#and the thought plagues my mind and i essentially black out and wake up to a finished amv | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

roscgcld · 3 years

Text

GOJO SATORU || how annoying

request: What if Gojo twin went with geto and wants to help him achieve his dream since she didn’t want to let him go, and she feels bad that she couldn’t do anything to change his mind.

But if that was the case Gojo just got betrayed by his Best Friend and his own Twin sister almost makes me sad to request this but I’d really want to see Angst between them.

note: this one was a pain to write because i hate angst - like i literally avoid heartbreak stories like the plague because my little heart cannot take it. so this was a little bit out of my comfort zone, and had me pouting cause this is like, the worse case scenario for me lol. but i hope you enjoy!

pronouns: she/her

note: spoilers for volume 0, so read at your own risk!

gojotwins!au masterlist

“Gojo-sensei, who’s this?”

The white-haired shaman looked up from his phone where he was lounging on his chair since he was currently having a free hour in his schedule. Today he is around to teach his group of first years, and after a few hours of class, they have an hour break in between their lesson. Because of this, the first years had decided to chill in Gojo’s office with their teacher.

Gojo’s eyes, hidden behind his simple blacked-out sunglasses, glances over at his student who was holding up a framed picture on his desk. He had only 2 framed pictures - a picture of him and his classmates in their first year, and the other was a picture that he sometimes wondered why he still kept framed in his office.

It was a picture of him and his twin sister, Gojo Y/N. In that picture, they were standing in front of a cherry blossom tree that is on the grounds of the Gojo Clan home. The pictures were one of the last few pictures they took together, and you couldn’t tell that the day after that picture was taken, the smiling girl in the picture would have disappeared. Going into hiding with the man that she loved. “Oh....that.”

Yuji paused when he saw how his sensei’s mood dropped ever so slightly, causing both him and Nobara to share a look before they glanced over at Megumi. The same boy was staring at the picture with a faraway look on his face as well as if all the memories he had of the woman in the picture flashed before his eyes.

“...You should throw that out.” Megumi managed out after a few moments of silence, glancing over at Gojo who had his eyes trailing on the picture. Yuji had placed it down after a few seconds of awkward silence, yet Gojo’s eyes didn’t move away from the smiling faces reflecting back in the picture frame. “I know..”

Yuji, feeling bad that he clearly brought up a bad memory, was about to apologise when Gojo sighs and sat up from his reclined seat. “I can’t live my life avoiding the topic forever.” Gojo sighs as he runs a hand through his fluffy white hair, taking a deep breath before he faces Yuji once more. “The girl in the picture is my twin sister, Y/N. She and I were born with the Six Eyes, and had gone to school together.”

“You have a sister?!” Nobara and Yuji ask in usion, shocked that they had one, never seen this person before. And two had never even heard about this woman - someone who is probably as strong as their sensei. Why had no one mentioned her to them before? “Why didn’t you tell us?” Nobara asks curiously, to which Megumi stepped in to answer when it looked like Gojo is struggling to answer the question. Which that in itself is shocking to the other two in the room. “Y/N-san is...well...she had become a Curse User.”

Whilst Yuji gasped at how she had essentially turned her back on the college, Nobara had caught onto the past tensed that Megumi had used to describe the woman. “What do you mean had?” Nobara asks curiously, to which Megumi actually hesitates before he glances over at Gojo, who had kept silent through the entire exchange. “Is she...did something happen?”

Another moment of silence passed the room before Gojo looked up from the floor; his elbows resting on his knees after he had planted his feet on the ground. “Last year...around December...a huge attack was plotted on the college,” Gojo explained simply as he looks up at the two quiet students that stood before him, hanging onto his every word. “She had not attacked the college...but she was one of the organisers. So by law, if I didn’t do something, the higher-ups would have sent someone to deal with her.”

Immediately both Yuji and Nobara’s eyes widen in shock at what Gojo was insinuating behind his simple words, both of them glancing at each other with wide eyes. Now they knew they had hit a nerve. Yet Gojo seemed like he was going to continue to tell them everything right now since the bandage on the wound had already been ripped open - might as well deal with this all at once.

“I mean - it was better than way. She knew it too.” Gojo said with a sigh as he leans back into his recliner seat, giving his silent student a forced smile; one so fake that it even had Megumi cringing a little. Gojo was once more lost in his thoughts, mind wandering back to the day that he had done the unthinkable. He knew that sometimes being a sorcerer means that you had to make some sacrifices, but for once he wasn’t sure if he was so willing to believe in that saying.

Gojo walked up the flight of steps leading up to the shabby apartment room, following the Curse Energy residue that was left along the hallway, immediately recognising it. It was as if she chose not to even hide where she was; leaving invisible evidence all over the place as they stopped in front of the door where the Curse Energy was the strongest.

Quietly he turns the knob, not even shocked to find it unlocked as he pushed it opened quietly; looking up with a soft smile. “Pardon the intrusion.” He mumbles softly as he looks over at the woman who sat by the window. Her hair blowing softly along with the breeze as she turned her tired eyes over to her; her bright blue eyes glowing in the dark as she stared back at the white bandages that hid his.

“You make it sound like I didn’t know you were going to come.”

There was no bitterness in her tone - only sheer tiredness and the same warmth that she exudes every moment of the day. The same warmth that had Gojo’s heart clenching as he closed the door behind him slowly, making his way deeper into the apartment. “I thought the Gojo in you would have sneered at the sheer at the size of this place.”

His comment had the woman laughing softly, looking down at the mug of steaming tea clasped in her hands. The mood was lifted for a few fleeting moments, and Gojo just wants to pretend that everything was alright once more. That the both of them were just hiding it out in a room for a few days whilst they hunted down a Curse User. Like how things used to be. “How...how have you been?”

“...good,” Gojo mumbles as he walks towards his twin sister, the same one who had one day just upped and gone; disappeared with Geto with no more but a letter for her twin to wake up to. The letter was just a rambly letter of how sorry she was that she had to leave, that she chose to end things the way she is doing right now. But she knew that her choosing Geto over the life she has now is a death sentence, but she didn’t want to let go.

‘When you finally find someone to live for, that makes you feel like you were floating with the clouds about - will you let them go for something as meaningless as status in a world we didn’t even choose to be born in?’

At first, neither of the Gojos spoke, just soaking in the comfort and familiarity that the both of them so sorely miss. In more normal times when they are younger, they will always do this - sitting in silence and just basking in it. Curse Energies just mingling with each other, not needing words as they just sat in the cramp apartment.

But this time it was different.

“Did they send you?” Y/N asks as she looks over at her brother, Gojo blinking when he heard her words and looked away from his clasped hands; his grip tightening when he realised just how relaxed and at peace she was. This was one of the most lovable yet infuriating part of his twin - no matter the situation she is faced with, she always faces it head-on with the most relaxed looks on her face - accepting whatever fate that awaits her on the other side. She doesn’t see the need to fear something as minuscule as death - something that everyone must face once their time comes.

It was such an infuriating trait of hers that Gojo both loves and hates. “No...I chose to come myself. I don’t trust any of their goons to do it properly.” Gojo admitted in a tight voice, feeling his will waver when he heard the soft laugh that Y/N lets out - a laugh that he had missed hearing for the last few years now. “You never change, huh ‘Toru?”

Gojo just gave her an actual look of annoyance, the same look he’d always give her whenever he realises that she was going to start to lecture him about something he has no interest in. His look had Y/N letting out a soft laugh as she shakes her head in amusement, taking another sip from the teacup that was in her hands. “How annoying.”

Gojo continues to stare at his clasped hands before he sighs softly, his shoulders slumping a little as reality slowly started to box in around him. “I hate that you just accept that this is your reality,” Gojo mumbles softly, not even trying to hide the shakiness in his voice as he tries his hardest to blink past the tears that were gathering in his eyes. “You can’t just...accept something as serious as this so simply...”

Soft footsteps came from where Y/N was seated before a pair of warm hands rested on his cheeks, fingers gently brushing along the moisture that had collected at the bottom of the bandages. Wordlessly Y/N started to undo the bandages that covered his eyes; Gojo not moving to stop her from doing so. Soon the bandages fell in his lap, both of them staring at each other properly.

A warm smile was resting on Y/N’s face, a smile that irked Gojo even more as he viciously wiped at the corners of his eyes. “You are so annoying, you know that?” Gojo grumbles childishly, his arms reaching to wrap around his sister; burying his face into her shirt to hide the tears that seemed never-ending. “A-Always leaving me behind like this..”

Soft fingers carded through his white hair, the woman before him not making further comments as he continues to cry silently into her shirt. “I’m sorry, ‘Toru..” She had whispered out quietly, her voice sounding just as tired and sad as he does as she held him closer.

Gojo hates this - not only had he just lost his best friend, but he is also going to lose his sister as well. Even when they are apart, knowing deep down that she was at least alive and safe with Geto still brought a sense of peace for him. Even if they couldn't be together, it was just knowing that the other was safe that allowed him to sleep at night.

But now he was the one that is expected to take her life away? He can’t help but hate just how cruel the jujutsu world is that it forces people like Geto and his sister to feel like they had to do the unthinkable in order to feel like they were living life the way they think is right for them.

He hates it all with a burning passion.

354 notes · View notes

leerongrong · 4 years

Text

of peaches and clichés.

Pairing: Na Jaemin x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: In which you’re Jaemin’s chemistry tutor and he’s your cliché flirty high school bad boy.

Requested: yes // im not creative enough to think of an idea but i crave your writing so im gonna try and request lol. chenle fluff? dkjfid i have no idea on specifics, sorry if this didnt help. or some flirty badboy!jaemin im weak for that

The sun's shinning down, rays breaking through clouds onto the school's rooftop. Winds sweep across your cheeks, eyelashes fluttering along with your textbook pages in the wind. Screeching shoes from the basketball team are heard from below, along with the coach's whistle and shouts. Your earphones block out most of the noise, a melody to help calm down your nerves from the stress of school work.

"Well, look who I ran into." A male's voice breaks you from murmuring the lyrics to the song, even going as far to startling you until the textbook previously lying on your lap is flung away. "I would say it was a coincidence, if I believed in them."

Your eyes trail to black shoes just in front of you, keeping track of the hands that bend down to retrieve the pink, tossed away textbook. Your eyes are trailing up onto the figure, taking in the sight of a slightly worn out leather jacket and an odd tuff of blue hair.

Every high school has a stereotype to them; some with big brain nerds, maybe even buff jocks that push said nerds into lockers. Others have preppy cheerleaders that smile and flirt at every living thing, or a gathering of Goth teens that only hang out with their own clique. You've never had an opinion of them, simply choosing to live your own life alongside your pack of friends who are deemed "smart" and ultimately being labeled as the school's good girl.

The white canvas, the teacher's pet, the school's innocent, the extremely sweet girl capable of making anyone smile, those are the names you've been called throughout high school. Not that you minded them, they're just labels put there by people who never even knew you.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" The epitome of a high school stereotype would be the one standing just right in front of you; Na Jaemin, the school's bad boy who's never seen wear anything but a leather jacket and skinny jeans, the one that goes around with whispers following him like the plague, the one who breaks heart after heart when he's bored, the one you got assigned to tutor chemistry. "Because if I'm not wrong, you fell head over heels the moment I came through that door."

The need to suppress your smile exceeds the need to take your book back.

"Besides, who wouldn't fall for me?" Jaemin's flirting is something you've only heard of previously, hallway whispers going around about his sweet words that make girls fall for him. You've only got to experience the end of it just two months ago, after your first tutor session had begun, the boy never failed to spew sweet nothings at you, at first driving you crazy with how much time he wastes flirting instead of studying. "But why would you throw away the book I gave you?"

The sight of his exaggerated pout makes you feel butterflies in your stomach, something that's been happening after tutoring Jaemin. Your friends had warned you to stay away from him, to decline the teacher's offer of an added grade if you succeeded in raising his grades. You don’t know what came over you to agree into something like tutoring, at first what you thought was, a lost cause like Jaemin. You remember feeling bad for lying to your friends, telling them that you needed the extra grade when in reality your grades have been stable and you didn't need any extra credits.

The butterflies explode once more when his pout turns into an attractive smirk you've seen him paint on his face multiple times. You're ducking your head in hopes he doesn't see the blossoming blush on your cheeks, not sure whether you want someone to burst into the rooftop to save you from your embarrassment or to spend a few minutes with him.

You're not sure when you started developing feelings for Jaemin. All your life you’ve never been one to believe in love at first sight, always seeing the logical side, explaining to Jaemin that falling in love happens slowly but gradually, declining his objections and telling him repeatedly that love doesn't happen overnight, it happens with unspoken moments and sweet words between two people intertwined with each other.

Maybe it started two weeks after your first tutoring session; the first time you ever saw Jaemin asleep in the library after the two of you decided to study after school, the day you remember seeing dark bags under his eyes after forcing him to study with you over the phone, the day you gathered enough courage to sweep away the, then brown, bangs from his eyes.

”Studying again?” The librarian’s voice pulls your attention away from your phone, snapping your gaze towards her smiling face before you’re smiling yourself, nodding at her question. “With company today, I see.”

“Company? What do you mean?”

You see her nod her head and you’re forced to squint when you see a hooded figure sleeping on the table you normally sit at. “He’s been here for over an hour already, sleeping.”

The library’s silent, with no one but you, the librarian, and the sleeping figure on the desk. The air is warm but windy, perfect weather to study in if it weren’t for the mysterious person sitting in your spot. You’ve got half the mind to start talking to the person and wake him up when you round the table and see that it’s Jaemin. Your heart softens at the sight of his soft brown hair, make shift bed made with chemistry books, more so when you see the bags under his eyes.

Guilt starts eating at you when you remember you’re the one who practically forced him to stay up all night with you, studying for your pre-chemistry test that’s coming next week. You’re gathering the books around him, gently pulling the one under his head and replacing it with your neck pillow instead, the sight of him sleeping in a slightly better position lessening your guilt.

Hours pass just like that, the librarian signaling for you to pack up while you’re stretching your stiff joints. In the few hours, you realize that Jaemin looks nothing like the front he puts up every day when he’s asleep, he doesn’t look as rugged and mischievous, he looks more soft and nice like this. Another thing you notice is how soft his hair looks without any added products, the color reminding you of hot cocoa on a winter day.

Your eyes are darting back and forward on his face, searching for any signs he’s beginning to wake up, heart starting to beat slightly fast at the thought of being able to run your fingers through his hair. The librarian’s still moving around somewhere behind you and you’re cautiously lifting your hand up to his head, fingers slightly brushing against his tresses.

“If you wanted to touch, you could have asked.”

The yelp that pulls out of you has Jaemin smirking, said boy lifting both his hands up above his head to stretch. “And don’t think I didn’t catch you staring,” he smirks, “You can stare for however long you want, I won’t judge.”

Your face flushes red and you’re quick on your feet, dashing away out of the library after collecting your bag and essentials, leaving Jaemin alone with your abandoned neck pillow still in his hands. Jaemin’s smiling, hands playing with the peach shaped pillow while he’s staring at where you were sat.

“Cute.”

It could have started on the third week after your club activities; when you ran into Jaemin for the first time that day, getting the surprise of your life when you saw his freshly dyed pink hair. Getting another surprise when he dragged you into the library for a study session, when he didn't need a tutoring for another 2 days. It was the first day butterflies erupted in your tummy when he told you he dyed his hair pink because pink reminded him of you.

Banter is tossed around while you’re laughing along with your friend. Your club activities just finished and you’re itching to go to the library for a much needed alone time, between your classes and tutoring Jaemin, there isn’t much time left for you to recollect your thoughts.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Your friends around you are all suddenly whispering, some fixing their hairs, others reapplying their lipsticks and you’re left wondering at the sudden change of attitude until Jaemin comes strutting down the hall with his usual leather jacket and not so usual bright pink hair. “Hi, peaches.”

“Peaches?” you choke out, “Who’re you calling peaches?”

“You.” He’s grinning at you, hands tugging at yours to pull you away from your peers and you’re slightly stumbling at his fast paced footsteps. “Or if you don’t like it I can call you Babe? Baby? Sweetheart?”

“Oh, I know!” He clicks his finger, “How about I call you mine?”

You force out a snort at his blatant flirting, thanking the Gods he’s not looking back at your frame, or else the full on blush on your face would’ve been blown. “Where are you taking me? Isn’t this the way to the library? Jaemin I don’t have to tutor you today.”

You’re met with silence as he continues to tug you into the library, waving a quick hello to the librarian when you pass her along the way. You bump into Jaemin’s chest when he suddenly stops in front of you and you’re on your tip toes when you see him pick an object up from your usual desk. “What are you doing?”

“You wanna know why I dyed my hair pink?” You’re sighing when he ignores your question, your patience running thin from your stolen ‘me time.’ He’s turning around and you’re shocked to see your peach neck pillow in his hands along with a chemistry test paper with the numbers 87 at the top left corner.

“My grades went up, thanks peaches.” He’s leaning down to your height, and goosebumps start to arise on your skin when his lips brush against the shell of your ear. “And I dyed my hair pink because pink reminds me of you.”

That day you’re the one left alone in the library, with a hand resting on your cheek, on the spot where Na Jaemin just kissed you.

Maybe it started on the fifth week when nature had decided to rain you in after school, all alone after studying for a physics test in the library, with the only other person there being Jaemin, who had to stay back for a physics make up test. The boy covering you with his beloved leather jacket, running under the rain all the way to your house which had resulted to him being absent the next day, getting a cold.

“You bring an umbrella, peaches?”

Jaemin’s voice snaps you out of your stare off with the rain, said boy standing next to you with nothing but his leather jacket in hand and his backpack on his back. His previously bright pink hair has now been washed out, leaving only bits of light pink to color his hair and you’re embarrassed to say that it matches exactly with your peach neck pillow.

“No,” you mumble, “I’m guessing you didn’t too?”

”Always the smart one in the relationship.” Jaemin’s taking off his leather jacket and you look to him in confusion when he sets it on top of your shoulder, slightly adjusting the material so that it covers your head. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Why are you giving me your jacket?”

“I thought you were the smart one.” You open your mouth to banter with him, only to be cut of when he intertwines your fingers together. Your jaw falls slack and he’s laughing, pretending to push your jaw back up and fix it. “C’mon, peaches. Don’t tell me you’ve never watched kiss scenes under the rain before.”

Your stomach erupts with butterflies with the flirting that’s coming out of his mouth, and your hands feels warm encased in his much bigger ones. You’re watching as rain continues to fall from above, some drops slightly falling into Jaemin’s hair and there’s an unexplainable feeling that’s resting deep in you and you’re not sure you want to know what that feeling is.

“Let’s run!”

The run to your house is painfully quick, the two of you encased in laughter along the way while Jaemin had a minor heart attack when you almost slipped across a walkway, and now the roof of your house acts as a shield from the rain, both you and Jaemin still doubling over the stairs as you try to recollect your breaths.

You’re mostly dry, Jaemin’s jacket acting as a wonderful rain coat most of the way, while Jaemin’s drenched from head to toe. You’re eyeing the way his clothes stick onto him like second skin, how his backpack is completely drenched and you’re surprised when your fingers twitch when you eye the way his bangs are sticking onto his forehead. “You want to come in?”

“No,” He teases, “I don’t do that until the 4th date.”

You’re gasping at his innuendos and Jaemin lets out a laugh when you smack his chest, the laugh turning into a shriek when he topples over the stairs and onto the busy street. Your hands are reaching forward and grabbing at Jaemin by the front of his shirt, pulling at it with all your might until he crashes onto you, both of your chests glued onto each other.

Both your hands are on his chest while his are on your waist. The air’s warm with a bit of chill in the air, the dripping rain drops and honking car horns act as background music to you and Jaemin’s scene, the later pulling you flush against him and you feel your shirt dampen from the water on his shirt. You’re holding in a breath, head lifting up to meet Jaemin’s gaze, the feeling from earlier coming back to you ten times as strong as before, as if constricting your lungs, making it hard for you to breath.

Jaemin’s eyes flick from yours onto your lips and you’re clutching at his shirt, finding it harder and harder to ground yourself when it feels as if you’re floating in mid air. Jaemin’s head dips down and you debate on closing your eyes, until the soft weight of his lips come on yours and every doubt disappears from your mind. Your eyes are closed and you stand on your tip toes to deepen the kiss.

His lips are slightly chapped, tastes like rain water with a mix of something sweet. His grip on your waist relaxes when the two of you separate for air, Jaemin slightly dipping back in to leave a peck on your lips. His mouth leaves yours fully when he leans back to look at you, hands coming up to caress your cheeks and slightly swollen lips. Your own hands works to sweep back his hair, letting you to finally get a clear view of his eyes.

Minutes pass while the two of you stare at each other, the moment finally breaking when Jaemin lets out a laugh and smile. “If all I had to do is give you my jacket and run in the rain for you to kiss me, I would’ve done it weeks ago.”

“Is a kiss all you wanted, Na Jaemin?” you tease, “I would’ve given it to you if it meant you leaving me alone.”

He’s pulling you into him again, eyes searching into yours while his lips stretch out into a smile. His hands tug at your cheek while he dips down once more, pressing a kiss onto your lips. “Not a chance. I want you, all of you.”

“Hello?” Jaemin leans down to your level when you don’t answer, breaking you out of your memory daze. “Am I asking too many questions?”

“It always takes me a while to put words together.” You pout at him. “It’s not you.”

He moves closer, his heart-stopping smile returning onto his lips. “Oh? Is it when we’re alone like this I make you speechless?”

“We’re dating, Nana.” You laugh. “You don’t make me speechless, not anymore. Especially after I found out what a dork you truly are.”

“But I can still make you blush.” His hands are suddenly on your hips, lifting you onto the railing and planting a kiss onto your kips, a spectacle anyone can see from all around the school. You let out a squeak when he bites onto your bottom lip, nibbling and dragging it with him as he breaks the kiss. You feel warmth spread all over your body, especially your cheeks, more so when he sends you his sweet-as-candy smile. “See? You’re too cute, peaches.”

The epitome of a high school stereotype would be the one standing just right in front of you; Na Jaemin, but now he’s the boy who got you a pink textbook just so you could match his hair, the boy who lends you his leather jacket when it’s cold, the boy who painted on blues, pinks, gold, reds and every color there is on your once white canvas.

You’re not sure when you started falling for Na Jaemin, all you knew was that falling for him wasn’t falling at all. It was walking into two arms and suddenly knowing you’re home.

“So does that mean you’re going to buy me a blue textbook?”

“Anything for my sweet peaches.”

502 notes · View notes

dirthavarens · 4 years

Text

more au solavellan thoughts

i really like the idea of solas being more open with mirani after he tells her the truth in crestwood. more open with his feelings, more open about the past, more open with his expressions and love.

i imagine he steals her away from camp in the middle of the night in the exalted plains to climb some rock formation (because of course now he’s going to use his magic nearly to its fullest and bend the earth around him to essentially form a staircase). she giggles and marvels at his magic, wondering if she can do the same. that’s for later.

for now he wishes to show her the sky as only he can see it. when blue and black meshed with soft wisps of emerald and gold. when the fade didn’t ooze like an infected wound, but coursed through reality like blood in her veins, air in her lungs.

certainly they can do this at camp, but he likes the quiet and so does she. not to mention there would be the prying eyes of curious guards and scouts.

no, it’s best to do this away from others, where only they exist. they talk and study the sky, occasionally become distracted by one another, until she falls asleep on his chest. when she “wakes” it’s into the world as he knew it. even in dreams, the sweet song of magic is everywhere. it blooms around her, rippling like waves on a pond. in this version of the fade, they are free and her magic is boundless.

cole always has more to say when mira knows the truth. he’s happier, freer than before. as a spirit of compassion it’s good to see his friend healing despite the hurt. scarring over despite the burning from within. she helps mend his heart, sooth his soul. fen’atisha, he calls her one day while they’re in the frostbacks. “the wolf’s peace”

cassandra doesn’t understand, though she hardly ever questions cole after he becomes more of a spirit. solas tells him to dismiss the notion, but agrees in his subtle ways. mira takes a liking to the offhanded title. it gives her hope for the future and what is to pass. she tries not to think of his plans; focuses on corypheus and ameridan and the deep roads instead.

their nights together at skyhold are passionate and tender. satisfied bodies lined in sweat with heavy breaths nestling close together under the covers as sweet nothings are whispered between humming lips.

he always wakes first, a habit from many years in his life before the veil. he watches her as she sleeps, knowing that her dreams are pleasant by the soft smile she wears. in truth, solas could die a happy man if he were to stay there. but there is a burden on his shoulders he wishes to carry alone. he is the lone wolf, the trickster, the heretic. how can he have such an extraordinary spirit with him on such a dark journey?

he knows he can leave, knows he can turn and run, but his pride won’t allow for such a cowardly move now. not when she’s all but sworn her life to him. hers was a life he would never take willingly, yet she gave it to him anyway. surely the monster he is to become will open her eyes.

such thoughts plague his mind often, but not often enough for her kiss to taste bitter or her words to sound like sour notes. no, she’s his perfect song. she spins a tapestry of peace and serenity around him, hanging it in the great halls of his too heavy soul. she’s opened the doors and allowed fresh air into weary and ancient bones. a new hope.

when he eases out of bed, she protests in her sleep, grumbling in elvish as she reaches for him.

“hamin, vhenan. there is time in the day for us yet,” he’ll coo as sweetly as the doves that gather in the courtyard. she’s content to hear his voice and doesn’t stir further while he dresses. he conjures a fire in place of the ashes that settled earlier in the morning and sets off for the kitchen to gather her breakfast.

the cook never bothers him as he’s content to stay out of her way as he gathers fruits and breads and cooks up eggs. solas wants to leave the tea out intentionally, but she delights in the abhorrent substance, so it comes along.

of course there are dignitaries already about in the main hall, trying to gather fresh information about the inquisitor’s private life, but solas can’t be bothered to stop and answer questions or give their idle gossip any purchase.

a knife-ear inquisitor would want a knife-ear lover, and they’re both mages. why wouldn’t they stay together? after all, birds of a feather. the words roll off of him like water off a duck’s back.

she’s never woken up to such treatment before solas came about. breakfast in bed doesn’t happen often, but he’s at least certain to bring her a morning tea. he brings her a feast on this morning and she wakes when she hears the door close behind him. his footfalls are careful, practiced, graceful as he ascends the steps.

“i hoped you still slept,” solas says when he sees her sitting up in bed. she doesn’t bother to cover her bare breasts in his company. unabashed, unashamed, free.

“planning on eating all of that yourself, were you?” she quips back, not missing a beat even as she stretches. he watches a little too eagerly as her form peeks from beneath the sheets.

“i thought i could wash it down with the tea once i had my fill.” sarcasm.

he slides into bed next to her and they slip easily into comfortable silence as they eat.

the plate and cup are set on the table to be taken downstairs. solas’ clothes again find their way to the floor and he into the bed.

her giggles turn to soft breaths that turn to his name moaned in delicate reverence.

thanks i’m turning that last one into a fic now. tah darlings.

#solavellan #solavellan hell #crestwood au #official tag for this bullshit #dragon age #hc #solavellan hcs #mirani lavellan #solas #dai

7 notes · View notes

passmeabook · 4 years

Text

Servamp: Macbeth & Macduff, Kuro & Mahiru

I was writing, and am still working on, an Ophelia MBTI analysis, and then I got an idea for an Ophelia tragic heroine meta, and from that came this. Ophelia and the Greed Arc have a lot of Shakespeare references and influences, and I found some interesting things while rereading through the arc. While Ophelia and Lawless have strong influences of Hamlet I would argue that Kuro and Mahiru have strong influences of Macbeth.

In this meta I’m going to be pointing out the similarities Kuro and Mahiru have to Macbeth and Macduff from Macbeth and how this might influence the future of the story.

Hypothesis: Tanaka has used parts of Macbeth and Macduff respectively to write Kuro and Mahiru. Can we use these two Shakespeare characters and perhaps infer what Tanaka intends to do with Kuro and Mahiru as the manga continues further along?

Kuro as Macbeth

In Ch. 24 “Tears” Lawless says this line to Kuro “Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood clean from your hand? No, this your hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine. Making the green one red.” Intriguingly this line is said while the both of them are fighting on a stage. Plays have traditionally been played on stages, so I wondered if this was deliberate. Especially since in Hyde’s flashback story to Ophelia the memory is literally played out in his mindscape on a stage, and when the memory is over the curtains close.

When Lawless is fighting Kuro on the stage he says this in reference to Kuro directly as he uses the word “you” instead of “my” when referring to the hand covered in blood. We even get Lawless stabbing Kuro in the hand with his rapier followed by a close up of Kuro’s pierced hand in the panel following the Macbeth line. Hyde by saying this to Kuro and using the word “you” instead of “my” is placing Kuro in the role of Macbeth.

Lawless changes the words in the line a bit, but the sentence comes from Shakespeare’s Macbeth Act 2 Scene 2 after Macbeth has murdered King Duncan in his sleep. The original sentence is Macbeth speaking about himself and he says “Whence is that knocking? How is ‘t with me when every noise appals me? What hands are here? Ha! They pluck mine eyes. Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red.” (Sparknotes Editors) In modern English this text reads as: “Where is that knocking coming from? What’s happening to me, that I’m frightened of every noise? Whose hands are these? Ha! They’re plucking out my eyes. Will all the water in the ocean wash this blood from my hands? No, instead my hands will stain the seas scarlet, turning the green waters red.” (Sparknotes Editors)

In Macbeth after Macbeth murders King Duncan he experiences great guilt that plagues him throughout the rest of the play. When Macbeth says that not all of the ocean could wash away the blood he is saying that the regret of committing this crime will stay with him forever; he will never be rid of the sin of the act of murder. The reason Macbeth murdered King Duncan is because he visited three witches and received three prophecies: 1. Macbeth will be Thane of Glamis (which he already is at the start of the play), 2. Macbeth will be Thane of Cawdor, and 3. Macbeth will be king (which is what drives him to murder King Duncan). Ironically Macbeth at the beginning of the play is presented as a hero. He is noble, courageous, and loyal to his cousin King Duncan. He is renowned throughout the Kingdom of Scotland as the greatest warrior in the entire country. Which is why his betrayal of Duncan is so poignant. That a noble and loyal warrior would murder his defenseless slumbering king was unimaginable treachery.

Similarities between Kuro and Macbeth become highlighted once you see the connection. As far as we the readers know Kuro had a close relationship with The Creator, and yet he was the one who murdered him. We know that The Creator and Kuro had a conversation before his death, and The Creator is shown to be sitting down and seems to be relaxed around Kuro. Kuro essentially murders The Creator when he is defenseless just as Macbeth murders King Duncan when he is defenseless. Another similarity is the guilt Kuro and Macbeth hold over the murder they have committed. Macbeth’s guilt follows him to his death, and Kuro’s follows him for several centuries. Macbeth’s line of “Methought I heard a voice cry, “Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep”—the innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the raveled sleave of care, The death of each day’s life, sore labor’s bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course, Chief nourisher in life’s feast.” (Sparknotes Editors) refers to Macbeth’s inability to truly rest and be at ease now that he has committed the murder of King Duncan. Macbeth’s conscience will not allow him to sleep because the guilt will not leave his mind. Which parallels Kuro and his inability to move on from his regret of The Creator’s death.

I also thought that the three witches in Macbeth were interesting because you can parallel them with C3. As of Ch. 99 we’ve found out that C3 was originally CCC which stands for “Conjurer Control Convention”, and the fact that there are three C’s as well as three witches, and that these are the entities that deliver the information that results in a murder is thought provoking. We the readers don’t know the contents of C3’s letter beyond the fact that it held information about The Creator and that it asked the Servamps to kill The Creator. For all we know there could have been more included.

A great callback connection to Kuro’s hand wound by Hyde and the metaphorical blood on his hands from the murder of the Creator is in Ch. 31 “I’m Not Wrong”. Mahiru has entered Kuro’s mind and Kuro is saying how he never wants to make another decision ever again if he’s just going to regret it, and that he’ll only do things another person tells him to do. When Mahiru tells Kuro that accepting a decision a person makes is wrong takes courage, we have the speech bubble in the same panel that shows Kuro’s right hand, the hand Hyde stabbed in Ch. 24 “Tears”, covered in blood. This is deliberate because it is the only time in this sequence of dialogue that it is shown bloody. The rest of the time the hand is clean.

Also in Ch. 24 “Tears” we have Kuro’s shadow while fighting Hyde appear to have only four fingers, and in the above photo Kuro’s thumb is slightly obscured and seems to blend into his palm. Making it seem as though at first glance if you don’t look hard enough that he has only four fingers. With real lions they have five fingers on their front paws, but what we’d consider the thumb is much higher up their paw almost in their wrist area, so it sometimes looks as though they only have four fingers. Kuro’s claws are also made up of four appendages. In Ch. 2 “Tsubaki” after he has slashed Belkia his hands show two long claws and in between them are two shorter claws.

The similarities between Kuro and Macbeth end at their guilt. In the play Macbeth continues to murder, and Kuro has decided he will never make another decision on his own ever again becoming passive. Kuro has also faced his guilt and acknowledged he was wrong, and through the series has tried slowly, but surely, to change and become a different, better person than he was before.

Mahiru as Macduff

What truly stands out to me as Mahiru sharing similarities with Macduff is that in Macbeth Macduff is a foil to Macbeth, and his overall good character and noble qualities are supposed to contrast against Macbeth’s ambition and pride. Mahiru and Kuro are definitely opposites with Mahiru’s All Work vs Kuro’s All Play, but there are more subtle instances where Mahiru parallels Macduff. In the play Macduff is suspicious of King Duncan’s death and suspects Macbeth. Mahiru while not knowing about The Creator still wonders in Ch. 25 “SOS.” ‘What happened with you in the past? Just who did you kill? Or did you not kill anyone? What did you do with the majority vote? Did you approve of the-’, so there is a small parallel of Mahiru being curious of Kuro’s actions that may have resulted in a death in the past just as Macduff is suspicious of Macbeth’s involvement in King Duncan’s death.

Another parallel I found between Mahiru and Macduff is knocking. In Macbeth Macduff knocks on the door of Macbeth’s estate, where King Duncan had been staying. Macduff’s duty is to wake the king, and when he goes to wake King Duncan he finds him dead. Macduff’s knocking has been thought to represent Macbeth’s conscience knocking on his moral door. It’s also been thought to foreshadow that Macbeth’s opponent in the play is Macduff who’s knocking startles Macbeth after he has murdered King Duncan. Macbeth even has the line “Wake Duncan with your knocking. I would thou couldst.” which means “Wake Duncan with your knocking. I wish you could.” (Sparknotes Editors) to emphasize the regret he feels over killing Duncan.

In Ch. 31 “I’m Not Wrong” Mahiru is shown to say that he doesn't need a weapon to be let into Kuro’s black box. Only a knock. Just as Macduff can represent Macbeth’s conscience with his knocking, so can Mahiru represent Kuro’s with his. Only Mahiru and Kuro have much happier results than Macbeth and Macduff do with Mahiru guiding Kuro to confront his regret and telling him he was wrong to make the decision he did.

With Mahiru seeming to parallel Macduff in some ways it makes me wonder if there are more similar points between the two. In Macbeth Macduff was born by a cesarean section, and since Mahiru’s birth is mysterious and the circumstances around it haven’t yet been revealed to us it makes me wonder if Mahiru also was born via c-section. Along with what other secrets Uncle Toru hasn’t told us about Mahiru’s birth.

Conclusion

After analyzing Kuro and Mahiru’s similarities to Macbeth and Macduff I don’t think Tanaka will use references from Macbeth anymore, not so prominently at the very least. The Greed Arc is over, but the story still continues on. The best idea I can gather from this is that Mahiru may have a birth story similar to Macduff, or share the circumstances that their births are outside of the norm. Macbeth’s influence seems to have run its course in the series. Still, the way it was used in the Greed Arc for Kuro and Mahiru was incredibly well done and subtle.

I do find it hilarious that when Hyde uses the Macbeth line on Kuro in Ch. 24 “Tears” he’s just telling Kuro that blood from murder is on his hand. He doesn't realize that Kuro feels immense regret for killing The Creator, just as Macbeth feels immense regret for killing King Duncan.

I apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes. Thank you for reading this far.

Sources:

SparkNotes Editors. “No Fear Shakespeare.” SparkNotes.com, SparkNotes LLC, 2005, www.sparknotes.com/nofear/shakespeare/shakespeare/

Pictures:

Ch. 24 @pastenaga

Ch. 31 @lichtjekyll

#servamp #servamp meta #servamp kuro #shirota mahiru

21 notes · View notes

rayshippouuchiha · 5 years

Text

Merthur drabble

So this is the first time I’ve written something since I wrote a Gary Stue x Mary Sue kind of fic at age 11, so don’t judge it too hard ok?😅Also, it’s more a collection of ideas that spawned from the first one than a drabble, since I didn’t want to expand too much on it. Do tell me what you think please 😊

The idea was born over me wondering “since Merlin is immortal, even from physical wounds and poison, what would’ve happened if his magic was discovered by Uther and he’s taken to the pyre?”. Bonus points if you catch the reference to an episode in the later seasons of the show that I sneaked in there. This would take place right before Morgana goes to the druids the first time (meaning she is still mostly loyal to Uther, Arthur and Camelot). Maybe Myror doesn’t try to kill Arthur during the tournament but instead disguises himself as a servant and tries to do it when he finds himself alone with Arthur in a corridor, with Merlin coming from around the corner just in time to catch him.

Merlin is too far away and the knife was thrown from such close range that he can’t save Arthur subtly as usual, and is forced to conjure a magical barrier between Arthur and the assassin instead, while still in Arthur’s field of vision. Using the assassin’s moment of shock against him, Arthur is able to kill him but is then consumed by the feeling of betrayal and rage. He does what he always does when he wishes to see someone punished: he takes Merlin to Uther, initially expecting him to be merely banished from the kingdom on account of having used magic to save his life. Pretty soon, he realizes that Uther does not care in the slightest what the magic was used for, only that it existed, when he declares that Merlin will suffer the ultimate punishment for his treason: the pyre.

Arthur ardently tries to protest, of course he does, but it is already too late. There is no going back, and due to his strong feelings on the matter Uther confines him to his rooms, watched by half a dozen guards, so that he would be unable to help Merlin escape. He also decrees that he cares too much about a mere servant, and to teach him a lesson he will be forced to witness the execution himself

Merlin is taken to the dungeons, bound in cold iron shackles (or something similar), unable to access his magic to free himself, and is visited by Morgana.

She starts cursing out Arthur for his part in his fate, but he begs her to forgive him. “He’s an idiot”, he says, “but he didn’t mean for this to happen. He just thought that I had been lying to him all along, and he wanted me banished for it so he acted impulsively. We both know that if he had taken a moment to think he would have sent me away himself then changed his mind in a few days after speaking to you and Gaius. You didn’t see his face when Uther declared I was going to the pyre. Please don’t blame him”

Morgana then tries to tell him that she will get him out somehow, but he convinces her otherwise, since she already attempted to allow Tom to escape recently, and thus would be the main suspect. And besides, he is being too closely guarded for any escape attempt to succeed without the use of magic.

He explains that he knows she has magic, and begs her forgiveness for not helping her sooner. He suggests that she make up a reason for going on trips occasionally, and use that time to ask the Druids living nearby to teach her to control her powers. Finally, he grabs her hand, smiles sadly and says:

“You are the kindest, fairest lady I have ever known. Don’t let your fear and anger make you lose sight of that. I am honored to have called you my friend. And remember, never lose hope, because at the very least I will make sure my death reminds Arthur that magic is not always used for evil. He will change things once he is king, I know it. So have faith, milady. And protect that cabbagehead for me once I’m gone, will you? He gets into so much trouble, he’s gonna need someone at his back”

Morgana loses her composure and begins to cry, releasing heaving sobs while Merlin tries to comfort her. He tells her that it will be alright, and to stay with Gaius and Gwen the next day. He does not wish for them to see him die this way.

The next morning at dawn, he is taken before the stake where his “crimes” are read out loud. He is then tied to the stake and allowed to speak his last words. Merlin draws himself up as much as he can, and declares in a loud voice that he didn’t choose to learn magic, and was instead born with it, and in all his years he has never once used his abilities for evil. He proudly proclaims that he has only ever used his magic in service of Camelot and his lord, Prince Arthur. He killed the afanc and thus ended the plague upon the kingdom. He enchanted the blade that defeated the griffin. He defended Arthur from bandits and assassins from the shadows. He discovered the treachery of the sorcerer Edwin then used his own magic to reverse the spell that would have killed Uther. He killed the Sidhe Sophia and Aulfric before they could sacrifice Arthur’s life to return to Avalon. He took part in the forging of the blade that ultimately felled the wraith of Tristan de Bois. He convinced Anhora, guardian of the unicorns, to give Arthur another chance when he first failed his trials. He saved Arthur from the bite of the Questing Beast by offering his own life in return, then struck down the sorceress Nimueh when she attempted to take the life of an innocent person instead. He defeated the dark sorcerer Cornelius Sigan and his magical army, then sealed his soul away once more.

Once finished listing his deeds, he looks Arthur directly in the eye and says with a tremulous smile “Arthur may think of me as an underachiever but I’m quite proud of those accomplishments. I… I can die happy”

Incensed, Uther gives the order to light the pyre while a heartbroken Arthur is forced to watch, held back by two guards as he desperately tries to run over and free Merlin from his bonds. The fire ignites, and Merlin can’t help but scream. Arthur closes his eyes. Next to him, Leon turns away.

One hour passes. Then three. Then six. And yet, Merlin’s screams still ring out over the crowd. Many people, initially eager to witness the execution, now thoroughly regret coming. The screams, they reverberate in their minds, and those with family members around his age feel sick to their stomachs. No one in the world, not even the most heinous of criminals, deserves such a brutal, horrendous pain, and if his words before the pyre was lit are to be believed Merlin deserves this least of all. No one can understand. There is no wind to blow away the flames, no rain, and Merlin is clearly burning, yet he just won’t die.

Looking closely, it is apparent that something strange is afoot. Merlin has burns all over his body, his skin is red or blistered or charred black by turns. In some places, one can even see the white of his bone peek through his wounds. However, after a few seconds, the blackened skin seems to heal and turns pink once more, only to burn again.

Uther orders several of the guards to move forward, and use spears to end Merlin’s misery. They stab him in the gut, and Merlin’s blood dies the ground crimson. After a few minutes, Merlin’s screams cease and a sigh of relief sweeps through everyone present.

…

But it is not over. Soon, Merlin’s shrieks start anew, and one knight slits his throat in desperation. But to no avail. Suddenly, as the wound at his throat heals itself, Merlin’s cries restart. But they have changed. The ground shakes, and the sky turns black from countless dark clouds suddenly converging over Camelot as he loses control of his magic. And over the cacophony of noise from the thunder and the rumbling of the earth and the screams of the frightened public, Merlin can be heard…. Begging someone to please, please kill him.

Arthur weeps helplessly in the grasp of the guards. Uther is flabbergasted. He doesn’t understand what is going on, and thus is forced to call his resident magic expert to the scene. Gaius has to be dragged kicking and screaming before him, tears running down his face.

“What is it you want, your majesty? Isn’t it enough that you are killing the closest thing to a son to me, for the crime of saving your son’s life? Do I have to watch it happen as well?”

Uther forgives his insolence, just this once, and instead asks why it is taking Merlin so long to die. Gaius almost can’t believe what is happening, but ultimately explains that Merlin is called Emrys the Immortal by the druids, who say he is magic itself. He never believed this literally, having only thought they meant he is a being of unfathomable magical power, but it is now apparent that their words are nothing but the truth. Merlin can’t be killed, and continuing with this atrocity is only meaningless torture.

Uther agrees, and has Merlin taken into the castle. Arthur immediately frees himself from the stunned guards and goes after him, only to find him in the corner of one of the cells with his wounds slowly healing by themselves, crying silently while occasionally letting out heartbreaking whimpers. He is staring at the wall blankly, and doesn’t react at all when Arthur speaks to him. His mind wasn’t able to withstand the excruciatingly torturous experience, and has shattered.

Eventually, Arthur convinces Uther to allow him to keep Merlin with him, since he is clearly not a threat to anyone. After a while, Merlin stops making any sound and will only look ahead, unseeingly, only capable of following orders, completely unable to do anything by himself. Wracked with guilt, Arthur then does his best to take care of Merlin with the help of Morgana, Gwen and Gaius; feeding him, bathing him, dressing him, and comforting him when he wakes from night terrors in the middle of the night. Looking after someone who is essentially disabled eventually takes a toll on Gwen and Arthur’s relationship, and they agree they are better off as friends.

At some point, Arthur is attacked again and Merlin instinctively protects him with magic: this is the first action he has taken by himself since the pyre. Arthur breaks down into sobs, hugging Merlin close and begging him to say something, ANYTHING. Merlin doesn’t answer.

It takes many months, perhaps even years, but eventually with Arthur’s loving care Merlin does get better. His very first word after his ordeal is “Arthur”.

Arthur is so overwhelmingly relieved the first time Merlin makes a sassy comeback again that he falls to his knees in the middle of a council meeting. A panicked Merlin helps him to his feet, and Arthur uses his arm to pull him into a backbreaking hug. Merlin becomes Arthur’s most trusted advisor, and there is no threat they don’t face together.

In the meantime, his words before the pyre and the way he continues to protect Arthur, even in his current state, move the hearts of the people and obviously Arthur himself. Eventually, the protests in favor of repealing the ban on magic get so ridiculous, with so many people behind them, that even Uther has to concede defeat. Forced to face the truth about the nature of magic users and the reality of his actions against them, Uther health deteriorates from the stress and he confesses his mistakes to Arthur and Morgana, particularly in regards to what happened with Ygraine and Vivienne. It is a long time before either of them will speak to him again after that, and it takes almost until he is on his death bed. When he takes his very last breath, their forgiveness feels like absolution.

Morgana takes Merlin’s words to her that night to heart, and settles for being named an official princess once Arthur is king, and being given her very own stretch of land to lord over. She still spends much of her time in the castle, and once Merlin is back to his old self somewhat, she visits him often to practice magic, dote on Aithusa and share gossip. She eventually makes Morgause come around and she becomes Morgana’s most fearsome guard and protector. She is also given a place in court by Arthur.

Arthur names Merlin Court Sorcerer, and eventually their devotion for each other blossoms into a love so passionate, so fiercely protective on both parts that no one dares speak out against it. Gwen agrees to be their surrogate to create heirs to the throne, with loving support from her husband Lancelot. He and the other Knights of the Round Table accept Merlin as one of their own, and are almost as protective of him as their king. Soon, Uther’s supporters, magic haters and dissenters stop appearing.

With the entirety of Albion behind them, Merlin and Arthur bind their lives together in what is later called the wedding of the millennium.

As prophecy stated, together Merlin and Arthur usher in an era of peace the likes of which the world had never known, for both magical and non magical people. Once Arthur decides to retire, he leaves the kingdom in the capable hands of their first born, and then they leave to explore the world. They come back from time to time, of course, to check in, to share their wisdom, and they defend Albion with everything they have when called, but for the most part they just travel and revel in each other’s presence.

As their legend spreads throughout the world, people will sometime claim to have seen them in one place or another. Sometimes it’s true, sometimes it isn’t. And when Albion’s greatest time of need comes, they are there to face it. Together.

#Merlin #Merthur #OHHH THIS IS GOOD #submission

71 notes · View notes

c-atm · 4 years

Text

Setting the record Straight

White Diamond waited patiently for him to arrive, eyes closed sitting in her crossed legged position, the perfect symbol of tranquility. Hiding the fact that she was completely and utterly nervous for this conversation as well as cracked with guilt over taking so long to have it, but the time has come. If they were to continue helping shape a brighter future for gems both on Homeworld and abroad, shed had to start at home.

The sounds of her door sliding open alerted the tyrant turned pacifist, her eyes opened and she felt a bit more pressure on her gem. She gave a smile despite the pressure in her cut.

"Starlight, thank you for coming and Twilight, what a welcomed surprise." She looked at them eye to eye, fighting that small wrinkle of pride, seeing their surprised faces at her newer human height. She had Yellow change her for this meeting, She didn't want to feel as if she was condescending at all to him..Them now, during this talk.

She didn't expect to be slightly looking up at them both, not physically anyway.

"White." Twilight...Connie said evenly. Indifferent lips in a line, a deep stare in her black eyes, right hand in her lab coat pocket, left interlocked with Steven's, as always.

White knew better to think this woman feared her, now or ever. She wouldn't be surprised if the human woman already had a plan to crack her, if things ever went sour and the only thing that's keeping her from initiating it is in her left hand. She bit back a sigh, she did deserve her ire.

"Hey, White." Steven, her starlight, spoke in his gentle way. A presence of kindness and love, even after everything he's been through. Though he now held a weight of strength and command as well, with zero fear towards White.

White would never stop adoring him and how he always seems to change more and more each time, same with Connie as well. Even if she knew they didn't feel the same about her. That's not her choice.

"Yellow said you wanted to speak with me?"

"Yes.. Please?" White offered them a pillow for them to sit on in front of her.

"I'll leave you to it." Connie started as she released his hand.

"Wait Connie.I would like you to stay, I...I owe you this conversation as well."

Connie looked towards the matriarch for a moment, before nodding asking a seat besides Steven.

White felt the nerves she didn't possess rattle like little jumping beans. In front of her was the victim and witness of her most haunting act...The removal of Steven's gem. She could dissipate at any moment from the anxiety alone. The concerned looks on her two guests didn't help either.

"White...Is everything ok?"

She gave Steven a reassuring grin at the worrying tone..She didn't deserve such attention not from these two.

"Y-yes." She stuttered as she looked downward toward her white knuckles and trimmed nails. Her face glowing pink in embarrassment. "No...It's not." She shook her head. "Steven...Connie…" she inhaled deeply into her non-existent lungs, turning to them with pleading eyes. " I'm sorry for what I've done to you two."

Steven's face held a bit of confusion at what she was talking about. His mind going over recent visits and meetings with White and not finding anything out of the ordinary haughty annoyance.

"Sorry?"

Steven looked over at his Heartberry, the cold voice from her lips could make a room of Sapphires feel like a sauna.

"Six...Years." Connie growled as she ball her fist to the side. "It took six years for you to apologize," her voice rose little by little, " and while that might mean nothing to a multi-eon being like yourself, that six years of holding these feeling of rage and sadness." Her eyes were moist as her voice reached a roar. Of recurring nightmares! Each playing a what if scenario of him dying BY YOUR HAND only to wake up and play nice with You! The one who got closet of taking him away from me!"

"Connie!" Steven called looking up at her and grabbing her hand. She was poised to attack, with her dead cold glare and waist level hands held like blades. He knew the R&D member enough to know that she would attack with precision and brutality and possibly regret it after it was done.

"Mister.." She looked at him receiving a shake of his head as a response. She breathed deeply and rested back to her seat, her back facing White. "I'm not apologizing. I don't regret what I was planning to do."

"Con-"

"I don't expect you to." White sincerity was evident. "Your hate is founded, Connie. I will take it...If it allows me to have some communication with you." All she got was a slight glance and sneer from the woman.

The man shook his head as he looked towards White. "This is quite the heavy subject, White." He sighed.

"I apologize...but It needs to be addressed." White offered. " It ...has plagued me. Vision of my past actions..Most predominantly that event. Usually when I fall into stasis."

"You've been sleeping and having nightmares." Steven surmised.

"I supposed...Though the weight of my sin against you two is always present, regardless." White peered at the young adult, who gave her an even smirk. "Why aren't you mad at me, still?"

Steven brows rose at the question. " Hmph…Maybe because my hands aren't exactly free of shards themselves."

"None of our hands are clean." Connie added in a low tone, getting a surprised look from White.

"Peace is relative and progress is the result of trial and error." Steven offered to Connie, before turning to White. "That being said.." Steven sighed "I don't have the mindset to be mad anymore… Not after I've tried to crush your gem after you gave me free control of your body" He turned away shame on his face "I took advantage of your good will and wield it as a weapon... and that was after I shattered and realigned Jasper."

"Jasper was a mistake." Connie and White spoke in tandem.

"One that I still live with." Steven retorted. "The same with my actions against you, White." Steven admitted.

"Starlight. That...That was a result of what I did to you."

"Compounded with all you were going through."

"Still doesn't excuse what I did…." Steven argued with the two, before turning to White. "What we did to each other. " He exhaled given her and apologetic glance. "I never apologized to you."

"I don't deserve it."

"You'd try to help me when I was corrupted."

"Everyone did." White smiled glancing at Connie. "Some are immensely more effective than others."

Connie gave a slight nod at her praise-filled voice.

Steven gave Connie’s hand a quick squeeze of appreciation. Before turning back to White.

"I didn't enter this conversation, looking for forgiveness. Just to tell 'clear the air'..I believe that's the term...Between us." White started seriously.

Steven nodded. "Fair enough. Please." Steven proposed.

White lips pressed hard together as she gathered her thoughts. "I can't truly apologize enough for what I've done. Taking your gem from you, even in an attempt to bring back Pink, as pathetic of an excuse that is, was a horrendous wrongdoing." Her voice started breaking. "I nearly lost a chance to have a connection with you, Something I truly treasure even as strained as it is." She trembled as the density of her guilt hit her. " I am so sorry for hurting you two in such a way."

"I can't forget what you done." Connie breathed out. "Ever...I don't forgive you either." She continued coldly. "I was held against my will unable to do anything, while you plucked his life force out of him, literally; all because you didn't believe that he was who he always was." She turned forward glaring at the smaller diamond. "You nearly killed the most important person in my life, in front of me..While making me feel useless and powerless...You broke me,White and I truly hate you.."

"Connie." Steven looked shocked

She breathed out her hand up.."Or at least I did…" She folded her arms looking indifferent " You have changed from the gem you used to be. It's hard and unfair not to acknowledge that." Connie's eyes relaxed the slightest of measures. "I don't yet forgive, nor am I a fan of yours, but I don't hate you,White..I can't hate someone who's actually trying to change themselves and In the future, who knows."

"That's more than I deserve from you, Twilight." White voiced in true gratitude.

Connie nodded as she turned to Steven. Who looked towards the ceiling

"I don't know what to say actually." Steven's honest voice caught them both off guard. " I've held so much rage, fear, vengeance against you, but I know I've never hated you, not truly." Steven looked down at White. "I'm never gonna forget what was done to me, but also can't forget what I attempted to do to you. The things I've done...The only thing I can do is. Start to forgive you."

White was surprised at his statement. Her palm covering her mouth. "Steven…?"

"Listen. It's like Connie said. You aren't the same gem. " Steven pointed at the matriarch. "You've given yourself fully to gems allowing them to talk about their own problem..Turning to their avatar so they can workout their problems. You give your support to Little Homeworld R&D, from essence, to tools, to text and more." Steven rubbed the back of his head a feeling of modesty. "You're essential to era 3, especially on the whole ambassador front...White, you have changed from before and still a long way from what you can be. You're leagues better from what you were.." Steven laid a hand on her shoulder. "You earned a chance at forgiveness. Just keep doing what you doing."

White couldn't speak, too afraid to destroy the gifts these two gave her. The simple fact that they didn't cut her out was more than what she thought, but to also be given a chance to earn their forgiveness. White could only nod as tears of relief and appreciation ran freely from her eyes.

#fanfiction #steven universe fanfiction #steven universe #Steven universe au #steven universe fandom #fighting flirty #connverse #connie mahaswaren #Mister and heart berry #white diamond #ANGST AND FEELS #Angst with a hopeful ending #they talk about CYM #White feels remorseful

16 notes · View notes

sweetscentences · 5 years

Text

Small Changes: Chapter One

Can also be read on AO3 here. A major thank you to @comparedfever for beta-ing this.

Summary: Doflamingo and his crew don't touch the treasure chest Law is hidden in. A few other things change too.

Rosinante had always imagined death would be painless. Not the act of dying, no. He’d known his fate was going to be something bloody and cruel since his brother shot their father. But he figured death itself would be blank- as devoid of pain as it was of joy, if there was any consciousness after death.

But Rosinante was conscious, and very much aware. Aware of the blackness of the eyelids he couldn’t open. Aware of a burning pain throughout his torso. Aware of the deep part of him that always hummed when he used his Devil Fruit.

It was humming now. A heavy, persistent feeling, almost stronger than the pain.

It ached to keep it up. Rosinante didn’t know why he did. He started to let it slip, only to remember in an instant.

Law.

Law needed to get away.

Had he already escaped, Rosinante wondered. How long had he been drifting in this empty space. Was it seconds? Hours? Days?

He had no way to know.

What if, a horrible part of him whispered, in dying while using his Devil Fruit, he had stolen Law’s sound forever.

Law had already lost too much.

It didn’t matter that he had learned sign language, or at least enough to be insulting, when he’d thought Rosinante was mute. Rosinante had promised himself that Law wouldn’t lose anything else under his care.

(He had wondered, then, if that was how Sengoku felt when he’d taken Rosinante in.)

He thought about the panic on Law’s face when he’d told him his plan. About the fact that he had put it there. Rosinante’s stomach rolled. His hands twitched.

His hands twitched.

Dead men didn’t move.

Hope grew, uncertain and wild, in Rosinante’s chest.

He took a deep, rattling breath, and tasted frost on the cold air.

His eyes felt like they were welded shut. Rosinante forced them open. He’d always been a stubborn bastard.

He was blinded for a moment, despite the dimness of the light. It took a long while for his eyes to adjust. He used that time to feel around.

His fluffy coat was the only thing between him and the cold, hard ground. He was bare-chested, apart from bands of fabric wrapped tightly around his torso. He realized, when his eyes finally cleared and focused, that they were the remains of his shirt.

He poked carefully at them, expecting to find agony where he’d been shot. There was pain, sharp and nearly blinding, but not as bad as he’d been expecting.

Rosinante felt around, finding a wall behind him, and took a steadying breath before hauling himself into a sitting position. He dropped back against the wall, chest heaving, head spinning, and fighting the urge to vomit.

It took a few minutes for him to gather himself enough to open his eyes. He hadn’t realized he’d closed them.

He was in a cave, small and cramped, with blood stained snow spilling from the mouth of it. A distant part of Rosinante realized that it was probably his.

But that didn’t matter. It didn’t matter how he had gotten there. It didn’t matter who had saved him. It didn’t matter why. The only thing that mattered was making sure Law had gotten away.

Law, who was collapsed next to him.

Rosinante bit down the urge to shout, panic settling as quickly as it arrived when he saw Law’s body rattle with breath. But he was breathing too heavily, too quickly, curled pitifully around himself half on Rosinante’s coat, and half on the cold ground. Rosinante rolled him onto his back as carefully as he could. Law didn’t stir.

Rosinante’s heart caught in his throat. Law was the lightest sleeper he knew- plagued by paranoia and nightmares the moment he closed his eyes.

His skin was flushed with fever, warm when Rosinante brushed a hand across his forehead. The bags under his eyes looked more like bruises. That, and the blood on Law’s hands came together to paint a picture Rosinante didn’t want to see.

Law hadn’t escaped.

He had heard everything that happened, and had dragged Rosinante’s dying body god knew how far to save his life. He had to have used the Devil Fruit he couldn’t control to do it.

That eased and frightened Rosinante in equal measure. A week after he had first eaten his Devil Fruit, he lost control. He let go of the careful balance and ease the fruit demanded. He still wasn’t sure what happened, Sengoku had never told him, but he did know he hadn’t woken for two days.

The Op-Op Fruit was known to exhaust it’s user. Rosinante had decided it was worth it- the risk of a coma nothing compared to keeping Law alive. But now, the absence of bright white patches the only thing proving that Law wasn’t still dying, he wasn’t so sure.

With careful hands, Rosinante adjusted Law’s hat so it sat more snugly on his head. He rested back against the cave wall, and let his eyes fall closed.

Doflamingo had tried to kill him. He was still alive. Doflamingo had tried to take Law, but he was still with Rosinante.

He needed a plan to get them off Minion Island. To get them far, far away. Out of North Blue and Doflamingo’s reach. It wouldn’t be as simple as going to the Marines- Vergo had proven that, and Rosinante couldn’t imagine Law would be happy to wake up in the government’s care.

Rosinante needed a plan. But first, he needed rest. He couldn’t keep them both alive if he was dead on his feet.

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

Rosinante didn’t know how long he slept, but when he woke the first thing he did was gather Law in his arms and drag them both to another cave.

Doflamingo and his pirates would be looking for Rosinante’s body, if by any chance they’d discovered it gone. It was impressive how far Law had managed to drag them, but the trail of blood left behind wasn’t inconspicuous, even as it was being covered by fresh snow.

Rosinante let himself rest for another day before sneaking down into the nearest populated town. He stole new clothes, food, and information.

It was good to get a warm shirt on, to replace his makeshift bandages with real ones. Better still to not hear a single whisper of his disappearing ‘corpse’.

As far as Rosinante could tell, Doflamingo hadn’t started hunting Law yet. They could make it out.

Arranging their escape took longer than Rosinante cared for. Stealing enough makeup to hide the tattoos on his face and the worst of his bruises took time. But he needed to. If he didn’t, he would be too conspicuous when he slunk into town.

He did this six times. He bought passage on a boat bound for East Blue twice, once further north, once all the way to Sabaody, and twice to South Blue.

The smallest part of Rosinante was glad that Law was comatose. He never would have agreed to being bundled into a large, over the shoulder bag, for Rosinante to carry.

It was easier that way for him to jump last minute onto a ship bound for West Blue.

They were at the edge of North Blue when the ship stopped to restock, and Rosinante slipped off. In the morning he snuck on another ship headed in an entirely different direction.

After that, Rosinante dyed his hair black. He was still paler than Law, but it would be easier to pass them off as blood related this way, if anyone saw them.

He repeated this shuffle three more times, over the course of a month. Law would wake sometimes, but was never lucid, only staring blankly at Rosinante as he tried to get him to eat and drink. His fever would break in brief spurts, but that only made Law’s sleep more fitful. He would twist painfully, scratching at the fading marks Amber Lead had left on him, and sobbing in the sloping language of Flevance that Rosinante had been trying to master. What he could understand was begging- desperate crying out for people Law had lost. Rosinante heard his own name more than once.

Each time he did, Rosinante would take Law’s hands in one of his, the other running through Law’s hair as he tried to soothe him in his clumsy Flevean. Sometimes it calmed Law. Other times, it made him cry harder.

On the fourth ship Rosinante travelled openly with Law, spinning a story of his son falling ill in West Blue, and of their desperate need to return home to the South. Instead they stopped in East Blue, on a small island in a smaller village that Rosinante had never heard of.

The passing of days brought more color to Law’s skin. His fever was the lowest it had been since they left North Blue, breaking and staying away longer and longer each time.

“Is there an inn in this village?” Rosinante asked the first person he met- a friendly looking old man sitting by the docks, who had been watching Law with concern. “My son caught a fever while we were traveling. I thought it best to stop until he’s well.”

The old man softened immediately, his eyes darting from Rosinante to Law, to the worried slope of Rosinante’s shoulders.

“Poor boy,” the old man hummed, his words shaped carefully and slowly with the practiced ease of someone used to speaking to foreigners. Rosinante had a knack for languages, it was an essential part of being a spy, but he’d still spoken to the old man in clumsy Eastern with the softest lilt of a Western accent.

“The inn is usually full this time of year,” the old man said. Before Rosinante’s heart could start to sink, he added, “but I know Makino keeps a few rooms over her bar free, if you don’t mind the noise.”

Rosinante bit down the desperate urge to laugh. “I’d be grateful for anything, in truth,” he said, and let the old man lead them through town.

He brought them to a homey looking bar, pushing inside and ignoring the early evening crowd as he waved to the woman behind the counter. Her eyes widened when she took in Rosinante’s height, before immediately fixing on Law in his arms. She slid a drink to a man down the bar without looking, and hurried over.

She said something to them in a language Rosinante didn’t recognize, before the old man held up a hand to calm her.

“It’s alright, Makino,” he soothed. “This man is only looking for a place to stay while his son recovers from a fever.”

Makino’s brow pinched in sympathy. “Of course. You can stay here as long as you need, mister...”

She trailed off, blinking at Rosinante expectantly. Something about it felt like a challenge.

Rosinante offered her the hand that wasn’t holding Law. He hadn’t forgotten his manners.

“Cora Rosinante,” he told her, thinking of what Law tended to call him. It would be easier to explain his son calling him by his surname, rather than a new name entirely.

“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Makino,” she said, her grip on Rosinante’s hand surprisingly firm. He nodded politely to her, before offering his hand to the old man.

“I apologize for not introducing myself earlier,” he said, but the old man waved him off before giving his hand an enthusiastic shake.

“It’s no harm at all,” he soothed. “I’m Mayor Woop Slap.” He grinned widely at Rosinante’s surprised hum, before turning to Makino. “Why don’t you get Cora settled in, and I’ll bring the doctor.”

“Doctor?” Rosinante asked, even as Makino nodded.

The mayor huffed. “Of course the doctor! Your boy’s had that fever for some time, hasn’t he?”

His stare was surprisingly sharp, and Rosinante couldn’t bring himself to lie quick enough.

“I don’t have much money,” he admitted instead.

He’d always kept a considerable amount on him when he’d been acting as a pirate, but most of it had been eaten away by transport and the assorted medicines he’d been bringing Law.

“That doesn’t matter as much as you might think, around here,” Makino said kindly. “Now, why don’t you come upstairs with me?”

Rosinante found himself nodding and following after her, up a staircase behind the bar and through a narrow hallway to a cozy room with two beds. Rosinante carefully set Law on one, as Makino fussed with the covers.

“I’m afraid the bed might be a bit small,” she said. “We don’t see many people as tall as you.”

“Not many places do,” Rosinante laughed.

He was spared from any awkwardness in the silence that followed by the mayor appearing in the doorway. He was followed by a stoop-shouldered old woman.

She didn’t say anything as she bustled over to Law, ignoring Rosinante in favor of checking Law’s pulse, temperature, and poking and prodding him in ways Rosinante assumed had medical purposes.

He thought he was being very patient, giving the doctor a fair amount of space to work with. That was until she turned to him and snapped, “stop looming over me!”

Rosinante backed up and tripped onto the other bed as she glared at him- arms windmilling. The moment he was settled she turned back to poking at Law.

“Any chance he caught some disease?” she asked.

Rosinante pushed down the cool anger that flickered in his chest. These days Law’s spots looked more like scars, or vitiligo, than Amber Lead.

“I think he’s just exhausted.” His voice was sharper than he meant it to be, and he felt Makino turn to eye him.

“What happened?”

Rosinante swallowed before answering- buying himself time. “He’s never slept well. But it’s been worse since he- he saw something terrible. It’s why we’ve been traveling.”

“What did he see?” the doctor asked, almost managing to sound indifferent.

“Someone who looked after him got shot.”

Makino made a sharp noise. The doctor’s shoulders slouched a bit more.

“Did this person die?”

Rosinante shrugged. “It certainly seemed that way.”

He had done his best to ignore any thoughts of Law- unnaturally silent and panicking- as he tried to stop Rosinante’s bleeding. Tried to wake him.

He didn’t want to think about what would have happened if he never woke.

The memory of Law shaking the treasure chest behind him as he bled out had been horrible enough. The feeling of his Devil Fruit swallowing the sound of screaming, worse.

(Law could be so terribly loud. In his anger. In his grief. His sound didn’t fit his small body; like he was bursting at the seams with feeling, and the only outlet it had was noise. It was ironic, in a twisted way, that he had suffered so silently through the Amber Lead. Rosinante wondered if he’d have the chance to grow into his voice now, or if it would always be the biggest part of him.)

“Was it pirates?” the mayor asked. “The attacks in West Blue have been so cruel lately.”

“It was a pirate,” Rosinante nodded, before offering the mayor a small smile. “Is my accent really that bad?”

The mayor rumbled a laugh. “Your accent is plenty good, boy, but my ears are better.”

Before Rosinante could say anything else, the doctor straightened up.

“You were right,” she told Rosinante. “I can’t see anything wrong with him beyond exhaustion, and a bit of malnourishment. All I can tell you to do is try to keep his temperature down and get him something to drink and eat when he’s awake.”

“But he will wake up? He’ll be alright?” Rosinante pressed, and the doctor raised a bushy eyebrow at him.

“I don’t see why he wouldn’t.”

The strings that had been holding Rosinante the whole journey were cut. He slumped forward, tucking his head to his hands. He tried, and failed, not to cry.

Rosinante wasn’t sure what he would have done, if he had gone through everything only to have Law kill himself trying to save him. It had been a thought too horrible to linger on. But it had plagued him every day that Law blinked at him with hazy eyes.

Law had never looked at him blankly, not even when he’d hated Rosinante. His eyes were the most expressive part of him. At first he’d watched Rosinante cruelly, sharply. The way that cold look had thawed felt like a miracle. Before they’d been caught, towards the end, Law’s eyes had been alight with something warm and new, even as he grew sicker. Rosinante could recognize the hope and affection only because they had been foreign to him too, once. The trust Law had looked at him with had almost been too much to bear.

Rosinante wanted nothing more than to live up to that trust, to that faith.

To have Law look through him, to see his clever eyes unfocused and dull; it turned Rosinante’s stomach.

Rosinante had fallen into the ocean only once after eating his Devil Fruit. Sengoku had seen it happen, had ordered a Marine to jump into the water after him and haul him out, but not before water had forced itself into Rosinante’s lungs.

It had burned. Burned in a way Rosinante had never felt before. But the worst part of it by far was the helplessness. No matter how hard he fought, he couldn’t move his limbs. He couldn’t fight the sea, couldn’t fight to save his own life. He could only watch darkness creep into his vision.

Being free from Doflamingo, being free from the fear of Law dying, it was better than the first breath he had taken after Sengoku had pounded on his back.

But, in a strange way, it hurt too. Just like his gasping breaths had.

Relief could be just as overwhelming as fear.

A small hand settled on Rosinante’s shoulder. He looked up to find Makino, the only person left in the room, smiling softly at him. She set a bowl of water and a small cloth on the table next to Law. Rosinante couldn’t quite find his voice to thank her.

“You should rest,” she told him. “It won’t help your son if you’re both exhausted.”

Rosinante had to clear his throat a few times before he could answer. “I’m not sure how to repay you for this.”

Makino shrugged. “Maybe you can help me fix some of the higher shelves over the bar. But we can talk about that in the morning.”

She left before Rosinante could say anything else, quietly closing the door behind her. The bar beneath them was rowdy, but a clap of Rosinante’s hands blocked that out.

He soaked the cloth Makino had left, wringing it out a few times before setting it on Law’s forehead. Then he reached into the bag he’d carried Law in before, rooting around for a minute before finding Law’s hat.

It would do more harm than good to put it on Law, he knew, but he’d never seen Law without it. He figured it must be some sort of comfort, so he pressed it into Law’s hands. Law’s fingers immediately curled around the fluffy brim, and he settled as Rosinante pulled the sheets up over him.

Rosinante laid down on the other bed, staying on his side to keep watch of Law’s chest rising and falling. Almost without realizing it, he began to hum, then sing, the quiet lullaby his father had sung for him when he was young.

It was a song about peace. About love, and safety. About family stronger than anything else. Law wouldn’t understand the words, if he could hear them, but Rosinante imagined the sentiment was easily understood.

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

In the morning Law was conscious long enough for Rosinante to bring him food and water. His movements as he ate and drank were mechanical. His eyes never focused on one spot in the room. Never focused on Rosinante. But when Law lay back down, his fever had broken.

Rosinante took the washcloth from Law’s forehead and re-wet it before heading downstairs to speak to Makino. She was wiping down the bar, chatting with a few patrons as she did. Rosinante knocked lightly on the doorframe to get her attention.

“How’s your son?” she asked. The worry in her eyes looked genuine.

“Better than he’s been in some time,” Rosinante said, and her smile grew to match his. “You mentioned something about the shelves over your bar, right?”

Makino’s brows pinched together. Maybe she had expected Rosinante to forget. He’d never liked being in debt to people. His time in Doflamingo’s crew only exacerbated that.

“I’ve been replacing the shelves behind the bar, but I can’t reach some of them without a ladder,” she explained. “If you’d be willing, I’d really appreciate some help.”

“I’d be happy to,” Rosinante said. He needed something to focus on other than Law.

Rosinante spent the next two days working on Makino’s shelves, minding Law, and people watching. The tiny village bar had an interesting range of clientele. The mayor was a regular, surprisingly capable of holding his liquor. A gang of mountain bandits frequently stopped by as well. They never caused any problems, though. They sat and drank and laughed as their leader slouched over the bar and ranted to Makino about the trouble ‘her boys’ were causing. Her stories made Makino laugh so hard she cried.

From the way the bandit spoke, Rosinante wasn’t sure if the boys in question were children, or impressively destructive dogs. When she mentioned her boys dragging home a wild boar they had killed, Rosinante decided he could live with the mystery.

On the afternoon of the third day, Rosinante was putting the finishing touches on the last shelf, listening to Makino’s stories about a monster that lurked in the waters around the island.

Rosinante figured it was a small Sea King.

“It nearly ate one of the local boys,” Makino hissed, scrubbing at a stubborn spot on the bar, personally offended by the fact.

Rosinante was about to reply, when a loud clattering from upstairs reached him. Rosinante was up the stairs in an instant, Makino close behind him. He threw open the door to his and Law’s room.

There were glass shards scattered across the floor. Law was sitting upright on the edge of the bed, staring at the glass and his hands like he didn’t understand what had happened.

“Law?” Rosinante called, afraid Law wouldn’t respond. Afraid that he would be as blank as he had been every other time Rosinante said his name.

Instead, he turned towards Rosinante, blinking slowly. His eyes cleared. Widened.

“Cora?” he whispered, disbelieving. Rosinante rushed forward, catching Law as he scrambled towards him, and pulling him into a hug.

Law clung, chokingly tight, to Rosinante’s neck. He had dropped to his knees to catch Law, and shards of glass bit his legs. Law shook violently, pressed so tightly against Rosinante he could feel Law’s frantic heartbeat.

“You’re alive,” Law babbled, over and over again in desperate Northern. His voice shook as he sobbed.

“We’re alive,” Rosinante promised, squeezing Law tighter to reassure himself. “We’re alive. We escaped.”

“He shot you,” Law said, before his words seemed to register and he pulled back enough to look at Rosinante. He didn’t let go. “You said he wouldn’t- he shot you.”

Then his hands were scrambling across Rosinante’s chest and shoulders, looking for wounds that were still healing. “Are you- what- did I?”

Rosinante caught his hands carefully. “You saved me,” he said, then turned Law’s hands so he could see the backs of them. “You saved yourself, too.”

Where there had once been a snow-white patch, there was now only a slight discoloration on Law’s right hand. Law gaped at it.

“How much do you remember?” Rosinante asked.

He wanted to know how exactly Law saved their lives.

He wanted to know if Law remembered he was a Marine.

Law frowned. “I- I don’t know.” He scrubbed furiously at the tears running tracks down his cheeks. “I don’t know.”

“That’s alright,” Rosinante soothed, running a hand through Law’s hair.

Law leaned into it.

“He tried to kill you. Because of me,” Law hiccuped.

“No, Law. No,” Rosinante said. “He tried to kill me because I betrayed him.”

“Because of me!”

Rosinante’s stomach sank. “Law, he would have killed me even if I hadn’t taken you.”

Law’s eyes met his, teary and fierce. It pushed Rosinante to admit what he hadn’t wanted to.

“Doffy has been planning to kill me since I joined his crew.” His voice was rough, gravelly and tight. “Maybe even before then.”

For all that Rosinante hated Doflamingo, he’d never managed to stop loving him. He couldn’t separate the monster he knew now from the brother he had known. The brother who had told him bedtime stories so he wouldn’t be afraid of the dark. The brother who would wait however long it took for Rosinante to speak, even when he forgot words or his tongue seemed to tangle. The brother who first taught Rosinante how to throw a punch.

The brother who said he loved Rosinante so much he would do anything for him. The brother that Rosinante loved just as much.

Was it better or worse to think that Doflamingo had been lying?

Rosinante took a moment to steady himself, to cup Law’s face and smile, as bright and warm as possible.

“None of it was your fault.”

Law ducked his head, a fresh wave of tears dripping from his chin.

“Why?” he asked. He’d never sounded so much like a child. “Why did you- why me?”

“Law…”

“I still could have died. Why go that far? For me?” Law collapsed further in on himself, dropping onto the bed and tucking his knees to his chest. “Why? Was it- was it because of my name?”

It took Rosinante a moment to understand. When he did, he pulled Law back into his arms. Law unwound his limbs and hugged him back.

As if the Will of D could have anything to do with Rosinante loving him.

“Law, no,” he held Law tighter. “I did it because you’re family to me.”

An understatement, but Rosinante figured anything else would be too much for Law to hear. As it was Law started sobbing again, clinging to Rosinante like a lifeline.

“You… You’re family to me too.”

Law’s voice was so soft that Rosinante barely heard it. His heart soared. He tucked his head against Law’s and let them both settle. They were alive. They were alive.

A few hours later, Rosinante crept back down to the bar. Law was dead tired. After Rosinante explained how’d they’d wound up in East Blue, he left him to sleep. Law had been sick for so long. It would take time to recover.

“How is he?” Makino asked. She had left Rosinante alone with Law as soon as she’d seen there was nothing wrong.

“Better than I could have hoped.” Rosinante dropped the broken glass he collected into a bin beneath the bar. “He’s resting now, but he’s finally himself again.”

“I’m so glad!” Makino’s smile was heart-warmingly kind. “Why don’t you sit down?” she said, nodding to the other side of the bar counter. “You look like you need a drink.”

Rosinante laughed, but let himself be guided onto a bar stool, and thanked Makino when she set a large glass of beer in front of him.

“Do you mind if I smoke here?” he asked her, ignoring the fact that there were at least twenty other patrons with cigarettes balanced between their lips.

“Not at all,” Makino promised.

Rosinante managed to light his cigarette without lighting himself. Maybe some god was looking down on him, and decided he’d been having a hard enough time lately without accidentally burning a bar down too. Whatever the case, Rosinante was grateful as he slouched against the bar. He made idle conversation with Makino, smoked, and nursed his beer.

Finally, finally, he could relax.

Of course that was the moment the bar doors swung open, and a loud, familiar voice called, “you’re as busy as every, Makino!”

Makino’s eyes lit up. “Garp!”

Rosinante couldn’t believe it, not even when he turned to look. Vice Admiral Monkey D. Garp, still in uniform, had just marched into a tiny East Blue bar.

His sharp eyes landed on Rosinante. Surprisingly, he paled.

“Something wrong?” Rosinante asked, amazed his voice didn’t waver.

Garp gave himself a shake, and grinned at Rosinante. “Sorry about that,” he said, settling onto the stool next to him. “My friend just lost his brat. You look an awful lot like him, is all.”

Rosinante could taste bile in the back of his throat. He forced it down. Forced himself to think.

Garp hadn’t brought any of his underlings into the bar with him.

He had known Garp as long as he’d known Sengoku. Thought of him as an uncle. He knew the kind of man Garp was.

If he couldn’t trust Garp, he decided, he couldn’t trust anyone in the Navy.

“Oh, come on,” Rosinante said, forcing the words with a heavy tongue. “Is a bit of hair dye all it takes to trick you?”

For a long moment, they both froze. Garp’s eyes slowly widened. Rosinante tried to smile, but it fell flat. Garp’s eyes watered.

Then his expression hardened.

“Why don’t you come have a smoke with me?” he asked. “Outside?”

Rosinante put his cigarette out in a nearby ashtray, and followed Garp out the bar’s back door. He wasn’t sure what he expected to happen.

Garp punching him in the chest, then dragging him into a blubbering hug was not at the top of the list. It wasn’t entirely unpredictable either.

Rosinante barely had time to register that he’d been hit before Garp was wrapped around him. He wasn’t sure how Garp’s troops didn’t have chronic whiplash.

“You brat,” Garp growled. Any intimidation was undermined by his blotchy red cheeks and the fact that he couldn’t stop crying. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? In what world is this alright? Letting us all think that you’re dead?!”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Rosinante promised. Garp was, as usual, a bit overwhelming. “Not at first.”

“At first?” Garp pressed. “Sengoku’s been beside himself. Did you even-“

“Garp.” Rosinante cut him off. He didn’t think he’d be able to stomach Garp saying any more. “I barely made it out alive. Doffy thinks he killed me. It wasn’t safe for me to go straight back home.”

A part of Rosinante, the part of him that was still the frightened child Sengoku took in, had wanted to run home immediately. He had never believed Sengoku could protect him from everything, but he made it easier for Rosinante to live with his fear. The bitter, realistic part of him knew how disastrous it could have been to return to HQ. Would have been, with Law involved.

Garp frowned, scrubbing at his eyes. “So you’re doing… what, exactly? Hiding?”

“Hiding,” Rosinante agreed. “Hiding and healing. Not all of us can brush off being shot as easily as you do.”

“Do you need a doctor?” Garp asked, his concern outshining any anger he had over Rosinante making him and Sengoku grieve.

Rosinante shook his head. “I’ve already been treated.”

He had been keeping an eye on his wounds as he and Law travelled. They’d been healing shockingly well, considering the circumstances. Law might have been a child, but he knew more about medicine than adults who’d practiced it their whole lives. Rosinante trusted him with this.

“What happened?” Garp asked.

Rosinante told him everything.

It took a few hours. By the end of the story, he and Garp were both sitting at the table behind Makino’s bar, smoking and staring up at the stars.

Rosinante felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest.

“Pretty round about way of giving Sengoku a grandkid, if you ask me,” Garp muttered.

Rosinante choked on a laugh. “Oh, that’s going to be a disaster,” he said, more to himself than Garp.

Rosinante being a Marine would be a betrayal, to Law. But Rosinante’s father being the Fleet Admiral? He would be surprised if Law didn’t try to kill Sengoku on principle alone.

Rosinante waved off the look Garp shot him. “I’ll explain tomorrow. But tonight… I need to sleep.”

Garp nodded. He shuffled to his feet and offered Rosinante a hand up. “We can talk in the morning.”

Before he could leave, Rosinante said, “you know you can’t call Sengoku about this, right?”

“Doflamingo’s got spies of his own, yeah?” Garp sighed. “I won’t report this.”

“Thank you,” Rosinante said, and watched Garp trudge off towards the harbor.

When Rosinante finally dragged himself to bed, he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

#mine #my writing #small changes fic #one piece #one piece fic #donquixote corazon #donquixote rocinante #donquixote rosinante #why must the tall man have so many names #trafalgar law #monkey d. garp #only a bit #op #i have a lot of feelings about found families/ families of choice #and theyre all in this fic

67 notes · View notes

akusaiisreal-changemymind · 5 years

Link

Chapter 4: Memory Plague and Catching Up Fandom: Kingdom Hearts Rating: Mature Warnings: Underage Relationships: Isa/Lea (Kingdom Hearts), Axel/Saïx (Kingdom Hearts), Demyx/Ienzo (Kingdom Hearts), Riku/Sora (Kingdom Hearts), implied Aqua/Terra (Kingdom Hearts) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Past Mpreg, de-aged character, Rating May Change, This is basically if Kingdom Hearts was a period novel, Slow Burn, Fluff and Angst, Mentions of past abuse, Non-Graphic Violence

The halls of Oscuro Castle were cold and silent, almost devoid of life. Xehanort had always remembered it being that way, even as a small boy. He paid the quiet no mind and instead listened to the rhythm of his boot heels thumping softly against the carpeted floors of the castle’s private upper levels.

A single guard stood by the door that led into a bed chamber. When she saw Xehanort approaching out of the corner of her eye, she immediately straightened her posture and greeted him formally.

Xehanort nodded at the guard as she let him into the room. When he stepped in, he was not at all surprised to see the lump on the bed hadn’t moved despite it being nearly noon. He walked over to a small table where a pitcher sat along with an untouched platter of bread and various fruits for breakfast. He lifted the pitcher and crossed back over to the bed, slowly pouring the contents of the pitcher all over the blankets.

He was glad that it turned out to just be iced water. It would have been a shame to have wasted good wine.

The sleeping figure jerked awake, sputtering when some of the liquid got into his mouth and up his nose. Xehanort stopped pouring and waited patiently for the younger boy to stop flailing around before greeting him. “Good day, Vanitas.”

“Fuck you.” Vanitas hissed. He was already a grumpy riser and being woken up so rudely didn’t help. “Why did you just walk in here and wake me up like you own the place?” When Xehanort raised an eyebrow at him, he rephrased. “I mean, like there’s a fire or something?”

“Xigbar has returned from home, so I’ve scheduled a family meeting in the council chamber that will take place three hours from now. I expect you to be there awake, fully dressed, and attentive.”

“Don’t you typically have to have a family for a family meeting?” Vanitas muttered darkly.

Xehanort ignored the jab and continued. “Ansem will be arriving today, so he’ll be there as well. There’s been some new development. It’s very important that we all discuss it together.”

“Yeah, fine, but can you get out now? I’m not exactly in a proper state of dress.” Vanitas gestured with the fist firmly gripping the blanket wrapped around his waist.

Xehanort didn’t outwardly react. Instead, he turned sharply on his heel and headed for the exit. “I’ve told you before you’ll catch a chill sleeping like that. Remember, the council chamber in three hours. I don’t want to have to come and get you again.”

~•~

Isa hoped against all hope that this new habit of blacking out and waking up in a strange location wouldn’t become a hobby.

This time he had awoken to the taste of something repulsively bitter being shoved into his mouth. He was tempted to spit it out the moment it touched his tongue, but he was prevented from doing so. All of his limbs felt like lead, leaving him unable to lift his arms and push against the slender fingers keeping whatever was in his mouth firmly in place.

“Don’t you dare spit this out. This fruit contains bismuth subsalicylate and it’s the only thing that’s been keeping you from vomiting up your innards for the past few weeks.” Someone leaning over him scolded him fiercely.

His vision was swimming and his mind was groggy, so the face of whom he assumed to be a doctor was obscured. Isa’s senses had even failed to let him know there was a cool towel laying over his forehead until the person’s other hand removed it to press a palm against him. “Good, your fever has finally gone down. Keep this in your mouth while I get my needle to replace your stitching.”

The voice of this person washed a wave of familiarity over Isa. Except, instead of feeling nostalgic, it instead gave him a prickling sense of annoyance. He remembered being nagged by this pitchy, nasally tone too many times to count in childhood – now again as an adult.

The blurriness of his gaze subsided after several seconds of blinking up at the light fixture dangling from the high ceiling; naturally, Isa chose that moment to rotate his head to the side just enough to watch as an older man shuffled around the room. His eyes widened the moment they took in the sight of blonde hair and a white coat.

“Lord Physician Even?” Isa queried, face scrunching in perplexity. Though his words were somewhat muffled by the medicine still stuffed into his mouth, the Court Physician spun around as soon as he was addressed.

“Very good, Isa. It seems you’ve finally regained coherency which means you’re not long from recovery.” Even crossed back over to where Isa lay on the bed, needle and stitching coil in hand. “Now, do you know where you are as of this moment?” He pulled up a stool and sat down beside Isa to begin his work.

Isa winced at the first signal of pain, but tried to refocus on his thoughts. He noted that this bedroom was different than the last one he’d woken up in, bigger with more lavish décor. It’s possible that he might have been moved to a guest chamber, but for what? He did a mental step by step of what led him up to this point.

He was on the ship with Xigbar and was rendered unconscious. He woke with an injury. He wandered around for a bit in the mansion until he found a secret passage to crawl into. He happened upon a hidden room where the air was stifled with the nauseating mixture of incense, candles, and white leaf tobacco. Then a man came into the room. He was –

“Lea!” Isa cried out at last, attempting to sit up. A hand immediately flew up to his chest to stabilize him and firmly push him back against the mattress. Isa went back down without a struggle. “I’m – I’m in his mansion, aren’t I?”

“Yes, you are.” Even answered and continued working on the stitching. “He sent for me to come and tend to you the moment he knew of your identity. Evidently, his young wards have been up to a bit of mischief and brought you here in secret – not that it’s a problem now, of course. If anything, Lea considers it a miracle and didn’t want to leave your side.”

Young wards? As tempted as Isa was to get him to elaborate further on that, there were more pressing matters that needed explanation.

“Where is Lea now?”

“I had to drag him away from here so that he could attend his meeting. His father is always less than amused when he strays away from his duties.”

Isa sighed. He had not been at all intending to meet Lea until he had had everything settled with King Ansem and his task. Now that Lea already knew it was only going to complicate things and create a distraction. He was already set back significantly due to catching ill.

“Speaking of the king, does he know that I’m here as well?”

“Now, that, I couldn’t tell you.” Even replied. “However, knowing his sources, it's likely he’s found his own ways of finding out by now.”

The implication of the King Ansem essentially being omniscient almost caused Isa to break out in a cold sweat. Simple task, his ass.

Once the stitching was completed, Even gently pressed a finger against the tender skin to make sure it was secure.

“Well, I believe that’s all that needs tending to today.” Even stood up from the stool and began to put his materials away. “I have to be getting back to the clinic. I’ll have a messenger sent to the castle to inform the prince of your awakening. Until he arrives, I advise you get some rest.”

“Yes, I’ll be sure to. Thank you.”

~•~

Trapped .

That’s exactly what he was. All but pushed into a marriage with a man he didn’t know in a land he had no recollection of arriving to. Isa had been living with the Lord of Dusky Province for several months now and it seemed at this point there was no chance of getting back home. Especially not in his current condition.

“The physicians tell me you’re about six weeks along now.” The lord entered the room with a saccharine smile on his chiseled face. He was very handsome, Isa couldn’t deny that; however, something about his smile was off-putting. It wasn’t like Lea’s. “Why did you hide this from me, mūnchairudo? Don’t you think I would like to know I am to be a father?”

“I wasn’t sure what to think of the news myself…” Isa muttered without turning away from the mirror. He pressed a palm into his belly. It was still a bit flat. He jumped slightly when he felt the alpha brush up behind him and tower over him.

“This is for you.” He slid something onto Isa’s neck before stepping away. Isa looked down and noticed that it was a silver necklace with a thick chain and a sapphire gem in the shape of a crescent moon attached. “It matches your hair. Isn’t it lovely?”

Lovely …lovely…

“It’s been lovely doing business with you, good sir.” Weeks later, Isa stood around a corner in secret and watched as his lord husband handed a pouch of coins to a rough looking individual. “Here’s your final payment, as promised. Though, I must say, the omega you delivered to me is more trouble than you had advertised. Very strong-willed.”

A cold feeling settled into the pit of Isa’s stomach.

“Told ya he was a fighter. It took a lot for us to get him off the ship to bring him here and it’s gonna take a lot to break him in. Good luck.”

“I won’t be needing it. I think I have him fairly under control by now.”

He heard the sound of movement heading in his direction and he fled. As he ran, he felt the cold feeling in his body twist and morph into something else. Something stronger.

Rage .

“You told me that I was found in debris from a shipwreck and you had no idea how I’d gotten here.” Isa stormed into the bedroom that night and confronted him with fury. “All this time, I thought I survived that raid because the Foretellers spared my life, but now I find out it was because I was kidnapped and sold! You made me think the death of my parents was just a tragedy!”

Rage …hatred…

“Well, that’s because it was, mūnchairudo.” The lord was propped in a chair with one leg crossed over the other as the valet poured more brandy into his glass. He was completely unfazed by Isa’s anger. “An orchestrated tragedy, but it was a tragedy nonetheless. All events of life are caused by man and the decisions we make. Destiny and those precious ‘Foretellers’ your people worship don’t exist.” He plastered a false smile onto his face, sweet enough to distract from the sinister man behind it. “Now be good and have a seat. Your stress can’t be good for the babe.”

The babe…that was no more.

“How pitiful.” Out of the corner of his eye, Isa saw the alpha standing with his back against the wall, arms folded and looking on without empathy. He watched Isa writhe in excruciating pain on the bedroom floor, occasionally coughing up black sludge. “You would rather do this to yourself than have my child?”

Isa lifted himself up as much as he could on shaking limbs. “I’d rather die!”

…Die.

A pause, a scoff, and then the sound of footsteps leaving the room was all that followed. Before the closing of the door, the lord replied in an amused tone, “Very well. Who am I to deny you the pleasure?”

Isa lived, of course. However, the price of life came with a deep feeling emptiness in his heart. The hollow feeling wasn’t because of the loss of a child he never had the chance to know. As horrible as it sounded, he wasn’t sure if he would have had the ability to love something created by the object of his burning ire.

He felt empty because the poison he ingested not only ensured that he would not birth that child, but also no others.

One of his biggest purposes in life, a purpose that had been instilled in him since he was twelve, had been stolen from him. All because he wanted to feed his animosity towards the monster who ripped his life away from him.

…Die.

But he wasn’t done feeding it.

Nights later, he met his lord husband in the bedroom again. The lord looked sickeningly serene as he told Isa that he forgave him for his stupidity while stroking his hair.

Die .

Isa lied to him. He told him that he had forgiven him, too, and they could put it behind them.

Die .

Isa brought wine, encouraged him to drink it as he pushed him to lay back on the bed. He wanted to get him loosened up, slow his reflexes.

Die …die…

A cocky look settled on the lord’s face when Isa moved to straddle his hips. His eyes slid closed as he waited for pleasure that would never come. Isa reached up and removed the necklace from his neck — the necklace that was given to him as a gift.

DIE NOW.

In one swift motion, Isa wrapped the necklace around the lord’s neck and twisted it tightly to cut off his air. His grip didn’t relent, no matter how much the other man thrashed and tried to claw at his face. Isa couldn’t even feel complete satisfaction at the gruesome sight: the man’s face purpling from oxygen deprivation and his eyes bulging out of the sockets. He only felt the emptiness in him grow in replacement of his unbridled hatred as he watched the soon-to-be late lord suffocate below him –

“Ow. Shit, that’s a strong grip.” Someone cursed from outside of his dream. The voice was low and tired, but still effective enough to pierce through his torturous dream haze.

When Isa cracked his eyes open, the room was dark. He could only make out the faintest outline of a figure by the bed. He looked down a little further and saw that he really was gripping the other person’s hand harshly with his own, inadvertently mimicking the actions of himself from the past. Despite this, he could feel alpha pheromones giving off a serene, comforting aura and didn’t even attempt to fight against his body as it was instinctively soothed into relaxing.

Isa slackened his hold with a murmured apology before he asked, “Lea? Is that you?”

“Yeah.” The response sounded relieved, as if he was waiting to hear him speak. “Hold on. Let me get the light.”

He moved away just enough to reach over to light the oil lamp on the stand by the head of the bed. It wasn’t enough light to flood the entire room, but he was able to see Lea much better and take in his appearance. He was supporting the upper half of his weight against a chair he was straddling, staring exhaustedly down at Isa with bags beneath his eyes.

He looked significantly older than the last time they saw each other. The same could be said about himself, of course. However, Isa felt as haggard and unkempt as a homeless pup and his current appearance was equivalent to this feeling, no doubt. Lea’s aging, though, seemed to improve his looks as he no longer possessed such boyish and rounded features. The light of the flames from the lamp danced across Lea’s sharp face and lit up the green of his eyes like gemstones.

For the first time in his life, Isa felt like he was in the presence of an actual prince rather than just a boy he grew up with. Something about this new feeling was disconcerting. Isa was going to tell him that, but stopped himself as he lost his nerve.

Why would he ever voice such a ridiculous thought out loud? Lea would think he was still spiraling from fever.

“Sorry for the inconvenience,” Isa muttered instead. He used his elbows to push himself up on the bed until he was leaning against the headboard. “I incurred quite a debt for your hospitality and am more than willing to rep–”

“Stop that.” Isa tensed at the sharpness of the tone immediately cutting into his attempt at conversation.

“Stop what?”

“You fucking know what.” Lea tired expression had morphed into an annoyed glower and he straightened himself up in the chair. “You’re doing that thing where you act like ‘the perfect man of class’ when you’re either really uncomfortable or trying get on someone’s good side. I know you wouldn’t try hard to win my favor of all people, so it’s got to be the first one.”

Isa ducked his head to stare down at his fists gripping the blankets. What Lea had said wasn’t exactly untrue; however, the tone he took wasn’t helpful. He was talking to him like a child. “I was trying not to make this awkward…”

“You’re making it awkward anyway by not talking like a normal human being.”

“Well, what would you have me do, Lea?” Raising his voice, he picked his head back up to settle his own glare onto Lea. “Pick up where we left off? Tell jokes and pretend like nothing has happened? Sorry, not everyone can be as charismatic as you under unfavorable circumstances.”

“Who said anything about pretending? Fuck, Isa, I just—” Lea cut off his own sentence with an aggravated huff. “I guess – I don’t know. I was hoping you would at least explain this.”

Lea reached into his vest and produced the letter that Isa had given to him. It was crinkled and creased from spending so much time shoved into pockets.

“You wrote this for me.”

“I did,” Isa said. “That should have been made clear when I wrote your name on it and gave it to you.”

“You can’t tell jokes, but you have no problem being a smartass, huh?” A slight smile tugged on Lea’s lips for a split second before he turned serious again. “I haven’t read it yet because I wanted to ask you about it first.”

“As I said before, I had always planned to write to you. I was keeping my promise.”

“Right, duh.” Lea averted his gaze and rubbed the back of his head. Isa noted that he, too, still had old habits of discomfort. “I guess I didn’t think that promise was still pending because…well, you know.”

“I had even started on a letter the day we disembarked to sail to Corona. It wasn’t as lengthy as that one because I never got to finish it when—” Isa’s voice caught in his throat and the indifference of his usual mien slipped as reality sank in for the first time since the incident. “When our ship was...”

All this time, he had forced himself not to think about any of it. The thought of how his parents were so brutally murdered for the gain of a corrupt noble and idiots who loved on conflict disgusted him. He refused to allow his captors, his tormentors, the pleasure of watching him grieve. Even now, Isa again fisted his hands into the unfamiliar sheets as he angrily tried to blink away the tears burning at the corners of his eyes.

Why did they even have to die? Maybe destiny was punishing Isa for being a stubborn youth and going against his set path, but his parents had done nothing wrong.

“We were attacked by pro-war activists from the Empire. Those bastards.” He hissed between stilted breaths. “One could only assume they saw the Paxian symbol on our vessel and decided to attack us. Perhaps to incite retaliation.”

“Well, it worked. The sad part is that they weren’t even proper Empirical soldiers, just a bunch of crazies with ships and weapons. Our navy took them down within a month.” Lea told him, and he wasn’t surprised. He had concluded for himself a long time ago that they were, as Lea put it, just ‘a bunch of crazies’.

Lea continued, “We were also told there weren’t any survivors. I guess they never found out you got away. It’s like a miracle.”

With the old wound now fresh again, Isa had to quickly bit his tongue before he could heatedly retort that he didn’t get away from anything. Though he himself knew the truth of his own fate shortly after the raid, it would do him absolutely no good to tell Lea or anyone else about it. It would only invite more questions that would eventually lead to his connection to Xehanort.

“Yes. A miracle, indeed.” He replied, sharply.

Lea, unaware of the reasoning behind such a clipped response, slowly slid his hand into Isa’s again. “Hey, Isa, listen. You’re alright now. I won’t ever let you out of my sight again, okay?”

“That wasn’t exactly something I was worried about, Lea.”

“Good, because I mean it.” Lea rubbed a thumb over Isa’s wrist. “See? You actually opened up to me a little bit. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Isa could sense the conversation was finally starting to move to a lighter atmosphere on Lea’s end. Even though Isa still hadn’t recovered enough emotionally, he knew answering with a snarky quip would ruin bring them back to square one.

He chose to humor Lea. “I suppose not. Ironically, though, I’d say it’s easier to get more expression from me when I write my words. Hence, that letter.” He gestured to the pages still folded in Lea’s grasp.

“Then I guess I better get reading – eventually,” he said, placing the letter back into his vest. “Now, I’m too busy. Father’s been killing me with paperwork and council meetings lately.”

“How unfair. Why he doesn’t just give that those tasks to his heir? Oh wait.”

Lea scoffed and pressed his palm to Isa’s forehead, easing him back down into the pillows. “Get some more rest. Geez, you’re somehow mouthier than the kids I live with. Can’t wait for you three to meet each other.”

“Oh, right. Even mentioned that you have ‘young wards’ now. I see that your obsession with fostering strays is still intact after all these years.”

“They’re good kids. You’re going to love them, I swear.” Lea paused for a moment before reaching out to squeeze Isa’s hand again. “I’m…glad you’re home, Isa. I really did miss you.”

“Yes. Me too.”

Lea nodded once and stood up from the chair with a stretch. After he blew out oil lamp, he spared one final glance at Isa – who had already dozed off again – before closing the door and taking a long walk back to his own bed chambers.

#akusai #leaisa #isa #lea #kingdom hearts #ao3

13 notes · View notes

darkpoisonouslove · 5 years

Text

“Gold and Purple”

Summary: Griffin has a gift-tears of gold and roses blooming on her lips-that draws the attention of the Dragon King and he wants to marry her. She's not exactly willing to give herself to the man whose obsession with gold is destroying the land, but that is the least of her problems when a person she trusts stirs the flow of things in an attempt to drown her.

This was inspired by a Bulgarian folk tale called "The Girl on Whose Lips Bloomed Roses" (which is about one of the two details I kept from it). I really like that tale and I hope you'll like my retelling of it in an AU of Winx Club. (Also, if it seems dark, know that this version is actually lighter than the original).

I tried to make it sound the way folk tales sound in Bulgarian and I think I succeeded (more or less, considering I am operating with a completely different set of words).

Once upon a time there was a woman named Griffin. Her eyes were golden in color and when she cried, drops of pure gold fell from them instead of tears. Her hair was purple and when she smiled, roses in the same shade bloomed on her lips. She gathered them and sold them to the nobles traveling through her village and with the money she looked after her two sisters and helped the other villagers.

Their land was dying under the rule of the Dragon King who only cared about fulfilling his needs. He was said to be a descendant of a dragon and hoarded gold like it was the only thing on his mind, like he was obsessed, and he didn’t care his people were dying out all over the land, scorched by his greed like he’d drained all the water out of it. And flowers could hardly bloom in the desert.

Griffin’s roses kept blooming on her lips every time she looked at her two sisters, though. Even if the memories of their parents who’d died an untimely death, leaving them mourning and alone, threatened to leak out of her eyes the moment the thought surfaced in her mind. She never let her sisters see her cry, though, and only did so when they’d gone to bed and she went out to admire the stars on the night sky that didn’t burn with their light like the sun of their kingdom did. She let them flow like her hair was falling over her back and down to her ankles and then gathered them to sell them the next day. And as long as she had her sisters and the stars, she knew she would be okay and she’d have enough to take care of what was dear to her.

The king learned about the roses and the golden drops all of his court was parading with, though, and instantly desired to see her and if her gift turned out to be true, he wanted to marry her. He sent word to the village, announcing the arrival of his three younger sisters who were supposed to make sure she wasn’t a fraud. With their hearts of ice and storm, and opaque darkness, the young princesses were feared by all across the kingdom and outside its borders. They were their brother’s trusted conquerors and he knew there was no one better to send to bring his future wife to him.

The news lay heavily on Griffin’s heart as she didn’t want to leave her sisters behind even for a second, and especially not when it was him she was being brought to. The two of them convinced her to give it a chance, though, since her gift was strong enough to feed even the hunger for gold of the king and could save their whole land. She agreed then but it was still hard to accept her fate. She’d wanted to travel the world and use the stars to navigate, study different herbs and find a cure for the plague that had taken her parents away, not become a prisoner of the king in the Tower of Fire. And she had no doubt that he would never let go of her and she would suffocate in his embrace. But for her sisters and her land she would give up every last piece of her heart.

Her friend noticed her low spirits and offered that they go to the stream near the village where she could clear her head. Moving water was always of help when trying to let go of negative emotions. Griffin agreed, not knowing that her friend’s intentions were anything but pure.

They went to the stream where Griffin couldn’t see her reflection but she didn’t really need to. She knew what she looked like. With her purple hair and eyes of gold, she was like nothing anyone had seen before. She was different and she didn’t know why. She only knew that was the only thing that allowed her to take care of her sisters and that was enough for her. As always, a rose bloomed on her lips at the thought of them, but she didn’t get the chance to take it out of her mouth.

The current sped up, driven by the spell of her friend who secretly practiced witchcraft. She’d reached to the depths of her soul that was darker than her black hair and harbored envy enough to drown three kingdoms worth of dragons and used her emotions to connect to the darkness lying in the bed of the stream, stirring it up and causing it to grab Griffin and drag her deep into the water where the sun couldn’t reach and bury her in the eternal blackness resting there.

The woman then returned to the village where she told her lying tale of terror about Griffin’s death. The whole village mourned the loss of their protector, and Griffin’s sisters cried so hard that parts of their souls shed away and out of their eyes, charring the ground and leaving them into monsters that disappeared into the forest to cry their pain to the herbs Griffin had used to gather at dawn when she said they had most power as charged by the first rays of the sun. That was the only connection they had left to their sister. Even if it wasn’t enough to get her back.

Griffin didn’t drown, though. The current dragged her to the bottom of the river but the blossom on her mouth didn’t allow any water to get past it and invade her lungs. Her life force kept the roses alive inside her and now they were returning the favor, keeping her alive in the water.

The current kept tossing her around, still controlled by the spell aimed to take her life. It wouldn’t let go until she was dead. It carried her far away, through mountains and plains, and different kingdoms, until finally, one day, her hair tangled into the branches of a willow that had bent over the water as if weeping.

She remained there, the water furiously pushing and tugging at her and trying to drag her back down to the depths and drown her, but the willow didn’t break under the destructive force of the current, as if powered by the connection of the tears that lay in both their cores.

A woman found her there and pulled her out of the water in her frantic panic to save her life. The rose fell off of Griffin’s mouth the moment she was safe in the woman’s hands and her lungs filled with air again, letting her wake up. She was alive but she’d lost her sight, her eyes wrapped in the merged darkness of the river and her friend’s soul. The light of her golden eyes was lost and she couldn’t cry no matter how much she wanted to.

The kind woman who was named Faragonda took her in and brought her to the home she shared with her brother Saladin. Their hospitality touched Griffin but, again, she couldn’t cry. Not even when Faragonda told her she was in the kingdom of Alfea – a place she’d never heard of before. She’d studied the lands that surrounded her kingdom and the Tower of Fire, and she’d studied the lands that surrounded those lands, she’d exchanged her tears for maps from far away places with travelers, but she’d never heard of the kingdom of Alfea. And all her hope of finding her way home hardened and died in her chest when even the sorrow of being so far away from her sisters didn’t bring her tears out. She was blind and she didn’t have her tears to trade for essentials. She didn’t have the funds to find her way back home.

Faragonda and Saladin kept taking care of her, sharing their food and roof with her even when she was just a burden that they didn’t have to take on. They both said they’d never abandon her and even helped her establish herself as the village’s healer. Without her sight, she could smell scents even better than before and she could tell herbs apart without even seeing them. Faragonda was her eyes when they went out to the forest to look for herbs and Saladin helped with the gathering and deliveries. And she built a new life along with them. But the tears never returned and neither did the roses as she couldn’t find it in herself to smile, knowing she would never see her sisters again, she would never get to hold them because she couldn’t reach them.

She couldn’t even see the passage of time for herself since night did not differ from day to her anymore, the sun and moon, and the stars were lost to her, too. And it was only Faragonda and Saladin’s support and friendship that made sure the darkness still in her eyes couldn’t get its job done and kill her. They were her life now that the roses were gone and the tenderness and kindness they treated her with didn’t allow her heart to turn to stone.

She kept helping the people of the village even when she couldn’t help herself and asked them about information about her old kingdom. She was afraid of what had happened to the land after she’d disappeared. Their king had not been known for mercy and she didn’t know what he’d done after he hadn’t gotten what he’d wanted. She just hoped her fate hadn’t doomed more people to suffering.

None of the people she healed had the answers to rest her heart, though. Very few of them had even heard of the Tower of Fire and only from old legends saying it’d been built from magic that had turned into tangible matter and it was the last known domain of the magic that had been lost. Rumors of practicing witches were going around but nobody believed them. Except Griffin who’d lived through that nightmare and still had her fate controlled by the magic she could feel in her eyes, making her want to carve them out, Faragonda’s warm hand on her shoulder and her hopeful words in her ears the only thing keeping her from mutilating herself. Not that it was of any use.

It was her seventeenth month in Faragonda and Saladin’s cottage when she had a traveler brought in to heal. The moment she entered the room, she felt a familiar pull. It was the same plague that had taken her parents, and she knew there was nothing she could do about that. It was a disease of the soul and sucked it out of you until you didn’t have enough left to live. The traveler did bring her news of her kingdom, though. There were two monsters on the loose that the king couldn’t deal with no matter how many times he sent his sisters after them. It had been the monsters who’d infected the traveler with the plague when he’d ran into them unsuspectingly. They didn’t spare anyone and people were afraid to go out of their homes, even if it was well known that the monsters never left the forest. They hid there and guarded the forest herbs so that no one would dare pick them. The three princesses were safe because they rode on monsters themselves but they still couldn’t catch the two creatures that no one knew how to deal with or where they’d come from.

The man died in her hands as if to confirm how dire the situation was. But Griffin still felt a spark of happiness to have news of her home, especially when she was told her disappearance hadn’t wrecked the kingdom with the king’s rage. He seemed to finally take interest in his people and their well-being and she felt a small smile pull at her lips even if she knew she would never marry him so it didn’t matter whether she could love him or not.

A rose fell from her lips, a small one, just a bud that haven’t even bloomed at all yet, and Faragonda told her it was pale violet instead of the purple of her hair, but it still gave her hope that she could get her roses back, that she could find some reason to smile again.

She sent Faragonda to sell the rose at the village market, and the money they used to buy a kind of tea that couldn’t be found in these lands, only at the corner of the world Griffin came from. It had been her favorite and she hoped it would help her reconnect with home and not crush what little joy she’d managed to find when the memories of her lost family inevitably filled her mind.

When the moon was full–Griffin still kept track of that since it was important for some healing practices, even if she had to use Faragonda’s sight to do it and it broke her heart–she asked Faragonda to take her out to a close by clearing in the woods to connect with the stars again. If she’d felt the traveler’s illness, then perhaps she could feel the light of the night sky as well.

The moment they stepped out of the shadows of the trees, she felt the light of the moon on her skin, seeping deep into her bones and filling her with shiny happiness that she’d never thought she’d feel again. It overflowed from her eyes, making tears fall down her cheeks, but those were water and not gold. She marveled at the unfamiliar feeling on her skin but didn’t reach to wipe them away, still in awe by the sensation she’d never felt before.

The moonlight gathered in her tears and they turned into tiny lakes of light, shining radiantly and obliterating the darkness in her eyes to leave only the gold beneath. She looked at Faragonda and saw her friend for the first time. She hadn’t been blinded by the reflected light since her own soul was made of light and Griffin hugged her, feeling the tears draining from her skin.

Flapping of wings and screeching startled them apart. They found three big creatures in the sky flying towards them. And even though Griffin had never seen them, she recognized the steeds of the three sisters of the Dragon King. She’d heard many stories about the royal family experimenting on animals, trying to draw out the dragon essence from their own flesh and give rebirth to the race of dragons. They were said to have failed in their mission every time but they’d created unseen beasts that the three sisters controlled and rode on during their conquests.

The monsters landed in front of them and she would take the time to look at the princesses but her attention was drawn by the man who jumped off the back of one of the monsters and quickly crossed the distance between them. He had ice blue eyes–much like his sister that he’d been riding with–and wore her violet rosebud strapped to the lapel of his coat. It was him – the Dragon King. Valtor.

“Purple hair and eyes of gold,” he murmured as his eyes took her in, reaching a place deep inside her soul, and he stepped closer. “It’s you, isn’t it?” He ran his fingers over her cheek and the heat of his skin pulled tears out of her eyes that seemed to cool him off as his flesh soaked them up. And she felt a calm wash over her that she’d never felt before because it was her, the other part of their shared soul.

It was the wholeness of soulmates as they balanced each other out now that they’d finally met. Fire and water. Elements of magic. It wasn’t dead. It just wasn’t what everyone thought. It lived inside people and Griffin had had it ever since she’d been born. It fed on emotions and her will for life had made the roses inside her bloom and her hair grow long, reaching to hold her into the world even when she’d felt like giving up. And her desire to take care of her sisters had turned the sorrow in her heart into tears of gold. Valtor’s touch brought out her pure essence, though, since he was her soulmate and her opposite, and so the tears were of water. It was what she was woven from, just like he was made of fire. The rose had reached him and he’d set out to find her, the moonlight mirrored by her tears like a lighthouse in the darkness of the night.

Valtor wrapped his arms around her and from his back sprouted dragon wings. Much like her tears of water, the dragon wings were part of his purest essence that he could only reach when Griffin was around. They flew into the night sky and back to their kingdom, reaching the two monsters in the forest just at the break of dawn.

Griffin recognized her sisters when she saw them and they wept when Valtor returned her to them. Their souls pieced back together and the tears that fell from their eyes turned into a herb charged with the energy of the rising sun while they turned back into humans. The new plant had magical powers that allowed it to heal the plague of the soul that had taken their parents away when they’d tried to protect them from it. It had come from Griffin’s friend whose own broken soul had sought to swallow theirs and so their mother and father had sacrificed their own to save them. And her sisters’ souls had shattered apart when they’d thought her dead so they’d become a home to the plague as well, infecting everyone they met in their despair to feel whole again.

Griffin and Valtor paid a visit to Zatura as well whose magical tricks couldn’t work against them when the magic was woven in their souls and she was just stealing it from the essence of everything around. Valtor’s heat reached inside her and drained all the water from her body, leaving her all dried up and dead just like she’d been on the inside from the start.

His heat couldn’t hurt Griffin who took his hand and pulled him back into the calming depths of her soul. The fires had burned into him, driving him to want obsessively, and gold was the one thing that had always calmed him down. And when he looked into her eyes, he finally knew why that had been.

And this fairytale has no end just like their souls are tangled into eternity.

Ediltrude and Zarathustra are Griffin's sisters (in case it's not clear), the Trix are Valtor's sisters, and Zatura is the "friend".

#winx club #winx griffin #winx valtor #winx faragonda #winx ediltrude #winx zarathustra #winx trix #the trix #winx saladin #winx zatura #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing #au #fairytale au

8 notes · View notes

sweetcinnamonmaplesyrup · 5 years

Text

Soulmate Prompt 46: You feel immense pain in your soul when your soulmate is in life-threatening danger (Seven x Reader)

NOTE: I suggest reading this anywhere else but the Tumblr app just so you can read the opening sentence to the fic lol So uh;; I’m sorry, @mysticmermaid , this took forever to make, I really, REALLY, wanted this to be perfect, so I’ve been working my butt of this for the past few days– I hope it’s ok ;w; this isn’t my first time posting my writing on the internet, but it is my first time writing this sort of thing?? Like, writing with using “you” so be gentle with mE- please- ahaha;;

I’m also terribly sorry for it being painfully long, like, it’s 5,672 words long;; and I would like to edit it down, but I also like how it is so have fun reading through it lolololol can you tell it’s my first time doing this sort of thing? I probably wouldn’t make this THIS long if I had a bit of experience (but I might just do that, who know? Lol). The endings pretty rushed– and personally, I find the whole thing to be a little over the place and I don’t particularly enjoy it. Just saying-

However, I am happy with taking requests if you do want to make one! You can suggest some from the soulmate list, or just make a request in general! I don’t mind doing any Mysme character EXCEPT for V and Jumin- I haven’t played their routes yet >.> But I must warn you, they may be a bit out of character- heck, this may be a bit out of character for Seven, so I do apologise >>;;

Uhh I’ll shut up now so you can read it- thank you for the request, again, @mysticmermaid QuQ I was pleasantly surprised that I posted it without the actually writing attached to it and then deleted it– it’s a good thing this time I read the message, ahahah! ^^

Thank you so much, dear. I sincerely hope that you enjoy this

Your soulmate was going to be the absolute death of you, and that wasn’t an exaggeration, or a joke. It was because they were the cause of the god awful pain that your soul experienced on an almost daily basis, right until the day you no longer existed in this world.

For as long as you remember, the adults in your life had told you about the pain that you’d be experiencing when you were older, and that it was more than just the monthly lady pains. You remember watching your older siblings smile one moment, before doubling over and clutching onto their chest, screaming in agony while your parents tried their best to calm them down. The news stories that covered people actually getting hospitalised because of the pain that they experienced because of something called their “soul”.

You remember what your parents told you, when you asked them a question as they tucked you to bed one night. It was a day where the pain your sibling experienced ended in them being sent to the hospital, and you asked what was wrong with your sibling. Your parents wasted no time in explaining what had happened to them to you. They explained that they were in pain because their soul was telling them that their soulmate was in a danger that threatened their life, that your soul was, essentially, a ghost you, that remained protected due to the invisible wall that separated the living and the dead. It was the thing that connected you and your soulmate, and that once you met your soulmate, that pain the soul would experience will be almost non-existent, and would flare up one last time if your soulmate were to die due to everything else but of natural causes.

After all, that was how your grandmother died. Her husband worked for the army, and when he was out on the fields, she was experiencing pain of a difficult degree to deal with. She ended up dying the same minute the bullet killed her husband. They told you not to worry, though, and that you’d just have to be extra careful not to put yourself in danger so that your soulmate won’t be put in danger either, kissing your forehead as they wished you a goodnight. And that was when you had pledged not to get into any danger whatsoever, not only to benefit from it yourself, but to also help out your soulmate because you didn’t want to be the reason why they were suffering badly, to the point of death.

And you had no doubt in your mind that your soulmate would be reciprocating these beliefs you had.

You were proven wrong later on.

You remember, vividly, the first time you experienced this pain everyone talked about. It was during a lesson of PDHPE, in your 7th year of school. You were playing basketball with the rest of your class, skilfully avoiding the attention of your classmates who were yelling at each other for the ball, doing so with one of your friends. Unfortunately for you, someone had thought it was a good idea to throw the ball at you, but before you could even catch it, there was a sudden pain in your chest. It felt like someone had thrown a brick at you, which caused all the air in you to be pushed out of your lungs almost immediately, your ribcage burning. You immediately fell to the ground, hands wrapped around your abdomen as if it would be able to do anything to make the pain subsides or stop. Tears rapidly escape your eyes as the pain engulfs your whole body, causing you to start to hyperventilate to get whatever air you could into your lungs. It felt like your lungs were suffering the most from the pain, sometimes your heart even. It felt like everything inside of you was going to explode and leave nothing but a splatter of blood and disembodied body parts that have been flung everywhere due to the explosion. A small scream managed to escape your mouth, but was mixed with your sobbing too.

You remember the teacher stopping the game immediately to check what was going on. The concerned expressions that your friends and classmates had on their faces when you fell over. The yelling of your name. And then black.

After that, you woke up on a hospital bed, the pain still there but a bit more manageable. You remember how relieved and happy your parents, siblings and friends who all waited for you to wake up, looked. The bone crushing hugs they gave you made you think that maybe the real pain you had to worry about was them. You remember what they told you, and then the doctor coming in. They sat down next to you, asking you questions about what happened before the pain occurred and how it felt. Afterwards, they had concluded that this was all because of your soulmate, and that you still experiencing pain – which was manageable due to the medicine they had given you – meant they were still in that danger.

Throughout the year after, you suffered from more pain, which ended in you going to the hospital several times after. At one point, they prescribed you with a medication that was similar to the one they gave you in the hospital, to help you manage the pain more so that you didn’t have to keep coming to the hospital. It wasn’t that they were annoyed by your constant appearances, they just wanted you to live a normal and enjoyable life. And you were eternally grateful for their efforts.

So, here you were, studying in the most prestigious university of the whole country, with three of your best friends in tow and taking pain reducing pills every day. Thankfully, they were working like a charm, and the pain that your soulmate inflicted on you lessened from that initial one. You concluded this was because they found a better thing to do with their life, because the doctor had suggested that maybe they just did something or lived somewhere that put their lives in constant danger, but whatever the case, you were glad that they were doing seemingly better than when they did back in your high-school years.

Those around you were relieved too, but never stopped talking about how they had half the mind to murder your supposed soulmate due to what they had made you endure all these years. Even if they were just joking, you were, and always are, quick to defend your soulmate, saying things like maybe they were forced to live in this danger, that maybe that was their way of taking care of things, or the environment they loved in was just that terrible. You didn’t want to believe that your soulmate meant to put themselves in this danger, heck, maybe they didn’t even know they were putting themselves in this danger! Surely, no one just woke up, thinking to themselves that they’d just put themselves in constant, life-threatening danger to put someone else in that same danger.

You wanted nothing more than to help them get out of that danger, find another path that’ll help them better themselves, and then live happily ever after. That applied to everyone and anyone you met. There were, however, times where the medication wasn’t strong enough to dull the pain. It was in these times where you cursed your soulmate for giving you this pain that left you in the nurse’s office, even the hospital, more than once. They even memorised the food that you enjoyed on their menu the most and left it there for you to eat when you woke up! It didn’t sound so bad to someone else when you and told them about those times, but you definitely felt embarrassed every time that happened and recalled it.

You were definitely killing your soulmate when you met them.

And meet them you did, not in the stereotypical, overly romantic, “oh my god, you’re totally hot, wait a second, you’re actually my soumate!!”, way that TV had implanted in your head and those around you like the plague. No no no! Not for you.

While your friends found theirs at cafés, libraries, one finding theirs on a trip to the public restrooms, you met yours over something that lacked better judgement from you.

It was one night, you had left the party of a friend’s that lasted until midnight. No one got drunk, thankfully enough, but they weren’t able to provide you a means to get home safely under their watch. Which lead to getting a mysterious and totally “not suspicious” message from an unknown number, talking about how they were a Korean college student studying abroad who found a missing phone and asked for your help. If you were actually fully awake and had taken that cup of caffeine, sugary goodness that was the caramel cappuccino your friends made you beforehand, you probably would’ve declined helping this dude out and let it munch on your conscience afterwards. But, you stupidly followed the address he gave you, made it inside the apartment, and practically passed out.

Not until after you dealt with suddenly being thrown into a chatroom with a group of people who called themselves the RFA and immediately established you as their party planner, with a simple and not so thought out “yes” from you. And then you passed out on the couch.

That night, or morning, one of the members had called you to see if the number he had managed to find was the right one. Particularly, a certain red-headed hacker who went by the nickname of Seven, though his real name remained unknown to you (however, you learnt his baptismal name was Luciel). You were already fast asleep, but your finger managed to accept the call from the boy somehow.

“Hello, this-“

The red-head stopped in his tracks as he heard your quiet snores coming through the other end, sighing to himself as a small smile crept to his lips. ‘Of course they were a sane and normal person who slept at this time, why would he had thought differently about this person?’ He thought to himself as he decided that maybe this wasn’t the time to be messing with you. That didn’t mean he didn’t think differently of you. In fact, he did think differently of you, the moment he saw you standing outside the apartment.

Something, some invisible force, managed to pull him out of his concentrated and hardworking state just to gaze at the cameras that were placed on the outside of Rika’s apartment. At first, he was confused and just turned back to his screen, but he had caught someone standing outside of it just before his eyes had completely left the screen that held that footage.

He whipped his head back to the screen, his glasses askew as he did so. There was a girl, who looked to be the same age as Yoosung, staring at her screen with furrowed brows. She seemed to be lost as she looked down both ways of the corridor, her gaze briefly meeting the hidden camera Seven was watching from. In that brief moment, the hacker could’ve sworn the rhythmic beating in his chest in his chest quickened. There was also a momentary pang of pain that came. It surprised Seven, which compelled him to keep watching your movements. She looked back down at her phone again, before punching in the digits to get into the unused apartment. His eyes widen as he watches her walk into the place, closing the door quietly behind her. And then, his phone pinged with the notification that a new chatroom had opened, and he noticed that a person named “U/N” had entered it. He did an immediate background check on the girl.

She was only a few months away from turning 21 years old, her name being Y/N. She was currently attending the same University that Yoosung attended (what a lucky boy) and has three friends who also attend there. Her grades were pretty high, and she had a lot of positive comments about her. She seemed to be a lovely and innocent girl, but she had already visited the hospital more times than a usual person would in her short 20 years of living, intriguing him. He read a few sentences of each medical record, finding that each reason was exactly the same as the last; strains to her soul caused by her soulmate, leading to immense physical pain which mostly affected her chest.

In her earlier records, it looked like she was going back to the hospital every week or so, and that her condition was worsening by the 26th visit. But then after that, the time intervals spaced themselves out a bit more, starting from every fortnight, to every month, currently sitting at visiting the place every few months. He read somewhere that after the 26th visit they put her on a medication, but those times she went to the hospital afterwards, the alerting pain from her soul was just too strong, meaning that her soulmate was in a spot that nearly killed them. Seven ran his fingers through his curly red locks, reading over these records with furrowed brows.

Sheesh. Her soulmate must be some sort of crazy.

“Ah, well, you’re obviously asleep. I just, wanted to call to make sure this number was the number of our newest member and to thank you for joining the RFA. It really means a lot to all of us here, even if some of us are a bit sceptical with your sudden appearance.” His mind wanders to the “strictly business” duo, Mr Trust Fund Kid (Mr Jumin Han, CEO in line to C&R) and his Zen fan girl assistant (Miss Jaehee Kang, Chief Assistant and cat-sitter). They were the main two who explicitly expressed their concerns of her sudden appearance and were apprehensive to telling any sort of information about them.

“However! Do not fret! I, God Seven Zero Seven, Defender of Justice, will guide you, oh lonely lamb, through this treacherous and confusing period!” He strikes a dramatic pose, his head held up high, his lips in a silly pout, with a hand over his heart, even though he knows you aren’t watching. He chuckles to himself once again, before letting out another sigh. “If you need anything, I’ll be willing to take your calls and talk to you. But please, don’t try to get close to me. I’m pretty dangerous.”

For some reason as he said that line aloud his voice trailed off and one of his hands ended up rubbing the back of his neck. He felt a pain in his chest too. Why was this all happening to him? It was true that he was extremely dangerous, his job at the agency being the reason why, and he has no other choice but to warn people about being too close and chummy with him. After all, he doesn’t want anyone becoming a victim because of him. So then why had he felt upset over telling this girl to stay away? Why did he feel this pull towards her? Was it his paranoia getting to him? Was his mind eating him about her hidden affiliation with a rival agency?

It didn’t make any sense to his binary world. None of this did. Especially the ache that he felt deep inside of him. But he decides to ignore that for now.

“Um, anyway,” He says, clearing his throat after a while. “You’ll be able to listen back to any calls you’ve made or received within this app in your call history. You’ll know who’s calling you because their profile picture and name will be one of the first things you’ll see. Everything that you need to do for the party is all within this app and you probably wouldn’t want to mess around with the apartment you’re at. One wrong move, and an alarm will go off, so I’d be careful if I were you.” He pauses once again, thinking for something else to say.

“We’ll be seeing each other more often, so I wish you all the best of luck, party coordinator.”

He hung up shortly afterwards.

When you woke up in an unrecognisable place, anxiety filled thoughts started circling your head. How did you get here? Why were you here? Was this some sort of prank held by your friends? Were you some sort of hostage?? You swore to yourself that you hadn’t been drinking alcohol or doing drugs the night before, nor were you grabbed and put into a car with a blindfold over your eyes. At least, that’s what your mind was telling you as you wracked it for answers of why and when you got here. Did anyone even live here..?

You spent a good while, sitting on the couch you had just woken up on (which was surprisingly comfy), thoroughly confused before your phone pinged with a notification. It startled you slightly, causing you to jump before looking at the device that sat a short distance away from the spot you were sitting in. You grab it, wondering whothe heck was messaging you. Checking it revealed that a chatroom from the RFA messenger, that you stupidly downloaded on your phone last night because of a stupid dare, had opened up. Zen and Jumin were currently occupying the room. It brought a slight frown to your features. ‘I wonder if Seven will come..’

Being honest, you found yourself intrigued by the man. Not only because of his jokes that he shared and his handsome looks from his profile picture (goddamn was his side smile the hottest thing you had ever seen in your life, like what the actual hell?), but the mysterious air he had to him. You weren’t exactly close to him, so you could only assume things about him, but he seemed like the type of guy who was helplessly lonely. You gathered that from the messages you read over that the RFA members sent about the man, your own personal experiences, as well as from the phone call you had found in your history. His tone of voice dramatically changed after talking about being “God Seven Zero Seven, Defender of Justice”. The whole “don’t try to get close to me, I’m dangerous” spiel gave it away too, but those words tugged at you for some reason.

He, the quirky, whacky, jokester, but somewhat lonely, Seven, was a dangerous person? Obviously, according to Jumin, he was dangerous to cats, but was he really a dangerous person? More so, how dangerous was he? Did he cause that danger, or did he just get thrown into it?

Was he potentially your soulmate?

That last thought was pushed away into the back of your mind. There was no way he was. He’s probably just got some definition of dangerous that makes his pranks look like they were intended to hurt someone!

… But that tone he used made you think otherwise. He sounded sincerely determined, serious, unlike the tone he used within the chatrooms. Immediately, you shook your head.

‘Now is not the time to be thinking about that!’ You thought to yourself as you stood up from the couch and stretched, looking at your new surroundings with a determined smile. ‘I need food, and food needs me! There’s also a bit of thinking to do about my new environment and friends!’

And so, over the past few days, you’ve been getting to know the RFA members a bit more. You got along well with them, but especially well with Seven. You happily played along with his pranks, showed concern for him when he started opening up slightly, frowning when he had denied your suspicions of being down and throwing jokes again. However, you kept up with the man and the group, determined to get to know him to prove that tiny voice inside of you that he wasn’t your soulmate, despite desperately hoping so.

It wasn’t until the day that the special security system alerted him about it’s status did Seven first experience a pain in his soul.

With Vanderwood watching his every move, it was proving to be difficult to keep up with work, the RFA and the new member. He already knew there was a problem with the security of the app from the complaints he received from the members and the error messages that came up on the screen that held the status of the RFA server. But he couldn’t do much about those problems except temporarily fix it and try to find a permanent one later due to the work he was trying to do – or more like not do – for the agency. He was also desperately trying to sort out his feelings for you. He knew that something was up with him, but he didn’t want to admit it. Besides, he wasn’t supposed to feel this way, anyway.

Though, as a notification from the screen holding the code and status for the special security system popped up, he felt as if his body was killing himself from the inside. He hunched over, holding onto his chest and abdomen, trying to steady his breathing while gasping for air as pain engulfed his body. It felt like an immense amount of pressure was thing to push out of him, but another one was trying to push onto him, squeezing him in pain.

Vanderwood ran into the room as he heard his strained breathing, rushing over to Seven’s side. Sure, he wasn’t exactly fond of the guy, but they became affiliated with each other and had this sort of unspoken bond between one another. Vanderwood might just lose his job and his life if he were to die on him now, so keeping one another safe was a priority.

“Hey, hey!” he shouted at the man who struggled in his seat, unsure as to if he had heard him. “What’s going on?! Seven, can you hear me?!”

Seven, despite the pain he is experiencing manages to give him a strained nod, causing the brown haired man to sigh in relief.

“Ok, good, I need you to calm down and steady your breathing. Right now.” He tries to get Seven to follow him, managing to do so. He already suspected what was going on, it was pretty darn obvious anyway. So, when Seven had managed to calm himself, he immediately hands him a glass of water and a pill. Seven eyes the pill, before he eyes him.

“What’s this for?” his voice is hoarse and weak, the vomit stuck in his throat threatening to come out. Vanderwood rolls his eyes.

“Well, you’re supposed to be working.” He blankly explains, simply placing the pill in Seven’s hand. “Just take it. It’ll dull your pain.”

Seven remains slightly sceptical, causing Vanderwood to become frustrated at him, shoving it and the water into his mouth and down his throat . He had a coughing fit afterwards, to which the brown haired man refused to help the red headed one with. Afterwards, the pain was manageable but still there, and he couldn’t help but think it was caused by the newbie he was finding himself to become infatuated with. After all, he started feeling this pain when that notification from the apartment came up, and the only one occupying that place was you.

So, when he finally got Vanderwood off his butt, he grabbed all the hacking equipment he could and dashed to the apartment in a desperate hurry, of course not forgetting to grab a few pain reducing pills for the trip. Once he saw you, he was sure that this pain in his chest would go away. Once he saw you, he wouldn’t have to keep staring at a screen just so he could see the real you. Once he saw you, he would be able to focus. Once he saw you, he had a feeling his soul would be in peace. But once it was at peace, he’d become scared. Once it was at peace, he’d have to push her away. Once it was at peace… What was he going to do with himself? With her?

He couldn’t and wouldn’t allow her to experience more pain because of him. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t what he wanted. He was sure that she was already fed up with dealing with the pain he caused. And if they were really soulmates, she should’ve just given up on him the first time he had caused her pain. But he wouldn’t be able to help the fact that they were fated to be together and that fate liked to twist things in the most horrible of ways.

If you were fated, he couldn’t just change that. You only ever had one soulmate. And one soulmate only. He was starting to think, as he shoved all of his belongings quickly into the car while his fire breathing robot dog chased Vanderwood around, that maybe this pain in his chest wasn’t only because his potential soulmate – that was you – was in danger because of the bomb that was installed as part of the special security.

Maybe, it hurt, because he knew what must be done for the benefit of both of you.

Making his way to the apartment was proving to be a bit of a hard trip to get through. The pain in his chest flared up again, making it incredibly hard to drive. His vision kept wavering, his body threatening to faint due to his desperate breathing. It meant that his driving was more sloppy and reckless than usual, because not only did he have to worry about the pain from his soul, he had to worry about your safety as well as the thoughts about his decision swirling around his head. He had never experienced a more stressful moment in his life, other than the time he had to leave his brother behind so that he could protect the both of them. Remembering that now was definitely doing more bad than good, because the ache in his chest was only growing more intense. He felt like he was going to die.

However, Meowy had other plans. In the case where you, his dear, were to experience terrible soul pains again, Meowy was to sense that and try her best to calm you down enough to take your medication to relieve that pain. It was a good thing that Seven had brought her to passenger seat and not in the case he had made for her that sat in the back. So, as soon as it flared up, she guided him through a few breathing exercises, which eventually allowed him to shakily take a pill. It didn’t exactly relieve his symptoms, or pain, but it did make the journey a bit more bearable.

Meanwhile, you were slightly panicking due to the last few messages Seven had sent. What? There was something wrong with the apartment? And he was coming here to fix it? But what about the work at the agency he had yet to finish? Was that what that noise from last night was about?

You didn’t know what to do. From what you have been told so far, you had been guided to an apartment that belonged to a dead woman, who was also the previous party planner and one of the two founders of the RFA, named Rika. They hosted parties for a good cause, and have so far hosted 2 parties. Ever since she left, however, they haven’t had a party since and the messenger became a place where they just talked for days on end (though, particularly for Zen, it became a platform to post his selfies every two days or so, before you came along). Basically, the apartment was filled with classified material on the party guests that had attended in their previous parties, most were notably higher ups, people with influence and power.

You obediently heeded to the commands of V, Seven and Jumin, and have not touched a single drawer or cabinet in the apartment (well, apart from the ones in the kitchen, which surprisingly held food that had yet to go bad, despite the place practically being abandoned for a while according to the members) but only now did you find out that there was a special security system. It was supposed to protect the information by setting off a bomb to not only destroy the information inside the building, but as well as the perpetrator and any innocents that were inside. Seven had advised you not to move because the hacker and managed to mess up the algorithm so that the function of the bomb going off was reversed. Meaning that if someone were to break in here at this moment, you’re basically going to die because they wouldn’t want any witnesses.

So, all you did was sit in the bed that the apartment had, laying down on your back, staring mindlessly at the ceiling. You talked with the remaining RFA members, and thought about your life so far. How you spent most of it avoiding as much danger as possible for your soulmate, only to end up dying without finding them. And god, were you feeling sorry that you possibly had to take them down with you, after all, you didn’t know anything about them. You wouldn’t and couldn’t know what they’d do if they found out that their soulmate died.

In your grandma’s case, she died with her husband because she was slightly older and had breathing issues. But if she was healthier, you had no doubt in your mind that she would have to live the rest of her life with half of her being torn from her grasp. You didn’t want your soulmate to experience that. Heck, what if they were just as excited to meet you as you were with them? It brought tears to your eyes just thinking about the pain that your soulmate would have to face every day just because you stupidly decided to trust a random stranger.

And then your thoughts went to Seven.

Good god, what we’re you going to do with that red head?

Honestly? You had fallen for the man. Hard.

From his jokes, to his pranks, to his poetic words he sprinkled in every now and then, his dorky pick-up lines, how he cared for the RFA members even if he showed it in the most abstract of ways and his silky smooth as god-damn butter voice.

Then there was his serious side. Your sneaking suspicions were correct when he was showing this side. This man really wasn’t ok, despite what he portrayed in the chatrooms, but he tried his best to keep that to himself. It was admirable, but it hurt you more than it probably should. It just motivated you to get to know him better! His world was just so interesting, irresistible to you. You wanted nothing more than to be able to be given the chance to explore that mysterious world of his.

Then, the sound of glass shattering outside of your room grabbed your attention. Lack of better judgement strikes back once again, because you end up running to the scene, to find man with a pale complexion climbing through the broken window. His hair was unnaturally white with pink tips, his outfit consisting of a black mask that covered half his face, a black leather jacket that hung off his right shoulder, revealing an eye tattoo, spiked bracelets, a red tank top, black pants that had a single red stripe going down the outer-most side and leather boots. His eyes were an unsettling mint green and- wait.

Why did he look similar to Seven?

“Stay over there, miss.” He spoke in a smug tone, you could basically hear his smirk.

Where are you?

Seven was having an incredibly hard time trying to get to the apartment in time after ditching his car, carrying all his equipment and trying to manage the growing pain that he felt in his chest. He probably looked insane to onlookers, but he wasn’t going to let you go or live with himself for allowing harm to come your way.

From the beginning, he was somewhat opposed to V allowing you to stay in the apartment because of the bomb; Rika left that place shortly after it was installed anyway. But now this just got out of hand. He needed to get to that place to disarm that bomb and to protect you, he wasn’t going to let the second light that fate had tossed to him slip out of his grasp like the first one. No. Not now, and not ever. He was going to fight for you, stay with you and make it through everything with you with your permission. He wasn’t going to give up on you.

With that thought, he keeps running, despite his legs complaining and threatening to give in.

He runs and runs. Pushing past crowds of people, yelling out several apologies. Running with all the strength he has, gasping for air desperately, not stopping until the apartment block comes into view. He bursts through the building, not wasting any time.

Each step he took, he was closer to his dearest. Each step he took wracked his soul with an immense pain, and so did hers. Each step he took, he was one step closer to finding the truth.

And when he had opened the door, the pain subsided as his golden orbs, that were probably red and swollen from the tears, landed on your own pair of teary eyes.

He wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or scared.

But he was sure, as were you, of one thing.

You were soulmates.

And he was going to get a damned good beating for all those hospital visits.

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger x reader #mystic messenger 707 #mystic messenger writing #oh good lord #thank go thaty over qwq #you have no idea how relieved but anxious i feel.rn #like actually #thank you <3 #even though i've said that so many times already lol #but seriously #now #i'll just sit in my corner ahaha #and pray that this is ok qwq

131 notes · View notes

snowdog49 · 5 years

Text

Sunrise

ROYAI Week 2019

Day 6: Revival

Rating: General Audience

His fingers tapped on the steering wheel as the soft music played in the car. It was quiet, like the sleeping form next to him. The dark road was dimly lit by the headlights, straight and narrow, leading into some farmlands. Dark haired, casually dressed, the high ranked military official took his time, driving slow to be careful of holes and bumps. He wasn't tired, as he should have been. His black eyes inspected the road which he would have guessed that it was only used by locals. Considering it was summer season, the harvests were not ready yet, and the road would have little traffic at all. Last time he drove down it was years ago, but before that, he was just a lad. It was hardly a road then. At least now he didn’t have to have her walk for miles to get there. He was sure that’d be a disaster in the least. Roy had been thinking about this for the past week. It was essential that she didn’t wake. The surprise would be ruined. Roy had never driven so carefully before. He watched diligently for wildlife, holes, and anything else that would ruin this trip for them. He wasn’t going to screw this up. It was a very important gift.

It’d already been stressful enough, and insomnia plagued both of them. She tossed and turned at night, groaning as she tossed the covers off, or pulled them closer. If she was awake, so was he. Normally he wouldn’t mind. She usually comforted him when he woke and was unable to sleep. However, she needed sleep for a whole other reason besides just going to work every day. Since he had bestowed the responsibility upon her, he would be awake when she was. It probably didn’t help her mood swings either. Roy merely tolerated those. Once he was given the news, he read every pregnancy book he could get his alchemic fingers on.

The trip wasn’t without its specific purpose. Work had taken its toll on both of them. The paperwork and tasks didn’t decrease even though Roy explicitly told others to take parts of her duties for her. He watched her struggling to stay awake, her getting up and moving though it was painful on her swollen feet most days. No matter how bad she wanted it, the doctor, and he refused to let her exercise. At lunch last week she was lamenting on how fat she felt. No matter how often he kissed her cheek and told her that she was the most beautiful that he’d ever seen her, she only broke down and cried. There was nothing Roy could do to make her happy. She was unhappy, he was unhappy, and moreover, he felt useless.

As his fingers drummed away to the familiar tune, his chest felt full with the idea of himself being a father. It wasn't the perfect situation or time, but he'd welcome it. It was certain that he was taking it better than her. He didn't consider himself father material. His past was dark, heavy, and regretful. He didn't deserve anything. He certainly didn't deserve the sleeping angel next to him, the growing child in her, or his rise to redemption. The little light that it was, it was strong and mighty as it shone through the darkness of his deep hole of despair. He would not only change the world through his own leadership but through his child.

It was fun even to think about the child’s gender. He teetered back and forth on what he wanted, but truth be told, he didn’t care. Sitting down with Havoc, he admitted that a girl would be wonderful. She’d have anything she wanted. Riza only giggled and told Havoc that Roy just wanted a boy so that he had someone to get in trouble with. Roy imagined both worlds clearly. He did have a habit of having clear and larger than life ambitions. It was even amusing to him, imagining himself, a General, with a little girl attached to his finger, dressed in her finest dress, as he inspected the troops in the morning. He could see a six-year-old boy, looking identical to himself, jumping around the cadet school and playing on the training equipment. He snorted as he imagined Lieutenant Breda holding his girl, being ordered to read her favorite book to her for the tenth time.

The short golden hair, peaceful expression, and twitching fingers were lost in the dark car. Roy knew they were there, however, the only illumination was from the dash and the stereo, which was a yellow weak glow. It was probably best for a darker interior. It’d help her sleep. He was more surprised that she had only woke once when they were at the gas station when he was getting gas. She went in to use the restroom.

"Where are we?"

“I don’t know,” he lied with a shrug. “I’m just driving.”

She looked around nervously. “When are we going to head back?”

Roy shrugged again.

“I hope my legs don’t cramp,” she warned, getting back into the vehicle. He put his jacket over her before starting the car and continued on his way.

He hadn't been in this direction in a long while. His dark eyes glanced at her as she snored lightly, seemingly as if she was waking up. He held his breath, hoping that she wouldn’t be angry that he had dragged her out into the wilderness. But she didn't. Riza shifted, letting out a hum, her body stiffening and relaxing. Roy could hardly believe how beautiful she was. Granted, it was the same thought that led the two of them into this situation, but she continued to blow by his expectations every day. He woke up next to her and felt as if he was blessed as if he wasn’t a complete failure after all. Though having a child out of wedlock was viewed as irresponsible and maybe heavy looked down upon, Roy put all that aside and still puffed his chest out with pride. He loved Riza with all his heart. He couldn’t say that he regretted it...yet...

It was exciting too. Every new turn of events, every experience was seemingly more exciting than the next. He thought back to just the other day when they were in the office. She jumped in her seat, resulting in a quick jump from him as well. Every officer nearby looked at her.

"It kicked," she had whispered, putting her hand on her stomach.

"Kick it back," an officer joked.

But Roy didn't hear that. He only felt the sinking of his heart that he couldn't run to her and touch her. He couldn't feel his child. It wouldn't be till they got home. By that point, he was following her around with his hand stuck to her stomach in constant anticipation. When they slept, her back tightly tucked into his chest, his hand resting on her, waiting even in his dreams for his child to reach out to him. The moment he did feel it, Riza could do nothing but laugh at him. He jumped up and down, celebrating with such vigor. Once was not enough either. He continued to follow her, relentless, without a parting touch until Riza had enough and swatted him away.

Another strange difference was her smell. Roy could have sworn that it was her hormones that made her smell so good. He was attracted to her, so naturally. He found himself leaning over her shoulder at work, or holding her from behind, just to nuzzle her hair. It was intoxicating! He even joked that her body was brainwashing his body. And he did want her. He wanted her madly some days. It seemed as if a primal instinct was released from him to protect and care for her. Maybe it was the smell of his unborn child, that made him so attracted to her. He wasn’t sure. But Roy wanted to be by her side and serve her with every want and wish. That included snuggling up to her to get another deep breath of her.

The other side of the hormones was her sexual arousal. He wouldn’t deny it. He was drawn to her like Breda was drawn to a meatball sub, or maybe Hayate to bacon. And it was never that he found her unattractive. At seven months, it was difficult for him to mentally move past having sex with her with the baby there. She insisted, begged, for it. And he tried, but he continued to worry about hurting her or his heir. She was blatantly pregnant at this point. It wasn’t just some small bump he could mentally get over.

"I'm not made out of glass, damn it." She screamed at him. "You already got me pregnant! Fuck me like you mean it."

Maybe he'd come around to it.

The sky above him began to wake. The dark l, starry blanket above him brightened and the stars faded to their own slumber. He was almost there. He would have been there earlier if it wasn't for the road conditions. But he wasn't late, and that was the important part. When he did arrive at the parking lot, Roy felt horrible for waking her. He’d much rather let her sleep. It was as if she was finally catching up from all those lost nights. He reached back, grabbing their jackets and a blanket, his gentle touch awakening her.

"Riza, Love… wake up."

She opened her eyes, noticing how dark it was. She didn't even know where she was. "Where…"

"Thought that we'd get away for a morning." He smiled at her. Roy reached back one more time, handing her a roll of toilet paper. "You better go," he offered.

Riza pulled herself out of the car, stretching towards the warming sky. He watched as she rubbed her leg as she looked around. "I got stiff," she yawned. "Guess I better find a bush before this child decides to puncture my bladder." She couldn't even squat on her own. Roy felt as a good "husband," he should be helping her even in this moment of vulnerability. He squatted behind her, holding her from behind as she did her best to go pee. She was a highly independent woman, never needing help. She was disciplined, calm, level headed, and most of all, loyal. Though all these qualities were never… mostly never...compromised with the pregnancy, her independence was somewhat taken from her. She was barely wouldn't even be able to tie her shoes. She was seven along and was more than upset she couldn't pick up dropped papers and pens. Roy had offered to get her a lieutenant to help her. That ended well…

He helped her put on her jacket, more out of courtesy, and extended his elbow for her, as if he was taking her to dance. She smiled, tiredly, her eyes wrinkled with sleep, taking his arm and following him. He could tell that she wanted to keep up with him, go at a faster rate. But He took his time, letting her set the pace. “Doesn’t this place look familiar,” she grinned sideways, knowing exactly where she was. “You’re very clever, Roy Mustang.”

He snickered, cresting the top of a knoll. He pulled the blanket from under his arm while she stood looking East.

“I haven’t been here in forever,” she admitted quietly.

That left a big grin on Roy’s face. The sky was brightening faster, the stars already are gone. Slowly a bright, yellow glow grew on the horizon; pink and purple erupting in a beautiful blend towards the high of the sky. Roy wrapped the blanket over his shoulders before pulling her into his chest. His arms wrapped the flannel blanket around the two of them. He knew she’d enjoy his warmth on a cool morning. Roy rested his head on her shoulder, taking advantage of his position to smell her. His hold on her tightened as the glow brightened, the golden rays reaching out from the green fields. The land awoke with the sun’s yawns, peaking above the horizon to greet the world. To top it all off, birds below them in the trees began to chirp lightly.

“Feel better,” he whispered in her ear.

He felt her nod, leaning her head against his. “I do. Thank you”

There were many things that made her perfect to him. He couldn’t name all of them, but he felt them. And one of those things was when he held her during a sunrise. It didn’t matter if it was a hill in her hometown or in bed with the blinds open, the feeling of warmth and deep connection radiated through him. That moment was when he felt most complete.

“Nothing like starting a new day with the sun, feeling renewed,” he sighed.

“A birth of a new day,” she giggled. “That is a little ironic.”

Roy laughed. “I think it is yes.”

#royai week 2019 #royaiweek19 #royai #Roy Mustang #Riza Hawkeye #pregnancy #cute #sunrises #revival #Royai love #last minute fic #fan fiction

47 notes · View notes

sevenincubistolemyheart · 5 years

Text

Black Ties, White Lies- Hoseok’s One shot

Au: Mafia

Tag List: @xsunnyhoseokx @wilhelminalucinda @amiraclerenee @inutiledediscuter

Rating: T

Potential Triggers: Nothing too serious in this one, especially compared to prior chapters, but grieving.

Pairing: BTS x Reader/OT7 x reader

Genre: Drama, Crime, Angst, Fluff, Hurt & Comfort

Length: 2.2k

You woke with a start, a frightened gasp escaping your lips as you smacked your assailant away, looking around the room frantically. You could hear your heart beat loudly in your ears and only came back to yourself when you locked eyes with Yoongi. His voice cut through your fear as he looked you up and down, hand out in a placating gesture as he took in your frenzied state. “Hey, you’re safe. Listen to me! You’re safe, I’m not going to hurt you!” You took deep breaths closing your eyes as you forced yourself to calm down, clenching your trembling hands together for comfort.

“Sorry about that.”

He observed you with an undefinable look glinting in his eyes, already dressed and showered. “....How many times do I have to-” He sighed and shook his head with a rueful smirk tugging at his lips. “Nevermind. It’s fine. I was going to wake you for your first day of training anyway. You’re starting with Hoseok today. He said to meet him down in the infirmary.” You nodded as you rose from bed, heading towards the dresser you now both shared. Yoongi had been kind enough to make room for the new clothes Namjoon had got for you on the top drawer since most of his everyday clothes were hung up in the closet.

“Hey.”

You turned in surprise towards Yoongi, clothes in hand having thought he’d left already. He was hesitating and you smiled reassuringly, a bit off-put by his out of character nervousness. “...What was your nightmare about?” He finally mumbled, moving closer to observe your expression better. Now it was your turn to hesitate. He quickly spoke up again. “You’ve just never reacted like that before.” He huffed in frustration and ran his fingers through his hair. “Look. I’m experienced in psychology, as you know. If I know what’s plaguing your subconscious, I can probably help.” He explained finally.

You blinked but nodded and reluctantly voiced what you’d been dreaming before you’d woken up so abruptly. “That makes sense. Honestly? I had a nightmare about Taehyung and…” You swallowed, not wanting to remember some of the graphic things that had happened. “He was torturing me. It was horrible. Everything felt so real, it’s like I can still hear his voice in my head taunting me, even now.” You risked a glance his way before averting your gaze to the dresser again. “You...you joined in too, eventually. Jungkook helped him first before you came in, laughing and claiming he knew I’d never amount to anything here. Th-Then, when you entered, I begged you for help, for mercy-” You cleared your throat as your voice cracked and closed your eyes as you turned to face the dresser instead. “But you just called me a weak idiot and joined in, taunting me all the while. Eventually, I couldn’t even scream or cry. You woke me up just as Jungkook had started tracing patterns into me with a knife.” You admitted, looking back at him in startled surprise as Yoongi snorted.

“That would never happen. I wouldn’t let it, and neither would Namjoon. You remember what he said, don’t you? You’re not an idiot, and by the end of this week, you definitely won’t be weak either. Besides all that, I would never lay a hand on you. You would need to do something really, really stupid to end up being a client of mine, and even then…” He trailed off and looked away, shaking his head with a breathless chuckle.

You were taken aback by his frank confession but shook it off as you noticed the time. “It’s already been 10 minutes. You have to be somewhere, don’t you?” You questioned softly, pushing his words to the rear of your mind to contemplate at a later time when you both weren’t in a rush. He checked his Rolex and nodded, heading back towards the door. “Yeah, you’re right. We’ll talk about this later. Make sure you’re not too much later to meet up with Hoseok.”

He left quickly after that, the scent of his cologne still lingering in the air as you heard him lock the door behind him. You quickly changed and got ready to go meet Hoseok, opting for comfort over fashion as you got yourself dressed in a loose-fitting black t-shirt and black jeans, with socks and monochrome Converse High sneakers. You stifled a yawn, with your hand and went to stretch only to wince in pain as you pulled your arms back down, your right arm apparently still sore after Taehyung’s rough treatment only a few nights ago.

At least you weren’t learning from him or Jungkook today. They were hard enough to deal with when you weren’t handicapped, and you were thankful you wouldn’t need to worry about giving them any more ammunition to use against you. Plus, something told you Taehyung didn’t need the ego boost of knowing he’d harmed you, judging from the condescending way he’d spoken to you.

You brushed your teeth and hair quickly, having taken a shower the night before and made your way downstairs to the infirmary, knocking politely before you entered. ‘Morning Hoseok, I’m here for my training.” You said easily, smiling back at the energetic male as he made his way over to you at the sight of your entrance. “Oh great! You’re actually a little early, I just finished planning out what I want to teach you today!” He chirped with a grin.

His enthusiasm was admittedly infectious and you found your curiosity piqued. “That reminds me. What are you teaching me anyway? Namjoon was very careful to not spoil anything major about what you guys had planned. Something about “being prepared for anything and everything.” You deepened your voice and used air quotes over Namjoon’s earlier words, causing Hoseok to snicker. “Well, he’s not wrong, despite sounding like some cliche action hero. In this profession, it is very much dependent on how adaptable you are. Luckily, you seem to be quick on your feet in that regard, judging from what Jimin told me. Most people freeze, but it’s a good sign that you didn’t and instead thought fast. That’s essential to everything all of us will be teaching you, but it’s especially important in the medical field.” He gestured to the metal tray positioned next to the hospital like bed where several metal tools and medications were scattered.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his segue, shaking your head fondly. “Nice tie-in. I was wondering where you were going with that.” You praised, hopping up on the bed and examining the items on the table curiously, trying to see if you recognized any of them. Your Mom had taught you quite a bit, so you were pleased to see your memory wasn’t totally failing you as you recalled what a decent number of the instruments uses were. The medication, however, save for ibuprofen, morphine and chloroform were all blanks for you.

Hoseok hummed as he noticed you taking in the various items, reaching out to pick up the stethoscope, and slipping it around his neck. “Before I start teaching you properly, I feel I should double check. You’re not squeamish over blood or needles, right? I know you’re not the strongest currently, but that’ll change, and if you’re struggling with lifting or turning one of us, at least one of the others is always here, so we can help. Namjoon and Yoongi in particular never really leave here unless absolutely necessary and Seokjin leaves pretty rarely as well.”

You shook your head at his question of being squeamish. Your Mom had made sure to get you over that real fast when she came home bloodied, and you’d had to stitch her up since she was too weak to do it herself, and adamantly refused to go to the hospital. “No, I should be good. As far as lifting goes, I’ll keep that in mind, though I hope none of you ever get injured enough for that to have to be the case.”

Hoseok smiled fondly at your response but turned serious as he began to educate you on the many tools and medications he’d set up. He was very patient with you, which you really appreciated as it was a lot to memorize. You grinned in victory as you finally managed to recall all of the tools’ uses, as well as the medications after several prior failures. He chuckled at your excitement and motioned over towards the metal cabinets against the wall. “Can you do me a favor and get me the file in the lowest cabinet honey? It should be easy to spot, it’s got some more info I want to finish up with.”

You looked at him in surprise as you hopped off of the bed. “We’re really already almost done? Are you sure this’ll be enough?” You worried, nibbling your bottom lip in concern as you retrieved the file. He sighed, shooting you a gentle grin as he approached you, taking the file from you and placing it between the space in the handle where it stayed. He pulled back and reached out to put a hand on your shoulder squeezing it reassuringly. “Try not to worry. Unfortunately, a lot of things I wish I could go more in-depth with isn’t going to really sink in until you’re faced with the circumstances first hand. It’ll rely a lot on your ability to act and think well under pressure. Your brain shouldn’t falter when it really needs the information, but even so, especially for your first few times, I should be close at hand and so will the other boys. We’ve had to nurse ourselves in the field sometimes just to make it back here alive so we can guide you if you start to get overwhelmed. We all get that you’re still new to this, even with your Mom teaching you and we’ll be here to support you through it.”

His words affected you more than you thought they would as you felt tears burn your eyes. You smiled weakly and nodded in thanks as you fought back against your emotions. “I can’t put into words how much that means to me Hoseok-” He interrupted you. “Call me Hobi, it kind of stuck after your Mom started calling me it.” He said gently, pulling his hand away from your shoulder to instead fiddle with the ends of your hair. His eyes were soft and contemplative as he looked down at the fingers currently rubbing your hair back and forth. “It’s okay to cry you know. I won’t judge you like the others. I miss her too. We all do, even if we don’t show it, or show it in the wrong ways.”

Just like that, you completely crumpled into him, sobbing into his chest. He was startled and scrambled to catch you, wrapping one strong arm firmly around your waist to hold you to him, and letting the other continue playing with your hair, though this time he began actively running his fingers through it in an attempt to soothe you.

“Shh...Shh...it’s okay honey I’ve got you.” His grip tightened a bit as you let out all the emotions you’d been holding in since your Mother’s death, so lost in the agony of your grief that you barely even registered that he was speaking words, let alone what they were. “I swear that I will keep you safe in her stead. I’ll take care of you, and make sure that no-one harms you as they did her.” His gaze locked on the file he’d left sitting on the metal cabinet and his eyes hardened, his grip tightening to bring you closer to him protectively as the picture of your Mother’s smiling face taped to the file stared back at him.

“I will avenge her death, I swear it.”

“Are you 100% sure that I don’t need to learn the stuff from that file? You seemed so certain about it before...”

Your voice was light, with a touch of confusion as he suddenly changed his mind, seemingly out of nowhere. You attempted to turn to retrieve the file but without so much as a conscious thought Hoseok twirled you around and backed you up until you could feel the cold metal of the filing cabinet you’d been so intent on getting to digging into your back.

His eyes met yours and he all but begged you not to look. “Please. You really don’t need to see it. Trust me, alright?”

His voice was so gentle, and his eyes were so honest that you nodded, heart rate picking up at the close proximity despite yourself as your cheeks colored. “...Okay, fine. Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

He shook his head with that kind smile of his, making your worries fade away. “No worries. Why don’t you go back to your room for the day or get some food? It smells like Jin is cooking up something.”

You smiled innocently and nodded, and he smiled brightly after you.

It was only when he was sure that you were gone that his smile dropped, and his eyes darkened, narrowing to slits as he turned to grab the file, a cruel smirk making its way onto his pretty pink lips.

He wasn’t ready.

Not yet, anyway.

A/N: Yeah, I just did that. One mystery isn’t enough I decided. I’ve been pretty nice lately but I’m feeling a bit teasy and sadistic so enjoy this while I work on the next chapter of Tainting Purity and the other oneshots.

Love you all~

117 notes · View notes

haunting-misery · 5 years

Text

The Arcana - Outsider: Ch.1

Strange was the only word that could describe the world. Though I lived a life far from civilization; I still learned what existed and how to survive, traveled to many different towns and experienced many things. The most common thing I have ever seen was magicians doing what they have trained for most of their entire lives, magic. Given the offer of being taught magic before, but I declined with the feeling of it possibly removing my parent's teachings of hunting and harvesting. That's what did during my traveling was hunt and harvest for food along with essentials, having two mouths to feed; mine and my dark brown fur colored pet mink, Faunus. Whom people don't notice that he's with me until I say his name, he pokes his head out of the fabricated burrow of my cloak's collar; which gives people a fright for his dark brown is almost as dark as my black hair, helping him hide well. There was no place for me to go and each town didn't feel right to settle down, all felt the same until being told by another traveler about a city that was different from the other cities. It was thriving back to life after suffering from a terrible plague and gaining its freedom again from the death of a Count who ruled it with an iron fist. It had its fair share of magicians and average villagers but no one of my kind; adding that it could be something new and exciting for me. The traveler kindly helped me find a map to the town and showed me the best way to get there; told me the travel was going to be long but if I took the route they drew on the map for me, I would get there soon. I took the idea and began my travel to the town, many days and months passed as I traveled since I was going on foot. Did a few stops in other cities to get supplies and from the forests nearby as well with sleeping in them, even spare some time to spend with Faunus to get out all of his energy so he won't be restless as we travel. Believe two months have now passed and have made it halfway through the route. I looked at the map and began estimating how many days it would take for me to reach the town, so far an estimated four or at least five days until I arrive. So far three days have gone by, I'm getting through the fourth day and getting close. About half of the day has gone; it's now nighttime with a couple more miles to go, but my tired feet were now aching in pain. My exhausted body grew tired. I decided to stop and make camp for the rest of the night, stopped and gently sat down on the dirt road to give attention to my feet. Rubbing them and the sound of wooden wheels against the dirt caught my attention, looked behind me and saw the faint glow of lantern light in the distance. Proceeded to rub my feet as I heard the sound get close, then suddenly it stopped next to me; a man's voice spoke to me. "Excuse me, dear, are you alright?" I turned and faced the direction of the voice; it was a villager in a two horse-driven wagon. Appeared to be much older than me, particularly at the old age of still seeing other people my age as children. "Yes, I'm alright. Just stopping and resting for the night." answering his question. "Resting for the night out here? That seems quite dangerous." Having an expression of possibly looking at a madwoman. "It's okay; I have protection." I point to my bow and quiver of arrows with my hunting knife in its sheath as I talk. "I can see that, but what about being attacked during your slumber?" I can see the concern in the man's face; he does have a point, I don't know what animals lurk in this forest and brings questions to my mind. The man's voice breaks my thoughts. "Tell you what, for the safety of your well being and to ensure me that you won't end up injured or worse dead. How about I give you a ride to where you are going." "Are you sure?" "I insist, my wife will understand the reason for my late return home and it would be better for a young girl such as yourself." "How much will the ride cost?" That is one thing I worry about I'm trying to save as many coins as I can. "No need to pay me, dear, besides I get enough payments already." "Alright then." I walk up to the man's carriage and hoist myself up onto the driver seat; the man holds out a hand for me to help walk safely to the spot next to him and I sit down. After getting comfortable in my seat, the man gives a gentle shake of the reins with a click of his tongue and the horses begin moving again. "So, what's your name dear?" He spoke as to try and start up a conversation. "Demeter, Demeter Chase." "Hugo." He replied. "Where are you heading off to?" Hugo asked. "A town called "Vesuvia'," I replied. Hugo chuckled before he spoke with a smile. "What a coincidence, that's where I live. You plan on living there?" "Don't know, going to see how it is first." "Well, I think you're going to love it dear. Lots of people do." Me and Hugo continue our conversation as the wagon drives down the road, Hugo telling me everything he knows about the town and the history of it. Time passes as we chat until I fall asleep and can feel Hugo's eyes on me then his gaze leaves me before I go into the land of dreams. Hugo's P.O.V Demeter is a sweet girl with good manners and respect; surprised to see a young girl like her out in the forest at night and I could easily tell that she wasn't from around the area of town. Having long straight hair of the darkest black that I have ever seen and hazel eyes accompanied with light tan skin, freckles from across one cheek over the bridge of her nose to the other side of the other cheek. The short right-sided parted bang of her hair covered one of her eyes as she slept with her head down. Though she is sleeping, Demeter looks much younger than she appeared when she was awake. Still having the face of a young woman but with the youthfulness of a child; I could easily mistake her for being my own. When I saw her face as she turned in my direction when I first spoke to her, she looked quite tired and made me question how far or how long was she walking. By the two satchels and basket, she was carrying. It appeared that she was traveling, I wonder how far she journeyed to get here. Maybe I will ask her when she wakes up; by the time I reach the gate to Vesuvia, it's already the crack of dawn and sees that Demeter is still sleeping. I decided that it couldn't hurt to let her stay at me and my wife's home to rest until she wakes up, for she would have a place to stay and not be on the streets. I get through the gates and travel across a bridge to the central city area to the island that holds the marketplace, make it to my home. Bring in the wagon and along with putting the horses into the stables; the door leading into the house opens, my tired wife stands in the doorway. "Hugo, you're home." my wife says in a tired voice, followed by a yawn and continues. "But why so late?" "I was offering some help along the way." pointing at a sleeping Demeter as I talk. My wife looks at her. "Who is that?" "Her name is Demeter Chase; she's a traveler who was heading here, I offered her a ride for her safety." "Her safety? What happened?" My wife responds with concern in her voice. "She was planning on sleeping in the forest, but I couldn't bear not knowing if she was going to be alright out there or not." "She fell asleep during the ride; I thought it was best she spent the night here." After hearing what I said, my wife smiled at me proudly. She has always been proud of me for helping other people and being generous to them. "Well, I'm glad you did. Heavens knows what could have possibly happened to her if she spent the night out there." My wife responds. I unpack the load in the wagon with the help of my wife and put it in storage. When we're done with unloading and storing, I carefully carry Demeter off the driver seat and into the house. Brought her to the guest room and laid her down on the bed, my wife took off Demeter's bow, quiver and hunting knife holster while I pulled the covers over Demeter. My wife sets the weapons on the bedside table and the two satchels with the basket on the outer side of the table, we both walk out of the room quietly and shut the door. My wife heads off to bed while I get ready for bed and soon join her.

#the arcana #fanfic #story series

2 notes · View notes

crue-sixx · 5 years

Text

Forever and Always

Title: Forever and Always

Author: tiddly-winx

Summary: Based on @crue-sixx's vampire head canon, the reader is a vampire who has completely captivated Nikki Sixx.

Warnings: mild smut, swearing.

The night you met your future love, you were just looking for your next meal. The young folk nowadays seemed really into the vampire legends as a gimmick, but that suited you just fine, you were just trying to blend in with your surroundings. That was one of the first lessons your master had taught you, before casting himself into a bonfire to end his unnatural long life. You had also learned the essentials from him, like never drink after the heart had stopped beating, no prolonged exposure to the sun and most importantly how to choose prey-only feed on whoever you could, but kill the wicked the wicked. In the years that followed his abandonment, you had grown bitter at the world and did as you pleased. Over the span of 100 years, you understood why your master had cautioned discretion-you had seen many a fine vampire meeting their untimely end at the hands of ignorant villagers. You eventually taught yourself how to keep cool as a cucumber in social situations, more importantly controlling yourself when you smelled blood.

However, you soon grew tired of being sociable and did what many other vampires did when they didn’t want to be bothered-you found yourself an empty crypt and fed on the stupid teenagers who wandered inside in search of whatever hauntings local lore dictated plagued the cemetery. You didn’t kill them of course, but you made sure to make your mark on inconspicuous places of the body.

It was early in 1981 right in the heart of Los Angeles that you eased up from the depths of your long sleep to listen to the most invigorating music you had ever heard. It was loud and aggressive, making the very earth rumble as if its sole purpose was to wake the dead. You strolled into the lane of graves from your mausoleum and began walking towards the sounds of the nightlife. You took in what the young people were wearing, then looked down at yourself in dismay. The ankle length modesty dress was sorely out of fashion but a grin came across your face as you spied a young lady wearing a black leather corset with matching leather pants and boots. “Child” you called out to her, so softly it was like a whisper on the wind. She turned around and locked eyes with you, a deep breath later she was mesmerized by what she was seeing and spoke briefly with her companions about going onto the Whisky a Go Go, that she would catch up in a minute.

When she was directly in front of you, she asked what you wanted and you replied “Where can I aquire such articles of clothing, Child?”

In her trance like state, she pointed to a clothing store right across the street. You thanked her and kissed her hand, then turned it over to expose her wrist. You bought your fangs down on it and drank a small amount-the ‘little drink’ as you called it. She didn’t feel a thing as you drank from her, but when you were finished you dismissed her and she rejoined her group. You sauntered into the shop where the clerk stared at your garments. You picked out a wine colored leather outfit similar to what the young lady was wearing and enchanted the salesperson with “I’ll just be taking these, it’s no trouble right?”

The clerk put up no argument as you changed into the more updated outfit. It looked fitting on you and from the girls blood, you obtained some knowledge of current events and lingo. You walked out of the shop, picking up some gothic themed necklaces on your way out. The music was so loud you didn’t even need to use your enhanced senses to feel it-it shook your bones to the very core. You finally got in and stood in the front row, the young man playing a rather peculiar instrument (which you later learned was a bass) locked eyes with you and he kept his gaze on you for the entire song. You smirked and winked at him as the song was winding down, leaving to go wait in the alley for the next ‘little drink’ to come by.

A few moments later the same young man that coudln’t stop staring at you while playing his song opened the door and peeked outside to see you. You looked up at him and asked “You following me, rockstar?”

“Just...” he shifted uneasily, like he was unaccustomed to talking with the ladies “Wondering why you left so quick” he seemed to have gotten over his temporary shyness and added “There’s a party over at our place. You should hang out with us”

“Sweetheart, I don’t know if you can handle me, but alright” this human was intriguing to you so you accepted his invitation. Soon you grew fond of your newfound friends, even like a little family if you dared say so. It felt like something worth coming back to see every night. Seeing them party like they were going to die the next day was interesting to say the least. They were always doing stupid things, knowing full well the possible outcomes and consequences, but they didn’t care. It was the first time you genuinely laughed in centuries.

It was when you finally had a moment alone with Nikki on the couch with your head in his lap that your eyes locked intimately, just as they had the night you two met. He breathed a ragged breath out, and from his blood you could smell the rush of hormones swim in his veins. You knew what he wanted and were more than happy to oblige. A silent heat came over the both of you as you got up and straddled him, his hands coming down gently on your hips. You had to know that this was more than just lust, so right before things started to get too heated, you broke the kiss and asked “You sure you want to do this, Nikki?”

“Only if you want to” he answered; his eyes glazed over with desire. That didn’t answer your question, so you did the next best thing. You gently scraped the skin on his neck to draw the smallest amount of blood possible and licked it up to see his truth. He was completely and utterly yours if you wanted him, and by God you did.

“Then take me to bed, Rockstar” was all the confirmation he needed, easily lifting you up and carrying you to his room bridal style. His touch was unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before-even when you were human. He was so gentle with you, making sure he explored every inch of your nude body and you doing the same for him. Your orgasm was so intense that when the ultimate wave of pleasure initially hit you, your fangs popped out and it took all of your will power to resist biting him and draining him dry. He finished soon after you did, feeling your heat erupt on his cock sent him over the edge. A low, stuttering curse from his mouth as a final, giant thrust reached into your hot core. You felt his seed enter you, then drip onto his sheets when he pulled out.

“Jesus Fucking Christ” he panted, using his remaining strength to keep himself propped up over you. “That was awesome...” he then lowered down and off of you, cuddling into your frame.

You too were more than satisfied and only offered an unintelligible “Mmm” in response, not being able to say much else.

Nikki ran his fingers through your hair and asked “How about you be my girl?” You nodded an affirmative reply, to which he just grinned and kissed you tenderly. The next time you both came out of his room, Vince and Tommy were in the living room with open beers in their hands. They stared in smug amusement.

“It's about time Sixx! We were wondering when you were gonna do her!” Tommy got up and offered a high five, but it was not returned.

“Y/N’s my girlfriend. I’d appreciate it if you’d stop making such jokes at her expense if you don’t mind” he said playfully.

Vince took a swig of his beer and added “No shit, Sherlock. You haven’t even LOOKED at another girl much less fucked one since you met her!” You were very much surprised by this revelation, but you kept your cool.

“Gotta get back to my place, Babe” you nuzzled into him “They’ll try to rent it out again” you had indeed gotten a job and an apartment of your own since you woke up, and you used that place as a hiding spot for when you fed. He walked you to your apartment, then at your door he turned you around kissed you softly.

“Last night was amazing, baby” he sighed into your neck.

“How about we do an encore at my place soon?” you held up a key to your apartment and gave it to him. “You’re always welcome here if you need a place to crash” he took the key without hesitation and one more quick kiss before going back to his place.

It was a few days later that Nikki and the boys came knocking at your door, only because they hadn’t seen or heard from you in a few days. On the way over, they discussed things they thought seemed off about you. Like you skin being pale and cold to the touch, the way your eyes changed colors and were even red sometimes. Most importantly that you almost never came out in the daytime, unless it was a cloudy day when clouds covered the sun. Mick in his usual sarcastic tone suggested “Maybe she’s a fuckin’ vampire” to which the other laughed nervously.

Your senses were going wild, not being able to feed for the past few days was taking its toll on you. Your skin was sunken in, your eyes like a wild animal’s ready to pounce at the first sight of a wandering human. You looked like a living corpse, to put it mildly. When you heard the door to the apartment open and heard them calling you, you stopped dead and stared at the bedroom door. “I’m fine...just been feeling sick the past few days...” you called out.

“If you’re just sick then why the fuck won’t you answer the fuckin’ phone?” the door to your room opened and the light clicked on. The false lighting was too bright for you in this weakened state and you hissed, getting under the covers.

“Just go away...you four aren’t safe here...” you groaned.

“Not until we see you” Tommy insisted and pulled off the blanket, all of them completely shocked to see you in such a state.

“Y/N you need a fuckin’ hospital!” Nikki tried to lift and carry you out the door but you grabbed the door frame and roared, accidentally baring your fangs to them all. Your eyes so red they glowed like a stop light at midnight. Nikki put you down and stared in shocked amazement, after a moment he said “What are you?”

“I’m a vampire, guys” you sheepishly scolded yourself for such an unsightly display “I get like this when I can’t feed for a few nights...”

Without hesitation Nikki offered up his wrist for you to bite “Drink from me, Baby...if it’ll help you get better...” his blood was calling to you, but you refused. He laid you on the bed next to him and bought it up to your lips.

“I don’t wanna hurt you, Nikki” you told him.

“And we don’t want to see you starving yourself like this. Shut up and drink my fuckin’ blood, woman” you kissed his wrist before biting down into it. The small popping sound of your fangs puncturing his flesh was followed by a rush of pleasure. He only gasped a little bit and winced, letting out a small moan of carnal desire. All you needed was a few swallows, a transformation back into your old self, plus a little more color to your cheeks.

Mick was in awe most of all, saying “Holy shit, you really are a vampire” he reached up to touch your face to make sure he was really seeing this. Nikki tried to walk but stumbled, you caught him and put him on the bed.

“Sleep now, Nikki” you cooed in his ear “the first time feeding from a person leaves them tired” he obeyed and slipped into a deep sleep. Soon, you explained everything about being a vampire “I was forced into a marriage I didn’t want, and on my wedding night, I jumped from the tower. A vampire saw me and turned me without even asking if I wanted to be one. The bastard then left me to find out what it meant to be a vampire” you recalled what you could remember from your human life.

Soon they all agreed that they’d take turns letting you feed from them. You were pleasantly surprised to find that not only were they willing, but they liked it even. Things had been going like this for a few years, but then Nikki came to you asking to do something you thought you’d never have to do. “Y/N...I want you to turn me into a vampire...like you...”The band was rising in popularity in the clubs and even a record company offered them a deal.

“Please, Nikki” you looked down shyly “Wait a few years...you’d have to leave the band because people would see that while the others aged, you’d stay the same. If you can live with leaving the band, faking your death and going through the excruciating transformation into a vampire then you can ask me again...” he accepted these terms, and three years later he asked again.

"Are you absolutely sure you want this?” you asked him, reiterating all of your previous points in the last discussion.

“Yes, Y/N” he answered “Baby, I don’t care. I love you so much and I want to be with you…forever. Please, just let me be able to do that.” he pleaded, taking your hand in his.

“Alright...the transformation is very painful. I have to drink from your neck until almost the point of death, then have you drink from my neck. It feels like pure lava coursing through your veins, the heart quickens to pump the vampire blood faster” you could smell he was afraid, but he knew it was worth it if it meant he would spend eternity with you.

He walked closer to you, his lips crashing into yours and his tongue invading your mouth. He broke the kiss breathlessly. “Do it, Babe...” you started kissing down his neck, the artery pounding beneath the skin. You sink your fangs into him, he let out an audible gasp and he soon slackened. You laid him down on the ground and listened to his heart, being careful not to take too much. When you knew the time was right, you stopped and sliced your neck and bought him up to your body. You first felt his tongue then he pulled you in closer to him to get as much blood from you as possible.

You trembled, gently pushing him away “That’s enough darling...” he was thrashing about, screaming and cursing to high heaven. You cradled him in your lap, reassuring him that it only hurts for a few minutes. He stopped moving and for a moment you were worried that you had killed him. He opened his new, blood red eyes and sat up to look around.

“Everything seems so vivid” he remarked, taking in familiar surroundings with his new senses. “I can see, hear and smell things I couldn’t before...” he dragged his fingers across the wound on your neck “even touch is more sensitive for me...”

“I will teach you the ways of being a vampire, Nikki” you said to him “first lesson starts now-we must feed to heal our wounds...” you showed him how to use his sex appeal to get prey, but to never take the life of an innocent. “Kill the evildoer whenever you come across one, Nikki” you told him “make them suffer, but take no pleasure in your duty” he nodded in agreement.

“As long and I can have you by my side while doing it, anything is possible” he kissed you again, before his first of many lessons began.

#submission #submitted #this is incredible #not mine #motley crue #mötley crüe #the dirt #the dirt movie #nikki sixx #tommy lee #mick mars #vince neil #imagine #fanfiction #fanfic

38 notes · View notes