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adventuringblind · 9 months

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Make Me Yours

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Genre: chaotic smut (I'm a slut for this man)

Summary: Daniel mentions something to Oscar and he takes a shot in the dark.

Warnings: KNIFE PLAY, blood, intensive aftercare, Max and Daniel being big brothers, Oscar is a dork and we love him for it, enemies to lovers if you squint, soft dom Oscar, Reader is a mess for Oscar and he loves it.

Notes: This was an anonymous request! I hope you like it!! Please remember to communicate and take care of yourselves if you engage in a kink like this!! Reader is a Redbull rookie which I know is ridiculous but it's fiction.

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She wouldn't say her sex life is vanilla. Definitely the opposite, actually. Most people would look at Oscar and assume he is the most boring human on the planet.

They are all wrong.

Most the drivers, including herself, teased him about how he knows two positions maximum. He'd gotten fed up with it and showed her exactly why everyone is wrong.

Turns out pent up tension from being rivals from F3 and F2 leads to these situations. The situation being mind-blowing sex with the one guy who you didn't want to admit feelings for.

Formula 1 is an unforgiving world. She didn't need feelings getting in the way. Until Oscar came along and ruined it all.

Until that night, at least. Now they are stuck together like glue. It drives Max and Daniel insane with how much he's around the Redbul garage.

She tried to use the 'best friends' excuse until Daniel caught them in her driver's room.

"It's always the rookies."

That being said, her problem isn't the sex, or Oscar, or her relationship at all. The problem is how to bring up something she would like to try.

Both of them like trying new things and have been very clear on boundaries and keep open communication about the subject. He's never judged her for anything she's brought up. So why can't she just ask him?

"Something on your mind?" Daniel appears from thin air, and she slams her phone down out of view. She prays he didn't see the pictures of the silver blades and thinks she a psycho.

"Nope," she squeaks. A terrible recovery on her end.

"Watching porn? Looking at Mr. Piartri's nudes? Come one, you can tell me!"

Max pokes his head out from around the corner. "Are we talking about sex?" Here she thought the secluded space would be far away enough for them to come bother her. Then again, Daniel could help her out. He's good at talking to people.

"Pretty sure you and Charles talked about it last night." She quips without looking at him.

She's blushing and embarrassed. Her brain is yelling at her to run as far away as possible before she does something stupid-

"Hey Daniel, you know about sex stuff right?" Wow, that doesn't sound awkward at all.

"Yes?" He quirks his eyebrow at her. "But if you're looking for a threesome I'm going to have to decline. For now, at least," he winks.

She chokes at the notion. She's going to explode at this rate. Time to bail out. "Never mind, it's not that, but it's dumb."

Max appears fully in her line of sight. "You can't leave us hanging now! Oscar not performing well anymore?" His expression suddenly goes dark. "Or if he hurt you, I won't hesitate to send him into the barriers."

"No! no, it's not him it's me. I don't know how to ask him about something."

Both the males soften. It eases the anxiety a tiny bit, but she'd still rather not be here.

"Hmm, can I ask what it is?"

"A kink," she whispers away from him.

Daniel hears it anyway. "Yours or his?"

"Mine."

Daniel, now seeing he's not going to get anywhere like this, tries a new approach. "Look, this is a no judgment zone, right? Max talks about Charles and their sex life any chance he gets. I am an open book. No laughing or cringing, okay?"

It still feels weird having this conversation. But Daniel isn't going to let it sit now. Curse her impulsive mouth. "Knives. I want him to use a knife on me."

~~~~~

Oscar is sitting in wait around the Redbull motorhome. His girlfriend had said she'd meet him out here and he hasn't seen her all day, so he came early.

Media days are usually difficult for her. The journalists manage to find some new sexist thing to point out every race weekend. It drives all the drivers insane. They can't just let it go and move on to something new.

"Hiya mate!" Daniel appears around the corner and Oscar manages (just barely) to not jump out of his skin. "You waiting for your girl?"

"Yeah, I'm early though. Do I need to go?"

"Nah, you're fine." Daniel throws him a grin. "I'm curious how you keep the marks on her hidden. Been wondering for a while now."

Oscar blinks. His brain is trying to process the last Statement. "You mean... like a hickey?"

"No! The scars." Daniel looks like he's just said the most obvious thing. Oscar is still trying to remain neutral in what is definitely an odd conversation.

Scars? What scars is he talking about? "I-"

"Don't tell me you don't see it! That girl totally has some kind of knife kink."

Knife kink?! Where is this coming from? He tries to think back to any hint of it on her end. It's not like he's opposed to trying new things and he wouldn't be shocked if she felt weird about bringing it up.

"I'd ask her about it mate." Daniel winks and disappears into the crowd of people.

Oscar tries not to think too hard on it. It's just a weird comment made by Daniel in passing.

At least, that's what it started as.

Oscar then finds himself doing research on it. A deep rabbit hole that now occupies far too much space in his brain.

The idea of her permanently some kind of mark he puts there drives him wild. Which is odd, because it hasn't before. A visible hickey every now and then does the trick. Satisfies him when they go out places.

After the first 'I don't see your boyfriend,' he started putting one on her collar bone. Not visible unless she deems it so amd fresh enough to ward off any suspicious characters.

Curse Daniel for giving him this stupid idea. Something more permanent than a hickey sounds appealing.

If it were up to him, he'd keep her in his pocket. It's funny, really, how she thought he didn't know about her feelings. Oscar had played the game for two years. Then he couldn't take it anymore and he snapped.

Yes, she's snarky and moody, and as picky as Lando, until you get past the hard exterior and see she's all soft and squishy. Most of the time, anyway.

He asks her about it after Silverstone. He's coming down off his high and drunk on the adrenaline paired with a shot of success. The confidence boost is really what he needs to put the idea out there. As outrageous as it seems, Daniel might have a point.

"I was thinking about something." He starts off with. She flops onto her bed. Not his since Lando manages to get into his room at the worst times.

"Something good I hope?"

"Depends." Oscar adjusts their position so he can cradle her. The way she snuggles into him like an affectionate cat makes him melt. "It's kinky."

"The best kind of thoughts to have!" She taps his nose with her index finger to accentuate each word.

Oscar steels himself for the possible outcomes. "What if we tried knives."

There is an unmatched look of pure shock on her face. Oscar is prepared to reassure that she doesn't have to, until he notices the glint.

"Yes! I mean - yeah, we should give it a try."

Huh, so Daniel was right. Oscar will have to thank him later for the tip. "We need to talk about it first. I'm thinking either talk now and do it or we save it for a later date."

"How about we talk now, then see?"

"Sounds lovely."

~~~~~

The more Oscar talks, the more she wants it. It's ridiculous what he does to her with merely his voice. Or maybe it's the constant regard for her wants, needs, and safety.

Yeah, it's true what they say: consent really is sexy.

"Love? Did you hear what I was saying?" His voice has they soft mellowness about it that calms the raging see of her emotions.

"No..."

"Stay with me, yeah? I'll put this off if you aren't coherent enough to truly consent to anything." Yep, sexy. No doubt about it.

"I'm here, promise! Just got distracting... thinking."

"About?"

She waits a beat to see if he's willing g to drop it. He makes no indication he'll be moving on, however, making her forced to answer. "Your voice..."

She is going to combust at this rate. It's embarrassing how wrecked she is already. Oscar hasn't even touched her, but the sight of him with the glinting silver blade in his hands has her going feral. The crazy eyed, drooling kind that makes her seem like she should be locked up.

The fact Oscar spent over two hours in discussion and has research to back up every point her makes drivers her wild. She would happily spend the rest of her life with him even after a measly two years together.

He's ruined her. Oscar has made it so she will never be able to leave. So what if she's dramatic? Can you really blame her when she has Oscar Piastri standing in front of her looking ready to devour her?

Oscar takes his time. It's slow and gentle kisses, nimble fingers finding their way around the canvas he knows so well. "Fucking hell you're gorgeous."

She takes a mental note of the way she's in no clothes and he's got all his own. It's unfair and she tugs at his sleeve to signal she wants it off. Oscar complies and pulls the fabric off.

He goes back to licking his way around the inside of her mouth. Her hands relax around his body, taking comfort in the warmth and closeness of the skin-on-skin contact.

His fingers slip through her folds and like muscle memory locate her clit. It's pathetic the sounds he's getting her to make. Specifically, while holding the pocketknife, unopened, in his free hand.

"So pretty for me love. I would cut you up and put you in my pocket if I could. Carry your cute ass around with me like a good luck charm."

She's so far down the rabbit hole of her favorite headspace. Oscar's words are just swimming around her, until the sound of the black clicking open pulls her back into reality.

He presses the flat part of the blade against her arm. The cold of the metal sends a shiver running down her spine.

Oscar is looking deep in the eyes, mapping out every emotion and physical reaction she's having to the sensation. "Color?"

"Green, very green, the brightest of greens-" Oscar shuts her up with a kiss to her temple. It's gentle and meaningful. Enough to turn her right into a blushing mess.

Oscar checks in frequently every time the blade moves. The masochist is jumping for joy when the tip barely rests against her shoulder blade. "Are you ready? Want me to mark you? Shall I make you bleed for me?"

"Please," She whines.

"Keep your eyes on me yeah? You say red and I stop."

She signals that she understands and would like to continue. Oscar traces the line he wants to make.

She hisses when the knife presses downwards. Oscar panics, but he watches her eyes roll back and knows to continue. "Eyes on me, love. I want to see how pretty you look."

The cold stinging sensation makes her whimper in pain and moan in ecstasy all at the same time. He's still talking to her. Voice still calm and gentle. He's watching her intently, tracking every shift until he's done.

He keeps a hand on her to let her know he's still present as he tucks the, now closed knife, safely onto the bedside table. Despite looking so composed to everyone else, she notices the small thing about Oscar's shift in demeanor. Like how his pupils are staring at her, just the slightest bit tinged with the desire tor take her in the next ten seconds.

He resists and makes sure she is ready for that first. "Color?"

She slurs through an ungodly number of praises and words resembling 'green'. Oscar basks in it. He sits and caresses her skin as he watches the cut to make sure he really did go light enough.

Small beads of red appear at the surface, but not enough that he's concerned with first aid at the Moment. He breathes a sigh of relief.

"Osc? Are you still green?"

Oscar softens again. "Yeah, I'm green, just taking in the sight and - happy I didn't stab you." He's breathless and panting. His jeans straining and her hands aching to get her hands on him.

There is so much love and kindness leading up to him finally getting inside of her. The towel underneath her shoulder catches the run-off red. It falls away with every thrust of his hips and rock of her body.

They hit the edge to quickly. Falling over it in white hot pleasure and moans of joy.

"You're such a good girl for me. You did such a good job." Oscar whispers in her ear as he wipes the cut with disinfectant.

Oscar carries her blissed out body to the bathroom and lets her look at the wound before bandaging it. A perfect heart now rests on the peak of her shoulder. Not massive, but enough to be seen without looking to close.

"I love it."

"Yeah? You ready to bandage it?"

"Do we have to?"

She doesn't get her way. Oscar bandages the heart and gets them cleaned up. Then it's water and snacks in bed.

"I never thought you'd be into it."

"I wasn't until Daniel brought it up."

Her entire being stills. Maybe even goes pale and Oscar looks at her in confused worry.

"I might have asked him for advice on how to ask you... about this."

Once again, his face softens. "You know you never have to be afraid of asking me." A gentle smile appears on his face. "I do think we'll have to thank him for this later."

"You're just going to inflate his ego."

"Maybe it's worth it if he keeps giving me advice." Oscar winks at her and smirks.

Yeah, maybe Daniel's pestering isn't to bad.

~~~~~

Oscar stands waiting for the drivers parade the next race weekend with all the other drivers. He's waiting patiently for his favorite rookie to come and join him.

Instead, he is once again jumping out of his skin because Danile is grabbing his shoulders from out of nowhere. "Could you not, like, scare me? Please?"

"But this is more fun! Certainly not as much fun as you had, I'm sure. I saw the scar." Daniel wiggles his eyebrows.

Oscar is blushing, he can feel it in his face. The words he wants to say are not coming out like he intends. "yep, I - um... thanks."

"Let me know if you need any other advice." Daniel smirks and claps him on the shoulder, Leaving Oscar a mess.

This is why I get teased; he thinks.

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m2ok · 7 months

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Golden Salvation Pt.2

pt. 1 Pt.2

cowboy!Ghost x m! reader

A/N: There will be one more part to this just to wrap everything up :)

Your pulse thundered in your ears as the stranger loomed closer, hand gripping lethal iron at his hip. Fight or flight instincts kicked into overdrive - this was no ordinary burglary; you could see it etched in every predatory line of his body.

This man had come for blood, your blood.

Slowly, you raised your hands in a gesture of peace even as your mind raced. One wrong move and you’d be pushing up daisies come morn. These were the dark shadows Simon lived in, the enemies he’d made through his notorious work. And now they were coming for him...through you.

.“Don’t want no trouble, mister,” you said, keeping your tone calm and even like you didn't know why this man was here. As if there could be any other reason for someone to break into a home as dingy as your own. “Just a simple bartender is all – barely got a dollar to my name”

This snake didn't need to know how deep your bond with Simon went, especially since hiding your relationship was the only way you could see to get out of this situation.

The man cackled at your words, rolling his eyes as the smile dropped and he stalked closer to the bed, aiming the gun at you as he cocked it back with a sickening crack.

“ Mhm... as if you weren't all nice and cozied up to him not mere hours ago – ya really think im gonna believe you?” He gave you a mocking grin

“No no im not stupid sweetheart. Im not here to collect any of his debts from you – I care more about the eight men o’ mine your Ghostie killed. Those boys were my family, he didnt think twice about that though when he shot em’ dead where they stood. Figure I should make him feel the same hurt I do, hm?”

“You won’t hurt him none-” You tried to reason “His heart don't belong to me, he won’t spare a second glance past this cabin. Hell, He's probably halfway across the desert by now” Your voice was shaky as you spoke, lies seeping through your lips at the risk of your life. You knew what you meant to Simon, no one else was able to get into his space as you did- at least not if they wanted to walk away with their life.

The man's smirk dropped, new anger burning in his eyes as the grip on his gun tightened, “I saw the way that mongrel looked at you, you’re his boy and that's clearer than any mountain river” he scoffed, finger moving from the side of the gun to rest on the trigger.

You closed your eyes, praying in your head, but not to any god. No, your prayers were aiming for Simon's rescue, praying that he would somehow know you were in trouble and come rescue you from it.

Simon sat astride his horse on a dusty ridge, watching the moon rise silver over the desert wastes. A half-smoked cigarette dangled idly from his lips; he’d been nursing the same thoughts over and over since dusk fell heavy as a shroud across the badlands.

Thoughts of you.

Somewhere deep in his gut, an uneasy feeling roiled. Like an invisible string tugging at his soul, trying to tug him back the way he came. Simon growled low in his throat, frustrated with his own foolish longings. You’d made your stance clear – this life wasn’t for you, not truly. And he had no right to ask you to join him.

And yet...

A crack suddenly split the still night air. So faint and far that any lesser man may have missed it entirely, but not Simon.

In an instant he was vaulting onto his horse’s back, boots pounding twin paths in the dirt as they flew towards the distant lights of your little town. Another shot rang out, louder now, and Simon’s blood turned to ice in his veins.

He knew that sound – deep in his bones he knew something was horribly wrong.

Choking the reins in a near stranglehold, Simon rode as if all the demons of hell were nipping at his horse’s hooves. Towards you. Towards salvation or damnation, he did not know. But by God, no son of a bitch was gonna harm one hair on your head if he could still help it.

Help was coming- you just had to hold on.

The man fired the gun, a sharp sting hitting your side before it blossomed into agonizing pain. You let out a pained cry, one hand instinctively going to land on your wound while the other covered your mouth to muffle your sobs. Your hand was soon coated in dark crimson, entire body shaking with adrenaline as the man cocked the gun once more.

“Was gonna just end you, but I figured I should make this painful the same way he did. Should fill you with so many bullets he won’t be able to recognize you” he hissed, aiming the gun at your other side.

Simon was little more than a blur of dust and primal fury as he crashed through the remains of your splintered front door. For a split second, time seemed to freeze – taking in the scene with a single, piercing gaze.

You,curled onto the bed clutching a bloody wound. And him. That snake. Gun pressed sickeningly against your body as he spewed his venomous threats. With an almost guttural roar, Simon’s Colt leapt into his hand like it was part of his very being. Two blooming shots rang as one; his aim was true as bible scripture.

The intruder pitched backwards, scarlets blossoms exploding from where his eyes once were. He was dead before he hit the floor.

But Simon saw none of it. Already he was at your side, tatty serape ripped and pressed desperately against your weeping injury. Brown eyes wild and scared met your own, and for a moment the steely outlaw facade slipped entirely.

“Darlin’...” he choked, voice thick. “Talk to me, baby. Stay with me now, ya hear?” Working frantically to stem the flood, Simon tangled scarred fingers gently through your hair, anchoring you to this world with his touch alone.

“That’s it…keep breathin’, just keep breathin’” His voice dissolved into ragged prayers mere ghosts could hear. Help was still minutes away - but for now, you had Ghost. And he’d be damned before he let the reaper take you from him.

You were sobbing, your brain mangled with confusion and fear as the adrenaline ran out and the full pain of the bullet lodged in your abdomen had you reeling,

Red painted everything around you, hands, clothes, and sheets underneath you drenched in it.

“Simon-” you rasped, breathing labored as you looked around with wide eyes at the gruesome scene in front of you. It was too much, you could feel your head going light- brain fuzzy and ears ringing as you fought not to close your eyes.

“It hurts” you choked, trying to shove his hand away from where he was pressing down on the wound to stop the torrent of blood flowing out. “Simon I cant-” you said, throat raw from the sobs that came out.

You wanted so badly to stay with him, to be able to wake up tomorrow with him, but you didn’t know if you’d get that with the way you felt your strength leave your body.

“It hurts- it hurts” You were almost begging, for what you didn’t know. You just wanted the pain to go away.

You were terrified- not ready to die yet, and especially not like this, not when you had so much left to do. The thought alone sent a new set of tears streaming down your face, hand shaking- clutching the bleeding wound on top of Simon’s own to try and ebb the pain that burrowed deep in your skin.

Simon felt his world crumbling as your agonized crimes tore through him, sharper than any bullet ever could. Seeing you in such anguish ripped open a fissure in his battered heart, letting the demons of his deepest guilt and self-loathing spill forth in a torrent.

“I know, baby, I know it hurts…” he choked, pressing you close as if trying in vain to absorb your pain into himself. His own broad shoulders shook with ghosts of rage and grief, tears cutting rivulets through the dirt caked on his cheeks.

Goddamn it all, he should’ve been here. Should have followed his instincts and never left your side. Now it may be too late to hope for forgiveness, your blood staining his hands a brand of failure he could never outrun.

“Please, darlin’, please hold on…’ Simon begged, voice breaking as he spoke. His bandana was wrung out and useless now - in desperation he moved to cradle you fully, applying trembling pressure with his bare hands and what remained of his coat.

Distantly he heard the clatter of the approaching horses, but paid them no heed. You were fading, slipping away before his eyes, and all the strength and guns in the world couldn’t stop it.

“Don’t ye leave me now…I can’t do this world without ya…” A broken whisper, barely audible above the thunder in his ears. Simon pressed his forehead to yours, sharing the same ragged breaths, two souls more tangled than any root or vine. Hanging on a blade’s edge against the dark.

You stared up into Simon's eyes, eyebrows cinched in pain and eyes soaked with fear.

“I don’t wanna die, Simon” you whispered, voice shaky as you clung to him - like he alone could save you from this fate.

You could feel your heartbeat slowing, breathing ragged as you gasped for air that just wouldn’t enter your lungs….

Soon enough the doctor burst into the room, medical kit in hand as he came barreling over to you. He very carefully took you out of Simon’s arm with some convincing, to lay you back on the bed before he opened up his kit.

He handed you a flask filled with whiskey “You’re gonna want to drink this - it’ll help ease the pain” He said.

With shaky hands you drank the bottle, a scream ripping from your lungs as the man began to carefully dig into the wound, grabbing hold of the bullet with sterile tweezers before carefully pulling it free.

With practiced care he cleaned the wound, a harsh whimper leaving your lips at the sting of pain before the wound was stitched up and bandaged.

You were shaking, sobbing so hard your throat was raw and your lungs burned - the pain was unbearable and a large part of you wished you could just die to get away from it.

The doctor had you drink another flask, the alcohol numbing the pain receptors in your brain just enough to allow you to fall into a light sleep.

Simon sat vigil at your bedside through what felt like hours, not letting go of your limp hand once. Your cries of pain echoing loud and endlessly in his mind, driving spikes of pure anguish deep into his soul.

He watched in heavy silence as the doctor worked, breath caught tight in his chest, hardly daring to hope. But then - your ragged breaths evened out, color returning sluggishly to waxen cheeks. Alive. You were alive.

It was nearly two hours later when the man was done, wiping his hands on a rag as he stood up on shaky legs.

“He’s stable” The doctor said simply

Choking back sobs of relief, Simon buried his face in the crook of your neck, leaving a trail of gratitude-laced kisses amongst salty tears. “That’s it, darlin’...you fight. Got too much left to do in this world.” he’d whisper to you, voice so soft only you could hear

“Most important thing now is cleaning that wound twice a day lest it get infected. If it does…” The doctor ordered, his words trialing off though his intentions were clear. He put down a set of bandages and cleaning solution on the nightstand for Simon’s use.

“It’ll take a long time to heal, I reckon” The doctor said “but my work is done here, y’all know where to reach me should he take a turn for the worst” He said, tilting his hat to Simon before he gathered his tools and headed out of the shabby cabin.

Simon took the doctor's words as gospel, nodding along to every word before the man left. He spent the next few hours cleaning up the mess that was now your little home. He dragged the body out back to deal with fully in the morning, cleaned your sheets and changed you into new clothes, boarded up the broken window, and finished by fixing the door that he had come barging through.

His own hands were gentle as churches doing their appointed duty, cleansing and dressing the angry wound each time without fail. Whatever it took to coax your stubborn spirit back to the land of the living.

Days bled into each other without notice. All that mattered to him now was you. And slowly, so slowly - full color seeped back, fever broke its hold. Eyes fluttered open to meet his own once more, full of pain but oh-so-blessedly alive.

“Hey there, sunshine…” Simon whispered hoarsely, like a parched man dying of thirst at an oasis. Finally, finally, he allowed himself the ghost of a weary smile.

You were going to be alright. And by God, he’d spend his last days making sure of it.

You slowly sat up, a soft whine leaving your lips with the movements as you aggravated the still raw wound. “Simon” you mumbled as you held his hand, reaching over to take a swig of the whiskey on the nightstand to ease the searing pain.

You rested your head back against the pillows with a soft sigh. It had been a few days now, and the pain was still a dull yet constant ache in your side.

You took the sight around you in, everything was clean and neat including your bedding and clothes. Even the floor had been mopped, the only reminders of your near death being the hole in your side.

“Simon you did all this?” You asked simply, eyes wide as you gazed up at him.

Simon huffed a soft, weary laugh at your question, gently squeezing your hand just to make sure you were really here and he wasn’t hallucinating.

“Course I did, darlin’. Weren’t about to let ya recover in filth,” He replied gruffly. Truth be told, tending to your every need had been the other thing keeping his demons at bay these long days and nights.

Keeping busy spared him time to think - and thinking led down paths too bleak to tread. Like how terrifyingly close he’d come to losing you forever.

Holding your gaze with quiet intent, Simon softly brushed calloused knuckles along your cheek “Reckon it’s about time i started pullin’ my weight ‘round here proper. Ain’t no safe place for ya out here alone” A question lingered in the subtle quirk of his brow, the hopeful yet wary gleam in tired eyes. After all that had passed between you both, was there still room for him at your side? A Ghost finally ready to lay his soul to rest, if you’d have him.

You could only hum softly at his words, sleep still filled in your bones. You didn’t answer him, instead you patted the empty side of the bed “Come sleep next to me, Si. You need the sleep” You said, your words a silent confirmation that you still wanted him.

Simon gave a soft grunt of approval, too weary in body and soul to do anything but obey your gentle prompting. Careful not to jostle your healing injury, he stretched his long limbs out beside you with a satisfied sigh.

It felt strange but right, sharing your space in such an intimate way after so long living apart. Like the final piece of a puzzle slipped neatly into place.

Turning his head, Simon watched you watch him through half-lidded eyes, drinking in every beloved feature as if to confirm this wasn’t some whiskey-fueled dream. Reaching out, he lightly touched the graceful curve of your cheek before letting his hand come to rest against the steady rise and fall of your chest.

“Sweetest sound there is,” he murmured, voice sleep-roughed and thick with meaning. A tousled head tucked itself beneath your chin with a contented sigh, tension seeping from tense muscles.

Come what may with the light of dawn, for now all was peaceful. You were alive, you were safe. And against all odds, Simon had finally come home to roost.

You held him close in your arms, gentle fingers carding through thick hair as you let his head rest against your now steady heartbeat. He needed the comfort, you could tell, and you were more than happy to give it to him.

“Rest now, Si. I'm not going anywhere. Can’t get rid of me that easy” You assured, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

It was a funny thing, holding such a toughened man in your arms, keeping him close and coddled despite the almost laughable size difference.

SImon made a low sound of gratitude at your soft reassurance, melting bonelessly into your gentle embrace. Your gentle fingers winding through his hair brought forth a wave of lethargy he’d fought to stave off this long week past. But no more - here in your arms, he was finally allowed to let his guard down.

It still struck him sometimes how two souls so disparate could fit together so seamlessly. But you’d always had a way of easing even his most ragged edges, soothing demons he thought long beyond taming. Lithe as you were in your current state, your strength ran deeper than any show of force ever could - and he found solace there like nowhere else.

“Missed this…” he mumbled, so soft it was barely audible even in the stillness enclosing your little world. One arm curled protectively around your middle, thumb brushing idle patterns against the slowly healing wound beneath the bandages.

A prayer of thanks on parched lips, Simon let weary eyes slide shut. Sleep rose like a gentle tide, carrying him off to oblivion sheltered in the piece of heaven he’d begun to call home. You’d brought him back from the brink of darkness once more, anchor in the storm. And for that, he was eternally grateful.

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pollymorgan · 30 days

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Teacher Negan - The Football Game - Part 1

Warnings: A very large age difference and of course, smut

Oh, and very important: It's all fiction of course! Please, my dears, use condoms and don't go with old men! :-P

That my mother has to move several hundred miles away with my aunt to open a beauty salon, especially before the last year of my high school, was initially a big shock for me, but now I also see the advantages it brings. First of all, I finally get out of my little town, and there's also the immediate proximity to my cousin. Cassady is 5 years older than me, to be exact 23, but we have always gotten along great. Another advantage is that I no longer have to see my ex-boyfriend every day, since we are no longer in the same class. Plus, I still have almost the entire summer vacation ahead of me to enjoy life to the fullest, like now at this football game. If I were to say I love football, that would be an understatement, because it feels like every American does. For me, it's an absolute dream to live in the city of my favorite team. That's why I'm wearing the appropriate hoodie over my dress and, of course, the matching cap at the game.

The atmosphere in the stadium is absolutely insane and totally captivating. Even if my cousin doesn't really see it that way and only came along because of me.

Now we just have to push through a horde of men to get to our seats. And then hopefully it will start soon. Even though the game will really become secondary. Because the atmosphere alone is reason enough to be here.

Getting to our seats, however, proves to be more difficult than expected. We each have two large beer cups in hand and somehow have to get through this crowd. But the line at the drinks stand was huge, and I didn't want to spend the start of the game waiting in line. So we planned ahead. I almost managed to get to my seat unscathed, when suddenly this guy turns around in a flash. Everything happens so quickly that I can't react anymore, and so I spill half of the beer on him and myself. The tall stranger initially looks at me very angrily and is about to scold me, but then his look suddenly changes as his dark eyes meet mine.

"What the hell.. oh, sorry.. I didn't mean to spill your drink, ...can I offer you a new one? Of course, only if you're already 21.." He starts to grin, and his perfectly white row of teeth shines through his silver-black beard.

I'm still a bit overwhelmed by the whole situation and look bewildered at the large wet spot on his black shirt under his dark jacket. Guys my age are never dressed so well. Only maybe for a funeral or a prom, and I've never been to either.

"I'm already 22.." I say somewhat defiantly, and according to my fake ID, that wouldn't even be a lie.

"Perfect.." he concludes.

He turns around to hand me a full beer from the drinks available behind him. I take it gratefully, and finally my cousin and I can sit down exhausted in our seats.

Immediately she whispers excitedly in my ear, "Did you see how that guy looked at you? He's at least twice as old as you and basically undressed you with his eyes .. pretty cringe..".

I look at her innocently, "Cringe? I actually find him quite cute!"

"Cute?" she asks in surprise, rolling her eyes.

The stranger sits down in the seat right next to me and toasts us.

"Thanks," I say again.

"No problem, pleasure to meet you, i’m Negan!"

"Sam.." I stammer somewhat clumsily.

Then everyone turns back to their groups. After a while, I'm engrossed in conversation with my cousin again, but the guy next to me has put on such an intense cologne that it lingers in my nose the whole time. It smells so ruggedly masculine that it almost drives me crazy. Whenever I have the chance, I shyly glance to the right, but he doesn't look at me anymore. I'm strangely disappointed, so I try to push that thought aside.

The game is running fantastically. My team is winning, which makes me so euphoric that I even infect my cousin with it.

After the game, as we're getting ready to leave, someone roughly grabs my arm. I startle briefly, then look back into the dark eyes that send a pleasant tingling sensation through my entire body.

"Do you and your friend maybe want to come with us to a bar to celebrate the victory a bit?" he asks with a deep tone, and I feel my stomach vibrating at his words.

Suddenly, my cousin's voice snaps me out of my trance. "No, sorry, we have to get up early..".

I look at her puzzled.

"Um, actually... apologize for us for a moment!".

The stranger seems to be thoroughly amused by this situation.

I turn to her and whisper in her ear, "That sounds fun... come on, let's go with them!"

"With these guys?!" she says a bit too loudly.

Startled, I turn around, but he is engrossed in a conversation again and apparently, thankfully, hasn't noticed. After a seemingly endless discussion, we agree that I will go to the bar with them without her. But only with the promise to be reachable on the phone at all times.

Reluctantly, Cassady bids me goodbye with a hug and whispers in my ear, "Take care of yourself... and don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Since my cousin has quite a bit of a checkered past, I don't even feel guilty promising her that.

When I agree to go with them, the stranger firmly takes my hand to guide me through the crowd out of the stadium. I'm initially a bit shocked by this strange situation, but fearing to lose him among the crowd, I interlock my fingers tightly with his and let him lead me out of the stadium.

The three of us, along with another man, take a seat on the backseat of a large black Audi. The men in the car are engaged in lively conversation about the game. Fortunately, I understand quite a bit about football and can engage in some discussion without sounding dumb, even though everyone else present is probably 30 years older than me.

After a short ride, we park in front of a small bar.

As we enter, the smell of smoke and alcohol greets me. The men take a seat at a round table, and I excuse myself for a moment to go to the bathroom.

There, I take off my sweater and am quite glad that I'm wearing a short black dress underneath. I take off my cap and let my hair down, then adjust it and try to fix my makeup a bit. I take a deep breath a few more times, looking at myself in the mirror. Then I go back, determined. But the table is empty. Startled, I look around, a thousand thoughts racing through my head.

But then I hear someone call out, "Here we are!" The voice comes from the billiard table. Relieved, I see Negan sitting on a sofa in front of the others. I walk purposefully towards them.

Two are already playing, and the clattering of the balls drowns out the conversations in the entire bar.

Since the couch is already occupied, I take a seat on the armrest next to Negan. He unabashedly looks me up and down and then offers me a beer.

"You look damn good..." he says directly, making my heart skip a beat and my cheeks blush.

After the men finish their game, I challenge him. He accepts with a smile, probably not expecting that I practically grew up at the billiard table. As he takes his first shots, he realizes it's not as easy as he thought, which pleases me.

Watching him concentrate more on the game makes me proud, and he looks even better doing it. As he leans closer to make his next move, he unexpectedly gives me a rather strong pat on the backside.

"Hey, unfair move!" I protest immediately, which only elicits a tired smile from him, but sends a strong tingle down in my lower abdomen.

But I manage to win against him, albeit very narrowly, which clearly annoys him. Afterwards, he has to endure some teasing from his buddies. Resignedly, he sits back on the sofa, and I proudly perch on the armrest again.

During the next round with his friends, we engage in animated discussions about their gameplay and continue drinking our beer. After a while, Negan starts touching my bare shin. At first, he just places his warm hand there, but then he starts stroking it slowly. The touches of his large rough hands are so gentle that they give me goosebumps. I enjoy this feeling and what it does to me to the fullest. I'm disappointed when he lets go of my leg, but only to offer me a vodka shot that the waitress had placed on a large tray in front of us. The drink is much needed, as my mouth feels incredibly dry.

We clink glasses, and I down the shot in one go. The sharp alcohol burns in my throat and then warms my stomach, shooting straight to my head. I can tell that Negan is watching my every move closely.

As soon as I place the empty glass back on the table, he puts his hand on my thigh.

"You look so damn sexy drinking it all in one go, do you like swallowing other things too?" he whispers unabashedly.

I almost slap him out of reflex, but as I look into his grinning face and his lustful eyes meet mine, my whole lower abdomen tightens, and I can't help but smirk. We gaze at each other for a while, and then I decisively say, "Why don't you find out.."

Without warning, he pulls me onto his lap, and before I know it, I'm straddling him, and he immediately starts kissing me. His lips are incredibly demanding. I place my hands on his cheeks to try to control the situation somewhat, while I completely forget everything around me and simply ignore the stupid comments from others.

His fingers trail down my back purposefully, immediately gripping my buttocks tightly. Then he presses me firmly against his pelvis. Excited, I breathe against his open mouth as I feel his penis getting harder and pressing strongly against me.

Sensing my hesitation, he whispers softly, "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"Nothing.. it's just pretty big.." I grin, feeling a bit embarrassed.

He smiles contentedly and presses me against him again, then gently kisses the sensitive skin on my neck and says in my ear, "Oh, don't worry, pretty princess, I'll order a taxi for us now, and then we'll go to my place where I'll pamper you so much that your little pussy will get nice and wet for me, and then my big, hard cock can slide into you slowly and effortlessly. How does that sound?"

His deep voice and direct manner drive me crazy. I nod decisively and kiss him again. I then take his right hand off my butt and guide it under my dress, directly between my legs.

"I'm already so wet for you, feel it!" I reply somewhat shyly.

His fingers deftly shift my panties aside, while his eyes scan my face precisely, enjoying every reaction from me. Slowly, he skillfully glides his middle finger through my cleft, causing me to involuntarily flinch.

"You're such a naughty sweet girl!" he remarks amusedly, as his finger leaves my most intimate place again, moistening my lips with my wetness. He then kisses me again, passionately sucking my taste from my lips. "You taste incredibly good.." he says contentedly.

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meamiiikiii · 7 months

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a star being appeared in your apartment, wdyd?

(aka loop getting reverse isekaied into the modern office au)

also there are some scattered mumblings on loop in this AU under the cut if anyone's interested (spoilers for all of ISAT, including 2hats!)

vvv

TLDR - The Universe keeps fucking with Loop and they are not really happy about it, regardless of timing.

While I haven't decided anything 100% concrete for Loop, the idea of a reverse isekaied Loop in general is interesting to me, so I'll be exploring that a bit here. Especially in terms of timing on when Loop gets taken out of their timeline. At least in terms of immediate outlook within this AU. So, for now, have a couple of those thoughts!

---

The two main points in time I am currently considering are the following:

1. From when they gave up their original wish and made a new one.

In this instance, I feel like their arc would play a bit similar to in game

Seeing this new world as different & peaceful

Since they don’t have to deal with the loops anymore, just watch whatever happens.

Be a lil silly for funsies! The chaos that can ensue with a star being existing within a modern world!

Even though it hurts to see Siffrin’s team hanging around, they really don’t have anywhere to go at the moment (hard to hide a star being in this type of world)

To a slow realization of how unfair this whole situation is. In comparison to all of the horrors they went through, this Siffrin has it so easy.

This Siffrin gets to live an idyllic life, free from the world calamity of being frozen & the literal time loop.

This Siffrin gets to freely hang around their family team, with no foreseeable "end" to being with them in sight.

This Siffrin had their original wish, the wish Loop wanted granted, handed to them on a silver platter.

This Siffrin, nor anyone in this world, would ever be able to come close to understanding what Loop went through; Loop would never truly be seen in this world, not fully anyway.

What does The Universe have against them, to put them into this world and make them witness all of this?

It should have been them, with this carefree type of life, given all they went through.

2. AFTER the fight with Siffrin.

This leans a bit more lighthearted than the last, since Loop would have gone through all the development from the game via convos + the talk at the very end with Siffrin, and has a bit more peace about their whole deal.

Perhaps they would still see the same conclusions as above, since healing from the horrors would not happen all at once, if ever, with additional flavor

Underlying bitterness in why the script is still going.

Why is The Universe asking for them to continue into a new world and role?

Haven’t they had enough, once making them witness another Siffrin’s loops and perfect ending, and now a completely idyllic Siffrin’s life from the get go?

However, there is also a bit of hope in the entire situation. Since if The Universe keeps deciding to fuck with them (as in, sending them to different world lines) there is still, technically, the chance of going backward as well.

To their original timeline and to their family.

Once could have been a one-off, but twice?

Perhaps three world jumps might be the minimum to go back, following standard wishing rituals?

More hope in this one from the get-go, with that thought in mind.

---

Though there are probably other points in time that would be interesting too!

Another one I was considering was RIGHT BEFORE the fight with Siffrin, perhaps even mid-fight. However, I don't think that makes much sense for this particular AU ASAFASFASDAS. Can you imagine if Loop just spawned into this world, doesn't realize this is a completely different Siffrin, and attacks on sight?????

Honestly the idea of a reverse-isekaied Loop into different AU's in general is neat, would love to see other people's takes on it!! Especially cuz of the various reactions/conclusions Loop could have/make based on the scenario/circumstances would be interesting, if that makes sense. At least I think there is something in that thought? I dunno!

I feel like I am missing some characterization bits in here, but that was the main gist of it for now since I cannot remember LMAO.

Mumblings over, thanks for reading my silly thoughts if you got this far!!!

#in stars and time #isat #isat spoilers #isat siffrin #isat loop #yea loop is cursing but it is censored with stars #since i thought it would be a little bit funny #if i keep drawing for this AU i should prob come up with a better name than “modern office AU” LOL #which will prob be the case since i have a couple more silly ideas in my back pocket #and other characterizations for others i want to explore a lil #but i also have other ISAT drawings i want to get to so it might be a bit before i get through all that ASDFASDAS #also i will gladly take additional suggestions for doodles #since those are always fun!!!#i could prob mumble on about various thoughts for the others in this AU but like #right now everything is still a bunch of mildly incoherent headcanons in a trenchcoat with a very vague plot #and i am very much not a writer cuz words are hard!!!!#but at the end of the day this AU will mainly be silly office shenanigans #with a bit of character spice for flavor every once in a while LMAO #okay tag talk over oops #reverse entry au #reverse isekai loop au

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twstfanblog · 1 year

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*~Family Feud~*

AN: This has been done for DAYS I just didn't get a chance to read it over because I dropped two outfit descriptions in this and I wanted to draw them out. Instead, I decided to get this out and stop hoarding it. XD

Also an introduction to one of my Twist OC's I'll do my best to get a proper bio of him and link it at a later date.

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: Toxic family dynamics, Disregard of adopted family, She/They Yuu OC. My own canon of Silver's backstory mixed with canon.

Pairings: Mallus x Yuu

Enjoy~!

Starter, Part 1(Pomefiore), Part 2 (Heartslabyul), Part 3 (Here)

Diasomnia was strangely desolate, something that Louis wasn't really expecting. He would have thought the dorm would reflect Briar Valley. The times he'd seen the valley, it was full of lush vegetation, life seeming to spill out of every corner. The only place that looked vaguely like these densely packed dead woods was the royal castle of the Draconia’s. But, even then, the castle had a beautiful rose garden. At the thought of the Briar royalty he scowled, his resolve only growing as he stomped through the woods. Eyes roaming through the trees looking for someone.

Louis Durand was the eldest son and crown prince of Ulstead, one of the longest-standing royal families of Twisted Wonderland. Honey-blonde hair and aurora-colored eyes showing his heritage of the Knight of Dawn. His light-plated iron clinked, gold and iron mix giving off a pale sunshine hue, added protection from his basic princely attire. Long hair braided back and pinned with his family’s crest acting as a crown.

Soon he finds someone, his eyes widening before a smile breaks out on his face. He picks up his pace seeing the figure under the tree slowly open his eyes. Silver hair and dressed in a black and green military uniform, Louis couldn’t keep his voice quiet as he ran closer, " Beau!"

Matching aurora eyes snap open at the name. Silver sighs under his breath, not sure if staying asleep would be better or worse in this situation. Instead, he stood up, waiting for the prince to reach him and for the common argument to start.

Malleus walked with Yuu, smiling at the pout on the human's face, "Why are you so upset, my dear? It's a lovely day and I have you all to myself. Why the long face?" In hand was his spinning wheel wand. He didn’t have his pen in such form normally, But while in his dorm uniform, the staff was perfect for the overall look. Plus, it felt good to wear such regal wear with his child of man in their own new dorm uniform of Ramshackle.

Lilia himself was delighted seeing the outfit, saying Yuu looked like a troublesome fairy he had a run-in with long ago. A light tealish green button-up shirt with bluebell-shaped sleeves. A darker grey-teal vest over the shirt, a series of leather belts wrapped around their waist to hold an assortment of things, one of which being a bag of marbles. (For purposes Yuu told the others.) The vest had multiple tail ends, layering into a rough jagged line like the edge of a leaf. Leggings patterned with asymmetrical lines to mirror shattered glass. The look was pulled together with a pair of leather pirate-style boots that folded over their knees and a worn-looking navy captain’s hat, refurbished lightly to match the color of their dorm better.

Malleus himself could see what Lilia meant when Yuu wore their new uniform. Though it was a collaborative design by Divus and Yuu, the final result came out very close to the common fashion of Briar Valley. And with their temper and short stature (Compared to him), Yuu truly reminded him of the trickster fairies of the woods. Oh, the times Malleus had to keep Silver from being led astray by little wings of glitter. At the very least, Yuu gave kisses instead of deceiving the innocent…Well, Yuu does the same but it was normally unlethal. Now looking down at his lover, he smiles, tilting his head at the pouting human. He wonders if he could get away with calling them a pixie. He chuckles, raising an arm to place around their shoulders, “Come, let me hold you.”

Yuu huffs, leaning away from Malleus' arm as he tries to bring them closer. They glare at the tall fae, crossing their arms across their chest, "You know very well I wanted to meet your grandma. And you have the gall to stand there, looking cute, and call me over here after you already sent her home!"

The laugh Malleus let out was loud like thunder, it would almost be threatening if not for the warmth in his smile. He leans down, forehead resting on Yuu's as he looked into their eyes, "Are you truly upset you couldn't meet my grandmother? Or are you upset you haven't been able to embarrass me in front of my maternal figure like you've done your other lovers?"

They scoff, turning around to walk away from Malleus, but didn't try to move when he wrapped his arm around them. Yuu rested against his chest, sighing forlornly as they placed their hand over their forehead, "All I ask is to look into your grandmother and have her look back at me…"

"..." Malleus laughs, standing up and moving Yuu to face him directly, "You know, I may consider introducing you to my grandmother more if you stopped insinuating she is the void."

"Have you ever seen your grandmother and the void in the same room? I haven't." They laugh at Malleus' smile, pulling him down and leaning in to kiss his cheek. Giving him another seeing how the fae beamed under the physical affection.

Their sweet moment was interrupted by shouting, the sound of it getting closer and closer. Sharing a look, Malleus stands back to full height, a hand placed on the middle of Yuu’s back, the two of them walking toward the sounds of arguing.

"-before someone sees us, we should go!"

"Louis, please just go. I'm not having this argument with you again…"

Yuu blinks at the unknown boy trying to pull Silver through the woods, the gray-haired boy digging his heels into the dirt. Silver looked more annoyed than distressed at the manhandling, but, Yuu still pulled her golf club from the back holster Crewel had designed for them, "Hey! The fuck’s going on here?"

Her shout was enough for the both of them to look over in surprise, giving Silver the chance to finally slip out of the mystery boy's hold. The 2nd year was quick to join them, standing just slightly behind Malleus on his side in his normal position as a retainer. For whatever reason it made the boy glare, frowning fiercely at Malleus.

"Still insulting the Ulstead crown with your display, I see. He should be in jewels and celebrated! Not set to the side to be forgotten and overlooked by your people!"

Malleus' mirthful attitude was gone, a bored look on his face as he looked down his nose at the armor-clad boy.

Seeing Malleus wasn’t going to grace the stranger with an answer, Yuu spoke up. Their golf club swinging lazily to tap against their calf, "While I agree Silver is a national treasure, you can't just be grabbing and dragging people around like they owe you money."

The stranger opens his mouth, poised to start yelling at them too before he freezes. Looking at them, his eyes widen in shock, "You're human?"

"Good eyes, now explain yourself-"

"Fair maiden you must come with me at once! This land of fae and fowl isn't safe nor suitable for humans!" He reached out, moving to grab onto Yuu's wrist only to be forced back by a crackle of green lightning.

Yuu was just as surprised, blinking when Silver pulled them farther behind Malleus and missing the prominent anger in the fae's eyes as dark clouds began to gather above them.

Malleus’s eyes seemed to glow the darker the area became, his face a deadly edge of sober as he tilted his head slightly, "You dare try to abscond with my treasures? I would think your family knows a dragon does not give from their hoard so lightly…"

The stranger matched Malleus' expression, taking a step forward before he was interrupted by Silver sighing.

"Louis. Please. Just go home. I've long made my choice and I would like it if you and your family to respect it."

“They’re our family!” Louis' face crumbles, a hand reaching out in a pleading motion toward Silver, " Beau, please just come home with me. We can talk this out with the family and see if you've been cursed like father thinks. If all is well we can go from there."

Yuu casts a confused look toward Silver, raising an eyebrow, "Beau?"

Silver shakes his head, not wanting to explain, missing Malleus locking eyes with Louis. A smug smirk grew on the fae’s face before he spoke.

" I would like it if you left my brother be. He doesn't wish to speak to you."

"He is not your brother you accursed, bastard!"

"Now, now. There's no need for all of this yelling…"

Lilia dropped down from above a few paces away. Instead of his normal dorm uniform, he wore a tight thorn pattern long-sleeve top, the high neckline hidden by a false collar and a bright green tie with a complex-looking knot. Long pants tucked into knee-length lace-up boots. His oversized jacket was replaced with an open-back vest in the dorm colors, long coattails trailing behind him. The look pulled together with his normal dorm accessories, the vest showing off the spiked spine brace the Diasomnia students regularly wear.

His youthful face was strangely in a neutral expression. He looks to Louis, not even flinching at the glare. Turning to him fully, Lilia gives a polite smile, trying to calm the enraged boy, "Prince Louis. I understand the campus is open to all visitors. But, you are aware Silver doesn't wish to speak to you or the other Ulstead royals unless it is at the yearly treaty festival or you’ve called ahead of time."

Louis stomps forward, getting directly in Lilia's face to snarl, "His name is Beau, you thief!"

"Enough!" Silver steps forward, standing beside Lilia and only stopping at the hand gripping his arm, keeping him closer to Lilia, "I will not let you talk to my father like this."

"He isn't your father!" Louis looks to Silver, eyes pleading, "Beau, no matter what they've told you, they're lying to you. They aren't your true family and all we want is for you to come home to us…"

Silver’s face clenches, almost winning in the fight to not grimace. His fists ball up at his sides, turning his head away from Louis as he muttered, “Who I care for isn’t your choice to make…”

Lilia glances at Silver from the corner of his eye. Seeing Silver's anger, he opened his mouth to calm his son, only to have Louis speak before him.

"He won't love you like a real father would. You know that. You'll be dead and gone long before he even has time to care about you."

That was enough to make Silver crumble, the 2nd year hunching into himself hoping to hide away from the other's hurtful words.

The sound of thunder and lightning was deafening. The dark clouds overhead that had eclipsed the sun were almost meaningless as a single bolt of lightning illuminated the grounds, striking dangerously close to the group. Both of which were ignored by Lilia, scooping Silver into his arms.

Placing the taller boy onto his hip and supporting his legs while glaring at the human prince, "If you'll excuse us, my son seems to be under the weather. I'm going to get him inside to rest."

Lilia doesn't look back, walking away like Silver weighed less than nothing in his hold. Even with his confused expression, Silver soon relaxed, properly latching onto his father and resting his head against the top of Lilia's hair.

Yuu looks over to Louis, frowning at the other human's intense glare at the retreating figures, "You know, as a fellow human? That was extremely fucked up, you know that, right? Like severely fucked."

"I quite agree with my child of man." Malleus' face was stone cold, his tinted lips curling over a fang as he snarled, "It was fucked."

“What’s fucked,” Louis somehow made the vitriol in his voice even harsher, eyes glaring into Malleus’ cold green iris, “Is stealing a prince and making him a guard to the enemy of his nation.”

Malleus leans in, a small smile showing his fangs as he spoke in a soft mocking tone, “He wasn’t stolen by fae hands. Nor are we enemies, the treaty was signed nearly 20 years ago Prince Durand.” His smile drops, voice almost a growl, “You’d do well to remember that.”

Louis’ hand reached toward his sword, managing to draw it out only a few inches before a force slammed into the hilt of the blade, forcing it back into the sheath. The head of a golf club resting on top of the rounded metal of the weapon, Yuu’s dark eyes glaring into his own morning dews, the silent promise clear in their actions. He huffed, his glare only barely softening as he addressed Yuu, “Stand down, maiden. I don’t know why you’ve allied yourself with this fae, but he is not to be trusted.”

“With all disrespect? What I do with the future father of my child is none of your business.”

Malleus’ magic forms around Yuu faster than she could swing and faster than Louis could grab her. The green aura glittered around her, lifting Yuu into the air and away from the human’s out-reaching hand. Louis glared at the prince, his hand clenching into the open air.

Louis closes his eyes, trying to calm his breathing before looking up at Yuu, “You…Miss, you can’t be serious! The Draconia family is founded on the wicked deeds of the Thorn Fairy herself! To be a human and want to continue that line-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there.” Yuu was now lounging in the air, golf club resting over their crossed legs, “I’m going to do my best to be…polite with my reasonings. I don’t care, I just don’t care. I like Malleus, so I find no issue in doing him this kindness as his close platonic-romantic friend-soulmate. The choices I made to carry the potential apocalypse baby are just that. My choices. Just like Silver apparently chose to be Silver instead of Beau. Learn to live with it. Cope, seethe even. But don’t make it our problem when clearly you’re the only one bothered.”

The expression on Louis’ face was odd. A strange mixture of anger yet heartbreak, the type of look that spoke of internal struggle. Yuu almost had enough time to feel bad, opening their mouth to give some kind of comfort, before the human royal’s face steels.

Louis stepped back, rolling his shoulders into the proper position and looking into Malleus’ eyes with a neutral expression, “Apologies for my outburst Prince Draconia. I will take what you said into consideration. Good day to you and your…” His face fights against the sneer he wants to pull, “Consort…Good day.” With that, he spins in his iron-plated heel, stomping his way back toward the dorm’s mirror.

“...” Yuu turns to Malleus, still floating in the air, “Put me down.” Malleus raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t take his eyes off of Louis until he was well in the distance, “Why…?” “I’m gonna beat his ass.”

A smile breaks across his face, looking out from the corner of his eye to see the glare on the prefect. Yuu never failed to entertain, always having a gesture or words that would pull him from sour moods and episodes of sorrow. Be it a physical reminder of their friendship or a verbal assurance of their shared devotions, Yuu always made him smile, even when he didn’t want to.

Malleus shakes his head, “No. You have no need to engage in combat with the likes of him. You are my consort after all.” He starts to walk toward the dorm, keeping Yuu suspended in the air with his magic. In their current mood, they were more likely to ignore his words and chase the prince down than listen. His thoughts reminded him of Silver and Lilia’s emotional states, the urge to check on them growing once Louis’ presence was fully gone.

“Oh, is that gonna be your new favorite word? Because you’re gonna make Jamil and Azul jealous. They can only call me ‘girlfriend’ for now.”

“I suppose they can cope then. Seethe even.”

“Stop stealing my words! You make it sound so much fancier when you say it.”

Malleus chuckles, bringing Yuu closer to place another kiss against their cheek, “Cope.”

Diasomnia’s dorm was massive, scary, and regal. It was also peacefully quiet when Malleus and Yuu walked inside. The families that were chatting away in the common area had all vacated, leaving the room bare except for Sebek, Lilia, and Silver. The pearly-haired human was sleeping, head resting on Lilia’s lap while the short fae caressed his hair.

Walking to the couch, Yuu sat beside Lilia, Malleus taking the armchair that Sebek instantly jumped up to stand beside.

"So I have to ask, why the outfit change?"

Giggling, Lilia turned to look at Yuu, a sneaky smile on his face, "While I normally, as you say 'serve cunt', I decided to change into something semi-respectable since I knew visitors of the valley were coming." He gestures mildly to his new outfit, "As such I picked something that echoes my old war armor."

“Well you failed, you’re still serving cunt, good sir. But next question…Who was his royal dick?” Yuu asks, their voice hushed even though they knew Silver wasn’t going to wake up with anything less than Sebek screaming in his face.

Lilia sighs, “Prince Louis Durand. Crown prince of Ulstead and…” He sighs again, the force of it almost fully deflating him, “And Silver’s twin.”

“He has one of those?”

Sebek scoffs, rolling his eyes but refusing to say anything. He grew up dealing with the human prince’s numerous visits. Louis would do everything he could to exclude Sebek, but Silver was just as vigilant in making sure he was involved. Once, Silver held onto Sebek’s hand and refused to let go for the whole visit. It took both Baul and Lilia to pull them apart once Louis had left, Silver claiming he couldn’t unclench his hand.

“Yes…It’s a long story, but by fae laws Silver is mine and his blood family isn’t too happy about it.”

Yuu tilted their head, “I wouldn’t be either, this is extremely suspicious. Lilia, you said you found Silver on the ground.”

“I-” Lilia realizes what Yuu was insinuating, snapping his face up to pout at the prefect, “I did.”

“Lilia, how do you find a baby prince on a random forest floor?”

The pink-haired fae huffs, arms wrapping tighter around Silver’s sleeping form, “Well, I did! Believe me or not, I found him fair and square. He even picked me over them so they have no right to complain…”

Yuu smiled, always loving to pick at Lilia when the older fae would get annoyed with her, “Your story is falling apart. Did the baby pick you or did you find him, Lilia? What is it you want me to believe?”

Lilia was fast, a hand reaching out and pinching Yuu’s ear to tug on it. He hisses out a shush while she squirms in his hold, “Hush, let me tell you what happened…”

Silver was led to the palace throne room, his small hand gripping onto Sir Baul's as the old fae stared ahead. He was stern as usual when he came to collect him, but the look he had when he called Silver made his stomach twist. Sebek had gone quiet again, only waving goodbye as Baul led him from the room. He didn't know what was happening as the double doors of the throne room opened. On one side of the room stood his father and on the other side stood a group of strangers wearing the same colors as the people who stormed their home.

Days ago, he and his father had to flee to the palace when a group of human knights broke down their door in the middle of the night. Silver had never felt such terror, watching his father fight off a squad of intruders before scooping him into his arms. He had jumped from the bedroom window, Silver only in his pajamas and Lilia still smelling of burning flesh from iron as he sprinted into the woods.

They reached the palace, a number of fae knights riding into the woods at his father's report. He wasn't proud of it, but he cried when he had to leave his father's arms. The short fae smiled and teased him, saying he was only getting bandaged and to not be so silly. He was sulking about later in his brother's Malleus’ arms. He was six years old, he shouldn't be crying as such anymore.

Over the next few days, Silver was with Malleus for most of the day. Sebek joined them and was oddly soft-spoken, the younger boy looking at him pained and heartbroken but wouldn't tell him why. He would hear voices echoing in shouts in the halls, unknown knights staring at him. Their eyes made him nervous before Malleus whisked him away. But now, in the throne room, Malleus was standing beside the queen, looking upset and refusing to meet his eyes. Even father wouldn’t look at him, only the glamourously dressed family standing on the other side of the room would look toward him.

Her Majesty spoke, her voice an odd mix of cold yet cordial, “Silver-”

The unknown woman, who Silver now realized also had a crown in her braided warm brown hair, snapped. Her soft smile turned into a vicious frown as she rounded to the Queen, “His name is Beau.”

Her Majesty simply sighed, just barely keeping from rolling her eyes, a hand held up to calm the guards and Malleus, “Child. You are being offered a choice on this day. It is your choice alone if you return home with either Lilia Vanrouge or the royal family of Ulstead, the Durands. Make your decision judicially, you will not gain another.”

…

Silver looked over to the strangers. Whatever anger the woman had felt was gone, leaving behind a kind person who reached out to him before pulling her hand back to her chest. Looking at them closely, he fully saw just how lavish their clothing was, soft and bright colors unfound in the valley since so many made their living working with nature or potions (It’d get dirty so quickly). Delicate light fabrics with sewn-in gems and woven gold threads. They looked at him with such hope. Around them, guards of that knight stood showing chests of gold shiny board swords and armor. A boy who looked so similar yet different from him smiled, a stuffed bear held tightly in his arms.

He waved, bowing his head in a show of respect for the visiting royalty, but the beaming grins they gave back to him didn’t ease the discomfort he felt. He was sure the woman was one second away from rushing over to him and taking him in her arms, never to be seen again.

To the other side was his father. Standing silently and still, so unlike himself it made Silver more uncomfortable than the overly friendly strangers. Father stood in just the cloak he had on when they absconded to the palace, the black cloth hiding his body and long hair tied into a low ponytail. He wouldn’t look at him, he wasn’t even smiling. Silver had never seen his father so…impartial. It was frightening, but it only cemented the fact Lilia was his father.

Looking the fae over, Silver’s mind brought to light just how much he knew about his father. He knew the exact cloak he had managed to grab. A flash of yellowish-green peaking from the hood. The fruits of his and Sebek’s sewing lesson from weeks ago. Silver knew in that hood was a crudely stitched-in bat (From when he was in the war his father told him, to keep others from stealing his cloak), a simple bright green oval, a chartreuse blob to mimic a crocodile, and a simple ivory-colored smaller bat. Father always stated it was his lucky cloak.

Though he tried to hide it, Silver knew his father’s hair was streaked with blocks of white strands. They were debating on which color he was going to dye it next. Silver was so close to convincing him to try orange, he knew it’d look ridiculous, but his father would do it if he could persuade him properly.

And the final secret Silver could easily see was how his father fidgeted with the bracelet he had gifted him. It was something of a nervous tick, the fae would at times look into the distance and simply tape his sharp nails against the seeds. Sometimes Silver worried he would break the charm one day, only to watch the same worry overtake his father would he seemingly tapped too hard.

He wasn’t sure of the severity of this decision, but he had his options and his choice was clear.

Silver squared his shoulders, keeping his eyes trained on his father as he walked towards him. His stride only stops when the woman gives a heartbroken cry of ‘Beau’. He looked over his shoulder, seeing the strange family crumbled, tears gathering in their eyes. The woman all but falls to the floor, being held up by her husband who looks at him in disapproval. The boy’s expression hurts, it’s pleading, heartbroken. Silver strangely felt for him the most, but he couldn’t leave his father to his lonesome.

Before long Silver was standing right in front of Lilia, bright aurora-colored eyes trying to catch glittering magenta ones. Lilia laughs, short and almost damp. He finally looks at Silver, expression pained as he fights back his tears, “You wish to go with me?”

Silver nods, not a moment of hesitation, “I’m ready to go home now father.”

Lilia doesn’t hesitate either. Scooping Silver into his arms, tucking his son’s face into his neck and walking from the chamber at a quick pace. Silver hears chaos engulf the room, the woman from before starting to scream in anger and Her Majesty raising her voice to demand she calms herself. Silver looks up from his father’s collar, catching hauntingly similar aurora eyes before the doors close behind them.

“Of course the Durands never let it rest. Maleficia was honest with them…” Lilia sighed, looking down at a sleeping Silver, “Silver doesn’t count as ‘Stolen by Fae’. As such there was no trade, so no proper test could be given and Silver was left to pick where he went.”

“Did they not…think he would pick you? I mean you were his dad for his whole life…”

Malleus sighed from his chair, eyes gazing into the green fireplace, he hint of annoyance curling his lip, “My grandmother warned them of that likelihood. But they were insistent on Silver knowing he’d want to be with ‘his blood’...” Malleus wouldn’t speak of the shouting match that broke out when Lilia fled the room with Silver. But, he was just as smug when his grandmother smiled and explained to the wailing queen that Silver had made his choice.

“The silly boy really just walked up to me with no doubt in his heart. But, from there, the Durand family was calling at our home near weekly.” Lilia sighs, remembering the string of panic attacks he’d gain waking up to iron-clad knights banging on his cottage's front door. The number of letters he’d start to just burn in the fireplace, each one detailing and painting him as a wicked being for stealing a vulnerable infant from his loving home.

Yuu scoffed, leaning back into the couch, “What? So they just show up every few days to bother you guys and shout that you’re not a real family?”

“Not nearly as much as before. But basically.” Sebek sighed, shaking his head in mild irritation, “The king and queen have stopped coming so often, only at the yearly Peace Treaty celebration held at our borders.”

“They stopped visiting around Silver’s 10th birthday…Louis still spends his summers camped out in the woods with his posse.” Malleus pouts, the windows darkening as his mood briefly soured, muttering under his breath, “They keep sending him gifts heavy in iron though…”

Lilia caresses Silver’s head, smiling at his serene face, “Louis always tried so hard to be by Silver the first few visits. He was more docile when beside him, but when anyone tried to detach them, he’d throw such tantrums.”

Malleus looked to Lilia, eyes lidded in annoyance, “Tanturms. Lilia, he stabbed you when you tried to wipe Silver’s face.”

Lilia waves Malleus’s words off, ignoring Yuu’s surprised laughter, “It didn’t even draw blood. Barely counts as a stab.”

Lilia would never lie, but he never told the whole truth either. He never told Maleficia the truth the night he brought a human baby for her blessing and he thinks he never will. He didn’t lie, he never stole Silver. But, he never told anyone the whole story.

He met the Knight of Dawn the night Maleaonor died, the knight had saved both his and Malleus’ lives. They barely spoke, eyes meeting before the knight turned around. He told him and Baul to run, that he’d deal with whoever entered the tunnel after them.

It’s embarrassing, Lilia thinks to himself sometimes. The fact that simple action was enough to make his heart flutter, in the moment he attributed it to his adrenaline. But he still blushed and whispered under his breath a basic blessing as a thank you.

Lilia thinks he’s cursed to take care of the children of those he loves. He cared about Maleficia for taking him in and then he became Maleanor’s keeper. He loved Maleanor and Revan, Malleus was more his mother’s son than his father’s he’s realizing. And only once his heart fluttered and now he’s staring down at a sobbing infant.

He wasn’t sure why he walked to this old place, taken over by the people who killed his friend and orphaned his charge. But a part of him was happy he did. Two children in a basic bassinet, one sleeping peacefully while the other wailed. How his sibling didn’t wake up worried Lilia, but he decided to tend to the screaming one first.

One blessing later, the baby’s golden hair turned Silver. At least whoever took care of them would be able to tell them apart now. Soon he pulled away from the bassinet, leaving the awake infant to start crying again. It pained him to leave the poor dears, but they were human and he was a fae. He couldn’t look after them properly. So he’d drop a hint to the Human kingdom, something about hearing the sounds of a crying baby in the abandoned ‘First Castle’.

It was easy to connect the dots when the neighboring kingdom spoke of the joyous event of the queen birthing two twin boys. Lilia was fine with that, those boys deserved a happy home full of love and care. One he could not give, not since his own efforts took so long to even hatch Malleus. A human child can’t live as long as it takes for him to muster enough love for a child to be raised on.

But only a week later, walking through the woods in his late-night musings, he hears a familiar cry. In the silver band of moonlight, he finds that same infant crying nestled in the roots of a dying tree. The basic nightgown was gone, the baby simply wrapped in a blanket, though surprisingly a thin gold chain with a familiar golden ring. Lilia so badly wanted to turn and walk away, maybe leave another tip to the humans they seemed to be missing a whole baby.

Instead, the infant cried, tiny pudgy hands reaching out to him for comfort. He really had gotten weak in his old age. Sweeping the baby into his arms he hummed the lullaby he’s been singing for centuries. And as the baby slept in his arms he smiled, walking back to his cottage, “Guess I will be taking care of you after all, aren’t I little one?”

Lilia didn’t take this child. He never even lifted him from that bassinet when he found both of them. This wasn’t kidnapping nor an act of theft. He was simply taking in a child he found in the woods and that’s all anyone had to know.

“Hmm…You need a name…Silver, Like a moonbeam in the dark…” He laughed, pressing a kiss to the soft strands, “And for your hair!”

Lilia wouldn’t tell the whole story, but he didn’t lie. He found Silver in the forest and he was his son.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twst wonderland #yuu oc #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #mallyuu #malleus x yuu #malleus x reader #twst malleus #malleus draconia #silver vanrouge #twst silver #twst sebek #sebek zigvolt #twist oc #diasomnia

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pikachu78109 · 2 months

Text

General Team Rainbow Rocket Headcanons

((I’ve been listening to some Team RR boss themes out of nostalgia and I have never written anything about the Pokémon villains (specifically Generation 1-6 respectively) and I figured I would shower my thoughts on these dudes))

Giovanni

Gonna start off with the one and only Giovanni. He’s a bit tricky to pinpoint, but as a Mafia inspired character, Giovanni works in the shadows. He doesn’t operate out in the open (I mean, obviously) and handles the more business side of things such as negotiations and elaborate planning. He doesn’t care about getting his hands dirty but don’t mistake him for being lazy or incapable of fighting.

As a villain, he’s the most put together. He’s a rational thinker and analyzes situations thoroughly. Not much of an optimist, but very opportunistic however it’s coupled with a hypothetical mindset. Giovanni never settles for one backup plan. He never bites off more than he can chew. He bides his time and attacks when the moment comes.

Obviously views himself highly and expects absolute respect. Has no tolerance for failure, like most other villains (except Archie) and punishes Grunts severely for any indiscretion.

Giovanni is aware of Maxie and Archie as they used to be part of Team Rocket in their early years. He has a low opinion of them, Archie especially for his goofy immaturity and lack of asserting his authority. Still, it does impress Giovanni that these two have managed to make a name for themselves as bosses.

Extremely patient. Giovanni can play the waiting game and he prefers it that way. He hates sloppiness and would rather surveillance his opponents before striking. He’s got eyes everywhere to ensure that no stone is left unturned.

Actually a decent father to Silver, but very much so a deadbeat. Not a lot of contact between the two. However, there were a few instances where they crossed paths but it’s usually brief and contains less pleasantries.

Maxie

Stereotypical nerd alert. Maxie is the epitome of the phrase “well, actually” and comes across as SUPER condescending. He thinks he’s doing people a favor by showering them with his logic and reasoning but really, at times, he’s speaking nonsense. He’s petty whenever Archie is around and does things that irk him, but between the two, Maxie does seem more mature albeit condescendingly. Hell, I’ll just say he’s condescending.

Long standing rivalry with Archie. It’s an amalgamation of being petty, competitive, and all round, goofy. On the outside, the other villains don’t take these two seriously. However, by himself, Maxie is actually calm and low key, so to an extent, he’s favored a bit more than Archie. Still, it doesn’t discredit the fact that this nerd has beef with a wannabe pirate over the expansion of landmass vs water.

Motive wise, the rest of the villains see Maxie and Archie’s motivations as idiotic. Biggest facepalm in motion.

Secretly admires Cyrus but at the same time developed a jealousy towards him. Maxie admires Cyrus’ technical abilities, his masterwork tinkering with machinery, and the like, but harbors resentment that he himself struggles with reaching that level of success and skill.

Archie

Loud, proud, and all round ruthless, this pirate has no qualms in throwing down. Very loose and probably the least threatening boss, Archie embraces the pirate life and shows no real strictness in his methods. He gives everything he has in battle and doesn’t have a serious persona like the other RR members, hence why nobody takes him seriously.

Again, he has beef with Maxie as mentioned prior. Archie thinks Maxie is too uptight about everything and needs to loosen up. Highly competitive (especially with Maxie) so Archie is willing to take on his counterpart any time or day.

Probably the friendliest villain in the Pokémon main line series. He’s approachable and has that chill uncle vibe.

He does the most reckless things out of the group. It doesn’t matter what it is. Archie will do some random things, no matter if he ends up getting hurt. He’s sturdy, he can handle anything.

Cyrus

Cyrus is a shut in, a recluse so to speak. He hates engaging with others and doesn’t like to be bothered. He only comes out of his room when he’s has to, but only related to Team RR business.

A quiet man. Rarely speaks but isn’t shy in throwing in his two cents. Can easily clap back an argument with a couple of sentences effortlessly (he’s good with his words) and uses vocabulary that makes Archie scratch his head.

Doesn’t take much for Cyrus to kill the mood. Hell, just his presence alone dies whatever mood everyone’s feeling down by an inch.

Probably one of the few villains that contemplates their actions (Maxie and Archie being in the same camp). He doesn’t regret his actions, but finds himself wondering if something else had occurred how would the outcome change? It’s clear that he gets on fine with your Rotom-Dex, so there is some soft side to this ice cold, stone faced man.

Aside from Ghetsis, the other RR bosses kind of show some level of genuine concern for Cyrus. Like, man, are you okay? Cyrus doesn’t get hounded mainly for the fact that there’s quite literally nothing to bully him for. He’s silent most of the time and, to put it simply, nihilistic (or depressed in some cases). He’s hard to relate to, but that doesn’t mean that the other RR bosses (except Ghetsis) don’t check up on him. Look, they may be evil bastards, but they don’t mess around when it comes to mental health (except Ghetsis; he can go fuck himself).

Ghetsis

A complete madman in the flesh. Ghetsis is an unstable man and let me say that no one approaches Ghetsis unless they have a death wish. The man’s only best friend is manipulation and that’s all he does. Fortunately, Giovanni is aware of this and uses simple yet effective intimidation tactics to unnerve Ghetsis.

Every Team RR Grunt fears Ghetsis. Enough said.

I completely support the theory about Ghetsis and his Hydreigon attacking him. It fits given that his Hydreigon knows the move Frustration (an attack that increases the more the Pokémon dislikes its Trainer) and has used said move on Ghetsis, causing near fatal injuries.

Linking with the prior point, Ghetsis’ right arm was torn off (by Hydreigon) and replaced with a prosthetic, same with his right eye. There are scars all over his torso and legs. He has some mobility issues but can get by okay without any assistance. He wears cloaks to cover every inch of his body to appear bigger, but in actuality, he’s quite scrawny.

Ghetsis tried, at one point, to manipulate each of the RR bosses. Almost worked on Archie (bc Archie is somewhat gullible) whereas Lysandre and Cyrus knew immediately what cyclops was putting down. Maxie kind of just didn’t care.

Inserts himself way. too. much. Ghetsis cannot stand being pushed aside and prefers to be the center of attention. Dramatic, yes, but I can only imagine that if the conversation doesn’t involve Ghetsis, he’ll make damn sure that it makes it back to him, revenant or not. He’s a narcissist trying to dominant, but Giovanni isn’t having it.

No one knows why Ghetsis appears and acts so cruelly. Some say he was just born to be evil while others pin a complex backstory. It’s been theorized that Ghetsis has an ancient linage; his ancestors ruling over Unova, the Abyssal Ruins being a towering fortress that, for the longest time, ruled with power and swath of knowledge and wisdom. Over time, the ruins sank to the bottom of the ocean, taking the last remnants of the Harmonia name with it, leaving behind Ghetsis to carry on that legacy many years later. Of course, Ghetsis perverts the family name by asserting his own sinister misdeeds, pushing his warped philosophy onto others, like N, with manipulation. The God complex he forms has consumed him to the point where he can barely distinguish reality apart from his own twisted fantasy.

Says some batshit insane things that no one can comprehend. Don’t bother arguing with him; he cannot be reasoned.

Lysandre

This man hides his insanity very well. He carries himself with confidence and pride, so you would never suspect this man having committed regional (or global) genocide.

Has a way with words, similar to Cyrus. He can talk his way out of situations with little to no effort as he’s both eloquent and charming.

Quite favorable with Giovanni and possibly with Cyrus.

Can never tell what he’s thinking. You don’t know if he’s joking or if he’s being serious. It’s a constant coin toss and he’ll keep you on your toes. He finds this trait about himself amusing while others, like Ghetsis and Archie, find it annoying.

Despite how insane and deeply twisted his actions are, Lysandre actually used to be a genuine human being. At some point in his early life, he tried to be giving and helping towards his community and all of Kalos, which did help improve the quality of life in the region. But, over time, the constant pressure of trying to solve every problem has left Lysandre empty and exhausted. He has kept trying to find an excuse to continue his good efforts, but every time it yielded the same results, the same cycle. People take advantage of kindness, people fight and bicker over generosity, and people demand more. Lysandre just… burnt out. He got tired and grew to resent humanity’s unwillingness to accept and appreciate what was being given to them, ruining the beauty of the world by perverting the generosity to match their own needs and desires. It disgusted Lysandre, hence why he chose the destructive path that he did. What other choice he did have?

Can be sincere at times. When he says something positive, he means it.

#pokemon #pokemon headcanons #pokemon villains #pokemon giovanni #pokemon maxie #pokemon archie #pokemon cyrus #team galactic #team rocket #team magma #team aqua #pokemon ghetsis #team plasma #pokemon lysandre #team flare #team rainbow rocket

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braveclementine · 3 months

Text

Chapter 1

Warnings: None. (Will however be a 18+ reader book)

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own a few OCs like Elizabeth, Katherine, Stacy, and Jessie. I do not condone any copying of this.

You pulled on a long F/C hoodie along with a pair of black capris and some silver, purple, and pink shoes before pulling your H/C hair back into a ponytail. It was a little hotter out, but you had gotten more and more uncomfortable with having your left arm showing as you had gotten older and older.

That was because you had eleven soulmates.

Eleven.

E-le-ven.

No one had eleven soulmates. The most someone had was five. It was in the book of Genius World Records. At least, it had been until you had turned six months of age and the doctors were putting you up for photos to steal that place.

Eleven soulmates.

Each soulmate was shown by a colour imprinted into your skin. It circled the entire way around and coloured in. Very rarely, there would sometimes be a mix of two colours in one line, which meant that they were a complicated person.

You had eleven. More than half of them had two colours on each line.

Each line was about one and a half or two inches thick, so you had half of the space between your elbow and your wrist covered.

The first line was gold.

The second was gold and green.

The third line was pure black.

The fourth was red, white, and blue.

The fifth was silver and red.

The sixth was blue and green.

The seventh was red and gold.

The eighth was purple and black.

The ninth was also silver.

The tenth was also purple and black.

The eleventh was pink and brown.

Yours- your favorite colour- was situated on the right wrist and it was (for story purposes I chose because I needed an 'unusual' colour) Periwinkle, Turquoise OR Jade.

You grabbed your water bottle and headed outside for a run.

You hadn't been living in New York for long, having moved here for [either college or work].

You quickly headed for the park that you had been running at, popping earbuds into your ears, before setting it to your running playlist and taking off.

In the soulmate world of colours, you didn't develop your colours until you were six months old. And at that point, most didn't even get their left colours yet. Just their right one. It usually meant that their soulmate wasn't born yet.

The colours could change of course, people's favorite colours changed all of the time. You remembered when the purple and black line (number 8) had once been grass green and arctic blue. That change hadn't actually been to long ago, well five plus years at least. . . whenever the Sokovia Accords were supposed to have been signed.

You were allowed to marry all of your soulmates, because the Supreme Court acknowledge- as having more than one soulmate became more and more popular- that it wouldn't be fair to the other soulmates if only two could get married.

However, you weren't allowed to have sexual interactions without someone who wasn't your soulmate and even after meeting your soulmate, you weren't allowed to have sexual interactions until your honeymoon. This was to assure that there were no illegitimate children. And that was because children who were born of two people who weren't soulmates ended up not having any soulmate bonds period. They also tended to become either extremely sick, or extremely scary. Some of the most famous examples were Red Skull, Obadiah, Hitler, and Xi Xi Ping.

Once you were married, you developed an underlying characteristic from your soulmate. For example, if you soulmated with someone who was abundant in generosity, you would find that you yourself was more generous as well after the marriage bond. Whatever trait you got however, usually was to tip one of your own more. . . unfavorable characteristics into balance. So if you were a 'scrooge', you would become 'not scrooge'.

It was funny though, you had eleven soulmates and you had yet to meet a single one. And here you were [18-30] years of age, and still not one of your soulmates had shown. Seriously? How was that possible?

You sped up at the end of the song, putting in a full out sprint before the ads started to play. You slowed down before coming to a complete stop, taking a deep drink from your water bottle.

You sighed, wiping your forehead briefly with the hoodie sleeve. It truly was a right pain in the ass to wear such long clothes while running. But you hated being called out for, 'hey, aren't you the girl who was in the record book for eleven soulmates?'

Yeah, no thanks.

Maybe you could get those like. . . what are they. . . like arm sleeve. . .things? Ugh. English words.

Your phone started to ring and you picked it up, "Hey Y/S/N, are you up yet?"

"Clearly if I'm calling you." Your sister's voice grumbled through the phone. "I was hoping to sleep in a little longer. Your boss called the home phone. He wants you in the office in forty-five minutes."

"Ah shit." You cursed, hurrying back towards the apartment you shared with your sister. "Alright, I'm on my way."

You ran past a brunch of people walking calmly on the streets, bumping into an African American man who looked slightly familiar.

"I'm so sorry." You said hurriedly before moving past him, not even noticing the two female guards that had moved to stop you. Nor did you see him lift a hand to keep them from killing you for your 'crime'.

So maybe they wouldn't have killed you, who knows.

"Yeesh." He said in a light tone, "No need to be so uptight Okoye. It was an accident."

"Just wanted a less rushed apology my King." Okoye said stiffly.

T'Challa laughed a little, "She's clearly in a hurry. It is of no importance. Let us continue."

Meanwhile in your apartment, you rushed to shower, put your makeup one, do your hair, and throw on some appropriate clothes for your secretary job before rushing back out again. You hailed a taxi- you got lucky- and then you were on your way to work.

It was Thursday, so you hadn't been expecting work as you usually only worked Friday afternoons, Saturdays, and Sundays to keep up with your college studies Monday-Friday. But College had ended last week, leaving you on summer break. You had let it temporarily slip your mind.

Your mind wandered to your soulmates again, getting slightly desperate. You had several friends that were happily married- some of them even had kids already. Your sister had just gotten married and she was several years younger than you.

More specifically though, you wondered if your soulmates were just as desperate for you, or if they had other soulmates. Just because they were your soulmate and you were theirs, it didn't mean that they didn't have their own.

(For example: T, G, and S. S might be soulmate with both T and G, but it doesn't mean that T and G were soulmates with each other, just S. T might even have M as their own soulmate but neither G nor S is soulmates with M. But M would be part of the relationship because their soulmates with T and T is soulmate with S and S is soulmate with G and T. Confusing, I know. I made this story much harder on myself than need be.)

Luckily, you made it to your job with five minutes to spare, quickly take your spot behind one of the five secretary desks, setting yourself up.

Your secretary desk was a bit more cluttered than the others. You had a book in one of the cubby holes that you sometimes pulled out when it was a slow day. Several cups were on the shelf- not for drinking- but just filled to the brink with pens and pens and more pens. Your calendar book was on the left side of the desk, your laptop in the middle, and then the phone that you took the calls from on the right.

You pulled up the computer, letting it warm up quickly as you settled yourself in.

It was a slow day as predicted and you switched between work, reading snippets from the book, and also researching some stuff online.

Around lunch time, you put your phone on pause, grabbing your purse, and heading out with three of the other four girls that worked behind the desk.

"Where do you guys want to eat out today?" Stacy asked.

"Umm, how about Chinese food?" Jessie suggested, "I haven't had that in forever."

"Sure." You said. "There's a Panda Express nearby. I wouldn't mind getting some orange chicken and fried rice."

"Oh that does sound good." Katherine said wistfully.

The four of you walked to the Panda Express a few blocks down, ordering, before sitting at one of the high tables on stools. As you chowed down on the delicious and savory orange chicken paired with steamy fried rice and a nice F/Soda, Jessie said, "Oh yeah, did you guys here about the woman who bumped into the King of Wakanda today?"

"No, when did this happen?" You asked in interest. "Is she still alive?"

Stacy tsked, "Y/N, you know that the King of Wakanda isn't like that."

You grinned, "I was just kidding. Do they know who bumped into him?"

"No, apparently she was running like crazy." Jessie said thoughtfully. She pulled out her phone, pulling up something before sliding it over to you. You picked it up as she finished off her Teriyaki chicken as you watched.

You felt your heart start to beat faster and the blood drain from your face as you recognized exactly who had bumped into the King of Wakanda. While they hadn't been able to capture your face. . . well you pretty much know when you're on camera.

Shit. You knew he'd looked familiar.

You slid the phone over to Jessie, taking a large sip of your soda before asking, "Where is he staying?"

"Avengers Tower naturally." Katherine said with a shrug, slurping up her low mein noodles, "Did you know he doesn't have a soulmate yet? In fact, there's rumor than none of the Avengers have soulmates!"

"Crazy, right?" Stacy sighed, rubbing her singular blue band of her male soulmate whose name was Jackson.

"No, Captain America has his soulmate." Jessie said, shaking her head. "He's soulmated to Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson."

"Oh wow." I said. "I didn't know that."

"Yeah, well he doesn't flaunt them, ya know?" Jessie asked. "Although it was a bit of a surprise since soulmates are normally male and female pairs and same-sex pairs are rare just cause. . . well you know children. But he seems happy."

You didn't watch to much about the Avengers. You knew most of them, though not to a crazy extent. You were a big fan of that one song though.

"I think Tony Stark found is soulmate too, now that I think about it," Katherine said, frowning slightly before tucking her black hair over her shoulder. "But he's never said who it is."

"Pepper Potts?" Stacy asked.

"No. She's in that relationship with Happy Hogan and May Parker." Katherine said, shaking her head, "They have Peter Parker from May's brother and sister and then Morgan Hogan from Pepper and Happy."

"I thought I heard Pepper and Tony were soulmates?" You questioned as the four of you started to clean up the trash, tossing it.

"There was speculation because they were so close, but nope. Tony's friend Happy instead. Although I don't think May and Pepper are soulmates."

Once you were back at work and by yourself, the nerves started to twist in your stomach. You were starting to think of worst case scenarios. What if the King of Wakanda was waiting for you when you got home? What if your apology was inadequate for the King? Oh God, of course it was inadequate!

The nerves ate you up so badly your boss told you go home and get some rest because you were looking sick. You simply nodded, packing it up and walking home instead of trying to catch a taxi.

Once you were home, you looked around you, sure that the King of Wakanda would be out there waiting for you. Or maybe a guard. But there was no one. You headed into the apartment building, taking the elevator to the fifth floor and stepped into your apartment.

You did a full, paranoid scan of the apartment- your sister was out- before finding the place empty.

The King of Wakanda had not cared.

Good.

But the nerves wouldn't let you go.

Should you apologize again? Go to Avengers Tower and ask to see the King of Wakanda?

Yeah right.

Like they'd let a commoner like you in.

Maybe you could flash your eleven bands and gain some 'celebrity' pass.

Laughable.

You dithered around the apartment for another half hour before you headed out of the building again. It was at least worth a chance.

So you started the walk towards the Avengers Tower.

➡️

#Braveclementineworks #BraveclementineNovels #Novel #Avengers soulmate #Y/N #xreader #18+readersonly #T'Challa #King of Wakanda #Avengers Tower #Katherine #Stacy #Jessie #Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes x Sam Wilson #eleven soulmates #Avenger Soulmate Colours #Book 1

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tswaney17 · 1 year

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Accidental Chemistry - Coming Soon!

Summary: Azriel had his whole life figured out. He was the head of his department at work. He had a nice house with his own space. He could pick up any woman he wanted for a good fuck before moving on. He didn’t need commitment—didn’t want it. But when his brother and sister-in-law ask for a favor, he finds his whole life turning upside down in the blink of an eye. All because of his new roommate: recently divorced Elain Archeron.

And her three-month-old son.

~~~~~

I'm very excited to announce an upcoming fic, Accidental Chemistry. I have to give all my love to @duskwhisperer for sending me this idea and letting me run with it. Thank you, babes! 💕 I'm working on building out parts right now and don't have an official launch date, but I couldn't not use @elriel-month to announce this new project. Can't wait to share it with you! And to tide you over, here's a little bit of a sneak peek at chapter 1. 💜💙💚

Feyre sighed, sitting forward in her seat like she needed the strength to speak. “Az, we—or I—need to ask a favor of you.”

Ah, finally. The reason they invited him over for dinner tonight. He indicated for her to go ahead with a wave of his brutally scarred hand.

She took a deep breath, settling her nerves. “I was wondering if Elain could move in with you, into the loft you renovated over your garage? Until she’s back on her feet, at least.”

His brows shot into his hairline. Frankly, out of all the favors she could’ve asked him for, that was not even one that crossed his mind. Before he could get out a word in edgewise, Feyre barreled on.

“I know it’s inconvenient for you and that it’s totally inappropriate for me to ask you of this, but Elain has so much going on right now and her husband is taking advantage of the situation, and she has nowhere else to go, and I—”

“Feyre,” he interrupted her run-on sentence. “It’s okay. She can stay with me.”

Silver lined those blue-gray eyes that made him suspicious that other hands were at play here. Had her husband been abusive? Feyre’s relief that he agreed to allow her sister to live with him seemed…so out of place, he supposed.

“Thank you, Azriel. Truly. She’s going to be so relieved.”

This could be good for him. Once Elain was back on her feet and at a good point in her life again, there would be no harm in trying to pursue her, right? Obviously, he’d never take advantage of her, especially when she was in a vulnerable position after her divorce, but if she showed interest, there wasn’t any reason he couldn’t ask her out.

Right?

Rhys subtly nudged his wife, though it did not go unnoticed by him.

“There is one more thing.”

That had his stomach tightening in knots. Now what? After a beat, he finally said, “Well, spit it out Feyre. Don’t leave me hanging in suspense.”

“She has a son.”

All thoughts emptied from his head. “What?” he asked in confusion.

Her hands folded together as she leaned her forearms on the table. “Elain? She has a three-month-old son.”

~~~~~

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#accidental chemistry #elriel #elriel month #elriel month 2023 #elrielmonth #elrielmonth23 #elriel fic #elriel fanfic #elriel fanfiction #elain #elain archeron #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #fic announcement #tswaney17 #tswaney17fics #tay writes #my writing

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ivesambrose · 2 years

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Pick a picture ♔ 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔩𝔢𝔤𝔞𝔠𝔶

1. 2. 3.

The definition of “Legacy” is something that is passed on. But Legacy can take many forms. A Legacy may be of one's faith, ethics and core values… A Legacy may be monetary or your assets… A Legacy may come from one's character, reputation and the life you lead – setting an example for others and to guide their futures.

To book a personal and in depth reading with on this topic or any other query you have with me DM or email me at [email protected] with your name and query

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Picture 1

You'll be known for the bonds you've built and cultivated.

For some this can manifest as a love story or relationship that sets an example or standard for others. That despite distance or inherent differences or your past how you showed up for each other and how you treated one another whether it lasted or not.

You'll leave behind a community that feels like a safe haven to a lot of people.

Some of you may have a legacy of a healthy loving family with strong values and morals. You've chosen not to pass down the pain or trauma you've endured or been projected upon and decided to break the cycle instead.

You may also make a shelter or donate to them or start a business or community that grows bigger with time that encourages people to freely express themselves or experiment with things that haven't been done before.

You're a humanitarian at heart even if there are days you don't see the humanity in people.

You will inspire others to break cycles that are detrimental to them.

Your energy is very encouraging and kind yet creative and prone to discovering new things, always seeking to find the silver lining in the worst situations. You do have excellent foresight and try not to get swayed by the doom and gloom surrounding the world. You seek to bring at least one, however small hopeful and beautiful thing into this world and you will succeed in the same.

Picture 2

Wealth and power. Lot of it.

I believe this is my saturn in aquarius group or saturn and/or jupiter dominant group.

You have endured a lot in your life so far, it may feel like you're centuries old inside a tiny body sometimes.

You'll be known for something no one or very few have done. I believe you'll pave the way for others.

Your mind and your subconscious is the most powerful asset you have. Use it well.

You'll have success in foreign lands.

Your wealth and sucess will be accumulated over time. So you might be a late bloomer but this will be to your advantage.

You'll be known for your wisdom, discipline, eccentricity, experimental, optimistic and diverse nature.

Quite a lot of people will look up to you even though you'll prefer to live a life of privacy.

Picture 3

You'll be known for your words and the way you've healed people through your gifts.

Perhaps you're mercury or water dominant?

Your art, your idealism, your vision, the way you romanticise your life and seek out your dreams.

You also know how to express pain, grief and disappointment in ways that gives others a chance to relate and heal.

I see you perfecting something overtime or getting stronger with what you already possess.

You'll likely have a victory you'll feel guilty over but soon learn to forgive yourself for and realize that you deserve good things too without harshly judging yourself for it.

Some of you may be singers, actors, cinematographers, visual artists, painters, psychics, healers, physicians, therapists etc

You'll be a muse and mystery to others like they haven't comprehended your true essence or your heart but will always remember your beauty, compassion and the way your words or your presence has impacted them.

I feel a lot of people might see you as illusive and unattainable or a complete mystic and some will see you rather motherly regardless of gender, intuitive and extremely intelligent. Someone ahead of their time.

#Pick a card #PAC #Pick a picture #Pick a card your legacy #Your legacy #tarot community #free readings #divination community #Spirituality #tarot readers #tarot readers of tumblr #Pick a card reading

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gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot · 3 months

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What's soap's thoughts seeing his best friends fall in love? Does he find the destiny funny?

Hi <3

For all his joyful personality, I think Soap is a very observant person. Also, one that tries to not complicate things (HAH), asi in, if he sees a problem, he'll find the solution no matter what. He just needs to analyze it.

Problem 1: Riot is lonely. Desperately lonely. No family, no friends, nothing to anchor her to reality or even a semblance of normality, except the military life. She might think Soap doesn't realize the depth of her solitude, but he does, and it breaks his heart. Although Christine tried to keep a distance with the MacTavish family, terrified of intruding and being too much, they all embraced her in one way or another, but she is still scared of being casted out.

Problem 2: Ghost is lonely. Well, Soap assumes he is, given his way of acting. It was a struggle to get through Ghost's self imposed walls, and now that Soap has made a space in Ghost's heart for him, he's settled there snuggly and smuggly. After Price, he is the only one who knows the extent of everything that happened to him in the past (Gaz was the third). So he knows Ghost has no family left, no friends (apart from them, of course. The 141. And Petra. And Olga. And Heather. And someone called Roach who Ghost texts from time to time and also visits once in a while, always alone or with Price)

Silver lining: Riot and Ghost are compatible. Uncannily compatible. Out of the charts. With one look they understand each other (usually, to get angry at him). They spend a lot of time together, alone or with others. Together as in, side by side. Even without talking (how crazy is that??). Soap has even caught Ghost checking her out! (well... at least he hopes he was). He has definitely caught Riot checking Ghost out, but said nothing because he didn't want to get a whack to the head.

Solution: It's obvious! They like each other! So he might as well help by trying to make them do things alone...

Now in all seriousness, Soap is absolutely giddy with the idea. For him is the only reasonable solution.

That doesn't mean he won't find it funny, especially because both Ghost and Riot are painfully awkward around each other. So Soap would find great joy in trying to concot more awkward situations between them (god forbid if he manages to get them in a closet for a 7 minutes in heaven game or something. They wouldn't live it down. Or a game with a bottle)

But what he wants the most is for his best friends to be happy. If it's together, all the better (Soap is convinced they are soulmates. Also, Ghost is completely ok with the type of friendship Riot and Soap have, so that, for Johnny is a plus. And for her. Because neither Soap nor Riot would ever give up the other for a third person)

#lovely anon <3 #my lovely anon #lovely anon #thanks for the ask!#i love asks #call of duty #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #cod oc #cod original character #call of duty original character #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfiction

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wordstro · 7 months

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[6] game of thrones-inspired au + prince hongjoong + "i loved you."

a/n: 6/6- the final part! 10k words, setting-typical violence, abusive dynamics, power dynamics, cheating, violence! murder! implied character death! (oops)

there was a light knock at your door.

yeosang stood at the door with a bundle of terrycloth in his arms, his silver armor dulled under dim candlelight. yeosang's eyes flickered over your face before he dangled the wrapped bundle in front of you, his armor and the bundle clinking softly in the ensuing silence.

"the kitchen's finest wine and fried sugar dough," yeosang announced, bowing his head, "made to your grace's liking, i hope."

you laughed; you could not help it. you propped the door open with one of the heavy gold corner vases, before you laid out your cloak on the stone floor and took a seat. yeosang was already carefully placing the flagons of wine and fried dough on the cloth he'd brought. the wine was a blood red, dornish red of course. it made your heart flutter in a way you had not allowed it in a while.

you watched as yeosang placed his helmet next to his knee. his blond hair spilled over his shoulders, half of it pulled into an unkempt knot at the top of his head. yeosang had always been beautiful. to younger you, his beauty was the same as a snake's, with lovely colors that glistened under the sun. he obtained many wreaths declaring him as a favorite during tourneys. he snuck away with people the few times you'd attended the drinking afterwards.

even now, so clearly tired from his long days as a kingsguard, he was a sight for sore eyes. he still was very much a snake, but snakes lived in the deserts of dorne. it reminded you of home.

he poured you a glass and situated himself at the door hinge, half turned to you, as he always did.

you sighed, "when will you join me?"

"oh sweet thing," yeosang rolled his eyes, "you're consistent, if anything, at least."

you snorted, and yeosang's lips quirked into a small smile.

the wine was dark as blood when you wiped a drip of it from your mouth, your fingertips bloodied by it. it was a strongwine, sweet and the smallest bit sour, warming your blood despite the cold stone floors.

you wiped the wine on your robes, but it still stained your fingers. dark red. like blood.

you asked, "when did hongjoong leave?"

you took another swig.

yeosang answered, "yesterday, at daybreak."

"oh," you said, "he left quickly."

yeosang nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line.

you drew your knees close. the wine made your skin warm. it jumbled your words. loosened your mouth. this was a routine between the two of you, though.

"do you think he'll really come back?" your voice crumbled at the last word, like the sugar crumbling off the untouched fried bits of dough laid haphazardly before you.

yeosang never answered these kinds of questions. you'd grown used to it.

yeosang turned, however, to fully face you, his back to the hall.

he said, "i think i shall drink with you today, sweet thing."

you'd blinked in surprise, drawn out from the heaviness in your chest. "really?"

yeosang's lion-like eyes curled into something softer, kind almost. perhaps, it was pity, but the wine made it into something else. he nodded, "really."

you watched as drank from your flagon, throwing his head back to empty it. dark blood red dripped down the corners of his mouth. he wiped it away with the back of his hand, his armor clinking loudly.

you frowned when he grinned at you, his grin too wide. you said, "did you have to down the whole thing?"

yeosang scowled, "i am the one risking my honor for this. i deserve more than a sip."

"you truly want me to believe you have honor, ser yeosang?"

"fine, i won't argue with that," yeosang snorted. "however i did risk quite a lot sneaking this up here."

"surely the great ser yeosang can sneak past a handful of servants? besides i'm sure the rats far outnumber the people after everyone fled. who would you have to sneak past?"

yeosang paused, raising a brow. he tilted his head in that curious way of his, "what makes you think everyone fled?"

"my windows overlook the main entrance," you reminded him, nodding to the barred windows.

yeosang's brows furrowed. all he said was, "the king is still here, your grace."

"ah yes, the mad king." you'd scoffed, rolling your eyes. you leaned back onto the heels of your hands, appraising yeosang's guarded posture as you frowned, "no one else is here but him, i assume."

"it is true, some of the nobles have joined the rebellion. others have left king's landing," yeosang gulped down a much smaller mouthful of wine, his brows furrowed, "but the kingsguard remain."

"only because they are obliged to." you mumbled, "frankly, i am surprised the prince did not take you with him."

"the king would not allow it," yeosang said. his lips turned down into a small frown.

you mulled over his words, "because the king does not wish to provide lord kang an opportunity for his heir to return to him?"

it was a question you already knew the answer to.

yeosang's snicker was unamused, "the king thinks very highly of me, it seems."

"a sure sign he's succumbed fully to his madness."

yeosang let out a soft laugh. you'd heard it only a few times during your stay in king's landing. it was soft, surprised even, a guffaw more than anything. you could not help but smile.

after a beat, yeosang said, "mingi is here, too."

for a moment, your heart ached for them. ever since you stepped into the red keep, you saw a companionship between hongjoong, yeosang, and mingi that you'd often been envious of. you were always an outsider looking in. and when san and jongho visited, it was as if you were pushed further into the peripheral. even when san courted you, you remained watching, observing. jongho and hongjoong would exchange silent grins over san's head during lunches. hongjoong would pat san on the back and pull him into a long hug every time he greeted san when he returned to the red keep. even during the time when hongjoong ignored you and made sly digs towards san, there was still an air of camaraderie there. hongjoong laughing with yeosang and mingi during your studies. how highly mingi spoke of hongjoong. how yeosang spoke of hongjoong. it was as though despite the flaws and horrible bits, hongjoong was still theirs to love. and that was what it was, was it not? love. you saw it clear as day, when hongjoong confronted you for using mingi. he loved them in a way he never loved you, in a way you'd never love him, in a way you had not had the chance to love your brothers. and they loved him the same way. they were boys together.

but now hongjoong had gone to the north, and yeosang and mingi were left behind in this cage, and jongho and san were leading a rebellion headed your way, to oust hongjoong and his father from the throne. they were no longer boys.

your heart tore at the thought. somehow, this all affected you too, despite how avidly outside of them you were. you were always an outsider looking in, but, still, you were a kid with them, too, for a bit.

"what went wrong?"

"the mad king was always on thin ice, but...i believe everyone hoped hongjoong could be different. had it been a different lord that night," yeosang's hum was thoughtful, "that trust in hongjoong could have survived the mad king's reign. unfortunately, lord lim was the first nail in his coffin, and seonghwa is his last."

the memory of lord lim tied to a post, going up in flames, returned to you, clear as day. you'd never forget it. not his cries, nor the way hongjoong whispered dracarys, nor the fact that you did not stop him. he'd called you horrible names, upset because the mad king beheaded his nephew. the lims, you remembered, were one of many houses that had gathered with jongho during his brothel visits, according to lady irene. now you knew why he'd gathered in the brothels. you'd been so engrossed in your own sole position in this game of thrones, in communicating with your brothers and merely establishing ways to get information, that you had not even thought to use that information for your own well-being. perhaps, if you did, you would not have been left here to die.

"lord lim? why lord lim?" you asked.

yeosang laughed, but there was no amusement there, "jongho and san regard lord lim as something of a second father. they grew up in the riverlands, right alongside seonghwa."

"oh."

you'd stood alongside hongjoong as he coaxed his dragon to burn lord lim at the stake. i shall join you, you said. hongjoong had looked back at you, and you had felt glee when hongjoong had whispered to his dragon to breathe fire. you were complicit, not only by marriage but by actions. hongjoong knew this. he knew, yet he left you behind.

and seonghwa?

yeosang's jaw tightened when you met his gaze once more. his pretty face twisted with scorn. he said, "jongho adores seonghwa. they say hongjoong stole him from winterfell. plucked him from the castle on dragonback. we always teased jongho that he would have started a war for seonghwa."

yeosang's shoulders rose and fell in a silent chuckle.

you thought of seonghwa, of what you'd said to him. you were complicit there too. lord lim and seonghwa. both nails in hongjoong's coffin.

"do you believe what they say?"

yeosang shrugged, "seonghwa always did what he pleased. i don't know what to believe. it is merely speculation."

you let his words sink in as you took another sip of wine. yeosang's cheeks were flushed pink with alcohol, and you felt your stomach churn at finally receiving the information you'd been long wishing for. perhaps, rotting away in these chambers without knowing what was happening beyond the red keep was a good thing, because now all you could do was try to reconcile the fact that you were in fact left for dead here. perhaps this was punishment for standing with hongjoong, for using mingi the way you had, for allowing the jealous beast inside you to lash out at park seonghwa. for daring to play the game of thrones.

you looked up at yeosang, his brown eyes meeting yours, lingering. you held the flagon at eye level. yeosang reached for it without hesitation. you watched as he took several gulps of wine, blood red droplets staining his lips.

the strongwine clouded your head, and loosened your tongue, and perhaps if you were in different circumstances, you would have found your ease around kang yeosang embarrassing.

yeosang loosened the ties to his armor, placing it next to his helmet, his white cotton tunic crisp even in the dim lighting.

yeosang must have had the same thought as you - his eyes met yours, and there was a moment of sheepishness there you'd never seen from him before. you shook your head, tone conspiring, "i won't tell. who is there for me to tell anyway?"

yeosang snickered, an ugly snort of a thing that echoed through the empty hall, through your chambers. you only took a drink from the flagon between you both.

the silence between you was melancholic. yeosang leaned back against the door hinge, studying you. under his scrutiny, you lifted your chin. you never did like feeling small, studied, around kang yeosang.

perhaps the wine made you bold, or perhaps it was the loneliness. you leaned in, and you said, "what are you thinking?"

yeosang shrugged, his eyes flickered between yours. after a beat of silence, he said, "in another life, we would have wedded."

he was an option of the queen's, long long ago. it was quite a thought. your cheeks burned from the wine. "a terrible life to live, i think."

"yes," yeosang smiled, and it was a soft thing. sincere, even. his voice was softer. "i think so, too."

something churned at the pit of your stomach when yeosang did not lean away or avert his gaze. you thought him quite pretty like this, messy hair and cotton tunic and flushed cheeks and wine-stained lips and glassy eyes.

he reached out then, and it was not a hesitant touch, as you were so used to. his thumb brushed along your cheek, and even that single touch stirred the restless fire in your heart. yeosang's eyes remained fixed on your face, as if he were studying your reactions. he breathed, "what kind of life would you have liked to live then?"

"the kind where i feel loved without having to beg for it," you admitted.

yeosang's brows furrowed, and you'd blinked when he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your mouth. he was warm and tasted of honeyed strongwine, and you returned his kiss only to feel something other than the overwhelming weight of your worries. it was all teeth and wine and imperfection, off kilter and a blur as you curled your fingers in his soft hair and he tugged you closer, his calloused fingers digging into your skin. the wine spilled between you, but neither of you cared to pull away. you only laughed as he pulled you closer in a poor attempt to avoid the spill. your skin tingled where he touched you, leaving a trail of goosebumps. you were starved of touch and warmth, and he seemed the same way, and you knew you should have pushed him away, but you'd long abandoned such things. you felt the rush of fire, and you remembered your age again.

you pushed him back only to drag your fingers down the front of his crisp white tunic. he made noises as pretty as you pressed another kiss to his lips, as his fingers fumbled with the ties of your tunic and found warm skin. you were something-and-twenty again, on the verge of counting the many moons you've missed, and this was not a battle between the two of you, neither was it a game, it was merely the two of you moving imperfectly, nails digging into skin, kisses wherever either could reach. it was merely feeling wanted without having to ask or worry.

at least until your arm knocked against his helmet. you yelped against his mouth, surprised more than in pain. the resulting clang was deafening, too loud, bouncing off the stone walls. you'd blinked when yeosang jumped, sitting back, pushing you away, his eyes wide, his cheeks flushed as red as his lips. your heart stilled as his gaze tore from you to his discarded armor. clarity washed over you like a cold bath.

you fell back onto your palms, your breath as heavy as his, and you watched yeosang close his eyes. his throat bobbed as he swallowed. his tunic had slipped from his shoulders, his hair a mess, and his skin blotchy and red. you were sure you looked the same.

your heart continued to pound in your chest as yeosang dragged his hands through his messy blonde hair and finally, finally, opened his eyes.

slowly, he murmured, voice rough, tone regretful, "i took an oath to never lay with another. i am no oathbreaker."

you let out a breathless laugh, "you strike me as the type to break oaths and laugh, yeosang."

yeosang sighed, shaking his head.

you dragged your hands through your hair, too, straightening up as you took in the mess you both made, the spilled wine and your disheveled appearances and the lingering tension settling over both your shoulders, a sharp dissonance in the camaraderie you'd managed to salvage in all this.

"we've made quite a mess." yeosang whispered.

it was supposed to be a serious thing, buthe sounded exasperated, annoyed, and you laughed at the absurdity of it all.

after a beat, he burst into laughter, a musical sound that cleared the tension swiftly. never did you think you'd find any kind of solace in kang yeosang's company, no matter how brief, yet here you were.

~.~.~.~.~

"did you have any dreams? aside from being a knight?" you asked yeosang. you laid sprawled on your back, peering up at yeosang as he stood guard outside your door. the ale was empty and you should have been asleep. he'd dragged you from the door to your bed and helped you lie down, but you were now laying with your head hanging from the side, peering at an upside down yeosang who only rolled his eyes at your question.

yeosang leaned against the door to your chambers, body half-in and half-out.

you flipped onto your stomach on the bed, and you drawled, drunker than you'd wanted to be, "indulge me, ser yeosang."

yeosang laughed, a tinkle of a thing. he said, "i've always dreamt of being a knight."

"oh?" you'd snorted, gesturing around you, "is it everything you'd imagined it'd be?"

"of course," yeosang nodded, "terribly annoying royalty and all."

you rested your head on your palm as you looked at yeosang. you said, "my dream was to be kind. i'd told my brothers a long time ago."

yeosang turned to look at you, his brows furrowed.

"what?"

he said, "you never talk about your brothers."

you shrugged, "it is easier not to."

"i dreamt of being a chivalrous knight," yeosang said after a beat, "the kind from the stories who protects innocents."

"really?"

"it was a childish dream," yeosang muttered, turning away to peer down the empty hallway.

"i think it's a nice dream. you're already quite close to achieving it."

you could see the corners of yeosang's mouth lift into a smile. he did not look at you as he said, "yours is, too. you're quite kind, sweet thing."

your cheeks felt hot, but you shook your head, "i am not."

"you are," yeosang met your gaze once more, his expression reassuring. "you try to be, at least, and that's all that matters."

~.~.~.~.~

you were something-and-twenty when king's landing's sun was bright and lively, the air clean, and the sunlight through the barred window warm against your skin. it reminded you of sunspear.

neither you nor yeosang spoke of the kiss since that night. you'd both returned to the usual routine - yeosang brought you snacks and drinks when he was assigned outside your chambers, and you sat at the door, and you both talked. he was the company you craved all this time. you did not love him, but you liked his company, and you hated that you'd only had the chance to figure it out now.

the only difference, you noticed, was that yeosang would sometimes recount stories of his time at casterly rock - his brother and sister he seemed to adore, his mother who had passed giving birth to his younger brother, the mischief he used to get up to with san in the gardens. they were brief moments told here and there, when the orange he brought was too tart or when the feeling of knowing you were doomed caught up to you and you did not want to speak to him, or when you asked him a question that he truly did not seem to have the answer to. you hadn't been able to piece together much of yeosang's past, but he gave you enough to know it was his strange way of reconciling with you - perhaps it was an apology for the other night.

he certainly never brought strongwine to your door anymore.

you sat on the floor beneath the warm sun streaming through your barred windows.

someone knocked on the door. you called for them to enter.

yeosang stood at the threshold of your chambers, his helmet on and his stance rigid.

something was wrong. you could sense it his stance, his quiet, the way his helmet obscured his face. he did not lean against the door as he sometimes would, or remove his armor and let himself relax.

"is everything all right?" you asked.

there was a long pause. even the warm sun felt wrong on your skin.

yeosang shifted from foot to foot, his armor clinking softly. he said, "the kitchens have ran out of your favorites."

you'd blinked at him, "it's okay. i don't mind."

yeosang nodded, the movement brisk. "i'll be outside then."

he shut the door quietly behind him, and you thought perhaps the doom of being left behind in this gilded cage had caught up to him finally as well. you let him be that day.

~.~.~.~.~

the servants did not come with dinner, as they always did right after the sun set.

you stared at the door, the hairs at the back of your neck standing on end.

yeosang should have been outside, yet you could not find it in yourself to open the door or call from him.

one moment everything was silent, soft quiet. the next, you heard shouting. screaming.

you froze. you were never quick to react like yeosang or mingi or wooyoung. you were never good with a sword.

there was a bang at your door. it was jarring, the sudden bang after so many moons of eerie quiet. something slammed hard against the door. dust sprung to the air as whatever slammed against your door rattled the walls of your chambers. hongjoong's trinkets and books fell from their shelves.

you found your body moving on its own, scrambling for the only thing in reach - the fire iron from the unused fireplace. it was not hot but it was heavy.

"yeosang?" you called, your voice catching in your throat enough to make your voice waver. "yeosang, what is going on?"

another bang, louder this time, so loud the vase of flowers hongjoong's mother had sent you after your wedding crashed to the ground. it shattered. dried, long-dead flowers scattered across the floor. he never allowed the servants to take the dead flowers, and now they spilled across the stone floor. your heart leapt against your ribs. you brandished the fire iron, but your hands shook. you readjusted the iron in your hands, over and over.

another slam.

then the door burst open, the heavy door knocking against the wall with a resounding crash. books and vases and pots and trinkets plummeted to the floor, heavy thuds and ceramics shattering one by one filling the room. each thud, each shatter, made your heart slam louder and louder against your ribs.

dust scattered all around. a large figure loomed at the threshold to your chambers, the person's shadow blocking the only way out. you'd blinked. it was not yeosang. you did not recognize them.

before you could ask, or steady yourself, or even catch your bearings for even a moment, the figure lumbered into the room, his sword taller than you, and it was the mountain, you realized. his boots thumped against the stone floor. thud, thud, thud. your blood ran cold with the way he moved towards you, his boots crunching as he stepped in broken ceramics and did not seem to care one bit, his focus fixed on you. lady irene and yeosang had given you cryptic warnings of the mountain. you'd only known him as lord kang's man, and as one of the kingsguard, but now...now he appeared a beast with eyes as black as night and a heavy frame and a sort of saunter that nearly stopped your heart.

you were only four-and-ten when you faced a dragon, you were twenty when you faced the king of dragons, when you married his son and faced him too, but here you stood facing a dangerous man called the mountain, who brandished a claymore that stood taller than you with nothing but an iron fire poker to defend yourself.

the mountain was a part of the kingsguard, but you were not the king, so did that truly matter?

"lord kang sends his regards, your highness," the mountain's voice was gruff as he stalked closer, his dark eyes piercing as he sized you up as a predator sizes up prey. the queen's vase crunches under his heavy boots. "he assures you he means you no ill will, but you are in the way and that will not do."

you've faced dragons and dragon kings and dragon princes, a mountain was nothing to be afraid of. yet here you stood, without an hint of sunspear left in you, shaking in your boots as the man loomed closer, his predatory gaze promising something worse than death even. you wanted nothing more than for everything to be over mere hours ago, but now you stood and you wanted to fight. you hadn't been able to do either.

you needed to fight back. the smallest voice at the back of your head, that sounded awfully like wooyoung and yunho, shouted at you to fight back. you needed to -

the mountain smacked you so hard across the face, you fell into the wall, stumbling onto the floor. you saw stars, more than you ever had in king's landing. your grip on the fire iron remained tight, but it felt useless under the strength of such a beast of a man.

fight back. your brothers would not here of you dying so easily.

you pushed yourself up to your knees, using the fire poker for support. your vision still swam. the mountain's eyes sparked with a sort of primal joy as he peered down at you, and your heart twisted and your stomach churned at the chill that ran down your spine. he reached down, bending at the waist, to grip your face between his fingers.

he opened his mouth to say something, but you spit blood in his face. he flinched back and you swung your fire iron at him. it slashed at the skin of his exposed ankles. he roared, his hand falling from your face. you nearly slammed face first into the cement floor. his roar made your blood run cold, but you scrambled to your feet. you needed to get away from him, you knew. searing pain shot up your skull as you were yanked back by the hair. he dragged you back, tearing hair from your scalp, and you knew not where he was taking you or what your fate would be now, but you knew that this would not end well. you knew it from the moment you saw joy in his eyes after he hit you. the mountain was a beast and you would not die by his hands. you swung your fists, clawed at skin at his face, anything you could put your hands on. he dragged you onto your bed and you kicked at him, your vision still swimming. only later did you learn you were screaming yourself hoarse, and your vision was swimming because of tears.

there was a shout, then, a deep cry that did not come from you or the mountain. the grip on your hair slackened and you fell forward into the ground, the air leaving your lungs too quickly. you gasped for air, until someone grabbed you by the elbows and hauled you to your feet.

you shoved at the touch, slamming your fists against a solid body, until a deep voice gasped, "it is me, y/n. it is mingi."

and you blinked in surprise, withdrawing your hands, even as you allowed him to drag you out your chambers. there was screaming behind you. your ears were ringing. you did not dare to look back, allowing him to lead the way. you both ran, your head still throbbing and your vision still swimming and fingers curled right around mingi's. the two of you ran and ran and ran until he was pushing you through the tapestries and into a tight corridor, and you two were scurrying down a set of steep stairs in darkness, until -

you came to halt at the foot of the stairs. you knew this door. you took this passage out of the red keep on too many occassions.

you looked over at mingi, but you could not see him well in the darkness of the corridor.

"the mountain," your voice was hoarse, too quiet, "did you kill him?"

mingi said, "only stunned him for a moment. if he traces our steps..."

mingi did not wait for an answer from you. he merely pushed past you, avoiding physical contact with you, and peeked through a crack in the doorway before opening it for you. you exited out into the familiar cobblestone street first, the narrow alleyway the same as it always had been. king's landing, however, was quiet. you had no idea what the king had demanded of the commonfolk while you were locked away in your chambers.

you could see mingi's face in the dim candlelight lanterns hanging from the alleyway walls. his expression was grim, a large cut dragging from under his left eye to the bottom of his chin. his lip was swollen, and he had a slight limp. if it were any other time, the two of you would have stuck out sorely in the streets of king's landing, but all was quiet as war loomed on the horizon. perhaps, with the mountain's message from lord kang, the war had already arrived. perhaps it would be over in the morning.

you opened your mouth to say something, anything, to mingi. last you saw him, hongjoong had been involved. but mingi only held up a black cloak to you. you had not seen where he got it from. you pulled it tight around you, pulling the hood over your stinging face. mingi wore a similar black cloak over plainclothes.

without a word, he took your hand, and he pulled you through cobblestone streets. the cobblestone streets were dry from the heat of the sun you'd felt through your bars, but the streets were eerily quiet. windows were boarded shut, and the world was too quiet.

mingi slinked quickly through the streets, you hurrying to keep up with him. the two of you avoided any main streets, using the alleyways to navigate through king's landing. the port was up ahead, you knew, and the smell of sea breeze reminded you terribly of your family. if lord kang sent someone to kill you, then what of your family? what has happened to the king? to...to...

"wait here," mingi murmured, and you watched as he made his way onto the port, closest to the entrance.

there, mingi spoke quietly with a man who had appeared to have been waiting for him. they clasped hands and mingi tilted his head, leaning down to speak to the man. you looked back over your shoulder, to the red keep looming above the city. it seemed peaceful from down below. quiet. especially so early in the morning. you jumped when you turned away and mingi was back at your side. mingi held out a hand.

he said, "we have to go. now."

your face hurt, and your mouth throbbed, and you knew there was no other option for you. so, you took mingi's hand, and let him guide you onto port. a small cargo boat with neutral sails was docked in the corner. mingi held a hand out to help you onto the boat before he readied the boat to set sail.

mingi worked quietly and quickly, his hood slipping from his head. you watched as he kept his eyes on the task at hand, a perpetual furrow curling through his brow.

the man at port had long disappeared. as the boat started sailing through the bay, towards the narrow sea, sails fluttering gently in the breeze, bells rang from the red keep, over and over and over again. mingi sat at one end of the boat, and you fidgeted in your seat at the other, and you could not ignore the supplies packed and ready at your feet.

the red keep was a dot on the horizon when you could finally allow yourself to relax a little bit.

"where are we going?" you asked. your voice was rough.

mingi said, "anywhere but here."

~.~.~.~.~

"where was yeosang?" mingi asked, after a few hours of sailing in silence. it was the first question he'd asked. perhaps he had been waiting for you to ask something. you had not known where to start.

"i don't know."

"you were his post that night, and i - i had this feeling, so i went to check on him and instead i found the mountain dragging you to... " mingi cleared his throat, frowning, "i've had this boat on standby for yeosang and me just in case we needed it. i hoped to never use it."

"why would either of you need it? i thought you took an oath to the king."

"it was something we both decided to invest in long before we joined the kingsguard," mingi said, his tone flat.

"so all that time," you stared at him, and irritation bubbled through the shock and exhaustion that had encompassed you since you set sail, "all that time you tried to convince me hongjoong was a good person while you both had an escape plan?"

you watched mingi struggled with his next words. finally, he said, "it wasn't just for me and yeosang, y/n. it was for hongjoong too."

your chest tightened.

mingi shook his head, "it was just something stupid we'd promised as children. none of us had the heart to end the arrangement."

even now, your heart ached. despite everything.

"'lord kang sends his regards.'" you repeated, changing the subject quickly, "that is what the mountain said before he...before he tried to kill me."

mingi looked troubled, his gaze fixed upon the horizon behind you.

you said, "do you think lord kang will send him after me?"

there was a beat of silence before mingi finally said, "i don't know. i pray to the gods he does not. no one has ever beat the mountain. we're lucky we got out alive."

you sighed, taking in the predicament you were in.

the boat had enough provisions to make it across the narrow sea. dorne was across the narrow sea, to the south, and to the west of the narrow sea lay essos and the free cities. those were two very clear options. despite the longing you had to return to dorne, there was doubt now. you barely recognized yourself as dornish, what if no one else acknowledged you either?

mingi asked, breaking you away from your thoughts, "so where do we go?"

"we?" you frowned, "you want to come with me?"

you thought he'd leave you somewhere and go off on his own. you certainly deserved it.

for the first time in a long while, mingi met your gaze with a steady firmness and slightly flushed cheeks you'd missed. he said, "i will remain by your side, y/n, until you are safe."

"until we are safe," you corrected him.

mingi smile was wide and gummy, and you found yourself smiling back.

~.~.~.~.~

a day into your voyage, you and mingi get caught in a storm. for an entire night, you're rocked back and forth, waves crashing over the boat and onto the deck. you both try to pull the sails in, to keep the boat as steady as possible, but the gods have plans of their own.

when the storm clears, you are both by a shore neither of you can match to the map. there's a small port and when you dock - after an argument that ends abruptly when you both realize that the water in the boat was only rising higher - you discover a small fishing village. there are all kinds of people in the village, people of differing skin colors and eye colors and heights and hair colors and hair textures, and you believed the gods have decided the two of you would find yourselves stranded somewhere in essos.

perhaps you would never be able to step foot in dorne again.

"how long does it take to repair a boat?" mingi asked as he dragged a hand through his hair.

apparently, many many moons when neither of had a single piece of gold to your name or any idea how to speak the local language.

~.~.~.~.~

mingi found a job as a farmhand. you did the village's laundry. the locals seemed to take pity on you two, washed ashore with nothing to your name, so they agreed to any work requests either of you put in. when mingi found an abandoned stone castle, if one could call such a small building that, up atop a hill overlooking the narrow sea, the villagers seemed to look upon you both with even more pity. they avoided the hill, shaking their heads as they besmirched the place. you did not fully understand their words, but you knew they hated it for a reason.

"perhaps it's haunted," you said to mingi one day, as you two made your beds on opposite sides of the stone room. the straw bedding was warm, and you'd gone too many days without warm bedding. to think such a small thing would be a luxury now.

mingi grimaced, "why say that right before bed?"

you laughed, pulling the thin blanket over you - the bed was so much smaller than the one in the red keep, yet you found it easier to sleep in this one. you snorted while mingi grumbled to himself about spirits in the dark.

for once, you found a similar comfort as you once had before king's landing.

a troubadour wandered into the village shortly after you both settled into your new home, singing of great tales from both faraway lands beyond the sea and close cities such as pentos. the village folk clapped and sang along, and you and mingi found a spot at the back, sitting side-by-side, but never touching.

it was quite a sight, enjoyable even. you'd laughed for the first time in a while. at least until the troubadour sang of the sacking of king's landing.

it was a dramatic song. the villagers held their breath. so did you.

king kim was killed by a member of his own kingsguard, the bard sang as he gulped down ale. an oathbreaker and a kingslayer.

kingslayer, the woman who sold you vegetable seeds gasped. the word echoed through the crowd. oathbreaker, kingslayer, oathbreaker.

they found him sitting on the iron throne, the king's body laid at his feet. throat slashed! he called, his hushed words echoing all around in the silence. it fell heavy on your shoulders. even the birds seemed to repeat it into the distance as they cawed. the man called, oathbreaker and kingslayer kang yeosang. the king is dead, the prince's spouse is dead. they are all dead!

dead, dead, dead.

the crowd jeered at the man dressed in fake kingsguard outfit, wooden sword in hand, a caricature of kang yeosang. your chest felt tight.

the troubadour sang more of jongho's rebellion, but you did not care for the reactions of those around you. you only looked to mingi. he stared at the performers, stunned. perhaps mingi had not known of yeosang's plans. the shock was too genuine. that was a relief at least. manipulation thrived in everyone around you, except for mingi. you had to believe that.

you tapped his knee. mingi's head whipped to meet your gaze. you gestured towards the hill, and he nodded before you could open your mouth. his tense shoulders remained, but relief flooded his expression. he hurried to his feet, turning away first, and perhaps as you watched mingi hurry away, you'd stood frozen for just a moment longer to hear of his fate. perhaps, the troubadour continued on and on about jongho's rebellion, about san's attack on dragonstone - where you knew the queen was sent away, about everything but him.

you shook your head, following behind mingi. you did not bother to keep up with his pace, merely watching his tense shoulders and curled fists as rocks skittered down the pathway as he walked.

it took until you were nearing your little hill house, the sea twinkling softly under moonlight beneath you, the villager's drunken giggles and cries a distant whisper, the night breeze a soft touch against your skin, to gather the courage to break the silence that had befallen you two.

"mingi," you called after him.

mingi ignored you. the crunching of his feet against rocks and dirt was your only answer.

you sighed, picking up speed. as the hill leveled out at the top, so did mingi's pace.

"mingi." you called once more.

mingi spun on his heels, rocks dislodging from beneath his feet. awash in moonlight, he seemed younger somehow, yet more exhausted than he had ever been before. the shadows draped over his sharp features. his mouth quivered and his chin dipped, yet his eyes remained steady. the scar that dripped down from his eye to his chin glowed under the moonlight.

he used to look at you like you hung the stars, like you were the sun waking from the horizon every morning, like you were above him.

now he saw you as you were. the thought terrified you. you were nothing good, certainly not to him. he saw all of it, all of you.

mingi dragged both his hands through his hair. it was overgrown now. he usually tied it back when he went to work.

he opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a staggered breath.

you stepped closer. he did not back away, at least.

"i am sorry," you said. you did not know what else to say.

mingi blinked, as if you'd hit him. "you...this is not..."

a pause, before mingi whispered, his deep voice cracked around the edges, "yeosang told me nothing, you know that? that's the worst part. he never confided in me. i told him everything, my woes and my successes. everything. but he...he kept everything to himself."

mingi's deep voice shattered then. he tugged at his hair, his eyes shining with tears. you pressed hesitant hands to his shaking palms.

you said, "it is not your fault. he decided to do that on his own."

"i could have stopped him."

"no, you could not have," you shook your head, clutching his trembling hands close.

"i could have tried," mingi whispered, each syllable a knife to your chest.

mingi sunk to the ground then, and you went with him. he pressed your intertwined hands to his face, and you watched him sob, his shoulders hunched over and his sobs wracked his whole body. to see such a pillar of strength reduced to this - you always knew what the people around you were like, you'd always been given warnings since the beginning, but mingi grew up in the red keep. he only believed in the good. he had no reason to see their true colors this way.

you could only think that he truly was better than the rest of you. you could only agree that he did not deserve this.

yet here he was. his whole world was crumbling and the only thing you could do was hold his hand through it.

~.~.~.~.~

lord kang pronounced you dead, but you knew he knew you were not. the mountain had to have reported you'd escaped. so why he would leave a loose thread like you unattended to was beyond you.

you knew if your brother believed the kangs had killed you, then your brothers would rather rot than join jongho's rebellion. where that left hongjoong, you had no idea. last you heard, he'd kidnapped park seonghwa, triggering jongho's rebellion, san was sent to take dragonstone in jongho's name, likely meant to kill the queen in the process if she was even alive, and you remained in a remote village off the coast of the narrow sea. perhaps lord kang hoped that the prince leaving you behind to die as collateral damage to run away with park seonghwa would spur your brothers to fight alongside jongho. it was hongjoong's duty to keep you safe, of course, and he failed miserably. yunho and wooyoung would have hongjoong's head for that very reason. the troubadours and rumors only ever mentioned dorne as a footnote, so you had no idea how your brothers were faring.

you wished to live in peace; you were even resigned to it. spending the rest of your life farming and doing laundry and trying to make it up to mingi for manipulating his feelings at king's landing did not seem like the worst of fates. even mingi seemed happy with his share, as kind as he was, his smiles seemed genuine. he did not seem to miss his father or the kingsguard or the red keep. at least he did not make it known to you if he did.

mingi did not look at you as he used to, with stars in his eyes, but you still caught him staring sometimes. he did not touch you often, even when he had to move around you in your narrow living space. you appreciated it. you did not think you could love him the way he wanted you too. maybe he could not either.

you tried to live in peace, but the troubadours came to sing often, and rumors spread quickly, and you were kept aware of current events even if you did not want to be. westeros was right across the narrow sea, of course. you would not be able to escape it. dorne was across the narrow sea as well, calling to you. you thought of your brothers, left to mourn your father, to then mourn you, and you missed them so. but you'd grown used to missing them. was it worth it to emerge from the dead in the midst of this war?

~.~.~.~.~

you were five-and-twenty on a windy, cloudy day. a storm was brewing, and when you looked over the hill, you could barely see the village down below. fog obscured the village homes. even the tavern's bright red roof was barely visible. the sea was tumultuous below. waves crashed against the cliffs and beach below. usually children would be playing in the sand, but it was empty. you hurried to bring the laundry in, wind whipping your hair in your face.

a shadow befell your home and your yard. a chill ran down your spine as you looked up. you had not seen his dragon in many many name-days, but you recognized it right away. above the clouds was a large creature of shining black scales. if it were sunny, the dragon's scales would have reflected back the colors of the rainbow, catching the attention of everyone around you. but it was dark and gloomy and thunder boomed, shaking you to your core, and no one would know that the prince of westeros was descending upon you on dragonback.

wind whipped at your face as you craned your neck to watch the dragon circle your home. it wove in and out between stormy grey clouds. the laundry basket tumbled from your hands. the wind screamed. the laundry lines shook. your world felt fragile once more, despite the fact that you were no longer trapped behind gilded barred windows.

then he descended upon you.

your heart lodged in your throat as the shadow got bigger and bigger, as wind rushed all around you. your clothes flew, your hair whipped at your skin, your lips became dry, your eyes watered, but you did not avert your gaze as the beast landed upon a rock, wings flapping one last gust wind before the dragon bowed its head. the ground shook as it landed. it sounded like thunder.

his blonde hair gleamed, strands of silver-white falling into his eyes despite the way he's restrained his hair into a severe bun at the top of his head. he remained seated on the back of his dragon, murmuring to the creature in the old language. you only picked up bits and pieces of his words, all incomprehensible to you, the rest drowned out by another heavy blast of thunder. a puckered red scar ran from the corner of his mouth to his ear, a festering wound that gave him a perpetual half-smile. despite all of it, he was still beautiful. kim beauty never diminished; even the severity of his angles, of his tight bun and his scar, gave him an inhuman beauty that would leave anyone breathless. it was a predatory beauty, you knew, meant to draw you in as predator does with its prey, yet you could not avert your gaze.

your heart stilled as he slid off his dragon's back, his white shirt billowing in the wind, his hand rested on his dragon's head and he murmured something to his dragon. it bowed its head, snarling under its breath, its large eyes unblinking. his movements were languid, impudent as always. your heartbeat stilled when he finally looked up and his scrutinizing gaze locked with yours. droplets of rain began to fall upon you both, a shiver running down your spine.

in that moment, you were four-and-ten again and facing a dragon in the dragonpit. the burn on your arm itched under his heavy gaze.

his dark eyes still danced; a familiar wild fire that consumed everything it touched. your stomach was in knots.

"did you think i would not find you?" hongjoong's voice carried over the wind, echoing as the voice of the gods were said to. "that you could leave so easily?"

you were seven-and-ten again, surrounded by grown men who did nothing to keep you safe and a mad king who threatened you for your father's perceived failings.

"you left me, hongjoong," anger filled your chest. "you promised to stay by my side and keep me safe, but then you left to be by seonghwa's side. you left me, and they tried to kill me."

your scream joined the gusts of wind.

hongjoong stepped closer and closer and you could only watch. his eyes flickered over your face. he said, "seonghwa was never meant to remain by my side. you are."

you blinked, "what did you do to him?"

once, a long, long time ago, you had felt fear for park seonghwa, as you did for yourself.

hongjoong shrugged, waved a hand nonchalantly. "i left him somewhere safe."

you were twenty again, and terrified of the man before you and what would become of you. he left seonghwa too. he tames pretty things and then he leaves them caged away to wither or to die or to have their cages broken into by someone else.

hongjoong reached up then, and you'd only then realized he was close enough to touch you. and touch you, he did.

his fingertips fluttered over your cheek, following the line of your jaw. your heart skipped a beat. you said, "why are you here?"

"i shall return to king's landing and take back the throne from those...those traitors," his eyes narrowed.

"those traitors were once your brothers," you said. hongjoong's thumb brushed along your skin, to the edge of your lip, and it lingered there. his eyes flickered over your face, as if he were committing your face to memory.

"we are no longer kids, y/n." he murmured, "i don't need them."

but his voice cracked at the last word, and the fire in his eyes dimmed.

he said, "but i need you."

you were something-and-twenty again, and you might have loved him.

"i don't need you," you said, pushing his hand from your face. the rain grew heavier, colder.

"i loved you, y/n."

he'd never said it before.

your fingers trembled, even as you observed hongjoong for a long moment. his blonde hair stuck to his face, and his scars were bright against his skin. his eyes were wild, desperate almost. he'd lost everything, and only then did he return to find you. only then.

you shook your head, "no, you didn't."

he only ever wanted you to rely on him. to need you, to control you. perhaps he loved you once, in his own way, but it was not the kind of love you'd ever needed or wanted or could accept.

hongjoong's jaw clenched. he looked up at the clouds, and rain dripped down his face. a softer part of you might have imagined that he shed tears then. but it was just the rain.

"i tried to," hongjoong said.

then he grabbed you by the jaw, his grip rough, painful. you gasped as he lifted you from your feet, as his grip tightened and you could not breathe.

his eyes were black with wild fire and indifference and something else, and you struggled in his grip. you thought then, that you could just give up, let him win, let him take the strength of the sun from you as he meant to when you were four-and-ten and you first spoke out of turn to him.

or you could fight back.

you could let the rage that had filled you since you stepped onto the shores of king's landing fill you to the brim. the rage you felt when you were four-and-ten, and seven-and-ten, and twenty, and something-and twenty. the years only added fuel to a monster in your stomach that was crying to escape a long, long time ago. you were four-and-ten again, not scared of death, and full of rage.

you kicked him, and his grip loosened as he let out a gasp of pain. his grip loosened enough for you to be able to bite the hand gripping your face. he shouted. the shout was drowned out by the wind. you reached inside your boot, pulling a dagger one of the village women had given you ("just in case," she whispered as she slipped it into your pocket) from its depths. you held it in front of you. your hands did not shake. you'd beat him once during sword training. you could do it again.

hongjoong gripped his bleeding hand as he stared at the knife in your hand. his gaze flickered from the knife to your face, back and forth, back and forth.

you said, "you never once thought of anyone but yourself, hongjoong, and now you're alone. no one wants you, and everyone wants to kill you, and it was all because of you. this is all your own undoing."

rage descended upon hongjoong like a wave crashing upon the shore. he lunged at you. you slashed at his lunging hand. you missed. he tackled you. you both tumbled into the ground. rocks dug into your skin. you scratched at him with your nails. he scratched you right back. your grip remained tight on the knife.

he trapped you beneath him, locking both your hands above your head with his

hongjoong's blond hair fell from his bun, tickling your face as he bent over you. his blood smeared your face, your skin.

he bit out, "say it again. i dare you."

"you are your own undoing," you spat.

he reached for the knife in your hand. you bucked. you flipped the two of you over. you landed on top of him, the knife pressed to his throat, one of his hands pressed underneath him, your knee on top of the other.

his eyes were black with rage. he said, "do it."

you hesitated. still, despite everything, you hesitated.

hongjoong laughed. he threw his head back in the dirt and laughed and laughed, and you punched him across the face, but he continued to laugh, his lip bleeding.

he laughed and laughed and he said, "what a pair we are, y/n."

"y/n!" the shout of your name pulled you from the red rage you were seeing. you'd pressed the knife into his throat enough to draw blood, but you could not push it further. you could not kill him, and he lay there beneath you reveling in the fact.

you stood, stepping away from hongjoong. he merely laid there, even as mingi stepped closer, his eyes flickering between you, hongjoong, and his dragon.

hongjoong pushed himself to his feet, covered in blood, and he turned to mingi. you only noticed then that hongjoong had a sword at his hip that he had never drawn. he could have drawn it whenever he wanted, yet it remained sheathed, just as dragon remained forgotten.

you did not want to think of whether he could not do it either. you did not want to believe it a possibility with him, not when he had his hands around your throat with the intention to kill just a few moments ago.

mingi drew his sword, his brows furrowed as he spoke, "what is going on, hongjoong?"

hongjoong's hand went to the hilt of his sword, but he did not draw it. his eyes flickered to you, before he rested his gaze on mingi. he said, "i am going to reclaim the throne."

mingi did not falter, did not respond.

hongjoong continued, "i will die."

mingi did not falter.

hongjoong nodded, before he turned away, blood dripping from his hand wound as he made his way to his dragon.

the two of you watched as he walked away. as he pulled himself up on his dragon, and ascended into the grey clouds.

he walked away, as he always did.

as soon as his dragon disappeared, mingi dropped his sword and turned to you. the clatter of steel against rocks and dirt felt as loud as thunder.

mingi knelt before you. only then did you realize you'd sunk to your knees.

mingi asked, "can i touch you?"

you nodded, a stilted movement.

he reached for the knife you still gripped, prying it from your hands, and then he gently wrapped his arms around your form.

you said, "he will die."

"yes."

"i am sorry."

"why?"

"he was your family."

"he was supposed to be yours, too, y/n."

you sobbed into mingi's shoulder, and he shook with his own sobs, and you knew that a part of you would die alongside hongjoong when he landed in king's landing. you'd both swore an oath, and despite everything, you almost loved him once.

#ateez angst #ateez scenarios #hongjoong angst #ateez #got au #hongjoong

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