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A GRAY HAIR?!?!?
#it was one (1) completely white super thick super curly hair growing out of my head#i dont think im graying yet tho bc my dad's 50 something and he's only barely begun graying a bit#i cant wait to start graying but you guys have to understand that im in my early to mid 20s#so this was surprising#i have my dad's hair genes but idk hair color genes are probably separate so i could have the graying genes from my mom's side#no idea when they start going grey though bc the only man from that side of the family is my grandpa and idk when he went gray#and every woman has dyed their hair black since the dawn of time#i mean my uncle is also a man from my mom's side but he's got a different dad than my mom so i dont think i can make any conclusions from h#him#leevi talks
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hello, hello! can we please have some descriptions of what the ros look like and what their dynamics will be with mc? or can be if we get multiple personality types with mc! thank you!
Here you go!
Below the cut because it's long lol kgkskf
I don't have time atm but I'll make a proper intro for all the ros
Dawn
Hair: messy and ear-length (she cut it after a Saturday night meltdown a while back). Half of it is dyed purple, and the other half is naturally black Eyes: Dark brown. Dawn uses contact lenses Height: 163 cm Build: Scrawny Skin: Honey brown Race: Southeast Asian Other: Dawn has a few piercings. Her arms are covered in tattoos.
Personality: resilient, quick-witted and determined. Dawn knows what she wants (to get rid of Seth) and she knows how to get it (using MC). She's never hidden her intentions, or lied about her objective. Dawn's distaste for deities is evident since the moment MC meets her, and she seems to faintly rejoice in reminding them. A very intelligent woman, Dawn loves street racing and causing some trouble online. She ‘works’ as a hacker.
Tropes: Rivals to friends to lovers, Forced proximity, (possible) Rivals with benefits.
Bruno
Hair: cropped short, dark brown/nearly black hair. Eyes: Light brown. Bruno uses glasses. Height: 181 cm Build: Average and soft, a bit chubby Skin: Bronze Race: half Hispanic, half East Asian
Personality: neurotic, idealistic and uptight. Otherwise known as MC's companion in jail, Bruno has been recently caught for a crime that is a product of his own very uncharacteristic and rare ambition: knowledge. He's a very intelligent individual, although not particularly assertive. This historian and divorced dad knows more about MC than he lets on, though Bruno insists he was just at the wrong time at the wrong time.
Tropes: Devotee/Worshipper X Deity, (Bruno's) Strangers to friends to lovers, Parent RO.
A Moonless
Hair: long (f!A, middle back / m!A and nb!A, shoulder-length), jellyfish cut. It's naturally brown with a colorfully dyed front. Eyes: Hazel. Height: f!A and nb!A, 170cm / m!A, 177cm. Build: Skinny Skin: Tan Race: Indigenous (unknown) Other: A has a few tattoos on their arms and legs.
Personality: caring, playful and a bit temperamental. Despite their new, much more modern look, A is and acts just like a human MC once knew and loved, Zain. A is protective of those they care about, and they're never afraid to speak their mind. They're Dawn's coworker at the Speakeasy, where VR services are offered to its clients.
Tropes: One-sided (MC) pining, Apparently reincarnated old flame/friend.
A’s hair inspo:
Vex
Hair: Buzz cut. Eyes: Naturally light brown, V has modified them to have synth eyes (they're a very pale green, with a faint glow). Height: 186 cm Build: Athletic Skin: Honey brown Race: Southeast Asian Other: More than half of V’s body has been modified. Their arms and legs are synthetic.
Personality: dependable, loyal and stoic. Vex is Dawn's older sibling, and while their relationship is not at its best, Dawn will always be V’s sole priority. They might not be the most affectionate person in the world, but when Vex cares they're willing to defy every norm they so dutifully abide. They've worked as a law enforcer for Lord Seth and the government for a few years.
Tropes: (V's) First love, Mutual pining, Slow burn.
Eris
Hair: coiled light brown afro. People know and recognize Eris by the wigs she wears, among which a white shoulder-length bob is the most iconic. Eyes: Dark brown. Eris often uses colored contact lenses (mostly pink, white and blue). Height: 173 cm Build: Skinny and slightly lean Skin: Ebony Race: Black Other: Eris has a few body modifications. Her left arm isn't flesh but metal.
Personality: charming, humorous and flirty. Eris (real name: Estelle Lawrence) is a celebrity in every sense of the word. She knows just what to say and how to say it, she's likable, friendly and very talkative. Beneath the public persona everyone adores, Eris is a complete mystery.
Tropes: Strangers to friends to lovers, (optional) friends with benefits, (optional, stc) Fake relationship.
Seth
Hair: long dark brown, with a few braids Eyes: light brown with golden specks Height: 193 cm Build: Lean, very muscled Skin: Olive Race: Middle Eastern Other: has a short beard
Personality: blunt, practical, and very reckless. Seth acts before he thinks (a trait that he and everyone find quite inconvenient) and seems to hate planning ahead. The God of War has a very dry/deadpan sense of humor. MC remembered him to be more outgoing, but Seth’s cold-hearted reputation precedes him.
Tropes: Enemies to lovers, Immortal love, Wrong place wrong time, (possible) ex-friend or ex-crush.
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baby, please. choso kamo.
cw: fem!reader, switch!choso, femdom, choso is a little innocent with a twist, jealousy, sneaking, slight bondage, college au, face sitting, titty sucking, nipple play, beggging, oral, black coded.
choso was cultivated by you, that he knew. an evident point of his growing infatuation was the constant barricading of his reddened face from you, or avoiding you any way he could. his change in action confused you, given he recently held a conversation with stomach-aching laughs the other day. what happened? only he knew that. the only explanation was what he witnessed that night that grew a tent in his sweats following with whimpers in his pillows before dawn.
his face tints beet red the moment you step foot into class, skirt swaying and your white t-shirt tight on your chest, tied in a knot on your back. silver necklaces and artistic tattoos. your hair was down today which was odd to see, trying to keep it around your neck any chance you'd gotten. you were tired, smiling while trying to maintain conversation with mai as you sit beside each other, the skirt high on your waist floating up to reveal your ass, and a red thong. he shifts his legs and clears his throat. your eyes meet choso’s, and once you noticed him staring, your plump lips upturned. he immediately lowers his head to sketch in his journal. ah, that's what it is, you think.
"i hear gojo’s still sick," mai frowns. "how is he? you've been taking care of him, right?"
gojo. choso overhears the barely whispers from the two of you. sick my ass, he thinks. not with the way he was begging for you to touch him. his mind flashes back to what he'd seen. after dinner, choso decided to help out and fix gojo a plate since he figured he hadn't eaten, more like can't because of his stomach. he needed something atleast. at this time, everyone had been asleep inside their dorms while he made his way over to gojo’s room. the walls weren't necessarily thin, but they weren't soundproof either, something about needing to stay alert in case of a sudden curse attack. since his door was slightly cracked, it was easy for anyone walking by to tune into the obscene sounds inside the dark room, the only form of light, the moon shunning the window.
he could hear muffled grunts, faint gasps and a liquid-like noise. it's almost shocking what he hears next, a woman's voice—your voice. he goes pale, inching his face closer to catch a peek out of curiosity, eyes widening as he sees you straddling gojo’s face, gripping onto the headboard while rocking your hips. your eyes boar into the crystal blue eyes beneath you, watching as he desperately swallows your arousal and heavily flicks his tongue over your cunt. the only person fully naked was gojo, the only thing you wore was a tight short-sleeved crop top, cotton white like the mans hair you currently tugged on.
he'd never seen anything so lewd, yet so compelling. the way gojo’s hands grip your ass that bounced with every thrust of your hips. how breathless and wet you were, dripping down the mans sharp jaw. he chokes as you reach behind yourself to glide your hand over his hard cock, twitching in your palm. it makes you smile. that's a smile choso’s never witnessed; a crazed, dominant smile. evil, if you will.
"fuck me," gojo tries to keep his voice low, but struggles when you spit into your hand and stroke his cock after lifting off his face and hovering over his chest, knees on either side of his biceps. "i can't take it, y/n. fuck me, please. i need it so fucking bad. want your pretty cunt swallowing my cock."
choso clearly has never seen gojo so frail, or begging for anything. the man heaved as if he was on the brink of dying. choso swallows, eyes focused on you, your curves, the softness of your skin, the beads of sweat on your forehead, the slick cum painting your inner thighs. he wanted to taste it for himself, experiment, and maybe find out just how addicting you were to make his best friend cry for you. what the fuck was he thinking? you were his best friend as well. two of his friends he saw in front of him sharing mouths, hands, and other things he couldn't fathom.
"do you deserve it?" the purr in your voice has gojo holding back his breath, seeing you hover your aching core over his dick, gliding him between your folds to tease him further. gojo makes a pained sound, fisting his messy hair with frustration.
"yes, i fucking do," he shouts.
"shh," you clamp your hand over his mouth. "you fucking asshole. you're going to wake people up."
he grumbles nothings into your palm, dampening from his hot pants. within a second, you're sinking down onto him, gojo palming your ass out of instinct and moaning wildly in your palm as you slam your ass back and fuck him stupidly, his bed squeaky on the wooden floors. by now, choso is aware of the hard-on he sprouts, blushing hard and walking away from his friends' door, tossing the paper plate of food in the trash and darting inside his dorm where he tended to his erection shamefully.
"he has a terrible stomach ache," you play off, sighing. your mind wondering back to the same events as well. choso blinks, bringing himself back. mai pouts. "i think i'm going to give him some more soup later today."
"awe, you're so sweet."
"the sweetest," you hum, side-eyeing the pretty black haired boy with the unique scar across his nasal you'd been swooning over since last year, his same-colored eyes concentrating on the professor’s lecture.
class was boring per usual. halfway through you lost consciousness, dozing off to the unholy thoughts inside your mind, thinking about gojo, or satoru—he loves when you called him that in bed. it made him whimper like a puppy. you barely took notes, chewing the edge of your pen, face in the direction of choso’s. it looked like you were glaring at him, when really you were barely seeing the inspirational posters on the wall. since he saw you, you kicked yourself out of your daydream, licking your lips and tilting your head as you grinned at him. the cute boy's breathing becomes inordinate.
"choso," you sing, turning in your seat. his eyes grow big.
"y-yes?"
"are you alright? you've been distant since the other day. did i do something wrong?" you pout, your sultry voice only making his reaction worse.
"no, you did not," he shuts his book. your eyes trail down to the way he bounced his leg anxiously, like he was waiting for something. the professor’s bell, perhaps.
"well—" like you predicted, the bell rang, and the ponytails on the man’s head bounce as he leaps right out of his seat, startling you. you blink.
"see you later," he begins to dash for the door.
"wait!" you call out, eyebrows furrowed. "you're coming to lunch, right? sit with me."
"i promised itadori i'd help him with homework at lunch, sorry," and then he's off without another word. you hum with suspicion.
"come on, sexy, they're serving mochi and ramen today," mai grabs your hand after you stand to your feet and gather your shoulder bag, her and megumi waiting for you.
"okay," you nod, mai pulling you along. you make it to lunch, standing in line with your tray waiting to grab your food. your eyes glance at the clock on the wall, reading the time. it was near. twenty minutes go by, you're nearly done your food, mai is twirling a piece of your hair around her finger while she draws you a tattoo in her book. by now you're sure she has a crush on you. that's the vibe you've been getting since you stepped foot in this college. megumi is in another world per usual, focusing on his assignments. speaking of, you search the cafeteria for a specific person.
he's only two tables down, itadori barely paying attention to choso’s schooling as he vandalizes school property by drawing on the table. you bite your lip, glaring over mai with your chin in your hand. luckily he doesn't notice, which gives you time to admire him longer. since you came here, he was the sweetest person to you. he gave you a tour of the school, bought you lunch on the first day, and overall had an awesome personality. he was so adorable. the way your chest bubbles when around him was crazy. he's been the greatest friend to you, it's unfortunate he was clueless to your infatuation for him.
it wasn't a thing you were expecting to feel. the longer time passed and the older he'd grown, your attraction to him sprouted, and the ache for him prolonged. between every obvious flirt, you had to tone it down since you were beginning to feel like he didn't want you. your feelings for him leaped onto someone else, a person that so happened to be his best friend, gojo. another thing that unintentionally occurred.
"hey, i just remembered i have to do something, i'll catch up with you guys later," as you're tossing your trash in the bin, choso’s glare meets yours. everyone at the table tells you goodbye while you strut away, still feeling those eyes burn into the back of your head.
choso feels bad for his actions earlier. when he saw you, it looked like you were upset with him. he needed to apologize, better yet, come up with a shitty explanation to why he was distant to begin with. there's no way in hell he could tell the truth. he'd rather not, wanting to save himself the embarrassment. he gets up from his seat a few seconds after you, excusing himself to the bathroom and following you to where he's assuming your dorm. he was wrong.
the instant he sees you unlocking gojo’s door, he ducks behind a wall, peeking without being seen to see as much as he could. from what he could tell in the reflection of a mirror by his bed, you were pleased, cocking your head and smirking at the helpless man. the door is cracked partially yet again, it's almost like you want someone to catch you. to see what you could do to this man, let everyone know what other side gojo shielded from the world.
"missed me?" choso watches as you step out of your shoes, fingering your stocking as you bite your lip and hum, smoothing your hands tauntingly slow under your skirt to fish for your thong that slipped down your silk legs. you tie your hair up, choso spotting the dozens of hickey's you tried to hide with your hair all day. you hike your leg up, climbing onto gojo’s bed before crouching just above his brief covered crotch. gojo is bewildered, wrists aching from the cuffs attaching him to a metal pole beside his bed.
he knows not to speak, you taught him this. if he disobeyed, like he usually would, he'd get an even worse punishment. the handcuffs were because of his lack of control behind touching you without your say so. your skirt mostly covers both of your crotches, but the way you're moving your hips and his mouth widens, choso could spot the obvious.
"i have a surprise for you," you unbutton your blouse, retrieving a tiny silver key from your bralette to release his wrists. "i want you to take control. fuck me like it's the last time you ever will."
the last time? it couldn't be because���no way. he's thinking too far ahead. a reflection of your eyes in the mirror looks as if you're staring directly at him—smirking knowingly. choso gulps, hiding himself and rubbing his hands over his face, heading towards his dorm. this was killing him. instead of relieving himself like he fell weak to before, he decided to clear his head, heading to the gym to distract another lewd thought. dressing in a black muscle shirt that only stopped above his happy trail and a pair of matching sweats.
as he makes his way out, he just so happens to pass gojo’s door once more, trying to block his mind from any incoming noise. since his body betrayed him, he stopped by the door anyways, leaning in with his hands in his pocket to peep a sound. the only thing he could hear was gojo’s voice on the phone.
"i knew it," he jumps from the angelic voice, turning his head to see you grinning at him while playing with your necklace. he blinks.
"huh? what do you mean?"
you snicker, inching closer to him. he could smell you, freshly washed skin and blow dried hair. they finished quick. starting to get a hint that he knew knew, he sucks in a breath and begins to walk back to his dorm only to have you tailgate him.
"i knew it was you, cho-so," you teasingly sound out his name, giggling once the boy faces you again and blushes.
"i-it's not what it looks like," he stammers, back colliding with the cold door the closer you stepped, the shape of your breasts grazing his chest. he sucks in a breath, sinking his teeth into his lower lip which became a habit whenever you’re present.
"oh, it's exactly what it looks like," you brush your knee between his crotch to trap him. he yelps quietly, scanning the hallway for peeping eyes. luckily this entry to the hall was dead. "something told me you were needy for me. i make you cum that night? or did gojo? it's okay either way."
you spotted how nervous but ambiguous he was to the invasion of space, but nevertheless, he didn't hesitate on holding back the whimper that was dying to escape from the depth of his throat.
"no, i—" he gulps. he was caught. there was no point in lying. he had to be truthful, or else this ache would ruin him forever. "can we step inside? i don't want anyone seeing us."
"what's wrong with a little public indecency?"
"y/n, i'm begging you," his fists clench. he was afraid of anyone seeing him this way, even you. although his demeanor was very innocent, people didn't know that he could get like this just from a pornographic image of you riding someone else. or your smell, really. like baby powder. a scent he familiarized with only you. he was an easy trigger.
"that's barely begging," cold air hits your bodies after you reach behind him to twist his doorknob, his air conditioner making the entire room icy. he stumbles backward, observing as you close and lock the door behind you.
"tell me something, choso," you trail off, biting your lip as you studied his buff arms and strong chest, abs practically tattooing their shape onto his skin-tight long sleeve. he loves the way you call him by his given name. "are you a virgin?"
choso shakes his head, figuring that would come up. "no."
you lift your brows. "who'd you lose it to?"
"some girl back in high school.”
"hm," you nod, not surprised. he’s attractive.
"what about you?"
"tsk," you shake your finger. "never ask a woman her business."
he frowns, assuming it was a bad experience. it was, but he didn't need that intel. "sorry," he anxiously plays with his hair.
"i think it's cute that you're inexperienced," choso clenches his hair tighter when you drop your shorts to the ground, bottom halve entirely bare. he doesn't know why he just noticed, but you were wearing gojo’s watch, a piece of him he wears almost every day. in a way, that annoyed him. to know that he had you before him infuriated him. another newfound emotion. "it means i get to teach you how to fuck me."
your sentence throws him off guard, pulling the tee over your head and tossing it aside. now you were naked, fully. the sight of your tits had him drooling, enthralled by their perkiness, wanting them in his hands, or rather his mouth. you stroll closer.
"can i touch you?" his hands are already reaching as he says this, you nodding to give him the green light. you rest your palm over his veiny hand, guiding it between your legs to cup the shape of you. he feels how hot it is, gulping. you're soaked, and he thinks it's because of your escapades with gojo.
"it's you," you shut down exactly what he was thinking. and it's true. "i know it's wrong, but i couldn't get you out my head the entire time he was pushing my face into his pillow and fucking me like he hated me."
choso is stunned. "i—you want that?"
"yes, baby," he shivers as you wrap your hand around the back of his neck and pull down so his lips are leveled with your own, running your tongue over his lower lip faintly, his lips parting mindlessly. once they do, your breaths mingle, tongues wetly grazing one another's. choso’s heart is thrashing, dying to taste your tantalizing lips, dreaming about how they would feel amongst his. "but first, i need to show you a few things."
he couldn't refrain himself, sighing out of his nose before taking your lips on his, softly kissing you, lips smacking gently as the two of you moan. you're starstruck, arms awkwardly by your sides as he grunts, heavy hands lifting and spreading your ass apart, the cold air hitting your core which makes you gasp. you'd be lying if you didn't say your heart wasn't racing just like his. he was an exceptionally good kisser, his rough hands subtly caressing your back and drawing you close by your ass, your clit bumping into the bulge in his sweats as he grinds into you.
a horny fucking mess he was making you right now, it's all you've been craving for months. you're so addicting that he hungrily kisses you faster, swallowing your moans, the butterflies dashing in the pit of your stomach. choso whines in despair as you pull away, catching your breath, eyes dilated. the noise he made has your clit throbbing.
"shit," you lick your lips, choso’s expression the same as yours; aroused.
without another word, he's pulling his gym shirt over his head, tossing it and cupping both of your tits, whimpering, "i want them in my mouth," and to your surprise, ducking his head to suck on them. you screech lowly, fingers clasping onto his soft hair and tugging as his tongue glides over your nipples moderately slow, teasing you. you shiver as he stares up at you, going to either side to please you. he's moaning, and it may be the most arousing sound you've ever heard. he was getting hard just from sucking on your chest. the way he's kissing, suctioning his lips, and flicking his tongue is overwhelming. you're supposed to be in charge here.
handling the situation, you clutch the back of his neck to pull him away, his lips puffy and red. the sight is too exhilarating. it's like a dream. "lay on the bed."
red. it's insane how red his face was, damn near resembling a tomato. he's obedient, perching himself onto the middle of his bed as you crawl up, the jewelry you wore richly enhancing your complexion. as you hover above him, he's heaving, intimacy such a dry patch in his day to day life. it's been a while since he's had a woman seduce him. it made him feel like a virgin all over. you were different, corrupting him in a way he solicited for. it was scary how badly he wanted to be dominated.
to see him in this state was a blessing. you've only been daydreaming about this forever, and now here he was, the boy you wanted underneath you for so long, finally where he belonged. body on yours, mouth, tongue—god, you needed him now.
"such a pretty boy, choso," the warmth of your palm engulfs his cheek, plump lips pecking his with a hum before hiking your leg up, choso’s hands holding the front of your thighs with both large palms out of shock.
"fuck," he's sputtering out once your pretty cunt is in his view, mouth inches away. he's mesmerized by it, looking up at you with doe eyes. he doesn't need a go, since he's already bringing your other leg over so both knees are situated beside his head, your fingers brushing the flyaways from his face. sitting entirely, his mouth widens and covers your clit, glaring at you to burn your reactions into his mind. he kisses your clit slowly, tongue slipping out to follow, lips enclosing. he flicks it rapidly, your hips jittery as you rock your hips accordingly.
making sure you don't fall, he throws his forearm around your waist securely, his free hand coming between, sucking on two of his thick fingers before sliding them into you, thrusting them in sync of his pouty lips suckling your clit. the gasps that fall from you are his favorite thing. stirring your hips and riding at your desired pace. it's fucking crazy how your legs are already trembling, gripping his hair for dear life, moaning his name, the sloshy sound of your cum has his eyes rolling back. humming as he swallows your clit, slurping and curling his fingers deep into you. at this rate, you'll cum too fast.
"ah, slow down," he doesn't stop, continues to suck and rush his tongue and you're nearly spasmodic. you can't deny, he's damn good with his tongue. devouring your clit and gulping you down like water. he's like a starved animal. moving his head with his tongue frivolously, grunting and spanking your ass. you scream, trying to remove yourself from him, that is until he pulls you back. it was building up in your stomach, that all too familiar high. he enjoyed this too much.
"cho," you shove his shoulders so his mouth detaches from you, whimpering from the disconnect, catching your breath as you lean back, legs trembling as you clamp them shut, sitting on his abdomen.
groaning, he says, "i'm sorry, i can't help it. you taste so fuckin’ good."
you're flabbergasted. this cannot be the same man with innocent giggles and smiles every day you see him. it can't. voice dying down, gruff and deep yet still a hint of mellowness. eating you out and getting riled from it. goddammit, you wanted him in your mouth now. he deserved it after that.
"you're really fucking good," the way he cleans his face with the back of his hand, grinning like a fucking cocky asshole—you're going to wipe it right off his face.
your knees are near the edge of the bed now, staring up at him as he leans up on his elbows, hissing as you pull his sweats down his hips until they sat at his ankles, his hard cock slapping up onto his stomach. past his belly button with veins running up the underside and precum leaking from the tip—fuck. drool sits at the side of your mouth, coveted for it. to nudge him further, you lean over him to kiss and bite at his neck wetly, hot pants over his skin. he smelt so good. like a men's cologne section at macy's. your mouth trails down to his chest, open-mouthed kisses right above his nipples, then on them.
choso makes a high-pitched whine, his eyes widening after you sucked on his nipple.
"ah! don't," he gasps, bucking his hips.
"don't like it?" before he gets to deny, like he would anyways, you do it again, this time running the pad of your thumb over the hardened nipple after your tongue. at the same time, his dick twitches by your thigh, this makes you grin.
"i—do, it's just," he swallows, unable to find words. his body spoke for him.
"then be quiet," now he's inhaling when you’re arched below him, ass high up for visual pleasure while you spit onto his cock, moaning and taking it in your hand, twisting to spread the saliva, licking the precum from his tender head. silent blubbers fill your ears, seeing his face curl up with pain. as badly as he wanted to snag your hair and push your face down, he didn't want to upset you, therefore stopping.
"baby, please—ah," the way his breath gets caught in his throat by a gasp makes you hum happily, mouth fully wrapped around his tip, lowering your lips until he's touching the back of your throat. choso’s eyes roll back, his hand coming to clutch your scalp, and you let him, which he's thankful for. crumbling before you, choso has his mouth parted, eyelids shut, slowly inching his leg midair towards his chest as you bounce your head and swallow him whole, dangerously gliding your tongue over the vein on his cock, all the while playing with his balls.
"baby, my—" he cuts himself off with another moan, eyebrows furrowed, moving around the bed as if trying to scurry away. it was too much, too sensitive, too stimulated. he can barely open his eyes, weakly bobbing your head while mewling and raising his hips with little to no effort. slobbering him down, spit coating his balls, he didn't need to see to know that you were a fucking goddess. eyes fluttering, stomach heaving—he was a mess.
"you're crazy sensitive," you whistle after cleaning him up, grinning mischievously, assaulting his tip further. he was a moaner, a loud one. albeit very beseeching, you hoped no one would hear him. didn't need them ruining the moment.
"please fuck me," choso wails, thumb swiping over your chin to wipe away your saliva, the small act making your heart thump. "wanna cum so bad, please."
"inside me?" you tease further, grabbing his wrist and crawling forward, placing yourself just above his cock, entwining your hands with his, crouching and teasingly grounding your hips only on the tip.
"yes, deep inside," he whimpers, rutting his twitchy hips upward. "move your hips baby, please!" tears are welling now. "please, m'gonna cum."
"so pushy," you suck your teeth, arching over him, tits in his face. he's wallowing the sight. "put it in, then."
choso thanks you, releasing one hand from yours to reach behind you to fist his cock, both of you maneuvering your hips down to fully sit. fuck, you're so tight, he mumbles. fuck, you're so deep, you cry. you're engulfing his cock like it's nothing, feeling the curve of him within your stomach, weeping in the air, brows curled. a pitched moan tumbles out when choso’s mouth wraps around you nipples once more, your hand clashing against the headboard with indulgence. moving your hips, he groans in your chest, slick on his cock, pacing yourself first before bouncing back until the awfully familiar noise of flesh hitting flesh fulfills your ears.
both of you are gasping, humming low in your throats each time your ass comes down and hits his broad thighs. eyes scrolling back into your head as you submerge yourself in pleasure, throwing your head back and choking continuously. you cry after leaning forward, releasing his hands and wrapping them around his neck, tongues fluttering over each other's as the two of you exchanged breaths and keened, grounding your clit hard on the trimmed happy trail of his. so goddamn sexy. everything about him drove you mad. neither of you could say a word, too endured in one another to do so.
you of all people had choso kamo pinned beneath you while you fucked him as he praised you, your name, your pussy. mixing saliva, clashing lips, and zealously groping skin. you'll never forget this, especially with how he's making everyone know. you got a kick out of his submission, the pleads, the begging—you needed to hear more. wanted to tease him again. seeing a man so needy made you entirely too aroused. it made you feel powerful. being said, you halt your hips, panting and watching his eyes open, instantly noticing the annoyance, betrayal even.
"n-no, please don't. please keep fucking me, i need it so fucking much," he chokes on his cries, grabbing your ass only for you to pin his hands above his head. just a little more, you needed to hear him beg a few more times.
"do you?"
"yes, i do," he frets.
"i don't think you do," the condescending tone in your voice has the poor thing wailing, shaking like a leaf.
"i do!" more whines, whimpers, and cries.
"prove it."
now he's done, he doesn't give a shit anymore. choso clenches his jaw, that one action making you fear him for a split second. out of nowhere, he shoves you down to his chest, planting his feet flat on the bed while crisscrossing your arms behind your back before manically ramming his cock so fucking deep it's almost painful.
"nn, cho—" there's not a word you can say to protest, in fact, you didn't want to as he relentlessly fucks you with aggression, ass slapping brutally against his thighs. you're drooling the harder he drills into you, walls clenching and squelching around his cock. it's hard for you to breathe, crying by his neck, his name too loud. his name, choso thinks. over and over for everyone to hear, even gojo. sobbing as he whines and slicks his tongue over your neck after turning his face, leaving evident hickey's darker than gojo’s as a taunt, growling, actually fucking growling, "so fucking good for me, baby. what a good girl."
"choso," clasping his shoulders, you scratch hard, for sure leaving marks, choking out, "i can't, i can't. fuck—cum inside me."
"i said i would," the gruffness of his voice vibrating on your skin is enough to make you cum, quite literally screaming into his shoulder blade, anyone would think you were being gutted open by a murderer. the next thing that only he's aware of is how wetter you've gotten, ridiculously wet, like water. when he slams harder, he realizes that you squirted, looking around you to see the pool dampening his lower abdomen and bed sheets.
"baby, fuck me," seeing that sets him off, pressing your hips tightly down, jaw slacked with complete silence before he spurts deep inside you hotly, voice trembling.
"y/n," he could be heard whimpering over and over again. you build the energy to glide your tongue over his neck while you let him come down from his high, choso still grinding your ass, stuttering, "f-fuck, y/n."
you couldn't move anymore, flaccid on his chest, choso’s pulse by your ear like a white noise for your comfort, and what made it better was the warmth of his arms hugging you while kissing your shoulder and massaging your scalp, carefully pulling out of you, the emptiness a disappointment.
"are you okay?" the worry in his voice has you giggling tiredly, nodding your head without another word. he smiles endearingly, staying with you just like this for a few more
© 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐞, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞.
#rewrite#choso kamo#choso x y/n#choso x you#choso x reader#choso smut#choso kamo smut#jjk smut#smut#one shot#anime smut#anime one shot#anime imagines#jujustu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen smut#choso kamo x reader#choso kamo x you#jjk choso#𝜗ৎ ˚⋅ 𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖜𝖇𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖞 𝖈𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖓 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒𝖘.
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Illuminated, pt.2
Summary: Seeing an old friend isn’t always a happy occasion, but it can direct you to someone who undoubtedly makes your heart beat faster.
Warnings: talk of war and death, book spoilers
Part 1
=================================
It felt strange to be walking the same halls she once revered. Y/N had barely grown at all since her time at Little Palace, if anything she'd claim she got shorter, but the walls didn't seem as intimidating as they used to.
Back then, she was just a clueless girl with dreams that turned into nightmares. The war had left deep wounds everywhere in Ravka and for that, Y/N would curse Alina Starkov's name until her dying breath.
Ravka trusted Alina to rescue them from the darkness, but she only expanded it. She fled from her responsibility and responded with force when General Kirigan asked for accountability.
Y/N was considered too young to be allowed in battle, sent away by the Darkling with children who have not yet mastered their particular branch of small science. Grisha a year older than her were given the chance to protect Ravka, something she wished she could have done.
If it were up to her, she'd have stood by him instead of hiding.
Y/N had always been quite capable of controlling her power. Whether it be fire, wind or water, she held a firm grasp over all three elements with an iron fist and a terrifyingly sharp mind. She had developed attacks no one else is capable of, the kind that made other Grisha wary of her ferocity.
Naturally, she assumed that was why General Kirigan had called on her. The last thing she expected was to have the General, her King, admire the abominable blue flames she wields.
"Y/N?" A breathless reminder of a voice she once knew had stopped her in her tracks.
Looking over her shoulder, Y/N's lips break into a wide smile at the sight of her old friend and confidant.
She didn't waste time, running toward the girl who had fiery hair Y/N always wanted to have too. Colliding with Genya, Y/N couldn't stop a laugh that escaped her as she wrapped her arms around her much taller friend.
“I. Can’t. Breathe!” Genya manages to say between shallow, strained breaths.
Chuckling, Y/N releases her from the death grip she calls a hug. She’s never been subtle in showing affection, or hate.
“I can’t believe it’s you!” Y/N exclaims, her attempt to quiet down failing before she even tries.
With a surprised smile set on her lips, Genya nods. “I didn’t realize you’d be at Little Palace.”
Faltering, Y/N licks her lips as her smile is erased. “You don’t seem too happy about that.”
“Little Palace isn’t exactly the safest place in Ravka anymore”, Genya musses.
Scoffing, Y/N furrows her eyebrows. “Alina made it unsafe.” Lifting her chin, Y/N continues, “The Darkling will protect us.”
Pursing her lips, Genya looks around carefully to ensure they’re alone. “That’s the problem. While he’s here, no one is safe.” Taking Y/N by the elbow, she pulls her aside toward the open window to help disguise their voices from any curious listeners. “Alina was our only hope of killing him.”
Ripping her arm away from Genya’s hold, Y/N narrows her eyes at the friend she once trusted more than anyone else in this world. When there was no hope, Genya put a smile on her face. Even when Y/N was losing herself, she had Genya to remind her of who she is.
She never doubted her friend, never questioned her loyalty or sanity. Until now.
“Genya, who did you fight alongside with?” Y/N asks sharply, her lips forming a thin line.
“You don’t know the entire story”, Genya tries but Y/N steps away as if she’d been burned.
The war had made warriors from children for no matter how they tried to protect their innocence, war leaves no one untouched. When Alina Starkov decided to turn her back on Grisha, Y/N and many others have been forced to grow up far too quickly. No silly crushes or petty arguments mattered for the blood had reached them once Alina slaughtered Botkin in front of them. It was the only taste of war Y/N had for she had killed for the first time on that day.
Alina is the reason she has blood on her hands.
“The story I do know is enough for me”, Y/N huffs as she shakes her head at Genya. “The fact our General did not kill you is proof of his generosity. Perhaps you should learn to appreciate him. Your precious Alina never showed such mercy.”
Turning her back on Genya, Y/N headed back. She didn’t want to explore the old corridors anymore, but to bathe and sleep. From tomorrow on, she’ll be working with Kirigan on her new ability and she didn’t want to display any reasons for him to distrust her.
She pauses as Genya speaks up.
“I wonder what will get you killed faster – your loyalty or stubbornness?”
Turning her head to the left, Y/N could see her old friend in her peripheral vision. “At least I’ll die for something I believe in. I’ll die for Ravka. Can you say the same?”
Fuming, Y/N tossed and turned in her bed. She turned the pillow to the colder side, she even tried turning her head on the opposite side of the headboard, but nothing could calm her mind or the itching to use her powers to blow off some steam.
The one part of herself she truly did connect with the Inferni was the temper she often got in trouble for. When Nina Zenik called her stupid, she burned off her eyebrows and Botkin forced her to wake up at the crack of dawn and do sprints for the next month as punishment. It’s probably the only time in her life she was truly in good form.
Grunting, she raised her legs and slammed them back on the mattress in frustration. Tossing the blanket off, she grabbed her blue kefta and left the room.
Her footsteps echo the halls as she all but runs out, straight into the foggy morning air outside. The cold pinches her skin, her lips trembling for a moment before she sinks her front teeth into her bottom lip. Her breaths come in visible puffs of air as she wraps her arms around her middle while securing her hands under her armpits to stop herself from using her power that’s calling to her like the siren song calls sailors to their certain death.
Y/N always had the misfortune of wearing her heart on her sleeve with those she cares for. She also has a nasty tendency to either feel nothing or everything at once and when someone she loves turns out to be different than what she believed, it causes an uncontrollable explosion of emotion deep within.
“Is there a particular reason you’re outside at this ungodly hour?” A deep voice makes her gasp as she turns to look at the very person she most admires.
Raising her eyebrows, she nearly laughed as she realized the Darkling wore not his kefta, but the clothes he sleeps in. It’s loose clothing, black as his kefta and horse and yet it gives off a softness she did not realize a man as powerful as him could ever possess.
“I’d ask you the same, General”, she retorts with her eyebrows still raised as if she’s challenging him to come closer and make her stop ogling him.
For a moment, she thought he might turn away and leave as he stood there calmly. It feels as if he’s studying her, taking in every inch of her and committing it to memory. If it were any other man, Y/N would have spoken up or acted out to prevent the uncomfortable feeling of being watched so intimately, yet she didn’t want Kirigan to ever stop looking at her. If not for her fear of being too forward, she’d invite him closer.
As if he read her mind, Kirigan takes a step closer….and then another one. She can’t help but wonder what’s going through his mind.
What does he see when he looks at her?
How does she look in his eyes, because the way he’s looking at her now is taking her breath away?
He looks at her as if there is something worth looking at.
“Sometimes my mind turns on me”, he admits in a low, quiet tone that Y/N has to strain to hear him properly. “I’ve lived a long life and a longer one awaits me. My mind is full of ghosts that want retribution for what I did to them.”
Swallowing thickly, she straightens her back as she comes closer – close enough to feel his breath as it fans the hair at the top of her head.
“What did you do to them?”
The left corner of his lips twitches. “You’d think ill of me if I told you.”
Averting her gaze to his bare chest revealed by the wind as it pulled the fabric of his shirt, Y/N licks her lips. She argues with herself on her next move, wondering if it would be improper to touch the man who had been considered untouchable by everyone she ever met. Her fingers years to feel his skin under their tips, to slowly trail the jawline she wants to press her lips against.
Frowning softly, she bites her lower lip as she locks her eyes on his dark ones. Unlike many before her, she does not crumble under the weight of his heavy gaze. Her heart trembles as she reaches out and places her palm on his chest.
He didn’t expect her to touch him, tensing up. It’s surprising how warm her hand is, more so how inviting the warmth is. He’s hyper-aware of every breath he takes as his chest expands under her touch, hoping this incredibly brazen Grisha does not feel the way his heart jumps with the sudden surge of her bravery.
When he notices her lips move, he holds his breath as if the simple act of breathing could muffle her voice and make it harder for him to soak up the blind loyalty and love she holds for him.
“Who we are and who we need to be to survive are two different things. You’re not evil for choosing to protect yourself and your country. I could never think badly of you, General.”
It’s been a long time since he found someone so incredibly devoted to him and his cause, exhilarating him to the core. Alina had never truly believed in him for she always considered him wicked, but Y/N couldn’t be more different. Perhaps he’s right and this time it will work.
With someone trusting as Y/N is, he can’t possibly fail again.
Letting her hand fall, Y/N looks away as she realizes she crossed the line and his silence is the easiest way for him to inform her of it. Truth be told, she wondered who was the last woman who got to lay her hand on his chest.
Was it Alina?
There were rumors of the relationship Kirigan and Alina supposedly had and Y/N always felt a pang of jealousy upon hearing the girls talk. She never knew him, she never truly had him and she never will, but the idea someone else does brought her pain.
Perhaps her overthinking or the increasingly awkward silence prompted her temper to speak instead of her brain.
"Did you love her?" Y/N blurts out.
Her eyes widen as she realizes her thoughts have become vocal and in the presence of the very man she should be watching her mouth around.
"I apologize. It must be a difficult time to reminisce about." Maybe Nina was right – she is stupid!
"It is quite alright.” Darkling lets out an audibly heavy breath. “I did not love her, I trusted her. I trusted her enough to put all my hope for a better Ravka on her shoulders and she betrayed our country."
"No", she reaches out slowly, her hand finding its way to his as it gingerly grasps his fingers. "She betrayed you."
Smiling reluctantly, Kirigan finds himself wondering if he should embrace the fact Y/N seems to be a very touchy person or if he should set some boundaries. Despite the shiver that runs down his spine, he allows her hand to fully take his as he closes his fingers around hers.
"I should have seen it coming. I'm far too used to betrayal."
"I'd never do that", she pauses. "I'd never betray you. I'd never break your trust."
Her responses are quick, so innocent and naïve that he can’t help but feel guilty about every moment he spends near her. No one should send a doe eyed beauty into the clutches of a beast so easily, yet he has no desire to force her to leave.
"Don't make promises you can't keep."
Smiling, her entire face lights up. It’s a true delight to witness so early in the morning after a long night of nightmares he faced.
“Do not worry, General. I have every intention on proving myself to you.”
Glancing at their hands, her smile widens. She spent years wishing for this and now that it’s happening she can’t seem to believe it’s real.
“The sun will come up soon”, he changes the topic.
Y/N fears he might leave and her hand would be back at her side as she watches his retreating figure, but when he speaks again her heart dances in her chest.
“Would you like to watch the sunrise with me?”
Inhaling sharply, she nods. “Very much so.”
Unfortunately for them, someone else couldn’t sleep that night and they had seen just enough for a terrible plan to be born.
=================================
A/N - So, I’m definitely going to play with the books here and twist some things to fit the storyline I have in mind. There might be some spoilers, so read with caution. I debated on making more than a one shot for this and taking on some ideas I have for Darkling but also Nikolai, so I’m not sure how long this will be just yet.
Tags: @deceivedeer @evyiione @measshaw
Part 3
#the darkling x reader#the darkling#aleksander kirigan x reader#aleksander morozova x reader#aleksander morozova#aleksander kirigan#general kirigan x reader#general kirigan#shadown and bone
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Mafia!Red Velvet Reaction to being teased for their soft spot on their S/O
⚠ TW: Swearing, guns, knifes, mention of kidnapping & murder.
Irene
A feared boss in her city, her gang is known for pledging an undying allegiance to her, and while every rival family tries and tries to look for one, it's bold of anyone to believe Joohyun has any type of weakness. But that doesn't mean that she isn't capable of loving.
Of course you knew about her job and her status, but everything about her ruthless reputation sounded so wrong to you. She wasn't sinister, heartless and wicked at all, but a super attentive, caring and sweet girlfriend. Your only connection to that world was your girlfriend, both being completely clear that you didn't want in on the business. But even if Joohyun knew to separate her personal life from her workplace, some of her subordinates sometimes mistake her amiability and cross lines she defends very ardently.
A disappointed and terrified gasp filled the table when a newly promoted subordinate had the guts to get you into the conversation unprompted and even jokingly call you the 'weak spot' of the gang. His laughter started dying after nobody followed him into the joke, only to be instantly cut when the click of a gun was heard at the end of the table.
"It's never a bad time to remind you all of certain rules," Joohyun's mouth was far from a smile, as she waved the point of the gun around the table, finally landing over the petrified man. "Just in case any of you forgot."
The man gulped hard, his hands shaking in the armrests of his chair as Irene went out in a knife-cutting tension rant, enough to make everyone, even the closest members sweat their nerves out.
"... But Y/N name is not to be out of anyone's mouth but mine." Joohyun put away the gun, not lowering her guard and the killing glance. "I hope it's perfectly clear, because I only warn once."
Seulgi
If it wasn't for the fact that Seulgi and some of her gang members were on the most wanted lists across the world, anyone could be fooled into thinking they were a totally normal, high-end suburban family. Since you both started seeing each other more seriously, she was clear about her job and identity, and enthusiastically introduced you to her gang.
Of course you were a little scared at first, but everyone received you with open arms and warm smiles. And even if you wanted nothing to do with the business itself and Seulgi respected that, you couldn't avoid some of the reunions that came with being a partner of the boss.
"I'm trying to close the deal with the casino owner down the strip, but if he doesn't agree with this final terms we'll be forced to get rid of hi-" You arrived at the table with a hot cup of coffee for her, as her tone, face and eyes completely shifted, glowing mesmerized by your image."Thank you sweetheart, come take a seat!"
The rest of the gang at the table started chuckling at the image in front of them: the one and only unbreakable boss, all melted at the sight of her lover. She scanned around, taken aback by the laughter until one subordinate dared talking.
"Not to be a disrespectful boss," The man was lightly giggling through his words, but intending no harm. "But it's a little hard to take you seriously about exterminating someone when you look like a huggable teddy bear."
All the room laughed at the comment, including Seulgi herself. She could take all the teasing the members wanted, but the moment anyone laid a finger over you, it's a total game over for them and they knew it.
Wendy
There still were some things that you hadn't got completely used to even after all this time dating Seungwan, especially the entire mafia thing. She was such a sweetheart with you that when you joined her and her gang members on the meetings and that sort of stuff, it was so weird for you to listen about kidnappings, money and sometimes even murder coming directly from her mouth as if it was a normal theme for conversation.
The family actually liked you and had a good relationship with you (Pity for anyone who didn't and Seungwan heard about it), but they also knew that you didn't want to get involved with the business at all, so they mostly stayed out of your way and off their mouths. But there were other unfortunate times when someone blurred the lines and dared crossing them.
Driving to your summer home, two subordinates, your girlfriend and you joked around like normal people for once. Everything was doing just fine until the man on the copilot seat decided to abuse the trust of the situation a little too much.
"You should know Y/N," He started chuckling, "I had never seen Seungwan so head-over-heels for a dumb wh*re befor-"
Not a second had passed when the man was already being pinned back to his seat, with a knife pressed against his throat.
"I didn't know you decided to practice comedy!" Seungwan kept laughing as she caressed his skin with the blade. "That was to die for! Don't you think?"
The man immediately apologized, begging for his life with every word, when Seungwan slowly took the knife back to her pocket.
"It's Mrs. Son for you." She snapped, taking your hand in hers. "You wouldn't want me to remind you about respect a second time."
Joy
For being a big mafia boss, Sooyoung was a pretty venerated figure in the city. Her gang was known mostly for investing around the city and being overall pacific, of course, unless provoked. Nobody could deny the closeness of the family either, but it didn't mean it was all flowers and rainbows, it's a power game after all.
One that became a little more tense when you started dating the one and only boss, almost immediately after being welcomed into the family. Some of the other members thought you had no right to be by Sooyoung's side all the time, always locked in her office with her when there were members devoting their entire life to the business, as if being her partner was a position to be employed for.
"I thought the boss would be more intelligent than that," One of the subordinates started, "Y/N has her under their grasp, it's getting ridiculous."
"Y/N doesn't even have the guts it takes to be in the business," Another subordinate followed. "It just makes the boss look wea-"
"Excuse me? It makes me look how?" Sooyoung's voice coming through the door made every person's hair stand on end, as she walked past fixing the cuffs on her shirt.
There was nothing that annoyed her more than those comments. Being the chief of a large and busy family was overwhelming at best and the fact that you were a little more outside of the whole thing wasn't a hindrance, it was her perfect escape from this black and white reality she led.
"There are so many things that can be considered weak, like rumors, infighting, and even that blazer." Sooyoung pointed at one of the subordinates' clothes as she continued talking, everyone's legs shaking from terror. "But loving someone is not and will never be a weakness."
Yeri
When she told you that she was the Kim Yerim, the youngest mafia boss to ever be wanted by governments across the world, you thought it was all a joke. There was no way this caring, funny, kind woman was the one and only leader of the biggest gang in the city. But she was.
And the surprises definitely didn't stop there. The reputation of the gang was absolutely nothing short of coldblooded, so of course it was surprising when the entire family received you as one of theirs into their circle. You stayed off their affairs, but still were a very welcomed presence at dinner and parties. The higher ranked started treating you as one of their own, teasing you and their boss, drinking and laughing, even protecting you when Yerim wasn't around.
But there was an unfortunate day for one clerk though, because just as you both were leaving the dinner party, you over heard from his mouth call you both a 'bootlicker boss and their dumb sidechick'.
"Hey," Yerim's call was enough for the man's face to go translucent, as she pointed back at him. "Follow me to the office please…"
You were safely escorted back to your house, where Yerim arrived later in the evening and refused to talk further on the matter. The next time you came back, you greeted everyone but didn't fail to notice a tense air going around in your presence. That's when it dawned on you.
That clerk that insulted you was nowhere to be seen. Everyone, even you, knew exactly what happened to him.
"It's not bad to remind the rest of their place," Yerim placed a kiss on your cheek as she intertwined her fingers with yours. "If I don't set the boundaries, who else will?"
#red velvet reactions#red velvet imagines#red velvet scenarios#tw: guns#tw: murder#tw: swearing#tw: knives#red velvet irene#red velvet seulgi#red velvet wendy#red velvet joy#red velvet yeri#mafia!au#mafia!red velvet
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in morning light.
"I love you," are the words which he breathes against her skin, warm and true, soft but strong. His hands follow close behind, his calloused fingers surprisingly gentle as they caress even the soft, ivory skin of her thighs, of her hips, of her breasts. Jon's hands spread across her, leaving fire in the wake of his touch, rendering her breathless, speechless. "I'll love you forever...." his whisper is at her ear, in her hair, all while his hands trail the length of her spine. His touch fuels her in a way in which she's never felt before, in a way she never wants to let go of again. "Sansa..." Even just the way he says her name is enough to make her heart flutter, the warmth that fills her up threatening to overflow.
For a moment, she must pause, hands to his cheeks, his little bit of beard rough against her palms. His eyes are bright in the light of the hearth, the glow casting him into a golden haze. "This is real?" She has to ask, just to be certain, fearful for a single moment that she might wake to find this has been just a dream. A wonderful dream, but a dream all the same.
"Aye... It's real," he says with a grin, his own hands sliding into place over hers. "I've dreamed of this night while I've been away," he goes on to admit, sobering slightly, those Stark gray eyes serious once more. "It was the only thing that kept me going." He thinks back to all those long, sleepless night away from her, the one thing pushing him on being her. Each time he thought he might give in and give up, he would think of her and know he must go on. He had gone to war for her once and surely, he would do it again- in truth, Jon can't think of a single thing he wouldn't do for her. That was the power she held over him, a power he's certain she's not even aware of. "I've missed you," he says for the second time that day, but this time his words are accompanied by a kiss.
Her only response is to kiss him back.
[ x x x ]
Later, as Sansa sleeps peacefully beside him, Jon can't help but to marvel at her beauty.
Her features, long since committed to his memory, are still yet striking. Perhaps even more so in a moment such as this. The long, red hair he's admired since childhood is far more beautiful by the moonlight that spills in through the parted curtains; ivory skin is soft and he was surprised to find the freckles that dotted her cheeks also adorned her shoulders. Tenderly he reaches out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face as she sleeps, knowing that if given the chance he would willingly wake up beside her every single morning. But he can't, he knows that, and so he slips from beneath the furs and dresses in the dark. A moment before he goes, Jon returns back to her bed and leans over, just so he might press a kiss to her temple.
Out in the hall, as he steps out from her chamber, he finds himself face to face with Sansa's ever loyal lady knight, Brienne of Tarth. For a moment, they merely stare at one another, until Brienne gives a quick nod, perhaps of understanding, before she slips around him and disappears behind the door he's only just come out from.
It's only a few doors down from Sansa's rooms that he finds his own, dark and cold without a fire burning in the hearth. But it matters not, he's already as warm as he ever could be. Knowing the morning call was not far from sounding, he fumbles until he finds his cloak, draped over the back of a chair, and swings it arounds his shoulders. These furs he's worn since that morning she had presented them to him many months ago, even before their retaking of Winterfell, mean more to him than perhaps any other thing he has ever had before.
And so he smiles, as he always does when he thinks of her.
[ x x x ]
When she wakes, she's alone.
Of course she must be, but it stings despite that knowledge, and she sighs as she pushes back the furs she lays beneath. "My lady," Brienne greets only a moment later, coming into the room with every intention of waking her, as she's slept through the morning call. For a moment, she must stop to take in the sight of her young mistress, with her tousled red hair and wild eyes, wearing a look she's never before worn. "I thought you might sleep all day," she says as Sansa swings her legs over the bed and rises up. Brienne is there in an instant, offering her the robe in which she had earlier that morning draped over the chair nearest the fire, warming it.
Sansa blushes a shade of crimson that could rival even her hair and pushes past her sworn shield, choosing to instead sit herself at her mirror, picking up her brush so she might begin to brush out her hair. Brienne shakes her head, but chuckles as she reaches down to pick up the long since discarded nightgown on the floor beside the bed. "Do you not find it to be wrong?" Sansa's voice breaks into her thoughts and Brienne turns back, only to find the young woman as set aside both brush and blush, blue eyes focused in earnest on the only other person she trusts in this world besides Jon. "Do you not..." She cannot finish the words, instead she turns away, suddenly unable to face Brienne. "Do you not find it shameful...?"
The only sound that comes is the heavy footsteps of Brienne crossing the room, all so she might sink to the floor and level herself to the girl she's pledged her life to. "Lady Sansa, there is nothing you could do that I would find shameful," Brienne speaks softly, urgently, her tone forcing Sansa to turn back to face her. Their eyes meet and as always, they understand one another, and Sansa can't help but to smile. "So long as you are safe and you're happy, then so am I."
It takes only a moment before Sansa has thrown her arms around her knight's neck, embracing her in a way she's never done before. Now, it is Brienne's turn to blush, her lips curving with a smile of her own as she returns the embrace.
When she's alone a short while later, dressed and hair twisted in braids, Sansa can only wonder as to how she's become so very lucky.
[ x x x ]
"In the crypts... You'll be safest down there."
His voice is a whisp of smoke, so soft that she thinks for a moment she must have only imagined his words. But then his hands are gripping hers, his Stark colored eyes wild and frantic as he speaks her name, bringing her back. "I have to go," he says, leaning in so he might tilt his forehead against hers, their hands clasped between them. "I love you, Sansa," he whispers and she closes her eyes, a single tear streaking the curve of her cheek. "When I come back..." He doesn't get to finish, for they both hear the sounds of approaching footsteps, and it's just as he finally lets her go that the door to her chamber swings open without ceremony.
It's Arya, who stops for only a moment to glance from older brother to sister, noticing at once the energy that fills the room. "They're waiting for you," she says slowly, focusing her own gray eyes closely upon the pair, noting Sansa's teary eyes and Jon's twitching hands. "Brienne will be here soon to escort you to the crypts," Arya says, rather than what she wants to say, and steps forward to press a small blade into her sister's hand. When Sansa opens her mouth to voice her concern, Arya shakes her head and smiles. "Stick 'em with the pointy end," she repeats the words that Jon had spoken to her so very long ago. Jon smiles. "Well let's go." Arya raises a hand and gestures for Jon to follow behind her.
She turns just as the door falls closed, only to see Jon holding onto Sansa as if she were the one thing anchoring him to the earth. And so she chuckles, hoping that when the run rises next, Jon and Sansa might finally get their chance at happiness.
[ x x x ]
When the door to the crypts opens and the glimmer of dawn spills in, she knows it's over.
The hush of death greets them as they tip toe up the cracked, stone steps, leaving behind as much destruction as they find above. A shudder runs the length of her spine as she takes in the horror all around her; the dead and dying litter the grounds, the man nearest to her crying quietly as he whispers the name of the wife he's to leave behind. Something cold twists in her belly and she closes her eyes, as if this is enough, as if this single gesture will make everything else go away.
She opens her eyes and finds it has not worked, for the landscape is still that of a battlefield, ravaged and bloodstained.
But all is not lost, for a moment later she spots not only Arya, but Brienne, traipsing back up the way from the godswood, Arya pushing Bran who from a single glance looks unharmed. Her heart skips a beat and she's rushing forward, throwing her arms around the little sister she's almost lost far too many times. While Arya strains to free herself, complaining of her wounds, Sansa's eyes have already fallen upon another, coming up from beneath the canopy of trees. It's Jon coming now, bruised and battered, but very much alive. "Go..." It's Bran and she turns to look at the younger brother she loves, but barely knows. "Go to him." He urges and something about the way he looks tells her that he knows everything will turn out alright in the end.
And so, before she can stop herself, she's running for him.
She's running like she did that first day back in Castle Black, towards the only sense of hope she's ever felt. When he takes her into his arms, he swings her around, uncaring of all the eyes upon them. Somewhere in the distance, violet eyes watch the scene, but Daenerys' heart is far too wounded to feel the sting. When her feet are back on the ground, Sansa buries her face into the crook of his neck, the feel of his arms around her waist unlike anything she's ever felt before. Someday she would realize that it was love she felt, pure, unyielding love.
He holds her at arm's length now, staring into her smiling face, knowing she shines so brightly because her family still yet lives. That they have won. But Jon must wonder... At what cost? He thinks about how soon, he will have to break her heart with news of Theon, but for now, he can only pull her back into his arms, thankful that he was there to do so, thankful that she was safe. In the distance, the sun continues it's slow ascent over the horizon, casting the snowy world into a quiet, pink haze of morning light.
They had finally made it to morning.
#jonsa#actuallyjonsa#jon x sansa#i wrote this#my writing#i literally saved this as#me not finishing anything ever#SO SUCK IT ME FROM TWO WEEKS AGO
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My Grandfather’s Lawyer (pt. 1)
⁂ – Ushijima Wakatoshi x reader – ⁂
warning: nsfw, swearing
Summary: Your grandfather, Washijo Tanji, disowned your mother when she was pregnant with you and her hatred towards him was passed on to you. Now, your estranged grandfather wants you to leave your life in Tokyo and come live with him in his estate in the Miyagi Prefecture.
You took a day off and a 6-hour trip, intending to give him a piece of your mind before disappearing from their lives forever. You didn’t expect to see an ailing and fragile old man. Your day trip stretched into weeks and soon, you patched things up with your estranged family and warmed up to everyone -except to one: Ushijima Wakatoshi -your grandfather’s lawyer.
He thinks you have ulterior motives in reuniting with your grandfather.
You weren’t suppose to care what he thinks of you. His opinion didn’t matter.
But it did.
MASTERLIST
AN: So, here’s part 1 and it’s going to be a little fast-paced, with like 5 parts. tops. Lemme know if you wanna get tagged.
⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ –
"If you need anything, I'm only a call away."
You recalled Kiyoko's words earlier this morning. She was the one who dropped you off at the bus station for your six-hour trip from Tokyo to Miyagi prefecture. You and Kiyoko were childhood friends and since the death of your parents, she had been living with you in the house that your parents left you. You knew each other's life stories so it wasn't news to her the hatred and animosity that you harbored for your estranged grandfather.
She was worried at first and voiced out her concern, thinking that maybe your emotions were getting the best of you. But you reassured her, saying that you can handle yourself. And so, you two parted ways with her advice at the forefront of your mind.
You regretted your rash decision, not because you're worried about how your grandfather would react to finally seeing you but because of the long, exhausting, and dusty road that you have been trudging for the past hour.
The nearest train station is one hour away from the Washijo estate -which is located in the Katta District (which has a population density of 77 people per square kilometer). It was a ghost town compared to Tokyo, you thought. The train conductor informed you that from here on, the road is Washijo's property and that you would be very very lucky if a stray cab passed by.
You would've appreciated the scenic view before you, lush green forest by the roadside, mountain ranges stretched in the far distance, clear blue skies plus the unnaturally mild summer wind, if it weren't for the pile of dust and dirt clinging to your skin as you trudge along the damned road.
The hatred within you flared. This is all your grandfather's fault, you seethed. He disowned your mother when she was pregnant with you, he refused your family when your father begged him to help with your mother treatments, and he didn't even come to her own daughter's funeral when she died.
A lone tear escaped your eye at the bitter memory. You have one goal today; and that is to say to your grandfather's face that he's a worthless piece of shit. And that if it weren't for him, your parents would still be alive. After this, you will go back to your life in Tokyo and forget the Washijo name until your dying day. You will remember it only to curse it once more.
A loud honk made you jump, pulling you from your dark thoughts. You turned around with a scowl on your face, because who the hell does that in a deserted road?
A sleek black car pulled over behind you and seconds later, a man boarded off the driver's side. He had spiky black hair swept to the side, his cat-like eyes looked at you curiously.
"Are you y/n?"
You nodded, apprehensive.
The man breathed out a sigh of relief. His whole body relaxed. "Ah, thank god, I was just in time."
"Excuse me, but who are you?" You raised a brow.
"Oh, my bad. I'm Kuroo, your cousin. The one who kept calling you on the phone?"
"Ah..." You tipped your head in acknowledgment. "How did you know I was here."
"I tried calling your phone but I can't reach you, so I called your home phone and your friend, Shimizu, said you were on your way here. I must've missed you at the station."
"I see."
"Come, I'll give you a ride." he gestured towards the passenger seat.
You narrowed your eyes at him, unsure if you should believe his words. For all you know, this might be a human trafficking scheme.
He must've have sensed your hesitation. "I know it's weird, we haven't met each other before but here," he pulled out his wallet, took out an id card and showed it to you.
Washijo Kuroo
"You can hold onto my phone if you want, and have 110 on speed dial if you think you're in danger." He offered you his phone.
You took it after a few seconds of hesitation but in the end, you let yourself be guided towards the car. You also wouldn't want to triple the amount of dust and dirt that already clung to your skin so you welcomed the airconditioned vehicle and the comfortable seat that it offered.
"Ji-ji would be thrilled to see you. I thought you would keep on rejecting his request to come live with us, what made you change your mind?"
"Sorry to burst your bubble but I don't intend to live with any of you." You spat.
"Ooh, is that hatred I sense in your voice?" He teased, despite your hostility. "It seems our cousins are wrong about your reasons for coming here."
"Wrong about what?"
"Nothing, don't mind it, my little cousin. Can I call you that?"
"No, you may not." Your cousin chuckled and that annoyed you. "What's so funny?"
"Did you know that your mother, was closest to my father, out of all her brothers? Oto-san was really heartbroken when Oba-san cut off her ties with everyone. Oto-san would say you have her spirit if he was still alive."
His words confused you. All this time, you thought everyone in the family hated your mother. But what did he say? Your uncle was heartbroken?
"I don't understand, if what you say is true then why didn't, uhm.. uncle reached out? Why did no one come to mama's funeral?"
"We didn't know. Your father kept it from us. Ji-ji almost swept the whole of Tokyo to be able to see her daughter one last time but he wasn’t ableto find her."
"Then how were you able to contact me? How did you get my number?"
"That was an accident. You know Lev Haiba, right?"
Your ears perked up at the familiar name. He was a regular at the cafe where you worked. "Yes. He's a customer."
"Yeah, well he wouldn't shut up about his huge crush on you, we were classmates in high school by the way. One day, he sent a picture of you two in our group chat, and then I recognized you."
You raised a brow. "We haven't met before, how would you recognize me?"
"Oh that, I'll let Ji-ji explain. But yeah, that's how we found you, after that, Ji-ji wouldn't stop gushing about your coming here. I really thought you wouldn't give in."
"Well, I wouldn't be staying long so there's no need to make this a big deal. And whatever your cousins think about me, I really don't care, I mean if that's the kind of people that I'll be living with then no thanks, I'm good with my small apartment back in Tokyo."
"Man, the hatred runs deep, huh? Don't worry, they wouldn't dare do anything against you while Ji-ji's around. Plus, I'll be right behind you. I feel like we would get along well."
You decided not to respond to that and opted to watch the road before you throughout the whole ride.
You knew that your grandfather is a wealthy man. But the moment you stepped foot inside the Washijo Minka, it only dawned on you what wealthy really meant. The house was ornately decorated. The ranma panels that let the daylight in are carved with intricate details of dragons, the tatami floors are spotless, the zabutons are wrapped in silken cloth (what glorious ass wouldn't seat on silken pillows?), and the fusuma slides' designs are hand-painted.
Every object in this house screamed at whoever was in it that the owner is wealthy. So why? Your family only asked for a small amount for your mother's treatment compared to the luxuries that surround you now. Your jaw clenched as your hatred towards your grandfather resurfaced.
"Look who's here y/n, it seems your cousin couldn't wait to finally meet you," Kuroo remarked.
You heard someone scoff and you turned to the person with a piercing look.
"Can't I welcome the new member of the Washijo family? I wanted to meet Noriko's child, too."
The way your mother's name rolled off on the woman's tongue didn't sit well with you. Your eyes swept her form from head to toe, she was tall and beautiful. Gorgeous, in fact, if it weren't for her attitude. You decided she wasn't worth your time. You didn't waste this day to bandy crooked words with her. You're here for your grandfather.
"What, cat got your tongue?" She goaded.
"Stop it, Hoshina-chan. If Ji-ji catches you starting a fight, you wouldn't like it." Kuroo warned.
The one called Hoshina just harrumphed in response. She threw you one last look before stomping off to god knows where. You don't care, actually, you don't have time to deal with brats.
"By the way, here comes Atsumu and Osamu. They're also our cousins." Kuroo informed.
The newcomers made a beeline towards you and Kuroo and you barely had time to compose yourself when they were already shaking your -both- hands and welcoming you in unison.
"N-nice to meet you too, Atsumu-san and Osamu-san."
"Please don't forget that the better Washijo twin is me," the blonde pointed towards himself while the other just scoffed.
A soft chuckle escaped your lips and you were about to reply when someone behind you cleared his throat.
Part 2
Tagging all you lovelies: @thegrumpyhag @sushij1ma @valoryess @yakus-yakult
@ly-nia
#haikyuu fanfiction#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x you#ushijima wakatoshi#ushijima x you#ushijima x reader#wakatoshi x reader#wakatoshi x you#ushiwaka#ushijima wakatoshi x reader#ushijima wakatoshi x you
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AS YOU WISH
synopsis; in this tale of romance, revenge, and treason, you, a beautiful commoner, are set to become the princess of aobajousai. will your one true love be able to save you in time?
pairing; kuroo tetsurou x reader
content; princess bride au (heavily based on both the movie and novel), medieval au, torture, mild violence, drama, fantasy/adventure, murder, minor character death, fem!reader
fic navigation
03 ; THE KIDNAPPING
ONE YEAR AFTER YOU agreed to marry Prince Oikawa, the great square of Seijoh City was filled to the brim. The people of Aobajohsai were awaiting the introduction of Prince Oikawa’s bride-to-be. The crowd had begun forming a whole 24 hours before, but at 15 hours before, it was no more than maybe a couple hundred people. But as the moment of introduction neared, people from all across the country gathered.
At noontime, Prince Oikawa appeared on the balcony of his father’s castle and raised his arms. The crowd, which was dangerously large at this point, slowly quieted down. Rumors were flooding the kingdom, that the King was dying, that he was already dead, that he was fine.
“My beloved people, today is a day of greeting. As you’ve probably heard, my father’s health is not what it once was. Now, in three months, our country celebrates its 500th anniversary.”
A few whoops echoed through the crowd, but most remained silent.
“To celebrate that celebration, I shall marry your future princess on that sundown,” Oikawa announced. “She was once a commoner like yourselves, but perhaps you will not find her to be so common anymore. I introduce to you the lady of the hour, (y/n).”
The Prince made a sweeping gesture and the doors swung open behind him, and you stepped out beside him on the balcony. The crowd gasped, and bowed, for their future princess truly was beautiful. A year spent in the castle, and your beauty had doubled, no, tripled.
You waved, looking down at the people fondly, but it was interrupted by Oikawa ushering you away.
“Alright, back inside. Don’t want to risk overexposure.”
“But some of them have waited so long,” you argued. “I’d like to walk among them.”
“We only walk among commoners when we need to,” said the Prince.
“I am a commoner,” you reminded him sharply, and with that you left the balcony before reappearing a few minutes later at the great steps of the castle.
Wherever you went the people parted. Most of them there would certainly never forget that day. The great majority adored you instantly. Sure, there were some that withheld judgement until they could see how fit you were as a queen, and even some who were frankly jealous. But very few hated you.
And only three of them were planning to murder you.
Naturally, you knew none of this. You were smiling. When the people wanted to touch your dress, you let them, and when they wanted to brush their skin against yours, you let them do that too. You studied hard to do things royally, and you wanted to succeed, so you kept your posture erect and your eyes gentle. If someone had told you your death was close, you would have laughed. But—
—in the farthest corner of the square, in the highest building of the land, deep in the deepest shadow, the man in black stood waiting.
His boots were black and leather. His pants were black and his shirt too. His mask was black, blacker than a panther. The only thing that wasn’t black was his flashing eyes; they were the color of centuries-old amber under the Aoban sun.
Flashing and cruel and deadly.
You were more than a little weary after your triumph. Walking the crowds while remaining all royal-appearing was exhausting, so you rested a bit, before deciding around mid afternoon that you would go for a ride on Prince (the horse, of course). Riding was the one aspect of your life that hadn’t changed since agreeing to marry the Prince (the human, of course). You still loved to ride, and almost every afternoon, you rode alone in the wild land behind the castle.
You did your best thinking then. Not that your best thinking expanded any horizons; you weren’t even actually part of the royal family yet. Still, you told yourself, there was no harm in thinking.
Your brain was awhirl as you rode through woods and streams and heather. The walk through the crowds had moved you, and in a way most strange. For even though you had done nothing for a year now but train to be a princess and a queen, today was the first day you actually understood that it was all soon to be a reality.
You just didn’t like Prince Oikawa all that much. It wasn’t that you hated him, not at all. But you never really saw him; he was always off doing princely duties or on a hunting trip.
In your way of thinking, there were two main problems: (1) was it wrong to marry someone you didn’t much like, and (2) if it was, was it too late to do anything about it?
The answers, to your way of thinking, were: (1) no and (2) yes.
It wasn't wrong to marry someone you didn't like, it just wasn't right either. If the whole world did it, that wouldn't be so great, what with everybody kind of grunting at everybody else as the years went by. But, of course, not everybody did it, so it wasn’t a big problem.
The answer to the second question was even easier; you had given your word that you would marry, and that was that.
Since agreeing to marry, you had heard nonstop that you must be the most beautiful woman in the world, and soon you would also be the richest and the most powerful woman in the world too.
With a sigh, you told yourself that you shouldn’t be so ungrateful for all of this. You would have to learn to be satisfied with what you had.
Dusk was closing in, and you were probably a 30 minute ride from the castle, when you suddenly reined in your horse at the hillcrest; for in the dimness beyond stood quite possibly the strangest trio you had ever seen.
The man in front was pale, with a gentle face; his almost white-blonde hair made him appear angelic. He was long-legged and lanky, but when he moved toward you, he took surprisingly small, quick steps. (It reminded you of the way the Queen had trained you to walk, all feminine and princess-like.) The other two men remained rooted.
The second, also pale, appeared as cold and slender as the blade of steel at his side. The third man, broad, with strange two-toned hair, was easily the biggest man you had ever seen.
“Please, a word, miss?” the blonde raised his hand. His smile was almost more angelic than his face.
You nodded for him to go on.
“We are but poor, lost circus performers,” the blonde explained. “We were told there is a village nearby where we could settle for the night.”
“You’re mistaken,” you told him. What poor souls, you thought. “There is nothing nearby, not for many miles.”
“Then there will be no one to hear you scream,” the blonde said. As his angelic smile contorted into a wry, ugly sneer, he jumped with surprising agility toward your face.
That was the last thing you remembered. Perhaps you screamed, perhaps you didn’t, but if you had, it certainly wasn’t from the pain; the blonde man had expertly found a pressure point on your neck and knocked you out cold.
You awoke to the lapping of water. You were wrapped in a blanket, and the giant man was carrying you to place you in a boat. For a moment you almost screamed, but then you thought it might be better to listen. (It was a bit difficult though, considering the increasing pounding of your heart.
The sound of ripping cloth caught your attention first.
“What is that?” the swordsman asked.
“Same as I attached to her saddle,” the blonde replied. “Fabric from the uniform of a Shiratorizawa soldier.”
Suddenly you heard Prince (the horse, you see) squeal slightly, and then his thundering hooves retreating far away.
“Once the horse reaches the castle, the fabric will make everyone suspect that the Shiratorizawans abducted the Prince’s fiance. Once she is found dead at the Shiratorizawa frontier, there’ll be no denying it.”
“Wait, you never said anything about killing anyone,” said the giant, looking a little distraught.
“We’ve been hired to start a war, it’s kind of in the job description,” the blonde bit back.
“Well, I just don’t really think it’s right to kill an innocent girl.”
The blonde’s eyebrows furrowed and face twitched in sudden irritation.
“Have I gone mad, or did the word ‘think’ just escape your lips?” he stood up defiantly, but even with his lanky frame, the giant dwarfed him. “I did not hire you for your brains!”
“I agree with Bokuto. Let’s just make it seem like she was taken for ransom,” the slender swordsman finally spoke up.
“Yes, that sounds like a good idea, Akaashi.”
“It’s too late,” the blonde said. “She’s been awake this whole time, so she already knows our plans.”
You lay under the blanket, unmoving. How could he have known that?
“The Great Tsukishima senses all,” the blonde seemed to answer you. Was he a mind reader? (A conceited one, if he was.)
It didn’t matter if he was or not, for now you were all setting sail. Not once did you speak a word, not when it grew dark, and not when the moon rose high into the night sky.
“We’re making good time, we should be at the cliffs by dawn,” the blonde announced aloud. “Why do you keep looking back?”
The swordsman turned around, shifting uncomfortably.
“Making sure no one is following us.”
“Ha! That would be inconceivable,” laughed the blonde.
The boat went silent again for a few minutes. The swordsman continued to glance back. Something was bothering him.
“Stop doing that!” the blonde sounded more exasperated than before.”You’re overthinking it. No one in Shiratorizawa knows what we’ve done, and no one in Aobajohsai could have gotten here so fast.”
“Are you sure nobody is following us?” insisted the swordsman.
“Like I said, that would be absolutely, totally, and in all other ways inconceivable.”
A long pause.
“Out of curiosity, why do you ask?” he added in.
“No reason,” the swordsman tried to play it off. “It’s only that I happened to look behind us and something is there.��
They all whirled.
There was indeed something there. Just a mile behind them, across the moonlight, was another sailing boat, small, with a giant sail that billowed black in the night, and a single man at the tiller. A man in black.
“Probably just some local fisherman out for a pleasure cruise at night, through eel-infested waters,” the blonde trailed off as he went, each word less confident than the last.
SPLASH!
They all whirled again, this time to see that you had thrown yourself straight into the Aoban Channel and were beginning to swim away.
“Go! Go in after her!” the blonde yelled.
“I can’t swim,” said the swordsman.
“I only doggy paddle,” said the giant.
You continued to leave them behind you. It wasn’t long before your arms began to tire, but you gave them no rest.
“Veer left!” instructed the blonde.
You ignored your kidnappers, but you couldn’t ignore the strange shrieking that began all around you. The sound made you stop and whipped around, looking for the source as you treaded water.
“Do you know what that sound is, your highness?” asked the blonde. The boat was getting closer again. “Those are the shrieking eels. If you don’t believe me, just wait. They always grow louder when they’re about to feed on human flesh!”
The screeching was growing louder, and if you looked closer into the water, you could see slimy tails flicking out the water all around you.
“Come back now,” the blonde went on, “and I promise when I kill you, you’ll die a painless death. I doubt you’ll get such an offer from the eels.”
They were shrieking wildly now, and they were whipping their heads out of the water. Their teeth were razor sharp, glinting in the moonlight, and the sight had you frozen in fear. When one came charging at you, there was quite literally nothing you could do but close your eyes and pray.
Fortunately for you, there was a giant on board of the boat you had just escaped from. He leaned over the edge of the boat, grabbed you by one arm, and hoisted you back to the safety onboard before the eel got you.
“Keep her warm,” the swordsman tossed his cloak to the giant.
“Don’t catch cold, miss,” said the giant, wrapping the cloak around you and holding you tight.
“It doesn’t seem to matter all that much,” your teeth chattered, “considering that you’re killing me at dawn.”
The blonde knelt in front of you and began binding your wrists together. The swordsman was shooting glances back again.
“I think he’s getting closer,” he said, in reference to the boat behind them.
“He’s no concern of ours! Sail on!” the blonde snapped once again. He sure was a grouchy fellow.
“I suppose you think you’re brave, Princess?” he now turned to you.
“Only compared to some,” you bit back.
The boat was approaching the Cliffs of Insanity now. They rose straight and sheer from the water, a thousand feet into the sky. They provided the most direct route between Aobajohsai and Shiratorizawa, but no one ever used them, sailing instead the long way around.
The swordsman maneuvered the watercraft up to the cliff face, and immediately the blonde jumped out and found a giant rope dangling from the cliffs. He tugged, once, twice, and it held firm; it must have been tethered to something at the top.
You watched in confusion as the trio got to work. The giant robed himself in some fancy harness, with loops hanging off every which way; the swordsman cinched you into one of the loops, before cinching himself in another. The blond took the last loop, practically nose-to-nose with the giant.
“All aboard.”
And with that, the giant began climbing the rope.
It was at least a thousand feet and he was carrying the three, but he was not worried. When it came to power, nothing worried him. When it came to reading or writing, he got terrible knots in his stomach, and when addition was mentioned or, worse, long division, he broke out in hives. But strength had never been his enemy. He could take the kick of a horse on his chest and not fall backward. He could take a hundred-pound flour sack between his legs and scissor it open without thinking.
But his real might lay in his arms. There had never, not in a thousand years, been arms to match Bokuto's. His arms were gargantuan and obedient and flashy, but most of all, they were tireless. If you gave him an ax and told him to chop down a forest, his legs might give out or the ax might shatter, but Bokuto's arms would be as fresh tomorrow as today.
And so, with the blonde around his neck and both the swordsman and the Princess both wrapped around his waist, Bokuto felt his most confident. It was only when he was requested to use his might did he not feel like a bother to everybody.
Hand over hand, arm over arm, Bokuto climbed. Three hundred feet over the water now, seven hundred left to go.
The blonde man was in fact afraid of heights, more than anything. But right now, he could not allow it.
Where he could not succeed with his body, he relied on his mind. He had fought it, trained it, forced it to heel. In moments like this, when he should have been trembling, it all paid off, because he was not trembling. Instead, he was thinking of the man in black.
There shouldn’t have been any way that someone could have been quick enough to follow them, and yet that billowing black sail had appeared. How? The blonde couldn’t find an answer, no matter how hard he tried. In wild frustration, he took a deep breath and, in spite of his terrible fears, he looked back down toward the dark water.
The man in black was there, tying off his boat at the base of the cliffs. With ease, he then leapt onto the rope and began to climb as well.
“He’s climbing the rope,” the swordsman commented.
“I can feel him,” said the giant.
“And he’s gaining on us.”
“Inconceivable,” the blonde blubbered, for when he looked down again, the man in black seemed to be flying up the rope. “Faster!”
“I thought I was going faster.”
“You were supposed to be this colossus,” the blonde grit his teeth, nose-to-nose with the giant again. “This great legendary thing! And yet, he gains.”
“Well, I’m carrying three people, and he’s only got himself.”
“I’ll just have to find myself a new giant then.”
“Awh, don’t say that Tsukki. Please?”
By now, the man in black had gained maybe 200 feet on them, but they were only maybe 150 feet from the tops of the cliffs.
Bokuto flew. He cleared his mind of everything but ropes and arms and fingers, and his arms pulled and his fingers gripped and the rope held taut as he flew.
“He’s halfway,” remarked the swordsman.
“It doesn’t matter, we’re but 50 feet from safety!”
Bokuto pulled—
Forty feet.
—And pulled—
Fifteen feet.
—And heaved them to the top.
And like that, it was over. Bokuto had done it. They had reached the top of the Cliffs, and first the blonde jumped off and ran to the rock the rope was tethered to. He pulled out a dagger and began slicing as fast as he could. He sliced and sliced, all the while the swordsman and the princess were untying themselves from the giant, until the rope snapped and whipped across the clifftop before disappearing to the depths below.
The other men peered over the cliffside curiously, until the swordsman mumbled, “He’s still there.”
“What?” the blonde came scurrying to the edge of the cliff. The man in black was hanging precariously to the cliff face. “He didn’t fall? Inconceivable!”
“You keep using that word,” the swordsman looked at the blonde. “I do not think it means what you think it means.”
When they looked back, the man in black had begun climbing.
“Whoever he is, he’s clearly seen us with the princess and must therefore die!” cried the blonde. “Bokuto, carry the princess. We’ll head straight for the Shiratorizawa frontier. Akaashi, catch up when he’s dead. If he falls, fine, but if not, the sword.”
The swordsman nodded.
The blonde and the giant began hobbling away with you. Just before he was out of sight, the giant turned and hollered, “Catch up quickly!”
“Don’t I always?” the swordsman waved. “Farewell, Bokuto.”
“Farewell, Akaashi,” the giant replied, and then he was gone, and the swordsman was alone.
Akaashi moved to the cliff edge and knelt with his customary quick grace. One hundred and fifty feet below him now, the man in black continued his painful climb. It was becoming easier to see him, what with the sun starting to break. He was a good learner, so he had to study. Finally, he realized that somehow, by some mystery, the man in black was making fists and jamming them into the rocks, and using them for support as he climbed.
Akaashi marveled. What a truly extraordinary adventurer this man in black must be. He was close enough now for Akaashi to realize that the man was masked. Another outlaw? Perhaps. It was a shame that such a fellow must die though, but he had his orders, so there it was. Sometimes he did not like Tsukishima’s commands, but what could he do? Without the brains of the blonde, he wouldn’t be able to command jobs of this caliber. The blonde was a master planner. Akaashi was a creature of the moment.
There was nothing to do but wait for the man in black now. He was still a ways away, but Akaashi didn’t particularly like waiting. So to make the time more pleasant, he pulled from the scabbard his prized possession:
A six-fingered sword.
Oh, how it danced in the rising sun. Akaashi inspected it fondly, with all the fervor in his Fukurodanian heart, awaiting the arrival of the man in black.
#haikyuu#hq#kuroo#kuroo tetsurou#kuroo x reader#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#kuroo imagine#haikyuu imagine#hq imagine#kuroo scenario#haikyuu scenario#hq scenario#kuroo fanfic#haikyuu fanfic#hq fanfic
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whumptober day 9: take me instead
still here, still doing this! ‘twas nice to take a break for the last 6 months but i think i’m ready to come back.
summary: set after titans s2. jericho’s spent years as a mind without a body--enough to think he’s not in real danger from the villains the titans fight on a regular basis. it isn’t until dick puts himself on the line to save him that he realises how wrong he’s been.
warnings: SPOILERS for s2. serious body horror including gore and mutilation. a whole scene of this is inspired straight from a nightmare i had, so please be cautious as the descriptions are graphic.
take me instead
Leave him alone! I can… I can give what you want, and more. I’ve seen and done things you couldn’t even imagine.
Take me instead.
It’s the last thing Jericho remembers for a while.
-
When Jericho is next aware, he’s sitting at a familiar workbench next to his father. Slade is taking apart and putting together guns of increasing complexity at a steady pace, not looking at Jericho once, but the silence is familiar and almost… comfortable. There’s none of the cloying dread or desperation that he felt while spending six years trapped in Slade’s head; the guns might as well be fishing rods or model airplanes to the curl of warmth in Jericho’s chest.
“I want you to be ready,” Slade says in the manner of someone already in the middle of a conversation, “for this next mission. I know that it’s on short notice, but there’s something in the next room that should help you.” He finally turns to look at Jericho, and he realises with a jolt that Slade’s actually smiling. For a long, dumbfounded moment, Jericho stares at his father, at the beaming smile, the crinkle of crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes.
“Go on, then,” Slade says, tilting his head at a door that Jericho didn’t notice before. A part of Jericho is pulsing with anxiety (remembers that endlessly white prison, dead-but-not) but it’s smothered by a haze of contentment and a ready, easy trust that has him get up, open the door, and step through.
There’s a long metal table with a body on it. The reason it’s a body and not a person is because it’s covered with a long white sheet and the shapes underneath the sheet are… unnatural. The angles too sharp, the girth too thin, everything too still to be anything that’s alive. Jericho’s not sure why Slade thinks a corpse would help him with anything, but he moves ahead as though compelled, again, and lifts the sheet away.
The body is on its back, naked, limbs splayed awkwardly. It’s emaciated to a degree that the skin is worn down to the bone in some places: the fingers are literally skeletal, and so are the jutting crescents of the hips. There are enormous festering wounds on one thigh and one arm, excavated through layers of skin, fat and muscle like craters filled with… slough, and pus, and other disgusting things, and still bleeding--
--still bleeding--
Jericho’s been avoiding looking at the face until now, and there is a slow, sad sort of resignation in his chest as he lifts his gaze to see skin cleaving to the skull, eyes huge and watering in nearly abyssal sockets. The body’s lipless mouth moves.
“Jericho,” Dick says.
There’s no moment where Jericho’s jolted back to reality; just a dawning horror. There are a thousand questions crowding in his throat but the one he asks is: “Did… did Slade do this to you?”
“No, he--Jer--” Dick coughs, and Jericho watches with sick fascination as his ribs glide underneath his skin. “You have to get away from here. Now.”
“Not without--” you, I can’t leave without you “--knowing what he did to you, how could this even--”
There’s a chill in the air, so sudden and fierce that it slices through his skin and numbs his lips. The room he’s in--that he’s hardly paid any attention to so far--warps and twists, the edges where the walls meet the ceiling blackening like it’s a photograph that someone’s taken a flame to. Dick twitches on the table, trying to move, and bloodied spittle sprays his chin as he says, “Leave! Now!”
“I don’t--”
I SEE YOU.
The voice, female, is both a whisper in his ear and a roar that echoes inside the collapsing room. Dick lets out a scream that frankly Jericho would’ve never guessed he had the strength for and an invisible force pushes Jericho to the door that he just came from. Jericho tries to fight back, twist and get back to Dick, but before he knows it, he’s stumbling through the door, falling to his hands and knees. He jumps to his feet, unaccountably angry at Slade, the world, and mostly Dick--who, despite having far less experience with this slippery, in-between world than Jericho, just tossed him aside like it was nothing at all.
Overachieving bastard.
He whirls around to confront his father, but Slade has disappeared, and so has his workroom, and any semblance of a place at all. Instead, Jericho stands in the middle of ever-extending blackness that might be a cavern, given the way his footsteps echo eerily and the weak light that filters in every few metres. Dust motes float lazily in those little beams, and their presence makes the whole place somehow creepier than the complete absence of light.
“Dick?” Jericho’s voice is small, uncertain, but the word echoes nonetheless, making him flinch. Once the echoes die, however, there is only silence.
He picks a direction and keeps walking, because, honestly, what else is he going to do? It doesn’t take long for a human shape to materialise in one of the pools of watery light, and Jericho isn’t entirely surprised to see that it’s Dick. This Dick looks… whole, though, strong and broad and dressed in his Nightwing suit sans mask. He’s got his escrima sticks out as though anticipating an attack, and he’s not really looking at Jericho.
Jericho’s about to call out to him when a shape swoops in from the darkness straight to Dick. It’s moving with incredible speed, claws extended and glinting in the light, but Dick is faster. He swings his sticks around and knocks it to the ground, only to bring them up again to block the next attack.
Soon Dick is at the centre of a storm of black, punctuated by the rustle of cloth and the screams of the creatures dying as his sticks turn into swords. He’s barely finished skewering one creature before he’s lifting the sword--still dripping with gore--and plunging it into the heart of another creature. Jericho watches, open-mouthed, as Dick fights with a frightening combination of grace and force, his body twirling and leaping like he’s dancing but his thrusts sharp and brutal, driven by pure anger. Jericho can hardly countenance this… force of nature with the man who melted in his arms when he gave him an unexpected hug, or the one that came to seek absolution from his mother, half-wrecked by guilt and anguish.
He could’ve kept watching forever (Dick could’ve kept fighting forever) when he feels a bony hand like icicles rest on his shoulder and hears I’VE FOUND YOU, LITTLE ONE
“No! Jericho!” Dick stops for the second it takes him to shout Jericho’s name, and Jericho realises why Dick had been such a storm of movement: it takes only a fraction of that second for the shadow-creatures to overcome his defences and… tear at him. Blood and gore spray in a messy arc as his arm is torn clean off his body but Dick’s still standing, staring at him, shouting--
Jericho’s knees shake and his stomach’s turned to water but he shakes off the hand on his shoulder and runs--away from whatever it was that spoke to him, away from Dick, whose shouts have died and been replaced by the sickening, wet sounds of ripping flesh.
He runs, but there’s Dick again, younger now, crushed between two panes of glass like an insect in a display case--
YOU CAN’T RUN FOREVER.
--turns a corner, and Dick’s on a rack, an actual rack, and at each corner there’s somebody turning the pulley and stretching his limbs until his shoulders and knees pop out of their sockets, and, and, is Batman one of them? And one of the others, his face is half-shrouded in scar tissue--
ALTHOUGH, and now there’s a hint of amused menace, THAT MIGHT BE FUN, TOO.
Jericho sets off again, heart thundering in his chest and pulsing in his neck, panic scraping his breath through his throat and nose. It’s been so long since he’s had a body to call his own, but his mind can’t forget what it feels like to be truly afraid, to look at a threat and think: that’s going to really hurt, or i’m going to die, or both.
Along the way he feels little nudges from Dick, helping him pour on the speed. When these nudges stop, and he’s run out of corners to turn and reached one where he can only huddle, he turns.
There’s a woman standing there: tall, almost statuesque. Her skin is grey and her hair hangs limp past her shoulders. But her eyes are luminescent: pools of algae on water that reflects a coal-black night. There is naked hunger in the way she looks at him, in her smile full of mossy, pointed teeth.
HE’S RIGHT IN A WAY, she says. HE BURNS SO BRIGHT, AND HIS PAIN SO EXQUISITE. BUT HE IS ALREADY BURNING OUT. YOU… she steps closer, YOU WILL LAST FOREVER.
Jericho feels frozen as she reaches a bony hand towards him. HIS SACRIFICE WILL HAVE BEEN IN VAIN--HOW DELICIOUS.
He feels a familiar ice-cold pain along his throat, razor-thin, and a deeper, hotter pain that’s boring into his stomach. If he closes his eyes he can imagine that it’s Slade on the other end of a sword, eyes wide in horror and--and betrayal--
“No.” The pain in his stomach stops, and Jericho opens his eyes to see Dick’s back in front of him, the pointed end of an icicle emerging from his middle and dripping blood on Jericho’s feet.
And Dick still--
“While I’m still here, in my head,” Dick growls, “you don’t get to touch him.”
The woman screams--it’s a horrible sound, full of rage that buries itself like needlepoints in his eardrums--but Jericho has no time to linger as he feels the hardest push he’s gotten from Dick yet, and a sensation like someone’s reached into him and pulled his stomach clear out of his body, and then--
then--
he’s out.
For a long, surreal second, he is just a mind floating without a body, threatening to vanish into the ether if he can’t ground himself in somebody else’s head. He casts frantically for the nearest person and enters--and to his relief, it’s Rose. She must know something of what’s going on, because she immediately steps back and lets Jericho take over her body.
They’re in the Titans Tower, and he can see Kory, Rachel and Gar crowded around something--well, somebody--on the floor. At his choked, “Dick,” they immediately part, and there’s Dick on the floor, curled around nothing, ashen, eyes open and unseeing. He’s shaking minutely, but besides that there’s nothing to indicate that right now, inside his head, he’s being torn apart over and over and over again--
“He won’t let me help him,” Rachel says, her voice trembling, tears streaming down her face. “She wants you. He says he won’t let that happen.”
Jericho crashes to his knees next to Dick. He gathers his head onto his lap--tries to ignore how cold he feels and banishes all memories of his wasted body on that cold table--and kisses his forehead. “Please,” he says, tears spilling to land on Dick’s face and slide down to his ears. “Just--please.”
He’s not sure what he’s asking for. But he thinks Dick will find a way to give it to him anyway.
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No King Rules Forever | myg - M
I am the fire I am burning brighter Roaring like a storm And I am the one I've been waiting for Screaming like a siren Alive and burning brighter I am the fire
⇒ Summary: Escaping the Imperial City 4 years ago, leaving behind painful, bloody memories, your body scarred and your soul bruised, you went into hiding, swearing to never fall into the Emperor’s hands again but when his twin brother and the rightful heir to the Imperial Throne finds you, asking you to return to that God-forsaken city you had left behind, to re-open old wounds and place yourself directly in the Emperor’s gaze, to help him take the city and overthrow his brother, you find yourself at odds: do you stay hidden or do you step into the light and sink your fangs into the man who ruined you?
⇒ Or: Emperor Min needs to die cuz he’s a psycho and while you and Yoongi agree on that part, you don’t really agree on anything else.
⇒ Pairing: Dragon Aspect!Yoongi x Snake Aspect!Reader
⇒ Genre: Angst, action, a dash of crack, a tiny bit of fluff and smut.
⇒ Rating: 18+
⇒ Word count: 17k
⇒ Warnings: whoo boy, here we go, unedited cuz im a lazy fuck, mentions of torture and sexual assault (nothing too descriptive), gory fighting as in there will be blood, poison, people melting, arrows in kneecaps, character death, cursing, smutty goodness, soft smut uwu, Yoongi is a soft boi and reader needs to be held, cunnilingus, unprotected sex (Wrap it up, my dudes), creampie.
Spying eyes watched carefully from the shadows of the tall trees around him, moving as the cloaked figure before him picked up herbs and put them in a basket. Careful not to stand in the direction of the wind, he moved silently, stealthily through the bushes, cautious not to make any noise and draw the attention from the clothed figure.
It could mean his end if noticed but he had his orders and had to make sure it was whom they believed it was.
So far, he had nothing to go on. He could neither see shape or a face on the figure, a smart move for someone not wanting to be discovered.
But a gust of wind blew harshly between the trees and the hooded figure was suddenly without a hood, revealing long hair that glinted in the sun and his eyes widened slightly as the figure turned to the side, showing him the feminine features of their face.
It was her.
They’d finally found her.
But his ogling was soon interrupted as she whipped around and he felt her eyes on him, seeing him even under the cover of the shadows. Her eyes narrowed dangerously and he felt a shiver run down his spine.
He had to leave.
Now.
Namjoon stared at the corpse at the ground, scratching his neck as he felt a sigh build up, “He was my best tracker…” He stated and let out a heavy sigh, “This is unexpected.”
“Y’know, as the smartest aspect, you really are dumb.” Jin commented and prodded the corpse’s knee with his shoe.
“How was I supposed to predict that poor Sijun would lose his life? Maybe he was ambushed-”
“He wasn’t ambushed. Look at the wound. It’s too clean, too precise to have been made by a soldier or an assassin who suddenly jumped at him.”
“Yoongi…” Namjoon looked at his oldest friend as he bowed down and examined the many cuts across Sijun’s body, “Sijun was the best damn spy we had! There’s no way that she did this.”
Yoongi scoffed and rose, “She is capable. It’s most likely that Sijun wasn’t hiding well enough and she discovered him.”
“She was the one who gave your brother the scar, right?” Jin asked as they walked out of the forest and into the clearing, the flow of the water strong in the creek as it had been raining.
“My brother didn’t see her coming either.” Yoongi stated as he looked around, spotting the basket near the water, tumbled over, no doubt having been left behind by the woman he was currently trying to find, “She’s around here. Let’s be a little bit more wiser than Sijun and not get killed.”
Namjoon sighed heavily as his two friend began walking east, “I should have stayed home.”
“Mistress.” Your handmaiden, Shari, looked confused as you scurried around the cave, “What has gotten into you?”
You shook your head, “We have to leave.”
“Why?”
“I was seen today.”
Shari’s eyes widened, “That’s not possible. We have covered every track and-” You grabbed her hand, clenching it and she took a few calming breaths.
“It was only a matter of time before…” Shari looked desperately at you as you paled visibly, “Before he would find me, Shari.”
“Are you sure it as one of his trackers?” Your handmaiden asked as you let go of her hand and resumed with packing a small leather bag with only the bare essentials.
“I smelled Dragon on him.” You stated, your hands beginning to shake as you were reminded of the taste and scent of it, “It’s him. Which is why we have to leave.”
“But what if he finds us again, Mistress? What happens then?”
“We will keep on moving. He will never find us.”
“But what if he does?”
You looked down at your hands, her shaking voice affecting you and sighed heavily, “Then you will to save yourself. Now pack your things.” Your tone was final and Shari nodded solemnly as she headed over to her own bedding to pack her belongings.
Shari was tired of running but she could not leave your side. Not when she owed her life to you. Ever since that fateful night in the palace, she’d sworn an oath to serve you and stay by your side until death.
But she wanted to fight.
She wanted you to fight.
She stole a glance at you over her shoulder, knowing that underneath your hard and cold exterior was a strong and fiery soul but that soul had endured so much pain and was now afraid. She knew that underneath your robes that hid your body so well, were scars that you thought so ugly and hideous that you still avoided your mirror image to this day.
She wished that you had never set foot in that horrible palace.
“If we set out by sunset, we can use the cover of the dark to-” You stopped abruptly when the air shifted and carried a scent with it that you knew all too well.
You got to your feet quickly and handed Shari your belongings, “We’re out of time. Take this and run.” You said to her, ignoring how puzzled she looked, “Run as fast as you can and don’t stop.”
“W-What’s happening?”
You simply offered her a sad smile and cupped her cheek as it dawned on her what was about to happen, “N-No, I won’t leave your side!”
“Shari, go. There’s no time.” She shook her head wildly and your heart lurched in your chest, “Go through the cave, take a left and follow the river once you exit the cave. Just like we’ve practiced.”
“Y/N…”
“That’s an order, Shari.”
Tears spilled over and rolled down her cheeks as she slowly nodded and you leaned over, kissing her cheek as you whispered, “Take care, child.”
You watched as she bolted in the opposite direction, heading further into the cave. She would be safe, that was all that mattered. You took a deep breath, the scent of him nearing flooding your senses. You could almost taste him on the wind.
You felt fear take a solid hold on you as you headed for the entrance to your hideout.
You had often imagined facing him again.
You didn’t expect to walk away from this alive.
But you sure as hell would drag him down with you.
Still, nothing could prepare you seeing the dark figure behind the waterfall, the water bending his body in a weird shape and acting as the only barrier between the two of you. It was terrifying and you fought hard to take another step.
You were about to face the man that had ruined you.
It was now or never.
Shari stood at the secret exit to the cave, a brief pause as she looked back into the darkness of what had been her home for a year. Her heart was breaking in her chest at the thought of you dying but you had given her an order.
One that she intended to follow.
A gust of wind almost knocked her over and she felt the hairs on her arms raise in fear.
Then she heard the sound that she had only heard once in her life, that horrifying night when you had fought the Emperor himself and given him the scar, the night the two of you had barely escaped the Imperial City alive.
It was loud, the stone walls of the cave trembling, causing dust and debris to fall to the ground. She picked up her pace and ran as fast as she could towards the light at the end of the cave.
Yoongi didn’t know what to expect as he had followed the trail that had led him to the waterfall. The Aspect of the Snake. Enigmatic, elegant, intelligent, wise, fearless, cunning, scheming and striking.
Some of the wisest Emperors and Empresses had been an Aspect of the Snake.
He had never met an Aspect of the Snake.
Nothing could have prepared him for the real thing that was in front of him. It was as if the air itself dreaded what was about to happen as it died down, the forest around him grew quiet and only the sound of the waterfall filled the hilltop valley.
Then the wind picked up, in the opposite direction, almost sucking him toward the waterfall itself and then he saw them.
Glowing green eyes, looking directly at him and the ground trembled, the waterfall dispersed as the giant snake shot out of the cave with a roar. Yoongi had little to no choice but to change himself.
Namjoon and Jin were sent backwards from the sheer force of you and Yoongi’s forms colliding. As they scrambled back on their feet, they were almost blinded by the sun hitting the tangle of scales that was before them. Silver blended with black in a fierce battle. The ground shook beneath their feet with the giant Aspects battling. Yoongi’s growls and your loud hissing thrummed in their ears.
“We have to stop them!” Namjoon yelled out, fearful for his friend as he saw you twirl around Yoongi’s lithe body, most likely intending to squeeze the light out of him.
“How?!” Jin yelled back, “If you haven’t noticed, we’re kind of in human form right now and could easily die if we-”
“You idiot! Change!” Namjoon yelled before he changed into his own Aspect form and Jin followed suit.
Shari could only look on in horror as you battled the Emperor, his Dragon form even more terrifying than what she’s seen in paintings: the long slender body of his Dragonform, covered with blackened scales, his long claws digging into your pale imprenetable scales, trying to find purchase as you wrapped yourself around his body, his tail tangling with yours, his eyes glowing a bright golden color that some said was the representation of a setting sun.
His growls vibrated through his body and through hers which only gave away the magnitude of his size and power.
It seemed like you had the upper hand for a second but then she couldn’t but to cry out when he finally sank his claws into your body and you let out a wail of pain. Tears flowed freely when she saw blood stain the silver scales of your body.
But her heart stopped when she saw the Aspect of the Ox and the Monkey join the fight.
All of the Aspects towered above the trees and she had never felt more helpless in her life as she watched you not only battle one Aspect but three.
As strong and mighty as you were, you were no match for three of them. She saw how you strained your long body, trying to maintain a strong hold on the Emperor and to sink your fangs into the Monkey, the acidic venom dripping from them and onto the earth beneath.
She could smell the burned soil and wood in the air.
The Monkey finally got it’s hands on you, getting ahold of your head and pulled you away from the Emperor and his mighty form fell to the ground. Your body twisted itself around the Monkey’s strong legs and you squeezed, causing it to let go of you as it toppled over and you quickly got out of it’s grasp and you slithered your way through the forest, mowing down trees on your way, trying to get some distance between you and your enemies.
But there was nowhere to go because you were trampled by the Monkey and you let out a loud hiss as you curled yourself around it’s body again, anger now flooding your veins as you squeezed the Aspect in your grasp.
The Monkey, battling your crippling tight grasp, tripped over it’s own feet and fell, rolling towards Shari. The handmaiden let out a panicked scream, getting the attention of the Ox who was busy trying to help the Emperor get back up. It’s eyes widened as it spotted the small human, two fighting Aspects getting closer and closer each second.
It ran, leaving behind the Dragon and bypassed you and the Monkey, leaving dirt, dust and trees in it’s path.
Shari was cast in it’s large shadow. It huffed and she was knocked over by it. She covered her eyes to protect them from the dust, cowering in fear as the beast towered above her. It could easily crush her beneath it’s hoof.
But it didn’t move. Not even when the two other Aspects crashed into it’s large body, did it move an inch. It simply huffed again and it sounded annoyed.
“Enough!” Came the booming and deep voice from the Ox, “We didn’t come here to fight you!” Then as to get the point across, the Ox changed back into it’s human form and from the dust, Jin appeared, “We’re here to talk.”
Monkey, who was entangled in your body, stopped resisting, “It’s true.” He managed to wheeze out. Your eyes darted between Jin and the Monkey in your hold and you were at a loss of what to do.
“I cannot trust you!” You finally spoke, your voice distorted to a deeper tone, “He has gotten into your minds and poisoned you.”
“He…” Came the voice of the Emperor, now hovering above you and the Monkey, “Is not me.”
You lunged at him with snap of your jaws, “Liar!”
The Dragon hummed deeply before landing onto the ground, a little away from where you currently held the Monkey pinned down and evaporated into a dust cloud. Your eyes narrowed when they saw the figure emerging.
It was the same face that haunted you at night but yet, it was not. Instead of long, straight blonde hair like his brother had, his was jet-black and only went to his ears but the thing that caught your attention the most was his eyes. They were filled with emotion, nothing you could distinguish but there was emotion in the brown orbs.
Not the void you had so often stared into.
And he lacked the parting gift you had given your once would-be husband: the scar across his right eye.
The Monkey slowly felt you loosen your crushing hold on him and inhaled loudly when he felt like he could finally breathe.
Seconds ticked by and Yoongi raised an eyebrow, “Are you going to change back so we can talk like civilized human beings?”
“Careful.” You hissed but removed yourself from the Monkey completely, allowing him to change back into human form and you decided to take a chance and change back as well, “That you do not anger me further.”
You cautiously stepped backwards to your handmaiden and the young girl launched herself at you.
“Mistress!”
“It’s okay, Shari.”
“Y-You’re hurt…”
“It’ll heal soon. Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, “No. The Ox saved me.”
Jin smiled and inclined his head, “Jin is my name.” He introduced himself and continued, “I had to. My friend over there is quite clumsy and would have crushed you had I not intervened.”
“Hey! How about a hand here?!” Namjoon called out annoyingly, “Gods have mercy, I think she’s crushed my ribs.”
You scoffed, “You would be dead if I had.”
Yoongi watched as Jin moved over to help Namjoon, cursing at him for being a clutz but you seemed to only have your eyes on him. It was clear that you were distrustful of them, making sure to keep your guard raised, even with your servant clinging to you, he didn’t doubt you were still able to hurt him.
You were also scared.
Of him.
He could smell it on you.
Yoongi took a step towards you and you hissed in warning, “Calm down, girl.” He grunted and folded his arms.
���Girl?!” You exclaimed loudly, filled with ire, “I will let that slide this once but you will tell me why you trespassed-”
“We didn’t actually trespass seeing as this mountain borders onto the Emerald forest and last time I checked, you weren’t the owner of these lands.” Yoongi interjected, looking bored.
“You have 10 seconds to tell me why you’re here.” You growled.
“Or what?” He challenged and the hilltop grew quiet as you glared at him, hands clenching.
“If your friends hadn’t intervened, I would have killed you, Yoongi.” You spat his name and his eyes widened slightly, “Your brother found out what happens when you corner a snake and it almost cost him an eye. Don’t make the same mistake.”
Yoongi. The twin brother of Emperor Min. The rightful heir to the throne. The first born son of the great Dragon Emperor.
You wanted to laugh.
A lost cause. Banished from the Imperial City forever by his own brother. You had never met him, only heard hushed whispers of him from your time in the palace. The Emperor had never uttered a word of his brother either.
But the things you had heard were more than enough. A coward was what he was, not even taking up arms against his brother when he had cut down their father in cold blood, no protesting when he had taken the throne as his own.
You weren’t impressed to be in his presence but you would listen to what he had to say.
You stared at the three Aspects that sat on the opposite side of the campfire, the sun barely noticeable on the horizon, stars beginning to dot up the sky in all their formations.
At this time, you and Shari would normally have been sitting alone, letting your full bellies settle after dinner and the young girl would entertain you with her hopes and dreams of a future where your lives were normal and you weren’t on the run.
Now you were joined by 3 other Aspects and the tension was palpable.
“After 10 years…” You dragged your eyes from the fire to Yoongi, “You decided to rebel against your brother?”
You were met with silence.
“Pathetic.”
Namjoon winced audibly and received a jab from Jin as Yoongi spoke, “I have my reasons. What is important is that it is happening.”
“And what, pray tell, are those reasons?” You asked coldly, standing up, dusting the dirt away from your dress and were again met with silence which didn’t surprise you, “Why should I help you, hm? Where were you when thousands of innocent people, children, were enslaved, killed, had their homes and livelihood destroyed?” Your tone changed as you continued, anger rising, “Where were you when he attacked the Northern Lands and slaughtered millions?”
“Hey, there’s no need to be so-” Jin began but you cut him off quickly with hiss and your eyes flashing green.
“Where were you when your people needed you? Hiding. Like a coward.” You finished.
“Like you?” Yoongi asked and met your hardened gaze.
You felt his words dig at your heart like a dagger, your lungs suddenly burning with how the air had been knocked out of them with two simple words, yet you refused to let it show, “You don’t know the hell I went through.” You spat, “I will not help you or your rebellion.” You announced, anger and hurt making your hands shake as you turned on your heel and headed for the cave.
“W-Wait Y/N!” Namjoon called out and moved to get up but Yoongi stopped him with a hand.
“Don’t bother. We shouldn’t have come.” He said, glaring at your retreating form.
“Maybe I can talk to her and-” Namjoon looked at his friend with pleading eyes.
“We have wasted enough time on your ideas, Namjoon.” Yoongi snapped, finally letting the anger from your words show, “The woman doesn’t want to help. Fine. Leave her to rot here.” With that he rose and left the campsite, walking in the opposite direction, disappearing in the darkness.
Namjoon sighed loudly and Jin shook his head.
What a mess.
“She wants to help you...” Came a shy, quiet voice and the two men looked at the young girl opposite of them, “But she’s scared.”
“Yoongi is scared too. He just won’t admit or show it.” Jin explained with a nod, “I’m scared. Namjoon is scared.”
“Me too.” Shari agreed and stood up, “You’re welcome to stay for the night. We have extra beddings in the cave, should you wish to sleep somewhere dry.” She bowed graciously, “Goodnight… And thank you for saving me, Jin.”
He smiled at her as she turned and left them alone at the fire.
“So… Jin, I think it’s your turn to talk to him.”
“Mistress.”
You were quick to wipe away the wetness on your cheeks as you heard Shari approach you and put a gentle hand on your shoulder. She didn’t say anything as she knelt down behind you and put her head against your back.
You felt a comforting warmth spread in your chest at her silent support and you reached up with your left hand, putting it on top of hers.
This girl had been your only source of companionship since you had escaped the palace. She had been there, next to you with her childish charms and naive hopes when you had been all gloom and doom. She had pulled you out of your night terrors, learned how to deal with them when all she should worry about was playing with other children and making friends.
She had to grow up too quickly but somehow she still had hope to keep her going forward.
You wished you still had hope.
“Shari…” Came your trembling voice and she simply squeezed your shoulder, understanding your unspoken words.
She was the only thing that kept you going these past 4 years.
Yoongi’s words had cut you deep and while you hated to admit it, he was right. You were a coward.
You were no different that he was.
You had a choice: help him overthrow his brother or stay here, in hiding... Being a coward.
You could return to a normal life. You could give Shari the life she deserved.
“You’re going to help them, aren’t you?” She asked, hopeful, and you nodded curtly. Even though you couldn’t see it, you knew she was smiling.
Perhaps you could allow yourself to have some hope, after all.
Namjoon stood awkwardly shifting on his feet outside the cave, nervously anticipating your exit.
After the talk he had with Yoongi which mostly consisted of his friend telling him to fuck off, shut up and take his big words somewhere else. It wasn’t the first time Namjoon had to give a little speech about what was right to Yoongi, even though he was the oldest and should be the wisest.
Yoongi had listened to him and had seen reason.
Now he just had to convince you to do it too.
You appeared just as he blinked, like a lightning strike from a clear sky and he yelped, causing you to raise an eyebrow as he tumbled backwards and fell onto the ground.
“Y-You startled me.”
You looked down at him with a stoic impression, “Good. I haven’t lost my touch then.” You extended a hand to help him back on his feet and he took it. Dusting himself off, he took in your attire: a burgundy robe, tied around your waist multiple times with a black piece of cloth, black pants showing underneath it, stuffed into dark boots. You shifted and he caught glimpse of a black bodice.
Then he saw the dual kopis’ at your hip and the bag on your back.
“Are you here to try and convince me to join your little rebellion once again?”
Namjoon snapped out of it and focused his eyes on your face where he saw a tiny smirk, “You knew?”
You hummed and stepped out of the cave, “I had an inkling.” You said as you walked out, “But you pacing back and forth anxiously gave it away.” You stated, glancing at the tall man and his now rosy cheeks.
“Also you talk rather loudly.”
“S-Sorry.”
Shari came running towards the two of you, adjusting the straps of her back onto her shoulder, “All done!” She exclaimed as she came up to you, smiling up at you.
“You sure?” You asked, looking down at her.
She nodded definitively, “Yes, Mistress.”
“Good. Because we won’t be coming back.”
Namjoon stumbled after you as you continued walking, “Does that mean you’ll help us?”
You kept walking, “No, I wish to see if my weapons can skin a Dragon.” You paused for effect, “Alive.”
Shari chuckled beside you as Namjoon halted in his steps, looking pale and fearful. You rolled your eyes and stopped, “I am joking, Namjoon.”
He released a breath, “Thank the Gods.” He mumbled.
“For now.” You shrugged and continued walking down the hill.
You could already smell them as you reached the base of the hill where Jin and Yoongi awaited you. Jin smiled as he spotted you and Shari while Yoongi didn’t even spare you a glance.
You were about to tell him how rude it was not to acknowledge a Lady when Jin opened his mouth, “Good morning, ladies. Looking battle ready and fierce as ever.” He complimented as you and Shari came up to him, “How are you this morning, little one?” He asked when she looked up at him, her big brown orbs twinkling with excitement.
“Excited!” Shari clapped her hands.
“I expected to see you return alone.” Yoongi stated, glancing at Namjoon.
You could still give him an earful but refrained and simply resumed walking, heading into the dense forest, Shari grabbing Jin’s hand to drag him along.
While Jin and Shari had fun playing games on the road, obviously bonding, you and Yoongi had yet to utter one word to each other. That didn’t stop the Dragon from talking about you, as if you weren’t there. He took your lack of acknowledgement as a challenge. You annoyed him. He didn’t know why but he wanted your fieryeyes on him as you lashed out at him hence his comments got more provocative as the hours went by.
You were twitching with each comment coming from him, wanting nothing more than to teach him a lesson or ten.
Instead, you tried to make small talk with Jin, asking him about his family. He had a wife, three sons and a daughter and he talked with such warmth and love about his family, that it made the annoyance caused by Yoongi fade into the back of your mind.
It made you a little sad too. While his tone was warm and happy, there was an underlying yearning to return to them.
“I miss them so much.” He admitted, the smile vanishing from his face and sadness washed over his features, “I’ve been gone for too long already.”
“How long?” You asked.
“A year, give or take. My wife sends me letters though.” He smiled but it didn’t have the same happiness as his usual ones, “The boys are getting wilder and stronger and are wreaking havoc in the house.”
“What about your daughter?” Shari asked, “How old is she?”
Jin looked down at his side, “She’s a little younger than you and she is amazing. Strong, beautiful, funny, smart… Takes after her father, you know.” He winked at Shari and ruffled her hair, “You remind me of her actually.”
You smiled at the interaction. The young girl sorely lacked a father figure in her life. You were all that she had but even you couldn’t give her everything a child needed, no matter how hard you tried. Certainly not a life where she feared for her life everyday was fit for a child.
“We’re nearing the camp.” Yoongi caused the moment to fade with his statement.
You didn’t have to wait long until the air filled with the scents of sweat, horses, leather and smog.
“How many men?” You asked Yoongi as he walked up beside you, finally looking at him.
“2000.” He said curtly.
“2000? That’s not nearly enough to attack the Imperial city. Your brother has tens-of-thousands of soldiers.” You stated, eyes widening as Yoongi merely shrugged and bypassed you, picking up his pace as the camp got closer.
Truly, he couldn’t be serious?
Shari clung to you as you walked further and further into the large camp, soldiers all around you barely paying you any attention, the few that did curtly inclined their heads as a formal greeting.
“I don’t like it here.” The young girl murmured and you hugged her tighter to you, knowing her fear of soldiers and wished you could whisk her away.
“I’ll protect you, Shari. Don’t worry.”
“I know.”
Yoongi led the way through the camp and when you came upon a larger tent, he entered it and you followed suit with Jin and Namjoon behind you.
In the tent was two men, each dressed in their own battle attire. It was the sigils on their back that indicated their status and just how important they were.
“You’ve gathered other Aspects?” You asked, eyes slightly widening when their heads turned to look at you.
“They’ve returned!”
You couldn’t distinguish whose voice it was, mind still reeling from the fact that Yoongi had gotten so many Aspects to join the rebellion, especially considering that some of them present was allies with the Emperor.
“Is this who I think it is?” A voice snapped you out of it and you took a step back when the owner of the voice strolled over to you with strong steps, inhaling deeply, “It is!”
You looked up, a very young but muscular man, with wide brown eyes stared at you with amazement and a grin that reached his ears
“Careful, Jungkook.” Yoongi warned him, “She has a bad habit of attacking first and asking questions later.”
Your eyes narrowed as Jungkook shook his head, “She looks nice though!”
Could they stop talking about you as if you weren’t there?
Then Jungkook leaned in close, too close for comfort and you felt the beginnings of a hiss in your throat when he sniffed you. Loudly.
“And she smells so good!”
Aspect of the Dog, you guessed.
“A true beauty.” Another voice drawled and you turned your head to see a slightly older man make his way to you, his eyes sharp and focused, his presence sending a shiver down your back.
He was intimidating.
“Jackson…” Yoongi warned cooly, watching as his comrade drank in the sight of you.
Jackson, as was his name, bowed graciously in front of you, “My name is Jackson and I am the Aspect of the Tiger, my fair lady.” He took your free hand and kissed it, making Shari giggle and he winked at her, “You honor us with your presence.”
Yoongi snorted loudly and you glared at him briefly before smiling at Jackson, “Thank you. Finally someone with manners.”
This caused Yoongi to glare at you.
“Ah, you make me blush, my lady.”
“Please, call me Y/N.”
“First name basis already. I like it.”
“Are you done making the rest of us gag?” Yoongi huffed.
“Jealousy is an ugly thing, Yoongi.”
“I am not-”
“Alright, everyone, settle down and let’s get back to what we’re actually here for.” Namjoon’s voiced boomed over the others, successfully silencing them. He walked over to the table and placed his hands on it, “Scout reports?”
“None yet, Namjoon. They have yet to return and-” Jungkook was cut off as the curtain to the tent was whipped aside and in stepped another man but this one, you knew.
Your eyes widened as you took in the huffing Jimin, his cheeks red from exertion but they were still those soft cheeks you remember cupping in your hands, the same plush lips that you remember kissing you on the cheek, the same brown eyes that had once pleadingly begged you to let him go and now they landed on you and he stopped speaking. You hadn’t even noticed that he had begun talking.
“Y-Y/N?” His voice crumbled steadily as you let go of Shari and walked over to him, your heart leaping in your chest as he quickly crossed the distance and drew you into his arms, hugging you tightly.
“Gods, I’ve missed you.” He mumbled before burying his face in the junction of your neck and shoulder, nuzzling it with his nose.
You felt teary-eyed as he drew you back and he beamed when he saw your face, “I missed you too.” You managed to get past the lump in your throat.
The sweet reunion was interrupted as Namjoon cleared his throat and Jimin removed himself from your arms and walked over to the table.
“I have a few questions for you, Jimin, but we’ll talk later. Now, what have our scouts found out?” The Aspect of the Monkey asked, his eyes flicking between you and Jimin.
The sun was setting over the Imperial City, bathing the building in a golden hue and coupled with it’s brightly colored tiles and buildings, it would make for a breathtaking painting.
The golden towers of the Imperial Palace glinted in the sun as they stood high above the rest of the city, like a beacon of light guiding those who needed safety from the dark.
But all this simply covered up the grim truth of the city and it’s inhabitants. The streets were littered with sick people, the poor sitting on the corners, begging for a coin just so they could buy a loaf of bread, starving orphans that didn’t even have the strength to stand, let alone play. The streets were no longer clean or traversable as they were covered with garbage.
What had once been a bustling city, a hub for all traders alike, a place where teaching and schooling was important, a city that felt safe with the guards patrolling the streets, was now the opposite. It was a city full of hopelessness, death and decay.
And the one who ruled over the city and it’s people cared not about it.
Emperor Min sat on his golden throne, staring at his sword when his spymaster entered the throne room, his eyes locked onto the Emperor, “My Lord.”
“Ah, spymaster Lee.” Min glanced at the man, “I hope you bring good news.”
“I-I do, my Lord. The Southern borderlands raids have been successful… Um, the new recruits have proven to be quite effective.”
“That is good news indeed, Lee.”
“I do have… bad news, my Lord.”
Min sighed and reclined back in his throne, waving his hand, “Yes, out with it.”
“M-my scouts say that the Tiger Aspect...” Lee trailed off, fear interlaced with his voice, “That he has joined your brother’s rebellion.”
The booming laughter that followed made the spymaster take a step back as the Emperor rose from the throne, “Good, finally I have an excuse to kill him.”
“There’s more, my Lord.”
Min looked at the trembling man and raised a brow, “What?”
“Reports h-has come in and s-some say that they’ve seen her.”
“WHAT?!” Min roared and Lee fell to his knees with a whimper, “That bitch is still alive?!” He growled and swiped at a decorated vase, sending it flying across the room, “Not only did my brother, now her as well! Why doesn’t people know that when killed, you stay dead!”
Lee cowered before his Emperor as his shadow fell over him, “It’s fine. It’ll be fine.” Min sighed and placed a hand on his spymaster’s head, “You will send assassins after her.”
“Y-Yes, my Lord!”
“But if they fail, my dear spymaster, then you,” Min paused, grabbing Lee’s chin roughly, forcing him to look up, “You will pay for their mistakes with your life.”
“This is your tent.” Jin drew back the curtain and you walked inside, Shari in tow, “I know it’s a little small but it will be a couple of days before we leave.”
“To the Imperial City?” Shari asked, looking up at him.
“Yes.”
“Will I be fighting too?”
Jin gave her a small smile as he knelt down and ruffled her hair, “No. You will be staying where it’s safe.”
“But who will be protecting me?”
“Some of the soldiers.”
“Then I’d rather be out there fighting with you! I refuse to be near-”
“Shari.” You short call of her name made her mouth close quickly, “Why don’t you find Namjoon and ask for some water?”
Hesitantly, your handmaiden nodded and left the tent, leaving you and Jin alone. When she was out of earshot, you looked at Jin, “Shari doesn’t feel safe around soldiers.”
“I gathered as much… Why?” Jin asked and leaned against the pole that held the tent up.
You sighed quietly and turned your back to him, “Before becoming my handmaiden, she had a family but they were poor and like so many other poor people, she had to steal food.” You began untying your belt holding your kopis’, “One day, she had snuck into the palace barracks after having followed a tradewagon of food. She was spotted and didn’t get away.” Jin nodded as you continued, “She was put in front of the Emperor as she had trespassed into the Royal Grounds and attempted to steal from the Emperor himself.”
Jin shifted on his legs, beginning to feel unsettled, “What happened then?”
“The Emperor told the guards to ‘punish her however they saw fit’.” You told him and he felt a shiver run down his back, “I begged him to call it off, to punish me instead and let her go. I knew what those guards intended to do, Jin, I could smell it on them. The desire.” You felt sick to the stomach as you recalled it, “She had her clothes torn off, in the middle of the throne room and all the Emperor was doing, was laughing as she cried for help.”
“Please don’t tell me they-” He began, eyes tearing up.
“No. I stopped it before it got that far.” You cut him off and placed your belt on the table and you heard him murmur ‘how’, “I killed the one who was holding her down. Sliced his throat.”
Jin closed his eyes and shook his head, “And the others?”
“I killed them that same night.”
“And you?”
You stilled briefly, thinking it went unnoticed but Jin saw, “What did he do to you, Y/N?”
You ignored the question and continued, “Two nights later, her family’s house was burned down. With her family inside it.”
“Gods…” Jin exhaled, his heart breaking for the young girl, “So you took her in?” You nodded.
“She has no else but me, Jin. Shari has been there for me when I had no one. I owe her much.” You turned to face him, “Which is why I am warning you, should any harm come to her while under your soldier’s protection-”
“I promise that she will stay safe.” He quickly cut you off, “Please. Shari will be safe when we head into battle.” You stared at him for a moment, as if trying to gauge if he was truthful but then you nodded and walked past him, just in time as Shari entered the tent.
“Namjoon said he will have someone bring water to us, Mistress.” Shari told you and you smiled at her.
“Thank you, Shari.”
Jin pushed off from the pole and inclined his head, “I’ll be going then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As he left your tent, he felt deeply troubled by the fact that you had avoided his question concerning you. Just how much had you endured at the hands of Min?
He didn’t want to think about it.
“Did she say anything?” Yoongi’s voice startled him out of his thoughts and Jin whirled around to see his friend approach him, “I saw her kid leave the tent.”
“Are you stalking me?” Jin asked, crossing his arms as he raised a brow, “Or are you stalking her?”
Yoongi snorted and brushed past him, settling against a rack of weapons, “As if.”
“I’ve known you for over a decade, Yoongi.” Jin eyed his friend’s relaxed posture, “And I think you’re intrigued by her.” As his words settled, gone was the relaxed posture and his friend tumbled against the rack, almost causing it to fall over which resulted in Jin laughing out loud.
“I-I am not! She’s annoying, has a stick up her ass-”
“I think you want to be said stick.”
“Jin, I am warning you…” Yoongi trailed off, knowing by the grin Jin had, that his cheeks were tinted pink. Still, the older man held up his hands in surrender and Yoongi scoffed.
“But to answer your question, she told me of how she and Shari ended up together.” And so, Jin proceeded to retell the story to Yoongi.
Yoongi couldn’t sleep that night, thoughts running rampant in his mind, the story Jin had told him and the fact that you had avoided Jin’s question, troubled him. He knew his brother was a sick bastard.
But his mind ran wild with imaginations of what his brother had done to you and he felt sickened by it. It bothered him that it was all he could worry about when he was about to start a war in less than two days.
But he had also found a new kind of respect for you. To hear that you had willingly offered yourself for punishment to save a simple girl was not matching the image that he had created of you in his mind.
It actually proved it wrong.
And in a way, despite how horrifying that story was, he was glad that Jin had told him.
He wondered if there was more to you than just glares, snark comments and aloofness.
Why are people yelling, screaming and cheering at the asscrack of dawn? Was Yoongi’s first thought as he exited his tent, grumpy and still wrecked with sleep, “What the fuck is all this commotion?!” He yelled and some soldiers jogging by, stopped.
“There’s a fight happening, my Lord.”
“A fight? Who the fuck wants to fight each other before breakfast?”
The two soldiers glanced at each other and one of them spoke, “Jimin and the Lady and… It’s midday, my Lord.”
Yoongi rubbed one eye with hand, “Midday-” He looked up and squinted at the sun, “It’s midday… Shit.”
“Was there anything else you needed, my Lord?”
He waved his hand, “No and don’t call me that, I’m no Lord.” The soldiers saluted and ran off and Yoongi turned on his heel, heading back into his tent when he froze, “Jimin and Y/N? Fighting?”
He ran, following the stream of soldiers and he saw the large group of people, forming an arena around the two fighters. Grunting, he pushed his way through the crowd and reached the centre.
You grunted with effort as you pushed Jimin off you, “Gotta be faster than that, rabbit.” You goaded and took a defensive stan and Jimin attacked you again with a swift kick aimed at your stomach but you intercepted it with one hand and wrapped your other hand around his thigh and pulled.
Yoongi watched as you hurdled Jimin down onto the ground with a cry, creating a wave of dust at impact and he shielded his eyes.
“So far, it looks like she’s winning this round.” He heard Jin’s voice and looked around, trying to spot him and he saw him stand next to Namjoon and Jackson a few feet away.
“Why the fuck are they fighting?” Yoongi asked when he approached them, causing all three men to whip around to face him.
“Ah, overslept again, I see. Bad habit.” Namjoon stated with a shrug.
“They’re sparring, my dear friend.” Jin clarified and drew Yoongi in with an arm around his shoulder, “Come! Join us!”
“In what?”
“Betting on who is going to win this last round. So far the score is 1-1 so this is the last round.” Jin said with a grin, “I’d bet on Y/N. She’s been throwing Jimin around this round like he’s wet paper.”
“Jimin clearly has the upperhand and is simply dragging out the time!” Jungkook joined them, “Everyone knows that he’s the best damn close-combat fighter in these lands.”
Namjoon looked at the youngest Aspect just as Jimin was crawling out of the hole you had put him in, “I wouldn’t quite say that, Jungkook. You see, Y/N and Jimin trained together back when they were younger.”
Yoongi looked at him, “How do you know?”
“He told me. I was curious as of how they knew each other.” He explained with a bored expression.
“Yes, and apparently they were lovers at one point too.” Jackson grumbled angrily, “But I am going to make her my woman! No rabbit will stand in my way.”
Yoongi didn’t know if he wanted to hit Jackson or not, “You can’t force her to be your anything if she doesn’t want to.”
Jackson shifted his eyes from the fight to Yoongi, “I will not force her. I will make her fall for me with my charms. I’m sure you could learn a thing or two, young Dragon.”
Yoongi opened his mouth but Jin was quick to place his hand over it, turning his head to you and Jimin, “Alright, that’s enough kids.”
Jimin wiped the sweat off his brow and chuckled, “I see you haven’t gotten completely rusty on your old days, Y/N.”
“Did you just call me old, Jimin?” You asked as you began to circle each other, “We both know I was always the better fighter.”
“Not true. I’ve beaten you plenty of times.”
“That was years ago.”
You set off and Jimin jumped backwards, turning his body midair, avoiding your charge and you put one foot to the ground, whirling around, just in time to block a punch from him.
“We can keep going like this all day, Y/N.” He noted as you huffed, straining against his fist in your hand, “Or I can at least.”
“I am not tired, if that’s what you’re insinuating.”
You headbutted him, hard, causing him to groan and stumble back but you gave him no breathing room as you charged at him again, wrapping your arms around his midsection at you collided with his body.
Jimin grabbed your shoulders as he placed his feet solidly on the ground, halting you and then he aimed a well-placed kneecap right into your stomach, sending you flying upwards into the air. You maneuvered yourself to land safely on both feet, a distance away from him.
The crowd began cheering but it quickly died down when your eyes began to glow green and the crowd moved outwards, creating a greater distance between you and them.
“Oh, so you want to fight dirty now?” Jimin yelled but stomped the ground with a foot, causing it to tremble slightly, his own eyes flashing pink, “Let’s go then.”
“Now it’s getting interesting.” Jin clapped his hands and smiled excitedly.
“You enjoy violence way to much, my friend.” Namjoon noted and shook his head.
At that very second, the sparring contest jumped up to a whole new level, ditching any slow movements, doubts or hesitations to leave room for two living blurs chaining blows and blocks at astonishing speed.
After a long moment spent out of time, you could hardly tell if it'd been one minute or one hour, you decided that you had enjoyed yourselves enough and impulsively went on the offensive. Jimin, still focused on the playful yet deadly dancing, noticed too late that the game part was over... He received a powerful blow in the ribs and growled with anger.
"Good one!” He groaned, frowning at her at the second he counterattacked.
You dodged him and resumed into a regular exchange of blocked blows, only this time much more violent... and aiming at hurting. You had struck without restraint, which meant you'd put enough strength in your fist to break his bones. Good thing he was an Aspect, because had he been human, he would have had a broken rib or three.
He kept playing cat and mouse with you until the right opportunity: he seized your right arm as he blocked it and pulled you toward him. Thrown off balance, you reacted by sending your knee right between Jimin’s legs.
Jimin froze on place as a wave of immense pain spread from his groin, "Really?" He managed to get out.
But he didn't have time to waste as you used his temporary loss of control to grab him and send him flying across the arena. People were quick to move out of the way and he crashed heavily against a couple of tents that fell or broke upon impact. Jimin clenched his teeth to keep his pain silent and shook his head to clear his thoughts just in time to see you rush toward him to try and finish the match before he was back in the game. Jimin dodged your leg that created a small hole in the ground and got up on his feet and leaped toward you, taking advantage of your precarious balance to grip your waist with both his arms and pin you on the ground.
You fell, entangled, and struggled on the dirt to take the upper hand. You finally got it, straddled him and threw a powerful punch toward his jaw. But your friend deflected it with his free arm and countered with a strong head butt.
Unfortunately for him, you were… pretty hard-headed.
“You can do better, Jimin.”
Then Jimin lifted his right leg in your back, placed it between your chests and gripped your neck in the bend of his knee before pushing you backwards. You saw the danger come; if you let the man block your head between his strong legs, you could very well lose the match.
You resisted the movement, all the effort concentrated in your abdominal muscles, then used your hands and arms to free yourself while sending your foot to Jimin’s jaw for good measure. You heard him growl as you rolled on the side and stood up. Jimin jumped to his feet and rubbed his jaw soothingly before joking, “You’re really trying to damage my handsome face.”
“It’ll heal.”
And you attacked, even faster, even stronger, to the crowd’s general amazement, trying more and more daring and risky moves to find a way past the each other's defenses. You both sometimes took the upper hand, but the more time passed, the more you gained the advantage over him, hurting his weak spots with the precision of a striking cobra. Jimin scored some good hits too, like the full-powered kick he'd managed to land on your shoulder and which had sent you staggering, the loud crack indicating that he had dislocated it.
You simply but it back in place with a small hiss.
Nevertheless, Jimin started to feel the match was escaping him. While he began to tire under your constant assaults, your energy seemed endless. You really were a formidable opponent.
You exchanged a new flurry of blows until he missed a block and took an uppercut fully charged in the throat, followed by another in his chest. The first cut his breathing for a short instant, the next caused a loud crack to echo through the camp and he immediately knew – through the sound and the intolerable pain that flooded his veins – that you actually managed break a pair of his ribs. He staggered and fell on his knees, coughing and grunting in pain.
He saw you hesitate; you’d heard the terrible noise but he could tell you really wanted to win this match. He knew why it was so important to you, that the soldiers and the other Aspects needed to believe in your strength, to assert yourself in a powerful position.
In the end, it seemed your fear to have badly wounded him superseded your determination and you moved closer to check he was okay. Your softness were really your biggest weakness.
Jimin sprung like a tiger on it’s prey. He had you.
But you had anticipated the deception this time – you knew him too well – and you leaped backwards, moving out of his reach. You both landed on your feet and observed each other.
Even with a few broken ribs, your friend would have no trouble trading blows until he saw an opportunity to immobilize you, so you had to be careful.
You could feel the audience holding their breath around you, waiting like statues for something to happen.
It seemed like you had to use the element of surprise.
Jimin was taking his sweet time to approach, knowing that rushing would only give you the chance to dodge and escape. You observed him intently, seemingly trying to figure him out. He could almost hear the wheels of your brain turning faster.
Then suddenly, he stood within striking distance, he focused and attacked, fist first so he could follow up with a kick to block your escape. You evaded the blow at the last second, but not in the way he'd anticipated.
You jumped. High.
Then you fell. On him. Legs wide open.
Jimin was so surprised he missed the only half-a-second long window that could have gotten him out of there, and suddenly his nose and mouth collided with your lower stomach while your legs closed around his neck. Your entire body suddenly weighed on his shoulders, and you used your momentum to accentuate the movement and make him topple backwards.
Almost slowly, Jimin took three steps back and, unable to keep his balance, collapsed on the ground. His back slammed against the ground, the impact only dampened by the presence of your legs crossed against his nape. You then bent forward to evade your victim's leg swings and kicks, and a large smirk appeared on your face.
“You give up?” You asked, still smirking.
“Yes, I tap out.” He rolled his eyes and felt you dislodge yourself from him. The crowd began cheering when you helped him back on your feet, your eyes having returned to their natural color.
“I am going to marry that woman. Gods, I am so hard right now.” Jackson mumbled, staring at you as you talked to Jimin.
“Gross, Jackson. Really? Ugh.” Jin scowled.
Yoongi ignored all of them but he had to agree with Jackson. He too, had never been so hard as he was at that moment.
After the fight, Jimin had invited you to a walk. You had your right hand placed on his forearm as he walked beside you, through the noisy camp, soldiers and horses running around you. The tension in the camp had heightened since you arrived, clearly anticipated for the battle.
You didn’t want to think about that now.
“How have you been all these years?” You asked him, looking up at him. He was just as handsome as you remembered him, even with dirt and sweat spattered across his face.
“I’ve been good. Busy. But good.” He said with a smile and glanced down at you, “And you?”
You slowly looked away from him and ahead, “I’ve been… Surviving.” Jimin’s smile faded, “Yeah. Surviving.”
“Y/N… Why didn’t you come to me?” He placed his other hand upon the one that rested on his forearm, “I could have helped you.”
“No, you couldn’t. I had just helped you escape from him and I would only have put you in danger had I sought you out. I didn’t want to endanger anyone else.” You shook your head, “I feared that he might have found you and killed you after you disappeared.”
“I have a friend, Taehyung and he took me in, helped me heal and get back on my feet but since I had no lands left, I sort of remained with him until Yoongi arrived on his doorstep, asking us to be a part of his rebellion.” Jimin explained.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t stop him, Jimin.” Your head hung low as he slowed down, “I tried but he wouldn’t listen.” You closed your eyes, “You lost everything.” Your voice trembled slightly as your heart constricted painfully in your chest.
“Hey.” He put a finger under your chin to make you look at him, “Not everything. I have you, don’t I?” You nodded, blinking, and Jimin was quick to wipe away the single tear that fell, “I have Tae, Namjoon, Jin, Yoongi, even Jackson. I got a wife and a kid on the way.”
“You what?” Your eyes widened, “Why didn’t you tell me?” You hit his arm and he laughed, “You tell me this now?!”
“Sorry, I didn’t tell you sooner.” He smiled and tugged you gently along as he began walking, “What about you, Y/N? Any bachelors?”
You snorted, loudly, “I haven’t really been lucky in that aspect, Jimin, and after the last one, it has sort of been the last thing on my mind.”
“Really? Hm, we should change that. What about Jackson?”
“As handsome as he might be, he’s a little too aggressive for my tastes.”
“Jungkook?”
“Too young.”
“My friend, Taehyung is still unmarried but I don’t think the two of you will get along very well.”
“Why?”
“He’s the Goat Aspect.”
You chuckled softly, “You’re right about that one.”
“Hm. What about Yoongi?”
You almost tripped over your own feet at the mention of his name, “The brother of the man who ruined my life? What a good idea, Jimin.”
Jimin frowned and stopped walking, “Yoongi is not like his brother, Y/N. He is a good man, albeit a little…”
“Cold? Rude? Pig-headed?”
“Yeah, that but he’s kind, compassionate and strong-willed. He actually reminds me of you.”
You threw your head back and laughed, “Please. He and I are not alike. He could have stopped his brother from killing their father but he didn’t. Instead, he let it happen and got banished from the palace. He could have stopped Min from doing all of the terrible things he’s done but no, he didn’t even try. It’s a miracle he’s mustered up the balls to finally do something.”
Jimin looked thoughtful for a moment before he spoke, “Yoongi actually tried to kill his brother that day he killed their father.” Your eyes widened and all humour left your face, “But Min… Killed him.”
“B-But how? He’s alive-”
“Magic.” He simply stated.
You reeled back, “Magic like that is forbidden and for good reason…”
“A life for a life.”
“Who…?”
“His mother.” Jimin sighed and it felt like all the air had been punched out of your lungs, “After Min killed Yoongi, he threw him into the river. Jin found him a couple of days later, floating in the river. He pulled him from the river and brought him into his house. At first he contemplated of burning him but… He was contacted by the Empress.”
“How? She remained in the palace-”
“She was a witch.” Your eyes widened at the revelation, “Yeah. There weren’t many magic users left back then but she was one of the few.” Jimin continued, “She made Jin take an oath to keep Yoongi safe until the time was right.” Jimin paused and looked at you, “So don’t say that Yoongi didn’t try.”
“But why now?”
“He was scared. Like you. He still is. So… Cut him slack.”
“We haven’t really… talked that much. Mostly fought, actually.” You snickered but it was hollow, “I may have treated him with contempt. Because he looks like him…”
“And you know that’s wrong.”
“Yes.”
“You know, maybe you should reach out to him, try to make him understand you a little better. Try to be friends. History tells us that the Snake and Dragon were always good friends.”
“That’s putting the bar a little high, Jimin. I’ll just begin with being a little nicer to him.”
“That’s my girl.”
Yoongi was, mildly speaking, having an existential crisis. Okay, maybe not that extreme but he was certainly having a crisis.
About you.
Okay, so maybe Jin was right. He was intrigued by you. He could even admit that he was attracted to you, as was proven by his earlier predicament. He had never seen such elegance and strength before, certainly not in a fight. Sure, you and Jimin were both excellent fighters but you… You had truly stolen his focus.
He still found you annoying and uptight but perhaps that would change with time as he got to know you.
He wanted to know more about you.
“Fancy meeting you here.” Your voice startled him and he visibly flinched, “Did I startle you? Good.” You snickered.
He expected you to walk away but instead, you approached him and sat down next to him in the soft grass.
“You are really annoying.” Yoongi said, sparing you a glance. You had changed your outfit. You were no longer clad in a bodytight suit that accentuated your curves, breast or ass.
Frankly spoken, he was glad that you had changed. He didn’t want a raging boner again.
Now you were dressed in a simple, long dress and your hair cascaded down your shoulders. You looked relaxed.
“So are you.” You retorted and shot him a glare, “Did you see the fight earlier?”
“I did.”
“I didn’t see you.”
“Oh, so you were looking for me?” Yoongi smirked and turned his head to look at you, taking much pleasure in how you sputtered and shook your head wildly.
“Absolutely not.”
“Hm.”
A moment of silence passed and you felt uneasy under his sharp eyes, shifting in the grass.
“Are you scared of me, Y/N?”
You froze at the question and opened your mouth to answer but decided to close it again. Yoongi took your silence as his answer and moved to get up when your hand grabbed his wrist.
“I am not scared of you… As per say.” You began, looking at him with pleading eyes, asking him silently to stay, “But you look exactly like him and… sometimes my mind thinks you are him.”
“I am not him.” Yoongi said but sat back down next to you.
“I know that! But that still doesn’t change the fact that you look exactly like the man that....” You trailed off, not wanting to venture out where you couldn’t go back.
“The man that what?” He pushed and he saw you pale, “Y/N, what did my brother do to you?”
You whispered something and at first he didn’t hear it but he heard it the second time.
“He ruined me.” You murmured weakly and gone was the strong, pig-headed woman he had only seen up till now. You were shaking, pale and afraid.
“He… ruined you?”
You rubbed your arms, suddenly feeling cold to the bones, “Your brother was once my betrothed but you already know that, I’m sure. My family thought that it would be a good match and an honor to have their daughter marry the Emperor and thus I was sent to the palace 3 months before the wedding would take place, to prepare me for the grandiose honor of becoming Empress.” You let out a short, emotionless laugh, “Empress. I was supposed to be nothing more but a trophy. He treated me as such as well. A thing... A plaything that he could burn, flog, cut and beat until I was drowning in a sea of my own blood. To torture endlessly until he grew bored of it. But none of that broke me… It wasn’t until he forced himself upon me that my spirit broke.”
Your eyes teared up but you continued, “It happened once and it was after I had betrayed him by helping Jimin escape from the palace. He thought giving me 12 lashes wasn’t enough. I had to be taught a lesson.”
Yoongi closed his eyes, wishing and regretting he asked, “And that was when I began to fear him.”
“Y/N…”
“Your brother not only scarred my body to the point where I can’t even stand to look at it, he also-”
“Y/N, stop!” Yoongi raised his voice, “That’s enough.” His voice trembled, wrought with emotion, “Stop. Please.”
You turned your head to look at him as he took your hand in his, his thumb gliding over your palm in an effort to comfort you. It didn’t comfort you and when you saw the emotions swirling in his eyes; the sorrow, the sympathy, you broke down.
Yoongi didn’t know what to do when you leaned into his side, crying softly, your hand clenching his strongly as if you needed him to keep you anchored, so your emotions didn’t get the better of you.
He hushed you gently as you wept and he stayed with you until the last of your tears had dried up.
You sat in comfortable silence, your head placed on his shoulder and you breathed in deeply, feeling slightly light-headed.
“I was wrong about you and for that, I apologize.” He said softly, clenching your hand within his.
You simply hummed in response and closed your eyes, silently wishing the moment to last a little bit longer.
Jin noticed a change between you and Yoongi. It all began when he saw you smiling a tiny smile in Yoongi’s direction that morning and the Dragon’s own lips tugged upwards. Then his friend had walked over to you and placed a hand on your shoulder and Jin expected you to send Yoongi flying, but you didn’t. Instead you let it linger there as the two of you talked.
Then Yoongi leaned in closer and whispered something in your ear that made you flustered and now you actually hit him.
Just not with full force. Which Jin had expected. No, you simply swiped your arm leisurely at his shoulder while Yoongi was smiling at you.
What was this?
The Ox kept a close eye on you throughout the day as it passed by. The two of you would walk, side by side, through the camp while Yoongi talked to you about his journey that led him here. He told you of how he had gathered the other Aspects and of how the rest would meet them at the city. Jin also noticed how your hand lingered on Yoongi’s arm, as you listened intently to what he was saying.
“Is it just me or are those two actually being… Friendly?” Jackson asked, eyes locked on you and Yoongi walking amongst the tents, “That’s quite a change over the span of a few days…”
“Are you scared he might steal her from you?” Jungkook smiled at Jackson, “I think he might.” That earned him a hard hit on the shoulder, “Ow.”
“Shut up, mutt. I refuse to believe that Y/N would fall for someone like him.”
“And what if she does? What then?” Jin levelled a hard stare at Jackson, “I actually think they make quite the pair.”
“His brother-”
“His brother is his own person, Jackson. You know this. Now Y/N does too. Let them be.”
“You know, you actually surprise me, Yoongi.”
“How so?”
“I didn’t expect you to be this smart. I actually kind of expected you to be quite… Dumb.”
“You surprise me as well.”
“Do tell.”
“You’re even more annoying once one get to know you.”
You slapped his arm but there was a smile on your lips, “It’s a part of my charm, thank you very much.”
“You are actually, quite charming.” His compliment made your cheeks heat up. He’s been doing that a lot lately. Complimenting you, that is.
And it made butterflies erupt in your stomach.
You didn’t know what to make of it.
“I have a question, Y/N.”
You looked at him with a tilt of your head, “Ask away.”
“What will you do after?” Yoongi glanced at you, “If we win.”
You hardly doubted that it would be a hard-earned victory. You had no doubt that people would die.
But somewhere, something told you that you would win.
“I… Don’t know. I mean, Shari and I have been on the run for so long, that I can’t imagine us doing anything else but…” You paused and looked off, into the distance, watching the setting sun, “I could see myself in a house, with Shari, tending to our garden.”
“No husband?” He asked.
You chewed your lip, “Maybe. If the right one comes along.” You felt him shift beside you, “What about you? What are your plans once you become Emperor?”
“I don’t plan to become Emperor.”
Your head whipped towards him, eyes wide, “W-What? Surely you must be jesting, Yoongi. Who else is there but you?”
“I can make a whole list of people who would be a better Emperor than I.” He declared and shrugged, “I don’t want to be Emperor. I never wanted that.”
“There are many that would disagree with you. Myself, included.” You stated, placing a hand on top of his, “But that is up to you. No one can or will force you.”
Yoongi smiled slowly, “Thank you.”
“What do you want then?”
He hummed and leaned back, resting against the tree that towered over you, “I want many things. To travel the world. Learn new languages. Meet new people. I want to settle down, own a farm or something like that.”
“You really want it all?”
“I want it all.” He parroted you, his brown eyes shifting from you to the sun, “Nothing less.”
“Then you shall have it all, Yoongi.”
Later that evening, a couple of hours after sunset, Shari pounced you the minute you entered your tent and you yelped, “Ah! Hello.”
“Miffed u, istres.” She mumbled into your cloak and you chuckled when she drew her head back and looked up at you, “You’ve been gone for almost the whole day.” She pouted as you patted her head.
“Namjoon hasn’t been entertaining you enough?” You asked as she let go of you, shaking your head at her small ‘no’, “You know it’s not very polite to be ungrateful, Shari. Namjoon offered to teach you to read and write all by himself.”
“I know, Mistress but it’s more fun when it’s you.”
You huffed out a laugh and took off your cloak, putting it on your bed, “I’ll teach you once this war is over with, I promise.”
“Yay!” Shari clapped her hands and you smiled at her excitement but then it died down and she looked solemn, “We’re leaving tomorrow…” She murmured and you walked over to her and knelt down, “I-I’m nervous.”
“I know. Me too.”
“What if you die?”
You cupped her cheek, “I won’t.”
“Promise?”
You kissed her cheek, “Promise.” and Shari graced you with a small smile, “Now, how about a bath? You stink.”
“That was rude, Mistress. You could use a bath yourself.” She scowled at you but her eyes lit up at the mention of a bath, “But I forgot my soap.”
“You can borrow mine.” You winked at her as she cheered, “It’ll be just a minute.”
“Ugh.”
“You can ahead and head towards the stream. Don’t leave the camp though. Stay within the light of the torches.” You told her and she was almost halfway out the entrance when you called to her, “And take my cloak. It’s a little cold outside.”
“What about you then?”
You snickered, “I’m going to be fine.”
Shari grabbed your cloak and ran outside as she struggled to put it on. She breathed in deeply, the scent of your vanilla soap and lotus perfume lingering on the cloak and hugged it tightly to her body. She pulled the hood over her head and headed towards the edge of the camp.
Sharp eyes landed on the hooded figure and grinned as he recognized the cloak. He dipped the arrow head in the bottle of acid and notched it, taking aim.
“This is almost too easy.”
You exited your tent, a cloth bag in your hand containing your soaps as you headed towards the edge of camp, looking forward to a nice bath and some time alone with Shari.
But then you heard someone yell and saw soldiers run by you. You picked up your pace but that was when you smelled it.
Blood.
You dropped the bag onto the ground and bolted, not giving a single care to the gathered people as you shoved them away, your heart beating wildly in your chest as you prayed to the Gods that what you feared was not-
You stopped. Stopped breathing. Stopped moving. Stopped thinking.
There, on the ground, lay a small body, wearing your cloak, in a pool of her own blood. You saw the arrow in her back, smelled the acid that had burned a hole into her chest.
You screamed. Loudly. You fell to your knees next to Shari’s body and turned her around, weeping loudly as you saw her lifeless eyes stare up at you, “No… No… Please… No.”
You pulled her to your chest, hugging her tightly, “Shari, wake up.” You whispered brokenly, shaking her gently but the only thing that moved was a single trail of blood from her mouth.
You cupped the back of her head, pulling it to you and buried your face in her hair as the hood fell from her head and wept.
Jin and Yoongi pushed their way through the crowd but halted the second they saw you cradling Shari’s body, weeping loudly, whimpering, begging her to wake up.
Jin’s eyes teared up and he took a deep breath, his eyelids closing as a stray tear ran down his cheek.
Yoongi slowly walked over to you and knelt down, his knees sinking into blood-soaked dirt and he slowly put a hand on your shoulder. You didn’t move as you kept looking at Shari’s face, “Please don’t leave me.” You sobbed.
“Y/N.” He said but you shook your head.
Yoongi looked down at the young girl, taking in her pained expression that was etched onto her face, her last moment. He took a deep breath before glancing at Jin over his shoulder, “Find the one who did this and bring them to me.”
Jin nodded and left.
Dawn came and you stood atop a hill, holding a torch and looked up, seeing the funeral pyre for the first time. You slowly walked over to it and looked down at the body that lay atop of it.
You heard Jin behind you, beginning his parting words. You tuned them out and took one last longing look at Shari’s face. She looked peaceful, with her eyes closed, her face clean, her hair done neatly in a braid. You could hear her bubbling laughter on the wind as it blew and you let your eyes close as you put the torch to the pyre and let it drop to the ground, stepping away.
Yoongi walked up to you, standing beside you, his head bowed. He could hear your shuddering breaths and he let his hand brush yours gently, offering his support in silence.
You took his hand interlaced your fingers as you silently let tears roll down your cheeks, watching the pyre carry the ashes of her to somewhere far away and you prayed, silently, that wherever it was, Shari had everything that she dreamed of.
Jungkook held the curtain to the tent aside and you walked in, accompanied by Yoongi, Jin, Namjoon, Jimin and Jackson.
“I chased him down after… what happened.” The young man said softly, You said nothing but simply walked over to the bound man and looked down at him. He looked up and his eyes widened when he saw you stand in front of him.
“He’s yours to do with as you please.” Yoongi stated.
You nodded and they took this as the cue to leave the tent. You sat down graciously in front of the man and removed the cloth from his mouth.
“How is this possible? I killed you.” His voice was dry and trembling as you calmly stared at him.
“You failed.” You explained, your voice cold as ice.
“I-I…”
“And now you will die.”
“You don’t scare me, snake,” He spat the word but there was still a sliver of fear in his tone, “The Emperor would have killed me anyway for failing him.”
You nodded slowly and pulled out a small vial, filled with a green substance, “Yes. He would probably beheaded you or have you hanged.” You removed the lid from the bottle and raised it up between your faces, “What I intend to do is much worse.” Your eyes flashed green as they met his, “Do you know what my poison does to a human body? It’s much like the concoction you used but much more potent. It will melt your insides, organ by organ, muscles by muscle, bone by bone until there is nothing of you.” You scoffed, “To think that he believed it would be strong enough to kill me is pathetic.”
The man opened his mouth, “Long live the Emper-” You grabbed his jaw roughly, forcing his mouth wide open with ease and he whimpered pathetically.
“Your Emperor won’t live for long. Neither will you.” You said slowly and moved the tiny bottle to his mouth, “Now drink up.”
You emptied the vial into his mouth and made sure that he swallowed it all.
You heard the rustling of the curtain to your tent, feet stepping onto the carpet, making the dirt beneath it crunch. You didn’t move when he placed a small plate of gravy in front of you, on the table you sat by.
“You need to eat.” Yoongi said softly, “You need the strength.”
“I’m not hungry.”
He sighed, “Y/N.” But you didn’t say another word, simply staring at the wall of the tent. Then he saw your hands move in your lap and he spotted one of Shari’s blouses in your hands.
You flinched when you felt him put a hand on top of yours, his face entering your vision as he gently turned your head with a finger under your chin. You looked at him, taking in how the light from the torch in the middle of the tent casted his soft, feline like features in a golden light. You saw how his eyes portrayed emotions so easily and just how easy it was to read them: his own heart filled with sorrow and regret.
Yoongi saw your lower lip beginning to tremble as tears gathered in your eyes, “She’s gone.” You began, voice a mere whisper, “I promised her that she would stay safe and I failed. I promised to protect her and I failed.” The more you spoke, the more tears flowed freely, “And it’s my fault. It’s my fault, Yoongi. I let her go. I made her put on my cloak… It’s my fault.”
“No, hey, no.” He cupped your face, kneeling down beside you, thumbs gently wiping away your tears, “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”
“I should have known that he would-”
“No. None of that. It is not your fault.”
“You don’t understand… Shari was the only thing that I had left.” You inhaled, soft noises escaping from you as you broke down, “I have nothing.”
“You have me, Y/N.” Yoongi pulled you to him and you desperately swung your arms around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder, “You have me.” He repeated as you wailed loudly, “You have me.” He felt your hands grip onto his shirt tightly, your wails muffled by the cloth.
To have him there, next to you, his presence and warm body, coupled with his words, it all washed over you like a warm blanket, shielding you from the hurt, the pain, the ache. It all seemed to lessen with each second.
You sniffled and drew back. Your arms shifted, moving your hands to his chest and you crossed the small space between you, placing a kiss to his lips.
Yoongi’s eyes widened but he didn’t move, seemingly frozen in your hold. Your lips, wet and tasting like salt, glided from his lips to his jaw, to his temple, to his ear and you whispered, “Make me forget. Please.”
He exhaled a shaky breath, “Are you sure?”
You nodded.
He pushed you back gently, his eyes searching yours for any uncertainty and when he found none, he pulled you to him, his lips collided with yours and a spark lit in his abdomen.
You whimpered softly into the kiss, feeling his tongue grace your lower lip, begging, pleading for entrance and when you granted it, you tasted him and a whole slew of colors exploded behind your lids. He pulled you up with him, his hands finding purchase on your hips as he guided you backwards, mouths still connected, to the bed and he broke the kiss to lay you down gently on the the soft mattress and he crawled over you.
You reached out for him, hands desperately trying to remove the shirt from his body and he let pull it over his head. He hissed when your hands glided up his stomach, over his dusky nipples and dipped his head, capturing your lips once more but this time with more ferocity.
Your skin tingled with excitement as Yoongi began to untie your robe but you froze when you felt his cool hands on your stomach.
He pulled away from your lips, “What’s wrong?”
You looked down and he followed your gaze, eyes widening slightly when he saw the many scars across your stomach and chest.
His heart twisted painfully when you began to close your robe, “No. Don’t.”
“I shouldn’t have asked you. I’m sorry.” You turned your head away as you couldn’t bare to meet his eyes, “It’s hideous.”
“No, it’s not.” He leaned forward and nuzzled the valley between your breasts, “You’re beautiful.” He kissed the skin there and ventured further down, planting soft butterfly kisses on each scar , pushing your hands away and let your robe fall open. He placed a kiss above your navel and gazed up at you. The intensity in his eyes and how they darkened with desire made your breath hitch.
You sat up and let the robe fall from your shoulders, laying back down you watched as he untied the ribbon that held your trousers up, slowly pulling them down, placing a kiss to each expanse of skin that was being revealed to him.
“Beautiful.” He murmured against your thigh, moving back so he could remove your trousers and he threw them to the ground and returned to you, pushing your legs apart.
Your hands shot down to hide yourself from his gaze, embarrassed at how he eyed your center with such hunger but he growled and slapped them away.
He placed himself between your fleshy thighs, taking in how your folds already glistened in the torch light, “I want to taste you.” He said, his voice deep and rough and it sent a shiver through you, “Can I?”
You nodded slowly and almost choked on a breath when you felt a finger run down your center, avoiding the aching bud, “Y-Yoongi…”
Yoongi didn’t waste more time as he dove in, his tongue circling around your clit and you let out a groan. He then slid one finger into your weeping cunt, moaning loudly when your hips bucked against his face and when he added another, you let out a mewl.
“Please.” You begged. Yoongi continued to lick your clit and pushing his fingers in and out of you, feeling you grow more wet under his onslaught.
Then he removed his mouth from your clit and his fingers from your cunt and you almost cried out when you felt his tongue push inside you, lapping up your juices, “Ah!”
Yoongi gazed up at you and almost came in his pants then and there; to see your face, contorted in pleasure, pleasure that he was giving you, your hands fisting your robe in desperation and the sounds that erupted from your mouth as he continued to eat you out.
You felt something building in your abdomen. It felt hot, tightening and you feared it would snap. He felt it too when your walls clenched around his tongue and he placed a thumb on your clit, rubbing in circles.
“Hngh - I’m going to cum.” You warned him, voice raspy and throat dry.
“Then cum.” He commanded.
He continued to lap at your center as your back arched off the bed, mouth open in a silent scream. He drinks every drop that gushed out of you and only removed himself when you whimpered pathetically.
Yoongi crawled up your body, placing a kisses on his way and you put your hands around his neck when he kissed your jaw. You could feel his hard cock against your stomach, straining against the fabric of his pants and you sighed blissfully.
He kissed you then, mouth open, tongue invading yours, letting out a grunt when he felt your hands touch his cock over his pants.
“I - Hmp.” He silenced you quickly with his mouth but you pushed against his chest with your hand, “I want to-”
“Later. I need to be inside you.” He grumbled and removed himself from you and you had never seen a man shed his pants so fast in your life, eyes widening as you saw the size of him but you quickly found yourself caged under him again, his mouth on yours, arms resting beside your head. You felt the tip prod your entrance and whimpered.
“Yoongi, hurry up.” You huffed when his lips dislodged from yours and he grinned cheekily as one of his hands went down to grab his cock and line it up with your entrance. Your mouth dropped open when you felt him breach you, slowly, your walls clamping down on him tightly.
“Gods...” He hissed as he pushed deeper into you until his hips were flush against yours and he stilled, letting you get accustomed to him.
You put your legs around his narrow hips, hands venturing up his arms to his shoulders, “Move.”
He pulled out and thrust back in and all the air left your lungs. He set a slow and languid pace, head bending down to nibble at your collarbones while you gasped with each thrust, your cunt weeping onto the mattress. The blazing fire began to build in your lower stomach again but you needed more.
“Faster.” You huffed out, licking your dry lips. Yoongi looked at you and you saw uncertainty flash in his eyes, “I can take it.”
“As you wish.” He nodded and leaned back on his heels, removing your legs around him, moaning loudly as he looked down to where you were joined as he drew back, his cock glistening with your arousal, “Fuck.” He gritted out as he slammed back in.
You keened as his pace increased, your back arching, legs trembling as he held them spread for him, his cock leaving no crevice untouched as he fucked you.
You let out a cry when he shifted his angle and his cock hit a spot that made you see stars, “Don’t stop!”
He chuckled but that quickly changed into a groan when your walls clamped down around him, “Are you close, my sweet snake?”
You nodded wildly, your hands trying to find something to hold onto as you felt like floating. He put one of your legs on his shoulder and held onto it, nails digging deep into your thigh and fucked you harder. His balls tightened and he knew he didn’t have long but he needed you to give him one last orgasm.
So he moved his other hand and started playing with your clit and you let out a wail as you came, the blazing fire finally erupting and setting all of your nerves on fire. Yoongi cursed as your walls clamped down on him like a vice and he thrust a couple of times before he let out a groan, spilling his cum inside you, filling you up.
He fell forward, your chests rubbing against it each as you both breathed heavily, coming down from your highs.
He kissed you and rolled to the side, his softening cock leaving your cunt and you let out a tiny whimper.
“Thank you.” You whispered and turned over to face him, offering a tired but satisfied smile. He smiled back and let you scoot closer, resting your head on his chest.
“Stay.” You murmured.
Yoongi kissed your forehead, “Gladly.”
You stared at the closed gates of the Imperial City, seeing the soldiers running on the high walls, preparing for a siege as ballistas and archers lined up along the walls.
You felt anticipation for the upcoming battle. It wasn’t going to be easy.
“What about the people?” You asked as Jin appeared next to you, “Thousands of innocents will die.”
Jin hummed, “I have men in the city that are taking the civilians underground, to the catacombs.”
“You really have thought of everything.” You noted and Jin grinned.
“Actually, that was Namjoon. Gotta use his big brain for something.” He turned and walked back to the tent where the rest of the Aspects stood along with some new additions: Taehyung, the Goat Aspect, Hoseok, the Horse Aspect, Anduin, the Pig Aspect, Wrynn, the Sheep Aspect and Dina, the Rooster Aspect.
“The trebuchets are ready.” Dina said as it was her that had brought the majority of the weapons, “As is the ram.”
“Good.” Jackson nodded, “Then I’d say let’s get started.”
It was chaos. The ram had been a failure and countless of soldiers had already lost their lives and the gate was still standing as was the walls. You were growing frustrated and knew that something had to be done.
Something drastic.
“Jin!” You called out across the battlefield, eyes quickly finding the man amidst the soldiers, “We need to open that gate!”
“If you haven’t noticed, the ram was a failure!” He yelled back.
“I know but how about you use your thick skull and big brain for once and bash it open?!”
Jin’s eyes widened and he mulled over the idea, “Yeah… That could work but what about the soldiers?! I don’t want to tramble them.”
You rolled your eyes, “Everyone! Draw back! Fall back from the walls!” Your command echoed with the other Aspects as they commanded their soldiers and Jin nodded and ran towards the gate whereas others ran away from it.
You watched as he got closer and closer, dodging arrows with relative ease but when they began firing the ballistas at him, you grew fearful. He had to change.
Then he vanished in a dust cloud and you heard a loud, booming bellow and saw his Aspect form charge right into the gates, bursting them open.
“Everyone! Charge!” You heard the command and bolted towards the open gates, watching as Jin trampled down one of the walls, creating more entrance points for the soldiers.
The General of the Emperor’s army was quickly remobilizing his soldiers and they charged towards you, storming out of the gate in waves.
You drew your kopis’ and vaulted over debris, diving down with a cry, sinking your weapons into an enemy soldier, his blood spattering on your face.
Then you heard a horn sound behind you and you looked back to see the cavalry beginning to charge with Hoseok at the front, his spear glinting in the sun.
You smirked and yanked your kopis’ out of the body, letting it fall to the ground and proceeded to run further into the city.
Gritting your teeth, you fought your way through the enemy soldiers, never losing sight of where you had to go.
The Imperial Palace.
“My Lord, they have breached the city.”
“I can see that, you idiot!”
Emperor Min was pacing back and forth, perching high above the city, in the throne room, where he could see the battle unfold below.
He couldn’t lose the city. He wouldn’t lose to his brother.
He had the advantage of a bigger army but Yoongi had the other Aspects at his side and Min roared in frustration, “Damn it!”
But then he saw you run up the many stairs leading to the palace and he grinned, “It seems like she wants to greet me in person.”
Yoongi had lost sight of you on the battlefield and were growing anxious. He cut down another soldier with his sword and continued further into the city, Jin beside him.
“Where is she?!”
“I don’t know. She bolted right after entering the city!” Jin answered, grunting as he parried an incoming blow from a soldier.
“Damn it, woman!”
You reached the courtyard, breathing heavily and looked around. The place was vacant of soldiers.
What was Min planning?
“Min!” You yelled at the top of your lungs, “Come out, you coward!”
You heard laughter but couldn’t pinpoint where, so you whirled around yourself.
“Did you miss me that much, Y/N? That you had to see me before my brother comes to kill me?”
“I will be the one to kill you, you bastard!” You growled, your only answer was more laughter, “I intend to finish what I began those years ago!”
“Ah, yes. The parting gift you so lovingly bestowed upon me.” The hairs on your back stood as you felt his presence behind you and you whirled around to see him step out from the shadows of the tall pillars, “As you can see,” He paused when your eyes met, “It’s healed quite nicely but has left such an ugly scar.”
“That’s nothing compared to what you did to me.” You tensed up as he stepped towards you slowly, his sword still sheathed.
“Aww, come on now. You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy some of it. For example that one night we made love.”
You hissed, your eyes flashing green as you felt nothing but anger, “Am I digging up some bad memories, my love? I’m sorry. How is your little handmaiden? I heard that she sadly lost her life. You have my condolences.” Min bowed mockingly and you had to restrain yourself from charging at him.
“Fuck you!”
“Is that all you can come up with? Where is that sharp tongue of yours?” Min began to pace around you, closing in on you slowly, “You know, I am a little disappointed in you, Y/N. To think that you joined my pathetic brother’s little rebellion… I had thought better of you.”
You didn’t answer and he continued, “Cat got your tongue? I saw the mighty Tiger down there. Are you warming his bed at night? He is tall and handsome, after all.”
You knew what he was trying to do: to goat you into attacking him. Too bad for him, you already knew his tricks.
“Answer when spoken to, dove.”
“No, actually…” You paused and relaxed your stance, “I’m fucking your brother.”
This got a reaction out of the Emperor as he stopped, his eyes turned hard and he scowled, so you continued, “What? Didn’t want to share with your brother?” You mocked.
“Shut up.”
“You know, I’ve always wondered what you lacked as a child to have grown into the sadistic asshole you are today but all I could come up with was that you are simply jealous of Yoongi.” You saw how he tensed up, his hand touching the hilt of his sword, “I can’t imagine how it must feel to always have been the second son…”
“I said shut up.”
“I pity you, Min.”
“SHUT UP!” He roared as he changed into Dragon form and lunged at you, a move that you had seen coming. It seemed like he had forgotten how cunning you were. You dodged his attack and ran into a nearby building.
Yoongi heard the roar his brother let out and he looked towards the palace where he saw his brother’s golden Dragon form and he could only think of one person who could have provoked his brother to change directly into that.
You.
He left the battle and ran towards the stairs leading to the courtyard.
You ran through the collapsing building as Min tore it asunder. You leapt out a window and fell to the ground but a huff.
You barely had time to get up on your legs when Min bashed his tail at you, creating a huge crater.
“You whore!” He roared loudly as you ran across the courtyard, “I am going to kill you!”
“You failed once and you will fail again, Min!” You yelled as you headed towards another building but Min had already seen where you were headed, so he moved his massive tail skywards and slammed it into the building, sending you flying backwards across the courtyard.
You groaned, head reeling from the hard landing when you felt something heavy land on top of you, pinning you down and you knew it was his claw. Min opened his mouth wide and you saw how he took a deep breath.
You had to change. Now.
Min let out a roar as he blasted you with fire, burning everything to ash but when he felt something snake around his body, he knew he’d failed.
Your silver scales glinted in the sun as you rose above him, the lower part of your body wrapping itself around his hind legs, your hood unfolding itself to cast a shadow over the Dragon in your hold and you hissed loudly, fangs out and ready.
Min didn’t waste a second to try and untangle you from him but you simply clenched around him and he tried to take move, his tail moving wildly behind him, destroying everything in it’s path. He roared when you lunged at his head, only to miss it as he moved and breathed fire on you again.
You could easily withstand his flames for a short period of time but he continued and youfelt the burning flames begin to dance across your scales, bringing pain with it, you hissed loudly before bending your body and sink your fangs into his right leg. Min reeled from the bite but before you could release poison into his system, he took off into the air, dragging you with him upwards.
He could fly.
You could not.
You removed your fangs from him and began to untangle yourself from his body but he used his claws to grab ahold of you.
“Where do you think you’re going?” He growled, “I just want to show you the view from up here.” He sped up and you looked down, the ground getting further and further away from you.
You felt panic overcome you as he only soared higher and higher and then he let you go.
You plummeted towards the earth, bracing yourself for impact as you could do little else when you saw a black Dragon fly towards you.
“Change back!” Yoongi yelled out and you did so, vanishing in a puff of smoke and you were back to human form. Yoongi opened up his claw and felt relief washing over him as you landed in his palm.
“Thank you.” You said as he closed his claws around you to keep you from falling.
“What the fuck were you thinking?!” He yelled as he made a u-turn, his long black body quickly heading back towards the ground, “You could have been killed!”
“We don’t have time to argue, Yoongi, as your brother is coming back! You yelled, seeing Min flying fast towards Yoongi and you.
Yoongi had barely time to turn his head when his brother collided with him, sending you flying out of his grasp and you could only look on as Min sank his claws into Yoongi’s body, forcing a pained whine from him as they hurtled towards the ground.
You fell through the roof of the palace and landed in the throne room and you whirled your head around to see the two dragons crash into the courtyard, a tangle of black and gold. They rolled across the courtyard and down the stairs and you jumped down onto the next roof, following them.
“I’ll kill you again and this time I’ll make sure you stay dead!” Min roared as he lunged at Yoongi’s neck, drawing blood. Yoongi twisted his body and sank both of his front claws into his brother’s body.
“Not if I kill you first!” Yoongi bellowed as he bit into Min’s leg.
You ran as fast as you could, seeing as the dragons finally came to a stop halfway down the stairs. You watched as they each took a lunge at one another, pained roars and whines coming from both of them.
At this point, they would kill each other. You changed into your Snake form again and slithered your way down the stairs. Min saw you out of the corner of his eye and turned his head to breath fire at you but Yoongi snapped his jaws shut around his snout, forcing his mouth shut.
You sped up and opened your mouth wide, fangs emerging from your gums and you launched yourself at Min, sinking your fangs into his neck. Yoongi struggled to maintain his hold on his brother when he felt you wrap yourself around Min’s body as you continued to pump your venom into him but he didn’t dare letting go.
It took minutes before your venom began to work but soon enough Min began to go slack and Yoongi removed himself from his brother watching as you wrapped your body tighter around his brother’s body, venom starting to dribble from the puncture wounds and onto the ground.
He watched his brother struggle weakly in your grasp but you responded by tightening ever further and Yoongi were sure that if Min didn’t die by your poison, then he would die from your body crushing his.
Then he looked into the panicked eyes of his brother and he felt a small pang of pain at seeing his brother suffer like this. Yoongi wished it could have been different, he truly did but his brother deserved everything he got and more.
Finally, Min sagged in your hold, his Dragon form going completely slack and you slowly untangled yourself from him and let go of his neck.
Yoongi stared at the lifeless form of his brother before he slowly began to disperse into ash.
“I hope you find redemption, brother.” He said as the ashes carried his brother away, “I truly do.”
You stood in the throne room, bruised, sweaty and dirty but you didn’t care. As you heard the people and soldiers cheering in the city below, you were filled with relief.
It was done.
Yoongi appeared next to you with a sombre expression and you turned your head towards him, “Why the dark expression?”
“I don’t know… I guess I feel a little sad about my brother.”
You nodded in understanding. As vile as Min had been, he had still been Yoongi’s brother, “I know.”
“Yeah.” Yoongi said nothing else but he felt a smile tug on his lips when he felt your hand graze his and he grabbed it, “So...Princess.”
You snorted, loudly, the sound taken Yoongi aback and he stared at you with wide eyes, “Princess? Don’t call me that.”
“What was that sound? Did you make that?”
“What?” You raised a brow at his dumbfounded expression, “Oh fuck off. Aren’t a lady allowed to snort?”
“That was a very manly sound, Y/N.”
You shrugged and squeezed his hand, “So what are your plans now, Dragon Lord?”
“Well, I was hoping that you would perhaps join me in celebrating the victory.”
“Hm.”
“Privately, of course.”
Jin groaned as he stretched his back, leaning against the pitchfork in his hand and he looked over the field of corn and sank his head, “Why is there so much left?”
Then he heard horses and he looked to the road, a smile creeping up on him as he spotted two familiar figures.
“Honey! They’re here!” He called out to his wife and let the pitchfork fall to the ground as he walked to the gate of his house, waiting to greet his friends.
“Why are you mad?! I didn’t do anything!” He heard Yoongi yell and he didn’t have to wait long to hear your response, “And that is exactly my problem! I needed help to get up on the horse and you just stood there and did nothing!”
“You usually don’t have a problem getting up on a horse, woman!”
“I am pregnant, you bastard. With your child!”
Jin simply smiled as your horses came to a halt outside of his gate. He was snickering when Yoongi came up to him, annoyed, asking him what was so funny and the Ox simply patted his friend on the back before offering you a hand to get down from your horse.
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Harrison Wells (Eobard Thawne) x Reader - Integrated Revelations (1/3)
**A/N: The picture/edit/gif does not belong to me.
*I attempted a thing where I try to get back into the groove of writing for my murder speed husband... It’s probably shit, but here goes nothing. Sorta another theory I’ve had and had all these scenes connect together. I’m a shit writer so... Also, I’m dying and crying. Hahaha. I literally am dying. My uni work online is being ridiculously overwhelming along with my work hours for school. I really need a week with no deadlines or work just to get caught up with three weeks of work for certain classes. I really need to take a break. But I can’t, started to loose sleep. Can’t even have time to write or play Pokemon Reborn. Anyway, that a bit of an update from me. I wrote this back in July, hoping to have written a fic a week (which turned out to not happen, but hey, I tried) until October to post things. Also this most likely has grammer errors. I’m sorry. Once again, a shit writer. Please don’t forget to comment, like, and reblog. It means a lot to content creators of all kinds!
Word Count: 3584
Part 2 Part 3
“Well...” Eobard’s raspy voice didn’t seem to alarm the two speedsters that had phased into the Time Vault. The futuristic speedster had sat with a leg crossed over the other, and elbow resting on the arm of the chair. “Things just got a lot more complicated, didn't they?” Eobard pushed from the chair, standing up and taking a few steps forward. Nora and Barry looked on, one adorned a look of uncertainty and the other masqueraded his rage and pain through the years. “Barry Allen.” Barry nodded along, gauging the black-haired man’s façade. “But which Barry Allen? Clearly, you're… from a lot later than this one.” Eobard maneuvered his body and pointed to the unconscious form of an earlier Barry Allen.
“Way later.” Barry simply answered, looking indifferent.
“Way later,” Eobard echoed the response, putting emphasis on the word ‘way’. The scientist nodded along, pursuing his lips as his electric blue eyes flickered to Nora. Before anyone could speak, could even move the Time Vault door dematerialized. Nora watched as an earlier version of yourself entered the Vault hurriedly and out of breath. You had entered looking over your shoulder with a tablet in hand. You had been scanning for the supposed Time Wraith that had attacked Barry, but not your present time Barry.
“Eo, I traced-” You froze in place as you turned your gaze forward. Fear crippled your heart as you saw a version of Barry, much older through the years, and a woman not too far off his from his age. You swallowed thickly, clutching the tablet tighter. There’s three Barry Allen’s now?? Who the hell decided to break time? A small throbbing sensation erupted at the back of your head, but you dismissed it. Eobard had swiftly moved to stand in front of you. His eyes connected with yours for a moment.
“You knew?!” The young woman spoke up, stepping forward towards you which caused Eobard to hold out a subtle arm out to the side to keep you behind him. “All those years.” The older man narrowed his eyes at what the female had called out to you. You frowned at her words in confusion. Who is she? An image flashed through your mind of the woman, smiling proudly at Barry while wearing a dark purple and white suit with a yellow emblem. She clearly knows who I am, but… What even happened? Are they from a different future? You pushed away the image to the back of your mind. “How could y-”
“If you even think about touching her, either of you, then you’ll regret ever running back here,” Eobard steely replied. You took a step closer to your speedster boyfriend in case something were to happen and he needed to speed you away to safety. Not that you needed saving, but you were still working on defending yourself via your lessons with the futuristic speedster. So, they’re from the future, and I’m guessing far off from this other Barry, but not too far for him to age too much. You spared a small glance to the cuffed and unconscious Barry Allen on the ground. It hurt your heart to see him vulnerable like that, but Eobard had confided to you his suspicions regarding this Barry Allen. One Barry Allen problem at a time. Taking a breath in, you remained silent and studied the two speedsters that confronted your speedster.
“Let it go.” Barry grabbed onto the speedster’s shoulder, holding her back. Oddly enough, Barry’s words coldly cut through you.
“Now,” Eobard’s cocky attitude returned to him as he established the safety of your presence. He had that kind of affect, putting himself on the air of superiority and intellect with his attitude and words to belittle the person in front of him rightly so to get the desired reaction he wants and anticipates. Eobard knows how to tug on Barry’s strings. “Who's your friend? Let me guess. Jesse Chambers- No. Maybe Lawrence. Wait- Danica Williams-”
“-It doesn't matter who she is.” Barry cut off Eobard’s rattling of names.
You eyed Eobard’s deceptive small smile as he held Barry’s gaze then turned to the young adult. The female remained silent, avoiding Eobard’s icy eyes. “She's your daughter.” You scrunched your face in confusion before the neurons clicked in your head after a few seconds. Lemme guess, she’s a speedster that ran back in time and met a younger version of her father. Weird flex bro, but whatever. You do you. If I was a speedster, I’d do things differently. Obviously not up to scale what with the tampering that Eobard likes to do with the timeline to get his way with things. “You've brought me your daughter.” Your eyes flickered back to Barry before taking another look at the female and seeing a bit of resemblance, other than the fact that she was a speedster like him. Then the article Eo’s been obsessing about did reveal something true. Barry does take Iris as his wife. The West-Allen family. “It's, um... Dawn, if I'm not mistaken.”
“Nora.” The young speedster forced out after briefly glancing at her father.
“Nora. Oh, that's nice.” Eobard turned back to Barry with a smirk, “At least you still have one.” That’s cruel, Eo. “What- Nora- time travel's so weird-”
“Why did you come here?” You found the nerve to speak up, moving to stand beside the man masquerading as Harrison Wells. I’m not going to be afraid; I can’t always cower behind Eobard if something unexpected happens. I need to take things in my own hands. Even if they do find out about- You cleared any evidence of distress at their sudden appearance from your throat, “What do you want?”
“I need him to fix this for me.” Barry held up a broken tube-like device in his hand.
A thought hit the genius scientist instantaneously, his blue eyes widening. Turning your body, you saw Eobard take a few steps backwards, “No...” The headache didn’t go away, instead intensifying slightly by the second. Negative emotions flooded your system at Eobard’s crippling composure. He shook his head at them. “No, if you're here...” Eo turned to face the unconscious Barry, cuffed to his motored wheelchair, pointing to them and him. “And he's here... that means-”
“-You don't get home.” Barry simply stated. Your heart shook, terror and dread feeding into your system at his words. Uncertainty of the future- your future with Eobard- plagued you. How does this all end?
“I get home!” The yellow speedster whipped his head around in agitation, his voice raising with every statement. Barry smirked cruelly as he shook his head. You held your breath at Eobard’s spiking wrath, you hadn’t seen him this angry since General Eiling’s interference with The Flash and Plastique. Even then he’d mask his resentment to pull the strings in the game strategically. “I get home. I go home! I get everything-”
“-You don't go home, Thawne.” The Scarlet Speedster halted the Man in the Yellow Suit. Eobard clenched his jaw. You reached out a hand to rest it on his arm in an attempt to calm him. His eyes met yours for a fraction of a second. You felt the tension hang heavily in the air. “Unless… you help me.” Barry held up his broken device once more, mockingly this time. Your eyes flickered to the ring on his right hand. Similar to Eobard’s. A future version of Cisco must have been able to figure out how to use microtech to compress Barry’s suit. He’s the greatest mechanical engineer that I know. Eobard’s shoulders sagged a fraction as Barry held his ground. Turning around, the genius scientist rubbed his face before kicking the spare Barry in annoyance. Barry, all clad in black, winced because he probably ended up feeling that kick. You and Nora remained silent, eyeing the exchange between both speedsters.
Eobard shifted his body back, hands on his hips and fueled hatred present in his eyes. “What do you want?”
“Like I said, you're gonna fix this for me.”
“To do what?”
“Drain dark matter.”
What could Barry possibly need with Dark Matter? Hasn’t it done enough damage? “Whose dark matter?” You crossed your arms with the tablet close to your chest, a frown on your face as Eobard stepped beside you once more.
“None of your business.” Barry sneered at you. You narrowed your eyes at his demeanor, the young man who you gradually grew close to and considered as another brother like Cisco.
“Barry-”
“-It is our business.” Eobard retorted, taking your hand in his tightly. Both men were frustrated at the others persistence.
“No, it's not.”
Eobard started, letting go of you and rounding heatedly on to Barry, “There's no chance that I help you-”
You reached a hand out. “-Eobard, don’t-”
- It's none of your business-”
“-Cicada's!” Nora blurted out. Silence filled the room between the four of your, outbursts settling. You blinked a few times, taking a step back and resting a palm against your temple. Grimacing, you cast your eyes down as images of a half-masked man in green stood with a dagger. A glowing dagger with a look of emptiness and death in his eyes. That man looks dead to the world, as if willing to kill for an estranged purpose. It’s so cold. You shook your head subtly and stood your ground, unwilling to show weakness, but you saw Nora’s eyes shift when she looked at you. Barry eyed his daughter with a sort of incredulous look while a calculating and analytical look flashed through Eobard’s eyes.
“Cicada's.” The name seemed so familiar to Eobard as it easily slipped of his tongue. The hushed tone in Eobard’s voice expressed a calm before the storm. A deceptive man full of secrets and knowledge of many, many years to come. Especially when it came to The Flash. “The one who got away. You want to destroy Cicada's dagger, don't you?”
“We want to save lives.”
A cynical laugh leaves your speedster’s lips as you pursed yours, trying to tease out the logics from Barry. “You want to save lives.” Eobard chuckled mockingly at Barry’s response. “I bet you do. I bet you do. Especially your own, right, Barry Allen?”
“Look, that me,” Barry pointed to the other version of himself in the room, “he's gonna wake up soon. He sees me standing here, your whole timeline is gonna be blown to hell. You're never gonna get home. You know that's true!”
“I know! I know!” Eobard sighed, his facial expression contorted, and his eyes held a different motive as he flicked his gaze to Nora, who hadn’t stop taking glimpses of you. “Where are my manners? Can I get you a cup of water?” You rolled your eyes at Eobard’s ploy.
***
The four of you had moved to the small lab, far from the Cortex in avoidance of Caitlin and Cisco. The timeline was a fickle thing to speedsters, Eobard had told you that. But oddly enough, when it came to Eobard it seemed to be malleable to his every whim. Tools and spare wires littered along the desk your speedster boyfriend was working at. The monitor held a camera feed of the Time Vault where Barry’s unconscious younger version was still unconscious.
How hard did Eobard hit him? Like, how the hell is he still asleep even through all that yelling and seething??
“Here,” you handed Nora a bottle of purified water.
“Thanks,” she quietly spoke, you nodded at her. You really didn’t know what to think about someone who knew you in the future, yet you had no idea who she would be until a few years later. Would I even still be in this time period by then? Or would Eobard had kept his promise? … Nothing’s making any sense right now. You felt frustrated for not really being part of their conversations. You were… just there.
“So, who made this?” Eobard examined the piece of teach as he started working on it.
Barry answered with pocketed hands, “Someone smarter than you.”
“I doubt that,” You snorted as Eobard laughed at Barry’s statement. Leaning against the dark blue beam of the side lab, you crossed your arms avoiding Barry’s gaze when he glanced over to you. You chewed on the inside of your cheek. “If so, then why come here? Why go through all the trouble to come here when you can get help from the person who made it? Why then would you need Eobard’s help?”
“We-”
“It’s… complicated,” Barry sighed before Nora could finish saying anything, pocketing his hands.
“I think that’s an understatement to the type of trouble that seems to find you, Barr.” You crossed your arms. “At least a Time Wraith didn’t follow you this time. Which I’m still having trouble tracking down.” You nodded to his former self on the monitor. Barry rolled his eyes at you.
“You know, Allen,” the yellow speedster wheeled around, electric blue eyes meeting Barry’s green gaze, “for your plan to work, you're gonna actually have to have his dagger in your possession...”
“We've got that covered.”
The villainous speedster raised an eyebrow at the forensics scientists. “You got that covered. How’s that?” He humored them.
“With this.” Nora pulled out a dark piece of metal, holding it out for you and Eobard to observe momentarily.
“What is that?” You piqued up, causing Nora to look over at you. An odd emotion flickered in her eyes. Eobard reached a hand out to it only for Barry to pluck it from Nora’s grasp. Your eyes flickered between the two then back to Nora. She didn’t seem to be cautious around you and Eobard at all. Revealing the reason for aid and showing Eobard exactly what he seemed to want to see. You weren’t a genius, but you obviously saw the pointed looks that Barry subtly gave his daughter. The cogs were turning in your head as well as in Eobard’s. He masked his growing speculation about the two speedsters.
“Is that-”
“It's a piece of Savitar's suit, yeah.” Barry stoically responded, since Nora had already shown Eobard the metallic piece, to Eobard’s oncoming question before he could even finish. Barry knew Eobard recognized the object, shaking his head that that cat was out of the bag for this secret too.
“Savitar?”
“Savitar. The Future Flash and the self-proclaimed God of Speed, kitten,” Eobard simply explained as he worked. Images of a metallic suit flashed through your mind as it hummed with energy; a familiar face shrouded in shadows and a hauntingly course voice. “A twisted time remnant of the man you know to be your friend. Another big bad that Barry’s had to face in the future, primarily due to the mistakes of his growing unhappiness. Isn’t that right, Flash? The pain you’ve caused the people around you just for you selfish wishes.” Barry rolled his eyes but remained silent.
“Eobard, play nice,” you scolded the older man, “they’re still guests here after all.”
“Hmph. You know what's funny about your dad, Nora,” the futuristic genius caught her attention, “is he hates me. Hates me with a passion, and yet a version of him, this Savitar, is a much bigger jerk than I ever was. Did you see the face?” Eobard gestured to his own face, primarily to one side of his face while snickering “Did you- did you see the, like, pizza face-” Nora awkwardly stepped from foot to foot, looking away.
“-Pizza face?-” Eobard Tiberius Thawne you owe me so many fucking answers when we get home because these images aren’t making as much sense as they should.
“-Can you hurry up?-”
“-Yeah, I'll hurry up.” Eobard smugly nonchalantly threw the tiny screwdriver onto the desk. He picked up a different on. “I gotta tell you, Allen, using Savitar's suit, it's a smart idea.”
Barry tilted his head to his daughter. “It was hers.”
Eobard gave her a hard look. His eyes flickered towards you then turned around. “Clever girl.” You picked up an odd indication in his tone. The speedster narrowed his eyes at the tech as he ignited it, illuminating in his hands to signal its functioning aspect. On the monitor, the four of you noticed that the other Barry was coming to consciousness. Eobard inhaled silently. “Oops.” Eobard swiveled his body around to hand them the piece of tech. “Gotta go.” Barry narrowed his eyes, quiet hatred behind them as he took the tech from his nemesis. “I still look forward to seeing how this all pans out. Nora. Kitten, make sure they see their way out,” Eo glanced at you one last time before speeding away in a torrent of red-lightning to the Time Vault. The three of you watched as the villainous speedster reclaimed his rightful place, crossing his legs once more. An analytical look across his features.
You spoke before the two speedsters sped away in a torrent of lightning. “Cicada’s the one with the lightning-shaped dagger, the one that glows ominously? Heartless eyes? Breathing problems?”
“Yeah? How did you…?” Nora trailed off. Barry figured that your powers were still manifesting themselves and it seems that their run back in time has triggered sporadic post-cognitive images to be revealed through certain key words.
“It doesn’t matter how-,”
“Your powers are still developing,” Barry interjected, pocketing the tech safely. “It seems that our visit has amplified what you can do. Let’s just what it doesn’t shift anything else”
He knows about my powers… Right, time travel. “Just be safe. I-I don’t know too much and I’m not sure what the future holds, but whatever trouble you two have run into just be cautious. Not for me, but for the ones you love. The past will always have some sort of domino effect to the future. I may not be able to time travel, but Eobard has taught me a thing or two about it.” You stopped, looking off to the side while rubbing your arm. “Barry?”
“Hmm?”
“Just answer me this one thing.”
“… It depends.”
“I know, timeline and speedster stuff. But…” You took a breath in, “Is he safe?” The speedster avoided your eyes. You swallowed thickly, moving your gaze to Nora. “Does he live?” She opened her mouth a fraction, moved by the desperation evident in your eyes
“I can’t answer that.” Barry whispered without hesitation, an alien emotion behind those eyes, replacing the kindness and warmth the Barry you knew had. It was bitter. “Nora, it’s time to go back to the night it all began.” Barry flashed away to the pipeline. Nora remained.
“I’m sorry,” She whispered, your body felt numb at the absence of answers. You turned back to the monitor, running both hands through your hair before picking up a spare tool and frustratingly throwing it at the wall. Picking up the tablet once more, you ran some algorithms and diagnostics privately on your powers as you made you way to the Time Vault.
Eobard’s head perked up in question at your entrance. He remained seated catching your troubled look. You only whispered, “We need to talk after this is over,” before leaning against the wall and tapping at the screen of your tablet. He hadn’t missed the embittered look in your eyes, the prominent frown on your face. A peculiar emotion hidden behind those lovely eyes of yours when the speedster had been so accustomed to seeing lights and twinkling of stars within your irises.
Eobard rubbed his wrist as he attained messy hair due to Barry and Nora’s revelations. You speculated he had been running his hands through it in thought as he tried to decipher the truth and what his next plan of action would be. King vs King. Eobard and Barry. It was a dangerous game and it’s clear that Team Flash are Barry’s pieces to move while Iris was by his side. From the future’s perspective. But you… at this point, you hazard a thought of what Eobard saw of you as. Queen… or Pawn. Pursing your lips, you shoved those thoughts away as your mind reminded you of all you and he had gone through since he had revealed himself and his truth to you. But right now, you were feeling so conflicted and insecure at how everything would play out. He promised to take me home with him… That we could start a life together. I don’t want to be used up and thrown away again. I’m tired of being broken and alienated.
The restrained Barry shifted once more in abrupt confusion as he found himself slumped against the cool metal of Eobard’s motorized wheelchair. A prop to his act. His mind felt foggy and arms felt heavy, particularly his right hand. You stopped tapping and eyed him indifferently because you really had no idea how to feel, but you realized you need to be cautious with how you act and what you say until you and Eobard clear things up from earlier events.
Barry’s eyes darted rapidly to the seated, smirking speedster in front of him then to you then to the metacuffs before lingering back to Harrison. The Scarlet Speedster assessed the guarded expression on your face. You saw this Barry feign confusion, eyebrows raised as he eyed the metacuffs and Dr. Wells. You cracked your neck as Eobard did a little hand-wave gesture to Barry. The young speedster looked baffled, probably at getting caught, as he opened and closed his mouth.
“Now, who are you?”
#harrison wells x reader#harrison wells#harrison wells imagines#harrison wells fanfiction#harribard x reader#eobard x reader#eobard thawne x reader#eobard thawne#eobard thawne imagine#harrison wells imagine#harribard eowells x reader#harribard eowells imagine#harribard eowells#harribard#the flash#Nora West-Allen#barry allen#the flash x reader#the flash imagine#DC comics#dc#DCTV#dctv fanfic#Reverse Flash#the flash cw#team flash x reader#team flash#team flash imagine
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365 Days: Part 2 (Feysand)
I feel like this should be beyond obvious at this point, but black lives matter. As a white person, I understand that I’ll never fully comprehend the struggle black individuals face on a daily basis. I stand with them, protesters, and activists as a lifetime ally. “Don’t be mad they’re rioting, be happy you don’t have to.” -- If you are not a supporter of the BLM movement, go ahead an unfollow me. I couldn’t care less.
OKAY. Sorry this is a day late! This part kind of has it all (humor, fluff, some slightly kinky smut) so I don’t know how to describe it. I also hate it, but whatever. Part 3 (last part) out Friday!
Part 1
________________________________________________________________
Day 1, 7:13 AM
~Feyre~
Something warm laid across her cheek, and Feyre peeked an eye open, only to groan at who she saw staring down at her. “If you make a habit of waking me up at the ass crack of dawn, I can already tell you you won’t live through our year of marriage, Rhysand.”
He smiled. “You have to get up. We're taking wedding pictures.”
She didn’t see the point. They’d signed the marriage license last night. How he’d procured one in less than an hour, she didn’t even want to know.
“Why the hell would we do that?”
“Because I’m a public figure, and the newspaper asked for a quote on our marriage.” She groaned. “Now get your cute ass downstairs.”
She glanced at him speculatively but stayed firmly planted in the bed. “What’s downstairs?”
“Someone to help get you ready. Not that I don’t appreciate the bed head. Up.”
Feyre shook her head. “Ask me again in two hours.” She glanced at the clock. “Make it three.”
Her husband pinched the bridge of his nose, but stood back up. She closed her eyes, happy she’d won their first argument.
Only to be proven wrong a moment later as the demon spawn flung back her blankets, grabbed her waist, and threw her over a shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“Put me down,” she shrieked, beating the back of his toned legs with a fist.
Rhysand, calm as always, smoothly responded, “If I put you down, you’ll just get back in the bed.”
“No, I won’t,” she lied.
Even though she couldn’t see his face, she’d bet anything he rolled his eyes. He walked out his/her/their bedroom door and down the stairs, his casual gait suggesting nothing out of the order.
“Good morning,” he said pleasantly to whoever was waiting.
Feyre peeked around his ass to see four complete strangers, varying levels of amusement on their faces. “Um, hi.”
She was placed on a salon-like chair.
Which was odd, considering they were in the middle of the living room.
Rhysand pointed at two hulking figures sitting on the couch. “These are my friends Cassian and Azriel. You’ve met.”
The smugness in his voice, combined with the shit-eating grins of the men he was referring to, had her snapping back, “Oh yes, my kidnappers. Sorry I didn’t immediately recognize you. I had a sack over my head last time we met.”
“I’m Cassian.” The larger of the two smiled. “I’m the one you tried to gut with a butter knife.”
“I’ll have to practice my aim.”
Cassian looked at the man standing next to her and winked. “I like her.”
The other man on the couch, Azriel, sighed and shook his head, resigned.
Rhys just rolled his eyes and continued his introductions. “The two normal people here,” he gestured to a very brightly-dressed pair, “are here to do your hair and makeup and whatever else.”
He gave her a light kiss on the forehead, then spoke to his fellow criminals. “We have shit to do. Come on.”
“Are you off to do illegal activities, my dear husband?”
“Don’t worry, Feyre darling. You won’t be without eye candy for too long.”
He laughed at the look on her face, then wisely jogged out the door before she could throw something at him.
She turned to the people left staring at her with wide eyes and repressed a groan. “Let’s get this over with.”
~Rhysand~
Two hours after he’d left, Rhys came back to the house, showered, and changed into a tux. Then he went to his backyard where the photographer had set up.
“Where’s Feyre?” he asked the man as he messed around with lighting balloons.
The photographer gave him a knowing smile. “I want to get a picture of your reaction when you first see her.”
He was about to respond when the backdoor of the house opened and she walked out.
She was wearing a classic gown with long sleeves and a deep neckline, but that wasn’t what drew his attention. Her hair was up, and she had a veil trailing behind her. The sunlight made the white of her dress almost glow.
If she’d been beautiful before, now she was...
There were no words for how she looked.
Fucking radiant was a start.
She walked across the lawn to him and smiled, and he couldn’t keep the matching grin off his face if he tried.
Rhysand heard the faint snap snap snap of the camera and finally understood what the photographer had meant.
He’d wanted to capture the moment the city’s Son of Satan was practically brought to his knees by a single woman.
And Rhys didn’t even care.
Feyre finally drew close enough that he could see the details of her face. Even though he had a million more romantic things running through his brain, he murmured, “Who’s the eye candy now?”
“You are,” she said, as if it were obvious. “You look like sex on a spoon.”
His mouth dropped open, but before he could respond, the photographer butted into their moment. “Okay, I want you two to act like I’m not even here. We’re aiming for three or four really good shots, so just be natural, and I’ll let you know if anything has to change.”
They both nodded absently, still staring at each other. Rhys reached down to grab her hand, finger flicking the ring on her finger.
“I can’t believe our marriage is making the paper, and I didn’t even get a real proposal,” she teased.
It was true.
He’d put the ring on her bedside table the night before, too much of a simpering coward to give her the ring in person, too nervous about what’d she say. It had been his mother’s, and he’d once sworn to never let another soul have it.
“I didn’t want to risk your wrath and wake you up.”
She rolled her eyes and smiled.
Almost on its own accord, one of his hands reached out to cup her cheek. He didn’t know if Feyre was acting or something else, but she leaned into his touch, a hand coming to rest against his chest.
“Beautiful, just beautiful,” the photographer cooed.
“You are,” he told his wife. “You’re beautiful.”
She smiled.
“Annoying as hell, but beautiful.”
She shoved his shoulder and turned away, but he grabbed her wrist to spin her back, and decided to risk his life.
He kissed her.
Hands locked around her waist, lips crashing into hers, Rhysand kissed her like he’d been dying to since he’d seen her asleep in his shirt.
And she really, really kissed him back.
Feyre’s hands wound around his neck, and he lifted her up a little to get a better angle. Her lips opened to let his tongue in, and he had no other thoughts in his head besides the woman in his arms.
The photographer coughed pointedly.
They ignored him.
Until Rhys finally relented and set her back on the ground, both of them panting for air.
“Sorry,” she told the blushing man, but he waved her off and insisted it happened all the time.
The thing was, it didn’t.
Rhysand had kissed plenty of women in his lifetime, but none of them had made his entire body start simmering like that.
Her blue eyes watched him speculatively as he slipped the ring off her finger, dropped down to one knee, and smiled. “Feyre darling, will you marry me?”
Despite already being legally married, she bent over and kissed him, then stole the ring back. “I’ll take it into consideration.”
Day 9, 8:04 PM
~Feyre~
Feyre had to admit that while the house outside the city had a charm and wholesome quality she’d come to admire, being trapped here had started to drive her slightly insane.
Especially since Rhysand had been been on a business trip the entire week, so she’d been here by herself.
After a tense phone call with her sisters--where Nesta had cackled and called her Satan’s nephew--and getting ahead in her textbooks, she was out of things to do. So she spent most of her time being a nosy little snob and going through her husband’s stuff.
Apparently, the Son of Satan had a very serious addiction to wine, if the cellar in the basement was any indication.
But other than that--and a mysterious letter from a woman named Amren--he had no trinkets, pictures of family, or any other worthwhile gossip.
The word “boredom” hardly covered it.
Once upon a time, Feyre wouldn’t have minded a couple days like this. When law school was in session, she didn’t have a spare moment and enjoyed when she got to do nothing.
She didn’t bother lying to herself about why it was driving her insane now.
She missed Rhysand.
After only a couple days of marriage, he’d wormed his way into her heart and made her start to rely on teasing him, seeing that devilish smirk, making him laugh. The nightly texts he sent her weren’t enough to satisfy her insane need to talk to him. He’d told her he was coming back later tonight, and she was practically coming out of her skin with excitement.
She was an idiot, basically.
This marriage wasn’t supposed to involve actual feelings. It was a publicity save. And despite giving her a hotter-than-hell kiss during their photo shoot, he hadn’t so much as touched her since.
Feyre had the distinct feeling he was waiting for her to make the first move.
Which, again, she normally wouldn’t mind. But something about Rhysand... she knew once she started down that path, she wouldn’t be able to stop.
So she slept in his bed, wore his t-shirts, and avoided thinking about how his mouth had felt against hers.
And how he’d tasted like chocolate and watermelon and-
Cutting that thought off, she resolved herself to be cool and calm and collected when he came back. She needed to nip the feelings she’d started to develop for him in the bud.
But then the front door banged open, and Feyre instantly disregarded every promise she’d made to herself and raced down the stairs, yelling like a banshee.
She saw Rhysand standing in the doorway in his usual Johnny Cash uniform and didn’t hesitate before yelling, “You’re home!”
And throwing herself on him.
He dropped whatever he was holding and laughed as she wrapped herself around him like a koala.
“Are you alright, love?”
She nodded against his neck. “I’m fine. Ignore me. I’ve just been so bored. This place is way too fucking quiet when you’re not here. I think I’m going insane.”
“I believe you.”
“Asshole.”
He laughed, then did as she’d said and ignored her presence, crossing the living room to the kitchen.
Rhys bent to look through the fridge, and she tightened her hold on him.
“We have no food, also,” she told him helpfully.
“I see that. If you put some pants on, we can go into the city for dinner.”
She laughed. Along with wearing his shirts, she’d taken to stealing a pair of boxers to sleep in.
Feyre dropped to the floor, and he smirked down at her. “I was gone for five days, and that’s the greeting I got. Next time I’m staying away for six.”
She swung a hand and punched his shoulder, which probably hurt her more than him, and told him, “You’re so very funny, Rhysand. Please feed me.”
Her husband gave her a shooing motion. “You might want to put on something besides my boxers, then.”
She took his advice.
About an hour later, she sat in front of him, watching as he adamantly tried to avoid looking at her.
She’d chosen a dark green dress--unremarkable except for the low neckline and short skirt--black heels, and simple makeup.
“Are you alright, Rhysand? You look like you’re having a stroke.”
Those violet eyes slid to hers. “I’m fine, thank you for asking. I like that dress.”
“I can tell.”
He looked at the ceiling. “When we get home, I’m going to replace your entire wardrobe with burlap sacks.”
Feyre shrugged, then decided to take a chance. “You’d still stare at me.”
His eyes met hers, and when he spoke, it was practically a purr. “Am I supposed to deny, Feyre darling, how attractive I find you?”
The waiter arrived before she had to respond. She made a mental note to leave him a huge tip.
As they ate their meal, she was overly aware of how many people stared at them. The whispers that surrounded them.
She was about to ask how he dealt with it when a chair was slid up next to her, a heavy-set man settling in. “Hello, Rhysand. I need to talk to you.”
The man was dressed in dark clothes, covered in tattoos, and had the promise of violence written across his every movement. He practically had the words drug dealer floating above his over-sized head.
“Dante.” The warm look she’d come to recognize in her husband’s eyes was nowhere to be found. “Whatever it is, it can wait. Leave.”
“I promise you, it can’t,” the man said boldly, continuing to ignore her presence entirely. “A shipment’s gone missing.”
Feyre watched, stomach twisting, as Rhysand leaned forward and smiled cruelly. “Would you like to join it? I don’t discuss business in front of my wife.”
My wife.
Despite the more than tense surroundings, Feyre felt a spark run through her at the words.
“Then the bitch can leave. I need to talk to you.”
There was a slight pause, then everything changed so quickly she didn’t have time to process it. One minute she was watching the man’s face twist with impatience, the next there was a gun pressed against his ruddy forehead.
A gun that practically looked like an extension of Rhysand’s arm.
Her husband was standing, entire body stiff with anger. The look on his face was inhuman. And promised a slow, slow death as he looked towards the man on the recieving end.
“Refer to her as Feyre Asterra, or lose your fucking tongue.”
The restaurant was dead quiet, everyone holding their breath and waiting to see what happened. No one dared move a muscle.
Except Dante, who nodded stiffly.
“Now apologize.”
The way he said it, the command in his voice... a thrill sparked through Feyre, and she bit her lip to keep the gasp in.
What was wrong with her? Where fear should’ve taken root, there was raw, untapped excitement whirling inside her. Rhysand’s entire body was lined with power and dominance and rage, and it made her breath come quicker as she watched.
Dante looked at her, the hatred clear. “I’m sorry,” he spat, then looked back at Rhys.
Rhysand tilted his head, a king holding court. Another cruel smile. “Beg me.”
Something inside Feyre twisted at his words.
Beg me.
The man’s jaw flexed as he gritted his teeth, but he still said. “Please, Rhysand. I’ve worked for you for five years. I’m sorry.”
There was a pause, and she wouldn’t be surprised if someone passed out in anticipation. Then Rhys made a soft tsk sound.
“You no longer work for me. You’re no longer welcome in this city. If I see you after tonight, I won’t be as forgiving.”
The man opened his mouth to oppose, thought better of it, and sulked to the restaurant of the exit.
In that moment, Feyre knew why people called him the Son of Satan. Knew because, as calm as ever, he turned to their waiter and said, “Check, please.”
~ nsfw warning ~
Rhysand stood in front of the fireplace in their room, silent as the dead.
He hadn’t said a single word on the way home, and she could tell whatever had happened at dinner had been the tip of the iceberg. Something had gone wrong.
She replayed the meal over and over in her head, trying to figure it out, but only seemed to be able to remember one thing.
Beg me.
Something had snapped inside her tonight, and she couldn’t keep herself still. Seeing him like that, seeing the power he had over people...
Slipping off the bed, Feyre walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist.
Her hands were spread on his taut stomach, but he gripped her wrists and took them off. When he spoke, his voice was rough and low. “I can’t do this right now. I’m not... I’m trying to keep my promise to you.”
Stay good with me. It felt like she’d said that a lifetime ago.
Rhys turned around, drank whatever was in his glass, and looked down at her. There was violence and anger and animalistic rage in his gaze.
It did little to calm the roar in her veins.
“Break your promise.”
A muscle in his jaw flickered, but he kept his hands to himself.
She wanted him so bad she could hardly stand. Her hands found their way to his chest, needing to touch him. “Please.”
Suddenly, she was pressed against the mantle near the fire, heat scorching up her leg. His glass fell to the floor as his hands pressed against her shoulders.
He’d barely touched her, and she was breathing like she’d run a mile.
A hand came to trace her bottom lip, then he was kissing her, and she finally let out a sigh.
The day of their wedding pictures, his kiss had been decadent and exploring. But that was when he was happy.
When Rhys was pissed off, he kissed her in a raw, aggressive sort of way that made her lose her mind. A hand pulled her hair, making her tilt her head back, and he deepened the kiss.
She’d just started to unbutton his shirt when he lifted her by the back of the thighs, then dropped them both to the floor and pinned her underneath him.
Rhys braced himself over her trapping her arms above her head. She thought about the first time they’d been like this, and the look in his eye said he was doing the exact same thing.
“I wanted you so bad that night,” he told her, voice rough.
She arched her back, chest pressed against his, and he gave her a wolf’s smile.
“Did you want me, too?” he asked, lips and teeth on her collarbone.
Feyre nodded.
His mouth drifted down to her chest, and his teeth scraped her nipple through her dress. Rhys looked up at her, more monster than man in his eyes, and asked, “Were you wet for me, Feyre?”
Okay. Maybe it had been a mistake to encourage being together right now.
Only one way to find out.
She nodded again, and his eyes went dark.
A hand remained pinning her wrists, the other drifting up her thigh. His fingers grazed the lace of her panties, then slipped inside.
He ran a finger up her core, and she shifted beneath him.
“Stay still,” he ordered, the command in his voice making her freeze.
His finger slipped inside her, and he nudged the neck of her dress down to take a breast in his mouth. He made a humming sound in appreciation as he moved, then added another finger.
Feyre moaned, pushing uselessly against the grip on her hands. It was too much. He was too much. She wouldn’t survive this.
But she couldn’t force herself to stop.
She’d been right. Now that she’d started, a shower of bullets wouldn’t make her leave this room.
His stubble scraped the valley between her breasts, and then they were kissing, a deep, wet slide of tongues and lips and teeth. He kissed her in time to the movement of his hand, and Feyre groaned into his mouth.
“I need more,” she panted onto his skin.
Rhysand’s teeth closed softly on her shoulder, and then he was looking down at her. His eyes were so dark they were like the nighttime sky, and then he said the words she didn’t know she’d been craving.
“Beg me.”
She whimpered underneath him, shifting restlessly.
A small, knowing smile was on his face, and she would’ve punched it off if she hadn’t been so attracted to it.
“Please. Please.”
His hand was on her jaw, and he pressed a wet kiss to her lips. “Good girl.”
Lord help me.
He made quick work pulling her clothes off, then leaned back on his knees, surveying her head to toe.
She repaid the favor.
She didn’t know when his shirt had fallen open, but she sure as shit wasn’t complaining.
His chest was covered in tattoos, the dark swirls running across his pecs and shoulders, all the way to his fingertips. The tattoos, the dangerous look in his eyes... Feyre lost a bit of her sanity as she leaned up to drag her mouth up his stomach.
Flicking open his belt, Rhys pushed her back down. Then his pants were pulled down, and he was spreading her thighs and settling in between them before she got a proper look.
“Again.” He looked half crazed with anger and lust.
She nipped at his bottom lip. “Please.”
He was pushed inside her, deep and slow and steady. He groaned in her ear, and the sound threatened what remained of her.
Then he gripped her hips, lifted slightly, and began to move.
Holy gods.
Feyre didn’t know what language she was speaking in, but it wasn’t English. She was murmuring incoherent somethings, not able to string together proper thoughts.
She moved in rhythm with him as he picked up speed, and even though they were spread out on the ground, Feyre felt like a freaking queen.
He was taking his time, listening and learning what she liked, and she could feel herself getting closer and closer to the edge.
Soon she was so loud it was a miracle they didn’t have close neighbors.
But as soon as she felt release start to come, he paused his movements.
The sound that came out of Feyre’s mouth was close to a snarl.
Rhysand smiled, gripping her chin. “Do you want to come, Feyre darling?”
If she wasn’t practically immobile, she’d strangle him. “You’re such an insufferable bastard, Rhysand Asterra. Yes.”
“And what do people say when they want something?”
She bit his lip in frustration, but said, “Please, you pri-”
His hips slammed into hers, a moan cutting her off as release crashed into her. Muscles twitching, face pinched in concentration, he followed her lead, collapsing on top of her.
They laid there together, both breathing heavily, until she started losing air. He rolled off her and looked over her with male satisfaction.
There was still a little tension from earlier, but his usual brightness and light was back. It was impossible not to smile at the happiness coursing through her veins.
Then he opened that smart mouth. “Let’s take a moment to remember when you said you could go two years without sleeping with me.”
“In my defense,” she panted back, “I hadn’t seen you in action before.”
He looked adorably shocked. “So threatening to shoot people is hot to you?”
“When it’s because of me, yeah.” She flicked his bicep, unable to help it. “I almost jumped you right then and there.”
He started kissing her neck, grinning against her skin. “I might have to hunt him down, then.”
She laughed, hands playing in his thick hair. Feyre pulled him back on top of her, a deliciously heavy dead weight. “I think I might have to update my pros and cons list.”
Rhysand laughed, and Feyre doubted a year of looking at that smile would be enough.
Hell, a lifetime might not be enough.
She didn’t let the thought linger.
“Do you think there’s some innocent people around for you to threaten?”
A kiss to her temple. “I’ll hire someone if I have to.”
________________________________________________________________
Part 3
@a-bit-of-a-cactus @bamchickawowow @aesthetics-11 @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @rapunzel1523 @negativenesta @burritowithfeels @exciting @sis-it-dont-add-up @mockingjayusa @aelin-is-my-heart @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @awesomelena555 @thekeytohappiness-is-you @keshavomit
#feysand#feyre archeron#rhysand#feyre x rhysand#feysand smut#feysand fanfiction#acotar#acowar#acomaf#acofas#a court of mist and fury#a court of thorns and roses#a court of frost and starlight#a court of wings and ruin#acotar fanfiction
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TayLiz Returns (August 2011 - January 2012)
Now, Taylor’s music suggests her and Liz got back together and broke up a bunch of times. It’s kind of hard to pinpoint that exactly, since they’re on tour together constantly and can’t really have a break from each other that would be discernable by an outside source such as myself. However, this is the time for it! Time for mess! Time for fun!
9 August 2011 - Speak Now in Chicago. Taylor covers Sugar, We’re Going Down by Fall Out Boy:
youtube
The lyrics that stand out here to me are:
Is this more than you bargained for, yet? Oh don’t mind me, I’m watching you two from the closet Wishing to be the friction in your jeans Isn’t it messed up how I’m just dying to be him? I’m just a notch in your bedpost But you’re just a line in a song
Of course, once again. Taylor could just like the song. But I think it’s interesting.
10 August 2011 - Speak Now in Chicago night 2. Taylor covers I Want You to Want Me:
youtube
This one is REALLY INTERESTING in the wake of Liz’s breakup. Some choice lyrics:
I want you to want me I need you to need me I’d love you to love me I’m begging you to beg me
Oh, didn’t I, didn’t I, didn’t I see you crying? Feeling all alone without a friend, you know you feel like dying
So does Taylor want her back? Or does she just like the song? Could go either way.
16 August 2011 - Taylor goes on a Girls Trip to Charleston with Liz, Caitlin, and a few other friends. Now, in a birthday post years down the line, Liz would reveal that Taylor specifically planned this trip because Liz was having a good time (We’ll get there in Late-Stage TayLiz). This feels like healing breakup blues to me.
While there, Liz tweets about possibly sharing a bed with Taylor again:
Taylor takes some great black and white photos of everyone that will show up in a later photo blog and Liz tweets about how much she loves retro photographer Taylor:
18 August 2011 - End of Charleston trip.
Liz tweets about Taylor healing her heartbreak blues:
That night is Speak Now in Alberta. Arm lyrics: “Find the Grace in the things you can’t change, and help somebody if you can.” Taylor covers Complicated by Carolyn Dawn Johnson:
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Choice lyrics, you know the drill:
I’m so scared that the way I feel is written all over my face We used to laugh, we used to hug, the way that old friends do But now a smile and a touch of your hand makes me come unglued
I wanna hold you close, I wanna push you away I wanna make you go, I wanna make you stay
Another friend tells me that my name is always on your lips They say I’m more than just a friend, they say I must be blind Well, I’ll admit I’ve seen you watch me from the corner of your eye
What an utterly appropriate post-Charleston trip song.
19 August 2011 - Speak Now in Alberta. Arm lyrics: “Hey brother, we’re all learning to love again.” – Mat Kearny’s Learning To Love Again.
22 August 2011 - Taylor posts “The Charleston Photo blog” on MySpace, featuring pictures from the Charleston trip:
So, clearly, they had a good time.
23 August 2011 - Liz quote tweets Taylor about the Charleston photo blog:
27 August 2011 - Speak Now in LA. Taylor covers Bette Davis Eyes:
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Now, not only is this an EXTREMELY GAY COVER considering it’s about how beautiful a woman is, but Bette/Betty is a popular nickname for Elizabeth. And just look at the lyrics:
And she’ll tease you And unease you All the better, just to please you She’s precocious And she knows just What it takes to make a pro blush
IS THIS NOT EXACTLY WHAT’S BEEN HAPPENING EVERY NIGHT DURING BETTER THAN REVENGE? TEASING? UNEASING? MAKING A PRO BLUSH??? Hmm, Taylor, what an interesting choice of a cover in the wake of the Charleston Trip...
It’s worth noting that Liz also grew up in the LA area, making this even more special if it is about Liz.
5 September 2011 - Taylor and Dianna Agron meet for the first time at the Fairfax Flea Market after being introduced by mutual friend, Ashley, who was working for Dianna’s hairstylist at the time. Dianna had lowkey outed herself that summer with #Shirtgate and considering all the mess going on with Liz, it’s possible Ashley (among Taylor’s other friends) were looking to introduce her to someone else.
8 September 2011 - Taylor diaries about writing Red the previous day and then recording it:
In a later interview, Taylor described Red like this:
“So this is a song that I wrote about the kind of relationship that is both the best thing and the worst thing at the same time and that’s why you can’t forget about it. It’s called Red.”
So, I have a two big theories about Taylor writing and recording Red at this point in the timeline:
1) TayLiz have IMMEDIATELY broken up again after the Charleston trip, and that’s why a mutual friend decided to introduce Taylor to Dianna.
2) Taylor and Liz are about to get back together again, and Taylor writes Red as a way of looking back on what she had with Liz back in 2009 before diving into a relationship with her again.
I’m leaning towards 2, but 1 could be true too. Who knows?
13 September 2011 - Rodarte show at NY Fashion Week. Taylor is interviewed by Vogue while there. She says there’s “just been this earth-shattering, not recent, but absolute crash and burn heartbreak” and that that’s what the next album is about. This really makes me think TayLiz breaks up IMMEDIATELY again after Charleston.
Taylor also gives these four things she’s learned about love and life recently:
Number two and four read like Jake shade to me.
16 September 2011 - Speak Now in Nashville. Taylor brings out Hayley as a special guest, they sing “That’s What You Get.” Hayley would later say she was surprised Taylor didn’t ask for Misery Business as That’s What You Get wasn’t one of their more popular songs at the time. (Keep in mind this is the song TayLiz jammed to years ago at the Paramore concert):
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This song makes me think there’s a lot of back and forth happening between TayLiz right now if we look at it lyrically. However, things could be great in TayLiz land and Taylor just chose to perform this song because she knew Liz liked it.
19 September 2011 - Liz performs Jenny Turn Around with Tyler Hilton after Speak Now in Nashville. Tyler tells a story about how he went to the TS concert just before and Taylor had said that her and Liz both really love this song.
29 September 2011 - Liz tweets about crying to the song “The Heart Won’t Lie” by Vince Gill.
And thus, the back and forth continues.
16 October 2011 - Taylor recommends Liz’s YouTube channel and she gets an influx of subscribers:
30 October 2011 - Taylor diaries about being sick on tour, getting Meredith, and having written two songs in the last few days:
This usually signifies there’s a lot going on for her emotionally, although it’s hard to tell what since we don’t know which songs these are. (My best guess might be Treacherous??)
31 October 2011 - Liz tweets about getting married.
Taylor posts a photo of her, Liz, and Caitlin on Instagram:
8 November 2011 - TayLiz have a “soul feeding time” together:
9 November 2011 - Taylor posts a wedding dress train picture to IG with the caption “Dress train…”
12 November 2011 - TayLiz flirt more onstage during BTR:
18 November 2011 - Speak Now in Columbia South Carolina. Arm Lyrics: “Where would we be today, if I never drove that car away?” These are from the song “Don’t Think About It” by Darius Rucker. The lines before this go:
When we make choices we got to live with them Heard you found a real good man and you married him I wonder if sometimes I cross your mind Where would we be today If I never drove that car away?
To me, this plus the dress train pictures reads as Taylor’s reaction to Emily getting married the following day.
19 November 2011 - Emily gets married. TayLiz are papped leaving a restaurant in London:
27 November 2011 - CMT Awards in Nashville. Taylor arrives with Liz and others.
1 December 2011 - Taylor shoots her vogue cover where she cuts her bangs at the Bowery Hotel. Her band (including Liz) comes to support her and her and Liz take a photo with their matching hair:
13 December 2011 - Taylor’s birthday. She’s recording something in the studio and posts a photo to tease the Red album (presumably she’s already titled it at this point).
Here are some pictures from the party:
22 December 2011 - Safe and Sound is released. TayLiz both tweet about it:
Taylor also posts about it on IG:
IN CONCLUSION: After Taylor pursuing her all summer, and Liz’s breakup with Jason, TayLiz took off again. They (maybe) shared a bed during Charleston, and Taylor certainly seems to have covered Bette Davis Eyes with her in mind. Their relationship is a little less obvious than they were in 2009, but that makes sense, considering the way Taylor has skyrocketed in popularity since then. Of course, they still are going to have some problems...
TayLiz Breaks Down (January 2012 - March 2012)
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A Shifting of the Sands: I
The sun might have set over the barren, rocky desert of Thanalan, but the heat had yet to fully abate. Perhaps a bell, maybe two, had passed since the radiant disc that burned so bright, and hot, over the arid landscape had set, and blessed darkness had descended to give its slowly-cooling relief to the denizens of the scorched desert. As the sun had sank beneath the glittering domes and spires of Ul’dah, the sky had come to life with a myriad of blazing, brilliant colors - painting both the sky, and the imagination, in rich hues of orange and red, fading up to purples and deep blues, eventually merging all together into the blackness of the abyss at the crown of the world. As the moments ticked past the colors played out their panoramic show for all the world to see, living art dancing gleefully in the skies above them; at dusk slowly ilmed its way toward full night a sprinkling of stars began to twinkle into existence in the darkness that replaced the vivid sunset; only the brightest appeared at first, their brilliant radiance defiant against the dying of the day’s light. But as the world descended further into darkness, their brethren began to shine fully into view until the sky was once again alight with color. This time, instead of broad swaths across the entirety of the horizon it was a dazzling show of faintly shimmering lights across the heavens, like little camp fires on some far and distant shore.
Y'naalie Vhenna had sat on a moss covered rock, the gentle mist from the slow running stream-turned-waterfall wafting over her sweat-coated, exhaustion-laced limbs. Beneath that slowly fading sky, magenta eyes watching the colors bleed from the day as the twinkling lights of the stars slowly showed their radiant faces. The day had been long for her - most days, truth be told, were - and these quiet moments in which the world transitioned slowly from the glaring, bright heat of desert day to the calm, strangely serene night were some of the scant few in which she could find a measure of peace. From well before the rising of the sun at dawn Naalie was hard at work within the halls of the gladiator's guild, honing her craft to be the fiercest underdog that stepped foot onto the blood sands. Being as short as she was, as slender as she was, Naalie was no stranger to not being taken seriously in the world of combat; larger foes oft looked down their noses at the diminutive gladiatrix, scoffing away the woman against whom they had been pitted due to her stature. These disdainful, dismissive looks from gladiators and fans alike only drove her to train harder, fight harder... so that she could show them just how ferocious she can be. And that is why Naalie rose several bells before the dawn began to lighten the horizon, shuffling her way to the hall so that she could be the first in to practice her maneuvers... and why she was oft the last one to leave, leaden limbs carrying her out into Ul'dah by instinct alone. Not wishing to return to the cramped, crowded apartment that she shared with the remnants of her tribe, Naalie often found herself wandering beyond the city walls and into the desert proper; if she got here at just the right time of night, like tonight, it was a sight to behold and worked some sort of magical wonder at easing some of the tension that perpetually plagued her body. As the world fully gave way to night, the little nocturnal creatures began to stir themselves to life; night time insects began to chirp their songs to one another, creating an almost organic melody that carried across the barren wastes while keen-eyed birds made their shrill calls and gentle coos in search of dinner and companionship. And all the while, the splashing of the small waterfall behind her added a soothing soundtrack that Naalie could sit and enjoy for bells on end. A gentle breeze picked up the mist from the falling water, carrying it across the rock upon which Naalie sat and out toward the arid landscape beyond; what little moisture in it wouldn't last long, this verdant oasis seeming to cling jealously to the precious water and plant life it had carved out for itself. A backward glance from Naalie was all that it took for the idea of slipping into the water to form in her mind; despite the retreat of the sun, it was still quite hot in the desert... and coupled with the weary exhaustion, the thin film of dried sweat, and the need to do anything relaxing, well... it was too much for the blonde Miqo'te to resist. Never shy about nudity, even when around others, Naalie surmised that she was alone enough to justify shedding her training clothes without undue attention; making short work of the wardrobe, and glad to be out of the clothes that clung limply to her skin, she was soon slipping into the knee-deep water with a newfound energy. Slender legs splashed through the dirty, sand-laced water without a care, seeming to take a certain glee in making noise and kicking up the water; by the time she'd shuffled underneath the crisp, falling water there resided a small, content smile on her thin lips. With her head back, Naalie allowed the cool water to soak her hair and flow over her face; rivers of the sweet, refreshing liquid ran down her body to join once again at the pool in which she stood. She was the proverbial stone in their path, the obstacle around which they must flow to continue their journey eternal. But what a delightful stone to be, if for that moment alone. Clap. Clap. Clap. Three staccato bursts of sound, so innocuous and innocent, snapped Naalie out of the quiet reverie of her moment of oneness with nature. The Miqo'te turned, hand reaching quickly for the blade that always rested at her hip. The blade that was, specifically, not at her hip at she stood beneath the cold, flowing water. Fingers clenching futilely at empty air, the gladiatrix grimaced as she realized her potentially dangerous predicament. Standing just shy of the lapping edge of the sandy pool were three figures, two tall and imposing uniformed men flanking a short, swarthy, gaudily dressed Lalafell man. His hands held still before him, motionless after the dramatic announcement of the trio's arrival; gloves of black silk padded the percussion of his palms, muffling the sound somewhat against the song of the desert night. The gloves, like the rest of the flowing and colorful silks he wore and seemingly limitless number of gemstone encrusted jewelry bedazzling his figure, spoke of an ostentatious amount of wealth. The smirk on his lips, the gleam in his eye, all suggested this was a man who seldom, if ever, didn't get what he wanted. Money. Power. Influence. Danger. All writ large on the smug expression of that little Dunesfolk. "Who-" Naalie began, only to be cut off by the little man. His arms retracted, folding lackadaisically over his partially bared chest; Naalie could see the glistening of oiled and perfumed chest hairs peaking out from the edges of his robe, catching the reflection of the wan moonlight. For some reason, that was what caught her eye beyond all else. "Who I am isn't necessarily what you should be concerned about," His voice, gods, his voice. Grating and nasal, it was every bit unpleasant as one would assume from looking at him. "It's who you are that is why we're here." He went on, leaving no room for interruption, "The Crimson Jaguar, Ul'dah's scappiest little gladiator! Not undefeated, but quite impressive in the arena. A darling favorite of the Jewel and her people, not to mention the bookies who rake in the gil hand over fist with every hard-fought victory you claw for yourself. I'm a fan, I'm quite impressed. Smitten, even. To think, I'm in the presence of the Crimson Jaguar. Boys, can you believe it?" The little Lalafell asked, glancing up to the two men on either side of him; a dull chorus of laughter echoed following his prompting, though from the sound of it neither men truly understood what they were laughing at. "Can't believe it, boss." "Nope, I don't believe it." With the snap of his fingers the two goons fell into immediate, practiced silence so that the only sounds were, once again, the singing of the crickets and the splashing of falling water. There was something uncomfortable in that man's stare, something intense and foreboding. The slowly spreading, more-than-slightly sinister smile did nothing to allay that notion. "Now, if I remember correctly..." the nameless man went on, "... you have an important fight coming up, don't you? Against, oh... what was his name...? Boys, do you remember?" "Sure don't, boss." "Nope, boss, can't remember." Snap. "Bjornulf. Bjornulf the Hellsbeast." "Oh, boss, it was Bjornulf." "Bjornulf, boss, I think is the guy's name." The chorus chimed in. "Bjornulf the Hellsbeast," the man echoed once again, clucking his tongue as if, for some reason, this provoked some sort of thought in the devious little cogs of his mind. "You know, my sweet Crimson Jaguar, the odds they have in the betting houses? You to defeat that monster of a Hrothgar by over 50:1! Ul'dah's rising star." He paused his speech, only to begin a slow, idle pace around the water's edge without ever coming so close as to sully the shoes he wore. "A lot of people stand to make a lot of gil when you win that fight. They'd be crazy to bet against somebody who has shown as much skill and determination and drive as you have. I mean, could you even imagine the payout if somebody were to go all in on Bjornulf and he won?" The Lalafell asked; at first, the question seemed innocuous enough, but the tone with which it was delivered... the narrowing of the eyes, the arching of the brow, the curling of the lips. It wasn't a question, it was a suggestion. An offer? A threat. As the realization dawned on Naalie, the Lalafell's smile grew all the broader... and feigned innocence. Little shoulders lifted in a shrug, prompting the jingle-jangle of excessive jewelry to call out in the still night. "I'm not going to thro-" Naalie began, before once again being cut off. "Nobody is asking you to throw anything," The Lalafell cut in once again, his tone harsh. "But, if it happened... the payout." His demeanor shifted, his smile returned, and his shoulders shrugged their nonchalant little shrug. "And I'm certain your patrons would reward you for your valiant effort, win or lose. There's no shame in it, after all... right, boys?" "No shame, right boys?" Left goon echoed. "Left boys, no shame." Right goon said. The Lalafell paused at that, merely shaking his head a few seconds later. "You don't know who I am, Crimson Jaguar, but I know who you are. And I know who pulls your strings. Work with me and we can go far. Don't, and..." his golden eyes shifted to the side, brow arching with an unspoken implication. "... well, you're a smart girl." An awkward moment of silence followed before the man turned, giving a wave by the wiggling of his fingers, and walked away into the desert with his cohorts.
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Oneshot: It’s Just Emotions Taking Me Over
I wrote a quick thing based on s3 news and the @dickkorysource february prompt, trust. Yes, I know it’s October, nobody’s perfect. Enjoy! Her scream is piercing, bone rattling, heartbreaking. He hears it from all the way across the lair. They infiltrated this old, retrofitted warehouse to find Jason, to bring him back to himself before it’s too late. But it may be too late for someone else now. The fear toxin is in her and there’s no telling what damage it can do if he can’t get to her in time.
He forgets everything, forgets his number one mission, forgets about the others, and runs toward Kory’s intense screams as fast as he can. This is what he was afraid of the first time he realized her powers had left her. It never would have happened had they been intact. She could have blocked it. And although she’s still one of the best and cleverest fighters on the team, she wouldn’t hurt Jason.
Kory, his kind, compassionate warrior, so convinced that Crane getting his hooks and his drugs into Jason wasn’t the boy’s fault. And now, she may die by his hand unless Dick can stop it.
She’s on the ground by the time he gets to her. She’s alone, convulsing and writhing on the cold, concrete floor, seeing something that he can’t. Jason has fled, and Dick grits his teeth in anger at his wayward charge as he falls to Kory’s side. He understands nothing she says in her flailing, shrieking horror. The only word he recognizes is “Komand’r,” because she mutters it in her sleep enough for him to know that it’s a thing. Who or what Komand’r is, Kory hasn’t disclosed yet, all he knows is that the fear toxin has zeroed in on it bigtime.
He moves closer, careful not to get hit. No such luck, the second Kory spots him in the corner of her eye, her fist lands solidly into his jaw. She jerks back from him and against the wall, yelling her mysterious alien language, her eyes frenzied and flooded with tears. He shakes off the hit as well as he can, and swallows hard, trying to keep a cool head in spite of his racing heart.
“Kory,” he says, too lowly to be heard through her anguished screams. And he starts again, inching forward, little by little, his hand creeping toward an escrima stick. But just then, before he can touch her, something happens that he hasn’t seen in months. The deep sea green of her eyes transforms into that beautiful but deadly neon glow, and her skin begins to crackle with light. He only has one move, and it needs to be perfect or she’ll turn him into a pile of ash.
“Dick, no!” Dawn’s voice bellows behind him, he knew it wouldn’t be long before the others caught up, but he pays no one any mind but Kory, grabbing her tight around her jerking shoulders. He expects her glowing skin to be painfully hot against him, but it isn’t, she just feels like Kory. The same woman he’s held and touched so many times before, but never for reasons of violence.
The only difference now is that he can barely contain her desperate thrashing. No more hesitating, it has to be now.
“I’m so sorry,” Dick cries, then without another second of thought, he presses the end of his electrified weapon against the side of her neck. She’s abruptly silenced at the contact, her body and vocal cords seized by the blue voltage now coursing through her. And he hates it, he hates hurting her. Thankfully, it’s only a few more seconds before her fire subsides and her eyes go dim again. When it’s over, she looks up at his face with so much confusion, pain and fear in her eyes that his own begin to slightly mist over.
“Is Kory okay?” Connor says, worry for his friend shaking his voice. Dick looks up at his team, then back down at his girl before she goes limp in his arms, finally resting.
“She will be,” Dick says.
****
Back at Wayne manor, Kory lays in the infirmary, still sleeping off the trauma of the mission. It had been for nothing. Jason was still gone, and Kory had been through something he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. He knows the sort of terrors one sees on Crane's toxin. He'd been the victim of it himself as a younger man. It can feel like dying over and over again, without the peace or absolution. Just the pain, and the dread, and the wishing like hell that it would end. So he sits with her, waiting for her to wake up to a face that she trusts. His chin is resting in his hand as he stares at her sleeping form. So he sits with her, waiting for her to wake up, his chin resting in his hand. There’s simply nothing else to do. If he falls asleep then it will be right here in this room.
“Hey,” Says Dawn, who’s appeared by his side with a cup of steaming coffee. “I thought this might make the waiting a little easier.”
He takes it and thanks her, and she takes the seat next to him.
“How did you know?” she asks after a long silence.
“Know what?”
“That touching her wouldn’t burn you?”
He thinks about it again. Her clothes never burn, her pink nail polish remains perfect on her fingernails, her jewelry doesn’t melt into liquid gold, the idea that there may have been some sort of protection around her that might apply to him when he touched her body was a flimsy one, but it was all he had to go on if he was going to save her life back there.
“I didn’t,” he admits. He takes a sip of his coffee, Black, with a single spoon of sugar to take the edge off, just how he likes it. But it does little to ease his mind.
“Hey,” Dawn says, a hand reaching his shoulder. “She’s going to be okay.”
“Yeah, I know, it’s just…”
“What?”
“It wasn’t just this one mission,” he says. “Something’s wrong and she won’t talk to me. Something’s been wrong for months.”
Dawn nods in agreement. And they both watch Kory as she sleeps, her chest slowly rising and falling, her red curls cascading across the pillows.
“She’s really quite beautiful,” Dawn says, and he agrees without a second thought, making her chuckle.
“What?” he says, taking his eyes off of Kory and looking at Dawn, the amused smirk on her face.
“You have feelings for her, don’t you?”
“Dawn…” he says in frustration, looking away again, not wanting to have this talk even a little.
“What? I see the way you look at her, do you really think I don’t know? That the whole team doesn’t know?”
He scrubs a hand over his forehead. “It’s complicated.”
“No, I don’t think it’s complicated. I think it’s really, very simple.”
They’re quiet again. He won’t confirm Dawn’s suspicions, but he doesn’t deny them either. Because it is true, and it is simple. He’s had feelings for Kory as long as he’s known her, and they’re only getting stronger. And if she doesn’t talk to him about what’s going on he might just lose it.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Dawn says, those traces of humor at his expense still in her voice, and she goes.
Before long, in spite of the coffee, he begins to nod off. It’s been too long since he’s slept. He’s better now, isn’t he? At being a good leader, a good friend, a good… whatever he is to Kory. And yet, Jason is still gone, still fighting them at every chance, Rachel is still with Donna in Themyscira, helping her adjust to the trauma of death and resurrection, and Kory is still hiding something. For all of these reasons he hasn’t slept a full night in three months.
He only comes to again when Kory starts to stir and sigh, at that, he’s wide awake and standing to join her next to the bed.
“Hey,” he says in a soft voice.
“Hey,” she says back with a warm, sleepy simper. “What happened?”
“You had fear toxin in you, but it’s okay. You’re okay now.”
She nods, but then screws up her face as she recalls something. “Did you taze me Grayson?”
He cringes from the guilt, “I don’t want to lie to you.”
She lets out a little laugh, and he laughs too, relieved that she’s better, and that she doesn’t blame him.
“Kory,” he says, serious now, gently touching her hair. “Remember a little after we first met, when you told me I was afraid to say who I was?”
She answers with a light nod.
“Well, I feel like these days, you’re afraid to talk about what’s going on with you. With your powers.”
“I haven’t been off my game,” she argues.
“No, you haven’t, that’s not what this is about. I’m just worried. That’s all.”
She leans a little into the hand still softly stroking her hair. “I’m not scared to talk about it.” She says, her voice cracking. “I’m sad.”
“What are you sad about?”
There is so much in her eyes that he can’t decipher, so much pain that he can’t truly feel. And maybe she doesn’t want him to. He’d hidden who he really was from everyone for so long, because he didn’t think they’d like what they saw. But Kory is different, she wants to protect all of them, not just herself. It’s as clear as day. But no matter what she tells him, or doesn’t tell him, she has to know that he’s right here.
“I felt them come back, my powers,” she says, looking at her hand, she tenses a bit, as if trying to do it again, to no avail. “Because when I was drugged, there was nothing holding me back but fear. Fear is nothing compared to having them all come true at once. That’s what happened to me three months ago.”
As she continues to talk, to unburden herself, he listens, and holds her hand and thumbs away her tears. And maybe this is the first step towards her finally healing. He wishes so hard that she didn't have to go through what she did back there for it to happen, but they’re past that. All that matters now is the two of them figuring it out, together.
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What a Wicked Game {12/15}
Killian met her in a pub on a rainy night in March. Going inside was only supposed to be a way for him to avoid the rain and fight off the demons in his head. It was a place for him to pass through, not stay. But then he was charmed by a blonde woman with a quick wit who had absolutely no interest in him or who he was.
That was a first. It was also the beginning of Emma Nolan helping to bring him back to life. It was the beginning of everything.
Five years later, with their worlds crumbling around them, Killian can’t help but wonder if this is the end of the peace they have known now that his family knows about his relationship. It wouldn’t be a problem if his father wasn’t the King of England.
rating: mature
a/n: thank you to the mods at @captainswanbigbang for running this event and helping to encourage writers to finish their wonderful stories, to @resident-of-storybrooke for reading all these words, and to @captainsjedi for making the beautiful artwork ❤️
ao3: beginning | current
tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 |
-/-
October 19th, 2018
October dawns bright and warm, but as it settles in, the warmth disappears into a chill and the brightness of the sky turns to the gray for which London is often known. Leaves are still in the midst of changing colors, from a dull green to vibrant oranges and reds that contrast the sky, and Emma finds herself staring out the large window in Killian’s bedroom to look at the leaves falling from a tree and drifting through the air until they eventually land on the edge of the roof. It’s been seven weeks since she slept in her own bed and had her parents just down the hall from her, and as weird as it’s been, she’s thankful for this.
She’s thankful that every day she is actively making the choice to be with Killian and to work at adjusting to all of the complications that come with this life.
It’s more than a lot, but as she looks down at her arm and sees it without the ugly white plaster and stretches her arms above her head without any pain, Emma reminds herself that time and a little extra care can heal things. The immediate reaction and pain doesn’t stay. It changes and lessens. Her body is healing, her heart too, and the darkness that surrounded her for all of August seems to have almost been extinguished.
Nothing about this has been easy, but Emma doesn’t want to retreat back and walk away again. She still believes that her reasons were sound, that she had to do it in order to take care of herself and protect her heart, and in a weird way, coming out on the other side has made her thankful for it.
Getting into a car crash and possibly almost dying because photographers wanted a picture of her sitting in a car after they found out about she and Killian’s breakup wasn’t great. She could have done without that. She still could. And she definitely won’t be getting in a car on a rainy night anytime soon.
Her physical scars may be lessening, most of them non-existent now, but she’s not ready for that. She’s not ready for a lot of things, but when has she ever been?
“Darling,” Killian calls out, and she gets a little smile on her face at how much his accent thickens on that word, “do you know where my solid navy tie is? It should be with all of the others, but I can’t find it.”
“Where did you last see it?”
“If I bloody well knew that, I wouldn’t be asking where it is.”
He pokes his head out of the bathroom before walking outside and finishing the buttons on his dress shirt. He looks handsome today in his navy pants and light blue dress shirt, and she really doesn’t see why he needs to wear a tie when he looks fine without it. Royal dress code or something. She doesn’t know. Over the past few weeks as she’s isolated herself in Killian’s apartment at Kensington or wandered over to Liam and Elsa’s to spend time with Elsa, she’s found herself going through guidebooks that Elsa had made when she got engaged to Liam. There are all these rules and regulations from how to cross your legs to what nail polish she’s supposed to wear, and while Emma thinks a lot of it is bullshit, it’s the territory that comes with being in this relationship.
Emma will paint her nails ballet slipper pink and cross her legs at the ankle every damn day if that’s what it takes. What she won’t do is be suffocated by the press and by Brennan.
What she won’t do is make Killian leave his family and break his mom’s heart simply because she couldn’t handle the pressure.
If he wants to leave, if it is truly his decision outside of her, she’s more than happy for them to live their lives in a simpler way where Killian doesn’t have to worry about where his solid navy tie is. Leaving may be in their future, but they’ll cross that bridge when they get to it.
But if they’re staying and doing this, she wants to make the best out of the situation. She wants to work with charities that help empower women and children. She wants to do that for men too, to educate them on the intricacies over an ever-changing world. She wants to do good and be good. This family is insane, the money and the traditions and the vault full of actual tiaras like something out of a movie, but they can use their privilege to do good.
Emma knows what it’s like to not have this kind of privilege, and now she may be in a position to help.
“Cool down, Casanova. No need to get all snippy over your tie. Where are you even going today?”
“The opening of a hospital wing and then I’m meeting with a slew of new security guards to interview.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
Killian arches a brow. “Haven’t you spent enough time in hospitals lately?”
“I meant to the interviews, dumbass. Isn’t this for my security, too?”
Killian fidgets with the neck of his shirt, buttoning and then unbuttoning it so that black tufts of chest hair show. “Aye, but I figured I’d go through the candidates first, and then you could meet the top few to see which ones you’re most comfortable with.”
“I can come with you. It’s really not a big deal. I don’t have any plans for the day.”
“Swan, it’s fine. I promise.” Killian walks over to her and sits down on the edge of the bed next to her before taking her hand and bringing it to his mouth. “This is a dreadfully boring process, and my father is unfortunately going to be there for some of it, though I’ll likely leave the room when he does his own interviews. I don’t - after August, he’s convinced that I can’t pick out my own security team.”
“August was...I mean, he was selling information about us because his dad is sick and can’t afford the surgeries and medication back in America. He was willing to risk prison to save his dad. That’s not something you could have predicted.”
A part of Emma understands the words she’s telling Killian, but the other part of her wants to punch August’s fucking teeth out for making her life hell and inadvertently causing her crash.
“You’ve met Brennan. You know how he can be. I could do everything perfectly, but one screw up that’s outside of my control, and I’m incompetent.”
“Your dad sucks.”
Killian leans his head back with his laugh before leaning forward and pressing his lips to her knuckles once more. “In three words, you’ve managed to sum up quite a bit of my life.”
“I’m magical like that.”
“That you are, my love. That you are.” Killian sighs and blinks at her a few times. She thinks he’s going to say something to her, but then there’s a slight shake of his head and she knows the moment has passed. “Give me a little more time, and I swear I’ll talk to him. Seriously. He and I may never get along, but that’s okay. I simply need him to publicly accept you and to sign off on all of these protection measures for you.”
“Killian, you know you don’t have to do - ”
“No, I do. I will do everything I can to protect you, and if that means I have to have an actual conversation with my father where I don’t leave the room until I get what I want, I will. We’ve missed so much time not talking and not taking action. I don’t want to miss any more.”
Emma leans forward and presses her mouth to Killian’s cheek. “I love you. You should wear the white and navy striped tie instead of the solid one.”
He raises his hand to his forehead as he stands from the bed. “Aye, that’s a good idea.”
“And babe?”
“Yeah, love?”
“If Graham Humbert doesn’t make it to the final interview stage for security, Ruby and I will both be pissed at you. He’s who I want protecting me.”
“That doesn’t terrify me as much as it should.”
“Ruby will be vicious.”
“Eh.”
“I can withhold sex, and you just got that back.”
Killian mock gasps, placing his hand over his heart. “You’re a liar, Emma Nolan. I know you find me too attractive to ever do that.”
He catches the pillow she throws with annoying ease, and she hates him for it.
(Not really.)
After Killian leaves, Emma falls back into bed and thinks that she’ll spend her day watching Netflix or doing something else as equally lazy. What better way is there to spend her last day of being twenty-five?
None.
But that lasts approximately two episodes of a show before guilt nags at her, and she’s moving the covers off of her legs and standing from the bed with a frown etched on her lips and the idea that she needs to clean something. Cleaning is not at all her thing unless she’s working at the pub, but she’s been pretty much on vacation (if vacation included recovering from a car crash and having a million talks with your boyfriend over all of the problems in your relationship) for two months, and she’s probably genetically unable to not work for such long periods of time.
She’s in a literal palace, even if it’s nothing like any of the movies or shows, and instead of relaxing, she wants to clean up the spots Killian has let go over the past few weeks from not having a maid to aid him in his ridiculously specific cleaning rituals.
What even is her life?
She starts in the kitchen, going through Killian’s fridge and throwing out everything that’s expired or has gone bad, and she quickly moves on from that to vacuuming every rug and sweeping or dusting the places that get missed. It’s a lot, and if it wasn’t for the music that is playing over the system, she’d have quit hours ago. She’s about to quit now when she remembers just how messy Killian’s closet is because of her absolute inability to hang up her own clothes.
They’ve probably had more fights about that than, oh, you know, whether or not the actual King of England wants to behead her or not.
(Currently, they’re leaning more toward him wanting to lock her away in a dungeon so she can’t cause any more unintentional media frenzies. It’s apparently less dramatic than a beheading because at least she gets to live...this is a weird train of thought.)
Emma’s phone starts ringing, and she pulls it out of her pocket to answer as she walks up the stairs.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, sweetheart,” David greets. “How are you feeling today? Old? Young? Like your life is over because you’re getting closer to late-twenties than early-twenties?”
“You are the most encouraging person alive.”
“I try.”
Emma chuckles and turns down the hallway to go into the bedroom, picking up her bra from where Killian must have tossed it last night and placing it in the hamper. “I’m fine. Killian’s at work opening a new hospital wing, apparently. I’m cleaning. How are you? What are you guys up to today?”
“I’m sorry. Did you say you were cleaning? Are we sure that you don’t have a concussion?”
“Your dad jokes are not good.”
“Every joke I’ve told since the day you were born has been a dad joke, and they’ve all been fabulous.”
She groans and walks into the closet before placing her phone on the table in the center of the room and putting it on speaker so she can do a little work before she loses momentum.
“I’m taking your dad joke privileges away, and to answer your question, I really am fine. I’m just messy, and Killian hasn’t had any of his usual staff in the apartment while I’ve been here. I think the whole August thing freaked him out so that he doesn’t trust anyone around me.”
“Someone close to him was selling information about you that harmed you. I’d be freaked out too. Hell, I am freaked out. If I wouldn’t get arrested for assault, I’d confront the guy.”
Everyone she loves wants to punch everyone who has hurt her, but they all stop themselves because of the fear of getting arrested for assault…she’s not sure if that’s flattering or concerning.
“What are you and Mom up to today?” she questions again, wanting to change the subject. She doesn’t want to talk about all of the shitty stuff that’s been happening to her lately. All she wants is to pick up all of her sweaters from the ground and figure out which ones need to be washed. Focusing on the bad is not how she’s going to move forward.
(And maybe not having to see August Booth’s face.)
“Your mom is downstairs with Will going over some possible menu changes, and I’ve been told I’m not allowed in the pub until I fix whatever is up with this toilet.”
“Ah, so you called me to procrastinate on doing that?”
“You know me so well.”
Emma fills in her dad on everything that’s been going on over the past few days. She tells him that her arm almost doesn’t feel weird anymore and that Ruby came over for dinner two nights again and brought Graham along with her. David is nearly as shocked by that as she was. This might be the longest relationship Ruby has ever had, and it’s good to see her so happy. It’s good that Emma likes Graham in that he’s dating her best friend and also might be protecting Emma’s life from now on if his next round of interviews goes well. In return, her dad gives her far too much information on the date he and her mom went on last night, and then he spends at least ten minutes talking about the difference in two brands of tomatoes.
All the while Emma has almost the entire closet (seriously, her dad talked for way too long and gave too much information about the date like he was talking to a friend and not his daughter) cleaned up. When she moves a pair of jeans that are on Killian’s side of the closet, she finds his solid blue navy tie he was searching for earlier.
“Ha,” she mumbles before reaching down to grab the tie.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she says to her dad before tugging on the tie and pulling it up only for a small black box to roll out of it and tumble down onto the ground. “Holy shit.”
“Emma, are you okay?” David asks, but Emma barely hears him over the pounding of her heart. There might as well be an entire drumline in the room.
“Emma?”
“Y-yeah,” she lies even as her fingers tug so tightly on the tie that it might tear. “Hey, Dad? Has Killian talked to you about any...future type things?”
“What do you mean?”
Emma huffs and goes to pick up the box. They could be earrings, right? Or a necklace? Or another ring? She’s got a sapphire one she wears on her right hand. Killian has given her a ring before that wasn’t an engagement ring. That doesn’t mean what’s in this box is one. He buys her jewelry, and it’s not a big deal.
Except…
When the hell did he have time to get this?
How long has he had it? What made him decide to get it? When does he plan on using it? Does he still plan on using it after their breakup?
“You know what I mean. Has he - you know what,” Emma decides, placing the box on the table, “never mind. Don’t tell me anything. I think I’m going to have to call you back later.”
“Whatever you want,” David sighs, confused. “I love you, kiddo.”
“I love you, too, Dad.”
And then the phone line disconnects and she’s left with nothing except for the sound of that damn drumline and the jewelry box that she doesn’t know what to do with. She’s not going to look. She can’t look. There’s no good that would come out of it.
She really wants to look.
Like, really.
“No,” Emma tells herself, grabbing the box off the table and moving to put it back where it must have been before it got tangled in her jeans and in the tie. She puts the tie back for good measure as well, and she’s absolutely going to bite her tongue on bragging about finding the tie when Killian gets home.
He wants to marry her.
She wants to marry him.
Maybe cleaning was worth something.
-/-
Killian comes home that night with grilled cheese sandwiches, which he hates, and onion rings from Ruby’s grandmother’s restaurant, and she doesn’t think she’s ever loved him more.
He tells her that Graham has moved onto the final selections even with Brennan’s hounding and worry over Graham not being trained in the same way as their usual security.
Emma knows that she wants him to be the one who’s hired. She’s not going to trust anyone else, not after everything that’s happened.
-/-
He doesn’t give her any kind of jewelry for her birthday the next day, and she knows what was in the box.
There’s no definite proof, but Emma knows.
Right now, where they are, she’s not ready to get married, but she will be someday. Probably soon. So if Killian were to ask her, she’d say yes over and over again, but the actual getting married part would have to be put on hold until her emotions, Killian’s too, were a little less chaotic.
Love is a really funny thing.
-/-
November 10th, 2018
The cool of the marble pebbles Emma’s skin as Killian helps guide her on top of the counter. His fingers inch over the back of her thighs and up behind her knees where she’s sensitive, and she giggles into his neck while trying to keep herself from bursting into hysterical laughter. Killian keeps the apartment so warm that she didn’t bother to put on anything more than her sleep shorts and a t-shirt last night before going to bed, and she’s regretting that now with every shift over her body over the countertop. But Killian is warm, especially when he steps in between her thighs and she hooks her ankles around his back right over his ass, and every touch of his fingers, gentle and teasing, brings a little more fire to her body.
Especially if he’d stop trying to tickle her while hotly running his tongue down the side of her throat and leaving open-mouthed kisses there.
He’s particularly good at those, and she could spend day after day close to him as he covers her body with affectionate words and delicate brushes of lips that turn into more.
Really, that’s been the last two months, even with her having to wear that atrocious cast for most of it, but they found simple ways to fix that. Being apart and not having those beautiful blue eyes to look into or that laugh to hear after a funny joke was absolutely torture, and having him back in her life, having him back as her person, is something Emma doesn’t ever want to take for granted again.
She will inevitably. It’s human nature. But she doesn’t want to.
Being with Killian is the easy thing. Fighting off the demons is what makes it difficult, but fighting off the demons and conquering them has made her realize that good things often come after struggles that seem impossible.
She’s a sentimental fool now, and she doesn’t care.
(Finding the engagement ring two weeks ago has made her even more sentimental.)
She especially doesn’t care as Killian’s tongue dips into her collarbone and his hands snake up underneath her shirt, warm palms against cool skin in a combination of which she’ll never tire. Emma knows that Killian is a sentimental fool now too. He was before, definitely more than her, but she can see all of the little ways he’s being more affectionate than he was before.
That’s saying something.
But his affection has been obvious lately. In the mornings, she always wakes to him curled around her, hand resting between her breasts and chin nuzzled into the back of her neck. That’s not how they sleep, not usually, so she knows that he does that when he wakes up in the morning while she’s still sleeping. He’s always touching her - hands intertwined, arm around her waist, ankles hooked together - like he’s looking for constant reassurance that she’s real.
That they’re real.
Killian has gone to war for her on multiple occasions, and she has seen the intensity and the fighting spirit that he possesses. She watched him break down over her accident and watched him absolutely vilify every single press association that was involved in that incident or any of the ones that have attacked her in the past or stolen private information from her. She’s watched him deal with the Neal interviews that seem to keep coming despite their falsities, and she’s watched him do absolutely everything that he can to protect her.
Emma never wanted protection or help. She thought that it made her weak to not be able to handle things on her own, but that was wrong.
All of it.
People are going to tell you who you are your whole life. You have to punch back and say “no, this is who I am.” If you want people to look at you differently, make them. If you want to change things, you’re going to have to go out there and change them yourself. Because there are no fairy godmothers in this world.
But there are supportive partners who punch back with you or stand to the side and cheer you on when you need it the most.
“I hate these bloody shorts,” Killian mumbles into her skin as the deep timbre of his voice vibrates down her spine. “I seem to both want you in them and out of them all at once.”
“That’s quite the conundrum you have going on, Jones.”
Killian chuckles before nipping at her jaw and pulling back so that she sees his eyes are blown black. “You are the conundrum, Nolan,” he softly says as his thumbs ghost over both of her nipples, slowly but surely bringing them to peaks. “It’s a funny thing. I seem to always want you. I want you in the mornings, at night, in the middle of the damn day…”
Emma hums while pleasure continues to curl between her thighs, and she wraps her arms loosely around his neck, playing with his hair and running the gemstone of her ring down the back of his neck. “Tell me more about this wanting me in the morning thing.”
The look on his face is positively dirty, and it’s exactly what she wants. So when his hands leave her breasts and move to take her shirt off, she stretches her arms in the air and allows him to undress her until the warm air of the heater is touching her skin. Killian shifts against her so that she can feel his length brushing against where she wants him, a perfect fit in a position that shouldn’t be comfortable, and she melts at his touch as the roughness of his unshaven scruff scratches against her neck and down her sternum to be between her breasts.
“You’re a damn temptress,” he mutters, voice deep and raspy with sleep still lingering. “I wake up and see the smoothness of your skin laid out before me, and my mind is only filled with thoughts of you. I’ve never wanted someone like this.”
“Funny thing, I feel the same way.”
“Do you now?” His fingers tug into her shorts and her underwear, and she lifts her hips as he pulls them down and off of her ankles so that she’s left bare before him, the marble chilling her skin has goosebumps pop up and spread over her.
“I do. Most definitely. You’re quite the catch.”
Killian laughs as he captures her lips, so soft and pliant and warm, with her own. There’s something to be said for kissing just for the sake of kissing, the feeling it sends through her body, and when Emma gently runs her tongue across his bottom lip, asking for entrance, he gladly grants it, tangling their tongues together in one of his favorite dances. She’s definitely picked a partner who knows what he’s doing.
Emma runs her hands through the hair at the nape of his neck and keeps her hand anchored there while the other runs up his spine, soft little taps of her fingertips against the bone underneath his shirt. They stay that way for awhile, lips moving together, until Emma’s hand leaves his hair to move underneath his shirt as well, pulling up at the material until he pulls back and tugs it over his head.
“I feel like we’re on a little bit more equal footing now. You were wearing too many clothes.”
“Was I? I hadn’t noticed. I was a little bit distracted by how unsanitary it’s going to be for us to fuck in the kitchen.”
“That’s literally never stopped you before.”
He huffs and leans forward to kiss her, slow and so impossibly thorough that she feels it all the way down to her toes. “I know,” he grins. “Are you okay up there, or do you want to move upstairs?”
“As long as you don’t hit my head into a cabinet, I’m fine.”
“You’re so beautiful, my love,” he whispers against her skin, kissing the tops of her breasts as her eyelids flutter closed and she recovers from the whiplash in the change of his tone. “I remember the first time I saw you, Emma,” he speaks into her skin as his nose drags along her stomach and arousal tugs at her belly. “You were – are so bloody gorgeous, the curls of your ponytail framing your face and the dark of your eyelashes looking down at me as you told me to get my soggy ass out of the booth.”
“I didn’t say that,” she protests, running her hand through the hair and tugging him down closer to where she’s desperately aching for her.
There’s something about the night that they met that Killian always thinks about. It’s a frequent remembrance, this conversation one they’ve had before, and Emma knows that in moments where Killian is nostalgic, where he’s thinking about how much she means to him, his mind goes back to that night and piecing together all of the circumstances for their meeting.
She doesn’t care how it happened. Just that it did.
No one was ever supposed to love her or treasure her like this. This wasn’t supposed to be how it is for her. She wasn’t supposed to get the good guy. It wasn’t in the cards.
Life has apparently decided to deal her a new hand altogether.
“But you were thinking it,” he whispers against skin, lips pressing against her small tattoo and lingering there. She thought getting that might be a mistake, that the desperation was too much, but over the past few weeks, Killian has held onto it like a glimmer of hope. She did the same. “You looked so frustrated with me, like how dare I walk into your pub in order to get out of the rain.”
“Shameful, really,” she teases, and when she opens her mouth to say something else, she can’t, her throat suddenly too tight to speak while the entirety of the English language escapes from her brain.
Killian’s hands hook around the back of her knees, and this time there’s no playful teasing. Instead, he spreads her legs further apart and bends down to his own knees. She’s about to make a joke about him not hurting himself, a tease over his twenty-ninth birthday last month and how dramatic he was over being nearly thirty, but then he’s kissing her exactly where she wants him, where she needs him.
His tongue drags roughly against her like a perfected routine, and Emma’s eyes tighten. She can’t bear to open them, but then she does and sees the dark mess of hair between the paleness of her thighs. Even more than that, she sees the blue of his eyes under the hood of his eyelid, and she wonders if today is going to be the day that this is all too much for her.
Never.
Killian shifts underneath her, his right hand leaving the curve of her knee to join with his tongue as he kisses her and kisses her and kisses her. Moans filter between them, hers and his, and the tension could be cut with one of the knives that’s in the drawer beneath her ass. It’s all too much - too much pleasure and want and love - and when he slips two fingers into her and curls them, she gasps out his name as a chant that never seems to stop.
“Magnificent,” he mumbles, the sound of his voice like liquid fire in her veins. “Bloody magnificent. Your noises, my darling. Fuck.”
There’s something about knowing that Killian is as affected by things like this as she is, even if he’s the one giving all of the pleasure, and that with the combination of his mouth moving over her bundle of nerves and his fingers moving within her as her falling apart little by little, like the waves cresting onto the shore.
Damn.
Killian presses a kiss to where she’s still fluttering before moving to her thigh, light touches that are nothing more than a blink, a whisper. When he rises from the ground, he grunts, probably from having his knees pressed into hardwood for so long, but she doesn’t think about that for too long when she can feel him hard against her and pressing into her thigh. “Mmm,” Emma hums, pulling herself up and tugging Killian closer to her so that she buries her face in his neck, kissing the straining cord. “You are wonderful.” “Ah, well, that tends to be your reaction after we do something like that.” “Are you fishing for compliments?” “Never.” She chuckles while he does the same, and even without looking, she knows that his eyes are crinkled, joy written across his face.
“Do you want to move upstairs or…”
“Upstairs. Definitely upstairs.”
They move quickly, neither of them in the mood to wait, and while it would have been faster to move to the couch in the living room, this is better. Killian falls back to the bed with laughter on his lips, and Emma immediately hooks her thumbs into his sweats and pulls them down as much as she can before he lifts his hips off the bed to help her out, kicking them off his ankles and onto the floor while she is busy kissing up his thigh, her hand running up his length, feeling the warm hardness in her palms.
“Emma,” Killian moans, voice gruntled. She smirks into his thigh and keeps her hand on his length.
“I am romancing you, Killian,” she promises against his lightning bolt scar before crawling up his body, peppering open mouthed kisses against the trail of his chest hair until she’s leaning over his mouth, her folds teasing him at their hips. “Like you do to me.”
“Darling - ”
“Your eyes, even blown black with desire like they are right now,” she whispers, circling her hips above him to lightly grind down, “are the most gorgeous blue I’ve ever seen.”
She touches his face then, running her fingers over his jaw. “I love your stubble, how it’s black with a little bit of red peppered in, and I love when you don’t shave for a few days and it’s full and just the right mix of soft and prickly. I love the way it feels when you rub it against my cheek in the mornings when you’re waking me up or how it feels against the inside of my thighs.”
She kisses his jaw, running her tongue behind her lips, and the grunt Killian makes curls as little bursts of fire down her spine.
“I love,” she says, running her hands down his biceps as she sits on his lap, right below where she knows he wants her, “the strength of your arms when you hold me, no matter what the occasion. And I love,” she moves her hands through the hair at his chest as Killian twitches beneath her touch, “this hair and how it pokes through the top of all of your shirts. I love the ways that your eyes crinkle when you’re truly smiling.”
I love that you love me enough to want to marry me, she thinks to herself before saying. “I love that you fight for me every day no matter the circumstances.”
She rises on her legs and scoots forward, guiding him to her entrance before slowly, slowly, slowly sinking down onto him. It’s a perfect fit. Maybe not physically, but emotionally, and Killian’s hands grapple for her hips, nails digging into skin. She doesn’t think he’s ever been this quiet for such a long period of time during sex.
“And mostly, at least for our purposes right now, what I love is the feeling of you inside me, thick and full and perfect.”
At that, she starts to move, rolling her hips against him, and it feels so goddamn good that her brief stint as the verbose one in the relationship has ended and Killian is the one to start muttering words of encouragement and curses that would have anyone blushing. She sets a slow, unhurried pace that she knows will draw out pleasure, but Killian doesn’t let her do that for long before he takes control of their movements, speeding up the pace as he thrusts up into her. She lets out a whimper as he hits the exact right spot, and Killian captures the next one with his mouth, kissing her like a man starved of affection and like it’s not ten in the morning.
Suddenly, Killian grabs her hips and rolls them over to change their position, his body encasing hers. He mutters a “bloody fuck” when she clenches her thighs to try to keep him from slipping out, and Emma throws her head back with laughter even if she shouldn’t.
Killian nips at her neck, but she can feel his smile too.
He must be able to tell that she’s getting close, rising higher and higher to her peak, because he releases her hips to grab her wrists, sliding his hands until their fingers are interlaced above her head. He tilts his hips so that his thrusts catch her clit. Her breath hitches and her legs wrap around his backside, and Emma might actually melt. She thinks that she has. Her limbs are all jelly, and Killian isn’t much better above her.
This is ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.
There are a million things they should probably do today, but they never seem to move away from bed besides getting food from the kitchen. That’s what she’d been trying to do this morning when Killian distracted her, but she’s not going to complain. This is good and nice and Emma could wrap herself in these blankets and in Killian for the rest of time.
When she wakes later, it’s to the slap of a hand to her skin, and Emma immediately flinches and jolts up, blinking into the darkness.
“Ow, shit, Killian. What was that for?”
“I was just making sure you’re here,” he mumbles, voice groggy.
“By slapping me?”
“Killian,” a voice says, and Emma realizes that Killian is on the phone. He might not even realize he’s on the phone. “Killian are you there? “Killian, have you heard a single word I’ve said?”
Liam. He’s talking to Liam.
Holy shit. Why is Liam calling him in the middle of the night?
“I’ll be honest, no. I’m still mostly asleep.”
“Asleep my ass,” Emma mumbles before reaching over to put the call on speaker phone so she doesn’t have to keep straining her ears to hear him. Killian grumbles something, but she ignores him as she settles herself underneath his arm. “Liam, what’s wrong? Is everyone okay?”
“Elsa is in labor, and we sent all of our nannies home for the night. Can the two of you watch Alex for us?”
“Of course,” Emma sighs. “Bring him over when you guys leave, okay?”
“I will, lass. Thank you.”
“It’s not a problem,” Killian promises, finally waking up. “Congratulations, brother.” At that, the line goes dead, and Emma immediately moves to get out of bed only for Killian tugs her back into him. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Emma raises a brow and motions down to the distinct lack of clothes on both of their bodies. “I know Alex is about to have a sibling, which is definite proof of his parents having sex, but I don’t want to be the one to have to explain why his uncle was having a naked sleepover with me.”
“Really? You don’t want to explain sex to a toddler? Shocker.”
She huffs and leans forward to brush her lips over his forehead. “Congratulations on being an uncle again, babe.”
Emma hears his swallow as his head nods up and down in affirmation. “Thanks, love. Let’s go put on some clothes so we don’t scar the lad.”
-/-
-/-
The next chapter is technically the last official chapter. How is that even possible? Thank you all for coming along for this ride ❤️
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#what a wicked game#cs fic#cs ff#cs fanfic#captain swan fic#captain swan ff#captain swan fanfic#csrt#captain swan rewrite a thon#captain swan
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