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earlgreydream · 3 years

Text

indecency.

| loki x reader | smut | fluff |

cw: dark!loki -> soft!loki, spanking, edging, slight degradation, angry!loki

You knew better.

You knew there was no way you were going to get away with it. You knew there would be consequences to your actions, but you were so pent up with need, you had fooled yourself into thinking you could get away with breaking one of Loki’s rules, and benefiting from it.

Loki was strict, and had little patience for indecency and insubordination. He demanded obedience, and enforced it with punishment.

It was incredibly dangerous to test Loki. Loki was a lot of things, but merciful was not one of them. Any infraction required discipline, often severe.

One of Loki’s rules was that you were his, and his alone. All pleasure had to come from him, touching yourself without permission was strictly forbidden in his castle. He wanted to be the one to inflict all of your ecstasy, everything to come from him. Occasionally, he would give you permission, often so he could watch. Aside from that, it infuriated him when you touched yourself secretly.

You knew this, and yet you’d chosen to defy him anyway. There was no way it would be worth it in the long run, but you were desperate and in need. Loki had been neglectful of you over the last few days, busy and overwhelmed with royal duties. You spent the week a ball of pent-up sexual frustration, and if you didn’t take care of yourself, you were going to explode.

Loki’s anger burned through him like wildfire.

He’d returned to your chambers after an incredibly stressful morning, his only desire to rest with you. Asgard was demanding, and he was tired from ruling, craving the feeling of sleeping with you in his arms. Instead, when he had entered, he found you on the bed, your small fingers sliding in and out of your cunt. You were writhing on the bedsheets, moans mixing with the lewd noises of your fingers. Your head was thrown back and your spine arched, pushing your breasts out as you fucked yourself.

Loki stood utterly still for a moment, unnoticed by you. He couldn’t deny that the sight was incredibly arousing, but it was overshadowed by the anger toward your disobedience. He strode toward you, fed up with your misbehavior.

Your startled scream echoed off of the arching ceilings as Loki’s hand gripped your jaw. Your eyes snapped open, and you were met with sadistic green eyes that were filled with irritation.

“You believe you can pleasure yourself better than I? Or are you just an insolent brat?” Loki snarled, and you were too frightened to answer. Your eyes were wide, and you immediately pulled your fingers out of yourself. Your thighs twitched at the sudden loss of stimulation, and you sank into the mattress, failing to put distance between you and Loki.

Regret washed over you, fear prickling through your naked body. Loki was seething, and terror seized your veins. The fear and his anger added to the heat in your belly, upping your arousal. You loved to see Loki mad, even when it scared you.

“Since you’re so comfortable being indecent, you’ll take your punishment on the throne!”

“No!” You shrieked, making the god’s fury spike. You’d said it just to be a brat, unable to resist to dig yourself in deeper with his patience. You immediately wanted to take it back, realizing you made it much worse by objecting. You struggled to breathe under Loki’s threatening gaze, both of your wrists gripped together in one of his hands.

“If you dare to disobey me again, I’ll let the entire realm watch me beat your ass raw,” Loki’s threat was not an empty one, and you closed your mouth. A shudder rolled through your spine, and Loki rolled his eyes, slapping your ass as he dragged you up.

You nearly tripped over your feet as Loki hauled you from the bed, parading you through the halls and throne room, naked for the entire castle to see. Tears obstructed your vision, but you knew any more disobedience would result in far more catastrophic punishment.

You were red with embarrassment, nauseated by the knowledge he hadn’t truly begun to punish you yet. You were tripping up the golden steps to the raised throne, feeling like you were on a stage. Loki dragged you over his lap on the throne, his entire royal guard and Valkyrie present to witness the consequences of your behavior. You were fully exposed and on display for everyone, left with no chance of concealing yourself.

“I’m sorry!” You cried out as he struck you. Servants winced as the noise echoed off of the golden walls, thankful they weren’t in your position.

It wasn’t the first time this had happened, and they didn’t understand why you kept doing things to get you in this position. Nobody wanted to be at the mercy of Loki’s wrath, and they couldn’t imagine the motivation behind your actions that you knew resulted with these consequences. They were blushing for you as you got spanked in front of everyone, choked tears blinding your vision and making it hard to breathe.

Loki knew you secretly loved it.

“You will be,” Loki’s voice was like ice, and he had you sobbing within minutes. You were burning with shame, struggling on his lap from the pain of his assault on your ass. He’d conjured some kind of leather strap that bit into your tender skin, leaving red welts in its wake. Your cries and squeals of pain echoed off of the high ceilings, and the court couldn’t look away from you.

Your skin was stinging from Loki’s unforgiving blows, the leather a deep green against your red skin. He got twisted pleasure from watching bruises blossom to the surface of your skin and running his fingers along the raised welts he was creating. Your body jerked forward and you yelped in pain as he slapped you with his hand, irritating your backside further.

“Loki, please!” you shrieked, begging for reprieve. The leather cracked against your skin before it vanished, and he dragged you to sit up and straddle him, your skin burning as it rubbed against the fabric of his armor. Your face was streaked with tears, and he raised an eyebrow at you. He cupped your sex, making another wave of heat wash over you.

“Why are you crying when I can feel how soaked it made you?” Loki mocked you, squeezing your throat as a broken moan escaped you.

“Answer me.”

“Because I’m a slut,” you whispered, knowing what he wanted. You were done pushing your luck, and you wanted to be good, not wanting him to inflict any more painful punishment. A smirk pulled at his lips, and he kissed you roughly. Your hands carefully wrapped around his forearm, stabilizing yourself. He held back a smile at the action. It made you seem innocent, and Loki loved your midgardian fragility. He loved the way you gripped onto him, even when he’d just tore your ass up, only making you more clingy and needy for him.

“Do you intend to obey your king now?” Loki asked, bouncing his knee and making you gasp from the friction on your clit, your small hands squeezing him at the sensation.

“Yes, I’ll be good!” you insisted, pouting your lips for a kiss. Even when Loki was furious, he wasn’t one to deny you of affection. Familiar with what it felt like to be unloved, he never wanted you to feel the same.

Loki’s clothes disappeared with magic, and he grabbed the backs of your thighs, pulling your legs around his waist. You winced at the pressure on your tender skin, and pushed against his chest.

“Knock it off, or I’ll turn you to face the court.”

You shook your head vehemently, wanting to hide in him. You knew he was going easy on you now, and you didn’t want to ruin it. You hid your face in his neck, leaning into his chest. You knelt above him, and you felt his tip brushing through your soaked folds, jumping as he came into contact with your nerves.

Loki sank you down into him, holding your hips and guiding your movements. Your head rested on his chest and he bounced you on him with rough thrusts. You whined into his shoulder as he rubbed your nerves, building pressure in your abdomen. You dragged your nails down his back, your body tensing and heat started to spark through you.

You were close to your orgasm, but Loki had other plans for you, none of which included letting you come. He was proud of how well you’d taken the punishment up to this point, but he wasn’t finished with making you learn a lesson.

Loki pulled his hand from in between you, thrusting all the way into you and holding you still on him. You squealed and writhed on him, trying to get some friction. He didn’t have it, and you were forced to hold still with his thick cock buried deep inside of your throbbing heat.

“Be good!” Loki snapped, and you yelped as he slapped the side of your thigh in warning. You realized he hadn’t gone easy on you, and was now going to edge you on the throne while everyone watched.

Once the burning in your nerves subsided, he rocked you against him again, building the pressure back up. Every time you made a noise you were rewarded with a red handprint on your thigh, the pain sending shocks through you and pushing you further toward the edge.

“I’m going to absolutely ravage you,” Loki growled into your neck, making your eyes roll back and a grin pull at your lips.

You had gotten exactly what you wanted, but now you were desperate for the release you craved.

“Loki, please let me-” you were cut off by a particularly rough thrust upward, making him smirk.

“Let you what, darling?” He teased, slamming into you every time you tried to speak. He edged you for nearly an hour before he finally decided you’d had enough. You had been good, taking it without complaint, other than pathetic whimpers that echoed off the golden ceilings.

You were aching and throbbing, every small touch making you writhe at his fingertips. Loki knew your limits, and he was pushing them, watching your eyes turn glassy. He’d sank into your mind, filling it with images, memories, of him railing you and making you come a thousand times over. His sick use of magic only made you melt more, completely pliant to all of his demands, letting him do whatever he wanted to you.

You were unable to sit up off of him or speak, only making soft breathy pleads. Your body shuddered from the stimulation, and you sobbed weakly when he finally let you orgasm. You involuntarily jolted in his arms, a low whine humming through your chest. Waves of exhausting ecstasy crashed over you, the hour of edging turning into a powerful release.

Loki let you catch your breath for a minute before sliding out of you, easing you to rest on his lap. The subjects in the throne room looked away, knowing better than to continue watching when Loki was finished punishing you.

He wrapped you in his emerald cloak, concealing your exhausted body. He scooped you up in his arms, carrying you out and back to his chambers. The silky fabric was cool and smooth against your abused skin, and you relaxed into his arms.

“Are you still mad?” You whispered into his chest, your cheek resting against his cool skin. Your head was cloudy, and your thoughts were unclear, needing Loki to reassure you that it was over.

“No, my darling. Never with you,” he kissed you lightly, bumping his nose against yours. You tightened the green silk around you, and he smiled into your hair as he sat down with you curled up in his lap.

“Was that all just to get my attention?”

You nodded shyly, embarrassed that he saw right through you.

“If you want pleasure, you need only ask me, I will be more than happy to give it to you.”

Loki was no longer teasing or mocking you, and he gently tilted your chin up so you were looking into his deep green eyes. You nodded, and he kissed your rosy cheeks.

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starrconch · 3 years

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Hi! Can I request a Zhongli (back to when he was still Rex Lapis) x fem!Hydro Archon reader? Thanks in advance, can't wait to see what you come up with!

HYDRO ARCHON READER

★ Includes: Zhongli, female reader

★ Word Count: 1745

★ Master List

★ Notes: thank you for the request! I'm loving the archon readers lately, it's been fun learning about some lore :D Also exams who? Zhongli is too tempting and I may have gone a little overboard...

★ Edit: part two is here >:)

ZHONGLI

★ The archon war was just under a century ago and the water could still remember it. That’s what you loved about the water, it could remember anything it pleased and for as long as it desired, as it was almost as eternal as you were, being the hydro archon and all.

★ You were most renowned for your Oceanid spies that could submerge themselves into the water and listen in to anyone’s conversations. Whether it be a small puddle or an entire lake, they could do it.

★ You had sent one of your finest spies, Rhodeia, to the nation of Liyue being built from the ground up by the god of war. It was a place supposedly filled with prosperous trades and a currency called mora, which you wanted to find more about.

The waterfalls in your throne room gushed and spluttered as Rhodeia emerged from one of them, making her way over to you and kneeling before you. “My queen,” she began, “I’m sorry I have failed you.”

“Failed me?” You chuckled a little nervously. “You have done no such thing. Now, what do you have to report to me from Liyue?”

Something was wrong, you could feel it. The water outside of the room felt strange. It weaved through the air back to you, holding whispers of an intruder located nearby. It urged you to eliminate the possible threat and keep your people safe.

“I-” It pained your spy to utter her next words. “I got caught by the geo archon. He’s waiting outside to speak with you.” Tears formed in the Oceanid’s eyes. She’d failed you, her one job to serve as a spy and go unnoticed was gone.

“Hey!” You got off of your throne and knelt before your spy, wiping the tears from her already water-like body. “There’s no need for tears, you did as I asked and I am thankful to you for that. Everyone makes mistakes every once in a while. I will not punish you for it.”

“Thank, your highness.” She lowered her head and sank into the floor, becoming one with a puddle that sat below her.

Sighing, you got back onto your throne and called out to your guards, “bring him in!”

Rex Lapis was a sight to behold indeed. He wore a long white cloak with the hood up, adorned with several symbols in bronze that represented geo and war. Underneath, he wore a skin-tight black shirt that also acted as gloves, covering his fingers and the majority of his neck. Golden glowing veins trailed up his arms, a similar hue to his amber eyes which glowed almost as fiercely.

“Y/N, the goddess of justice, how very nice it is to meet your acquaintance.” He did not dare kneel, for he was in his own right just as powerful as you were.

“As is it to also meet you, Rex Lapis. What brings you here today without any notice of your arrival?”

“Well, you see, I found an Oceanid in the reflection of one of the ponds around Liyue Harbour and so I returned her to you. What I came here to ask was what information you needed.” He crossed his arms. His swaying motion gave you a chance to see his hair in a rat-tail flowing out of a hole in the back of his cloak.

“And you want to give this information to me willingly?” You raised a brow, tapping your fingers against your throne. Rhodeia was still in the room listening in, you could feel her in the water beside you. You could only hope that he didn’t want your best spy publicly punished in exchange.

“With a trade perhaps, if you’re willing. I shall give you the information you desire in exchange for a favour to Liyue if my nation should ever need help. Is that a deal?”

You paused for a moment to think the trade through. It seemed genuine enough, but it was strange how he didn’t want anything to do with Rhodeia. Maybe it was just his way of ruling, but you were thankful nonetheless. “Alright, we have a deal.”

Stepping down from your throne, you held out your hand for him to shake to confirm the exchange, which he accepted. The closer you got to him, the more you realised how good he looked from up close, making butterflies appear in your stomach.

“What would you like to know about Liyue?” A smile formed on his lips, forcing your cheeks to heat ever so slightly.

★ You asked how such a basic, lowly nation had suddenly become so successful and prosperous. Rex Lapis returned with the answer of everyone pitched in to make Liyue the way it currently is. It hasn’t just been him, the archon, putting in all the work.

★ When you had nothing left you could think of to ask, he left, warning you to not send any more spies his way and to just contact him instead to see him and ask him more information. But why would you do it when that way he could easily keep secrets from you?

★ After a few weeks of waiting, you sent a different spy into the grounds of Liyue with the intention of finding out more about this thing they called mora. Soon enough, they returned.

“Mora are small circles of gold that the citizens carry around with them to use in trades. This is so they don’t have to use personal belongings anymore and they can get food easily.” The Oceanid knelt deeply before you.

“And you didn’t get caught, correct?”

“Correct, my queen.”

Then who was standing outside, one foot in a puddle, waiting with your guards? Using your vision, you called a stream of water back to you to give you more information. From the whispers of knowledge you received, you concluded that Rex Lapis was the one visiting you once again.

“So, you know nothing of the man standing outside?”

Your spy looked up, confused. “No, my queen. I haven’t got any information on that.”

Humming in suspicion, you leant back on your throne. “We shall talk later, for now, have the guards bring in Rex Lapis.”

“Yes, my queen.”

The geo archon crossed his arms, more annoyed than the last time you two saw each other. “If you’d like to see me so much, perhaps we should make a proper contract to exchange information on a regular basis?”

“Perhaps,” you agreed. “You can start with this: how do you keep finding my spies?”

“It’s simple.” Rex Lapis began to pace back and forth as he spoke. “I made a contract with them.”

Your eyes widened in shock. Your spies had betrayed you? No, not all of them surely. Rhodeia would never dare. She was loyal. They were all loyal, weren’t they?

“When they get to Liyue, they seek me and tell me of your plans. In return, I will give you the information you require and they may leave my nation intact.”

How dare he. All you had wanted was information and the slight chance of seeing him again. You had to admit, your thoughts had lingered on him throughout your time apart, now you could do nothing but chide yourself. This was how you were rewarded.

“And for mora, why are you so concerned over my currency?” You watched as he outstretched his arm, a small coin-like shape appearing in his skin before dropping. He caught the circle that he no doubt recognised as mora.

“It’s not much of a concern, merely curiosity.”

After a moment of silence, the god of war spoke again, “if you’d like, I could integrate it into Fontaine. I’ve been dreaming of this invention to spread across Teyvat to make trades and contracts much easier.”

You were in no place to deny as he already had a firm grasp on your spies, but did you even want to deny him? How better to learn about this currency than to bring it into your home?

★ The two of you discussed back and forth what bringing mora into Fontaine would require, leaving you unknowing that you were indeed the first step for mora becoming a worldwide currency.

★ Years went by of Rex Lapis coming back and forth every month or so to replenish your stocks of mora. You loved to watch as he did so, the coins appearing in his body and then falling to his feet, letting you notice how exhausted it made him.

★ Always afterwards you invited him to dine with you to help replenish his strength and also exchange information about your nations. As the two of you grew closer, you began to realise that you were falling for him.

It was getting too much, your admiration for him, your desire to see and touch him. You needed it all and it was getting unbearable without his presence, but you had no idea if Rex Lapis felt the same way about you.

Your Morax. It was a little nickname you had given him from watching him produce all those coins, a mixture between Rex and mora. You began to imagine what he would look like if you ever called him that, so entranced with this thought that you didn’t hear him calling you name.

“Y/N?” He called a little louder, reaching out for your hand that had been swirling your tea in its cup. The geo archon had brought some along with him from Liyue for you to try. According to him, it was his favourite

You jumped at the contact, suddenly looking up into his amber eyes. “Oh sorry, yes?”

He chuckled at your flustered appearance, taking another sip of his tea. “It seems that another contract is in order.”

“Another? What for this time?” Had you done something wrong? If you had, surely he would voice his concerns.

“Would you be inclined to forge a contract together to be each other’s partner? I’ve heard it’s quite the custom among mortals.” He turned away, nervousness running through his body.

Your heart felt as though it dropped from its safety in your chest. Did you hear him correctly? Were you zoned out again and just hearing what you wished to hear?

You shot up from your seat and wrapped your arms around his chest, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

The vibrations of his deep laugh reverberated through you as he replied, “I shall take that as a yes.”

#genshin impact #zhongli #genshin zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #hydro archon #genshin hydro archon #genshin headcannons #genshin scenarios #starrconch #genshin x reader #genshin x you

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i-cant-sing · 3 years

Note

Ooh, you write for Greek Mythology? Perhaps Zeus kidnapping a male reader, and basically not listening to them at all. Zeus getting more and more annoyed that the reader fails to care about all the opulence, grandeur, and power Zeus has. The reader just trying to escape and struggle. Zeus deciding to teach them a lesson to respect the king of the gods?

Yandere Zeus x male reader

I was so tempted to just write a scene where Zeus just goes boop! And turns the reader into a cow 😂😂😂😂😂 Anyways, thanks for requesting! Greek Mythology is also one of weaknesses, especially Hades, Persephone, Ares, and Hephaesteus💖💖💖

Enjoy!

Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

TW: gore

Yandere Zeus:

It didn't work.

Nothing works.

You laid in a fetal position on the wooden floor of your apartment; crying. Crying because of the pain.

The pain of emptying the bottle of acid into your eyes? Partly the reason.

The pain of realisation that you've lost? Mostly.

I should've just stayed there. You cried. Should've just stayed with him and let him have his way.

It would've been far less traumatising than this anyways. This, this curse that he had given you all because you didn't want to sleep with him.

Who would've thought that Zeus, the Greek God, would have become obsessed with a mere mortal like you? And then who would have even imagined that he would kidnap you and take you to Olympus; where he would confess his love for you?

You certainly didn't. You thought that maybe you were just off your meds or that this was just a really weird dream. But the reality of the situation dawned on you the longer you stayed there; the longer Zeus made his advances on you.

You didn't get why he was so infatuated with you. Or so tolerant either. You've heard all the stories about him kidnapping others and forcing himself on them, but he never once forced himself on you. He could have, but he didn't. Instead, he kept on trying to gain your affection like one would do in a normal relationship.

His palace was the main attraction of Olympus. Golden gates and marble floors and huge pillars showed the grandeur of the palace. Wine so sweet that you couldnt get enough of, yet you didnt get drunk and food so delectable, you could devour the entire table. How you wished you could stay here forever and enjoy these treats, but you knew nothing comes for free.

Zeus tried to impress you with his powers, his wealth, and everything he could give you if only you accept to be with him for eternity. He had even given you the gift of immortality, which you tried to return but couldn't.

He was being beyond generous and patient with you. But you couldn't help but feel he had a sinister ulterior motive behind those charming grey eyes.

When showing off wasn't working, he started getting physical. Brushing his hands on your body, hugging you a bit too long for it to be comfortable, even forcing you into his lap.

Of course, you struggled. Who wouldn't? A powerful god comes and whisks you away to another dimension, then proclaims his love for you and offers you all the luxurious amenities one could only dream of, only asking for your love in return? When he could easily overpower you? Yeah, something doesn't sit right.

And its not just that reason alone that you kept resisting him, you know. You've heard of his wife and sister, Hera. You've heard all the stories of how she would treat her husband's mistresses and men.

You feared her, because if anything, the Olympian Gods were famous for their cruel punishments.

You really should've remembered that when you finally flipped out on Zeus, screaming how you don't need him, don't care about him, don't and won't ever love him.

That was the first time you saw him get angry, but it was gone just as soon as it came.

He collected himself and sighed. You thought you had finally gotten through to him but instead of letting you go or even strike you with thunder for such disrespect, he did something else. “You really want to return so bad? Alright, who am I to deny my love?”

He made a bet with you. "If you can survive in your world without me for... 2 months? No, that'll be too harsh on you; 1 month, I'll let you go and never pursue you ever again. And if i win, you'll do everything I say." He smirked. "What do you say? Sounds fair?"he asked you, his eyes hinting nothing mischievous.

You knew better. You knew he was playing some really heinous game with you, where all the rules are in his favour and the odds were stacked against you. But you were desperate for escape. Plus, it was only a month right? You could do it.

But you couldn't.

Zeus had given you a parting "gift". Which you had to accept in order to leave. You didn't know what exactly it was until you returned home.

You were surprised to see everything was normal. You thought that maybe you would be kicked out of your apartment, bankrupted yourself or someone was going to kill you.

No. Nothing bad was happening to you. It was happening to everyone around you and they didn't even know it.

As it turns out, Zeus had cursed gifted you with the ability to see how someone was going to die when you looked at them. And you could warn them all about it, but no one would believe you. You couldn't prevent their deaths. And somehow, everyone around you had horrible, gruesome deaths.

You had those pictures forever embedded in your mind.

You'll never forget how your tailor friend had her hair loose and they got stuck in the sewing machine, and ripped her entire scalp off, tearing away all the nerves and blood vessels.

Or how a guy from work accidentally slipped on to the rail tracks, and was run over by the incoming train; his skin and guts stuck to the tracks. They had to pour chemicals to dissolve his remains.

Or how your pot dealer owed some people, and wasn't able to pay them so they put him through a mince machine, but the machine kept getting stuck so they chopped his already mutilated body and then threw him back into the machine, piece by piece.

It was too much.

You decided to not look at all. You wrapped your eyes in a tight bandage around your head, but all thanks to him, you could see right through them.

When that plan failed, you decided to stay at home and avoid contact with people completely. But then, you could see the deaths of people on your TV, on your phone, even of people in your dreams. And the deaths were getting more gorey and disturbing.

So, you decided to pour acid into your eyes. It was painful. And for a second, it was worth it because you couldn't see.

But they regenerated back. Because he had made you immortal. Your eyes healed back with the perfect 20/20 vision.

And thats how you were in this position right now. Crying to yourself as you finally admit to that you've lost.

"Zeus."you finally whispered, not even entirely sure you did. But that was confirmed when you felt a slight breeze behind you, causing you to cry harder.

"Shhh, darling. Its okay. I'm here now."Zeus said to you in a calming voice, as he pulled you to his chest.

"P-please make it stop. I- I'm sorry! Just make it stop please, I beg you."you cried into his chest.

He ran his fingers through your hair, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "Did you learn lesson, love?"he asked in a quiet tone.

You pulled your head out of his chest and nodded vigorously. "yes! Yes. I've learned it. You were right. I was wrong. I- I lost the bet. Just please make it stop-"you sobbed.

Zeus caressed your cheek, looking deep into your eyes. "Alright. Let’s go back home, okay? I've missed you a lot. 2 weeks apart was far too long for me, love."

When you both returned to Olympus, you were met with a woman. As you looked at her in the arms of Zeus, you didn’t have to ask to know the Queen of Olympus was waiting for her husband and you.

She smiled at you.

“Welcome back, darling.”

Hope you guys liked this! Thanks for being so patient!💞💞

#yandere zeus #yandere greek gods #yandere greek mythology #yandere gods #yandere goddess #yandere hades #yandere persephone

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

Text

The former God of Magic resents The Mother for sticking him on Earth, and plans on causing as much havoc as he can to punish Her;

Version 2, Dark!Merlin

INTRO

(Version 1, Good!Merlin)

TW: A lot of emotional manipulation, a little violence, a lot of angst.

“You’re late.”

The woman’s well practiced blank mask falls into a scowl as she stares at Merlin with mistrust:

“Well, perhaps I was putting off coming to see you, no matter how necessary it is.”

The gang can see the bob of Merlin’s head as he lets out a low chuckle, and they have to stop themselves from recoiling; they’d never heard a noise like that from their young friend before, it sounded almost... cruel.

He lifts a hand to cover his heart as he says in faux offense:

“You wound me, sister. You didn’t want to see your favourite sibling?”

Everyone frowns in confusion, Merlin doesn’t have... siblings. That’s not even mentioning the fact that this woman barely seems human.

The woman doesn’t hide her slight disgust, taking a step back from Merlin and letting out a harsh breath:

“I came here to tell you that you need to hurry up. Time is running out.”

Merlin chuckles again, turning to the side and taking a few short paces, his hands held leisurely behind his back. The amusement on his face is disturbing, and Arthur gulps, not noticing the way Mordred is growing paler and paler by the second. Merlin doesn’t turn to look at the woman as he speaks, and his smirk stretches wider:

“But I’m having so much fun, Ava!”

The woman, Ava, huffs again, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest. If the gang weren’t so semi-sure that Merlin wasn’t dangerous, they’d think she looked scared:

“Mother sent you here to complete a task. Get it done, and you can come home. Isn’t that what you want? To come home?”

Merlin’s smirk falls, and the snarl that the gang briefly see on his face before he whips around to face Ava takes their breath away. They barely notice the thunder, snapping in the distance in time with Merlin’s anger:

“Mother’s the one keeping me here in the first place. She could accept me back any time.”

Ava takes another step back, and Merlin tilts his head ever so slightly at the movement, but waits for her to speak:

“As punishment for your cruelty. She isn’t happy, you’re making a mess of things.”

Merlin chuckles again, tilting his head even further, and his words have an immediate chilling effect on the group hiding in the bushes:

“Well, if she insists on sending the God of Chaos to fix a problem, perhaps she should expect a little mess. Plus, I’m having more fun here than I’ve had in centuries. These humans... so gullible.-”

Ava shakes her head mournfully, but before she can say anything, Merlin continues, now pacing calmly around the clearing, waving his hands and grinning in his excitement:

“-I mean, they’re just so... easy. To play with, to manipulate. You know they all trust me? They all come running to naïve, innocent, loving little Merlin, spilling all their secrets as they go. Did you know, the drunkard is the son of a noble? “Fuck nobility” my arse, he is nobility.-”

Gwaine clenches his jaw and looks to the floor, ignoring the stares of Arthur and Leon, but before anything can be muttered, Merlin continues, listing their greatest secrets off on his fingers:

“-The gentle giant is terrified that someone’s going to find out that his preferences lie with men, which is ridiculous considering the way he stares at the aforementioned drunkard when he thinks no one but little old me is watching. The blacksmith, even years on, is terrified that his whore sister will never forgive him for... something or other, I wasn’t really paying attention. Camelot’s first, The King’s most trusted, has a debilitating fear of heights, and oh if it isn’t just hilarious to watch when he has to patrol the city walls. And then, there’s the-”

Ava rolls her mournful eyes and interrupts him:

“Your point, Em?”

Merlin laughs, fully and from the belly, but the sound doesn’t bring the gang joy like it normally does:

“My point, is that I’ve got these idiots wrapped around my finger. Mortals: the universe’s most fun toy. I haven’t even gotten to half of them yet. There’s the noble one, who thinks he holds my trust, the Druid boy, whose only redeeming feature is that he’s destined to kill the King Prat one day; believe me, if it weren’t for that I’d have killed the annoying little twerp years ago. Then there’s the King Prat’s magical sister, who is full of such terror. I play with her dreams some nights, force visions of pyres and hatred and destruction to play over and over in her mind. It’s rather amusing, watching her thrash and sweat and whimper in her sleep.-”

Arthur’s head had whipped around to Morgana when Merlin had mentioned her, but the tears streaming down her face and the way her hand was clamped tightly over her mouth stripped his anger from him. Which left him with no distraction, no way to ignore the simple fact of what was happening right now. Merlin was... not what they thought. He was powerful, he was using them. He was playing with them like puppets and pulling their strings this way and that, watching as they could do nothing but follow. Arthur didn’t know what to think, and he definitely didn’t notice the tears on his own cheeks.

Mordred was pale to the point of looking like he was about to faint and Lancelot had a deep frown on his face, tears in his eyes but not quite falling, not yet. This was... a misunderstanding. He... he knows Merlin, this is a trick, or a trap, he’ll explain later and everything will be just fine. He just has to... to trust him. Everything will be fine.

Gwaine keeps his gaze on the floor. A small part of him was feeling a little prideful that Percival liked him back, but the rest of him... had no room for anything but grief. He had suspected that Merlin had magic, but this was something else, this was... a whole new person. Did he ever really know Merlin? Did any of them?

Elyan and Gwen sat pressed together tightly, though Gwen had one hand on Morgana’s shaking back, and her other was reaching around Elyan, gripping Leon’s shoulder tightly. Leon was just staring blankly at the scene in front of him, though anyone that knew him well enough would be able to see the tight clench of his jaw and the anger (and grief) in his eyes.

Ava interrupted Merlin’s gleeful ranting, the tears in her eyes a little more prominent as she took on a slightly more desperate tone:

“Please, Em, just... stop. They’re important, they have destinies, you can not destroy them or push them too far; this is cruel, even for you. This... you never used to be like this.”

Merlin turns around, facing away from his sister and giving the hidden group full view of his rage-filled face. His voice is quiet and clipped and angry as he asks:

“Oh?”

Another roll of thunder echoes through the clearing, closer this time, and fat droplets of rain fall harshly from the sky, mixing with the tears on everyone’s face. Ava sighs, tears overflowing as she gulps before answering, her voice shaking slightly as she takes a step towards Merlin:

“You’re meant to be the God of Magic, not Chaos. You were so... beautiful, balanced. You saw wonder in everything, every little spark of magic and every single prayer put a smile on your face. You loved humanity even more than Mother did. Now look at you, you’re tormenting them, torturing them. This isn’t you, Em, please. Help them, and things can go back to the way they were, help them and you can come home.”

The anger on Merlin’s face had only grown as she spoke, and each individual hidden in the bushes had to make a concerted effort to stop themselves from bolting. None of them had felt terror like it, and the fact that it was Merlin they were all so scared of... well, it didn’t help.

Lightening streaks across the sky and wind howls violently through the forest, calming only when Merlin shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, straightening his back and smirking slightly before he replies, still not turning around to face his sister:

“You’re right. I loved humanity, I was desperate to see them succeed. And then they butchered me. I gave them this universe to frolic in, and in return they call me a monster, a beast, they call me evil, they make nightmares out of me. I still listen to every little prayer, and do you know what I hear? I hear my people, my wonderful little creations, my creatures of magic, begging for mercy, begging for the pain to stop. The humanity I so used to love turned on them, began to burn them, out of spite and fear and hatred. I will not show them any more grace than they have showed me, I will give them exactly what they deserve, and that blonde idiot is at the top of my list of people who have to fucking pay. I won’t destroy him entirely, because ultimately I want my creatures to stop suffering, but I will break him. I will rip him apart piece by piece for what he has done to me.-”

The absolute fury in Merlin’s words, the hatred, translates to thunder in the sky and agony in Arthur’s chest. The King can barely breathe, muffling the sobs tearing from his mouth with both hands, both terrified of being discovered, and desperate to... to let Merlin punish him for the pain he has caused.

Leon settles a shaking hand on his shoulder, but Arthur doesn’t look his way, his blurry gaze focused on Merlin, now finally turning back to his sister:

“-You know, I’m this close to getting that big blonde idiot to fall in love with me. How pathetic is that?? All it took was a few touches here, a few lingering stares there, saving his life occasionally. The man is so pathetically starved for attention I imagine he’d fall for anyone who showed him the barest amount of affection. That is how I will break him.-”

The only thing stopping Arthur from sobbing aloud is Leon collapsing behind him, pulling the young King back into his chest and wrapping a tight arm around his torso, one hand clamped over his mouth as he mutters desperate reassurances into his ear. Morgana pulls Gwen close in a similar way when the servant’s cries grow harsher, her brother burying his face in her shoulder.

Lancelot barely notices Gwaine gripping his arm hard enough to leave bruises for weeks, or Percival pushing his forehead into Lance’s shoulder blade. All he can do is sit and stare at the ground, his breathing slow but shaky, tears streaming silently down his face as he rethinks everything he’s ever known.

Mordred sits on his own, rocking back and forth rhythmically as he tightens the clutch he has around his knees. Tears drip from his young cheeks, poisoning the ground beneath him as he struggles to consider his faith. His faith in magic, in Emrys, who was meant to be balanced and beautiful and giving. Emrys, who he now knew was twisted and angry and desperate for revenge.

All of their hearts are splitting, cracking down the middle.

“-It won’t be physical pain, no, that’ll be down to the Druid boy. He doesn’t want to kill Arthur now, but he will, one day, when I give him one final push. He’ll fall so far into the darkness there’ll be nothing of him left to save, and when he plunges his sword into The Pendragon’s chest, I’ll sit back and watch with a smile on my face, and Arthur will realise that the man he loves, the man who claimed to love him in return, hated him all along. Tricked him. I will watch the life drain from his eyes, and he will spend his last few moments on this world in every kind of agony imaginable, lost in the knowledge that I wanted him to suffer, that he is being punished for his sins.”

Ava shakes her head, silver tears dripping from her emerald eyes as she stares at the floor:

“Are Sir Mordred and the Lady Morgana not your creatures? Do you not wish to save at least them?”

Merlin chuckles darkly:

“I had faith in them once, but they made their decisions. They sided with a Pendragon over me. Mother may be fond of her precious Once and Future King, but to be fair, she’s fond of anything with a pulse, and I, for one, can not wait until she’s not quite so fond of him anymore.”

Ava gulps, taking a desperate step towards her amused brother, but before she can say anything, before she can make one last plea for mercy on humanity’s behalf, Merlin tilts his head, smirking dangerously:

“Do you think they’re scared?”

She halts in her tracks, blinking in confusion, and Merlin’s smile grows into a chuckle as he gestures behind him:

“The King and all his little friends, hidden in the bushes. Do you think they’re scared?”

The gang barely have time to look up in shock before their bodies are moving, out of their control. They stand rigidly and walk single-file out from their hiding place, coming to stand in a line at the side of the clearing. Merlin hasn’t even looked at them, but his hand floats in the air, a sickly looking yellow mist swirling around his fingers as he tilts his head at his sister, staring in horror at The King, the knights, the Lady, and the servant.

Merlin drops his hand and they all fall to their knees, not even bothering to be brave as they sob. The angry God finally turns, and the serene smile on his face is chilling as he walks towards them, coming to stand in front of Lance and Mordred first. The two of them are the calmest, though calm in the way that they don’t really look... present. They stare blankly ahead, breathing shallow and tears still falling as Merlin crouches in front of them, gripping a chin in each hand and shaking their heads roughly. His voice comes out a whisper, the frown on his face looking more disappointed than anything:

“So much faith, so much trust. It’s a little pitiful, if I’m being honest.”

They don’t react to his words and he smirks before letting them go and standing, moving on to Elyan and Gwen, gripping the knight’s shoulder and saying with mocking sympathy in his voice:

“You were right, by the way,-”

He glances at a fully sobbing Gwen with disgust:

“-she’ll never forgive you, but she’ll never tell you that. You’ll just spend the rest of your life wondering why your relationship was never the same.”

Next, he shuffles over to Gwaine, not even bothering to see the siblings’ reactions as he passes Leon and Percival with a look of disinterest on his face. He leans down in front of the knight, running a soft hand through his hair, waiting for the man to relax slightly before gripping his hair harshly and yanking back, so he has to look up at him. Merlin gives him a blindingly cruel smile:

“You're grateful that Percival is just as in love with you as you are with him, but don’t think yourself too lucky. You’re a hypocrite and a drunk, and my dear old Percy has too much self respect to put himself through that. I’d go for a good tumble in the hay and give up while you’re ahead.”

Once again, he moves back, his sister having to look away in her grief, her empathy drowning her. The God comes to stand in front of Morgana, who is desperately trying to look brave but failing miserably:

“And you. You’re meant to be The Darkness, but I couldn’t very well have you outdo me, could I? Try your hardest, I’ll still be the end of you, and I wait with baited breath for the day you fall, and the day soon after that, when I get to kill you.”

She break down in tears again at that, horrified with the idea that she might one day be on the same end of morality and cruelty as this monster in front of her.

Merlin smirks before rolling his eyes and finally coming to stand in front of Arthur. The King calms his breathing just enough to look up at a smirking Merlin, his voice cracking and barely-there as he mutters:

“Please... Merlin, please...”

The smirk drops from Merlin’s face as he brings his hand up, the sickly yellow mist back again. Arthur rises from the floor, hands clutching at his throat as the air is drawn from his lungs. Merlin steps closer to his with a snarl, his free hand gripping Arthur’s chin like a vice, though his voice eerily calm as he murmurs:

“You. You and Uther were so desperate for a scape-goat, for a villain, for a monster. And you picked magic, you picked me. So stop being so fucking pathetic, I’m just playing the part you gave me to perfection. You picked the premise, I’m writing the ending.”

Ava finally speaks up, her voice loud, despite the waver:

“Brother please, this is... this is beyond cruelty, please just stop.”

Arthur is dropped, and The King can barely find it in himself to choke for air as Merlin turns back to his sister, the amused smirk back on his face:

“Why? None of them are going to remember in the morning anyway. I’ve had my fun, this has been cathartic, but I can’t have them ruining my plans. So run along now sister, tell Mother that her precious task is being completed, I’m just taking the scenic route.”

She shakes her head in defeat, staring at the floor. She lifts her head, opening her mouth to make one last attempt, but she closes it, realising that there’s nothing she could possibly say to persuade him to suddenly have mercy, mercy that no one had ever shown him. She gulps, letting out a deep breath before shaking her head again and turning around, walking back into the trees, the way she came.

The God looks back to his puppets, shivering in time with their knotted strings, smirking once more before he clicks his fingers and everything goes dark.

Arthur wakes the next morning feeling oddly refreshed and surprisingly unannoyed at his idiot manservant’s lateness. He rolls his eyes at the bright sunshine glaring through his curtains, the sun certainly a lot higher in the sky than it should be at the time The King wakes, but oh well. Merlin has been chipper lately, and the warmth that Arthur feels in his chest at the younger man’s happiness makes him more likely to forgive him his tardiness.

As if thinking of him had summoned him (wishful thinking on Arthur’s part), Merlin bursts through the doors, not bothering to knock as per usual, a breakfast-laden tray in his arms and a cheeky grin on his face. Arthur rolls his eyes again, chucking a pillow at Merlin half-heartedly as he grumbles, also half-heartedly:

“You’re late.”

Merlin chuckles, setting the tray down on the table before jogging endearingly over to Arthur’s bedside, grabbing his hand and pulling him to stand upright:

“Something tells me you don’t mind all that much, Your Pratness.”

Arthur huffs, but only to stop himself from smiling, and resolutely ignores the way Merlin’s hand is still in his. The servant squeezes his palm softly, and Arthur gulps, pulling away and walking towards his meal, hoping the food would squash the butterflies in his stomach.

He rubs the sleep from his eyes, smiling to himself softly at a whole range of things: the good night’s rest he’d had, the bright sunshine, Merlin’s good mood, the sensation of Merlin’s hand in his own, Merlin’s dazzling smile, Merlin, Merlin, Merlin...

Merlin stares at his back as he goes, noting with a dangerously satisfied smirk the red blush of his ears.

The scenic route indeed.

THE END!!

Oops I made myself sad. Sorry to say but I hope this makes you sad too.

This was SUPER fun to write and I’m so glad I decided to do two versions😅

Link to the Good!Merlin version (much MUCH fluffier, I promise) at the top!!

200 notes · View notes

lune-hime · 3 years

Text

Daddy (Chocobros x Reader)

Who knew a single word could have such an effect.

↞Noctis↠

One forceful kick to Noctis’ calf and a squirming body in his arms was just enough to awaken the prince from his deep sleep. Opening heavy eyelids, he lazily blinked to adjust to the blurry limbo between dreamland and the world of the living. Another swift kick to his thigh, dangerously close to the royal jewels, snatched him out of his purgatory and had him puffing for air. Feeling more tossing he hazily regarded your disheveled form. He groaned in sleep-deprived annoyance and attempted to calm your writhing body by tightening his hold on you. It worked for a few moments, but just as Noctis had started to drift back off to sleep you commenced your movements again. This time, however, they were softer and more distracting. Instead of thrashing about you were now gently grinding against him, brow knitted into a firm line and soft heated gasps emerging from your slightly parted lips.

“Mmm, Noct just like that.” You mumbled huskily, moving your body lightly against his. The enticing lull of sleep he had felt a few moments ago was entirely washed away and now the prince was fully awake in more ways than one. He propped himself on one elbow to get a better view of your facial expressions. He smiled when the slight loss of contact made you whimper.

Your subconscious sinful ministrations had him planning ways he would punish you for disturbing his sleep.

“Daddy...please don't-” You whined, grinding harder and increasing the friction between your two bodies. Noctis’ wandering thoughts immediately ceased and his features contorted in confusion. He gingerly shook your arm.

“Y/N, wake up.” He called gently, tone still coated in sleep. When your eyes fluttered open the only thing you could see were brilliant sapphire orbs against the bleak grayscale of the room.

“Noct?” You yawned and looked up at him, eyes bleary and still adjusting to the light.

“Are you okay? You were talking in your sleep.” Noctis inquired, his stare unwavering.

“O-h really?” You gulped. Oh shit. You knew exactly what you had just been dreaming about.

He hummed in affirmation and with his free hand moved a couple sweaty strands of stray hair from your forehead.

“At first I thought you were having a, you know, dream about me, but then you started talking about your father.” He almost sounded disappointed at the last point.

“I was having a, you know, dream about you Noct...” You drifted off, moving so you were once again flush against his chest and started to trail your hand up and down his waist. Your prince had awoken you before you had the chance to get to the best part of your dream, thus leaving you a bit needy for touch. You looked up at him through your lashes expectantly.

He blinked a couple times as the two of you laid in silence, the air growing thicker by the second.

“So your dad was in your wet dream? That’s nasty, Y/N.” Noctis grimaced, seemingly out of the mood now, and buried his face in your neck before instantly falling asleep again. You laid there in utter shock, mouth agape and now very much wide awake, staring at the ceiling and wondering how you were engaged to this man.

↞Prompto↠

“Sweety, run your hand through your hair-Yes just like that!” Prompto chirped as he excitedly brought his camera to his face. The rapid clicking of the shutter drowned out the peaceful sounds of the towering pine forest. Ignis had thought it was a good idea to take a small break in the midst of your day long drive to Cleigne. Prompto, ever the enthusiastic photographer, pressured their driver to pull over when he began seeing signs on the side of the road for a scenic outlook. So here you were, back to the dramatic landscape and hair being ravaged by the wind.

“Prom--are you--sure--this is a g--ood spot?” You shouted as a strong gust of wind threw a chunk of hair awkwardly in front of your eyes. The shutter to his camera went off as you attempted to spit it out. The hair you removed from your visage revealed a sour look that made Prompto giggle.

“It’s perfect! You can see all the way to the Rock of Ravatogh from here. Plus the wind gives the photo dimension.” He winked playfully. It was difficult to be annoyed with Prompto for more than a few seconds. Anyone who was capable of that surely had ice in their chest instead of a heart. That toothy smile was like a stab of warmth into your body.

After a few more wind ridden, hair flying poses an idea popped into your head. Feeling in a rather playful mood, and wanting to get back at him for taking that awful photo of you, you decided to set your idea into action. And you hopped on any opportunity you could to tease your sunshine.

“Alright! Now lean back against the railing.” He instructed, motioning for you to back up with his hand. It made your heart flutter seeing how in his element he was. You almost didn’t feel like ruining the moment. Almost. Taking a few steps back, you felt the slight burn of the sun warmed metal on your arms as you rested them upon the railing.

“Okay, say cheese!” He chimed, climbing on a nearby rock. He crouched down to get a different angle and placed his camera to his face once again.

Here we go.

“Cheese, Daddy!” You sang, smiling brightly. The wind had graciously decided not to obstruct your vision so you didn’t miss Prompto experiencing the shock of his life. The boy suddenly lost his footing and haphazardly tumbled down the rock. The fall happened within a split second and it took you a moment to process what your suggestive remark had done.

“Oh my god Prom!” You screeched, immediately pushing yourself off the railing and racing towards him. The only part of him that was visible behind the boulder was his right arm sticking straight up, camera in hand, having protected it from being crushed as he fell. The scene was so comical you didn’t believe it was real until you rounded the corner of the rock to see his crumpled form in the dirt.

“Are you alright?” You called, your voice reaching a higher octave in worry. Prompto groaned in affirmation and hissed in pain as he tried to roll to a sitting position. Getting to your knees, you grabbed his camera and placed the worn strap around your neck before supporting his back as he slowly inched himself up.

Once he was sitting you let your eyes and hands alike to roam his body; turning him in various directions in search of any blood or scratches. The only abnormality you found, however, was the blush that was so intense it almost covered his freckles.

“Uh-yeah, I’m fine.” He coughed, brushing the gravel off his jeans. He waited a few moments before speaking up.

“D-did I hear you correctly?” He asked, stumbling over his words as his blush intensified tenfold.

“What do you mean, daddy?” You asked innocently, cocking your head to the side and blinking.

Prompto felt faint, and without your steady hand holding him up he would have surely tumbled down again. The implications of your solely playful word, though, had triggered a feeling of desire within him.

Reaching out to grasp the leather around your neck, Prompto carefully maneuvered the camera strop off your neck and placed it safely to the side. His fingertips sent tingles up the back of your scalp and with his trademark swiftness, he had you pinned down on the ground underneath him. The motion was so fluid it didn’t give you a chance to react.

“Let’s see how many times I can get you to call me that before we have to rejoin the others.” He smirked, a determined glint in his eye. Oh how the tables had turned.

↞Ignis↠

It wasn't uncommon that you found yourself not being able to take your eyes off of Ignis. The man was an earthly embodiment of an astral. Every movement he made, from his calculated evasions on the battlefield to the way he flicked the spatula as he prepared scrambled eggs in the morning. Everything he did was laced with an ethereal grace. Tonight, however, your gaze was particularly glued to his suit. More specifically the way the tailored fabric hugged every curve of his body. It accentuated his muscular arms and clung to his toned thighs as he glided about the ballroom, greeting and engaging with the foreign and domestic elite. In his usual attire, one would look at his above average height and assume his slenderness but this suit was throwing those assumptions directly out the window.

Since the royal gala had commenced, in between the idle chatting and socializing your eyes were always locked on his form from afar. The view of his endowed backside you got when he suddenly turned to face away from you to talk with a new group of politicians had you drooling into your cocktail.

“He looks like such a daddy in that suit.” You sighed dreamily. It was impossible for your mind not to wander straight into the gutter when that outfit left nothing to the imagination.

“Wow, Y/N I didn’t know you were that kinky.” A deep voice barked into your ear, subsequently snapping you out of your daze. You jumped, the contents of your drink sloshing dangerously close to the rim of your glass. Of all the guests in the ballroom who could have heard you it had to have been him. And he was never going to let you live this down.

“Shit, Gladio don’t scare me like that. You know I startle easily.” You scolded your friend. Your voice was a bit breathy and the embarrassment of your comment was starting to physically take form as a deep rouge on your cheeks. The man next to you looked like he was having too much of a good time seeing you squirm and regarded you with a playful smirk. He motioned his index finger for you to lean in closer. Gladiolus met your scowl with a light chuckle as you cautiously stepped closer to him.

“You gonna let him fasten you to the bed with his tie later and call him that?” Gladio prodded in a low voice, just above a whisper. His tone was teasing as he wiggled his eyebrows at your mortified form. You were sure your skin had turned a bright shade of fuchsia, constrasing with the deep Lucian obsidian of your ballgown.

“Shh! Someone is going to hear you.” You hissed, taking advantage of Gladiolus’ bent form and jabbing him in the gut with your elbow. He huffed and faltered slightly, but recovered quickly with a loud burst of laughter.

Unbeknownst to you, a certain someone had in fact overheard the whole discord. Your words were loud enough to reach Ignis’ ears and potent enough to turn the tips of them a flushed scarlet. You were never one to use such forward language and hearing such a shameless word applied to him put an uncomfortable strain on his already tight trousers. The riveting points by the government officials next to him about altering Insomnia’s current trade agreement to one of a bilateral nature was now falling on deaf ears as Ignis’ began ringing with desire. Less than appropriate images of you screaming that word while he pounded into you on the kitchen counter, brunch simmering on the stovetop and the early afternoon sunlight casting a radiant hue on your frame were not suitable for the occasion and he began having to mask his increasing distraction with feigned interest. He cleared his throat once there was a pause in the conversation and politely excused himself, weaving seamlessly past the fews guests that stood between your two parties.

The moment Gladiolus saw Ignis making his way through the sea of bodies, he whispered a quick don’t do anything I wouldn’t do...which is nothing as long as it’s consensual and patted you on the back lightly before whisking himself away to save Noctis. The poor boy was being chatted up by an older woman who was dropping subtle flirtatious hints. You sputtered a mixture of curses and words of embarrassment as you fanned yourself in attempt to calm your already riled body.

Ignis had done a far better job at collecting himself than you, strolling up to your flustered form with seemingly nothing amiss.

“Hello, darling.” He approached you with a warm smile and placed a loving hand on your shoulder. The contact felt like a hot iron to your skin. Your skin prickled with sensation under his palm and you weren’t able to mask the pleasant shiver that racked through your body.

“Hi, Iggy. Any exciting conversations?” Your asked, grinning cheerfully to mask your growing desire. Little did you know the man next to was struggling with the same problem.

“As exciting as tariffs and taxes go.” He sighed as his hand nimbly traveled from your shoulder down your arm, leaving a ghost of touches that set your nerves off like fireworks. It made its way down until it reached its destination at the small of your back. Ignis casually stepped closer and closed the lingering space between the two of you. His grin radiated a sweet innocence but his touch was anything but.

“Sounds interesting.” You gulped. Unable to make eye contact for fear of being burned alive by his heated gaze, you suddenly found the half empty contents of your cocktail to be the most intriguing thing in the world.

“Quite riveting I can assure you.” Ignis let out an airy chuckle. He then leaned in even closer so the only thing keeping the two of you from being flush against one another was your drink.

“But my dear, I’m much more interested in how you think of my outfit. Or more so, me in this outfit.” His sultry tone sounded like liquid velvet against the edge of your ear. The hand on the small of your back started drawing lazy circles along the fabric of your dress.

You were mortified. There was no way he could have heard you, right? When you didn’t respond he tilted your chin up so you were forced to look at him. His emerald eyes were practically shining.

“You underestimate my hearing.” Ignis purred. You didn’t have the proper chance to react before he began putting pressure on the small of your back, silently asking you for permission to lead you away.

“I didn’t know you were into that sort of thing, love. Let’s excuse ourselves for a bathroom break, shall we?” Ignis’ request was laced with silk as his hand trailed even lower to snake around your lower hip and pull you to his side. You nodded excitedly, promptly placing your drink on a passing waiter's tray as you trotted as fast as your heels could carry you to the nearest unoccupied room.

The following day, Gladiolus rounded the corner to Ignis’ office. He knocked on the grand double doors twice with his knuckles before letting himself in. The man seated behind the desk looked how he usually did; white dress shirt neatly tucked into freshly ironed black pants and suspenders straightened on his shoulders. He was hunched over a pile of documents, glasses falling down the bridge of his nose as he intently studied the papers. Gladiolus smiled devilishly and cleared his throat.

“Hey, daddy wanna go grab some lunch before we spar?” He asked, finishing off his request with a wink. Ignis jolted with so much force that the documents went flying and he fell sideways off his desk chair. Not a moment later, Gladiolus quickly ducked out the door just as a dagger went flying towards his head, his thick laughter booming off the walls of the Citadel’s high ceilings.

↞Gladiolus↠

You had been scrubbing your plate for a solid three minutes, the residue from your meal having been washed away long ago. The chocobo dish towel in your hand methodically moved in circular motions against the plastic dish while your mind wandered in a similar pattern. A nap in the regalia earlier had led to a certain unholy dream, the contents of which had been preoccupying your thoughts all afternoon. The antics of the dream had you awoken to a light sweat and a flushed face. Gladiolus was quick to pick up on your condition since you had been sleeping curled up to his chest. When he questioned you about it you had brushed it off as a bad dream, to which he didn’t push you further. But the more you tried to get the stupid thing out of your mind the more intrusive it became.

Gladiolus’ firm hands were on your hips, digging into the plush flesh as he thrusted deeper into you. Your hands were threaded through his hair, tugging lightly and scratching at his scalp. The electrifying sensation his bite marks left on your neck combined with his rhythmic thrusts caused your toes to curl and soon you felt the coil inside your stomach beginning to relea-

“Gross, Gladdy!” Iris grimaced, her high pitched screech snapping you out of your fantasies. You whipped your head in the direction of the fire. Gladiolus had dropped his fully loaded hot dog, chilly cheese and all, onto his sweatpants in a frenzy of winning a particularly grueling round of Kings Knight against Noctis. In the excitement a few stray pieces had made their was towards an unhappy Iris.

“You don’t know the meaning of gross since you didn’t have to deal with yourself as a baby.” Gladiolus retorted, earning a snort from his sister.

“Babe, could you grab us some napkins on your way back.” He called towards you, a cheesy smile on his face when you made eye contact. You returned the gesture and heaved yourself up from your crouched position at the water bucket. Shaking your plate a couple times to scatter the remaining water droplets, you placed it on the drying rack near the grill and plucked a few napkins from their plastic casing before walking towards the group. You handed Iris her’s on your way to Gladiolus’ chair.

“Here, daddy.” You held out the napkin, immediately seizing up when you came to the realization of what you said. His eyes widened for a split second before his pupils dilated, the amber now masked by deep cobalt. The electricity from his gaze sent shockwaves up your spine, leaving a heated trail of blush along your exposed skin. Fully snapped out of your previous daze, you realized you both were still holding onto the napkin. Letting go suddenly, you coughed and readjusted the hem of your sweatshirt.

“What, Gladdy?” You inquired innocently, squirming slightly in place as his gaze intensified. The way Gladiolus was regarding you from under his long eyelashes gave you goosebumps. The sinful thoughts were practically radiating off of him.

“Nuh-uh. That's not what you said.” His smirk expanded and he licked his lips, the spilled condiments on his thigh completely forgotten.

“You obviously heard wrong.” You countered playfully, biting your lip and finally holding his gaze.

“Why so shy, baby girl?” He cooed lowly enough so the others wouldn’t hear.

“You should start calling me that more often.” His tone had gotten so deep that it sounded like it was rumbling from his chest. His excitement over the word had given you a newfound confidence. Leaning closer, you placed a hand on his clean thigh and squeezed. “Better finish cleaning off your hot dog then, daddy , so I can start tonight.” You whispered seductively. Pushing off his thigh you skipped away to sit next to Iris on the ground, leaving a stunned Gladiolus to vigorously wipe the remnants of his meal away.

#ffxv #ffxv noctis #ffxv gladiolus #ffxv prompto #ffxv ignis #chocobros #chocobros x reader #Noctis Lucis Caelum #noctis x reader #prompto argentum #prompto x reader #gladiolus amicitia #gladiolus x reader #ignis x reader #ignis scientia #ffxv x reader #ffxv imagines

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blzzrdstryr · 3 years

Text

Misery

Sadistic!Yandere!Diluc x Fatui Harbinger!GN!reader

Wordcount: 6748

CW: torture, sex, foul language, isolation, sensory deprivation, extremely unhealthy relationships, dubcon, mindbreak, violence

Diluc isn’t a cruel person. Not necessarily. He punishes you only when you are difficult and for the last few weeks you tried to stay on your best behavior. Ragnvindr is nice to you, benevolent even, willing to look past your former affiliations and shower you with love. At times his affections seem suffocating and irking, blood red eyes following your every movement and him absorbing your every word as if it is a holy scripture, but you remind yourself that his love is the best thing that happened to you in your whole life.

Truly, Diluc is so kind to take you in and help you fix the errors of your old ways, even when you were snarling and spitting insults in his face, too stubborn to see how wrong your old life was. You were ignorant and ungrateful back then, seeing nothing but a Harbinger title and service to Tsaritsa. You forced Diluc to lock you up to make you realize that you didn't need your title or your vision or your archon. He is there for you and it's all that matters, you can rely on him for everything and he is happy to provide, persistent in his care for you and even now he is patient with your… deficiencies, waiting when you stop staring into the distance with vacant eyes.

You stand in front of an open but barred window, a typically Mondstadtian landscape revealed to you - bright green grass and patches of dandelions and windwheel asters growing in small groups with tall trees of the same shade finishing the picture. A gentle breeze flows through the opening, playing with your hair and caressing your skin, yet you imagine another type of wind - stronger and colder, relentless and carrying small snowflakes on the way. You close the eyes and see another image - tall, leafless trees covered by multiple layers of snow and the white ground between them. Snow shines and glitters under the pale winter sun, and you feel alive and bitter at the same time.

You know the place, having been there once, but your memory now is too blurry and fuzzy. All of the events prior to Diluc fixing you up are too foggy to make out the finer details and it somehow makes you feel sad, when you should be grateful instead. Tears well up in your eyes, and you can’t make them stop, rapidly going from silent crying to full on hysterics.

You hear Diluc asking what’s wrong with a concern in his voice, his hands slightly shaking your crying form. You can’t answer him, wailing even louder and stronger, hiding your face in both hands, ashamed from the sudden outburst and overwhelmed from unreasoned sorrow and heartache. Only when Ragnvindr painfully squeezes both of your shoulders and demands to know what is wrong with you in that tone that makes you shiver and gasp, do you stop, looking at him with wide scared eyes, hands that were used to cover your face, are now up in the air in a semi defensive stance.

He seems uncomfortable by your reaction, a slight frown appearing on his face, scarlet brows knit together and corners of mouth turned downward. “I am sorry”, you say, voice small and pleading, eyes casted aside not meeting his out of embarrassment. Why did you start to act so childish out of the blue?

“There’s nothing to apologize”, Diluc takes off the glove, using an uncovered hand to wipe away the tear tracks from your cheeks. There’s no irritation in his voice, just concern, so you risk a glance at him, as he continues: “You are just making me worry”

“I am sorry” you repeat, feeling a prick to your heart, as you process his words - Ragnvindr is so good to you, providing with everything you could ever ask of, and here you are, making him concerned and anxious over some silly daydreams. “It’s really nothing, I just need to be more attentive, that’s it”

You noticed that it’s harder for you to stay in the moment as you start to frequently space out, mind too occupied by the memories of days long past - playing with peers, entering Fatui, receiving a delusion. It’s a futile thing, but images still consume all of your attention and focus, keeping you from sleeping and eating.

“[First], I...” he starts, but then trails off, huffing to mask his hesitancy. Instead of talking he takes your face in one hand and leans in, his lips meeting yours. It's a slow and gentle kiss at first, but just like all other things with Diluc it quickly escalates into something more: his hands now take you by your waist and tug you closer to him, making you press with your entire chest against him, and he deepens the kiss, his tongue freely exploring the confines of your mouth as you moan into his from pleasure and such close proximity.

When you two part, Diluc leaves you flushed and dizzy, with heart quickly pounding against the ribcage. You feel a fire of arousal igniting inside of you, it travels from your chest to belly and soon spreads to the rest of the body. Your cheeks heat up as you stand up on tiptoes to whisper “Can we do it right now?” in Diluc’s ear, voice full of both shame and anticipation.

“Of course, my dear”, there are hints of a smile in his tone and he effortlessly lifts you up and heads for the bedroom and as he carries you you can’t help but zone out again, the memories of past days flashing in your mind.

***

Your first meeting happens during one winter night, as you receive the order to deal with him day prior, at a Harbinger meeting in the Zapolyarny palace. Eleven of you stay kneeling in the main hall, awaiting for Her Majesty to come in as Scaramouche and Tartaglia start to bicker as usual.

“I bet it’s about that mysterious person who’s destroying one stronghold after the other” Childe starts, voice full of bravado and smugness, fake smile blooming on his face: “Fortunately, Tsaritsa has me to take on whatever this stranger is”.

“I wouldn’t be so cocky if I were you, Tartaglia”, Scaramouche remarks, almost spitting out the last word.

“Why shouldn’t I? I am the youngest here, yet I am also the strongest. Why are you so upset? Feeling envious of my power?” Childe retorts, voice still sounding too cheery to be natural.

“If there was anything to envy. You may be the best at fighting among us, but it’s the only thing you are good at”.

“Huh, it seems I was wrong. Maybe little Scaramouche wants to be as tall as me and that’s why he spits out his funny silly slander”.

It must have struck the nerve, as Scaramouche snaps back with an angry tirade, from which their exchange escalates into a heated battle of barely hidden insults. You, just as the rest of other Harbingers listen to their conversation, half amused and half irritated, lifting the brows at the creative mockings.

“Silence”, domineering and overpowering voice says and you still yourself, eyes casted downwards, as Childe and Scaramouche stop their exchange at the same moment. Footsteps echo throughout the hall, as a feminine figure takes its place on a high throne in the middle of the hall. Tsaritsa has arrived.

“As I can see my children already know about the perpetrator attacking my servants” archon starts, divine power and absolute authority evident in each syllable. You feel how the deity’s eyes look at all of you, despite still keeping head bowed and stance obedient.

“Innamorati”, you hear your title and lift up your gaze, ready to take whatever order the Goddess has for you.

“I entrust you with this task, don’t disappoint me”.

***

Diluc is not a coward and he never was one, but now he can’t help but feel a pang of fear, looking at your approaching form.

“Let’s test our delusions, shall we?”, you almost purr, voice soft, silken smooth and full of unspoken threat. It sends shivers down his spine, yet he still equips this cursed thing and braces himself for the upcoming battle.

There’s a stillness in your moves, a confidence that whatever Diluc has in his arsenal, you can endure and answer with something deadly in return. This dangerous calm both disturbs and excites young Ragnvindr.

He lashes out on you with a stream of accursed chains, filling the air with the sickly sweet scent of mist grass. You easily side step his attack, letting out a cheerless laugh and then come back with a cold gust, frost air currents easily cutting through his skin.

He barely dodges the attack, slowly registering the pain from injury. It’s a shallow cut and a testament to your strength, Diluc thinks, as he touches the scrape, marvelling at your speed. In the end, Diluc can’t stand against you - you’re stronger, have more experience and infinitely faster than him, bringing down one overwhelming attack after the other, a catalyst shining and glowing as you do so.

He jumps and ducks and runs, avoiding one hit after the other, yet there's only so much his body can do. Soon his limbs grow heavier and his breathing labored, Diluc slows down and that's when your attack finally strikes him. It pierces his body, pools of blood quickly forming under him.

Diluc falls down, his battered body no longer able to stand. Memories and regrets alike flood his mind, reminding him of deeds he wishes he did and deeds he wishes he didn’t. He remembers his childhood - all daydreams and high hopes, the world around him bright and friendly. He remembers his father's dying face and Kaeya’s guilt-ridden expression. He remembers overwhelming helplessness and grief transforming into righteous anger and hate.

It all seems so pointless now - leaving the Mondstadt, breaking all bonds with Kaeya or spending years in a mindless massacre, satiating his thirst for revenge by destroying one Fatui stronghold after the other, with no regard for his body or spirit. What was the point of it all, if he's still there, lying and bleeding to death, as you look down on him?

He throws, what he thinks, the last glance at the world, a strange thought appearing in his mind as he looks at you: I want them. As Diluc's consciousness fades he misses a sound of an observer's footsteps.

Later, as he gets saved by the said third party’s observer, who commented and praised Diluc’s methods, he replays the encounter in his mind, getting confused at this particular thought. Why would he want you? Maybe he wants you to die or maybe he wants to see you defeated, but in no way he sees you as desirable. In the end he blames everything on his oxygen deprived brain at the time, explaining the strange attraction he felt for you at that moment.

Having a near death experience and a taste of his own dying regrets, he decides to return to Mondstadt and as he does, thoughts about you continue to pester him. They fly around and buzz, reminding Diluc of your face, eyes and voice, of your body and skills and that terrifying speed you attacked him at. He swats them away like a noisy, annoying flies, suppressing and burying feelings deep, deep down, and naming his interest in you “a desire for revenge and retribution”.

***

Your second meeting happens once the news of a sudden Stormterror attack reaches Tsaritsa’s ears - a perfect opportunity for acquiring anemo archon’s gnosis and a new step in her rebellion against Celestia. She thinks about sending La Signora at first, as your fellow Harbinger is fast and ruthless, able to complete a job no matter the cost, but soon archon changes her mind and picks you instead. For secrecy and subterfuge, she adds, don’t disappoint me.

I won't, you promise more to yourself than her, as Tsaritsa never asks but orders. With your head bowed in deep respect and the heavy gaze of the goddess on your form, you decide that you will do your best to bring cryo archon's vision into reality. You are dispatched to Mondstadt the same week, first by ship, then by carriage. Pristine white landscapes of Snezhnaya quickly morph into bright Mondstadtian green, and you finally arrive.

Despite or maybe because of Mondstadt having almost nothing similar with Snezhnaya, it steals a breath from you for a moment - city stands on a lone isle in the middle of deep blue lake, tall windmills and bright red roofs seen from a distance, along with a giant statue of Barbatos blessing the city.

Acting Grandmaster Jean greets you, her stern blue eyes intently observing you, as she says standard Favonius salute and you return your own cliche lines - about Tsaritsa’s concern and a peacekeeping mission, empty phrases that don’t elaborate on what actually Fatui will do. She fails to suppress a frown upon hearing it, sensing your real intentions, but you pay it no mind - Jean has no way or reason strong enough to ban you from Mondstadt without causing a diplomatic conflict.

You turn on the heels after brief negotiations, heading for the Goth Grand Hotel, mind already full of plans and schemes of obtaining the Gnosis. Before you departed, Tsaritsa shared a very interesting fact to you - throughout the centuries Barbatos used only one mortal form, disguising himself as a young cheerful bard named Venti. You dispatch a couple of agents and cicin mage to look for a person fitting the description, and then turn your attention to the rest of the fatuis.

You scold Anastasia for unprofessional rudeness towards Jean. “We need to maintain a benevolent image”, you say to her, right before demoting her and temporarily sending her off to Dragonspine as a punishment. Under your rule fatuis cease sneering and belittling Mondstadt in public, lessening no doubt growing ire of locals.

All goes well, until several events happen. Stormterror attacks the city and some blonde foreigner fights off the dragon, wielding mind blowingly strong anemo powers and riding the wind, like a flying bird. Then your agents finally find a bard, reporting that “Venti" prefers to spend a considerable amount of both time and mora in two local taverns - Angel’s Share and Cat’s tail.

You don civilian clothing, heading for the former tavern and send off a couple of other disguised agents to the latter one. Now, stripped of your mask and harbinger attire, citizens stop gawking and staring at you, their eyes passing your form, as you make your way as an ordinary passerby.

No one pays you attention, as you enter the tavern, save for the strange six fingered bard at the entrance. He tries to sell you his performance, but you wave him off, heading for the bar. And here you see him again - you recognize the unknown attacker, his bright red hair and eyes betraying him the same second. Your faces mirror in recognition as a tense silence settles between you.

“So what is Fatui doing in this tavern?”he asks loudly and half of the customers stop drinking and stare at you. You sigh “enjoying” the atmosphere he created, and utter a premade excuse: “Mondstadt is known for its wine industry and the best wines are sold by Dawn Winery. It would be a shame if I left the city without tasting its finest drinks first”.

You glance at the red gem on his collar, an obvious heirloom of a famous clan: “Didn’t know that Ragnvindr heir would spend his days working as a bartender. You must be Diluc, then. Am I right?". He doesn't dignify you with an answer, preferring to wipe the glasses and serve other customers, his eyes still observing you from time to time.

You quit the tavern early, as “Venti”, as it turns out, leaves the same second he hears about your presence. You order agents to spy on him, waiting for the right opportunity to strike, that you don't get a chance to act on.

You get attacked by Diluc on your way to the Windrise tree, where according to your intel, Barbatos decided to go. He slowly pulls out his claymore and you notice a difference between old and current him.

He is calm this time, his movements lacking fervent hatred and anger that was present during your first battle. He must have gotten stronger then, if he feels so confident, entering a battle with you. Or grown foolish, your mind supplies.

You start to fight, exchanging one blow for another, as he surprises you - there's no barbed chains rushing into your direction, only an orange light fire surrounding the claymore. A pyro vision dangles on his waist, glowing and shining as he activates it's powers. You masterfully dodge his hits, shooting combined anemo and cryo attacks from the catalyst.

Suddenly you step on a burning grass, and hiss and close your eyes from the sudden pain. Diluc uses this time to disarm you, his heavy claymore crushing a delicate catalyst into small pieces. It happens so fast, that you are left speechless at the sudden turn of the battle tides.

With no weapon left, all you can do is dodge and run - you almost reach the city again. it’s walls become visible as you do your best to push your body beyond limits, fatigue weighing down on every muscle. Diluc sends a phoenix - a damn phoenix! - on your way. Fire licks your skin and scorches ends of your hair, but you manage to dodge it too - if only by a small chance - and fall to the ground, mind drifting off to the unconscious world.

***

You come up to your senses slowly and gradually; first there are sensations - a rough rope around your wrists, wet, yet rugged stone walls, then the smells, tastes and sounds - stale, musty air, a coppery blood on your tongue and a shift of a fabric, and then the images at last - dark basement and a bright red blotch, that after a time becomes a head.

There’s a man sitting beside you, Diluc Ragnvindr, your memory supplies. You feel calm and confused for a moment until you remember the fight you both had. Seems, he finally overpowered you.

“You are awake” he says, voice grim and quiet.

“It seems I am. Let me guess, you dragged me here because you want to know what this big bad harbinger plans to do?”. Control your breathing, don’t let him hear the tremble of your voice, don’t let him see the fear in your eyes.

He looks at you with an unreadable gaze and you hold his stare, looking absolutely untroubled in return, a knowing and somewhat self-confident smirk playing in your lips. No matter his status in Mondstadt, Diluc kidnapped you, one of the fatui Harbingers and a close associate of Tsaritsa. His action, no doubt, will force Fatui to severe action, an action that neither his nation nor his people will be able to withstand.

“Think bigger”, he finally says: “I don’t care what you planned to do. I already have you here, weak and helpless. No, what I want is intel on what your goddess and organization are after”.

“Oh, mister Diluc, you want to play a big game? It’s dangerous in case you didn’t know. Maybe after I tell you all of our wicked plans, you will wish you had never asked” you purr, sensing how it grates his nerves, despite him keeping his face and stance impassive.

“How so?”

“Tsaritsa is the greatest of all seven, her vision is absolute. Even if you learn of her plans I doubt you will be able to stop any of them”.

“I asked what the plans were, not what you think of cryo archon”. Diluc’s voice becomes a tone louder, the already present frown on his face subtly deepening.

“Then I am afraid you won’t get any from me”.

He suddenly gets closer to you, his hand yanking you by your head. You hiss, trying to free the bound hands, as he drags you to a nearby barrel with water by hair and then he dips you in it. You instinctively jerk in his hold, a cold water seeping in your nose and mouth as he holds you underwater. Ten second passes, twenty, thirty, you jerk again, your head throbbing and aching from the lack of air, he pulls you upwards.

You nearly black out from the abrupt change, gulping down in the air and coughing out water. He repeats his question and you deny him again. He dips you more, each time becoming a bit longer than the last, only to repeat his query. You lose how many times he lowered you into liquid, absolutely wet and shivering now, when he finally stops and ties you up to the same place you woke up to.

“We will continue tomorrow, I have business to attend to. I suggest you use this time to rethink whether you want to tell me Tsaritsa’s plans or not, as I can get much worse” He heads for the exit from the basement, as you greedily inhale the air.

“Wait”, you say, still breathing heavily: “Aren’t you afraid of the punishment? You kidnapped me, a harbinger, and then proceeded to torture me. Tsaritsa will have your head for this slight against her.”

“Tsaritsa won’t find out. Your Harbingers won’t find out. No one will find out if there’s no evidence”. He steps closer to you, his voice becoming firmer with each word.

“And how do you think you will manage to hide the evidence? You left the knights years ago, you are nothing but a businessman at this point. I doubt they will cover up for you”.

“How did..”

“Oh, Diluc, people talk and I am very, very nosy. That girl, Donna, she told so much to my subordinates about you ”, you mock her, imitating her high breathy manner: “Oh Diluc, he was the youngest captain, but then he left. I wonder why he left? Maybe the knights wronged him!”

“Honestly, with the amount of ire you subject poor knights to, only a deaf and a blind won’t know about how much you despise Favonius Order'', you continue, anger and hatred seeping into your voice.

“I still have connections”, he says absolutely nonchalantly.

“Oh, do you bribe them, then? You criticize the knights for being corrupt, yet you are willing to ask them to hide my abduction? It’s a bit hypocritical, isn’t it?”

Diluc doesn’t answer this time, finally stepping out of the room and locking the door. You sit alone in a dimly lit room, water still all over you and heart quickly beating in your chest, trying to calm down. Later, when your heartbeat stops booming in your own ears, you pray to Tsaritsa, asking Goddess to grant you strength and endurance.

***

You manage to doze off once your clothes are almost dry. The dreams you see are vague and murky, dripping with a sense of unease and anxiety, you see dark silhouettes that morph into looming shadows that later transform into phantasmagorical monsters. It must be why you wake up the same second door opens with Diluc entering the room.

He looks grimmer now, more determined. You brace yourself for his hands tugging at your hair again and lungs burning from lack of oxygen, but none of it comes. He uses a dagger to slice your clothes off, careful not to damage skin underneath. Out of pure nerves you quip some stupid joke about dining first, but he pays you no mind, his hands soon touching your bare legs and looks at them with a filthy stare, his red eyes consuming revealed flesh.

You still under his stare, heart pounding as you try to distract yourself from the thoughts of what he might do to you right now. Almost a minute passes, when he finally stops staring at your legs and begins to move his arms, caressing your inner side of the thigh instead.

You shift from the discomfort, alarmed when his palms start to heat up. He wants to burn me, you think and barely stop yourself from screaming by biting your lip. A disgusting smell of burnt flesh fills up your nose as tears start to travel down your face. He removes the hand, revealing two angry red imprints with a collection of small blisters already forming. Diluc, again, asks the same question, and just like the last time you refuse to answer.

He does upkeep his threat of becoming much worse, with his hands burning your naked body - he targets sensitive spots or joints,so everytime you shift or move they throb and burn, disturbed at the smallest of motions.

“You're not the one to think about the consequences, are you?”, you ask when he finishes, voice quiet and raspy from screaming.

"No one will find you".

"I am one of the Tsaritsa's most trusted servants, of course they will find me", you pretend you don't hear desperation in your own voice.

"Time will show", Diluc says philosophically, looking as gentlemanly as possible despite him torturing you seconds ago.

"Yes, it will", you agree with him, picturing the bastard's face once he gets thrown in prison.

He leaves the room and you allow yourself to slump, careful not to move burned areas too much, and then he returns again, this time with food and medicine. He works fast at bandaging and disinfecting the burns, seems he is as intent at patching you up, as he is at tearing you apart. As he swathes another burn, you look at the brought food.

It’s unlikely he would drug it to make you tell the truth, given that he already tortures you and he doesn’t seem to be a type to play mind games. It still could be laced with poison though, not lethal one, that would be counterproductive, but the one that can cause pain and tremors all over your body. You’ve seen such substance at work once, when Il Dottore decided to show you the fruits of his experiments - victims were thrashing and shaking on the floor once a five minute mark had been passed, by the twentieth they already admitted to all crimes, regardless of how innocent they were.

It might be even a new torture method, devised by Diluc, just to strip you from the short respite when you are not in pain. He finally looks up to you, finishing the bandage, noticing the stare you look at the food with. "It's not poisoned" he guesses your thoughts, taking a small bite and a sip to prove his words. A minute passes, then the second and the third ones, nothing happens with him, no blushing or paling skin, no wide blown or pinprick pupils, nothing. It still could be a slow acting poison, but you doubt it - they're usually harder to cure, Diluc wouldn't willingly consume it given the long list of aftereffects that remain even after antidote was administered.

Thankfully, he doesn’t stay to feed you, leaving you with food alone. It’s a potato hash browns, absolutely unseasoned and cold. You almost swallow them whole from hunger, realizing how starved you are once the smell of food reaches you. After a day(?) of fasting, satiation hits you full force, drowsiness pulling at every muscle. The tableware he brought is metallic and easily bends, so you can't smash it and use sharp pieces, nor are there any utensils to weaponize. You lay down on the side, as something falls on you. It's a stone.

Your hands take it, feeling its shape - mostly smooth with one angular protrusion. It's not sharp or pointed enough for you to cut through the bindings, but with enough time and effort it can break the rope with friction alone. You begin to work, grating the rope again and again, fighting off the sleepiness.

***

Diluc nods to Adelinde, as he returns from Mondstadt after signing the contract with winesellers from Inazuma. She understands this wordless gesture, starting to talk: “The.. guest you brought has eaten, last time I checked they still were awake. I did my best to be quiet, master Diluc”.

He dismisses her, thanking for her observations and decides to go down himself. A strange sort of fascination fills him, as he turns the key in the lock, that also prompts a burning shame that he grew accustomed to in the last few days.

It’s an awful thing, to find pleasure in another’s suffering - a trait of a heartless monster, as his father once said, but despite the chagrin he still can’t help but feel a quickening of the pulse as a pained whimper escapes your lips. It’s addicting honestly, to have you of all people, naked and trembling and helpless at his total control, when you were so close to ending his life just a couple of months ago. He supposes it's a type of karmic punishment to you, a fatui harbinger, no doubt a killer and horrible person - you deserve it, he tells to himself - you deserve it for being a fatui.

Moreover, you are not only a terrible, terrible person that deserves much more gruesome torture that he allows, you are also a source of priceless information - how many lives will be saved and avenged if you just tell him what fatuis plan to do. You are a harbinger, you are bound to know something, unlike most of the fatui.

Diluc carefully glances at you as he enters - you are still sitting in the same spot he left you in, head slumped low and shoulders relaxed. It seems you are asleep. He still makes his way to you, steps slow and quiet. Your hands are bound with rope and Diluc knows how much the rough fiber pulls and chafes at skin, grating it to the blood and ropeburns - he needs to use this short respite to quickly disinfect and bandage you again.

Diluc crouches down, as you twitch and then something aims for his head, he flinches a second too slow to dodge. You nearly manage to hit him right in the temple. His head almost splits in half from the burst of pain, vision blurry and disoriented.

You quickly stand, enduring the pain from the burns and make your way to the room. Diluc runs after you, panic and anger distorting his face in equal manner - he can’t let anyone see you like that! - but you manage to lock him in using his own keys. He kicks and thrashes the door, angry at himself for not carrying claymore with him, as something loudly collides with the wall at the other side. He hears a short surprised yelp and whimper - your whimper and the too familiar footsteps descending down the stairs- Adelinde.

“Master Diluc? Is everything okay?”, the headmaid unlocks the room, concern in her voice:”I saw.. the guest running out of the basement, so I pushed them back before other maids could see”

“Everything is fine, check on the Harbinger, I still need intel”.

Turns out, you blacked out upon the impact, a small trail of blood making its way down the head. Diluc is still angry at you, head throbbing and hurting, his hands itching to hit and burn you, but he can’t allow himself to lose control: you are hurt and he doesn’t want to kill you.

In the end, it’s all predictable, Diluc muses, you are an animal first and human second, your allegiance testament to that. He was too soft, too forgiving on you and you decided to twist his kindness like a blade in the back. His head still hurts, but he finally calms, reasoning your attack as an outlash of a mindless beast.

He carries your limp body in hands, finally taking out of the basement and takes you to one of the guest rooms at the second floor of the winery - it’s a risky move, but you injured your head and in Diluc’s experiences such traumas almost always carry a great risk - maybe you will even forget who you are and there’ll be no one for Diluc to interrogate to.

Placing your body on the bed he clasps a cuff around each of your limbs and gags and blindfolds you. After a second, he asks Adelinde for cotton and stuffs your ears full of it.

Human mind stripped of all stimuli is such a dangerous thing, tearing itself apart.

***

You wake up to darkness and silence, head slightly pulsing from pain. You lie on some sort of very soft bed, silk smooth sheets consuming and hugging most of your body as you wiggle your limbs, tugging at the cuffs.

A small wave of panic washes over you, as you remain absolutely blind and deaf to the world, but you try to remain calm, unsure if Diluc is standing near or not. The bindings on your hands are made of iron now, so you soon stop, knowing it's a futile thing. The only thing you can do is wait.

You don't know how much time passes between you regaining consciousness and the air shifting around you. Having been stripped of both sight and hearing, your other senses became a bit sharper, mind focusing on them to compensate. It's a subtle change of pressure but you still feel it, it's enough for you to guess where this person stands. Suddenly hands grope at you, touching and probing the place near burns. You would scream if it wasn’t for the gag, from pain and violation alone. It's a smaller palms, judging by sensations, they change the bandages. After whoever that was finishes patching you they leave you alone, their departure evoking both relief and sadness - they were a source of stimulations, stimulations that your mind desperately needs.

You start to tug at the bindings again - this time to procure pain, just to feel something again. You are bored, you are in pain and you are scared - not the best combination. Soon, you decide to distract yourself from ever increasing boredom with memories. Images of your past life flash and change before you - here’s you playing catch and hide and seek, here’s you receiving a vision, here’s you entering fatui and climbing through the ranks, here's you receiving delusion from Tsaritsa’s own hands and here's you battling Diluc for the first time.

I should have killed him, you think, I should have spent less time talking and more time fighting, the bastard wouldn't live to see another day and I wouldn't be here.

A strange feeling of panic settles in your bones, as you try to occupy yourself, it's subtle but never ending, slowly growing with each second. You try to daydream but you can’t, not when you are cuffed and your body burns. You try to reminisce again, but you can do only so much, memories becoming dull and repetitive. Soon, the subtle panic becomes not so subtle and you realize you are gasping and thrashing, limbs achings as you rub them against the rough shackles.

You must have blacked out or drifted to sleep, because the next time you wake up you feel a bit different - a little cleaner and more sated - they tend to me, when I am unconscious you realize. Diluc wants to limit all interactions I have.

You don't know how much time you spend there in the end, but it has a profound effect on you - at first the concept of sharing fatui plans with your captor seems nonsensical and traitorous, but after a couple of days-weeks(?) of being chained to one place with limited movement and perception, it stops looking like such a bad idea to you.

Time distorts around you, you can't tell how long you were lying there, seconds turning into minutes and minutes into hours and hours into near eternities. At one point you started to cry again, scared and panicked and then you proceeded to scream.

***

Diluc comes to you again, taking out the cotton and blindfold from your person. Your eyes hurt and your head starts to ache again from the rush of noises, and you blink a couple of times to see the man before you. A strange mix of emotions washes over you - you hate Diluc, you truly despise him with every fibre of your being, yet now Diluc is the only person you have, the only person you see. It’s so confusing and overwhelming that you start to cry, unable to process any of the feelings.

Diluc looks as prim and proper as ever, as he shushes your crying and promises to let you go if only you will tell Tsaritsa’s plans. You almost believe him, Fatui secrets dancing at the tip of his mouth, yet you hold on to the pieces of your loyalty, slowly shaking your head. He asks you again, doubt and concern in his voice. It will be better if you tell me, he says, his hand still stroking you, don’t you want to walk and see again?.

His hand stops stroking you, face turning back to stone when you refuse him for the second time. He fixes blindfold and cotton again and part of you is howling - it’s scary, so scary to be left alone with nothing but your thoughts.

This time you start to break far faster, having tasted freedom for a mere second. You break down and tell Diluc everything you know next time he visits. His hand on you feels like salvation and punishment at the same time. At the end of your confession you are too empty, all of your secrets laid before him, no place for sadness or grief left inside of you. You feel whatever was inside of you was scorched off by Diluc and it left you thoroughly burnt. Dead. Made of ash.

“My name is [First]”, you wail and howl, shoulders slightly shaking as you do. You want so much to have some human contact, to hear someone call your name for once.

It’s cathartic in a way, to tell all the secrets your mind has been bustling with ever since becoming a harbinger. He doesn’t flinch or frown when you tell what exactly you witnessed or did, intently listening to each word.

He keeps his promise and uncuffs you from the bed, but you are still not allowed to leave the room, which doesn’t really disappoint you. There are books and a small barred window that opens a view to the wineyard, a feast for the starving mind. You spend at least an hour standing at the window at first, amazed that you can see people working.

He gifts you clothes and other books, assigns a housemaid to look after you, the same one that pushed you down the stairs when you were running away, she doesn’t speak to you, preferring to avoid your gaze.

Sometimes you do feel sad - you betrayed Tsaritsa, you betrayed your homeland, you lost both vision and delusion - but you quickly shove it down, unable to process feelings properly. You know you are defeated, having seen similar behavior from fatui prisoners, and Diluc knows it too, a malice and triumph and satisfaction burning on his eyes, despite the impassive face.

He sees you as a trophy, a reminder of how he reduced the great fatui harbinger to your current condition. He orders you around and punishes when you disobey, calls it reeducation, calls it teaching you how to be a decent person, calls it a punishment for your sins. A part of you wants to retort and point out his own failings, but you stop yourself at the root, unwilling to be stripped from the world again. You comply, you suppress, you break little by little. It all pleases him.

You learn to love what hurt you the most out of pure fear.

***

“First?”, it’s Diluc, shaking you slightly by the shoulders. You snap back to reality, seeing that he already carried you to bed and undressed you.

“I am here, you can continue” you whisper as he leans down to pepper your chest and collarbone with kisses, and then hiss as he bites you.

“Mhm, that’s good,” he says, warm hands traveling down to your thighs, caressing the inner side: “Could you spread them a bit?”

You obey, equally parts scared and excited.

Truly, Diluc is the best thing that happened in your life.

Note: All fatui harbinger names are taken from commedia dell'arte. Innamorati are a couple of lovers, madly in love with each other and with the idea of being in love. I thought it would be ironic.

#yandere diluc ragnvindr x reader #yandere diluc x reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #Yandere genshin #Yandere diluc #yandere x reader #yandere #I am lowkey dissapointed in myself #Both reader and diluc are bad people #My sleep meds stopped working:(((#my writing

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lavenderfluorite14 · 3 years

Text

Such Sweet Delirium

Reiji Sakamaki x Fem!Reader

Summary: Laito Intrudes on an experiment gone wrong. Reiji loses his cool.

Explicit, 18+ |TW: Dubious Consent/Non-Con, Drugged Sex, Verbal Humiliation, Slut Shaming, Blood Sucking, Ownership Kink, Female Reader, Breast Worship, Hickeys, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Begging, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Possessive Reiji, Light Edging, Canon Typical Reiji Cruelty, I couldn’t just write porn I had to write a character study too lol, Slight Laito x Reader, Tagging non-con for the consent issues surrounding drugged sex, Reader is conscious and responsive but very high

Word Count: 2331

A/N: Please be mindful of the tags! This is the most explicit thing that I have ever written lmaoooo 🥂

Read it on AO3!

Reiji’s lab spun in a nauseating carousel of color. The last thing you remembered was drinking a beautiful, shimmering liquid that Reiji said he had brewed himself. It fizzed all the way down your throat, an insistent warmth quickly spreading throughout your body. Now sprawled across his sofa, you surrendered to dizzying oblivion. Somewhere above you, Reiji scribbled furiously in a black notebook, tutting irritably.

“Tell me what you are feeling. Be specific.” You swallowed thickly at the order, begging your tongue to move.

“The…...the room…..the room is-”

“Spit it out, I don’t have all day.”

“S-spinning. The room….is spinning” you slurred.

“How fast?”

“Fast.”

“I said how fast?”

“I….I can’t….”

Reiji tsked angrily, snapping his notebook shut. Flinching, you tried to turn away from his sharp gaze but a cold hand pinned you flat against the couch. Your delayed reaction time was no match for his vampiric strength.

“I can feel your heart racing from here,” he said, curling over you, pinning your wrists above your head. “Had I known you were such weak prey I would have given you a smaller dose. It isn’t as fun when you can’t fight back.” You wriggled underneath him, jerking weakly against his cruel grip. Reiji laughed, amused at your feeble attempts to escape.

“Although, I don’t hate this delirious expression,” he murmured, lowering his face towards yours. You squeezed your eyes shut, overwhelmed by his hungry stare. “I suppose this isn’t bad every once and a while.” His rich baritone rumbled in your ear, his proximity making you tremble.

“I didn’t think I’d interrupt this so soon,” interrupted a dark chuckle. Laito lounged against the doorframe of the lab, eyeing your entwined forms. “You must really like this one, Reiji,” he teased. Reiji’s iron grip tightened around your wrists and you whimpered pitifully. “It’s rude to enter someone’s room without knocking,” Reiji spat imperiously. “I knocked, but you didn’t answer!” Laito insisted, his eyes glinting with mirth. “But now I can see you were a bit distracted.” You lolled your head to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of the intruder. Laito’s smirk widened.

“Christ, what did you do to her?”

“Such language is atrocious. You shouldn’t speak that way.”

“You fucked up the dosage, didn’t you?” Reiji shot up quickly at the accusation, swiping his notebook from the couch as he crossed briskly back towards his desk. Laito’s smirk cracked into a grin.

“Do you need something, Laito?” Reiji asked coolly. As Reiji began tidying his work space, Laito sauntered over to the couch, his green gaze boring into you. Crouching down, he gently brushed his fingers across your cheek. You shivered under his cold touch. “I came for the aphrodisiac you promised me,” Laito said, trailing his fingers down your neck. He stopped to trace the hollow of your throat, caressing it with his thumb. “But if you don’t have it, I’m sure there are other ways we can pass the time inst-”

“Of course I have it,” Reiji scoffed. Plucking a vial of blue liquid from his stores, he crossed the room and offered it to Laito. “Now please take it and leave.” Reiji’s words hung in the air like frost. Laito rose languidly, like a cobra rearing back to strike, then swiped the vial from Reiji’s gloved hand.

“Maybe next time, Bitch-Chan,” Laito said, winking at you. “And Reiji,” Laito called, pivoting in the doorframe for one last jab. “I know it can be hard to control yourself, especially this close to a full moon, but try not to tear this one up like the last one, ok? You should save some for the rest of us.”

“Get out!” Reiji snarled, storming across the room. Laito darted off, disappearing as quickly as he had come. Reiji slammed the door behind him.

The ceiling swam before you in lethargic swirls of periwinkle. You had no idea what Laito meant, but you could feel Reiji fuming in the doorway. What was he talking about? Reiji never lost his cool. You couldn’t imagine him doing something like that. “You let him touch you,” Reiji seethed.

“Reiji, I...I didn’t….I didn't want-”

“Please be silent.Your behavior today has been dreadful.” Reiji prowled towards the couch, his long shadow casting a dark pall across your face. You closed your eyes, terrified to meet his furious eyes. “You couldn't do a thing?” He queried, towering above you. “You couldn’t cry out? Or swat him away?” His voice was ice.

“I…..I froze….”

“I suppose that’s to be expected from a woman like you,”

“I’m so-sorry,”

“How should I punish my little harlot?” Finally bending down towards you, Reiji cupped your face firmly with his gloved hand. “Your pupils are still so dilated. I doubt you’d feel my whip at all.” The thought made you shiver, and not completely out of fear. Reiji thumbed your lip idly as he thought.

“Suck….my blood?” He tsked at your suggestion.

“You ask for it so brazenly, sometimes I think you enjoy it. Hands up.” You heaved your arms up over your head as Reiji smoothly rolled your top up your body, tossing it aside once it was completely off.

“I suppose it’s my fault. I’ve been too lax with you,” he mused, settling firmly on top of you. You were particularly aware of his pelvis, pressing insistently against the cradle of your thighs. He cupped your face, drawing you close. “I need to teach you exactly who you belong to,” he said, his gaze drifting down hungrily to the column of your neck. “I’ll remind you so thoroughly of your place that even a dumb whore like you will be able to remember who owns her,” he promised, sinking his teeth viciously into your throat.

Reiji’s first bite was hard and precise, the sharp pain briefly thrusting you into lucid panic. But soon you were left with the warm afterglow of pleasure in the wake of its pain. It never stopped hurting, not entirely, but his bites always left you with a fluttering warmth. Reiji’s mouth was on you. You couldn’t help but enjoy it.

Reiji began a fast, desperate rhythm that pulled blood from you quickly, sending you reeling. You whimpered as your world whirled impossibly faster. When darkness began to flicker at the edges of your vision Reiji pulled away, burying his face into your neck. “You bring out the worst in me,” he sighed. Mouthing along your throat, he continued downward towards your collarbone. You braced yourself for another bite, but recoiled sharply when Reiji placed a delicate kiss upon your chest.

“Look at me, jealous of that pervert.” He kissed your chest again, skimming his fingers across the delicate skin of your décolletage. “Arch your back.” Curving your spine upwards, your body brushed against Reiji’s lean frame. You trembled as his hands ghosted along your back, making their way towards the clasp of your bra. Reiji unhooked it with quick ease then tossed the lacy fabric away, greedily cupping your naked breasts. A thin, breathy gasp escaped from you as Reiji dipped between them, kissing your soft curves. You tangled your hands in his hair, humming your approval. In response he tweaked your nipple harshly, sending a jolt of pain through your cloud of pleasure. You yelped at the enticing contrast.

“Let me remind you of your place. You are nothing more than food to me,” he said, pinching your nipple again with a renewed vengeance. You drunkenly brought your hands back to push him away, but he easily pinned them back above your head. “You are meat. Your blood is the only worthwhile thing about you.” Reiji sunk his teeth into the swell of your breast, drawing deep from you. Crying out, you tried to ignore the pleasure his bite ignited in you, trying to focus only on the pain.

“I can taste your arousal,” he groaned between mouthfuls. “Does your masochism know no bounds?” Reiji’s insults didn’t last as he dove back down again to litter your chest with angry bites. He’d kiss you, so tenderly it was almost painful, then pierce your sensitive skin with his sharp, pointed fangs. Once satisfied, he’d lick, suck and kiss the abused spot until an angry mark began to form. He left bruises everywhere in his wake, a garden of purple hickeys blossoming across your breasts.

The drug made it nearly impossible to meaningfully fight back but you didn’t really want to. Reiji’s words stung, but you so rarely had his attention like this. Was it because the full moon was close? You knew vampires had trouble controlling their urges when the moon was full. And Reiji so desperately wanted control: of his brothers, of you, of himself. Was this frenzied beast the real Reiji, or was his protesting, rigid persona the real him? Impossibly, you knew he had to be both. Both enraptured and repulsed by his own desires and completely unable to hide it. That was really why he was mad. Reiji’s wet tongue interrupted your musings as he lapped against your sore nipple, sending a shudder through your entire body. Unable to remove your wrists from his grasp, you retaliated by wrapping your legs around his hips, trapping him against you. Now it was Reiji’s turn to shudder, rutting himself against your core. He was hard.

“My, you really are out of it,” he murmured, grinding himself against you openly. “It’s the only explanation.”

“Explanation for what?” You panted, trying to match his thrusts. Reiji released your wrists, propping himself up on his left arm. Delicately biting the fabric across the tip of his pointer finger, he slid his glove from his hand. Ripping it away, Reiji’s bare hand skimmed down your body and over your curves. Flipping up your skirt, his fingers slid between your thighs.

“For this,” he says, tracing your wetness through your panties. Your eyes fluttered shut. “Reiji,” you breathed, arching towards his fingers.

“Say my name,” Reiji ordered softly, dipping underneath the fabric and rewarding you with long, firm strokes. You called his name again and he moved up towards your clit, circling it once before quickly pulling away. You whined at the loss.

Reiji begins a vicious rhythm, rubbing your clit with firm circles, then backing off when your pleasure mounts. He only returns to your clit when you beg him to, crying out for him. Fisting your hands in his shirt, you whine in frustration as a needy ache builds inside you. Reiji just smirks down at you, enjoying your torment. When tears start building in your eyes, he finally slides a slender finger into your heat. Beckoning upward along your inner wall, he firmly massages your g spot. Mindlessly, you grind down on his fingers, chasing your pleasure.

“Who makes you feel this good?” he asks, his ruby eyes alight with lust.

“You do,” you gasp.

“I asked you who,” he demanded, cruelly massaging your inner wall. You jerk at the pressure, almost cresting over the plateau.

“Reiji! Reiji Sakamaki!” you cry, desperate for release.

“Good girl,” he smirks, thumbing your clit. You gasp in delight, the rough, consistent circles of his fingers finally hurtling you towards your peak. “You don’t deserve this,” he growls in your ear, his deep velvety voice bewitching you. “But when I see you like this, I can’t stop myself. You’re mine.” Your orgasm hits you hard, squeezing Reiji’s fingers in hot contractions. Pleasure washes over you in a wave, your entire being gently pulsing. Reiji smugly guides you through your orgasm, only stopping his ministrations once your twitching has ceased. You sigh, melting back into the cushions of the couch. Above you, a belt buckle clinks.

“I’m not done with you yet,” Reiji says, gripping your thighs and yanking you forcefully back towards him. As he settles above you, he presses the tip of his member against your eager entrance. Pushing forward, Reiji sinks into you with ease. “My little harlot is so wet for me,” he teases, before setting a ruthless pace.

Reiji fucks you selfishly, chasing his own pleasure now that he’s satisfied yours. You lay back, still enjoying the lingering effects of his drug. His thrusts pull soft, pleasured moans from you as he plunges desperately into you. Closing your eyes, you revel in the sensations, happy to let him use you. Occasionally he’ll sheathe himself all the way inside of you and grind desperately against your cervix, trying to get as deep as he can.

“I can’t believe you like this. That you like me,” he pants softly, definitely to himself. Reiji lets you pull him down so that he is completely flush against your body. “I do. I like you, Reiji.” A groan rips from him and he stills, spilling himself inside of you.

You stay that way for a moment, holding each other tenderly in the afterglow of your love-making. You wish you could stay like this, enjoying the feeling of his body as it presses you into the cushions, gently stroking his back as both of your breathing returns to normal. But Reiji recovers faster than you do. “I’ll clean you up,” he offers, his tone clipped.

Reiji cleans you thoroughly with a warm wet towel, which feels strange but is not unenjoyable in your impaired state. It’s deeply intimate in a way that is definitely uncomfortable, but you think it’s his way of taking care of you. You close your eyes, pliant. His large hands drift over your body, tugging your top back over you and righting your skirt. Once he is finished you curl on your side, completely spent and ready to sleep. As you begin to drift off, you feel something warm and soft envelop you. A blanket? Maybe. Where did he get a blanket?

Reiji watches as you snuggle into the blanket he has recently taken to keeping in his desk, a genuine smile flickering across his stern features.

#reiji sakamaki #diabolik lovers #reiji x reader #Reiji Sakamaki x Reader #my little harlot #the night shift

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grimoireofwritings · 3 years

Note

Hi! Could i get a nsfw scenario where William masturbates for one night thinking about his fem s/o?

.......

So here's me, casually appearing randomly from the void to finally post this months later 0_0

I'm so sorry y'all, mental health has been in the gutter lately and suffering from major heart and brain damage at age 21 is just not a fun gig. Nonetheless, I hope this was worth the wait, you thirsty hoes >.<

Warnings: smut, light femdom ( I headcanon William with a lean towards sub )

Scenario: William's female s/o walks in on him jerking off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Guilt.

It was all William could really feel in that moment. Well, aside from a general, looming sensation that had been plaguing the poor gentleman for a while now. It made his stomach all fluttery and nauseous with two completely contradicting urges... Which didn't result in a good state to rest in, as he lay propped up on his simple bedroom mattress. It had even prevented him from getting proper sleep lately. One such part of the equation was his complete and utter shame, which replayed punishing thoughts in his mind on repeat... Mentally battling with himself on how wrong it was to think such filthy things about a woman so pure and angelic. A body like that, he could easily imagine it sculpted from marble like the most honored and beautiful of Goddesses in ancient times. Every curve, and the warmth of that soft skin that he could dream of... How could he ever imagine desecrating it? Dirtying it, and perhaps staining it with his intent?

Apparently he could, and he did... Quite frequently. Such horrendously ungentlemanly thoughts popping into his mind had him mortified with himself.

For this reason, he kept his uncontrollably growing desires a secret from his partner. It seemed to him that she was comfortable with their current level of intimacy in their relationship, therefore.. he would remain quiet and allow her to call the shots. It had always been this way, with him considering himself lucky to have her in his life at all, what with a face like his... As well as his history. So he kept quiet, allowing her to make all the first moves so as to not make her uncomfortable. Despite the longing and craving he had for her, and the shame it brought him, he would suppress every last desire, and would never utter a word or clue about it.

It was getting harder however, every passing day. More and more challenging not to notice the lump in his throat when he had to refrain from staring at certain parts of her in particular outfits, and keep his hands from wandering over the perfectly smooth plains of her thighs, or even passionately gripping on to those breasts that took his breath away.

He gave a slight audible whine, there in his bed, tortured by these thoughts popping up once again.. because once they started, they couldn't stop. This time around for some reason it was particularly agonizing to ignore the growing need in his pajama pants, which was legitimately painful to disregard at this point. He'd end up sweating, palms gripping on to the sheets, as he refused to touch himself to the thought of her. Absolutely not... Never.. he could never be so degrading and perverted towards someone who deserved only the highest respect.

Even as he told himself this for the millionth time, the words had been losing their influence that week, and it was at that moment that he caved, giving a strangled whimper of regret whilst his right hand crept under his waistband. From that point on his vision went blurred and brimmed with red, framing pictures in his mind that could only consist of her.

And goodness was that woman breathtaking. He somehow felt starved for a touch he'd never quite experienced before with her... A deep craving as he could practically feel those lips of hers, divine and smooth like rose petals, grazing over his sensitive neck. Would she perhaps moan his name out softly into his ear, as his hands wrapped around her rear to slip a finger between her wetted and ready slit? Yes... Not only could William picture it, but he could almost feel it, too.

Hands, on her velvet skin, squeezing and caressing here and there.. her labored breaths brushing past his cheeks. By this point William had thoughtlessly worked up the courage to start stroking himself, his movements terrified and shaky, slow but gradual. The tortured man could not help himself.. he really couldn't. Despite the fact that he felt like an atrocious person, that previously sick feeling in his stomach was being replaced by mind splitting pleasure.

Warmth.. so much warmth he was feeling down there, in fact it was warm enough now that it was exactly what he imagined her hot, inviting mouth would feel like. This time he let out a soft but much more discernable moan, a couple of lost syllables and stutters rolling off of his lips as he imagined her tongue massaging in place of where his fingers currently were. He vaguely had a couple of thoughts warning him he should stop soon... She'd be back in their shared room any moment now, after finishing up her nightly chores around the headquarters. But he was way too far gone, and foggy in the brain, to give a damn and have the self control to even do so.

Not to mention, the slightest surfacing of precum wasn't helping, given that it added a slight lubricant to the situation and really solidified the illusion in his mind he'd created for himself. His greatest fantasy would be to have her ride him, perhaps..

Absolutely. Just her, in all of her glory, above him and in her rightful place where he could worship and adore from below. The image alone of her hair framing an expression of ecstacy like a curtain, eyes hazy with pleasure all because of him, whilst he allowed his hands to boundlessly wander over every surface of her divinity.. maybe his lips would latch on to her skin and travel down to a breast, all the while drowning in her sounds.. it was enough to drive him mad in the most beautiful way possible.

By that point, poor William Vangeance was too far gone to even notice the barely audible creaking of the door whilst his girlfriend stepped inside their now shared room. A slur of pathetic, whiney mumblings and moans were leaking out into the air for her to hear in utter shock, as well as her name whispered breathlessly to confirm that he was, in fact, masturbating while thinking of her.

"William? What are you doing?"

It was about as sudden as flipping off a light switch. Light to dark in an instant.. except this time it was his voice and his movements. In the dim room, the only light source being a small candle which cast an orange glow on his face, she could make out a look of complete panic, his entire frame completely paralyzed in his position. Had he gone catatonic?

While she had found the display amusing, she was now distracted, more worried about him than anything else. "Love? Are you alright? This isn't very expected of you.." she trailed off, but before she could finish, William snapped out of his trance, causing her to gasp and glance up at the unexpected tone of his voice.

The poor man could hardly form any coherent words in his next jumbled sentences, sometimes the only noticable parts being things like "I'm so sorry for-" and "I will get my things and go out to the front room couch for the night-" to which his partner was dumbfounded by his amount of panic. In fact, William looked to be on the verge of tears, utterly destraught, much to his partner's worry and dismay. However.. she figured she could easily fix this.

Sauntering over to him, she sat beside him on the bed, placing a finger to his lips in an instant to hush him. Leaning forward to speak directly to him, she could tell he thought he was in for a scolding, but what came next had his jaw practically hanging from its hinges in a gape.

"Touching yourself without me here to take care of your needs? You've got some nerve doing my job for me, Captain William Vangeance. I was surprised you hadn't asked me sooner for favors quite like the ones you were probably just imagining.. but now that I know you've been naughty and doing this in your own time, don't expect any mercy from me tonight. I'll prove to you why I'm far more efficient than your right hand. And I'd better not see this again."

She gave a cheeky smirk, completely digging that expression he was wearing. He 100% never would have guessed such lewd words could ever come out of her, and honestly, it already had his entire body lighting up with heat. That confidence from her.. the domineering and sexy edge to her lips, curled into a dark sneer.. it was all blindingly amplified the moment she straddled over him, looming over his body to speak in a low tone towards his ear. "Are you prepared for me to devour you?" She asked.

This was really doing it for him, and he caved, his pent up desire mixing with his excitement and impatience of the moment... Unable to handle the anticipation. As a result, he resumed, feeling already quite close to an orgasm as he frantically jacked himself off with her weight and presence above him. He just... Couldn't wait anymore. And she was too dazzling, too seductive, much too hypnotizing with those devilish words.

"You have the audacity to continue right after what I just said? Bold move, Captain. Either I underestimated you or you're fucking desperate for me. Which one is it? Care to share with me? If you do, perhaps I will let you off the hook... A bit."

"Y-y/n... P-please! L-let me-"

His begs and pleas were interrupted by a deafening, breathless, gasping cry as he came on the spot, a few whimpers following in a perfect sequence as the white hot pleasure seized violent hold of his body, almost aggressive in nature after having been repressed for so long. Panting, he watched his partner witness his helpless and needy state, almost amplifying the experience to a degree.

She was dead quiet, watching with sharp eyes and an intensity in her stare as he slowly came down from the high, body naturally going limp with exhaustion and his breathing evening out. He chuckled sheepishly then, eyeing her with a noticable hint of anticipation and excitement in his gaze, slightly curious if she'd follow through with her previous promise. "B-better to ask forgiveness than p-permission, right?" He tried meekly, biting his lip at that irresistible smirk returning to her face.

"Incorrect" she stated, which set his nerves aflame yet again.

"See... You're the one who wanted me so bad, aren't you? I honestly had no idea... Especially with how shy you are, I was waiting, but it seems you've made me wait longer than necessary. Not to mention, after directly disobeying me, you owe me a couple rounds. Understood? You'll bear with it like a good boy... And I'll be sure you enjoy it too."

There.. that softer look in her eyes at that last statement, despite how perfectly and wonderfully dominant she was - it made his heart melt. William found it very comforting that he didn't have to take charge right away and that she was naturally the one in charge in such an environment - he spent so much time worrying, being afraid, stressing, overthinking, and telling people what to do... That giving up control to someone he trusted was just a complete relief.

"Yes ma'am," he stated, having gained back some composure. "I'll do my best to endure whatever my goddess intends to give me.. please allow me to touch and praise you."

"Good boy," she cooed, encouraging his words of loyalty, as she slowly lowered herself to gently and sensually take him into her mouth to start off. Almost immediately, a tortured cry of overstimulation escaped him, but at the same time it felt completely euphoric.

It occured to William that one of the best nights of his life was about to take place, so he closed his eyes, and placed a hand down on the head bobbing over him.

~end~

#william vangeance #black clover #golden dawn #request #black clover imagines #black clover scenario #scenario

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anakinisvaderisanakin · 3 years

Text

Grudge; aka a young Jedi tries to drop a bridge on Vader’s head, and it goes about as well you’d expect (for the people out there who want to see Vader being the insanely powerful murder machine he is)

“This oughta buy me some time,” the young Jedi muttered to himself in relief, while he watched the reinforced foundations of the giant suspension bridge stretching across the gouge of which he found himself at the bottom begin to give way.

He strained every muscle in his body, sweat pouring in thick globs down his forehead as the sandstone structure rumbled and whined in protest, cracks appearing in intricate patterns as they traveled and expanded rapidly along the eroded sides. The suspension cables stabilizing the viewpoints that had been carved into the natural overhang of the rock at either side of the bridge’s anchor points had already snapped under pressure. Picking up tremendous speed, the man-made platforms came hurtling down both sides of the canyon - and with them gushed an abundance of loose boulders, rocks, pebbles and sand knocked free by the sheer power of impact. A cloud of golden brown dust rushed past the young Jedi, who fought to keep his eyes open and ignore the grains blurring his vision with tears and mud.

A tiny but sharp rock struck the side of the Jedi’s cheek hard enough to draw blood, and he winced, faltering momentarily but quick to regain his bearings. His gaze remained fixed upon the top of the bridge, and the supporting pillars shouldering its ornate design against the bedrock lining the sides of this artificial crevice mined in the sandstone. Once, this canyon had functioned as a floodgate system, the only reminders of its glorious past now being the saltwater dam waiting several miles downhill. That, and the dry, dusty and cracked salt lake desert resting beneath the young man’s feet. This had been yet another attempt by the Empire to exploit and deploit a new, untouched system for its natural resources. The flood delta upstream was all but dried out, its ancient trackways drained, abandoned and littered with wildlife carcasses. Yet another ecosystem destroyed by Imperial greed.

But Jedi Knight Jarl Oda hadn’t come to Jansenn to become an environmental activist, although he had been tempted to at the very least severely cripple the Imperial machinery ruling the system more than once. No, Oda had come to seek refuge. Like any other survivor of the temple massacre - if there were any left, and he’d like to prefer he was not alone when compared to the alternative - he had seen the message recorded by master Obi-Wan Kenobi. He’d narrowly escaped unseen, lingering clone troopers discussing their plan to execute all Jedi on sight aloud. Following a direct order, gunning down their own generals. Their own friends.

It was shocking, but Oda had never taken to blindly trusting the clones - master Krell had seen to that. In his formative years, and during the war, that had been considered a fatal flaw by the council. He had often butted heads with fellow Jedi Knights like Aayla Secura or Anakin Skywalker over his unwillingness to rely upon his troops. Now, he was beginning to think himself lucky for his suspicions. His master may have been punished, unjustly Oda would like to believe, for refusing to humanize expendable soldiers. He had survived only because of that inherent doubt in their reliability.

Finally, as Oda twisted both palms upwards; he took a wide stance for maximal leverage, closed both fists, and tugged. Hard. With unwavering determination and with everything he had in him, narrowed eyes still focused on the looming, black clad figure atop the bridge. The ominous shadow of a man didn’t move, even as the structure beneath his feet came undone in slow motion. He didn't seem particularly concerned by imminent death, not even when the final fortification shattered and the bridge came crashing down.

Oda was prepared for the shockwave when tonnes upon tonnes of solid rock collided with the manufactured flood bed; salt crystals propelled like projectiles in every direction. What he wasn’t prepared for, however, was just how powerful the impact would be. The Jedi had no time to steady or brace himself as the first shockwave set him off balance, and the second sent him flying. The cloud of debri whirled past him in a flurry, dragging his helpless body with it and Oda instinctively covered his face with both arms for protection.

The sound came a millisecond later. Earsplitting. A deafening explosive crack, like the roar of a thunderstorm and the detonation of a thousand bombs combined. The Jedi covered his ears with a whimper when pain pierced his ear drums. An ominous, distinct pop followed closely by a shrill, high pitched ringing settled in his temples and muted any further noises like a swab of cotton. Panting, the young man found himself feeling quite a bit less confident even as he groggily managed to get up on his knees. The dust cloud kicked up by the bridge’s collapse disoriented him, both sight and sound reduced by the blast. His body ached, and his arms trembled from the sheer extersion of bringing down such a large structure. Oda had never attempted a similar feat before, and had never even imagined he might need to.

Taking a couple of deep breaths, Oda at least figured he had time to recover. No one could have survived a two hundred foot drop into a durasteel reinforced salt lake canyon, with a fifty foot overpass crashing down on top of them. Not even this menace, whoever he was.

He had hunted Oda through the vacant landscape of Jansenn for 48 hours without yielding. The hunt had begun as a creeping suspicion, as a foreboding sensation of being watched. The Jedi had no clue who his assailant was, but rumours spoke of Imperial Force wielders trained specifically to trap and dispose of any remaining Jedi stragglers. Oda had made several good friends in the underbelly of the Galaxy these past couple of years since the fall of the Republic. Perhaps he had become careless, or perhaps the vigor with which the Empire pursued Jedi had grown exponentially. Either way, Oda had a target on his back and a price on his head that not even his friends could erase. It had been a matter of time, but he hadn’t expected these assassins to be so relentless in their pursuit.

Coughing, Oda spit up a garbled mix of salt crystals, saliva and blood. His head was spinning, and he staggered backwards when he stubbornly got up on his feet. The moment felt like it had lasted an eternity but it couldn’t have been more than half a minute. Even in his disoriented state, the Jedi noticed that the topmost sheen of debris was already fading, carried away by the dry acrid winds overhead. But that wasn’t what bothered Oda and drew his attention. As he wiped his nose, attempting to stall the gush of blood trickling from the left nostril, the colour was left drained from the man’s bruised face.

The entire midsection of the expansive, collapsed walkway appeared to be hovering. Oda blinked rapidly, not believing his eyes and with a growing dread setting in, he tried to write it off as a hallucination caused by sudden head trauma. As if whatever external force that was manipulating the levitating wreckage had read his mind; the thick fog of obliterated gravel, sand and salt perforating the air seemed to settle in an instant. There was nothing natural about the way in which every single airborne particle of dust laid down as neatly as if someone had smoothed it out with their hands. In an instant the air was crisp and clear. The sun’s blinding light spilled into the canyon, reflected by billions of salt lake crystals. With one, single synchronized swipe, a serene peace settled as the rubble littering the bottom of the complex was brushed aside to create a perfect pathway. Oda didn’t want to look, but he already knew the culprit behind the inexplicable bending of physics.

Where only a collapsed bridge should have been resting, crushing its passenger under its weight - stood the man Oda had hoped to destroy. One of his large hands was aimed in Oda’s direction, palm open facing him. The other was raised to about eye level in a tightly clamped fist. There was a slight tremble to that one balled hand, but in its Force grip, the man had successfully both blocked and abruptly stopped the remains of the falling bridge mid air before they could even touch the bottom of the canyon. Around his imposing figure laid the shattered marble pillars, the stone railings that had lined the walkway in pieces. Suspension cables hung from the carved sandstone that had supported the viewing platforms. In the midst of the chaos, the majority of the demolished structure remained suspended just a few feet above the mysterious man’s domed black helmet.

Oda could only stare, mouth wide open in horror. His feet seemed nailed to the ground. His eardrums still burnt, but the ringing had begun to subside and the uncanny, eerie silence of the scene was tense and overbearing, suffocating. Shifting slightly, the large, imposing figure of a man on a mission that stood before the young Jedi began to approach. His strides were slow and meticulous, but he didn’t falter. Oda’s gaze remained transfixed by the large chunk of stone still floating freely; its vast shadow blocking out the sunlight.

“Did you believe dropping a bridge on me would be a sufficient way of stalling my advances? I am afraid I must disappoint you. Now, shall we see how you enjoy a similar treatment?” the man rumbled, his voice sharp and its bark was a sinister warning.

Oda instantly realized what it meant, and he did his best to flee on wobbly, unsteady legs as the strange assassin crouched. The man brought his arm back to take perfect aim and in one flawless heave - he hurled the remains of the bridge at the boy full force. The distance was enough to allow Oda to dodge the majority of the formation heading for him, even as it broke apart along the way - but it was not enough to completely escape the explosion that sent shattered rock and gravel raining down on him when its proponent collided with the lake bed. Tumbling, the enormous limestones that had decorated the walkway seemed to chase the Jedi with unfathomable speed for something so substantial.

Oda glanced back, confident he was in the clear when he noted that he was gaining. He thought he might get away despite the burning in his lungs and the taste of iron and copper welling up in his throat - the salt he had inhaled scraping his airways from the inside. He even dared to smile - only to stumble on an unexpected depletion in the ground ahead. With a yelp, the Jedi lost his footing and tumbled forwards onto his palms and knees. Unable to break his fall, he rolled around; the sharp salt tearing holes in his clothes, digging deep into his flesh. A sickening pop and a snap was followed by a wet crack, and Oda came to a sudden stop.

Pain shot up the young man’s spine as he was unceremoniously pinned in place. Adrenaline pumping, Oda twisted halfway around and through the agony he soon realized that his right leg was locked in a vice between reinforced canyon floor and a chunk of the bridge’s support pillars.

The Jedi gulped down the urge to throw up, blood gushing from the multiple spots on his body the salt lake’s unforgiving bed had ripped up and rubbed raw. Nausea struck full on, as he attempted to push the remnants of what was once a craving appropriating the planet’s local population’s cultural, decorative art off of his mangled limb. To no avail, Oda’s hands shook and refused to stay still, blood painting the palms a deep crimson. He was trapped, backed into a corner, tears welling up in his eyes as the monster responsible for his suffering appeared over the crest of this brand new ridge of fallen rock he had created.

The man was impossibly tall, broad shouldered and carried himself with a dark pride. All black, his cape billowed behind him like a pair of giant wings as he crossed the distance between them with one leap. The grace behind it was jarring when linked to the man who had performed the feat. The man appeared to be regarding his handiwork, and there were no signs of strain or struggle within him. It appeared as if the immense power that fuelled the impressive Force wielding he had just performed didn’t so much as phase him.

“Let - let me go… I don’t h-have anything! I’ll disappear, just p-please,” Oda heard himself brokenly sniveling in between sobs and sniffles - put face to face with his own mortality, he found himself pathetic.

“You are as cowardly as every other Jedi. Tell me, how does it feel to look death in the eye?”

There was no malice or direct spite in the man’s deep voice, his wheezing respirator serving as an unwelcome third part invited to witness this mocking display. It triggered some kind of memory, but Oda couldn’t say what it was. Instead, the Jedi focused on the monster’s stoic face plate and how it seemed to emulate something akin to disgust, or distaste despite its perpetual aloofness.

Oda realized he was being treated if he wasn’t human, as if he was just a pest or a vermin this sinister man was looking to exterminate before continuing going about his day. The Jedi could picture this menace of a man going home as soon as he’d been dealt with, and never again think of him. Never again deliberate on his fate, never regret his death. Tears poured down the young man’s bruised, cut up cheeks, and he shook his head vehemently.

“Please, I - I’ll do anything…” he begged in vain, voice cracking mid sentence.

“You have nothing to offer me. I have no use for you, and even if I did, you would be the last person I would consider worthy of making an exception for.”

The man’s montone, almost bothered delivery changed with an uncanny ease. Suddenly, there was a tangible sense of contempt seeping through his mechanical, synthesized vocals.

“I… do I know you? I don’t understand.”

Oda had never sensed such unhinged, unadulterated hatred spilling from another human being. It was enough to taint the monster’s entire Force signature; infecting it like a virus, and the Jedi realized he had never in his life come across someone so deeply connected to the Dark Side. Still, as the tidal wires of agonizing pain continued to send his nervous system into shock and meltdown - the anguish only serving to heighten his awareness of this man’s loathing - the young man found himself perplexed through his terror. Something told him this was a personal vendetta.

A Sith Lord, master Krell had said once. When you meet one, you’ll know. That’s what this nameless, faceless menace was. A Sith Lord.

“No. You do not know me, and you never will. But I know you.”

The Sith Lord drew closer, with a superhuman speed to his calculated, menacing approach. Oda tried to rear back, but with his leg crushed, he could do nothing but whine as agony washed over him and kept him incapacitated. The Sith seized the young man’s temporary weakness as an opportunity, placing one large, heavy booted sole over the Jedi’s heaving ribcage. As the assassin applied pressure little by little, Oda gasped - finding himself nearly unable to draw breath and the panic that had been threatening to overtake his senses broke through.

“I don’t - no - I---” he tried to reason and plead, but his executioner-to-be would have none of it.

“Master Yoda would not have taught you this, but I happen to believe in an eye for an eye. And while it would be decent of me to play fair, I have good reason not to. You owe me an arm, but I believe I will take… your life.”

Oda’s eyes widened as he stared right into crimson red lenses of the face plate covering the Sith Lord’s face. It all came rushing back to him. The lectures in the temple halls, the relentless bullying he had spearheaded. He’d just been a kid himself, he hadn’t enjoyed the new kid’s natural talent with the Force. He hadn’t enjoyed the attention the kid had received, he had been driven by a childish jealousy. He had thought the boy had gotten over it, as they grew up.

Yes, Oda might have accidentally broken the kid’s arm in a wrestling match. Yes, he might not have meant it when he’d said sorry and apologized at the time. Yes, they had gone on missions together when they had both been knighted. Yes, they had shared some sort of friendly connection on Ilum. Still, the kid had always been prone to holding grudges til the end.

Heart dropping into the pit of his belly, the Jedi instantly realized the identity of this Sith Lord. He didn’t doubt he would have died even without the personal connection, and it all made sense. Of course it was that kid who had turned on the Jedi council and their teachings. Of course it was that kid who had slaughtered the younglings in cold blood, who had brought about the Empire’s rise to power. Of course it was that kid, whomst master Kenobi would never sell out by name. That kid, who was excused and forgiven again and again.

Of course it was Anakin Skywalker.

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liddolwhynot2000 · 3 years

Text

Chains: Part 3

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Summary:

Levi didn't need to tell to him how much of a fool he was. Because Erwin already knew it.

Only a fool would let go of a chance with a woman like you.

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Pairings: Erwin/Reader, Levi/Reader

Genre: Angst, one sided love, regrets

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ChainsPt1. ChainsPt2. ChainsPt4

Drabble#1

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'You're pretty shitty at noticing what's right infront of you.'

Erwin wanted to scoff at that statement. One of the reasons he made such a good commander was because he had a very keen eye for details. He could take one look at a document and pin point all the errors in it within a moments notice. His sharp observation skills had been what had significantly reduced the Survey Corps death rate.

He prided himself on his ability to notice things--alas none of that extended to his personal life.

And Levi was the one to point it out to him.

Not to say that he didn't know it already, it was just that he often prefered to pretend he didn't. The rational part of him often insisted how dwelling on his own shortcomings was pointless. After all, he was doing just fine as the commander wasn't he?

Reminding himself of that, he turned his attention back to Levi. His response was cool and crisp, not giving away his internal struggle.

'Is there a problem with the mission plan?'

'Tch- don't beat around the bush commander. We both know what I'm talking about.'

Ah typical, straightforward Levi. Even though he was mostly used to it, even he got thrown off at times by how the man refused to sneak around a topic.

'Apologies-but I really don't know--'

Erwin turned back to the map on his desk, dismissing Levi

'-And frankly, I don't have the time for this. If its not related to the mission, please leave.'

There was moment of silence, before Levi turned to leave. Just as he was about to shut the door, he spoke up again.

'You're a fool Erwin. And I have no intention of following in your footsteps.'

With that, he shut the door.

Erwin let out a dry, humourless chuckle

Levi didn't need to tell to him how much of a fool he was. Because Erwin already knew it.

Only a fool would let go of a chance with a woman like you.

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When Erwin had been young, back in his cadet days, he and his friends had often frequented a bar nearby. It was a good time for them, drinking, laughing, talking about girls. They enjoyed a nice, hot meal, with no sergeant screaming at them. It was one of the few times they could relax.

It was also when he had met Marie.

Beautiful, sassy Marie, who had captivated him at first sight. Her pretty smile and snark had easily wormed their way into his heart--and like any other hot blooded man, he had immediately tried to court her.

He had been very well aware of his own charms back then, knowing most women considered him attractive. He could be smooth when needed and for Marie, he had gone out of his way to win her over with everything he had.

Even going as far to chat up the other barmaids, so that they would harbour good opinions of him. You, in specific, had been a target. He had been able to tell that you and Marie were good enough friends that your word would matter.

Erwin doubted you had realized it at the time, that he had been playing you. He hadn't been blind to your feelings for him, he recalled your slight blush and the way you wouldn't fully make eye contact with him. He had even thought of you as attractive--but that was just about it.

You were attractive, sure, but to him, especially back then, Marie had been absolutely breathtaking. So he had strung you along a little, knowing that the higher opinion you had of him, the more you would tell Marie positive things about him. His courting efforts had paid off and before long, he was finally turning his entire attention to a very receptive Marie. You clearly hadn't noticed how he had used you, but you had kept your head down and taken the hint.

To this day, he was still ashamed of himself for that.

Even back then, he had felt a little awful about his behaviour. But that feeling had been easily overwhelmed by the blossoming of his new relationship-- first kisses, first dates. All his time outside of the training corps had been devoted to Marie. He had fallen hard for her, and had envisioned their future together.

He would meet her parents after he graduated and get her father's blessing. The two of them would get married in a modest ceremony, and move into a decent house. He would climb the ranks and the two of you would start a family soon enough. He would be welcomed home by her, and their children causing a ruckus and running around. It was the picture perfect family.

Until it wasn't.

In his vision of a life with Marie, Erwin had lost himself. Those soft, fleeting touches left him intoxicated, dreaming of a life that he wasn't sure he could ever want. And as graduation loomed closer, he had begun to sober up.

He had convinced himself that Marie's dreams for life were his own, but had forgotten about his own dreams.

The reason he had joined the Cadet Corps was so he could join the Survey Corps and explore the outside world. He wanted to figure out the titans, their history and most importantly, prove his father's theory.

It wasn't about sating his own curiosity-- no, it was about proving his father had been right. That his idiotic son hadn't gotten him killed over nothing.

Once he had snapped out of the honeymoon phase of their relationship, he had begun to recall his priorities. As much as he had loved Marie back then, he knew he wouldn't have been able to turn his back on his father. Otherwise, he would have spent the rest of his life drowning in unresolved guilt.

Erwin's choice had been clear, but by then he and Marie had been so deep into their relationship, that he had to contemplate what to do. He wasn't dumb- he knew it would be a choice. There was no way he could join the Survey Corps and still be with Marie. She had always made it clear that she wanted a husband who she could see everyday. Who would be safe in the walls with her, and could give her a comfortable life.

It had been a choice. And as much as it had pained him to do so, he had let Marie go.

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Erwin sat at the bar later that night, downing his second beer bottle. He had ordered another one to the go, with the bartender eyeing him with something akin to pity.

'Ya got your heart broken or something?'

Erwin chuckled bitterly

'No. I was just a little blind.'

The bartender nodded in understanding, giving him his beer and a sympathetic smile.

Erwin paid his dues, took his drink, and left the bar. He lazily walked along the side walk, heading back the barracks. The air was chilly, but he was too lost in thought to care.

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Meeting you again had been weird to say the least. For one, it brought back a ton of shame he had been holding back all these years.

He remembered how insensitive he had been, using you and your feelings to get the girl he had wanted. Fate had dealt him quite the hand, probably as punishment for treating you like that, and had made sure hadn't ended up with Marie.

You had gotten significantly more attractive, Erwin had admitted to himself. You had certainly blossomed into a much more sure version of yourself, holding your head high, evenly making eye contact with everyone. You still retained some quietness, which he had to admit wasn't off putting at all.

He found himself approaching you, at first wanting to make up for how he had behaved. He had planned to tell you the truth, and get the slap he deserved. But somehow, one enjoyable conversation had turned into two, two into six and before he had been able to stop it, he had become good friends with you.

The two of you would meet up and chat about books, or sometimes share a meal together. It had become a routine of some sort--a safe haven from all his troubles.

A moral man would tell you the truth, and take his punishment. But he had grown too fond of you. Your laughter, and soothing presence had grown on him. He couldn't let go. So he hid his misdeeds and shoved it into the back of his mind, selfishly wanting to keep being with you.

Erwin wasn't dumb, he knew himself better then anyone. It hadn't taken him long to understand his reasons being around you went beyond friendship.

It wasn't friendship that had him imagining what it would be like to slip his hands around your waist and rest his head on your shoulder as you cooked.

It wasn't friendship that made him sorely miss you at military balls--made him wish it was you he was slow dancing with.

It wasn't friendship that made him look at the empty side of his bed and long for another person to be there. For you to be there.

He wasn't hopelessly in love with you- or at least he didn't think so. But he had certainly felt strongly about you. Looking back on it, if he had played his cards right, he would have gotten you.

He had thought that he would confess to you, and be met with a positive response. He would throw the secret he was keeping from you to the darkest pits of his mind, and embrace a new life with you, even with his suicidal profession.

It hadn't worked out that way.

Just a day before the expedition, Erwin had suffered through a bad day. He had recieved news of Marie and her husband Nile welcoming their first child. And it had hurt.

As much as he had fallen for you, Marie had held a significant part of his heart. Letting her go had been extremely difficult for him, but he had thought that he would have made peace with it by now. While he wouldn't say he was heart broken, he certainly hadn't been able to stop himself from feeling bitter.

His first love had moved on from him so easily.

His mood had only gotten worse after the expedition, another senseless loss of life had been incurred--and it could have been prevented if the Commander had bothered hearing out Erwin's plan.

He had been so frustrated, so done with it all. His only outlet had been drinking, and he had ended up going to you.

In hindsight, it had been a bad decision from the start. Going to the woman he hoped to make his one day, while feeling bitter over the woman he had loved in the past and being drunk at the same time was a bad combination.

And it had ended up becoming a night he would regret.

'M.. Marie?'

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Erwin let himself into his room, glad that captain's got their own room. It had taken him some effort to open the door, feeling a little hazy from his drinking.

Kicking off his shoes, he sunk into his chair, head pounding from the alcohol he had consumed and heart hurting from his own failures.

It had been so stupid of him, going to you at that time. It had messed up any chance he had with you.

You're demeanour towards him had changed after that, no longer giving flashes of anything beyond friendship. You had built up a wall against him, unwilling to let him in like before. It had left him feeling unsure of what to do, of how to talk to you.

You never once brought up that night, or Marie, simply carrying on as though nothing had happened. A part of him had wanted to talk to you immediately, to tell you it wasn't what you thought it was, but he had held himself back.

He figured if he gave you some time, you would be more receptive to hearing him out. At that point, you might not have taken his confession well. So he allowed the distance you were putting between them to grow, convincing himself that when the time was right, he would confess to you.

Too bad he had made the mistake of introducing you to Levi.

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Erwin clearly recalled the first time you had met Levi, for he had been the one who had brought him to the resteraunt you worked at.

He had noticed the short man's attraction to you immediately, watching from the corner of his eye as the man eyed you with interest. His expert self-control had been the only thing keeping the ugly, seething jealousy he had felt at that moment from showing on his face.

It had taken everything in him to leave at that moment.

And there wasn't a moment after that he stopped regretting leaving.

Before, he had been watching you pull away from him. And now? He was watching you go into someone else's arms.

It had started out small, accidentally overhearing Levi's friends teasing him about you. Telling him to ask you out. He had ignored it back then.

After his friends had died, Levi had begun to dissappear in his his free time. Erwin had been suspicious about it, and had tracked him down one day, only to find the man sharing tea with you. The sight of you giggling as Levi looked at you so softly had made him want to throw up.

He hadn't confronted the two of you and just walked away, each step away from you feeling heavier then the last.

The two of you begun to talk less and less, and Erwin could tell it wasn't affecting you as much as it was affecting him. His one fuck up had made you give up on him and move on-for good.

Now, he was forced to watch you and Levi go in circles around each other. You would bring him meals to headquarters, he would buy you little trinkets from the village. Erwin would see it all unfold- Levi eating his own home cooked meals that smelled so familiar. You wearing jewellery he had seen Levi looking at.

It was the start of a picture perfect romance. Any other person would be ignored by humanity's strongest solider if they tripped to the ground, but Levi would always firmly grab you before you even fell halfway.

Levi smiled at you when he thought no one was looking, he looked at you as though you were the single most important person in his life--and honestly? Erwin couldn't blame him.

You were perfect really. Especially for someone who was in the Survey Corps. So understanding, always near by becuase of your job, a great listener, funny, smart.. And not meant to be his.

Had he not been blind to you all those years ago, had seen the traits you had, the ones that Marie didn't, he could have been happy right now. Without a doubt, he could tell, you would have supported his dreams to join the Survey Corps. Had he not been so star struck by Marie back then, he wouldn't have spent the past years stowing in heartbreak. Now, he had lost you, and the only way to get you back would never let him sleep at night again.

He had, yet again, made a choice. If he wanted to, with little effort, he could send Levi back to the underground and away from you. In his lowest moments, he envisioned being petty enough to actually go through with it. You would get over it, and he could comfort you in that time of heartbreak. But he couldn't. Because he needed Levi's strength.

Levi had begun to carry expeditions on his back, to the point that he had single handedly lowered their death rate by 8%. Without him, the corps would be doomed and disbanded.

And Erwin had already sent too many soldiers to their death for that to happen.

So, with a heavy heart, he chose the military over the person he wanted to be with. Again. He resolved himself to watching you and Levi get together. To have the relationship his heart screamed at him to have with you.

What he hadn't expected was that he would walk in on the moment the two of you would be confessing to each other.

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Erwin sat in his office, working on filling his tax forms. He had woken up hungover, and forced himself to freshen up so that he could work with a clear mind.

His hand worked on auto pilot, with his mind distracted. A part of him, a bitter, cruel part of him, wanted it to not work out for you and Levi. But his head was much more sensible.

He had seen the way the two of you looked at each other--people who looked so lovingly at each other could only be seperated by the tragedy of death. And considering Levi's inhumane strength and battle expertise, he doubted it would happen anytime soon.

Frustrated, he shook his head and counselled himself. He had mourned losing you last night-but no more. He would focus on his work and self assigned mission. That's all. Like everything else in his life, he would make peace with this situation.

With that thought, he shifted his entire attention to his work.

Maybe Erwin would have mourned a little more back then, had he known that, a year from now, he would have to watch you and Levi makes vows to each other.

Till Death do us apart~

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A/N: Heyooo. So this was highly requested and I hope it served y'all well! Do tell if you enjoyed it. My asks are open, so ask away people. I feel tempted to branch out and write about the Levi and Reader in this fic some more. I already wrote about how they met and fell for each other in Chains Part 2. But maybe I could write of their life together? I dunno if y'all would even want that.

I have a big exam result in 15 hours and I'm honestly terrified. I wrote this completely hyper and ready to be distracted.

Also we're about to hit 100 followers omg fhfjfjf y'all make me smile in times of stress.

#AOT #Snk #aot #levi ackerman #attack on titan #levi attack on titan #Levi x reader #Erwin X reader #Angst

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13uswntimagines · 4 years

Text

A Little Luck, a Little Courage and a Protective Streak (Lindsey Horan x Reader)

Request: lindsey horan imagine where during the game r keeps getting fouled and linsey goes after the player who keeps fouling her girlfriend??

Warning: Slight language/ homophobia

Authors note: Hey dudes, there might be a hint of Soran at the end, because I just couldn’t help myself. Let me know what you think, or if you have any requests or if you just want to say sup. I hope you enjoy!

You glared up at the sun as the coursing pain ran down the side of your leg. You had known that going against your previous team, The NC Courage, was going to suck, but you hadn’t thought it was going to suck this much.

You and Hinkle didn’t have a great past, hell she had tried to end your career on many occasions, but you had thought that between Crystal, Sam and Abby you would have been safe. But instead of staying in her very avoidable left-back position, she had taken to following and fouling you across the field.

You had spent more time laying on the pitch then trying to score, and it wasn’t even the first half hydration break yet. It seemed that Courage was going to retain their first place spot by incapacitating the Thorns, literally.

“You alright babe?” Lindsey asked, jogging up beside you and extending her hand to help you to your feet. She shot a glare over your shoulder at Jaelene Hinkle, as she assisted you to your feet.

“Fine, just a bruise,” You grumbled into her shoulder as she wrapped a protective arm around you. You felt fist clenched behind your back as Hinkle passed the two of you, sending a wink your way.

“If she tackles you when you’re nowhere near the ball again, I’m going to lose it,” She huffed into your ear, and a shiver went down your spine. You smirked against her neck. Was it the time to play this game, no, but nothing was going to stop Hingle Jingle from being an ass. So you might as well make the most of a shitty situation, you were always a bit of a brat.

“How’s your hip?” You inquired, running a hand lightly over the body part in question, veering over to skate over the edge of her bottom. Her hand grabbed yours with lightning precision.

“Don’t get smart with me,” Lindsey growled, her eyes flashing dangerously. You smirked back.

“What, you going to punish me, Daddy?” You hummed, batting your eyelashes at the woman, who just halfheartedly rolled her eyes at you.

“I think Mrs. Daniels is doing that enough herself.” She said sternly, raising her eyebrow and sending you her best ‘behave’ glare.

“You’re no fun,” You wined, pouting dramatically.

“Whatever you say, babe,” Lindsey smirked, placing a chaste kiss on your lips before jogging off to her spot.

“You guys are fucking disgusting. At least there aren’t any fans here for you to corrupt,” Hinkle said from where she was marking you 8 feet away, and though you knew it was childish, you stuck your tongue out at her and laughed at her glare. She had nothing on Lindsey.

——

Apparently, your sassiness had not been well received, because Hinkle seemed to get even more aggressive with you particularly after the first half water break. Lindsey did what she did best and sent you a beautiful cross, placing the ball directly at your feet, where you did what you do best and fired at the goal. However, you missed Sam Murphy’s diving save because were again brought to the ground by a very late tackle.

“Fuck,” You yelled out, grabbing the ankle that Hinkle had just taken out. You rolled on your stomach, holding the offending appendage and resting your head on the hot turf.

“Shit, you ok?” Sam’s voice broke through your internal monologue as a warm hand began to rub circles onto your back, encouraging you to turn over again. You complied with a groan, barely catching a glimpse of blond hair as your girlfriend sprinted past you.

“Stay the fuck away from her,” Lindsey bellowed, getting very close to Hinkle’s face.

“Just doing my job,” The woman smirked at your very irate girlfriend.

“Your job my ass, you’re fucking targeting her,” Lindsey snarled, stepping nose to nose with the errant defender.

You and Sam shared nervous looks. Sure Lindsey wasn’t opposed to getting cards, but this was a little excessive.

“Maybe I am. What are you going to do about it?” Hinkle spat back, shoving you Blond Middy backward. You watched in horror as Lindsey’s jaw clenched and she rose to her full height, taking a menacing step forward. Sam stood from her kneeling position next to you and rushed to wrap her arms around Lindsey’s middle before she could rip Hinkle's head off.

“How about I shove my cleat so far up your stuck up-“ Lindsey snarled, fighting against Sam’s hold. You knew that if you didn’t step in, your girlfriend was going to put Hinkle in the hospital.

“Linds?” You said quietly, but it was enough, her head snapped towards you, her eyes softening. Her entire being relaxed as you approached her, Sam relaxing as well.

“Watch it,” Lindsey threw over her shoulder before stepping into your embrace.

“You ok babe?” She questioned, holding you at arm's length, and looking you over. Taking in the way you favored your left leg. You rolled your eyes at her.

“Yeah, but we need a goal before you get arrested and she gets put in the hospital,” You grumbled under your breath.

Lindsey’s eyes darkened “Don’t even joke about that,” she muttered. You sent her a half-hearted nod, you weren’t joking considering that was where this whole thing was heading.

You glanced behind your girlfriend watching as the courage reset their defense, a smile stretching across your face as an idea hit you. A crazy idea that would render the Courage's backline useless.

“Send me a Volley?” You smirked, bumping Lindsey’s shoulder. Her wide blue eyes snapped to meet yours.

“You’re joking?” She said with a halfhearted chuckle.

“Nope.” You grinned back, watching the wheels turn in her head. “Unless you’re scared. I’m sure Sonnett would do it if she was here, what until she-“ You started with a taunt.

“I’ll do it, just don’t miss,” She interrupted, her eyes turning hard, her face stony. You and Emily were the pranksters of the group, and you were always making fun of Lindsey for being responsible. Bringing up your other girlfriend was always a sure-fire way to get Lindsey to try whatever crazy plan you had. Even this crazy crackpot plan.

“When do I ever,” You winked, jogging off to your position, but not before you heard her mumble a “Cocky little shit,” under her breath. At least you were her Cocky little Brat.

——

The ball was perfect. You watched as Britt sent the ball to Lindsey who kicked it high. You were standing just outside the penalty box, when you kept up, slamming your foot into the ball in a perfect bicycle kick, despite the body slamming into your own.

The next moment, you were laying on your back, staring at the sky and very confused as to how you got there. You placed a hand in your swimming head, rubbing your nose which had begun to throb. Your eyes widened when your hand slipped through a sticky substance on your face, your cheek stung. You placed your sticky hand on the ground in an attempt to sit up, only to be held down by gentle hands on your shoulder.

“Hey Y/n, try not to move alright?” Sam’s voice was quiet compared to the pounding in your head, her blurred face moved into your line of vision.

Lindsey was furious. Storming across the field when she saw Hinkle's knee landing solidly on your face. You crumpled to the ground, while the left-back stood up with a satisfied smirk, dusting herself off.

“What the fuck is your problem,” Lindsey roared as she got in Hinkle's face, shoving her backward.

“Just-“ Hinkle started, only to be stopped by another rough shove.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, you could have killed her,” Lindsey growled, advancing in the defender.

“I wouldn’t be so lucky, at least then she wouldn’t be able to spread your disease,” Hinkles smirked. Which both of you out of commission, Portland would be done for. The ref came sprinting over, already reaching into his pocket. It was too little too late for the card to actually matter, considering you had already been hurt.

“Now you pull out a fucking card” Lindsey spat in his direction, shrugging off the yellow he held towards her. She rolled her eyes as she turned to where the medics were helping you sit up.

“Babe,” she said hesitantly, placing a hand on your back as the Medics decided you could walk off the field. Your face was stained red, and Lindsey couldn’t tell if it was from your nose or the gushing cut on your forehead.

“I guess we’re both sitting out?” You mumbled groggily and disappointed. The only reason why the Chaos Cup was remotely enjoyable was because you got to play footie.

“Let’s get you stitched up first before you try convincing Mark to let you play, alright?” She said rolling her eyes. She was going to kill Kelley for teaching you that real players didn’t come off the pitch.

The Medics helped you stand, and Lindsey supported you as you made the way towards the bench, Sophia coming in for you and Morgan coming in for Lindsey. Mark nodded as you passed him and walked (were carried) towards the first aid room. You were almost there, hobbling along when you froze. You turned to look at your girlfriend.

“Did I score?” You asked, excitement leaking into your tone. It would be worth it if your Hail Mary scored. Lindsey rolled her eyes. Hinkle had almost killed you, and she had almost killed Hinkle, and all you were worried about was your shot. She sent you a halfhearted nod.

“I wonder if Sonnett will post about it on the Pride Stan account?” You smiled wide. Emily was for sure going to post about how great of a shot you just made. The world didn’t know that the three of you were a thing, but they for sure knew that Emily loved to complement all your crazy goals, even if they were supposed to be standing the Courage tonight.

“You two trouble makers are going to be the death of me,” She grumbled, and you laughed.

“But you love us” you singsonged, and Lindsey’s cheeks lifted automatically.

“I do. I really, really do.”

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #lindsey horan x reader #lindsey horan imagine

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sweetestlamb · 3 years

Text

Love Me Like You Do ( Guide To Getting Back Your Self-Respect)

Summary: Dae-sung just wants Sol-i to be happy, even if that’s not with him so he decides to bury his feelings while Sol-i realizes how much strength she gained from his constant unwavering support. She becomes to questions her feelings for Cha Heon.

Author's note: For the Dae-sung appreciators and anyone who wants Sol-i to keep her self-respect. I finally watched the recent episodes and I saw Heon making an effort but honestly I am already over him and anyone with some self-respect would be too. So in this my girl gets her self-respect back, wins over Dae-sung and gets the love and unconditional support she deserves.

He doesn't cry. Not there on the bench, in front of her lying his heart out. He'd never thought he'd have to lie to her always wanting to give her nothing but his genuine honesty and support, but her question had stunned him. It was ridiculously moronic of him to write something so.. revealing on the paper. He knew it was a possibility that she would see it. A small hopeful part of him wanted her to see it, to finally know his heart and how much she meant to him, she was like the sun on a gray stormy day and he was tired of carrying these feelings in his heart.

But she was uncomfortable, that much was evident. He couldn't handle that, she was his first real friend and he couldn't imagine his life without her dimpled smile- didn't want to. So he lied. It made his stomach churn, bubbling up with bile until he felt nauseous and he had to escape from her relief, she was so relieved by his admission. It was apparent that his feelings were unwelcome, she would never look at him the way she looked at Heon. He needed to find a way to accept that.

So he waits until he's in the pool to unleash the tsunami swirling in his eyes, sobs wrenched from his lungs as he breaks apart slapping at the water and wishing he could turn off his heart. He tried to stop this by calling her "brother" hoping he'd be able to trick his heart into truly seeing her as a brother. In the end it was all futile and every second he spent with her only heightened his infatuation, until it shifted from like and swung into dangerous territory.

It was good. This was good. It was better that he find out now, he needed to move on for the salvation of their friendship. He would do it. He could do anything for Sol-i. But he would let himself mourn today, mourn the loss of his feelings and any chance of her reciprocating. He would cry until his throat was hoarse. Roaring into the air before dunking his head under the chilling pool and submerging his feelings.

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It isn't easy but he stops doing the things that are natural to him: buying snacks he knows she likes, saving the best hand warmer for her, going out of his way to make her smile and when he sees her with Heon, he doesn't interrupt leaving Sol-i to shine brightly up at someone else. Too sad to even be jealous.

"Woo Dae-sung? Are you listening? Who have I been talking to this whole time?" Jin-Hwan sighs exasperatedly, knocking into his shoulder. He turns to smile in apology, lost in his thoughts staring out the window. It was the safest place to look with Sol-i right in his line of vision, it was difficult not to get lost in the way the sunlight hit her dark brown hair, setting the strands ablaze.

"Sorry. I was daydreaming. What were you saying?" He nods staring into the spectacled eyes of his friend, giving his full attention and he laughs and nods at all the correct moments as Jin-Hwan regals his newest plot to win over Ha-Young, his latest idea a flash mob. He laughs freely at the other boys antics as he flails to mimic the possible choreography, at least Ha-Young never seemed uncomfortable with his various love confessions. He'd even found the other girl looking at the vocally gifted boy when she thought no one was looking, an inquisitive look as if she were seeing him for the first time.

Despite his own rejection he would be elated for his friends, he wanted those he cared about to always be smiling even if he wasn't.

Before he realizes it's time to go to the pool, he has a competition very soon and his coach has been shorter than usual pushing him past his limit. He accepts the punishment, enjoying the sharp knife of the water on his skin using his heartbreak as fuel. He was in control in the pool, his domain and his first love that would never turn its back on him.

"I'll see you all later!" He calls out to his small group of friends, making sure not to let his eyes linger on Sol-i as he usually does instead sprinting out of the room. He will get over this and things will go back to normal again.

When coach praises him on his form and speed he realizes for once his mind is not filled with a certain pint-sized girl.

One day at a time.

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"Heon-ah! Wait let's go together!" She calls out to the retreating back of the boy who is always on her mind, her sweet honey Heon. Just his mere presence is enough to make her feel like she's on cloud nine. Huffing when he doesn't slow down at all, she starts to chase after him closing the gap between them. But being as clumsy as she is her feet get tangled up and she finds herself tripping over nothing, she closes her eyes waiting for the painful collision. It never comes.

Squinting one eye open she finds herself staring at the flecks of cobble in the ground, seemingly elevating above it.

"Brother! Are you okay?" A familiar voice greets her and when she twists to look behind her, Dae-sung’s hands are latched onto the top handle of her backpack preventing her fall. She smiles in gratitude, Dae-sung is such a great friend he's always there when she needs him. She beams up at him dimples making an appearance.

He smiles back, tugging her back onto her feet.

"I'm okay. Thank you for saving me." She bows her head slightly before remembering that she'd been following Heon. She spins around only to find the boy in question already climbing into his bike, looking at them with passive eyes before riding away.

"You should hurry so he doesn't leave you. Be careful and get home safely."

She hums not looking back before running over to follow Heon, he doesn't talk to her the entire ride home fleeing before she can even wish him goodnight. She huffs but goes inside her house calling out to her parents before running to her room and diving into her bed. Tomorrow, she'll make Heon like her tomorrow.

Probably.

Hopefully.

She dozes off her head filled with the boy who owns her mind, body and soul.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"Anyone know where Dae-sung is? Doesn't it feel like he's always in the pool, has he turned in a merman? Aquaman?" Ji-Hwan quips at the lunch table, looking around at them as he mimes swimming in a pool. Sol-i stops mid chew looking around, she hadn't noticed he was missing but it was so obvious, normally he'd be there handing out snacks and laughing at Ji-Hwan's bad jokes. Making everything brighter with his infectious smile.

"He has that big swim meet coming up remember? Are we all going to cheer him on?" Ha-Young responds, asking in a tone that leaves little room for argument. She looks at Heon to see his answer, he doesn't look up from his sandwich chewing slowly as if he's eating alone.

"Heon-ah, are you going?" She grins at him, willing him to agree with her winning smile.

His face remains impassive but he shrugs and she takes it as a yes. Jumping in her seat and turning back to Ha-Young nodding her head at the question finally.

Her friend squints at her though, looking annoyed for some reason. But the bell rings signaling the end of lunch before she can inquire why that cold look was directed her way. She nervously picks up her tray trailing behind her friends, not remembering to wait for Heon.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

She almost slept through her alarm but she manages to drag herself out of bed and she dances when she sees that Heon is getting on his bicycle too, they can go together.

"Heon-ah! Good morning."

He turns to look at her nodding softly, "You actually woke up?"

She playfully glares at him, "If you were so worried about me, why didn't you call me?"

"Why would I call you? You have an alarm."

"Your voice is much better than an alarm though." She answers honestly, boldly staring into his eyes before he scoffs at her and grabs his bike riding off without a word.

She cries indignantly before racing off after him.

She wonders what it's like to be so good at something as she watches Dae-sung effortlessly swipe through the water, powerful strokes as he closes in on the wall reaching out a hand and screaming triumphantly when his name lights up, first place Woo Dae-sung.

They all jump up cheering, signs in their hands and they celebrate his win. Jin-Hwan starts the chant and soon every voice in the room has joined them, all cheering his name.

Woo Dae-sung! Woo Dae-sung! Woo Dae-sung!

They find him later, leaving the locker room in jeans and a hoodie now, hair still plastered to his head from the swim cap. They are cheer when they see him, his smile is blinding as he waves at them a slight blush rising on his cheeks.

"Dae-sung congratulations! You were amazing!" She proudly cries sticking two thumbs out at him.

He smiles back at her, "Thank you. Thanks for coming to cheer for me. You all really motivated me."

It's only right that they should have a celebratory meal, they stay close going to a tteokbokki place near by and easily getting a table. She sits down in the middle leaving two empty seats on either side of her, Ha-Young and Ji-Hwan sit on the opposite side. She turns to smile at Heon patting the seat next to her, he sits down immediately looking at the menu, barely sparing her a glance. She's momentarily surprised though when Dae-sung goes to sit on the other side as well, eyeing the empty seat right next to her that had been much closer.

But he's looking at the menu as well as if they didn't come here specifically to eat the spicy noodle. Weird.

Ji-Hwan carries the conversation praising Dae-sung again then telling them all about his new favorite song, crying out with Ha-Young slaps his hand when he tries to serenade her. Dae-sung laughs at them both but never starts a conversation with her, never looking over at her for too long. She tries and fails to engage Heon in a conversation, her own voice filling the void.

After a few minutes, a waitress comes to take their order.

"Hi, I'm your server-- excuse me are you Woo Dae-sung?" The girl who looks like she's not much older than them, she's short with deep brown hair in a high ponytail and a small round face. Very pretty.

They all still and look up at her question, turning to Dae-sung who looks confused but nods in confirmation.

"I'm sorry I'm a fan of yours. I've seen you around school but I couldn't bring myself to say hi. You were amazing today, that was your best time!" She gushes practically bouncing in her spot, eyes bright as she looks at the boy, who is scarlet under her gaze.

"Oh. Thank you! You don't need to be shy, you can say hi. I'm just a student like you. I'm nobody special."

"Don't say that! You're the youngest in your group and you have the best time. I really admire you."

They all sit in silence watching the interaction, ping-ponging back and forth with each exchange. Before the girl seems to recall that they're all there.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" She bows low, "Do you know what you want to order?" She asks avoiding eye contact now and Ha-Young orders for them all and she tells them their food will be out soon. Bowing another time before stealing a gaze at Dae-sung and scurrying off.

"Maybe I should start swimming. I want fan girls too." Ha-Young slaps Jin-Hwan in the back of the head and he folds over in pain before crying out that his heart belongs to her, gaining another smack that he receives like it's a hug smiling through the gentle abuse.

In a few minutes the food arrives, steaming hot and delicious aroma wafting off and filling her nostril. The waitress asks them if they need anything else and it is not lost on Sol-i that her eyes never leave Dae-sung’s face. They all decline and she bows before retreating, looking reluctant to leave. Sol-i feels uneasy but she can’t decipher why. Her emotions twisting up in the pits of her stomach.

Sol-i stealthy peeks over at Dae-sung to see if he's excited about having a fan girl but he's focused on eating, stuffing noodles into his cheeks before humming in pleasure, eyes closing as he enjoys the meal. Her stomach does a weird somersault. It must be indigestion. She grabs her glass of water, taking a big gulp. Choking a little when it goes down the wrong hole, Heon stares at her in the corner of his eye but then there's already a napkin in front of her face.

"Here. You should drink slower."

She takes the proffered napkin dabbing at her chin, "Thank you." Dae-sung smiles at her, but it looks different. Strained. Not quite reaching his eyes. Her stomach squeezes again.

What's wrong with me?

When it starts to get late they finally start to leave, Jin-Hwan slapping Dae-sung's wallet out of his hands when he tries to pay. They all chip in instead but he insists on leaving a tip and Jin- Hwan rolls his eyes but nods in agreement before a sly smile spreads across his face.

"Oh. I know why you want to leave the tip. Smooth." He throws a wink and smile the sputtering boy's way as he denies any ulterior motives. But their waitress is making her way back out and Jin-Hwan is already vibrating slapping Dae-sung on his back in encouragement.

"I hope you enjoyed your meal and I didn't bother you too much. I'm sorry about earlier." She apologizes again and Dae-sung smiles brightly at her, a real smile that curves his eyes into half moons. Sol-i feels that same tinge in her stomach, when will her food finally digest?

"You don't need to be sorry! What's your name? Next time I see you at school I'll say hi." He sounds so friendly and Sol-i watches the other girl blush as she stares at Dae-sung, she finally turns away looking at Heon. This is where her focus should be, why she finding it so hard to focus? She likes Heon. She always has.

"They look good together." Jin-Hwan claims shamelessly watching them talk through the window, Sol-i pointedly doesn't look. Telling herself she wants to respect his privacy.

Minutes pass by before Dae-sung rejoins them.

"Where did you all go?" He tilts his head and this time to her surprise, it's Ha-Young who teases him.

"We wanted to give you space. It seemed like she wanted to say something to you. Did you have a good talk? Did you learn her name?" She raises her eyebrows and smirks at him.

Sol-i feels uneasy listening to them interrogate Dae-sung even more so when he looks down bashfully, running a hand across his head.

"It's Seong Mi-Ho. She um...she gave me her number."

Ji-Hwan cheers loudly jumping to put him in a headlock and Sol-i feels sick to her stomach now, like a someone is doing a drumline in her small intestine.

She doesn't notice Heon nudging at her shoulder, until he calls her name. In a daze she turns to look at him.

"Sorry?"

"I asked if you were ready to go. I'm leaving."

She nods quietly before calling out to her friends, Ha-Young now has Jin-Hwan in a headlock as Dae-sung laughs watching them another real smile, it makes her feel small and jagged.

"We're leaving." The three stop to look at her before saying their goodbyes.

Impulsively she looks at Dae-sung and he meets her eyes for once. Maybe this had all been in her head. Her stupid imagination.

"Dae-sung, I'm so proud of you! Good night."

He stands frozen, unprepared for her exclamation before he nods smiling at her.

"Thank you brother. Get home safely."

Fake smile. This time the pain is in her chest.

When she's safely back in her room she stares at her ceiling, head of full of questions and worries. All about a certain swimmer. Void of another stoic boy.

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She wakes up late and dashes through the door, grabbing her bike and pedaling until her feet hurt but she makes it to school with two minutes to spare.

Waves good morning to her friends minus Dae-sung who isn't in his seat, she struggles to focus as she stares blankly at her notebook devoid of any notes. Head too full of thoughts to process any new information. She doesn't even notice Heon staring at her, confused that she isn't staring back.

Dae-sung doesn't show up until lunch and she lights up before realizing he isn't alone. The same girl from the tteokbokki shop is walking very close to him, their shoulders brushing with every step. Dae-sung waves happily when he sees them all before stopping to motion at the girl.

"Everyone this is Seong Mi-Ho, she's in the same lunch period as us! Is it okay if she sits with us?" He asks hopefully and Ha-Young scoots over giving her ample space and he smiles in gratitude. Dae-sung looks at the remaining seats hesitating before sitting next to her, directly across the other girl.

They eat comfortably, but she can't help sneaking glances at the other girl. She seems nice, laughing and asking them all questions but it's obvious her attention is mostly focused on Dae-sung, enraptured every time he speaks.

"Sol-i ah do you want to go to the bathroom with me?" Ha-Young's voice cuts through her contemplation and she jumps before answering, "Yes I'll come."

She bounds after her friend before walking straight into her back with a soft oomph.

Grabbing her forehead she looks up at Ha-Young in question.

"Sol-i, are you okay?"

She squirms under the penetrating stare, shifting from side to side before tugging at her hair.

"What do you mean?"

A thin eyebrow raises, "You haven't been staring at Heon at all today. Do you not like Seong Mi-Ho? You keep looking at her."

She rushes to immediately deny that speculation, "No! I mean yes! I mean..."

Ha-Young crosses her arms now, gaze getting harder as she struggles to find an answer.

"I.. Ha-Young ah....have you ever realized something when it was too late?"

The girl tilts her head accessing her with a sharp gaze.

"What are you talking about?"

She loses her nerve, feeling stupid in Ha-Young's no nonsense gaze. The last time they'd spoken she had adamantly told the other girl she had no interest in Dae-sung, how could she possibly say that she was faltering now? Plus he'd only been joking she'd gotten nervous for no reason, overwhelmed at the idea of someone liking her. Liking Heon was easier, she could do so without any expectation.

"Nothing. I'm just feeling tired I didn't get enough sleep last night." She lies walking towards the bathroom, desperate to keep her new feelings to herself.

It's better this way.

#a love so beautiful #a love so beautiful 2020 #shin sol i #dae sung #Cha Heon will barely speak or do anything just like the show #jeong jin-hwan #kang Ha-Young #part 1 #I think it'll be 3 parts #some angst and longing #then fluffy fluff #fix it #for the 3 people who said they wanted this

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thatsparrow · 4 years

Text

(read on ao3)

Lapin wakes up in shadow, beaten and broken badly enough that the air is heavy with the sugar-rich smell of his own blood.

In sweetness—, he thinks. But where is my strength now?

His senses return to him slowly, but when they do, the picture they paint is an un-pretty one: a six-by-eight foot cell of hewn stone, matching sets of cinched iron manacles running between his wrists and ankles to bolts in the wall, the feeling of sticky, half-dried chocolate across an aching stretch of his abdomen. His staff is missing, as are his Primogen robes, but there is a small huddle of pink-and-red peppermint near his feet, something with twitching ears and a curlicue tail and sharp button-black eyes.

"So we're alive, then," Lapin says, gingerly lifting himself into a sitting position while the pig—Priscilla? Praline? No, Preston—shuffles forward and nudges at his hand with a soft, damp nose. "Perhaps the Bulb is capable of kindness after all."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that, apostate." Walking up on the other side of the bars is the young Commander Grissini, flanked by two fellow Ceresian guards. He looks battle-weary and bloodstained—though, notably, not with his own; blackberry jam, if Lapin had to guess, judging by the smell of sugared fruit. (Heaven knows he'd never respected them, but Lapin will certainly credit the Tartguard for that particular moment of loyalty.)

"Just a joke, Commander." Lapin's mouth narrows in a tight smile. "I know well that the Bulb has no capacity for kindness or mercy. Has your Pontifex told you that, I wonder? Do you know you serve a hollow god?"

"Silence, heretic," one of the guards hisses. "Keep your false words behind your teeth unless you'd like me to cut them from your tongue."

Lapin lets his smile widen but remains quiet; there's surely pain enough in store for him without inviting more of it himself.

"Easy," Grissini says to the guard. "The Pontifex warned us of the lies he would tell. A rabid dog barks loudest when it feels the chain tightening around its neck."

Lapin exhales—not quite a laugh, but not entirely humorless either. A rabid dog. Well, he's been called worse.

"Something funny, apostate?" A line creases Grissini's brow. "I can't imagine what you might find amusing about your situation."

Notting particularly, but Lapin is hardly about to give them the satisfaction of seeing the knotted weight of his concern instead. He'll two-step so long as he has the illusion of stable footing, however rotted and fragile the foundations might really be.

"Tell me," he says after a moment, "Sir Keradin, in the cathedral—he killed me, did he not?"

"He did."

"And yet given that I am here, alive, I must have been revivified, yes?"

"Obviously," Grissini says with a note of impatience.

Interesting, Lapin thinks. And likely inauspicious. He glances between Grissini and the two guards at his side, then lets his eyes alight on the man at Grissini's left, the one who'd threatened to cut out his tongue. He considers the man, makes a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat. "Would you like to know what I saw in the afterlife?" Lapin says to him. "Would you like to know the true form of your Bulb? How many can say they've been blessed enough to behold it themselves?"

The guard looks between him and Grissini, the sharp, irate lines of his expression bent a little by uncertainty. Then to Lapin, voice notably less assured than before, "I would never be so foolish as to trust your falsehoods."

"Understandable," Lapin muses. "But how can you be sure that I'd lie? Even for a man with such conviction in his faith, aren't you the slightest bit curious of what I have to say?" Lapin raises an eyebrow.

The guard hesitates for a moment. Lapin gestures for him to move closer. Slowly, his face warring between anger and doubt, he crouches down to where Lapin sits.

"Ennio—" Grissini says, warning. Lapin leans towards the bars, lowers his voice for Ennio's ears alone.

"It was luminescent and shining," Lapin whispers. "The most beautiful thing for miles, brighter than any that had come before or would follow. To walk closer demands that you shield your eyes, lest your vision be burned away as punishment for your hubris. But I did approach, and I felt its light and its heat and its power, and then I opened my eyes—just for a moment—and do you know what I saw?"

Ennio tilts his head closer, eyes shut, his forehead pressed against the iron as he listens.

"—Nothing." Ennio recoils as if scalded, mouth twisted in a snarl. Lapin raises his voice as he continues, grinning wide. "All that beauty and all that brightness and nothing beneath it!" He feels fingers at his throat as Ennio's hand shoots through the bars, fisting around his collar and yanking him forward. Sharp, bruising pain blooms across his face as he slams into the metal, splitting his lip and the skin above his eye, snapping something in his nose, reopening a healed-over wound on his temple. Lapin can taste chocolate on his teeth and laughs, loud and reckless. "Congratulations, for your faith is akin to a man praying for salvation at the foot of a fucking boulder—"

"Enough!" Grissini shouts as Ennio starts to move again, shouldering him back from the bars, one hand closing around Ennio's wrist until he gives up his hold on Lapin's collar. Lapin falls back against the wall, still smiling as something begins to swell above his eye, blood pooling along his upper lip and against his gums. Grissini shoves Ennio back against the far wall, forearm up under his chin, and says, "Leave—" he jerks his head at the other guard, "—both of you, until you can learn some composure."

Grissini holds himself in front of Ennio until he relents, then gives a curt nod as he straightens his uniform, adjusts the grip on his spear, and turns to walk back down the hall with his compatriot. Before he goes, he spits on the ground in front of Lapin's cell, muttering something that sounds like filthy fucking heretic.

"Have you always been such a fool?" Grissini asks once they've gone. "Or does being in Comida bring it out in you?"

"I can see very few bright spots from my current vantage, Commander," Lapin says, wiping some of the blood from his nose, his temple, his eyebrow. His smile fades. "Forgive me for having enjoying a moment of levity when the opportunity appeared."

"Your situation can always be made worse." Grissini leans on his spear; it at least seems clean of dried jam or crumbs of shortbread crust. Then again, how much difference does it make that he didn't do any of the killing himself? "I say that not as a threat, but as a reminder. You are only alive because it suits the will of the Pontifex. So long as she believes you are useful, she will take whatever steps necessary to wring out your remaining value."

"If that bloated broccoli bitch thinks I'm helping with anything, then I look forward to enlightening her."

"Bulb above, wake up!" Grissini snaps. "Are you truly so oblivious to the nature of your situation that you need me to spell it out for you? There is no future in which you live to see the outside of this prison. While you are here, the Pontifex will make use of the wide scope of her imagination and the tools at Sir Keradin's disposal until you surrender any and all information you have about House Rocks, your fellow Candians and their political intentions, and the source of your witchcraft." Grissini pauses; Lapin is as weary as he's ever been, his eye nearly swollen closed from the bruising blow of the bars, but he could almost mistake the expression on Grissini's face for something akin to shame. "Undoubtedly the process will be both slow and painful. Once it's done, should you have proved to be compliant and your intelligence reliable, she may be merciful enough to allow you a quick death." He blinks, eyes shifting away from Lapin's stare before meeting it again. "Far likelier, though, that she devises some new punishment to fill your final days, simply for the inconvenience you've caused her thus far."

"You don't seem particularly pleased at that prospect, Commander," Lapin ventures, watching the slight shifts in Grissini's face. "Won't you also be excited to watch the 'false prophet' burn?"

Grissini holds himself carefully still. "I have tremendous respect for the Concorde, for the duties of my station, and for the oaths I have taken to Ceresia and the Emperor," he says after a moment. "That does not mean I take any satisfaction in the outcome awaiting you. From what I witnessed on the Sucrosi Road and in the tournament, as well as in the cathedral, you and your fellow Candians seem a group worth admiring." He exhales, slow. "I am—truly sorry that this is the future we find ourselves in."

"Sorry enough to help me attempt an escape?" Grissini maintains his steady, statue-faced look, and Lapin smiles a little ruefully. "No, I didn't think so. I thank you for your insights, Commander, and for your kind words—however hollow they might be." Grissini winces a little; a cheap barb, but at this particular point, Lapin won't deny himself such pettiness. "Was there anything else? If not, I would ask you to let me enjoy whatever remaining peace and quiet I am permitted."

Grissini works at his jaw, brow still creased. "Save your breath on spellcasting; the cell has been enchanted by the Pontifex herself to prevent any witchcraft. I believe your first—interrogation is scheduled for tomorrow morning, so you should still have some hours to rest." He turns to go, then pauses. "For what it's worth, they haven't been found yet—your king and the princesses, nor Sir Theobald or the Jawbreaker boy. If they've managed to escape Comida, there may still be some hope for them."

And then he's gone.

In the dim light of the cell, Lapin lets out a deep sigh, allowing his face to bear all the weight of the bone-deep exhaustion he's felt since waking; he has no way of seeing his reflection, but he wouldn't be surprised to see new wrinkles dug in around his eyes and bridging his forehead. Heavens, he's so tired. Next to him, Preston makes a soft whuffing noise and clambers half into his lap, circling a few times before settling in a tight peppermint curl, his snout pressed into the crook of Lapin's left elbow.

"Alright, but just this once," Lapin says, petting absently at the soft, peach-fuzz stretch of skin between Preston's ears. "And only because this will stay with us." He scratches under Preston's chin, then notices a clump of something sticky dried into the short bristles of Preston's fur, minty-smelling blood congealed around scarred-over skin, ragged wounds that match the barbed edges of Keradin's mace.

"What a bastard." His hands are gentle around the pale pink stretches of new skin. "Who goes after a pig." He murmurs the incantation for a healing spell—both for poor Preston and himself—but true to Grissini's word, nothing happens. Unfortunate; in addition to Preston's wounds, he can feel at least two cracked ribs in his own chest.

"I should give the Pontifex more credit for her counter-charms," Lapin says after a moment. "That, or you've cut your losses and found a new attendant." He smiles wryly. "Likely one who can serve your interests more effectively than from a cell."

He waits, but there's no answer. Were he a hopeful man, he might attribute the silence to the Pontifex's wards, shielding any divine influence from entering the cell as effectively as they've dampened his own spellcasting ability. Far likelier though that he's been abandoned to his fate.

"I suppose it's just you and I now, Preston." He glances down and takes some small comfort in the continued rise-and-fall of Preston's chest. "For the moment, at least. Admittedly, this isn't how I'd envisioned the end of my particular story, but the dice fall where they may. Heaven knows there are worse companions I might have found myself with."

Preston lets out another contented whuff and resettles himself, eyes gently closed.

"I think you have the right idea there," Lapin says, resting his head on the wall behind him, doing his best to ignore the slight crag of stone jutting into his lower back. "If Commander Grissini is to be trusted—and, in this case, I believe he is—then such moments of peace will be few and far between in the days to come."

Whuff, whuff.

"Yes, I'm glad to hear they're alright, too, though I'd place little faith in our paths crossing again. My apologies—I know I'm not the companion that young Liam was."

Whuff. Whuff, whuff.

"Very well, I shall endeavor to sleep. Perhaps we'll wake in the morning to find a kinder world."

Whuff.

"No, I don't think so either."

As Lapin closes his eyes and counts the measure of his breathing, he works very hard to rein his wayward thoughts back from dark visions of tomorrow, of windowless rooms and tables with built-in restraints and long trays of metal-mouthed implements. Focuses instead on remembering his study in Castle Candy, flickering firelight against the bound spines of his books, sugar-spun windows opening up to a view of the grounds below, the purple-tipped peaks of the Great Stone Candy Mountains to the north.

Breathe.

A forest of ice cream-frosted evergreens instead of Sir Keradin's blade digging for secrets under his skin. Spring afternoons by the banks of the Cola instead of the sickly yellow light of the Pontifex's magic. Powdered motes of pastel dust in the castle library instead of hands tightening around his throat or firebrands pressed against his feet. Home instead of a cell. Safety instead of this aching pit in his stomach.

Breathe, Lapin. It is all you can do for the moment.

When he finally drifts off, the sleep he finds is a fitful one, punctuated by uneasy, sharp-edged dreams. Slowly, though, his mind drifts towards calmer waters, the soothing rhythm of a lazy current, true rest for his worn-down mind. At one point, Preston shifts in his lap, still half-asleep, nosing the air around them curiously. Almost as if he'd caught the faint smell of sugar plums.

#dimension 20 #a crown of candy #acoc spoilers #lapin cadbury #d20 fic #my fic

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jenovahh · 4 years

Text

The Honey Pot - Ch. 5 - My Name is Honey

“Welcome to the Galvus Estate.”

The words of the Hyur chauffeur pretty much pass in one ear and out the other, for you can’t keep your jaw from dropping at the sight of Zenos’ home.

Wrought in hauntingly beautiful metal, the Galvus Estate sits primly upon the hill that you are at the base of. Well-manicured gardens sprawl out what feels like for malms before the opulent mansion, showcasing a variety of flora which you can tell isn’t native to Hingashi. Multiple fountains of varying styles are sprinkled across the garden, the miniature shows eye catching as the car slowly pulls down the hand laid brick road.

Dark in color, the architecture of the estate differs greatly from any home (or any building in general) of that in Kugane, leaving you to wonder if it’s design hails to their Garlean heritage. As far as you knew, Varis himself was not a native to Kugane; that he immigrated from Garlemald as a child and that for someone with so much power, most of his origins are shrouded in mystery.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you try to not look too shocked; the very vision of a have-not being brought into the world of the haves. The chauffeur seems to realize he’s lost you and continues his drive to the front of the estate. Once there, he puts the car in park and steps out so that he may open your door for you.

He’s a bit late however as you’ve already done the job for him, ignoring his reserved sigh as he reaches to steady the door as you shakily climb out. “Ma’am, you still look very hurt,” He murmurs, holding out his other arm in offering.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” You huff, standing on unstable feet, willing yourself to stand upright. A pain shoots up your right leg and you begin to go down, but thankfully the chauffeur’s reflexes are somewhat fast enough to catch you before you collapse entirely.

“Obviously.” He drones, pulling you back up and clutching onto you. “While I’m sure you have your pride Miss, I ask you to remember I too, have a job to do.” He speaks softly, giving you a knowing look. “Not all of us are...built to receive punishment for failure.”

Catching his grave meaning, you nod silently, allowing a bit more of your weight to rest on him. “I’m sorry.” You whisper, watching as he gently closes the door. With a gentle nudge he urges you toward the grand front doors, the brick beneath your soles somehow managing to feel just as fine as it looks. Just as you reach the door it’s opened by a housekeeper, who gives you a slight bow.

“Also for the record...I wasn’t punished. I fought Zenos,”

The chauffeur grips your side tight and you yelp in pain. “I do not know much about your relationship to Lord Zenos, but I advise you against addressing him so casually in public. People like me have only heard hearsay of your coming. You don’t want to give anyone the wrong idea, should it leak out to the public.” He hisses underneath his breath, guiding you past the grand staircase that is in the foyer. “One might guess you are quite close. Employees certainly do not stay within the estate.”

You purse your lips as he guides you through another door, deciding to heed his words. Like it or not, this was the path you were given, not the one you had chosen. From the tone of his voice, you wonder if the chauffeur has seen employees leave work to go home; and never come back.

“Why tell me this?” You ask, curiosity getting the best of you.

“None of us want to work here. But no one wants to struggle either. And just looking at you...I can tell this is the last place you want to be.” He smiles easily, accenting his already handsome features. “Also...you’re the first person to ever thank me. I’ve been workin for these guys for about three years now.”

That brings a smile to your own face. “I hope I get to see you around more often then.” You beam at him, watching as his cheeks tint red.

“You might. I’m Lord Zenos’ personal chauffeur.” He murmurs bashfully, leading you down another hallway. The estate certainly didn’t look this big from the outside, but you did only see the front of it to be fair.

“Got a name?” You ask, eyes wandering over the expensive artwork lining the walls. It seemed Varis certainly wasn’t above flaunting his very obvious wealth.

“Ardbert.” he answers, finally coming to a stop at a door. “We’ve arrived at your rooms. Just give me a moment,” Fishing what looks to be a credit card from his pocket, he presses it to the access point on the outside, the device chirping happily much like the one at the highrise. Leading you in, it is far grander than you ever expected.

“This is the wing where Lord Zenos stays. His room is the floor above this one. Your uniform,”

Ardbert’s words once again become background noise as you look around slack jawed. The walls are painted in a striking red with an elegant, black design strewn across it. Your bed sits against the far wall, now situated in the middle instead of tucked against itl. A canopy sits on top of the bedposts, your mouth forming an “o” as you can see a beautiful landscape painting on its underside.

Your room has a desk tucked against another wall, along with dressers and a walk-in closet. There’s a door that leads to your personal bathroom, which you are ecstatic to get a look at were Ardbert not doing his best to walk you to the bed as you try to crane your neck to look at everything.

“Ma’am,”

“Honey.” You interrupt, flashing him a smile. “None of that ma’am stuff.”

He gives a small smile at that. “Only when we are alone.” He concedes, giving you a none-too-gentle nudge to sit upon the bed. It almost feels like it’s trying to drag you into its cozy grasp as soon as you make contact. “While I don’t know how you managed to get so banged up, I am under strict orders to make sure you rest until the resident doctor is here to check up on you.”

Deciding to not make his job harder on him, you nod and allow the bed to draw you in. “All right. But only ‘cause you asked.” You snicker, appreciating how he always seems to return your smile.

“I appreciate it. And...take care of yourself.”

With that, he makes his way out the door, shutting it behind him.

You lie there and stare absentmindedly at the painting on the canopy, wishing you knew more about brush strokes and techniques to appreciate it better. Instead, you just lie there and let your bones relax, the pain mostly a distant soreness. They had given you some pretty strong painkillers, and from the look of the doctors’ faces, you’d think you had come from the brink of death and not a little spar with the Galvus heir.

That bastard.

Just thinking about him sets your blood to boiling, wishing you could land another fist in his face. And in his stomach. A swift kick in the balls to add insult to injury.

The train of thought pulls your lips into a sadistic smile, imagining taking advantage of your newfound position to get some good payback on Zenos yae Galvus. Even he himself said your place as his bodyguard was merely for show; nothing but pure looks. He gave you a position where you could be kept close with little question as to why, free for him to use you as he wished.

Even though the situation had not turned out exactly as planned, you still could find some humor in it. You could already imagine the look on his face when you finally did him and his father in, wiping their crime from the face of the star.

A knock on the door jolts you from your plotting, shouting for whoever is outside to enter. The Miqo’te doctor you saw yesterday strolls in, stethoscope hanging loosely around his neck. “Greetings.”

“Hello.” You return, eyes fixated on him as he moves to stand beside your bed. Did everyone who worked for the Galvuses speak so properly?

“How are you feeling?” He asks, hands pulling his stethoscope from around his neck, placing them in his fuzzy ears.

“Not too bad. Bit sore, but nothing another night’s rest won’t fix.” You reply, watching his expression turn into one of pure confusion as he conducts his light examination.

“A bit...sore you said?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah. Why?”

His features pinch together as much as possible, before he pulls away. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. Though I must say...you have quite a few people in shock.” He finally answers, relaxing his face.

You tilt your head in confusion this time, watching as his eyes dart toward the door.

Leaning closer, he begins to whisper, “I know you’re new here, but I don’t think you grasp what you did.” His ears twitch nervously, as if searching for any foreign noise. “That you faced Lord Zenos is shocking enough...but that you lived to tell the tale has anyone who knows absolutely floored.”

“What? He doesn’t have any lackeys worth sparring?” You question, shifting to sit yourself up, forcing the doctor to sit back.

“There are very few....very few people who have dueled Lord Zenos. Not all have lived. And those that have were instead given to Lord Varis, to protect him.” The doctor explains, constantly glancing at the door. “You’ve fought him, lived, and walked away with bruised ribs at the worst. Others have had their bones entirely broken,”

“Speaking ill of me, are you?”

The doctor freezes up with fear, tail frizzing as Zenos steps into the room. Somehow he seems far too large for it, despite all the ceilings being noticeably higher than Doman architecture. “O-Of course not, Lord Zenos,” the doctor trembles, sparking your anger.

“He was telling me what a shitty employer I have.” You interject, meeting Zenos’ cool gaze with a fiery glare, inflamed further as his lips pull into an easy smile.

“I see your time in bed has done little for your tongue.” He drawls, looming closer. Your body rises naturally, kneeling in the plush covers so you may jump up at any moment.

“I’ve enjoyed my time in bed. It means I don’t have to deal with you.” You sneer, teeth bared as he stands at the foot of the bed. Something flashes across his eyes, something akin to interest as his eyes drink in your battered form.

“Luckily for you, my bodyguard is of no use to me broken and bruised. How much longer until she’s healed?” Zenos asks, settling to ignore you instead. The doctor nearly jolts at suddenly being addressed, his ears pressing flat against his head.

“Her vitals seem to be in stable condition, however,”

“That is not what I asked.” Zenos states coldly, that apathetic edge back to his voice. The glare he fixes on the shuddering doctor would kill him if it could, and it’s at that moment you decide you’ve had enough.

Standing atop your covers, you drag his attention back to you as you fist your strongest hand in his shirt. It’s soft to the touch, designer probably, for how plain it looks. But that’s not what matters right now. “I’m feeling just dandy.” You growl, hating how he places that stupid grin of his back on his face.

“Are you now?” He purrs, his eyes dipping to how your arm trembles. In a flash he makes a move to punch your side but you catch his fist with ease, wincing at the pain that shoots up your arm, unable to hide the cry of pain. “You are still unfit to serve me quite yet.” In a show of speed he frees his fist to grab your own, yanking hard to disrupt your balance and spin you around, pulling you against him, front to back.

You grit your teeth as he locks your arm behind your back, unable to move unless you feel like dislocating your shoulder. It rankles that he knows you know that. As if the doctor still isn’t in the room, he rests his chin on your shoulder, his hair tickling what bare skin is exposed to the air, drawing a gasp from you. For someone with such a cold demeanor, he is surprisingly warm. “Let me go, you overgrown, insufferable,” Your tirade is cut short as you stop to jerk away from his face as he presses closer.

He chuckles at your insults, the sound rumbling through you in the most delicious way. “Don’t stop on my account. Snarl and bite and gnash. Hate me if that’s what you must do. So long as you never stop fighting, living for that rush of blood, my beast.” His breath rolls across your skin, the sensation cool to the steadily rising warmth you feel. The man is a furnace. “I have found your strength and it is now mine. Deny my words all you want...but even now…” He pauses to laugh low and deep, and your teeth unconsciously bite down on your lip. “I can feel your pulse racing in my hand.”

You fall forward as he releases you, huffing indignantly as you flip yourself to face him. He studies you in silence for a moment before finally looking to the doctor. “She is to remain in bed until she is fully healed and ready for combat. Until then she doesn’t leave this room.”

“I’m right here, you know!” You hiss, glaring at his condescending smile.

“And here you shall stay. I look forward to you unleashing all that pent up anger when I see you next, my beast.” Done with the conversation, he turns with a flash of golden hair and strolls out the door.

You would kill him.

Well you wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Then you would be no better than he was.

Somehow that fact hadn’t sunk in...your doctor looked nearly ready to pass out from fear. Was Zenos’ reputation truly that horrible? Was there truth to the myth?

Had he really meant it when he said he would leave Nael there to die…

The thought that someone could be so heartless, so callous about another’s life, that they felt they could snuff them out whenever they inconvenienced them…

It’s what fueled your irritation as you were escorted across the estate grounds to Zenos’ personal training room, your fists flexing in the freshly bought fighting gloves you were given. Your favorites were stashed away in a drawer where hopefully no one would think to toss them out, or so you hoped. The fact that you were given an entirely new wardrobe without being asked or at the very least measured, concerned you a little less than it should have. ‘These damn rich people.’ you mumble internally, wiggling your toes in your brand new tennis shoes. Top of the line like nearly everything else in this Twelves damned, oversized house.

You’ve already made a decent map in your head back to your room, that way you can start walking yourself around the estate, and hopefully, snoop around in the future. The escort stops before an elegant metal door and you whisper a quiet word of thanks as you watch him press his card to the access point to let you inside.

The training room certainly is a lot more personal indeed, lacking the size and space of the gym at the high rise. The walls are painted a glaring red like the majority of the mansion, multiple weights of varying sizes lining one wall. A miniature fridge sits in one corner filled with a multitude of beverages, from water to what looks like sports drinks considering they have no label. The room is almost somewhat barren in comparison, save for a wall holding multiple training weapons on its racks.

Oddly enough, Zenos is seated in the center of the room, legs crossed in meditation, the pose looking strangely natural and effortless for someone of his bulk. His hands rest upon his muscular thighs, face completely relaxed as he controls his breathing. His breathing is so controlled, one might think he is not breathing at all.

“I’m here.” You announce, walking further into the room. His eyes slowly open to land on you, fixing you with a solid stare. “So you are.” He murmurs, giving you a once over. “And looking almost presentable. Enjoy your rest?” He asks and you have to remind yourself it’s not out of genuine concern for you.

“It ended far too soon.” You huff, watching as he stands to his bare feet, towering over you once more. You find yourself wishing that the only time you were taller than him wasn’t when he was on the ground. He is dressed much the same as you, a simple workout shirt loosely clinging to every bit of muscle he had, with equally form fitting pants. Had you already not pegged him as an apathetic narcissist, you’d think he was doing it on purpose.

Then again…

“So. You hired me as your bodyguard, what now? I just wake up and follow you around like a lost puppy? Hit anyone who calls you a mean name?” You snark, beginning to do your warm up stretches. He watches your every move like a hawk, and even were the situation different you weren’t sure if you would find it flattering or creepy.

“If that’s your prerogative. You are under my employment and my father’s by proxy. Therefore, there are rules you still must follow.” He explains, moving closer to you. His hand reaches out to grab your arm before you can jerk away, guiding it to a more comfortable position in a way that is strangely gentle. “I will explain the terms of your employment, after we have dueled.”

You mutter a begrudging thanks, finding the position much easier to stretch in. His eyes never leave you as you go through your motions, and it is clear he sees you as something to move and touch as he wishes; but thankfully he’s not handsy. His nudges and adjustments are purely instructional, his eyes completely analytical. “You are clearly trained, but have not studied anatomy. Most of your forms are off.”

“What kinda street rat knows anything about anatomy?” You retort, coming up from your final stretch. He’s finally backed off, walking back to the center of the floor. You watch his back muscles flex as he swoops his curtain of hair into his hands, elegantly pulling it into a ponytail.

“A street rat indeed…” He murmurs more to himself even if the words make it to your ears. “Your training does not speak of someone who has lived their life on the streets.” He observes, hawk eyes watching your every step as you come to meet him on the floor. You do your best to keep your expression in check, realizing that Zenos is not just a wall of muscle. He’s obviously smart.

“Are you gonna stand there yappin’ or what?” You spit, raising your fists to guard yourself. He sees your diversion for what it is by the glint in his eye, but is willing to let it slide as he brings his own arms up.

“You won’t hold back on me this time will you?” he asks, excitement glittering in his gaze as he slowly starts to circle you. You release a rude snort, unable to keep your lips from quirking upward. “You sure you want that? I handed your ass to you pretty good from what I recall.” You taunt, flexing your fingers.

“I would love nothing more.” He purrs, stepping in to make his first strike. You dodge him easily, able to weave your smaller form underneath the wide arcs of his punches. Deciding that it can’t get much worse from here, you don’t hold back, unleashing the full force of your schooling upon the eccentric heir. His face is pinched in concentration but the thrill never leaves his eyes, his exhilaration shining through in each strike. His blows seem to carry more force and it is with mild offense you realize even he was holding back on you that day.

How dare he.

Sweat drips down your back, your shirt clinging to your form as the two of you fight, adrenaline and excitement flowing through your veins like a delicious cocktail. Still, he will not let you get a hit in, his guard too solid, and he knows by now you’re willing to take a hit to get in one of your own. You’ve not had to think this hard about an opponent in so long, that you can’t help keep the smile off your face as you catch his fist in your hand.

He returns it, eyes gleaming brightly as he makes to grab you by the arm, but you are too swift, weaving out his grasp. He’s far too sturdy to nudge, and only a full fledged grab will do. You gasp as he manages to grab your arm and hold fast, his smirk downright feral. You tug and you pull to wrench your arm free, struggling to fight against his brute strength. He tries to pull you closer and you plant your feet down trying to twist out of his grip but he keeps step with you, smirk shining with victory.

Time to wipe it off his face.

Giving a sharp tug, you force him to move his weight with yours if he wants to keep you held. His free arm moves to grab hold but you grab him first, quickly turning your back to him and pulling him close. Bracing your legs you crouch down low and pull, yelling with the effort as you topple his weight and flip him backwards over your shoulder. He manages to twist himself to where he lands on his knees but he is on the floor regardless, and you grasp him by the collar in victory.

“Nice try.” You beam, chest heaving as you look down upon the Galvus heir. He stares up at you in disbelief again, his eyes wide with bewilderment and...wonder?

A trick of the light.

“Truly...there has been no greater prize I have won from my hunt…” he heaves, and you notice that he’s actually broken a sweat. His shirt hugs his chest tight, leaving little to the imagination as he gazes up at you, his blue eyes jumping across your features. “You are something else, my beast.” He purrs, despite how you clutch his shirt tighter and near your face to his.

“I told you. My name. Is Honey.” You bite out, for what good it does you.

“So you have said. But I find it a much more fitting name.” He croons, his cool breath slipping across your face. “A rat, plucked from the streets of savages--”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as you slam him on his back, digging your knee into his chest. “I will end you.” You hiss, wishing anything you said would have the proper effect on this man.

“You might be able to back up such claims, my little savage, but you lack the conviction.” He laughs, the sound growing louder as you sock him in the jaw.

“Shut up!” You snarl, praying he doesn’t notice your fist shaking.

“Do it then, Honey. Kill me, if that’s what you want.” He challenges, his body going completely lax beneath your own. He holds your gaze in a solid, unwavering stare, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.

You could do it.

You could end him right here.

Your hands around his neck, he’s clearly defenseless; you’d just have to make a break for it before anyone could come check on him. You’d already be gone.

Your hands circle around his neck, and he has still yet to do anything to stop you. You squeeze, squeeze hard, feel the muscle and the veins cave under your hands. He hasn’t stopped staring, hasn’t stopped smirking even as you try to force yourself to add more pressure, to crush his windpipe--

“You disgust me.” You seethe, rising off of him and heading for the door, leaving the Galvus heir alone in the room.

#zenos #zenos yae galvus #ff14 #FFXIV #Final Fantasy XIV #THP #my writings

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clinioelerrante · 4 years

Text

To be fainthearted…

That a student of Hogwarts was prowling the corridors of the castle in the wee hours of the morning was not uncommon.

The fact that this student belonged to Gryffindor House was even less so.

That such a student had hair that was red as hellfire could almost be considered normal.

The fact that this particular student was mumbling curses and oaths about a certain frizzy-haired which, it had been part of the regular school scene for more than 4 years.

But for such a student, at the height of Dolores Umbridge's reign of terror, to wander aimlessly, alone, under a disillusioning spell, with the marauder's map in hand and risking exemplary punishment or even expulsion from school, was decidedly atypical.

“A fucking wart? Mmm-hmm. A fucking wart and a fucking teaspoon?...” He mumbled as he took long strides through the corridors, almost oblivious to everything else. “My arse!”

Everything had started after the DA meeting. Cho Chang had accosted Harry in room of requirement while the rest of the group had dispersed. Hermione and he had gone to Gryffindor common room at and were having a relaxed conversation until she insisted that he complete his task while she wrote a letter. Hermione's parchment was already over the edge of the table and hanging dangerously close to the floor, when Harry came through the hole behind the portrait.

It had been perfectly obvious that something had happened. While one could not say that Harry had arrived with a completely dumb face, it was no less true that he was the closest thing to the face of someone who had been struck by a stunning spell.

With Harry’s apparent inability to explain what had happened, Hermione had taken the initiative in the conversation until he blew up the cauldron:

“Have you kissed?”

Wait... What? Harry would have kissed Cho or maybe it was Cho who kissed Harry? After the initial surprise, he was enthusiastic about his friend and wished he did it.

Of course! He'd been aware of Hurry’s crush on Cho since last year. One would have to be blind not to see him with that deer's eyes accompanied by a slight drooling every time Cho entered the scene! But following the usual pattern of shitty luck in Harry Potter's life that was the time when the bird was dating Cedric Diggory.

The memory of the partner killed by Peter Pettigrew overshadowed Ron's memories. Cedric was a good guy and his end had been unexpected, unjust and one more to add to the long list of Wormtail's coward crimes. Top of them, the betrayal of Harry's parents: Lily and James Potter.

“You filthy rat!" he swore. “If I had known, I personally would have left you alone with Crookshanks in a nice little room without a single hole in its walls and an undisturbed spell on the door.

The point was that Harry was still attached to Cho, if not more so, and it seemed that she had begun to notice Harry. There was no doubt that he had turned out to be a brilliant teacher in the DA meetings, added to his perpetual challenge to the pink toad and the legendary fight at the quidditch pitch had contributed enormously, to increase his sex appeal according to some whispered comments that he had heard between the women of the DA and some boys.

Ron wished with all his heart that, “For once!”, Harry's bad luck changed and like any normal teenager, he could live a normal life enjoying the intimate affection of a hot girl who she like him, although in his opinion ...a Tornado fan was not good enough for Harry. . . One flash of a long red hair burst into his mind making him shake his head to free himself from such disturbing vision.

But as usual, Harry hadn't had any luck with it either.

Instead of the first-time nervous or inexperienced teenager's kiss, it had resulted in little more than a disaster that had trapped Harry in the pit of insecurity in his ability to kiss properly a girl and later, with Hermione's invaluable assistance and her detailed talk about Cho Chang's state of emotional turmoil, he guessed in Harry, the doubt about the appropriateness of attempting any kind of relationship with such an emotionally damaged girl and, knowing Harry's legendary hero complex, he would be able to give up the girl if he thought it was sparing him any further pain. A massive Dragon’s dung in Ron's opinion, so he had used his best weapon to pull Harry out of his stupefaction and keep him from falling into his usual melancholy self-isolation; a joke:

“No one can feel so many things at once. It would explode!”

Ron doubted that anyone could explode because of it. If himself hadn't exploded with everything that's happened in the last year, it would be strange if someone else did. “Okay. Maybe Neville would go into a coma or pass out, but I don't think so. Dealing with Mrs. Longbottom for so many years had given him much more courage than many would give him credit for.”

In any case, Hermione's words had unleashed an emotional storm inside Ron, and the problem was that he saw no way to refute the logical sequence of events that had been linked together and seemed to form the links of a chain that wrapped around his neck.

Harry was diligent, brilliant, and handsome, he was not. Harry would have deserved to be prefect of Gryffindor, he didn't. Harry was extraordinary in Quidditch, he wasn't. . . “But Victor fucking pumpkin head Krum is too. So rich. Could be richer as Harry even and. . . . and I'm sure he's experienced enough to know how to kiss a woman properly and. . . Oh God! How does Hermione know Harry is a good kisser and who has she been able to compare him to. . . ?”

He couldn't help it. His mind was filled with the slow motion image of Hermione kissing Krum torridly, trapping his ridiculously short hair between her thin fingers and taking his lips as if from them she extracted the air she needed to breathe, while one of his hands remained on her delicate waist and the other slowly ascended from her hip to caress her entire chest, provoking a lustful moan in her.

Ron felt the periphery of his vision turn red and his fists instinctively clenched so tightly that he felt his own nails sink into his flesh. He felt the need to rip the bastard's head off and when he looked up to face him, his mind was filled with Harry's gaze as he kissed Hermione passionately.

A familiar black claw wrapped around Ron's heart and squeezed it empty until it was breathless. He had never felt such pain or such overwhelming despair. Without being able to avoid it, from the depths of his being, a cry of impotence burst out, which ascended through his throat and escaped from him like the roar of the mortally wounded lion that intends to take his killer away with his last breath. . .

“Who's there? Don't try to escape. Inquisitorial Squad, with me!”

Ron cursed himself. He was so overwhelmed by the pain his own mind had generated that he had forgotten about bloody Umbridge and its band of mangy snakes patrolling the school corridors. Without thinking too much, he rushed to the double-leafed doors in front of him and entered.

“Professor Umbridge. Here!”

Blood seemed to be boiling in Ronald Weasley's veins. He'd recognize that voice anywhere. It was like the Malfoy and Weasley families had some sort of bond in destiny that would inevitably lead them to confront each other. The bloody bouncing ferret was on the other side of the door blocking the exit and calling for the great inquisitor to fall on him. Ron could hardly have imagined the satisfaction it would cause the flathead to discover that the student who violated the curfew was a Weasley and, among them, Harry Potter's best friend, no less! Nothing would make him happier than to witness another humiliation by Ronald Weasley. He was in these thoughts when another, much more disturbing, one made its way into his mind.

Umbridge! This would be like an early Christmas present for her. She would take advantage of the fact that it was him to provoke Harry and that would give her the perfect excuse to expel him.

Shit! You bloody fool couldn't have held back yourself, he thought to himself. No wonder Hermione can't see you as anything but a good-for-nothing. . . Hermione! Oh my God! If neither Harry or I are here, the ferret and the fucking toad are going to torment her to death. They're going to beat her and provoke her mercilessly until she quits or explodes and they can finally expel her. This would kill her. Shit, shit, shit, I'm the biggest asshole on the face of the earth. . .

“Grand Inquisitor Dolores Umbridge here". The voice of the disgusting toad was heard on the other side of the door. “I order you to leave that room.”

Ron, not breathing, stood three feet from the door waiting for the fatal decay.

“There's nothing to be afraid of"; he said with false sweetness. “All of us here are friends and we care about the safety of the students at the school. The Ministry only wants the best for all the magical children in the UK...” Ron thought that sounded suspiciously similar to a certain muggle story Hermione had once told him about a witch, one stupid girl and a poisoned apple...

“I'm absolutely sure is not your fault"; and this time there seemed to be some poison in her voice. “No doubt you'd be following the horrible example of Mr. Potter and his friends about how much fun it is to walk around the castle at this hour, but they don't have the good breeding of those born into completely magical families". She said scornfully, “And they can't understand how dangerous it can be to prowl around the castle at these hours, without the supervision of someone fully versed in the ins and outs of true magic society”. Ron swore he heard a chuckle from the silver ferret. “I'm begging you to come out. I promise that you will only receive one warning and we will accompany you to your common room so that you can rest until tomorrow's class”.

That's not what you've been saying publicly so far, you bloody cow. Always promising magic world perfectly safe thanks to the ministry and your “beloved” Fudge, old hag, he thought, trembling with anger. SHE knows more about the magic world, its traditions and its miseries than you will ever know in your entire fucking life. In an ideal world, you wouldn't even be worthy of breathing the same air that she breathes. Instinctively, his magic channelled all his anger into his own hand that seemed to sizzle, longing to meet the wand that waited expectantly in his back pocket.

“Very well”, this time Umbridge's voice was definitely loaded with contempt. “I understand that if you are unable to understand the delicate complexities of the magical world and my desire to ensure your safety is because you have not had the proper education in your born-home. Nothing that a proper punishment can't solve, so, you´ll understand your place”.

This did it. Ron took three steps behind leaving its good fifteen feet with the door.

This sadist thinks it's not pureblood who is here and she's going to take advantage of it to make an example of it. His hand finally met his wand that seemed to emit a buzz of satisfaction to his contact. She will be stunned when she sees that the marauder is one of the “twenty-eight sacred". He thought this one with really loathe, like if bitter gall touched his lips at the memory. If I were anyone else I might be able to escape from this by sounding sorry, but being who I am, she's going to take advantage of it to go against both of them and if she doesn't go against Hermione, Draco will. For a moment a smile escaped his lips as he thought of what Hermione would do to Draco if he openly fought against her while remembering the superb punch the ferret had received in third year. But Malfoy will never attack her openly. He would seek a moment of solitude and would be accompanied by his two gorillas and possibly some Slytherin Deatheater apprentice and, God knows! What they would be capable of doing to her.

As his last smile died on his face, his wand was raised in his arm in a duelling position. Ron knew his fate was already decided. He knew that with him expelled, he would no longer be able to protect Harry and Hermione within the walls of Hogwarts, but nothing would stop him from defending them outside or making a last stand inside. When he confronted Umbridge and her henchmen, he would make his argument clear by giving them a hell of a wand, to make them understand that, just in the moment any of them tried to harm any of their friends, there would be no place under the sun where they could hide from him. So that miserable crew on the other side of the door would get the message and refrain from really drastic actions against his two friends.

Being Ron under age, he would not end up in Azkaban, and the fact that this stinking band knew that he would be free to show up at Hogsmeade from time to time would help reinforce the message. That would give Dumbledore and McGonagall time to regain control of the school and protect both of them. The image of a knight being taken by the queen on a gigantic chessboard gave him a crooked smile meanwhile he faced, wand in hand, his fate. Checkmate, pal.

“Alohomora!”

Alohowhat? What in the h. . .; Ron didn't have time to complete the question that popped into his mind while his frown frowned in shock when he heard the spell on the other side of the door. But, if the door's not locked, why are they. . . ? For the second time, the idea died in his mind as he watched as the doorknob seemed to turn repeatedly in the attempt of someone trying to open the door, apparently in vain.

“ALOHOMORA!” It was heard again from the other side.” What's wrong with the damn door?” Again the voice of Umbridge was heard, this time in an unmistakable tone of irritation, as the doorknob was shaken more and more violently without the door giving way by a single millimetre.

-Get out of the way! This time there was real rage in the voice of the great inquisitor. On the other side of the door, Ron heard her to perform, one after the other, no less than 10 different spells trying to unlock the door and the paroxysmal movement of the doorknob had also given way to the incensed knocking of the door, as if in a primary resource and having failed magic, brute force was being used to force entry. It was then that he realized that his wand seemed to be emitting a dull buzzing sound that made her hand tremble.

“That's enough! I'm sure this is a joke of that brazen poltergeist”. Ron smiled. The toad's voice sounded more like a big walrus's breathing down from too much exercise. “Sure. He must have let out the scream and bewitched the door so that it could not be opened"; she continued, between gasping and panting.

“But professor”, Ron shuddered again at the sound of Malfoy's voice and to realize that his wand was shaking more intensely. “We've known Peeves since the first year, and that's certainly not his voice, nor is this the style of his jokes. He tends to be cruder and coarser by throwing stink bombs or buckets of ice water on the backs of the students. . .” The ferret's peroration was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a slap on the back of his neck particularly hard.

“Stupid”. Umbridge's voice sounded particularly annoying. “Do you dare to discuss a teacher's judgment? I tell you that all this is the work of that nasty spirit and, if all of you had been properly versed in the magical arts, you would have realized it right away as well”. Ron could not help but have a panting laugh. The toad had just beaten the insufferable presumptuous, frustrated by her inability to open the door and, trying to avoid looking bad in front of her acolytes, she had diverted attention and blame onto the asshole. My word. He would have gladly paid two months' pay for being able to see the ferret's face.

“This only proves the ministry right. The quality of teaching in this place has tragically declined and it is imperative that the ministry take control of it in order to instruct the young wizards and witches in the mastery of their skills. “With me!” It was heard like a whimper and then, the unmistakable tapping of a few steps away.

Ron stood waiting for an invisible trap to fall on him; meanwhile, his wand continued vibrating in his hand, though ever more faintly, until it stopped completely. He remained motionless and almost breathless for a few more minutes, hoping to believe in his good fortune and that he really had escaped from a more than complicated situation. Finally, he decided it was time to take a chance and averted his eyes from the door and consulted the marauder's map. He couldn't believe it! On the map it could clearly read “Ronald Weasley”, but on the other side of the door the map did not reflect the presence of anyone. Even in his surroundings there doesn't seem to be a soul.

Now or never, pal; he said to himself in encouragement and then, he set about turning the doorknob which. As before, it pivoted on its axis smoothly and pulled it, the door to stay locked.

“Shit”, he mumbled, but refrained from further attempts. In a sad irony, it seemed that the same mystery that had saved his freckled arse was keeping him prisoner of the room. “Well", he closed his eyes and as he concentrated he muttered. “Whatever it is, I really appreciate you helping me out, but I'd really like to get out, get to my room and forget about tonight. I swear I've learned the fucking lesson not to wander around the castle after curfew, or at least, not to be such an asshole as to scream in the hallway after curfew”. He looked at the door again and tried to open it, and again this one remained unmoved.

“Bloody hell!” This time the tone of his voice was noticeably louder. He turned in frustration on himself and looking up at the ceiling dropped himself over the door and, leaned on the back of his head as it tapped repeatedly against the wood in an attempt to alleviate his disappointment.

“Okay! It's all right. If the price I have to pay for escaping the damn pink toad is to spend the night in this room, I'll gladly take it. Tomorrow someone will come, open the door, cast the disillusioning spell on me, sneak out and I'll manage to find a way to justify my. . .

He jumped upright as he opened his eyes wide, realizing that he had no idea where he was! It had all happened so quickly and unexpectedly that all he could remember was walking through the door that was closest to him at the time. Once the surprise was over, he began to inspect the room, hoping to recognize it.

“I should've known better”. The sad whisper escaped his lips as if it were the sigh of a condemned man whose last chance for freedom is slipping away.

The shelves followed one another in countless rows . . . “Well, surely not countless. I'll bet Hermione knows “exactly"; the number of them, as well as the number of every damn book inside each and every one of them"; he moaned.

Still, he had to admit. Empty of students, under the twilight of the moonlight filtering through the large windows, the Hogwarts Library was magnificent. Magnificent and intimidating.

“As always, she is able to see things at first sight, which takes the rest of us years"; he sighed. “No wonder I am not even able to keep up with her thoughts when that adorable head of her gets going”. And that was precisely what was bothering him most at this time and had led him to wander aimlessly through the school corridors. That with all her brilliance, all her knowledge, all her fucking logic, she wouldn't have been able to see everything that was bubbling up inside him. . .

Ron had not been aware at first, but gradually he became aware of the presence of candlelight behind some library shelves. Initially he feared that it might be because of the presence of another person in the library, whether it was a student, a teacher or, at worst, Filch and his mangy cat. So he remained quiet, but since the light seemed to be steady, no noise was heard, and the memory that the marauder's map had shown no one in the vicinity, he ventured quietly behind the bookshelf to find out what it was.

It didn't take him long to discover that it was one of the candlesticks that supplied light to the library users, but what was really curious was that it was the only candlestick that seemed to burn in the whole library. He approached it with the aim of extinguishing the candles when they went out by themselves while at the other end of the shelf the candles of another candleholder began to burn expontaneously.

Having grown up in the magic world, these kinds of situations were no surprise to him. They were fascinating, no doubt, but not at all a complete surprise.

He had long known that in one way or another, every wizard, every witch, had left the magical sight of his existence on the world. He knew many examples of them:

The essences of the four founders who died long ago, in the sorting hat. Those of his twin uncles Gideon and Fabian also killed in the first war against Voldemort, in the house clock. The Marauder’s Map, with the essence of James Potter, and his friends. Even, according to Harry's story, who-you-know-who left part of him in the diary that possessed Ginny in her first year.

With more than a thousand years of existence, it was practically impossible to know how many wizards and witches walked, studied and lived among these old stones, and each one of them left his own mark. Some would leave a barely perceptible trace, but others performed such intense episodes of magic that the traces they left behind, seemed to have a will of their own.

The hat was left with the mission of continuing to sort the students by the time the founders were gone.

The house clock, to know the status of each family member and to be able to come to their aid if necessary.

The map conspired so that the big troublemakers could keep up their mischief at school and, the diary, somehow, tried to bring Voldemort back.

This last thought plunged her spirit back into sadness and melancholy bringing back the thoughts that had made her leaves the safety of the tower of Gryffindor:

Is that really all she thinks of me? Does she really think I don't know what Cho Chang is feeling?

Like answering that question, another group of candles went out to be immediately replaced.

I can't really blame her, can I? I've never been good at expressing myself, let alone how I feel, but then again, how could I? How do you tell the most wonderful woman in the world that you're crazy for her? That you regret terribly to be a clumsy, mindless, worthless lout. Which you know you don't deserve her. That you know that you shouldn't even notice me but that you can't help but love her more than my own family, more than Harry, more than the blood that runs through my veins, more than my life itself and that knowing and feeling all that is eating me up inside. How do you tell her you feel all this and more, ‘only’, because you love her?

Ron feels that dull pain in his chest again. A veil of tears struggles to leave his eyes as he rolls his shirt sleeve over them to prevent his vision from becoming blurred, and it is when he refocuses them that he sees it. The candlestick he approaches is no longer extinguished, but seems to beat as if prompting him to approach it, and as he does so, the booklet seems to slowly separate from the rest of his companions on the shelf, prompting him to pick it up.

When Ron takes it, he feels comforting warmth in his fingers, like if the worn book is meant to convey a feeling of friendship and comfort, like if it is telling him in a mute way that everything will be all right after all. A feeling that brings back memories of the day he got his wand. Not his brother's, but his real wand.

“What do you got for me, buddy?”

There's tenderness in Ron's whisper. Any of those familiar with Hogwarts' worst-kept secret would think that the redhead is pouring out in that act and onto an object so intrinsically linked to the image of his beloved, all the love and all the delicacy that he seems unable to show her as a victim of his own inferiority complex, while unwittingly moving towards Hermione's favourite place in the library.

It's magic.

It's part of the magic that resides in every corner of Hogwarts. It is the magic trace that perhaps a long time ago, someone left to help a heart desperate to find an answer to its silent prayer and, just like it should have been long ago, when the mortified Ronald Weasley opens the book, a magic wind stirs the pages of the book showing him one of them in particular, like the old friend who gives you good advice. That's why Ron reads. He reads with such intensity that his eyes devour the words written centuries ago and as he does so his gaze gets wet. Each line is like a balm on the wounds of his tormented heart while a bright smile appears on his face. Now, Ron knows.

And when he looks up, his heart is not only filled with love for the frizzy-haired know-it-all witch, but with infinite gratitude.

Gratitude for whoever put the book on the shelf at Muggle Studies. Gratitude for the wizard or witch whose essence left such a deep mark on the old magic of the school, that it reacted to his agony and gratitude to the one who wrote the words he has just read. Words that today give him the knowledge of knowing that he is not alone, that he has never been alone. That before him, millions of men and women, wizards and witches, magicians and muggles have experienced the same feelings, confusion and agony as him, with the fortune that some of them have been so daring, so privileged in their intelligence and endowed with the gift as to be able to express them in words, and guided simply by their instinct, Ron look for parchment and quill as he begins to copy furiously. . .

Hermione Granger seemed to be sleepwalking after leaving Professor McGonagall's office. The accumulation of events that had occurred in the last few hours that she had referred, to still seemed to be getting through to her.

Mr. Weasley had been attacked in the Ministry by Voldemort's snake! And he had only escaped death because of the early warning that Harry had given.

When she woke up this morning, she was surprised not to find Harry or any of the Weasleys in the dining room, which had led to an unpleasant feeling on her chest, but what had set off all her alarms was the story from Ron and Harry's roommates. She had immediately rushed to the teachers' table, when a simple gesture from McGonagall had instructed her that this was neither the place nor the time. Something that was confirmed moments later, with the appearance of Professor Umbridge demanding to know the whereabouts of the Weasley brothers.

In her mind, she could recreate the scene as if she had been there. She was about to bet that at this moment, Harry would be oblivious to the fact that he was the one who allowed Mr. Weasley with his warning. What's more, she would bet one of her O.W.L.s marks that at this same moment Harry would be blaming himself for what happened, convinced that Arthur had been attacked simply because he was the father of his best friend and so, he would be ruminating that feeling inside himself without letting anyone penetrate the shell of isolation he would have built around him, preventing anyone from making him see the absurdity of his reasoning.

Along with this feeling, her other concern was to imagine the state of Mr. Weasley and how the rest of the family would be passing the hours.

She could imagine their reactions and the visceral fear they must have felt in their hearts, when they were woken up in the middle of the night to inform them that, their father, was struggling between life and death, the victim of a Voldemort attack.

She imagined Mrs. Weasley tried to appear strong and confident so his family wouldn't break up. To the twins, whose jokes for once could not insulate them from the merciless reality of war. To Ginny in whose mind she'd be spending her ordeal in the Chamber of Secrets, to. . .

“Ron!” The moan escaped from between her lips and her whole mind was focused on him.

Hermione knew of the particular connection between Mr. Weasley and his youngest son. That one that not only covered the physical aspects that he also shared with his brother Bill, but also on other much deeper levels.

She knew that his father, in an effort to raise a progeny that seemed to have been gifted with a stomach that was as voracious as a black hole, had been forced not to devote as much time to it as he would have liked, and so, Ron had been raised basically by his mother, Percy and the twins. . .

"If the way they are used to behaving with him could be called raising," she snorted under her breath as she thought, how much of Ron's insecure and explosive personality was the responsibility of that pair of troublemakers. The point was, when Mr. Weasley was partially relieved of that burden after the emancipation of the two older sons, he had tried to make up for that loss of attention by devoting more of his scarce free time, and had taken him to watch his first quidditch match with the Cannons, from which the redhead's eternal love for the lousy team, emerged.

But Hermione had found many other similarities. Both were brave, though they tried to avoid direct confrontation, noting in common to evil or any temptation to try to abuse any situation of privilege, nevertheless they were fierce when it came to defending what they understood to be right.

Immersed in her thoughts, her legs led her to her sanctuary, that corner of the library that took her away from the usual hustle and bustle and allowed her to concentrate on her readings and the writing of her complex essays. The same corner whose window overlooked the quidditch pitch, from which, she furtively observed the training sessions of Gryffindor's team or, perhaps it would be better to say, the developments of one of the team's newest members.

As the smile insinuated itself on her face, Hermione could not help but reflect on how extraordinarily complex it was to understand Ronald Weasley.

Ron, sighed to herself. She really couldn't understand him! There seemed to be two of them and they alternated with each other in an unpredictable way.

Ron was loyal to a fault, but sometimes he seemed a little jealous of Harry's reputation. Most of the time he behaved like an insensitive fool and yet sometimes he surprised her with gestures of infinite tenderness. She could have the funniest talk with him and tell him all the places she planned to travel when she finished school, but it was mentioning Bulgaria and Ron seemed to turn into a manticore.

When he flew over the grounds of The Burrow, he seemed to be in perfect communion with his broom. She had been surprised to discover that sometimes the twins had suddenly thrown some quaffles at him and he would alter his flight to intercept them with an almost feline grace, but it was flying over the school pitch and he becoming into a nervous mess of hands and feet struggling to hold onto his broom, with an unsettling shade of green on his face.

For the most of the people, Ron was what could be defined like a lazy who was always behind in his schoolwork and unable to perform a spell correctly during class, but, the day after she helped him complete his homework or gave him a practical demonstration on it, he seemed to be able to perform it almost perfectly and, not even then! He seems to have a consistent line of behaviour at this point. Ron didn't seem to have the slightest interest in learning basic glamour spells, how transfiguring a rat into a chalice or making a potion to cure warts, and yet, he was perfectly capable during DA’s training, of transfiguring a cushion of The Room of Requirement into a solid block of solid stone to ward off a spell cast by Harry, while he counter-attacking him by throwing impedimenta spell that caused Harry to retreat ten yards.

And in spite of all that crazy, absurd, unrealistic and incomprehensible double personality she loved him. Oh my God, how she loved him! She couldn't understand it, but it was the truth and she knew it wasn't a young girl's crush, it was something else. She could see his faults and the weaknesses of his personality that he should try to correct, such as insecurity in himself and eternal self-comparison with his brothers and in spite of everything. . . there it was. The blurred sketch of the formidable man he was destined to become just by trying it from the bottom of her heart. A man who would make any woman's heart tremble like, he already did her own.

She was deep in thought about the irritating redhead when she discovered a parchment note carelessly folded in front of the seat she used to occupy in the library.

She opened it out of curiosity, recognizing the sloppy handwriting of the object of her tribulations as she began to read it. . .

"So, what's a teaspoon?"

As they moved along the lines of the writing, her eyes widened meanwhile one of her hands went over her chest in an unconscious attempt to calm the rampant galloping of her heart that seemed to have gone mad with the careless lines of writing.

“...To seem happy, sad, haughty, understated,

emboldened, fugitive, exasperated...”

It seemed that the world had been turned upside down and where once there was a mindless lout with the same sensitivity as a teaspoon, now there was someone who had been able to correctly interpret the verses her mind was slipping on. But that was inconceivable to Ron.

He... he really can't have been able to show me this, she thought as she began to reread thinking that she was being part of some kind of joke or enchantment the twins had left behind. A joke or a spell that should perhaps be called cruel because of all it was doing to feel to her.

To be fainthearted, to be bold, possessed, abrasive, tender, open, isolated, spirited, dying, dead, invigorated, loyal, treacherous, venturesome, repressed.

Not to find, without your lover, rest. To seem happy, sad, haughty, understated, emboldened, fugitive, exasperated, satisfied, offended, doubt-obsessed.

To face away from disillusionment, to swallow venom like liqueur, and quell all thoughts of gain, embracing discontent;

to believe a heaven lies within a hell, to give your soul to disillusionment; that’s love, as all who’ve tasted know too well.

“Ro... Ron!” The exclamation escaped like a whisper from her lips while her legs seemed to waver when she completed the last line. . .

“I do”

Hermione dropped into the chair at the impending failure of her legs to hold her as the crying made its way through her chest to replace her breath with an incoherent set of hiccups and sobs meanwhile she pressed the parchment to her chest.

No. Ron Weasley was not the callous wart she had said, nor was the imbecile with the emotional range of a teaspoon. No, Ron was just a normal teenager in constant confusion because of the tide of hormones circulating in his blood, the emotional overload of facing feelings whose intensity she herself knew very well, the recognition of the darkness that was approaching, and right now, the boy who feared for his father's life and who would put under a thick shell all the pain and all the terror that his heart harboured for, with an apparent indifference to avoid further anguish to his family during these times of tribulation, just as he did in the second year, when he went into the forbidden forest with Harry.

But, above all, Ron was her friend. The friend who needed her now more than ever, and as she began to write a letter to her parents explaining why she couldn't stay with them for the Christmas break, she couldn't help but notice the tremor in her hand and how her knuckles went white clutching her quill when one simple question seeped into her head:

Who- the hell- had taught Ronald Bilius Weasley what love was?

Notes: My infinite and sincere thanks and affection to @headcanonsandmore. Without their help, it would have been impossible for me to write this text in understandable English.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25219924/chapters/61129561

I would like to say, the inspiration for this work came after having a delicious chat with the author of the fic "Books" by @fightfortherightsofhouseelves ( You can find her work here in AO3).

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14771213

Obviously, the reference poem is not mine. I wish! The author is the Spanish poet Lope de Vega. Possibly the quill who has best expressed the feelings of love through its verses in universal poetry. The English translation was done by David Rosenthal.

#romione #ron/hermione #ron weasley #hermione granger #@headcanonsandmore #@fightfortherightsofhouseelves

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