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panda-noosh · 3 years

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taste test {kaz brekker x reader}

there are guests today.

little information was given to you, but you don’t mind; you’re not here to entertain anyone. you’re here to do your job and move on. who the king associates with is honestly none of your concern.

you’ll leave the assassins to the royal guards.

you wake on the day to witness the palace in hysterics. chefs bustle around like headless chickens, maids and butlers ironing uniforms that have not had a crinkle in them since the war. the scent of food - a cacophany of it - rises to the surface, making you crinkle your nose at the onslaught of different options. all you want is a slice of toast to prepare you for the day, but the thought of walking into that kitchen has you cuddling up in bed for a few minutes longer.

you’ll have to eat that food pretty soon. just a small bite, just enough to get a taste. a hint.

you close your eyes.

the peace doesn’t last long, because it never does. a knock sounds at your door, startling you from your reverie. you roll over, not even bothering to cover yourself when you call out, “come in!”

a palace guard - rico - peaks his bald head round the door and raises a brow. “still sleeping?”

“clearly not.”

“good. you need to be up and at your post in thirty minutes; we have guests today.”

you pull the quilt over your head. “don’t remind me.” you peak an eye over the top, raising a brow. “who are the guests?”

rico narrows his eyes. “you haven’t been told?”

“well, no. i never really asked.”

“then i’ll leave it as a surprise.” he claps his hands, like you’re some kind of dog. “get ready. i don’t want to come back up here again.”

“then don’t,” you reply, but he’s already disappeared.

you drag yourself from bed to do as he ordered. there’s no point arguing with the palace guards - they seem to think they own the place, even though they live basically under the thumb of every other individual walking the grounds. even you, the lowest of the low, can manipulate them into doing what you want if you just try hard enough. a few sweet words and a confident tone, and they’re like putty in your hands.

but the truth is, you don’t care enough about todays events to put on that confident tone. you pull your clothes on, fiddle with your bow tie, and head downstairs to see what the day has in store for you.

breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

a risky day ahead.

you’re required to be at the kings side long before the guests arrive. you’ve never questioned it. the rules of the palace have never made any sense to you, but you go along with them, because you don’t want to get into any more trouble than you already have. that’s why you find yourself stood by the kings side in silence, hands clasped in front of you, trays of delicious breakfast foods being delivered by hasty, sweaty porters.

the dining room is swathed in beautiful decor. banners hang from the ceiling, red and gold colours matching the grand wallpaper all around. the fancy carpet has been rolled out, tucked beneath the long, mahogany dining table and stretching all the way to the double doors ready to greet the guests.

even the king is dressed well for the occasion, which is another surprise. though the king hardly looks like a peasant, he makes a point to put in as little effort with his appearance as possible, just to show people that he can get anyone to fear him from personality alone. his riches and fancy fabrics have nothing to do with his power.

but today he wears his finest silk coat, the buttons straining against his round stomach. his beard has been freshly trimmed, and you watch his hand rock back and forth amongst the hairs. a few stray ones float from his chin to the table, and you quickly swipe them away. the king doesn’t even notice; he continues staring at the doors, one dark skinned knuckle tight around the arms of his throne-like chair.

finally, after what feels like forever, the double doors up ahead are pushed open. two palace guards dressed in red hold them in place, and a man is ushered in.

a man you recognise immediately.

he’s got a cane now, which is different. there’s those gloves on his hands, the sides of his head still shaved, with that shaggy, dark mess still perched on top, a school boys haircut that looks most out of place on someone with blood on his hands. he’s frowning, because that’s what kaz brekker does - the king shows his power through his booming voice and cruel choices. kaz brekker shows his power through his expressions.

you don’t meet his eyes, though you don’t look away. kaz has his gaze on the king, not even noticing you standing at his side, and for that you are thankful; you don’t think you want to look into those blue eyes again. you promised yourself you wouldn’t, not before the nightmares disappear.

the king slowly stands. he rubs his beard one final time for good measure before saying, “you’re late, kaz.”

“call me mr brekker,” kaz replies, before gesturing to an empty seat at the end of the table - the seat farthest from the king. “shall we sit?”

you swallow; you’re familiar with this attitude from him, but you’ve been in the kings presence too long now to pretend kaz isn’t on thin ice.

the king, however, is clearly in a docile mood, as he nods and sits down. the food in the centre of the table goes unnoticed for a while as the two stare at each other, waiting for the other to crack and begin the conversation. you fiddle with your fingers, uncertain whether kaz has seen you, whether he recognises you, whether he’s just keeping a straight face because he’s kaz, and he’s a professional.

finally, the king clicks his fingers at you. “stack my plate. you know the drill.”

you burst into action, bustling round the table, scooping up different assortments of breakfast foods you know the king enjoys; he’s got his bacon, and his eggs, and the bread, pancakes on the side. you slather beans along the rim of his plate and place a single hash brown in the residue, just as he likes it.

and then you sit down, and pick apart the entire thing.

you can feel kaz’s eyes burning into you as you work, but you pay him no attention. you have to focus, because this is kind of a life or death situation. you sniff the food first, though this very rarely shows you anything you might need to worry about. it’s too fresh, still warm in your fingers when you lift it to your nose. you can smell only the warmth of it all, but you take the precaution anyway, just to show the king you know what you’re doing.

and then you nibble the edges, heart thumping with nerves rather than poison entering your body. that’s what you’re looking for - poison, an assassination attempt. even in his own palace, the king is paranoid. his own staff have turned against him before. you’re not entirely surprised.

you chew, swallow, pause, repeat.

“all clear.”

you hand the plate back, tuck your hands in your lap and look down at the table at kaz. he’s staring at you, an eyebrow raised, and you understand immediately that he recognises you, probably knew you worked here before he even entered the premise.

was he here for you?

you banish the thought and look away. you wait until the king has started digging in before excusing yourself and exiting, your job for the morning complete. at lunch, you will have to repeat the process, and again at dinner, but until then, you have the morning to yourself.

you walk through the gardens, because fresh air is all you need right now. your heart is hammering, and you curse yourself for it - kaz brekker has not been in your life for months. he shouldn’t have a grip on you. he shouldn’t even know you are here, and yet he does, because of course he does. kaz doesn’t step foot anywhere until he knows the ins-and-outs of the entire place. he keeps his ducks all in a neat row, and you were a fool to believe you had escaped it.

it’s not like kaz is a bad man. he’s evil, certainly, with horrible actions under his belt, but you can understand his reasoning. he kills a man, and maybe that’s an overexaggeration, but the man was also seconds away from traumatising a poor woman walking home from work. kaz takes a life, saving the day in the process. it’s how he works, how he’s always worked for as long as you’ve known him.

and you’ve known him for a while.

you haven’t been by his side in months, but someone like kaz brekker is someone you never forget. once you know kaz, you never stop knowing him, which is a curse more than anything else. oh, how you wish you could wipe the slate clean, pretend you never got involved with him and his gang in the first place. but that was your decision - your stupid, careless decision - and you need to face the consequences.

having him here, at your place of work, was a consequence.

you sit down by the stream just outside the palace grounds. a duckling struts past, paying you no attention whatsoever. a stray lilipad floats gently through the water, spurred on by the tiny breeze ketterdam has for you today.

you like to come here sometimes, just to clear your head a little bit. nobody else bothers with the nice scenery and the nature; they think it’s a waste of time. if it wasn’t for the gardener, this place would be a wasteland, left to shrivel and disappear into shadow. you’re thankful it’s been kept pleasant, though - it’s a good place for someone who wants to have no thoughts for a little while.

you lean down and run your fingertips along the water. it’s cold, and a weed gets tangled between your fingers. you lift it from the water with a wince, flicking your wrist to get it off-

a cane clamps down on your fingers, shoving your hand into the grass.

you inhale sharply, straightening up but not turning around.

“so easy to startle,” kaz hums. “you’re losing your touch, y/n.”

you twist your hand and catch the bottom of his cane, using it to pull yourself to your feet. kaz doesn’t stumble, but you never expected him to; kaz doesn’t stumble. he’s much too stubborn for that.

you whirl around, and there he is, that frown on his face, his head tilted like he’s analysing you even before you’ve said two words. a heat festers in your belly. you don’t know if you want to hug him or slam your fist into his nose.

“so this is where you ended up, is it?” he glances at the grand gardens, the glistening lake, the ducklings swimming past. “you’ve surprised me, i gotta say. i never thought you’d be into such grandeur.”

you fold your arms over your chest, cheeks heating up. you will admit, the palace is certainly not the place you thought to find yourself, either; after living in the barrel your entire life, you had grown used to dirt stained clothes, weeks without washing, hunger pains. this was different. this was a different type of hell, a hell in fancy clothes.

“cat got your tongue?” kaz continues, swinging that stupid cane back and forth. “shame. i think we have a lot to talk about.”

“why are you here?”

“ah, asking the right questions now!”

“just tell me, kaz. tell me, and then we can go our separate ways - just like you wanted.”

his expression falters for a moment, so quick that it’s clear he doesn’t want you noticing the power you still have over him, even just a little.

“fine,” he says. “let’s walk.”

you do just that, hands tucked into pockets, head tilted down. it’s easier to talk to him when you’re not subject to his facial expressions, too - handling both of them is too much.

“you want to know why i’m here,” he begins. “i’m here looking for you.”

your stomach drops, even though that was kind of what you were expecting.

he pauses, giving you a chance to fill in the silence with your own thoughts, but you don’t even look up.

he barrels on. “we had a tip-off from someone that you were working here now. no one else believed it, but me? i know you a little better than them. i was surprised, but i could picture it. you’ve always been irrational when you’re desperate.”

you wince. “you don’t know me at all, kaz.”

he smiled at the sky in response, like you had walked into his trap.

“i hope you didn’t come here thinking you can coax me back to the barrel,” you continue. “that’s not going to happen.”

his jaw clenches, head still tilted towards the sun. his skin is a little darker now, a little more tan. he’s probably been out and about, you think, causing havok in the sunshine, ruining people’s holidays because he can.

“i thought you would say that,” he says. “so i’m bringing the problem to you.”

you nearly stumble. “what?” freezing in the middle of the path, you grab his arm and whirl him around, forcing him to look at you. “what have you done, kaz? what problem?”

“she asked for you.”

“kaz-”

“inej is sick.”

your breath falters. those words, so simple, yet so . . . unexpected. inej ghafa - the wraith, your best friend, the girl designed to be indestructible. that’s why kaz picked her. that’s why she worked alongside you. that’s what made you the best damn crew in ketterdam.

“sick.”

kaz nods, shrugging his arm from your grip. “sick. ill. not well. poorly. whatever you want to call it. she’s not doing good, and the only person she’s asking for is you.”

“so where is she?” you whirl around. “is she here?”

“not walking alongside us, no.”

you scowl. “i mean at the palace, kaz. is she at the palace?”

“she will be.” kaz pulls a golden watch from his pocket. “in about three hours. that should give your employer plenty of time to set my room up and make some space in the hospital wing, don’t you think?”

you close your eyes, trying desperately to steady the thumping of your heart. he could be lying, and you know that, but what if he isn’t? what is inej really is on her death bed, and you never even got to say goodbye?

the thought terrifies you to the point your hands begin to tremble. when you open your eyes, kaz is staring at them, and you’re almost certain there is something close to pity sparking there.

you quickly snap your arms behind your back and nod. “fine. okay. i’ll see her. but once i’ve done what i can, you leave. both of you.”

kaz studies your face. the fire in your stomach burns even brighter, forcing you to look away and keep walking.

kaz follows, all soft footsteps. “i’m not here to bring up the past, y/n. i hope you know that.”

“you can understand why i find that hard to believe.”

“well, yes. but i’m serious. what we had, it means nothing now. you’re a different person, and so am i. we can let it go.”

you swallow the lump in your throat, trying to pretend those words are exactly what you wanted to hear. but a knot twists in your heart, almost to the point of pain.

you take a deep breath and glance at him over your shoulder. he’s only a few steps behind, but his presence is so large, so there that you nearly trip.

and then you say, “we never had anything, kaz. remember that.”

----

it’s like you’re trying to hurt each other.

that’s how it’s always been between you and kaz, but at one point, it felt natural. it was a bit of fun. a few snide remarks here and there, followed by kaz confessing he thinks your eyes are a very pretty colour. a bit of sparring, followed by you telling kaz he’s the most important person in your life.

this time, however, the mere sight of him is a torment, one you don’t find fun in the slightest.

the king tasks you with leading kaz through the palace. this was a job you fully expected to be given, but it doesn’t make it any easier. kaz stops to examine every little thing, tracing his fingers along artefacts you would be murdered for touching.

you swat his hand away when he reaches for a bust of the kings father. “stop it. if you knock that over, he’ll have you hanged.”

kaz raises a brow before touching a gloved fingertip to the stone. you groan and march off, trying to ignore the butterflies at the sound of his soft, hidden chuckle echoing behind you.

you show him his room, a beautifully decorated space much grander than any room the king has ever given you. kaz whistles when he walks in, looking at the wine bucket on his chest of drawers, and the freshly made bed with the thick linens, and a view to die for.

“spoiled,” he says.

you roll your eyes. “i’ll leave you to get comfortable.”

“or.” he whirls, catching your arm. his fingers slot in the crook of your elbow, the leather of his gloves sparking unwanted familiarity within you. “you can stay, and we can talk some more.”

“i have things to do, kaz.” you rip your arm from his grip. “the king will be having lunch soon, and i need to be there.”

kaz scoffs, slowly sliding the knot out of his tie and slipping it from beneath his collar, like undressing in front of you is no big deal. “so you can do what? potentially die? you know, y/n, i once thought you were a tough son of a bitch, but the longer i’m here, the more i’m realising just how weak you are.”

ouch.

“we’ve all got to make a living somehow,” you reply. “you murder people, i keep the king safe.”

“the same king you wanted to assassinate a few months ago?” he tilts his head, pursing his lips. “what a drastic change of heart.”

“go to hell, kaz.”

he raises a hand. “wait for me outside; i’ll come to lunch with you and your king.”

you pause. “has he invited you?”

“i don’t need an invite.”

“you’re not permitted to be there-”

“i’ll be there.” he starts unbuttoning his shirt. “i want to watch you in action. you’ve always been very good in action.” he smirks, and you know he’s just teasing you, trying to get a reaction. your cheeks heat up, but you quickly turn on your heel and scurry out before he can notice.

you don’t wait on him outside. instead, you hurry to the dining hall, where the king is already seated. he looks up when you enter, fingers already tangled in his beard. his wife sits beside him, grand and tall and everything a queen should be. she scowls when you enter, but you ignore her, immediately taking your seat by the king and fanning a napkin over your lap.

“sorry,” you say. “kaz brekker kept me.”

“it’s mr brekker,” the queen snaps. “have some respect for our guests.”

“y/n can call me kaz.”

you close your eyes, listening to the thump of his feet and cane against the carpet.

“y/n can call me kaz,” he repeats, lowering himself in the chair at the head of the table. “mr brekker is a little too formal for them.”

“mr brekker,” the queen exclaims, fanning her reddening face. “i wasn’t aware you would be joining us for lunch!”

you nearly roll your eyes at her flustered state - okay, so kaz is attractive. he’s also half her age.

kaz leans back in his seat, tapping his fingertips together. “oh, no, i’m not eating. i’m just here to observe.” at the confused silence, he shrugs. “i have nothing better to do, and i’ve always been fascinated with the hobbies y/n takes on. such a talented soul they are.”

you’ve never heard kaz speak so formal before, and you have half a mind to laugh. instead, you glance over to see his own lips trembling in his attempts to keep a straight face - he finds this just as amusing as you do. messing with the royals, it’s all a game to him. they are the fools.

“do you two know each other?” the king asks, handing you his stacked plate.

“no,” you snap. kaz grins behind his glove, staring at you over his fingers as you hasten to add, “no, we don’t. i just met him today.”

the king nods slowly, not quite sure whether to believe you or not. you don’t give him a chance to doubt any further before picking up your knife and fork and cutting a small chunk from a slice of tofu. you go through the usual routine with everything on his plate, but all the while, kaz stares. you feel his eyes like a fire sinking into the side of your face, putting you off from paying proper attention. you pop the cut-off’s in your mouth and chew, turning to meet his gaze, as if making eye contact with him is some kind of power move. however, he actually looks a bit. . . worried? concerned? you’ve never seen that expression on his face before, and it makes your stomach flip as you swallow the food.

you give a final nod, handing the plate back to the king. you repeat the process with the queen before standing, straightening your trousers and excusing yourself.

kaz’s chair screeches as he stands.

“mr brekker, would you not care for some lunch?” the queen asks.

“no.” he turns and follows you out the dining room, catching your arm when you try and run. “what the hell?”

you spin, snatching your arm away. “can you stop grabbing me?”

“what happens if their food actually has been poisoned?”

“then i get poisoned.”

he raises a brow, skin paling. “and do they have someone on hand for if that happens?”

“on hand to do what?”

“don’t play stupid, y/n. on hand to save your fucking life.”

you scowl; it’s been a long time since you’ve heard kaz curse, and it shames you to feel the same thrill run over you.

“i get sent to the infirmary,” you reply. “but it’s never happened before.”

“never happened-” he shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “this is the kind of life you want to live? you left the barrel for this?”

“no life is as bad as the barrel.”

kaz’s lips tighten, eyes fluttering closed for the briefest moment before he opens them again and says, “you left the place where people loved you, cared about you, and you came here. to this shit hole. you’re risking your life for them, and you have the nerve to tell me this life isn’t as bad as the barrel?”

even to you it sounds ridiculous, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

“the barrel wasn’t a life,” you say. “the barrel was a beginning for me, but i’ve moved on.”

“you don’t move on from that.”

“maybe not mentally, but i can damn well get away physically.” you lean in, lowering your voice. “i just wish you’d let me.”

his eyes scan your face, drawing attention to just how close you are to him. his breath fans your cheeks. you can make out every line on his lips, every crease in his face. you could lean forward if you wanted to, close that distance.

you step back, once again straightening your trousers. “tell me when inej arrives and i’ll come meet her in the infirmary.”

kaz doesn’t say anything. he watches you leave, and part of you - a retched, traitorous part - is disappointed he doesn’t follow.

----

inej really is sick.

“so it’s true,” you say, sauntering into the infirmary. “the wraith has been beaten.”

you’re trying to jest, but there’s little humour to be felt when she looks like that. her dark skin is pale and sickly, warm drops of sweat clinging to her forehead and rolling down her neck. she’s dressed in only a thin night gown, revealing collar bones and stretched skin where her muscles once were.

she looks up, bloodshot eyes meeting your own, and even in sickness, she manages a smile when she sees you. that’s enough to have you breaking. you rush to her bedside and bundle her in your arms, nearly sobbing with relief at the feel of her pressed against you, her hands in your hair, her mouth inches from your ear.

she whispers, “it’s you.”

you pull away, nodding. “yes. it’s me.”

“what are you doing here?”

you pull a chair over and sit down. “that’s not important.”

“yes, it is.”

“i’ll explain later.” you lean forward, pushing a strand of hair away from her face. “you talk first; what’s going on?”

inej coughs into her elbow; something rattles in your throat, and you try desperately to hide your wince. “i just got sick. i fell in the brig a few days ago, and i don’t think the water was very healthy.”

“of course it wasn’t,” you grumble. “it’s the barrel, you stupid girl. what did you expect?”

“i cleaned myself pretty well afterwards,” she defends.

“clearly not well enough.” you place a hand to her cheek. “has anyone come to see you?”

“some man in a coat,” she replies, nuzzling down in the pillows. “he checked my temperature and my blood pressure and all that stuff. said he’d be back soon.”

“and he didn’t seem . . . concerned?”

inej shrugs. “i didn’t look him in the eye. men like him don’t sit right with me, y/n. i let him do his job, but i’m not looking at him. i’m not giving him ideas.”

you nod. there is a silence, but those are okay between you and inej.

finally, you reach over and take her hand. her palms are clammy, cold, but her grip is strong.

“i’m sorry i wasn’t there to help you.”

her head snaps around, eyes widening. “y/n-”

“i know you always say you understand why i left, but it’s just. . . i don’t know. i feel guilty about it. i feel selfish sometimes, and you’ve had to travel all the way here whilst you’re in this state all because i wasn’t there to-”

“has kaz been making you feel guilty?”

your mouth snaps closed. “i don’t. . . i don’t think so?”

inej sighs, head dropping back into the pillows. “don’t listen to him. i understand why you left; i always have. kaz just. . . i don’t think he ever got over it when you disappeared. it was like a part of him went with you.” she shrugs. “a part of him did go - you.”

silence again, because you have no idea how to respond to that. kaz was hurt when you left, and you know that, but he’s kaz. he’s tough. he’s been through everything a person should never have to go through. the thought of his final straw being you is almost laughable to think about.

“he loved you,” inej continues, even though you don’t want her to. “he really, really loved you.”

“past tense,” you whisper. “not any more.”

inej smiles sadly, and that’s all you need to see to understand you’re right - he’s moved on. he’s here with you now, but that means nothing in the grand scheme of things. he’s here on business. he doesn’t care about you, and he said it himself - whatever the two of you had is gone, non-existent. you thought you had come to terms with that, but seeing the confirmation on inej’s face makes you feel suddenly exhausted.

“well this isn’t about kaz and i,” you say, pulling your shoulders back. “come on. tell me what’s been going on since i left.”

---

you’re trying to sleep when you hear the bang.

trying being the key word. always. every night, you put your best efforts into drifting to sleep, but it never seems to work how you want it to. you toss and turn for hours on end, drifting in and out of your associative state, but not really falling asleep. time just passes, and then it’s day time, and you’re working again.

tonight is no different.

the bang is loud, just next door to your room. your ears immediately prick - the palace guards aren’t moving towards it. you’re already awake, so you may as well see to it yourself.

you swing your legs out of bed, grab your dressing gown and walk into the hallway. glancing back and forth, you see nothing out of the ordinary.

the bang sounds again.

you narrow your eyes, walking further down the hallway. turning a corner, the bang sounds one final time before a pair of shoes flies at the wall and crashes to the floor in a heap.

you rush forward, eyes wide. “what the-”

kaz spins, another pair of expensive shoes already in his hand. “oh. did i wake you?”

dazed, you snatch the shoes into your possession and toss them to the floor. “what the fuck are you doing, kaz? people are trying to sleep!”

“i was also trying to sleep,” kaz replies. “i am one of those people, so why are you yelling at me?”

you rub your eyes in frustration - sometimes talking to him is like pulling teeth.

“oh, come on,” kaz says. “i was just doing a bit of late night cleaning. this room is a fucking shit hole.”

you raise a brow, sighing. “what are you on about? this room was pristine when you came.”

“yeah, well, i thought so too. and then i found this.” he motions for you to enter the room, and though you know it’s a bad idea, you do so. he hooks his foot around something beneath his bed, and pulls out a box overflowing with expensive shoes.

you narrow your eyes. “what’s the problem?”

“rich men shoes,” he says, like that explains everything. after knowing kaz as deeply as you do, it kind of does make sense.

you sigh again, kicking the box back beneath the bed. “go to sleep, kaz.”

“i can’t.”

“try.”

“you know i can’t.”

you pause, overcome with a sudden chill. you wrap the dressing gown tighter around your body, trying to refrain from looking at him - he’s still dressed in the fancy clothes he wore this morning, but the top button is pulled loose, and his hair is a mess. his eyes droop a little, evidence that he really wants to sleep, but genuinely just can’t.

and you know why.

“i’m not asking you to stay with me,” he continues, grabbing a pair of socks from the floor. “i’m just saying - you have no right telling me to sleep when you know what it’s like.”

“are they bad again?”

kaz purses his lips. “they’ve been bad for a while.”

a while. that’s how he always phrases it. when he says it’s been a while, he means it’s been a while since you left the crows, left him.

you swallow, looking to the ceiling like the intricate design will give you clarity. “i can get you tea or something. a fresh blanket. whiskey.”

“trying to get me drunk?”

“kaz, i’m serious.” you meet his eyes. “you look terrible.”

he laughs, a sly sound that reeks more of danger than amusement. “thank you.”

“let me get you something.” you turn, but he catches your elbow. you glance back just as he drops his hand like your flesh has burned him, an uncharacteristic redness adorning his cheeks.

“didn’t mean to touch you,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck. “but i’m serious; i don’t need anything. it’s useless anyway.”

everything is useless. every remedy he’s ever been given has never worked. the only remedy for insomnia that has worked for kaz brekker is you.

but you can’t do that to him. you can’t do that to yourself.

“okay,” you mumble. “just. . . stop making so much noise, alright?”

“did i really wake you?”

“i couldn’t sleep either.”

you stare at each other. it’s like you’re waiting for the other to break. you hate that you kind of want him to break.

his adams apple bobs. “make yourself some tea, then. i’ll be a bit quieter.”

you nod. “thanks.”

“how’s inej, by the way? did you see her?”

“i did. she seems. . . okay.” you shrug. “the doctors are going to do everything they can to help her get back to normal. then you can go back to the barrel.”

kaz nods, though his movements are slower this time around, shoulders a little more slumped. neither of you say anything else as you walk out, tugging your dressing gown a little tighter around your body.

you don’t take his advice. you don’t need tea, or whiskey, or a fresh blanket; with kaz’s words and his expressions and him, you know there is no way you’re getting to sleep any time soon, no matter what remedy you use.

----

“good morning, royalty.”

the king looks up from his breakfast, the very breakfast you have just tested for poison. it sits weirdly in your stomach this morning; after a sleepless night, your appetite has deserted you, but you have no choice besides eating.

kaz strolls into the room, dressed in a suit. his white shirt sits against his chest, and his sleeves are rolled up to reveal the crow tattoo on his arm. you awkwardly rub your own crow tattoo, suddenly very aware of how permanent it is.

“good morning, mr brekker,” the king says. “again, you surprise me with your presence. we weren’t expecting you for breakfast.”

“i am just full of surprises.” he sits down in his usual seat and meets your eyes. “how are you this morning, y/n?”

“y/n was just about to leave,” the king replies, as you knew he would; he likes hearing your voice as little as possible.

kaz, however, keeps his eyes on you. “i asked y/n. not you.”

you stare straight at him, a silent warning. “i’m good, mr brekker. well-rested.”

“you can call me kaz.” he leans back, grinning. “i’m glad to hear it. maybe you and i can take a walk amongst the duck pond again later on.”

there he goes, putting on that god awful formal accent that he thinks is so funny.

you scowl. “i’m a bit busy today, mr brekker.”

“kaz.”

“he asked you to call him kaz, y/n,” the king snaps.

kaz nods. “i asked you to call me kaz, y/n.”

you bite your lip, pushing back the retort that so desperately wants to rise. he’s just sat there, grinning with no shame. the king is looking straight at him, and he doesn’t even care.

“any duties you’ve been given today can be postponed until later,” the king says. “mr brekker is our guest, and if he wants your company, your company he shall receive.”

kaz’s grin gets wider, and oh, you want so desperately to punch him square in the face. instead, you force a smile, turning to the king to tell him just how honoured you would be to give kaz brekker your company on this fine morning.

and that’s how you find yourself strolling through the gardens with kaz, yet again.

“you’re unbelieable,” you mumble, arms folded over your chest like a school kid having a tantrum.

“i’m good,” he replies. “you know i’m good, y/n. i don’t know why you act surprised.”

“he’s the king, kaz,” you hiss. “can you not tone it down a little?”

“tone what down?”

“the-” you gesture vaguely, though the only word you can conjure is flirting, and there’s no way in hell you’re letting that slip into the conversation. “the shit. tone down the shit!”

“i’m not scared of him. i know you want me to be, but i’m not.”

“oh yes. how could i forget? kaz brekker isn’t scared of anything.”

kaz scoffs. “kaz brekker is scared of plenty of things - men aren’t one of them.”

such a kaz thing to say. the most frustrating bit about it was that he was telling the truth.

“i told inej what your job is here,” he continues after a moment of tense silence.

“oh?”

“she understands. says you’ve always been one to do anything to survive.”

you shrug. she’s right.

“that worries me, you know.”

“nothing worries you, kaz.”

“the thought of you in danger does.”

you shake your head. “don’t start this now. you said it yourself; what we had was nothing.”

“why can’t i worry about you without it having to mean something bigger?”

“because everything you say means something bigger.”

kaz falls silent. he knows it’s true, and so do you. kaz has never been able to speak his full extent, always letting people think less of him so he can take them by surprise when the time is right. you have learned first hand how frustrating that can be, but it was also a part of him you grew to love. it was what made him so intelligent, so cunning. it was what made him kaz.

“are you not ever worried you’re going to get unlucky one day?”

you glance over. he keeps his head ducked down, one hand curled around the head of his cane, the other tucked into his pocket. “i know what i signed up for. getting poisoned was kind of part of the risk.”

“since when did you even know how to identify poisons?”

your lips twitch. “jesper taught me.”

kaz rolls his eyes skyward, running a hand through his hair; the sun glows against his tan skin. “of course he did. honestly, the shit you two got up to when i wasn’t around-”

“we had fun,” you say. “we could only do that when you weren’t hovering over our shoulders.”

kaz glares.

you look to the floor, afraid to smile at him, afraid to open this conversation into something even mildly pleasant; if you can get through this entire visit without thinking of kaz fondly, maybe it will make all of it a bit easier. maybe you’ll be able to trick yourself into thinking you’ve moved on, grown stronger since your time in the barrel.

“how is jesper?” you ask, because you suddenly feel like you can’t help it.

kaz shrugs. “how jesper always is.”

“worse?”

“for a while. he didn’t take you leaving very well, but he straightened himself out.” kaz tugs on his lapels. “he always does.”

“yeah. he does.”

you wonder about jesper sometimes. it hurts to know he took your leave badly, though you should have known; jesper has never been one to handle his feelings well. that was your job on his behalf. you would often sit with him at night, just to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid. you once handcuffed him to his bed post to stop him heading out into the gambling hall of the hotel you were staying in.

he was the only one you could ever really properly speak to about what was going on between you and kaz. inej understood kaz, but jesper was kaz’s right-hand man. he was the one kaz would go to about things like that.

“does jesper know how to make your brew?”

there is no moment of confusion, like he was expecting the question. “i’m sure he does. i never ask him to make it, though.”

your nostrils flare. “kaz-”

“listen, the nightmares aren’t going to disappear,” he says, raising a silencing hand that you swat away before he can think it works. “i don’t need some special brew helping me sleep.”

“no, you’ll just stay awake until you drop dead.”

kaz grins, sharp as knives. “that’ll be the way to go, won’t it?”

you shove his shoulder, suddenly furious. he looks over, still grinning, because kaz has always found your frustration amusing. he used to say you looked like a chipmunk who just got their nuts stolen.

“for someone so smart,” you hiss, “you’re pretty stupid.”

“because i won’t indulge in your famous sleep remedy?”

“because you’ll let yourself suffer before asking for help.”

his smile fades. “i only ask certain people for help, y/n. it’s not my fault those people keep leaving.”

your heart drops; there he goes again with the impersonal little jabs, knowing he’s cutting you so, so deep. you don’t even humour him with a response, instead quickening your pace until you begin to feel like he isn’t even there.

but that’s impossible, because he’s kaz brekker. he’s yours. even when he truly isn’t there, it’s like he’s walking right beside you, and you’re beginning to get very annoyed by the attachment. it’s not fair on you, and it’s not fair on kaz, but neither of you seem able to help it.

you continue walking until the cold gets a little too much. then you head back to the palace in silence.

----

final meal of the day. you will make sure it’s not poisoned, and then you will go to bed.

kaz is there, as per usual. the king and queen don’t even act shocked any more, simply welcoming him into the dining hall. oftentimes, he’ll stroll in by your side, his cane clicking against the marble and that smug little smile playing on his face. you always ignore him, even though the king says it’s disrespectful to do so.

tonight, you do just that. you take your seat beside the king, gather up his food and start the process. the beef is smothered in gravy, making the scent test a little difficult, but you give it a go anyway, because it’s protocol by now.

kaz watches from afar, one finger pressed to his lips. he’s lounging back like he’s comfortable, like sitting in a palace is what he does every day. his eyes are narrowed, focused.

you pop the beef into your mouth and chew; nothing.

you move onto the potatoes. nothing.

finally, you dip your fork into the sweetcorn and raise it to your lips.

kaz slaps the fork from your hand. he makes no noise. one minute he is sat at the head of the table, and the next he is by your side, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you from your seat.

the queen shrieks as the fork flies directly at her, sweetcorn and all. a glass of wine tips over when kaz pulls you to your feet, your knee slamming against the underside of the table. palace guards run inside, but none of them know what to do - nobody in the room shouldn’t be there, and so they stand by the door, glancing at each other.

your eyes, however, are trained on kaz.

“what. the. fuck?” you hiss under your breath as the king tends to his startled wife.

kaz meets your eyes dead on. “you really need to get better at your job.” he grabs your arm and starts for the door. the king hollers after him, demanding to know what is going on, but kaz pays him no attention, and you have no idea why you’re not fighting any of this. your heart is hammering in your chest at a million miles per hour, and you have so many questions, but it’s just reflex by now to trust kaz.

he drags you through the halls until reaching his room, where he pushes open the door and leads you inside. it is only then, when it is just the two of you, that you come to your senses, replaying that scene over and over in your head.

you whirl around, yanking your arm from his grip so harshly that you stumble back. “what the hell was that, kaz?”

“how much training did they actually give you before throwing you in to risk your life everyday?”

“why do you care?”

he starts pulling his tie loose, not even looking at you. “just tell me.”

you fold your arms over your chest, trying desperately to keep your attention away from the way his gloved fingers tug and pull at the knot on his tie. “i did a course at the start where i could identify all the different types of poisons.”

he quirks an eyebrow. “that all?”

“it was enough.”

“if it was enough, y/n, you would have noticed the soft spots in the sweetcorn.”

your head snaps up. soft spots?

he hums, despite you saying nothing in response. “wilde yolk makes food go soft in certain places. it also kills people in about ten seconds if consumed in even the tiniest amount.” he looks up, flicking his tie off completely. “did you not learn that in your course?”

you bite your lip and look away. you were so distracted at that dinner table these days, focusing mostly on kaz brekker at the end of the table. you had no idea he was examining your food just as much as you should have been. you had no idea he was keeping an eye out for you.

“so is this experience enough to get you to move back to the barrel?”

your eyes snap up. he’s staring right at you. he doesn’t even look fazed by his question.

and that makes you so, so angry. in seconds, you have gone from grateful to furious; only kaz can elicit that response from you.

you step back, glaring. “so that’s what this is then? you came all the way here to drag me back to the barrel?”

“well, no. i came here to get inej help, but she seems to be healing up pretty well with all the goods your people are giving her.” he shrugs, bottom lip protruding. “so i thought i’d try my hand at this.”

“you are unbelievable.”

kaz raises a brow. “are you getting mad at me?”

“you are unbelievable!” you want to throw something at him. you want to break down and cry. you kind of want to go with him. “it’s like you haven’t listened to a word i’ve said. are you that self-centred, kaz?”

“you know i am.”

you close your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. maybe you’re overreacting. maybe you really are better off in the barrel, where you were born and raised, where you learned everything you ever knew. but here, with kaz being the one to drag you back - it reminds you so harshly that you’re his. you are his, and that is all anyone will ever see you as, and that thought. . . you don’t know how to feel about that thought.

“this isn’t the life for you, y/n,” he continues. “you know it isn’t. once the barrel has you, it doesn’t let you go. we’ve all learned that the hard way.”

“is that what you are?” you spit. “the hard way?”

he shrugs. “you should be grateful it’s me and not someone worse.”

“there is no one worse, kaz.”

his lips twitch, the only sign that your words have actually struck a nerve. “you mean that, do you?”

“don’t act like you’re the good guy. you know you’re evil. you’re proud of it! that’s why i had to leave. that’s why i’m in here risking my life every single fucking day! i wanted to get away from you!”

and oh, saints, this isn’t going how you wanted it to go. the words are spilling from your mouth before you can stop them, mind racing too quick for your mouth to catch up. his face continues falling with every word, but you don’t stop.

“saints, kaz, when are you ever going to grow the fuck up? you walk around pretending you have everything under control, that you own the place, but you’re nothing - nothing - without the rest of us. you would be dead twenty times over if it wasn’t for that little crew of yours, the people you have under your god damn thumb.” you step forward, teeth gritted. “kaz dirtyhands brekker can’t even take his own fucking gloves off.”

“is that what you want?” he steps closer, so close your chests are almost touching. his face is red, a line of sweat glittering upon his upper lip that only ever shows itself when he’s furious, out of his mind with anger. “you want the gloves to come off? fine.”

and then he plucks the gloves from his hands and throws them on the floor.

his hands. the hands you have seen only twice in the years you have known him, the hands that have never touched your bare skin. suddenly they are in full view, free reign to do whatever you want with them, but all you can do is step back, one hand covering your mouth as you try and process what you’ve said, what kaz has done, how the situation could have taken such a harsh, grim turn.

but kaz isn’t finished. kaz is never finished.

“is this what you want, y/n?” he demands. “you need me to bear myself completely for you to believe i’m in love with you? or is this not enough?”

“kaz-”

“what else is it going to take, huh? tell me.”

“kaz, i’m-”

“what about this?”

he’s crazy. he’s crazy, and making mistakes, and you know this because he reaches forward and cups your face in his bare hands, flesh against flesh. shock ricochets through you, eyes widening as kaz lets out an anguished groan, his own eyes slipping closed. you feel his fingers trembling upon your skin.

you wrench away from him, gasping.

he immediately spins around, clutching his hands to his chest. he groans low in his throat, pressing his head against the wall. sweat trickles down the back of his neck, disappearing beneath his collar. you catch a single tear run down his cheek that he can’t wipe away because then his fingers will be touching his skin, and he hates that. it kills him. you know it does.

you rush forward, placing a hand safely on his jacket-covered shoulder. his breathing is ragged and shaky.

“kaz,” you pant. “oh god, kaz, i’m so sorry. i’m so, so sorry. why did you do that?” you whirl around frantically. “your gloves. where are your gloves?”

he doesn’t reply. you’re talking to yourself at this point. you spot his gloves on the floor and grab them, immediately handing them back without so much as a brush of your fingertips against his. he’s hurried and distressed when he tugs them back on, clenching his fist over and over again, as if to ensure his hands are safely hidden beneath the leather.

he doesn’t turn around. you stand behind him, one hand pressed to your chest, eyes swimming in tears you didn’t even feel rising to the surface.

“kaz,” you whisper. “i’m. . . i didn’t mean. . .”

“you got what you wanted, didn’t you?” he mumbles, straightening up. “i’m not asking you to return to the barrel with me so you can serve me, or whatever you think this is. i’m asking you to return so i can have you there. so we can be together again.” he glances over his shoulder. “as it should be.”

you stare at him, wanting to respond, wanting to tell him to go to hell, but you can’t lie. never before have you been able to look kaz in the eye and lie, and maybe that’s why you say nothing. he’s right in every sense - you and him are meant to be by each other’s side, no matter what. barrel born and raised, nobody understands you quite like he does.

but admitting that, throwing away every barrier you have worked so hard to put up . . . you can’t do it.

kaz waits a moment longer before laughing half-heartedly, sounding more exhausted than anything else. he lowers his head, black hair falling in his face before he swipes it out of the way, looks at you and says, “get out.”

“kaz-”

“stop saying my name.” he turns, tossing his tie onto the bed. “get. out. inej and i will be gone tomorrow.”

you swallow thickly, pushing away the tears. and then you do as he said, because standing in his presence for much longer is going to send you into a spiral you don’t think you’ll be able to crawl out of again. you’ve been down that road before, and it took everything in you not to be consumed.

----

“why do you look like you’ve been crying?” inej asks. she’s sat up now, a tray of soup perched on her lap. the colouring has come back to her skin, and she stands up whenever she wants to. whatever the palace medics did for her is working wonders, which you suppose is one thing you should be grateful for.

you lean over and dip a slice of bread in her soup.

“are you checking if it’s been poisoned?” inej jokes, and when you don’t respond, she sighs. “you and kaz have a fight?”

you wince, which is answer enough.

“what about this time?”

“he wants me to go back to the barrel with you.”

inej pauses, eyes still cast to her soup. you look at her, stomach curling in sudden realisation.

“wait,” you say. “did you know that was his plan this entire time?”

“no,” she replies, though she looks sheepish. “i genuinely was sick. kaz just. . . came along for the ride when he heard you were here.” she looks up and groans. “you can’t act surprised, y/n. what were you expecting? for him to just walk out and leave you here?”

“that would have been the right thing to do, yes.”

“well, you know kaz better than that. use your brain.” she waves a hand in your direction. “pass me another slice of bread and tell me about this argument.”

you don’t want to. all day you have been thinking about the feel of his hands on your face, his flesh against your own, the anguished groan ripped from his throat. he put himself through that to prove - what? that he loves you? that’s what he said, but it was only a few days prior he was claiming what you and him had was nothing. it was forgotten, and you were happy about that for the briefest moment. if kaz moved on, you could too.

but then he took the gloves off, and it was just. . . messed up again. you were left confused and guilty and pining, and you hated yourself for it. it was as if all that hard work you had put in to forget about kaz had been thrown out the window - trust kaz to come in and ruin everything.

“i can see what you’re thinking, you know,” says inej suddenly.

“can you?”

“take it from me,” she says. “kaz is never going to get over you. he’s never going to let you go. he’s never going to stop trying for you. he’s a stubborn bastard, and a stubborn bastard is even worse when they’re in love - which kaz is. disastrously, madly in love.”

“he said we were nothing.”

“he’s a stubborn and prideful bastard.”

you close your eyes, heart thumping. “i don’t know what to do, inej.”

“well, do you love him back?”

your eyes fly open. “what kind of question is that?”

she shrugs. “an obvious one, but i want to know the answer.”

you know the answer. your brain screams it at you. you have felt the answer in your bones every day since you left the barrel, and yet speaking it aloud feels like a betrayal of yourself from yourself.

so you look away, and as inej always claims, she can see exactly what you’re thinking.

a soft chuckle slips past her lips. “the barrel never leaves a person, y/n. and apparently, neither does kaz brekker.”

“what are you suggesting?”

inej shrugs. “kaz and i are leaving for ketterdam in the morning. there’s definitely room for a third person.”

----

you don’t sleep that night. neither does kaz.

you can hear him pacing back and forth in his room, no doubt replaying the days events over and over in his mind in the same way you are. his hands against your skin, his eyes piercing your own, those words he spoke that left you tingling all over.

even now, laying in bed, you can’t get over what he said. i love you. that was the jidst of it, and though you had heard that confession from him a few times in the past, it was different this time around. it was kaz trying to prove himself, which he never did before. if someone didn’t take kaz at face value, he wouldn’t bother.

and you have to admit, hearing him say those words was like a shot to the chest. they are the very words that have been on the tip of your tongue for months now, spoken only in dreams when you finally allow yourself to sleep. you can say them to no one else - just kaz. always, always just kaz.

and maybe this realisation is the reason you find yourself getting dressed at six in the morning. maybe this realisation is the reason you pack all your things into the ruck sack you came to the palace with. maybe this realisation is the reason you tip-toe to the courtyard, avoiding the eyes of the staff who all look at you like you’re some kind of prisoner escaping your cell.

it’s still dark. the grass is wet beneath your thin shoes, the jacket you have pulled on doing little to protect you from the icy winds coming from the ocean just feet away from the palace’s front door. hovering on the banks is a boat, a boat you recognise as The Mast, one of the many boats kaz has won from different people around ketterdam.

you nearly cry at the sight of it.

you don’t waste time waiting on kaz and inej - you don’t want to have this discussion with either of them until you’re safely on the water, until you can’t change your mind.

you clamber onto the boat, giving a sheepish smile to the stunned crew member - Daryl, you think he’s called - as he stares at you approaching. he offers you a hand when you finally reach the deck, his eyes never leaving your own.

“morning,” you say. “i’m y/n.”

“i know,” daryl replies, before tipping his hat. “it’s wonderful to have you back on board.”

you smile awkwardly, unsure how to respond; how much do the crew actually know about what happened between you and the crows? how many people bore witness to that god awful aftermath?

you decide not to wait around to hear the answer. instead, you tell daryl you’re going down to the cabins, and he doesn’t argue. you disappear beneath the deck, finding the first room with a bed and immediately claiming it as your own; despite the lack of sleep, you are not tired in the slightest. you can’t get kaz out of your head, how he is going to react when the boat eventually docks and he sees you strolling off of it, greeted by that rancid ketterdam air. back in the barrel.

you lay down on the bed and stare at the ceiling. you will fall asleep eventually. you’ll trick yourself into it.

and then the door opens.

your eyes snap open with it; you must have fallen asleep eventually. groggily, you lift your head and look at the intruder - and your heart immediately falls.

“kaz.”

he looks crazed, hair stuck up, eyes wild. behind him stands inej, grinning from ear to ear, though the minute kaz steps into the room, she disappears into the shadows, leaving you and dirtyhands alone.

his eyes never leave yours as he approaches. he marches to your bedside, grabs your hand and pulls you up.

“kaz-”

he shoves you against the wall, gun pressed to your temple. you inhale sharply, though you can’t claim to be surprised or scared. you stare into his eyes, watching his own trace your features, looking for any sign that you are here in bad company.

“kaz,” you whisper, because it’s always his name that fights past your lips. “it’s me. i’m going home.”

his grip slackens. the gun crashes to the floor, and before you can say anything, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into him. you are careful to rest your head upon his shoulder, not touching his flesh, but feeling him nonetheless. tears spring to your eyes, dribbling down the bridge of your nose and soaking the shoulder of his fancy suede jacket - one he stole from the kings wardrobe, you notice.

but you don’t pull away, afraid to go without his touch for another second.

“is this what you want?” he asks, voice muffled by your hair. “is this really what you’ve decided?”

“yes.” you pull away, hands sliding down his arms. “you’re right, kaz. the barrel is . . . it’s a shit hole, but it’s where i belong. it’s all i know. and you and me. . . we have to do this thing together.”

he narrows his eyes. “what thing?”

“everything.”

the corners of his mouth twitch. you can imagine kissing those lips, drawing him close and embracing in that way lovers often do. however, you’re content, happy even, with the way things are. you hold his gloved hands, and he says he loves you. you confide in him, and he confides in you, and sometimes you fight like children, but in the end, he will have your back no matter what.

“everything,” he repeats. “yeah.” he slips his gloved hands into the sleeve of your jacket, tracing his fingers along your crow tattoo, the one he matched, the one everyone matched when they decided to let the barrel take them over. you shiver, biting your lower lip. “you still have it.”

“i could hardly get rid of it,” you reply. kaz looks up, and you sigh. “i would never get rid of it, kaz. no matter what.”

he nods, rolling your sleeve back down. he pulls it over your wrist, covering your fingers before leaning down and pressing a kiss to the soft, rain soaked fabric.

he looks up at you again. “yes. no matter what.”

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker fanfic #soc #soc fanfic #kaz brekker fic #kaz brekker fanfiction #soc fanfiction #soc fic #six of crows #six of crows fanfic #six of crows fanfiction #six of crows fic

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imayjinmin · 3 years

Text

Dazed Ⅱ

Vampire prince Enhypen x Shadow fairy princess reader

Word count: 2.2k

Playlist here

Synopsis: Shadowfen was a normally a peaceful place consisting of shadow fairies. The city was beautiful beyond belief until Grimmingthorn invaded. Vampires now overpopulated the city. Both of the Queens being pregnant they decided on a deal of which they live together. Making the new fairy princess and vampire kings grow together. Leading with a lot of obstacles on the way of childhood.

Warnings: Angst, trauma, manipulative themes mentioned, PTSD

Waking up, he was surprised to see two guards at his door. Coming fully to, he sprung up to his feet. “Where’s Y/n?!” The two guards continued staring forward without a sound. “Answer me!” Still not receiving a reply he shoved at the guards. Grabbing his shoulders the two guards finally looked at him.

“This is for your protection. There is a hunter in the castle. The queen gave us demands to not allow you to leave.”

“I don’t care what mother wants! I want to know where Y/n is! Is she okay?! Tell me!” Shoving him lightly, the guard scowled at him.

“We are not allowed to answer that. Go sit down kid. Also do you really believe she would be alive after that?”

“She has to be alive! She wouldn’t leave me alone.” Dropping to his knees he started bawling. “Please just tell me. I won’t tell mother anything. I just need to know if she’s okay.”

Laughing amongst themselves the two watched him. “Fine you want to know...”

“Please...”

“She’s dead.”

Feeling his world crumble and start to collapse from under him, he stopped everything. Figuring he does not have a purpose anymore if she was not alive. Standing to his feet, the two froze. Confused as they watched him pace to his bed and sit down.

“Are you okay kid?”

“I’m fine, at least now I can be who I truly am.”

“Huh? Do you understand him?”

“Not really. I thought he loved her.”

“Me too. Kid, why are you so calm?”

“She wouldn’t allow me to do what I want. Didn’t want me to hurt anything. I’m free to do whatever now.” Still watching him walk over to his desk tensed. Opening the drawer, pulling out his family heirloom he was gifted. “Mother always said I was to use this when I felt it was threatened. She would understand when I tell her the guards hurt me.”

“Kid put that down. It is not to be played wi-” His words were cut short as his blood hit Heeseung’s face.

“Listen kid, you don’t need to do this.”

“But I do.” Swinging the sword through the air once more as the other body hit the floor. Dropping to the ground as well, he started crying hysterically. Feeling his soul leave he passed out.

⨶⨶⨶

Ten years have passed as the seven princes were becoming young adults. The Shadowfens still wondering what happened to their soon to be princess. All that was known was that the same night she disappeared, a blood bath occurred in the kingdom. Told simply that a deranged hunter got inside the castle. Now with the princes ranging from fifteen to nineteen soon to be twenty years old many things have changed. Especially the oldest prince. He is known as the most heartless and ruthless being to exist. Fearing even simple eye-contact with him became normal. Fearing that he would murder anything that looked his way, no one dared to initiate with him. Having heard the rumors that he went on a killing spree that dreadful night in the kingdom. The many times someone was harmed by speaking his name was worrying. Even his own family stayed beware of his presence. He was always surrounded by his brothers who were just as ruthless as him. Getting the nickname the dreadful seven for many reasons. Grimmingthorns started to become weary of what would happen when the new King was crowned. Rightly so, as it was only three months away from the coronation. Still there was no new word on where the princess was. The poor queen was caught bawling on multiple occasions. The princes were asked if any of them could remember that night, but every time it was the same answer. ‘No, we were all in our rightful rooms’. Many thought the answer did not add up to the events that were previously told by their mother. Stated on numerous occasions, that there was a hunter, and the princes were scattered throughout the castle. She answered that she cannot remember once putting the seven princes in their rooms, but in fact keeping them out of them for safety. The more their stories collided the more people started to worry. If the princes and the queen were that easy to lie about the murder of a princess how easily would they lie about another. Many believed the oldest son, Heeseung preformed the act. Guards saying that on occasion he would become too protective of the princess. Some even saying he threatened them for being close to her. Hatred was thrown onto the four oldest princes Heeseung, Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon, while pity was thrown onto the youngest. Many felt bad for the three princes that grew up in a sad city because they were so young when the event occurred. None of them answered the questions when asked because they did not know. This affected them in Charter School, which is where a lot of questioning came along. Jungwon was known as the target of most issues. Being the smallest prince led to a lot of jokes, most being that he was going to be a joke of a prince. That was until she arrived. Walking by shoving her shoulder into one of them as she walked by. Going to find her only for her to already be gone. Jungwon wanted to thank her but could never find her. None of the seven could. When the story of her broke throughout the school many believed that she was an in-school bodyguard. Denying it to be true for the very reason that all of their guards were knights. A woman was not to be allowed the position of a knight. She would always appear when she was needed as if she was summoned. When Jay almost tripped down the stairs, she grabbed his shoulder telling him to watch his step before it even occurred. When Jake was attacked by a hunter, and she saved him. When Niki was down because of the training to become a prince, she lifted his chin high telling him to get back on his feet and that he was destined for greatness. The most shocking one was when Heeseung got shot by an arrow. Witnesses saying that she treated him with no hesitation muttering something about returning a favor. Some quoting the exact phrase, “This is returning the favor. Thank you, Hee.”. No one knew what it exactly meant, but many said his face dropped at her words. All color leaving his face when the syllables hit his ears. From that day forward nobody was able to find the mysterious woman. There was no trace of her ever, no footprint, no scent, no hair, nothing. She was conned the name pretty stranger. Known only for her pretty appearance and bravery. As time got closer and closer to coronation she appeared more frequently. Puzzled people that saw her started sketching he to hand out papers with her face, hoping someone knew something. Still nothing came up on the pretty stranger.

⨕⨕⨕

“Heeseung, have you gotten one of these papers yet?”

“No, wait what paper exactly?”

“The one with her on it. They are everywhere now.”

“Oh, yes. I got three of them yesterday. Why do you ask, Jay?”

“Well, who do you think she is? I mean you know everyone in this city. How could she come from nowhere without you knowing?”

“I don’t know how she did it. May I ask you a question, Jay?”

“Go ahead.”

“Do you remember what Y/n looked like? I know you were young, but something has to have stuck with you.”

“No, no, I remember her clearly. You don’t think?”

“I do.” Staring at Heeseung for a moment, before rapidly pulling a chair out beside him. Sitting down loudly, still staring at him with wide eyes.

“Why? How? How could that be her? I thought she died that night ten years ago?”

“So much is leading back to her. Her scent is familiar, practically the same. Her eyes, they hold so much in them. They pierce into you in a different way. Her presence is dominating. She is what I would have expected Y/n to be like when she grew up.” Getting up, he ruffled his hair while pacing to the window. “Jay...do you really believe she died that day? Honestly?” Peeking over his shoulder, seeing his brother gapping like a fish a few times before dropping his head.

“I-I don’t know what I believe. Mother said that she died, but I don’t remember her ever being attacked like Mother said as well.”

“That’s because she wasn’t! She was shot! An arrow went straight threw her chest! Jay, nobody can get past those gates without being let in! Mother had to have opened those gates. She had her shot! She planned it! I saw it with my own eyes! There was no hunter! At all!”

“Calm down, Heeseung.”

“No! Mother is lying through her teeth! And you’re believing it! Everyone is believing it! They pulled me away from her Jay! Did you know that?!”

“I didn’t.”

“Exactly! Mother told me that night that it was for my own good! That she was dangerous! How?! How?! How was she dangerous?!”

Watching his brother scream as his emotions took over. Hearing footsteps as the other five came in. Stopping by Jay’s side as Heeseung let out everything that was bottled up over the past ten years. Crying, screaming, dry heaving was on the low scale of what was happening. None of them got near him because they knew of the consequences that would happen. It hurt them to watch, he was the strongest, the oldest, the brave one. He was letting every wall he had built fall. He was vulnerable, but not gullible. Most of his emotion was anger, no hatred. Aimed mostly at the woman he had to call his mother. Anything she tried to tell him, he ignored. He would sit back and watch his brothers get spoon fed lies. The only thing that she did not know, was that the boys followed their older brother over everybody. When he started showing hostility toward her so did the rest. Especially Sunoo, Jake, and Niki. The rest already had their individual reasons for not respecting her. Jay’s sprouted from constantly having to rebuild his brother because of her. Kneeling in front of his brother wrapping his arms around him, feeling him trembling. Feeling his brother shove his face into his chest, grabbing his shirt roughly. Yanking him forward a few times before slamming his fist into his chest. Wincing as he grabbed his fist. Opening Heeseung’s fist, while places his head on his shoulder. “Stop. Stop this. Don’t let her get this satisfaction. You are showing her that she is getting to you. You don’t want that.” Standing up, watching his brother slouch on his feet. “Get up. I said get the hell up! Are you weak? Do you belong on the ground?” Hearing a faint no, he repeated himself. Getting a louder response the second time, he leaned down wrapping his arms under his shoulders. Making him stand. “You don’t deserve this. Stop letting her get to you. You are stronger than her. Better than her. You are the new king.”

“But Y/n is gone. She killed her.”

“Heeseung, do you honestly believe she is dead?”

“I don’t know what I believe.” Sighing, Jay turned to his brothers. Zeroing in on Jake.

“Jake, did you meet her yet?”

“Pretty stranger? Yeah...more than once actually.”

“What did you sense from her?”

“There wasn’t anything that came up when I met her. However, there was a barrier put up.”

“What do you mean?”

“There is this block put up around us, when she gets nearby. It’s hard to describe. If I said a dome...would that make sense?” Pausing to hear some conformation, he continued. “There is a dome over us, not her. When she gets near us, there is a sense of familiarity. Our conscious recognizes her, but our brain can’t seem to remember her.”

“So you’re saying we do know her?”

“Exactly. She has history with us somewhere. Our paths have most definitely crossed at one point.”

“If we did then why can’t we remember her?”

“I already said why. Our memory was basically erased with anything that was about her.”

“Do you think it could possibly be Y/n?”

“I’m not saying yes, but it’s not impossible either. I would say to ask Heeseung because he was the closest with her, but also had the closest encounter with the pretty stranger. I don’t believe that would go well though seeing as he is a slobbering mess.”

“I’m not a mess.”

“Yeah, and we’re not princes.” Sunoo scoffed at Heeseung’s words. “Do you ever think you will get over her? This happened years ago and you’re still not over it. I get you were in love with her and all that but come on. You weren’t the only one of us that was affected. We all were. You are a selfish, mopping mess. Do you think Grimmingthorn will survive with a King like you? One that is so emotional that they break down at the mention of her name.”

“I do not break down at the mere mention of her name. Right now however, I am upset that there is a possibility of the pretty stranger being Y/n. Not her particularly, but us for not realizing it earlier. Next time you see her, stop her.”

Taglist~ @neptuniees

#enhypen #enhypen x y/n #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #fantasy #prince #princess #fairy #vampire

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vodkassassin · 4 years

Note

Hello again :)) if your ask box about svsss prompts is still open---

*deep breaths*

CUCUMBERPLANE KABEDON SCENE PLEASE [accidentally saw a kabedon scene in Pinterest and im LOSING MY MIND.] In private?? In public?? Platonic?? Romantic??? Up to you 😂😂

Asdfghjkl I failed to get up close on this scene, because JQS demanded to be the narrator, but I’m tempted to write ANOTHER one because it is absolutely hysterical and I’m living this @bubble-milk-tee

—

Beside him, Rong Qingsheng sucks in an almost pained breath, leaning forward in his seat to press his palms to his temples, eyes fixated on a point on the far side of the room.

Ju Qingsong startles, pulling out of his daze to pin his best friend with a sharp look of examination. “Qingsong? What—”

“I,” Rong Qingsheng presses out through his teeth, eyes wide and frantic, “am losing my mind.”

“What?” Ju Qingsong quickly sits down beside him. Their legs press together from the proximity, but he pays it no kind as he normally would, instead raising his hands to hover in uncertainty over his clearly unwell friend. “What’s wrong?”

Rong Qingsheng lets out another harsh, wheezing breath, smothering it between his teeth, and juts his chin out in the direction of where he’s been staring, absolutely beside himself. Ju Qingsong hesitates, before turning to follow his gaze, and his jaw drops.

Across the room, against the wall and away from the larger crowd as they are nowadays normally to be found, Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua stand. Or rather, Shen Qingqiu stands, one arm braced against the wall, looming over where he has a grinning Shang Qinghua cornered. He stands almost a head taller than the An Ding peak lord, usually, but the way that Shang Qinghua has slid down partially with his back to the wall, Shen Qingqiu looks significantly taller, and Shang Qinghua looks more and more like he’s being bullied the longer that their positions remain unchanged. Bullied, and absolutely delighted by it, if his beaming smile and the way that his shoulders tremble with laughter is anything to go by. Shen Qingqiu stares down at him with an imperious express across his face, before a smirk slowly slides over his sharp and aristocratic features, and he reaches out the hand that holds his folded fan to gently tap Shang Qinghua’s forehead with the end of it.

Rong Qingsheng releases a quietly tortured sound, beside him, and Ju Qingsong slowly, with great effort, picks his jaw back up off the floor.

He leans over and presses his shoulder into his friend’s. “Oh, my gods,” he says, for lack of anything else.

He’s unable to tear his eyes away from the scene their two martial brothers make, but he’s close enough to feel the way that Rong Qingsheng nods.

“I am going to die,” his best friend says, quietly, and Ju Qingsong isn’t able to withhold the snort of laughter that bubbles up from his chest.

Any reply he would have made (forever unknown to either of them, because Ju Qingsong is, right now, ultimately at a loss for words) is interrupted when Qi Qingqi comes skipping over to them, like an excited junior disciple instead of the domineering peak lord that she is, and plops down directly on Rong Qingsheng’s other side.

Ju Qingsong is momentarily distracted by the way that all six of their thighs have lined up in a neat, unbroken row. Then, Qi Qingqi reaches an arm around the back of Rong Qingsheng’s neck to roughly slide her fingers into Ju Qingsong’s hair and give it a teasing ruffle.

He shakes his head to dislodge her, good naturedly but for some reason feeling a little short of breath. Glancing over, he sees the way she’s ducked down to press all their heads together, grinning in clear enthusiasm.

“Are you seeing that?” She demands, eyes sparkling, and Ju Qingsong doesn’t have to ask what she’s talking about, because yes, yes he does see them.

Rong Qingsheng gives another quietly pained whine.

“I’m going to die,” he reiterates, and this time both Ju Qingsong and Qi Qingqi roll their eyes in unison.

“You’ll be fine.” The woman says, and then adds, teasingly, “You know, after a week or two, once your dreams have had time to settle themselves and leave you alone.”

Rong Qingsheng shrinks down in his seat, offsetting her arm and causing it to slide down his back. His face is red.

Ju Qingsong feels their shijie’s hand come to rest on his upper arm, and casts her an annoyed look.

“Mean, Qi-shijie.” He says, reproachfully.

“The truth, though,” she replies cheerfully, and then points across the room. “Oh, look!”

They snap their gazes back to the opposite wall, where Shang Qinghua has slid down far enough that his outer robe is beginning to look a little disheveled. It does not help the scene, at all. Much less so, when Shen Qingqiu actually tucks his fan away into his belt and reaches out with his now freed hand to fix his shidi’s robes for him.

“Do you think… ” Ju Qingsong begins a little weakly, “Do you think they remember that we are, uh, in public?”

“That we can see them?” Rong Qingsheng’s squeaks out, and Ju Qingsong carefully doesn’t look down at him, for all that he is practically pressed against his side. His cheeks feel too warm to chance a glance.

Qi Qingqi covers her smile with a sleeve and giggles coquettishly.

It causes the few guest cultivators who aren’t caught up in staring unabashedly at the scene their shixiong are making at the other end of the room to turn and cast her fond looks of attentiveness. Only to frown when they notice how closely the three of them are sitting together.

Nothing would come of anything they try, anyway, Ju Qingsong thinks in amusement. Qi Qingqi would never be interested in them. Especially, seeing as she could beat them all in a fight using only her pinky.

“I’m pretty sure they’ve forgotten where they are,” Qi Qingqi admits, but doesn’t sound at all concerned. She reaches into the front of her robes and pulls out her ever-present set of charcoal pencil and parchment scroll, and Ju Qingsong withholds a sigh at the way her actions make the men who are watching her go wide in the eyes and red in the faces.

“Could you not,” he tries, long sufferingly. “We’re in the middle of a banquet! Where are those lessons of etiquette your Shizun taught you?”

“I can’t not take notes!” She says, scribbling furiously. Her eyes flit from the scroll back up to their shixiong several times. “They’re right there! I have to immortalize the scene!”

“Yeah, I see them,” Rong Qingsheng replies. He’s leaning into Ju Qingsong instead of pushing him away, and that’s how he knows that his friend is nearly at his wits end. “Absolutely fucking shameless.” And he sounds wistful, saying it.

“This is a little too much for you.” Ju Qingsong sighs, and wraps his hand around Rong Qingsheng’s arm to help his friend stand up. “Actually, it’s too much for our current setting, at all. Someone should go and fetch Zhangmen-shixiong.”

“Don’t you dare,” Qi Qingqi threatens, but her frenzied note-taking picks up in speed.

“It’s for the good of the sect, shijie,” Ju Qingsong says, and drags his nearly catatonic friend off with him.

Honestly. Sometimes, it feels like Ju Qingsong is the only level headed peak lord besides their leader! It’s absolutely an insult.

But, really, someone should go and unobtrusively remind his two shixiong of where they are, before they cause a scandal or something, and it’s not going to be him.

#shang qinghua #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #cucumberplane #svsss prompts #svsss ocs #cang qiong peak lords #vodka answers #bubble-milk-tee #kabedon

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years

Text

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 29

First time reader click here

Feels like this story is flopping. Is it flopping? Idk. This chapter is 100% plot and it is spooky. Cursed demon box. Helpful Stephen Strange and grumpy Wong. Hovering Bruce and Tony. Loki being a honorary Gen-Z. Found family but make it ✨superheroes✨.

"That's a lot to unpack," Peter stated once I had given him the bare bones report of the situation at hand. "Uh, are you okay?" The boy was obviously upset at my predicament, placing a supportive hand on my shoulder.

"Kinda?" I offered, making space for Wanda and Pietro who decided to join me and Peter, away from the arguing adults. The mission discussion - an absolute disaster - started as soon as Peter had walked in. Evidently experienced in such matters, the boy ignored the bickering and came over to steal me from Bruce's clutches to peacefully finish his egg sandwich in the company of his peers.

"I wanted to ask if I could see your memory of that time," Wanda meekly offered me a piece of candy. I accepted it - sugar sweet sugar, how I love thee so! The witch continued with a smile: "I think it would be helpful to see what we're dealing with, magic-wise."

"Sure," I trusted her. "Just don't scramble what's left of my sanity, please," All of us laughed at my remark as I laid down on the cold floor with my head in Wanda's lap. Her powers felt like small brain zaps, tingles that began at the front of my forehead and ran down into my spine. I followed her instructions and thought about the times I remembered, finding the box, placing it into my closet, the nightmares. I had a mild headache by the time she was done; no grudges against her - Wanda tactfully avoided my private moments and looked only at the ones containing the artifact.

"You've gotten really good," I complimented her with pure adoration.

"Thank you," She blushed, smoothing back my stray hairs. "That stuff is really strong. I don't think you should go near the box," She admitted. "And Doc should take a look at you. You have a residue left. I don't think that's good either."

"Well, fuck," I said in muted resignation.

"Press F to pay respects," Pietro joked in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

"Your luck is almost as bad as mine," Peter pointed out.

I scoffed. "Well, if I see any spiders around, I'll be sure to stay away in case they happen to be radioactive OsCorp runaways."

All of us laughed. Despite the grim situation, I didn't feel doomed. I was surrounded by friends and my boyfriends and my bestie who happened to be a mythical omnipotent god- welp, once again, I was getting too emotional. Once the adults were done arguing, we could start making sense of this mess and hopefully clean it up before the monster is out of the box.

"Mortals," I heard Loki scoff. The next moment, the Asgardian sat down noisily next to me, pout on full display. "This house is a nightmare."

His expression - or the accidental use of a meme - sent me completely, tension leaving my body via copious amounts of nearly hysterical laughter. Through tears and hiccups, I saw Wanda cackle with me and Peter show the meme in question to Loki, noting that he had been once sent to time-out on top of the fridge by Tony himself. Soon, all of us were laughing, much to the displeasure of the adults.

"Children, what is the issue?" Thor asked, irritated.

"We're just waiting for you to be done with arguing," I spoke before Loki could start bitching about Thor calling him a child. "Then I can show Steve and Loki where exactly have I buried the box so Stephen can take me to the healers and get this thing out of me or whatever," I pointed out the most logical plan of action.

Two long strides and the sorcerer was standing over me, boom-boom-whooshing and generally making very pretty golden patterns to appear and land on top of me. Tony and Bruce anxiously hovered behind him, both of my boys concerned and ready to mother-hen me. Ugh, so disgustingly adorable. Wanda's hand encompassed mine - she was nervous.

Stephen took a solid five-minute silence break before coming to a final conclusion. "Wong can get rid of the residual traces of the artifact's influence," The sorcerer announced curtly. "It's good you got rid of the artifact, a few more months and you would have started slipping into insanity if the magic within it was not released," He explained, slowly reaching out a hand to place it on top of my head. I wasn't sure if it was a gesture meant to bring comfort or another diagnostic test but leaned into the touch nonetheless. "Tell me, did you have any behavioral... Disturbances after...?" He trailed off.

I chewed on my lip, evaluating. "I honestly don't know. I've always been kind of an asshole," Honesty was the best policy. "Nothing seems out of order, sleepwalking aside."

"I see," Strange gave me a tight-lipped smile. "Perhaps, it was your stubborn nature that forbade the artifact from corrupting your mind completely. As evidenced by Captain Rogers, even undesirable character traits bring good into this world now and then."

That seemed a little bit hostile. I frowned, giving a questioning look to a frowning Loki.

"Speaking from experience?" Not the one to hold back upon witnessing first-grade bullshit, I withdrew from Stephen's touch, raising a sarcastic eyebrow.

Surprising everyone, the man laughed soundly, eyes crinkling at the corners. "I most certainly do," Shooting me a positively mischievous wink. I felt like I was missing something.

The room's inhabitants slowly ticked out in pairs and threes, eager to complete their assigned tasks. Loki had insisted on coming along to the sanctum with me, even almost getting up in Stephen's face, but Bruce - out of all people - managed to calm the Asgardian down, and together we convinced him his magic would be considerably more useful during the retrieval of the cursed box. Loki was worried - everyone with a pair of functional eyes could see that the spiky attitude was his way of showing he cared about me, which made my insides briefly turn to mush. I didn't expect him to take the title of my best friend so seriously and I definitely was not complaining.

Tony was the last to leave, jittery and shaky, clutching me like it was his last time seeing me, kissing me hungrily in front of everyone. The joke or two he made were weak ghosts of his usual sharp snark.

"I love you and I'll be back soon," I whispered into his ear, feeling him freeze and his fingertips dig almost painfully into my sides. Louder, I repeated: "Not planning on dying any time soon, y'all gotta chill. Let's go, doc?" I addressed the tall sorcerer who was tactfully pretending to be busy with his smartphone.

Wanda pressed a duffle bag into my hands mouthing "clean clothes" a split second before Stephen opened a portal and with a great deal of curiosity, I stepped through it, eyes immediately drawn to the dimly lit space filled with books and antiques. So many books, so many unusual trinkets. The chandelier that hung over our heads rivaled the ones I'd seen in million-dollar-homes of dad's friends.

"Follow me," Stephen extended an arm in the direction of a smaller door, "Please do not touch anything."

I walked a pace behind him, satisfying my curiosity by looking around like a child in a candy store. The air smelled different in the Sanctum, almost as familiar as Loki's magic but less frosty... Warmer. A dash of red fabric swished from somewhere towards me; I giggled. The Cloak of Levitation liked me - not nearly as much as it liked Peter though - so I brushed my fingertips along the fabric, greeting it quietly. Talking loudly in this building was out of the question. I felt like any moment, a disgruntled librarian would appear to chastise me for making noise.

"Strange," A short Asian man appeared, book in hand and looking none too happy. Guess that's the librarian... "I got your text. The room next to yours is prepared for the ritual," The man I assumed to be Wong gave me a curt nod in the way of greeting, doing a quick 180° and walking us back to a small but tastefully decorated room with a single cot in the middle. It was pleasantly warm, a small fire lit in the fireplace, willowy smoke of incense rising from a few strategically placed sticks.

"The bathroom is that way. I'm afraid you'll have to be fully nude for the procedure," Strange declared apologetically, pointing to a door hidden behind the divide.

I snorted, but of course, the weird voodoo shit would require me to be naked. Not that I was embarrassed or anything but still. Tony would have a field day. Locating a chair, I dumped my duffle bag on it, flying out of my hoodie and sweatpants in record time. My underwear and socks followed, feet unpleasantly chilly despite the carpeted floor. I ran a hand over the faint bruises on my hips, evidence of last night, fondly - either Tony or Stephen had left marks on my body and that was... It was great. I loved it, drugs or not.

I heard someone clear their throat and turned around, nearly cracking up at the way both men suddenly averted their gazes, blush riding high on their cheeks. I snorted: "I'm hot, what else is new?"

Wong shook his head, busying himself with some sort of a book; Stephen lingered, eyes fixated on the very same bruises. His tongue darted out, wetting the plush of his bottom lip, and damn, this wasn't the time to get horny. I shook my head and with that, the sorcerer caught himself too, mutely motioning me to lay down on the cot.

"Whenever you're done eye-fucking each other," Wong piped up sarcastically - wow, I liked this man already. Stephen grumbled something quiet and rude, provoking another snort from me.

I followed their instructions - shortly after the Asian man began reading - or rather singing - something in a language I didn't know, I felt myself fall into a deep sleep. Or, I thought I was falling asleep. At one point, my eyes opened to an empty room, a thin sheet covering my bare body, and a silence that made chills run down my spine.

"Stephen?" I called out. I sounded like I was underwater to my own ears. "Wong?"

I was met with silence so deafening, I had no choice but to sit up and look around. The fire was burning strong in the fireplace, several logs blackened from it as sparks flew. It took a second for me to realize it made no sound - there was no crackling. Something was very wrong, the dread was creeping up on me.

Very familiar dread.

With the sheet firmly wrapped around me, I hopped off the cot, suddenly noticing the drawings on my arms, my legs. I was covered in runes similar to the ones I had seen on the cursed box - and my memories weren't missing. As clear as day, I recalled messing around with the box, debating on opening it, taking it out of my room only to find it back on my desk in the morning, some serious Anabelle shit.

I jumped as the floorboards cracked somewhere in the house. Every logical thought I had, backed up by every horror movie I had ever watched, screamed at me to NOT go towards the creepy noise; like moth to a flame, I was drawn in and couldn't resist the unnatural urge to investigate it. On silent feet, I padded out of the room, desperately trying not to think about the lonely, dark hallways filled with strange ancient objects. My steps made no noise.

On the couch, in the main room we'd arrived, sitting lazily, was Tony. I'd recognize his hair anywhere - and the Led Zep tee, old, frayed edges and loose threads. "Tony?" I asked hopefully, trying to make sense of this...

He turned around.

It wasn't Tony. Whatever it was, it wore Tony's face, it held his brown eyes and crow's feet around them - it wasn't him. Wrong, like the lack of sound in this place, misplaced and unnatural. The doe browns didn't sparkle, lifeless, dull color of dried mud. As much as I wanted to go and bury my face in his chest, my limbs filled with lead, my whole body screaming "DANGER".

The impostor kept quiet which only solidified my suspicions. Real Tony would be running his mouth already, poking fun at my impression of a sheet ghost.

"Princess?" The... Thing asked in Tony's voice, but it fell flat and monotone.

"Whatever you are, you sure as Hell ain't Tony," I stated firmly, hoping for some answers. "What the fuck?"

Not-Tony's face changed, familiar features twisting into something sinister, the malice making me sick to my stomach. The creature stood up, causing my feet to take an involuntary step back as he advanced slowly.

"You have no choice but to submit," The Thing replied calmly. "You're not getting out of here. Not even your little Asgardian pet god can save you," Its tone was absolutely flat. I would have thought the thing was a robot if not for the obvious involvement of magic in this situation. Its words filled me with dread as thick as molten lava; unfortunately for the creature, unlocking my memories gave me enough rational balance to be acutely aware of it and therefore, able to fight it.

I could fight it. I didn't know how exactly, but I could resist it. "That's a really bold thing to say for something that... What even are you? Magical STD?" As my brain desperately focused on finding a solution to a problem I didn't know all the details of, my mouth had a mind of its own.

The creature growled, a far more primal noise than a human could make. "You don't know what you're up against, child. I am one for we are many," Suddenly, the room was filled with shadows as if someone had turned off all the lights and cranked up the moon to be the brightest it ever was. The shadows moved, oozed, motion sinister without any light to back it up.

I had no choice but to pucker up. Nobody was coming to rescue me; in fact, I always have taken pride in being a self-saving princess. Damsel in distress wasn't really my style. The hunch in my shoulders disappeared, giving way to a stubborn and stiff expectation of the upcoming altercation, hands bailed in fists.

"I mean, like Legion the demon from the Bible?" I recalled what little I knew from Wikipedia. "I mean, I'm agnostic myself, but if you feel like identifying with that, you should probably see a therapist."

The entity growled, shadows gathering around it like fabric on a string, and lunged. Paralyzed by sudden blinding, deafening fear, I turned tail and ran.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95

#party favours #bun writes #tony stark x reader #bruce banner x reader #stephen strange x reader #tony stark x y/n #bruce banner x y/n #stephen strange x y/n #tony stark x you #bruce banner x you #stephen strange x you

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nancywheelxr · 4 years

Note

For Sokka/Zuko prompt (2/?): Sokka saving Zuko after miscalculation how long he can hold his breath during the North Pole Siege

anon, like i said before, you are an angel and I hope you like this

Sokka is going to kill Aang.

No, seriously, he means it, the next time he sees the kid, he’s going to murder him because this is all his fault. It has to be, because there is no other explanation for this except Aang beginning to rub off on him. There really, really isn’t.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he murmurs, dragging Zuko out of the freezing water and away from the cracking ice. Honestly, the guy is heavier than he looks and Sokka bets it must be the crushing weight of all those issues. “Should’ve let you drown, asshole.”

And you know what? He stands by that. The little voice at the back of his head that sounds annoyingly like Aang be damned, Sokka should have taken one look at the jerk, incandescent hands slamming against the thick ice, too cold in the freezing water to properly melt the frozen floor, wide eyes blinking sluggishly, and, and– okay, fine. Maybe Sokka couldn’t look the other way and pretend he didn’t see him.

Still. He resents Aang for not being there to convince him to save the guy and let Sokka advocate for the drowning. You know, for argument’s sake, just ‘cause Zuko’s the freaking Fire Nation prince that’s been chasing them all the way since the South Pole and they should at least make an effort to look like they’re doing this under duress.

“Come on, we can’t stay here, wake up, jerk,” well. Sokka can’t stay here, he has a duty and also, the place will be crawling with soldiers soon, but if he leaves Zuko here, there’s no telling if he’ll make it. Do Firebenders get hypothermia? The guy looks hypothermic enough, at least.

Something explodes nearby.

Staying here any longer would be crazy. Sokka eyes Zuko consideringly. “I did my best,” he says, frowning because it sounds weak even to himself and he already knows what he’s going to do, “truly, it’s tragic. I dragged him out of the water, but there was nothing I could do. Too many Fire Nation soldiers around,” he grumbles, heaving one of Zuko’s arms around his shoulder and getting only a faint mumbling in response, “I had to leave him there.”

Just to be clear, though, Sokka is only doing this– he’s only dragging Zuko across the town in the middle of a Fire Nation invasion because he’s gone through all this trouble already to keep the asshole alive, it would be a waste to leave him for dead now. Hey, he didn’t spend five minutes slamming at the ice with his boomerang for nothing, okay?

“What were you thinking anyway?” He asks him, because the only thing worse than be dragging your nemesis around is to be dragging your nemesis around in silence. “Stupid firebender swimming around. At night! Were you trying to die?”

Another mumble. At least that’s better than the wheezing sound from when he first came out of the water, he figures.

“And I mean, it’s pretty clear this whole thing isn’t your doing,” he continues, ducking under a bridge to avoid the worst of the fight, “it’s way too organized, and honestly? Last time we checked, you didn’t have an entire fleet with you.”

And, not the Sokka would say it aloud, but it just doesn’t seem like something Zuko would do. From what they’ve seen of the guy so far, he’s less about conquering and invading, and more like capture the Avatar, restore my honor, blah, blah, blah. Which makes bringing him straight to Aang probably a very stupid thing.

Damn.

He groans. What’s he supposed to do now? Zuko’s a dead weight at his side and he has no idea where Yue and the others went, even though he’s supposed to be protecting Yue. And Katara. And Aang.

Instead, here he is, shuffling into another alley. “This is all your fault,” he glares at the still unconscious moron prince. “Yours and Aang’s. There’s a blizzard outside, did you know?! What, you were just going to get Aang and walk out on the snowstorm?!”

Zuko still doesn’t answer him. He does begin to shiver, though, so that’s something? Better than hypothermia, that’s for sure. Still, Zuko’s shivering and looking sad in his wet clothes, and this is something, at least, that Sokka can help. He can take his own fur coat and drape across him.

“Yeah, you didn’t really think this one through, did you?” He sighs, letting his head thump lightly against the wall behind him. “Me neither, buddy. I’m supposed to be looking after the princess, but I’ve got no idea where they went. I guess I’m looking after you instead, huh? I’m not happy about it either, trust me.”

If only he had some sort of rope– Sokka groans. How does he keep getting in these situations? He levels Zuko with a resentful look. “Why is it always you?” Looking at Zuko now, though, it’s pretty hard to muster much anger. He doesn’t look very intimidating like this– his hair is falling out of his ponytail and his face is paler than usual, his scar stark against the white. Actually, he looks a lot younger like this. Aang had called him a teenager when they met him, but Sokka thinks this might be the first time he’s ever thought of him like that. It’s pretty messed up. Zuko can’t be much older than Sokka– a year? Maybe less? Oddly, it makes him wonder how did he end up here, like this, hunting Aang in a banged up warship and only his Uncle along. Shouldn’t a prince have like, more back up?

Not that Sokka is complaining, it could be a lot worse than Zuko, it could’ve been someone like freaking Zhao. He doesn’t think Zhao would have kept his promise not to destroy his village back in the South Pole. Actually, the guy would’ve probably started with the destroying and left the questions for later.

A hoarse shout shakes off that line of thinking pretty quick.

Zuko wakes up all at once– one second he’s lying motionless on the ice, chest rising and falling steadily faint, pale and pitiful wrapped in Sokka’s furs, and the next he’s fumbling with the cloth, tangling himself further with frantic movements. His eye zeroes in on Sokka, widening as far as they go for a split moment, and managing only a flickering flame with his trembling hands, probably too busy heating up to do any proper firebending.

“Oh, goody, you’re alive,” Sokka says, choosing to let the sarcasm bleed on his voice and quietly grip his boomerang a little tighter, just in case.

“What,” Zuko coughs up, and the shivering is back, and Sokka doesn’t think he means to be furrowing further into the coat like that. “Where– you. What have you done to me?”

Yeah, Sokka should probably have seen that one coming. Still, “hey! I saved your life! You did all the drowning yourself, buddy!”

Zuko frowns. Hysterically, Sokka kind of wants to smooth that out, go back to the young look from before. The frown is a very angsty one, though, and full of suspicion, which is fair, all things considered, but he still takes offense. They’re the good guys, after all, they’re not the ones doing the invading.

Spirits, the invasion. Sokka doesn’t have time for this, he needs to find Katara and Aang, he needs to find Yue, he needs–

“Why?”

He blinks. “Why what?”

“You said you saved me,” Zuko is still sounding worse for wear, rough and cracking at the edges, but there’s some color returning to his cheeks, the shivering finally dying down.

And isn’t that the question? Well, not really. It’s what Aang would have done and that’s usually a pretty good moral compass. Sokka shrugs, “it was the right thing to do. You’re a jerk, but even you didn’t deserve to die like that.”

Zuko doesn’t seem to know what to do with that information, faint steam wafting off his now dry clothes, and Sokka has half a mind to ask for his coat back, a weird tightness on his chest the only thing holding him back– the same odd feeling that sort of made the Aang excuse taste a tiny bit like a lie.

No time to dwell on that, though. Before Zuko could brood some more or throw any other wild accusation, a shadow falls over the both of them, Zuko’s weird uncle pausing at the start of the alley and taking in the scene. His face kind of does a complicated thing where he looks like he wants to bundle Zuko on his arms in the tightest hug in the country but knows Zuko would probably like, throw a fit and then die of dramatic indignation, and Sokka feels like maybe he shouldn’t be witnessing this, especially because the angry jerk is looking like he maybe wouldn’t go so far as dying if hugs were to be involved.

“Nephew,” the old man says, and the relief is his voice is palpable, “you are alive– I feared–”

“I’m fine, Uncle,” Zuko cuts in, getting up in wobbly legs and giving Sokka a wide berth as he inches his way along the wall.

“I owe you a great debt, young man,” he continues, now turning to Sokka with such a grateful face, it’s really hard to remember he’d been doing some chasing the Avatar just weeks ago. He looks so normal. “You saved him when most would not and for that, I can never thank you enough.”

“Uncle!”

“Erm, you’re welcome?” Sokka clears his throat, loosening his rip on the boomerang, suddenly awkward.

“Have you thanked him yet, Prince Zuko?”

“I–”

Iroh– well, Sokka thinks that his name, at least– doesn’t glare, but his eyebrows do a very disappointed move and Zuko seems to cave like a sullen teenager. It’s kind of great. And very surreal, honestly, Sokka is kinda just rolling with it at this point. “Thank you,” Zuko bows, making a very fire nation-y sign with his hands, adds softer, “Sokka.”

“Huh, you do know my name.”

A loud explosion interrupts whatever retort Zuko had been planning, and Iroh grimaces. “I’m afraid we are running out of time,” the grave expression seems foreign in his face and Sokka feels a terrible dread in the pit of his stomach, “Zhao plans on doing the unthinkable– he is going to kill the moon spirit.”

Well, it’s official, then. Zuko’s just been demoted from the worst to pass on the title to Zhao. “Is that even– I mean, how?”

“The Avatar,” Zuko says, but it’s a weak complaint, even he knows stopping the murder of an ancient spirit ranks a bit higher, like immediate catastrophe higher. “Fine,” he snaps, hands curling into fists, “but Zhao is mine.”

Okay, because that sounds like it’s not going to blow up on their faces at all. Not that it matters, because Sokka knows that it’s a done deal now. There’s something urgent in the air, pressing down on them, almost buzzing with the expectations of a tragedy. They’ll need all the help they can get if they mean to stop Zhao’s idiotic plan.

Sokka looks at Iroh, at Zuko. He’s still wearing the fur coat, stretched across his shoulders, sleeves too short at his wrists.

“You guys,” he feels the need to say, “are the worst. But we should probably hurry up, then.”

#zukka #atla #sokka #zuko #avatar the last airbender #zukka fanfic #atla tag #zukka tag #writing tag

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thr-333 · 4 years

Text

Mismatch- Part 24

Bio dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Oh dear, oh dear Lila what a shame this is

First< Previous > Next

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The next couple of days are... awkward. Dick keeps calling which is nice, they even go for dinner one day dragging Tim along. Tim seems fine, tired but that's hardly unusual. Jason had just straight up disappeared, but Dick had assured them he would be coming to the Wayne Gala that weekend. Speaking of which they had been invited, well they were already going because of MDC stuff but now they were also invited as civilians. The news would have been happy if Damian hadn't stormed out the room when it was mentioned. The next day and the day after that hadn’t improved anything, Damian was completely ignoring them and they weren't the only ones to notice.

“What did you do to upset Dami so much?!” Lila announces rather loudly to the entire cafeteria, “I told you, you were going too far,”

“Lila, and I mean this sincerely, fuck off,” Marion says flatly, he hears Marinette cover a laugh despite swatting at him lightly.

“How dare you?! I’m just trying to look out for him,” Lila sniffles, basking under the attention of her large audience, looking between the girl and Damian. Marion catches Damian's eye, raising a brow basically saying you’re going to let this slide? Apparently he was as Damian looks away from them, and if anything was going to give Lila more believability it’s that.

“Marion are you alright?” Rose asks gently, having tiptoed after Lila with the rest of the class. Had he been looking so downcast she actually noticed?

“I’m fi-” Whatever assurance he was about to give is mute as he feels tears sliding down his cheeks, “Fuck-I just-”

He tries to wipe away the tears, very aware of everyone watching him. It’s starting to get hard to breath when he feels gentle arms wrap around him. It’s Rose. Rose is actually hugging him! It’s been so long he forgot what her hugs felt like. Well if she was trying to stop him from crying that certainly didn’t help matters. He tries to take a calming breath but it comes out more like a sob and soon enough he can’t hold it back anymore. A fine place to break down Mari, really, truly a testament to your skill.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this here,” Lila scoffs, Marion can feel the arms around him tighten, “After all the work I put in for this trip-”

“LILA WOULD YOU JUST STOP!” Alya’s scream makes them all jump back, Marion turning to face the absolutely seething girl, “This is the first time in YEARS we’ve been allowed to feel emotions! So just leave it alone, they’re allowed to be sad!”

“Well-I-its-they-” Lila splutters looking completely blindsided that one of her puppets broke off its strings, clearly she hasn't been paying attention the last few weeks, funny when you save someone's life they tend to listen and care about what you say a bit more. And if that leads to noticing a few more jibes in their direction... well that's just a happy coincidence.

“What is your problem!? You’ve been nothing but nasty to them since we got here!” Well a bit longer than that but good on you for noticing Alya.

“Oh, it’s just been so hard for me!” Lila exclaims, crocodile tears coming in as Marion still tries to wipe off his own, the genuine article at that, “If you had heard some of the things they’ve said to me-”

Lila jumps as Damian appears next to her. He doesn't look at or acknowledge the twins. In fact, he still looks rather pissed but at least some of its directed at Lila this time. He silently hands his phone over to Alya with some hesitation, Lila's eyes go wide. As quickly as he had come he’s gone, disappearing into the crowd that had formed around them.

“What’s-”

“Give it!” Lila screeches, lunging for the phone. Alya jerks back in surprise, Lila’s nails tearing down her arm. Ugly red marks that had broken the skin and gone in deep.

“What the hell!” Alya shouts through tears, clutching her bloody arm as the class crowd around her.

Instead of apologizing Lila tries to snatch the phone in the moment of distraction, but Alix is a hair quicker. She presses play despite Lila shouting threats that made the rest of the class go pale. The recording plays everyone is glued to it. The class becoming increasingly more hysterical. Marinette doesn't wait for it to finish, she gently guides Marion out of the room slipping through the crowd. They hide in an empty classroom, far enough away they can’t hear the outcry that follows.

“Do you think that’s really it, it’s done?” Marion whispers, Marinette is wiping his face with a handkerchief he had always made fun of her for carrying.

“Maybe, I honestly can’t bring myself to care anymore,” Marinette rests her forehead against his, her standing as he sits on a desk, “I thought I’d feel more…”

“Victorious?”

“Yeah,”

“I don’t think there are any winners here,” He can hear someone shouting their names down the hall, voice wobbly with tears, he doesn't care about any apology the can muster, “How lame did I look crying?”

“In front of the whole school like that?”

“Yeah,”

“I’d say it was pretty brave,” She pulls him into a hug, squeezing tight.

“He was just ignoring us,” Marion admits quietly, Lila hadn’t made him cry in a long time, but Damian? Damian did.

“I know,” Marinette pats his head, the same way she would tease him as Chat Noir, “But he did something in the end didn’t he?”

“Oh, gee look at this lame-ass, better make him stop before people associate him with me’,” Marion does an impression not remotely close to Damian, Marinette pinches him.

“That’s not what he was thinking and you know it,”

“Yeah,” Marion sighs, he can hear doors opening and closing now, apologies cast out through the school in hopes they’ll hear them, “What do we do now?”

“Jump out the window?”

So they did end up jumping out the window. Something Alfred had somehow known they were planning because he was waiting right there to pick them up. The debated on actually going to the manor, but their phones were lighting up with messages and the hotel was not an option. The Manor was silent when they arrived. And it remained silent for most of their stay.

Dick had apparently set himself a mission of making them feel at home, whatever that meant, and was nowhere to be seen. He seemed like the only one actually happy to have them join the ragtag family so without him it was likely the others were just avoiding them. That was fine, really, Alfred set them up with a movie and ice cream that they used to ignore everything else.

Dick was their saving grace and the bane of their existence. When he came back he had apparently made the decision they would be staying at the manor for the rest of the trip, despite it only meant to be a few more days(it wasn't for them but he didn’t know that yet). Alfred had apparently told him what happened and he had brought it upon himself to bring their friends, actual friends not classmates to the manor. This was a blessing and a curse as all they seemed to want to do was fill them in on what had happened.

They listened and ate ice cream together. And yeah Marion kind of wished he could have seen Lila as every lie was torn down but Chloe rejoiced in relaying her reactions with great detail. She had of course tried to lie and turn it all on the twins, them trying to frame her. However, with blood running down Alya's arm that warranted a trip to the hospital it was met with a cold shoulder. Their talk eventually morphed into laughing at all her outlandish lies, which Chloe gladly compiled into a list to share with the rest of the class, ranking them in order of their stupidity. She planned to go through the whole list on the plane ride back where there would be no escape for anyone. It was fun in a way, and if Marion noticed more than one pair of eyes spying in on the conversation he wasn’t going to point it out. Lila was yet to face her dues.

When their friends had to go back to the hotel they promised not to give anything away. Alfred gratefully let them skip over dinner and Dick was overjoyed to show them to their rooms. Marion kind of wanted to laugh when he was shown his, wondering how much of it was Dick, how much was Bruce, and what was Alfred.

There were cat plushies everywhere which he had to guess was Bruce latching onto the detail from the fair and indeed Dough boy is sitting front and center on his bed. Then again wherever he was over he did spend a lot of time with Catfred. It could also be Dick taking note of that because really everything has cats on it. There's blankets, pillows, a rug with kittens over it. There was an armchair shaped like a cat head, and where had they even found that? It only got worse the further he went into the room noticing that the curtains had been replaced to have cats on them and there were pictures of cats hanging on the wall, the lamps in the room even cast shadows of cats. The only thing he could find that wasn't cat-related was a picture of them with Bruce at the fair, each sporting a plushie with Bruce holding a cutesy Batman plush between the grinning twins.

“Nette my defining trait isn’t cats is it?” He walks into her room through the joining door he was willing to bet didn’t exist a week ago. His side, of course, had a cat painted on it, he closes it just so he has less exposure to all the cats.

“Course not,” Marinette grins from her sewing machine.

She had a more, let's say subdued room. Oh sure Bruce had apparently found her all the Ladybug plushies he could but they apparently didn't have the same abundance as cats. Instead, he seemed to have focused on her sewing kit. Mannequins littered about her room that Marinette had already started pinning fabric to. Half of her walk-in closet was dedicated to spools of fabric, the other stocked with clothes. Marion didn’t dare brave his own knowing he would find only cats .

“Did you notice the dollhouse?” Marinette asks as Marion flops onto her bed, at least you could actually see her bed and it wasn't hidden by a pile of cats.

“Yeah mine was stocked with camembert and sugar cubes,” and it had personalized rooms for both Kaalki and Plagg that they were happily exploring.

“Mine cookies,” Marinette hums, more concerned with her design than the topic at hand, “Think we got found out,”

“Probably, whoever it is hasn't said anything tho,” Marion looks over at the large dollhouse in Marinette's room, Tikki waved at him from a window and he waved back.

“Probably Alfred,”

“Probably, that mans a witch,”

“A Witch?”

“I know what I said,” Marion sighs, sealing himself to go back into the cat infestation. How do you politely say ‘thank you so much but what the fuck?’

He knew he had to brave the closet sometime as someone had been so kind as to put away his clothes. Sure enough, it was as bad as he had imagined. Everything from t-shirts with cartoon cats to clothes carefully crafted to have cat ears. I was actually kind of amazing at this point. Giving up his conquest to find his actual pj’s he buttons up a two-piece that is, naturally, covered with cats.

On his way out he notices a bit of black at the very front of the closet not fitting in with the color-coded organization. He pulls it out to find a gorgeous leather jacket that was completely devoid of cats! Huzzah! There was a note hanging from the sleeve which Marion unfolded.

Knew Bruce and Dick would be idiots so I got you something actually decent

I saw the room and yeah it's a fucken mess

If you ever need it gone or I don’t know accidentally set on fire give me a call

Marion chuckles knowing it could be no one else but Jason he tucks the note into the jacket, pulling it on to find a perfect fit. He keeps it on as a shield, something solidly not-cat is comforting at this point. He pushes the piles of cat toys onto the floor and seriously he was going to have to have a talk with Bruce about moderation and interior decorating. He lies down looking up at the ceiling, then immediately getting up and storming into Nette’s room. He was not going to sleep under a mural of cats! Nope not tonight! Not ever!

Marinette doesn't even look up from where she’s hunched over her desk as he flops onto her bed. Can someone be over the moon to be surrounded by ladybugs? Yes provided they have had an overexposure to cats first.

“I know we don’t want to go to school tomorrow but I can not stand a second more in that room,”

“Schools over Mari, it’s the concert tomorrow remember?”

“Goddammit,”

“Jasons having a bad influence on you,”

“Can’t we have just one day of rest?”

“No, now go to sleep,”

“You first,” Marion shoots, back despite curling up under the blankets.

“If you want to wear that jacket tomorrow you better take it off before it gets ruined,”

“I can wear it for the concert?” He shoots back up, excited but takes her advice anyway.

“ No I did not spend weeks designing a new jacket for you to wear that,” Besides it doesn't even have bats on the back,”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Marion yawns, sinking back into the bed, and wow it’s really soft, “What if we changed them to Robins?”

“... you really don’t want me to sleep tonight do you?”

“Means I get the whole bed to myself, a master plan if I do say so myself,” Marion doesn't even stir as the pillow hits him square in the face.

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

Taglist:

@technicallyburninggarden @fusser90 @misslenamooney @superbwhispersconnoisseur @biodad-bruce-month @nalu-ismyjam @the-one-woman-army @rosesandsailboats @blackmagicforever @zeneralla @ivymala07 @tired-butterfly @Ranger-gothamite @A-star-with-a-human-name @enchanted-nerd @trippingovermyfeet

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thegeekyblondegirlwholovesstars · 4 years

Text

the pogues and your anxiety

Hey guys this was an idea that I had in the shower, I hope it’s not totally shitty. It’s honestly what I wish someone would do for me on my bad days lol. I hope you enjoy this headcanon, although I kinda wrote it like a fic so its kinda a headcanon and fic smoothie if you will. Also it’s unedited I’m sorry! Much love!!! I hope you enjoy:)

Warnings: Anxiety and panic attacks.

not my gif :)

you’re Topper’s sister but you couldn’t be more different from your twin brother

despite your differences he is super overprotective of you and he was not thrilled when you started hanging with the pogues after Sarah started dating John B

Topper cared about you more than anything and the two of you had been through hell and back together

when you started dating JJ he didn’t talk to you for a week, but after seeing how happy you were with him he fully supported you and helped you hide your relationship from your mom

“Maybank if you hurt her I swear to god”

“Calm down pretty boy, I care about her just as much as you do.”

your mom put enormous pressure on you, even more than she put on Topper and after your dad left your already bad anxiety got even worse

Topper always dealt with your mom’s criticisms better than you had

most of the time he’d take the heat of her moods and warn you when she was upset to prevent your anxiety attacks

it wasn’t a very long time after you started hanging out with the pogues that they had each witnessed one of your attacks

the first one to see you break down was Kie, you were at the wreck with her and Sarah but Sarah knew about your anxiety from when she had briefly dated your brother

you were helping Kie close down for the night before a party at the boneyard when your thoughts started racing your hands started shaking and your heart started racing causing you to drop the plate you were washing

Kie came running when she heard the glass shatter, she found you on the floor curled up into yourself rocking back and forth, hyperventilating and hysterically crying

“Y/n! What's wrong!!?? SARAHH!”

Sarah came into the back and she knew exactly what was happening as soon as she saw you

“She’s having an anxiety attack, get her some water and her sweatshirt from the front.”

Topper had told Sarah all about your anxiety and taught her how to calm you down from an attack. Sarah knelt down beside you, carefully avoiding the shattered porcelain from the dish, and began tracing straight lines down each of your arms and then your legs and then your face

“Count with me Beanie” hearing the nickname you had been given by your dad grounded you slightly and allowed you to focus on the lines Sarah was tracing on your skin and her counting

“One..breathe...two...breathe...three”

This way of grounding you is one that Topper had figured out after two or three bad attacks, which when you were younger came from fighting with your mother

“I’m good.” you shuddered not making eye contact with your best friend

Your heart rate began to slow back down to normal and you were now breathing normally, your thoughts began to subside but your body was still shaking

Kie came back in now with your sweatshirt and water in hand, wringing the sleeves of your sweatshirt brought you into your normal head space

Taking a few sips of the water you finally looked back up at both of the girls. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to freak you out Kie.”

“No, no, babes you don’t have to apologize I just didn’t know about it.”

You explained your anxiety to Kie and she embraced you, “It’s nothing to be ashamed of we all have our struggles and bad days. We’re hear for you y/i” (your initial)

“Thank you” you smiled at her as Sarah pulled you to your feet. “Please don’t tell the boys, I know they’re going to find out eventually but I haven’t figured out how to talk to JJ about it yet.”

“I promise I won’t tell them, it’s not my place. You can talk to all of us about it when you’re ready and I’ll act as if I’m finding out for the first time too.” Kie rubbed your shoulder before grabbing a broom to clean up the shattered plate.

“Were you thinking about your mom?” Sarah asked

“No, sometimes they just hit me like that, for no reason.”

Sarah nodded understandingly.

The next to see you break down was John B, unfortunately Sarah was not there to calm you down so that day you discovered a new way to ground yourself

You were at the Chateau with John B while Kie and Sarah picked up JJ and Pope from Heywards. You got a text from your mom about your score on the practice SAT you had taken that previous weekend, she was disappointed. You spiraled.

John B freaked at first and started talking more to himself than to you. “Okay um remain calm.” “Water, water, yeah that’ll help.” “Y/n can you talk to me about what's going on.”

You shook your head unable to form words.

Trying to think of a way to calm you down, John B dropped the needle onto the vinyl on the record player. It was a Beatles record and Strawberry Fields started playing. Focusing on the crackling of the record and the melody of the song you were able to calm yourself down and bring yourself out of the frenzy.

“Y/n?” John B stood in the kitchen with his hands on his head and a worried look on his face.

“Anxiety attack…” you didn’t meet his eye, “don’t mention this to JJ please.”

“Don’t mention what to JJ?” your wonderfully devilish blonde boyfriend walked through the back door.

Straightening up immediately and expertly masking your now slowing myriad of thoughts you crossed the room to your boy. “Nothing baby, I have a surprise for you and I couldn’t hold it in so I was just telling John B.” you planted a quick soft kiss on his lips before wrapping your arms around his waist.

He pulled you closer, “Alright babe, you know don’t have to do anything for me.” he smiled down at you.

“I know but I want to.” you grinned into his chest. Inhaling his scent, composed of weed, sunscreen, and cologne, helped you slow your heart rate. He had become your safe space.

It wasn’t until the annual summer movie night that JJ found out about your anxiety, you were sitting between his legs while he played with your hair and rubbed your back when you felt your thoughts start to race.

Not wanting to scare him off you quickly stood up “I’ll be right back”

JJ new something was wrong when you didn’t meet his gaze

You scanned the crowd for your brother as your thoughts began to race and you felt your chest tighten

You ran behind the screen and began pacing as your hands started to shake and your breathing became more rapid, several minutes passed and you were unable to ground yourself by focusing on the dialogue of the movie. Everything sounded distant and you couldn’t distinguish any words.

Due to your long absence JJ followed you, your eyes widened as soon as you saw him. You didn’t want him to see you spiral and you were already caught in the hurricane of your thoughts.

You uncharacteristically yelled at your boyfriend, “JJ GO GET TOPPER. PLEASE!”

You began sobbing and sunk to the ground against a tree.

JJ walked forward, “Baby whats wrong? What happened? Talk to me?” JJ reached his arm out to you.

You shrugged his hand away, “TOPPER” you whined again.

Your brother must have heard you because he emerged from around the screen.

“Maybank what the hell did you do to her. I swear I’m gonna kill you.” Topper then saw you and realized it wasn’t JJ’s doing.

He ran over to you and began tracing lines down your arms. From left to right. Then your legs in the same pattern. Then down your face. It took three repetitions before you opened your eyes and your breathing slowed.

“Bean, I’m here. What caused it?”

You shook your head, “I don’t know T”

Your twin nodded and pushed your hair behind your ear and straightened your pastel yellow zip up before pulling you to your feet

JJ stood ten feet away with tears in his eyes.

“I’ll leave you guys to talk.” Topper kissed your forehead, “I’ll see you at home, I can pick up some fries, soup, and Coca Cola if you want me too?”

Nodding at your brother you grasped his hand before he walked toward JJ.

When he reached JJ he whispered so that you wouldn’t hear, “Be gentle man, she’s been trying to figure out how to talk to you about this for months now.”

You weakly smiled at the ocean eyed boy from where you were standing. When your brother disappeared around the screen you ran over to JJ and wrapped your arms around him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner bubs.”

“Whats going on?”

“I have anxiety.” you found it hard to meet his eye but you forced yourself to look up at his tanned and freckled face which wore an expression of concern. “Sometimes my thoughts go really fast and I can’t control it and I have a panic attack. Other times I just get really bad and I can’t get out of bed and I don’t want to do anything. Those are the days that you guys don’t see me and I don’t text you till the nighttime.”

JJ’s eyes softened and he stroked the side of your cheek with his thumb. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought I’d scare you off. This is what I didn’t want John B to tell you a few weeks ago and Kie has known for a few months and Sarah kn-”

JJ kissed you with a sweet and caring passion. “You don’t have to worry about scaring me with anything. I’m here for the long haul. I love you bub.”

He lightly kissed your nose before pressing his forehead to yours. “Tell me how I can calm you down, because I have no idea what Top just did. I was under too much duress to focus on what he was doing.”

You giggled. “Honestly I don’t know exactly what calms me down, it depends on the person. That’s what Topper has done since we were kids and he taught Sarah how to do it but John B figured something else out. I think it will just be trial and error. You know me baby, you’ll know what to do when the time comes and you need to ground me.”

He interlocks his fingers with your own. “Okay y/n, wanna get back to the movie?”

“Yeah, I love you too by the way.”

He kissed your hand and the two of you went back to the movie.

The next day you told Pope and talked to everyone about your struggles with anxiety, Sarah taught everyone the tried and true method to calming you down.

A few days later you were planning to go out to a kook party with the pogues but when you woke up, it was one of your bad days. You pulled yourself out of bed and jumped in your car, after shooting Topper at text to let him know to cover you, you headed to the Chateau.

JJ wasn’t awake when you got there but you literally just plopped yourself into the bed in the spare room which was essentially JJ’s, he pulled you closer subconsciously.

“Hey baby,” you cooed with an undertone of sadness in your voice.

“Whatcha doin here so early?” JJ gumbled his voice thick and raspy with sleep.

“Having a bad day bub.”

JJ was suddenly more awake. His eyes were opened and he was more alert but he had no intention of leaving the bed so he pulled you even closer and began to trace your silhouette with his fingertips.

“Wanna stay in tonight?”

You nodded. Choking back tears you mumbled, “I don’t wanna move at all today.”

“Okay my love then we won’t, I’m sure everyone won’t mind having a quiet night tonight.”

“Okay.” you grinned slightly, turning and nuzzling into his chest you both fell back to sleep.

When you woke up JJ wasn’t there, your face fell but you grabbed your phone to see if your brother had texted you.

Topper had in fact texted you: “I told Mom that Sarah surprised you with an early trip to Chapel Hill and you took the first ferry this morning.” A wave of relief washed over you, “Okay I’ll be sure to let Sarah know that we were on the mainland today and you won’t see me at the party tonight. Bad day, I’ll be home later to take care of your drunk ass tho. Xoxo, love you bro.”

You also had a text from JJ: “I went to the wreck to let everyone else know the plan for tonight, JB is still asleep. I’m bringing you back muffins courtesy of Kie. Love you bub. - J” you smiled, your boyfriend's sweet action lifted your mood slightly, “Thank you my love. I’ll see you later.”

You decided to jump in the shower in hopes that it would make you feel slightly better. But when you got in the shower your heart sank immediately, that familiar hollow feeling came to you. You sank to the ground and buried your head in your knees. Rather than racing, your thoughts were slow but booming. You let your hair fall over your face as your thoughts, self doubts, and insecurities consumed you.

When JJ returned he heard the water running, so he decided to set out one of his shirts on the sink for you, along with a clean towel.

“You okay babe?”

You weakly hummed a response, so JJ pulled back the curtain. His heart broke a little at the sight of you on the floor curled in a ball with the water running over you. JJ stripped off his navy tank and board shorts and joined you in the shower.

When he stepped in and closed the curtain he pushed the hair out of your face and lifted your chin. “Will you stand up for me love?”

You nodded slightly, he pulled you up and into his arms. He held you close to his muscular chest while the water ran over both of you. Tucking his chin to his chest he placed a kiss on the top of your head before grabbing the shampoo bottle and signaling for you to turn around. He massaged the shampoo into your scalp gently, allowing it to foam and watching you unwind under his touch.

JJ turned off the water and grabbed the towel off the counter wrapping it around you. He then grabbed his own towel and wrapped it around his waist. Once you were all dried off he placed his shirt over your head and made you a comfy spot on the couch. He went into his room to get dressed and grabbed his hairbrush and ran it through your hair. When he was done you relaxed into his arms.

“Thank you baby, I needed that.”

“Always princess,” he planted a kiss on your lips before turning on your favorite show.

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guoxinghe · 4 years

Text

Sosuke Yamazaki x Reader - The Departure

Something I wrote long ago

The silence woke him.

Cold silk sheets wrapped around Sosuke as sunlight filtered in through the blinds. Nothing stirred in the small suburban home. Even the coffee maker failed to run which was highly unusual, considering how you could never function without the bitter substance. Heavy solitude weighed on his shoulders.

After all, you were gone.

Rubbing the sleep away from his weary eyes, he stood and prepared to get ready for another day. Like every other morning, Sosuke got dressed, brushed his teeth, ate breakfast, drank his tea, and made to leave. His routine didn’t change.

But you still held his heart in your hands. You clenched it in a steel-clad grip without mercy. Usually, you’d attempt to make breakfast and fail miserably at this new recipe you just had to try. That’s when you two would fall back on toaster waffles and cereal as dirtied pots soaked in the sink. You’d kiss him goodbye before rushing out the door to work.

When did those little moments begin to end?

His phone rang with a text message. “Hey, buddy. How’s it going?”

“Still hurts.” His mouth contorted into a grimace as he continued to type. “It doesn’t feel right. It’s so quiet now.”

Rin texted back, “It’s gonna be okay.”

Instead of responding, he opted for switching his phone to silent and pocketing it. He couldn’t bring himself to believe everything would be okay after your departure. Not much time passed, so of course, the raw pain’s intensity didn’t abate. Would it ever though? Or was he doomed to be miserable, stewing forever in his despair?

Hell, he hoped, with every fiber of his being, that you’d walk through that door, saying you still loved him and had changed your mind. There’d be no hesitation to scoop you up in his arms, kissing every inch of your beautiful face, apologies spilling from his lips like his unbidden tears. He’d bare his heart with every word of endless affection as he made love to you. With every touch, your body would be worshipped by him because you were his everything. Afterwards, he’d lay there in contented silence with you engulfed in his strong embrace. Never again, he’d take those moments for granted.

The day progressed as always. When he arrived at work, he didn’t miss the flashes of pity in his coworkers’ eyes. They could see his change in demeanor by the way his shoulders slumped slightly and the permanently knitted brow. His jaw remained clenched as the gears turned in his head.

Where did everything go so wrong?

He’d always been scared of losing you. He was terrified of waking one day to not see you next to him anymore. To wake up with the realization that you left him. Now that it was reality, it pained him even more because he could’ve prevented it. If he hadn’t been so stubborn, he would’ve worked less hours. But his own pride kept him from giving you more attention.

“Hey, Sosuke,” Rin greeted.

Sosuke nodded in acknowledgement. “Anything new pop up?”

The shark-toothed man shook his head. “Nothing serious, but I guess Gou is back for a visit.”

A dark brow quirked in surprise. “How long’s it been since you saw her?”

“A year.” Rin rubbed the back of his nape and sighed. “I guess she met with [name] last night.”

His best friend debated even bringing it up, but he figured that keeping him in the dark would be worse. Besides, Sosuke always had a way of finding out. His intuition was certainly uncanny.

Sosuke shifted his gaze to the floor. “How is she doing?”

“She seems to be doing okay. She’s staying with a friend.”

“I see.” A bitter smile ghosted his lips as he mused, “I hope that whatever she does, she’ll be happy.”

Rin tentatively asked, “Have you tried talking with her?”

“No.” His response was immediate. “It wouldn’t change anything. She was pretty adamant when she left.”

The scene played in his head like an endlessly looping film.

Sosuke returned from work earlier than usual. When he entered the house, he noticed the packed bags tossed onto the couch. You didn’t have a lot of stuff, so there were only a few filled duffel bags and a backpack.

When you strode out of the bedroom, you only spared him a glance before zipping up your coat. Sosuke blinked hard, clearly in disbelief at what he was witnessing. His uneven breathing was only a small indicator to the pangs of anxiety rushing through his blood.

Swallowing hard, he asked, “What are you doing?”

Your response was toneless with a face void of emotion. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m leaving, Sosuke.”

One by one, you slung the bags over your shoulder and walked towards the door. Still, he couldn’t just let you go. Before you passed him, Sosuke gripped your shoulder, but you didn’t even look at him.

“Wait… [name]…” He glanced down at you carrying everything on your shoulders like the god, Atlas. You’d shouldered everything by yourself.

Yes, you shouldered everything.

Blinking slowly, you exhaled sharply through your nose. “Let go.”

He started warily, “I know I haven’t been around much, and I’m so sorry, but I swear, I can fix that – this! Please, just…don’t go.”

His teal eyes were cast dolefully downwards at your stiff frame. You looked so small like that.

“I made my decision.” You shrugged off his hand and looked him in the eye. Your words were cold and biting. “It’s too late for you to start caring now.”

With that, you stepped out of the house and his life.

Once he returned home, Sosuke shucked off his coat and dumped his keys into the little wooden bowl on the rack by the entrance. The whole house remained silent save for his heavy footsteps as he trudged into the bedroom. When he flipped the light on, he glanced at his worn-down self in the vanity mirror. It’d only been a couple days, but it’d already took its toll on him. His posture lost the trademark confidence and authority that he always carried. Now, it was broken and frail.

The two of you chose this house. It was supposed to be for you and him to live in and grow old together. This bed was meant to be shared with you and you alone. The idea of lying in it with another woman was unfathomable.

You had always been there to support him ever since high school. When he wallowed by himself because of his uncertain future in swimming, you lent him your shoulder no matter how heavy the burden. You wrapped him in warmth before his shoulder surgery, whispering reassurances that he’d be okay. You helped give him that future.

But when you two married years later, everything began descending at a barely discernible pace. It started with him picking up an extra shift here and there. Here and there became once a week. Once a week became four times a week. The shifts grew longer, and the time he saw you grew shorter. Even when you asked him to spend more time at home, it crashed down as he denied you. All the pleasant moments turned to ash that fell between his fingers, and so did his relationship with you.

Sosuke grew more cross with you, delivering short and curt answers to your simple questions. He shrugged off your affections, barely reciprocating them. Little did he know, the nights he returned after midnight, you often cried yourself to sleep, wondering why everything had gone so wrong. He never noticed the tears staining your dried cheeks or the way your hands clenched the sheets as you bit back the sobs.

After your departure, he couldn’t help but wonder why.

Why didn’t he change before it was too late? Did he think you’d stay no matter what? That you’d stay to support him when he failed to reciprocate?

He’d wasted your love.

Regret was all you left him with.

Years passed.

The divorce was actually finalized within a year of you leaving. Honestly, there wasn’t anything to dispute about since you didn’t buy anything together except the house. You were content to leave everything except your essential things behind. Sosuke stayed in that home, always waiting for you, but he knew it was in vain.

Since then, he hadn’t heard from you. You didn’t really have a reason to contact him in the first place considering the fact you didn’t have kids or pets you needed to keep tabs on. Still, he heard about you from Rin and Gou since you remained in touch with them. You’d finally gotten that job you always wanted and strove toward since graduating high school. You entered another serious relationship with this one guy a couple years after leaving Sosuke. Gou was reluctant, but she told Sosuke that you were happily engaged to the new guy a couple years after dating.

A couple days after she brought the news, a wedding invitation was mailed to your old house. It was addressed to him, and he vaguely wondered if you just wanted to rub salt in the still raw wounds. He knew you didn’t bear that kind of malice though. At the same time, the same scenario began playing in his head over and over.

You were standing at the altar, ready to begin saying the vows. When the officiant asked if anyone objected, Sosuke would bravely stand amongst the crowd and declare his love for you. Overwhelmed with emotion, you’d cry as you ran into his arms, returning to him. As for the one sobbing hysterically, it’d definitely be him. Yes, it was like one of those cheesy romantic dramas he hated.

When the occasion finally arrived though, no protests left him as he watched you stand at that altar. You were in another man’s arms, and part of him desperately wanted to pry you away. That was impossible though.

Because you looked so happy.

The way you looked at your new husband was the way you used to look at Sosuke. Your new husband returned the loving gaze like Sosuke used to. That’s when Sosuke knew. He knew this man would love you unconditionally for the rest of your days. He wouldn’t fail in being a pillar of strength for you. He wouldn’t let his pride go unchecked and wound you with calloused words and actions.

During the wedding reception, Rin approached Sosuke. “Hey, buddy.”

“Hi, Rin.” Both of the men turned to watch you dancing in the arms of another man. With a solemn smile, Sosuke remarked, “She looks happy.”

What else could he say?

Your eyes sparkled in the dim light as you swayed back and forth with your husband. Your grin exuded relaxed contentment. When was the last time he saw you in such bliss? At least a year before you left.

Mustering up the courage, after you finished dancing with your husband, Sosuke approached you.

He asked you to dance, and you smiled warmly. “I’m glad you made it. It’s been a while. How’ve you been, Sou?”

“Okay.” His arms wrapped gingerly around your waist. Both of you rocked back and forth to the slow music. “He seems like a good guy.”

Giggling, you mused, “I never thought I’d be so blessed. It’s amazing he puts up with all my troubles.”

Pangs of guilt caused his chest to ache. Swallowing down the mounting lump in his throat, he murmured, “I’m glad.”

“What?” Sosuke didn’t miss the hitch in your breath.

He offered the most genuine smile you’d ever seen. “You’re happy, and that’s all that matters.” He left a chaste kiss on your cheek. “That’s all I needed to know. It’s enough.”

Warm tears trickled down your face. “Thank you, Sosuke.”

After the song ended, you embraced him one last time in a final goodbye. Yes, he could let go now. So long as you were happy, even though it wasn’t with him, he could finally let go. You watched his back retreated into the crowd, and you wished him the best because he’d always remain your first love. Nothing could replace that.

Sosuke’s departure only signified a new beginning for both of you.

#free iwatobi swim club #free eternal summer #sosuke yamazaki #sosuke yamazaki x reader #sousuke yamazaki #angst

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jawritter · 4 years

Text

You and Me...

Chapter 11

***SERIES WARNINGS**** Rape, non-con, male!rape, injury, violence, description of injury caused by rape, nightmares, self-harm, panic attacks, implied female non-con, language, ass hole Jensen, hurt!Jensen, dark fic, smut. If there is anything else I will add it as I go.

***Chapter Warnings*** Talk of nightmares/night terrors, light description of injury, language, I think that’s pretty much it for this chapter.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Jared x Reader

Word Count: 1777

A/N: Anyway, all mistakes are mine, please don’t copy my work, Feedback is golden. If you want to be added to the series tag list, or my tag list just let me know! I hope you enjoy this one. This is something I actually did and witness, and I realize this one might be hard to read because it is a little heavy.

Summary: It’s funny how one choice you made can change your whole life. One mistake can alter your course, and set you on a path that forever will haunt you. Two people find themselves getting through one of the hardest trials of Jensen’s life, on just one small promise. You and Me. We’ll get through it together…

Want more? Check out my Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***YOU AND ME MASTERLIST***

It had been roughly two weeks since Jensen was released from the hospital.

Physically he's doing a lot better.

He gets around pretty good now, normally even. It would be hard for anyone on the street to see that there was ever anything wrong with him when he walked by you. He'd become pretty self-sufficient pretty quickly. The bruises had mostly faded, only leaving the worst ones still a sickening yellow color. Most of the scratches and lacerations on his body had healed or were almost healed. Most of his strength returned to him.

On the outside, he looked fine, but it wasn’t the outside that had become the problem. As much as he tried to hide it. Even though the physical aspect of his attack had almost faded completely, it was the battle of the mind that was beginning now.

When you looked into his eyes something was still dead in there.

You learned pretty quickly that Jensen had a pretty passive-aggressive way of dealing with things. It was just what he hid behind, and you knew that, but still, it didn't lessen your concern for him.

You noticed him drinking more, and you were afraid that would become a very unhealthy coping mechanism.

The nightmares had gotten worse.

To be honest you would have characterized them as night terrors. Except they didn't just happen at night. You had learned just from watching him that these “flashbacks” could be triggered by a sound, or a smell, or even something someone says.

It wasn't something he could control.

He had started to go to his own house during the day some, but at night he always ended up right back with you. You were secretly glad. You didn't like the thought of his nightmares starting, and him beginning there all alone. Most of the time when he had one he’d either wake up violently ill or hysterical, there was no in-between.

He had taken his kids to the local zoo with Jared the other day on one of his visitation days with his kids. Because of his usual nightly problems he thought it was best that they didn't stay the night with him. Not something you really want you kids to see.

He had been back to the studio, using it you think as a distraction. That's not uncommon though, people use music all the time as an escape from reality.

The only good thing that had happened really over the past two weeks was that you had gotten a contract writing for a local publishing company reviewing transcripts, and technically you could work full time from home now. You did tell Steve and Jensen that you would finish Jensen's project through before you left. You were there when he started it, and you wanted to see the finished product.

This morning started much like all other mornings since Jensen had moved in with you.

You were sitting in the living room drinking your coffee. It was still very, very early. It was the weekend, so neither yourself nor Jensen had to work today. Still, your body is used to waking up so early, it had developed its own alarm clock. Therefore you were up at 5 am regardless of what you did or how late you went to bed.

Jensen was still sleeping soundly in the room the two of you now awkwardly, kinda shared. You were honestly afraid to touch him. Afraid it would trigger one of his flashbacks. So you slept as far away from him as you could in your king-sized bed, usually putting a pillow between the two of you so that you wouldn't accidentally roll over to him in the middle of the night.

It wasn't that you didn't want to be close to him. You wanted nothing more than to feel his arms wrapped around you as you slept, but you were pretty sure that he was not capable of doing that. He had told you in the hospital that there were some things that he wouldn't be able to do. Physical contact was one of them.

Not thinking about what you were doing a day after he moved in with you, you walked up behind him when he was standing at the sink and put your hand on his shoulder, throwing him into a violent flashback, that took almost an hour for him to come back from. That’s when you learned touching him probably wasn’t the best idea.

Sometimes he would reach over and grab your hand when the nightmares were really bad, he would let you sit next to him and run your fingers through his hair until he went back to sleep, other than that though that was it.

You were sitting lost in thought, the house pretty much dark, only the light from above the stove lightly lit the room. When your phone lit up next to you. It was Jared.

"Hello?" you say quietly careful not to wake up Jensen.

"Y/N? I didn't wake you did I?" he asked.

"No, I've been up," you tell, him running your hand down your face. Wondering why in the hell he was calling this early.

"Okay listen they caught Jensen's attackers. There were four of them... Plus Jennifer,"

That last part struck you hard.

"Jennifer? Really? Are they sure?" you asked, shock radiating through your body.

"Yeah. She was there through all of it according to her confession. Apparently, she gets her kicks off watching Jensen being raped and tortured, claiming that he owed her that much after what he did to her, when, come to find out the whole thing was a set up from the beginning. She thought she’d go on a date with him, get him drunk, maybe fuck him, get some side cash, and leave, but apparently, things didn't go the way she planned, and she got her family involved to “pay him back” for what the did to her." Jared Said through gritted teeth.

Your stomach churned. You didn't like talking about what they did to Jensen. Your heart just couldn't handle it. Especially seeing the reproductions that he was still dealing with from the whole ordeal.

"Did they all confess?" you asked, hoping and praying Jensen wasn't going to have to testify in front of a room full of strangers plus his attackers.

"Yeah, they all confessed. From what I understand there was so much evidence from the pictures that the hospital had taken, plus the doctor's reports, and DNA evidence that they really had no choice but to confess," he said, sounding just as sick about all of this as you were.

"He's not gonna have to testify will he?" you asked, holding your breath.

"No, not unless he just wants to confront them. Which I doubt he does. These perverts are going to jail for a very long time. The amount of evidence against them is overwhelming, and the police believe this isn't the first time they’ve done this to someone," Jared said.

It made you sick to think about there being monsters like this out there in the real world. People like Jennifer, who you’d never expect to be involved in something like this.

“Thanks for letting me know Jared, now I just have to figure out how to tell Jensen.”

“You can do it Y/N, he trusts you,” Jared said.

With that, the two of you got off the phone. Jensen would be waking up soon as you wanted to have this breakfast ready like you did every morning. You didn't know how you were going to tell him that they had caught his attackers. You hated even bringing up his situation with him. He would get so distant and quiet.

Not fifteen minutes later you heard the bedroom door open and Jensen made his way over to the small bar and sat down. You knew he had because you heard the chair slide across the tile. Your back was to him plating up his breakfast. When you turned around what you saw nearly made you drop the plate.

He was sitting there, pale, and crying silently; looking at his hands that were shaking on the bar. You sat the plate down and carefully walked over to him, surprisingly he reached for you. You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him tightly to you. The two of you sat like that for the longest time before he finally spoke.

"I'm not well," was all he said, so quiet that you barely even heard him.

"What hurts? Are you sick?" you asked. Immediately thinking it had something to do with his physical injuries.

"No, not that," he said, then pointed at his head. "I'm not well."

That made your heart sink. This was the first time he’d admitted that he was struggling, even though you knew that he was, and honestly it scared you.

Had he gotten worse?

You had been trying to figure out a good time to bring up seeing a therapist, now seemed like a good time as any.

"Maybe we should make that appointment with that therapist that your doctor suggested to you," you suggested gently, afraid he would get angry.

"Will you come with me?" was all his said, no more fight in him at all.

"Yeah, I'll be there the whole time. Remember what I said in the hospital. We're gonna get through this. You and Me."

Jensen nodded his head and buried his face in your neck, wet tears streaking down his face, and onto your skin made your heart feel like it just wanted to stop beating.

You knew that suggesting a therapist may sound harsh to some people, but there was no manual on how to deal with something like it. No material to read to figure out a normal healing process, especially for man, and there was no way to know that you were doing this right or wrong,

All you could do was make small steps together, in hopes that you were both stumbling in the right direction in getting him better, and right now you had to go with what logically could help him, and maybe someone who was trained to deal with this sort of trauma.

Even though you knew this was probably going to be one of the hardest things Jensen ever had to do, he couldn’t keep all this bottled up, he needed a safe space, and a trained professional to help him.

Squeezing him as tight to you as you could you tried your best to ground him in this mess that he was going through, you promised you’d be right there with him, and you were going to keep that promise, no matter what you’d do it together.

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bottleofspilledink · 4 years

Text

God's Watching, Put on a Show || Chapter I

September 10, 1993, St. Agnes School For Girls

Eve stared at the bible she was so desperately clutching, her nails creating indents on it's fine, leather cover.

"Hail, holy queen,

Mother or mercy,

Hail, our life, our sweetness, and our hope..."

Her stomach twisted as she switched from one prayer to another in her head.

"Glory be to the Father,

And to the Son,

And to the Holy Spirit..."

She wasn't even sure if she'd finished before beginning a different one, thoughts continually straying, focus nearly non-existent.

"Our Father,

Who art in Heaven,

Hallowed be thy name..."

If she was more aware of herself, she would have thought it miraculous that the book didn't simply slip from her grasp.

They had just finished the first gym class of their senior year and she could still picture it so vividly.

Airy sighs of relief echoed through the showers, mixing with the sound of running water and murmured complaints of aching limbs.

Warm water cascaded down them all as her chestnut eyes wandered, gaze flitting from the floor, to the nude girl next to her, to the faucet knobs, then to the floor once more.

She couldn't help but envy Claudia's soap, the lilac bar sliding over the soft, supple skin of her thighs, gliding over the gentle swell of her breasts, leaving sweet smelling suds and translucent bubbles in their wake.

It hardly got better when she towelled off. Girls roamed around the room in various states of undress.

When the prayers didn't work, she brought her sweaty hands up to palm at the rosary that, despite dangling at her neck, had always felt too tight.

Just a bit.

Her face flushed as even more of earlier's memories surfaced.

She recalled how her classmate, Tabitha, leant down to ask for a turn with her brush, entirely bare save for a towel that, instead of covering her body, had been used to wrap her wet hair.

She recalled how Naomi had slipped on the wet tile, bumping into her in an attempt to stay standing, wet hair dripping onto Eve as she was pressed into the locker, body hot against her back even with the towel between them.

And once that failed to purge the thoughts from her head, she shifted her gaze to the crucifix above the whiteboard, exchanging prayers for pleas so desperate that would make anyone who heard it cave and help her.

Though unfortunately for Eve, no one was listening.

She wanted to stop the thoughts.

She needed to stop the thoughts, the frantic beating of her heart, the pulsing heat that came from between her legs, lest she risk losing everything in this life and the next.

"Please," she thought, eyes clenched shut, her ivory hands were slick and shaking as she brought them together, fingertips growing red with each pleading squeeze, "help me."

"I know you wouldn't put me through this if you thought I couldn't handle it, but I'm begging you, help me." The words were now a mantra, repeating over and over til it lost all meaning, words meshing together in her mind in a senseless fashion, fading into the background of her thoughts all together.

Her amber eyes brimmed with tears at what could happen to her, to her soul, if she wasn't able to stop, if this wanton depravity escaped her mind, if she decided to go forth and search for ways to fulfill this sick fantasy of hers.

And through some miracle or curse, her prayers had been realized in the form of the shrill shriek of the fire alarm. Her heart beat in panic instead of longing and arousal receded, replaced by fear.

"Get in line, girls. Remember our drills," Sister Jane said, calmly rising from her seat, somehow immune to the fear and worry that now permeated the air.

At the order, lines were formed, rushed and frantic and the complete opposite of their usually pristine formation as they speed walked through the cloisters.

The place was bustling with life, tiny heels clicking and voices buzzing as the already crooked lines dissipated completely as people shoved and bumped into each other.

Eve could barely move, her right side pressed firmly into the walls. She shuffled along as best she could, making way for one of the nuns fighting against the crowd trying to reach the telephone to call the fire department.

They arrived at the courtyard quickly and despite the attempts to settle them, some girls were running all over the grass, shouting names, looking for friends and ensuring their safety.

Though the source of the fire was still a mystery, it was clear that calming the students would take a good while.

Eve was shivering in the crisp autumn air, a crunchy leaf smacking her in the face as she rubbed her hands together. In all the commotion, she had left her coat behind, the thick wool remaining draped over the back of her chair and utterly useless to her now.

Just when the sisters were at their wits end, one of the more elderly nuns and girls in aprons rushed out of the west wing door with their hands and handkerchiefs covering their mouths.

They donned flour stains on their school-mandated black aprons and reeked of smoke. Most were violently coughing, one of them dry heaving onto the grass because of the force of it.

The girls were far too distracted to notice one of their fellow classmates slipping away from them.

"Sister Agnes!" The women rushed over to her as she fell to the ground, habit nearly slipping off when her frail body collided into the damp grass.

"What happened? Did all the girls make it out?" Mother Cecilia asked, nearly hysterical as she knelt by her fallen friend.

"Thank the Lord, I believe so, yes." Sister Agnes pushed herself up and hid the bit of hair that escaped her hood. "Oh, I don't know what happened! We were just baking, and- and I- That girl! She put it in the oven! That wretched girl! She must have started the fire!" The woman marched over to her students, face distorted in rage.

"Where is she?! Where's Lilith?!"

Eve, being so far from the commotion, hardly noticed it all as she sat alone on one of the wooden benches. She was far too occupied with warming herself. A violent shiver went through her as her leg brushed against the cold metal nail of the seat.

"Feeling chilly?" A girl with striking red hair asked her, taking off her oven mitts and waving them at Eve.

"Oh! Uhm, no, I'm fine. Thank you, though." She said, straightening herself. A gust of wind had blown past them, allowing Eve to catch a faint whiff of the smoky scent emanating from the girl.

The other merely smirked, "Shy? There's no need to be. Besides, I can see you shivering."

The blonde gave an awkward laugh, feeling her face flush as she was caught lying.

"You got me there! But really, I'm fine, it's nothing I can't handle," Eve tried reassuring the girl, who only raised a brow at her.

"Sure about that? I don't mind letting you borrow them, it's not like I'm using them or anything." The girl practically insisted on taking the oven mitts, holding them out to Eve.

Even from afar, she could feel it's warmth, her hand gave a tiny twitch, completely revealing how much she wanted it.

"If you're sure..." She reached out and took the mittens from her, their fingers briefly brushing together.

And for a second, a single, fleeting moment, the overwhelming desire to hold the other girl's hand overtook her, and she froze, head spinning at the other's heat.

She wanted to feel her smooth skin, her warmth, and have her soft hands encompass her own.

But no such thing happened and Eve pushed the thought aside to slip the oven mitts on.

"Thank you. I honestly don't think I could have taken it much longer, I have more goosebumps than an actual goose at this point."

The girl laughed at this, hearty and loud and absolutely stunning as her frame shook with the force of it all. The autumn sun made her hair shine like a ruby, it's tips grazing her apron as she moved about.

"My name's Eve, by the way." She clumsily brushed her own hair from her face, oven mitts making the task more difficult than it should have been, then stuck out her hand for the other to shake.

"That's pretty. It suits you," the girl said nonchalantly. Eve would have thought it to be sarcasm if it weren't for the seemingly genuine smile still on her face.

"I'm-"

"There you are!" Mother Cecilia pushed through the crowd of students and grabbed the dark haired girl's outstretched hand, preventing it from reaching Eve's and pulling her up. "Come with me! Now!"

And so, the girl was gone before Eve could make a sound. She could do nothing but watch as people around them parted to let the two pass, not wanting the wrath of Mother Cecilia to befall them too.

They stayed out there for another fifteen minutes before the fire department arrived.

The girls were craning their necks as they crammed themselves at the windows to get a glimpse of the firemen as the ran through the halls, hose trailing behind them. Whispers of excitement ran through them as one of the men actually entered the courtyard to talk to the nuns.

After an hour long role call, they were ushered back to their classes, chatter untamable due to all of the events that had transpired.

There was only one girl who stayed silent through it all.

Eve was still staring at the red oven mitts when she reached her seat, wondering how on earth she would return them, til the answer presented themselves through the tag that slipped out when she took them off.

On that tag, scrawled messily in a thick black marker was the name Lilith Damien.

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monstersdownthepath · 4 years

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Spiritual Spotlight: Groetus, God of the End Times

Chaotic Neutral God of Oblivion, Empty Places, and Ruins

Domains: Chaos, Darkness, Destruction, Madness, Void Subdomains: Catastrophe, Entropy, Insanity, Loss, Night, Stars, Truth

Inner Sea Faiths, pg. 46~51

Obedience: Preach of the coming end times to a listener who has not yet accepted this truth. If the person leaves or otherwise refuses to listen to you for the full hour, you must find another person to preach to so that you are proselytizing the entire time. Alternatively, if no one at all is available to listen, spend an hour contemplating ways and times the world might end—do so in an empty place where nothing lives and no person except Groetan worshipers have been for at least a month. While you contemplate, deface any surface available to you with unholy images and symbols, such as a skull-like moon. Benefit: You gain a +1 sacred or profane bonus on Will saving throws.

the sad part is that pretty much every god in inner sea faiths is like this. First Ghlaunder and now THIS! Paizo was scared of Deific Obedience when it was first written, and it shows!

God you really are just tasked with being an annoying doomsayer for an hour, huh? Standing around with a sandwich board that reads THE END IS NIGH every single day you want your god’s blessing. You can easily get away with just preaching to your party every day, provided they don’t mind listening to this crazy babble... and, of course, provided that the end of the world isn’t actually coming, or else your evangelism will come off as tasteless. But, what do you care? You’ve been saying it all this time! It’s likely going to get you punched in the face or even mauled by a crowd if you try it in the middle of a city currently undergoing a crisis (as cities in Pathfinder are wont to do), though. So, uh, be careful.

This is one of the rare Obediences where the primary method is actually easier to do than the secondary, because it specifically demands that you find somewhere “nothing lives.” While a merciful DM may allow you to share a space with vermin, this does mean you can’t simply find a quiet area in a woodlands, because trees, brush, and grass all count. Stick to the cities or in ruined civilizations! Ironically, this means that being captured and thrown in a dungeon is actually beneficial for you, provided no one else has been locked in that specific cell for more than a month.

All this hard work for a measly +1 though. I’m insulted, honestly; it’s a universal bonus to the most important saving throw you have and it stacks with everything, but it’s only a +1! It would have been fine at +2! Come on, Groetus, shell a bit more out to your flock!

Boons are acquired slowly: the first once you reach 12 hit dice, the second at 16, and the third at 20. However, the Evangelist, Exalted, and Sentinel Prestige Classes can be entered as early as level 5; doing so grants you the Boons at levels 8, 11, and 14 instead. As Groetus is a true deity and does not require Fiendish Obedience, you earn the right to enter the classes earlier than those who serve fiends!

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EVANGELIST

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Boon 1: Doomsayer. Gain Doom 3/day, Augury 2/day, or Bestow Curse 1/day.

Oooh, Bestow Curse! That’s always fun to see! It’s a Save-Or-Suck that keeps on s--being terrible long after the battle has ended, if the enemy you slap with it gets away! It’s ALSO a touch spell entirely negated by a save, and we all know how I feel about those. Better make sure it sticks and sticks hard, or drawing into an enemy’s melee range can earn you a pretty severe slapping.

Augury is decent to have as a spell-like (I’d never prepare it as an actual spell), though its limited gaze of only 30 minutes into the future is an equal blessing and bane and it relies entirely on DM fiat... AND there’s a non-negligible chance it simply won’t work! Which means that if you don’t want to rely on the Save or Suck of Bestow Curse, your best bet (eugh) is the tragically weak and ironically ominous Doom--WAIT THAT’S RIGHT I ALMOST FORGOT! The Shaken condition also imposes a -2 to saving throws! Ok yeah, if you don’t want to rely on BC, Doom is a pretty good way to go if you have some way to bolster its pathetic saving throw of 11+Cha mod.

Boon 2: Consume Essence. 1/day, you may touch a corpse. That corpse must make a Fortitude save (DC 10 + 1/2 your HD + your Cha mod) or be reduced to dust as per Disintegrate. You gain 1d8 temporary HP, which last for a number of hours equal to your Hit Dice.

Before we get into the rest of this mess, I just really need to point out that an unattended, nonmagical object is not able to make saving throws, and a corpse is an object. ThereFOR, it should not even get to make a save against this ability!

What stats do you even use for it? The former creature? Because that’s just unnecessarily confusing, especially if you use it on the corpse of a long-dead creature. I really, really don’t see why this ability should allow a save, especially since A) it’s only usable once a day and B) it’s incredibly weak. Under what circumstances would you use this? Because I’ll tell you right now, using this against a baddie that’s supposed to be recurring will simply make the DM contrive a reason for them to come back anyway. Turning them to ash will just make it harder. I suppose there is a niche use in bringing it against creatures who can reanimate themselves, or against casters who may have Contingencies in place, but

but still, like. It’s a bad Boon. If you want a body destroyed, hacking it to pieces or burning it is just as easy, all this ability does is save you time. And maybe not even then! Because it gives the body a saving throw! For WHATEVER reason! And you only get to do it ONCE a day! Honestly, everything about this ability is just a progressively more insulting middle finger, all leading up to the pitiful 1d8 HP you get. There’s a lot of Boons that are straight up bad or useless, but I think this is the first one I’ve actually hated. Lets move on...

Boon 3: Whispers of Insanity. 1/day as a standard action, you may whisper Groetus’ Truth into the mind of a creature within 30ft. This acts as the Insanity spell, but the save DC is 10+1/2 your HD+your Cha mod. In addition to the normal methods of curing Insanity, a Modify Memory spell or similar can end the effect. A Knowledge (Religion) check (DC same as the saving throw) reveals this information.

Insanity is a decent spell, essentially being a permanent Confusion... but it only affects a single target, and whoever you’d want to use it against is typically not going to last long enough for the permanent duration to matter. I suppose slapping someone you hate but don’t necessarily want to kill is good enough, or blasting some poor random sod who hasn’t accepted the Truth, but as a Boon? Groetus really doesn’t bless his Evangelists with anything good.

Insanity is not only a level 7 spell while most 3rd Boons grant 9th level effects, but in stark contrast to a normal third Boon, the version you get here is actually weaker than just getting the spell normally, because Insanity has a Long range (100ft + 10ft/lvl) and can only be removed with 7th+ level magic (Greater Restoration, Heal, etc). Having a much easier method of dispelling the effect is just insulting, even if it is flavorful. This would be considered a second tier Boon by most deities, or even demigods! Come on, Groty, step it up!

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EXALTED

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Boon 1: Maddening Voice. Gain Lesser Confusion 3/day, Mad Hallucination 2/day, or Confusion 1/day.

Off to a bad start. Lesser Confusion may as well not even be a spell, so we’re moving on from there. Mad Hallucination is a fun spell to not need components for, barraging a single target with visions of insanity for upwards to an hour, though mechanically it’s only a -2 to a very small number of relatively unimportant checks (caster level really only applies to players, who must regularly pierce SR). Rather uniquely, it’s not mind-affecting, but is instead a phantasm Illusion, allowing it to affect a wider range of creatures than normal! But it’s still not really super useful, because as it’s negated by a Will save and penalizes Will saves with a successful application, wouldn’t you have preferred a Save or Suck first?

This leaves Confusion which, as area of effect spells go, isn’t the best. There’s a 1/2 chance that they essentially lose their turn, but a 1/4 chance that they’re unaffected by the confusing magic and a 1/4 chance that they attack the nearest creature... Which, more often than not, means your allies anyway. Speaking of, Confusion doesn’t discriminate between ally and enemy, so blasting a crowd that happens to have a friend inside will force them to make a Will save as well.

It’s a hysterical spell to drop on a crowd of smaller enemies (or a crowd of innocent civilians), but the coin flip nature of its effect makes it terribly unreliable. It’s still the best option among the three, though.

Boon 2: Silent Witness. 1/day as a full-round action, you can protect yourself with the effects of Invisibility, Nondetection, and Sanctuary for 10 minutes per Hit Die you possess. Anyone who succeeds at a Will saving throw (DC = 10 + 1/2 Hit Dice + Wis mod) or a caster level check (DC = 11+your HD) against these effects sees a glimpse of something unfathomable and becomes confused for 1 round unless it succeeds at a second Will save with the same DC.

Have you ever wanted to be this gif?

Then good news! Exalted of Groetus can live out that dream! With little more than a gesture and a bit of concentration, you can just vanish from the world for a little while. It’s not a complete disappearance, mind, because anything with blindsense, blindsight, or scent can still track you, but by god can absolutely no one see you (remember you’re shielded from Detect X spells!). And, thanks to Sanctuary, even if they have a way to keep track of you, there’s a chance that they won’t be able to act on it.

The mindbogglingly massive 10 min/level duration effect on each of the effects screws over Nondetection (with a normal 1 hour/level duration) but is a monstrous buff to Invisibility (1 min/lvl) and especially to Sanctuary (1 round/lvl), because someone failing their save against Sanctuary means they can’t target the warded creature for the duration of the spell! While normally a fighting monster could just pull back and wait for the effect to expire as they focus their efforts on the rest of the party, good luck kiting for 10 minutes. The shielding effect breaks the moment you attack, but you can get around that by never casting damage-dealing spells! Crowd control and SoS spells all day!

Invisibility and Nondetection also make you the undisputed king of sneaking into places, too. Mundane eyesight and magical detection spells will fail to pierce your veil, requiring the 6th level True Seeing to actually see where you’ve gone. I really enjoy the added touch that anyone successfully piercing the spell effects has to make a save or become confused. It’s just some nice frosting atop this cake! Already Groetus is looking better and better!

Boon 3: Infinite Patience. You cannot die of old age, even through magical means. You still physically age, accruing bonuses and penalties as normal. In addition, once per day as a standard action, you can choose any one action you could ready and define a condition under which you will take that action. Within the next 24 hours, whenever you observe that condition, you can take the chosen action as an immediate action.

Age without youth isn’t something you see a lot of nowadays, except in cases of diabolic bargains going haywire. To have a god inflict it upon its followers is something special; I like enjoy the fact that you’ll eventually just need to outright mummify yourself if you want to keep moving (or invest in mechanical/magical parts). It brings to mind the mental image of a cult to Groetus opening an ancient coffin to reveal their absolutely skeletal leader, old enough to have seen Earthfall and coursing with madness and might in equal measure.

But post-campaign shenanigans aside, the primary use of this ability is a pseudo-Contingency that you can use to prepare anything. Any action you could conceivably ready (an attack, a standard-action spell, a sudden move, a sabotaging strike, etc) is usable with this ability! And because you don’t have to name the action or condition right away, with a bit of good guesswork (or divination magic), you can custom tailor your immediate action for maximum benefit; you can go the mundane route and have it be something simple, like “if an enemy strikes me with a melee attack, teleport to safety” or “if I am brought below half health, cast Heal or Mass Heal on myself/my allies,” or the bonkers route like “the instant the enemy opens their mouth to monologue, cast Disintegrate” or “if someone compares me to an animal, use magic to turn into that animal.”

This ability rewards both creativity and thinking ahead, so get good at both! Because used right, this ability is “cast any spell w/ a standard action casting time as an immediate action,” and used wrong it’s “do nothing.”

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SENTINEL

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Boon 1: Endbringer. Gain True Strike 3/day, Death Knell 2/day, or Keen Edge 1/day.

I’m 90% sure there’s been Boons named Endbringer before, and nowhere else is it less appropriate than this menagerie of mediocrity. Oh, sure, Keen Edge is nice and all, but want a fun fact? Groetus’ sacred weapon is the heavy flail, which deals bludgeoning damage, and Keen Edge can ONLY be applied to a piercing or slashing weapon. That means you, the Sentinel, the holy martial warrior, cannot bless your own holy weapon chosen by your god. Sure, you can bless someone else’s stuff, but it still boggles my mind that they’d give you spell that cannot work on your own weapons!

Ironically, despite that, it’s probably your best choice. True Strike is useless unless you can cast a Quickened version, and Death Knell saves you basically no time (if you want a dying enemy to die, walk over and stab them 2~4 times). The only real use for Death Knell for a martial character is to take care of creatures with Ferocity or Diehard, or cheesing a creature with Regeneration.

Boon 2: Visions of the End. 1/day as a full-round action, you can gain the benefits of Augury, Know the Enemy, and Locate Weakness simultaneously, all regarding the same creature or object (even if the spell normally doesn’t function with objects) and its death or undoing. These effects apply only to the target.

Because these are relatively niche spells: Know the Enemy lets you make an immediate Knowledge check versus the target with a +10 insight bonus, and Locate Weakness lasts 1 min/level and allows you to roll twice for critical hit damage and take the better results. While normally KtE only affects creatures, this ability allows you to make it against objects as well.

Evangelists got screwed, huh? Imagine not being able to cast three spells at once (this post made by Exalted And Sentinel Gang). Now, granted, this ability isn’t as useful as Silent Witness above is, but it’s a pretty handy way to deal with a creature you’ve never seen before. With Locate Weakness’s lengthy duration, you can use this ability before combat begins and use the knowledge gained from Augury (perhaps asking if a certain tactic would work?) and Know the Enemy to better prepare yourself and your party.

The added flexibility of being able to focus this power on an object opens up a lot of options as well, such as using it to parse the history of an Artifact, to know where or when an item may have come from, and how best to destroy it if need be. This spell combo isn’t the best, but even at its worst it’s a free +10 to a Knowledge check against any critter or object and an Augury against the same target to let the DM sprinkle some hints for you here and there.

Boon 3: Frightful Presence. You can terrify foes as a free action whenever you take an offensive action, such as attacking. Foes within 30 feet of you and with fewer Hit Dice than you must succeed at a Will saving throw or become shaken for a number of rounds equal to your Hit Dice (DC = 10 + 1/2 your HD + Cha mod). If the victim has 4 or fewer Hit Dice, it becomes panicked instead. Foes with more Hit Dice than you are immune to this ability.

Frightful Presence is a massively powerful ability when it’s on a dragon or powerful Outsider, terrifying whole armies at once and sending them scattering--perhaps even to the point of attacking one another to get away--but in the hands of a player? It’s not exactly as strong. When you face something with Frightful Presence, there’s a 100% chance that they’ll have more HD than you (and maybe your entire party), assuring that you’ll be shaken up at least once in the fight. If you have FP, however, it’s never going to work on anything you desperately want it to, because anything with your HD or higher is entirely unaffected and unimpressed by your antics, and of course anything worth fighting has more HD than you.

The scaling on this ability means basically no minions will march into battle against you without being shaken, and swarms of minor foes trying to clog you up will be sent running to the hills by your terrifying aura. It’s a satisfying feeling of power to walk into an area filled with low level enemies (or civilians) and force them to run in utter, pants-soiling terror at the mere sight of you. What’s better than a tank that draws aggro? One who ends it.

There’s no per-day use on this ability and no 24-hour immunity clause on it, so even if you fail to scare the crowd once, you can just try, try again every single time you attack. So, it’s safe to say that while Groetus started off pathetically weak with his basic benefit and the travesty of his Evangelists, his Exalted and Sentinels more than make up for it in terms of power and flexibility. Not bad! And soon, we’ll see what sorts of actual sentinels he’s got on his side...

You can read more about him here.

#Spiritual Spotlight #Neutrality Notes #Pathfinder #Dungeons and Dragons

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k7l4d4 · 3 years

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Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 4 Part 2

Here is another piece of Midnight Striga! Everybody Clap Your Hands!!

‘Life,’ Luz mused, ‘is utterly random.’ She slowly turned her latest find over in her hands. An Archive Terminal, a portable link to the information distribution magic system known as Archive. How Eda got her hands on it, Luz didn’t know, but it was an amazing boon for sure. Somehow, the device had full connection, accessing the open source information of Archive; admittedly, this should’ve been impossible in a normal Terminal, which meant she probably had a black-market unit.

Luz smirked. This wasn’t the first time she had handled illegally modified gear, and it probably wouldn’t be the last; the real issue was keeping this thing in good shape. Black-Chapter Magic Items, tools that had been deliberately modified to make illegal operations easier, were typically made to break down easily once they served their purpose or if they became separated from their owners. In the end, she was fairly sure that wouldn’t be a problem, and she just got one of the best teaching aids she could possibly get in her current situation.

Her face shifted into suspicion. On second thought, it shouldn’t be possible for her to have gotten this in her current situation. Luz’s luck had been odd ever since she’d arrived on the Isles, and strange coincidences were starting to pile up, including the appearance of this Terminal. Still, there wasn’t much she could do about the odd goings on around this place, and she couldn’t afford to turn away something this useful, shady circumstances or not.

“LUZ!” King’s voice rang out, jarring Luz from her thoughts. Taking quick stock of her supplies for when she went in for work, Luz sighed, preparing to face the lovable tyrant-wannabe.

“King, whatever this is better be important, please.” Luz groaned, making her way through the door, stuffing the Terminal into the pocket of her jacket. “I really don’t think Eda will be too happy about you interrupting her-” She cut off, eyes widening at the sight before her. Boscha, the bratty girl who had tried, and failed, to give her grief on her first outing into Bonesburough, witnessed her showdown against that creep Adegast, and newly minted Devil Slayer, was currently sitting on the couch, King pacing next to her, looking incredibly uncomfortable. “-Sleep.” Luz numbly finished.

“Oh, so you live here.” Boscha said blandly. Luz suppressed a shudder, the girl was far worse off than she had feared; it was like she had no life in her at all, as if she had nothing other than a desire to keep going. Or maybe she was misinterpreting this? Either way, it was creepy. Boscha slowly pulled herself to her feet, rolling her neck. “Sorry you’ve got to see me like this.” She said, gesturing at her attire. It was only then that Luz realized that the girl’s clothing was coated in holes and damaged patches, some areas even having the frayed look of burned fabric, yet also damp. Oddly enough, or maybe not if Luz’s suspicions were correct, Boscha herself looked completely fine, if not a bit drenched by the now raging rainstorm outside.

“Yeah,” Luz drawled. “Funny how things like this just happen, you know?” She plopped herself down in the nearby chair, gazing at the potentially dangerous girl in front of her. “So, I hate to be rude for once, but why are you here, exactly?”

Boscha gave a slight lift to her shoulder, a faint blush to her face. “I was practicing in the woods, trying to get myself back to normal, when I spotted the clouds forming.” She looked down at her clothes, a slightly perplexed look on her face. “I was prepared to track down a cave or something after I realized I had no way of getting to shelter in time, when I spotted this place.” She gestured to the house surrounding them, both tuning out Hooty’s preening from outside at the attention. “And I rushed for the barrier, hoping I could get through. I was willing to beg for shelter if I needed to, but…” she looked down at her hands, sliding them over her face in mystified wonder. “The rain caught up to me.” She gave Luz a critical look. “How, exactly, am I not a boiled up husk right now? Just what exactly did you do to me?” She finished, a hint of genuine emotion entering her voice; fear.

“You mean besides saving your life?” Luz asked dryly. Her face shifted into a look of consideration. “To be honest, I’m not sure how much I can tell you.” She held up a hand, holding off any protests. “But that’s mostly because this isn’t a usual situation by any means. Usually implanting a Lacrima will just grant you a boost to whatever magic the Lacrima is based off of. End of story, close the book and all that.” Her eyes snapped to Boscha, a serious look on her face. “However. This isn’t the usual circumstance for something like this, especially not the type of Lacrima you got implanted into you.”

Boscha made a confused noise. “You keep using that word, Lacrima. What even is that?”

Luz snorted. “It’s the proper term for that magic crystal you snagged that night I fought Adegast. Or, more accurately, it’s the proper term for crystals like it; raw magic condensed into the form of a crystal, and chock-full to the brim with power.” A worried grin stretched across Luz’s face. “If I’m being honest, the fact that you have that thing stuck inside you now is honestly pretty terrifying, but it was either that or let you die, not to mention the fact you’d have taken the school with you.”

Boscha slowly nodded, processing the information. “Okay, so that thing was pure magic. What kind?” She folded her arms over her chest. “I’d like to think that I have a right to know just what was messing with my head.” She left out her worry about it happening again.

“Heh, fair enough.” Luz agreed. Her hand idly reached for one of the spare sheets of paper she had left lying around, gripping it. “But first, you hungry?”

The question surprised Boscha, but she nodded, not wanting to pass up free food if it was being offered. Of course, she expected it to be actual food, not… a rolled up piece of paper that had been set on fire.

She turned to Luz. “Are you serious?”

“Uh huh!” Luz glibly stated.

“There is no way I’m going-” Boscha started, only to cut off as a heady scent filled her nose. She slowly turned back to the offered paper, nose twitching. “Going to…” She trailed off, eyes glazing, a line of drool starting to dribble down from her mouth. With a blank look in her eyes, Boscha’s jaw widened… and clamped down on the flame.

With a blissful sigh, she contentedly chewed on the flame, and there was no mistaking she was eating FIRE, seeing as she hadn’t even touched the paper the flame was holding onto. As she chewed, a rich, earthy flavor, like the best vegetable soup she’d ever tasted, filled her mouth. As she slowly swallowed the flame, a look of bliss, the kind that only came from good food, crossed her face… only to switch to dumbfounded shock as she started to process her own actions.

Turning a baffled look to Luz, who was grinning like the cat that got the canary, Boscha tentatively asked. “Did I just eat fire?” At Luz’s slow, grinning nod, Boscha gave a groan, cupping her face in her hands. “What did that thing do to me?”

Luz’s grin faded. “Well, for starters, it turned you into a Devil Slayer, the Flame Devil Slayer from what I can tell.” As Boscha whipped her head up in shock, Luz continued. “Basically, Slayers are mages whose magic is specifically designed to combat and harm specific forms of beings that are ordinarily beyond the abilities of Human Mages to combat.” She leveled a look of warning towards Boscha, who became still under the intense stare. “As a Slayer, you are stronger, faster, more durable, and have an instinctive bond with the element or concept your magic manifests as, and can absorb sources of your element to replenish your magic and as a substitute for food.”

Luz crossed her arms, and leaned back. She just had to wait and see how the girl was going to respond to what had just been dropped on her. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed King walking off, grumbling about not being able to concentrate. Aw well, his loss.

Boscha stood in place, utterly still. If what the human was saying was true, it basically meant her goal had just been radically changed. Before, she was just trying to get herself to a point where she didn’t have to worry about losing it and killing someone, and gaining control of her magic again was the first step to that. But now, what was the point? The way the human said it, she was basically a Demon-Killing weapon. People could never be safe around her entirely, not here, not in the Demon Realms, and certainly not on the Boiling Isles.

Whether this human realized it or not, her actions had irrevocably changed Boscha’s future. Boscha grit her teeth, temper rising from the cool numbness that clouded her mind so easily ever since that fight she had at the school. Why. Why was this happening? Was she really so awful that something like this was necessary!? As her thoughts started to spiral, Boscha’s fists sparked into flames.

“What kind of crap is this?” She muttered, drawing a confused look from her host, the human cocking her head in bewilderment. “First, I lost control and put a bunch of people in the healer’s offices, then I burned Skara, and now I gained some kind of crazy Human Magic that’s totally wrecked my control!?”

Her voice was growing hysterical, a frantic edge filling it. “By the Titan, I get it, I’m garbage, a worthless nobody who thought she was bigger than she was, but why is this happening?” She collapsed back into her seat, energy draining out of her, her emotions pouring out in a haze of angry tears. “What am I going to do with myself now?” She looked at her hands, the memories of each and every demon she had brutalized over that four day haze coming to the forefront.

A clinking sound drew her attention. She looked up, seeing the human, Luz. She had set a glass of water in front of her. “So, are you done with your little pity party?” Luz asked, giving Boscha a look of sardonic amusement.

Boscha’s temper flared. “What was that?” She bit out.

“You. Having a pity party.” Luz bluntly stated. “Because that’s basically what’s going on.”

Boscha shot to her feet, flames bursting in her hands. “You have no idea what I’ve been going through! I’ve lost almost everything! My friends, my social life, my world view… EVERYTHING!!” She shouted.

“Yadda yadda yadda, I’m in pain and want to take it out on someone.” Luz deadpanned. “Got it.” With a furious shout, Boscha lashed out with her flames, blood red light flaring, only for Luz to catch her arm and lock it to the side, any showing the slightest hints of strain. She raised an eyebrow. “Cute.” Lightly pushing Boscha back into her seat, Luz got in close. “You aren’t the only person who’s got issues in the world, you know? The way you feel is totally valid of course, but acting as if you’ve got nothing left helps no one, especially yourself.”

Boscha snorted. “What could you possibly know about what I’m going through?” She slammed a hand down on the table. “I hurt people, I hurt my best friend! And to make it all just a little bit worse, it turned out I was going to explode, and the only thing that could prevent it ended up costing me my magical ability. I have to learn everything from scratch now!!” She turned slightly teary eyes towards Luz. “How could you possibly understand what’s happening to me?”

Luz sighed, knowing this wasn’t going to be pretty. Working her sleeve up, she showed her upper arm to Boscha, who reeled back, prompting a bitter grin from Luz. The sight of the scarred tissue running from her shoulder to her elbow was certainly stomach turning to look at. “I am intimately familiar with losing control of your magic, and the type of injuries, physical and emotional, that can cause.” Once she was sure Boscha had gotten as good a luck as she needed, Luz rolled her sleeve down, placing both hands on the sides of her face, staring at the girl.

“You are still alive.” She said simply. “Is this a massive change for you, something that you had no control over? Absolutely. But you are still alive, and that means you can change it. You may never get back what you lost, but you can make a new life for yourself, forge new connections and new bonds with others. You have to start over with your magic? Fine, so you have to start from scratch. That just means you can relearn it, and maybe learn something new.” She gently placed Boscha’s shaking hands between her own. “I said before that I would be willing to help you with making the world make sense again. That offer is still on the table. Just let me help you, okay?”

That fateful confrontation with Skara flashed through Boscha’s mind again. Tears pricked at her eyes. “You're right.” She slowly nodded. “I can’t give up just because I got some news I wasn’t expecting. This is a setback, not the end of the world.” She slapped her cheeks. “Gah, I can’t believe I let myself get stuck in my head like that! So embarrassing.”

Luz chuckled. “Hey, it could be worse.”

“How so?” Boscha dryly asked, still reeling from how much her moods had shifted over this conversation.

“You could’ve said all that in public.” Luz grinned impishly.

Boscha blinked, before paling. “Yeah, that would’ve been way worse.” While she didn’t care about social standing and jockeying as much anymore, she still had enough self-respect and pride not to be indifferent to public embarrassment.

Luz stood, stretching herself out. “Well, now that we’ve got that bit of awkwardness out of the way, do you have any more questions?”

“Just two.” Boscha replied, holding up two fingers in response. “Firstly, how did I manage not to get burned by the rain, and secondly, do you think you could help me get my magic under control?” She said her second request with a note of desperation. She really wanted this issue with her control to be done with.

“To the first, as a Flame-Element Slayer, the amount of heat needed to hurt you is so much more than the heat in the rain that it basically instantly cools on contact. No more issues with Boiling Rain for you, right?” Luz grinned at Boscha’s look of relish at the thought of not having to worry about one of the Isles’ most common and annoying forms of weather, before her smile gained a slightly sadistic edge. “And to the second, sure! Of course I can train you. No problem at all.” She chuckled. Boscha had the feeling she may be in danger at that moment.

#the owl house #fairy tail #owl house au #fairy tail au #owl house crossover #fairy tail crossover #luz noceda #boscha the owl house #king the owl house #magic

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