#also side note you know what would be a really permanent way to ensure he could never join Luz’s side? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luimagines · 3 years

Note

Hey, I’m not sure how to explain this but getting straight to the point, I’m the person who runs the yandere-linked-universe blog and I’m pretty sure you’re pinkittwice.

So, I was just wondering what ideas you might have about the chain being yandere for one person. Like, what would the dynamic be and how they would behave as yanderes, you know that kind of stuff.

I hope it’s not too much to ask but I’m just curious to see what you might think of it since you’re pretty much the only person on the sight that I know of who also writes things involving lu and the reader. I’m not unhappy or dissatisfied in any way but it does get a little lonely being the only person who writes stuff like this. Sorry if this is too weird.

Masterlist

Yahaha~! You found me!

Everybody go check out their stuff @yandere-linked-universe

They do cool art sometimes and are even writing a whole fic which you can find right here.

It's really well written and I'm excited to see how the story progresses and where it goes- especially endgame.

And I'm assuming the ask means if they were yandere in the same circumstance than in the story.

That being said, I'm still going to apply the rules I have set for the Links. Like how Sky was never with his Zelda and similarly how Time and Malon never really happened. As for Wind, he will not be platonic unlike in the fic mentioned above- I will explain this in his section I promise.

Also, disclaimer, I'm not good at horror and I've never written for these types of characters before. But if you want headcanons then I'll provide the brainstorm that I've been cooking up of ever since I got this ask. (And it was a while ago I'm sorry for the wait.)

I'm also including some songs that I think best fit their rose tinted glasses ideal. Not necessarily yandere and can apply to Link being in love with you in general but it's as close as I'm going to get to making a playlist.

I might come back and change them to stalker songs and add these songs to a separate list entirely but maybe not...

Content under the cut!

It's long, brace yourself.

As a group, I think jealously would run high.

Everybody wants the attention of a single person and there's eight other people as competition.

If the group was tight knit as we like to portray them, it won't last long.

If dear reader was a little caring or naturally falls into a healer/medic position in the group, the group becomes more reckless, less caring about their personal safety- if only to get a momentary caress from the love of their life's fingers as their wounds are tended to.

There's less group unity and alliances between them form.

If the reader isn't a fighter well...

They would take turns guarding their prize and fight to be the one to do it.

Leaving you behind when they go to dungeons is a must.

They won't risk you getting a scratch on your person let alone putting you in a potentially dangerous situation.

They try to keep all their weapons away and out of reach. Less you get any ideas and try to fight with them or worse, get hurt playing with them.

Or try to fight against them. HAHAHAHA!! How crazy would that be?

Like you would stand a chance.

When you're simply traveling with the group, your designated spot is on top of Epona, hands down, no questions asked.

Not only would be easier to keep an eye on you, and make it harder to get away, but Twilight has personally asked Epona (through Wolfie) that if they were ever ambushed, she was to take off with you and get away from the fight no matter the cost. She'll always come back to him anyway- so if you're tied to connected to her than all the more reason for him to be the one to retrieve you when it's all over.

The others don't like how Twilight gets to be the one to greet you first. But Epona is on Twilight's side and everyone knows it.

So they wait their turn.

You're on top of Epona even if you're a fighter as well.

If you can prove your salt and fight with them, they actually don't try to keep you away as much as they can (because now it means that they can spend more time with you!)

It instead becomes a competition to be your partner. Among the younger ones anyway.

The older ones, are less concerned now by you fighting, and more by the younger ones who keep trying to be by your side (even if that's their spot) and try to keep them out of your way.

Every bump and cut you get is treated immediately by who ever reaches you first.

It's once again a race.

The group, as yandere's go, do not know how annoying they're being nor do they plan to stop.

If you told stories of your past conquests, it a mixed bag of awe, adoration and anger for you even being put there to begin with. These thoughts are not voiced however, and they instead stew and simmer and grow into their possessive tendencies.

Because they would protect you, honor you, worship you and you wouldn't have to worry about anything ever again. Not if you were with them, not if you stayed with them, not if you were in their Hyrule.

There's a slight knee jerk reaction when you bring out your items to take it away because it's dangerous. But not only would that piss you off, it would take away what little protection you have on your person and they don't want to take any risks when it comes to your safety.

I wouldn't share too much if I were you.

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Now as Individuals they're all different, obviously.

Let's explore that.

Time

He's the most dangerous

I'm starting this off with that

I'm talking the most calculating, scheming and devious of the whole group

He know he's in charge and that the others will listen to him regardless if they actually agree with him or not

Because he's the leader

His grip on the group lessens as time goes by and their unity dissipates

But he's delusional and he doesn't realize it

However, because he's already in this position, he takes it upon himself to take care of you

And others let him

Less work for them to focus on when they can be by your side instead

You never have watch

You're always in the middle of the group

He'd gladly send the boys ahead of you into danger to make sure that they deal with it before you even get there.

The others let him with little thought because it's for you

So they go for it

Time however, is somehow, never the one to go ahead, instead waiting behind (with you) while they go ahead and deal with the issue

He gets away with this 8/10 times

Mostly because he rotates who's he's sacrificing

Dad! Time is not here- not anymore

But he lets them near you because he's only biding his time

You're meant to be

Soulmates, if you will

If a little time with you is all those boys need to stay in line and listen to him then he'll allow it

Because they're only boys

He's a man through and through

They have nothing on him

And you deserve more than a mere boy

He has some other concerns on his mind while the boys fight each other like street dogs

Time has to think about your future together so he daydreams the most out of the group.

He doesn't really have a home and a roof over his head for himself- let alone you and he knows he'd have to change that

He thinks about staying as a permanent employee at Lon Lon Ranch

He can save enough money

Buy a house

Maybe some land

And enough things for you and him to make a comfortable life without any worries

Maybe even start a family?

The dream is a reprieve form the headache that are other boys who won't leave you alone

Pray you don't end up in his Hyrule

EVER

This is just the gateway he'd be waiting for to keep you all to himself

Fighter or not it's dangerous to travel with them

You're in danger

And he won't stand for that.

He doesn't know how exactly he'd do it

But he plans to leave you at Lon Lon Ranch, waiting for him, for when he comes back after the mission

He'd have to find some kind of way to actually keep you there and find you when you inevitably try to leave the Ranch

But he's traveled all over his Hyrule

There's no place you could go that he doesn't know about

As the adult of the group, he'd step over all the others

He's not going to listen to them when they try to stop him

They don't know as much as he does

They haven't experienced as much as he has

He knows that this is the best and only option to ensure that you're safe and well taken care of

He'd doesn't mind leaving you as prisoner to the Gerudo instead either if the others start to really get pushy

It won't be comfortable and it won't be glamorous

But they'll definitely keep you in one place

And he can walk in whenever he wanted thanks to that note from the chief from a time long ago

Pick you up, take you away and you'll be his

He daydreams a lot

And he knows that you'll choose him

You have to

He's the best and only option

He's never felt happier thinking about you and the life you'll both have

He's struggled so much anyway

Maybe you were the blessing the goddesses owed him for all his work in his youth

And surely they aren't so cruel to give you to him and then take you away by some monster attack or some terrible unforeseen fate

He can't have that either

So he'll take the first and best out he's given

But while you're here with him...

He's looking at you like you're magic

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Warrior

Warrior is the least dangerous

He knows the feel of being on the receiving side of someone's obsession

He was ignorant for a long time about it

But he wasn't sure how to feel comfortable in his own skin again when he found out about it

He can see how the others are starting to show similar obsessive tendencies and tries to mitigate what he can

He does a lot of damage control

It's what he's trying to do anyway- he's not very successful

Warrior is the one who's challenging their train of thought

Why do they think this is ok? Why don't they ask you for your opinion? Why do they not give some time alone to recharge? Why don't they lay off?

Because it's totally for your benefit- AND THEIRS

Because it's not ok

He doesn't see himself follow the exactly same train of thought

He doesn't see himself doing what they're doing

He's just annoyed that they're the ones doing it

Warrior becomes the very definition of hypocrite.

However- because he's the one acting as your advocate- the others don't consider him as much as a threat and therefore more inclined to listen to him at this point in time than Time himself

It also means that they don't fight him as much when he wants time with you. Mostly because in their eyes, he's not interested

They're wrong

At some point in Warrior's attempt to keep the group together and keep you from going crazy or hating all of them, he begins to gain ulterior motives in his mission

He begins to play the role in an attempt to win you over.

Because- see, he's not like them

He won't violate your space

Go through your stuff

Or keep you from doing what you love

He's the one to say you should join them in fights, that you should stay, that you can hold your own

Since he's the main strategist in the group, he takes into account your skills and always places you at a distance from the fight or from the most obsessive the group.

He knows that their one track mind could kill you or them and there's still the darkness to defeat.

They don't have the luxury to afford this kind of distractions

When the others aren't paying attention to him, he'd pepper you with compliments and flirty lines, playing up his charm and suave attitude

He becomes the perfect gentleman

You'd never know that he's crazy

Just join him and be with him- that's all he wants

He loves you so what more is there to offer you?

He's got the status, the looks and the means to take care of you so you wouldn't have to worry about anything else

He'd be the best husband that Hyrule has ever seen

He'd hate to have the group scare you off with how over the top they've all been.

He knows the group is being annoying with being by your side all the time and how they don't let you be and how there's always someone by your side even when you're at your final straw

Warrior is the one who takes over guarding you when you need to pee or bath and actively argues on your behalf to let you take care of your hygiene.

He's not always successful but it's the thought that counts right?

Hyrule agrees with him most of the time and since Hyrule seems to be the only one who still cares (somewhat) about the mission, they make an agreement

Warrior isn't at all concerned about the others and know that you'd come around to him eventually.

Since he's not like the others

You're his first thought in the morning, his last thought when he rests his head to sleep and there's nothing that he hasn't been doing that wasn't for you

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Hyrule

Hyrule is the least possessive

Mostly because of his low confidence.

I've mentioned in a previous post that is unrelated to this, his love language is physical touch- so he's all over you

There always have to be some way that he's holding you- whether its a hand on your shoulder or the small of your back, maybe he's holding your hand or maybe he's just pinched the edge of your tunic

But he's careful to not go beyond what you're comfortable with

He doesn't want to you to pull away from him

Because the others will not hesitate to push and pull him away if you so much as hinted at not wanting him near you

So he plays it cool

Hyrule also gets concerned when there's too many injuries to go around and he needs to heal the group

Because if you hurt then he can't spare anything else to help you

It's one of the few things he thinks that he's useful for- so if he can't do this little thing for you then why does he bother?

There's so many other guys here that could easily sweep you off of your feet and have so much more to offer you

He doesn't have any land

He doesn't have a house

His Hyrule... isn't the most welcoming and he doesn't like the idea of bringing you from one dangerous situation to another

Especially since he's being hunted for sport back home

It doesn't stop him from trying to win your heart obviously and he tries to show you and win you over in whatever little ways he can.

He's the gentlest with you

Whatever hurting you, he'll heal

Whatever scaring you, he'll deal with

Whatever danger comes your way, he'll end it's miserable existence

He- like Time- daydreams a lot but he's trying to live for the moment

He's almost resigned in a way- that you won't pick him

He knows they're on borrowed time, he knows that something dangerous can take you away from them or that he could be the one to be taken away instead

So he's trying to make up for it in the time that you do have together and spend every second by your side that he can

Because the group gets a little more reckless in their attempts to impress you and be dealt with (whether you're healing them and tending to their wounds or just yelling at them)

He heals the group a lot little less

If they're going to be stupid and get hurt- then he's not going to waste his magic when they're only going to do the same thing the next day

Soon, with enough time and patience, Hyrule begins to hoard all the healing potions as well.

It's an attempt to keep them away from you so when they're hurt he can step in and just get them healed up in a minute

But it also works to keep the group from getting too reckless

It's not his intention but he takes it as it is

If they get hurt too much anyway then that just means less competition for him to deal with and a higher chance with you!

Because of his low confidence about you actually ending up with him, he becomes one of the more mission minded of the group, probably right after Warrior

Since they both have their sights on eradicating the darkness instead of focusing on their love lives (for different reasons) this is the first alliance to be formed

Hyrule wants you to be his but he's at a crossroad

He knows Warrior has a lot of charm to win you over and has the means to make sure you live a good life

He knows it's more than he can ever give you

But he's fairly certain he can take Warrior in a fight

One well timed Thunder Strike and Warrior wouldn't stand a chance

Not to mention that they've been fighting side by side now, so he knows what to look for to bring him down

He doesn't think it'll come to that though

Warrior doesn't seem that interested with you anyway so he doesn't worry about him

Which just leaves the problem of winning your heart

He wonders what life would be like he can love like you do

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Twilight

Twilight is the most protective

It's his wolf instincts and his caretaker instincts combined.

He's used to being the one to look after everyone else

Being his village's primary babysitter and all

But wolves are family animals and they protect their mates

He's the one to fight to keep you away from the fights, whether you can handle yourself or not

He can Four agree with this and it's the second alliance that forms

You must be protected at all costs and there's many things around that can injure you, or worse

So they both try their hardest to keep you safe and secure

If bubble wrap existed in Hyrule you would have been wrapped in it and then wrapped again for good measure.

He's the first to run up to you and the first to drag over Hyrule or someone with a fairy or a potion to treat you

He's not afraid to start punching anything that dares to threaten you

Forget the sword

He'll just start swinging... or maybe just go full Woflie even if he's not in his form and go for the jugular

He lets you ride on Epona more often than not and refuses to let you work more than you should

He's quick to carry things for you

He tries to impress you by being a handy man and tries to fix whatever he can get his hands on for you

He's not good at it

But he tries

His love language is acts of service so he's trying

You don't really need his help though

But let him get it out

And tell him that he's doing a good job please, for your sake

He talks a lot about his home life with you and he ask a lot of questions about your own

He's comparing notes

Trying to see what way of life you'd be more comfortable with and how he can accommodate to it

He tries to win you over with the simple life and he paints pretty pictures of having a ranch and a farm and letting you have all and any animals you want

Wolfie make an appearance every other day instead of simply whenever it's convenient

If you're a dog lover then it's even better.

Twilight is not afraid of taking advantage of it to give you all the kisses and cuddles he can get away in his other form

The others would have to fight the each other just to get kisses from you but Wolfie gets special privilege's

He gets kisses no problem

He's not above using it to his advantage

Epona is always on Twilight side and while he's in wolf form, he tells her all about you and how much he loves you and all the ways he finds you amazing and spectacular

Because you're riding Epona more often than not, he tells her to watch after you and to keep your safe and to get to a safe area if they ever get ambushed

She doesn't know how human romance works, so she agrees.

Link is her master and her best friend, so she trusts him with her life and you're important to him, clearly, so you're important to her too

He's not going to lose you like he lost Midna

She left him behind with barely a glance behind

You won't leave him at all

He'll make sure of it

The others won't take you away from him either

Four seems to be the one who's most on his side right now and together they can lessen the competition

He'd hate to fight the guy and maybe they can come to an understanding but he knows he's got the brute strength that Four lacks not to mention Wolfie and Epona as well

So maybe he'll listen to reason

His world used to be so grey with no change in either direction

An eternal twilight

You became his light in the gloom

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Sky

Sky is the least violent

He actually falls in the middle of both protectiveness and jealousy.

But he's more set on letting each of the boy pick each other off (not unlike Time) and then he'll figure out who's left over to deal with them then.

Sky also isn't one to fight off the other people who you interact with

He's not going to go confront the person or drag you away and definitely not going to start swinging

He still feels uncomfortable if you aren't by his side but he'll make up for it when you're done by sticking to your hip

Sky doesn't want you to feel cramped by only talking to the group

But he does get a little jumpy when you're beyond his line of sight.

That being said- he will let you out of his sight

Not for long periods of time, mind you, but he's not going to be in your shadow the entire time or demand to be glued to your hip

He's arguably the most normal out of the group- the least yandere if you will

Still crazy though

Sky is also one to agree with Warrior and Twilight.

He's not a part of any alliance but between wanting you to be safe and still wanting you to be healthy and clean (he knows how being clean helps out ones moral and he doesn't want you to be depressed when you're with them) he'd let them do the fighting and arguing for him and when they lose a bit, he'll say something and add to their cause

He's trying to be chill and he plays on his harp when you're nearby.

If you come sit next him to listen and chill- he will absolutely be over the moon

He will go through some of your things to make sure you have anything and everything you'd need for their adventure

But he won't take away your weapons or go through your diary (he wouldn't be able to read it anyway)

He does try to ask you in some roundabout way if he has permission to do that.

It'll be long winded and vague and a total play on words, so be careful to what you agree with when he asks something of you

Sky although is the least violent, that's in regards to other humans

Monsters have learned to keep away from him when he's on the battle field and if they haven't learned that...

They will

He's the one that tries to have your relationship mature and grow naturally.

Sky is going to simply be your friend first and show you that he has your best interest at heart

So when you talk to him about your problems and how the others are driving you crazy, he'll give you advice, tell you he's on your side and openly give you outs to avoid the others.

If you want time alone and the others begin looking for you, he'll tell them you went in the other direction and he'll send them on a wild goose chase.

Since he's on your side, he tells you to at least let him know where you're going and for how long so he can distract the others.

He's not concerned about you running away, since the others are going to do the work for him

Four and Twilight and Wolfie can find and hunt you down in a heart beat and you'll be together again

He won't blame you for running away, there's a lot of people who won't leave you alone in the group and it annoys him too

And Hyrule, Wind and Time keep you within the group and close by so he never has to worry about not knowing where you are at all times

Warrior and Wild keep you well fed and well taken care of

And Legend makes sure that you always have a potion on you and has even given some power rings to ensure your safety

So all he has to do is butter you up by being the least persistent of them all and you'll fall for him and you can be together forever and ever and even be the start of Hyrule as everyone knows it

Wouldn't that be nice?

While he may not be the most musically inclined of the group, he's the one to serenade you when he gets the chance

He plays his harp more often than not, trying to get the notes out that he hears in his head when he looks at you

His life was such a simple song before you came along but now... It's a symphony, he wants you to know this

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Four

Four is the most controlling

He's the one putting restrictions on you left and right and is the one to never want you to leave his side- let alone his line of sight.

You see, he's got these voices in his head that bounce ideas off of each other.

When one might be, hey that guy is talking to you

The other responds with, he's close to you too

One might say, you're smiling and it's beautiful

Another says, why is it directed at that guy?

Which snowballs to, you're a little too close, a little too nice, is he flirting? Has he touched you? Is he trying to make a move?

And then he's even more possessive and it grows and spirals and next thing he knows, he's next to you again and chewing the poor guy out for no reason when it was a simple conversation about the weather and directions.

And that's in public

Now add in the threat of monsters and traps and many other dangerous that surround the group as a whole

He's paranoids in the extreme

So when Twilight suggests that they tie you to Epona and keep you where he they can always see you, he's the first to agree

In fact he feels as if Twilight is the only one who's actually looking out for your well being

Wind tries to throw fits and get the two of them to back off but he's just a kid, what does he know? He should know better anyway, he knows how dangerous this journey is going to get, so why is Wind trying to actively put you in harms way?

Twilight a least can get Wind to listen to reason and Twilight's better at explaining it than he is so while Four'll yell, Wind is really Twilight's problem.

He doesn't like the idea of fighting is friends but he can see that well... He's the only to notice that they're not as close as they used to be when you first joined.

He thinks that Warrior can feel it but Four is the one who'll say it out loud.

Four is actually the most trigger happy out of all them, he's not afraid to break character and yell at some poor passerby who's too foolish enough to even look in your direction

He's the angry guard dog in public and it's a little hard to reign him most of the time

Twilight agree with him in this but he's also the one to hold him back

The last thing they need is to be kicked out of town

But if while you're there maybe he can get something for you?

He's the kind of person to make something for their beloved but he only knows how to make weapons and tools

Things that he's never going to give to you and actively tries to keep them away from at all costs

Yes, if you have your own weapons he'll also try to take them away

He'd rather see you angry than injured

No, he does not see how being weaponless in a fight will lead to more injuries and no, he not going to listen to those who try to tell him that.

Maybe he can learn how to make jewelry and gift that instead?

A pretty thing like yourself should be adorned in more beauty.

And he can save enough to make it with rubies and diamonds and any gold that he can salvage in Hyrule

He'd give you and make you anything you want

You'd be dripping in jewels if he had it his way

He also knows that the voices try to point out his flaws and all the ways that he's really not that appealing to any potential partners

It doesn't matter that he's merged and they all have the same flaws

But whenever he's next to you and things are calm, the voices are quiet and he feels like him

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Wild

Wild is the Most violent

Like Four, he does not care if it's a simple conversation, if someone else is taking up your time and attention then he will want to start swinging.

He's usually held back by Warrior and Time since Twilight typically has to restrain Four

But if you're in danger? Real danger?

He becomes the equivalent of the Fierce Deity, no mask required

The battle field becomes a blood bath by his hand alone

Sure the others will want to to cause some destruction as well and destroy any and all threats to you, but Wild goes the extra mile

Forget Twilight going feral, he has an excuse- but Wild?

He'll go ballistically feral, even going as far to drop his weapons to rip into the threats with his hands and teeth

He has to make sure there's absolutely nothing in between you and him

He's not afraid to throw away his whole good guy reputation and even the reputation of the hero in order make sure he's the last man standing

Wild is now taking notes on how the the group fights and how they defend themselves, defend you and try to figure out the best ways to take them down

If there was ever to be a physical fight within the group, he'll not only be a part of it but most likely also the instigator

Wild has already lost all his friends and family before, he can't afford to lose anyone else

Besides his Hyrule has so much more to offer you than some of the others

Not to mention he has his own house- in a safe village- with low monsters around it- and barely any reason to think that he wouldn't be able to provide for you

He's got the rupees he needs from his monster farming and everything's nearby. Whatever he can't get, he can teleport to and he wouldn't have to leave you alone for long periods of time.

Wild goes out of his way to buy you clothes since the others have taken care of your other needs (much to his chagrin)

But he also makes sure you have the best portions of the meals he makes

He keep tracks how much you ate and when

He always there to give you a snack if you even mention of being peckish

He knows the others won't mind if he dotes in this manner

Not only because it's for you...

He has all the food anyway.

When he sees that you're wearing Legend's old tunic, he instantly hates it

He and Legend are less of an alliance and merely on tolerable terms- not that Legend notices or cares- because of this and Wild knows that your clothes have taken a lot battery

He wants to you be warm and protected

But he also has a lot of extra outfits

So he takes a page out of Legend's book and gives you some as well

He's a little disappointed you don't wear them as often but he knows that most of them are specialized for certain terrain- Legend's is more of a catch all kind of deal so he can understand the need for general uses

He's not happy about it

But he understands

The crazy thing is, you wouldn't want to end up in his Hyrule either

Pray you never do

Like Time, Wild has been all over his Hyrule and has traveled to all the nooks and crannies

He knows that he can hide you away without the others ever knowing what happened to you

Not even Wolfie would be able to track you

Why?

Because (and this is from AoC) he can teleport more than one person at a time, so he can just take you far away and somewhere secluded, somewhere where you wouldn't be able to leave

Hebra region? In the cabin where he learned how to shield surf? Or play the snow bowl game?

Gerudo Wasteland?

Akkala Region? With Robbie? It's hard to get past the guardians and the high level monsters...

Or maybe ditch you in the mountains with Paya in Kakariko Village?

Or maybe leave you on the Great Plateau? You can't get down without a paraglider...

Life with you is the only reason he's still on this journey instead of just taking you and leaving

The darkness is still around and it threatens his future with you

But it looks bright in his head when all is over and he's so happy that he met you

Life is now pink! And he won't take off his rose tinted glasses any time soon!

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Legend

Legend is the most possessive

As some people have headcanoned in the past, he has a problem letting things go

He's lost so many people he cares about- he knows that items are a little harder to lose

He's the Collector- the Hoarder

Naturally when he sees something that he wants, he'll stop at nothing to make it his.

However, since he has a problem coming into direct contact with his own feelings, he's projecting

Legend instead tries to keep you at arms length and fails miserably

He doesn't want to fall for someone only to have them be ripped form him again, and again and again,

He cares for the group still even after their disagreements and eventually mistrust

He doesn't want to leave this little family they've made for themselves and has disillusioned himself into thinking that he can save it before it's too late

But in his fairytale ending, you're with him

Legend, though, still knows that their time will end and everyone will eventually go home so by the time everyone begins fighting and jealousy runs amuck, he's trying to hold everyone at arms length

When you don't give him attention, he's prone to get angry and may very well at times act like he hates you

He doesn't like it when you so much as breath in someone else's direction

You're his and his alone, why is anyone else even worth your time and energy?

But he's not going to say this out loud

So he's frustrated with himself and pouts often

So he's stuck in a cycle of self hatred and jealousy and not willing to do something to change it

But when you do give him attention, he's melts into a puddle

He's at your beck and call if so much as say his name

There's very little that he isn't willing to do for you or get for you, anything to make you happy

He's also quick to give you power rings to protect you even if he's against you fighting

Legend is also going to give you an extra tunic if (/when) your clothes take too much damage and they're too far gone for him to fix

It's a power move on his part

Not only does he feel giddy with boyish excitement when he sees you in his old tunic (that definitely has some kind of magical properties to ensure your safety), it's also him marking you as his property

And the others know it

Wild does a similar thing so you can at least have a change of clothes but Legend is quick to tailor them when you're not looking to not fit you and be uncomfortable

He's the one going through your things for sure

He need to know that he's the one who's taking care of you

He needs to know you have everything you need

He needs to know if there's anything that you're lacking so that he can sweep in and provide it for you

He's not really planning on taking out the competition or is planning beyond keeping you by his side for the day

He (like Hyrule) is living for the moment, because he's afraid he's going to blink and you'd be gone and there would be nothing else left for him

But you won't be gone

He's going to make sure of that

He's got tunnel vision for sure

But since he's also trying to not fall for you and get his heart broken, it becomes a game of hot and cold with a whole lot of minefields in between that could set him off for (what looks like) no reason

He hates you- no he doesn't- he wants nothing to do with you- he wants to be your everything- he's not going to write you poetry or braid your hair or fall asleep listening to your heart beat- he would kill for that to be his reality- he hates that you're all he's able to think about now- don't leave him please

He's not crushing

He's not

He is

youtube

Wind

Wind is the least protective- Still protective but arguably not to the degree of the others

You see, he knows that the others protect him because he's the youngest

And he's not blind

He can see that they're just as, if not more, protective over you

He can see how you hate it and how much it annoys you

He's not going to make that same move

And as a bonus, since the others are protecting you anyway, why should he put in the work and protect you as well?

There's enough people watching you all the time

With the others taking care of it, he can plan on winning you over

He's going to give you as much freedom as he's able to get away with

It'll put him as your favorite

This immediately puts him at a crossroads with Four who's somehow a hair's breadth away from tying you up and chaining you together by the wrists

They fight against each other the most

He plans on marrying you

It's honestly in the same degree of young children that say they're growing to grow up and marry their dad or their mom

Because obviously you marry the person you love and you stay with them for the rest of your life

And he loves you.

So that's what he plans to do

Win you over is step one

Then he (and you) just need to wait a few years for him to get older

And then he'll marry you

He does not see a problem with this plan

Typically I make the reader the same age as him to avoid the worst of it but in this case, this does not matter

I'd say that if you're older, he'd get more easily attached to giving you the freedom you've been missing

With him by your side obviously

Because you're older- you're an 'adult'- you can take care of yourself

You're so cool in his eyes

The others, naturally, see a problem with this

Not only out of jealously at the very thought of it not being them to marry you but because they know he's young and if you're older, (say closer to Twilight and Warrior's age) then they can see the problem it'll prove to be for you from a moral stand point

The others (mainly Legend and Four) bully tease him when you're not around about how selfish he is to even think about making you wait, when you could easily marry one of them instead, so why would you ever choose him?

He tries not to let it get to him because he does hang out with you more than they get to- so maybe they're really just jealous that his plan is working

Wind has the more innocent approach to this whole ordeal out of the whole group

His obsession isn't healthy, obviously, but he at least the excuse of being young and not knowing how to deal with crushes

Because he's awkward with it, (and he knows it) he's actually pretty quick to shut away the worst of it when he's spending time with you, less you think he's weird and push him away

Not only does he not want that to happen, but he's heard the others come up to you countless times regarding him and his behavior and if you'd like him to leave you alone

Because they will deal with him if you so much as say one word of annoyance

The choice is yours

If you indulge him when he wants your attention then he's more like himself and becomes the most normal out of the whole group

He becomes the him when you first joined

Before the obsession

Wind becomes your safest bet in terms of keeping your sanity intact and it's the groups saving grace to keep up any illusion that they're still normal

Wind is dealing with a highly flammable vial of puppy love concentrate

All in the form of budding teenage yandere hormones

If you had met him any later in his life, the cocktail would have no doubt exploded into the form of the other's behavior and he'd seem like a completely different person instead

He's almost like a lost puppy, always following you around and being in your shadow

It would be cute if he wasn't crazy

Wind adores you though and he wants you to know that

youtube

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #also yeah I get it #It's bit difficult to be the only one making this kind of content #mostly because there's not a lot of people to bounce ideas off of #feel to talk any time #i dig your story #and thanks for the request!#i had a lot of fun with this #i feel like the lists are a bit short #but the post itself was very long #let me know if anyone wants more #yandere #yandere thoughts

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nev3rfound · 3 years

Text

glass : b.b

after a messy breakup with your boyfriend, you can’t help but be a tad bit reckless during a mission leaving bucky to help pick up the pieces and learn why you’re acting the way you are. (2.5k)

warnings: mentions of blood, violence, wounds, breakups

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop - requests open!

also hi, we’re almost at 5k which is amazing and i’m planning a little giveaway! sorry if i’ve been quiet this week, i have been hooked with the ‘shatter me’ series and i can’t get enough lmao. but i do have more pieces in the works :)

Sitting in the Quinjet, you could barely register what Tony was saying as the words that were practically spat at you last night circulated your thoughts.

“Y/n?” You flinch at the call of your name, breaking you from the trance-like state you were in.

Steve smiles warmly as he takes the seat beside you as prying eyes watch closely, noting the change in your mood the moment you boarded the jet.

“Sorry,” You mutter to Steve. “late night.”

Nodding in response, Steve glances over to a concerned Bucky whose brows remain knitted together. Usually, you would sit with Bucky, joke around with him and Sam about all sorts. Yet today, you boarded the jet and sat alone, closing your eyes and blocked everyone out.

“Tell me ‘bout it.” Steve playfully huffs, trying to incite some form of reaction, but you remain silent. “Listen, if you wanna talk,”

“Thanks, Steve.” You cut him off, forcing your lips upward. “I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

With that being his cue to leave you be, Steve shakes his head to Bucky as he wanders back toward Tony, organising the final details of the plan before you land.

“Okay team, descending now, arriving in less than ten.” Tony announces, ensuring he has everyone's attention- including yours. “So, Cap, you and Romanoff will head straight for the side entrance whilst Wilson and Barnes take the back. I want Y/L/N and Barton to head for the hostages.” Tony explains, watching as you all nod along.

“And what will you be doing, Tony?” Steve asks as he picks his shield up.

“I will be with Wanda,” Tony states as Wanda playfully salutes. “on standby in case something goes wrong.”

“Not that it will.” Wanda comments but quirks a brow to Sam who holds his hands up in defence.

“That was a one-time thing, witchy.” Sam retorts, causing Tony to roll his eyes once again at the team's antics.

“Anyway, get ready.” Tony finishes before retreating toward the pilot whilst everyone gathers their weapons.

Whilst grabbing your gun and placing it into your holster, you notice the small bruise forming on your wrist as your sleeve rises slightly. You quickly tug on it, thinking nothing of it as you reach for the set of knives you usually carry.

Yet Bucky noticed, it was impossible for Bucky to not notice the smallest of details about you. His heart ached at the sight. You’re known for being clumsy and would often laugh about the matter. If you got a bruise, you’d joke about it, explain how this one happened in another idiotic motion as opposed to hiding it.

“You ready for this one, Y/n?” Clint speaks up as he appears by your side, counting his arrows as you tighten your grip on your favourite knife, causing your knuckles to lighten in colour.

“As I’ll ever be.” You remark as the Quinjet door opens and you all walk out, splitting up into different directions.

It wasn’t supposed to happen, you weren’t prepared enough as a team for what you encountered inside the building.

You reached the hostages and quickly untied them. They thanked you senselessly whilst Clint remained on guard, keeping a close eye on the door as you helped them to their feet.

“Who are you?” One man speaks up, his voice hoarse as he grips your arms for dear life.

“We’re the Avengers.” You softly tell the man, watching as the fear in his expression lightens, and he starts to laugh maniacally in your face.

Trying to prise yourself from his grasp, his nails dig into your skin. “You made a mistake coming here.” He states, breaking his gaze from you momentarily, giving you a chance to slam your foot into his.

With the man's grip easing, you snap yourself from his embrace and hit him with the butt of your gun. He falls to the ground, and you raise your gun to everyone else in the room.

“Who else is a plant?” You ask, looking at all of the terrified faces staring back at you. “Who else?!” You repeat yourself, adrenaline rushing through you before you fire your gun into the ceiling as they all jump.

Clint whips his head around, evidently shocked having never seen you react this way before. “Y/n,” He speaks up, but you ignore him, keeping your attention fixated on the ‘hostages’ before you.

“No one, Ma’am.” A little girl announces as she releases her mother's hand, stepping toward you. She looks up at you with her bright brown eyes and holds her hand out. “Are you here to save us?” She questions.

Kneeling down in front of the girl, you smile softly, your cool exterior melting. “Yes, and you’re all going to be okay, I promise.” You tell her, breaking your gaze as you look around at everyone else.

“Y/n, now.” Clint states as you rise to your feet, holding your hand out to the little girl who gladly accepts.

“Okay, follow me, you’ll all be safe if you stay close.” You explain to the dozen hostages who huddle together, following behind you and Clint.

“Tony? We have them, there was a plant, tell the others.” Clint speaks through the comms as he walks ahead, his bow at the ready in case anyone else lingers in the corridors.

Glancing over your shoulder, you check to ensure the hostages are still with you. Whilst your head is turned, you hear Clint groan and fall to the ground with a thud.

“Clint?” You rush forward whilst the hostages remain still. Holding your gun up, you turn the corner, catching sight of a man stood with his gun aimed at Clint’s unconscious body. “Corridor seven, ground floor.” You speak up, hoping someone hears you through the comms.

The man before you smirks as his gun is now aimed at you whilst you mirror his actions, not daring to let your hands shake as his words ring through your ears.

“You really think that’s a wise move?” He asks, removing the safety from his gun.

“I’m not one to go down without a fight.” You state, hearing a collection of footsteps echo behind the man as a glint of metal flashes across your eyes.

The man's focus shifts to behind you, but his gun remains trained to you. “Ah, I see we have a friend.” He chuckles and you can feel your heart rate increasing as the little girl stands by your side.

“She has us.” The girl states, standing tall as the hostages emerge and gather behind you.

Sighing under his breath, the man clicks his tongue. “Well, this is sweet and all, but you’re not making it out of here alive.” He scoffs, lowering his gun to the little girl.

Everything plays too quickly for Bucky’s liking as he runs toward the man, his arms outstretched and fists clenched.

Upon watching the man pull back the trigger, you force the little girl back, feeling the impact of the bullet hit your stomach. Another shot rings through your ears, but you’re already down on the ground, curled up.

Bucky steps over the man's body, not caring to step in the blood that pools around his head as he rushes toward you.

“Hey, doll, stay awake for me, okay?” Bucky pleads, brushing your hair out of your face as he glances down, noticing your fingers are coated in crimson. “Sam, get Tony, now!” He yells, picking you up in his arms as both Steve and Natasha appear, taking in the sight before them.

Bucky looks over to Steve, and he doesn’t need to say anything. “Go, we’ll handle it.” Steve nods to Bucky as you hang in his arms, eyes barely open.

Rushing past the hostages who stare with wide eyes, Bucky keeps his on you. “Come on, Y/n,” Bucky mutters as the cool breeze hits his face, feeling you move in his arms and bury your face into his chest.

“I’m cold,” You mumble tiredly, barely able to keep your eyes open as they droop heavily. “just five minutes.”

“No, don’t you dare,” Bucky firmly tells you as the Quinjet comes into view, the sight of worry evident in Wanda’s expression as she meets Bucky halfway, guiding him into the jet.

“What happened?” Wanda asks as Bucky places you down on the ground, reaching for the medical supplies on board with urgency, ripping out various weapons and mechanical items until he finds some form of bandages.

“She tried to save a little girl,” Bucky sighs as Wanda cradles your head, her fingers hovering over your temples as a red glow forms whilst Bucky applies pressure to the wounds, watching as they soak instantly from your blood. “we, we have to go, now!” He yells to Wanda who barely flinches.

“Tony? Can you handle this?” Wanda questions through the comms.

“Just get Y/n back, we’ll sort this out.” Tony responds, trying to hide the fear in his tone for the younger Avenger, one he can’t help but view as a daughter in many respects.

“She wants to be strong,” Wanda whispers, hearing your thoughts as you drift further and further away from consciousness. “but she’s scared. I, I can hear his voice.” Wanda trails off as Bucky tenses up, knowing exactly who she means.

Bucky can feel his heartbreaking as the Quinjet flies through the air at an accelerated rate back to the compound.

“Oh Y/n, you’ve got so much coming for you,” Bucky takes one of your hands in his, gripping it tightly as he focuses on your face, the light disappearing from your complexion. “don’t go, not now, doll.”

Lying in your own bed, you remain in a deep sleep whilst Bucky hovers by your bedside. Ever since you were brought back and cleared, he insisted you’d feel more comfortable in your own room.

“Anything?” Wanda speaks up, peering in your doorway as your chest rises and falls rhythmically. Bucky shakes his head in response, aware of Wanda approaching your bed as she perches on the edge, her fingertips dancing over your head.

Wanda quickly pulls her hand away, the red wisps disappearing as she avoids Bucky’s cold gaze. “What is it?”

“I’m not sure,” Wanda mutters, moving your hair out of your face. “but something happened before the mission, something to do with him.” Wanda sighs. “I just, I can’t tell what it was.” She explains as Bucky keeps a straight face, unable to take his eyes off the various bruises now exposed on your skin, the cuts and scars forming alongside them.

“She’s always been agile on missions, even if she’s clumsy.” Bucky breathes out, uncrossing his arms from his chest. “But she’s careful, she’s always careful.” He repeats to himself, wondering why you’d risk yourself like that when it could’ve been avoided.

“I had to,” You mumble, your eyes now beginning to open as you look up to your two friends, forcing your lips upwards. “did I miss much?”

A chuckle escapes Wanda as she looks over to Bucky, seeing the concern in his face refusing to ease. “I’m sure Bucky will fill you in.” Wanda tells you as she touches your hand before heading to the door. “It’s good to see you awake, Y/n/n.” She smiles at you whilst Bucky slowly moves closer to your bed, his legs leaning against the frame.

“So,” You sigh, still feeling your muscles burning beneath the covers on top of you. “is everyone safe?”

Trying to hold back the scoff building, Bucky simply nods.

“Good,” You nod to yourself, a sense of relief crossing your system. “I’m glad it worked out.”

“Worked out?” Bucky snaps, noting your eyes widening as you struggle to sit upright without wincing. “No, don’t try and move,” His voice softens momentarily, forcing you to remain still. “Y/n, you think almost dying is a mission ‘working out', really?” He huffs loudly.

“Look, the hostages are safe, the team holding them was taken care of so yes, Bucky, I do think it worked out.” You bark back, your tone rising.

“God, you’re an idiot sometimes.” Bucky remarks, turning away from you as you look down at your lap.

“Max said that too,” You mumble.

Turning on his heels, Bucky focuses on you closely. “He said what?”

It was no secret Bucky wasn’t the fondest of your now ex-boyfriend, Max. He tolerated him for your sake, not wanting to lose your best friend in the midst of a relationship. But Max was never the most understanding, and this is just another reason Bucky mentally adds to his list of why Max was a lousy boyfriend.

“Forget it,” You brush it off, refusing to meet Bucky’s cold blue eyes. “it was nothing, I went to get the last of my things the other night and, and we had an argument.”

“What did he say to you, Y/n?” Bucky persists as he now sits down on your bed, his hands remaining in his own lap as you play with yours, fidgeting.

“He said I’m too fragile for my own good,” You admit, hearing his bitter words ringing through your head. “that I’m weak, and I shouldn’t even be an Avenger.”

Bucky can feel his blood boiling, the list in his mind becoming mere shreds of paper as he imagines what he’ll do to Max if he sees him again.

“And maybe I am, he said I’m broken goods,” You add, lifting the sheets from your body to reveal the stitching in your skin where the bullet was. “what difference does one more scar make?”

“You don’t believe him, do you doll?” Bucky asks sadly, afraid he already knows the answer.

Your prolonged silence only causes Bucky’s heart to sink further into his chest.

“Y/n,” Bucky speaks up, taking your hand in his. “you’re not broken goods, you’re not made of glass that shatters easily.” He explains, unable to meet your teary gaze. “You’re one of the strongest, most selfless people I’ve ever met, you’re not fragile, doll.” He rubs his thumb over the top of your hand, avoiding the fresh scuffs lacing your knuckles.

“You think so?” You whisper as tears fall down your cheeks before you can stop them.

Now catching your eyes, Bucky smiles softly. “I do, Y/n.” He admits, watching you struggle to shuffle in your bed as you force back a whimper.

Patting the spot beside you, Bucky raises a brow. “Will you stay, Bucky, please?” You whisper, too afraid of your own voice.

“As long as you know you’re worth so much more than him, Y/n, okay?” Bucky asks as he lifts his arm up, wrapping it around you as you curl up into his chest. “You deserve the world, doll.” He mutters, feeling your grip around his waist loosen as your breathing softens. “And I promise to show you someday.”

Bucky brushes his lips across your forehead as light snores leave your lips, unaware of the promise Bucky has made to you and intends to keep it.

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ynscrazylife · 3 years

Note

Loki request (spoilers)

Reader is a variant who got captured by the tva, they're sent to trial and Loki saves them from getting killed bc he still owed them a favour. Morbius gets confused bc those two dangerous variants know each other, turns out they were best friends in their original time line. Now Morbius has to babysit two sarcastic assholes. Double trouble ensures.

Double Trouble | l.l fluff fic

Summary: The request.

Authors Note: I fully acknowledge and support Loki being genderfluid. In this fic, I will be using he/him pronouns for Loki since those were the pronouns they’ve used for Loki in the show so far, indicating that at the time this fic is set, Loki’s genderfluid identity is of a man. Should those pronouns/identity change, so will the pronouns for my fics. I do not intend to be harmful in any way so if this is harmful to the genderfluid community, PLEASE let me know!

Request to be on a Taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2 | Main Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @dearcardan on twitter

Yeah, Loki was definitely not taking any of this seriously. At this point, he theorized that the Avengers were laughing their asses off on this elaborate prank they were playing on him, and he decided to just wait it out. It had to stop at some point, right? There was no way that this “TVA” bullshit was actually, in any way, real.

At least . . . He believed that until he saw a familiar face.

Mobius had just saved him from being reset to the original timeline and they were walking out of the courtroom just as the doors opened and two TVA agents were walking another “criminal” in. Loki still wasn't buying this elaborate scheme so he didn’t really pay this new person much attention, until he heard the judge speak.

“Miss Y/N Y/L/N - am I correct?”

Loki froze, eyes traveling to the “criminal” passing him. He first thought that Thor had set this part of the prank up, but he knew his brother didn’t really understand how mischief really worked. Plus, Loki could tell Y/N wasn’t an illusion.

. . . So that meant she was actually here.

“Hey, wait, can I see this trial?” Loki whispered to Mobius, who glanced back at the judge and raised his eyebrows skeptically at the brunette deity. Loki added, “I just want to see a little more of how this place works, okay?”

Mobius was sure Loki was onto something and after a couple moments of thought, he agreed. At least this would give him a chance to get to know this troublemaker better, and they both shuffled into seats.

“You are correct, madame,” Y/N answered mockingly, a big grin on her face as she walked up to the podium. She then looked around in an exaggerated manner. “Well, do I get a lawyer or what?”

Loki smirked and the judge scoffed. “How do you plead?” The judge asked, dismissing her questions.

“What ‘crimes’ have I supposedly committed?”

“You have been accused of creating an alternate timeline that does not fit into the main continuum. You snuck into Odin’s vault using your Asgardian abilities and when you used the fake Infinity Gauntlet and, in your attempt to enchant the Gauntlet to work like the actual one, you accidentally travelled forward in time and created a new timeline,” the judge summarized.

Loki smiled, amused and proud. He only wondered what led her to this.

“In my defense, I heard that my friend was in trouble and wanted to help out,” Y/N said with a shrug.

“Well, the enchantments were not supposed fully work. They were meant to just backfire on you and knock you unconscious, where you’d be imprisoned in the dungeon. But then you tried to use another powerful object in Odin’s vault which created a Nexus event, messed with your enchantment on the fake Power and Time stone, and here you are,” the judge explained.

“If I wasn’t meant to do this - why didn’t these ‘Time Keepers’ control my actions and make me do something else?” Y/N asked, changing the subject.

“I am not going to entertain you any further. In your previous statement, quote: ‘In my defense, I heard that my friend was in trouble and wanted to help out’ You have admitted your guilt and will now be reset,” the judge declared sternly.

Immediately, two TVA agents grabbed Y/N harshly and began to drag her away from the podium. Loki, who at this point had connected the dots that he was the friend she had been trying to help, knew he owed her one. He couldn’t just let her be reset and then be imprisoned. So, thinking rather quickly, he leapt up from his seat and shouted, “No!”

All heads turned to him. Y/N’s eyes went wide, not having spotted him, and Mobius was beginning to regret his decision. Loki turned to Mobius. “You need me to help you with this ‘sacred timeline’ stuff. I’ll only do it if Y/N stays,” he said, panting.

Mobius caught an angry look from the judge but his gaze settled on Y/N. After a couple moments, he sighed and relented. “Fine.”

Y/N and Loki cheered and she broke out of the agents’ grips, running to Loki who picked her up and hugged her. “That’s my girl,” Loki said, proud of her for her prank.

Mobius internally groaned. This was going to be a long day.

———————————

“So how do you know each other?” Mobius asked as he walked in-between the Asgardians, leading them to his office.

“Y/N’s been my best friend, partner in time, ever since I was little,” Loki said, grinning.

“Got it,” Mobius said, frowning. He could only imagine the mischief they had conjured.

———————————

After reviewing both of their files, Mobius had to step out for a second, leaving Loki and Y/N alone. “Let’s try to break out,” was the first thing to leave Loki’s lips.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “And suppose we do, how the hell are you gonna get the Tesseract back? Plus, I won’t wanna be imprisoned on Asgard,” she reasoned, quickly shutting the idea down.

Loki huffed. He was bored. He wanted to do something.

And he had something to do when Y/N stood up and started walking around. With a smirk, he grabbed the remote controlling Y/N’s collar and clicked it, immediately sending her back to her seat.

She turned and glared at him, and he just smirked, innocently shrugging. “I wanna have fun,” he said.

Y/N rolled her eyes and cautiously stood up again. When nothing happened, she walked around a bit more, and Loki let her . . . Until he got bored again. With another click, she reappeared on the other side of the room, in mid-walk.

Before she could protest, Loki did it again. And again. And again. He finally stopped when she got out the words, “CUT IT OUT!” and laughed to himself.

“You asshole,” Y/N grunted, beginning to walk towards him, but skidded back when Loki clicked the button just one more time.

“Oops. My finger slipped,” Loki smirked.

Y/N glared, but being reset made her lose her footing, and she tumbled to the floor, causing her best friend to cackle. Annoyed, she ran at him and managed to push him off his chair, tackling him to the floor. They rolled around, neither one gaining the upper hand for too long, until Mobius re-entered, saw the chaos, pulled Loki to his feet, and grabbed the remote, resetting Y/N so she was back in her chair.

“Hey!” Loki exclaimed, pushing Mobius off him. “No one controls my best friend!”

Y/N couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not, but smiled nonetheless. Mobius glared and grabbed Loki’s remote, resetting him so he was back in his chair. He then turned to them both.

“I’m beginning to agree with my colleagues that this-” he gestured to Loki and Y/N, “-was a bad idea.”

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305 notes · View notes

idy-ll-ique · 3 years

Text

Any Doctors Here?

pairing: mob boss!steve rogers x doctor!f!reader

genre: fluff, tiny bit of angst

warnings: mentions of burns and hospitals

requested: nope

summary: while visiting his favorite bar, steve stumbles upon a new bartender, but there is something off about her. after a small conversation, he finds out that she is indeed overqualified for the job; she was a jobless doctor in need of money. well, it just so happens that the last doctor that worked for steve quit, there was a slot open...

author's note: hiya peeps enjoy!

masterlist

---

Steve walked into the bar, looking around. All faces turned to him immediately. He smirked slightly when he saw everyone look away, squirming. Steve Rogers was a nationally recognized mobster boss. Sure, he was on the negative side but police had given up on him years ago. He roamed the streets freely now, much to the fear of people.

He wouldn't think of harming an innocent soul, but people didn't know that. He found their fear amusing so he never said anything. He walked up to the bartender, sitting in front of her. She gave him a smile. "What would it be, Mr Rogers?" she asked, turning back to the bottles kept on the shelf behind her.

Steve checked her out while she turned away. He decided that she was pretty, very much so. "Whiskey, please, darling," he told her, leaning against the counter. He also noticed that she was the only one not afraid of him. "What's your name?" he asked her as she prepared his drink.

"My name is no," she sang and he raised an eyebrow at her. Her confidence and sass surprised him. "I'm just kidding! I'm Y/N," she laughed, passing his glass to him. A second later, he laughed, too. "Y/N, pretty name. You aren't afraid of me?" he questioned curiously, downing the whiskey in one go.

"Not really. Why would I be?" she shrugged. "Don't you know who I am?" he asked her, shocked. "I literally addressed you by your name when you came in."

He had forgotten about that.

"Ah, right. Um, okay." For the first time in his life, he was stumped. He never had trouble talking to women, but something about Y/N was odd. He had to keep the conversation going. "So, uh, do you work here?" he blurted out. What if this was her cover and she really was someone else?

Would explain her nonchalance. "I love how you say something so obvious with such a sense of discovery," she smiled sassily, leaning on the counter in front of him. Her sarcasm was getting under his skin now but somehow, he liked it.

She was fierce. "No, I mean, do you work here permanently or is this a sort of part time job?" he rephrased, rolling his eyes. "Part time, you guessed right. I have an MBBS, no job," she chuckled. Ah, a doctor. The fact that she was well-educated sat right with Steve. She behaved like an intellectual. "Oh, that's nice." He ordered a few more drinks.

They continued talking but suddenly heard a scream.

Y/N and Steve turned around to see a man clutching his arm which had a burn visible on it. "Any doctors here?" his girlfriend screamed as the man groaned in pain. Y/N instantly ran towards him, grabbing a bottle of cold water along the way. She opened it and gently poured the water on his arm, which made the man sigh in relief.

"Call an ambulance right now," Y/N expertly told the girl, who nodded. She talked to someone on the phone as Y/N rolled up the sleeves of that man's hoodie. Steve watched all this with a slight smile on his face.

He was well used to having personal doctors and the last guy had just left the job. He felt like Y/N would be the perfect person for the job. She had an education anyway, how bad could it be? Also, he would pay her better than this small bar or any government job could ever. She deserved better pay.

Soon, the girl and her boyfriend were gone. Y/N walked back to the counter, wiping her hands on her apron. "So, uh, sorry about that," she muttered, smiling sheepishly at Steve.

"Don't be, please. You saved that man," he swiftly reassured her, shaking his head. Y/N nodded and silence fell between the two of them. "I have to ask you something," Steve blurted out. Y/N looked at him and nodded curiously. He proposed his idea to her and needless to say, Y/N was shocked.

Agreeing to work with a famous mobster was not something she expected would happen that day. She considered for a moment. Working with Steve could be nice…

He told her he would pay her well, she was already sold. She made her decision and nodded. "I agree," she smiled and Steve's eyes lit up with happiness. "Okay, here's my address, will you be able to stop by tomorrow?" he asked, jotting down his address on a tissue. "No problem. Bye!" she waved as he walked out of the bar. Y/N squealed, looking down the tissue paper.

Steve smiled as he walked back home. As he walked home, he couldn't stop thinking about the woman. Y/N. Beautiful, sassy, helpful, caring, fierce, intelligent… She was a package deal. A good one, of course. Was he getting a crush on the pretty bartender? He sighed and smiled again as he realized… he was.

Y/N's shift ended 2 hours later. She shrugged on her coat and walked outside, breathing in the outside air. As she walked home, she, too, couldn't stop thinking about the one and only, Steve Rogers.

That man oozed power and dominance wherever he went. He was a wealthy man, considering he dealt with black markets all the time. Not to mention his handsomeness. Y/N knew women who were head over heels for Steve. She used to think they shouldn't be, until she met him tonight.

Steve had been nothing but polite with her. He cracked good jokes and was really not the man Y/N expected him to be. Now that she knew that side of his, she finally acknowledged her crush on him.

Sure, she had a crush on him like the other women. But she kept it hidden given his position and job. A mobster boss? She could do so much better and safer. Y/N sighed as she reached home.

Oh, what will her feelings evolve into?

---

Y/N stood outside Steve's extravagant mansion, reconsidering her decision. She was dressed in a simple, flowy white sundress. She took in a deep breath and walked through the gates. The walk from the gates to the door of the mansion was long, but Y/N appreciated it since it gave her time to look at his pretty garden.

As soon as she walked up the stairs to the door, it opened. Steve stood there, dressed handsomely in a black suit. Steve, when he saw her, nearly choked on his own spit.

The dress she wore was damn close to being mistaken as a wedding dress. Honestly, Y/N looked like a bride to him. His bride, he thought to himself. Stop it, you met her yesterday! Similar thoughts were running through Y/N's head.

"Y/N! So glad you came." Steve smiled broadly to hide his inappropriate thoughts. "Hi Mr Rogers," she waved, letting him wrap his arms around her as he hugged her. "Steve, please." He kept his arm around her as they walked inside, towards her infirmary. Y/N noticed that there were guards outside every room they passed.

Steve, meanwhile, noticed how all the guards were smirking cheekily at him. He went a bit red and glared at them. The two lovebirds finally reached the infirmary of the mansion. Y/N gasped in awe as Steve opened the door to the beautiful room. "This will be your office," he told her proudly and she gave him a broad smile.

"I will love working here!" she squealed, jumping into his arms. Caught off guard, Steve stumbled backwards but hugged her back. After looking around the room, they walked outside. Steve led her up the stairs, where the bedrooms were.

She would be staying there, that would ensure her availability 24/7. It wasn't really a big deal for Steve, the mansion was super big and cozy. Y/N was confused, though. What could be upstairs? To her surprise, Steve showed her to a bedroom. "Um, this bedroom is nice, I guess. But why are you showing me this?"

"You'll be living here," Steve said, shrugging. Y/N's eyes widened. "And who decided that?" she scoffed. "I thought you knew," Steve narrowed his eyes, confused. "I knew that I'd be staying at your place? How?" she yelled. Didn't she wanna stay there? "Because you're working for me!" he yelled back.

His temper snapped. "You don't own me, Rogers, I'm only working for you. You can't tell me where I'm supposed to live and where not," she spat bitterly. Steve glared at her use of his last name. "How else do you think I'm going to ensure you are available everyday?" he shouted, crossing his arms. Both of them held glares on their faces.

Suddenly, Y/N sighed. "I'm sorry," she mumbled and Steve's glare softened. "Don't apologize. I should've told you before," he said, reaching out to touch her cheek. "Do you still want me around?" she asked tiredly, looking at him.

He nodded readily, of course he did. For his sake as well. "Good. When do I move in?" she chuckled. "Any time you want," he told her, smiling. He gave her a tour of the mansion and she left.

---

6 months passed since Y/N agreed to work with Steve. And what fun those months were... Y/N loved living with the mobster boss. He brought patients nearly everyday, though. In her free time, Y/N roamed around the mansion, cooked or went to the garden to enjoy the view.

She loved the garden especially, it was filled with beautiful flowers and there was a swing, too. She and Steve did not hang out much, he was always busy some way or another. Today, that wasn't the case. Y/N had fallen for the man, indefinitely. They found out more about each other when they started living together.

She found out that he was actually a sweetheart under that hardcore facade and Steve found out that he missed being in a steady relationship. He had had girlfriends before but only for nights, or weeks, at length. Never more than that. Now that Y/N was in his life, he wanted nothing more than to be hers. They had lived together for 6 months now and Steve was sure he loved her.

He couldn't find the courage to confess. What if she didn't like him back, thought he was weird and quit working for him? What if she stopped living with him? She loved the mansion, all her needs were met here. Would she give that up just because he confessed? He couldn't risk it. Y/N was worried about the same things but from different perspectives.

What if he fired her, made her pack her bags and leave? She didn't want to go.

Y/N sighed as she lay down on the soft grass of the garden, reading a book. Steve was right next to her, picking the petals off a flower. She noticed him and laughed. "What are you doing?" Y/N asked him, smirking. "She loves me, she loves me not," he smirked back, now used to her sass. "About whom?" Y/N snorted, sitting up.

She was a bit disheartened. "This really great woman I know. She's really beautiful, you know? She's also super intelligent, by the way. And she's caring, kind, helpful… I love her." Y/N's heart shattered at his words. He loved this woman. Meaning, her feelings were useless.

"She sounds lovely," Y/N choked out, looking at her book. "She is. But I don't know if she likes me back. We've only known each other for 6 months, I met her at a bar. There are a lot of disastrous things that could happen if I confessed," Steve sighed, smiling at her. Something struck inside Y/N's head.

He was talking about her!

"Like what?" she asked, now smiling at him. "Oh, I don't know… she wouldn't like me back, move out, stop working for me, agree to never see me again… I don't want that to happen," he chuckled, looking at Y/N. She shifted closer to him, wrapping her arms around him.

"I'm pretty sure none of it would happen. She would definitely say she loves you back," Y/N whispered. Steve hugged her tightly, burying his face in her shoulder. "Do you really?" he asked softly. "I do, Steve, what's there not to like about you?" she chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

"The fact that I'm a mobster?" he chuckled into her shoulder, pulling her on his lap. "I don't care about that. You're so much more than that. You're a good man, you treat innocent people nicely… you're a sweetheart when you want to be," she giggled, kissing the top of his head.

Steve pulled away and brought her face closer to his, pressing their lips together. He had waited so long for this to happen. Y/N kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "I love you," Steve breathed out, smiling up at his woman. "I love you, too," Y/N grinned. They spent the rest of the afternoon in the garden together.

---

a/n: thanks for reading, leave a like if you enjoyed!

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flowerwrites06 · 3 years

Text

utopic desire finale — jjk

Plot: Under an elist system of Vampires, Jungkook is torn between his old values and the lowest ranked Vampire he begins to fall for.

Pairing(s): Vampire!Jungkook x Vampire!OC

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Series

Genre: Supernatural/Vampires | Angst/Fluff/Smut

Tags & Warnings: discrimination, explicit smut, angst, coarse language.

Authors Note: this is a repost after my break since I’m not really going to convert this one to original fiction. So enjoy to those who missed it! I’m doing it in parts cause posting big posts on Tumblr sucks.

A week passed since Belle closed the curtains on Jungkook but she still remembered how flooded his eyes got when she broke their ties. However loose and frail they were, it left a stain in her memory that didn’t seem to wipe off easily.

The sky faded into a deeper shade of purple welcoming mid evening. Belle walked through the campus courtyard to her car, books hugged to her chest tight like a shield. It became a habit whenever she felt it getting dark and she was walking alone. As she came close to her Centenario, her heart dropped noticing a group of boys hanging around it and laughing to one another.

Belle took a deep breath and kept padding casually to her car until one of them turned her head to face her. She felt her stomach twist when recognition smacked her like a brick. Jung Hoseok standing near the passengers’ door caressing the top of it with his eyes flashing red. “Can I please get into my car?”

Hoseok scoffed as loud as he could muster erupting more chuckles from the group. “You expect me to believe this is your car?” His gaze flickered up and down her body in both judgement and slight interest.

“It was a gift.” She mumbled.

“Ah…” He nodded. “…yes you’re Min and Park’s fuck toy.”

“They’re my friends.”

“Of course they are, sweetheart.” Hoseok gave her a mocking pout while more snickers echoed in the air. “I also heard you’re Jeon slut now too, aren’t you?” He began to take a few steps forward.

Belle stayed frozen in her tracks, stomach lurching and twisting as she tried to figure out what to do. “We don’t know each other.”

“Right…” A wide, toothy smirk spread across his lips. “It’s funny ‘cause he told me—you had the tastiest blood he ever tried.” Hoseok leaned forward and took a faint whiff, humming a little in delight when he found something very sweet lingering in his nostrils. “Kind of want to see if that theory is true.”

“Please…” She finally started backing away, running back to Taehyung’s dorm or calling someone but Hoseok kept walking forward. “Please leave me alone.”

“I will.” The pure blood nodded still moving closer and closer until he completely towered over the girl. “As soon as I get a little bite.” Hoseok leaned into her without hesitation, mouth parted and fangs baring.

Belle didn’t know what else to do. She could have ran but he would be just as fast as her. So she raised her hard cover book and swung it across his face. A thud echoed in her ears as Hoseok groaned and fell back against the side of the car. Eyes widened when she noticed the blood trickling down his nose. “Stay away from me.” She tried to warn with the hardest voice she could possibly muster until her tongue clipped when the group began surrounding her.

“You’re gonna pay for that, breedling.” Hoseok growled, pupils completely red as his fangs were still bared. He snarled at the girl and lunged forward but was harshly tugged back causing the group to scatter.

Before Belle could gather her bearings and blink away her blurry tears, a figure towered over Hoseok with his back facing the girl. She would have expected the group to fight back against him but they only backed away further looking a little worried.

Vision finally cleared and her heart jumped seeing familiar dark curls and a raspy voice laced with pure fury.

“I could squash you on this pavement right now and no one would blink twice.” Jungkooks’ deep crimson pupils burned into Hoseok’s battered face. “Don’t ever touch her again.” He gripped onto the male’s collars, nails ripping into the fabric as he pulled him back on his feet despite his light stumbling.

Hoseok spat blood out on Jungkook’s shoe with a clear grimace on his bruised and cut face, eyes almost permanently red. “Your father will hear about this, Jeon. I’ll make sure of it.”

Jungkook tightened his jaw, body still burning with so much anger he wished he could throw more punches to relieve himself. “Get out of my sight.” He seethed.

Nothing but a sharp glare shot towards Belle, Hoseok walked away down the pavement with the group following him like little puppies.

He turned around and walked over to Belle examining her for any injuries. Expression softened so quickly when he focused on her movements. “Are you okay?” Jungkook asked.

“I’m fine.” Belle muttered, shaking her head. “Why did you do that? He’s going to tell your father, he’s—”

“I’ll take care of it.” Jungkook replied simply giving her a weak smile. “I promise. Just go home.”

“Jungkook—”

“Go home, be safe.” The pure blood muttered before walking the same direction as Hoseok and his group leaving Belle in a deep pool of confusion and concern.

I’ll take care of it.

How?

Five days went by and Jungkook was nowhere to be found on campus. Even when Belle tried to peek at the groups Vira or Hoseok were in, he wasn’t there. Not in class. Not in the courtyard or even in the bars. He was gone. She hated counting how many days but it was officially the sixth day and Jungkook still wasn’t in campus.

“Why are you looking so sad these past few days?” Jimin asked breaking her out of another trance. He forgot all about his assignment to notice the girl’s face looking blank for long minutes at a time before freezing on her readings.

Belle shifted in her seat with a significant pout on her lips. “I’m not sad.”

“Concerned then? About what?”

“I—” She sighed in defeat. “I’m just worried about Jungkook.”

Jimin’s face hardened almost immediately as he glared down at his assignment.

“See that’s why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“No, it’s fine. Look he didn’t attend a few days of school.” He shrugged, scratching a few doodles on the corner of his paper. “It’s no big deal.”

“Jimin…”

“What?”

“He beat Hoseok up.”

A silence spread between them that made Belle uncomfortable. Usually she would expect a jab about how Hoseok deserved it or the two pure bloods were just having a dick sizing competition of some sort. Unfortunately when she searched Jimin’s expression, she saw reluctance and the same concern she saw in the mirror for the past few days.

“Why did–why would he do that?” Jimin leaned forward resting his elbows on the table.

Belle gulped down lowering her gaze for a moment. “He—he tried to feed on me.” When she met the original’s gaze, she immediately noticed the long fade to pitch black as his face hardened again.

“You never told us.”

“Then you’d kill him.”

“He would’ve deserved it.” He spat, the full black hue of his eyes unable to wipe away.

Belle reached out and held onto his tightened fist hoping to ease him somehow. “Nothing happened to me.”

“What if Jungkook didn’t come around? You really think Hoseok was going to just feed on you once?” Jimin winced feeling his breathing growing heavy and ragged. “Fuck, Belle he could’ve—”

“He didn’t.” She emphasized the words as sharply as possible even though the original didn’t look like he was going to let Hoseok live after this new knowledge. Not that Belle cared much about the ordeal. “That’s not what I’m worried about. Jungkook protected me in front of them…Hoseok told him that he was going to tell his father. A-and then Jungkook told me he was going to take care of it.” The more Belle voiced what happened that day, the more her stomach began to lurch again so harshly she couldn’t even look at her iced coffee without feeling nauseous.

“We’re usually the exception to protect you but—Jungkook’s father is not a tolerant man.” Jimin shook his head.

Dread travelled up to the middle of her ribcages squeezing into a tight ball as Belle let out a shaky breath. “You don’t think—” She almost winced. “You don’t think he’s being punished, right? For—for me?”

Jimin took a deep, drawling breath finally opening his fist and holding onto the girls’ hand. This time attempting to give her some comfort. “I can’t say for sure.” He spoke honestly. “But whatever happens…it’s not your fault, alright? I know Jungkook won’t want you to blame yourself for his decision.”

“Why are you talking like he’s not going to come back?” Belle pressed her quivering lips together, tears burning at the brim of her eyes like a dam had been shattered behind them.

“I love you…so I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. Pure bloods and originals don’t have to go to universities or schools, they just do it for their own enjoyment.” Jimin sighed. “If I know our culture accurately, he might be forced to stay at his apartment for a few months until he is welcomed back to the mansion.” He held onto her hand as firmly as he could to ensure she didn’t pull away but tried not to hurt her skin. “Then he’d have to train there until he’s ready to run the Jeon’s respective community.”

Belle hung her head slightly, sighing. “Is that the whole punishment?”

“I really can’t say, Belle. I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry too, she tells herself as an possibly dangerous decision passed her mind.

Deep in the dead of night, a Lamborghini Centenario parks in front of the luxury apartment buildings specifically for well off vampire students. They usually tried to keep humans and vampires separate unless humans don’t really care or prefer it that way. Belle turned the car off and padded quietly towards the apartment room number she got from Yoongi who ‘convinced’ Hoseok to blurt it out.

“You didn’t kill him, did you?” Belle asked.

Yoongi scoffed with a bitter smile. “I fucking wanted to…but Kiku promised me something in exchange for keeping him alive.”

“What kind—”

“Don’t ask.” Jimin shook his head with a grimace. “I did…don’t do what I did.”

“When you have someone, you’ll understand the appeal.” Yoongi pointed at the younger male.

Up the elevator to room 418, Belle stood in front of the door observing the numbers for a moment. She hadn’t truly prepared on what to say coming this far. If he even was still here. What would the punishment have been? Would Jungkook’s father really hate the lower classes so much that he would hurt his son for protecting them?

Letting out a detached sigh fingers curled into a loose fist and rapped on the wooden door a few times. Feet continuously shifting from one side to the other to shake off the anxiety bubbling up from her toes to her head. She really shouldn’t be here. If anyone saw her walking around and recognized who she was, Jungkook might get into more trouble. Before she could think more into it however, shuffling sounded from the other side and the door opened.

Hair tousled and curlier than ever, eyes slightly bloodshot and his lips extremely pouty with his torso completely bare like he had just come out of a nap. Jungkooks’ brows were furrowed when he tried to see who disturbed him but immediately his expression softened.

“Belle?” Jungkook peeked out of the door to see if anyone else was with her before gently guiding her inside and closing it behind him. “What’re you doing here?”

“What do you think?” Belle winced lightly. “You can’t just break the rules like that and disappear for days on end without a single warning.”

He peered through his fringe noticing how much she was shifting around on the spot. “Were you worried about me?” Jungkook walked closer away from the now locked door.

“Well I’m not horrible.” She folded her arms over her chest. “You helped me. Even though you were going to get punished for it. I thought—” Belle sighed averting her gaze to look at the couch setting on her right. “I thought you were gone.”

“But you didn’t want us to see each other anymore.” He shook his head despite the light warmth spreading through his belly. “Why were you concerned about me?”

“Just because I told you we can’t see each other doesn’t mean I wanted it.” Belle turned to look at her left this time, eyes stopping on the things resting on the dining table. Her brows furrowed when she recognized the gauze and antiseptics with towels soaking red tinged water.

Jungkook stammered rushing over to the table. “Sorry I was just—”

Whatever kept squeezing in her chest from time to time now tumbled down into a dark abyss, endless and terrifying. Belle’s gaze paused on Jungkook’s back as her fingers began to tremble from a dangerous brew of dread and anger. Deep red lashes broken his skin in different directions, some of them still freshly bleeding while others were taking their time to heal.

“Jungkook…” She whispered in a light sob. Belle walked over to the male who tried to face her with his torso again so she wouldn’t see but she wanted to. Somehow a part of her felt like it was her responsibility to see. See what happened to people who protected her. Holding onto his arm, Belle gently turned him around again and her features contorted, tears burning in her eyes as her shaky hands hovered over the angry markings. “I’m sorry…I-I’m sorry, why did—why didn’t y-you walk away?”

“Walk a—Belle, he was going to hurt you!” Jungkook argued, wincing turned to meet her teary gaze.

“I can take hurt when it’s directed to me!” She sobbed out. “This…I-I don’t want other people getting h-hurt ‘cause of me.”

“You could’ve been at any level of the system, Belle. I’d still beat the living shits out of anyone who hurts you.”

“If I was in any other part of the system, you wouldn’t be punished.”

He wanted to keep fighting off as much as he could. To remind her that people should still rise up and protect people in need no matter where they stand in some kind of messed up system tradition created. “It’s done now, okay?” Jungkook softened his voice, reaching out and cupping her cheek so she could look at him instead of the lashes. “Besides I should be saying sorry.”

Belle didn’t hesitate to shake her head. “No—”

“I do. I don’t fucking know why I couldn’t say it at the yacht but I’m sorry.” He brushes his fingers gently through her hair. “You’re not an abomination, you’re not dirty, not even close.” Jungkook closed their distance a little more, relishing in the heat radiating from her body again after staying away from it far too long. “You’re so fucking warm and sweet.” He rested his forehead against hers. “I love being around you.”

She tried so hard to respond with the words swirling in her head but they all faded into short, trembling breaths as tears trickled down her cheeks. Something lifted from the abyss back up to her chest, bursting with flowers and butterflies as they soared across her body.

“You know how I told you that the yacht made me feel free?” The corner of his lips curled up a little.

“Mhm…” Belle sniffled.

“The moment you walked into it was I felt free.” He curled his fingers around a few of her hair strands reminding himself that this wasn’t some sick dream from the wooziness. “When you left, I felt trapped again.”

Belle nudged her nose against his, a small smile creeping on her quivering lips. “Feed on me again.” She muttered in a low voice barely audible but it caught Jungkook’s attention with barely any effort.

“What?”

“I want you to feel free.” She whispered. “It’ll help you heal completely if you feed on me.”

Jungkook pulled his head away to meet her gaze properly. “Blood doesn’t work. They laced the whips with something…makes it harder to heal.”

“They gave you human blood. A few years ago I gave Yoongi some of mine in a bottle and it healed his wound from a silver bullet.” Belle wiped the stray tears away from her jawline. “I didn’t tell him it was mine at first but it works—Jimin explained that original vampire healing powers mixed in with the human immune system creates these…really potent cells in the blood.”

“Belle, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t…take from you.” He still thought about the first time he did it. How selfish he was to just take from the girl knowing she couldn’t really blurt it out to anyone. “I did it once and I—treated you like nothing, I just indulged.”

“It’s not taking, I’m giving.” She reached out and gave his bottom lip a featherlight brush from her fingers. “I—I liked it when you fed on me.”

Jungkook wanted to relish in her soft fingers for a moment, pursing them to almost resemble a kiss. Then her words threw him over the edge and brought him back to reality. “You what?”

Belle gulped down before lowering her head and putting her fingers down. “It made me really excited.” She admitted shyly. “I en-I enjoy it when it hurts a little.” Her cheeks ignited with a deep heat that didn’t seem to cool over any time soon. Anything to ensure Jungkook was convinced it wasn’t wrong to feed from her if she consented and liked it.

“You enjoy pain.” His own voice and words swirled in his mind like a potent drug as the heat from her body coated the air around them. Jungkook leaned in to brush his nose against her hair when she had her head lowered in adorable shyness. Her sweet, thick scent floating and filling his lungs to the brim where he could almost taste it on his tongue like honey.

Her hands absentmindedly pressed against his stomach gently, feeling his skin on her warm palms. “Only when you do it.” Belle had to close her eyes, allowing her body to succumb to the heat and the satisfying heaviness forming in her lower belly. “No one else.”

Whatever wall they tried to build between them practically melted as Jungkook placed his fingers on the underside of her chin to lift her head. Leaning in, he pressed a warm kiss on her lips, cupping her cheek firmly to push her into him deeper. Tongue pushed through Belle’s teeth, exploring every inch of her mouth taking whatever remanence of her taste he could get almost selfishly.

Belle let a hum into the kiss sliding her hands up his torso to his rising chest, fingers tracing his collarbones as their tongues danced against one another in messy but beautiful sync. She felt him pull away from the kiss, immediately moving his lips down to her jawline, licking down her neck to find the best spot.

Jungkook nibbled on one particular area, kissing and licking it making sure Belle felt as comfortable and loose as possible. Then his fangs bared sinking into the soft skin. His ear pricked when he heard a small gasp. But feeling her hand grip at his roots and gently push him further in, Jungkook didn’t hesitate to let the warm, sweet liquid touch his tongue and travel down his throat.

A growl emitted under his breath vibrating on her skin as he drank in more, gulping it down with such enthusiasm. Head spinning with bliss and the ache on his back fading away completely.

“Kook…” She whispered, tugging at his roots a little.

Pressing his tongue flat against the wound, he closed the intrusions up in seconds before moving to press his forehead on her hers again. Breathing heavy and ragged but his whole body felt a thousand times better now compared to the past five days.

Belle moved away from his grasp even though the male tried to tighten his hold on her. She peeked at his back and let out a sigh of relief seeing only blood stains on healed skin. “It worked.” She walked towards the towels in the bowl of water and wrung the cleanest one before moving to Jungkook’s back again.

Despite the injuries completely healed, she still carefully cleaned the leftover blood stains until all she could see was his glistening bare skin. “Does it feel better?”

“Much better.” Jungkook murmured turning around and taking the towel off her to put back on the table. As his strength reeled back to him, he took her lips again, hands trailing down her chest and slowly unbuttoning her cardigan.

She shrugged off the thin clothing letting it fall to the ground before wrapping her arms around his neck. Distance closed between them, bodies pressed taut against each other as their tongues began their dance. Belle felt his fingers grip at the hem of her dress. “Take it off.” She requested in a whisper.

Jungkook didn’t hesitate to pull the dress over her head, smiling at her hair completely covering her face. He brushed away her soft locks before kissing her again.

Belle moved her hands at his hips, pushing down his sweat pants letting them pool around his ankles before he kicked them away. She felt him walk forward forcing them to stumble and hit a wall behind her, soft moans jolting out of them. Unclipping her bra from the front, she pulled it off along with the other clothes scattered across the floor.

Jungkook’s lips travelled down to her neck, nibbling until he could see blood rushing to the surface forming a gorgeous redness to the skin. Kissing the valley of her beautiful breasts, middle of her ribcages right down to her clothed more, knees rested on the floor for her. He pressed a hand over the slightly soggy clothing with a smile tugging at his lips. “You really like being fed on, don’t you?”

Belle let out a mixture of a whine and a giggle, hips swaying against his hands lightly brushing against her throbbing clit. “Only when it’s you.”

“Good.” He hooked at the hem of her panties, pulling down to her ankles slowly letting her walk out of them before sliding them away. Jungkook pushed her legs apart just enough for him to lean in and taking her clit between his lips.

Letting out a shaky sigh, her fingers came up to bury themselves in his hair watching him move his head up and down. Toes curled in against the wood. Hips jerked a little into his mouth trying to get more friction from his tongue. Though the action earned her a firm slap on her bottom, her walls clenched around nothing, inner thighs glistening with wetness. “Do it again.”

Jungkook pulled away from her core with an excited smirk brightening his features. Standing up, he turned Belle around.

Cheek pressed against the wall, Jungkook kept one of his hands on the back of her head to keep her still.

Belle let out a breathy giggle, curling her back so her ass poked out in front of him.

Jungkook caressed her soft peach with his free hand. Kneading the soft flesh before giving his first swing. Palm slammed on her delicate skin, light blush forming a few seconds after.

She gasped at the first impact. Fingers curled against the wooden wall, trying to shift but the grip on her hair prevented her from doing so. Another slap came down making her ass jiggle.

Jungkook moved his fingers down to her sodden entrance, pushing in two digits carefully and curling down to find the rough spot inside her. The sweet scent so thick and intoxicating as it mixed with arousal and sweat. The more she moaned, the faster his fingers thrusted into her, faster and harder until he could feel her juices sputtered out on his hand. “You’re so hot, baby.” He leaned in and pressed a hot kiss on her shoulder blade.

Belle hummed in delight at his words before immediately whining when he felt his fingers pulled out of her. In a second, another harsh slap hit her ass again. Over and over. Jungkook’s drenched digits leaving remnants of her arousal on her blushing skin. Slap. Slap. Slap. Entrance drooled and dripped down her inner thighs. Slap. Slap. His fingers pulled at her roots just enough for her eyes to close. Slap.

It looked like a beautiful work of art seeing the deepening red marks on her skin, raw and fresh. Jungkook traced a finger over the darkest patch hearing a light hiss from the girl. He pulled his hand away and turned her back around again, raising one of her legs up to hook under her thigh. Wrapping another hand around his aching member he gave it a few slow strokes before positioning it at her leaking slit. Jungkook pushed through her with ease, walls hugging and clenching around him with such enthusiasm he could come done right there and then.

Ruby encrusted eyes fixated on how focused Jungkook looked when he moved inside her. As if getting all that he wanted but being careful to give her pleasure at the same time. Belle cupped his cheek, gasping a little as he slowly slid in and out of her, steady thrusts hitting deep, brushing against her sweet spot. With a light smile tugging at her lips she brushed her thumb across his knitted forehead.

Her core completely swallowed every inch of his length causing a groan to vibrate in his throat. Jungkook kept with his steady thrusts, flickering his gaze up to Belle as her lips parted allowing more choked moans to pass through her. “Feels good?” He breathed out, noses nudging against each other as they trembled where they stood.

Belle nodded frantically, another whimper stopping at the roof of her mouth. “So good.” She felt her leg aching a little as it pressed down against the floor while other was still locked under his arm. “Go harder…” Her voice came out in a faint whisper against his lips.

Jungkook’s eyes faded into a deep crimson red. Not a flash but complete transformation, growing darker and darker as her words sunk in. He hooked her other leg under his arm and dug his fingers into her hips until he could feel her bones. In mere seconds, Jungkook began his onslaught of thrusts slamming her back down harshly while the room filled with her pleasured cries.

Every time she was pushed down, Belle could feel him hitting the soft walls of her cervix sending her over the edge. Toes curled into themselves tightly as her fingers gripped at his hair, messily kissing his upper lip before she was bounced up and down again. The impact caused a sting on her reddened bottom as her throbbing clit rubbed against his lower belly. The tight ball coiled beyond its control, so ready to come undone every time his tip slammed deep inside her. “’m c-close…” She whimpered.

Despite the curdling heat ready to rush to his tip at her words, Jungkook pulled out of her smirking at the pleading cry she uttered. “Not yet.” He loosened his death grip on her hips soothing the dented skin before carrying them over to the bedroom.

Jungkook laid her down on all fours, placing one of the pillows under her hips not bothering to turn the lights on and leaving the moonlight from the windows to shine through. It didn’t take a second before he noticed Belle slowly grinding on the soft pillow to gain some of the lost build-up back. He swung another slap across her beautiful bruised peach, relishing in how she whimpered so desperately.

Knees sunk into the soft surface of the bed as he wrapped one hand around her neck, bending it back so she could look up at him. An ache tugged at the back of her neck from the stretch but it immediately drowned into a tremble of pleasure, his length filling her sloppy pussy once again, twitching for more. Belle whimpered, ragged breathing hitting Jungkooks’ face like a waft of fresh air. He leaned in and pressed a tender kiss against her puffy lips.

“You like being held down, don’t you, sweetheart?” The vampire growled into the kiss, hips pressing tight against hers so she could feel every inch of his length deep inside her. “Fucked like a hungry little animal in heat.”

Belle hissed in response, trying to swivel her hips but her knees were so far apart she could barely move. Her mind melting into a submissive state. Allowing the senior vampire to do as he pleased in his own pace. Sweat drizzled all over their writhing bodies, a few beads dropped from the ends of Jungkooks’ raven curls softly landing on her cheek.

The room was dark but couldn’t match the pitch black taint of lust in his orbs. “I asked you a question, kitten.” Jungkooks’ voice rasped. Pulling his hips back down, he applied full force to slam it back against her raw, reddened ass coaxing a shaky cry from her.

Tears gathered at the corner of her eyes as the ache from her neck further mixed in with the impact against her g-spot. The insane mixture of pain and pleasure made her shake, both in anticipation and desperation. “Ye-Yes—Yes…”

“Yes what?” He whispered but it still exuded the most delicious amount of power. Enough for it to crawl under her skin and further her lust fueled insanity.

“I—” Belle tried to take a few breaths. “I like—” A hazy smile tugged at her lips, staring up at him. “—getting fucked—like an animal…”

“Good girl.” With that praise, he pulled his cock out until only the tip filled her. A light hum emitted under his breath feeling Belle clench desperately around it. When she clenched tight enough Jungkook pushed it back in relishing in her sweet whimper. “Good girl.” He whispered again softly as he slammed inside her again. And again. He began his onslaught of thrusts releasing her neck from the lock.

Belle felt a slight relief from the back of her neck as he fucked into her, skin slapping against her raw ass. She dropped down to rest her cheek against the pillow as the heaviness in her belly coiled, tightening so hard that her head began to spin. The bed creaked a little, headboard hitting the wall at every thrust.

Jungkook dipped down, burying his head into her shoulder as his thrusts grew sloppy as he felt her walls pulsing around him. “I can feel you cumming, sweetheart.” He whispered with an intoxicated smirk against her skin as he reached one hand in between the pillow and her core, roughly rubbing her clit. “Let it out.”

Fingers gripped the sheets so hard, it pulled out from where it was tucked. Heat coating her aura closing on her as the only thing she could utter were a string of pleasure infused cries. Her entrance burned, coil tearing up at the seams until it completely burst, juices sputtering out of her in a soft sprinkle soaking Jungkook’s hands and the sheets underneath them. Belle’s legs trembled trying to close but her knees were still so far apart.

He moaned in excited desperation feeling how much her release spewed out of her before the heat rushed to his tip. Heaviness inside him emptying and spilling into the beauty as burning ecstasy spread through his veins. Jungkook kissed her shoulder softly, pulling out of her carefully before pulling her legs so she could lie on her stomach in a more relaxed way. “You did so good, baby.” He brushed her hair away to kiss her cheek. “You’re not an animal.” Jungkook whispered against her skin as he moved down her back, staining the words on it so she could always remember. Even if she didn’t, he could spend more nights constantly reminding her. “You’re a blessing.”

Belle let out a small, breathy chuckle despite the tears brimming at her eyes from how warm her belly felt at his words. She reached behind her and weakly brushed through his hair where she could catch it before feeling him kiss her fingers.

“I’m gonna clean you up then we can sleep, okay?” Jungkook soothed over the reddened patches on her bottom trying not to rub too hard.

“Okay.” She sniffled lightly, a smile almost permanently plastered across her lips.

Grabbing a wet cloth, Jungkook wiped the excess from her body before helping her get out of bed to the bathroom. A quick lukewarm shower involving the two stealing kisses from one another as their chuckles echoed against the tiled walls. He draped her in one of his T-shirts and some comfortable shorts before they walked back to the bedroom to change the sheets.

Finally they were settled under fresh blankets with Belle resting her head on his chest and nuzzling her nose against his jawline. Pleased hums emitting from under her breath as Jungkook’s traced up and down her arm.

“Say it again.” Belle murmured in such a tiny voice, he almost didn’t catch it.

“What?”

She kept her gaze on his bare chest, tracing circles on his left breast. “That thing you said before.” Her voice kept dwindling down in her shyness. Cheeks burning a little as she snuggled more into him.

“Blessing.” Jungkook smiled up at the ceiling feeling her body warm up so beautifully coating them in comfort. “You’re a blessing.” He brushed his lips against her hair. “Want me to say it again?”

Belle giggled completely hiding her face in his chest making Jungkook chuckle. “No…it’s okay. Thank you.”

“Thank you too.”

“Why me?” She looked up to meet his gaze.

“You came to see me.” Jungkook grinned, moving his hand from her arm to her cheek brushing his fingers against her warm skin. “No one’s visited me ever since that day. You were the only one who checked on me.”

Belle’s heart dropped thinking about the few days Jungkook had to tolerate and treat his injuries alone without the help of any of his ‘friends’. The moment he was seen going against the system, they all walked away without a second thought. “I’ll always come and check on you then.” She wrapped an arm around his torso as an attempt to hug him. “All the time.”

Jungkook fully embraced her with a light giggle under his breath. “Or you could just stay here.”

She grinned to herself. “Or I could stay here.”

“My blessing.” He whispered one last time before they drifted into a deep, exhausted sleep.

Morning broke in warm and comforting as Belle snuggled into the soft surface of the bed. She adorned in the soft T-shirt while shifting under the blankets. Her whole body wanted to just stay in here all day. But when she slid her hand to where Jungkook slept, something emptied inside her when there was nothing but a free space. Opening one eye to peek at the side, Belle whined a little.

Though eventually her annoyance faded when she smelled faint waft of berries in the air, fading the exhaustion as her eyes opened completely. Belle pushed off the bed slowly, fixing herself up as best as she could despite the clear thrilling bruise marks on her neck that made her body flutter in glee.

Walking out of the bedroom to the kitchen, she saw Jungkook pouring some hot water into two cups. The liquid was almost pitch black aside from the reddish tone glinting in the light.

Jungkook’s eyes flickered to see the girl, hair a little disheveled and lips incredibly pouty when she walked towards the kitchen counter. “Onyx tea.” He slid one of the cups towards her. “I forgot I ran out of coffee so this is all I got.”

“It’s okay.” Belle smiled down at the cup, blowing off some of the stream before taking a small sip and her tongue tried to push the bitter taste back out. “Little pungent.” She attempted to hide her grimace.

“Oh yeah it tastes disgusting.” He chuckled. “But apparently it helps in relaxing the muscles.”

She remembered the slight soreness between her legs and continued drinking past the putrid taste. Part of Belle wanted to keep dragging on the comfortable silence just for a little bit longer but nothing good came with holding back reality into a tiny box for it to burst. “Jimin told me what happens when you break the rules.”

Jungkook’s smile faded at the mention, gripping at the edge of the counter with a deep sigh. “You don’t have to worry about it.”

“But I do. You can say that it was all your doing but it’s not going to change anything.” Belle tightened her grip around the cup when she remembered the marks on his back again. “I want to help.”

“Help how?”

“Maybe if I ask Yoongi to take you in like he did me.”

The vampire scoffed immediately, shaking his head. “I highly doubt that.”

“We could go talk to him and Kiku. Jimin–Jimin’s gone through something like this before, I know he’d understand.”

“The last time your friends saw me, they all wanted to kill me.”

“Because that’s what they do.” Belle got off the stool and walked closer to the male, caressing his forearm. “They protect the members of their group. Please…” She held onto his hand and hugged it to her chest. “Please let me do this for you.”

Jungkook stammered lightly trying to come up with an excuse or an argument that could convince her otherwise. That this system was impenetrable and his punishment was going to be inevitable. But the way the rubies in her eyes glimmered so brightly, he was reminded of the things Belle must have gone through. Despite all of it, she still stood here trying to convince him that good can come out of their suffering. Jungkook found it hard not to be swayed. “Alright. We’ll talk to them.”

Dawn brightened into midday when Belle escorted Jungkook to her group’s regular café hangouts. The colours were oddly cutesy with its mint and pink colour scheme when it served the best desserts and coffees for vampires. However no one really liked a horror themed café in the morning. She already noticed Kiku sitting near the window in the last booth while Yoongi shyly kissed her cheek.

Her arm hooked around Jungkook though his steps were slower than normal. Belle looked up to see the male gulping when he noticed the group.

“Are you sure about this?”

“It’s gonna be fine.” Belle muttered. “Besides we’re in a public place so they can’t kill you in front of witnesses.” She couldn’t help but giggle when Jungkook gave her a look of disapproval.

Jungkook couldn’t be mad for too long when the girl leaned in to press quick kiss on his cheek.

“They’re not horrible people, Kook, they’ll understand. And your plan might even make them like you.”

“Or trust me even less.”

“Well…on the bright side, this café has the best crimson macarons.” Belle smiled already feeling her mouth-watering at the thought of having it again.

“I’m here pissing my pants scared and you’re thinking about cookies?”

“Macarons, silly.” They walked into the establishment feeling a cool air rush though their clothes before stepping to the counter. “And try not to actually piss your pants.” Belle murmured under her breath but enough for Jungkook to hear.

Belle ordered her macarons and a red latte while Jungkook ordered a ruby black with two extra shots of blood. She felt a small tingle in her belly when he absentmindedly placed his hand on the small of her back.

“Did they all have to be here at once?” Jungkook rubbed her back, somehow oddly giving himself comfort by doing so. “Can’t I do it one by one?”

“They kind of always come in a unit nowadays so no.” Belle patted his chest. “I want you to talk to them properly, Kook. So you can at least be civil with each other in the long run.” She held onto his hand and finally led him over to the end booth.

Immediately Kiku noticed the girl and waved with a wide grin. However Yoongi managed to see someone else coming behind her causing a significant frown on his face.

The couple stood in front of their table while Jimin and Taehyung also joined in to shoot sharp glares at Jungkook leaving him in more of an uncomfortable position.

“No one freak out.” Belle muttered glancing at his friends. “But he’s here in peace.” She picked up a chair and placed it at the table so Jungkook could sit down albeit reluctantly. Belle opted to sit down next to Jimin while Taehyung observed the window outside.

Kiku hooked her arm around Yoongis’ when she noticed the anger radiating from him.

“His father hurt him a lot for protecting me.” Belle spoke plainly ensuring everyone knew why it was so important not to push him away. Especially with what their group stood for.

“He hurt you too.” Yoongi seethed.

Belle glanced over at Jungkook for a moment and saw him hanging his head. “He was ignorant…a lot of you were. Jimin, you cut off ties with Gaia because she was a human.”

Jimin’s head shot to face her. “That’s—That’s not the same.”

“Oh? Did you not feel weary about showing her off to your parents?” She tilted her head as the older male pressed his lips together. “Because you were afraid you two would get married and make someone like me?”

“Gaia was really heartbroken, Mini.” Kiku explained with a saddened expression. “It’s…kind of why she transferred to Tokyo.”

Jimin’s swallowed down the lump in his throat, blinking profusely before hanging his head.

Belle then looked over at Yoongi who had his gaze lowered in the thickening silence of the group. “Yoongi…you hated me when we first met. You wouldn’t even look at me until that day you got shot.”

The older male didn’t try to argue but he could still see that little glint of guilt spreading across his features as he tapped the side of his cup. “I love you now though.”

“I know.” She smiled. “And I want you guys to do the same to Jungkook. Maybe not now or even a couple of years from now but the system turned its back on him just like the rest of us.” Belle paused her words for a moment as the waitress came in with their orders, placing them carefully on the table.

“The Jeons are a little harder to sway when it comes to loopholes in the system.” Kiku explained while the other boys were trying to get their bearings after the walls Belle broke down between them. “Your father might not even care if you’re under our protection.”

“I can get my father to talk to him.” Jimin spoke up which caused Jungkook’s head to shoot up though the older male didn’t look over at him. “If he hears from an original, it might—at the very least—make Jeon weary of testing boundaries far too much.” He side glanced at Belle for a moment, shifting in his seat. “I will have to tweak the story a little, however and tell him you were protecting a half-blood or a turned to make it more uh—”

“Palatable.” Belle answered for him, giving him a reassuring smile.

Jungkook glanced over at both of them with a slight frown. “You’re going to lie for my benefit? I thought your parents hated lower classes.”

Jimin sighed. “Abiding by my parent’s beliefs has never gotten me anywhere good. I think everyone here can agree with that when it comes to their families.”

Belle watched Yoongi lean back against the booth couch, letting go of his cup with an unreadable expression on his face.

“You’ll need another place to stay.” Yoongi spoke, silencing everyone else completely.

“He can stay at mine.” Belle nodded. “It’s too big for one person anyway.”

“I gave you that penthouse as a gift.” He pointed at the younger female with a slight pout.

“And it’s lovely but there’s two spare rooms that are doing nothing for me so you can take one.” Belle smiled at Jungkook who whispered a small thank you.

Taehyung scoffed with a smirk, leaning his back against the window to face them properly. “Yeah, like he’s going to use the spare room.”

Kiku cleared her throat, giving the male a soft warning look before smiling back at Jungkook as she held onto Yoongi’s hand. A silent way to thank him for not pushing the boy away when he was in need. “So it’s decided. We remind Jeon not to enforce his beliefs on one of our own.” She looked at each member of the group.

Jimin nodded followed by Taehyung before Kiku turned to Yoongi.

The oldest male gazed around the group, stopping at Jungkook before looking over at the hopeful look on Belle’s face. “Always wanted to piss on the system one day, what the hell.”

Belle’s lips stretched into a wide grin as something fluttered in her belly when she saw Jungkook letting out a deep sigh of relief.

The air around the group lightened in a few minutes as Kiku started teasing Yoongi for being such a good caretaker. He would have looked annoyed usually if Kiku didn’t whisper something else in his ear causing a smile on his face. Even Jungkook began joining in on the laughter as they talked about how crooked Hoseok’s nose looked after he battered him.

Although Belle could feel a raging storm brewing in the future as they all did, it was a moment of small joy and comfort. In a world that wanted to shun them forever, they could still laugh and joke to show off their new freedom.

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#jungkook #bts fanfic #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook angst #bts angst #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #tw: smut

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dalekofchaos · 3 years

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Rey’s lack of motivation and stake in the Sequel Trilogy

I have a question to ask you. What are Rey’s motivations? What are her wants and goals and why is she even drawn to the conflict between The First Order and The Resistance?

Rey’s motivations in the Sequels.

Rey wants to find her parents.

Wants to bring back Luke Skywalker

Rey wants to find her place

Wants Ben to return to the light

Has no real motivation to be on either side of the conflict, but chooses The Resistance anyway

Says she wants to kill Palpatine in cold blood, was close to giving in

Now she chose to fuck off to Tatooine and we see very little in her motivation to do....ANYTHING

Let’s compare Anakin and Luke’s motivations.

What are Anakin's motivations?

Wants to leave a life of slavery and come back and free his mother

Wants to become a Jedi and become a hero

Wants to protect Padme

Wants to save Obi-Wan

Wants to stop Dooku and end the war before it can begin

Wants to be a good master to Ahsoka

Wants to clear Ahsoka’s name

Wants to stop the war

Wants to save Padme and his children's lives at the cost of the Jedi and doing whatever it takes and becomes Darth Vader

What are Luke’s motivations?

Luke is a farm boy who dreams of leaving his mundane life.

Luke discovers that his father -unlike what his uncle told him, was a heroic Jedi Knight

Luke, is reluctant and refuses the ‘call to adventure’, but after the Empire murders his Aunt and Uncle, he decides to Join Obi-Wan on the quest.

Save the Princess

Luke is angered by Obi-Wan’s death at the hands of Darth Vader, and seeks retribution.

Destroy the Death Star and save the Rebellion

To be trained by Yoda

Save Han and Leia

Luke discovers his father, the heroic Jedi, is none other than Darth Vader. After years of training, he sets out to redeem his father and turn him back to the light.

After the redemption of his father and fall of the Empire, Luke goes on a journey to restore The Jedi Order

Compare Rey and Luke’s journeys in ANH and TFA. Rey wanders around and stuff is handed to her. Luke takes initiative and works for what he has. Let's compare ANH with TFA

Luke screws up on watching R2, then chooses to chase him down. He makes another mistake by spying on the Tusken Raiders instead of getting the hell out of dodge. This leads to him being knocked out, and rescued by Ben Kenobi.

Luke initiates the meeting with Ben Kenobi, and it happens because of his early bad decisions.

His aunt & uncle are killed, but thanks to his screw-up with R2 & the raiders, he and the droids are spared.

He chooses to follow Kenobi to Alderaan instead of staying on Tattooine.

He chooses to accept Kenobi's instruction in the ways of the Force, even though most people think it's a myth and a joke. Even though he's bad at it and doesn't seem to get any results at first.

He makes the decision that they're going to rescue Leia, potentially dooming their escape from the Death Star. This sets off a chain of events that leads to Kenobi's death.

Then he chooses to help fight the Death Star, even though he's not a member of the rebellion. He was offered a job with Han, and he could have ensured his safety by leaving with them. Instead he chose certain death.

Finally, he chooses to trust a literal voice in his head instead of the targeting computer.

Let's contrast that with Rey.

BB-8 runs into her. She tries to send him away, but relents and lets him follow her home.

She chooses not to sell him for food.

Finn wanders into camp on his own initiative.

The camp is attacked because BB-8 is there. The camp would have been attacked no matter what Rey did. The other scavenger was, I'm pretty sure, from the same camp. And if she'd sold him, BB-8 would also have still been in the camp.

She is forced to take the Millennium Falcon when the ship she wanted to use was blown up.

She chooses to go with Finn and bring BB-8 to the Rebellion Resistance.

She stumbles upon Luke's lightsaber, and runs away from it.

She accidentally runs into Kylo Ren while hiding in the forest.

He chooses to kidnap her because he senses something special about her.

After her first exposure to the Force, she learns how to use some of it, successfully, and escapes from Ren. And to her credit, escaping and trying the Force out is a choice she made, rather than something that passively happened to her.

Then she, um, is standing there when Han is killed.

She chooses to fight Kylo Ren, and beats him in her first lightsaber battle after closing her eyes and thinking about the Force.

She sort of chooses to go summon Luke back to civilization - I say sort of because it's not clear why she was picked to go over, say, Leia.

Luke makes mistakes, and he is an active participant in his story. Rey is just kind of there, most of the time. She doesn't make mistakes, but she doesn't really do much else.

Rey has no personal stake in this war or motivations and she’s supposed to be the main protagonist.

Rey has never left Jakku before TFA and she tells Han that ”she never knew so much green existed” when they go to Maz’s castle.

In other words Rey must have had very limited knowledge of the world outside of Jakku and all she has heard from it are stories.

Rey who barely knows anything about the rest of the galaxy, to the point that she didn’t even know that forests existed what exactly is her personal stake in the current galactic conflict?

In TFA we saw The New Republic’s capital systems blown up by Starkiller Base and we never saw a reaction from Rey. We do see Finn and Han’s reactions. Also worth noting about Rey is that if she was unconscious throughout her involuntary travel to the Starkiller Base she was never actually aware of the Starkiller Base until just before Han, Finn and Chewie started planting the explosions in order to sabotage it.

Luke, while he had no personal attachments to Aldeeran did actually get to see the horrible aftermaths of it’s destruction.

But Rey was barely affected by the destruction of the Capital systems. Most characters were not as affected as they should have been in my opinion but we didn’t even get to see her have an emotional reaction to it.

This was probably the greatest genocide in Star Wars history and our main heroine is unaffected by it? Finn has a reaction to it and he’s supposedly NOT the main protagonist?

Rey really has no reason to care about the state of the galaxy. She only seems to care if people she knows are in danger.

The fact that she is supposed to be our main hero of this trilogy when she has next to no personal stakes in the well-being of the rest of the galaxy feels wrong to me.

Finn actually has stakes in this conflict since the FO took his family and childhood away from him and Poe has stakes because he actually lives in the New Republic and doesn’t want it to be under FO’s rule. Yet neither Finn nor Poe are considered the main protagonist? But oh wait, I forgot we can’t have a black or Latino man be the leading protagonist in Star Wars

The more I think about it is Rey has no goals or agency as a protagonist. She’s just whatever the plot demands her to be. Rey doesn’t actively take the initiative and make decisions, and simply react to the world around her. There is never a reason given as to why she wants to be a Jedi. Sure, she’s heard the stories about them, but she doesn’t dream to be one like Anakin, and the writers are so obsessed over her parents that they never develop any other motivation besides that. She has to be strung along the story so she can take part in it, hence she is repeatedly chased and kidnapped throughout TFA to get her to the Resistance where she decides to find Luke because she has nowhere else to go. Part of the reason she doesn’t even train with Luke is because she has no reason to, as she’s just supposed to find him. Rey joins the fight simply in reaction to learning that Luke is responsible for Ben’s fall. She’s only ever a Jedi and a member of the Resistance out of necessity- she has no where left to go and has to fight in self defense- so they try hamfist in some motives that she needs to stop herself from becoming like Palpatine but there is no tension as it’s the final act. By the end of the trilogy it’s not even clear if the Jedi Order will return because Rey never seems to want to be one and we can only assume they will return for meta reasons- because the audience knows the ST is a copypasta of the OT.

What exactly was Rey’s motivation for getting involved in the Galactic conflict before TROS? Luke was told that his father was killed by Darth Vader and later his family gets murdered by the empire so he had personal stakes to get involved in the conflict.

Anakin was a Jedi and had lived in the Republic for ten years by the time of the Clone Wars begun so he had personal reasons to get involved in the conflict.

Rey meanwhile grew up so isolated of Jakku that she had no idea forests existed and she didn’t lose anything and the FO attacked her on Jakku. In fact she wanted to return to Jakku after she had dumped BB-8 with the Resistance. Her primary motivation in TFA was to reunite with her family but the movie never establish that her family’s absence was connected to the galactic conflict in any way.

That connection isn’t established until TROS so what was her motivation until than? The Death of Han? A guy she had known for two hours? Finn? A guy she also had maybe only knew for about two hours total by the time of their hug in TLJ? Also she seemed to have completely forgotten about Finn by the time she want on a quest to redeem the guy that has far as she should have known by that point was still in a coma with his spine permanently damaged because of Kylo.

Rey’s motivation seems to either be finding her family or her dealing with her existential crisis neither had much of a connection with the galactic conflict until TROS

#Star Wars #Rey #Luke Skywalker #Anakin Skywalker #Anti Sequel Trilogy #Anti Lucasfilm #Finn #Poe Dameron #Rey Skywalker

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luxaofhesperides · 3 years

Text

my body slaughterhouse

In the quiet moments in-between everything, Yoo Joonghyuk looks to Kim Dokja. Or: Yoo Joonghyuk just wants to care for Kim Dokja if only he'd stay still for a goddamn second.

joongdok, 2.7k; an orv fic about gentleness.

also on ao3, with author’s notes if you want to read that sort of thing.

. . .

Yoo Joonghyuk is not used to being soft. His hands are made for breaking things, not saving them; he has never been able to save anyone, including himself. The lives he’s lived, going back to that fateful day the world ended, have made him cold and cruel. There is a distance between him and the rest of the world that no one can cross.

He walks this world alone. He knows better than to expect anyone to keep up with him.

He knows better than to get attached.

But Kim Dokja, impossible and unpredictable, forced his way into Yoo Joonghyuk’s life and declared them companions. And suddenly Yoo Joonghyuk is not the one walking ahead of everyone else, alone; now, he chases after Kim Dokja, time after time, reaching for him, always a step behind.

Kim Dokja is here, in this regression, and that is all that matters.

It’s quiet, tonight. There is no terrible tragedy hanging over their heads, or an enemy lying in wait for them. Tonight, they can rest.

Compared to his past regressions, everyone is lighter. They are not the same as they were before, at the beginning. No one is. But that heaviness they carried, that burden that slowly dragged them down, it’s not here.

Shin Yoosung smiles as she talks to Kim Dokja. Lee Gilyoung is relaxed on the ground, leaning back against Kim Dokja. They’re just kids, thrown headfirst into the scenarios, and Kim Dokja saved them, like he saved everyone else here. It’s no wonder they’re so attached.

Yoo Joonghyuk is too, even if he can’t bring himself to say it.

The others chat quietly in between eating. Something warms in Yoo Joonghyuk’s chest as he watches everyone enjoy his cooking. Kim Dokja too was taking time to savor his food. He was glad; he had put the best pieces on Kim Dokja’s plate.

It’s hard showing care, when he’s so used to everyone he cares for dying. It’s hard to show care when he’s the only one left in the end, and nothing he does can save them.

Kim Dokja meets his eyes; Yoo Joonghyuk had been staring for too long.

-Do you have something to say? he asks through Midday Tryst.

-No. Go back to eating.

Kim Dokja doesn’t look like he believes him, but that doesn’t surprise him. Out of everyone, Kim Dokja knows Yoo Joonghyuk best. It still stuns him, the lengths he’ll go to ensure Yoo Joonghyuk survives.

It’s not just the world Kim Dokja intends to save, but Yoo Joonghyuk also.

So used to being to one in control, leading others and taking charge in the scenarios, it’s strange to be on the other side of that. To follow after someone else, to have faith in them to get through anything. To be willing to die to see their goals come to being.

Kim Dokja is the only one Yoo Joonghyuk would feel this way for. No one else compares.

Under his gaze, Kim Dokja flushes and ducks his head. He urges the kids to eat and does not look at Yoo Joonghyuk again.

That’s fine. Yoo Joonghyuk is satisfied with keeping Kim Dokja fed. It’s the least he can do for someone who died for him time and time again.

“Why aren’t you sleeping,” Yoo Joonghyuk says. It’s more an accusation than a question, and perhaps that’s what makes Kim Dokja glare at him. Yoo Joonghyuk glances down at the phone Kim Dokja was so focused on, looks at its blank screen, and irritation quickly fills him.

“I wasn’t aware I had a bedtime,” Kim Dokja says, staring up at him defiantly. The circles under his eyes are dark, and will likely get even darker. For someone who always saves him, he doesn’t care for himself at all. It irks Yoo Joonghyuk.

“How do you expect to fight well if you’re too tired to function?”

“I’ll be just fine. It’s not like I need a lot of sleep in the first place.”

Yoo Joonghyuk is familiar with the urge to punch him, but it’s particularly strong at that moment. “Don’t be stupid,” he growls instead, “You’re no good to anyone when you’re exhausted. Go to sleep.”

Kim Dokja rolls his eyes. “Honestly, Yoo Joonghyuk, you’re worried over nothing. I’ve gone without sleep before, I can do it again.”

That such an infuriating man could give hope to so many others baffles him. That such an infuriating man is someone Yoo Joonghyuk is willing to die for is even more ridiculous. But this stubbornness is exactly why they’re all here today. He’s not as mad as he wants to be; he never is when it comes to Kim Dokja.

“Come,” he says, grabbing Kim Dokja’s arm, “I will make sure you sleep.”

“Yoo Joonghyuk!” He tries to pull away, but all that does is make Yoo Joonghyuk tighten his grip. “This is ridiculous! Let me go!”

He doesn’t bother answering. Instead, he drags Kim Dokja to his room and all but throws him on the bed. Kim Dokja sits up and stares at him.

“What has gotten into you lately?”

Yoo Joonghyuk considers. He wants to take care of Kim Dokja. Repay him for everything he’s doing for him, for all of them. He wants Kim Dokja to care a little more about himself, but until then, Yoo Joonghyuk is content with doing it for him. He wants to be gentle to the man who saved him, reminded him of the value of life, gave him a reason to continue on. He wants to hold Kim Dokja close so that he doesn’t die again, wants to protect him because one of these days his death will be permanent and that is the one thing Yoo Joonghyuk absolutely cannot survive.

He doesn’t know how to say all this. It gets caught in his throat, his chest. So he says nothing.

“Yoo Joonghyuk?”

Kim Dokja looks confused. Lost. There’s red in his cheeks and a tremble in his hands. It makes Yoo Joonghyuk’s heart ache.

He walks to the bed and guides Kim Dokja away from the edge. Kim Dokja lets him, watching his movement with wide eyes.

Yoo Joonghyuk climbs onto the bed, sits against the headboard, and pulls Kim Dokja to rest against his side.

“Yoo Joonghyuk?” he asks again, voice quieter, softer. Pressed against his side, with Yoo Joonghyuk’s arm around his shoulders, Kim Dokja feels vulnerable. Soft, like he might break at any moment.

Everything he feels tangles into a knot in his throat. What he wants to say won’t come out. Instead, he says, “I will stay and make sure you sleep.”

Kim Dokja stares at him for a long moment, then slowly, tentatively, relaxes against him. It feels like a testing of waters, a careful surrender.

It’s something Yoo Joonghyuk has noticed bust hasn’t given much thought. Kim Dokja doesn’t touch others easily. If he does, it’s quick and easy to miss. A hand on a shoulder, a pat on the back, here for a moment then gone in the next. He keeps a physical distance between others, save for the kids, and Yoo Joonghyuk has to wonder, has anyone really touched Kim Dokja? Held him as Yoo Joonghyuk does now, let him know the warmth of others, how grounding the weight of another can be?

This is not a question he will ever have answers to. But he does know that he is holding Kim Dokja, can feel the weight of him on his chest, not an unpleasant weight but a comforting one.

Kim Dokja turns his face into Yoo Joonghyuk’s chest. When he speaks, his voice is muffled. “If you plan to sleep here, then don’t sleep sitting up. I don’t want to hear you complaining about a sore neck tomorrow.”

He doesn’t know how much time passes, but Kim Dokja falls asleep, relaxing completely as his breath evens out. In sleep, his face is much softer. He looks younger when he’s not planning how to save everyone but himself.

The sight brings back that ache in his chest, which hurts in the most pleasant ways. How lucky he is, to have Kim Dokja in this regression. As long as he’s here, Yoo Joonghyuk will continue on.

Lee Jihye is brighter in this regression. She laughs more easily and is quick to tease others. It makes him wonder what she was like before the scenarios, before she killed her best friend and walked out of that school as its only survivor. It’s hard to remember that there was a before that haunts everyone here, when it’s all Yoo Joonghyuk has known for years.

She’s not as strong as she was before, but that’s alright. There are others that will help her when she needs it. All Yoo Joonghyuk has to do for her in this scenario is teach her how to fight; Kim Dokja will teach her how to live despite everything.

In this regression, Lee Jihye is still a teenage girl before she is a maritime general. There are still days she wakes up in tears, gasping her dead friend’s name, and withdraws into herself for a few hours. In past regressions, this has made her fight harder, more recklessly, uncaring of her own safety. Now, Kim Dokja watches over her carefully, speaks to her in low tones, and sends Jung Heewon to comfort her.

Yoo Joonghyuk wonders how things could have changed if he reached out a little more. Had he been less focused on clearing the scenarios and more focused on helping those around him, could they have survived?

He knows the answer, and it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He tries not to think about it.

Lee Jihye grins when she sees him walk into the clearing they’ve claimed for training. For a moment, as she sits on the ground holding her sword, Yoo Joonghyuk sees her dead and bloodied. Then she stands and says, brightly, “Master! What are we doing today?”

Yoo Joonghyuk takes a moment to focus on the present, then says, “Start with warm ups, then do your katas fifty times. Then I’ll show you how to disarm someone without getting too close to them.”

Lee Jihye beams and gets to work. Yoo Joonghyuk observes her for a moment; she’s steadily improving, but she could be stronger. They could always be stronger, because they were are enough.

(The memory takes over: Yoo Joonghyuk, not fast enough, not strong enough, not clever enough to outwit Kim Dokja. Yoo Joonghyuk, holding Kim Dojka’s dying body, helplessly watching as he turns to dust, ejected from the Star Stream, unable to save him yet again.)

Yoo Joonghyuk makes his way to the other side of the clearing and unsheathes his sword. He, too, needs to be stronger. Strong enough to take on the constellations. Strong enough to save Kim Dokja from himself.

He trains for a few hours, teaches Lee Jihye new attacks, spars with her to let her practice. She’s the only one he found this regression; the others all gravitate around Kim Dokja. He only needs to look out of her and Mia in this regression.

Even so, Lee Jihye, like the others, turns to Kim Dokja as well. Despite how often she teases him and insists she doesn’t care for him, she is deeply affected by his deaths just as the kids are.

They stop for lunch, and Yoo Joonghyuk leaves Lee Jihye to her own devices as he considers the hidden scenarios he could go after in this area.

“Yoo Joonghyuk, come here,” Kim Dokja calls from where he waits by the door. “Are you going after the hidden items?”

He makes his way to Kim Dokja, already wary at the calculating gleam in his eyes. “I am,” he answers.

“Great! Let’s go then.”

“I don’t need you to come with me.”

“I wasn’t planning on giving you a choice.” Kim Dokja smiles, and it makes Yoo Joonghyuk want to both shove him away and pull him closer. He keeps his hands carefully still by his sides.

“I can get these on my own,” he says, knowing that would never be enough to convince Kim Dokja to let him leave alone.

“That’s not going to stop me.”

He leaves first, without looking back to see if Yoo Joonghyuk is following; he is, of course. He’s always following after Kim Dokja.

And because this is Kim Dokja, he can't go two minutes without trying to cause problems. “I’ll be getting my share of the items too, of course. Don’t expect me to guide you without expecting payment.” He smirks at Yoo Joonghyuk, waiting for him to respond.

He grabs Kim Dokja’s arm. “Pull your weight and do some of the work and I’ll let you have some.”

“Ah, always so violent, Joonghyuk-ah, can’t you have one conversation without threatening the other party?” He tries to break free of Yoo Joonghyuk’s grip, but now that he’s got Kim Dokja close, he has no reason to let go.

“What part of this is threatening?”

Kim Dokja gestures to his captured arm. “Do you not have working eyes? Most conversations don’t require such brute strength.” Yoo Joonghyuk wants to laugh at that. When has Kim Dokja ever had a normal conversation? He’s either planning something that will piss off the constellations, or antagonizing everyone around him. He avoids normal conversations as much as he can, as though speaking genuinely to someone for the sake of speaking to them will make him break out in hives.

“You can let go,” Kim Dokja tries, still trying to pull away.

Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t bother to reply to that. He leads the way to the first hidden scenario in the area as Kim Dokja continues to struggle, then abruptly goes still, allowing the hold on his arm.

Another thing that Kim Dokja avoids: touch. Yoo Joonghyuk wants to keep him close, hold him at every opportunity, but Kim Dokja is quick to keep his distance and disappear. Even Yoo Joonghyuk has never been to physically isolated from others in past regressions. Kim Dokja seems touch starved, and that makes Yoo Joonghyuk want to touch him even more.

He slides his hand down from Kim Dokja’s arm to his wrist, and allows himself a small smile with Kim Dokja doesn’t try to pull away.

“What are you doing out here?”

Kim Dokja’s voice is the first thing in a few hours to break the silence on the roof. Yoo Joonghyuk sits near the edge, looking out over the broken world. Everyone had been hit hard by the last scenario, and he had to escape and be alone before he drowned in his own thoughts.

It takes a long moment before he finds his voice. “I wanted some time to myself,” he answers.

Kim Dokja hums and doesn’t leave. He sits behind Yoo Joonghyuk, barely any distance between them.

“Are you thinking about everything that went wrong? Comparing this to your past regressions?”

Like always, Kim Dokja knows exactly what he’s thinking. It’s a relief that he doesn’t have to explain it when Kim Dokja already knows.

“You shouldn’t focus on what went wrong. There are too many things to go over. You should focus on the fact that we’re all still alive, and we made it through another scenario.” His voice isn’t pitying or overly gentle. Kim Dokja speaks as though this is obvious, and Yoo Joonghyuk feels some of the tension in his shoulders lighten.

“Have you already begun planning for the next scenario?”

“Of course. But we’ll go over that tomorrow, after everyone’s had some time to rest.”

There is nothing more to say for the night. Yoo Joonghyuk focuses on the sound of Kim Dokja’s breathing, and leans back just enough that their shoulders touch. It feels like a hard-won victory when Kim Dokja doesn’t startle or shy away. Instead, he leans back against Yoo Joonghyuk, pressing their backs together. A weight drops onto his shoulder; Kim Dokja’s head, tilted back so he can look up at the steadily darkening sky.

They stay until the sun sets completely. It’s the first time he’s felt so at peace since the scenarios started.

That’s the first night Kim Dokja follows Yoo Joonghyuk to his tent and settles in besides him. He refuses to meet Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes, tense and nervous as though he wasn’t sure he was welcome.

Yoo Joonghyuk reaches out for him.

Kim Dokja reaches back.

#omniscient reader's viewpoint #orv #fic #orv fic #joongdok #hi this novel is making me too emotional so have a fic abt tenderness and yearning and being soft #this idea has haunted me all week so i havent actually read more of the novel but now that im done im gonna cry over this characters again #my writing

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beautifulterriblequeen · 3 years

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The Thief and the Tinker, Part 3: I See Fire

part 2

Part 3

Viren: Well how do you suggest we get him out?

Claudia: *grins, brandishes marshmallow on toasting fork* Unharmed is just another kind of harmed

Viren: Claudia no

Claudia: Claudia YES

I See Fire

Angst rating: 9/10

Viren is clever enough not to take the Silvergrove on alone, no matter how badly he wants Ethari to make him a magic key. Aaravos could be cooking in that pod for a while longer, but Viren still has a trustworthy and badass ally at his side.

Oh yeah, it's Claudia Time again!

Claudia is a powerful and imaginative dark mage, and she has the tainted Sun staff. So, you're the magefam, and you've made it to Xadia, to the edges of the Moonshadow Forest. And all you need to do to get the power of your dreams is to threaten one soft craftsman. But how do you find one specific Moonshadow elf in a hidden Moonshadow village somewhere in the middle of a giant spooky magical forest?

You burn him out.

Credit once again to@random-fandom-ramble for reminding me of this forest fire headcanon, because it fits so well. and so I don't get all the blame for this one, lol

Because see, that's not ordinary fire. Oh, no. That's dark magic fire. We've seen that before. It leaves permanent scars. Remember Sol Regem's eyes?

That's going to be the landscape when Claudia's fire gets through with the Moonshadow elves' home. Where I live on the US West Coast, they name forest fires, and if they combine, they get called complexes. So maybe we can name this fire the Dark Tragedy Complex? Because I do have to wonder... you could start a dark magic forest fire easily with a tainted Sun staff, but how do you put it out?

Two things are going to happen if these events should unfold. One is angsty. The other is also angsty but then amazing.

Firstly, Viren is going to get what he wants. He'll find Ethari, whose tree burned down :(. He'll show him the coins, and he'll offer a trade. Build what he wants and make it work, and Ethari can have his family back, uncoined and free.

And Ethari will say yes.

He'll say yes no matter what anyone else tries to persuade him to do, and I hope they do try, because see: Ethari has to make it look good. He has to make it look like he's all in on Viren's plan, to Viren. Even if that means turning his back on his people in their time of greatest need.

Secondly, the Moonshadow elves are going to be collectively homeless and bereft, hungry, injured, terrified, angry. They will have nowhere to go. They will be a people without a home. And no one else in Xadia will help them. Maybe they're too terrified to hide Ethari's people in case doing so brings Viren down on them, too. We've seen how ordinary elves flee in terror from dark magic. Maybe they're all fighting other issues, too. Viren knows all about stretching resources too far during times of crisis. Whatever the case, there will be no welcome anywhere in Xadia for the Moonshadow elves of the Moonshadow Forest.

But here's where it gets amazing. Because one hand will reach out. One small hand, from across the border. Good King Ezran will stand up on the seat of his throne and say, "You can stay here. I have forests. You're tired, you're hungry. You need medicine. Let me help."

And I'm gonna cry like a little baby.

How many cycles does this break, how many circles does it complete? Moonshadow elves used to live in Katolis before the border was created. When humans were under threat of total annihilation, the Moonshadow leader's daughter spoke up and asked for mercy. That mercy came in the form of land reassignment, and the Moonshadow elves had to give up their ancestral home, their Nexus, and travel east across the new Border. But that mercy got paired with justice, and the life-loving Moon Druids probably had to swear some kind of blood promise to keep an eye on the humans forevermore, and to kill any individuals who got out of hand, as if their sins were the Moonshadows' responsibility now.

That's got to breed a little resentment, a little superiority. "Look what we sacrificed for you, and this is how you act. Ungrateful." And maybe that was partially Luna Tenebris's goal: to hold to her vision of justice, she had to make the elves who shared her arcanum feel a little resentment. Moonshadows love life, but we can't have them being too soft to keep Xadia safe from dark mages, now, can we? I will never stop cackling over dragon politics okay, never

But the Moonshadow elves never figured on King Ezran. A soft boy who refused to let his father's assassination harden his heart, because every life is genuinely important to him. I've seen headcanons for Ezran getting the Sun, Earth, Ocean, and Stars arcanum. How about Moon, too? Because this is very Ethari of him, and if these stories of Viren's plan and the Moonshadow elves' displacement were actually to happen in tandem, the contrast between Ezran's soft choice and Ethari's hard one would be mindblowing.

Ezran completes the circle by inviting the Moonshadow elves to return to Katolis, to their ancestral home. They left long ago, paying the price for an act of mercy, but they were welcomed back by the mercy of humans, repaid after a thousand years, repaid in the face of tragedy. Tragedy on all sides. Tragedy Ezran wants to stop from happening, by being brave and caring and soft, and by being the first to break this thousand-year cycle between Katolis and the Moonshadow elves.

Rayla is his friend. And these are her people. It won't matter what they've done, only that they need help in a time of great desperation. And of course he'll help them. He's Ezran, and he's Katolis's greatest treasure.

Oh, what's that you say? Inviting the Moonshadow elves to settle in Katolis again would make it easier for Rayla to live with Callum in the future? Oh gosh, how about that? What a deal. *smug matchmaker noises*

And once the Moonshadow elves understand that they're safe and begin to trust Ezran--which could happen very quickly, because saving a Moonshadow elf's life when you didn't need to is a really fast way to prove you're trustworthy--maybe Ezran will be encouraged to take the next step toward peace, and eventually other elves and dragons will come to meet together to talk it over. And Ez will offer them jelly tarts, which they will love.

Back to Ethari, because we're not done with him yet. Ethari is soft, but he isn't weak. He won't be a willing pawn for Viren. He loves Runaan to the point of invention, and his devotion is more constant than the moon itself. He'll agree to do what Viren says, and he'll be Very Sad. But his spirit is in no way broken. Viren bribing him with the coins containing his family will only have the opposite effect. It'll give Ethari something to fight for.

We could get Focused Chaos Ethari. We could get Angery Trickster Ethari. We could get Rules, What Rules? Ethari. Let him try to steal the coins, try to break them, try to kill Viren, and be stymied at every turn, until he settles and seems cowed. And then all he does is craft his way out of the problem. What if we are gifted with Iron Man Ethari, who pretends to build a fake Key for Viren, but meanwhile he's really building a coinbuster with whatever he can get his hands on - primal stones, magically imbued gemstones, stolen artifacts, his own arcanum, his own reputation as the Master Craftsman of the Silvergrove. He'll use almost- almost - anything, to stop Viren and free his family.

Ethari may have to choose between those two things, though. And he's a hero, deep down, just like his family, just like his daughter. If he has to choose, he'll choose to stop Viren and save Xadia. He'll pay the same price as his family has if he must.

He'd let Viren think he was motivated purely by wanting his family back, but Ethari is far too steeped in the illusion and sacrifice for that to be all there is to his motives. It's a so-close-and-yet-so-far thing, how he and Viren almost embody the same ideals. Almost. Ethari would take one look at Viren, who just burnt down his whole Forest, he'd see the biggest threat in Xadia, and he'd say anything to get a chance to stop this juggernaut of destruction from getting his hands on whatever that ultimate power really is, locked behind that missing key. If he has to abandon his people and bawl his eyes out to convince Viren he's in, then he will.

And Viren wouldn't make it easy for him. He knows clever when he sees it. He went through all this trouble to persuade Ethari to work with him. He would need to keep Ethari as off-balance as possible to ensure that he keeps working as he should.

Angsty jewelry, anyone: Viren giving Ethari his husband in pendant form to remind him what he's working for, when Viren and Ethari both know full well that only dark magic can open the hellcoins. Ethari wearing another pendant of his love, except it's not a metaphor this time. It's literally his love, in a coin around his neck.

Viren would know that Ethari would have to stay close to Viren of his own free will if he ever hoped to free Runaan. And making people bind themselves to you is a big power flex. Remember that TDP stream future-season teaser note about Bait being in a creepy restraint in a future season?

This card is written on in all-caps, so that really could be "Bait" or "bait," or--knowing this show--both. Viren's been using Runaan as bait for Ethari all along. Putting his coin in a dark magic pendant casing for Ethari to wear would be a great parallel for that. Oh god. Oh man.

Maybe he'll stab the coin's scary casing right through that circle on Ethari's chest, right over his heart, make that Iron Man reference really obvious. Ethari also losing his shirt at some point, for angsty Viren-related reasons? It's more likely than you think. I mean... Ethari is literally involved in both forms of forging at this point. Shirt's gotta come off for uhhhh work reasons. And because he's hot. Because of all the forging. I mean how else are we finally going to discover what his markings look like

I mentioned that I liked god-tier villains, right? Yeah, this is amazing. I haven't wanted to die and ascend over an idea for quite a while, but Ethari vs Viren in a drawn-out battle of wills would kill me in the best way. Especially since, while it looks like they're essentially fighting for who gets Runaan, they're truly fighting a much larger battle with much higher stakes. They're fighting for the future itself. It's an epic struggle between the Narrative of Strength and the Narrative of Love. And we've seen what happens, over and over, when the Narrative of Strength gets to call the shots.

On a meta note: If Runaan and Ethari's story arc isn't a love letter from one trauma survivor to another, and on a broader scope to all survivors who see it, I don't know what is. Sometimes life just chews us up and spits us out and we can't stop it and it breaks us. But sometimes we can reach out and grasp the chance to help each other, even after that, even when it hurts a lot, because we know what it means to be loved, and to love, and to want a safer future for each other and for people we'll never meet. The future is worth standing together for, helping each other back up for, fighting side by side for, even if you can't see how it'll end, or even how to begin. We are stronger together, and sometimes we need to fight for our "together" before we can fight for anything else. And that's worth it, every time.

This is glorious, it's beautiful, it's tragic, it's amazing, it makes me want to dance, it makes me want to scream into the void, it makes me want to slap someone with a semi truck. No, someone specific, don't worry, and he super deserves it.

Because Ethari is going to win. He was always going to win. He's soft, and he's clever, and he hasn't forgotten what love means. It's what he's fighting for. Not power, not control. Love. He doesn't want to dictate Runaan's future, or anyone else's. He just wants his husband--and everyone else--to have one at all.

So he's going to win.

What beating Viren looks like, I can't guess yet. TDP is no stranger to angst, so there will probably be a high cost involved in thwarting the dark mage. Maybe not everyone can be rescued from the coins. Maybe Ethari will lose his life, or his soul, or his vision, or something else really angsty. Viren could even kill him and resurrect him as a smoky craftsman, or a zombie craftsman, or something equally biddable but horrible. The only thing I'm sure of is that Ethari would never willingly make a working Key of Aaravos Ethari as long as there's a chance Viren could possess it. But I do believe that if he gets the right opportunity while he's busy saving the world from Viren's dark intentions, he'll break his husband's hellcoin open somehow and set him free, even if he has to smile at the devil to do it.

part 4

#tdp #tdp theory #tdp speculation #tdp parallels #viren #ethari #laindrin #runaan #moonshadow elves #moonshadow assassins #hopepunk #tdp angst #heavy angst #tw trauma

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bnhayyy · 3 years

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Burning In Carolina

Wordcount: 3.9k

Ao3 Link: Click

Notes: I wrote this fic for @bnhatraumazine ! Leftover sales are currently open, so go check them out! And if you enjoyed the fic, maybe consider buying me a Ko-Fi? I do all my best writing when properly caffinated!

Summary: Despite the success of the initial interrogation, further attempts to pry information or recognition out of the villain known as Kurogiri prove fruitless. Aizawa keeps trying anyway.

It was possible to miss someone to the point of physical pain. This was a truth that Aizawa had learned long ago.

The pain never left him—not completely. It threatened to consume him. But he did not curl up and cease to function, no matter how tempting it was at first. Instead, he forced himself forward, even as that pain followed his every step, echoing in his actions, his appearance, his demeanor. It molded who he was. And, eventually, it became a part of him. Eventually, he reached a point where he could sometimes forget that the ache in his chest, the bleakness that coated the world, the empty space in the fabric of his life was something born of loss and not just the way things were. He didn't remember it unless he was actively thinking about it. For the most part, he tried not to think about it.

Then everything changed. There was a call from Tartarus, a horrible revelation, and suddenly he had no choice but to think about the things that made him who he was. The person who made him who he was. The one who would have been ten times the hero he could ever be.

It was one thing to be haunted by the past. It was another entirely to try and bring it back to life.

Aizawa slid into the cold metal chair. He was familiar with the ache it sent up his spine by now. In a different situation, he would slump forward to provide it with some relief, but his muscles were too tense for him to slouch even if he wanted to. In contrast, the figure on the other side of the glass didn't show any tension at all. He seemed to rest easily in his restraints, eerie yellow eyes staring unwaveringly at Aizawa.

His mouth felt dry. Only seconds in the room and he already felt as if a lump had formed in his throat. Yet when he pushed himself to speak, he took care to ensure that his voice would be calm and steady. Ideally, he would be able to keep it that way this time.

"Kurogiri," he said. The name was a lie. Even so, he did not let himself say the one that he wanted to—not yet.

"Eraserhead," the prisoner returned. There was a slight shift in the black mist around his head. With it came a hitch in Aizawa's heart, but no, it must have just been an indication of movement. Unsurprising. The miasma of darkness that composed Kurogiri had not once parted since that first fateful meeting.

There was a moment in which neither of them spoke. Then, before Aizawa could muster himself to continue the conversation, Kurogiri asked, "Do you have any news regarding Shigaraki Tomura?"

This question again. It was always one of the first things he asked. Distantly, he supposed he could understand, but that didn't erase the wrongness of it. He never should have even known Shigaraki, let alone been programmed to care for him. Maybe even come to genuinely care about him. But he did. And that meant Aizawa had to answer the question, over and over again. He could say something that might stop him from asking again. He could tell him the truth: there hasn't been any news on him in months.

He wouldn't say that. Partially because he wasn't supposed to. Partially because...

He wouldn't say that.

The villain patiently waited for his response. Aizawa sighed. "No," he said.

There was another minute shift in his mist. Another moment that gave Aizawa pause even though he shouldn't. A soft 'hm' reached his ears, only just managing to penetrate the glass even with the speakers installed on either side of the interrogation room.

"Why are you here, then?" the villain asked. "You must know by now that I won't give you any information."

Aizawa's hand twitched, a small, unintentional spasm that came in time with the phantom compression of his chest. You already did, he didn't say. We're investigating the hospital. Similarly, he didn't give in to the burning behind his eyes that urged him to point out, I came anyway. You would have. Instead, his lips thinned as he tried to find the right words. Again, the captive waited patiently. So silent in his patience, so unlike the energetic chatter that once filled the air, ready to offer a push when it was needed and content to just be there when it wasn't.

"What do you think?" Aizawa slowly asked.

The man behind the glass gave a tired sigh. "Aren't my insights trivial in this situation? The most the musings of a prisoner can offer is more ammo for their captors, and we have established that you will not be getting that." He said one thing, but after a few heartbeats with no response, he sighed and added, "Perhaps it is some misguided sense of heroic perseverance."

There was no pain like losing someone you held dear. Except, perhaps, mourning them when they were right across from you.

Aizawa felt something sinking in his chest, like blood from an internal injury. Except blood was never so cold. "Oboro..." he murmured.

"I do not know who that is," the prisoner responded. "I am Kurogiri, the caretaker of—"

"Shigaraki Tomura," Aizawa muttered in time with the other speaker. He knew this song and dance. But he also knew, he knew, that there were more steps than this. He dropped his gaze down to his hands for a moment. When he raised it back up, something was burning behind his eyes. Maybe passion, maybe desperation, he didn't know. Whatever it was, it gave him the power to force out words that, while true (always true), threatened to get lodged in his throat. "I'm here because I am your friend."

They had all been friends once, him and Oboro and Hizashi and Kayama. And now…

Black mist writhed and twisted, agitated, but didn't dissipate. "I am a villain."

"No," Aizawa asserted, "you aren't." You are a victim.

"You appear confused. I am Kurogiri of the League of Villains. I—"

And so it continued. Perhaps he should have been more forceful, broken down like he had the first time. However, even if he got through to him for a moment, it was impossible to have a conversation when the other party was unconscious. And if it caused any permanent damage... no. There was merit in trying a gradual approach.

When he made his departure after ten more minutes of fruitless attempts at conversation, his thoughts drifted back toward what the prisoner had said. Heroic perseverance, huh? In different circumstances, he might have chuckled at the irony of it. If he had any heroic sense of perseverance, it was only because he had learned it from Oboro.

And look at how that had worked out for him.

The fruitless visit echoed in his dreams for the next several nights.

Aizawa followed Hizashi toward the interrogation room at a slower pace than the Voice Hero. He was meant to be moving slowly because he was calm and steady. However, the way Hizashi's eyes flickered toward him as they came upon the interrogation room told him that he had noticed the extra drag to his feet, as if metal chains had been wrapped around his ankles to make every step that much harder.

With the door to the interrogation room only a few steps away, Hizashi came to a sudden halt and swung around to face him. Aizawa withheld a sigh. It wasn't hard to tell what was going through his mind and he had hoped to avoid something like this. No such luck.

"Hey, man," Hizashi began, "you don't have to do this if you don't want to."

Aizawa pursed his lips in an attempt to stop a more active frown. "I know," he said.

Hizashi shook his head. "No, really." His voice was low, by his standards, but it grew a little higher with every syllable that left his lips. "This might not go well, and—"

"Hizashi," Aizawa cut in. "I'm fine." It was a blatant lie. As much as he might want to think that this situation hadn't emotionally compromised him, they both remembered their last visit. He'd had more time to process it, but that didn't mean that a fresh reminder wouldn't hurt. Hell, Hizashi probably didn't even need it as a frame of reference. He knew how close Oboro and Shouta had been. He knew how much he meant to him. There was no way he could see him without it feeling like a knife being driven into a wound that hadn't had the chance to heal. It simply wasn't possible.

At the end of the day, it didn't matter that it hurt to see what was left of Oboro. He wasn't going to abandon him again.

When Hizashi began to open his mouth, Aizawa shot a glance at the guard standing uneasily a few feet behind them. Hizashi followed his gaze and tightened his jaw. His gaze bounced between the two for a moment before settling back on Aizawa. He took advantage of the temporary silence to remind him, "I saw him alone last time and was fine."

Hizashi snorted, sharp and abrupt, before lowering his voice to a much lower tone. "You shouldn't have done that in the first place."

"I can make my own decisions." Even as he spoke, he was aware of the almost defensive edge that had entered his tone and he hated it. There was no reason for him to be defending his choices. It wasn't something that needed to be defended, nor would his words do anything to put his overly worried friend at ease.

"I know," Hizashi said. "Believe me, Shouta, I know. But..." His fist clenched as he floundered for words, a mix of desperation and dismay etched upon his face. "You shouldn't need to go through that alone!" he exploded. It sounded like trying to keep his voice from escalating into a shout was causing him physical pain. His voice fell lowered further and the pained air grew even worse, although Aizawa got the distinct impression that it wasn't from trying to control his volume this time. "You don't need to go through it alone."

Once again, Aizawa simply said, "I know." Oboro's presumed death had not affected him alone. Hizashi and Kayama had been Oboro's friends as well; he was not alone in this. Yet taking the time to visit Tartarus on his own was... something he had to do.

Just because Hizashi had done a better job of holding himself together didn't mean that Aizawa couldn't tell just how much the situation was hurting him. The thought made him examine his friend a little closer. He took in the frayed edges of the spikes of his hair, how unnaturally tight his jaw was even when held loosely, the bluish-black marks of bags forming under his eyes and the strain around their edges.

A pang of guilt echoed in his chest. He wouldn't cut off the arms of his friends just so he could hold their hands whenever it was time to confront the brutal truth. Voice low enough that it hardly carried at all, he said, "You don't have to do this either." He knew just how useless the offer would be, but he had to say it anyway. Aizawa hadn't spent the last fifteen years making his friends carry his weight. He wasn't about to start now.

Hizashi laughed, the sound utterly humorless for all that it was bright. "Don't act like you're okay and then start fretting over me," he chided. He managed to infuse a degree of lightness back into his voice despite the weight of the strain that could be heard lurking just below the surface. He really was an incredible actor.

They fell back into their previous actions as if time had merely stalled for a bit. The guard hurried forward to unlock the door as Hizashi closed the distance between himself and it, his eagerness to escape that moment the only real sign that their conversation had even happened.

"Hey, bud," Hizashi called as he swung the door open. He entered the room with all of his usual swagger and dramatic flare, Aizawa slinking in behind him.

The villain behind the glass wall didn't so much as blink. "We are not friends," he pointed out, his voice as impassive as usual. "Nonetheless, I must ask: do you bring news of Shigaraki Tomura?"

And so, the tone of their meeting was set.

Despite how much it must have worn at him, Hizashi spent the entire time trying to remain bright and energetic. It made Aizawa wonder if he was acting that way in an attempt to remind him of old times, of the hyperactive teenager Oboro used to be friends with. If he was, he wasn't having any success. The overt reminders he tried to sprinkle in didn't have any effect either. No wavering, no hesitance, no sign of Oboro —only confusion and dismissal.

With every passing second, the barely visible weight pressing down on Hizashi grew worse.

With every instant where something could have happened and nothing did, Aizawa felt his heart sink lower and lower.

And he found himself wondering if they were only moving backwards.

The next week saw Aizawa visit with Kayama. They spent an hour in that interrogation room, spoke new words, but ultimately found themselves repeating the steps to the same painful dance. Even when Kayama pulled out a reminder that she'd hoped would be a trump card - the cat that had helped solidify their friendship - they found themselves unable to change the routine.

Aizawa had made a point of maintaining his composure during the fruitless meeting. He liked to think that he was getting better at it. However, upon stepping outside the room, he couldn't keep his shoulders from drooping. A soft thud made him glance to the side, where Kayama leaned heavily against the wall. She cradled Sushi's cat carrier close to her chest, causing its occupant to let out a surprised mew. He noticed the way her fingers slotted through the mesh in the front. It was a small detail, but one that made the motion resemble a hug more than an attempt to use the feline as a shield.

If he were a better friend, perhaps Aizawa would have hugged her himself. As it was, he just watched with an uncomfortable lump in his throat. His concern was marred by the cruel gratitude that he wasn't the only one who couldn't completely hide his fractures.

Haunting silence floated between them for well over a moment. Some errant thought eventually drove Kayama to hunch her shoulders in on herself. It made her look so much smaller than she was, so unlike herself. (Like she had on that day.)

Aizawa cleared his throat.

Kayama looked up, a smile as delicate and deceiving as spider-silk weaving across her lips. She stayed slumped against the wall as she said, "It's... a lot."

"I know," Aizawa said. Even if he wished he didn't.

Kayama let out a gusty sigh. "Do you think he'll...?"

Aizawa's gaze dropped to the floor. Something in his chest clenched, froze, and began to crumble, flecks of stone breaking away from an already-tarnished whole. The flecks morphed into a tingling numbness that ran down his arms and legs, settling into his fingers and toes.

If she had asked him after that first meeting, he would have said 'yes', that they would make him remember, cling to those lingering shards of Oboro and put him back together. Now...

"I don't know," he croaked.

He missed his best friend. He missed his best friend and had gotten used to it. But the discovery of the warp gate's identity had made him see echoes in the care he showed for Shigaraki. He was seemingly indifferent to everything else, and the contrast brought the old hurt back into searing definition. The echoes, that glimpse he had actually managed to catch of Oboro, it had ignited a damning spark of hope, and maybe that hope was still rattling around in the back of his mind. But...

The quiet that had begun to envelop them once more was broken by Kayama saying, "We need to keep trying."

Aizawa thought about the continued questions as to Shigaraki's well-being. Of the subtle wisps of annoyance that sometimes leaked into Kurogiri's voice at his questions. His confusion over his continued visits.

"Yeah," Aizawa murmured.

Truly, the worst thing about hope was feeling yourself start to lose it.

The end of the school day had brought with it another solo visit to Tartarus.

Another pointless visit.

Aizawa held back a heavy sigh as he stepped into his apartment. The television could be heard faintly echoing down the hall. He allowed himself to close his eyes for half a second before strapping his usual neutral expression into place and striding into the living area, where he could see a head of blonde hair peeking up over the top of the couch. Hearing his approach, Mirio turned to look at him. There was the gentle rustling of blankets and squeaking of couch springs, then Eri's head peeked up beside him, her hands braced on the back of the couch as she leaned against it.

"You're back!" she cried.

"I am," Aizawa confirmed. To Mirio, he asked, "Did everything go well?"

"Of course!" Mirio said. He stood up and made his way to Aizawa, only to, as always, decline the offer of payment.

"You don't need to pay me to babysit, sir! Spending time with Eri is hardly a chore."

Aizawa tried not to let himself think of who Mirio reminded him of. (After all, Aizawa had seen Kurogiri only moments ago and he hadn't reminded him of the boy he once knew much at all.)

"If you're certain," Aizawa relented.

From there, it was a simple matter of Mirio saying goodbye to Eri and heading home. He was a kind boy who had sacrificed and suffered much, one whose presence Eri enjoyed. Nonetheless, he found the tenseness of his shoulders lessening once the boy closed the door. He allowed himself to sigh, too softly to be heard, and turned around.

He was greeted by the sight of Eri standing in front of the doorway, eyes wide and face creased in concern. His heart dropped into his stomach at the sight. However, before he could say anything, the little girl blurted out, "What's wrong?"

Aizawa felt his brows furrow. "I'm not sure what you mean," he said, slowly crouching down to her level as he spoke.

"You keep coming home sad," Eri said. She took a few cautious steps forward, paused for a second, then walked the rest of the way. Aizawa remained still as she reached out to place a gentle hand on his cheek. "It's not every day, but sometimes you come home really tired and sad. You don't say anything, but... I notice it. It's like..." Eri glanced down and nibbled on her lower lip. "It's like you forget how to smile," she finished, the words barely more than a whisper.

Somehow, Aizawa's heart managed to sink further. It was accompanied by cold tendrils of guilt squeezing at his chest. He had thought he was doing a decent job of hiding his emotional distress from Eri. A foolish assumption to make. Children, for all of their naivety, were not stupid, and Eri in particular was a very empathetic girl—especially when it came to loss. He should have known that he would have to try a lot harder if he truly wished to hide the situation from a child so familiar with things such as this.

"I'm sorry," Aizawa said. "I didn't mean to worry you." He lifted his arms up and, after a moment of hesitation, Eri dove in for a hug.

"Where have you been going?" she mumbled into his chest.

Aizawa shuttered his eyes for a second. There would be no escaping this conversation, it seemed. "Let's talk in the living room."

"I've been visiting... a friend."

Once again, Aizawa walked into the interrogation room alone. He sat down in the uncomfortable chair and looked directly into the luminescent yellow eyes on the other side of the glass.

"And it made you sad?"

“Eraserhead,” Kurogiri greeted. “I don’t suppose you bring news of Shigaraki Tomura this time ?”

"Yeah. You see, he was a hero. But a mission went wrong and he was... hurt. Really badly."

“I don’t,” Aizawa confirmed. “And I’m not looking for information, either.”

"Like Mirio?"

The captive made a noise that came surprisingly close to a scoff. “In that case, you have a peculiar way of spending your time.”

"...Sort of. But in a different way. And... he doesn't seem like he's been getting better. We don't know if he will."

A corner of Aizawa’s lips twitched up into the faintest of smiles. “Perhaps,” he acquiesced. “How have you been?”

"Oh. ...Mr. Aizawa, have... have I been getting better?"

Aizawa would not claim to be an expert at reading his friend’s altered features, but he could have sworn he caught a hint of surprise at the question. “I am a captive,” Kurogiri said.

"Eri. It is truly incredible how much you've healed since I met you, and I could not be more proud of you."

“I know, but you must do something to pass the time,” Aizawa pressed.

"But it's taking so long."

In some ways, the visit played out the same way as the others. In other ways, it didn’t. Kurogiri didn’t spontaneously profess to remember his life as Shirakumo Oboro or give new information about the League of Villains. At the same time, Aizawa didn’t press him to. They simply… talked. And once an hour had passed, Aizawa sighed, “It’s time for me to go.”

"You can't force recovery, Eri. You went through a lot and need to get better at a pace that's right for you."

Kurogiri nodded placidly. “Of course.” He hesitated for a moment, or at least, the way his mist momentarily stilled made it seem as if he were hesitating. “I suppose I will be seeing you again soon?” he eventually asked. The first time he had said anything of the sort.

"But what if it takes too long?"

Something in Aizawa’s chest flickered and then flared. Hope, its flame reignited by a passing breeze. “You will,” he confirmed, swallowing down every other word threatening to fight its way past his lips. There would be time.

“It won’t.”

Maybe it was foolish to hope. Maybe it wasn’t. What mattered was that Aizawa was willing to take that risk, just like Oboro would have for him.

“How do you know?”

Kurogiri nodded again, probably in dismissal. Aizawa stood up to leave. However, before approaching the door, he looked the warp gate in the eyes once more. And, just for a second, he could have sworn he caught a flicker of blue. “I’m not giving up on you, Oboro.”

"Because no matter how long it takes, I'll wait for you."

Kurogiri watched the pro hero depart with a placid gaze. Yet, spurred on by an undefined haze pulsating through his heart and head, as ShoutaEraserhead walked through the door, he whispered, “I know.”

#bnha #my hero academia #bnha manga spoilers #aizawa shouta #eraserhead #shirakumo oboro #kurogiri #erasercloud #(if you squint)#bnha fanfiction #bnha fic #my fic #my writing #Bnha spoilers

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terresdebrumestories · 3 years

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FANDOM: The Old Guard (2020) SERIES: - RATING: General audiences WORDCOUNT: 4 776 words PAIRING(S): None CHARACTER(S): Nile Freeman (POV), Yusuf Al Kaysani, Andromache the Scythian, Niccolo di Genova (mentioned), Sébastien Le Livre (mentioned). GENRE: Mutual care, Nile Freeman character introspection. TRIGGER WARNING(S): None that I can think of :) SUMMARY: Nile misses her mother but doesn't know how to talk about it or with who. fortunately, Bâtard the emotional support tortoise is here to help. NOTE(S): This was originally written for Nile Week 2020 but never put online because of reasons, so now here it is, longer and better written than it was :D Hugest thanks to @avaniesque for the most excellent beta work :D [ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3.]

Nile gasps when something soft bumps against her foot, hurriedly wiping at her cheeks as she turns towards the door. It looks empty at first, the cobwebs they didn’t bother dealing with earlier in the day gently swaying in the air. There’s some shuffling along the dusty floor, a light click of nails on stone, and then a small oblong head appears near the bottom. This is swiftly followed by short scaly legs and a black and brown shell wrapped in a crocheted lab coat. Nile tenses, unprepared for any sort of human company at the moment, but relaxes when it becomes apparent Booker has not elected to follow his pet around.

Said pet has now fully entered the living-room and is beelining for a strawberry resting against her right pinky toe. It looks good enough to eat, as does the rest of what Booker feeds it, which Nile still doesn’t really understand but who is she to tell Booker how to care for his pet? Bâtard, of course, is unconcerned by her surprise and eventually gets to chomping on the strawberry.

Nile’s eyes are dry by now, the tight press of sadness around her heart still present but past its peak, at least for now. It still takes her a couple of seconds to realize the small square of bright white on the side of Bâtard’s outfit is a piece of paper. She picks it up to find a few words from a hand that hasn’t yet lost the impeccable penmanship of its first life. Apparently it’s hard to let go of habits people beat into you with a stick. The note reads : “He’ll keep your secret as long as you keep paying. First one on me.” It makes Nile smile.

(Andy, Nicky and Joe are all just as capable of impeccable calligraphy, but when free not to pay attention to it they tend to revert to script letters. Booker is the only one who insists on torturing them all with permanent cursive written with fountain pens on special paper.)

She doesn’t know Booker all that well, yet. Seven years ago, he was the quiet grumpy member of the group who didn’t seem to care much whether Nile stayed or left. Then he was the one who made a pretty compelling case against Nile seeing her family again—revealing himself to have some unresolved issues in the process—and then he was the one whose issues exploded all over the rest of the group. Now he’s mostly the one who was brought back way too soon, who knows it, and tries to make himself as scarce as possible because of it.

Mostly, it means that while Nile is the one who’s exchanged the most words with him so far, it’s also pretty much been limited to the topic of...well. His tortoise. All in all, much less informative about the man compared to just watching him settle said tortoise up in every safehouse they use, no matter how temporary. (Nile would help, but she’s not entirely sure how the others would take it. It seems prudent not to.) Or looking at the cozies the tortoise parades around on a regular basis...or, as the case may be, discovering he’s taken the time to bedeck his precious reptile in a new outfit for the sole purpose of leaving it (uncharacteristically) unsupervised in Nile’s company just so she has someone to talk to.

“You’re not who I want to talk to either,” she says, because she’s under no illusion that her solitude today has been accidental. “I mean, I know they’re trying I just—”

Nile sighs, wiping at her face in a vain attempt to clear her head, but the gesture only brings fresh moisture to her eyes as she tries to swallow down her frustration. It feels almost silly, in the grand scheme of things, to be this upset over this, but, well... Hearts do what they want, and there’s nothing Nile can do about that, so eventually she looks down at Bâtard’s scaly little head and tells the tortoise:

“It’s my mom’s birthday tomorrow. She’s turning sixty-five and I—”

Nile claps a hand on her mouth to stifle the sob wrenching itself out of her, but it feels piercing and loud in the quiet evening air nonetheless. She breathes around it for a bit, unwilling to attract company just yet, and reaches down to rub Bâtard’s head with her forefinger.

“I want to be with her,” she eventually confesses to the tortoise. “I want to be there and hug her, I—I miss my mom.”

Nile knows she can call. They’ve got burner phones, Copley’s skills to keep them hidden, and an uneasy truce with Quynh ensuring the biggest threat they’ve faced so far isn’t much of one for now. Three years ago she wouldn’t even have had that: her mother and brother both convinced she was dead and buried somewhere in the mountains of Afghanistan. She believes with all of her heart that her mother and brother would never blame her for living when they can’t.

Her mother is starting the second half of her sixties, and she’s not there to see it. Her mother, who’s growing older and greying a little at the temples. Her mother, who deserves better than never knowing when they’ll see each other again, with little-to-no news in between visits. Her mother, who was there for her in every way she could and every way that counted, and for whom Nile wants to be there but can’t. Her mother, who will not be there forever.

(Sometimes, the thought hits Nile out of nowhere, and it takes an impossible effort not to drop everything right then and there to jump in the first flight to Chicago.)

“It’s just—” Nile pauses, trying to pick her words so she can really make Bâtard understand, as impossible as that is, and continues : “They’re great. All of them. They’re—even Booker’s not so bad. I mean, I’m kind of stuck in the middle of the family feud so that’s not the best feeling, but... They’ve gone above and beyond to help me feel welcome, they’ve taught me so many amazing things…. They’re just...not my mom.”

Bâtard, done with his strawberry, lifts his head to look at her, and Nile swears he even leans into her scratching, just a little. It’s a pleasant surprise and she finds herself smiling, not very bright but present nonetheless. It soothes something in her, too, not to be alone right now even though she’s not ready for human company. Both her mother and Jordan have allergies so they’ve never had pets before, and Nile never really longed for one either. Right now, though, she thinks she understands a little better what endears them to people.

“I’m...scared,” she admits, keeping her voice quiet like it’s going to make a difference. “I know I’m going to lose her one day, that’s inevitable, but I don’t want to find out about it months later because my brother couldn’t reach me...I don’t want to find out about his death from nephews and nieces who’ll barely know who I am, if they know I exist at all.” Nile sighs again, sobs crowding in her throat and tightening her voice as she admits: “I wish I hadn’t listened to Booker.”

That last admission is what breaks the dam, and all of a sudden Nile is sobbing again, and she couldn’t stop if she wanted to. There’s misery here, and anger too, maybe even more than there was at the beginning. It was...easier, in a way, to pretend to be dead. She had to mourn, of course, and that tore at her and still does sometimes, but it was a clean cut. It was simple.

Now her mother knows she’s alive and her brother knows and it’s a relief for all of them, but it also means Nile has to be the one consciously deciding not to call home until she’s in a safe enough place to do so, not to text until she can do it from a sufficiently untraceable phone. The temptation there is a hundred times harder to resist because it would be so easy not to.

“If it makes you feel better,” Joe’s voice says from the threshold, “I think we can all sympathize with that sentiment.”

He’s being quiet and careful—it’s the middle of the night after all—but Nile is still startled, and she pretends to glare at him until he tilts his head in quiet enquiry. In response she sighs, wipes at her wet cheeks again, and waves him over. He smiles, something almost like relief in it, and steps lightly into the living room.

“Mind the doctor,” Nile tells him, gesturing at the remains of the strawberry, as he lowers himself on the ground next to her.

“The doct—you mean Bâtard?”

“Yeah he’s—”

In that instant, Nile realizes she has no idea where Bâtard went. He was chilling by her feet, seemingly content to go to sleep soon, and now he’s nowhere to be seen. The realization is enough to send Nile’s heart racing, horrified at the thought of being the one under whose watch Bâtard meets an unfortunate end.

Sure, it isn’t her pet and she and Booker aren’t really close—not like she’s becoming with the others, at any rate—but 1) Bâtard doesn’t deserve to die and 2) it doesn’t take a genius to realize his demise would be absolutely disastrous for Booker’s mental health, and no one wants to see the consequences that could have on the rest of them. Joe must have gone through a similar realization, because as soon as Nile falls quiet he tenses and gets back up into a crouch.

“Please tell me we didn’t lose the tortoise,” he whispers, like he thinks Booker might be listening in on them.

“We didn’t lose the tortoise,” Nile replies because it’s barely been five minutes and Bâtard cannot possibly have gone far in that time frame.

“Good,” Joe says while Nile rummages through her pocket for her phone and turns the flashlight on, “because I don’t think any of us are prepared to deal with the fallout of—”

“We did not lose the tortoise,” Nile interrupts, her tone firm enough to pretend she’s not actually nervous about this. “Can you turn the light on? I’m getting nowhere with this.”

Joe does, and Nile spots Bâtard almost instantly, ambling in his unhurried stroll towards the fridge like he knows where the treats come from...maybe he does, Nile really doesn’t know enough about tortoises to tell. Either way, it’s a relief seeing him there, and she turns to let Joe know she’s found their target.

“Oh thank God,” Joe sighs, sagging with it. “I really don’t want to find out what Booker would be like if we lose him.”

“You know,” Nile remarks as she follows Bâtard’s mosey to the fridge, “I’ve been thinking maybe it’s time the lot of you had a talk about this.”

Joe winces, and Nile can sympathize with that if she’s really honest. She doesn’t feel the same about what happened, but then she doesn’t have a shared history with Booker the way the others do; it’s easier for her to let go faster. Still, Booker’s been back for nearly three months now, and Nile is getting tired of feeling like she needs to be walking on eggshells between the two parts of the group. Joe sighs.

“Which ‘this,’ do you think?”

“All of them,” Nile retorts, careful to keep her voice gentle. She’s not trying to force anyone into anything, after all. “Just...it’s been months, and you’re still avoiding each other. You all need to talk.”

Joe sighs again, running a hand over the nape of his neck. He looks like he might be ready to talk with someone, but the very thought of it makes Nile want to recoil. Another day, maybe. When she’s got more energy, and more space in her head for other people’s problems.

Not right now.

“Remember you’re on my strawberry,” Nile says, smiling to turn it half into a joke, “if you need a consultation you pay your own fee.”

“Alright,” Joe chuckles, good natured even in the middle of the night. “That’s fair.”

He sobers up soon after, growing quiet and serious to ask: “Is it working for you? Or would you like to tell me what’s going on? I’ll even listen for free, if you’re short on strawberries.”

Nile snorts. The truth is, she does feel better for having told him what was going on, even if her ‘consultation’ was accidentally cut short. She’s not sure how much of this she wants to share with the team just yet. There’s never an easy way to tell people who want to help you that they can’t because they’re simply...not who you want at that moment.

“Actually, I’m good right now,” she tells Joe. “Take you up on it another time?”

Joe visibly hesitates, something a little worried in his frown, so Nile gives a fond smile and leans up to squish him in a hug as much as she can manage.

“Thank you,” she tells him, relaxing when he returns the embrace just as tight and actually lifts her up against him. “I’m good, I promise. It’s not─you can probably guess most of it, honestly. I just...I feel kind of awkward about it, I guess.”

“Because we’re too close?” Joe guesses, and Nile nods.

“Sometimes it’s just easier to talk to someone uninvolved.”

“Well,” Joe says, something too wet in his throat to be only about Nile, “I’m glad you have that then. Just...just know I mean it.”

“I know,” Nile promises, chest warming from the care and the obvious concern. “Now go to sleep, old man.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Nile gives Joe a playful shove, snorting when he pretends to stumble, and watches him go with the stretch of a smile sinking into her cheeks. Slowly, the air around her grows still again, the vague sounds of a forest at night and a door creaking barely even noticeable.

How much sleeping is actually taking place on the other side of the safehouse, Nile doesn’t know. She learned very quickly that no one on this team is capable of normal sleep patterns. It’s quiet all the same, and after a few seconds of standing in place, she goes to the fridge, retrieves a peach quarter from Bâtard’s snack box and she plops the offering in front of him, turns the light off, and sits back down next to the tortoise.

“Alright,” she tells him, “maybe I wasn’t completely fair with your dad. I mean...he was wrong, but it’s not like he was trying to be cruel. And he did have a bit of a point.”

She still can’t quite stand the thought of losing her family. It’s unavoidable, she knows. One day, maybe, she’ll make her peace with it, but for now...no. She doesn’t want to think about that any more than she already has tonight.

“I know there’s a purpose,” Nile tells Bâtard. “I’ve seen it. I’ve witnessed it. And we’re getting better at it! I know I’m doing more good here than I used to as a soldier...but sometimes I wish there wasn't a purpose and I could just go home.”

Bâtard, either oblivious to or unconcerned by Nile’s predicament, keeps munching on his piece of peach, and Nile can’t help but smile down at him, reaching to rub at his head once more.

“You really are a good listener,” she tells him. “You’re still not my mom though. She’s the one I want to talk to.”

Bâtard looks up then, and straight at Nile with something that could almost pass for a purposefully flat expression...and, really, he’s not wrong. It’s nearing three am here which makes for...maybe ten or eleven in the evening in Chicago? And sure, Mom’s not so young anymore and could probably use the sleep...but today is her birthday, and Nile’s always tried to phone her on the day before, and she has a burner phone with her so, really, what’s stopping her?

Maybe the possibility of displeasing Andy, a bit. But, Nile thinks as she dials, they’re leaving tomorrow aren’t they? If she’s going to do it, at least she’s picking the least inconvenient time for it.

“N─yes?” Mom’s sleepy voice mumbles into the phone, better at the incognito game than she was when it all started two years ago. “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” Nile says, and smiles at her mother’s joyful, wordless exclamation. “Am I waking you up?”

“Nevermind that,” mom chides, “nevermind that! How are you? Where─well no, you can’t tell me where you are, but how are you?”

“Better now,” Nile says in a sigh, warmth and bittersweetness spreading in her chest as she leans back against the wall, finger still tracing circles on Bâtard’s head. “I mean. I miss you, but at least I get to hear you now.”

“Oh, I miss you too baby,” Mom says, tears audible in her voice, “but I’m so glad you called! Don’t tell your brother, but it’s definitely my favorite present this year!”

Nile smiles again, a little wobblier than she’d like, maybe, but not forced. This isn’t ideal and she wants more, but it’s better than not calling the way she’d planned to do. At her feet, in the dim silvery light of the moon, Bâtard looks just a little smug.

“Not a word,” Nile promises, knowing her mother is going to share the news herself anyway. “How was your day?”

“Oh it was nice! You know how I told Marjory down the street I felt ready to celebrate a little more this year now I got used to you being dead and all, so she treated me to lunch at that new Italian on the corner─you tell your Nuncio he was right, by the way, osso bucco is delicious. And then we went for a stroll in the park, and I was a little worried, because I’m still supposed to be grieving, but you’re alive and I wasn’t sure I’d look suitably emotional when we passed your favorite spots, but I do miss you so it really wasn’t that hard and all in all it was nice and Marjory’s none the wiser so I’m calling it a success.”

“I’m sorry,” Nile says, unsurprised when Mom tuts at her in response. “I know, I know. I still wish you didn’t have to lie to her.”

“Nile, baby, if Marjory knew, she’d understand. Now you stop worrying about her and tell me what your day was like.”

“It was alright,” Nile says, rolling her neck as the tension slowly seeps out of it, the breaths coming slower and easier now that she’s actually doing what she’s wanted to do all day. “I missed you. Jaamal taught me how to draw a dog, though, and then Antaram kicked my butt in training again.”

“Just you wait a few years,” Mom says with a chuckle, “then you can take advantage of her age.”

Nile snorts, even though she seriously doubts Andy will let an aging body get in the way of remaining the best fighter of the group. She might look past forty─although she doesn’t remember how long she’d lived before she died the first time─but she’s also been fighting since before horses were domesticated (or near enough), and all that expertise doesn’t just go away.

It’s still an amusing thought, though, so Nile chuckles along with her mother for a bit before continuing.

“It’s not that bad. I’m learning a lot.”

“Of course, of course! I’m just saying.”

“Of course,” Nile repeats, still smiling. “Anyway, that’s about it. Nuncio made us tagine, Jaamal made fun of him because apparently he cooks like a christian─I’m pretty sure that’s an inside joke. And then I was feeling a little down so Blàsi lent me Bâtard, and now I’m here.”

“Is Bâtard Franklin’s name?” Mom suggests when she hears Nile hiss at her slip up.

“Yes, but I don’t think he deserves it,” Nile says, grateful for her mother’s help. “I think we’re bonding. Either that or he just wants me for my fruit.” Mom chuckles. “He’s wearing a doctor’s outfit right now, by the way. I think it’s one of the homemade ones.”

It looks lumpier than the ones Bâtard wore at the beginning, at any rate, but in a way that makes it even cuter. Not that she needs the cozies to find Bâtard cute anymore. It’s entirely possible the tortoise doesn’t care one whit about her─she really doesn’t know a lot about them─but it’s clear that this little late night conversation was enough for Nile to bond with him.

“Oh, well, send me a picture if you can,” Mom says with the tone of a connoisseur readying to look at a newbie’s attempt, “see if I can give Blàsi some pointers.”

“I’ll try my best, but you know I can’t make promises,” Nile says, sadness creeping up again. “Places to see, things to do...you know how it is.”

“Speaking of,” Mom asks, “what time is it where you are? I mean─you can telle me that, right?”

“I can,” Nile says, smiling at her mother’s effort. “It’s uh...almost one AM.”

Nile yawns, unbidden, and then sighs.

“I think I need to go.”

“Yes you do,” Mom chides, teasing and firm all at once. “You’re not going to accomplish anything if you’re dead on your feet─off to bed, Nile.”

“I don’t want to,” Nile protests, not trying very hard to keep the pout out of her voice. “It’s your birthday.”

“It’s okay,” Mom says, and the tone of her voice is like a hug Nile wants to linger in forever. “I understand. I’m just glad you called.”

“I’m glad too,” Nile says, wiping at a stray tear on her cheek. “Happy birthday, mom.”

“I love you, baby,” Mom says, and Nile grins through a fresh wave of tears.

“Forever and ever?”

“Of course forever,” Mom promises with something like an amused eye roll in her tone. “Now go to sleep.”

“Yes mom. Bye.”

“Bye bye, love you.”

“Love you too,” Nile says, and then she reluctantly disconnects the call.

She’s still feeling blue, it’s true, but it’s a different sort of ache now, the sort that’s softened enough to be a fond remembrance of someone you love rather than a knife to the heart. It isn’t something Nile has figured out how to value yet, but it could be, someday, maybe. With a watery sigh and a smile, Nile bends to pick Bâtard up─he’s fallen asleep, it seems, all snuggled up in his shell and entirely unresponsive in the time it takes for her to scribble a quick thanks at the bottom of Booker’s note and bring Bâtard back to his terrarium in the old parlor.

“M’ci,” Booker mutters from the seat to her left, and Nile almost has a heart attack.

When she turns to scold Booker for it, however, he’s already back to sleep─or feigning sleep, she’s not entirely sure─his back to the door to the bedroom and turned towards the only unboarded window, which they’ve been using as an entry and exit point. Nile sighs, shaking her head, and goes to the room she shares with the others, only to jump again when she lies down on her mattress and finds herself face to face with Andy’s eyes shining in the moonlight.

“I fear the day my sleep patterns start matching yours,” Nile whispers to Andy, and sighs when all that garners her is a sharp smile. “How are you not dead on your feet?”

“I’m old enough to transcend the need for sleep.”

Nile punches her in the shoulder.

“Feeling any better?”

“Yes, actually,” Nile says, trying to shift into a comfortable position. “I talked to my mother...it’s always too short but. It’s good.”

“Good,” Andy says. There’s a pause, and then she adds, “Nile, I’m sorry.”

Nile blinks at the darkness. It’s been seven years, and while she knows full well Andy is perfectly capable of recognizing her shortcomings, it’s the first time Nile hears her actually apologize for anything. She’s got a right to be a little startled, she thinks.

“I was with Book on this,” Andy explains when the silence between them has stretched a little while longer. “Not seeing your family again, I mean. I didn’t think it could turn out well, either...sure didn’t do him any good. Or Lykon, for that matter.”

“To be fair,” Nile admits after a beat, “I get it. I’m probably just very lucky. And I...I’ll lose them anyway. Sooner or later. I don’t─I’m glad I still have them for a bit, even if it hurts but...sometimes, I think at least the clean break was...easier.”

Andy stays quiet at that, eyes still looking at Nile in the darkness. Nile resists the urge to squirm under those eyes, but she’s not surprised when the urge to elaborate becomes too strong:

“It’s just...before my mom saw us, I didn’t have to wonder how this was affecting everyone. No contact, stay out of Chicago for another fifty years, maybe a little more, and that was it. It hurt, but at least the path was clear. Now I keep wanting to call her not knowing if I should. I have to use fake names to tell her about the most important people in my life, who she’ll never meet─I’m making her lie to her best friend!”

On the other side of the room, Nicky snorts in his sleep, and Nile smiles through her anguish as it morphs into a soft snore.

“They’ve been friends since elementary school, you know,” Nile tells Andy when she’s sure Nicky isn’t waking up. “They tell each other everything, and now my mom has to lie to her because of me. I don’t know how she can bear it.”

She pauses, breathing through the sudden tightness in her throat, and concludes:

“I don’t know how long she’ll bear it.”

Andy hums.

“I don’t have any advice for you Nile,” she says eventually. “I don’t really remember how that went for me, it’s been too long. But...even now, sometimes I─it’s hard, living without your family. Even at my age.”

“I...I didn’t know you felt like that,” Nile admits. “I thought you’d grown past that.”

“I don’t think we’re meant to,” Andy says. “I can’t remember what my parents looked like, or what it was like to be a child...but I do know what it’s like to want someone else to take care of your shit for a while.”

Nile grins, surprised into a light laughter that’s almost a giggle. Sometimes it’s easy to forget Andy is as human as any of them, even if she’s the oldest person on Earth. Discovering moments of relatability is always a delight and a relief all at once.

“I know we’re not your mom or your family,” Andy says after a while, the smile fading from her voice as she grows more serious, “and we’re not trying to be. But you’re─I won’t get angry if we’re not enough. You don’t have to...to hide it from me. You don’t have to stay alone and just...assume. There’s been too much of that lately.”

Nile can’t see Andy’s face in the darkness, not when her eyes aren’t angled to catch the moonlight, but it’s not hard to guess where she’s looking. In the doorway, Nile can see the outline of Booker’s seat, one hand dangling over the armrest─bottle free for the second night in a row, though there’s still an empty glass nearby on the floor.

“What I mean,” Andy says, startling Nile again, “is that you don’t have to be ashamed if we’re not what you want or need. The fact that you value your family isn’t a weakness, or a flaw. Just because we’ve─just because most of us grew out of it doesn’t mean you’re wrong for still needing more time, especially when it’s so recent. This...I didn’t tell him that, and I should have, so now I’m telling you. Not to protect us, but because it’s true.”

“Thanks, Andy,” Nile says.

“Sure. Now go to sleep,” Andy orders fondly.

Nile snorts, gives Andy a light punch in the shoulder, and turns over to go to sleep.

#The Old Guard #Nile Freeman #TOG Fic #NileFreemanWeek2020 #Fanfiction #Bâtard the tortoise #s: Bâtard verse

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un-beel-ievable · 4 years

Text

Before October’s Gone (Mammon × reader) | songfic

Author’s note: Please do not repost!! If you like my writing, please leave a like and a comment (and follow me to see similar content in the future :D)!

Inspired by Cimorelli’s song Before October’s Gone! You can listen to it here.

One of the longer fics I’ve ever written...I hope you guys enjoy it! I worked really hard on this one :3

_____

♪ Our phone calls got shorter

And the nights they got longer

You stopped replying

And I saw you with her

You tell me you miss me

I feel special for a second

But then you turn around and show me that you didn't meant it

I listen to your voicemail from last September

And I bet that you don't remember leaving it

But it's all I got

My last piece of you ♪

“Mammon!” The chirpy voice at the other end of the line made up for the weeks that he’d missed hearing it. Curse Lucifer for implementing the stupid roster for phone calls —having to wait his turn while his brothers got to listen your cheerful voice and melodic laugh was beginning to drive him up the wall. He understood why Lucifer would have to put such a rule in place for his brothers, but surely the peacock could loosen up a little for him right? The others may be “eating up too much of their time”, but such an offensive statement could never be applied to him. After all, he was your first. “Yo! How’ve ya been? Wait, lemme guess. You’ve just been wanderin’ around in that sad, depressin’ human world with no place to go and nothin’ to do...right?”

You laugh, and his heart does a somersault in his chest. How he’s missed it. Nothing in all of the three realms could make him happier than hearing the sound of your laughter; it’s like music to his ears. Knowing that he was the one that drew such an adorable sound from your lips was the cherry on top. The first time he’d heard you giggle, he’d sprinted back to the House of Lamentation to begin devouring joke book after joke book to ensure his chances of getting to hear it again. Hearing his brothers criticize him for acting like a fool had always been something that bothered him in the past, but your arrival had put a spin on things —if amping up his antics was something that got you to crack a smile, he was all for being the butt of his brothers’ jokes. “How’d you know?”

He grins. “What did ya expect? I mean, I was your first, right? Your first demon. Which means we share a special sorta bond! I know these things!”

Another laugh. Mammon wonders if he should shoot for a third time, but you don't give him the chance to try. “Listen, Mammon...it was great hearing from you, but I have to go.” The bitter taste of disappointment fills his mouth. He’d been looking forward to this phone call with the eagerness of a child awaiting to open their Christmas presents...and you had to leave already? The two of you had barely even talked for 5 minutes! That’s so unfair! “What? Already? C’mon, we barely got to talk—”

His whine of complaint cuts off abruptly when he picks up on the sound of someone else’s voice on your end of the call. Curious, Mammon turns up the volume of the call and strains his ears. It’s a male’s voice, one that sounds awfully familiar… He frowns. “Is that Solomon?”

“Yeah! We’ve been hanging out a lot more ever since we returned to the Human World! Keeping each other company and all that. Let me just pass him my DDD, I think he wants to say hi—”

“Nah, don’t bother. Y’all have fun, I’ll talk to you again soon.” Mammon hangs up before you can get the chance to say anything else and flops back against the pillow pile on his unmade bed with a sigh. Solomon, huh? The two of you sticking together made sense —after all, you were the only two humans living in a realm of demons for an entire year. Of course you would form a bond over this shared experience. Still, the idea of you hanging out with Solomon frequently didn’t sit well with him. He was your first, if anyone should be hanging out with you, it should be him.

Envy was Levi’s thing, not his. But there was no stopping the jealousy that was blossoming in his chest. In an attempt to keep his emotions in check, Mammon powers on his DDD and pulls up the voice message that you’d left him a few months ago. You were still residing in the Devildom then, back when he didn’t have to resort to playing back an old voicemail to make him feel less lonely.

If he closes his eyes, he can almost convince himself that you’re lying in bed beside him, and not by someone else’s side an entire realm away.

♪ I heard all the rumors

I didn't want to believe it

You barely mentioned her once

I didn't think anything of it

Sitting there on my driveway

Said you could listen to me all night

Now you're the boy who never meant it

And I'm just the girl who "took it all the wrong way" ♪

You’d always been fascinated by the sports car that he kept permanently parked in the upper floor of his bedroom. The both of you had gotten into a playful argument over justifying the reason behind his “absurd decision” (your words, not his). Out of the dozens of possible reasons that they’d managed to come up with during the hour or so their discussion had lasted, your personal favourite had been “to allow a quick escape from one of Lucifer’s extensive monologues”. He hadn’t even bothered to come up with a counterargument for that. One, it wasn’t entirely false; he wouldn’t deny that getting behind the driver’s seat in order to get away from one of the peacock’s pointless lectures wasn’t a thought that had crossed his mind on more than one occasion. And secondly...the expression that you wore while you were coming up with all of these ridiculous thoughts was just too cute. Your brow would furrow in concentration, and your tongue would peek out between her lips —you looked just like the cats that starred in those “cat blepping” videos that Satan would relentlessly spam his DDD with. The way your face lit up when you’d thought of a reason satisfactory enough for your standards was even more adorable —Mammon knew that as long as you kept directing that megawatt grin at him, he’d go along with anything that you said.

At some point during their conversation, the two of you had relocated from the couch you were perched on to the backseat of his car. Mammon doesn’t even remember whose idea it was to move in the first place —he couldn’t recall if this was the result of you pleading with him to allow you to take a better look at the vehicle or if he’d suggested it to you first. He doesn’t even remember what the both of you had talked about once you’d gotten in the car; the topic of their conversation had switched course multiple times. What was etched into his mind’s eye for the rest of time, however, was how attentively you’d gazed up at him when he was talking. You seemed as mesmerised by his words as he was by yours. The notion that someone genuinely wanted to listen to everything that he had to say felt foreign to him; his brothers had brushed him off as nonsensical and annoying a long time ago. You made him feel important.

“...Mammon! HEY, STUPIDMAMMON! Did you even hear anything I just said? Sheesh…”

Mammon’s train of thought is derailed by a pillow that hits him square in the face. Normally, such an action would trigger a rowdy pillow fight that usually ended in Lucifer barging in and bringing an early end to an evening of fun. But today Mammon was so lost in recollections of the past that he barely even kicks up a fuss as he peels the cushion off his face. “Huh?” Levi raises an eyebrow at the second born from where he’s seated across the room. Mammon could be a moron at times, but rarely was he this unaware of his surroundings. “I said, did you see MC’s latest Devilgram post? They were at this Human World anime convention with Solomon, you know the one I told you about last week? The one that Ruri-chan’s voice actress was going to appear at? MC’s soooooooo lucky that they got to see her perform live. I can’t believe Lucifer wouldn’t let me go, it’s so unfair…”

Mammon usually tuned out of the conversation entirely whenever Levi starts going off on a tangent about something related to his animes, but the mention of your name had caught his attention. You were at a convention? With Solomon? Like...on a date? Mammon snatches up his DDD from where it’s lying on the armrest of his seat and loads up your Devilgram page. As usual, the sight of your bright smile is enough to cause his heart to skip a beat —you’re so breathtakingly beautiful that it’s unfair. But the sight of the male posing beside you in the picture causes his mood to turn sour quickly. Solomon. Was that the human sorcerer’s arm around your waist?

Flipping his DDD over so that he doesn’t have to look at the screen, he sets it back down on the armrest with enough force that it actually causes Levi to cut his ramble short mid sentence. Pretending that he didn’t notice the odd look that Levi was giving him, Mammon settles back in his seat and closes his eyes.

If there was something going on between you and Solomon, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know about it.

♪ On that October night when I let you go

You didn't even try to make me stay, no

I didn't know that you could be so cold

Like the Minnesota snow

Somehow I always knew we'd end up this way

And I hope you feel happy someday

I just wanted you to open up to me

But now that's on the list of things you never did ♪

Mammon had spent the last couple of months waiting for this moment. You were back. Back in the Devildom, back in your room in the House of Lamentation, back by his side. A new semester of classes was something he’d never looked forward to in the past, but things were different this time. A new school term brought copious amounts of coursework and misery, sure, but it also brought you back to the Devildom. You’d returned from your vacation in the Human World with bright eyes and rosy cheeks, armed with souvenirs for each and every one of your favourite demons. Mammon was thrilled by the small paper bag bulging with keychains and other assorted trinkets that you’d thrusted into his hands, but the one gift that he’d appreciated the most was the warm embrace that you’d pulled him into.

The next few days pass in a blur, with Mammon still finding it difficult to believe that you’ve really returned (he has to keep pinching his arm to reassure himself that this isn’t a cruel joke that his subconscious is playing on him). He'd been there to greet you upon your arrival in the Devildom. And he’d seen you during meals and passed by you in the hallways...but he hadn’t actually gotten the opportunity to spend proper one on one time with you —you were too busy settling in and making up for lost time with everyone else. Until now.

Seated atop of a hill overlooking the rest of the Devildom, the vantage point gives the both of you a spectacular view of the expansive shopping district. You can even spot the town’s affectionately dubbed “party central” —also known as the area where most of the popular bars and clubs are located— in the distance; or at the very least, the colourful lights that illuminate every building in that part of town. It’s quite a sight to behold, but the hustle and bustle that can be seen even from a distance makes you appreciative of the fact that you and Mammon are far away from the crowds of Denizens enjoying an evening out. You shiver when a passing gust of wind rustles the leaves of the tree overlooking the bench you’re seated on.

“Cold? Let the GREAT Mammon warm ya up.” Before you can even roll your eyes at the suggestive nature of that statement, Mammon has shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it snugly around you. Not that you’re entirely surprised by his words at this point, this isn’t the first time he used that line with you. Just like every other time he’s done this, he doesn’t remove his arm afterwards, keeping it draped around your shoulders. But unlike the previous times he’s pulled this stunt, you don’t nestle into his side, or even lean your head against his shoulder. He feels a pang in his chest, but he refuses to let it show on his face. “So how was your vacation in the Human World? I bet it had to be pretty borin’ without the GREAT Mammon there to keep ya company.”

“It was alright.” A pause. “Listen, Mammon...There’s something that I need to tell you.”

The smile that Mammon’s attempting to keep plastered to his face wavers, but he nods at you in encouragement as you chew on your lower lip anxiously. When your next course of action is to raise up your left hand instead of carrying on the conversation, his brows knit together in confusion. He’s about to ask if this was some kind of odd ritual and whether or not you’d joined a cult in your absence, but then he spots it. The glint of silver on your ring finger.

His jaw drops.

Noticing the expression on his face, you hurry to clear up any misunderstandings before he —understandably— jumps to the wrong conclusion. “It’s not what you think! I’m not engaged or anything, it’s just a promise ring. Solomon and I...we got together two weeks ago. I meant to tell everyone, but everything’s been so crazy ever since I got back —I’ve barely had the time to catch my breath, let alone make such a big announcement.. But now that thing’s have quieted down a little...I wanted to tell you first. After all, you are my first demon.”

The Avatar of Greed was uncharacteristically quiet as you rambled on. When he finally speaks up again, his voice lacks the boisterous energy that usually radiates from him. “I am, aren’t I?”

A low chuckle rumbles in his chest, but there’s no humour in the sound. “You should head back to the house without me. I’ll catch up.”

“Mammon—”

“Look, don’t worry ‘bout me. I’m fine.” Mammon takes both of your hands in his and gazes up at you with earnest wide eyes, as if his overexaggerated acting skills were enough to sell his words to you. Ridiculous as it may be, his ploy seemed to work —or perhaps you just didn’t care enough about the hailstorm of emotional turmoil that flickered in his azure hued gaze. It didn’t matter. Either way, you were gone before Mammon could change his mind and convince you to not to leave him. Tears pool in the corners of his eyes and blurs his field of vision, but he doesn’t take his gaze off of you as you disappear down the path that leads to the House of Lamentation.

You don’t even bother to turn around and look at him.

♪ Maybe sometimes things just have to end

Maybe sometimes there's just no explaining it

But you could've let me know

You'd be moving on

You'd be moving on before Octobers gone ♪

#obey me shall we date #obey me shall we date game #obey me game #obey me shall we date fanfiction #obey me shall we date fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #obey me shall we date reader insert #obey me shall we date self insert #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon #gender neutral reader #self insert #reader insert #obey me shall we date songfic #songfic #angst #obey me angst #obey me shall we date angst

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do-androids-dream-ao3acc · 3 years

Text

Merry Christmas

And you’re getting a special gift! :) I give you one chapter of a work that I will probably not presume, it’s the abandoned “A past and future secret.” You can find the chapter below the cut. Beware: NSFW, explicit. And now have a good time.

Everything had a political dimension, at least for Emhyr, especially when it came to public events that he had to attend. The wedding had not been long ago, and appropriate to its status, it had taken place in Nilfgaard. At best, however, he had postponed the north's planned expansion, which is why Emhyr soon returned to Vizima after the festivities. There were also obligations at the court there that were directly related to his marriage. Of course, Geralt had subtly noted that celebrations did not necessarily have a political influence, but even he knew better. He suspected, not without reason that Emhyr simply liked all the effort. While he often emphasized that his status - and the current military power - alone should be enough to keep his subordinates in line, he knew well enough it wasn't. There were occasions when politics required an open display of pomp and ostentation, and there were also occasions when the court allowed itself to be appeased by festivities. And even the people appreciated this, for a prudent ruler ensured that an event such as a wedding provided certain privileges - a reduction in taxes, an extra bushel of grain in the silo, and the like.

In this case, it might have been particularly necessary to influence the nobility and the people equally, because not only was the power structure in the north still fragile, but the usual beautiful princess was also missing, with whom many a decision was easier to sell. For this, Emhyr could not bring political motives into play. Nor did he succumb to the illusion, if he would have cared, that his marriage to a witcher would somehow benefit the profession's reputation. Nevertheless, he had taken the risk even though his own reputation might suffer, or people might think he had fallen into madness. Love was rarely a motive that lasted in the long term in the political arena.

Tonight's ball was an attempt to smooth things over, and he knew that it would be successful, at least with some of those present. A kind of post-wedding celebration, if you like, exclusively for the representatives of northern kingdoms. The ball was the highlight of several days of celebration, which could only be a copy of the Nilfgaard festivities, but hopefully without scandals. That the original wedding date had been overshadowed by a perfidious assassination attempt had fueled the rumor mill. They had finally caught up with the matter a few weeks later without any further problems, but of course, the same kind of thing stuck in people's minds.

Geralt was usually not interested in such considerations, even though he knew that he could hardly ignore them now. Only little by little did he realize that in this case he was actually taking the place of the expected princess - with all the consequences. And they were often of a representative nature. Even the one or other dance could not be excluded - and surprisingly, he was not a bad dancer. Emhyr was leading, of course. This was always the only unaccustomed thing, although Geralt had no difficulty in letting him take the lead in other areas. In fact, he even liked it. There was only one thing where he always insisted on getting the upper hand, which was when it came to Emhyr's safety.

"They all think you married your bodyguard," mumbled Geralt as they led the first dance of the evening in the heated room. As far as Geralt was concerned, the only dance, but there was probably not the last word about that.

"Did I not?" Emhyr returned quietly. One hand on Geralt's back, he held with the other Geralt's hand, and perhaps they danced a touch closer than it seemed appropriate. This was not particularly scandalous for newlyweds, yet an unexpected display of emotion on the Emperor's side. In the end, however, one of the few he could afford.

Geralt snorted.

"What makes you think so?" asked Emhyr as the music swelled to indicate that the dance floor was now open to the rest of the audience. Now they could speak more freely.

"Look at them," Geralt replied. "It's just like in Cidaris."

Emhyr knew exactly what he was alluding to. Back then, however, they had only pretended to be married - it must seem all the more ridiculous to anyone who had been at the court of Cidaris then, given the enormity of the actual wedding.

"If I remember correctly, you said at the time that I could put you in these clothes, but one would still recognize that you had the witcher in you," said Emhyr, not without a slight twitch of the corners of his mouth. "Would you really mind if people thought I married you for that reason? "

"Hardly," Geralt admitted. "But who knows, maybe that was the real reason?"

Emhyr hummed.

"Maybe," he replied and pulled Geralt a little closer.

Even if it was one of those evenings that seemed endless to Geralt, at some point, the moment came when they could withdraw. Emhyr seemed willing to continue the only dance he had been given that night once they had arrived in his - well, now probably their - rooms. The door had barely closed behind them when Emhyr took advantage of the fact that he was still holding Geralt's hand: in one quick movement, he pulled him closer and pushed him against the wall. Contrary to his habits, Emhyr had drunk more than usual - Geralt clearly tasted it in the following kiss. It was only one of the reasons for Emhyr's impetuousness, with which his tongue performed a very different dance in Geralt's mouth. The fact that this was a way he got rid of his permanent tension, which one usually could not recognize, was nothing new for Geralt. And marriage - basically their whole relationship, if he thought about it - was still new, for them both. Still exciting. He wrapped his arms around Emhyr; his right hand slid up to his neck as if to pull him even closer. Emhyr pressed a knee between his legs, pushing himself tightly against Geralt. His hands gripped Geralt's face in an unusually tender gesture, reserved for the most intimate moments, something he would never show in public. His kiss, however, spoke a different language, reflecting the passion of which the bulge in his trousers expressed exact words.

As their now slightly swollen lips parted, Emhyr murmured at his ear, "Husband," knowing full well that Geralt still felt a thrilling shiver down his spine hearing this.

"If you wanted to seduce me, fine, you succeeded," Geralt murmured as he tried to win back Emhyr's lips.

"I guess it's not very difficult," his husband returned, and the little smile was unmistakable. It reached his eyes, which were dark with desire at the same time.

A quick grip confirmed the obvious: all this had been enough to make Geralt completely hard as well. The unexpected movement produced one of Geralt's little noises that Emhyr loved so much. And he knew how to get more. His mouth wandered to Geralt's throat, and purposefully found the one spot where his tongue made a deep sound elicit from Geralt's throat. With one hand, he reached up and loosened the ribbon from Geralt's hair so that it fell on his shoulders.

The loose hair gave Geralt a wild appearance. This hair seemed merely impossible to tame, just as the one to which it belonged could never be fully tamed. Nevertheless, Emhyr knew ways to wake up or contain the wolf if he wanted to. What he wanted now soon became apparent when he started to free Geralt from his pants with extremely dexterous fingers.

"Gee, you're impatient, but let's at least find a more comfortable place...", Geralt murmured between the never-ending kisses with which Emhyr covered his mouth and neck. "I'm sure that's not necessary," Emhyr returned as his mouth reached the shoulders. It was not just a touch too much alcohol that made him talk like that, not even his usual impatience. Not only, at least. What had built up in him today obviously demanded a particular outlet.

But how particular, Geralt only realized when Emhyr suddenly slid deeper until he knelt before him. This was as much a surprise as his mouth, which only a heartbeat later took up his member without prior warning. Geralt gasped. Involuntarily, a hand wandered into Emhyr's hair, although he knew that he didn't like it - but now, he didn't complain. The other hand reached for the wall behind him as if he wanted to hold on to it. And somehow, he really wanted to. It was a rare opportunity, and since Emhyr did not comment further, Geralt decided not to do so either. He just enjoyed the moment. After all, the most important ruler of the entire continent knelt before him, and he worked his cock so skilfully that he almost became dizzy. It was a shame that he showed this talent so rare, although he was always extremely skilled with his tongue.

The warmth in the room, the fact that he, too, had needed plenty of wine to get through the evening, in combination with the feelings Emhyr just caused in him by moving his tongue agonizingly slowly over his shaft... Geralt felt his legs literally become soft. A sound escaped his throat, which Emhyr did not miss. He looked up at him for a moment, and the sight brought Geralt so close to fulfillment that he sucked the air in sharply. The hand that had just been clawed into Emhyr's hair slapped audibly against the wall to find support. Emhyr also made a sound now, quite clearly a small, half-suppressed laugh. For a brief, almost painful moment, his mouth moved away from his delightful task. Still looking at Geralt, now almost provocatively - no, for sure - he put two fingers in his mouth to moisten them. With the other hand, he pushed Geralt's legs a bit further apart. In no time, the tongue was back, now much further, but he was still just playing with him.

He only teased him, his tongue playing with the wet, shiny tip of his cock at one moment, then again he licked along the shaft; only to finally take it all the way back into his mouth, which made Geralt gasp sharply. Then a hand reached back, pushing Geralt a little bit away from the wall, and the fingers looked for a way into his insides. It was almost too much, although not much had happened yet, but the prospect alone seemed to be enough. Emhyr knew that, but the soft whimpering that Geralt emitted as the first finger slowly made its way was additional proof. The smacking sound his mouth made when he pulled back did the rest. Now his other hand firmly grasped Geralt's balls, and he looked up at him and muttered, "Behave yourself, husband."

Geralt groaned.

"Me? You want me to behave?"

He made an attempt to spread his legs a little more, but Emhyr had pinned him down with his mouth again.

"If you carry on like this," Geralt gasped, "I certainly can't behave."

Then a little "Oh" escaped him, followed by a barely perceptible curse as the second finger followed the first, and both picked up a rhythm that was in harmony with Emhyr's mouth.

Finally, Emhyr let him go, everywhere, and the feeling of disappointment was almost palpable. Emhyr stood up, pushed him back against the wall, and whispered in his ear, "We really should find a more comfortable place - although I wouldn't mind having you right here and..."

There was a knock at the door.

#writing #fanfiction #Emhyr x Geralt #Geralt x Emhyr #Emralt #Emhyralt #unfinished wip #Emhyr/Geralt

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elizabethemerald · 4 years

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Mistress of Shadows

Ok, I just really liked the idea of Pre evil Morgana being a mentor figure to Claire, especially when she senses dark magic around her. Also this story uses some of my personal headcanons and original ideas on how magic works. Enjoy!

AO3

“Hand maiden? Could you attend me?” Morgana called softly into the study attached to her rooms. The girl, Claire of House Nuñez, entered her rooms with a sour expression on her face. A strange child. She had accompanied Merlin’s apprentice Hisirdoux, and Lancelot’s newest squire.

Morgana extended her awareness a little. She could sense hostility radiating off the girl. The same hostility had been mixed with a wave of fear when the girl first sighted her in the throne room. However she quickly schooled her face, showing nothing but pleasant interest.

“What may I do for you, Lady Morgana?” Claire’s voice was so carefully trained to a pleasant neutrality. She would do well with statecraft, though she would need to learn how to hide her emotions from other magic users.

“There is a celebration to happen tonight. Would you assist me into my formal attire?” Morgana watched the girl with shrewd eyes, as she gestured to her outfit for the evening. Claire stepped up to the dress, her careful mask slipping for a moment as she examined the dress. Her face briefly showed her confusion, as she worried her lip with her teeth. Then her mask returned and she picked up the first piece of the outfit.

Morgana would have raised an eyebrow, if she did not have her own mask firmly in place. The girl didn’t recognize one of the most popular and current styles of attire. And yet she had control over shadow magic. Morgana could feel the unmistakable aura around the child.

As Claire walked around her, helping her into the dress, Morgana examined her closely. There. At the corner of her eyes, as she leaned closer to adjust a button. And there. On her hands as she placed a cloak around Morgana’s shoulders. The tell tale hairline cracks of dark magic.

Truly no one who didn’t have personal experience with dark magic would have noticed. Morgana had felt her own skin splintering under the force of the magic she wielded. Had seen the cracks spiderweb up her arms and had seen the scars they leave on her own face.

“Claire?” Morgana said softly. The girl’s eyes flicked to her own before returning to the garment. “That is your name correct? Claire?”

Claire nodded, not making eye contact again. “Yes it is, Morgana- uh, Lady Morgana.”

“There is no need for such formalities when it just the two of us. You can call me Morgan if you like.”

Morgana moved a hand to lay on Claire’s shoulder. To her surprise the girl flinched back like she expected to be struck. And if Morgana hadn’t been watching her closely for any signs, she might have missed her eyes briefly changing from brown to purple and black. Morgana allowed her hand to return to her side.

“You don’t need to pay attention to all the stories Hisirdoux tells about me. The boy has quite the imagination.” Morgana paused, watching Claire’s face closely. She also kept her senses tuned to the waves of emotions flowing off her. “I won’t hurt you Claire.”

“Of course my Lady.” Claire gave a slight curtsy, no longer meeting her eyes, before turning on her heel to leave, Morgana’s attire set for the evening.

“Though continuing to perform Dark Magic might.”

Claire stopped, her back straight and rigid as a spear. The hostility that had permeated the air around her since meeting her was suddenly swamped in fear. Morgana moved to sit at her table.

“Come here girl.” Claire turned, and Morgana could almost see the dozens of lies and excuses bubbling to the surface. “Do you think I wouldn’t recognize the signs of someone who had used Dark Magic?”

She stood there stiffly for a few moments, before slowly stepping closer. When she was closer Morgana carefully lifted her hands, keeping her motions slow and deliberate. She didn’t want to spook the girl again. When Claire didn’t flinch away again, Morgana put her hands on her cheeks, examining her face even closer this time.

The cracks were carved deep. And yet there was only one set. If someone had used dark magic multiple times the cracks would be layered on top of each other, changing the color of the skin to an ashen gray. Their depth however was interesting enough in its own right. A singular use of dark magic, yet powerful to a degree she had rarely seen before. Morgana sat back, allowing her hands to drop to the table top again, a small smile on her face.

“I recognized your shadow magic earlier. How could I not? I’ve been the sole practitioner of shadow magic in the castle for years. But I thought I felt a trace of dark magic. That is a dangerous magic to use.”

Claire’s face crumpled in frustration. “I already got this lecture from Merlin. I know shadow magic is dangerous!”

Morgana allowed one elegant eyebrow to rise towards her hairline. “Not shadow magic, Claire, Dark magic.”

She leaned back, again carefully bring her hands up, making sure she broadcasted each movement clearly. A hint of shadow danced at her finger tips. The light in the room dimming a little.

“There is nothing inherently wrong with Shadow magic. It just another specialization. Like fire magic, or healing magic, or even Merlin’s artifacing. It is neither good, nor bad. It simply is.” Again Morgana carefully watched Claire’s face. The girl looked surprised, and watched the dancing shadow with interest. Her rapt attention showed a calculating mind, quick learning. Morgana had no doubts that she would be able to perfectly replicate the magic after only a little practice. “It is certainly true that the nature of shadow magic makes it a favoured tool of assassins or thieves, or even the trolls in the wood. But that does not make it evil.”

“However,” Morgana continued her lesson. “Dark magic is a different beast all on its own.”

Claire stepped back a moment, then glanced at the other chair at the small table, almost unconsciously. Morgana gestured to the chair, inviting her to sit. Then when she was seated and again paying attention, Morgana breathed in, then out slowly. She drew on the darkness that was only ever a whisper away from her. It was as close to her as the clothes on her back.

Claire gasped as the dark magic took hold. Morgana knew hair line cracks were appearing around her eyes. She carefully made sure they were not deep enough to leave any permanent mark. Then she sighed and released her hold on the magic.

“Shadow magic is a tool. As one may prefer a hammer over an axe so might one prefer to dwell among the shadows as among the flame. Dark Magic, however is a source of power, not a tool to direct.”

“You know that all magic has a source?” Morgana waited for Claire’s hesitant nod. “Most wizards utilize the magic within their own bodies. Merlin is quite the fan of using the magics inside minerals and elements of the earth around him. Dark magic allows the wizard to pull more magic than their body can hold. It kills the body, to do so, but it allows for powerful works of magic, for those in dire need or with little care for the value of life.”

“Dark magic… kills the body?” Claire asked, her eyes wide now.

“Yes. It can cause the mess that is inside a body to die, the cracks that are on the skin only show the barest hint of the damage that is being done. Enough usage of dark magic could cause the organs to fail, the lungs to be unable to draw breath, the heart unable to beat.”

Morgana knew that a careful practitioner could exclusively draw on this necrotic force from outside their body, ensuring that only other living things paid the cost of the magic. Or, as Morgana often did, just the opposite, ensuring that only they pay the cost, so nothing else is harmed. However this wasn’t a lesson she wanted to impart on to a young magic user. That way laid corruption. And eventually, succumbing to the evil of killing those around them for their own reward.

Claire’s face was closed off. Thoughtful. Good. Morgana well knew the danger of Dark magic. It was difficult to tread the line between the benign shadow and the cruel darkness. Too easy to began to enjoy the death and suffering the darkness could cause. Morgana leaned forward, catching Claire’s attention again.

“There are only two kinds of people who resort to dark magic. Those who care not for the suffering their magic causes.” Morgana watched Claire’s mask drop again. She looked horrified. Scared. Morgana gave her a warm smile. “Or those whose need is so desperate that they must resort to destroying their own body.”

“So tell me. Claire of House Nuñez. What road lead you to such desperate straits as to risk your body and soul to cast a spell of this magnitude?”

Claire had tears in the corners of her eyes. Her hand, almost on its own accord flew to cover her mouth, suppressing a sob. Morgana prided herself on her perceptiveness. This Claire was not a girl to play with magics without reason. Much less with dark magic on a scale that could have caused the cracks on her face.

“The-the troll, I was found with-” Claire hesitated, her eyes flicking away, grief and longing on her face.

“You love him?” Morgana said softly. She waited for Claire’s nod, then again put a gently hand on the girl’s shoulder. This time Claire did not flinch away. “A human and a troll in love? I never thought I would see the day.”

“Well he was my boyfriend first!” Claire declared, her usual forcefulness and fire returning to her voice.

“In that case. If you would resort to dark magic enough to mark yourself like this, then it seems there would be no sense in keeping the two of you apart.” Claire looked up at her, tears still shining in her eyes, but determination shining there too. “After all, I’m sure the two of you would do anything for each other.”

Some fun author notes on this one. I really loved Morgana’s arc in Wizards and liked how she acted as a narrative foil to Claire’s own study of magic. Morgana thinks Claire flinched from her because she had been abused in the past. Its why she makes sure to telegraph her movements clearly so Claire isn’t taken by surprise. Claire doesn’t know how to put on the dress Morgana picked out, having never seen the style before. However she is able to make some connections between the style and certain historical costumes she’s seen. If the story had been from her perspective Claire’s thoughts at the dress would have been about breaking it down and analyzing it as well her doing her best to emotions, unknowning that she was projecting those emotions. Also I feel like Claire is constantly surrounded by men, so I wanted to have one time where there is another woman around her, to help her with her magic.

#claire nunez #morgana toa #toa wizards #wizards spoilers #tales of arcadia

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allsassnoclass · 3 years

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maybe I wrote an off-screen epilogue scene. maybe I didn’t. click the keep reading button to find out

warnings for mentions of weed and a mention of meds

December 26th dawns slowly over the mountains of Colorado, the sun creeping over the landscape like molasses, and Luke wakes up in the same way. He stays in the murky space between dreams and waking for a long time, floating through his subconscious until Ashton’s gentle fingers trailing up and down his arm finally pull him back to earth and wakefulness.

“Hey there, angel,” Ashton says, shifting to kiss his bare shoulder. “Good morning, my love.”

“Morning,” Luke hums, turning on to his back so he can see him. This bed is smaller than the one at their LA house, pushing them closer together and reminding Luke of the months in Utah back when they first got together and earlier this year, when Luke stayed with him for most of fall semester.

Ashton smiles at him, hazel eyes crinkling around the edges.

“Waking up to you is the best way to wake up,” Luke says, voice scratchy from disuse. It’s something he’s told Ashton multiple times, but it always bears repeating, and it never fails to make Ashton melt a little. He reaches forward and brushes Luke’s hair out of his face, hand curling against his cheek. Luke leans forward and kisses him, warm and slow, stubble scratching his face and mouths stale with morning breath. Ashton hums contentedly when they pull away, eyes staying closed half a moment longer than Luke’s.

“What time is it?” Luke asks.

“Mid-morning,” Ashton replies.

“Petunia?”

“Already took her out and gave her breakfast.”

“I love you,” Luke says. Ashton can claim to dislike Petunia all he wants, but that doesn’t change the fact that over the course of quarantine he has been the one giving her more treats and belly rubs. His willingness to get up with her in the morning means Luke is free to stay in bed as long as he wants, and since Ashton returned he can keep him here, too.

“What do you want to do today?” Ashton asks.

“Be with you,” Luke says. That was partially why they decided to come to Colorado for Christmas. Ashton wanted a little bit of snow and Luke wanted to spend uninterrupted time with him. When spring semester starts, Ashton will be heading back to Utah alone. Luke has been writing and recording a lot of smaller projects in his home studio that will likely never see the light of day, but beginning in January the band is going to have recording time together again. He’s needed with them, so he and Ashton will be long-distance until the semester ends since the university isn’t having a spring break and they won’t be traveling more than necessary in the pandemic.

“You don’t have a choice out here,” Ashton says. “The cabin isn’t that big, my heart.”

“Good,” Luke says, hand sliding down Ashton’s waist. His pet names have been getting increasingly diverse throughout quarantine, and each one still manages to give Luke heart palpitations, even the weird ones like thunder cat and lemon zest.

He leans forward to kiss him again, shifting easily when Ashton tugs to guide him on top, thighs bracketing Ashton’s waist. Ashton moves his palms to rest heavily on his legs, and when Luke leans back he’s met with the sight of his black hair messy against the white pillow, a ray of sun illuminating his face and making him glow.

He runs his knuckles along the scruffy beginnings of a beard Ashton has been letting himself grow since classes ended. It’s prickly, but Ashton doesn’t stop him, just watches with a smile.

“You’re so handsome, Ash,” he says. The eclectic mountain man vibe he’s been leaning into shouldn’t work, but somehow Luke looks at him and is still as enamoured as he was with the adorable boy he didn’t realize he loved and the beautiful man he married.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” Ashton says. Luke moves his hands to the smooth planes of his chest, keeping himself propped up.

“I think that’s your expertise,” he says, reminded of the hundreds of photographs stored on Ashton’s phone or various sim cards around the house, all filled with Luke in various moods, positions, styles, and states of dress. One of Ashton’s goals for their summer together was to bring his photography skills up to par with his painting, and with lockdown Luke was the only convenient subject.

They have some pictures that they’ll never show anyone, and there are a few that Luke has considered showing the world. Needless to say, Ashton is his favorite photographer.

“I wish I had my camera now,” Ashton says. “Every inch of you is exquisite, and with the way you’re backlit by the sun you look ethereal. If I could capture the expression on your face I would never take another picture again, because none of them would compare.”

He doesn’t yet have the words to respond to that, so he leans down and kisses Ashton again, and again, and again.

-/-

After wasting the entire morning together under the covers and grabbing something quick to eat, Luke and Ashton go for a walk. It’s not cold enough to be unpleasant, and the cabin has woods to one side with paths stomped down throughout. They soon lose sight of the house behind them. Luke hopes they’ll be able to find their way back when the time comes, but if they get lost at least they’ll be together.

“This year was a lot better than it should have been,” Ashton says.

“What do you mean?”

“There’s a global pandemic going on. There have been thousands of needless deaths, cancelled plans, and teaching was significantly harder and less fun, but I think this year was my happiest year since I can remember. I feel really good about my art. I feel like I’m more aware of the world around me. I’ve stopped feeling as self-conscious. I finally got put on meds that work, and I’m actively enjoying my life.”

“You smoked a lot of weed.”

Ashton laughs.

“Yeah, I smoked a lot of weed, but I kept it professional at school.”

“Some of your students’ works would’ve been even better if you were high while seeing them for the first time.”

“Luke,” Ashton admonishes. “I’m not trying to get fired. I need the administration for reference letters since I’m job searching near LA now.”

Luke stops walking, letting Ashton carry on without him for a few steps.

“You’re job searching?”

“I am.” He backtracks, meeting Luke where he is and taking his hands. “Luke, I’m not stupid. I know that the reason this year didn’t suck was because it was the first year I got to fully spend with you. You are the love of my life, and I don’t want to try living my life without you for eight months of the year anymore. When you’re not traveling around the world dazzling people with your talent, I want to be with you at home. I love teaching, and I’m going to keep trying to do that, but after this semester I’m moving to LA permanently whether I have something else lined up or not.”

“Oh,” Luke says. “I thought you loved Utah. You have friends there, and students. Are you sure you want to leave that?”

This past semester, Luke was able to fully witness Ashton as a teacher. When he wasn’t on campus, Luke got full exposure to his joys and frustrations. He sympathized with him over administrative decisions and safety protocols and got to see pictures and video tours of the art submissions that Ashton wasn’t able to see in person.

He gave Daisy an encouraging voice note for finals, because she’s been struggling with trying to complete her senior project given the circumstances and Ashton asked him to since she’s his favorite.

“I have friends here, too, and there will be other students,” Ashton says. “Even if that wasn’t the case, being with you would be worth it.”

Luke’s heart feels full to bursting.

“Really?” he asks, needing one more confirmation that his dream is going to come true before he lets himself believe it.

“Yes, my sweet. I’m moving to LA with you for as long as you make that city your home.”

Luke kisses him because the other option is to start crying, something which he doesn’t want to do when they’re out in the cold.

“I think this was one of my best years, too,” Luke confesses.

He came out and then almost immediately deleted his social media from his phone. He’s learned more about what it means to be a good ally. He’s grown as a songwriter, stretching himself with different genres and working on his piano skills more, writing dozens of love songs for Ashton and silly ones for Petunia, bad ones, good ones, and amazing ones for himself and for the band. He figured out what it really means to be a husband, sharing his life with Ashton and able to physically be there for the bad days they both had and celebrate the joyful ones.

Things haven’t been perfect by any means. They had to postpone the tour, they can’t see anyone, and it often feels like the world is on fire. Still, though, he’s had Ashton.

Through all of this, he’s had Ashton, and after this semester he’ll always have him with him.

“You’ve been glowing,” Ashton says. “I’m glad I got to experience it with you.”

“Me too,” Luke says. “I love you.”

Ashton kisses his nose.

“I love you, too.”

They continue their walk hand in hand, enjoying the fresh air. Ashton points out signs that animals had been there and Luke ensures that he doesn’t run into any trees while he’s not paying attention to where he’s walking. The path turns out to be a big loop, and soon they can see other cabins again and then their own back door.

“Wait,” Ashton says before they go inside. “I want to jump in the snow. Film it for my instagram.”

Ashton has a professional artist social media, but he also has a private instagram that he posts on frequently. Luke has gotten very used to snapping pictures or videos for him, always endeared by which pieces of his life Ashton wants to share with the rest of the world.

Ashton takes off his coat for the video and faceplants with a kerplunk. As soon as he’s done filming, Luke is laughing.

“That was fun,” Ashton says when he hands his phone back to him. “Want to make snow angels?”

“No, Ash, I want to go inside,” Luke says. He gets no warning before Ashton has arms around his waist, tackling him down into the snow and making Luke shriek.

“You’re so lucky I love you,” Luke laughs, poking Ashton’s pink nose with his glove. Ashton beams above him.

“Can we go inside now?” Luke asks. Ashton hums, then snaps a picture with his phone.

“Now we can,” he says, getting up and offering Luke a hand. Luke lets Ashton haul him up, then they finally enter the cabin again, stomping snow off their boots and brushing it from their coats.

They don’t have any plans for the rest of the day, or the rest of their stay in Colorado in general, but Luke couldn’t care less about what they’re going to do. He gets to spend the rest of the holiday with Ashton, and then the rest of his life with him. Soon they’ll be permanently in the same house again, and he couldn’t be happier.

If Ashton managed to transform an awful year into a good one, Luke can’t wait to experience all of the amazing years ahead with him right by his side where he belongs.

#my writing #lashton #off-screen #how wild would it have been if I put a rick roll under there instead #would I have lost followers for that #okay now you Actually get a break from me.#going to not post writing for a week (but I am going to work on some inbox prompts)#can ya'll believe I still only have 285 words of the off screen prequel written and I don't even like them????#also! for your own thinking enjoyment: how much of ashton's quarantine chaos energy would still exist if he had to be a professor #like how wild is off-screen December 26 2020 ashton? who knows #I think he is slightly less wild than actual current Ashton but Not By Much #ashton's always been a goofy dude it's just manifesting differently right now #off screen

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