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drwcn · 3 years

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ok but for fem!wwx au does lan zhan believe the rumours? and if so what does that mean for the whole 'i birthed him with my own body!' cause lan zhan did the maths and was like 'no it was just the once and this child is too old' but if he thinks he was just one in a line does he go back to bm after nightless city to rescue a kid he thinks is wei ying's but with another man? does he spend the three years in seclusion cursing every jin whose name he remembers as cowards only to step out, take one look at sizhui, and have an 'oh. i know why wei ying was so determined to save wen qionglin' moment???

Answer: Haha, nah, Lan Wangji was fairly sure Sizhui wasn’t Wei Ying’s, for several reasons. One, Wen Yuan was born before the wen remnants even went to the Burial Mount. Lan Wangji saw the small child amongst the escape party that rainy night at the concentration camp. Also, Wen Ning was several years younger than them, which would make it kind of weird if he were the dad. Before Wen Ning became the Ghost General, everyone just knew him as Wen Qing’s kid brother. Lan Wangji, however, absolutely believed Jiang Yan to be Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian’s child even before Wei Wuxian was resurrected...

《the midnight sun》 —

[original], snippets [x] [x] [x] [x], other posts found under #lanyan or #midnight sun

midnight sun [snippet 7]

When Yan’er turned ten, Jiang Cheng decided it was time for her to accompany him to Cultivation Conferences. Most sect heirs began their training this way; Jiang Cheng still remembered his first time, trailing nervously in Jiang Fengmian’s wake.

Heiresses, in comparison, were few and far between. Even head disciples were rarely girls. Jiang Wanyin had no children. His head disciple was his heiress, and his heiress was Jiang Yueqian (江月千).

长烟一空 - when the smoke clears; 皓月千里 - the moon casts a thousand miles of light 浮光跃金 - which dances upon the water, golden 静影沉壁 - the shadow of the moon itself like jade underwater*

A jade underwater indeed.

“Shifu.”

Speaking of the devil, here she comes, walking measuredly down the long stairs of Jinlintai towards Jiang Cheng, the epitome of an obedient, filial disciple. It had only been a day and Jiang Yan already had the world fooled. Only Jiang Cheng knew how impossibly obstinate and utterly uncontrollable she was when her mind was fixed.

"Ah, Jiang-zongzhu, this is..." Spotting her, Lan Xichen glanced beyond his shoulder, the question dangling in the sentence he did not deem necessary to finish.

Unbeknownst to Lan Xichen, the child that made her way over was his niece by blood. Jiang Cheng was acutely aware that Yan'er actually resembled Lan Wangji a great deal, and despite having weighed the risks and gains against each other repeatedly before deciding to bring Jiang Yan along, now he was no longer so certain in his calculations. Lan Xichen was not a simple peasant; what if he detected a trace or a hint of her heritage between the furrow of her brows or the curve of her eyes? What if...

Jiang Cheng turned, raising an arm towards Jiang Yan, an introduction ready, but whatever words he had prepared in advance died on on his tongue when he laid eyes on the girl. Suddenly, he was no longer worried that others would suspect her to be Lan Wangji's child.

There was a red ribbon in her hair.

Yan'er stopped at a polite distance from the two older men and bowed in perfect form.

Jiang Cheng's heart stuttered violently in his chest at the sight of that red ribbon falling sideway over her small shoulder. If souls could travel, his would have left him in an instant. He stood in disincorporated panic, wrestling with the nauseating sensation of being ripped from his reality and tossed so far into the distant past that he felt whole again.

"Shifu, Lan-zongzhu." Yan'er greeted.

Shifu. Lan-zongzhu. In another world, another life, she would not need to be so formal. She could easily bound up to them, carefree, cooing jiujiu and bobo and ask to be bailed out from whatever trouble she caused.

Instead, he was only her shifu, and Lan Xichen, a stranger in her life. It would be laughable, if fate had not dealt them each such a wretched hand.

Jiang Cheng stepped towards her. “Where did you get this?”

Jiang Yan looked up in surprise, her hand reaching up and making an aborted motion to touch the red ribbon in her hair.

“Qin-shenshen gave it to me. Is it not nice?”

Qin Su. Jiang swallowed down a sigh of relief. Earlier, the Jin servants had sent word that Jin-fu'ren had baked treats for Jin Ling, and the boy had wasted no time dragging his favourite person - his Yan'er jiejie - to his aunt's place with him. Clearly, Qin Su had seized the opportunity to dote on the girl in place of the daughter she never had. Qin Su meant well. She couldn't have known. She's never even met Wei Wuxian.

In this state, Jiang Cheng could barely bring himself to look at his disciple, but he forced himself nonetheless to kneel and tuck an errant strand of baby hair behind her ear. “Very pretty.”

Yan'er smiled.

Jiang Cheng could cry.

They'd been lucky thus far. Yunmeng's Jiang-xiao-guniang was born a taciturn girl who did not like to smile or laugh, not even when she was expected to for polite society. Whether she was happy or sad, one would be hard pressed to tell. Only in front of her master Jiang Cheng or her Jin Ling-didi did she elect to reveal the full expanse of her emotions. Yet, whenever Jiang Cheng bore witness to that smile as warm and incandescent as sunlight, he could not help but shudder somewhere deep. Recalling the radiant days of years gone by, he could still see - every time he closed his eyes - his er-shijie smiling at him in the very same fashion.

Aiyo, Jiang Cheng ~

So...they'd been very lucky thus far, that Yan'er was not so like her mother in that way, not so free and generous with her smiles. Or else this devastating secret —Wei Wuxian's only wish — would not be able to withstand the test of time.

"Very pretty, Yan'er." He reaffirmed. "Did you thank Jin-furen?"

"I did."

Jiang Cheng stood and turned back to face Lan Xichen, and realized they were being joined by two others: Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji. The latter of two stared directly down at Jiang Yan, visibly stricken and unblinking, as though he'd just seen a ghost. After all, he had often been on the receiving end of that signature smile once upon a time. It was probably not a smile he'd ever expected to see again in this life.

In hindsight, perhaps Jiang Cheng should have made Yan'er wear her uniform like all the other disciples instead of her favourite indigo robes.

“Ah, Wangji, shufu -” Lan Xichen was quick to react, sensing animosity brewing in the disquiet that stretched taut between his younger brother and his fellow sect master. "Jiang-zongzhu, perhaps you would introduce us?"

The First Jade smiled kindly down at Yan'er. She returned his kindness with a polite nod.

Lan Wangji finally dragged his gaze up to meet Jiang Cheng's, a rarity since their violent parting at Nevernight. The venerated Hanguang-jun had developed a habit of pretending that Jiang Wanyin of Lotus Pier did not exist at all. He probably preferred, dreamed of it even, if Jiang Cheng had been one to fall of the cliff that day. He probably hated himself for not shoving him into the molten abyss when he could to avenge the love of his life.

Love. What did Lan Wangji know of love? Jiang Cheng sneered inwardly. One did not compromise one's love and abandon her, ill and with child, to bleed out alone in a cave tainted by demonic spirits.

One did not watch idly as one's love and her people are reduced to ashes for the power and greed of men either....

Jiang Cheng buried the offending thought, too familiar with Wen Qing's ghost that still haunted him in his moments of weakness. Without breaking gaze, he laid a hand on the crown of Jiang Yan's head and said, "This is my first disciple, Jiang Yan, Jiang Yueqian."

"Yueqian greets Zewu-jun, Lan-lao-xiansheng, Hanguang-jun."

Jiang Cheng watched as the icy fire within Lan Wangji's eyes flicker, fizzle, and extinguish entirely. Jiang Cheng's vague silence had allowed him the space to make his assumptions, and he had assumed the most insane explanation.

Is it so difficult for you, wondered Jiang Cheng. To believe that she could be yours? So impossible, that you would choose to doubt Wei Wuxian instead?

Fine.

Hanguang-jun. The venerated Second Jade of Gusu. That's all you'll ever be. Yan'er will never call you Father.

Jiang Cheng decided he had spent enough time today making nice. "Zewu-jun, it's getting late. If nothing else, I will be taking my leave. The conference continues tomorrow. I will see you then. Yan'er, come."

Yan'er bowed again to the senior cultivators, perfectly well-mannered. A dash of surprise crossed those bright eyes, however, when Jiang Cheng took her hand to lead her away. She followed wordlessly, trusting him, and did not look back once at the Lans she left behind.

Now that Yan'er was out in society, there would surely be rumours. No matter. Rumours were nothing Jiang Wanyin could not withstand. How ironic, indeed, that this was to be his lot in life.

For the first time, Jiang Cheng felt he could understand his father.

Note:

The poem is from the Song dynasty, by poet 范仲淹 from his work 《岳阳楼记》

Jiang Cheng of course is also working off a lot of assumptions about Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji's relationship. He has his reasons for hating and blaming Lan Wangji, but not all the blame is deserved.

#Anonymous #corie replies #cql #the untamed #lanyan #midnight sun #corie fics #cql ficlet #yes jiang cheng stringed enough brain cells together to come up with a half decent name #ly7

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monst · 4 years

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Warnings again: Graphic descriptions of murder, Dubcon, Incest, Pre-meditated murder, Gore

Inspired by: Halloween, Micheal Myers and this post -> Here (The little brother bit of it)

This story can be read either entirely or you can skip, the middle background, you won’t really be missing the juicy bits since it just describes the early stages of his...infatuation

Enjoy!

Silence reigned over the living room save for the desperate wheezes of the dual toned man’s hair. The air hissed as it slipped into his greedy mouth, the heavy sound of his pants were followed by the almost painful expansion of his lungs. He wiped a gloved hand over his brow collecting the droplets that had accumulated throughout the ordeal.

His stormy eyes looked down at his hand, he saw his soiled reflection on the metallic steel. His pupils danced in dilation, his nostrils still flared. His blood was hot, scorching his veins as with every pound of his heart. He let the blade fall to the stained rug, fingers trembling with nerves? Adrenalin? Excitement?

It started with the curving of his lips, then a breathless chuckle until he was keeling over with laughter, tears in his eyes as his foot connected with the soft tissue of the body. He repeated the action kicking the belly of his victim, further soiling his shoes. The beige rug was stained a nauseating maroon, said color also decorated the sofa and he could feel the once warm liquid cool on his face.

A mess of blood and viscera was left in the place where the man had once cowered. He leered over the man’s body, a grin stretching his pale pink lips. His tongue swept over his lips as he leaned down to the man’s ear to whisper secretively.

“I’ve been wanting to do this to you the moment I set my eyes on you.” He chirped. “You’ve never deserved her” his fingers slid over the shredded skin of the man’s face as he plucked the crimson stained mask off his face. He stood up and slid the bloodied scream mask over his face, his menacing form illuminated by the colorful strobe lights that still circled the room. He turned towards the staircase of the house, It was time to pay you a visit and give you the good news.

His heavy footfalls creaked the stairs as he made his way up closer to you, his stomach fluttered with emotion and his elation twitched beneath his trousers. ‘Finally’ He thought as the door to your room whined open. ‘Finally’

Now you may be wondering how it all came to this. How such an unassuming man could take someone’s life in such a cruel and violent way. To explain that, we need to go back, back in time to the exact moment in which warmth seeped into the man’s heart. The moment in which he decided that he’d do absolutely anything for his older sister.. And that happened when he was a boy and it was all because of the touch of a hand…

(Backstory is optional, you can easily skip ahead towards the morning of the event)

There was a clear disinterest in the young child’s eyes as his eyes observed the glossy casket. He could hear the whispers of the surrounding guests. The susurrations of ‘what’s going to happen to the children’ ‘The young one doesn’t seem to care about what happened.’ ‘Shush it’s not like he understands what’s going on’ There were more whispers being dropped than there were tears but Shouto disagreed, he understood very well. He just couldn’t find it in himself to care.

His eldest sister Fuyumi bawled enough for the rest of the Todoroki siblings. Call him cynical but Shouto didn’t understand why he should cry, why he didn’t give a rats ass that the old man had kicked the can. He supposed he should care about the casket next to his father’s embalmed corpse but he wasn’t exactly close to his snowy haired brother. In simple terms he wasn’t moved by the theatrics and wanted nothing more than to go home. A home without Enji Todoroki, he wondered what life would be like now that his father was dead. Easier? He pondered on all the freedom he’d finally have…..

Shouto truly didn’t understand… He loathed that vile man and yet his eyes were wet with tears, his small nose stuffing as he sniffled. He had balled his small fists, clutching the dark cloth of his dress shorts, his eldest sister Fuyumi had her face buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking. She couldn’t console herself, not to mention her yonder siblings. It was at that moment that he realized how alone he was, Fuyumi seemed leagues away, so out of reach.

His older brother was furthest away the veil of death separating whatever comfort he may have received from the teen. A cold chill filled his small frame until something came and banished it. Your fingers interlocked with his as you drew him close, he glued himself to the warmth you provided, his body shaking as you hugged him whispering consolations.

“I-It’s going to be okay Sho.” You sniffled. “W-we still have each other.”

Shouto clung to you ever since, you were two years his senior, his beloved older sister who was always there for him. Sure he had Fuyumi but she wasn’t you, she was someone he had a familial tie to, someone who provided for the both of you, to him Fuyumi was just the guardian. She wasn’t special to him like you were, there wasn’t that connection, there wasn’t that bond. And sadly it never developed as Fuyumi had to leave the both of you for long lengths of time.

You however adored Fuyumi, you were grateful for her sacrifice of becoming something

akin to a parent towards you and Shouto. In your younger years you scurried about to help her with whatever you could and more often than naught it was watching Shouto while she worked. Your little brother was an oddball, he had a habit of following you around and refused to make friends so as not to leave you. Despite countless arguments of it not being an issue he held fast and you relented and allowed him to shadow you freely.

In all honesty the signs were all there, the youngest Todoroki would become hysterical when he didn’t know of your whereabouts, he was frustratingly clingy and hostile towards all of your friends. You had lost many friends due to your younger brother’s jaws of doom. No one wanted to play with you when your brother laid in wait like a piranha. This led to further skirmishes but Fuyumi wasn’t adept at dealing with such issues and reassured you that it was just a phase. So you sucked it up, you didn’t want to worry Fuyumi and add to her stress. ‘It’s probably not easy for her to raise us, especially since she’s younger herself.’

And so life went on, your brother’s clinginess never waned but it was diminished when he finally entered highschool. Regardless of him wanting it or not people began to gravitate towards him. To him it was the most annoying thing in the universe. He hated playing nice with his schoolmate, what was even the point? He didn’t care for them, he didn’t love them, they served no purpose and only helped in separating him from you. But he played nice. He played nice for your sake, he was your dear sweet little brother after all and he wouldn’t allow those nuisances to taint your vision of him.

Everything was going swell, Fuyumi was prosering and getting more and more busy. To his delight she’d leave for days on end on business trips as well. His days would start with him greeting you in the morning and you blessing his cheek with an innocent ‘good morning’ kiss. You’d walk to school, sometimes you’d blow off your friends to eat lunch with him, it always made him feel special, and then you’d walk home. He always loved it when Fuyumi was gone and the both of you were alone. It was almost like the two of you were husband and wife. The thought never failed at leaving him breathless.

It wasn’t weird. He had rationalized that it was only natural to marry the one you loved. Besides you had agreed to it when you were younger. However, not everyone was accepting of the loving relationship he had with you.

“Ew you call your little brother baby?” He had overheard the conversation on his way to your class.

“So? He’s my baby brother so I call him baby, it’s not a big deal.” You shrugged.

“It is kinda icky (Name).” The voice that had said it was deep and masculine and he didn’t like how his words made you pause. You should have fought against it, you should have told them to fuck off.

“O-oh…” You mumbled. “I g-guess he is a bit grown.” He had made his presence known after that, his haughty eyes lacerating your classmate. The smug teen had an arm looped around your shoulder and from the look on your face you weren’t opposed to it.

That was a turning point in your relationship. To his dismay you began to date that...guy. That fucker drove a wedge between you. You changed because of him, and he hated it. He despised it so so very much. The day he realized that your boyfriend had to be done away with was when he came home one afternoon, you had insisted he join an extracurricular activity and that had put an end to walking home with you. And so when he came home and he heard you, he ran to his room and peeled back the movie poster in his room, his blue eye widening in horror as that disgusting, vile, grotesque creature defiled you.

The tree at the edge of the property took the brunt of his emotions that day. His fists were split as he abused the bark of the tree, his teeth grinded viciously. All of his fantasies of being your first were dashed, all those nights researching, all those nights observing your body from his peephole, in order to know what you liked “Wasted!” When he walked back in you were adjusting your clothes in the kitchen making the bastard a sandwich.

“S-shouto!” You yelped. You no longer called him baby. You were startled until you took notice of his bruised knuckles. “Are you okay!?” You fretted, reaching out towards him. He flinched away from you, hurt.

“Bah leave the kid alone and stop coddling him, it’s just a flesh wound.” The thing scoffed.

“But it could get infected.” You mumbled.

“Ughh shut up already, where’s my food?” He asked you… Yes, Shouto despised that man. In his mind he had gouged out his perverse eyes and peeled back his grimey skin. You had regressed into yourself ever since you had gotten together with that guy. He dedicated your every move, and to add fire to the ever growing flames he had the audacity to put his hands on you.

“Leave him.” He hissed one day.

“I...I can’t Sho..I love him.” Love? Love he had scoffed. That wasn’t love, god he’d show you what love actually was if you would only leave that man. ‘If only he just died.’ This thought gnawed at the back of his mind as years passed and you remained in such a toxic relationship. By now your...he refused to call him your lover, by now your abuser had died in his mind over a billion times.

Prior to the murder…

(Backstory skippers, it begins here)

It was one of those rare days when that nasty shadow wasn’t looming over you, the both of you were sipping coffee as Fuyumi explained that she would be going abroad. It wasn’t anything new as work for her got busiest during the fall.

“H-He asked me to move out with him.” You smiled.

“Absolutely not.” He scoffed.

“I have to agree with our little brother on this one (Name).” You had blown up on them, screaming about them not understanding, until you were left sobbing in your chair.

“H-He can change… I know he can.” Needless to say, he didn’t. As soon as he heard that Fuyumi was half-way across the globe he pressured you into throwing a party. Luckily for you Shouto didn’t have any classes to attend and was willing to help you arrange the hastily put together party.

“I still can’t believe you're with him.” He mumbled as he arranged the red solo cups on the table.

“Trust me Sho I’ve tried to end it but…” You looked away from the youngest Todoroki until you felt his hand slide into yours.

“Remember, I’ve always got your back if you need me to fuck him up for him to leave you alone I’ll do it.” He smiled, his heart skipped when your arms wrapped around his neck. ‘Soon’ he thought, his arms tightening around your frame.

“I really don’t deserve you Shouto thank you.” You sniffled.

“It’s-

“The fuck are you two doing?” ‘Great’ Shouto rolled his eyes, pressing his lean body closer to yours. ‘It’s here’ “You sure your not tryna fuck your brother you little slut.”

“Of course not.” You mumbled, your arms tightening around your younger brother’s frame, he felt your body tremble, fear and anger coursing through your veins. Ever so slowly you stepped out of the protective embrace of your brother. You didn’t notice how Shouto clenched his jaw when that man’s hand came down on your ass. You shifted away from him but his hand caught you by the crook of your elbow. “What? No kiss? Don’t tell me you're still mad about me cheating on you.” He scoffed.

You looked away, a scowl on your lips. “C’mon babe how ‘bout I make it up to you?” He grinned. You weren’t interested instead you turned towards your brother.

“Are you inviting anyone?” You asked. You caught yourself staring at your younger brother who now towered over you, his dark eyes narrowed at your boyfriend, strong arms crossed against his beefy chest. You made out the way his sharp jaw clenched and it had just struck you ‘He’s gotten so handsome.’ You looked away when you noticed how his eyes softened when he turned towards you.

“Didya buy the booze I asked for?” The other man cut in. You nodded, grateful that Shouto had ran out and bought it for you while you hid all the valuables in the house. He dropped onto the couch unceremoniously and began to message his friends.

“So are you?” You asked once more as the both of you continued to put certain breakable items away.

“Maybe.” He shrugged, he wasn’t particularly interested in inviting the people who called him their friend.

“You should invite that one girl that used to go to highschool with you.” You hummed. “I’m pretty sure she had a crush on you~”

“She did.” He sighed. “I just wasn’t interested, besides inviting her would only make things....awkward.”

“Your so picky Sho, most sophomores in college are out there partying, living life and ‘fucking bitches’” You teased.

“Well I’m not like most men my age.” The drop of his voice startled you, the hair on your arms raising at the slight raspy tone. You excused yourself to change. This wasn’t the first time Shouto’s acted rather...suspicious around you. In his twenty years of life he had always shown particular favor towards you sometimes with an intensity that sort of scared you. It was like he..had feelings for you.

‘Ridiculous’ You chimed as you stripped out of your clothes. You had always reminded yourself that the thought was preposterous. ‘He’s still waiting for the right one, that’s why he’s never shown any interest in anyone.’ A small voice at the back of your head whispered a small doubt ‘except for me’. “Ludacris.” You huffed as you picked out what to wear and readied yourself, you chose a raunchy outfit, short sheer fabrics that tightened around your curves, heels that flattered the slopes of your calves and a pair of fluffy cat ears. Mittens were placed over your hands as you fastened the faux tail onto your waist.

You painted whiskers on your cheeks, your lips a deep shade of ruby. You looked stunning and you were planning on using your appearance to get back at your loser boyfriend. A smirk fitted your face ‘That assholes’ going to regret cheating on me’

Shouto shuffled over to a corner as strangers began to arrive at the family home. He noticed a couple of people from his major slither in but made no move to greet them. After all there was no need. The music was loud in his ears and the stench of sweat hung in the air like an off brand diffuser. It wasn’t long before the house became a clutter of bodies, they donned glitter and masks as they grinded against each other.

Plumes of smoke blurred the ceiling as people gathered around a bong one of his ‘friends’ had brought in. The breath of the people who came up to flirt with him was thick with the scent of booze. His vacant eyes scanned the crowd, various people dressed as sexy nurses, nuns, devils etc. There were some good ones, special effects decorated a realistic zombie, but not even the walking dead cosplayer could salvage the party. To him it was a miserable event, a violation of his and your sanctuary. All he could think of was how he wished he could recreate the sense from the collector 2. It put a smile on his face. Apparently his smile attracted his friends.

“Come on Todoroki!” Midoriya chimed holding up a cup towards him. “Have a drink” “Yeah loosen up and have some fun~” Ochako grinned. “Also~ Look who's here.” She

elbowed him in the gut, cocking her head towards a pretty long haired brunette dressed as a witch. He rolled his eyes, how many times did he have to tell these annoying people that he wasn’t interested in anyone.

“Look I know your a bit shy but she still likes you. Maybe you can go over there, chat her up a bit and who knows you might even get laid.” He was not amused. ‘There’s only one person I want to-’ He looked past the girl and his jaw dropped. He could feel his face warm up, his breath complete and utterly stolen.

“Wow.” He breathed. His friends assumed he spoke of the Yaoyorozu and nudged him over towards that general direction. He walked slowly towards you, you looked a sight. The neon lights made your skin glow, your liner giving your eyes a more cattish look that to him made you look downright sexy. Your exposed flesh teased his eyes and your lips. God he wished he could steal them.

His throat bobbed as he saw you drink from a plastic cup, your tongue running across your lower lip seductively. His heart thumped loudly in his chest, blood rushing south. His mouth watered and before he knew it someone obstructed his view of you.

“S-Shouto.” He frowned. “I noticed that you were looking at-

“I’m sorry but can you move out of my way?” He cut her off and made to walk away to pursue you. He was ready to risk it all, he was tired of waiting for you to notice him. Tired of being brushed aside and he was sick of watching someone as ethereal as you be treated like trash. Maybe now was his chance. Your ‘feelings’ for your boyfriend were waning and now was the perfect moment to sweep you off your feet to show you how he was the best choice for you.

Before he could walk away he felt the young woman grab his wrist.

“W-wait d-don’t you like me?” She asked. He scoffed, his eyes zoning in on you. He was trying not to let you out of his sight when he saw it. He grit his teeth in anger as you flirted with his senor. Mirio just smiled politely complimenting you as you leaned against him. Yaoyorozu looked at him watching as his grip on his cup tightened and how his eyes narrowed down at the tall blond. She finally understood. She recoiled away from him, drawing her hand back as if she had been burned.

Her lips curled in disgust, her eyes cringing in disbelief. She brought her hand up to her mouth. “I-I can’t believe it.” She whispered. “The rumors are actually true..”

“What?” He asked, his sharp gaze slicing through her. She backed up tossing her drink on his face.

“Get away from me you sick pervert.” she hissed.

“Hey!” You shouted, you marched up to the girl who tossed the beer into your brother’s face. You quickly noticed who she was and for the wrong reasons you understood why Shouto didn’t like her. From where you were standing you saw a rich, beautiful girl who was angry at your younger brother’s rejection. She had to go. “If your going to harass my baby you can just fucking leave.” You hissed.

“I’ll leave gladly.” She hissed. “You too fucking disgust me.”

“Sho are you okay?” You asked, your hand slipping into his. He looked down at it in disbelief, his heart swelled ‘She called me baby again. She’s here in front of everyone holding my hand.’ He couldn’t stop the furious flush from claiming his cheeks.

“Shouto?”

“I-I’m fine.” He smiled. It was a warm smile, something that unsettled his approaching friends.

“Good.” You beamed. “You should go change and actually put on a costume.”

He nodded mutely and walked past Midoriya and Uraraka, a blissful smile on his lips as he went up to change. He wondered if you’d like his vampire costume..

“Do you think..”

“Ha, no way it’s not possible…”

He checked his reflection a couple of times before heading downstairs, he wondered if you’d like the way he parted his hair. He’s heard people say it was sexy, he wondered if you thought he was sexually attractive. As soon as he reached the bottom step he frowned, your blubbering idiot of a boyfriend was piss poor drunk. And by the way he set his gaze on him Shouto knew he was going to have to exhibit an almost superhero level of self-restraint.

“Oi sissy boy, why you ain’t ever got a woman?” He slurred. “You gay or something?”

“Okay man I think you’ve had too many.” his friend waved him off trying to get him to leave.

“No I’m not dun speaking.” He stumbled as he swiveled over to look up at Shouto. “Listen here punk.” His rancid breath fanned across Todoroki’s face, and he couldn’t help but cringe his lips curling in disgust.

“Ya gotta problem wit meh? Always glaring at me an shit. Alway following my bitch around, you like her or sum? Your dick get hard for your sister?” He had started a commotion, a crowd soon gathering. Shouto had taken your panicked expression in and for your sake, he walked away. “That’s rite! Walk away you prissy bitch.”

When he came back the party was over and you were left cleaning up the mess. The lights were still swirling around the room and he could make out the lump of the man laying on the couch passed out. Your tired eyes were red rimmed as you smiled at him. “Hey Sho.”

It was when he saw the swelling in your left eye that he began to seethe. “He fucking hit you again.” He snarled, his fists balled up in fury.

“H-He said he was sorry…” You sniffed weakly, you were on your last legs. Tired of defending him yet he knew if the man brought you flowers and took you out for a night in the town you’d crawl back having forgiven him. He couldn’t have that, he wouldn’t. “I-It’s alright Shouto i-it doesn’t even hurt anymore.” You sighed as his thumb caressed your cheek his fingers lightly bruising against the inflamed area. You winced and it was only when you met his teary gaze that you began to cry. You cried in his arms, you cried in the arms of the only man who loved you, and the only man who would protect you. He vowed to do justice by you, you would just have to bear it for a while longer.

He kept his anger under wraps as he helped you clean, his grip on the broom was tight as he watched you go upstairs. It was then that his blood began to boil. But he would have to be patient, he fished out his phone waiting for you to be done showering. The texts he read over left him tugging at the roots of his hair. You hadn’t explained everything. Apparently he had hit you during the party in front of everyone then proceeded to throw everyone out. There were even videos!

White hot anger clouded his eyes, the snowy color was all that he could see as he walked into the kitchen. His heart beat in his ears and his blood was replaced by lava. He panted like something rabid, his vision fading and all of his previous fantasies coming to rest in the front of his mind. Soon his fingers wrapped around the cool metal of a kitchen knife.

He caught a glimpse of his expression on the metallic surface, red rimmed his eyes' malicious intent curving up his lips. His tongue ran across his bottom lip as he walked towards the living room. His footsteps were slow as he wanted to savor the moment, breath every detail in. Once he reached the man he tapped the knife against his scruffy cheek.

“You know.” He whispered. “I’ve been wanting to kill you for so so long.”

He climbed over the man, his legs straddling his form. “You remind me of my father.” He smiled. “And I loathed him~ I didn’t mean to get Natsuo killed when I cut the breaks but” He paused to shrug. “It wasn’t a big deal. I got two for the price of one.” He chuckled, a frown soon slipped onto his visage. He wanted the man to be conscious for this. With out warning he backhanded the man without an ounce of self-restraint.

“Gah!” The guy panicked. His eyes wide and shifting as he tried to make sense of the situation, all he could feel was the booming pain on his cheek, a coppery liquid pooling in his mouth. “S-Shouto!?” He gasped confused. There was a strange smile on the young man’s face that he’d never seen, it was frightening and he struggled to buck the stronger man off him. “G-Get off me!”

“No.” He wheezed. “It’s funny, isn’t it! The feeling you feel right now? I’m pretty sure my big sister felt it all the time, unbridled fear.” He teased revealing the clean metal of the knife.

“T-This isn’t funny.” He stuttered.

“I know.” Shouto seethed. “It’s never been funny, the way you treat the love of my life, I never found that shit amusing.”

“Y-Your crazy!” He gasped, hyperventilating at the crushing weight and the palpable fear. “I-I’ll scream.” He warned.

“Oh” He nodded. “I’m counting on it.” He leaned closer to the man’s ear. “You see we have no close neighbors and well (Name)’s room is soundproof. You see.. I just couldn’t stand the sound of you touching her.”

“(Name)!” He yelled, he was met with an explosive pain, his jaw crunching under the force of the blow, teeth loosening, some even dislodging and sliding down his bloodied throat.

“You know how disgusting it was to watch you touch her? Watch you soil her perfect body.” He hissed, his fist colliding with his face repeatedly, until he stopped suddenly. “But that’s okay.” He laughed caressing the soiled face of the deadman.

The man whimpered in pain, garbled noises bubbling from his busted lips. Crimson bubbles popped as he tried to beg for the Todoroki to spare him. “Shh shush I haven’t told you why it’s okay. It’s okay because I plan to erase all of that, all those nasty hurtful touches, they’ll be replaced by my loving hands, my lips and my dick. It’ll be fantastic and the best part is that little ol’ you won’t be a part of it.” THe tip of the knife booped his nose and the man scrambled to get up when he felt Shouto’s weight leave him.

Shouto didn’t know what to name the feeling coursing through his veins. He was ecstatic, he was angry and the thoughts of the future had him giddy. Blood had rushed south and he felt drunkenly dizzy. ‘Woah let’s not get carried away’ he tried to rationalize ‘We still have to deal with him.’ The man held his dislocated jaw and tried to make a run for it. But in his still drunk and confused state all he could manage was a stumble.

It was then that Shouto came down upon him, he plunged the knife into the soft flesh of the guy’s belly. His wide eyes gazed into Shouto’s blank excited ones and he couldn’t even hold the wound as he was repeatedly stabbed. His thin flesh squelched with each plunge, his life seeping and splattering around his perimeter. Shouto didn’t relent not even as his body slumped to the ground. Instead he followed him down, he snarled and growled as he attacked the man.

He thought of all he had put you through, how he made you shrivel and curl into yourself like a cooked shrimp of all of the times he talked him down and of the distance he had forced between you. He gasped and panted as he straddled the limp body of another nuisance he had gotten rid of. After a while he pulled back and stood.

There you laid, body rising and falling in slumber, completely unperturbed by what had happened just beneath your room. You were beautiful. You had changed into more comfortable clothes for sleep and he quietly peeled back your covers to observe. His fingers stained the duvet as he bunched it up at the end of the bed. He pulled off his gloves and let his fingertips ghost over your legs. You shivered cutely at the light touch.

He smiled beneath his bloodied mask, he figured he should trick you for a bit before he revealed the news. He climbed atop the bed, the mattress dipping underneath his weight. His fingers ghosted up your legs, cold digits reaching the crotch of your pants. He pressed his palm against the soft indent of flesh, his heart sped up at the warmth emanating from your most intimate place. He’d only ever dreamed of this.

“Hmm” You sighed in your sleep, your eyes fluttering open when you felt the cold fingers. You sat up confused. You called the name of your lover and Shouto chuckled darkly. You huffed in annoyance when he didn’t answer. “I thought I said I didn’t want to see you anymore.” You frowned. “Hello, you listening? Ugh are you still drunk.”

You flinched when he raised his hand and your brother felt his heart break at the reaction. ‘Don’t worry from now on I won’t let anyone else lay their hands on you.’ His hand slid up to your face and he cupped your cheek gently, pressing his masked forehead against yours. You were thoroughly confused.

You were used to your boyfriend coming into your room for makeup sex but he was never this gentle with you. The thought of him meaning he was really sorry crossed your mind but, the fingers caressing your cheek didn’t feel like your boyfriends’ but it did feel familiar and it was comforting. It wasn’t long before he began to tug your clothes off your body, his hands traced your form appreciatively and you sighed blissfully at the feeling.

“H-Hey at least take off your mask.” His silence was strange but you welcomed it. His hands came over your eyes, gently closing them. You caught on and kept them closed as you heard the rustle of clothes. It was then that you felt the press of smooth lips against your own. His fingers traced every inch of your body caressing the smooth flesh as his lips pressed soft kisses on your lips. Shouto swore there would never be anything better than your plush lips pressing against his own.

Well that was his thought, until his fingers pressed against your slick lower lips. He buried his face in your neck, face flushed as you curled your arms around his neck. The soft squish of your wet lips had him throbbing and he let his fingers pet your clit as he worshiped the delicious length of your neck. You were on cloud nine as he kneaded and massaged your doughy flesh. His lips suckled on your breasts, tongue lavishing the hardened buds in attention as his fingers continued to swirl and tap against your swollen pearl.

“Nngh” You gasped when you felt his fingers slip inside of you, your fingers coming up to fist his soft his, your other hand clawing at his broad shoulders. It was the feel of these textures that spurred you to open your eyes. “S-Shouto!” You moaned.

His blue grey eyes slinked up to meet your gaze, his lidded expression filling your cheeks with warmth. Your jaw unhinged in another gasp as his thick fingers continued to slide inside your warm fleshy walls. Your mouth parted in protest “W-What are y-y-” Soft lips caught your own and your eyes enlarged as you felt your younger brother's tongue slide past your lips. The warm wet muscles gliding over your own.

His other hand palmed your breast fingers squeezing the supple flesh that was still covered in a thin layer of his saliva. You pressed your hands to his chest. ‘T-This is wrong! You thought as his tongue rolled in between your teeth. When he pulled away there was a string of saliva that broke off.

“I love you.” He breathed, placing his lips where he knew they belonged.

“Ah~” You didn’t mean to let the sound slip, but his fingers had curved inside of you and with every thrust he put pressure against your g-spot. Your hand went to his wrist in order to halt his movement.

“S-Shouto s-stop this is wrong, y-your my-

“Little brother.” He finished his mouth sucking on your neck. “I don’t care about that, in my opinion it just means we’re more connected.” His smile shocked you but what you felt against your thigh shocked you even more.

“I-”

“Shh there’s no one to stop us.” He whispered. “No one to stop me from showing you how you should be loved.”

Your mouth opened and closed as you struggled to string together something coherent. Your protests resumed when he slid his other hand down your body, he leaned up allowing you to see the light sheen of sweat that highlighted the strong muscles of his body. And your eyes looked down his cut abdomen towards the bi-colored trail of hair leading down towards his weeping cock. His eyes met your and your face caught fire. You were about to draw into yourself and curl your body away from his lustful gaze when his large palms slid underneath your thighs.

Your back hit the bed as he leaned his face closer to your cunt. You mind was still reeling, ‘G-get a grip (Name)! Your baby brother’s face is legit inches from your puss-

“Oh fuck.” You gasped as his hot tongue slid up the length of your slit. His tongue traced your lips, tongue curving into the folds of your labia before sliding back up towards your needy clit. When his tongue began to flick against the sensitive nerves you were lost. You arched your back pressing your pussy closer to his face practically begging him to suck you dry.

He obliged, his mouth closing around your clit, fingers finding home base deep within your deliciously warm walls. You pulsed and trobbed around his finger and he swore he was dreaming. You tasted better than he imagined, you sounded better in person than from behind a wall. And god you just looked so damn amazing.

“S-Shouto!” You cried. He moaned into you. Fuck yes that was all he ever wanted, all he needed, he need you to say it again to call his name out so desperately. He was grinding against the mattress as he let your warmth suffocate him. He held you close as you began to tremble your legs clamping over his head as you came around his tongue.

“Hah~” He pulled back, his lips sticky with your slick, he wasted no time in capturing your lips once more. “Big sis I love you so much.” He gasped. “I -I want to show you how much.”

“B-baby this is wrong.” Your protest was weak, no one had ever touched you like Shouto, no one had loved you as unconditionally as him, but this was morally wrong.

“Don’t you love me?” He asked.

“Of course I love you.” You replied.

“Then there’s no problem.” He smiled. He settled in between your thighs, the head of his cock pressing against your pussy. He could seriously cum right there and then by just the incredible sight. And when he pushed into your hole he melted. He felt even more complete with every inch he fed into you. “I’m inside of you (Name).” His grin was practically euphoric and you fluttered around his impressive size.

Then he began to move. He praised the feel of you, his length sliding in and out, slow and deep. That night Shouto made due on his promise to love you, and as you drifted off to sleep he replayed the moment, relishing in how you claimed to love him.

When you awoke the next morning your mind slapped you with what had occurred last night. The horrors of you claiming to love your little brother cock filled you with a crippling sense of shame. You hadn’t woke to him next to you but after dressing you went to find him. You had to let him know that that couldn’t happen again.

You hugged yourself as you walked down the stairs, from your spot you could see Shouto in the kitchen, on the table were two bowls and a box of your favorite cereal. ‘It’s now or-. The smell hit you first, a strong nauseating smell that you were only used to smelling during your heavier flows. Your blood drain and in its place your heart pumped liquid nitrogen. You reeled back as you caught sight of the body in front of you, you stumbled over your feet, your ass meeting the floor. Tears dripped down your chin as you tried to make heads or tails of what you saw.

“What are you doing on the floor?” You heard your brother ask. He then noticed what you were looking at. “Oh.. Oh! I forgot to tell you the good news yesterday since we were so caught up.” He blushed.

“G-good news..”

“Yeah, good news, that’s no longer in the picture.” He beamed. “Now come on you must be hungry~”

#frightober 2020 #yandere todoroki x reader #yandere todoroki shoto #shouto x reader #yandere shouto x reader #tw: dubcon #todoroki shoto x reader #yandere todoroki smut #todoroki shoto smut #todoroki x reader smut

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cyberdva · 3 years

Text

take me home- b.c.

Summary: Staying with Stray Kids over the holidays via the first-hand invitation from Chan sounded like the perfect vision. When New Years’ roles around tension grew, in the coming days you’d have to leave and someone needed to confess the secret scratching at his core for years on end. With a little plan from your best friend’s bandmates, this new year would be one to remember forever.

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of Anxiety, and a Makeout Scene

Word Count: 2.3k

Stray Kids Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A/N: (Gender Neutral Reader!!) hey everyone! it’s sort of a tradition for me to write a short little fic for new years. this time i chose to write about chan since he’s turned my life around and brought so much positive change into my life. i’m forever grateful to him and stray kids. thank you for reading all of my sappy drama. life is going to get better!

Being away from the same place you’d called home for the past who knows long felt strange. Don’t get me wrong, it was a major relief to be able to roam around a different area after the entire world was basically held captive in their own minds for the better. Having a second family in the form of an idol group, led by the most talented person you could think of, gave an excuse to seek refuge in their dorms, but this time they nearly begged for your presence for just a few days. Listening to Felix and Seungmin plead over the phone, ironic desperation laced in their tone, for a month and a half took a white flag waving on your behalf. Putting eight celebrities, and countless others, in the possibility of danger was the glue holding you back. Nights of pondering aimlessly always led to the same conclusion. Staying and going was a bitter conflict. Flabbergasted by all the trouble you got yourself into, the thought of leaving was a knee-jerk reaction. Either Felix and Seungmin got their way or the other way around, and if an agreement couldn’t be reached a full-on melancholy would forge in its place.

“Y/N…” Chan’s voice faded in and out with vigor, a perfect speech was freshly prepped in his mind wanting nothing but to have you here with him next week, “I have a question. You have to listen to the whole thing until you answer, okay?” His teeth grazed a chunk of flesh dragging in backwards in anticipation.

“I’ll come visit.” There was a cold breeze, lacing the darkness with foreign excitement, a feeling you had last had back in freshman year when Chris came home to visit you Training was the main priority for him, his young mind opened up the new group his company yearned to produce. Either lead a normal childhood or give the future its star-studded path. It hurt to see him go, more than anything had before, but when your bedroom door slowly creaked open it was worth the wait. Chan still remembers how you hugged him, tightly with so much emotion, it made him come to terms with the feeling brewing in his own mind. Truly cliché, but the way butterflies bubbled in his stomach and hands shook like leaves on a palm tree stuck in a brawny gust gave him desires which laid discrete too prolonged. Your response ignited that same lust, Chan’s voice hitched in between the words collapsing from his delicate lips. It brought a stunted tint to your cheeks, a rare occurrence in general.

The man’s eyes fluttered in amazement, “Y-You’re serious, not joking right?” Fingertips grazed the dew buttons nearing the edge of his phone, mimicking his posture at the moment.

“Do I not sound serious?” A puff of humor fell from your mouth, “Just make sure I don’t regret it, I’ll text you tomorrow Chrissy.” Left in his own bewilderment, it only had now begun to register the weight of the situation. His only lover, one-sided in his wit, of a near lifetime, was coming just for him, and his annoying ‘children.’

“I fucking hate that nickname.”

“Are you even old enough to have alcohol?” Buzzing with anticipation, the young woman dashed past an elated Minho forcefully dancing with Hyunjin, who looked about to pass out from drained practice from earlier on. Your hands clutched onto a champagne bottle, it still has a hint of frost to the touch. Jeongin flashed her a pout and gave swift retaliation, “It’s not for me! Hannie told me to open it for all of us!” His long fingers snatched it right back into his possession.

Changbin laid motionless on the couch, "It’s five minutes until midnight! Seungmin could you go grab Chan, I have no clue where he is.” A nod came from the other man, his footsteps faded in a quick manner. The aura swelled cheer through every inch of your body, it has been so long since you’d last experienced such an amazing weekend with the ardent people. Something did feel off, and everyone noticed. Chan just wasn’t as sociable, his time was mostly spent scrambling on his phone or just in utter silence.

An abnormal amount of time passed and Seungmin was nowhere to be found. Your legs cracked a bit as you stood up, your mission was to now find that man-child if it was the last thing you did. Nerves jittered across your arms and wrists, it lingered in the small crevasses between tight joints. You were in love with Christopher Bang and this moment was the same as any other with him, but that sentence never fully processed in your mind. Instead doubts about confessions replayed constantly, it was an anxiety pressed down to the base of your concerns, yet it still bobbed for attention every now and again.

“You alright?” Placing your body against the hard doorframe of Chan’s room wasn’t the brightest idea. A hard chunk of metal pressed directly into your thigh making this conversation more awkward to begin with. Chris was at a small wooden desk, still working his creativity to death, even during a celebration. His large, slick headphones fortunately didn’t block out the sound of your tender voice. It came as a surprise to him, normally Chan wasn’t this jumpy. Even a small amount of embarrassment tainted the normally confident persona of himself. He quickly spun around and tilted his head in recognition, silently motioning you to speak.

Moving from the uncomfortable stance you continued, "You’ve been acting really weird lately. You know you can talk to me about anything. I’ll always be here for you no matter what.” Scanning his face for any reaction probably made things a bit worse, his posture caved in on itself and you couldn’t help feeling bad for possibly brining up something he clearly didn’t want to talk about. For the one moment he looked up at you it brought pang of guilt over your chest.

A sigh escaped you unconsciously, “Sorry if I made you upset or anything, I’ll let you work some more, but at least get some rest later.” Chan shook his hands in retaliation as you spoke, slowly getting up from his seat as he did.

“I don’t know how to say this,” his eyes darted every which way except for you, “I should’ve told you a lot earlier and I regret not doing that and shit, but just listen to me.” You slowly bobbed your head up in down in a confused likeness. He radiated uneasiness in an odd, eager way. The silence between each sentence ate away at your mind.

He reached out for your wrist, slowly moving it up waiting for consent, “Y/N, we’ve known each other for a really long time and ever since second grade I’ve…” he stopped. Now your agitation grew, what was he even talking about? His breathing staggered, “I’ve had like the biggest crush on you.” Did I just hear that right? A wave of panic took control over the two of you.Still yet to response, and react fot that matter, to what Chan said it made him start to plung into some sort of hysteria.

Finally words pieced themselves together, “You’re in love with me?” He nodded, “Why didn’t you say anything.” When Chris would say he was shy you never thought it was to that extent. Imagining how hard that must’ve been to conceal wasn’t that difficult, your feeling for the man definitely were the exact same. Back in high school all your friends would be graced to hear your stories about how Chan is so hot, how much you miss him, how you’re going to marry him, and more and more. It was tough to never see him in person, it stung when you would call him in the rare date he was allowed to.

“I like you too, ever since first grade for me.” His spirit turned into the complete opposite of before, now with a crimson shade of disbelief painted across his lug, “Your ears are red.” You laughed, his hands reached to tuck his hair back over the spectacle.

“What do we do now?” The question floated in the air with the intensity of the conversation peeling away. Neither adult fully understood what was happening. The importance of their relationship crumbled away with small banter and painful jokes.

A bright idea formulated in your mind, “We could kiss.” Chris blankly took in what you said and graced a devious smile, “I like that idea.” Chan grabbed your waist and snatched you closer to his body, which was strangely warm. Not like you were complaining. Brushing a few obscure hairs away from your face he peered extensively at your stunning features, taking them all in. It wasn't long until Chan smashed his lips into your own and you eagerly returned the kiss.

For the next few minutes the two were engulfed in a kiss, making the whole room sway and trip over its own feet. Your grip on him became tighter and you locked your fingers together at his back, making sure you wouldn't lose him. After a few more minutes Chan began to push his lips to your neck, making sure to explore every inch of your skin with his tongue. You giggled and clutched him closer. Your lips caressed his chin and his neck, kissing every inch of them and playing with his eyelashes. Chan opened his mouth to kiss your neck but you put a finger on his lips, but he kept going. You heard footsteps coming closer even with the small noises coming from the older one.

“I found him…” Seungmin walked right through the open door and adjusted to the scene in front of him, “Ew!” his face contorted into a disgusted look, “I found Y/N too.” Now that your expected make out session was confirmed, the rest of the boys peaked down the hallway with oddly happy faces. Chan was beet-red and began muttering quick apologies under his breath. Adorning a beaming smile you took his hand and guided Chan back to the rest of the group, “You talk too much, but that’s why I love you.”

“Love me? Well, um I love you too.. I have for a really long time.” Your heart swelled from his cumbersome behavior, he really never changed much from his youth. With that said your cheeks flushed and a broad smile spread across your face, as your entire body flushed from head to toe. The boy had a way of making your cheeks do a very special kind of glow. With only a minute and a half on the clock it was awfully laid back. Normally people go all out on New Years, but everyone just wanted this one to end as quickly as possible. Spaced away from his large crew you noticed that there was a rather large difference in Chan’s mind and the way he acted. In front of his members there was a much more dominant manner to his actions. He really cared about them, luck was the only way to describe how you felt about knowing him so personally.

Felix was the most thrilled of the bunch, "Twenty seconds left!” He bounced up and down with his grin growing wider than before. Whenever Felix was around the atmosphere automatically lit up. He just has that special feeling to him. While you flashed backed into your mind thinking about random anomalies Chan was gazing at you with piercing eyes and when you threw a glance back at him, he stayed still. Out of the blue, grabbing your hands and holding it tight.

“Ten!” This didn’t feel wrong, nor right, never in a million years did you think your childhood best friend would keep the same feelings for you tucked away. Trying to fill that void with one night stands, relationships that never ended well, and even distancing yourself from Chris wasn’t ever the answer you thought it was.

“Nine!” He was hidden in plain sight, could you be labeled the fool in all of this? Really Chris could too, it took so long to face the truth.”

“Eight!” Putting his career on the line is the next discussion, if fans or media found out about the two of you his contract could be terminated. The hate he faces already is too much, you would never want to hurt him.

“Seven!” The harmonic combination of everyone’s chants was relaxing, calming the storm of thousands of ‘What if..’ questions piling from your brain.

“Can I kiss you?” Chris was now right by your ear, burning straight into your sight. You jerked your body back in reflex, not expecting him to be so close.

“Six!”

“What do you mean?” It was obvious, your mind felt as if it was short circuiting. This was not the first idea that popped into your head when you decided to come visit.

“Five!”

“Yes or no, hurry up.” From the tone of his voice you could tell he was dead serious. Time was running out.

“Four! Three!”

“Uh sure..” You swore a small sparkle in his eyes glistened at the response, his entire face lighting up.

“Two!” Chris leaned closer, grabbing your chin delicately. His finger stroked the sides of your chin as his lips filled the gap and connected with yours. His lips were firm but soft and somehow you felt safe in his embrace. The kiss was soft and feather light. It lasted for maybe a couple of seconds before Chris pulled back. Your lips were still slightly swollen and her lips felt like they were on fire. You breathed slowly and opened your eyes to find him gazing at you.

"That was... good," you said a bit dazed.

He gave you a half-grin. "You're a natural." Your face broke out into a full smile still trying to wrap your head around all of this.

“Do you mind?” Did everyone see that? Slowly your head turned to face the apparent audience all giving different reactions.”

“Minho, why don’t you kiss me like that?”

“Shut up Jisung.” Maybe this year won’t be so bad after all.

“One day i’m going to marry you!”

“Chris were only like twelve, you’re going to find someone a lot better one day.”

“I don’t think i’ll ever find anyone as perfect as you.”

“Stop it!”

“I’m serious! I love you Y/N! Forever!”

“Love you too Chrissy, hurry up before we’re late for your swim practice!”

cyberdva 2021

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hyrule-kingdom-updates · 3 years

Text

Link! Good. I hear your son’s back?

Father, just “Arcadius” would be fi—

I didn’t ask if you were fine, I asked if your son was back.

...Yes...Father.

Good. Any longer and it might have looked like he deserted! Now fetch that wine over there would you, boy?

Ah, thank you. What’s this, “Akkalain East?” Not bad...for a coop in Central Hyrule, your palate’s at least well traveled.

What are you doing here?

What? I am not allowed to come visit my son and his lovely abode?

Oh...of course, Father. It’s good to welcome you.

Yes! It is quite the sight to see you at home like this, hardly catching up with my star son these days—he’s too busy saving the day hoho!

Thank you, Father.

I’m telling you, if this whole thing doesn’t work out, there’s many a higher lady who could bring you up even higher. High House Hartell no more, if you try...hm, thinking “Link Arcadius Midinia” perhaps? They’re in relatively good position—

Father!

Right, right. You and your “Link,” thing.

No! That wasn’t even what I was—You’re mad if you think I would ever do that to L—

You know, you’re being quite particular with this “Link” thing, your husband said that you stray from even calling your own son that. If either of you ever want a chance at being that hero of legend, you’ll stick with it, quit the pettiness, for your whole family’s sake. Understand?

Yes, Father. But—

So your son’s alright, your husband is doing well enough. Daughter is fine, though haven’t seem much from her.

Just running down a checklist now, are you?

House is a bit too rugged. Smells too much like...what is that, steel? And pastries?

Launo and I like to b—

You don’t ask me about my day-to-day personal hobbies, so don’t waste words assuming I would ask for yours.

...

Now what are these things on the walls?

Drawings?

Hm...right. Because artists are the ones getting paid these days, right, right.

Mhm.

Don’t mumble, isn’t unbecoming.

Yes, father.

Oh...and I’m assuming these ones are from Assivus? Tsk, it’s like a child drew it. Don’t think I’m still completely on board with you on recommending his little orator position. The rumours are starting to grow. It’s probably miserable for any poor castle soul to be in his presence.

Yeah... ...like father like son.

What was that?

Nothing.

I don’t think it was nothing, as I know the son I loved, taught, and nurtured, and he doesn’t mumble. I raised him as such, and cared for his every need, and now he’s a beautiful, respectful son of a bitch, who was taught to—

Well your son’s grown, and things can be un-taught.

Is that right?

Quite.

Well then, why don’t you share with your old man then? Do repeat your words for my old-taught ears.

... ...I said, “like father, like son.”

You think I’m like Assivus?

No, I think you’re miserable. You’re a miserable, pathetic, cynical old man who hasn’t lived a day on this earth without pissing in your wine cup and complimenting the taste. You are feeble, and senseless, and cowardly, and every second in your presence makes any and all fathomable hells seem lukewarm. So don’t try to convince me, for even a second, that you care about me, or Asivus, or my family, or anyone else, because as long as we’re in my house, we will be taking every action to ensure that you speak the least amount of words possible, so that the air I breath doesn’t get further tainted with your putrid, disgusting breath.

...

Well. Got it all out of your system, then?

...What—

This was a good one! I’ll admit; an improvement. I remember your other outburst...few years back. You probably don’t remember it; ‘twas a few days after the wedding.

Would you shut. Up.

Oh, Link, dear my boy. If I got so easy cut by weak words like that, I won’t have tolerated Assivus for as long as I did.

I—

But this was good! Shows you’ve still got a strong spine in you. Those years as a Captain has done the number in, I should know. My own father gave me the saaaaame talk. It’s always nice to know the future is in control.

Listen you—gh—!

No. I think that’s enough. You listen here now, Link.

See this collar? This dashing uniform you’ve got on? These little medals by your neck? That’s mine. I own this. I cultivated this. And that sword? And those boots? And the very skill in your hands—that was all from me. I can stand here, holding your shirt and neck for as many hours as I want because it’s mine. I’ll do what I want with it. It’s Hartell made and owned, first and foremost. The only reason a luscious lock of hair on your head is worth a damn is because I gave it value. I’m the only one that sees any value. I saw the value in your cute little face. I saw the value in your homosexual nonsense. I saw the value in your children. I even saw the value in your husband’s brittle bones. And further now, I see value in your weak attempts at reconnection with your brother. I mean he’s proprietary now, isn’t he? Genetic gag gimmick finally doing some good.

But you know what I don’t value, Link? You know what I don’t care for? I don’t care what you think of me. I don’t caaaare if you think I’m miserable, I don’t see the point, in trying to convince, or not convince, you otherwise. It simply couldn’t matter less to me. If I spent time caring about such ideas, I wouldn’t have time to enjoy the fruits of life, hm? The little nudges here and there are cute and all, but don’t try and tell yourself that you’re winning any battle here. At the end of the day, no matter what, you have me to thank for everything. I am content with that knowledge, and you are not. That’s the simple, yet grievous difference.

You and I both know that you’re nothing. Every ounce of “Arcadius” or whatever, has long been scooped out and replaced with perfection. If you break now, you start to play teenage rebel like your brother, you’ll find nothing else in there. And that nothing, couldn’t possibly hold up any life or magic story you dream of. It’s just me.

Unless...you have proof of other wise? Perhaps you still have a contrasting sentiment? Want to say something to me again, hmm Link? Oh brave and cunning Captain? Really now, it makes no difference to me. Go on, pull away from my grip, walk out that door, say your fairytale one liner, and I’ll, be, gone. Go on. Here’s your cue.

... ... ...

Hm. That’s what I thought. Now go bring the full bottle of this Akkalain stuff, it’s quite good, I’ll take it for the evening. Mhm. Right, yes, thank you.

See, that’s what I always loved about you, you’re smart. You don’t just think about the now; you’ve got the whole picture in mind. Assivus was always, “me, me, me, my, my, my.” Too focused on the emotions, never growing out of it. But you! You understand. There’s more things to care about then one’s ego you know. And one day you’ll teach your son those lessons, just like I taught you.

...

Don’t be too glum now. You’ve got a future all bright and set! Even just here, with your common husband and house and such.

Mm, but you know, you’re right. Perhaps it’s all folly to stick with “Link” when your son is here and growing. I’ll try slipping into the “Captain Arcadius” title you’ve given yourself a bit more. ‘S Got a better ring to it.

Besides, at this point we both know you’re not the hero, isn’t that right Arcadius?

... ... Yes, Father.

#Captain Arcadius #Ligero Hartell

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ushiwakatrash · 3 years

Text

On your knees, King! (Part 2)

Bakugou x reader, Todoroki x reader

Fantasy AU

!Warnings!: Swearing, betrayal, lil dash of angst, shitty writing

Synopsis:

Bakugou is the esteemed King of the Kingdom of Barbarians and because he succeeded in ruling the lands that were once governed by the Yuuei Kingdom, an offering must be made for the peace of the people. As the so-called ‘black sheep’ of the royal family, the King of Yuuei a.k.a. your father, offered you--naming you the most precious thing he could give; but you know the truth behind his words.

PART II

← Part 1 Part 3 →

The whole night Prince Shouto held you in his arms, gently running his hand through your hair as he cooed you to stop crying.

“Oh Sho, if only our engagement was not cancelled then I could have been happy to live the rest of my days with my best friend. But alas, this is only wishful thinking”

These words struck his heart as he yearned for the princess even more. His heart had been hers to begin with, ever since they were kids, ever since they met one beautiful morning in the garden where their parents often had tea.

Knowing she was to be given away when she was supposed to be his pained him. She saw the marriage as her marrying her best friend but for him, there is no one else who he is willing to grow old with rather than (Y/n).

A bitter taste was left in his mouth and before he even knew it, a tear started to roll down his face. The world had always been unfair for him and he almost had the only thing he could ever want, the Barbarians had to take that away from him too.

“Princess, I am still hoping your father changes his mind. I will try to convince him as best as I can” Todoroki softly said. He knew the chances were too slim but he still had to try.

His last string of hope got cut when he saw the broken smile of the princess. “I don’t think there’s anything we can do at this point. My father has already signed the papers. My life is over, Sho.”

“Don’t say that, milady. It may not be so bad. For sure they do things differently but I know they won’t treat you poorly. You are a grand token from the Kingdom of Yuuei and the um... future... queen of the.. Barbarians” The prince’s hands fell to his side and he balled his fists.

“You dont deserve this, (Y/n). I truly wish I could do something. I can’t give you up to that unsightly king! I... just can’t take it..” slowly Shouto got up and turned his back on you.

“Sho, what’s wrong?” he started walking towards the door and flashed a small sad smile “I don’t want to lose you, but it looks like the future is set on doing so. Rest, (Y/n). Goodnight.”

Silence surrounded the room and the princess was left alone to her thoughts once more. “Should I make that Bakugou hate me so he would want to get rid of me? Oh wait, if I become a nuisance, he might just go for my head!” she said to herself.

“If I do what he wishes, he might treat me well...” all that thinking and crying finally took over on the girl’s body and soon enough she fell asleep.

As the Prince excited her room, he felt his legs stagger and when he was already further down the hallway, his knees finally gave up. Immense pain clouded his heart as the news finally hit him.

He grew up with her, he shared his pain with her and he was ready to see her seated beside him when it was their time to rule over their empires. All because of that stupid king, all of his dreams were crushed.

Memories of them came flashing in his mind and he smiled a little when he remembered the time he fell in love.

“I can’t stand how you look like your father!” those were the words he heard before the scorching heat of boiling water kissed his delicate face. What hurt the most was that his own mother was behind the ugly burn mark that’s starting to eat away his pale skin.

“AAAAAAAAAAH! NO PLEASE MOTHER, STOP IT!!!” the child prince’s cries filled up the whole room. The queen couldn’t believe what she had done and dropped everything she was holding. One of the guards herd the commotion and stood frozen as he saw the scene unfolding in front of him.

“M-ma’am, what happened here?” his shaky voice asked. “I- I d-didn’t mean i-it! It’s his father’s fault! Everything is his father’s fault!” Soon more guards entered the room and some escorted the prince to find medical assistance.

“Get the king, quick! We don’t know if we can arrest her majesty or not”

King Enji, mostly known as King Endeavor, quickly rushed to the room where his knights led him and saw the mess his wife had made. Knowing how big of a scandal this would cause, he announced that the queen had gone ill but in fact, she was hidden away in a room deep in the palace where only selected maids were to tend to her.

If ever palace staff were to spread the truth about Rei Todoroki, their heads would be chopped off in an instant. Out of the fear of the king and of course their lives, no one said a word.

When Princess (Y/n) heard the news she quickly dragged her personal maid out of the castle and demanded for a carriage pronto. Her palace staff scrambled to their feet to comply to the princess in a hurry.

“Quick, to the Todoroki Castle, something bad had happened. Please sir make the carriage fly if you have to!” she pleaded. They knew their sweet little princess never demanded anything from them so this must have been a real emergency.

When they reached their destination, (Y/n) jumped out of their vehicle and run towards her friend’s room. Her visit startled the maids because she had come without prior notice.

In a loud authoritative (but cute) voice she ordered the maids to immediately take her to Shoto. Without even knocking, the princess busted the door open and took the boy in his arms.

Instantly, Shoto felt the comfort the princess was trying to give. He cried as she cooed sweet words in his ear. When the prince calmed a little, the little girl cupped his tear stained face and gave a little kiss on his nose.

“You know Sho, you’ll always be the most handsome prince to me. Your face may change but you’ll always be my Sho!” she then kissed his scar and engulfed him in another hug “You’ll always be my prince Sho. It’s okay to get hurt and cry but you have to pick yourself up too. How will my prince protect me if he keeps looking down?” the sweet girl then beamed at him.

Her contagious smile made way to his and he knew everything would be alright. The girl had said everything he needed to hear.

So when Shoto fell for her, he sure fell damn hard.

Back to the present, a red strong dragon had just landed in the balcony of the royal castle of the Barbarians. He roared to let his master know he was home.

“What did you see, Kirishima?” the King went to pet his mystical dragon. In human form, the dragon would be able to talk so after receiving his well earned pats on the head, Kirishima transformed to a young buff man with sharp hair as red as his beautiful scales.

The red head knelt on one knee and proceeded to tell King Bakugou the events that happened. “Oh so she and that Todoroki bastard are friends, huh? But really, a grown ass woman sleeping over at his fucking castle? Tch. I’d rather not have that dual color haired bastard taint what’s going to be mine!” the Barbarian King was not happy with the scenes relayed to him by his loyal steed.

“(Y/n)... you better toughen it up if you wanna stay a fucking queen in my palace.”

Taglist: @cathwritestragediesnotsins @itsmysticalmystery

Send a message if you want to be on the taglist ♥

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fortheloveoffanfic · 3 years

Text

Protective Service

John Wick x Reader

Masterlist Protective Service Masterlist

Chapter 8 Abush

After the night of the gala, things had been frigid and eerily silent; John hadn’t added anything and Y/n made no attempt to smoothen things over between them. Instead, they’d resigned themselves to only sharing a room when absolutely necessary, which meant that from the minute they got in on evenings, John would wordlessly retreat to his room, not to be seen until the next morning when they were ready to leave again. It was hard, but they were both exceptional at pretending that the tense silence didn’t bother them. Y/n had thrown herself into work, gratefully occupied with putting things in place for her new agreement with Balinksi, while Donavan provided welcome distractions during down time. Likewise, John had busied himself by setting up a small book binding station in his large bedroom; situating a desk near the glass wall facing the opposing buildings and peppering the top with his materials. It was a good way to occupy himself and John liked that it usually took up so much concentration that he couldn’t completely focus on thoughts of Y/n. Going on two weeks had passed and though they were hurting on the inside, both John and Y/n were equally stubborn and couldn’t be broken easily.

That night was no different to any other Thursday; Y/n had stayed late just so she could leave early the next Friday and John had stationed himself outside of her door while she worked. Donavan had left early, though Y/n hadn’t bothered with nosing around for a reason; she trusted him enough. It was past one am when she’d finally called it quits for the night, her eyes heavy and limbs weighed down with tire as she dragged herself down the metal steps. At that point, Y/n was pretty sure she could fall asleep standing up without much effort.

The chill was evident when they finally broke out of the warehouse, though from the minute they stepped onto the pathway to the car something felt different. John was the one to stop Y/n by outstretching his arm, his free hand landing on the gun in his belt holster as his eyes scanned the darkened property. “You should-”

The first bang, or rather, the first three, hand them both scrambling for cover at the side of the car. From that vantage point, it was easy to see that just moments prior, someone had yanked the passenger’s door open and shot Y/n’s driver. The older man’s head had been splattered against the glass and Y/n could only hope that she wouldn’t end up like that by the end of the night. When the second slew of bullets rained down on the car, their offenders seemed much closer and Y/n could easily identify the panic that had started raising in her chest. “We need to get you inside,” John gritted, trying to peer through the tinted windows to assess their possibly perilous predicament, knowing that the closer they got, the worse things would get. And they were definitely getting closer.

“I’m not leaving,” she gritted, “I can help you, just-”

Shaking his head, John raised abruptly, firing a couple shots, mortally wounding at least one of the shooters. “No, its too dangerous,” John hissed, a bullet missing head by just a hair as he crouched next to Y/n to reload. “You need to get in there and let me do my job.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Y/n argued, “There’s like six of them, you need help and I’m a good shot.”

“You’re also the target. Now stop arguing with me.” For only the briefest moment, John put his gun down, just to shrug off his jacket and offer it to Y/n, “Put this on, try to cover your head,” he breathed heavily, already trying to get the clothing on Y/n, “You have your gun, right?” She nodded vigorously, fury evident in her eyes “And its loaded?” Y/n nodded again, “Good, get your keys and leave your bag under there,” he gestured to beneath the car as he hurriedly explained, “Stay low-”

“I can’t let you do this on your own,” Y/n’s breaths were ragged and her heart felt right about ready to burst out of her chest, though the last thing she was about to admit was fear. She was no coward, and she certainly wasn’t one to back down from a fight. “It’s too far anyway, we should just get in the car and-”

“We leave and they’ll follow us,” cutting her off, John kept cool under the pressure and unafraid of the danger they were caught in and reflecting what Y/n hoped she’d been portraying. He was focused and goal oriented; nothing was going to stop him from getting Y/n out of there alive. “Listen to me; you have your keys and your, gun stay low until you make it to the door, the jacket will protect you when they shoot, but you have to move quickly. Cover your head and lock the door when you get inside,” he emphasized.

“John-”

“Go,” in an instant, John was shoving her to action, standing, unprotected and completely vulnerable as he fired another round; disarming one and taking down another. There were only three more to go. A slight turn of his head had confirmed that Y/n had just started fumbling with the lock and as much as John wanted to go over to help her, he knew that it was best for him to stand his ground where he stood. The car could still shield him, and seeing as he was no longer afforded the protection of his tactical blazer, he needed all the cover he could get.

“She’s getting away!” The man’s accent was thick and definitely Irish. That was the least of John’s concern at the moment though, and from the second the hulking frame made a dash to move around the car to get to Y/n, John got him in the leg, using the last two bullets in his cartridge to end the man’s life, stooping to hastily reload as shots continued to fly, even as Y/n shut the front doors of the building.

“You can’t hide forever you little bitch!” Even as another Irish man spat the words, John stood again, sending a shot between his eyes before aiming two more at his chest. After that, it wasn’t long before it was one against two. He could take them, John knew he could, he’d just need to figure out the logistics first, finding an angle where he could get at both of them.

Slowly, alternating between shooting and ducking down, John stayed close to the doors, watching as his remaining opponents cautiously moved around the car. At some point though, probably sensing his tire, one of them lunged at him, starting a more physical combat. Thankfully, John was versed there too, easily besting the burly man.

It was almost over and though John’s muscles were burning with exertion, his bruises throbbed with pain and there was blood from a gash in his head clouding his vision. He pushed himself into a standing position, grabbing his gun in the process, only to find that it was empty and that he’d exhausted his supply of bullets. “Just give up Wick,” the remaining man dropped the arm holding his gun to the side, probably thinking that John would be ready to surrender, “You’re too old to win this fight.”

“Yeah?” Turning his head to the side, John spat the blood that had started tainting his tongue, “Put that gun away and let's find out, cause you're not leaving here with her.”

“Your loyalty is going to get killed,” he stuffed his gun into his belt, approaching John and readying his fists for a fight, not hesitating to take the first swing, which he inevitably missed, “Don’t worry, you’re luck’s about to run out.”

What ensued was a trading of brutal punches, elbows directed at varying soft spots and strained kicks that took either men to the ground once or twice. The fight was dirty, and they weren’t back at the Ruska Roma where their aim wasn’t to kill; they were in a parking lot fighting over someone’s life. But John wasn’t going to let some Irish scum kill his charge.

At some point, John’s opponent reached for his gun again and when it was in hand, they fought over that too, both struggling to control the aim. With someone’s finger on the trigger, a shot was fired towards the night sky, though, it wasn’t long before John had barrel wedged against the man’s stomach, he was just about to squeeze the trigger again when his Irish counterpart kneed him in the abdomen taking control for a minute. It hadn’t been a handful of seconds later when he could feel the metal mouth pressed against his chest, and that was when John knew his options were truly limited. He was going to get shot, the only thing he had some semblance of control over was where. Adamant on living, John grabbed the man’s hands, dragging them downwards to the left side of his stomach and taking the opportunity to try to shove him away, just as the loud sound threatened to deafen them both.

It was excruciating and the pain near blinded him, eliciting a loud grunt in consequence as the little metal object ripped through his flesh, thankfully not making it through the other side. “Fuck!” John growled, pain radiating through his entire abdomen. But still he persisted, even if albeit, a little slower. Still, his strength was fueled by insurmountable will and with blood soaking his shirt, his breathing labored and the blood loss leaving him staggering and grappling to stay in control of his consciousness.

The task had been a trying one, though soon John wrestled the gun of the younger man’s hand, catching him in the chest, surly wreaking havoc on a lung. Though, even if he’d fallen and John’s knees had buckled soon after, he knew he couldn’t trust it to be enough. But there weren’t anymore bullets in the gun and his eyes were growing increasingly heavier. That was it, he couldn’t fight anymore, at least, not that night and the hope that Y/n could hold her own was the only thing that gave him the thinnest thread of ease.

Otherwise, he would have failed her.

And if John failed her, he didn’t think he’d want to wake up anyway.

Y/n hadn't made it too far; she wasn’t willing to leave anything up to chance. So instead, she’d stayed at the front, with her back pressed to the locked door, holding her breath just so she wouldn’t be hampered from hearing anything going on outside. Every time she heard a shot, Y/n’s heart skipped a beat, and even if she wasn’t crying, her eyes stung. The last time she’d been that scared was the night she’d found her father bleeding out. She hadn’t been afraid for herself, she was afraid of losing him. But that night, Y/n couldn’t tell; It all seemed to be going so fast and, in the end she’d waited until an eerie silence had descended upon the entire compound before creeping out once again.

Her gun, the one she’d been gifted so long ago, was clutched in one hand, while the other kept John’s jacket closed at the front. The clothing had swallowed her up, falling all the way down to her thighs, while the arms seemed a little more than double what she’d usually wore. Y/n vaguely thought that she must have looked the part of a child in John’s coat, and really, the way she felt could have been likened to the way a child felt; helpless and utterly afraid of what laid in wait the vast darkness.

From the minute she stepped out, the metallic smell of fresh blood mixing with gunpowder assaulted her senses and in the low light, Y/n could spot the silhouettes of dead bodies. Almost everyone seemed accounted for; all except two; one of the shooters and John. Her finger was ready on the trigger, and even in the most dire of circumstances, her aim was faultless, still undertones of unsung fear lurked in the pit of her belly. Y/n walked, trying not to make any sudden noises to draw attention to herself lest someone be waiting, she moved around the car, barely noticing that the only signs of a gun exchange on the vehicle was scratched paint. As she finally reached the other side, Y/n’s breath hitched upon realizing that there hadn’t been silence after all, just soft and laborious breaths as two badly beaten men hung on to life, one conscious, the other not so much.

“Shit,” she hissed, thinking the worst as she ran over to John’s side, looking for the source of bleeding, eventually pressing her hand over a wound beneath his ribs. Her common sense told her that she needed to stop the bleeding, while her will to survive preached that she needed to finish the last of her attackers off. With her mind going a mile a minute, Y/n decided that she had to do both.

Scrambling to stand, Y/n lined up two shots with steady hands in quick succession; one in the middle of his chest and another in his head, “Fucking Irish,” she grumbled, watching the last bits of life drain from his form, only broken out of the trance by a soft groan from near by. “John?” Immediately, her attention all went to one place; him. “John,” Y/n whispered again, lifting his head onto her lap and pressing down on his wound again, “Hey,” she cradled his head with her free hand, “You’re gonna be okay, alright? Just give me some time and you’re gonna be okay.”

She had to get him out of there, to the Continental, where he could see a doctor and recuperate safely. “Alright,” Y/n whispered, mostly to herself, before standing again and hurriedly going to pull the back door of the car open. Next was actually getting him in. It was a trying feat; John was considerably heavier than anything she’d ever lifted and the fact that he was largely unconscious almost made him deadweight. She eventually succumbed to dragging his body by hooking her arms under his shoulders, wincing every time she almost dropped him. The backwards trek to the car felt long and by the time Y/n had, by some miracle, gotten John into the car, her lungs burned, she was warm despite the cool spring air and her arms hurt. But there was no time for breaks.

Almost tripping and slipping in the pools of blood, Y/n jogged around to the other side, grabbing her bag up from off the ground before opening the front door, pulling her dead driver out of the seat and then taking his place behind the wheel. After that, it took a minute of fumbling around before she found the keys and got the engine started, gabbing up her cell and seeking out a familiar number as she drove. Y/n was recklessly turning out into the street when he finally picked up, “Vila, what’s up? It’s late.”

It was late, past three am according to her phone, yet Donavan didn’t sound like he’d been asleep, “I need you to come down to the clubhouse, I’m leaving now, but its a mess. You need to get down here, make a dinner reservation-”

“What?” She could hear his surprise, the twinge of fear that was laced with his words, fear for her life, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” another hastily shifting of the wheel took them to the main road and Y/n’s foot was heavy on the gas as she thanked her lucky stars that the streets were clear, leaving her to whistle past everything in sight, “John’s not. We were ambushed by the Irish,” on the other end, Y/n could hear Donavan swear under his breath, “He dealt with them, but he got shot. I’m taking him to the Continental-”

“Okay, I’ll meet you there,” he cut her off again but Y/n didn’t bother to waste time listening.

“No,” firmly, pushed forward, adrenaline driving her to take the car to its limits. She’d driven fast, but never that fast, though, it didn’t seem near fast enough. One hundred miles per hour or one eighty something; John was still bleeding out and every second more was a second that she came closer to losing him. Y/n couldn’t lose him, not when there was so much she hadn’t said. “No, you need to get to the factory, deal with that shit,” finally the heart of the city came into view and Y/n had already started working out a map of the shortest route to the hotel in her head, “When its done, call me and I’ll tell you what to do next. Got it?”

He hesitated, but eventually submitted, “Got it. I’ll-”

Before he could finish, Y/n had hung up, wasting no time before pulling up Winston’s number, not caring if she woke him up, just wanting him to get the doctor ready for John. Thankfully, that call turned out to be much shorter and by the time Y/n was coming to a screeching halt in front of the unassuming building, Charon, along with a few other workers and a doctor were there to help her.

It had felt like a day and change, but really, it had barely been just over two and a half hours. The clarity of dawn had just started to clear the night sky and the small room was crowded with a few familiar faces. Winston and Charon had stayed nearer to the bed as the doctor worked slowly, making sure to check for any readily unidentifiable injuries, while Y/n kept her distance, leaning on the wall near the window, staring blankly at the streets below. She was too caught in her web of thoughts to do much else. There was just so much going in her head;

Why would the Irish just come after her out of the blue?

Was it because of the deal she’d made with Balinski? Old grudges? Something else entirely?

There was something off about the attack too. There were too little of them, and they’d waited until she was outside instead of coming through the door, where they might have better accomplished the element of surprise. It felt too random, disorganized and completely different from the way they’d taken out her parents. There was no premeditation, no message or meaning. Maybe she’d been reading too much into things, but Y/n could have sworn that there was just something about them waiting outside to just take a chance at shooting at her that didn’t seem like their style.

Then, there was John. Seeing him on the cold ground like that, covered in blood and almost totally unresponsive had scared Y/n, making her realize that the fright she’d felt while hiding wasn’t a fear she’d had of being caught, it was the fear of losing him. Losing him when he still thought she didn’t care, losing him when she’d been too stubborn to tell him that he was the first person she’d cared about that deeply but above all, simply losing him. It was hard to admit at first, but as she’d held him there in the parking lot, Y/n had decided; upon the next opportunity, she’d tell him everything she’d been holding onto.

*******

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea

#keanu reeves #john wick #keanu reeves x you #john wick x you #john wick x reader #john wick fanfic #fanfic #fanficton #john wick au #protective service #protective service chapter 8

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prettywordsyouleft · 4 years

Text

Bloodstone | Part 1

Summary: You knew all about the ring your grandmother had told you about and yet when the stone fell from it one fateful day, you weren’t truly prepared for its return, nor who it came back with.

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x reader

Genre: fantasy / romance

Warnings: talk of witchcraft, and a bit too much LOTR banter >_>

Index: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

After the initial shock wore off and your legs regained their feeling, you cradled your hand to your chest, protecting it as you swiftly moved through the afternoon crowds to the closest subway station. There, you grew more apprehensive once the underground train hurtled its way across the grid to where you needed to be the most. After departing the subway, you walked as fast as your legs would carry you to the little shop at the very end of an alleyway, opening the door and listening to the bell above it chime in your arrival.

The store owner lifted his glasses further up the bridge of his nose in curiosity, only to sigh when he saw you there. Yoongi then narrowed his gaze at your evidently anxious state and stood up. “Are you alright, Y/N?”

“It finally happened, Yoongi!”

“What did?”

“The ring!” you cried, thrusting your hand out at the man as you approached the counter, looking at him for a cure. You were beyond reason now and your best friend merely contemplated the situation before him and then scrunched up his face in disbelief.

“Are you… high?”

“Oh my god, really?!” you breathed with frustration and Yoongi grimaced.

“Well, put yourself in my shoes right now. You sound really crazy.”

“Maybe I will go crazy. She always said it would test everything about me.”

Yoongi slumped back down on the stool behind the counter, though he didn’t shift his concerned gaze from your face. “Your grandmother? Didn’t she give you that ring when you were ten?”

So he did remember. Nodding with relief, you placed your hand down on top of the glass countertop, the overhead lights now illuminating your hand brightly. The tarnished silver reflected the light, the gaping hole in the center of the ring only further emphasised. Your best friend leaned in and inspected the wounded piece of jewellery.

“Maybe the stone fell out because this ring is ancient,” he offered but you shook your head adamantly. The ring was old, but it was strong. You had once tried to remove the stone yourself. It was wedged in there for good.

Or so you had thought.

“Do you remember what my grandmother used to say?”

“A whole lot of gibberish?” Yoongi stated with a wry smile and then shrugged. “I dunno, Y/N. I used to go to her house with you so I could get some sleep. Her couch was the comfiest…”

“Because she had put a spell on it for those who had tired bones could rest well,” you murmured and Yoongi snapped his dark gaze up to your face with surprise. You were equally astonished. “Please don’t tell me you never once noticed she was a witch, Yoongi.”

“I just thought she was kooky like some old women can be,” he sheepishly responded, scratching at the back of his head. “Really? She was a witch?”

“I wish she had taught me more than I know now. It was all good to warn me, but what am I meant to do without her powers?”

“What did she used to say?” Yoongi asked, pulling out a pen and paper from beside the cashier.

“That the stone in this ring wasn’t from here, and one day it would return to its world. She told me when that happened I’d have to be ready for a test that will challenge me in every way possible.”

“I feel like I just stepped into Lord of The Rings,” Yoongi muttered and you cocked your head to the side to give him an unimpressed look. “Look, hobbits aside, the information she gave you isn’t very specific. Where was the stone from?”

“She couldn’t tell me, just not from a human race.”

Yoongi visibly swallowed before continuing. “Okay, what about why? Why with its return to the world it came from does this affect you?”

“Because I wear the ring?” you guessed and Yoongi groaned, pointing at you incredulously.

“Yes! Why did you wear something so god damn dangerous for?! You could have said, no thank you grandmother, I want to live a normal life, instead of taking on the ring of Mordor and I don’t know, tainting us all with this quest of yours that you’re now on!”

Rolling your eyes at Yoongi, you shook your head. “Just because you run a comic bookstore doesn’t mean we live in a world where…”

You trailed off with the pointed look Yoongi gave you as he folded his arms over his chest. You let out a huff in defeat.

“So you wore this ring since you were ten,” Yoongi refocused. “And now today the stone disappears. Do you feel different?”

“Well, apart from the stress from losing it, no. But today isn’t just any day, Yoongi.”

You implored him to think and his mouth fell ajar, nodding softly. “It’s been a year since your mother…”

“I don’t think it’s a coincidence the stone left this world exactly a year after my mother did,” you managed to say, blinking rapidly and looking up at Yoongi through an increasing veil of tears. “If anything, I would connect the two.”

“I hate that your words sound logical to me right now,” he admitted with a heavy sigh. “So we have no knowledge of what to do next, why this is happening, or anything really. How is this being prepared?”

You wondered the same thing.

Namjoon hadn’t stopped staring at the bloodstone since he first saw it. He had simply sat back down at his desk and cast his gaze upon it for an immeasurable while.

Whilst his body was completely still, his mind was anything but. Warnings of his father from the past flooded his mind, holding him back from the temptation of reaching out to inspect the stone closely. He had looked at it from almost every angle now, fascinated by the perfectly structured gem. He had never seen such beauty before and he had played a part in sending some of the rarest of stones to earth over the years. The red was not dark like a garnet and yet not nearly as bright as a ruby either. It was rich and full, enticing him to continue his examination. He wondered if the stone would be as warm to touch as it was to look upon. Blinking away his hazy thoughts, Namjoon clamped his hands to the base of his seat, pushing back the desire mounting within him.

He wouldn’t touch this stone.

But after another length of time and an equally strong longing to just pick it up once and then put it back down, Namjoon knew he had to put space between him and the bloodstone.

“You’re luring me in, aren’t you?” he murmured at the wicked thing, getting up and walking over to the farthest spot in his studio. However, he couldn’t train his gaze to stay away from the stone, chewing on his bottom lip in deliberation.

Was it really that bad? He had been told not to do many things in his life and found out later it was out of fear something bad could have happened. He had survived through them all. And where had the stone even come from? Could it have fallen from the Heavens? Travelled from Earth? Either place, Namjoon yearned to travel to. Especially after the loss of his father all those years ago.

He wished the man was here now to guide him away from the very stone he had warned him countless times to never get involved with.

“I won’t do it,” he concluded, nodding weakly at his decision. Turning to switch off the lights in the room so he could head into the main house he shared with his sister, Namjoon gave a final look at the red glow around the room and shut the door.

Only to re-enter mere moments later with haste. “I need to hide you in case Marian finds you.”

The fear of his sister touching what had been forbidden by his father made Namjoon dash around the studio, looking for a box and something to gently guide the stone into it. And, because he was so focused on doing just this, he wasn’t as aware of his actual surroundings, tripping over the leg of his stool as he hurried over to the desk.

It all happened too fast to prevent calamity. The tools he held dropped from his hands as he fell onto the desk, his chest being the first part of him to connect with the gem. An image of a human woman appeared in his mind right as he felt the stone absorb him entirely.

The studio was now empty of both the bloodstone and its keeper.

_________________

Part 2

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mountainpoem · 3 years

Text

Song of the Open Road by Walt Whitman

1 Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road, Healthy, free, the world before me, The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose. Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune, Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing, Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms, Strong and content I travel the open road. The earth, that is sufficient, I do not want the constellations any nearer, I know they are very well where they are, I know they suffice for those who belong to them. (Still here I carry my old delicious burdens, I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever I go, I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them, I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.) 2 You road I enter upon and look around, I believe you are not all that is here, I believe that much unseen is also here. Here the profound lesson of reception, nor preference nor denial, The black with his woolly head, the felon, the diseas’d, the illiterate person, are not denied; The birth, the hasting after the physician, the beggar’s tramp, the drunkard’s stagger, the laughing party of mechanics, The escaped youth, the rich person’s carriage, the fop, the eloping couple, The early market-man, the hearse, the moving of furniture into the town, the return back from the town, They pass, I also pass, any thing passes, none can be interdicted, None but are accepted, none but shall be dear to me. 3 You air that serves me with breath to speak! You objects that call from diffusion my meanings and give them shape! You light that wraps me and all things in delicate equable showers! You paths worn in the irregular hollows by the roadsides! I believe you are latent with unseen existences, you are so dear to me. You flagg’d walks of the cities! you strong curbs at the edges! You ferries! you planks and posts of wharves! you timber-lined sides! you distant ships! You rows of houses! you window-pierc’d façades! you roofs! You porches and entrances! you copings and iron guards! You windows whose transparent shells might expose so much! You doors and ascending steps! you arches! You gray stones of interminable pavements! you trodden crossings! From all that has touch’d you I believe you have imparted to yourselves, and now would impart the same secretly to me, From the living and the dead you have peopled your impassive surfaces, and the spirits thereof would be evident and amicable with me. 4 The earth expanding right hand and left hand, The picture alive, every part in its best light, The music falling in where it is wanted, and stopping where it is not wanted, The cheerful voice of the public road, the gay fresh sentiment of the road. O highway I travel, do you say to me Do not leave me? Do you say Venture not—if you leave me you are lost? Do you say I am already prepared, I am well-beaten and undenied, adhere to me? O public road, I say back I am not afraid to leave you, yet I love you, You express me better than I can express myself, You shall be more to me than my poem. I think heroic deeds were all conceiv’d in the open air, and all free poems also, I think I could stop here myself and do miracles, I think whatever I shall meet on the road I shall like, and whoever beholds me shall like me, I think whoever I see must be happy. 5 From this hour I ordain myself loos’d of limits and imaginary lines, Going where I list, my own master total and absolute, Listening to others, considering well what they say, Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating, Gently,but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that would hold me. I inhale great draughts of space, The east and the west are mine, and the north and the south are mine. I am larger, better than I thought, I did not know I held so much goodness. All seems beautiful to me, I can repeat over to men and women You have done such good to me I would do the same to you, I will recruit for myself and you as I go, I will scatter myself among men and women as I go, I will toss a new gladness and roughness among them, Whoever denies me it shall not trouble me, Whoever accepts me he or she shall be blessed and shall bless me. 6 Now if a thousand perfect men were to appear it would not amaze me, Now if a thousand beautiful forms of women appear’d it would not astonish me. Now I see the secret of the making of the best persons, It is to grow in the open air and to eat and sleep with the earth. Here a great personal deed has room, (Such a deed seizes upon the hearts of the whole race of men, Its effusion of strength and will overwhelms law and mocks all authority and all argument against it.) Here is the test of wisdom, Wisdom is not finally tested in schools, Wisdom cannot be pass’d from one having it to another not having it, Wisdom is of the soul, is not susceptible of proof, is its own proof, Applies to all stages and objects and qualities and is content, Is the certainty of the reality and immortality of things, and the excellence of things; Something there is in the float of the sight of things that provokes it out of the soul. Now I re-examine philosophies and religions, They may prove well in lecture-rooms, yet not prove at all under the spacious clouds and along the landscape and flowing currents. Here is realization, Here is a man tallied—he realizes here what he has in him, The past, the future, majesty, love—if they are vacant of you, you are vacant of them. Only the kernel of every object nourishes; Where is he who tears off the husks for you and me? Where is he that undoes stratagems and envelopes for you and me? Here is adhesiveness, it is not previously fashion’d, it is apropos; Do you know what it is as you pass to be loved by strangers? Do you know the talk of those turning eye-balls? 7 Here is the efflux of the soul, The efflux of the soul comes from within through embower’d gates, ever provoking questions, These yearnings why are they? these thoughts in the darkness why are they? Why are there men and women that while they are nigh me the sunlight expands my blood? Why when they leave me do my pennants of joy sink flat and lank? Why are there trees I never walk under but large and melodious thoughts descend upon me? (I think they hang there winter and summer on those trees and always drop fruit as I pass;) What is it I interchange so suddenly with strangers? What with some driver as I ride on the seat by his side? What with some fisherman drawing his seine by the shore as I walk by and pause? What gives me to be free to a woman’s and man’s good-will? what gives them to be free to mine? 8 The efflux of the soul is happiness, here is happiness, I think it pervades the open air, waiting at all times, Now it flows unto us, we are rightly charged. Here rises the fluid and attaching character, The fluid and attaching character is the freshness and sweetness of man and woman, (The herbs of the morning sprout no fresher and sweeter every day out of the roots of themselves, than it sprouts fresh and sweet continually out of itself.) Toward the fluid and attaching character exudes the sweat of the love of young and old, From it falls distill’d the charm that mocks beauty and attainments, Toward it heaves the shuddering longing ache of contact. 9 Allons! whoever you are come travel with me! Traveling with me you find what never tires. The earth never tires, The earth is rude, silent, incomprehensible at first, Nature is rude and incomprehensible at first, Be not discouraged, keep on, there are divine things well envelop’d, I swear to you there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell. Allons! we must not stop here, However sweet these laid-up stores, however convenient this dwelling we cannot remain here, However shelter’d this port and however calm these waters we must not anchor here, However welcome the hospitality that surrounds us we are permitted to receive it but a little while. 10 Allons! the inducements shall be greater, We will sail pathless and wild seas, We will go where winds blow, waves dash, and the Yankee clipper speeds by under full sail. Allons! with power, liberty, the earth, the elements, Health, defiance, gayety, self-esteem, curiosity; Allons! from all formules! From your formules, O bat-eyed and materialistic priests. The stale cadaver blocks up the passage—the burial waits no longer. Allons! yet take warning! He traveling with me needs the best blood, thews, endurance, None may come to the trial till he or she bring courage and health, Come not here if you have already spent the best of yourself, Only those may come who come in sweet and determin’d bodies, No diseas’d person, no rum-drinker or venereal taint is permitted here. (I and mine do not convince by arguments, similes, rhymes, We convince by our presence.) 11 Listen! I will be honest with you, I do not offer the old smooth prizes, but offer rough new prizes, These are the days that must happen to you: You shall not heap up what is call’d riches, You shall scatter with lavish hand all that you earn or achieve, You but arrive at the city to which you were destin’d, you hardly settle yourself to satisfaction before you are call’d by an irresistible call to depart, You shall be treated to the ironical smiles and mockings of those who remain behind you, What beckonings of love you receive you shall only answer with passionate kisses of parting, You shall not allow the hold of those who spread their reach’d hands toward you. 12 Allons! after the great Companions, and to belong to them! They too are on the road—they are the swift and majestic men—they are the greatest women, Enjoyers of calms of seas and storms of seas, Sailors of many a ship, walkers of many a mile of land, Habituès of many distant countries, habituès of far-distant dwellings, Trusters of men and women, observers of cities, solitary toilers, Pausers and contemplators of tufts, blossoms, shells of the shore, Dancers at wedding-dances, kissers of brides, tender helpers of children, bearers of children, Soldiers of revolts, standers by gaping graves, lowerers-down of coffins, Journeyers over consecutive seasons, over the years, the curious years each emerging from that which preceded it, Journeyers as with companions, namely their own diverse phases, Forth-steppers from the latent unrealized baby-days, Journeyers gayly with their own youth, journeyers with their bearded and well-grain’d manhood, Journeyers with their womanhood, ample, unsurpass’d, content, Journeyers with their own sublime old age of manhood or womanhood, Old age, calm, expanded, broad with the haughty breadth of the universe, Old age, flowing free with the delicious near-by freedom of death. 13 Allons! to that which is endless as it was beginningless, To undergo much, tramps of days, rests of nights, To merge all in the travel they tend to, and the days and nights they tend to, Again to merge them in the start of superior journeys, To see nothing anywhere but what you may reach it and pass it, To conceive no time, however distant, but what you may reach it and pass it, To look up or down no road but it stretches and waits for you, however long but it stretches and waits for you, To see no being, not God’s or any, but you also go thither, To see no possession but you may possess it, enjoying all without labor or purchase, abstracting the feast yet not abstracting one particle of it, To take the best of the farmer’s farm and the rich man’s elegant villa, and the chaste blessings of the well-married couple, and the fruits of orchards and flowers of gardens, To take to your use out of the compact cities as you pass through, To carry buildings and streets with you afterward wherever you go, To gather the minds of men out of their brains as you encounter them, to gather the love out of their hearts, To take your lovers on the road with you, for all that you leave them behind you, To know the universe itself as a road, as many roads, as roads for traveling souls. All parts away for the progress of souls, All religion, all solid things, arts, governments—all that was or is apparent upon this globe or any globe, falls into niches and corners before the procession of souls along the grand roads of the universe. Of the progress of the souls of men and women along the grand roads of the universe, all other progress is the needed emblem and sustenance. Forever alive, forever forward, Stately, solemn, sad, withdrawn, baffled, mad, turbulent, feeble, dissatisfied, Desperate, proud, fond, sick, accepted by men, rejected by men, They go! they go! I know that they go, but I know not where they go, But I know that they go toward the best—toward something great. Whoever you are, come forth! or man or woman come forth! You must not stay sleeping and dallying there in the house, though you built it, or though it has been built for you. Out of the dark confinement! out from behind the screen! It is useless to protest, I know all and expose it. Behold through you as bad as the rest, Through the laughter, dancing, dining, supping, of people, Inside of dresses and ornaments, inside of those wash’d and trimm’d faces, Behold a secret silent loathing and despair. No husband, no wife, no friend, trusted to hear the confession, Another self, a duplicate of every one, skulking and hiding it goes, Formless and wordless through the streets of the cities, polite and bland in the parlors, In the cars of railroads, in steamboats, in the public assembly, Home to the houses of men and women, at the table, in the bedroom, everywhere, Smartly attired, countenance smiling, form upright, death under the breast-bones, hell under the skull-bones, Under the broadcloth and gloves, under the ribbons and artificial flowers, Keeping fair with the customs, speaking not a syllable of itself, Speaking of any thing else but never of itself. 14 Allons! through struggles and wars! The goal that was named cannot be countermanded. Have the past struggles succeeded? What has succeeded? yourself? your nation? Nature? Now understand me well—it is provided in the essence of things that from any fruition of success, no matter what, shall come forth something to make a greater struggle necessary. My call is the call of battle, I nourish active rebellion, He going with me must go well arm’d, He going with me goes often with spare diet, poverty, angry enemies, desertions. 15 Allons! the road is before us! It is safe—I have tried it—my own feet have tried it well—be not detain’d! Let the paper remain on the desk unwritten, and the book on the shelf unopen’d! Let the tools remain in the workshop! let the money remain unearn’d! Let the school stand! mind not the cry of the teacher! Let the preacher preach in his pulpit! let the lawyer plead in the court, and the judge expound the law. Camerado, I give you my hand! I give you my love more precious than money, I give you myself before preaching or law; Will you give me yourself? will you come travel with me? Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?

#song of the open road #walt whitman #poem #poetry #travel #freedom #free #love #beauty #go

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the-silentium · 4 years

Text

Jinx Pt.2

Masterlist

Pairing: The Swedes x Reader

Words: 2260 words

Warnings: Angst, torture, blood, swears... I think that’s about it.

Tags: @jossambird

//General//

//Reset//

//Reset all//

//Enter password//

**************

//Resetting//

As the cog turned onto the screen of your iPad, you felt lighter, free of the anxiety that someone could find a way into your tablet or simply see a drawing by accident. Your fear of hurting your new family was too great, even though they had promised to never touch your device again.

Your relationship with them only got better in the weeks following the revelation of your ability, their acceptance of who you were only increasing the confidence you had in them, leading you to open more about yourself.

You were throwing the tablet into your bag, put on your red squared flannel coat when Oscar's impatient shout came from the entrance of the apartment. You rolled your eyes at his eagerness, clearly, you'd never understand why he loved hunting people down so much. I wasn't your favorite part of a job, your favorite being when the mission was done and you could go relax somewhere or, as of late, pass time with your new family.

"Took you long enough." You rolled your eyes, to what Oscar fake gasped.

"We have all the time we want, relax." Pushing your luck, you ruffled his too perfectly arranged hair, dashing to run for the car where the older brothers were waiting as he went to grab your arm.

Hurriedly you pulled on the 1968 Ford Mustang door handle multiple times, ultimately finding it locked.

"Shit." You muttered, the dead leaves cracking under Oscar's boots alerting you of his presence right behind you.

"You'll regret that." He whispered into your ear, an enormous handful of leaves falling in the back of your shirt making you yelp.

Your back curved at the rough contact, hands flying to the hems of your coat and shirt to make them fall, some of them getting stuck in the fabric despite how hard you shook it.

Otto knocked on the window, signaling that it was time to go, your childish behavior would have to wait for later. You sigh, letting the victory to Oscar -this time-, taking place on the back seats.

The half-hour road would have been pleasant if it wasn't of the leaves crumbles scrapping your back. You tried to ignore it the best you could by humming to the songs on the radio and ignoring Axel's glances in the rearview mirror.

"This place would be scary at nightfall." Oscar said, whistling in admiration when you all gathered at the door of the building.

"Good thing we are not staying here for nightfall then." A shiver ran up your spine at the idea of walking in the abandoned factory in the dark. Who knows what could be hiding in the thrashed rooms.

Axel's hand fell on your shoulder, his gaze searching yours to reassure you that it'll be alright. He'll protect you. His lips did the tiniest of twitch when you smiled wholeheartedly at him, grateful you at least have one brother who you could trust fully to not scare the shit out of you when you'd least expect it.

Otto snatched the keep out sign, throwing it in the bushes. Immediately, you had to suppress your instincts that were screaming at you to get out of there as fast as possible, passing your nerves as a result of Oscar's night plan.

The silence in the building was strange, although not uncommon. You checked a room on the right for your target as Oscar checked a room on the left, regrouping with the others when you found no one.

"Why would a guy hide in here?" You whispered to Oscar, who shrugged. Needles were lying everywhere along with broken glass, old tools, torn pieces of fabric and broken furniture. You couldn't progress as silently as you'd like, glass crunching under the sole of all your boots, rising your anxiety slightly.

You repeated the process a couple more times, checking a room, regrouping, until a metallic door fell from the top of the door frame you just passed, right behind your back trapping you inside a windowless empty room. After recovering from the initial shock, the loud bang of the door landing on the ground almost giving you a heart attack, you tried lifting and pushing the door, not to avail. Bangings came from the other side, Oscar's muffled calls of your name barely reached your ears.

"Oscar! Axel!" You hit the door, your worst fear coming true. "Ott-"

A metallic noise behind you killed your brother's name in your throat, your body reacting as quickly as it could, gun at the ready. The absence of light made you press your back firmly to the door, wishing that maybe you would pass through it by some mysterious phenomenon, the incessant hits on the metal stressing you more and more.

A soft whooshing sound caught your attention on your right, along with a pungent smell. Panicked, you slide on the door, landing on your ass to hide your face into your clothing, praying that your family would get you out of there before the gas had reason of you. You dropped your gun without wanting to, your only source of security disappearing in the dark. You sit there, hearing the banging, feeling your heart rate decreasing, your respiration slowing and you knew. You were screwed.

"Y/N, are you alright? Kärlek!" Axel… He sounded distressed. It… made you feel… worried?

A weird sound registered in your brain, your fingers twitching in response. You jerked as a hand grabbed your wrist, a weak scream leaving your mouth as something poked into your forearm.

The hits on the door became louder, worried voices morphing into menacing ones.

"Sweet dreams, agentin." The distorded voice whispered, a hand softly closing your eyelids for you since you couldn't do it yourself.

*********

You were shivering uncontrollably, the cold air mixed with your wet clothes made it impossible for you to gain some sort of warmth. You were tired, oh so tired, but you fought. You fought as hard as you could. Against the nausea, against the cold, against the exhaustion.

It took a while for you to get seated in the wet tiny cell, the remaining effects of the gas slowly disappearing from your system.

"We can finally get started."

Your head was still turning, your mind was still foggy but your instincts were still sharp. Your body moved by itself, retreating as far as it could from the voice, until binds on your wrists stopped your escape.

"Wh-who are you?" You finally managed to open your eyes, taking in the dark humid cell you were in. Droplet of water ran onto the stone walls, gathering into small puddles where some courageous rats were drinking unbothered. The two oil lamps weren't enlightening much of the room, just enough to show you your dirty cell and all the sharp tools exposed onto the table.

"Did you seriously think the Commission didn't have enemies?" A vicious smile stretched his lips, your blood running cold. He took out a set of keys, unlocking your cell before stepping in.

Honestly, no. It never crossed your mind that a time-traveling company full of mercenaries could have enemies. How the hell did the guys in the Infinite Switchboard missed that?

The binds bit your skin the more you pulled on them, trying to evade his sickening form.

"We knew you'd come for us sooner or later. We just had to set up the perfect time for agents to come do their handy work." He pulled your hair back, a disgusting smell of cigarettes assaulting your nose. "I'm glad to see that our plan worked. So einfach zu betrügen. Ein Haufen Idioten."

You glared at him, your fear overpowered for a moment by your training, your heartbeat slowing to a steady beat, your muscles relaxing, testing the strength of your legs in an urge to hit him where it hurts. And hit him you did.

Satisfaction flowed through you in waves at his cries of pain, the way he fell to his knees almost made you laugh. That was before the knuckles connected to your cheekbone, sending your head right into the wall. You didn't have the time to recover that hands wrapped tightly around your neck, his body straddling yours, restraining your movements.

"No more playing around. Where is your briefcase?"

The pressure alleviated for a second, allowing you time to spit on his face instead of talking like he wanted. He cursed in what you thought to be german before his hands tightened around your throat once more, lifting your neck to pull you back on the ground.

Your cries were muffled by his hands, white lights dancing before your eyes.

"How do you use them?" He yelled into your face.

As his patience reached its limit, your lack of answer pissing him off, the shine of a knife caught your attention just before it cut slowly, steadily into the skin of your abdomen, superficially enough so you wouldn't die on him, but enough to make you think about a new way to approach the situation.

"Maybe this will help untie your tongue."

But it didn't, your mind deeply buried in one of your best memories to resist the pain your body was enduring.

After a while, the pain stopped, letting in its wake an uncomfortable throbbing. You allowed yourself to return to reality, leaving the comfort of your mom's arms, your brother's teasing, your sister's giggles and your father's laugh.

Tears flowed from your eyes as soon as your brain registered the white-hot pain, the new many cuts tainting your belly made you feel like you were burning.

As you dug into your flesh to execute your plan, tears flowed from your eyes, and pleas from your mouth. Pleas for your beloved Swedes to find you in time, because for the first time in 16 years, you wanted to live.

*************

"Ready to talk today?"

The man came back, lamp in hand, chasing the rats as soon as the light revealed them to the world. You'd had to hit them so they'd leave you alone, the blood under you enough to attract their hungry stomachs.

"Ready to die?" You answered with a smirk.

He took the bait, letting his annoyance guiding his actions. Unlocking your cell, he approached, the light of the lamp lightening the drawing on the wall, made of your very own blood. Giggles bounced around the cell as you saw his eyes taking in the monochromic illustration of himself, lying on the floor with a hole in his chest.

"Think you're funny?" Quickly, he put the lamp on the floor, something metallic hidden in his hand. He jumped on you again, the exhaustion of your sleepless night fending off the rats making you powerless against the needle entering the vulnerable skin of your arm.

"I guarantee you that you'll talk. I have all the time I want." He got up, grabbed the lamp and disappeared down a hallway.

"Continue telling you that, asshole." You muttered, analyzing the hole in the crook of your elbow. "Son of a bitch."

Without losing any precious second, you removed your coat, dipping it in the puddle on the floor and pressing it to the wall to erase your artwork, smudging the dried blood to protect any other eyes that would venture your way.

You reduced it to a massive stain, or so you thought in the absolute darkness.

Or was it dark? The hallway was bright again, his footsteps coming your way.

"Not dead yet? Shame." You shot, uncaring of what you would get in return.

"Y/N!" Oscar's voice boomed, hurting your beaten head.

"Turn it down, dude." You whined, massaging your temple. Boots appeared in your peripheral, attracting your eyes.

"He-"

Arms engulfed your form, tight but cautious of your bruises and wounds.

"Jag var så orolig. Snälla säg mig att du är okej." He pulled away, eyes frantically running over your face and front.

"Sorry, I don't speak handsome." You giggled, turning into a full-on laugh when he frowned, checking your head for bleeding. "It's so unfair." You pout. "The perfect Scandinavian stereotype. Handsome, gorgeous and cute all in the same family. Do you guys know how many women's love lives you've ruined just because they've looked at you?"

Shit, talking so much is exhausting. Your head became very heavy, falling forward on a hard chest.

"Vad är fel med henne?" Otto asked, bringing the lamp closer to better assess your injuries.

"The not-so-handsomes can't understand. Not everyone speaks Ikea." Your words were muffled by Axel's shirt, which by the way, was very very soft.

"I'm fairly sure she's drugged. Or hit her head too hard. One of the two." Oscar snickered, unlocking the chains around your wrists.

A hum vibrated in Axel's chest, snuggling more into his body at the feeling. Arms moved under your knees and back, lifting your battered body with care, stopping when a hiss escaped you.

"Sorry." He whispered, waiting for you to smile at him to position you better in his arms and follow his brothers out of the underground complex.

"You can kiss it better." Your eyes found his captivating ones, his usual stern gaze now replaced by a soft one.

"It's not you talking, Kärlek." He averts his eyes.

"No? I wanted it for a year though, not just now." You snuggled in his neck, the tiredness finally catching up to you. You fell asleep to the sound of a frenetic heartbeat, safe in the arms of your beloved Swede.

#the swedes #axel x reader #otto x reader #oscar x reader #ikea mafia #tua swedes

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bard-llama · 4 years

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If Only We Could Turn Back Time

Summary: When Geralt gets hit by a curse that turns him into a child, Yennefer, Jaskier, and Ciri are rather at a loss for what to do. Things get worse as Geralt slowly ages each day under the curse, and each night, he is plagued by nightmares of the memories from that time in his life. They knew that becoming a Witcher hadn't been something Geralt had chosen, but seeing the immediate evidence of the trauma Geralt has been through is more than any of them were prepared for.

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Written for @geraltwhumpweek Day 3: Cursed

Yennefer was too slow to block the curse, and she watched with horror as it hit Geralt dead-on. The Witcher made a surprised sound and his body seemed to pulse with light for long moments before the light grew so blinding she had to turn away.

When the light faded, the mage they had been tracking was gone, and where Geralt had been, there was a young boy with curly brown hair and a dazed expression wearing oversized black armor that slipped down his shoulders.

“Geralt?” Ciri called tentatively, her silver blade held loosely in her grip. She had been fighting the hounds the mage had summoned to hold them off, but now she gaped openly at the boy.

Yennefer couldn’t blame her. She was having trouble getting her jaw to work herself.

The boy blinked up at them, and then yawned widely, jaw cracking. Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hand, he sniffed and then asked in a cheery voice. “Are you here to see Ma?”

Before Yennefer could contemplate that minefield, the boy continued. “You’re in luck! She’s the best healer there is!”

“Your mom is a healer?” Ciri asked, voice slightly strangled. It must have been especially odd for her to see the man who had helped to raise her the past few years as – well, as an ordinary young boy.

Geralt had never been someone Yennefer had thought of as ordinary, but she supposed he must have been once. Long ago, before he’d become a Witcher without a choice.

“Yep!” The boy bounced to his feet, not seeming to notice the heavy armor that slipped down his too-small shoulders. “Her magic is the best! It’ll have you good as new in no time!”

“That’s good to hear,” Yennefer pulled herself together enough to say. “Your mother actually left you with us while she runs a few errands. I’m Yennefer, and that’s Ciri. Why don’t you come with us back to camp and we can get you some food?”

“Okay,” the boy shrugged, entirely unconcerned. At least that likely meant his life had been unthreatened up to this point.

Unfortunately, she knew that couldn’t have lasted long. Geralt had told them – Ciri was the first Witcher to ever choose to become one, and even then, she never underwent the mutations that Geralt had only ever spoken of in hushed tones.

It broke Yennefer’s heart, to know that if life had been kinder, Geralt could have had a normal, happy life.

They made their way back across the grassy knoll to where Jaskier was composing in their camp. She knew Jaskier was composing, because she could hear his awful rhymes from here.

Geralt didn’t seem to take notice of the noise, though, instead chattering at Ciri. “Do you fight with a sword? That’s so cool! I want to be a knight when I grow up, and wield a sword just like you!” He made dramatic slashing motions with his arm, nowhere near what proper form actually looked like, but it made Ciri giggle.

“I’m sure you’ll be an excellent swordsman,” she said, and the child who was once Geralt beamed a grin at them so bright that Yennefer had to turn away.

She’d never seen happiness on Geralt that wasn’t tainted by pain and darkness. It hurt to see it now and know that life had stolen that from him.

“Oh, you’re back!” Jaskier leapt to his feet, setting his lute aside. He hadn’t noticed there was anything amiss yet, but that would change soon because Geralt’s excited young eyes landed on the instrument and he was dashing forward, mouth already moving.

“Was that you playing? You’re really good! Could you show me how to do that? It looks fun, but hard. Is it hard?”

Jaskier blinked, gobsmacked. Then he turned wide eyes to meet Yennefer’s and she grimaced in confirmation. “Jaskier, meet Geralt.”

“Geralt,” the bard croaked, his famed voice cracking on the word. He stared down at the sandy-haired boy whose attention had already moved onto the next thing, wandering around their camp and touching absolutely everything. “I think I need a bit more explanation,” Jaskier asked plaintively, and Yennefer took pity.

“The mage got away,” she said quietly, watching Geralt. She wasn’t the only one.

“And he – I mean, will he...get better? Can we break the curse?”

Yennefer shook her head. She’d been contemplating that since she felt the magic coalesce around Geralt, had been feeling out the edges of it as they walked. “I can’t,” she admitted reluctantly. “I need to do more research, but I don’t think this curse can be broken. It has to be waited out.”

“But it’s not permanent.” Ciri’s voice was shaky and her words came out more as a demand than a question.

“No, it should fade within a week.” Yennefer said. Should being the operative word, but she wasn’t willing to trust Geralt’s fate to should.

This would require research and study. But first, they had to take care of the previously self-sufficient witcher. What did children even need? Ciri had been older than this when she’d come to Yenn and Geralt, and Yennefer hated to admit it, but it had been a long time since she’d been around young children.

Geralt’s exploration of their camp had now brought him to Roach, and apparently he was a natural horse whisperer. Roach snorted and lipped at his hair as the boy nuzzled into her neck and murmured praise without seeming to stop for breath.

“Do you travel all the time too?” The high-pitched timbre of Geralt’s voice still startled Yennefer, even though he was already talking as much as Jaskier on a good day. “Ma and I have been on the road for ages now. It’s kinda weird – the elders used to say that druids have to stay close to home, because of magic or something. But Ma’s magic is as strong as ever, so I think they were just talking. Can you do magic? I hope I can! I’m not old enough for the test yet – and I dunno what Ma’s gonna do about that. Maybe we’ll go back home before the test when it’s time!”

“Test?” Jaskier asked.

Geralt was distracted from responding by a passing butterfly and he took off after it, trying to clasp it between clumsy hands. They all watched him with varying consternated expressions on their faces. This was weird.

“Druids are tested for magic when they’re ten,” Ciri answered eventually. “Mousesack taught me. Said it was important that a Princess understood different cultures. But I didn’t know Geralt was a druid.” Her brows knit as she followed the wild boy with her gaze. “Though, I suppose our Geralt doesn’t consider himself one anymore.”

“He’s never talked about his life before becoming a Witcher,” Jaskier said. The concern on his face made him look constipated. “I didn’t – I wouldn’t have thought he’d be like this.”

No, Yennefer thought. She doubted any who knew Geralt would have guessed that he’d once been so – maybe innocent was the right word for it. Excitable. Childish.

For some reason, it had never occurred to her that Geralt had once truly been a child. If she had, she probably would have expected that he’d always been like her, braced against the pain of the world.

“Does he have magic?” Jaskier suddenly asked. “I mean, our Geralt has his signs, but that’s a Witcher thing, right? What if he has actual magic – like yours?”

Yennefer shook her head. “Druid magic is nothing like mine.” And if there was a snideness in her voice, it was only appropriate. Everyone knew druidic magic was pathetic compared to the power of a mage. “But if he hasn’t been tested yet, then we probably have nothing to worry about.”

“Probably,” Jaskier mocking mumble was low enough that she could pretend to ignore it. But because Yennefer could never let anything go, she flicked her fingers and magicked an ice cube into existence right above the collar of his doublet. The bard’s squawk and dance as he tried to get away from the cold dripping down his back was immensely satisfying, and made Ciri and Geralt laugh to boot.

She could see the high, joyous sound of Geralt’s giggles make Jaskier’s irritation melt away. “How would you like to hear a story?” the bard offered his unusually-attentive companion.

“Do you know anything about what’s beyond the Edge of the World?” Geralt asked eagerly, “or what the other spheres are like? Ma never answers when I ask about them, but I wanna knoooooow,” he dragged out the last word in a whine and Yennefer had to bite her lip hard to hold back her smile.

Jaskier tilted his head. “I’ve been to the Edge of the World, actually! With – uh, well, a good friend. Do you want to hear about it?”

Geralt’s headed nodded so furiously Yennefer was briefly worried he would sprain his neck. He plopped to the ground in front of Jaskier and leaned forward with bright eyes. Ciri – truly still a child at heart, even if the world had forced her to grow up so fast – gracefully dropped down into a cross legged seat beside him. As Jaskier told his tale – wildly inaccurate and horribly failing to remember not to call his companion Geralt – the boy slowly edged closer to Ciri until he wiggled his way into her lap. Ciri looked positively gobsmacked and Yennefer turned her laugh into a subtle cough. Geralt squirmed, getting comfortable even though he was probably a bit too big to really fit in Ciri’s lap, and the princess hesitantly wrapped her arms around him, tucking his head under her chin.

They listened to as one story turned to three, and then Geralt was telling his own wildly inventive story about noble knights on white steeds fighting for good and right. Yenn’s smile finally broke through, but it felt tight and prickly. If only the world was as simple and good as this child believed.

––

Jaskier couldn’t help the way he stared at the boy that had previously been his best-friend-and-more. Logically, he’d always known that there must have been a time when Geralt was different, before the trauma of becoming a Witcher. But he’d never thought he would see it, never thought he would be brought face to face with the sweet boy that life had beaten into a quiet, reticent man.

The boy talked so much, and Jaskier kept him engaged for hours, chatting about anything and everything. And even though running his mouth had never been a problem for Jaskier before, he kept getting distracted by the occasional sign of their Geralt within the child. The boy got bored with his distraction and Jaskier could see Geralt in the way the kid swung a stick around with loud “ha!”s as he stabbed the air, the way the corners of his eyes wrinkled in a smile in the exact same way, even though everything else about his face was different. Even the way he looked at Ciri, awed and admiring and with such affection that Jaskier knew the girl was overwhelmed. Nonetheless, she picked up her own stick and encouraged the boy to charge at her, sloppily parrying the attack with the stick. They entertained themselves “sword fighting” and Yennefer came to sit next to him. She looked composed as ever, but from the way she pressed her shoulder against his, Jaskier knew this was freaking her out just as much.

“What do we do?” he whispered.

Yenn shook her head. “I don’t know. Of all the things we could have prepared for, never saw this coming.”

“He’s so…” Jaskier trailed off, not even sure how he’d planned on ending that sentence. Innocent? Sweet? A long-dead part of their lover’s life that they were being granted access to? Jaskier wasn’t sure yet whether that was a blessing or a curse.

Geralt would never have told them about this boy he used to be, given the choice. And it broke Jaskier’s heart to know that this bright young child – so curious about the world and so eager to make friends with everything that moved – would suffer all the things he knew Geralt had gone through.

And all the things he didn’t know. Geralt had never told them anything about becoming a Witcher, except to whisper in a hoarse voice that they could not do that to Ciri. All Jaskier knew was that it had been bad.

“Is he – you said we have to wait for this to fade. Do you think he’ll remember this when he comes back?”

Yennefer rubbed her fingers in circles on each side of her brow, and Jaskier’s hand automatically rose to squeeze at the base of her neck, where her muscles grew tight from stress and made her head ache. She leaned back into him and sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t like how much I don’t know about this. I think we need to hunt down that damn mage and find out everything they know about this curse.”

“Okay. But also, how do we keep a little kid alive?” Not that Jaskier was panicking or anything. But his experience with children was usually limited to making faces and playing jaunty tunes when he ran into them in public.

Sure, Ciri was still pretty young, but she’d lived through too much to be thought of as a child. At least, not the same kind of child that Geralt currently was – helpless in the face of danger and far too curious to keep himself safe. Jaskier recognized the signs easily – they were the same traits that Geralt often cursed in himself. Not that he was a child, or really entirely helpless – Jaskier was going on five decades; he knew how to throw a punch, thank you very much! – but it was true that he often relied more on luck and Geralt to keep him safe than anything else.

It was a strategy that hadn’t failed him yet, but he was an educated, experienced adult. If nothing else, he stood a decent chance of talking himself out of any trouble he might run into. But this small inquisitive boy, who talked about magic and dragons and knights as if life were one big fairy tale? Were they really going to be able to keep him safe while hunting down a mage on the road?

Yennefer was terrifyingly powerful, of course, and Ciri was no slouch with a blade, though their usual Geralt still gruffly rumbled that she had more to learn. But the mage had gotten past them and Geralt once already, and travel had become so much more dangerous since the start of the war. Even when they took the main roads, a day rarely passed without some necrophage or bandit attacking them. He himself had honestly gotten a lot more wary about traveling alone, though their Geralt would no doubt argue that that wariness didn’t stop him from getting into trouble.

All he could really do was hope that they would be able to protect this innocent child from the horrors of the world. Jaskier had wanted to protect Geralt from the world’s cruelties many times, but it had never felt quite this urgent before. Their Geralt was so hurt and so world-weary already – the need to protect him ached deep in Jaskier’s heart, twisted with sorrow that Geralt had been through so much. But this feeling, the anxiety creeping up his spine and the knot of cotton in his throat was different from that. Jaskier wanted to be able to protect this child the way Geralt should have been protected, if the world had ever been fair.

At the same time, the void in his gut desperately wished that their Geralt was here. He would know what to do, would know how to protect a child. Of all of them, Geralt was actually the best with children, as long as they didn’t fear him. And Geralt liked children in a way Jaskier just honestly didn’t. He wasn’t the sort of asshole who hated kids, but anyone with sense would never leave him responsible for a child. Even he knew that was a bad idea.

“Breathe, bard,” Yennefer’s smoky voice ordered and only when he inhaled sharply did Jaskier realize that he’d been hyperventilating. “We’ll figure this out. We’ll protect him.”

And although he knew Yennefer was just as terrified as he was under her calm exterior, the steel in her voice helped him feel grounded. This situation may have been far from ideal, but if anyone could keep Geralt safe, it would be the most powerful sorceress on the continent and the witcher cub trained by Geralt himself. And maybe Jaskier didn’t know this Geralt, who was so young and so open, but he still knew Geralt at his core. Their Geralt would never run around with a bucket on his head pretending to be a knight, but Jaskier knew that the same nobility that this child saw in knighthood ran deep in Geralt’s veins. More than anything, Geralt was good and noble and honorable, despite the world chipping at him constantly. This child may look and act different, but he was still Geralt.

Jaskier took a deep breath and released it slowly. They were going to be okay. Somehow. They were going to keep this kid safe until they got their Geralt back, and they were going to find that mage and make sure they got their Geralt back soon.

Jaskier swallowed and knocked his shoulder against Yenn’s. “Kids have bedtimes, don’t they? Maybe we should set him up in your ridiculously fancy tent.”

“You love my tent.”

“Never said I didn’t. I’m a slut for luxury. But you literally fit a bathtub in your tent, Yenn. It’s ridiculous.” A smile tugged at his lips and he remembered just how much they had enjoyed that copper tub in the past.

Of course, now they had children. Even after two years, Jaskier still struggled to remember that he really shouldn’t just walk around shirtless with love bites proudly on display. Fortunately, Yenn had magically given Ciri her own room in the tent. Unfortunately, the room was not soundproofed.

It was a good thing Geralt was a lot more conscientious than Jaskier was, honestly. Ciri might not have much innocence left, but no one wanted to walk in on their parents fucking.

Jaskier shuddered and tried to refocus. “Is it weird if he sleeps in our bed? Weirder than if he stays in Ciri’s?”

Yennefer shrugged. “He might be young enough to want someone he trusts around, or he might be independent enough that he’ll refuse to share. Only one way to find out.”

When they got Geralt to sit down for five minutes to actually eat dinner and then guided him into the tent, the look of wide-eyed wonder made Jaskier melt. “So cool!!” Geralt exclaimed and wiggled out from under the grip on his shoulders to race around the tent. “Ma’s magic is amazing, but it’s nothing like this!! She mostly just conjures us food. But I bet you never sleep in the hay!” He jumped on the gigantic bed in their room and let out a deep contented sigh, as if the world was utterly perfect at this moment. “It feels like a cloud,” he whispered. “I’m never moving.”

Jaskier had to laugh at that. “How about you get under the covers before you never move again, hmm?”

Geralt hummed and wiggled around until Jaskier and Yennefer were able to pull the blankets out from under him and tuck him in. Ciri hovered in the doorway, shifting her weight awkwardly from foot to foot.

“Ciri?” Yennefer asked, and the girl jumped as if she’d forgotten they could see her.

“Can I – I mean,” she scratched her arm and looked at the ground, “it’s hard to believe he’s okay,” Ciri whispered so quietly that Jaskier had to step closer to her to hear. “I don’t wanna let him out of my sight.”

“Yeah,” Jaskier said pointlessly.

“Come on,” Yennefer beckoned them over to the bed. “There’s room for all of us.”

There hadn’t been, actually, but the bed magically expanded to be as big as they needed it to be.

Ciri huffed a laugh and pulled back the covers to wiggle in next to Geralt. “I used to have sleepovers with my friends in Cintra sometimes. This is kinda like that. But comfier.”

Yenn’s expression didn’t change, but Jaskier knew she was preening that her magic could make a more comfortable bed than all the royal power of Cintra. He shook his head and circled around the bed to his side.

He was still worried about Geralt, and as nice as it was to be cuddled up with his family, he missed the warmth of their Geralt pressed against his back. The way Yenn’s arm stretched over the kids to wrap around Jaskier’s wrist told him she missed having Geralt between them too. She liked to hold them, liked to make sure they wouldn’t disappear in the night, but somehow it was less comforting when one of them was already missing, even though he technically still rested between them. Eventually, they each drifted off to sleep.

Then the nightmares started.

#my fics #geralt gets deaged and Yenn Jask and Ciri are v panicked about looking after this child #deaged au #geraskefer #geraskier #yennalt #yennskier #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #ciri #cirilla fiona elen riannon #jaskier #the witcher #fic #writing

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missblissy · 4 years

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Rebirth (Chapter Seven)

Alastor X Human!Reader ((Reincarnation!AU))

Prologue || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven

Everything about this city was beautiful. From street lanterns to the very distinctive architecture. New Orleans had this magical air to it that made everything seem romantic and otherworldly. You had never been here before so you got caught up in all the sightsees. You were still in the elegant red dress that matched Alastor’s crimson suit.

Your arm was looped with Alastor’s as the two of you walked down busy and noisy streets. Many people were out and about, bar hopping, drinking, dancing, singing and enjoying the night. Apparently, there was this bar that you just had to see, according to Alastor.

“It’s lovely in there, it’s much like a music lounge!” Alastor told you with a smile. You could see the genuine happiness on his face as he talked about this bar, “I use to go there all the time when I was alive,”

“How do you know it’s still there?” You asked him while raising a brow, “Didn’t you die like…” When did he die again? Uh oh, you forgot, “Um… You died a long time ago, right?”

Alastor flashed a quick toothy grin and gave you a side glance, “1933. Just because I’m dead doesn’t mean I don’t keep tabs on the living world,” He then nudged you lightly, “I bet I know more about today’s news than even you do.”

You rolled your eyes, tempted to say something snide, “You sound like an old man. I watch the news, just… not every day. Or week,” You tried to defend yourself. Alastor’s low chuckle caused your cheeks to burn red, “Where the hell is this bar?” You shifted the conversation, “I’m ready for a drink,” And a big one at that.

“Almost there, my dear!” Alastor promised, “What’s your drink of choice?”

You looked at him and thought, “What was my favorite drink when I was a demon?”

A very dark look overtook Alastor’s features. You saw his teeth grow in size, his mouth twisted into an unnatural grin, “Blood,” He said wickedly. The dark look was gone, his teeth were back to normal and his smile was more relaxed, “Oh! You meant alcohol!” Alastor started to laugh at his own dumb joke, “Haha, you enjoyed gin, vodka, tequila. You had an uncanny taste for clear liquor and often refused the darker ones, like whiskey and rum.”

That was very different from now. You kind of hated alcohol and you’d only drink it if it was fruity and sweet enough to mask the gross burning liquor, “Mhm, not the same,” You shrugged, “I’m basic, give me a Mike’s Hard or a Twisted Tea. It’s can’t taste like shit.”

“All liquor tastes like shit,” Alastor hummed with a single chuckle. He wasn’t wrong there. Only a few minutes passed before he suddenly stopped in his tracks in front of an old rickety wooden door.

You were confused, what was here? It was just a dark pine door stuck between two buildings. There was no sign and no address. Nothing but a door. Alastor quickly swung it open, you saw that immediately behind the door was a dark stairwell leading below ground. You followed Alastor into the cellar with caution. There was a second door at the bottom of the stairs and Alastor thew that one open too. Music and smoke wafted from within. It smelled musty and thick of cigarettes.

How could you have not guessed? You walk into a dark underground bar and lounge. The lights shined low rays, making it easy to hide in the shadows. The floor was covered with a thin and dirty green carpet. The walls had wooden paneling that went about a third of the way while maroon wallpapers climbed to the ceiling. There had to be a few dozen people already in there. You took a look over at Alastor and saw stars in his eyes.

Little did you know that this was the bar where Alastor wasted away most of his life. It had barely changed. Sure there were new paintings and pictures, but so what? And yeah, there were dozens of TVs and speakers littering the walls now. Other than that, it was the same. Same gross green carpet with wine stains spotting all over the room, there were still green stain glass lights hanging from the ceiling, the bar looked exactly the same and there was a nice new pool table in the corner. Further back in the larger room was a small stage completely void of anything. Dozens of little tables scattered the room. This place was big enough to fit at least 80 to 90 people. It made Alastor incredibly happy to be here, even if it was some several decades later.

The two of you walked over to the bar without a word spoken between you. There were lush and comfy stools with soft green cushions for a seat. You gazed at the other people hanging around the bar. There was an older woman smoking a cigarette at the very end as she drank her margarita and played on her phone. A few seats away from you was a young man covered with tattoos and piercings.

Alastor quickly leaned on the bar with a smile. You stood beside him and you didn’t understand why you felt so nervous. It made you feel awkward to stare at him so much. You couldn’t help it though, his looks kept drawing you in. He looked rather dashing in the suit. He knew how to pick colors that complemented his features. He looked better without his glasses on too. You could see the dark and haunting color of his brown eyes. When he flickered his gaze towards you, you quickly averted your eyes and watched the bartender sluggishly walk along the bar.

He seemed tired and overly sleepy. The bartender shrugged as he asked, “What can I get for ya?”

You quickly looked at Alastor with a nervous expression. Luckily he was a man of action, “Two whiskeys, my good friend!” He tapped the bar twice with his hand and gave a large grin.

While the bartender got your drinks, you peered along the counter. That man with the tattoos was looking at you. Then at Alastor, then you again. The way he stared made you suspicious of him. You looked away from him as the bartender returned and slid two glasses towards you and Alastor.

“Give it a try, darling,” Alastor eyed you as he grabbed his own glass, “It’ll only bite a little bit,” Then he winked at you. It took you by complete surprise and you were quickly flustered. At the same time, he pulled a little black case from one of his pockets and unclipped the latch. As he flipped it open it revealed several dozen cigarettes tucked neatly in rows. Alastor swiped one quicky then snapped the case closed. You watched as the cigarette lit itself alive as if my by magic. Alastor wasn’t even looking at you anymore. This was the first time you saw his human face without some sort of smile. He had a soft and blank expression as he took a drag of the cigarette. Why did he make it look so…. attractive? He even did a french inhale, slowly passing smoking from his lips and inhaling it into his nose.

As much as you hated the burn of alcohol, you quickly grabbed your own drink and down a large gulp. Your heart was fluttering in your chest and you couldn’t stop it from beating harder and harder as every second passed. Once you placed the glass down you quickly rushed your words out, “I- uh!” You coughed and cleared your throat, “I need to you the restroom!” You actually needed a second to calm down, “I’ll be right back,” You flashed a little smile on your face as Alastor watched you with amusement.

“Take your time, dear,” He gave a sneaky and snide smirk, he was beginning to bring the cigarette back to his lips, but you quickly turned and walked off as calmly as you could.

Alastor watched your every step until you found the bathrooms and disappeared around a corner. He could finally let out the soft sigh and relax a little. Everything was going perfectly so far. All he had to do was keeping working his charm and soon you’d be his once again.

He took this time alone to reflect on the entire situation. Alastor flicked the ash off the end of his cigarette into an ashtray. With his free hand, he reached for his whiskey. As happy as he was to be here, it brought him a small sense of sorrow. It was beginning to become more and more clear that you were not the same person you once were.

It pained him because he was realizing that the person he was looking for was dead and gone forever. No matter how much he tried, he’d never have his beloved wife back. He couldn’t deny it however, he stilled felt a deep love for you even if you weren’t exactly the same. Little did you know, Alastor had come to terms with spending the rest of your natural mortal life with you, simply because he couldn’t bring himself to kill or even harm you in any way. He also felt the need to protect you from any harm as well. He wouldn’t allow you to killed in any way unless it was on your terms.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he felt this way. Maybe it had to do with the fact that your soul wasn’t tainted enough to go to hell, or maybe he loved your soul’s newfound purity. Maybe it had nothing to with anything, he couldn’t be sure. He had shut himself entirely off from his emotions the day you were reincarnated. It had been a long time since he explored the thoughts and let them run free in his mind. There was a strange uneasiness that overcame Alastor at the same time. He looked around and found the man looking at him, the one with the tattoos.

How interesting, Alastor watched this stranger begin to approach him. A little smile lingered on Alastor’s face. He wanted this man to go away and leave him alone, “Hello!” Alastor lifted his smile some more, “What brings you over here, my good fellow?”

The tattooed man was a little surprised at Alastor’s straight-forward approach, but other than that, he didn’t seem to fazed by it. Alastor could smell the pot and vodka rolling off of this stranger. It didn’t take a whole lot to see how intoxicated he was. There was even a drip from his nose and Alastor had no doubt that it was induced from a little knife bump of coke. But he smelled something much stronger, it was the soft and dull beat of blood rushing loosely through this drugged-up man. It was intoxication, it made Alastor’s eyes grow a little wider as he stared harder at the man.

“I wanted to know ‘bout that lady of yours!” The stranger slurred slightly, “She with you?”

“Ha!” Alastor enjoyed the stranger’s bluntness, “Something like that!” He bared his teeth with a smile, “I think there was someone more of your taste out on the corner there, old sport!”

The stranger laughed loosely and shook his head, “Aha, hmhm,” He sucked in a quick breath, “I was thinking you’re more my type. Or the both of ya.”

Alastor’s smile melted only slightly as it became more thin, firm and pressed. Why couldn’t he think of anything to say? He didn’t think this would make his as uncomfortable as it did. Panic leaked into his bloodstream for the first time in decades. How was this possible? He felt a bead of sweat form at his temple. Then a whisper crawled into his ear, saying, He’s only a human. Scare him away.

So he took a quick breath in and Alastor smiled calmly, “You don’t want to walk down this road,” He closed his eyes and smiled some more, “There’s nothing here for you!” His voice was bouncy and happy despite his true feelings hidden below his throat, “Nothing but a dead end!” Alastor smiled away.

But the man was either too drunk or stoned to hear the ominous threat in Alastor’s voice, or he just didn’t care. He leaned forward slightly, “You sure? I’ve got a ton of X and coke- Oh hey-”

You had just shown back up and you could feel the terrible tension in the air. The tattooed man was swaying on his feet and he had a sloppy half-grin on his face. Alastor, however, had dark eyes boring into the man and a smile on his eyes. His unblinking stare was menacing, “Hey,” You frowned. At the sound of your voice, Alastor turned his head quickly and he looked at you. He didn’t say anything though, “What’s.. uh… going on?” You looked between the two of them.

The stranger shrugged, “Just trying to see if ya’ll are interested in a little party-”

You quickly held up your hand, making him stop talking. This is why you hated bars and drinking, well… you mostly just hated drunks. Nothing was more dully and stupid than a drunk person, in your opinion. You frowned at the stranger, “I’m going to have to stop you right there, thanks but no thanks, we’re not interested.” You learned a long time ago that the only way to get them to go away is to tell them to fuck off, “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to enjoying my night.”

The man gave you a swore face, he shrugged again, “You’re loss,” The mood changed and he didn’t seem so happy anymore. He left with a flip of his long hair and muttering something under his breath.

You heard a sigh next to you, and you saw Alastor’s smile drop down to a mild grin. He seemed… upset? You weren’t very sure, “You okay?” You asked.

“I hate humans,” Alastor grumbled, “Primitive, primal, promiscuous. Utterly useless creatures,”

“What? Don’t like guys flirting with you?” You started to slowly chuckle at him. Was this what he was like when he was flustered or mad? It almost made you laugh. He just looked bitter with a dumb smile. Maybe it was because he was in his human form, but he didn’t look as intimidating or scary without all the evil demon teeth and claws.

“I’m not a fan of the outcome,” Alastor looked at you from a side glance. He waved a hand, “Fornication is utterly disgusting,”

Oh. You blinked, slowly understanding what he was trying to say, “So you’re like… Asexual?”

Now Alastor gave you a confused smile, “I wish I could go through mitosis,” He gave a weak laugh after that.

But you giggled behind your hand for a second. Oh, how the tables had turned, “No, Al,” You saw him perk up at the nickname, “It means yours not into fornication.” It looked like he started to understand, “You know, some people are homosexual? Hetero? You’re Asexual,” To help further your point, you dug out your phone and opened up the web browser. You did a quick google search then showed him.

He was wary, but he looked at your phone, quickly reading the words, “Hm,” He hummed, “Well would you look at that!” There was a smile on his face. He gestured for you to come and sit beside him again.

You climbed back into your bar seat once again and Alastor turned so he could face you. His cigarette was long burnt out and gone and he didn’t hesitate to pull another one out. He offered you one but you shook your head lightly, “So many things are different,” Alastor mumbled from behind the unfiltered end of the cigarette, “You used to smoke a pack a day,” He chuckled softly.

“Yeah?” He knew he had caught your interest. You perked up in your seat and even scooted a little closer, “What was I like? Like… aside from being a demon and your wife. Like personality and attitude?”

He couldn’t help the sweet smile from curling on his face, “You were very hardworking. People praised you for your incredible loyalty as well. But you were also uncontrollably emotional,” You faintly remembered the book saying something about that.

“What else?” You wanted to know so much more. You wanted to know everything you could know about your past self. It was an obsession you couldn’t ignore anymore.

“How about we focus on this version of you?” Alastor smiled a little more and gave a raise of his brow. You felt flattered that he wanted to know more about you. You remembered that you still had a glass of whiskey to drink.

As you grabbed the glass and took a sip, you asked after a brief moment, “What do you want to know?”

Alastor leaned forward and rested his chin in the palm of his hand. There was a light and spark in his eyes that made your hight jump a little, “Anything,” He said with a smile.

_________________________________________________________

“-I was so scared. He looks at me and says, ‘You lit?’ And I was…. I was totally baked out of my mind. It was the first time I… ya know? Aha- And my professor is looking at me and the whole class is! I almost started to cry but then he sharted to shake his hands and go ‘No, no, no! You eat that cookie! You stay lit!’ And he just goes on teaching!” There were about six or seven empty glasses next to you. A smile was on your face as you told some stupid story from your freshman year of college.

Alastor was listening intently with his own smile to match. He held your hand in his as they rested together on the bar, “Ya know I was always a fan of opium every now and again!”

For some reason that made you laugh a little, “I’d never do something like that,” It was safe to say you were tipsy. Maybe a little bit drunk. Just a little. Alastor, on the other hand, didn’t seem the slightest and he drank more than you, “Like you said. I’m just a goodie goodie.”

He chuckled and gave a grin, “I also said we could change that.”

“You said a lot of things,” You smirked. The last..? What time was it? Well, you had spent some time talking to Alastor. He asked about your life, your birthday. He found out you had no siblings and that your father was dying. He even wanted to know about what school you went to, what classes you liked. You didn’t expect him to be so curious. He cracked a joke every now and then and tease you for something silly.

It was nice to just… talk to him like this. It was almost like he was a real person who wanted to get to know you. A little voice in your said It’s almost like I’m on a date with a real guy who… likes me. You shook that voice away. And caught Alastor staring at you. You laughed nervously and said, “What?”

He just shook his head slowly then shrugged, “Nothing… You’re just very pretty. I like this version of you. Some things are the same, like your eyes and your smile. But others are different,”

“Like what?” Damn it! You couldn’t stop the little smile on your face.

“That’s not important,” He quickly dismissed your question, “It doesn’t matter whats different and what’s the same. I’m just happy to spend time with you again.” Why did that answer make your heart flutter?

His hand was still holding yours and you couldn’t deny that comfort you felt from his touch. It was familiar in a way that you just couldn’t describe. It was almost addicting in away. You could feel your soul reaching out and trying to touch Alastor.

What time was it again? You pulled out your phone and looked at the clock. You almost jumped out of your seat and lost your mind, “It’s three in the morning!? I have classes at eight am! Fuck!” You ran a hand through your hair then looked at Alastor, “This is your fault,”

He grinned, “Skip classes tomorrow, sleep in,” His voice called out and tempted you.

It sounded nice, but you knew better. You shook your head, “No, I need to go to bed, can you take me home?” You looked at him and waited for him to say something but he just grinned a sneaky little toothy smile, “Please?”

“Alright,” He finally said. He closed his eyes and with a smile, he snapped his fingers quickly. There was a static sound of white noise and suddenly you were outside your apartment door. Odd. Why didn’t he just teleport you guys inside? What if your door was locked?

Alastor quickly took your hand in his and brought your fingers up to his lips. He placed a kiss on them, holding your hand there as he gave you a look that gave you chills, “I had a lovely night with you, my dear. Until we meet again.” He placed another kiss on your knuckles. You wanted to say something but he quickly faded into a swarm of misty black shadows. He was gone before you knew it and you were alone with a might need for him to come back.

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leviathanswingman · 4 years

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killing me softly, chapter 3: caught

After a moment, footsteps were heard and then, trembling, Asmodeus and Yuuta moved back into frame. Of course of all possibilities , it had to be the least tolerable one.

Lucifer grabbed both Asmo and Yuuta by their collars and yanked them back into his room, slamming the door shut beside them.

Asmodeus stumbled rather gracefully before quickly turning around and catching Yuuta who had stumbled due to Lucifer's violent behaviour.

With crossed arms and furrowed brows he returned to his human form so he could properly interrogate them.

„You insolent brats. Pray tell, what business do you two have to be eavesdropping like that? Asmodeus, have I not taught you better? And Yuuta, although I am aware that you have spent most of your youth around the wrong crowd that doesn't excuse such invasive behaviour. Or did the two of you perhaps want to get punished? I can surely think of at least 100 ways of tortures to fit your tastes,“ he threatened, his voice low and gravelly.

Without any hesitation Asmo moved closer to Lucifer and got up in his face, not minding the casual invasion of privacy. He jutted his finger right in Lucifer's face.

„Oh my darling older brother! Admit to it, you would rather punish someone else who isn't Yuuta or I. I never thought you would catch hanahaki, but it all makes sense! Though I'm quite saddened you didn't fall for little old me, the most desired bachelor of the devildom, I'm surprised it took you this long to catch hanahaki for Lord Diavolo. Aah~ what a pity,“ he sighed as he waved his hand dramatically and turned back around to Yuuta. He embraced him tightly, muttering quietly. „This is so saddening, won't you cheer my up, you cutie?“

„Asmo, I don't think this is the time-“

Too little too late. Lucifer had already grabbed his brother by the neck and shoved him roughly against the door.

Asmo yelped in surprise. „Ack! Not my beautiful face!“

„Listen here. This is none of your business Asmodeus,“ he whispered in his ear.

Yuuta had gotten more or less used to the unnecessary violence he often stumbled upon in the devildom, yet he couldn't help flinching. He gathered himself and then let out a deep groan, running his hand over his face in exasperation.

“Why do you have to be like that?”

“I don't want to hear a single word from you either, Yuuta. You aren't off the hook either.”

He then let go off Asmo and fixed the two of them with a glare.”I'm letting you off scot-free this time. But believe me; you do not want to disrespect me like that again, I already have my mind on several punishments for you two in case you repeat your actions.”

For a moment no one said a word.

Lucifer raised one eyebrow. “So? I'm waiting.”

Finally, Asmo looked up. There was an unmistakable look of concern tainting his delicate features.

“I am sorry, but please listen to what I actually wanted to say. You don't even have to answer, please just listen.”

It was quiet except for the continuous ticking of a clock.

Yuuta felt the urgent need to dig a hole and just throw himself into it. You could cut the tension with a knife.

“Alright. I'm only allowing this because you are my brother, Asmodeus. Do not disappoint me.”

“Lucifer I know you don't like to share your feelings with us, but please think about yourself for once!” He grabbed Lucifer's hands and pulled them close to his chest. “Talk to Diavolo when he comes home. I couldn't bare seeing you die because you're too proud to open up. I know the way love works best, if you ignore it it will turn around on you. We all know that you either confess to your darling or will end up dying. Lord Diavolo surely wouldn't mind! It's clear to see how enamoured he is with you, he never even looked at me, the prettiest demon alive! I mean anyone who doesn't even look at me must be terribly whipped for someone else.” He let go of Lucifer's hands and interlocked fingers with Yuuta's hands instead. “We will be off then!”

With that, the two of them dashed out of the room, leaving Lucifer all by himself again.

For a moment, Lucifer entertained the thought of Lord Diavolo truly loving him. Snap out of it, he thought.

He surely was aware of how focussed Lord Diavolo was on him, but it was nothing more than the sort of interest a child would have for their favourite toy. Ever since the day Lucifer had fallen, Diavolo had shown a twisted interest in him. But it was different in notion to the kind of devotion Lucifer had for Diavolo.

To think that Asmodeus had been daring enough to call him out like that. Lucifer chuckled. To think that his brother thought Diavolo could ever devote himself to Lucifer so deeply, even monopolize him.

Suddenly, he found himself being reminded of his demon prince's intense, golden eyes, broad arms and rich, tan skin.

For a moment the thought of what it would be like to be completely ravished by those strong hands, those luscious lips, took over his mind.

Yet again, he was interrupted by the feeling of several petals forcing their way up his windpipe. Quickly, Lucifer grabbed the nearest trash bin and coughed out his feelings. There went his dignity.

As he stared at the petals, a sick laugh escaped his lips.

The great demon Lucifer, reduced to nothing but petals and pathetic feelings.

After he was done, he got up and checked himself in the mirror. The man in the mirror stared back at him. Miraculously, his uniform still looked pristine, but his face told another story. The bags under his eyes were clearly visible and the look in his eyes was as cold as usual, but if you looked closely you could see the emptiness that hid in plain sight.

Lucifer clicked his tongue before he broke the mirror with his fist. Hot blood was dripping to the ground, covering the shards on the ground. Nothing was filling the silence except for the continuous sound of blood dripping to the ground.

Punishment. Punishment for overstepping his bounds. Punishment for misplaced and disruptive feelings.

Lucifer checked the time. He grabbed his DDD and made his way to the meeting. As Lord Diavolo's right hand man, he had no business arriving late.

Asmo still held onto Yuuta's hand as they walked down the hallway. They hadn't said much since they'd escaped Lucifer's room.

“So,” Yuuta started, glancing at Asmo. “You were right. When you first told me something was wrong I didn't really believe you. I mean it's Lucifer we're talking about. His creepy looking face never changes in my eyes, so I really didn't think anything was wrong. But for him to catch hanahaki...”

Asmo smiled sadly. “He's always been like this. His devotion to Diavolo might also be his downfall. He's so devoted he sees himself as nothing but a tool.”

Yuuta gripped Asmo's hand more tightly. “So it's like that.”

“Yup! I mean love is love! Why can't he understand that there's nothing wrong with being completely enamoured with someone?”

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 , Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13

*nsfw chapter

#my writing #obey me!#shall we date? obey me #dialuci #diavolo x lucifer #hanahaki au #obey me mc #oc #obey me! asmodeus #listen here i love asmo i couldn't have NOT included him #fanfiction #also rip to asmo bc he got in trouble #it's his own thought tho so yuh

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thethousandyearwitch · 3 years

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Lest Darkness Falls on Yorknew

A Pariging Vampire + Werewolf AU!

High Priestess of Yorknew, Cheadle Yorkshire, is troubled by recent developments. Livestock and people have started to disappear or end up slaughtered, and people turn to her and the church in hope of saving. Could it truly be that the new owner of the hillside mansion has something to do with it? Investigating by herself may be more dangerous than she thinks..

Chapter 4: The Finale.

AO3 Link

What the hell am I doing? Ging cursed himself as he surveyed the hillside manor towering above Yorknew. The sun had freshly set, and darkness had spread over everything in the valley, except for the oil lantern Ging carried and the bright lights of the mansion in front of him. The mansion was framed by black wrought-iron fences, around 7 feet tall, melting into each other at a large front gate. Behind the gate, a stone path lead straight to the front door. There was no patrol outside, though Ging wondered if they could still sense him as much as he could sense them. The hairs at the back of his neck had stood up as soon as he had entered the area, his ears were twitching with the faintest trace of sound or movement, and his teeth felt uncomfortable in his own mouth, itching to bite down into whatever he could find. What am I even supposed to do? ‘Eliminate’ my ass, am I just supposed to ring the door? Ding Dong Hello yes, it’s me, a Werewolf, here to kill your coven leader- A shadow passed by a window on the second floor, and Gings attention got drawn back. Tall, upright statue, they had already mostly walked out of view. But for a moment, the shadow stood still, their left shoulder and half of their face still blurry and dark in the window.

And even though it was too dark to tell,

And he was hidden from sight,

Ging felt like they were looking directly at him.

Instinctively he hid behind the tree he was leaning on, and killed the fire of his oil lamp, biting the inside of his cheek. Slowly, shivers crept up his spine, his muscles tensed. His hand shot to his pocket to grab the cross Cheadle had provided for him. Pure iron bathed in holy water, uncomfortably warm to the touch for a werewolf, painfully hot and burning to a vampire. Ging had never interacted face to face with a vampire before, and yet something deep withing him recognized this piercing gaze as something inherently hostile and predatory. A century old feud that would carry on with generations, a natural born hatred for each other, its groundwork laid in territory conflicts and a right to hunt.

Everything around him felt intensified, more suspicious, from the cold breeze cutting his skin, to the creaking of old trees under their own weight. Leaves on the ground rustled with either footsteps or a gust of wind. Somewhere a twig snapped. Ging bit down harder on his check, until the comfort of warm blood engulfed his mouth, bitter and tainted.

Silence. Despite his heart beating heavily against his chest, Ging slowly turned around to check on the window. Clear, no trace of anyone. No sign of anyone exiting the mansion, either. Ging sighed with relief and leaned with his shoulder against the tree. His body was still alert, twitching and tensing, but it seemed like he wasn’t in any danger.

“Ah, I knew I saw a lost puppy wandering out here~” Before Ging could fully turn around and process what happened, a hand wrapped firmly around his throat, and lifted him off the ground.

He was face to face with who he could only assume was Pariston Hill. Blonde Hair, tall, lean, wearing a golden herringbone suit so ridiculously shiny, that Ging would have made a joke if his windpipe weren’t being crushed. Dark brown eyes were closely examining the werewolf, and slowly, Paristons lips parted to reveal sharp fangs. “Didn’t you know its impolite to spy on people? How should I go about punishing a stray dog like you?” Paristons grip tightened, and his lips curled into a smile.

Ging knew that trying to overpower a Vampire in this position would be difficult, not having the opportunity to transform, or freely move around to take advantage of his agility. But that would all be fair play, and he knew better than to restrict himself to that. His right hand was still in his pocket and clutched the cross.

In a swift motion, Ging pulled his hand out of his pocket, and smacked it flat on Paristons hand. Immediately the smell of burned flesh filled the air, along with a sizzling sound. Holy shit it actually works- The vampire withdrew his hand with a sharp inhale, and Ging fell to the ground, gasping for air. He looked up to see the other still holding his own hand, most likely covering a severe burn, eyes fixated on him, lips twitching.

Ging knew he should have immediately grabbed his bag and take the stake or holy water.

Or he should have just made a run for it, a werewolf has a vampire beat in speed.

But he just returned the others stare, painfully aware of his own vulnerability.

Paristons lips twitched to a bigger smile, a smile of irritation and disbelief. “Not bad, not bad at all. What’s your name, Mutt?”

“Ging Freecs, if you’d like I can use your ashes to write it down for you.” His eyes darted towards his bag, still next to the tree. He wondered if he could out speed the vampire to take the bag and grab the holy water.

A clap, and a pleased sound drew his attention back. “Ging Freecs, Ging Freecs! Marvelous, I must command you for your bravery. Tell me, are you just blissfully stupid, or did someone order you to spy on me?”

“Do you think I’d voluntarily spy on someone as boring as you? Next time you could at least put on a peep-show or something.”

Silence fell between them, Ging grinned confidently, Pariston replied with a satisfied smile. Time stood still for this moment, a Vampire and a Werewolf acknowledging each other as spiteful creatures.

The moment passed. Ging quickly leaned towards the tree and reached for his bag. One dash of holy water to burn and distract, and then a quick stab through the heart, and ill be back home before sunrise.

But before Ging could even stand up, or open his bag, a swift kick to his head threw his body against the tree, head hitting the hard bark. His vision faded fast as he fell back onto the ground, numb pain spreading from his head to the rest of his body.

“Don’t worry, we’re not done playing yet~” The last thing Ging saw, was a blurred Pariston towering over him, flashing another smile.

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

Ging wasn’t sure how many hours had passed when he awoke. His head felt heavy, and his entire body ached, as if he were going through a bad hangover. Once he opened his eyes, he first saw the thick ropes that bound him into an uncomfortable seated position, unnaturally upright, arms and legs restricted.

It took more effort than he’d like to admit to lift his head, but when he did, he realized the darkness covering the room, only penetrated by a few lit candles on the large dinning table he was seated in front of. The table was decked with gold plated cutlery, and a plate covered by a stainless-steel cloche.

Gings night-sight had never been the best, but it was still good enough to pierce through the darkness of the room and find Pariston sitting at the end of the table, leaned forward on his elbows, chin rested in the palm of his hand. There was a small, burning red spark in his eyes, and he smiled at the werewolf. “Good Morning, sleeping beauty. How’s your head?” The vampire chimed.

“Just great, never had a concussion as lovely as this.”

Pariston laughed lightly, as if Ging had told an actual joke before he tilted his head just a tad to the side. “I removed that pesky scarf from your head, I hope you don’t mind. I have to say, a werewolves’ ears are quite sensitive, even while they are passed out.”

Ging grimaced, “I hope you had your fill of touching my ears, because that will never happen again.” His ears twitched involuntary at the thought of someone else coming close to them.

“That’s a shame. It’s my first time I’ve had the pleasure with one of your kind, so I’m naturally curious. You should brush your teeth more often, by the way, I think I spotted some discolorations on your fangs.”

“Did you put your disgusting spider fingers in my mouth?”

“I may have sneaked a peak at the unique canines of a wolf, how truly fascinating!” Ging wasn’t sure if it was the concussion, or the thought of Pariston prying around in his mouth, that got him close to throwing up on himself.

“So how long are you planning to keep me here, ‘cause it smells like death in here, and I’d rather be anywhere else.”

Pariston, instead of answering, slowly pushed his chair back, and walked leisurely towards Ging. Again, alarm bells rang loudly in his head, even drowning out the numb pain, and the hairs at the back of his neck stood up. But he could not back away, not even when Pariston laid his hand on his head and ruffled through his hair. “To be honest, I was planning to keep you. The relationship between werewolves and vampires can be quite beneficial to both, if they are willing to set aside their differences.” His face came uncomfortably close to Gings, and the werewolf pondered if he could somehow manage to lunge forward and bite the others nose off. “You could go outside in the daylight, and run any errands and surveillance as is needed, and in exchange we can give you the security to hunt whatever and whoever, as much as your wild heart pleases.”

Ging spit, with precision, on Paristons right cheek, who in return jumped a few feet back, hastily grabbed a tissue from his suit, and tried to clean himself. “I don’t care much for hunting whoever. I’m a simple man, a couple of sheep every few weeks keep me satisfied. You’re disguising yourself as human, while I have kept my humanity intact.”

The vampire stopped wiping at his cheek, and tilted his head again, lips curled again in a playful manner. “Ah~ So it’s like that. A good boy who never bites the shepherd’s hand, never reaps the sheep he’s guarding. Of course, you wouldn’t want to associate with degenerates like us, would you?”

Slowly, carefully, he stepped closer to Gings side again, but stopped at the edge of the table. “Are you hungry, Ging? I will happily release you back to your herd, but I would be a horrible host if I didn’t offer you some food first.”

“Does a good host tie his guests to chairs?” Gings head still felt heavy, and he used most of his energy just to keep his eyes focused on the other. Naturally, he was hungry, wanting to recharge on energy. How long had it been again since he had hunted anything?

Pariston lifted the cloche to reveal a piece of meat, still steaming, served with a side of green asparagus and a couple of wedged potatoes.

“My specialty, filet mignon. Rare, ‘kissed by the flame’, served with a side of asparagus and rosemary-potatoes.”

The smell hit Gings nostrils, and he started salivating. He watched Pariston cut into the meat, like a knife cutting into hot butter, the meat seemed tender, and revealed its inner reddish pink. And for a second, Ging had forgotten whatever they had just been talking about. He just saw food, ready to be ate, to satisfy this hunger he had been carrying around. It was just when Pariston turned towards him, fork in hand, flashing another toothy grin, that Ging realized.

“This is- “Before the sentence could leave his lips, Paristons hand was firmly grabbing his jaw. “It’s bad manners to say you don’t like something before you’ve even tried it.”

Ging dug his nails into the chair he was bound to, tried to rip free from the ropes, tried to release his jaw from the vampire’s iron grip. But all in vain.

If he had eaten before going on this mission, or if he could have been thinking clear without a head injury, maybe then he would have had a chance.

But instead, Pariston pressed his mouth open, and insistently pushed the fork carrying a piece of the filet into the werewolf’s’ mouth.

Various images flashed in front of his inner eye. His son Gon, so small, how he promised him he’d be able to grow up between humans and live like one of them. Cheadle, who trusted him with her own life, and the life of everyone in Yorknew, whose kindness had saved his life. And the nameless corpse, faceless human, whose flesh Ging was eating. Pariston brushed the meat off the work on Gings teeth, and held his mouth closed. As if practiced, he moved his ring finger just under the others jaw, and imitated chewing motions with it.

Slowly, the taste of the meat spread through Gings mouth, coating everything. He did not notice when he started to chew by himself. Or when he finally swallowed the bite. Paristons hand was still on his jaw, though it was no longer in a firm grasp but merely resting there as a ghosting touch.

“How did you like it, Ging?” The vampires voice was just above a whisper, and for the first time since he had seen him, Ging saw something other than a dangerous abyss in the others’ eyes. There was no comfort in them, no reassurance or regret. But suddenly he felt like he could understand him. Not entirely, not his existence or his person, but something in his core.

“More.” Gings voice was strained, hungry, mournful. For the first time in his life, he felt his humanity ripped away from him. And yet he could not care less. All he could care about in the moment was to feed, to indulge in this primal need that he had kept himself from for so long.

Pariston brushed his thumb over Gings cheekbone, “Good boy.”

He proceeded to feed the werewolf the rest of the steak, though he no longer had to motivate him to chew, or open his mouth.

After just a couple of minutes, it was all gone, and Ging let his head hang forward. His face felt hot and flushed, and he licked over his canines and incisors in a desperate attempt to recover any more of the sweet, rich taste he had indulged in. He had consumed human flesh, which he had sworn to never do. To never loose this part of his humanity, to keep this moral ground. And it all got thrown out the window. His heart ached with disappointment and regret.

A hand lifted his chin, and he starred back into those deep brown eyes who did this to him. “Do you think you want to go back to the village? Play the good sheepdog?” Pariston leaned forward, resting his hands on each of Gings shoulders, whispering in a light tone into his ear, “Do you think you can? Now that you know what you’d be missing.” His left hand gently cupped his cheek. “You don’t have to. I’m giving you an option to come with me. Soon we’ll leave this village, and head west towards the next. Join us, and you can taste to your hearts content.” As Pariston pulled back, his lips briefly brushed over Gings skin, chased by shivers and goosebumps.

“Why me? You’ve seemed to be fine hunting so far.” Ging flexed against the tight ropes again.

“Because you intrigue me, Ging Freecs. I want to know more about werewolves, about what they are capable of. What you are capable of.”

With a snap, the ropes came off one after another, a demonstration of Paristons finely sharpened nails. He stood up straight and extended a hand towards the wolf, a devilish smile on his lips. “Will you indulge me, Ging?”

And Ging pondered if he would.

#Pariging #Hunter X Hunter #hunter x hunter fanfiction #pariston hill #Ging freecs #WE FINALLY DID IT LADS

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voidselfshipp · 3 years

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The Sound Of Kindness

You know when you read a fanfic with great idea but the reader insert is always scared and its frustrated.

Well heres the opposite with me and death meeting based off that fic.

Tw:implications of child abuse

Ok to rb

Ozi has told her Many times,do not bother the dead.

Jerico was a Smart goddess, half human now, but that side of hers couldnt Keep still.

She Walked Into the old manor, the moonlight dripped from the dusty blinds.

Theres something here.

She could feel it,the Mark on her hand shined softly,reminescent of the morning sun.

She kept on waking, the energy was coming from the basement, she was a goddess, one swift move and she Will transform into a big white dragon.

She felt fear before,before she discovered her past life,but her powers gave her bravery,and knowing that the beating of her heart could impulse defeated batallions back to the fight.

Her heartbeat ran like wild horses marching into battle,the anticipation of a misadventure pumped her up, her hands,now claws, softly caressed the handrail as she went down the old stairs.

The door closes, and she jumps.

--Okay....,that was weird--she should have told her aunt at least.

Though ozi wouldnt be fine with it.

Something moved, swiftly.

--I know youre here--she said.

And he knew that.

Death, now in his reaper form hid in the shadows, the ammount of power that poured from that small human, scared Him a little.

He saw her face soften,and her ears perk up,those green eyes met his, and he felt a warm feeling in his empty ribcage.

--Hey there you are--she Walked softly to him, and he wasnt expecting the dragon like wings that came from her back,as she flied right infront of his face.

--....not.....scared??--its all he could muster in that form.

--Ive dealt with scarier things...--she then giggled.

She was tainted with the smell of death too,but not from hers, a fellow reaper...or the goddess of death.

--im jerico--she said.

Thats when his pupils caught the Mark on her right hand.

His long neck spiraled around her back,where he saw her exposed skin,and the bright sun Mark there shining brightly.

--terran.....?--he said again, turning back to meet her face.

-- hir-- she said in clear terran-- homyd geviizalaz-- he tilted his head--Yes,im terran,youre quite observant arent you

--what....are...you?--his raspy voice almost dry,Like its not been used in a while.

--Its a very long story....nor human,nor goddess,nor demigoddess,what I am,not even I know, and if you dont mind me asking, what are you?

--....horseman...

--nice to meet you--jerico said smiling--guess you wouldnt mind me asking your name

The horseman sighed, and looked away, theres no way shed be scared of his name-- d...dea....death

He looked at her, she kept her smile, and nodded, her wings flapped lazily,enough to have her float, she was getting tired.

Death Scooped her around his hands and held her close,she was strangely warm.

Warmer than any human.

Then he felt her heartbeat, it sounded like hymn with no words, but yet he could understand what the song said.

He might have said it was cheesy, but the sudden warmth made him stay quiet, the song seemed personal.

A song of love, loss, grief, and a hymn to pride, discovery, and Curiosity.

His face nuzzled against her chest, where he could hear the hymn better.

--....sing?

--sing what?

The nose of his bone poked her chest.

She seemed puzzled,then it dawned on her-- you can hear it too?

He nodded softly.

--why would you want to hear it?

--know......about...you...

She tilted her head,her hands softly placed themselves on his skull, and caressed it, he caved in and his knees Buckeld, kneeling on the ground slouched.

Whoever death is...or was...it seems like its been a while since he had felt this warmth, this closeness and this tenderness,and jerico came to the relaziation when he felt him grunt with a broken voice.

She cleared her throat,and opened her mouth.

--all I remember--she sang-- its the screams of justice, all I saw, was someone in need of help.

What I was....who I am, didnt seem to matter,as my heart, pumped with desire.

I extended my hand to the human, who had finally gotten justice for her husband.

Then a yelp, a cry of help, and thats when I felt.

The human just smiled--death seemed to calm down and wrap his wings around her--as I heed her...so did she to me...

And soon enough a human id be....--

Deaths face lifted up as she heard her gulp,and tears formed on the corner of her eyes--oh how wrong I was--her voice rised up--when I thought it was all about love, oh how wrong I was, to forget that pain could be inflicted upon Man.

How Greed and narcissim could ruin such thing,as the Bond of a mother and her offspring...

But now I am here,resting in peace, with more knowledge and love that I have ever got before...--at the end her voice cracked as tears rolled down her eyes.

He wiped her tears away with a Giant hand,and pressed her against his chest.

Jerico sniffled, and gripped his cloack.

--Sorry....

She shook her head--dont be...I just get emotional when I sing it

Death Rose her up back to meet his face.

--Lets get out of here okay?,my allergies are kicking in --She chuckled and so does he.

And in a quick dash they were on old library.

The reaper left his companion on one of the tall bookshelves, where she sat

The first morning Rays filtered through the Windows.

Death looked at them and sighed--its....almost time

--hm?

He pointed at the sunrays and then at himself, making a hand gesture of something shrinking-- I....normal again

--ah i see --She jumped off the bookshelves and landed on the floor with no harm done-- maybe we can get out of here, and get you something for that throat,would you like that?

The reaper chuckled and nodded.

Then a shriek ripped from his throat,as his wings enveloped him, and shrank Back to his size.

He was still taller than her, messy and dirty black locks fell astray on the Mask covering his face.

The pale skin,seemed rough to the touch, death dragged himself to her, and hugged her as tight as he could.

Jerico smiled--Morning to you too

He grunted a chuckle, and both Walked out of the old manor.

The streets were empty,and the morning sun made jeri look even more beautiful, her eyes reflected the light and made them seem like two emeralds,he felt his cheeks Run hot.

His hand softly ghosted over her Lower back.

She shivered and looked at him, the chuckled and pulled him closer to her.

--If you need affection dont be afraid to ask, I have much to give--her heart not only poured power,but kindness too.

They finally arrived at jericos house,or more so her aunts.

He felt that energy again,the aura of someone as powerfull, that could only belong to someone such as the goddess of death herself.

She gave him some tea with honey,always keeping a hand on his shoulder.

He then collapsed on the sofá, his whole body ached from the transformation.

She layed ontop of him, the blinds were barely letting the sun come in.

Death cupped her cheeks, and she sleepily smiled to him ,he took off his mask and his chapped lips pressed against hers--thank...you

She kissed him again and he felt her smile against his lips--Dont mention it

#death #f/o tag #self insert #self ship #my f/os #self shipping #f/o x s/i #romantic f/o #f/o #f/o community #f/o fic #tw:child abuse #tw//child abuse

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candyshua · 4 years

Text

Until the End {Junhui x Minghao x Reader} (Chapter 1 - The First Life)

Synopsis: You don't know how many lives you have lived. In fact, you don't even believe in past lives. Neither do Junhui and Minghao--yet there you three were, on your umpteenth life, making the same mistakes you always did.

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Potential Smut, Royalty AU, queen!reader, nobleman!junhui, servant!minghao, Forbidden Love AU

Word Count: 2,824

A/N: This story will be a whirlwind of emotions, that's for sure. I don't exactly know how I'm going to format it, so please bear with me. (This chapter doesn't really touch on Junhui and Y/N's love. It's mainly about her and Minghao. However, most of the chapters will be much more love-triangle centric, this one just happens to be a bit different.) (Cross-posted on ao3, my username is vernonie)

The evening of your coronation was the last nail in the coffin.

The grand hall was decorated lavishly. Hues of blue (your favorite color) were splendidly spread throughout the place. Your lovely aqua gown truly made you look like a queen. This was your destiny, your fate. You were born to rule your land and you were to do so with poise and passion.

You kept telling yourself that throughout the entire night. Even when you spared glances at him, even when your heart sunk when you noticed the longing in his eyes, you never stopped convincing yourself that it was your duty.

You remembered the conversation you had with Minghao the previous night. The two of you laid in bed, your bare figures hugging one another closely. You listened to Minghao's steady heartbeat and wondered if it was the last time you would be in such close proximity to him.

"I don't want to be queen." You bluntly murmured, as if you were talking about the weather. You felt Minghao freeze beneath your fingertips. It was the first time one of you had mentioned your inevitable fate in a long time.

Minghao got up and started to dress. The bed suddenly felt cold without his presence. You subconsciously reached out to his then empty side of the bed.

"That is not a choice you were blessed with." Minghao spat, anger coiling up in him. The shock of his tone was like an icy wave of water, and you did not welcome the foreign feeling one bit. You swallowed, your mouth dry.

"I am so, desperately in love with you." You croaked after a thick silence. You were out of breath from your heart's swift rate. You wanted nothing but to run away with Minghao and live with him in solidarity.

"And I love you just the same. But you're going to be Queen, and I'm just a poor boy who works in the castle."

"I cannot be Queen." You uttered shakingly, but Minghao wasn't having any of it.

"You must."

You sighed. The entire event was much too prestigious for you; the grand lights and musicians of the highest talent in your presence. You were going to be crowned Queen quite soon, the golden crown would seal your fate.

You could not breathe. Minghao's glances were suffocating you.

You were going to be Queen and you were going to do it without him. Without the love of your life.

You were about to run outside until a familiar face tapped you on the shoulder. You turned around and were face-to-face with the dashing Wen Junhui. You would smile if it were under any other circumstance.

"Hello, Junhui."

Junhui was your childhood best friend. The Wen family were of high nobility, and they dwelled in the castle. You and Junhui were destined to meet, just like you were destined to become Queen.

"Hello, Your Majesty." He took your hand and kissed it lightly and bowed elegantly. You smiled emptily.

You missed Minghao's burning glare when Junhui's lips reached your skin. You missed the way he almost ran over to the two of you and scooped you away. You missed Minghao's eyes tear up once the searing reality of what was happening had finally reached him.

However, you didn't miss Junhui's dark gaze. You gave him a nervous smile when his staring became a bit intimidating.

"Is there something amiss, Junhui?" You muttered, an odd kind of fear settled deep in your belly.

"Nothing, Your Majesty, you just look absolutely beautiful tonight." You inwardly cringed at the term "your majesty". Of course, Junhui called you by your name when no one else was around, but the ballroom was swarming with people of many different backgrounds.

"Why thank you, Junhui. I best be going, the ceremony will begin quite soon." Your own words were bringing you back to reality. It was going to happen, so you might as well comply for the time being.

Junhui bid you farewell, his long and lanky figure disappearing into the crowd. Your hope of freedom went along with him.

You wore the crown with dignity and pride. You sat on your throne as if you were the ruler of all the lands, and not just your own. You thought you were pretty good at being Queen.

Of course, there was one thing you forgot, much to your detriment. Minghao worked in the castle. Of course, lowly workers like him would come into the presence of the queen once in a blue moon, but that didn't stop it from happening. The two of you were in closed quarters. You went back inside the castle after a light run around it, and you found yourself in the weaponry.

Minghao was in there merely polishing the weapons, but your presence didn't go unknown. The moment you walked in and saw his beautiful, lean face you were done for. His eyes widened once he was soaked in your presence.

"Minghao." You stated longingly. The rush of melancholy you were feeling was incapacitating; you felt as if you could drown in your emotions.

"Your Majesty." Ouch.

"Minghao, there's no one else around, you can call me--"

"I should go, my Queen." He knew he was just rubbing salt in the wound.

You were reminded of the time when you first met Minghao, which was in that very room you were in. You were a fifteen-year-old princess at that point, and you were destined for the crown. You were sure of just about everything in your life.

But then you saw his face. It was as if he was sculpted from the very gods above; his beautiful, small nose resided on his thin, heavenly face. His big brown eyes were innocent at the time, the dark colors of the world had yet to taint his sight. His angled jawline made your knees weak. You were standing next to Junhui, and you were just about to spar. Minghao came in with his master, a well-known artist who lived in the castle.

Your breath was taken away along with your heart. That servant boy had stolen them both.

"Junhui," You began, "I think I shall postpone our spar. I have someone else in mind."

It was in your nature to impress the people you were interested in. You felt a paralyzing desire to impress that beautiful boy, so much so that you wanted to spar with the most talented warrior in that room.

Soon, the two of you were battling with steel swords, the sound of metal against metal clanging in the air. The warrior was skilled, persistent, and confident. However, you were fuelled with the fire of that boy who made you feel things you had never felt before. The warrior was put to shame by a princess. Needless to say, you won.

You noticed the boy had smiled after the warrior was left heaving on the ground. Your heart was beating incredibly fast, to the point where you could feel your pulse in your ears.

Newfound confidence overtook you. Soon, you were taking long strides to Minghao.

"I need help with something, please do help."

He happily obliged. Turning down the princess would only lead to detrimental results, but he didn't feel even a twinge of apprehension. It was safe to say he was absolutely smitten as well as you. You led him to the courtyard, and the two of you just began talking about your lives. He was surprisingly well educated, not even for just a servant.

Soon, the two of you started meeting regularly. Your father did not mind, surprisingly. His reasoning was that he wanted you to have fun and be a kid like the rest.

Yet, your friendship turned into something much more, and that happened faster than the two of you could've imagined. You were enthralled to be in the presence of someone that could keep up with you intellectually and physically. The two of you would often spar, and Minghao had quite the natural gift.

Minghao had a gift for a lot of things--painting, writing, and breaking your heart.

He was just about to walk out of the weaponry, looking anywhere but at you.

"Wait." You ordered. He halted immediately. He turned around, his brown orbs longingly searching for something in yours. Before you could stop yourself, you ran over to the man you loved. Your lips crashed against his, and he surprisingly reciprocated. His muscular arms snaked around your body immediately. Your hands became entangled in his hair. You tried to pull him as close to you as possible, almost as if to say "I'm still yours".

"I love you so much," Minghao whispered in between the kisses you shared. You were taken aback, even if only for just a bit. You knew Minghao had wanted to resist you, because it was the best thing for the both of you. But he just loved you too damn much to stay away.

"I love you too, Xu Minghao."

It was wrong. You were Queen--you had a duty to your land and you knew you were destined to marry some royal man from far away. Yet, you had ceased to care, because being in Minghao's arms and feeling his lips against your skin was something you'd do just about anything for. Maybe talking to him on that fateful day you met was a mistake in the first place, but you couldn't imagine your life without him.

You and Minghao continued to share passionate kisses, and then you snuck away to your room and had a bit more fun. Little did you know that someone with jealousy in his heart was watching from afar...

It was a week since you had reunited with Minghao. The both of you would still secretly meet up just about every day. The entire situation was inherently wrong, but nothing felt more right than being with someone you loved so dearly. You woke up to a knock at your door, and you were grateful for the first time in your life that Minghao wasn't with you.

You forced yourself out of bed, slipping on a pair of dainty shoes. You shuffled to the door to your grand room and tore it open, expecting to be greeted with a servant or Minghao.

It was Junhui.

"Oh, why hello, Junhui, let me get dressed and--"

The sound of the door shutting was heard among your eerily vacant room. Junhui managed to maneuver himself inside, his eyes on fire. Your heart dropped at the furious look on his face.

"Is something the matter? You're being quite scary."

Junhui scoffed, his eyes boring into yours.

"You want to pretend to be oblivious?"

Oh no.

The worst was happening.

"When?" You curtly questioned, your aura of cluelessness dissolving. It was replaced with a cold, burdened mask. Junhui wasted no time in his reply.

"Last week. I saw the two of you in the weaponry, and dear God, Y/N! What are you doing? You are queen, you cannot do this!"

A sigh of anger and fear escaped your lips.

"Junhui, I love him, and--"

"Stop. Let him go this instant, please. I'm begging you, Y/N."

"I'm Queen, Junhui, you cannot order me around." Junhui's face soon turned grim.

"Please do not make me get the ministry involved."

You sucked in a sharp breath through your teeth. Rage was starting to consume your every movement. Betrayal was hot in the air, making you feel stiff and unwell. Junhui's presence was no longer welcome.

You thought he'd support you. He was your best friend, one of the few people in this castle that you could trust. Or so you thought.

"Junhui, get out." You stifled an onslaught of sobs, but you couldn't only fight them for so long. You were not going to let Junhui see you cry.

"If I get the ministry involved, Y/N, you're--"

"Going to die, yes I know! They'll execute me for treason." You were seeing the color red. You wanted nothing else but to run up to Junhui and punch him in his gut, making him feel a sliver of the pain he had just caused you.

"You wouldn't be the only one who dies, Y/N."

The sky of the world you had almost perfectly molded was falling. You swallowed, your throat completely dry. Minghao would die, and it would be of your doing.

"Get out, Junhui, before I kill you."

He didn't speak another word. He got up from the chair he was sitting on and walked out of the room, his jaw tightened. You gave him the most deathly glare as he exited.

And then you broke down. Tears of betrayal, self-hatred, and of inevitability had fallen. This was bound to happen, you should've stopped when you could have. Now you were just left to deal with the aftermath--the consequences of your detrimental actions.

Then, it dawned on you. The great epiphany made your heart drop to your stomach.

You'd rather just die than live without Minghao.

Minghao's face remained stoic the entire time you explained the situation to him. At times, his eyes would flash with a streak of pain briefly, but then they'd go back to their emotionless nature. The two of you had snuck out to the courtyard, hiding in an extremely dark spot at around midnight. You hoped and prayed Junhui didn't see either of you.

"What do we do?" You feebly asked, your voice raw and broken. Tears were already welling up in your eyes.

"We don't let them kill us."

His words made your stomach drop. Your breath was taken away for a bit, and you were left to wonder what the hell the love of your life was saying.

"What?"

"We steal poison berries from the garden, and we eat them." The initial shock of his words was like a blunt punch to your gut. Minghao didn't want to give you up. If the situation were vastly different, you'd probably be flattered.

You wanted to protest. You wanted to run away and live with him until you turned old and decrepit, but you knew that was a mere fantasy. It was impossible.

"Okay." You found yourself saying. You were sealing your fate with that, you were going to die and leave your kingdom behind.

It was quite a selfish decision. However, you grew up a princess. Your entire life was set out for you ever since you took your first breath. This time, the power was in your hands. What a forlorn situation, though; the only thing you have power over is whether you get to kill yourself or not.

You grabbed Minghao's hands and stroke your thumbs over them. You closed your eyes and let yourself relish in the last moment you'd be spending with him. You couldn't help but let tears fall, you didn't want to die, you didn't want to leave your kingdom behind. You were afraid of your brutal end. Your heart was tainted with the black color of hate, something you'd never thought you'd feel towards Wen Junhui. He had betrayed you in the worst of ways, and now he would know your decision. You inwardly scoffed at the audacity of that man. Giving you, the Queen, an ultimatum! You almost wanted to die solely just to spite him.

Minghao removed his hands from your grasp and cupped your face instead, kissing you slowly and longingly.

Much to your dismay, he pulled away and led you to the garden. It took a while to find the poison berries, since they were hidden in the way back, covered by many other plants.

"Minghao, I--"

"Y/N! I know you're out there!" Junhui erupted. You felt your entire figure grow heavy.

"We have to eat them now, Y/N." Minghao's eyes were filled to the brim with tears. You muffled your sobs by pressing your hand against your mouth, your entire body shaking.

"Xu Minghao," You began in a whisper, "I hope we can meet again in another life. I hope we'll know one another as equals, and that we'll love each other freely."

Minghao swallowed thickly. This time, he couldn't contain the tears from falling.

"I hope the same, Y/N. I love you."

"I love you too."

Then all you could taste was the bitter flavor of the berries. The sharpness of your senses was inevitably dulling, and your eyes somehow managed to make out Junhui behind Minghao. It seemed as if realization struck Junhui across the face, due to his shocked and deadly expression.

Everything was going numb. Minghao was fading out of your sight, and your breaths were uneven and unsteady. Soon, you collapsed to the ground. Minghao fell slowly after you, and the last thing you saw was the painful look in your love's eyes as all the life drained from him, and eventually you too

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