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#because the original colored one is so HORRIBLE
ninashiki · 2 years
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im so crushed rn because ?!??!? the obscure utena sega saturn game had new anime cutscenes, right? BUT THE ORIGINAL RESOLUTION WAS 240X168!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IN .CAK SEGA VIDEO CINEPAK. before converting to a common file type so it can be uploaded to youtube or even any upscale attempt. but there is no upscaling with something like that. the detail literally just ISN’T there. without the uncompressed animation from the devs, it will never look good. even in-game, the cutscenes you do see have an overlay, so they’re literally smaller than the native resolution of the saturn, and THEN, not even every cutscene can play in game!!! i’m pretty sure the losing duel cutscenes went unused, since in game if the duels are lost you get immediate game over without a cutscene or anything. it’s so fucked. i think the only way you’d be able to “upscale” the cutscenes is if you’d manually redraw every frame by hand (which btw, how the FUCK would you do that???) which would take FOREVER even if they recycled as much animation as they possibly could. 
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how do you blow that up without it exploding
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bittersweetorpheus · 7 months
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☆ THERE IS NO SWEETER INNOCENCE THAN OUR GENTLE SIN ☆
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The original sin is the fairest: everyone sinks. make the most of the final feast, because for the sinners, the curtain call has come.
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☆ CONTENT WARNINGS ☆
Spoilers for 4.0 Fontaine archon quest, pov switches, co-dependency & obsession, hints of soft yandere
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“I’m not quite sure when it began, but a prophecy has been circulating around Fontaine: the people will all be dissolved into the waters, and only the hydro archon will remain, weeping on her throne.”
This has become a fact for the Fontaine people, with the water levels slowly rising and consuming parts of the nation. Everyone has different opinions on this- some ignore it, deciding to live in the moment- surely they’ll be long gone before water consumes the whole nation, some believe it’ll be like returning to their origins, and some dread it- how horrible must it be to dissolve into water and possibly lose themselves forever?
But mostly, the Fontaine people have been resigned to it, and gone about their day as normal. The water levels were rising pretty slowly, anyways, so it wasn’t their problem yet. Or it wouldn’t be, if the rising water was still moving at the same pace. However…
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☆ 1 WEEK BEFORE THE DUEL ☆
Your awakening is a gentle one.
Or, atleast, it is for about a minute or two before you realize you’re underwater. You panic, scrambling around like a fumbling idiot for another two minutes before you finally get your wits about you and realize that you are, in fact, not drowning and are breathing like normal even though you’re underwater? Unfortunately, along with that realization comes the fact that you… well, where even are you?
You take in your surroundings. Ignoring the fact that you’re underwater for some reason, it’s actually… very pretty. There isn’t a single piece of litter in sight, and you don’t have a hard time seeing, as the water is clear and beautiful. An underwater cliff arches a few miles behind you. The lush ocean ground beneath you splits apart and a trench can been seen below it that splits into multiple different paths leading even deeper under the ocean. The ocean floors and cliffs are lush and foliage is all around you, ranging from huge and tall stocks of plants resembling a mix between flower stems and lilypads to areas with plants the color of autumn leaves. Fish can be seen almost everywhere- crabs that glowed a mesmerizing blue, tiny tidalage, seals splotted in pastel colors, groups of fishing swimming together, and more.
The clear, litter free ocean, bright foliage, and adorable pastel creatures make for an idealized version of an ocean. And, surprisingly, they seem familiar somehow.
Wait…
You give the seals nuzzling you one last pet, and make your way to the surface of the water.
You surface. Huge mountains with colorful foliage surround the ocean. A beautiful city can be seen in the distance, with some ships floating near it. Some sort of bridge can be seen running from the city and through the mountains. It goes so far that it disappears from your line of sight.
Oh.
Oh. Your guess was right. You’re in Fontaine. You stay there for a bit, astonished. You push that to the back of your mind, you’ll deal with it later. But first, did you still have your inventory? You cross your fingers- please, please, please! Archons, you spent so much money getting all those weapons and characters and so much time just farming materials and artifacts. You shudder at the thought of losing all your progress. You’ve already checked the banners, and they’re the same as usual, so you close your eyes, trying your hardest to imagine opening your inventory and-
Huh? What? You are, once again, astonished. You close your inventory and open it again- maybe its just a glitch? Or maybe you’re delirious. You open it again. Nope. Nothing’s changed.
When did you have all these characters- you’re pretty sure some of these characters haven’t even become playable yet. And all these weapons? Wait, how good is your artifact luck? How is this possible? Are you gonna be banned for hacking? Can you even be banned if you’re actually in the game?
You slowly close the inventory once again, still in shock.
Surely this is a dream, right? Yeah! It’s just a lucid dream, even if it feels so realistic.
You decide to spend your time exploring and petting more animals- maybe even meeting some characters! Who knows when you’ll be able to dream like this again.
Yep. Just a dream. You’re just dreaming, thats all.
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☆ 1/2 WEEK BEFORE THE DUEL ☆
Dozens of rain droplet streak down the stained glass windows of Nuevilette’s office. Jazz plays, alongside the sounds of a heavy downpour of rain and the ticking of the clocks in the office. He finishes flipping through the files and leans back in his padded chair. He hasn’t been able to do much work these couple of days, always anticipating the familiar feeling of warmth flooding into his body and being guided to do things, but it never came, and with that realization, the rain had started to pour even harder.
Had you finally abandoned him? Had he not concealed his feelings well enough? Were You able to see through his facade? Had You finally noticed his concealed feelings whenever he saw You guiding the ever so immature Furina, or doing exploring the city with Navia? How the corner of his lips would curl down every so slightly whenever You took the warden, Wriothesley, to go ice-briding when You felt bored, one-shot bosses with the Champion Duelist Clorinde for fun, or farmed for talent materials for the magician triplets?
He may not understand humans and their emotions, but even he knows what these feelings are. So, he promises that he’ll stop soaking in jealousy or anger when you fawn over the two Fatui Harbingers or anything of that sort. Just… come back to him. Don’t abandon him. Comfort him like You always do. Praise him, praise his appearance, praise his personality, please come back, he needs You.
But he knows that You haven’t abandoned him. You’re still here, in fact, Your presence is stronger than ever, and the whole of Teyvat is flourishing, almost like its in celebration of something. So, where are You?
Neuvillette sighs, standing from his chair. He’d better check on Furina- who knows what she may be doing without your guidance. As he starts to walk to the door, his long tailcoat brushes against his desk, making a file that was buried beneath all the others fall down, onto the ground. It’s contents sprawl on the floor.
He bends down, picking up the papers and placing them back into the file. As he does, he skims over the contents.
He frowns. Could it be true?
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☆ 2 DAYS BEFORE THE DUEL ☆
People are whispering, and Focalor is frozen in place.
The whispering grows louder. She can make out hushed and anxious tones.
“What’s she doing just standing there? How disrespectful.” She hears.
She snaps out of her state of awe, and tries to take grasp of the situation. Unfortunately, in her panic, she says the first thing that comes to mind.
“Imposter!”
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☆ 1 DAY BEFORE THE DUEL ☆
“And what do you say to these claims?” Nuevillette asks, snapping ‘The Imposter’ out of their stupor.
“No.” ‘The Imposter’ says.
Nuevillette frowns, “no? I ask that you elaborate.”
“How am I supposed to defend myself if I don’t even know what I did wrong?” ‘The Imposter’ reasons, still not fully processing the situation.
“Hah! Trying to act dumb won’t work here. You know what you did!” Focalor interjects. Truthly, this situation had come to be because of her carelessness and now it had spiralled way out of her control. She can’t take back what she said now, so she’d had to pray for the best. She dug her grave, so she might as well lie in it and hope for the best. I mean, surely it was fine, right? Surely this is an imposter. “If you can’t defend yourself in court, than you might as well duel to prove your innocence.
“I- huh? Alright, then.” ‘The Imposter’ says, not seeing any other choice. “I request a duel, I guess.”
“Very well, your request is accepted. You will be dueling against Clorinde tomorrow at dawn.” Nuevillette says.
People slowly filter out of the court room in anticipation for the day of the duel.
Focalor has a sinking feeling in her gut.
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☆ THE DAY OF THE DUEL ☆
Clorinde sits at the harbor, too ashamed to watch over The Creator.
The duel had lasted no more than one or two minutes. The Creator had made no move to fight back, and Clorinde had made quick work of Them. It was only when she had made her way over to Them to end Their life when she noticed the ichor that spilled from Their many wounds. Her heart sunk into her chest. In a panic, she screamed for doctors. She had tried her best to keep Them awake, but They had already fallen unconscious by the time the doctors arrived.
Obviously, The Creator was still alive- who knew what would happen to Teyvat if The Creator, Themselves, Died. But she couldn’t get the image of their unconscious form out of her mind. The sin she’d committed weighed her down like the anchor of a boat.
She sighed, standing up shakily, starting the walk back to the city and…
Wait. Was the water level always this high?
Oh.
Oh. 
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come-see-our-show · 3 months
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I saw an early screening of the Mean Girls movie last night, so here is a summary of my thoughts, comparing the movie musical to the Broadway musical, which I was lucky enough to see live in 2018!
Changed that I liked:
The usage of social media in the Broadway show made it very clear that it was written by adults who didn’t know much about Gen-Z. It was probably one of the worst parts of the show in my opinion. But Tina Fey must have done her research since 2018, because the way the movie uses TikTok, memes, vlogging, and FaceTime to push the story forward worked VERY well. I think there were some influencer cameos, but it didn’t feel they were included to show how “young and hip” they were, It actually added authenticity.
The diversity within the cast and changing last names to reflect the characters’ backgrounds (Karen Smith ➡️ Karen Shetty, Janis Sarkisian ➡️ Janis 'Imi'ike)
Cutting down “Meet the Plastics.” It’s a very exposition-heavy song and doesn’t need to be super long, even though the full version is quite catchy and fun.
All of the new jokes landed so well, probably because Tina Fey’s writing style is better suited for the screen as opposed to the stage.
This is more of a comparison of the musical vs. the original film, but a big change was The Plastics’ weaponized wokeness (which I talk about here).
The production design for most of the songs was very different. The stage musical has a lot of rock songs, which were changed to a pop sound for the movie. I personally prefer rock musicals, but it was a good way to give the movie a separate identity from its predecessor so it doesn’t risk becoming a carbon copy. It worked on some songs (“Someone Gets Hurt” and “World Burn”) but not on others (“A Cautionary Tale” and “Revenge Party”).
Cutting the joke about Regina’s ass being big. It was a very low-brow joke, which I’m not a fan of, and was just really immature. Thank God that was changed to her falling, which still shows her being embarrassed without her body being the joke.
Explicitly making Janis a lesbian! (It’s only implied in the stage show with “It’s not even true… I only have one butt”) And she goes to prom with a girl while Damien dances with a boy! ALSO THERE’S REJANIS LORE AND IT’S SO HEARTBREAKING I LOVE IT
megan thee stallion just… being there
Miss Norbury and Principal Duvall being a couple and owning a dog together!!!
As a low mezzo, I appreciated whoever decided to lower the key for “I’d Rather Be Me.” I felt very represented 🩷
Having Cady be raised in a single-parent household so it focuses in more on her relationship with her mom. Jenna Fischer was so motherly and sincere and brought a warmth to the movie. Their scene together near the end made me emotional (you’re never too old to ask your parent to stay with you until you fall asleep) (also this is my request to make jenna fischer my mom)
Changes that I didn’t like:
Cutting BOTH of Damian’s solos??? (SHE’S LEAVING!!!!!!!! JUST LIKE MY DAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
Cutting “More Is Better.” It wasn’t necessarily a memorable song, but it did give both Cady and Aaron more depth, both as separate characters and within their relationship.
While cutting some of the songs helped with pacing, cutting HALF of the score made me forget that it was a musical sometimes, which sucks because I really like musicals!!!
Other stuff:
The movie was marketed horribly. One of my friends didn’t even know it was gonna be a musical because there were no songs in the trailers 💀 (Also, this isn’t just a Mean Girls problem. The Color Purple also didn’t have any songs in the trailer. I didn’t even know Wonka was a musical until I saw it in theaters, so that was a bit of a shock.) If you’re producing a musical movie, maybe your focus groups should be musical fans, because that’s still a HUGE market.
Auliʻi Cravalho’s voice is STUNNING! She and Jaquel Spivey had great chemistry and their friendship felt so genuine!
The opening and ending transitions from the garage were everything to me
The EDITING
Angourie Rice is a great actor and fit Cady perfectly… except for her singing. Out of the entire cast she was easily the weakest in terms of vocals and it was pretty disappointing since she’s the LEAD. I could barely hear her in the new song “What Ifs” because of how quiet and breathy she was. I think it’s a better written song compared to “Roar” though.
Jon Hamm cameo!
Ashley Park cameo!
I cannot stress enough how funny this movie was. I was probably laughing louder than everyone else in the theatre.
I lost my shit during “Meet the Plastics” when Regina unzipped her jacket and Cady was staring at her boobs. She’s just like me fr 🏳️‍🌈
I know that Regina is a horrible person but I couldn’t find it in me to dislike her in the slightest. She just served too much cunt 😩
Christopher Briney is a good actor, but I don't think he was the right choice for Aaron Samuels. I would hate to ridicule anyone for their looks, but it still plays an important part in casting. Aaron is supposed to be a somewhat naive, wholesome, hot jock (and Regina has high standards, so he better be a fucking model). Briney is definitely a cutie, but gives off “smoldering badboy with a secret sensitive side” energy, which isn’t what Aaron should be.
The fantasy sequences (Stupid With Love, Revenge Party, October 3rd). I LOVE when movie musicals USE the medium to tell stories in a way that they can’t on a stage!!!
THE CHOREO!!! Everyone freezing then shaking in “Someone Get Hurt” AHHHH that entire number was HYPNOTIZING!!!!!!!!!!! My friend told me the choreographer’s name is Kyle Hanagami, so shout out to him. (also reneé rapp was so fucking hot while singing that oh my lord)
I will be calling my pimples “face breasts” from now on (avantika ilysm)
DAMIAN’S FRENCH COVER OF THE ICARLY THEME SONG ��🙏🙏🙏🙏
why was there a 0.5 camera shot of cady during revenge party 💀
“I’d Rather Be Me” was so much fun and I felt so fucking empowered. And the transition from the song to the bus was just *chef’s kiss*
“donut worry i am still your freend” 🥺
Lindsay Lohan cameo!!!!!!!!!
NOT ENOUGH RENEÉ RAPP 😭😭
Overall, the movie was not perfect, but the Broadway show already had plenty of flaws, so it’s understandably how that would affect the adaptation. I still a LOT of fun and would definitely see it again. Go stream Snow Angel by Reneé Rapp. i love women 🥰🥰🥰
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moonit3 · 4 months
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Yandere mafia x male reader. I imagine that the reader became a prisoner because he was part of the rival mafia (the reader's mafia was defeated), our mafia boss arrives drunk and wants sex.
this took more time than I expected, maybe it wwas the fact that I didn’t know what name to give the new oc. also this is dedicated to the anon who asked for more gay sex in colorful letters.
MORE THAN ENEMIES
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➥warnings/notices: male yandere, amab/m! reader, mlm, nsfw, smut, dubcon, reader is coerced, sub! yandere, dom! reader, handjob (receiving), oral (receiving), anal (giving), both characters are drunk, reader is implied to have a big cock, is that a warning?), yandere is implied to be a virgin but reader is experienced, end is a little rushed.
➥ yandere! mafia man x male! reader
➥ synopsis: losing your group to allistair made you feel horrible, but feeling his lips on yours made things slightly better.
➥ a/n: once again I am feeding the male readers of this blog with this one, so any comments and positive criticisms is welcome to this post. it took me more time than as my original plan was to make it as I literally searched in how to write smut, so this might be better than my last works related to nsfw content and that writing this, I felt somewhat cringe and embarrassed, so yeah….but anyways, enjoy this.
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earlier today, the west coast mafia thrown a celebration to it leader after the group managed to taken down their longtime enemies. people were shoot down inside the gala room, making the walls red as the victorious drink and laugh from gaining an enormous territory over the east. the members are happy and dancing to show their enthusiasm over the victory, even the boss is celebrating with his men.
the party lasted hours until everyone fell asleep all over the manor, sleeping at the ground after a loud and crazy party, except for the boss. allistair is somewhere else way more properly than a cold floor of the living room, instead he is in his room, currently teasing his prisoner, in this case, you.
“why aren’t you paying attention on me?” the drunken state makes you worry about the amount of alcohol allistair has drink, definitely more than five bottles to turn like this. “y-you know that you are mine, right? so your attention has to fully mine!”
his body is rubbing against your, trying to gain a reaction from you. the whining coming out from his lips are driving you insane, it would be a great opportunity to take advantage of this situation and escape from this place to never be seen again. however, you can’t do this with allistair being so vulnerable like this, you aren’t a monster like his men.
your hand that isn’t cuffed to the bedpost goes over his shoulder and easily push allistair to the other side of the bed, “i don’t think you should do anything with you barely knowing what you are doing.” he climbs back to your lap, but this time more touch and needy than before. “do you even know who am I?”
he nodded, dumbly smiling and admiring the tiny blushing growing in your cheeks. allistair is planning something, despite drunk, he still one the greatest mind you’ve met and that’s why he took down your group so easily.
“you are my love~” his head is now against your neck, already cuddling you and prepping kisses at your cheek. “and as my love, you are going to make me happy for the rest of my life.”
“really? should you wait to be a little more sober to talk about it?” your free hand couldn’t stop him from zipping down your fly, not when he was faster and out of your reach while doing it. “h-hold it! allistair, you aren’t in the position to make decisions like this!”
again, you pushed him away from you and this time it was a bit too roughy as he almost fall from the bed. the smile on his face gets replaced by sadness, making you stay calm as he lays down in bed with you once more. the unusual expression of dejected doesn’t fit someone like allistair nor the soft cries that are coming from his throat, if he wasn’t drunk, he would be screaming and yelling about you disobeying him.
he began to cry, not even bothering to hold it back as his hands wrapped around your body, seeking comfortable as he placed kisses on your cheek. “please, [name]….i want you to touch me…” his hands goes over your pants, zip down your pants to reveal not only your underwear, but also a large bulge that is already quite big. “can i touch you? p-please, i need to know how you feel!”
your brief are put down to show your cock, it’s hard and there is precum leaking from the tip. allistair doesn’t lose the opportunity and start stroking it, making you fail to secure the moan coming out from your lips. “a-allistair you need—you need to stop it!” but he doesn’t stop, he ignores you and keep teasing you, going faster and more faster than before.
more precum began to spill from your cock, dirtying his slender fingers as allistair began to lick your member, fully happily to see how embarrassed you become because of him. unable to take most of your cock, allistair goes slowly as his throat isn’t accustomed to take it deeper than he wished. his head goes down and up at your member, gaining a rhythm to not slow down nor make you uncomfortable.
“a-ah!” your hips moves on its own, resulting in allistair not only in whimpering more, but also having him going faster as you free hand grab a handful amount of his hair as a way to make him go faster. “AH, ALLISTAIR!”
it took a couple of more stoking to allistair before his mouth was full. his eyes full of tears as you released him from your touch and let him swallow the entire fluids, not letting a single drop escaping his lips. your eyes couldn’t believe that he did it, the man you always feared is now looking at you with lust on his eyes. he wants more of you.
“[name]…can we do more, please?” his zipped down his pants, smiling at your exhausted and dizzy state, adoring how you look. “i promise to be good for you.”
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you are kissing allistair softly, something you wouldn’t never do, but after sharing a bottle of champagne with him change things. his lips taste like alcohol, a drink you wouldn’t never enjoy, however it’s feel good by tasting it on him.
between the kisses, your hands (now free from the handcuffs) play with his chest, twisting his nipples and in return, hearing the soft whimpering from his lips. it’s weird to have one of most dangerous man underneath you, ready to be taken by you only.
“p-put it inside me, [name]! i need you now!” allistair begs, no- implores you to take him. “just promise me to go s-slow!”
“i won’t hurt you, allistair.” you chuckled, playing a kiss on his forehead before inserting a finger inside him. the man thrown his head against the mattress and began to whine. “but first, I need to prepare you.”
regardless of trying to hold back his voice, allistair’s voice escaped and echoed through the room. it made you smile, knowing that he is enjoy made you add another finger, but this time a little bit more faster. seeing how his body reacts to your touch is interesting and you want to see more of it.
then, you hit his most sensitive spot that result on allistair whimpering and holding your arms for security. it took a couple more of touching his insides before he came with a loud moan and dirtying his chest completely, now he is the one who is exhausted.
“did you enjoy it?” you asked and he nodded, smiling despite feeling so tired and wanting to sleep. “i’m going to put it inside, okay?”
you pour some lube around your length, then slowly pushed your cock inside him, taking time to get allistair adjust to your size. his moans got louder, but not enough to break the privacy the bedroom gives to both.
“hmp—!” his body shivers when your all of your cock got inside. it’s a new sensation to allistair, you know that, so you take a couple of minutes before starting thrusting in and out slowly, gaining more whines from him. “a-ah—ah!”
your bring his legs closer to you, carefully throwing it above your shoulder to make him take your cock deeper. then you continue to e thrust into him, making lewd noises from the impact between your cock and his entrance.
“g-good—!” his body shakes as you hit the most sensible spot again, gaining a sweet moan from him. allistair moves his arms to your neck, bringing you closer to give you a kiss. “hng—! you a-are making me feel good!”
it took a couple of more thrust to both of you each climax at the same time. you came inside this time, not daring to pull away when the idea of filling him up sounds appealing. and allistair dirty his chest again, but this time he looks calmer of it. after a while, you remove yourself from him and the fluids inside him slowly got out of him entrance, hitting the now dirty sheets.
a smile on his lips as allistair kissed you again, exhausted but happier to experience something so special with you. the two of you lays down on the bed, not caring if it’s dirty, he is staring at you with his lovestruck eyes.
“[name]~” his fingers reach out for a lock of your hair, smelling it when you just stare at him. “i love you.”
“…” it’s strange to believe of what just happened between you and the man who tried to kill your. he is your enemy, someone who took down the people you considered as a family and now you just had sex with him while drunk. it was wrong, but…it felt good at the same time.
“i love you too, allistair.”
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@moonit3 writings
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hijackalx · 3 months
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BG3 NON-COMPANIONS/NON-ORIGIN COMPANIONS TURN ONS/KINKS +18
FEMALE BG3 COMPANIONS
MALE BG3 COMPANIONS
characters included: halsin, minthara, jaheira, gortash
*dark content warning for gortash*
HALSIN
SIZE DIFFERENCE
OBVIOUSLYYYY lmao. he loves how small u are in comparison to him. i mean everything about him is large— hands, arms, chest, thighs. also, i feel like he likes that he has to help u when u take control because ur smaller or weaker than him. like, when he has to subtly help u pin his wrists by moving them in the direction u want lol
THIGH RIDING
this also plays into the size difference thing. like his thigh is just so big/muscular, and he loves watching u grind on it (or he can bounce his knee to help u get off too). the type to grab u by ur hips and assist u when ur rhythm starts to stutter. he also loves the wet spot that forms in ur underwear if u keep them on 💗
DEEP THROATING/FACESITTING
OK HE LOVES BOTH like i said everything about him is large (😈) so he loves to see u try to swallow him whole. the way u gag and struggle to take him in is soooo hot to him. also all the drool that spills out of ur mouth 🤤🤤 as for facesitting u better sit ur ass tf DOWN !! HE CAN TAKE IT !! lovessss when u grind on his face/mouth, also loves to squeeze ur ass during it
THREESOME
THIS MAN IS GENEROUS !!! LOVES to share !! always wanting to invite people to have sex with y'all. he feels like it's so much more fun and also loves to watch u get fucked/have u watch him get fucked. will want to do spit roasting too.
SWINGING
sooo into exchanging partners with other couples. or just fucking other people in general. of course he won't do this if u don't want to though. but he gets really excited if u do 😹😹 probably gets off while sharing ur experiences with each other
MINTHARA
KNIFE PLAY
likes the way u shake and whimper as she brings her knife close to ur skin. will leave small cuts and want to carve her initials into ur skin. also slightly into bloodplay too ?? i feel like she'd be into smearing ur blood on her hands and making u clean them off with ur tongue OOF
BONDAGE
she would absolutely cast web and use it as bondage restraints LMAO. will have u in some crazyyy positions too. kind of in a shibari way but with webs. the webs are actually pretty gentle though and have some give so she's not like, totally sadistic with it 😌💗
DACRYPHILIA
SHE DOES LIKE TO SEE U CRY THOUGH LMAO like something about how weak/pathetic u look turns her on so bad— as long as SHE'S the one that made u cry. if it's because of somebody or something else it's lowkey a boner killer for her 😹😹😹 will say really horrible, mean things to try to bring u to tears and then get wet af. will not comfort u after either
GAGGING
likes to use a ball gag but will honestly use whatever she has at the moment. a rag or her fingers even. she likes that u can't speak and can only moan/whimper. also into the way u drool. will purposely ask u questions and then punish/degrade u for not being able to answer
BOOT WORSHIP
LOVESSS making u kiss her boots. will want to hold u down with her boot and make u praise her endlessly. or step on ur face. might even be into giving u a little kick in the diaphragm if u want 😹😹😹
JAHEIRA
MIRROR SEX
WILL WANT TO BE FUCKED IN FRONT OF A MIRROR!!!! with her face pressed against it while she's getting backshots or even with one propped up beside the bed so she can watch how good she looks while she rides u. lowkey will put on a show for herself and get off to it 😹😹
LINGERIE
loves lingerie of all kinds. the garter straps on her thighs are her favorite part tbh. probably prefers to wear black or red— like classically sexy colors. also probably likes it if u wear some too, and will want to keep it on for the full duration of the sex. LOVES lace
STRIPPING
^^ ALTHOUGH.... she also really likes to strip for u. like going nice and slow while u try to restrain urself lol. will probably give u a lap dance too and is pretty playful with it sometimes. particularly loves to see how u get progressively more horny the longer she takes, also into seeing u touch urself a little bit during it too
NIPPLE PLAY
sucking on/playing with her nipples is a MUST. HUGEEEE erogenous zone for her. can probably cum from nipple stimulation alone. likes when u make it hurt a little too, like pinching or twisting them
DEGRADATION
kind of into u calling her names.... like whore or slut. tell her she's a dirty whore while u pull her hair and fuck her from behind. will also talk down to u if ur not really doing the best job LMAO like u better fuck her right or ur gonna get it 😹😹 she'll straight up be like "is that the best u can do?" or "this is pathetic."
BONUS:
GORTASH
BREEDING
HE NEEDS HEIRRRSSSS !!! ALWAYS wants to cum inside. an actual babymaking MONSTER like he cums so much its crazy. loves to see u stuffed full of his cum, it really makes him feels accomplished after all of his hard work 💪🏻💯😹
DADDY DOM
he is so into being called daddy. depending on the context he’ll get rock hard but also likes if u call him that outside of sex too. u can basically get anything u want from him if u add a ‘please daddy’ at the end of it— like he just can’t bring himself to say no. he’ll do anything for u to keep calling him that lol
*** DUBCON ***
DEFINITELY into coercing u/figuring out ways to get what he wants. likes when u get overstimulated and start telling him it’s too much or trying to push him away (u do have a safeword). also the fact that he can overpower u if he wants gets him sooo hard
POWER PLAY
LOVESSS having u at his beck and call. the more pliant and submissive u are the better. won’t do this outside of the bedroom unless u want to or if u initiate it since he prefers the idea of only him being able to see u like that. he’s the only one you’ll roll over for, so to speak lol
COLLARING
makes a special collar for u with expensive imported materials and shit lmao. thinks u look absolutely gorgeous in it and will tell u that all the time. loves the way u gasp when he sharply tugs on its leash. will also tug on it while giving u backshots. likes how it chokes u a little bit too, and the bruises it leaves behind when he’s too rough with it
MALE BG3 COMPANIONS
FEMALE BG3 COMPANIONS
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verysium · 4 months
Note
PLEASE DO BLUE LOCK ICKS IM BEGGING🙏😭🌹
😏 coming right up anon. gonna channel my inner critic and not hold back on any of these.
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RIN
brother complex. not much else to say except that he needs to get a life. not everything is about metaphorically crushing your older brother's dreams and brooding in the dark hate of retribution.
competitive but only because he is a desperate whore for external validation. ignores everyone but craves the attention of a sole person named sae itoshi. was defeated by isagi once and has never let go of it since. has a one-track mind that is impossible to derail. stubborn when he wants to be.
probably a virgin and will continue to be one until his late 30s.
has not known a single day of peace ever since sae ditched him for the popular girlies. as a result, he has developed a very concerning case of social awkwardness. his idea of a conversation involves a brick wall and thirty minutes of you staring at his resting bitch face. constantly looks like that one grumpy cat meme. judges you for your poor decisions but then gets aggressively defensive when you point out his own mistakes.
reeks of so much teen angst that even metallica can't save him. the problem is that he has nothing to back up his emo persona. his insults lack creativity and, unfortunately for him, phrases like "lukewarm" and "half-baked" and "hell" do not make his words carry more weight. uses the f-word but in the most embarrassing context that it makes you facepalm and internally cringe.
SAE
zero social awareness. this boy's head is empty. the lights are not on up there. there are no picture frames or furniture. the curtains are drawn, and there is not a sliver of clouds or sunshine. cannot read body language and does not know what a filter is.
the source of all of rin's stress. he is the original trauma projector, creator of generational cycles. not even subtle about it. "turns out i was wrong. i thought japan was incapable of ever giving birth to decent forwards." sir....with the way you worded that, you knew exactly what you were doing when you gave rin false hope.
swears but it's even worse than his brother. literally called his elders a "fatso and bob cut duo" and "insect turd." i mean....there is a line between what is considered a legitimate burn and what is a first grader making up insults in his coloring book.
has a horrible haircut and no fashion taste. i already talked about this previously, but it was so bad it deserved a second mention.
a freak but tries to justify it rationally. like what do you mean you can tell a person's athletic ability from their buttock size? just admit you have a kinky fetish already.
somewhat of a coward but i'm gonna give him some leniency due to his tragic child genius backstory. tbh he's just an eighteen-year-old boy who needs a goddamn break.
KAISER
alexa please play clown music. this man sets himself for failure and then wallows in self-pity when he actually fails. like what did you expect? you knew what was going to happen the moment you challenged isagi like that. it was most definitely your fault you got violently humbled.
has a borderline god complex (currently calls himself an emperor but has not evolved into a deity yet.) unfortunately, he does not stand on business. cue the dramatic meltdowns when he realizes there is an actual gap between his ability and his reputation. if you're going to lie, at least make it believable.
insecure and mentally unstable. he probably cuts and re-dyes his hair every single time shit happens. no wonder his locks get shorter every time.
lazy when it comes to anything that is not football and expects others to do it for him. demands princess treatment wherever he goes. unfortunately, not all of us have servants with no self-respect like ness.
"it is not enough that i should succeed, others should fail" type of person.
does not wear shoes and even if he does, it's sandals. put them grippers away.
NAGI
a literal sloth who has so much potential but uses none of it. has no intrinsic motivation of his own, so if he's going to do anything, it has to be you behind the wheel, making sure he gets put to work.
does not have a close relationship with his parents, and so he has no sense of community, holidays, or traditions. no fun at all if you want him to do things like christmas shopping or birthday celebrations.
rots in bed all day and then has to nerve to ask you to carry him around. your back better be strong because his 190 cm body is not going to be light.
not loyal (need i say more.)
REO
second male lead syndrome. also known as that one popular guy who's always picked last.
acts like a victim but then when you realistically tell him to how to change his situation he refuses to do so. you cannot ask for advice and then take none of it to heart. no wonder you're still not over your ex.
"i can fix him" mentality. no, you can't. you are a seventeen-year-old child, not a licensed therapist and nagi isn't even all that.
NESS
touch-starved to the point he will stay in a toxic and abusive relationship in order to gain some scrap of affection. just because you were the black sheep of your family does not mean you can lose all sense of personal dignity.
probably stalks all the people he hates. has a burn book like regina george from mean girls. cuts out and glues little pictures of kaiser all over his bedroom. doodles hearts all over it with glittery gel pen. isagi's face and name are scratched out of every team photo.
delusional and prone to mood swings. medicated but at this point, he is beyond saving.
ISAGI
a home wrecker. has ruined more relationships than he can count on ten fingers yet still manages to smile like he's some angelic saint.
solves jigsaw puzzles for a living (not very cool if you ask me.)
has some unresolved anger management issues. probably repressed all his negative feelings when he was younger, so it all comes out when he's on the field. unfortunately, his twilight-sparkle-friendship-is-magic agenda is not going to work if he keeps cussing out his teammates like that. but then again, he is the main character, so i guess his plot armor makes up for his pitfalls.
says that he's a good guy but then holds personal vendettas against rivals he doesn't like. boy was so ready to throw hands when #kaisagi was trending on the internet. but when you actually think about, he's similar to kaiser in more ways than he'd like to admit.
BAROU
has the worst case of high and mighty "holier-than-thou" attitude. isagi put his ego in check, but it still peeks out from time to time.
he was the ugliest baby when he was born. i am not going to hold back on the child barou slander because it is true. no, he was not a cute and lovable bundle of joy. he looked like a demonic gremlin.
he needs to take more risks in life and try cross-dressing. simply imagining him in a maid uniform will not suffice. it needs to be made into a reality.
with how nit-picky he is, i doubt people can realistically stay within a 1-meter radius around him. unless you are a clean freak yourself, his constant complaints will start to get annoying after a time. even if he does have good intentions, he needs to let people have a little breathing room sometimes. a messy room is not going to kill you.
BACHIRA
this boy's brain is smooth. no folds. no gray matter. no intelligence either. his pencil and eraser have been left untouched since day one. if he wasn't crazily good at football, he would be unemployed and homeless in the future. not even a mcdonald's wants him.
one of those people who will do the literal opposite of whatever you say. you want him to stop talking? well, now he's never going to shut up. you tell him not to step on a pile of dog shit? well, now he's going to walk right into it. you want him to quit running around and act normal? well, now it's his life's mission to make you as annoyed as possible. please pray for your hair follicles because at the end of the day, you're not going to have many left with how much he makes you want to tear your hair out.
has the cerebral capacity of a toddler. if he thinks monsters are real, he's going to think anything is real. super gullible when it comes to any form of scam, ploy, or trickery. the only way he would not be fooled is if he's also played the same prank before.
SHIDOU
a brazen pervert. says the most out-of-pocket things and refuses to apologize for them. sometimes it comes out a little too sleazy for your liking.
"to me a goal is fertilization! a shot is the seed and the goal is the egg!! and the birth of that joy i call an explosion!! my genes are gonna knock you up!" let us give ourselves a moment of silence to digest this quote. only shidou ryusei would come up with a sperm and egg metaphor to describe football. (i guess protection means nothing to him.)
has no empathy. if you dislike him or cannot keep up with him, you're a literal nobody in his books. no sportsmanship. no compassion. no self-awareness.
you cannot say "balls" to him in a serious tone without him misinterpreting it as something dirty. that alone should tell you enough. stay the hell away from him.
where do men get the audacity? right here. from this little bastard. he invented the term "shameless slut." boy was getting off during the u-20 arc and on live TV too. no wonder sae said he was disgusting.
and finally, he comes from a long line of cockroaches. he's even got the antennae to prove it.
i think this might have been a little excessive, but i have no regrets about it. you're welcome anon ♡
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comicaurora · 1 year
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What other mythological creatures would be fun in space? If the answer is "most of them?", Then limit the scope of the question to what becomes *more* fun in space?
Still "most of them," unfortunately.
Deep in the bowels of a derelict, drifting hulk, so battered with cosmic rays and space debris all sign of its original function have eroded away, something that could have been human roams the labyrinthine halls. Who knows what terrible crime or tragedy spawned it? It is huge, and hungry, and terribly, terribly alone. All anyone knows is that the drifting hulk that screams to the void in a hundred looping distress calls is to be avoided at all costs, for the maze is deadly and its lone prisoner even deadlier.
An enchanting woman knocks on the porthole with a broad smile, hair flowing in beautiful curls and mouth moving soundlessly in the boiling vacuum. She seems unaware of the inch-thick tempered plasteel, or perhaps unaware of its necessity for the mortal and the fragile within. As she stares unblinking, whispers begin to crackle over the ship radio, half-parseable snatches in many voices - surnames, stardates, coordinates. The knowledge is so, so tempting.
The astronaut is standing just outside the airlock. The sun is starting to sink behind the lunar horizon, cutting razor-sharp shadows across the silvery dust. He's been standing, patiently, for over four hours. The crew in the lander are huddled as far away from the door as possible, unconacipusly avoiding the astronaut's cold and vacant bunk. They had buried him, after all, three rotations ago, the special kind of dead you only get after decompression-induced exsanguination. And yet here he stands, looking better than ever, a healthy blush in his cheeks clearly visible without that bulky reflective helmet in the way. His eyes catch the setting sun strangely, almost red.
Space is an ocean, they say; the analogy is imperfect, and yet persistent in its poetry. The seafarers of old coasted along the surface of a vast and unknowable deep and called it sailing, and the spacefarers of the new frontier do the same. They speed between the stars or cut through wormhole gates for the occasional shortcut, skimming the three-dimensional surface of the vast four-dimensional space that wormholes can only tentatively pierce, and they are satisfied. But there are strange shadows in the stars, twisting and slow - distortions that ripple out from the hyperdepth and mostly pass without incident, barring the sensitive instruments left screaming in their wake. Nobody has ever seen the four-dimensional leviathans that cast these three-dimensional shadows. At least, nobody who's come back.
They call it a dragon because it flies and it's the scariest thing they've ever seen. It doesn't do it justice. If anything, trying to give it a familiar name only highlights its horrible uncategorizability. It flies, yes - or at least it undulates through atmosphere, seemingly irrelevant to its own mass. It has a golden hoard and breathes poison and fire, or rather the nuclear furnace that boils in its sinuous belly vomits out great gouts of poison fire that leaves stone and flesh as glassy slag and metals fused into radioactive gold. The land all around its lair is blackened and sick, a vile caldera of strange-colored swampland and twisted, fungal trees. In the absolute terror and devastation of its wake, the colonists fall back on old, bad superstitions and offer it a girl…
The sorcerer took out his heart long ago, they say. This is true, but inadequate. His true body is shattered in closely guarded pieces to protect himself from a total death; the form he presents is only a projection of his will onto and through the nanite colony his machinations spawned, a body crafted by the immortal mind and will of one who sacrificed everything to be deathless. His heart is concealed in a small life support capsule in a long-forgotten laboratory in a satellite orbiting the moon of a quarantined colony world; his nervous system wires itself through the vast, organic computer that has taken the place of the planet's core. Backups of backups of backups, redundancies laced through every stolen system. He knows there was a purpose to this, once; a goal to all this sacrifice beyond a simple extension of life. He will never remember who he wanted this for. To be truly deathless, one cannot have a heart.
It's retroviral, they think. No other form of infection could've rewired her cells this fundamentally. It's irreversible without gene therapy, but at least she isn't deteriorating, they say. At least she's holding together while they look for a treatment. She can feel it, though, no matter what the medic says; sub-cellular or not, she can feel it boiling under her skin, sharpening her teeth, burning out from the site of the bite on her arm. And she can feel, with absolute certainty, the planet's two satellites slowly shifting into opposition with the sun, right through the windowless walls of the quarantine pod. She doesn't know what she'll become when the moons are full, but she doesn't speak her suspicions. A part of her - perhaps even a part that's always been there - is very, very eager to find out.
A colony was here once, a long, long time ago. Terraformed and everything, but those were the early days, before they realized you needed a magnetosphere to keep all that air and water from being wicked away by the solar wind. The loss was so gradual it didn't make sense until over a century later, and there wasn't anything they could do for them long-term - wrong kind of core for a polarization op. They did evac, of course, but the priority was low - and it was centuries deep into social development. Everybody on that world had been born there, and some of them didn't want to leave. Way I hear it, some of them insisted on staying - strongly and violently - and the folks in charge eventually got tired of losing troops in a dessicating backwater that was gonna solve itself in less than a century, so they just fudged the paperwork and washed their hands of the whole thing. It's near airless now - stopped being a viable colony world nigh on thirty years back when the last of the ice vanished. But that's not why we steer clear. We don't land there because the locals didn't have the decency to die right, and it can be damn unsettling to catch their shadows sneaking across the sand. They're drawn to ships, you know? Poor bastards still think they can leave.
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justmediocrewriting · 3 months
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“I like your spots,” {m.d.l}
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Summary: Luffy finds your freckles adorable, and being as blunt as he is, he isn’t afraid to say so — even in front of the whole crew, much to your embarrassment.
Genre: fluff, that’s it
Requested: ❌
Word Count: 0.9k
Pairing: Luffy/fem!freckled!reader
Warnings: none
A/N: so I’ve seen multiple drawings/posts about the whole “I like your spots” as a means to compliment someone’s freckles, and though I don’t know the origins of it I do feel as though it’s a very Luffy thing to say, especially the Luffy that is portrayed by Inaki Godoy; he’s too perfect for the role and adds a whole ‘nother level of cuteness to Luffy! I hope y’all enjoy.
By the way, my requests are OPEN!
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“I really like your spots.”
The knife fell to the counter with a clutter as you started; the carrots you’d previously been squaring evenly lay forgotten on the chopping block as you gaped at the man across from you.
Luffy, donned in his signature straw hat, was leaning his elbows against the counter, a small smile on his face as he cradled his chin in his palms and stared at you. Your face heated slightly when your eyes met his, and you flicked them down quickly and swiped your tongue across your bottom lip.
“U-um, what?” You spluttered out, confused and utterly flustered, and you swore you could hear a soft snort from somewhere within the galley. Luffy, however, seemed to not notice it, or he didn’t care, because he didn’t acknowledge whoever had done it.
“Your spots. I like them.”
Now you were more confused than flustered, and when you felt your cheeks had returned to a normal enough color you raised your eyes to meet Luffy’s.
“M-my spots?” You questioned, and Luffy nodded enthusiastically before raising his hand to point directly at your face.
“Yeah, the ones on your cheeks and nose. They remind me of stars.”
Your freckles had been brought to attention many a time in the past, and each and every instance never failed to embarrass you, but with the way Luffy just brought them to light, the embarrassment was on a whole ‘nother level. One that was far deeper and stronger than ever before; and your face felt hotter than the sun when you looked around the galley and caught the eyes of not only Nami, but Usopp as well, both of who were wearing identical smirks of amusement.
“Oh, u-um, thank you, Luffy. But, uh, they aren’t called ‘spots’. They’re called freckles.” As you mumbled this, you avoided the eyes of everyone in the room, and instead picked the knife back up with shaky hands and attempted to resume your previous task. Sanji had specifically asked you to square the carrots for him while he was away, and you had every intention of fulfilling that request.
Luffy, however, seemed to have no such intention.
“Oh, well, I really like your freckles, then. They’re really cute.”
You practically choked on your own spit, and by now your face was completely burning, and your heart was beating so rapidly and aggressively that you were sure everyone in the room would be able to hear it. You weren’t even sure how to respond to that; honestly, you didn’t know if you could, not with how tight your throat felt, and with how absolutely flustered you were.
You were positive that your small crush on Luffy was horribly obvious; you were in a constant state of awkwardness and clumsiness any time he was around, and the way your eyes would linger on him from time to time, and the way in which your cheeks would color vibrantly around him did nothing to obscure the fact — but you didn’t think Luffy even knew of it. If he did, he hadn’t said anything, and he acted the same as always.
Part of you really hoped he didn’t know, because not only would it be incredibly embarrassing, but it would be rather painful to know that he was aware of it but didn’t ask about it — because that could only mean one thing: he didn’t feel the same and you just knew you wouldn’t be able to handle that kind of rejection. So you continued to tell yourself that Luffy truly didn’t know, if only to spare yourself the pain.
But that’s why his compliments affected you so much; especially one that was aimed at one of your biggest insecurities. Luffy, kind, gentle, sincere, exuberant Luffy, was too kind for his own good, and he passed out compliments to his crew mates like candy. It came so easily for him, and he was never embarrassed or bashful about sharing words of kindness with everyone.
In a way, that made you hate getting compliments from him.
Because they made you feel special, made your heart feel warm and fuzzy, and in those moments, you could imagine that Luffy had eyes for you and only you, and that he meant every compliment on a level that was deeper than friendship.
But that was absolutely preposterous and crazy, and you knew this. You knew it with your whole being, and though it was painful, it kept you from losing your head completely.
It was silent in the galley, and with a start you realized everyone was staring at you; including Sanji, who had just arrived in the galley. You wanted to curse at yourself. You hadn’t even noticed his arrival because you were so caught up in your own thoughts. Realizing they were waiting for you to speak, you cleared your throat.
“Thank you, Luffy. Sanji, would you like to take over again?”
Said blonde gave a small chuckle and a shake of his head, as if something was just highly amusing to him, and it made your skin crawl; but when the man crossed the galley to take over the action of squaring the carrots, you were much too relieved to hurry out of the door and back onto the deck to worry about what had amused the man so much.
You swore you could feel eyes boring into your back as you did so; and from the weight of them, you knew exactly who they belonged to, as well.
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A/n: I know this is a short drabble, but honestly it was just stuck in my head and I had to write it! I hope y’all liked this little blurb, and if you did, don’t hesitate to give it a like!! Love y’all ❤️❤️
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uramakimochi · 4 months
Text
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MY DREAM
Charles Leclerc x Reader
Warnings: long fic (i'm never doing something like this again istg), a lot of use of Y/n because the story is written in the third person pov, the plot is the same as the movie i just cut some scenes, i didn't want to make it too different and distort the original story, if you know what i mean. Maybe ooc Charles? I tried to mix his and Flynn's personality.
English is not my first language so feel free to correct me.
Okay so... since i saw a few people on tiktok saying that Charles could be considered a good Flynn Rider, and i honestly tell you i kinda see it too👀, i thought i'd write a story about it. After all, why not combine Formula One and Disney?? It seemed like a nice idea to me^^
This is an experiment i wanted to try, lemme know if you liked it~
/////
Legend has it that one day a drop of the sun fell from above onto a small simple flower. It thus acquired magical powers, healing powers that were capable of healing any wound.
No one knew of that flower's existence, no one except Gothel. Gothel had understood that with the power of singing she could awaken the powers of the flower and so she used it to ensure that she could always remain young and beautiful, effectively blocking the flow of time in her body.
At that time there reigned a king and a queen, much loved by the citizens of their kingdom. The queen was expecting a baby. But alas, during the pregnancy she became seriously ill. So all the citizens of the kingdom searched for a cure that could save their queen. And as if by miracle, they managed to find the magic flower. With the cure prepared with the flower, the queen recovered, until the princess was born. Do you want to know what her name was? Well, her name was Y/n and that sweet little girl was born with long golden hair that fell to her little shoulders (doesn't matter what's your natural hair colore, it's just for the story). And to celebrate her birth, the king and queen released a lantern into the sky. Everyone was happy and everything seemed to be going well... Until the worst happened.
Gothel knew that now that the flower that could cure her of her old age was no longer there, her only option was the little girl's hair filled with magic. So one night, the woman slipped into the castle, kidnapped the little girl and disappeared into the darkness.
People searched and searched for the princess everywhere, but no one could find her. Gothel had taken the little girl to the top of an abandoned tower, where she raised her as if she were her own daughter. Gothel had found her magical flower again, but this time she was determined to keep it hidden.
But the walls of that tower could not hide everything. Every year on her birthday the king and queen released thousands of lanterns into the sky, in the hope that one day the lost princess would find her way back home.
"Why can't i go outside?" little Y/n always asked, while Gothel combed her hair softly in front of the fire.
And every time, Gothel always gave her the same answer, so as to convince the little girl to always stay with her.
"The world out there is a very dangerous place, full of horrible and selfish people. You need to stay here, so you will always be safe. Do you understand little flower?"
"Yes mommy"
/////
Years passed and Y/n grew into a beautiful girl. She had never left that high tower and besides the woman she believed to be her real mother, the only other thing that kept her company was her passion for painting. Y/n painted and painted and painted every day. Her favorite subject? Take a guess... Yes, i'm talking about the lanterns that flew in the sky every night on his birthday. Y/n was enchanted by their beauty every year and wanted so much to be able to see them in person, even just once. It was her only true dream.
But she knew she had to convince Gothel to do it, yet after (almost) 19 years, she still hadn't succeeded.
But now let's go to the present. And although the main character of this story is our beautiful Y/n, another equally important character steps forward. You've already figured out who it is, right?
/////
"Oh shoot! Oh shoot! Oh shoot!"
At that moment, inside the forest, a young man with light eyes was running at full speed on his legs, trying to escape the group of soldiers on horseback who were chasing him.
"Get him! Quick!" the leader of the soldiers shouted, pointing his sword in the direction the man was running away.
The man continued to run like hell, when suddenly his attention was drawn to a flyer hanging on the trunk of a tree and he stopped to look at it. He looked at the picture of himself, decorated with the words WANTED in large letters over his head. Usually he paused to look at himself with a vain smile, but this time an annoyed grunt left his lips when he saw the image.
"Oh, come on! They got my nose wrong again! What's so complicated about it?!" he exclaimed, tearing the paper from the trunk with one hand.
He would have liked to stay and complain, but when he heard the loud sound of horses' hooves beating on the ground getting closer and closer, the man started running again.
When he reached a blind spot, he began searching through nature to find a good spot to try and hide. He thought he was screwed, that they would capture him and hang him once and for all. But fate had something else in store for the fugitive. Hidden behind a curtain of leaves and creepers was a passage carved into the rock and the boy wasted no time in entering it. Did he have any idea where it was leading? Absolutely not. Was it risky? A lot, but as long as it led him away from the soldiers, he was more than fine with it. So he continued walking in the darkness, until he saw the light at the end of the tunnel. And when he went out, he saw with great surprise a tall lonely tower illuminated by the sun.
It was perfect: he could hide in the tower and even stay there until the next day. Who would ever look for him in an abandoned place like that?
So, he quickly reached the tower and not seeing an entrance door from which to access, he reluctantly began to climb, not noticing two eyes that were spying on him in terror from the window.
Once inside, the man wasted no time looking around, not noticing that, contrary to what he believed, the tower was not uninhabited at all. Instead he only thought about rummaging in his satchel to extract the object that was the main reason why the soldiers had chased him.
"Ah..." he murmured with a smirk, admiring the jewel in his hands. "We're finally alon-"
SBANG!
The man fell to the ground, hit by a blow to the head. Behind him, our Y/n looked at him with wide eyes and her heart pounding in her chest, while in her hands she held the pan that she had used as a weapon to hit him. Who the hell was he? And why did he sneak into the tower?? Did he perhaps want her?? Did he want the power of her hair??
Y/n remained silent, looking at the unconscious stranger's body lying on the ground. Then she slowly bent down to look at him. Touching his cheek with the pan handle, she turned his face so she could see him better.
It was at that moment that Y/n felt a strange feeling arise in her chest. He looked... Cute. In fact, very cute, for a scoundrel.
Suddenly she heard a light, pained grunt coming from the boy and, fearing that he might wake up, she decided to lift him in her arms, as much as her strength allowed, and push him towards the wardrobe. It took several attempts, but once she managed to get his body stuck in the closet, Y/n quickly closed the doors, and then pushed a chair in front of it, so as to block them.
Oh my god... Oh my god!
"I beat a man..." she murmured, feeling a small, satisfied smile rise on her lips. "I just hit a criminal! With a frying pan! Haha!"
Y/n started bouncing on the spot. She was so proud that she had done it all on her own and without her mother's help to boot! And she even managed to lock him in the wardrobe! Oh, she really had to tell his mother this.
Y/n stopped in her tracks when a brilliant idea came to her mind: with this courageous feat of hers she could prove to her that she was capable of protecting herself and that she was ready to face the outside world. And if she was ready to face the outside world, then that meant maybe her mother would let her go see the lights, right? Yes, it was perfect!
While Y/n was thinking about her brilliant plan to convince Mother Gothel, something glimmering under the sunlight caught her attention. She noticed that the stranger's bag was left on the ground and a strange object was coming out of it. Curiosity took over and when Y/n bent down to pick up the object, her eyes widened. It looked like a jewel. It was golden and filled with diamonds and colored pearls. It was beautiful. The girl had no idea what it was and tried to wear it as if it were a bracelet. No, it was too wide. Maybe it should have been worn around the waist like a belt? Well no, definitely not. So he tried putting it on his head. Y/n tried to look at herself in the mirror and when she saw her image with the golden jewel decorating her hair, she was enchanted looking at her reflection. She had never felt so beautiful. Not to be vain, but she would have been staring at herself for hours when...
“Y/n!”
Y/n jumped when she heard her mother's voice calling her from outside.
"Let down your hair~"
Quickly Y/n took the crown off her head and leaned out the window, to look at her mother.
“Just a second, mother!” she exclaimed with a nervous smile and then disappeared back into the tower.
"You know i don't like it when you keep me waiting, my dear" Gothel replied with an impatient smile.
Y/n hurriedly put the jewel back into the bag and then hid it under the stairs. Then she wrapped her long hair around a handhold and let it fall out the window, so that Gothel could use it as a means of climbing back up the tower.
“I have good news for you, little flower” said the woman, climbing over the window.
“I have one too” Y/n retorted, making the other giggle.
"Oh, i'm sure mine is better"
Gothel approached the girl with her arms wide open and then placed both hands on her shoulders and gave her an affectionate kiss on the forehead.
"My news is: that tonight i will prepare the hazelnut soup for you! Your favorite. Aren't you happy?" Gothel asked and Y/n nodded.
"Thank you mother"
Gothel smiled back and then walked away and headed towards the table, placing the ingredients and tools to prepare that evening's dinner on top of it.
"What did you want to tell me instead?" she asked, starting to cut vegetables.
Y/n glanced at the closet blocked by the chair, which Gothel hadn't noticed yet.
"Well... It's about my birthday present, mother..." she murmured with a smile, not noticing how her mother's face seemed to become more serious as the seconds passed.
“I hope you're not referring to those stars Y/n”
Y/n began to play with her fingers.
"Mother, you know that the only thing i've ever wanted is to be able to go and see the lights floating and-"
"I thought we had this cleared up a long time ago" Gothel interrupted.
"You always say you think i'm not strong enough to handle myself out there and-"
"Oh my dear, i KNOW for a fact that you're not strong enough to handle yourself out there."
"Yes, but if only you-"
"Y/n, stop. We're done"
"Trust me, i-"
“Y/n”
"Let me explain-"
"ENOUGH Y/N! YOU WILL NEVER GET OUT OF THIS TOWER, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!"
Y/n fell silent, while Gothel looked at her with anger in her eyes.
"Oh, great. Now i look like the bad guy"
Gothel let out an exhausted sigh, running a hand over her face, while the girl cast a disappointed look at the painting of lights that she alone had created with her hands. Apparently, she wouldn't have seen the lights this year either, except from the window of that tower.
“What i meant was…” Y/n murmured sadly. "That for my birthday i would really like some new colors to paint. You know, the ones made with the white shells that you once brought me"
“But it will take me almost three days of travel to get those for you, Y/n” the woman said.
“I thought it was a better gift than… The stars” Y/n looked at her with an uncertain smile.
Gothel looked at her and then moved closer to her again, smiling back.
“Are you sure you'll be okay here alone?” she asked, placing her hands on her shoulders and Y/n nodded silently.
Gothel hugged her, giving her a kiss on the head.
"I'll be back in three days. I love you, little flower"
"I love you more, mother"
"And i love you most"
So, Gothel set out on her journey. And after Y/n was sure that the woman was far away, she turned again to look at the closet where the stranger was still locked up. There was still one thing to take care of.
/////
When the man slowly reopened his eyes, he didn't expect to find himself tied to a chair. But when he realized what was keeping him tied up, he looked around in confusion.
"Hair...?" he murmured, still feeling some pain from the blow to his head.
He began to squirm to try to free himself, when suddenly a voice coming from the darkness made him stop.
"There's no point in doing that. Y-You're stuck"
"What?"
The man managed to glimpse someone moving in the shadows.
"I know why you're here. And i-i'm not afraid of you" the voice stammered.
He was about to answer her when the owner of the voice came out into the open. He looked at her, amazed that a beautiful girl like her could be found in such a tall and abandoned tower.
"Wow..."
Y/n bravely looked into his eyes, clutching the pan in her hands.
"Who are you? And how did you find me?" she asked narrowing her eyes and he looked at her confused again.
"Uh?"
"I said, who are you? And how did you find me?" the girl repeated.
He raised his hands in surrender as much as the hair binding him would allow.
"Look, I don't know who you are and i didn't come here for you. But i can say one thing..." he replied.
There was silence for a couple of seconds until the man looked at her with a flattering smile and raised eyebrows.
"Hi~"
Y/n looked at him slightly taken aback by his change in behavior, but despite his pretty face and his bright light eyes, she wasn't enchanted.
"My name is Perceval" the man continued, finally revealing his name. "How are you doing, chérie?"
“I will not be enchanted by your pretty words, Perceval” Y/n replied, taking a step towards him. "I want to know why you came in this tower. Were you looking for my hair?"
Perceval shook his head, making the flirtatious attitude disappear.
"Why on earth would i want your hair?? The only thing i want to do with it is just get rid of it! I swear!" he retorted.
Y/n walked around the chair he was tied to, swirling the pan menacingly.
"Then why are you here?" she continued to ask and he sighed.
"I was running away, okay? I wanted to find a place to hide and i ended up here" Perceval replied, when suddenly he realized that he was missing something. “Wait, where's my satchel??”
Y/n looked at him crossing her arms.
"I hid it"
"Give it back to me! That stuff is mine!" he retorted. "Listen chérie, if you give me back what you took from me, i swear i'll leave and you'll never see me again. And i won't tell anyone that you live here. It'll be as if we've never met. What do you think?"
Y/n fell silent and turned away so he wouldn't see her expression of hesitation. Should she trust this Perceval and let him walk away with the jewel as if nothing had happened? What if he was lying? But it seemed like he was telling the truth.
What do i do now?
Y/n looked around for an answer and when her eyes fell on her painting of the stars, another bright idea came to her mind.
"Okay, Perceval" she replied, looking back at him. "You will get your satchel back"
Perceval let out a whispered "Yes!", as Y/n climbed up until she got to the painting.
"But just-" she said and he rolled his eyes with a small groan. "If you'll take me to see these!"
“Are you talking about the lanterns?” he asked and she nodded.
"Tomorrow evening there will be those lanterns. You will accompany me to see them and you will bring me back here safe and sound. And it will be then and only then that i will give you back your satchel"
"Chérie-" sighed Perceval.
“My name is Y/n”
"Y/n. I'd like to help you, but the kingdom and i don't really get along, you know?"
“Oh…” Y/n looked at him with a fake sorry expression. "Then it means you will never get your satchel with your beloved jewel back, Perceval"
Perceval looked at her with unimpressed eyes, until he let out a desperate groan, tilting his head back.
"Argh, all right! You win! I'll take you to see the lanterns!" he exclaimed, making her smile. "But then i want my satchel back, let's be clear"
Y/n nodded with a satisfied smirk.
"It's a promise, Perceval. And i always keep my promises"
/////
Thus began the journey of the two protagonists. To tell the truth, the road from the tower to the kingdom wasn't that long. But having no horses or means of transport, the two had to go on foot. But for Y/n it was better this way. Walking in nature the girl could admire things she had never seen until then. She could hear the sounds of the forest animals, touch the leaves of the trees with her fingers and dip her feet in the cool stream. She had never felt so alive, that was the best day of her life.
Unlike her, Perceval looked at her more and more strangely.
"It's like you never left that tower" he murmured. “Have you never seen a tree or a bird?”
Y/n giggled nervously.
"Something like that..." she replied.
It was at that moment that only one small detail came to her mind: Gothel. For the first time in almost 19 years, Y/n had lied to her mother and broken the rules. Oh, what if she found out? How angry would have she been? How disappointed would have she been with Y/n's behavior?
Y/n stopped in her tracks and felt her bottom lip begin to tremble. Perceval also stopped when he noticed that she had stopped and as soon as he turned to look at her, she burst into tears, catching him off guard.
"WAAAH!"
Perceval's eyes widened, not expecting something like that so suddenly.
"H-Hey! What happened??"
Y/n fell backwards, sitting on the grass and pulling her knees to her chest as Perceval bent down next to her.
"Did you get hurt?!" he asked frantically, holding his hands in the air because he wasn't sure what to do.
Y/n nuzzled her face into her knees, wrapping her arms around her legs.
"I'm a terrible daughter!" she whimpered. "My mother will be so disappointed when she finds out what i did! She always worries about me and i disobeyed her!"
Perceval remained silent, letting her cry for a few seconds, but then placed a gentle hand on the girl's shoulder.
"Y/n. You just want to see those lanterns, right?" he asked her and she nodded. "Well, then i say you should focus on those and forget about your mother for a moment. You know, this is the thrill of life. You don't always have to do what people tell you, you have to do what your heart says"
Y/n sniffed, lifting her head to look at him and he gave her an encouraging smile. Then he stood up, offering her a hand and after a couple of seconds of hesitation she took it with a small smile, standing up.
"You're right" she said, wiping the tears from her face. "I want to see the lanterns and that's what i'll do"
"Great!" exclaimed Perceval. "And now-"
The sound of a bush starting to move interrupted him from finishing his sentence and Y/n ran to hide behind him with a cry, while with one hand she pointed the pan she had brought with her at it.
The two stared at the bush moving again, until an innocent little bunny popped out of it. Y/n let out a relieved sigh, while Perceval looked at her unimpressed. She immediately pulled away from him with a sheepish smile and red cheeks. She wasn't used to the outside world yet.
/////
“Perceval” Y/n called him suddenly.
"Mh?"
"Are you not hungry?"
He looked at her, seeing her rubbing a hand over her rumbling belly.
"Actually yes, it's better if we stop and eat something. I know the right place, let's go"
So the two arrived at an inn, which was called The Prancing Pony (this is a cit🤭). When Y/n opened the door and entered first, the music inside stopped. She didn't expect to see all the eyes of those present glued to her. Oh and she certainly didn't expect to see men who all looked mad criminals.
While she remained frozen in the doorway, Perceval casually passed her and she followed him glued to his back.
"Is... Is it normal all these men are here?" she whispered fearfully and he nodded.
"Oh, of course"
The two arrived at the counter behind which the owner was. Charles sat on a wooden stool and Y/n sat next to him.
“Sebastian, nice to see you” Charles exclaimed with a smile.
Y/n looked at Sebastian, who however didn't seem as happy to see Perceval.
"Perceval. Are you here because you got hungry after one of your thefts?"
Perceval rested an elbow on the counter, leaning forward.
"Something like that. Give me a jug of wine, please. And some water for the lady. You know, we have to go to town and we can't go there on an empty stomach"
Sebastian glanced at her, but then got to work and handed them their drinks. She thanked him quietly and then both she and Perceval began to drink.
"You shouldn't be here" Sebastian said, looking at Perceval.
"Huh?" the other replied from behind the mug. "Why no- AH!"
"That's why"
Someone behind Perceval grabbed him by his clothes, pulling him backwards and Y/n's eyes widened.
"Perceval!"
All the men in the inn surrounded Perceval, pointing their weapons at his throat.
"You have some nerve showing up here Perceval" one growled.
“Yeah, especially knowing the big price on your head” another continued.
Perceval chuckled nervously.
"P-Pierre, Esteban, hahaha. Come on, we are friends, right?"
The two, Pierre and Esteban, gritted their teeth, while another man stepped forward, making Perceval's eyes widen.
"Carlos! Hola mi amigo, how are you doing?" Perceval exclaimed with an uncertain smile, raising a hand in greeting. "I didn't see that you were here today too. S-Shall i offer you something?"
The man with the tanner skin and dark hair narrowed his eyes at him.
"You know Perceval, we still remember all the times you betrayed us to save your own skin. But now that you are here we could reclaim ourselves by giving you to the guards and take our reward"
Perceval swallowed fearfully, while Y/n tiptoed towards the group of men, lifting her beloved pan in her hands.
"C-Can't we talk about this in a civil way over a mug of wine? Huh?" Perceval tried to ask with a chuckle, but Carlos' only response was his dagger pointed at his cheek.
Perceval closed his eyes and just when he feared the worst, a loud noise rang through the inn.
SBANG!
Perceval suddenly opened his eyes again and like everyone else present, he turned to look at Y/n, who had just slammed her pan on Carlos' head. But alas, after that blow Carlos had not fainted at all like she had imagined. But Y/n, was not intimidated.
"L-Leave him alone!" she exclaimed, looking one by one at the men surrounding her. "He has to take me to see the lanterns tomorrow night, b-because it's the only dream i've had since i was a child! So i advise you to let him go or-or you'll deal with me and my pan!"
All the men looked at her in silence, surprised by her determination. Perceval and Sebastian, however, looked at her proudly.
"That girl has guts" Sebastian muttered with a smirk, crossing his arms.
Y/n's eyes widened when she saw Carlos walking towards her with an enraged expression on his face and she backed away in fear.
"Carlos, no! Wait!" Perceval tried calling him, but was ignored.
When Y/n came face to face with Carlos, she was almost on the verge of trying to smack him in the face again, but before she could, Carlos changed his expression.
“I have a dream too” he said in a pained tone. "I would like to be a farmer. I would like to marry a beautiful woman and live with her in a farm and be happily ever after"
Y/n slowly lowered the pan, looking at him with pity.
"Oh..."
Carlos sighed.
"We all have a dream" he said, then pointed with one hand to a boy sitting at a table. "My friend Lando would like to become a musician"
Lando raised a hand to greet Y/n with a shy smile, which she returned sweetly.
"And George knows how to sew beautiful clothes. He would really like to be a tailor" Carlos then continued, pointing to a man who was a little taller than the others in the middle of the group.
"I want to be a baker!" another of them then exclaimed, raising a hand.
"And i want to be a florist!"
Y/n smiled tenderly when she saw all those people who at first glance seemed like bad boys express their desires.
"And what is your dream?" they all asked in chorus, turning to look at Perceval, who had remained watching the scene with his mouth wide open.
“I-I…” he murmured, glancing at Y/n, who smiled at him. "I want to live surrounded by money and jewels! They are my only passion. Haha"
Everyone looked at him unimpressed, some even shaking their heads, while behind them Y/n hid a small laugh behind her hand. But then she composed herself.
"Your dreams are all beautiful" she said softly, looking at them all. "When i go to see the lanterns, i will make a wish for all of you and pray that your dreams come true"
All the men let out cheers, making her laugh.
“It's time to celebrate!” exclaimed one of them, whose name was Daniel. "Let's sing in honor of our dreams!"
So the music began again, accompanied by the out-of-tune singing and uncoordinated dancing of all the men present in the inn. But Y/n continued to laugh and celebrate with them. She had never attended a party like this, it was too much fun!
As Y/n and Perceval returned to sit at the counter, Carlos approached her again.
“Y/n” he called out to her.
"Yes?"
Carlos flashed her a smile.
"You have a good heart, girl. I hope you can see those lanterns"
Y/n smiled back.
"Thank you, Carlos. And i hope you find the love of your life" she replied.
Carlos then glared at Perceval.
"And you" she said, pointing a finger at him, making him jump. "Watch out for her. Protect her properly, otherwise me and the others will come looking for you"
Y/n giggled, while Perceval gave Carlos a couple of pats on the shoulder.
"Come on Carlos, who do you take me for? Y/n can't be in safer hands than mine, i swear"
Carlos rolled his eyes and without saying anything else he walked away to go celebrate with the others. And the exact moment he left, someone else took his place.
“Y-Y/n?”
Y/n turned around, meeting the eyes of a short Asian boy.
"My name is Yuki, nice to meet you" he said with red cheeks she smiled warmly.
"The pleasure is mine, Yuki"
Yuki smiled, then pointed with a finger at the long golden hair falling from her shoulders.
“May i ask why you have such long hair?”
Y/n nodded and so she and Yuki began a conversation under Perceval's tender eyes.
Suddenly, the door of the inn flew open and the party stopped.
"Perceval Leclerc! We know you're here!" a guard shouted from the doorway.
Both Y/n and Perceval stood up in fear, while a small group made of George, Esteban, Nico and Fernando, remained in front of them to cover them from the guards.
"Psst! You two!" Sebastian exclaimed softly from behind the counter. "Come down here, quick!"
The couple climbed over the counter, hiding at Sebastian's feet, while the guards began to search the inn. Y/n looked at Perceval, having no idea what to do, but he shrugged.
It was at that moment that Sebastian pressed his feet on a small lever under the counter and a trap door opened on the floor.
“A secret passage” whispered Perceval. "Brilliant"
Sebastian lowered his head to look at them.
"Go and live your dream" he whispered with a smile and Perceval turned to look at him.
"I will"
Sebastian glared at him.
"Your dream sucks. I was telling her"
Perceval slipped into the passage and before Y/n could follow him, she turned to look at Sebastian one last time with a smile.
"Thank you guys, for everything" she said, then stepped into the passage, leaving the voices of those she might consider her new friends behind.
"Yes, i believe this is the man you're looking for" Lando said, placing his hands on Oscar's back and making him take a step towards the guards. "Look at him, he's identical!"
/////
The sun went down and the stars painted the blue sky completely free of clouds, enveloping our two protagonists in darkness and the evening breeze, who after leaving the secret passage had returned to the forest, and then camped for the night.
Perceval was currently busy lighting the fire to keep warm, while Y/n watched him in silence from sitting on the ground. And the more she looked at him, the more she noticed details she hadn't noticed before. Despite the darkness, his large light eyes that shone in the sunlight during the day enchanted her, like the small mole he had on his cheek and the deep dimples that appeared at the sides of his mouth when he smiled and-
"Ouch!"
Y/n jumped, snapping out of her thoughts when she saw Perceval pulling away from the fire, which was now lit, while holding his hand.
"Is everything okay?" she asked worriedly, moving closer to him.
"Yes, nothing serious, just a minor wound"
Y/n took his hand, looking at the small cut on his palm. After a few seconds of hesitation, she looked into his eyes.
"I can cure you if you want"
"Pff, i appreciate your willingness chérie, but i don't think you have a magic potion that can make a wound disappear in seconds"
Y/n bit her lip, afraid that what she was about to do would have ruined everything. But she decided to try anyway. So she started wrapping his hand with her hair and he looked at her confused.
"What-"
"Trust me, please" she interrupted, looking at him. "But you have to promise me you won't panic. Okay?"
“Er, sure” Perceval replied, shrugging.
When Y/n was done, she started singing.
Flower, gleam and glow
Let your powers shine
Make the clock reverse
Bring back what once was mine
It was a little song she learned from her mother when she was combing her hair. As she sang, his long hair began to shine and Perceval's eyes widened.
Heal what has been hurt
Change the fates' design
Save what has been lost
Bring back what once was mine
What once was mine
When the song was over, Y/n moved her hair from Perceval's hand and he saw that the wound on his palm was no longer there.
He opened his eyes and mouth wide, lifting his head to look at Y/n.
"Y-You have magical hair?!" he exclaimed.
"Shh!"
Y/n quickly covered his mouth with her hands, while Perceval continued to look at her in surprise.
"You said you wouldn't panic!" she said, earning a string of words from him in response that she couldn't make out with her hand over his mouth.
Y/n let out a sigh and removed her hands, letting him speak.
“How can i not panic after seeing that your hair is magical??” he asked, this time in a more normal tone of voice, but still surprised.
"I don't know why it's like this, my hair has had this power since i was little. And when you cut it..." she reached behind her neck, tilting her head and moving the hair, so as to show Perceval a short lock of dark hair. “They turn brown and lose their power”
Y/n turned her head to look back at the fire, playing with her fingers.
“A-Are you…Are you afraid of me now?” she asked shyly.
Y/n hoped with all her heart that he wasn't. Perceval had become her first real friend in 19 years and if he abandoned her because he thought she was strange or if he told someone else... No, she didn't want to go back to being alone.
Her doubts were swept away when she suddenly saw his hand covering hers, then their fingers intertwining. Y/n looked up and when she met Perceval's sweet smile and dimples she felt her heart start to beat.
“I could never be afraid of you, Y/n” he said. "You are a strong and courageous woman and i know that you would only use your power to help others if you had the chance, just like you did with me. So no, i'm not afraid of you. In fact, i'm glad that fate brought us together"
Y/n looked at him with eyes shining in the firelight, as a relieved smile spread across her face. Perceval looked at her for another couple of seconds, then turned to look at the crackling fire as their joined hands slowly let go.
"You know, i have a secret too" he murmured and she looked at him curiously. "My name is actually Charles. Perceval is my third name"
"Third? How many names do you have?" Y/n asked him, her eyes widening.
"My full name is Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc. Nice to meet you" he said, looking at her with a smirk.
"Wow!" Y/n giggled. "I didn't know people could be born with more than one name"
"Oh and you haven't heard Carlos' other names. He has even more than me"
"Really??"
The two giggled again and then looked back at each other.
"Are you angry with me?" Charles asked suddenly.
“Why would i be?” she replied, tilting her head.
Charles shrugged.
"Well, because i lied to you. And i'm a thief, a criminal. Because of me you could get in trouble"
Y/n placed a hand on his knee, stroking it with her thumb, and smiled at him, just like he had done to her.
"I don't think you're really a criminal, Charles. Because otherwise you wouldn't have agreed to accompany me to see the lanterns. And thanks to you i'm discovering a world i've never seen and i've met new people. So i tell you that i am happy that fate brought us together too"
Charles looked at her and it was at that moment that he began to feel his heart beating a little faster than expected, but he paid it no mind.
"And i don't care how many obstacles we find, because i know that me, you and my pan together are invincible, don't you think?" she then said, raising her fist, making him laugh. "Of course, now i'll have to get used to calling you Charles, but honestly i like it better than Perceval as a name"
“I'm happy to hear it” he said then stood up and Y/n looked at him confused.
"I'm going to look for more wood. You stay here, i'll be right back"
Y/n nodded, watching Charles disappear into the darkness of the forest. She stayed looking at the fire with an enchanted smile, when suddenly she heard a noise coming from behind her.
"I finally found you, little flower"
Y/n jumped up and felt a pang in her heart when she saw Gothel's serious face light up from the fire.
"M-Mother! What are you doing here??"
"You dare ask me this question, Y/n? I'm the one who should ask you why you didn't stay in the tower, in your home"
Y/n clasped her hands together, feeling afraid of the icy eyes of the woman who was approaching her.
"I-I..."
Gothel let out a sigh.
"Never mind, now that i've found you we can go home. Come on, let's go"
As Gothel closed a hand around her wrist and began to walk towards the forest, Y/n planted her feet on the ground, causing her to stop.
"Mother no, wait!"
Gothel turned to her.
“Y/n…”
The girl looked at her with a pleading look.
"Mother, please. Tomorrow evening there will be the lanterns and i am so close to seeing them in person. Char- Perceval, he-"
“Let me guess, that criminal will take you to see those lanterns?” the woman asked, crossing her arms.
Y/n nodded with a small smile.
"Yes!" she exclaimed.
Gothel burst out laughing in her face.
“Oh my dear, do you really think someone like him actually wants to help you?”
Y/n looked at her puzzled and Gothel continued.
"Y/n, he's a thief. And he only thinks about money, he doesn't care about you"
Y/n clenched her fists.
"You're only saying that to convince me to go back with you! He is different from the others, mother, he is a good person"
Gothel rolled her eyes.
“Tsk, do you really believe that?”
It was then that the woman showed something from behind her back and Y/n's eyes widened. It was Charles's satchel which she had hidden.
"This the only reason why that man is taking you to see the lanterns. He's not doing it for you. Do you understand me now?"
Y/n remained silent as doubt began to invade her body. There was indeed a possibility that his mother was right. And also thinking about the dream he had expressed at the inn... No, Charles really wasn't that selfish... Was he?
Gothel approached the girl and dropped the bag into her hands, then leaned towards her ear.
"Give him back his treasure and you'll see how he'll run away like hell. And when you're alone, don't come crying to me, little flower" the woman hissed, making Y/n tighten her grip on the satchel.
Gothel walked away and she and the girl looked at each other one last time.
"And remember, mother always knows best" the woman said, then disappeared into the bushes.
Y/n stood there motionless, with a conflicted soul. Her mother's words swirled in her brain like a tornado, filling her with fears and insecurities as the seconds passed.
"Here i am!"
Y/n jumped, turning and encountering the figure of Charles holding a pile of wood in his arms. She didn't realize she still had a nervous expression on her face, because Charles looked at her slightly worried.
"Are you alright?" he asked her, dropping the wood to the ground.
Y/n nodded frantically, hiding his satchel behind her back.
“O-Of course” she replied with an uncertain smile. "Um, i think i'll go to sleep. I'm feeling tired. 'Night!"
Charles saw her lie down on the ground, on a bed of hair that she had improvised and turning with her back to him. He frowned, but then shrugged with a sigh.
"Goodnight"
/////
The next morning, Y/n shot her eyes open and jumped up with a yelp. She was happy and excited, not only because it was her birthday, but because she would finally have been able to see the lanterns.
"Charles!" she exclaimed, turning towards the boy, who was still sleeping soundly and running towards him, shaking him with her arms. "Wake up Charles! Wake up!"
Charles opened his eyes in fear and sat up.
"I'm awake! I'm awake i swear!"
Y/n smiled and grabbed his hand, lifting him to his feet and starting to drag him towards the street.
"Let's go! There's no time to waste! Hurry!"
“Y-Y/n, wait!”
/////
When Y/n entered the city, her eyes widened like never before and she spun around to look around.
The walls of the houses were covered with flags and garlands, music sounded everywhere and people dispersed among the various stalls selling objects and foods of all kinds. And while the girl was busy admiring the spectacle around her, behind her Charles took down a WANTED flyer from the wall showing her face, hoping no one had noticed.
When he looked back at her, he noticed that her long hair trailing down the street was attracting quite a bit of attention, not to mention how cumbersome it was for all the people passing by. Charles' eyes fell on a group of little girls who were braiding each other's hair and he smiled when an idea came to mind.
"Hey girls!" he called them.
The little ones raised their heads to look at him and their eyes widened when they saw the girl with long golden hair. Y/n greeted them with a wave of her hand, while Charles nodded towards her hair.
The girls smiled and after sitting Y/n on the floor, they got to work, starting to braid her hair. It took a while, but when the job was done Y/n turned to Charles.
"Charles"
Charles, who was distracted, turned towards her and his eyes widened when he saw the girls' work. Y/n did a little twirl, showing him her hair which was now tied in a long braid, decorated with many colorful flowers.
"Y-You... You look very pretty, chérie" Charles murmured enchanted.
Y/n smiled shyly, feeling her cheeks heat up, while the girls who were watching the scene high-fived each other with their hands, proud of their work.
Later, while Charles was busy buying something to eat, Y/n's eyes fell on a mosaic shining in the sun, in front of which people gathered to admire it. The mosaic represented the king and queen, who were holding a little girl in their arms.
How strange... Y/n thought, looking into the little princess's eyes. Was she wrong or did they look alike? But it could have been just a coincidence, right?
Y/n's attention was then attracted by someone who dragged her to dance and so the girl forgot the mosaic, abandoning herself to the music.
She saw Charles a little further away looking at her with a smile and his arms crossed and she invited him to dance with a wave of her hands. Charles shook his head with a laugh, but Y/n decided to gather courage and jumped towards him, grabbing his hands and dragging him onto the dance floor.
So the two began to dance and although they were literally surrounded by all the other dancing couples, for them it was as if there was no one else present.
When the song ended, Charles and Y/n stopped, looking into each other's eyes in silence. And they would have remained in that position looking at each other if it hadn't been for someone who announced that they were heading to the boats, for the time of the lanterns, forcing them to move away with shy smiles and red cheeks.
/////
As Charles rowed to sail the small boat through the water, Y/n sitting in front of him looked at the castle rising before her eyes with her heart beating with emotion. Finally the moment had come! The lanterns!
Silence reigned throughout the kingdom and as the minutes passed, the sun sank to the horizon, while the sky began to turn blue.
And suddenly, a single lantern rose from the castle and began to fly higher and higher into the sky. Then, a multitude of other lanterns followed her on their journey to the stars.
Y/n opened her eyes wide, admiring the light show that was taking place. And when she didn't think it could get any better, a little touch on her shoulder made her turn around. The girl saw Charles smile at her, while in his hands he held two lanterns, which were just waiting to be released and she delicately took one in her hands.
“Are you ready chérie?” he asked her.
Y/n nodded and together the two released the lanterns. They rose up into the sky, spinning as if in a dance and joining the immense luminous cloud that was filling the sky at that moment, until they lost sight of them.
Y/n watched them move further and further away, while inside she knew that she had now realized her biggest dream. Oh, obviously he didn't forget to think of the boys at the inn and expressed the wish that their dreams too could come true.
It was at that moment that a more important detail occurred to her.
"I have something for you, Charles"
Charles watched the girl bend down to pick up something at her feet and his eyes widened when he saw her clutching his satchel in her hands.
"I should have given it to you sooner, but i was afraid. But... Now i'm not afraid anymore, do you know what i mean?" she asked him.
Y/n thought that Charles would take the satchel and even if that happened, she was ready to accept it. But to her surprise, Charles placed a hand on the bag, lowering it to her legs. And with his other hand, he moved a lock of hair that fell on her forehead behind her ear, then rested it on her cheek.
"I'm starting to"
Charles leaned his face forward and even though Y/n had no idea what was about to happen, she did the same, letting the moment guide her. She closed her eyes, ready to feel his lips on hers and then-
"I have to do something" he said suddenly and she opened her eyes, looking at him.
He looked serious, so Y/n nodded with an understanding smile, trying not to show the disappointment she was feeling. Had she done something wrong?
"Oh, okay"
Charles rowed the boat towards land, out of the city and after it had docked he got out of the boat, taking his satchel in his hand.
“I'm sorry. Everything is fine, really” he said hastily, clutching his bag, while Y/n looked at him in confusion. "I'll be right back"
/////
When Charles approached he saw one of the two red-haired twins, the ones with whom he had stolen the princess crown before the beginning of the story, sitting on a rock, waiting for him.
"Heyyy guys~" Charles said with a fake smile, swinging his satchel. “It's been a while since we've seen each other, right?”
The twin with the eyepatch raised his head to look at him.
"Yes, since you left us in the hands of the guards so you could keep the treasure, Leclerc. We remember it well"
Charles chuckled nervously.
"Exactly haha... Um, you know what? I was thinking, how about we make up and put this thing behind us? There you go!"
Charles threw the bag containing the crown at the man's feet.
"I leave you the treasure. Keep it, i don't need it anymore. And now i'm leaving so-"
Charles turned around ready to go back to Y/n, but the other twin, the one without the eyepatch, appeared behind him, blocking his way.
"You're not going anywhere, pretty boy"
Charles swallowed, while his blindfolded brother stood up, walking towards him.
"You know, someone told us that you had something much more valuable than a jewel with you"
"And now we want her"
Charles grit his teeth and clenched his fists.
"Of you touch her, i swear i'll-"
"Pff, please" one of them interrupted him.
"What do you think you can do against us two alone?"
That was the last thing Charles felt before he received a strong blow to the head that knocked him unconscious.
/////
After a few minutes of Y/n waiting for Charles leaning against the boat, she suddenly heard the sound of footsteps approaching and stood up straight.
"Hey, i thought you were going to take the jewel and leave me here, haha" she giggled with a relieved smile, which however fell as the seconds passed when she realized that the shadow that was approaching her had split into two shadows.
Y/n saw two red-haired twins she had never seen before approaching and she took a step back in fear.
“That's what he did” the one with the eyepatch said with a smirk.
Y/n clenched her fists.
"Y-You're lying..."
The other pointed out to sea with one arm.
"See it for yourself"
Slowly Y/n looked back, taking a couple of steps towards the water. From there she saw a small boat that was moving further and further away. And above it, despite the distance, she was able to perfectly recognize the figure of Charles, with his back turned and his hands on the rudder.
"No..."
Y/n felt like her heart was breaking. It was not possible. He had really done it.
"Charles! Charles!" she tried calling him, but received no answer.
"It was really rude of him though" one of the twins said then. "Leaving a girl here alone and defenseless"
Y/n turned to look at them and felt fear invade her body when she saw them approaching her with menacing grins.
"A girl with magical powers too"
"Who knows how much people would be willing to pay to have someone like you"
Y/n's eyes widened when she saw one of the two men pick up a bag, big enough to fit her body.
"No, please!"
The girl turned on her heels, running away from their clutches, but suddenly her braid of hair got stuck on the branch of a trunk lying nearby and she began to pull it, trying to free herself. Y/n closed her eyes when she saw the twins approaching her, fearing the worst. But then she heard grunts of pain, followed by a familiar voice.
“Y/n!”
Y/n opened her eyes and they widened when she saw Gothel standing behind the bodies of the two twins, who were now lying on the ground unconscious, while the woman was holding a large tree branch in her hand that she had used as a weapon to hit them.
"Mother!"
Gothel quickly approached the girl, then closed her arms around her body.
"Oh my little flower, are you okay? Did they do something to you?"
Y/n shook her head and hugged her back, letting out a small sigh of relief.
"I'm so glad you're okay, but we have to go now. It's best to run away before they wake up" the woman continued, still referring to the two men.
Gothel took Y/n's hand and tried to drag her towards the woods, but noticed that the girl was still standing in her tracks, as if she seemed undecided.
Y/n looked one last time at the boat Charles was leaving in. And she realized that it would probably be forever. Then she turned to look at Gothel and saw the woman open her arms, inviting her with her. It was at that moment that Y/n felt her bottom lip begin to tremble and her eyes become teary. And she ran towards the woman he thought was his mother, hugging her for comfort.
"You were right, mother... You were right about everything. I'm sorry" Y/n cried and Gothel hugged her back, while together the two started walking home again.
“I know, darling. I know”
/////
Y/n remained lying on her bed staring at the ceiling of her room at the top of the tower. She couldn't help but think about Charles. And the more she thought about it, the more what she had done made her mad.
"Like everyone else. He's just a criminal like everyone else" she snorted, then stood up and began pacing the room.
"Idiot. Selfish. Stingy" she muttered angrily.
Sweet. Thoughtful. Fun. She even thought, before shaking her head to get those thoughts out of her head.
“The only thing he cared about in the first place was that stupid jewel!”
Y/n crossed her arms, thinking back to the crown Charles had stolen and thinking back to the time she had wanted to try it on, just out of curiosity.
And it was at that moment that she felt as if a boatload of memories were filling her mind. The crown, her hair, mother Gothel, the city, the mosaic of the royal family.
Y/n walked out of her room, joining Gothel, who was preparing food.
"Oh honey, there you are. I-"
“I am the lost princess” Y/n interrupted.
Gothel looked at her confused.
"I'm sorry, can you repeat that?"
"I said" the girl repeated, with a more resolute tone, looking into her eyes. "I am the lost princess. Aren't i?
Gothel giggled nervously.
“Hahaha, don't be stupid Y/n”
Y/n marched towards the woman, clenching her fists at her sides.
"It was you! It was always you mother! Or maybe i shouldn't even call you that?"
Gothel's smile slowly fell.
“Everything i did was to protect you” she said.
Y/n pushed past the woman with a small push, angrier than ever.
"Protect me?? Protect me?! I've spent my whole life in this tower, hiding from people who would use me for my power!"
“Y/n!” Gothel called after her, but the girl continued.
“But the only person i had to hide from was you!”
"And where on earth would you go out there without me? Uh, my dear?" Gothel asked from behind her. "Your beloved Charles will no longer be there for you!"
Y/n turned to her.
"What do you mean?"
"That man will be sentenced to death for his crimes. You will never see him again"
Y/n let out a small gasp of fright and felt as if someone had pierced her heart with a sword. Charles going to die?
"No no no, don't be sad little flower" Gothel murmured in a fake sweet tone, moving closer to the girl. "Besides, he left you, it's better this way. Don't you think-"
Y/n quickly blocked the woman's hand that was about to caress her head, squeezing her wrist between her fingers.
“Enough, mother” Y/n hissed through gritted teeth. "I will no longer be your prisoner"
Gothel tried to free herself from the girl's grip but it was no use.
"Now you will let me go out of this tower and i will go and free Charles. You and i will part forever and i'll return to my real family. Find yourself a new flower"
Y/n let her go and Gothel, taken aback, staggered backwards, hitting the nearby mirror, which fell to the ground, shattering into many pieces. Y/n looked at her fake mother for what she thought was the last time and walked towards the window so she could get out.
“You want me to be the bad guy?”
Gothel's voice murmured behind her and Y/n felt her blood freeze in her veins.
"Fine, then i'll be the bad guy"
/////
Meanwhile, at the kingdom's prison...
As Charles walked down the prison corridor escorted by several guards, he felt as if his heart had been ripped out of his chest and trampled on. Because of him, Y/n was suffering the consequences of his criminal actions, just as he feared. And above all he had abandoned her. Just when everything seemed to be going well, Charles had left her there, alone on that beach, in the hands of the two twins. He could only hope that she was okay and had managed to escape.
Charles glanced out the window and saw the hangman's rope waiting for him in the middle of the prison yard. Then, turning his head away, he saw two men with red hair locked in a cell next to him. He recognized them immediately, they were the twins. But how was this possible?
Charles broke away from the guards and approached the bars, grabbing the eyepatched twin who was nearby, pulling him as close as he could.
"Where is she?! Who is the person who told you about her?!" he shouted, wanting to hear news of the girl as soon as possible.
"It was an old lady! We don't know where she is, we swear!"
Old lady...
Charles realized that they were definitely talking about Y/n's mother, but he couldn't sit still and think about it because the guards grabbed him and started dragging him again. Charles began to squirm.
"Wait! You don't understand, you have to let me go! I have to save her!" he said, but of course it was useless.
Of the three guards who were with him, as soon as the one in front opened a door, he found himself lying on the ground due to a punch to the face.
The other two guards let out a cry and drew their weapons, ready to fight the intruder, while Charles widened his eyes with a smile.
"Pierre!"
Next the other two guards were hit from behind, taken by surprise.
SBANG! SBANG!
Charles laughed in surprise when he saw George and Alexander with two proud smiles on their lips, while both of them were holding...
"Pans! Brilliant!" Charles exclaimed.
Pierre approached him, freeing him from the chains that bound his hands.
"I specify that we are doing this for Y/n. Not for you" the frenchman murmured, looking at him with a smirk and Charles rolled his eyes.
The four went out into the courtyard, where Carlos and the others were waiting for them.
"Quickly! Over here!" Lando exclaimed, leading them towards a rope hanging from the prison walls.
Charles looked at the rope and then turned to his rescuers, smiling sincerely at them.
"You guys, thank-"
But before Charles could cling to it and climb over the walls, the army of soldiers began to invade the courtyard, rushing towards them.
"You'll thank us later cabron!" Carlos exclaimed, and then ran towards the guards together with the others, so as to buy Charles time.
The only one who remained with Charles was the english Lewis, who looked at the younger man and pointed the rope with a nod.
"We left you a horse out there. Go to her. And be careful"
Charles nodded with determination and grabbed the rope in his hands, ready to climb.
"I will"
/////
Charles had never run so fast in his life. I mean, it was actually the poor horse that had galloped all the way, but you know what i mean. He arrived at the tower and rushed under it, his heart beating anxiously to see the girl again.
"Y/n! Are you here?!" he shouted with his head tilted towards the window.
Charles received no response, but he did not give up.
"Y/n! Let your hair down! Y/n!"
And finally, after seconds of silence that seemed infinite to him, he saw a long golden hair fall towards him. Charles let out a sigh of relief and, clutching her hair in his hands, he climbed back up the tower.
"I thought... I thought i lost you, chérie" he gasped, climbing through the window with a smile.
Smile that vanished when he saw the girl tied to a chain and gagged in front of him, who was trying to talk to him, to warn him. Charles started to approach her, but didn't notice how Gothel had slipped out of the darkness behind him.
Y/n watched with terrified eyes as Gothel stabbed Charles, piercing his abdomen with her dagger. She screamed his name from behind the gag, watching him fall to the ground and pressing his hand to his wound.
"Good. Now our secret will die with him" said the icy voice of Gothel, who was clutching the still bloody dagger.
The woman returned to Y/n and after taking the chain she began to drag her away, trying to take her towards the exit of the tower.
"You and i, on the other hand, will go where no one can find us. Never again!" she said, while Y/n began to squirm more than before, with the sole intention of reaching Charles.
"Y/n! That's enough! Let's go!" Gothel exclaimed angrily,
But the girl didn't listen to her and continued to move and move until the gag covering her mouth slipped down her neck, giving her a chance to speak.
"No! Please!" the girl exclaimed desperately. "Please let me heal him"
Gothel stopped to look at her suspiciously.
"If you let me heal him, i'll come with you. I'll follow you and stay with you forever, like you always wanted"
Y/n looked at her with a pleading look, praying that the woman had still some mercy inside her heart.
"I'll do anything you want, i promise" the girl said looking the woman in the eyes. "But please, just let me heal him"
Gothel remained silent for seconds that seemed endless to Y/n, but then she bent down to free her from the chain, then she went to Charles and tied him to the stair railing.
“In case you get the idea to follow us” the woman hissed after chaining him, then she walked away and left room for Y/n.
"Charles!"
Charles squeezed his eyes shut with a groan of pain, but opened them again when he felt the girl kneel next to his body.
"Let me see" she murmured hastily, making him move his hand away from the wound.
Y/n felt her heart beat quickly in anxiety when she saw the blood stain that was slowly spreading under his clothes and she tried with all her might not to panic.
"O-Okay, it's okay" she said nervously, lifting a shaking hand to stroke his hair, then resting it on his cheek. "I'm gonna take care of you and you'll get better, okay Charles? It's okay, don't be afraid"
"Y-Y/n-" he tried to call her, only to stop due to a cough. "Chérie..."
"Shh, everything's going to be alright, i promise. You just have to trust me" she murmured in fear.
Y/n started to wrap her hair around Charles' body, but stopped when she saw his hand covering hers and raised her head to look at him.
“No, i-i can't let you do this, Y/n” he said, gasping in pain.
"And i can't let you die" replied the girl, looking at him with shining eyes.
Charles shook his head.
"Y/n i... I can't lose you"
Y/n gave him an encouraging smile, squeezing his hand.
"It's going to be okay, Charles"
The two looked at each other for the last few seconds and Y/n opened her mouth to start singing, but was interrupted by Charles' voice.
“Y/n” he called softly, making her open her eyes to look at him. "Wait..."
He raised a hand so he could move her hair behind her ear, in the same sweet and delicate way he had done on the boat. Y/n saw the man lean forward and so she did the same, believing that what they were about to exchange was their first and last real kiss of her life. But before she knew it, Charles gripped her hair with one hand, while with the other...
ZAC!
Y/n's eyes widened, immediately putting a hand to her head and her heart fell when she realized that her long hair had just been cut.
"NO! WHAT DID YOU DO!?" Gothel suddenly barked.
The girl turned around quickly and saw a fragment of the mirror that had broken, on the ground next to her hair. Gothel, in desperation, began to pick up Y/n's hair, which was darkening second by second, in the hope of being able to hold on to the last second of youth she had left. But when even the last tip of her hair turned brown, Gothel began to feel the strength abandoning her body and saw her hands losing color and fill with wrinkles.
"No! No! No!" the terrified woman screamed, taking steps backwards. "NOOO!"
Y/n reached out to her by instinct and when she was about to stand up and reach her, she saw her kneeling on the ground with her hands pressed to her face. Gothel let out one last scream before her body disappeared in a pile of dust on the carpet. And Y/n would have loved to stay and mourn the passing of the woman who had taken care of her for 19 years, but there was another even more important person she was about to lose.
"Oh no, no no no..." she murmured hastily, looking back at Charles. "Charles!"
She took his face in her hands, looking with fearful eyes at his which were tired and on the verge of closing forever at any moment.
"Look at me, Charles! Stay with me!"
Y/n grabbed his hand and ran it through her short, dark hair, then quickly spoke the words to the song.
"Flower gleam and glow, let your powers shine"
“Y/n-” Charles called with a cough.
"Make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine"
“Y/n”
The girl looked at him, letting out a sob when she realized that there was nothing left to do.
"Why did you do that? You fool…" she muttered, but what she earned in response from him was a simple, light smile.
Charles wanted to tell her many things at that moment, including how beautiful he found her even with her eyes full of tears. But he only squeezed her hand one last time.
"You were my new dream"
Y/n smiled tenderly.
"And you were mine"
Those of Charles were the last words that the girl heard before he took his last breath, while the grip on her hand loosened until it completely disappeared. Y/n looked at his still chest and his face now free of any pain with her trembling lip and then she began to sing again, pushing through the pain she felt in her heart with the passing seconds.
Flower, gleam and glow
Let your powers shine
Make the clock reverse
Bring back what once was mine
Heal what has been hurt
Change the fates' design
Save what has been lost
Bring back what once was mine
What once was mine
She had lost him forever. She closed her eyes and began to cry, lowering her face to his and letting her tears fall onto his cheeks.
Long seconds passed before Y/n noticed a glow coming from Charles' body, more precisely where he had been wounded on his abdomen. Her eyes widened when she saw long rays of light coming out of his body and enveloping the entire room, as they took the shape that looked like a flower. The girl watched that beautiful sight until the lights finally disappeared, along with Charles' wound.
Then she heard the sound of breathing and Y/n whirled around looking at Charles' face.
“Y/n…”
Her heart began to beat again with joy when she finally saw his eyes open again.
“I... I think this haircut looks suits you so much better, you know?” he asked with a smile.
"Charles!"
Charles was taken aback when he felt her threw herself against his body, hugging him around the neck. But he couldn't help but do the same, wrapping an arm behind her back and holding her close, with his face bent on her shoulder, not wanting to let her go for anything in the world. It was in that moment that he realized how much, in those lifeless seconds, he had missed being able to be close to her, comfort her, hug her and above all love her. Charles had truly found his new and only dream.
Y/n pulled away so she could look into his clear eyes, her hands tightening on his clothes. Charles smiled at her and reached out to her face to wipe away the last tears that had fallen from her eyes.
And then she suddenly kissed him. But he didn't object, on the contrary he accepted her lips with joy, not expecting anything else. And it didn't matter if the two had only known each other for a few days. It was fate that brought them together. They had both found someone who truly loved them for who they were and each willing to do anything to protect the other.
They were soulmates.
/////
Y/n looked anxiously at the castle doors, playing with her fingers and moving her feet nervously. But she stopped when she felt Charles' warm hand wrap around hers, making their fingers intertwine to calm her anxiety. She turned to look at him, meeting his eyes and his smile.
“It'll be okay, chérie” he murmured, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.
She took a deep breath, looking at him with a smile and nodding.
Suddenly the doors in front of them opened and the girl's heart sank as she saw the figures of the king and queen before her eyes. Everyone present stood still for a few seconds, still shocked. Then the first to step forward was the queen, who advanced towards Y/n, followed next by her husband. Y/n in turn walked towards them, dragging Charles' hand behind her until he slowly let go.
When she was in front of her, the queen placed her hands on the girl's cheeks and looked her straight in the eyes. But despite the different length and color of her hair compared to her birth, the two royal spouses recognized her. Their beloved daughter had returned.
The three hugged each other and Y/n couldn't stop herself from crying silently against her mother's chest, feeling the warmth of the two parents enveloping her after a long time.
Charles watched the scene with a tender smile, preferring to remain on the sidelines and leave the sweet moment to the family. But then he saw the queen lift a hand from her daughter's body, offering it to him. Charles took it, believing that it was just a gesture to thank him for bringing the princess home, but the woman dragged him into the group hug, catching him off guard.
Y/n giggled, looking at Charles and he looked back, tilting his face so he could rest his forehead on her head. Finally she was home.
/////
Well, now i think you may have understood how our story ends. And what would a happy ending be without a beautiful wedding?
Charles abandoned the identity of Perceval the Thief, in order to return to living the life of the real Charles, free from all crime. He and Y/n got married and their wedding was one of the most beautiful weddings in the entire kingdom. They celebrated for days, both to celebrate the union between the two protagonists and to celebrate the return of the princess. And you can imagine who was invited to the wedding as a sign of thanks from Charles and Y/n, to those who had helped him escape from prison, right?
It was during the celebrations that Carlos met the woman he fell in love with, who became the love of his life. Lando managed to become a musician, George got a job as a tailor and so on... Everyone achieved their greatest dream. Everyone got their happy ending that they deserved.
Oh and if you're wondering who between Charles and Y/n proposed to the other...
"She asked me. Several times. So i couldn't say no to the poor girl, if you know what i mean"
"Charleees..."
"Okay, fine... It was me. And of course she said yes, i mean, have you seen me? How can you not marry a guy like me?"
So they lived happily ever after.
/////
Lemme know if you'd like more F1×Disney stories🥰 (if you liked this one obv)
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transdimensional-void · 10 months
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jon, sansa, and “my half brother”
i’ve noticed that this particular jon quote is something of a rorschach test wherein your reading of the line is colored by your view of sansa:
He missed the girls too, even Sansa, who never called him anything but “my half brother” since she was old enough to understand what bastard meant. – AGOT, Jon III 
those who assume the worst of sansa read this as “once sansa learned i was a bastard, she changed how she referred to me in order to constantly remind me of my inferior status.” a slightly more charitable reading would be something more like, “once sansa learned i was a bastard, she stopped seeing me as equal to her other brothers.” both assume that sansa originally called jon “brother” and changed to “half brother” once she learned he was a bastard. 
those who are more inclined to a favorable view of sansa, though, might instead read it as “once sansa learned what the word bastard meant, she chose to call me something else.” this reading assumes that a younger, more ignorant sansa called jon a bastard without understanding what she was saying--but changed what she called jon to “half brother” once she did understand.
i tend to believe the second reading is the correct one because it better fits both the context of the quote and the evidence presented by sansa’s own words and actions throughout the series. in terms of evidence, we never witness her calling jon a bastard to his face, whether in her memories, his or anyone else’s--and we do witness her conscious care for courtesy and kindness toward those she interacts with no matter what she thinks of them inwardly. as for the context of the quote, jon thinks this about sansa in the midst of a chapter where people at the wall are repeatedly calling him bastard derisively, as well as the mocking “lord snow.” but the section where the line about sansa appears is a section where he is thinking nostalgically about his siblings back at winterfell. it makes sense that he is missing sansa’s courtesy of not calling him bastard to his face right at that moment.
but i noticed that the pre-released alayne chapter from twow actually subtly gives us sansa’s perspective on the above agot jon quote.
in the chapter, she meets harry hardyng for the first time, and the very first thing he does is call her “littlefinger’s bastard”:
“If it please you, I will show you to your chambers myself.” This time her eyes met Harry’s. She smiled just for him, and said a silent prayer to the Maiden. Please, he doesn’t need to love me, just make him like me, just a little, that would be enough for now.
Ser Harrold looked down at her coldly. “Why should it please me to be escorted anywhere by Littlefinger’s bastard?”
All three Waynwoods looked at him askance. “You are a guest here, Harry,” Lady Anya reminded him, in a frosty voice. “See that you remember that.”
sansa blushes in embarrassment and has to work hard to hold back her tears. she finds his treatment of her hurtful. but why? because a boy she wanted to like her was mean to her? 
well, fortunately for us, sansa herself tells us what is most upsetting her about the interaction, later when she is able to discuss it in private with littlefinger:
“And how was your first meeting with Harry the Heir?”
“He’s horrible.”
“The world is full of horrors, sweet. By now you ought to know that. You’ve seen enough of them.”
“Yes,” she said, “but why must he be so cruel? He called me your bastard. Right in the yard, in front of everyone.”
sansa isn’t upset merely because harry was mean to her. what she is fixated on the most is the cruelty of his calling her bastard to her face in public. she is shocked that someone would be so callously cruel. keep in mind that this is a post-KL arc sansa who, as littlefinger helpfully points out in the same scene, has already experienced many of the world’s horrors. and yet, harry’s behavior here still shocks her.
jon tells us that at a young age, sansa learned what people meant when they called him a bastard, and that changed how she spoke to him. thirteen-year-old sansa tells us she thinks it’s shockingly cruel for a nobleman like harry to publicly call a bastard a bastard. with these two facts in mind, what sense does it make to conclude that younger sansa was going around intentionally reminding jon of his bastard status through her choice of language?
once again, someone inclined to assume the worst of sansa might choose to read her response in the twow chapter as “she can dish it out, but she can’t take it” and see it as her finally learning how her treatment made jon feel. however, in jon’s quote above, he explicitly says that she “never called him anything but ‘my half-brother.’” 
in other words, jon himself tells us that he never heard her call him “bastard,” at least not once she had learned what the word meant. in other words, even if you are assuming the worst of sansa, based on jon’s own testimony, her treatment of him (always calling him “my half-brother”) was better than harry’s treatment of her in the twow scene (calling her a bastard to her face in public). it is also, importantly, better than the treatment jon is receiving from many of his “brothers” at the wall in the scene his quote comes from him.
if we interpret sansa’s decision to call jon “half-brother” through the lens of her twow alayne chapter, i believe it becomes abundantly clear that in the jon scene, he is reminiscing nostalgically about sansa’s kindness in choosing not to call him a bastard. sansa’s choice of “half-brother” was a reflection of her understanding that calling him bastard was shockingly cruel behavior.
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solarisfortuneia · 10 months
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— 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬.
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diluc is hopeless with grocery shopping. luckily, a kind stranger is more than willing to step in and help.
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✦ info: diluc has no idea what he's doing and neither does the author, modern au, strangers to lovers kinda, possibility of ooc-ness, grammar mistakes may be present, there is absolutely no logic here, 2k+ words.
✦ warnings: none.
✦ notes: well, it's this fic again! thought i'd repost it because i'm in the middle of working on a sequel. though with my time management please don't expect it to be posted anytime soon lmao (and don't worry! i still have the original taglist saved.)
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would it be far fetched to call grocery shopping an art? and to call one able to navigate the labyrinthine aisles efficiently nothing short of a master? 
perhaps it would be. 
though, if it was an art, you'd be but a mediocre artist. not horribly unskilled, but no one would be in awe of your nonexistent prowess at brandishing coupons at cash registers. 
you shake your thoughts away. what are you thinking? who made you so eloquent in the middle of aisle seven? you ask yourself, gaze scanning the various items on the shelves. focus on your groceries, dummy.
okay, let's see, now. you stop in the middle of the condiments aisle, recollecting the items you need.  ah yes, ketchup and mayo. hmm, where would they be? 
aha! you see two familiar bottles on the second shelf, and you carefully place them in your cart. a glass jar with a green label and a red lid catches your eye. chili paste? you consider your potential purchase. eh, i'll get it. it's on sale.   
now, let's get some rice.
you round the corner to get to the grain aisle when you see a man, clad in a brown coat and incredibly polished shoes, with hair so red you'd think his head was on fire, just. glaring. at a bag of rice. you sneak a glance at him, wondering if the rice had wronged him in some manner.
deciding to ignore him, you pick up a five kilogram bag, then heave it into your trolley. and as you prepare to push it with the extra weight, you spy the man picking up the exact same bag, brand, weight and all. huh.
thinking nothing of it, you continue on your merry way, hoping to get your shopping done as quickly as possible, assuming that it'd be the last you'd ever see of the man.
but it appears fate had other plans. you spot him once again in the canned foods aisle, glaring at another innocent, harmless grocery item. the victim this time, you ask? a can of baked beans. 
you throw another sideways look at him, lightly tapping the pads of your fingers against the handles of your trolley. who even is this guy? you silently watch as he picks up the same brand you've put in your cart moments before. ah, he was probably just confused.
however, you’re still a little concerned about the man. does a grown man truly not know what he's doing in a grocery store? you scan the shelves for a random item, and your eyes land on a can of baby food. a light bulb goes off in your head, and you decide to test something. quickly, you grab two of them.
you open your mouth the second after he moves to get the same thing. “can i help you, sir?” he freezes at the sound of your voice, hand halfway between his body and the shelf with the exact thing you just picked up, baby food in hand. you raise an eyebrow, "are you aware of what you're buying?" 
he sheepishly rakes his hand through his hair and shakes his head. "i'm afraid i'm not." he clears his throat, color beginning to creep up his neck. 
you grin at him. “check the label on the can.” you watch as this giant of a man turns the can around, and slowly turns into a human stop sign with the way his face blazes. you know you probably shouldn’t find the sight of the man with such an intimidating expression turning to a flustered mess so adorable. 
“my apologies,” he clears his throat again, then rubs the back of his neck, eyes averted. “i’ve never been shopping before.” he sets the can back, refusing to meet your eyes.
“oh, don't tell me.” you tease, lightheartedly. “is it a case of a rich boy living on his own for the first time, without anyone to do things for him?”
the look on his face answers for him. his eyebrows nearly climb to his hairline, and he blinks. you laugh, incredibly surprised at your assumption being true. “in that case, let me help.” you hold out your hand, taking pity on the man. “do you have a list?”
he fishes out a hastily scribbled list from the depths of one of his coat pockets that simply says bread, milk. 
sigh. “it seems i have my work cut out for me.” you take a gander at the items in his cart and spot the rice, the beans, along with three varieties of bread and a two liter bottle of milk. well, at least he got the items on his list.
you pick up the bottle, skimming over the other details to find the production and expiry dates. “just out of curiosity, did you check the dates on the milk?” 
he slowly shakes his head. “i figured as much.” you gesture to the numbers, and motion for him to take a look. “this expires in two days. i doubt you’ll be able to finish the whole thing by then, so you should probably find a bottle with a more recent production date.”
if there ever was a god of grocery shopping, diluc ragnvindr would be the bane of his existence. 
why were these stupid stores so confusing? why were there so many brands of everything? why in the hell were there so many types of oranges? and these trolleys, good lord. just why were they so difficult to maneuver?
all the aisles blend into each other, and all diluc can do is stare emptily at each product he finds, unable to make a decision. 
he'd have better luck finding his way around if he was randomly dropped in a venetian calle.
diluc has no idea what he's doing— in the store, at home, even in life. 
living on his own for the first time since his dad passed away, in an apartment much tinier than the lavish mansion he was used to, struggling to keep his head above water, the young ragnvindr only knew ingredients once they'd been taken home and properly organized in containers and shelves. 
he'd rather the world not see him fumbling, though. so he decides to do the only logical thing one can do in his situation. he picks a person and does exactly what they do. 
after all, when one is in rome, do they not do as the romans do?
in hindsight, he should've just researched online. he should have decided his purchases earlier. or ordered the damn groceries online. because then he'd be able to avoid the embarrassment of being tricked with a can of baby food. 
baby food, of all things! why couldn't it be something a little more dignified? 
he watches you quickly replace the offending item on the shelves and push your cart in another direction before he could react. “come on, then. off to the dairy section we go.”
not wanting to be left behind in this headache inducing location, he hurriedly pushes his trolley too in an attempt to keep up with you. kaeya would never let me live that down, he thinks as he does. 
with a pang, he shoves down the memory of his brother as far and as deep as he can, choosing to focus on the present, lest he end up in another spiral.
you lead him to milk he was supposed to get, and he watches you carefully as you examine the dates on the bottles for him. moments later, you beckon him close with a curl of your palm. leaning slightly, he peers over your shoulder. 
“always try to get the one most recently produced,” you tell him, and he nods. he follows the movement of your finger tapping your chin, clearly pondering. his gaze travels a bit higher, and as he sees your lips move, he realizes that he completely missed what you were saying.
“pardon?” he stumbles ungracefully on the initial sound. 
“what's your favorite fruit?” you repeat. “that'll be first on our list on what to get for you.”
his favorite fruit? he didn't think he had one. “peaches,” he blurts, finding himself unwilling to disappoint you with his lack of proper response, his eyes falling on a peach milkshake drink. 
his ears note your change in tone, voice turning excited. “oh, they're one of my favorites too!” warmth engulfs his gloved hand and he finds himself being dragged to the produce section. 
“what about the trolleys?” he asks, mind still reeling from the sudden hand grabbing on your part.
you wave off his concerns. “oh, they'll be fine parked to the side.” you all but drag him to the peach display. “now, pay close attention, okay?”
as if he needed you to tell him that. “i'm listening,” he says. 
you pick up a peach with bruising. “when you're sorting through peaches, look for the ones with no blemishes. they don't spoil as fast. same with apples and pears and such.” now this, he knew. but he still nods along, a picture-perfect student. he sees your eyes and wonders how anyone's could be so gorgeous.
later, he dutifully nods a little more as you explain the specifics of choosing potatoes. 
“the potatoes should be firm, and there should be no signs of green,” 
should he be taking notes? he stamps the involuntary urge to hunt for a notepad in one of his pockets down, deciding he did not want to embarrass himself any more in front of you.
you seemed to glow even under the unflattering light around you, hair lit by it as you tell him about how to look for the right cauliflowers and broccoli. 
how could someone look so ethereal while standing next to onions? 
diluc ragnvindr. get. a. grip. they're only talking about vegetables. 
you ask him to tell you the price of the eggs while you sort through carrots for both him and yourself. he walks over a couple of yards, carefully examines the label and returns to report the number. 
“that much?!” you eyes widen. “my goodness, that should be considered robbery!”
...was it? he thought it was a reasonable price for a carton of eggs. still, he blindly agrees. you smile, having caught on to the fact that he had no idea what the price should be, and he can't help the pride that spreads its wings in his heart. (though he probably shouldn't be, considering why you smiled, he was glad that he was the cause of it.) 
the rest of the shopping goes in a similar manner. you tell him things. he nods, he observes another one of your features, then notes down whatever you tell him mentally. 
by the time you reach check out, both of your trolleys are filled with the exact same items in the exact same quantities. except for two items in his cart that he reached for out of instinct when he saw them on the shelf: a chocolate his brother liked, and a snack his father used to eat often. 
he contemplates leaving them behind, but decides against it at the last minute just before the cashier scans them.
he sees you reach into your pockets for a wallet, and sees an opportunity to repay you for your help. 
he's quick to pull out his own and hands his card to the cashier before you can say a word.
“i insist,” he says, when you protest. “it is only fair i do this in return for you helping me,”
you sigh, giving him another one of the smiles he had started to adore. “alright, thank you.”
the two of you walk outside the store together. cool wind ruffles both of your hair. “well, i guess this is where we part ways,” you say with a laugh and a wave. he manages a soft smile in return. 
“farewell, then.” he watches you walk away, still standing at the entrance, shopping bags in hand. "dammit." he curses under his breath.
he'd forgotten to ask for your name.
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kairiscorner · 9 months
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ok but imagine miggy with a perfectionist/overachiever/burnt out gifted kid reader
(tw: mentions of light self-starvation, keep yourselves fed babes, you deserve to eat)
(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)
...
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summary: you really wanted to keep your number one spot, but at the cost of your well-being? miguel refuses to watch you do this to yourself any longer and takes matters into his own hands.
word count: ~1.7k
it was 2 in the morning, and you were still burning the candle at both ends. you were hard at work memorizing concepts, diagrams, easily mispronounced words and acronyms you'd never use or find useful ever again in your life unless you were on a trivia gameshow.
you were hard at work trying to understand what little was entering your mind already, a little overwhelmed by the concepts flooding your brain, but not ready to get to bed yet, out of fear someone will push you off your throne as one of the top students of the class.
you were intelligent, you had a gift; you heard those words all your life, every tine you came home with a new certificate, medal, trophy–or all three at once. you couldn't help it, school was just too easy for you back then; you could take the tests with your eyes closed and without even studying the night before.
but soon, it got harder for some reason. you originally didn't mind, you still passed with flying colors and with minimal effort–but at the cost of your sleep schedule and eating habits. you convinced yourself it was fine, it was okay, so long as you were on top.
that was all you could think of, "i just need to stay on top, then i'll be fine. nothing's better than showing them all i'm better, i'm smart, i'm... worthy of this, all this."
your mantra worked, but it worked too well that it backfired horribly.
hence, here you were, on an empty stomach that was growling, begging for you to fill it with sustenance, as the clock soon ticked to 2:15 am. the constant ticking of the clock irritating you, and thoughts of getting a digital clock to lessen distractions filled your head–ironically becoming a distraction in itself.
you groaned, you had to face it, you weren't going to get anything done at this rate. you decided to check your phone for something that might help stimulate you, maybe motivate you, even, to get back to studying.
you went online for a little, laughed at a few videos, got interested in some rabbit hole videos, found yourself singing along to some songs that you clicked on from your feed. it was peaceful.
but soon, you were greeted by a flurry of messages from your concerned friend, miguel o'hara.
you opened your latest message notification from him and read it as soon as it flashed on your screen. "what is so important that you should be up right now?" he asked.
you bit your lip as you tried to think of what to say. you knew miguel was the unyielding type of person, if you gave him a bullshit answer, you were going to get bullshit from him. you typed, erased, retyped and re-erased your message over and over again. but you finally came to the conclusion to type out, "why are you up rn?" you texted, sending him a duck emoji afterwards. he hated when you did that.
"it's 2:20 am," he argued. "correction, 2:21 in the morning," you responded. "are you even doing anything worthwhile right now? maybe rethinking which direction your life's headed before graduation?" he texted back, to which you giggled.
"you didn't answer my question," you replied, with a duck emoji again. "i was up because i saw your online status. don't think you're slick, you didn't answer my previous questions, either." he replied. "and what relevance does the duck serve in this conversation? i seriously don't understand."
you laughed aloud at his blunt answer, and in your half-tired daze, you accidentally pressed the call button. it wasn't until you heard his voice on the other end that you realized you accidentally called him.
"hello?" rang his voice from the other end, a little groggy. "um, hi." you responded as he groaned. "why the... shock are you up?" he asked, a little irritated. "we have our finals tomorrow." you replied curtly. "so? that doesn't answer my question. why are you shocking up?" he asked in a more annoyed tone as he shook off the grogginess in his voice.
"por el amor de Dios..." he muttered under his breath. you were a little taken aback by how... captivating he sounded when sleepy. a little grumpy, yes, but you felt like you could listen to his voice be like this every day. maybe you would stay up a little late just to hear him like this.
"go back to bed." he told you, trying to sound commanding. "and why would i ever do that? you know how important the finals are." you remind him. "...and how important being the top student is for me." you murmured out that last bit, to which he raised an eyebrow at.
he breathed a sigh. "i seriously can't believe you'd prioritize being a top student over giving your body a much needed break." he berated you as you hunched your shoulders, a little disappointed that he had a point. before you could say anything to retort, your stomach sided with miguel and let out a deep, rumbling whine.
the sound of your stomach complaining about how poorly you've been keeping it fed alerted miguel as he sighed yet again. "what time was it when you last ate?" he asked you, his voice soft as he tried to keep himself calm and composed.
"ah, well, maybe around... i forgot." you answered honestly. "you forgot?" he asked in a concerned voice. "you really can't live without me, huh?" he asked as you heard the shuffling of bed spreads and his big footsteps as he walked around his room. "what are you doing?" you asked him.
"more important question is where i'm going, and if you must know, i'm headed to your dorm right this–" and before he could even finish, there was a rapping of knocks on your door. you got up as you wondered if the person knocking was who you feared it was.
"–my phone died." he said in a low voice. "hope it rests in peace." you joked in a straight, nonchalant tone as miguel sighed at the bad joke. he entered your dorm without another word and set on your table the big white plastic bag he brought with him.
he didn't change out of his white shirt, dark and light blue striped pajama pants, and wore the jacket you bought for him on his birthday. "sit down." he commanded in a soft voice. "what is th–" "sit. down." he repeated himself in a more solid voice, which shut you up and got you to sit down immediately without asking any questions.
before you could get another word out of your mouth, miguel handed you an empanada. it was a little soft and limp, but it was warm. you could tell this wasn't made by just anybody. no, you recognized this style of empanda wrapping, the way it was golden brown on one side, slightly browned on the other–the abundance of meat in the filling with hardly any vegetables, just the way you liked it.
the only person who knew how to make it this way was...
"well damn, miggy, didn't think you were gonna make me anything." you said as you took a bite of the empanada. he shrugged. "i was going to give them to you today, but you were holed up in the library all day. if not the library, then in your dorm, locking yourself in your own misery." he said as he ate his helping.
you chuckled. "hey, don't laugh. i worried about you all day." he scolded you lightly with a half-full mouth. "oh. is that why you were online earlier?" you asked him, eating your empanada to satiate your starving stomach.
"i... i couldn't sleep." he admitted. "why not?" you asked him. "...a part of me thinks it was because i couldn't stop worrying about you. i didn't see you the whole day and i really, really wanted to know if you were okay. you know it kills me every time when you don't talk to me, let me know if you're alive, at least." he said as he looked up at you, his expression softening.
"oh, mig, i'm... so sorry." you said as you realized the weight of your actions, how it affected not only you, but miguel, and possibly other people who cared about you. miguel put his non-greasy hand on your cheek. "you should be." he said promptly. "but don't beat yourself up over it, you've been beating yourself every day since you were on top, not wanting to lose." he went on as he rubbed the side of your face.
"it's admirable, but please don't lose yourself over it. i think you're good enough already at second, third, or even no place at the top. you'll always have a place in my heart, that's the only thing no one can take away from you. that's the only place you'll always be number one in." he said with a small smile. "please promise me you'll take care of yourself, even if you can't accept losing once or twice or many more times in your life to someone else. i'd rather see you lose at everything but yourself. but i know you're good enough already, you don't have to overdo it anymore, okay?" he reminded you, to which you nodded and rubbed away at your eyes.
tears formed and rolled down your cheeks as he spoke, tears you never realized you were holding in, which suddenly came flooding right out when miguel talked to you. "ah... sorry." miguel apologized as he wiped away your tears with a napkin. "i promise, miguel." you sniffled out. "i'll... i'll try to take care of... myself." you promised as miguel held your face in his hands. "and if you can't... i'm right here for you. i've always got you, no matter what." he said as he kissed your forehead, a gentle and loving reminder that you can be number one at everything all you want, you already are his number one, but never forget that you have to be number one for yourself, first.
a/n: I NEEDED THIS WHEN I WAS 1 POINT AWAY FROM A 98 GENERAL AVERAGE ON MY CARD I SWEAR /cries HOPING YOU BABES LOVED THIS
tags !! @miguelswifey04
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kpopfanfictrash · 5 months
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The Horrible Un-Haunting of Elliot House
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Author: kpopfanfictrash
Genre: Ghost!AU / Romance / Comedy (?)
Pairing: Seokjin / Reader (she/her)
Synopsis: Some houses are harder to sell than others but you, Y/N, are determined to find the (supposedly) haunted Elliot House a new owner. That is, until it's very real and very hot exceedingly well-dressed ghost decides to make himself known. If only you didn't find yourself enjoying the knowing.
Rating: PG-13 (kissing but nothing beyond that)
Word Count: 6,214
Author's Note: hope you enjoy this random Halloween "drabble"! This got oddly angsty? I suppose that happens with ghost love LOL
[ Cross-Posted to Wattpad ]
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“Through here,” you say, leading the Gundersons through an arched door. “You’ll find the most adorable sunroom.”
The Gundersons both gasp, appropriately awed by the tall walls of windows. Each panel is topped with stained glass, casting colorful patterns across the checkered floor. Technically, the sunroom isn’t part of the original house – it was added in 1975 during a brief period the address was owned by a cult – but you rarely disclose this fact during tours. Most people don’t care which parts of the house are original, so long as they can say they bought a 19th century Tudor.
Not that you blame them. Most people (or at least, sane people) appreciate the romanticism of an old structure without actually wanting to live in one. Modern amenities are the top benefit of progress, after all. The government couldn’t pay you to live without modern heating, plumbing, or refrigeration.
“Margaret, did you see?” Arthur Gunderson, a slightly rotund lawyer, and husband of said Margaret, gestures emphatically. “I’ll be damned if this stained glass isn’t Tiffany! See there, see that stamp in the corner?”
“Good eye, sir!” you chirp, barely glancing up from your clipboard.
Truthfully, you aren’t sure whether the glass is authentic. The cult that installed could hardly be called profitable (they sold the house at a loss after less than ten years, although this likely had more to do with crimes committed on said property than their income, but you digress), so you’d be hard-pressed to believe they could afford real Tiffany.
If this is what convinces the Gundersons to buy though, you’re hardly a realtor to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Ticking a box in the upper right corner – sunroom – you look up. “Right, well. That’s most of the lower level.” Pivoting on your heel, you head towards the corridor. “If you two will follow me upstairs, we can –”
“What’s that?”
Steps slowing, you stare at the plaster wall. A moment passes, then two before you convince yourself to turn around. When you see where Arthur Gunderson points, a relieved breath leaves your lips.
“Oh, that?” Floorboards squeak as you cross the room, sounding almost like laughter. “That’s the cellar. I’d offer you a look but unfortunately, the staircase isn’t quite up to code. You’ll need someone to look at that ASAP if you buy.”
Hovering at the wooden door, you grasp its bronze knob and pull. Tugging the cord for the light, you briefly scan the stairs but spot nothing unusual. Mostly convinced, you dutifully step aside.
“Feel free to look,” you say brightly.
The Gundersons crowd the landing you vacated.
“Careful, honey,” Arthur warns, holding Margaret’s elbow. “These stairs are steep.”
Standing on tiptoe, Margaret peers beyond him into the basement gloom. It could be your imagination, but she almost seems disappointed. A few cobwebs and shadows line the staircase, but nothing more sinister.
Hiding a smile, you check the next box. Cellar. Sometimes, people request to see this house not because they’re interested in buying it, but for the thrill. Entering the haunted Elliot house and surviving will make a great tale to tell their friends over cocktails.
Lowering your clipboard, you glance upward. So far, everything has gone to plan, which is partly the problem. You must’ve shown this house thirty times and always, something has gone wrong by now. Before being assigned its realtor, you believed in the paranormal, but only in a theoretical way. Not because you’d witnessed anything spectral.
Your opinions since then have changed.
Turning sharply, you plaster a smile on your face. “Shall we?”
Stepping back, Margaret pulls wiry frames from her jacket pocket. “I must admit,” she says with an embarrassed laugh. “Based on what our last realtor said, I was expecting far worse from this property.”
Although your smile tightens, you nod. The other realtor had a point – Elliot house could be temperamental, at best. Downright petulant, at worst. You glare again at the ceiling.
“We get that a lot,” you say, ushering them down the hall. Best not to linger. “Whenever a house sits too long on the market, you know – people talk. Lots of rumors!”
“Oh, sure,” Arthur says, passing you with a chuckle. “We’re not superstitious, don’t worry.”
“Oh?” you say lightly, remaining behind. “That’s good to know. Now, if you head down the hall, you’ll reach the foyer. All the crown molding you pass is original. The house’s first owner and builder, Daniel Baker, was something of a craftsman. He –”
Abruptly, you cease talking and stare at the stairwell. Halfway down the steps, where before there was nothing, sits a perfectly ripe orange. Eyes narrowed, you stare at this a long beat before yanking the light cord down and shutting the door.
Glancing upward, you hiss, “Not today, I swear to – well, whatever hellish being you worship.”
The wind sounds almost like laughter, but you don’t stick around long enough to find out if that’s true. Shaking your head, you traipse down the front hall in search of the Gundersons. Luckily, they’re too busy taking pictures of the aforementioned crown molding to have noticed your absence.
“Shall we?” you say, gesturing at the front stairs.
Pocketing their phones, they begin their ascent. You wait at the bottom, giving them space to discuss the house. From personal experience, buyers tend to appreciate when you don’t hover.
Besides, the grand staircase is your favorite feature – equal parts artwork and functionality. From your place at its bottom, you admire the craftsmanship. Starting the climb, your fingertips skim whorls in the wood and for a second, you feel a phantom hand rest over yours.
Scowling darkly, you yank your palm away. Reaching the landing, you clutch at your clipboard tighter and walk forward.
“This way!” you say, practically shoving the Gundersons into the first bedroom.
While they ooh and ah about the bay windows, you tick another box on your spreadsheet. Master bedroom.
The second you’re done, the pen slips from your grasp and hovers in mid-air. It then turns, point-down, to scrawl something in the margin.
‘Master’ bedroom? Kiiind of racist, don’t you think?
Teeth gritted, you snatch your pen back. “I wasn’t the one who created the spreadsheet, okay?” you whisper. “And while, yes, I agree, and other realtors are moving away from that language, I don’t–”
“Pardon?” Arthur Gunderson peers, confused, over his shoulder.
Somewhat manic, you smile. “Oh, nothing,” you say, the words sounding high-pitched, even to you. “I was just reminding myself to show you the main bathroom. Beautiful claw-foot tub.”
“Oh. Sure,” says Arthur, returning to his wife.
Head whipping sideways, you glare at the most likely place Seokjin would be. A chuckle drifts past your ear on the other side, and your scowl deepens.
Once an appropriate amount of time goes by, you usher the Gundersons into the next bedroom. Hovering outside, you calculate how quickly you can convince them to leave. The longer they stay, the worse the so-called haunting will be.
You should have known better than to show them this house, but they were insistent. Or at least, Arthur was. Margaret seems reasonably paranoid, which you deem a positive quality. Everyone within a hundred-mile radius has heard of the haunted Elliot house.
Even the name is confusing, since it doesn’t bear the name of its builder, Daniel Baker, nor its longest resident, Mr. Josiah Whitley. Instead, it’s named for Nathaniel Elliot, the cult leader who murdered a man on its premises in 1978. Obviously, this fact wasn’t known to the public until after the cult sold the house and moved far away.
Eventually, Mr. Elliot was tried and found guilty of murder, but this was much later. Wincing a little, you glance at the ceiling. Seokjin has said many times that ghosts can’t read minds, but you wouldn’t put it past him to lie for a punchline. Even if he can’t read your mind, the faint scent of cedar lets you know he’s nearby.
Quickening your stride, you show the Gundersons the next bedroom. “This is one of my favorites,” you say, pulling hard on its warped door. “The view from that window is stunning. You can see all the way to the brook!”
Taking the bait, Margaret crosses the room. “Oh, look, Arthur!” she exclaims, leaning forward. “There’s a gazebo!”
He follows at a more leisurely pace, frowning when he spots a lone cobweb in the corner. Sighing, you swipe at this as you pass, almost certain the web wasn’t there this morning.
While the two converse, you pull out your clipboard and run down the list again.
Most days at your job are like today – running down lists and waiting for other people to make their own life decisions. Becoming a realtor wasn’t so much a choice as it was thrust upon you. When your mom got sick your senior year of grad school, you returned to take care of her and finished your coursework remotely.
There were only so many jobs with flexible hours, and you ended up getting your realtor’s license to support her on the side. When your mom passed, you stuck around to sort out her paperwork and affairs. Two years later, everything is in order and still, you remain. Stuck in a holding pattern, showing houses and too afraid to try your hand at anything different.
BANG.
The sudden noise from above plunges the room into silence. Both Arthur and Margaret swivel, wide eyes landing on you.
Margaret’s glasses chain trembles. “What was tha–”
“My assistant,” you blurt, backing towards the door. “He mentioned he would stop by to drop off some keys. That must be him – I’ll go and check!”
“But…” Arthur stares. “The noise came from above.”
“Be right back!” you call, stepping into the hall.
As fast as possible without raising suspicion, you rush down the hall. “Seokjin,” you hiss, hand skimming the banister as you descend. “Stop that right now!”
No one responds – not that you thought he would. Crossing the foyer, you reach the cellar door and yank it open. Flicking the overhead light, you see the orange has disappeared. Rolling your eyes, you shut the door.
“This isn’t funny,” you huff out loud to no one.
Far above you, a low groan shakes the house. Honestly, it sounds more sexual than scary, but you suppose that only makes it more sinister. Reaching the foyer, you slow your pace and set down your clipboard. Suppressing a sigh, you glance at the clock. This has happened enough times that you can predict things to the minute.
Crossing your arms, you tap your foot and count down in your head.
One – increased groaning. Sometimes from the cellar, often the attic and, during one memorable visit, from behind a locked bathroom door.
Two – shuffling feet while the Gundersons (insert buyer’s name here) debate whether to run or wait it out. They hastily whisper, wondering if it’s their minds playing tricks.
Third – laughter. Seokjin will say it sounds lilting but to you, his laughter is more akin to a car’s windshield wipers. Today, said laughter drifts from the main bedroom, immediately followed by the Gundersons’ screaming.
Directly above you, Margaret’s heels pound wooden floors. Wincing, you make a mental reminder to buff the scuffs from the wood.
“ARTHUR!” she calls, her voice pitching upward.
“Right behind you!” he bellows.
When the lights in the foyer flicker, you lean against the grand railing. In your experience, there’s nothing you can do now to save the showing. As soon as Seokjin reveals himself, it’s only a matter of time.
“Whoooo dareeessss to disturrrrrb meeeee!” he wails, and you try not to laugh. “This is MYYYY homeeee and you are nooooot welcomeeeee! OoOOOOooooOOo!”
Arthur is first down the stairs. Reluctantly, you step forward – as their realtor, you’ll try to calm them down and get them out. All part of the plan. What’s not part of the plan is Arthur’s blind panic, elbowing you – hard – in the stomach as he runs past.
Concaving, you stumble, your foot catching on a loose floorboard as you fall backwards. Suddenly, a pink cushion slides between you and the floor. You land in the middle of it, shocked but unharmed.
Arthur yanks open the front door. “You!” he blurts, whipping around to point. Blinking, you fight the urge to glance over your shoulder. “Yes, you,” he scoffs, spittle flying as Margaret runs past. “I don’t know if this is your idea of a sick joke or what, but your manager will be hearing from me!”
Before you can formulate a response, Arthur is out the front door. You hear the sound of their car starting, exhaust billowing behind them as they speed down the street.
Propping yourself on one elbow, you release a sigh. The house has fallen silent, almost sheepish in its total lack of sound. Head lolling back, you glare at the ceiling.
“You are so annoying,” you groan, well-aware you sound crazy. “I honestly don’t know what you’re looking for, Seokjin. The Gundersons were fine.”
The front door slams.
An outline of a person materializes between you and the living room, seeming composed of dust motes and sunshine. Turning your glare in their direction, you tap your fingers against the oak floor.
Seokjin solidifies fully, rakishly leaning against the paneled wall. He’s dressed in the same navy three-piece suit he wore when he died, albeit with his hair styled in this century’s fashion. Seokjin once said ghosts are able to change their appearance, but most choose not to. There’s little point to it, and it wastes precious energy.
Sadly, he shakes his head. “See, that’s where you’re wrong,” Seokjin says, his deep timbre resonating through floorboards beneath you.
“Show off,” you mutter.
Lips twitching, he crooks a finger. The foyer light ceases to flicker, and Seokjin straightens. Dusting invisible dust from his shoulders, he walks forward.
“The Gundersons were tiresome,” he says. “I would’ve been bored of them in months, started haunting again, and this house would’ve gone right back on the market. Really, I saved you trouble in the long run. You can thank me later.”
“Oh, no,” you deadpan. “Two commissions on the same property. What a horrible fate.”
“Exactly. You’re welcome.”
Fighting an eye roll, you push yourself upward with cushion in hand. At least Seokjin was kind enough to break your fall, even if he caused the circumstances which led to it in the first place.
Brushing the dirt from the cushion, you shake your head. “You do know that eventually, someone will buy this house and you’ll have to make peace with that fact. Right?”
When Seokjin doesn’t immediately respond, you look up. His dark gaze lingers a second longer than necessary, briskly looking away when he catches you watching.
“I know,” Seokjin says, turning around. “Might I point out though, that I don’t have to make peace with anything. Ghost,” he adds, pointing at himself. “Not making peace with things is our bread and butter.”
“People have owned this house before, though.”
“Boring people,” Seokjin mutters.
“That didn’t seem to bother you back then!”
Seokjin enters the living room. “Ugh,” he groans, dropping onto a chaise. Dust motes spiral around him, as though he were solid. “If I must be trapped on the material plane, Y/N, the least the material plane could do is provide some entertainment. And the lovemaking of two seventy-year-olds doesn’t count,” he adds, fixing you with a glare.
Stifling laughter, you follow him into the parlor. Fluffing the cushion, you replace it on its chair and survey the room. Seokjin lounges dramatically and it could be your imagination, but he almost looks solid. More so than the first time you met, anyways.
He nearly scared the shit out of you, back then. Everyone at the firm warned you this house was haunted but were purposefully vague on the supernatural. The warnings they gave you were borderline mundane.
Oh, yeah, that house has been on the market forever. People say that it’s haunted, but I’d honestly be more worried about rats. Or asbestos – popcorn ceilings didn’t age well for a reason. And I don’t know if it’s true, but I heard a convict once lived in the basement for three months before the cops caught him. Watch out for that!
You entered this house with more than your usual trepidation, pepper spray in one hand and a flashlight in the other. Apparently, the wiring wasn’t all up to code – something you’ve since rectified with the city.
The sound of the door creak could’ve been written by the Brothers Grimm themselves, textbook gothic. Your flashlight swept over dusty floors, faint footprints remaining to remind you of its past. Spine steeled, you forced yourself to continue.
Finding a light switch, you flicked upward, and the chandelier came to life. The lighting was dim, barely enough to see by on a rainy day. Keeping your flashlight, you wandered into the parlor and came to a sudden stop. Forest green wallpaper lined the walls, remarkably intact for its age. Stunned, you turned in a slow circle.
Moody maximalism was one of your favorite design styles, and this room was made for it. With a slightly better attitude, you resumed your walk-through, discovering a hidden cupboard in the kitchen and a dumbwaiter to nowhere. The second-floor entry point had been boarded up, but that could be rectified.
Some of the woodwork of the house was scuffed, and a few corners held fallen leaves, but overall, it was in great condition. None of the realtors had prepared you for that – you arrived expecting a war zone and were pleasantly surprised.
On the second floor, you found a library – or what had once been the library, given the shelving was empty – that made you audibly gasp. Blue-black custom shelves extended along three of the walls. Closer to the door, a bright square of color remained from where a painting had hung.
Curious, your fingers traced the edges. “This place is unreal,” you murmured to yourself.
“I know, right?” said a voice directly in your ear.
Like any sane person, you screamed and jumped skyward. Your flashlight fell, its beam rolling over and over until it hit a baseboard. You didn’t stick around to find out, turning fast on your heel and bolting into the hall.
Thundering down the front stairs – wincing as the wood groaned – you nearly reached the foyer when Seokjin appeared.
“Boo,” he said calmly, between you and the door.
Coming to a shuddering halt, your hand gripped the railing. The ghost was impeccably dressed, if slightly invisible, and raised a dark brow in response to your flight.
Gaze darting sideways, you sought a second exit but all you could recall was the cellar and that wasn’t an option. Years of training from watching scary movies kicked in at that point, and you slowly straightened. Running away would do nothing – a ghost could follow you anywhere – so, maybe reasoning with him would be the best option.
“What do you want?” you asked, masking your fear to plant both hands on your hips. “Who are you?”
Surprise flared in his – admittedly attractive – gaze. Some of the shock had worn off by then, and you could admit to yourself (if to no one else) that the ghost before you was hot. Even thinking this felt ridiculous, and you wondered if your already-fragile grasp on reality was slipping.
Taking a single step forward, the ghost cocked his head. When you stumbled back, his lip quirked, and he appeared by your side.
“Who am I?” he mused, walking in a slow circle. “Awfully strange to ask me that, when I’m the person that died here, and you’ve never stepped foot in this house until now. I would know.”
Started, you turned your head.
This was a mistake since it allowed you to see every ridge of his features. The rounded tip of his nose, his enviably full lips, and a curve to his jawline which could likely cut glass.
Forcing your gaze upward, you found him focused on you. “You… died here?” you asked before you could think better.
His lips thinned. “You know, it’s very rude to ask a ghost how they died. It’s personal.”
“Oh,” you said. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”
“You didn’t ask,” the ghost replied with a sigh.
Your eyes narrowed, hearing barely hidden laughter in his tone. This ghost was making fun of you. The audacity!
Incensed by this, you lifted your chin. “Wouldn’t asking you whether it’s polite to ask about death be asking you about death, though?”
“Fair enough.” He shrugged, slipping both hands in his pockets. “There really isn’t a good way for you to bring up that conversation.”
A laugh escaped, despite yourself.
His gaze flickered, as though oddly pleased. Quickly, the ghost scanned you from your shoes to your face, where he lingered.
“I’m curious,” he mused, resuming his walk in a circle.
Despite your discomfort, you forced yourself to stay still. Even though you could feel each place his gaze lingered – your shoulders, your collarbone, tacing the slope of your cheekbones.
“What are you curious about?” you asked, pushing the words past your lips.
He stopped between you and the door again. Slipping both hands from his pockets, he crossed his arms over his chest. The way his biceps strained against his suit was intriguing, implying there was something to strain against. Dimly, you wondered what a ghost’s gym routine looked like.
Your lips twitched at the thought, and the ghost scowled.
“Stop that,” he commanded. “You should be terrified. I was curious about why you haven’t run yet. Anyone else would’ve by now.”
“Would they?”
“Based on my experience, yes.” He tilted his head. “This is the first time I’ve introduced myself to someone and they stayed. Well,” he amended through teeth. “Stayed without crucifixes, holy water, and a priest.”
“Does that really work?” you wondered, genuinely curious.
“Does what work – exorcism?”
You nodded.
“Clearly not.” He waved a hand down his body. “At least, not in my case. When I first died, I wanted to move on. I was even excited when the first priest arrived, but he did nothing, and neither did the next one… eventually, I stopped hoping. Started haunting, instead.”
“Well, sure,” you said, dazed.
His lips twitched. “My name is Seokjin, by the way. Not that you asked.”
“That was literally one of the first things I asked!”
Ignoring this, Seokjin stuck out his hand. “And you are?”
“Y/N,” you said, ignoring the impossibility of what you were about to attempt while extending your palm. “Nice to meet you.”
Your hands met in the middle and, instead of passing through, you felt your palms brush. For a moment, you touched calluses and warm skin, smelling the faint scent of cloves.
Seokjin went utterly still.
Chin jerking down, he stared at your joined hands. “That’s… never happened before.”
Retracting swiftly, you said the first thought that came to mind. “What? Never touched a woman?”
Scowling, he retracted his hand as well. “I was thirty when I died, Y/N. Not thirteen.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” you muttered, then paused. “You… haven’t been able to touch anyone since you died?”
“Things, yes. People, no.” A thoughtful look crossed his face. “A psychic visited me once. The owners at that time brought her, wanting to see if she could get rid of me.” Seokjin snorted. “She got them to pay her, then said, ‘No.’ Hilarious. And interesting,” he added. “She told me she’d met other ghosts, ones that could interact. Never seemed to work for me, though.”
You blinked, unsure how to respond. For it being your first encounter with the supernatural, nothing about this had gone as imagined. You weren’t sure how to converse with a ghost who, for all intents and purposes, seemed fairly normal.
Except for the whole ‘being dead’ part.
“Well.” You shrugged. “There’s a first time for everything, I guess.”
His expression remained inscrutable, but for the faintest of seconds, you thought Seokjin looked intrigued. After a moment, he moved closer and leaned in. You caught the faintest whiff of orange, cloves, and cedar on what could have been his breath.
“I suppose there is,” he murmured, and then disappeared.
Since then, Seokjin has appeared each time you returned. The second time, you were halfway convinced your first visit was a hallucination. A theory Seokjin seemed content to feed into, refusing to show himself until you were about to leave. Then, he jumped through the hall closet to yell, “MUTINY!” and cement his presence in your mind.
Seokjin doesn’t dress the same every time. A few weeks into your friendship (if one can call it that), he informed you he could change his appearance but hadn’t done it much. It took energy to appear on the mortal pane, more so if his appearance was altered.
Still, you’ve learned Seokjin will do pretty much anything to commit to a bit. His brand of haunting tends to border on comical. Putting his arms on backwards, headless juggling, vomiting wine – really anything is fair game if not truly grotesque. By now, you’ve seen his whole gambit, which is how you can say today’s performance was lackluster.
Sprawled on the chaise, one foot dangling, Seokjin looks every bit of the tragic lothario. Again, you can’t help but wonder whether he’s gained permanence since the last time you saw him. You could almost swear the chaise sinks under the weight of his frame.
“What is it?” he demands, lazily pushing himself upward.
Something in your chest flutters, although you ignore it. Arms crossed, you fix him with a look of disdain. It’s sinful for Seokjin to look as good as he does – and the worst part is, you know it’s not an illusion.
After you met the third time, you Googled his name along with the house and found multiple hits. Seokjin Kim was killed on October 31st, 1978, by Nathanial Elliot, the leader of the Sunny Days cult. Both Seokjin’s parents joined two years prior, and he’d tried unsuccessfully to convince them to leave by mail and phone.
Eventually, he visited in person and convinced them to go – unfortunately, Nathanial caught wind of the situation and killed Seokjin before this could happen. You saw photos of Seokjin from then and can confirm he was always devastatingly handsome. Often, you’ve wondered if he left someone behind – a wife or a girlfriend – but can’t bring yourself to ask. You aren’t sure which answer would hurt more.
Regardless, you know Seokjin was missed. His parents were the ones who took down the Sunny Days cult, putting their leader behind bars for killing their son. Seokjin admitted once that they tried to tear this house down. They didn’t know he was tied to the grounds, and he didn’t want to tell them. It would’ve been harder for them to move on, he explained, and your heart broke a little.
Not long after that, you accidentally let it slip that Seokjin had a scent. It made him howl with laughter, nearly falling down the front stairs – not that this would’ve hurt him. From then on, Seokjin showed off his growing ability to move solid objects by leaving oranges for you in the house whenever you came. Only another of his practical jokes but lately, it’s made your skin hot to think of.
You realized you felt more than you should for him last month when he saved you from falling. Determined to clear out the cellar, your entire foot went through the first step and Seokjin pulled you to safety.
“Careful,” he murmured, one arm wrapped around your waist. Gently, he eased you backwards and onto the landing. “The top step is rotted through. You’ll need to call in someone to fix that.”
Unable to speak, you nodded and quickly disentangled. Each place he had touched, your skin tingled, and not at all unpleasantly. Since that day, your feelings have only worsened. Sometimes, you wonder if he knows.
Sometimes you wonder whether he feels the same, no matter how hopeless it is.
Heaving a great sigh, Seokjin stands from the couch. Lifting both arms, he stretches this way and that like an overgrown cat. The end of his shirt comes untucked, displaying a flat strip of skin you refuse to acknowledge.
Forcing your gaze to his face, you lift a single brow. Weeks after meeting, you considered Seokjin your friend, or at least an acquaintance. Now, you can’t call this friendship, but not because things between you have worsened. It’s because the more time you spend together, the more you find yourself wishing for something impossible. Something more.
“You know what,” you tell him. “There’s no need to scare off every potential buyer.”
Seokjin pauses, then lowers his arms. “There’s a need when they’re terrible. I’m the one forced to live with them for eternity, not you.”
“It’s not an eternity, though,” you tried to joke. “Eventually, they’ll die – or, so one would presume.”
Seokjin’s face hardens. Before you can take another breath, he’s standing before you. “Much better,” he says, his voice like steel. “I love being reminded that, while the world continues to age around me, I never will. I’ll simply stay on this godforsaken plot of land until the earth is destroyed by its own inhabitants. How long do you think that’ll take, Y/N? One decade? Two?”
Eyes wide, you stare at him in shock.
Seokjin has never spoken to you like this before. Usually, he’s far more cavalier about his reality, easily accepting the fact that he’s a ghost. Never once has he ranted about the world passing by. In fact, Seokjin frequently throws in your face that you’ll soon have more wrinkles than him.
For the first time, you wonder if all that is a front. If perhaps, deep down, all his lackadaisicalness is merely a cover for a deeper kind of fear.
Slowly, you move closer. “I didn’t mean to be dismissive,” you murmur. “Of course, I don’t want you to be forced to live with people you hate. I just meant…”
You trail off, uncertain and Seokjin’s face softens. He moves even closer, his scent comforting you in a way you can’t explain. In a way it shouldn’t be.
“I’ll never get used to this,” you sigh.
You aren’t sure why you’re speaking so softly. Possibly due to his proximity and possibly due to the look in his eyes, studying you as though you’re the impossibility, and not him. Dust motes trail through the air when Seokjin lifts a hand.
With bated breath, you watch as he reaches towards you. At the last second, he shifts and lightly brushes your jaw.
Sharply, you inhale because you feel it. You feel him.
“Seokjin,” you whisper. “What are you…”
Gently shushing, he leans in, and you feel his breath, feather-light, across your skin. Utterly shocked, you go still. It’s his breath that you feel. Breath that shouldn’t exist, according to logic.
Slowly, his gaze drops and stays on your lips. If Seokjin can’t read minds, he must hear your heart racing. The sound of it is all-consuming, drowning out rational thought.
“You want to know what I’m waiting for?” he murmurs, his gaze lifting. “I’m waiting for someone to look at this… house the way you do.”
“A lot of people have liked the house, Seokjin. People who –”
“I don’t want you to sell this house."
Startled, you stop. “Why not?”
His expression twists, revealing his vulnerability. “I think you know.”
Roughly, you exhale.
Yes. You do know. It’s the same reason you’ve half-assed the last six showings at this address. It’s why you keep people from looking, and when they insist, barely attempt to stifle Seokjin’s shenanigans. You could have come earlier today and requested Seokjin to be on good behavior. He would have done it. For you, he would have.
Which is exactly why you didn’t ask.
“I… want to hear you say it,” you say, so low, you’re surprised that he hears.
Achingly slow, Seokjin’s hand slips from your jaw to your neck. When he pulls you closer, you can feel the weight of his hand, the solid pressure that comes from his fingers on your skin.
Your eyes flutter shut.
“I don’t want you to go,” Seokjin murmurs, his lips close to your ear. “If someone else buys this house, you’d stop showing it. You wouldn’t come here again, and I can’t leave these grounds. If someone else buys this place” – his breath hitches – “I won’t see you again. I can stomach eternity, Y/N, but not without you.”
“Seokjin.” His name leaves your lips as a whisper, or prayer.
“Yes?”
“Do you ever…” Eyes opening, you look up. “I don’t want to say it out loud.”
“Why not?”
“Because.” Your voice breaks. “That might make it real. What I want can’t be real, so if I say it out loud, it might vanish and right now, it exists in this tentative space. We exist in this space.”
Lightly, his thumb strokes your throat, and you feel your knees buckle. Every callous, every touch feels so horribly real, it’s making it difficult to remember why this can’t be.
“I’ve stopped wondering what’s real and what’s not,” Seokjin murmurs, his gaze tracing your mouth. “Most people say I shouldn’t exist and yet, here I am. They say I shouldn’t be here, able to touch you like this and yet, I am. They say I shouldn’t–”
Rising on tiptoe, you cut him off with your kiss. Seokjin shudders, his lips parted and warm in the shock of the moment.
 “Fuck,” he groans, breaking away to stare at you in wonder.
Before you can respond, he returns, his kiss wild and fierce. Your own desire surges, touching him hesitantly at first, and then with full abandon. Hands sliding up his chest, over his shoulders, your fingers curl in his hair to anchor him to you.
Cupping your face, Seokjin pulls your body to his. His touch is reverent, deifying while his hands travel lower to land on your waist. His body curves above yours, catching your gasps with the tip of his tongue. Seokjin feels solid beneath you – solid, and warm, and painfully real.
His mouth moves to your jaw, trailing heat down your throat and across your bared collar. Shivers of pleasure shoot through you as he walks you backwards, pressing your spine to the wall. Briefly – wondrously – you laugh, the sound caught again by his kiss.
Within minutes, you’re panting, heart beating wildly as you grip his hair tighter. Seokjin’s leg presses forward, pushing your thighs apart and you nearly dissolve. He moves harder, faster, as though scared that you’ll vanish. This is the opposite of disappearing, though.
This is together, beneath, and on top as –
“Shit,” Seokjin growls, the sound torn from his throat.
Dazed, you look sideways and realize his hand has gone through the wall.
Seokjin stares at his wrist, his chest rising and falling. Everything you can feel is solid, but his hand sinks through the wall about an inch deep. It’s hard to concentrate with him above you, looking like that. Seokjin’s hair remains mussed by your hands, proving you touched him – however briefly.
Lips thinning, Seokjin pulls his hand out. Purposefully, he lays his palm flat on the wall but it’s clear to you both that he’s concentrating. Some of his pressure dissipates.
“I – fuck,” he exhales, dropping his chin.
Gently, you soothe a strand of hair behind his ear. This is the first time you’ve seen Seokjin anything less than immaculate and goddamn, if it doesn’t look good on him. That’s making it difficult to focus on the matter at hand.
The matter at hand. Ha.
Thinking this, a snort escapes your lips before you can stop it. Stunned, Seokjin glances up with wide eyes.
“Did you just… snort?” he asks, incredulous.
You shake your head, and then nod, sheepish. “Um, yes. I did. It’s just…” Now that you’ve started, you can’t help but continue. “I can’t believe the hottest make-out session of my life ended with your fucking hand through a wall.”
Seokjin stares for a long moment before – impossibly – his chest starts to shake. Before long, you’re both laughing out loud at the ridiculousness of the situation. Once your laughter has faded though, comfortable silence remains.
Pulling you into his chest, Seokjin’s hand strokes your neck. “I don’t know what this means,” he admits with a sigh.
“Me, either.”
“I do know I want to do that again.”
“Same,” you say, pulling back.
“But…” Seokjin hesitates. “Y/N. You know I’m not… real, right?”
Your heart sinks to your shoes. “You’re real to me.”
“I know.” He speaks softly. “But I –”
Lifting a hand, you press a finger to his lips. “Don’t,” you warn. “Please. I don’t want to think about the future right now. I know I don’t have eternity, but I don’t want what I have without you.”
Something in his gaze breaks but Seokjin merely nods, letting silence fall again. You fear that he’ll vanish, leaving you alone but he merely exhales. The breath brushes your skin.
“Alright,” Seokjin murmurs, winding his hand with yours. “What do you want to talk about, then?”
The ghost of a smile crosses your lips. “What if… we talk about me buying this house?”
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© kpopfanfictrash, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission. Author’s Note: thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed, and Happy Halloween!
255 notes · View notes
shiny-jr · 1 year
Text
damnation (peek IV?)
Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.
Characters: Jamil Viper, Kalim Al-Asim.
Summary: When you commit a crime, you receive a punishment. This is especially true in your society. No matter the crime, your punishment is the same: banishment. But to where you will be sent in exile and how miserable will it be? No one knows, because no one has ever returned.
Note: Got busy, planned to post this a while ago but what can I say? Plans change. Definitely will not have nearly as much time to write as I did a few weeks ago, but I’ll still try whenever I have a bit of time and some energy to do so. Anyways, like I mentioned in a few posts, I was not happy with how I originally wrote Scarabia, so I rewrote almost all of what I had, which was thankfully only like about ten pages. I’m a little more happier with how this is now. But again, things can always change, so the final result may look the same, a little different, or even completely different. Oh, and like mentioned in the previous notes for sneak-peeks, check the points in first post (heartslabyul, labeled “I”) for a bit of context to the situation and story if this is the first sneak-peek you’re seeing.
I . . . II . . . III . . . IV . . . V . . . VI . . . VII
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THE VIZIER 
Feathers. Colorful feathers tickled your nose. A woven shawl sat on your shoulders with vibrant colors and macaw feathers along the clip that held it in place above your collarbone. As your vision readjusted to the scenery, you could make out an old desert city stretching out as far as the eye could see, until it met over the horizon with the starry night sky. It was nothing like the court you were in moments ago. Instantly everything came flashing back to you, the trial, the judges, your punishment. This was your punishment. “Holy shit.”
“Is something wrong?”
You looked to the side, surprised to see a servant placing a tray of food beside you. You were on a balcony, a beautiful grand spacious terrace where the arches were decorated with ivy and walls of flowers while pillars of flames provided light and there was a large water fountain in the center. You were laying on the edge of that fountain, when you pushed yourself up and looked around. That’s when you noticed your clothes had changed too. Somehow your simple change of clothes from before had become easy-to-move-in loose trousers and a simple tunic, but with the colorful shawl over your shoulders that resembled wings. “What? What the hell?”
“Is there something wrong with the food?”
Food? You looked down at the tray the servant had brought, surprised to see plates of kofta and falafels with a chalice of water. The delicious smell wafted in the air, making your mouth water and stomach grumble. How long has it been since you ate? Probably well before you were arrested. If you got food, you were expecting cold slop, not this scrumptious meal that was cooked to perfection. Instantly you snatched it up, assuring the servant, “No, no, forget it! This is fine, uh, thanks…!”
“Very well.” They bowed their head to you, “Please, enjoy the meal, vassal.”
Vassal? You stopped mid-bite, about to ask them about it and where you were, but they had already taken off. Well, you weren’t complaining. You had thought you were going to die, or end up in some horrible hell. This place was actually quite nice. You could feel the breeze of the cool desert air and smell the flora growing on this terrace, you heard the city below with the crackling of fire from the pillars and the running water beside you, not to mention you were eating the best food you ever tasted! If this was hell, then being banished might be the best thing that’s ever happened to you!
“You! Jamil’s vassal!”
There it was again. What the hell did they mean by vassal? Falafels stuffed in your mouth, you slowly and awkwardly turned around to face whoever called you. Who was Jamil? You had no idea. A little annoyed that your dinner was interrupted, you eyed the approaching stranger up and down before swallowing your food and muttering, “What do you want?”
Appearing offended at your response, the young man stomped up to you, closer so you could see him better in the dim lighting. He looks a little young, if you had to guess, you’d say the guy was no younger than eighteen. Sharp blue eyes and long thick black hair styled into a single braid, not to mention he wasn’t smiling. This was no servant judging by the expensive looking blue garbs he wore and the gold on his bronze ears that complimented his handsome face. It had to be someone of high standing. When he was right in front of you, he frowned down at you and placed his hands on his hips, “Where is Jamil? And where is my cousin?”
You lowered your plate of food, squinting at this stranger. Who did he think he was? Jamil? Cousin? “Your cousin…? Jamil…? How should I know?”
“You should know. As the vizier’s only vassal, you should know where Jamil is. That is your job, to serve him. Or is he slithering about in places he shouldn’t be?” As his blue eyes bore down at you, he continued his tirade, “You haven’t bowed your head or greeted me as everyone does, by saying, good day, Prince Jaseer. And you’re here slacking off while everyone else in the palace is working.”
“I’m on a lunch break.” You mumbled in reply, tempted to snap. Wait… had he said prince…? A beautiful royal in blue wearing gold, with long black hair, who is spirited and no-nonsense, like a princess in a fantasy tale. A princess that lived in a palace just like this one, where there was a vizier and sultan–– oh fuck. How was that possible? This was like a stupid kid’s story you heard all the time! Before you could ponder on the topic, you were reminded of who was in front of you by him cleaning his throat. You immediately bowed your head sloppily, begrudgingly, as you recited the words he wanted to hear. “Good day, Prince Jaseer…”
At your less-than-satisfactory response, he crossed his arms over his chest and replied still with that frown, “If you can’t answer my question, then there’s no use talking to you. I’ll find someone that can tell me where my cousin and Jamil are. Let it be known, I have my eye on you and your master. My cousin may be fond of you both, but I am not.”
When you slowly lifted your head, you watched the prince storm away, likely to go find his cousin, whoever that was, and the vizier, this Jamil guy. As soon as he turned a corner, you scrunched your nose and scoffed, “Brat.”
Wait… that meant this was a story. It was all too similar to a story that began much like: it begins on a dark night, where a dark man waits with a dark purpose. If this was that story then what were you…? Apparently working for the vizier, wearing a shawl of rainbows, and feathers… oh my god, you were the fucking parrot. As you resumed your eating you busied your mind with processing these thoughts. “At least the tax collector can’t find me here.”
All you knew was that you were in the role of his parrot, his pet. What a stupid role to end up in! In this version you hoped you were at least some sort of glorified servant! At least you weren’t dead, this was much better than that. You knew the tale of Aladdin by heart, it was a very popular story growing up. You had even envied the protagonist, a thief, for ending up with a genie and winning the love of the princess. Turns out that princess, or prince in this case, was not all that. Well, they always say to never meet your heroes. But, there was one thing that was bound to be great, no matter how much this story would change. The magic lamp that held the genie. You wanted it. Maybe if you stuck around this vizier long enough, you could take it for yourself whenever the opportunity presented itself. You had the advantage, you knew exactly what was going to happen. That genie could grant any of your wishes! It could take you home if you wanted. You could make all those judges rue the day they banished you! You could rule this world and yours! You could bathe in an endless amount of gold and cash! The possibilities were endless!
As you finished your meal, another figure came into view. The figure of a guard, like the ones you’ve been watching patrol and march around, approached you nervously. Only when he noticed you glance at him and nod your head, did he begin speaking, “G-Good evening, vassal. The candidates, they’re ready for the vizier, he’ll be here any moment. You are the only one he trusts, everyone knows this, won’t you put in a kind word for me? I fear he’s in a foul mood, his venture to the cave in the desert didn’t end well again.”
Candidates? Vizier? Cave in the desert? After a few seconds of the guard waiting in anticipation, you were able to connect the dots. This must’ve been a specific rendition of the story where the vizier found the Cave of Wonders in the desert but instead of using a magic machine he created to find the diamond in the rough that could enter the cave, he used his power behind the scenes and in the dark to search through prisoners and criminals and send those he thought might be worthy to die trying to enter the mystic cave. This vizier, Jamil, would no doubt be growing frustrated since he’s likely been keeping at this for so long without finding a single person that can successfully enter the cave. Jumping off your seat on the fountain after finishing your last bite of food, you looked over to the guard and smiled, “Alright, let’s go. We can’t leave the master waiting, can we?”
“Of course! Allow me to lead the way.” So you followed the meek little guard, and as you trailed after him you thought about what would happen and what would you do. The guard had said that it was a fact that the vizier trusted only you, or rather, the person who you’ve replaced. The prince didn’t notice you were not the vassal, and neither did this guard or any of the other servants, so it was likely that no one would notice unless you slipped up, not even the Vizier Jamil. Hopefully.
You watched as the pristine halls of the palace became dark and dim the deeper you went. As the smooth walls became rugged stone lit only by lamps of fire, and the lush green plants and overpriced furniture and decorations became absent. There were also, noticeably, less people. It felt like you and guard were the only ones as you followed them deeper into what you guessed was a dungeon where you heard chains rattling and the echoing screams of those held captive. Before you could enter the room, the guard turned to you and pleaded,
“Please, stay here. I’m sure seeing you will give the vizier a bit of peace. He should be here any moment now. I will go ahead and be sure everything is in order.”
Before you could even protest, the guard scurried ahead to the end of the hall and not too long after, you detected footfall behind you. When you turned around, you saw what you presumed had to be the Vizier Jamil. The vizier looked sort of imposing as he appeared from the dimly lit halls, and with the flames on the wall you could just make out his appearance. A thin figure clothed in red and black robes decorated with gold, holding a golden staff that ended in the shape of a cobra’s head. Long thin hair as black as night coiled down his brown shoulders like snakes in multiple small braids and loose strands decorated with gold, and instantly his sharp gray eyes painted with eyeshadow darted over to you upon noticing your staring. He looked irked, but since you supposedly had a good relationship with him, maybe you could poke and prod without worrying about suffering any consequences. From what you recalled, the vizier’s parrot in the tales was a loud-mouthed creature with a bad temper.
“Welcome back, oh great vizier. So, how did it go?”
“Not a word.” The vizier hissed, sending you a glare. Yet it wasn’t threatening, it felt more… annoyed. Like when your friend was pestering you, except without the light-heartedness. At the least he didn’t snap, he did have the power to command you to be put to death. Yet all he did was give you a look before his frown instantly morphed into a stoic expression in the blink of an eye, so fast that it sent you reeling.
Jamil wasted no time in walking forward, not bothering with greetings as he entered the first room of the dungeon that was dingy and dirty. Inside was the guard from before, nervously standing off to the side just across from a line of prisoners in shackles with their heads hanging low, and more guards behind them. These prisoners reminded you of yourself, but less. Now you’re free of any shackles, you’re wearing fine clothes and eating food made by the best chefs while living in the luxurious palace. To avoid being at the center of attention, you stood off the side, leaning against a corner.
You watched intently, curiously, as Jamil approached the line of prisoners, scanning them all with those sharp eyes as he walked by them slowly. The men and women in rags and chains tensed when he stepped near, but kept their eyes glued to the ground. Whether it was out of respect or fear, you weren’t sure, but you watched as some of them squirmed in place or nervously glanced at him. After a minute of going down the line of a dozen or so prisoners, he stopped in his tracks and turned to face the guard who guided you. On his face was obvious disappointment.
“You bring me the rough, but never a diamond.” That cold stare of his remained on the anxious guard, never looking away even as he commanded the others, “Take them away.”
You pursed your lips and shook your head, watching as the other guards forcefully dragged the prisoners down another hall, to a fate unknown. Poor suckers. You could hear them pleading, begging the vizier for mercy from whatever end they knew awaited them. In one rendition of the story, when the princess snuck out of the palace and gave apples to poor children, apples she had no money on her to pay for, she nearly lost her hand as punishment. It was likely that these prisoners were about to lose much more than a single hand.
The meek guard sent you a pleading look as they whispered frantically, “You said you would put in a kind word for me…!”
Turning your attention to them, you scoffed, “I never said that. I said I would follow you.”
“You…!” At your shrug, he directed his sights towards the vizier who was walking away, his back toward him as he seemed to be prepared to follow the guards and prisoners going elsewhere within the dungeon. “Please, my vizier.” The vizier stopped, and the words were caught in the guard’s throat until he finally forced them out with wavering uncertainty, making it sound more like a question than a statement. “... Perhaps this diamond in the rough does not exist…?”
For a moment he paused but didn’t turn around, and quietly replied, “They’re out there.” A response with unwavering certainty.
“But we’ve searched for months!” It appears that the guard was showing signs of frustration as well. Who knows how many prisoners they’ve interrogated and how many criminals they’ve captured in these months, all in an attempt to satisfy the vizier’s wish of finding a diamond in the rough. “I do not understand what could possibly be in that cave that could help a… a man as great as you. You are already second only to the sultan!”
“Second? Uh-oh.” You exclaimed, bracing yourself for what was to come and ignoring the guard’s growing irritation towards you. In the tale, yes the vizier worked for the sultan, he was the sultan’s most trusted advisor. But, behind the vizier’s facade of charm and loyalty, there was only a burning hate for the sultan who believed in him. The vizier wished to be the most powerful man in the kingdom, second to no one. So to be told he was second, straight to his face, would be like a slap. You watched as Jamil turned to the guard with a deep frown, and you could only whistle, “Who’s in trouble now~?”
Jamil turned to face him fully, staring at the guard beneath him with such a piercing gaze before questioning firmly, “Do you believe second is enough?”
Without hesitation, they nodded, the answer to them was obvious. “Yes. You were not born to be sultan, you are not of royal lineage. His Majesty, Kalim Al-Asim, was born to be sultan.”
Kalim Al-Asim. So that was the sultan’s name. The mere sound of it was enough to tick off the vizier, he narrowed his eyes and began to speak in a quiet murmur, “Do you know that I’ve served him my entire life? From the day I was born, they dictated that I was a servant to him and they chained my entire existence so it depended on him.” Slowly he stepped forward, inching closer with every word he spat like venom. “You have no idea of the things I’ve been forced to do for him. The sacrifices I’ve made and blood that’s stained my hands, the bodies I’ve buried and times I’ve watched him be praised for his minimal efforts I can easily best.” The closer he got, the more frightened the guard appeared until he was right in front of them. “Everyone will one day learn that I am not worthy of a mere second place, I am supposed to be first. That’s why I need the lamp, and I no longer need you––!”
Right before your eyes, you watched as Jamil swiftly struck him with the bottom of his staff and he fell backwards into a well. A seemingly bottomless well, because you heard his scream growing distant until an unsettling silence lingered. You covered your mouth in shock, but Jamil paid you no mind. It’s as if he’s done a dozen times before, as if you had witnessed all of them before.
After a moment, he sighed and lowered his staff, regaining his composure to cover up for the anger that slipped through in that moment. Again, in a flash, he had a stoic expression as he turned to gaze at you in the corner, when he beckoned you closer with a motion of his finger. “Come here, my vassal. It’s time for a meeting with that irritating sultan.”
Now you were on your way to meet the sultan. Kalim. You hoped he wasn’t anything like Jamil. This vizier was to be feared, but at least he didn’t seem to mind you. So you probably won’t be pushed down a well anytime soon. As you followed him when he began walking, he questioned abruptly,
“What did you do while I was gone?”
This wasn’t good. You weren’t here for that long before he returned, and you got the feeling that Jamil was a particularly observant fellow judging by how he glanced at you from the corner of his eyes. “That royal brat confronted me while I was eating. They’re so annoying.”
“Ah, Prince Jaseer?” Slowly he nodded, as if agreeing with your words. Phew. You were doing alright, fitting the role just fine it seemed. “Annoying would be putting it lightly. He’s just another entitled royal born with a golden spoon in his mouth, an ignorant person who knows nothing of how the real world works.”
“You’re telling me. The guy made me bow and recite a greeting like I was nothing but a pleb beneath him! Then he had the gall to say I was lazy! I was eating! Can’t a person like me eat in peace once in a while? I was starving!”
By now you were in a better part of the palace, where you were once again surrounded by riches. Upon hearing your response, Jamil replied without hesitation, “You are lazy when I’m not around.” At his remark, you stared at him incredulously as he continued with zero reservations, “You are uncaring, murderous, deceitful, aggressive, cunning, and annoying.”
Unable to help it, you snapped back in reply, beginning to rant and list off your fingers. “ME? Look in the mirror bud, you just basically described yourself! You’re cruel, immoral, narcissistic, power-hungry, sadistic, and secretly deranged! You’re two-faced, snake!” When you looked over to him, he still had that stoic expression but he rolled his eyes. Your jaw dropped. There was no way he just fucking––
“You used that insult, two-faced snake, two weeks ago.” Before you could add anything more to the growing pile of insults, he lightly tapped your forehead with the cobra head of his golden staff, appearing unbothered. “Come up with something else or get on my level, then you can talk back. For now, be quiet. We’re nearing where Kalim wanted to meet us. I don’t need to remind you to be on your best behavior around the sultan.”
Rubbing your forehead, you glared at him and mumbled, “Oh, I’ll come up with something shocking, you sorry sack of––ACK!” You coughed, bending over in pain as he quickly jabbed the end of his staff against your stomach to shut you up just before a silk curtain separating the halls from a room opened up.
“Jamil! Oh, and your vassal too! I’m so happy to see you guys! You’re just the ones I wanted to see!”
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cup1dz · 9 months
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I LOVE YOU (g/n reader x jamil viper) ★ jamil viper leaves you heartbroken when you find out what he's been doing to you for... pretty much most of your life! oof, ouch!! ★ angst! but if you don't read the last half, you can pretend its fluff :3 ★ a second chance romance without the second chance
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you lived a lavish life as a child. every day, you were draped in the finest silks, smooth and bright white clothes hugged your figure and sparkling, expensive necklaces were clasped around your neck. you didn’t even have to raise a finger to slip on a shoe. your luxurious way of living was all attributed to your father, who was a prominent merchant in the scalding sands. he was smart, witty, charismatic, everything a merchant could possibly need to become successful. in your eyes, he was someone you looked up to, somebody you wanted to become. you had grown up thinking of all the ways you could become just like him, well known in the industry and powerful. 
so, when your father ended up striking a business deal with the asim family, you just had to come with. how often were you going to get a chance like this? this was a way to gain strong connections and cement your future as an influential person, just like your father. 
there was just one problem... the boy standing next to the asim heir was extremely distracting.  
seriously! how were you supposed to focus on business when the servant serving the asim heir was so... pretty?! everything about him was frustratingly gorgeous, from the way he had his silky, jet-black hair tied back, from the way he wore his eyeshadow, from the way his charcoal-colored eyes bore into you... 
...wait. great sevens, he was looking at you. 
and suddenly everything you’ve learnt the past few years from your father have vanished, completely useless in front of the pretty servant boy. in the end, you couldn’t even get a word out and just let your father do all the talking. dejected and totally flustered out of your mind, you prepared to go home with your father and berate yourself for letting such an opportunity pass by just because you got enchanted by some boy. that is, until kalim al-asim himself had jumped up and basically forced you to be his friend. 
not that you were complaining. kalim was somebody everyone wanted to be close friends with, and with him as a best friend you were sure you were going to be able to achieve your dreams. that, and it also gave you an excuse to say hi to the servant boy you practically swooned over on day one. 
jamil viper. sevens, you were pathetically in love with him. you shouldn’t be, you know this well, you should follow in your father’s footsteps and be able to cultivate a successful business, and here you are kicking your feet and squealing every time he so much as acknowledges you with a glance. when did you get so pitiful? 
you must’ve been too obvious with your feelings because kalim had basically confessed for you one day when you had come over at his invitation. he was throwing another party, like he does pretty much every other day, and he wanted your opinion on what silks he should use... and then suddenly the conversation started becoming about dances and dance partners and...  
...out of nowhere, kalim had said, “jamil, you should be their partner! they really, really, really like you!” with a large grin that implied that he felt no guilt over what he just did to you.  
you were about to pull out kalim’s hair then. grab him by his white locks and drag him against the floor, punch him right in the face and yell at him and scream and... 
“...is that so? well, i’d be honored to be their dance partner for the party. in fact, i quite like them too.” 
great sevens. now youre about to pass out. you were so relieved that you thanked kalim over and over instead of murdering him with your bare hands as was originally planned. 
the next few years with jamil pass by in a blur. literally. you start having these horrible blanks in your memory, moments where you just can’t seem to recall what happened. kalim tells you he goes through the same thing, and that he knows just the guy to help.  
and that guy just so happens to be jamil viper. he told you it was nothing to worry about. just you being forgetful, probably. after all, kalim goes through the same thing, and you both knew how ditzy and airheaded he was at times, right? it’s normal, he said, don’t worry about it too much. 
and you trusted him. because he wouldn’t lie to you, would he? you loved jamil and he loved you. didnt he? 
he rubbed soothing circles on your back whenever you came to him crying, telling him that you just don’t know what to do, that your skin sometimes doesn’t even feel like your own. when you tried helping him with the preparations for one of kalim’s party, he ushered you out and told you that he doesn’t want you getting hurt. that he’ll be fine on his own and to not worry about him. he told you he’ll take care of everything for you. he’s a softie at heart, you know this, you know him. don’t you? 
jamil is your lover. so why does it feel like you don’t really know him at all? 
you don’t even really remember how the orientation ceremony for the academy you were attending went. but you do remember before the ceremony, when you had noted the slight hesitation before jamil had congratulated you and told you he was going to the same academy. at the time, you were so excited, it was so easy to gloss it over as a kind of relieved shock.  
you also remember after the ceremony. and it was so easy to gloss over the way that jamil seemed to be slightly more irritated than normal in the period after kalim was assigned dorm leader, too. surely, you had told yourself, he was just going through a few bad weeks. after all, kalim had thrown party after party after he became dorm leader, anyone would be frustrated if they had to work behind the scenes to prepare every single one. it’s not his fault. was it? 
in retrospect, you cringe at just how delusional you were. you had fallen right into jamil viper’s plans, he played you like a fiddle. and you prided yourself on being just like your father? smart and not easily fooled? 
it’s obvious now, just how much jamil had used both you and kalim to carry out his whims. the way he had so perfectly made kalim the bad guy in a story where you and him were the victims. a story where you were the damsel in distress that jamil would save from kalim’s wicked ways. a story in which jamil would rise above everyone else. 
and it’s so obvious now, that to jamil, you really were just another pawn in his plans. another naive rich kid that would blindly place their trust in him and not question why he did things the way he did. that whimsical moment where he had glanced at you and your heart exploded with love wasn’t reciprocated. 
why didn’t you notice it sooner? why didn’t you notice the way that jamil kept asking you to look into his eyes, the way you always seem to blank out when you’re around him, and only him? why did you so thoughtlessly trust him? why did you let him use his unique magic on you for so long? 
sevens, you're an idiot. you’re an idiot, and you hate how your heart still broke for jamil during his overblot. you hate how you can’t even stay mad at him. you hate how even after figuring out jamil’s plot, you still don’t have it in you to yell at him. you can’t even look at him. you don’t want to look at him. 
you want to throw up when he apologizes to the scarabia students. you want to hurl your guts onto the floor when kalim seems unaffected as ever, forgiving jamil as always. you bite your tongue to stop the onslaught of desperate, heartbroken words that try to force their way out when jamil knocks on your door at the middle of night, when your roommates have already fallen asleep and kalim has already been put to bed. 
“i don’t deserve forgiveness,” he tells you, and he doesn’t. you know better than to let yourself fall back into jamil’s ploys again. so why, why does your heart yearn for his touch again? to bawl and sob into his shoulder and let him rub circles against your back again?  
“it is selfish of me to ask for us to be friends again, let alone lovers,” he says, his words strained and slow, like he’s choosing his words carefully. like he cares about hurting your feelings, when your heart has already been shattered and stomped into dust.  
“i took advantage of your trusting nature,” he doesn’t meet your eyes when he says this, like he’s ashamed. but you’re not going to let him manipulate you again. you’re not. you’re not. 
he takes your hands in his, and you flinch. “i used you so that i could feel important, so that i could feel like somebody you could rely on. i’m sorry.”  
you can sense sincerity in his eyes when he looks at you, genuine remorse, but you try not to let it get to you. how can you trust him a second time after what he did to you?  
you want to tell him that you loved him. that you saw a future with him. that you wanted to be with him forever. that you felt happier when you were with him, that you want nothing more than to lay next to him again and just wrap your arms around him. 
and before you know it, tears well up in your eyes, and you curse yourself for being vulnerable now. you hate him having the upper hand on you again, for toying with your emotions like they’re nothing. you hate this. you hate him.  
you have so much to say to him, and yet nothing comes out. 
“you don’t have to forgive me,” he says quietly, “you don’t have to say anything at all. i just want you to know that i did love you. i still do. i did childish things to keep you with me, to keep you dependent on me so that you wouldn’t leave for kalim. i let jealousy override rationality.” 
he pauses, and tells you again, “i love you.” 
and you really can’t keep yourself from crying. you don’t want to let him see you like this, you don’t want to let him see you at all, but at the same time you’ve been wanting to hear those three words for so long. great sevens, you want to forgive him so badly so that you can simply be in his presence again. it would be so easy to just tell him that you forgive him. 
but you can’t. you won’t. you refuse to let yourself forgive him. you refuse to let yourself give him a second chance. he doesn’t deserve one. does he think he can just walk into your life again after he brainwashed you over and over, just to win a one-sided war? 
and so you wrench your hands away from his and walk away, never looking back. 
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note: i don't like second chance romances. this was made out of pure spite because I THINK Y/N DESERVES BETTER THAN THESE PEOPLE WHO HAVE WRONGED THEM. STAND UP FOR YOURSELF Y/N.
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Mc makes Origami for the Brothers
Original
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Lucifer:
you made him a tiny peacock
he did not acknowledge it other than a thank you
which is his usual refusing to show how he feels
because he was incredibly proud of you, doesn´t matter if it looked perfect or not
it also got a place on his desk in his room
and if anyone touches it or tries to take it, they will get hanged and/or eternal house arrest
he won´t ask for a second one but he will gladly take another one if your planning to make more
Mammon:
he got a heart made of money
which cause a horrible internal conflict for Mammon
on one hand he will cherish it forever on the other hand he´s the Avatar of Greed and saving money isn´t really his thing
best thing would be if you just made him something new
I mean it won´t help him with his former conflict but it will distract him long enough
and he will have the bragging rights that you made him not one but two things!
and he will definitely try to get more and if you made some casually some may or may not get lost and magically make their way in Mammon´s room
Leviathan:
he got a surprisingly accurate paper Henry (the Fish not the Snake or the actual Henry from TSL or a figure of you based on his nickname for you)
and he did at first think you once again stole Henry
and he was terrified because Henry was out of water
he was very relieved when he found out it was just a well made paper Henry
he will get even happier when you only made him something and if you made something for his brothers…
I mean he IS the Avatar of Envy so it isn´t hard to imagine
but if he get´s more than his brothers or his look nicer he will be happier, still a jealous little shit but a bit nicer than before
Satan:
you made him a Cat but also a little paper figure that´s supposed to look like Lucifer
he loves the little paper cat more than anything, doesn´t matter if it´s just vaguely cat shaped or a really good looking one
he would die and kill for it
he would also make you something
I mean Origami is a calming activity so it wouldn´t surprise me if he does it or at least tried it once
he would definitely want you to make a second cat so his won´t be lonely
the paper Lucifer was for Satan to let his anger out on it instead of the real Lucifer
it was pretty much destroyed after the first day though
Asmodeus:
you made him a very cute Panda
he loves it more than anything and it will definitely be featured on his Devilgram
and good luck to anyone who says it looks bad
Asmo will destroy their social life
he would really love it if you made more things for him
or if you both made something together
he would really like it if both of you could do something with just each other
also will take a bunch of you doing Origami together
for the most part to make everyone jealous because he get´s to spend time with the best Human in all three realms and he wants to remember as much of the time just the two of you spend together
Beelzebub:
originally you were thinking of making something food themed but knowing he would eat it he got a tiny Sheep
and he was a bit disappointed at this but he would have definitely eaten it and be disappointed by the lack of taste
it would have still tasted better than some things he ate
he really loves his sheep though!
he also wanted to make Origami with you and Belphie
but he tried to eat the colorful paper… and sometimes what he made
but it was still fun
and you did manage to finish some things
Belphegor:
also a little Sheep
you have to stop him from falling asleep with it
because it would get destroyed
he also tried to make Origami with you and Beel
but his problem was that Origami is a rather calming activity, he is the Avatar of Sloth and you were trying to stop Beel from eating all of the paper
yeah he fell asleep as soon as you were distracted
when he woke up he was covered in little paper flowers
he just smiled and fell back asleep
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