and allowing yourself to trust enough to let him in.

Before you know it, soft caresses of the Prince’s lips invade your skin. He starts just below your cheek and works his way down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses as he goes. Your chin lifts and tilts on its own, as if to uncover more skin for the boy to please. He thankfully picks up on the cue and tends to your needs.

At the same time, you struggle to downplay the desperation in your body. You shouldn’t be having an intimate moment with the Prince when you’re supposed to be protecting him. After all, it’s wrong to be so lustful for a forbidden affair.

But the feeling of him against your bare skin is painfully addicting. The more he kisses, the further you want to go.

“We shouldn’t… be doing this…” you manage to say against your desires.

“What should we be doing then?” Jimin’s fingers run through your hair as he waits patiently for a response, but even the most innocent touch is making it hard to think. You only have one thing consuming your mind, and it isn’t what you should be doing.

You reach for his ruffled collar to pull his body down closer to you, practically reducing the space between you and him to nothing. To answer the boy’s question, you start unbuttoning his uniform from top to bottom. After tossing the princely uniform aside, it only takes him a second to rid you of the gown that had seemed so difficult to get on.

Without thinking, you pull him back on top of you. You’re aching to be touched, you need to be relieved of this unbearable heat, and you’ve reached the point of desperation where your legs are spread out as wide as they can go.

“You poor thing,” Jimin teases, staring right between your thighs for the longest second until finally swiping a sample of your glaze. He makes it a point to show you how wet you’ve made his fingers before sucking them off with a naughty smirk. “Is this what years of lusting after me tastes like?”

You hate that he’s very much aware of the feelings you had for him at one point in time. However, those feelings have since become much more complex. You’ve done your best to block out any romantic feelings and channel those lost emotions elsewhere for the sake of protecting the Prince. So what does that really leave you with?

“Aah…!” A moan escapes your throat when Jimin’s fingers give you another pleasant surprise down there. Only this time, he strokes you in a circular motion, over and over again. Your breathing quickens to the rhythm of his touch—he’s taken control over your body’s sensual instincts. And every time he casually brushes against your erect little bud, a wave of sensitivity makes you gasp out in pleasure.

Though your eyes remain shut for the most part to cope with the immense pleasure, you do catch a glimpse of the Prince’s now swollen cock. Either he’s been multitasking while pleasuring you, or the sight and sounds of your feverish state were more than enough to get him hard. When he stiffens and moans upon your sudden touch, you know it’s the latter.

As you glide your hand up and down his length, you angle yourself right beneath him to be in the optimal fucking position. With your free hand, you use your index and middle fingers to spread yourself open, and, with the other, you direct and ease the handful of cock into your entrance.

Once Jimin’s in deep enough, you let go and soothe the throbbing of your excited clit. As you take your time in building up the intensity, you glance up at the boy to make sure he’s watching you play with yourself. The sheer arousal reflected in your eyes seems to encourage him to start thrusting in and out of you to build up his own climax.

As your fingers continue to tease your clit and Jimin’s length continues to run through you, the sensations become so overwhelming that you can no longer tell where they’re coming from. Your entire body feels hot and tingly as if the sex were a wildfire that spread from head to toe. The only difference is that you wish the flame would never go out.

Based on how much Jimin’s moans have increased in volume and frequency, you can tell he’s as close as you are. You at first try to keep your fingers in rhythm with his quickening thrusts, but the rhythm is lost when the fucking becomes driven by total lust and no thought. Still, you manage to hit your high just before he reaches his.

For a long while, you lay there, waiting for your heartbeat to calm as Jimin does the same from above. If there was ever any tension, sexual or not, between you and the Prince, it’s certainly gone now. Looking up at the boy now, after the waves of sex have finally settled, you feel at peace. Even if it’s short-lived, you have to be content with the intimacy you were able to spend with the boy you once loved.

So when he goes in for the long-awaited kiss, you have to interrupt him. A kiss from the Prince would be asking for a little too much on a forbidden night of many other sins.

“I should go back to being your guard now,” you say softly, scooting your ass over to change back into the gown. “Then we need to return to the ball. I’d hate for assassins to attack over there while we’re here in the middle of… this…”

But before you can hop off the bed, Jimin stops you in your tracks. “Don’t worry, the assassination attempt won’t happen.”

“How can you be sure?” you ask in genuine curiosity because there must’ve been something you missed.

“Because I was the one who faked the letter this morning.”

You freeze. Why would the Prince ever want to fake an assassination threat on his own life? You can think of one reason, but you really hope that’s not the case. “Jimin, if you faked a dangerous situation for the sake of getting me to attend this damned ball with you, I won’t forgive you.”

When he fails to give you a response, you ball your hand up into a tight fist and start putting on your usual knight uniform as opposed to your gown. You can’t believe you allowed yourself to be so foolishly deceived.

“Y/N, wait-”

“Do you really not give a damn about your own life or duties as the future ruler of Fodlan?” you snap. “I’d rather give my life for someone who prioritizes their responsibilities for the sake of the entire continent than an entitled little prince who’d forgo all of that for someone born without a crest.”

You’re mad at not only the Prince but also yourself. You thought that after being so blinded and betrayed by trust once before, you’d never forget the fatal consequences of opening your heart to anyone. Trust and compassion have only ever brought you despair.

“If the assassination threat was all a hoax, I suppose my protection is no longer needed for the rest of the night.” You pick up your sword and slam the door behind you, leaving the shield behind once again.

You escape to the woodsy outskirts of Central Fodlan south of the monastery. The area may be recovering now with young saplings and shrubs as small animal families return home, but you still remember the scorched land from years ago when the first war you fought in took place. No matter where you walk, you stand on the soil once soaked in the blood of your enemies and allies.

But before the war, you had often paid visits to this secluded part of Fodlan whenever you needed time and space away from the monastery. There, you had first encountered a kid around your age who was kind enough to befriend you, despite your differences. It’s a shame you can no longer go back to the time when you could ignorantly trust in people without worry. And even if you could go back, you’d do everything differently so that the Prince would not have had to suffer the desolate fate you bestowed upon him.

It’s all your fault for carelessly putting your trust in others.

When you find a tree tall enough to lean against, you unsheathe your sword and examine it under the moonlight. The reddish brown sheen that reflects in the light is not rust, but your sins. It seems the blade will never be rid of the blood that tainted it on that day.

“It’d be best if we could lure the Prince and his guard away from the festivities.” Your sharp ears pick up on a small troop of rogue soldiers headed in the direction of the monastery. It sounds an awful lot like an assassination attempt.

From behind the tree, you try to figure out what the heck is going on while also deciding on the best course of action. Why are there foreign soldiers going after Jimin if he said the threat was a fake?

…Unless he was lying about that too.

You groan silently to yourself. For as long as you’ve known Jimin, he’s always been quite unpredictable to you and his actions are often questionable until you get an explanation. Perhaps there’s a better reason for his lie this time. But for now, you have to find a way to lure the soldiers away from the innocent guests at the monastery.

Just then, you swing your sword around at the slightest brush against your shoulder, but it turns out to only be the foolish Prince everyone’s looking for. You lower your blade.

“What are you doing, walking out here without a guard?” you hiss.

“Actually, I’m looking for my guard who seems to have abandoned me,” he says with the Aegis Shield you had left behind.

“That’s what you get for being an irresponsible Prince.” You keep your eye on the soldiers. “But before I smack you in the head for that, we have to do something about that troop over there.”

“They don’t look really tough, though.” Jimin takes the opportunity to lean right over you against the tree, but you aren’t quite ready to start accepting his flirtatious antics again.

“But that’s what makes it suspicious,” you blatantly ignore his failed kabedon. “They know they won't stand a chance against the Knights of Seiros, so why even bother?”

“It could be a trap?” he suggests. “Or maybe they have other intentions.”

“Whatever the case, we’ll stop them here and now.”

You make sure the Prince has a sword of his own before shoving him out from behind the tree. If the rustling of dead leaves did not already capture the attention of the soldiers, your shouting and waving at them does.

The alarmed soldiers quickly shift their sights from the monastery to you and the Prince. As soon as they begin to charge, so do you. Unlike many royal guards who stick close to their highnesses, you do not. Jimin may have lived a life of luxury as Prince, but you’ve made sure he learned how to fend for himself. In fact, he was the one who suggested that you teach him proper swordsmanship in the first place—perhaps one of his many elaborate schemes to get closer to you.

As soon as you clash blades with a soldier brave enough, you recognize the enemy troop is no pushover like you and Jimin had anticipated. Though they have the appearance of commoners who’ve never held a weapon in their life, the power behind their swing is comparable to your own. And it doesn’t quite add up.

When you’ve suppressed several soldiers, you glance over to Jimin exchanging blows with an assassin who has a more proper handle of his blade. Jimin’s golden shield blocks many of what could’ve been fatal blows, but its weight also hinders his movement against the nimble assassin.

You rush over, whipping your sword at the assassin to push him back from Jimin’s vicinity. Once you engage in a long drawn sword exchange with the assassin, you’re taken back by the familiarity in the energy he emanates. It somehow feels like the power from the Crest of Fraldarius, the very crest that Jimin bears. But that can’t be the case when crests are inherited through specific bloodlines by chance. And as far as you know, this random soldier has no blood connection to Jimin or House Fraldarius.

Either way, you eventually gain the advantage and pierce the enemy as the curved blade of your Blutgang bleeds once more. Crest or no crest, the enemy nor the Prince can keep up with the mercilessness in your every swing. In what feels like minutes, you’ve cut down the entire troop aside from the few that Jimin could handle himself.

You stare down at the body of the soldier who had given Jimin an exceptionally hard time. “Did you notice that this one had-”

“The Crest of Fraldarius,” Jimin nods. “There’s no mistaking it, but somehow it felt off.”

“Like it wasn’t the real deal?”

“Like it was a crest that didn’t belonged to him.”

The boy’s suggestion gives you something to think about. You wonder if the other soldiers also had crests of some sort—crests that were not rightfully theirs. It’s as if they were once Crestless who somehow extracted and obtained the power of a crest. Perhaps by the means of the most sacred and darkest of sorcery.

Just when you’re finally able to lower your sword, you raise it again to guard against another unwelcomed guest. With a stream of dark magic striking the earth in front of the Prince, you dash over to shield him from any other potential impacts. What you get instead is a mysterious hooded mage who doesn’t seem interested in challenging you. The magic that radiates off him is far stronger than any of the other soldiers.

“Well done on putting a stop to our little assassination plot,” he says. “But it seems we’ve already gathered a lot of valuable intel on our real target.”

“Who’s your real target then?” Jimin asks.

“Someone who can wield Hero’s Relics and slaughter crest bearers despite bearing no crest of their own.” The mage looks first at the bloodstained blade in your grips and then directly at you. His eyes are not so different from your own—empty.

Rather than the Prince’s head, they wanted you.

But why?

Before you can ask the man, he disappears into the unknown along with the bodies of his fallen soldiers. And although the outskirts are quiet once more with only you and the Prince, you keep your eyes peeled and wait a good ten seconds before sheathing your weapon.

You try to make sense of the enemy’s true intentions from a rational perspective, but the mage’s words still do not sit well with you. What exactly were they planning on doing with you, a Crestless who can wield Hero’s Relics and slaughter crest bearers?

“I won’t let them have you,” Jimin nudges your side, whilst holding the Aegis Shield out in front of you and him. “I’d even die for you.”

“Oh, how the tables have turned,” you play along with his dramatic scene just for a moment. Something about the boy makes you forget about your worries, your pain. “But please never die for my sake, Jimin.”

“Then how about I live for you?” he asks.

“Live first for the people of Fodlan,” you respond, hooking your arm once more around his. “Shall we return to the ball now before everyone wonders where their Prince ran off to?”

“No need. I already properly excused myself from the ball for the rest of the night.” Jimin frowns when you unhook your arm faster than you can swing your sword. “But I would like you to escort me back to my quarters.”

“Fine,” you agree. “But on the way back, you need to tell me why you lied about faking that real assassination threat.”

So he does.

“I still think it was a stupid move, Jimin.”

“I just wanted to take your mind off of your knightly duties without worrying about my safety for once! I thought you’d feel more comfortable with me if you knew my life was not in immediate danger,” he waves his hands in defense. “I didn’t think you’d actually abandon me.”

“Well sorry for thinking you made up the threat just so I’d sleep with you. You made me believe you weren’t taking the nature of your job seriously, and that the future of Fodlan was doomed with a ruler who thinks only with his cock,” you jab lightly into his ribs, forgetting all about the wound from the day before.

“Worry not. The future of Fodlan will always be my first priority,” he assures you. “But you are also part of Fodlan’s future, aren’t you? Doesn’t that still make you my first priority then?”

“When you put it that way, I guess so,” you say, though you genuinely wonder about that. Because as a Crestless, you’ve never felt like you belonged in Fodlan. “But just know that you needn’t go that far for me, Jimin.”

“And you needn’t act so tough all the time, Y/N.” He wants you to know that you can rely on him, that you can be vulnerable, and that he’ll protect you just as you protect him. You understand all of that, and yet, it’s still easier said than done.

Once you safely escort the Prince back to his quarters, you think you can finally relieve yourself of guard duty for the night and put some real thought into the mysterious mage’s intentions. But you’re wrong.

“Let me clean up that wound on your cheek before you go,” Jimin air-pokes the high point on your cheek.

“I didn’t realize I was cut there in battle…” you say, letting the boy reel you back into his room.

You sit patiently on his bed as he searches for a bandage, but you wouldn’t put it past the senseless Prince to not have any medical supplies lying around his quarters. You’re the one who’s usually tending to his wounds with your own first-aid kit anyway.

When not a single bandage is found, Jimin walks back over to you and pinches your cheeks together just as he had earlier in the day. You don’t quite understand the context this time, and especially not after he sneaks a kiss onto where your supposed wound was.

“That should heal the wound.” The smile on his face is too smug for your liking.

Very quickly, your face turns into a big fat pout. “If you continue to lie and fool around like this, you’re going to end up like the boy who cried beast.”

“For as sharp as you are in sniffing out an enemy, you sure are gullible around me, Y/N,” he teases.

“That’s because I want to believe that everything with you is real,” you say, “even if it can’t.”

The boy’s smile is quick to fade.

“Just kidding,” you shrug, getting up from the bed. “Anyway, I should get going now. Goodnight, Jimin.”

He doesn’t stop you. He can’t stop you because he knows you weren’t kidding about wishing for a fate that wasn’t meant for you. And that’s not something a kiss could ever change.

While you’re glad Jimin will be taking responsibility in prioritizing Fodlan from here on out, you still have much to be concerned about. Your presence has only complicated matters when the Prince is someone who thinks with his heart, not his head—to the point where he’d give up everything for you.

You’ve tried to make him set aside his personal feelings for the sake of Fodlan’s future, but it’s apparent that he cannot separate you, the one he wants to protect, from Fodlan, the land he needs to protect. He cannot see that, no matter how much he wishes for things to be different, you and all the other Crestless will never truly belong in the future of Fodlan—the Fodlan he will soon lead.

If you were to leave his side, perhaps he would be able to see that he’s trying to make the impossible possible. After all, unless Crestless are able to prove their worth to the nobles of Fodlan, they are worth nothing at all. The only way to prove your worth is to be merciless, tough, and to spare no blood. And maybe only then would Jimin be able to fully realize that this is where your two paths diverge.

It’s only after you’ve walked out and closed the door that you leave the Prince with one last thing to consider. “I know my place in this world, and it’s never been with you, Jimin. Even I’m not that gullible.”

#bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts smut #jimin x reader #bts angst #jimin fanfic #bts royal au #bts fluff #jimin #bts #bangtan #blood to spare #fire emblem au #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #bts x fire emblem

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nitrateglow · 4 years

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My god-tier Audrey Hepburn movies

I just realized I’ve technically seen all of Audrey Hepburn’s movies-- or rather, all the movies in which she was given star billing.

So, because I’m bored, here’s a list of my top ten personal favorites of her films. The criteria is simple: 1) she had to have starred in it, so nothing from her pre-Roman Holiday career counts nor does 1989′s Always, and 2) this is based on my level of enjoyment of the movie in question.

1. Wait Until Dark

Wait Until Dark possesses many merits, but Hepburn is one of its key strengths. For me, the most interesting performances are the ones able to balance seemingly opposing elements of the character in question. Here, Hepburn balances vulnerability with inner strength, insecurity and terror with courage, angry frustration with budding confidence. She makes her character seem like such a real, vital presence, like someone you would know. Also, having someone as sweet as Hepburn as the target for the cruel mind games and brutal violence of the villains makes the horror all the more terrifying.

Beyond her performance, this movie feels like it was tailor-designed to appeal to me: an intelligent and formidable villain, the everyday setting juxtaposed with a menacing atmosphere, scary scenes that don’t rely on gore, eccentric criminals, dark humor, a tight script without an ounce of fat on it. But you’ve heard me go on, so I’ll leave it there.

2. Charade

Charade is a prime example of how to mix suspense and comedy. The mystery at the heart of the movie is very clever, with twists and turns every other moment, constantly keeping the audience on their toes. Best of all, the film holds up after repeat viewings because of the delicious chemistry between Hepburn and Cary Grant, and the witty screenplay, which has such an elegant and tight structure that I seethe with envy as a writer every time I revisit this glorious thriller.

As in Wait Until Dark, Hepburn is concerned for her life as she’s terrorized by criminals, only here, they’re mostly more humorous in nature, sometimes even lovable (except Scobie, he can just jump off a cliff). She mainly gets to exercise her comedic chops, throwing off quips, sarcastic lines, and screwball banter with wonderful finesse. It makes me sad she never made more films with Cary Grant-- the two have a spark that belies the large age gap between them.

3. Roman Holiday

The character-building, naturalistic performances, and humor make Roman Holiday one of the best examples of romantic comedy. The film has both a gentle touch and a grounded maturity that make it more than just a remix of the earlier and quite similar screwball comedy It Happened One Night. To get a bit literary and pretentious, it reminds me a bit of Romeo and Juliet-- not because of the romance, but in how the movie starts as a standard screwball comedy and ends on a lyrical, wistful note you might not have expected.

Even though this was her first lead role in a feature film, I think Hepburn’s performance as Ann remains one of her strongest. Ann feels regal and dignified while also possessing the naivete and restlessness of a teenager on the brink of adulthood. It’s as fabulous a star-establishing movie as anyone could want.

4. How to Steal a Million

How to Steal a Million is pure fun. Not a moment of this caper comedy is to be taken seriously (which makes it the perfect quarantine movie if you need something to de-stress with). I always regard this movie as Charade’s even frothier spiritual successor: both films are playful, stylish, funny, and packed with romantic banter, plot twists, and colorful 1960s fashions. The main difference is that in this one, there’s no mortal threat involved and the humor gets a little more risque though not crass.

Also, how nice is it for Hepburn to be paired with a leading man closer to her age? Peter O’Toole was only three years younger than Hepburn when this was filmed. The two of them have glorious, cute chemistry.

5. The Nun’s Story

I hate the question of “objective best” anything, but if you put a gun to my head, I would say The Nun’s Story is features Hepburn’s most impressive work as an actress. For those who accuse Hepburn of being too affected, of being a mere clothes’ horse, here she is bare-faced, dressed in a nun’s habit, and playing a very reserved character whose dilemmas are largely internal. She plays her character’s spiritual conflict with an understatement that could only be considered skillful.

The film itself will likely be seen as “too slow” by most and there are a few colonial elements towards the Congo section that date it, but the film’s strengths, both from Hepburn’s performance and the mature way it presents its individual versus the system story, give it classic status. Few movies regarding organized religion are this balanced and lacking in propaganda, either for or against it.

6. Breakfast at Tiffany’s

While still Hepburn’s most iconic role, Breakfast at Tiffany’s gets called “overrated” a lot these days and fans of the original Truman Capote novella routinely dog it for making heavy changes to the source material. There’s also the, you know, gross yellowface a la Mickey Rooney that deflates every scene in which he appears. However, is the move bad? NO. It juggles zany comedy, tender romance, and rather heavy drama too well for me to consign it to the “overrated” bin. Blake Edwards was a fine director and this movie is one of his best.

And Hepburn gives a damn good performance as Holly Golightly, even if she is not the character envisioned by Capote. This character could easily be unlikable if played the wrong way-- she’s a “phony,” rather pathetic, and self-loathing despite her wit and charm. But rather than coming off as an unbearable loser, Hepburn’s Holly is a realistic, relatable loser we all love in spite of her own delusions and lashing out. She might even hit too close to home (or maybe that’s just me).

7. Funny Face

Funny Face took a few viewings to grow on me. It was one of the first Hepburn movies I ever saw (that was back in high school) and I was initially excited because it was directed by Stanley Donen who co-directed Singin’ in the Rain with Gene Kelly, a long-time favorite of mine. I expected this movie to be just as sublime and was disappointed when it didn’t hit that high mark.

Rewatching it later, I now find it very charming. It’s incredibly upbeat and relaxing, the sort of old-school movie musical that doesn’t get made anymore. Hepburn’s singing is a bit rough in the bigger numbers, but she is very sweet, a damn good dancer, and quite attractive to the point where she just takes my breath away. Fred Astaire and Kay Thompson are also wonderful and get a lot of great moments that show off their talent.

8. My Fair Lady

When considering what would go on this list, I was honestly shocked to realize how much I like this movie. I’m in the camp that considers Hepburn miscast, I find George Cukor’s direction rather stiff, and I really don’t like how the ending is changed from the original play. In spite of all this, I still really enjoy this movie for the songs, costumes, and what remains of Shaw’s brilliant satire on class and gender relations. Those three hours go by and the movie never outstays its welcome.

While I think Hepburn wasn’t the number one best choice for the part (I don’t really buy her as a crass flower girl in the beginning), she isn’t a disaster by any means. She’s still charming and sympathetic, and once she makes her transformation, you have to wonder how Higgins held it together, she’s so gorgeous. And I love the relish with which she approaches the “Just you Wait” song or the way she delivers the “move your bloomin’ arse” line at the races.

9. Sabrina

I think producers figured because of the fairy tale appeal of Roman Holiday, Hepburn would be perfect for this modern take on Cinderella, set in 1950s New York. Just like in Roman Holiday, Hepburn gets to undergo dramatic character development and show her comedic skills. It’s a cute movie, with a very charming William Holden and gorgeous black-and-white cinematography. It’s also shockingly uncynical for a Billy Wilder project.

About the closest thing this movie has to a flaw is Humphrey Bogart as Linus, the guy who Sabrina chooses in the end. This is a role Cary Grant could have played in his sleep, but Bogart clearly is not enjoying himself in some scenes. However, he isn’t movie-breakingly bad by any means. His character is meant to be a hidden softie and far more dependable than his handsomer brother, so I can buy that Sabrina would warm to him in the end.

10. They All Laughed

People tend to argue what the last “worthwhile” Hepburn movie is. Most argue it’s 1976′s Robin and Marian, while I’ve seen some go as far back as How to Steal a Million in 1966. They All Laughed, a Peter Bogdonavich comedy from 1981, gets my vote. This is a love letter to screwball comedies much like Bogdonavich’s 1972 classic What’s Up Doc, only with a far more melancholy edge.

Hepburn does not become a major presence in the movie until nearly halfway through. However, she approaches her role with a mature dignity that makes me wish she’d done more work along this line towards the end of her career. Her character comes off as an older, sadder Princess Ann from Roman Holiday. This makes the movie sound morose, but it isn’t: it ends with life going on and the characters accepting that with grace.

#lists lists lists #charade #roman holiday #how to steal a million #the nun's story #breakfast at tiffany's #funny face #my fair lady #sabrina #they all laughed #audrey hepburn #thoughts #wait until dark #old hollywood #i'll probably make more lists like these with other actors i like #so expect a buster post guys

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