#but i am perfectly content with her finding love and happiness with a mortal man and Poseidon pining for her from the distance | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

court-of-forever-undone · 3 years

Text

I Knew You’d Come Back to Me

Chapter Two: Slept next to her, but I dreamt of you (Cardan’s POV)

Summary: While homesick and heartbroken in the mortal world, Jude finds a pile of letters on her doorstep that include an official pardon and a love confession from Cardan. What is supposed to be a happy reunion quickly falls apart when Jude is told Cardan has returned to Nicasia in her absence.

Cardan is determined to make it up to Jude.

**This fic is inspired by the love story between Taylor Swift’s characters Betty, James, and August.**

Should you wish to listen: Cardigan | Betty | August

Tags: Multiple POVs, angst and a happy ending, Jurdan, post-wicked king, canon divergence

Masterlist

Read on AO3

Four Months Post Exile

If she has decided that she wishes to stay away and forget about Elfhame, me, then I will forget about her as well. Except that I can’t because for the eternity she has been gone there has been nothing to rid my thoughts of her.

I grab the nearest pitcher of wine, not that they are ever far from my reach as of late, and swallow as much of the tart liquid as I can. At least if I pass out there is a chance I may dream of her, or dream of losing her. But it is a chance I am willing to take.

There is a revel happening, for a reason I cannot remember. Probably honoring some guest that I cannot be bothered to care about at this point. I tend to the kingdom as best as I can for the day, but by the time the dawn is rising I do everything I can to forget the subtle human features that haunt me. The curve of her ear, the flush in her cheeks, the softness of her form.

Since she has been gone there has been an unbearable ache in my chest that only seems to worsen at her memory. I’ve taken back up with a variety of powders that I grew accustomed to at Balekin’s parties. The numbing sensation is highly preferable to the agonizing dread that awaits me in sobriety. At least when time passes differently, I can imagine that she is home again, or at the very least, I can pass more days until she returns.

Her return seems more and more uncertain because despite my letters, she has not come home, nor even responded to them. She has made no inclination that she intends to return, which is ridiculous because she is the queen. When she returns I will have to remember to remind her of all the accusations she threw my way at neglecting responsibilities, meanwhile she has spent months in the mortal world as if waiting for me to come bring her home myself.

I grin at the idea. A trip to the mortal world could quickly end this ridiculous torture. At least I would have the chance to see her in the flesh.

She could get her anger out and then return home with me. At this point, a curse from her lips would sound like music and her fingers curled around my neck would be ecstasy.

In time, that anger might turn to forgiveness and we can all move on from this nonsense.

Present Day

What a dreadful day today has been. I should have returned to my chambers the moment I was given news of a wine shortage because poisoned wine had been found in the castle’s cellars, because that meant I had to suffer through the small council’s bickering mostly sober, followed by hours of grievance hearings from folk. For a kingdom full of people who find me utterly incompetent, they sure do make plenty of pleas to the crown.

Only one hour remains until I can leave the presence of my court and scout for my own wine to drink, poisoned or otherwise.

“Cardan…?” Nicasia said with the air of a question.

I respond with a non-committal sound before glancing in her direction to my left. Again, she had found a seat nearest mine, despite my repeated reminder that she was no longer entitled to that spot. We were nothing beyond friends with a bit of history, even if my entire council, mother, and Nicasia herself thought it was ridiculous to prolong a “land-sea” alliance any longer.

I turn back to the conversation I had been ignoring and make an appropriate response, before quickly tuning them out again. Courtiers have nothing better to do than waste my time.

Admittedly, I could see my advisors’ point and I haven’t exactly fought to deny Nicasia’s advances anymore. Not when the one I want has rejected me entirely, favoring a mortal over me and forsaking our kingdom to my inadequate rule.

If I were a kinder soul, I might have been content to see her happy and adjusted to the mortal world, but I am not. I hate myself for sending her away and I hate her just as much for not wanting to return. Every time someone suggests I marry, I want to scream the truth for the entire kingdom to hear.

I married the mortal Jude Duarte. I did it so she would release her hold over me, but I also did it because I wanted to. I wanted to make her my queen and share this dreaded life with her; the powerful, defiant, occasionally murderous, human woman with all her soft features and perfectly odd ears.

Pride be damned. If she returned, I’d allow her anything. She would never need a geas to command me. She was already a ruler, she deserved the credit. The court would eventually adjust to the idea of a human ruler once they recognized her rule. I would lead the most devoted of her court and in our bedroom, I would further prove to her just how devoted I was by spreading --

Nicasia’s hand sliding over my knee snaps me from my thoughts. The touch of her hand felt sickly wrong considering my thoughts of Jude. I brush her hand aside and purposefully ignore the hurt look on her face. I may allow her into my room on nights where even the wine and the powders cannot bring me peace, but she knows I am far too sober and there are too many people around for that.

At the edge of my peripheral I see a dark shadow approaching. The Roach; always a welcomed distraction usually armed with wonderfully bad news.

“Come to tell me of another attempt on my life?” I murmur as he bows down to whisper in my ear.

“You are needed at once, your majesty” the goblin reports.

At that, I laugh but make no effort to move. “There is a first for everything. What is it?” I am happy to use whatever matter it is as an excuse to leave, but I am curious what requires my attention that the spies could not handle themselves.

“Jude has returned. She is waiting to see you.”

His words hit like the hilt of a sword to the chest. I stand, jumping the courtier closest to me.

“I have matters to attend to. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” I say to no one in particular, trying to ignore the loud pounding in my ears as my heart threatens to beat out of my chest.

I begin to follow the Roach out of the room when I feel a hand on my arm.

“What is going on?” Nicasia asks, her eyes wide. I shake out of her grasp.

“It is a matter of great importance that does not concern you.” Instead of moving away, like my body demands to, I move in closer to her so only she can hear me. “I meant my words in the gardens. Do not show up this evening or any evening again.”

Her mouth fell slightly open as water rimmed her eyes. I didn't stay for her response, instead I turned back and followed the Roach into the tunnel, knowing every step was bringing me closer to Jude. As we stalk through the hallways, I cannot slow the questions bombarding my mind.

Did she decide against her life in the mortal world? Did she miss me as I have missed her? What should I say to her? Will she allow me to embrace her? Should I announce her return tonight?

I have envisioned dozens of scenarios of what I would say or do when she returned, but now that she is only a few steps away I have no plan past seeing her, holding her if I can, to make sure she is real and not my imagination come to life.

We take the final turn that I know leads to the headquarters for the Court of Shadows when Livier blocks the doorway.

“Where is she?”

I watch as her face contorts. She opens her mouth to respond before closing it again, clearly unsure how to answer. I don’t have patience for this. I have to see her now.

“Move Livier,” I demand.

How many months has it been since we had fallen asleep together after our vows? How long has it been that I’ve felt her pressed against me?

“Cardan, wait!” She exclaims as I try to move past her. “She doesn’t want to see you.”

I stop dead at her words.

Before I can speak, the Roach asks for me, “What do you mean? She sent us to get him.”

The pixie nods. “Yes. She went to the royal chambers, but she returned soon after and has stated she does not wish to speak.”

I cannot help the bite to my words. “To speak to anyone, or just me?”

Her silence gives me my answer. “Why?” I spit out.

She is on the other side of the wall. It has been months, what about my room could have made her decide against seeing me? A darker thought crosses my mind; what if she has decided to return to the mortal world again? The idea threatens to break me then and there in the dark tunnels beneath the castle.

Livier looks at her companion with unease.

“Why?” I demand again.

The Bomb swallows before explaining, “When she returned, she asked how long you and the Princess of the Undersea had been back together.”

My desperation melted into cruel pitiful laughter. She was jealous of Nicasia, while she had herself a human plaything. The hypocrisy was grand. I wonder how her face would look when I asked about the man and how she could possibly blame me when she broke our vows first. My laughter quickly fizzled into a frozen anger.

I needed to leave before the weight of the situation could bear down on me. In all my imaginations, I never predicted this. I had hoped she’d run to my arms or more realistically, slap me followed up with a kiss. But never returning and refusing to see me.

I want to beg to see her. Beg for her forgiveness. Beg her to stay even if she hates me.

As a king, I have every right to go wherever I please. But as a queen, she has the right to deny entry to anyone. So I turn in the tight hallway and take the turn that leads to my rooms.

She is home. She wouldn’t see me, but she is home, which meant I could fix this. She might not see me tonight, but I would win her forgiveness and maybe her love too.

****

After almost two weeks of announcements and planning, Jude’s coronation ball will begin soon. I have still yet to see her in person, but through messengers and letters she agreed to rule with me and begrudgingly accepted my proposal for a party to celebrate her return and status.

The actual coronation will not take place for another few weeks due to the time needed to gather all the court’s representatives, but this evening would be a full celebration nonetheless. She is home and that enough is cause to celebrate.

The party will also finally force Jude out of the shadows. I suspect she has moved around the castle quite a bit as I heard she met with her sisters and the Living Council, but she has made a careful effort to avoid me.

There have been several times where I have made it all the way to her door before deciding to leave and giving her the space she demands. For months now, I have had dreams of the moment we saw each other again; I have imagined her vulgar words and sweet touches. Tonight is the last night I can imagine because in a matter of hours I will see her again. For the evening, she will have no choice but to stand in the same room as me. I already announced her as my wife and Elfhame’s High Queen. After this evening, she can avoid me outside of official business, if she wishes. It would be devastating, but no more devastating than how it felt when she was gone.

I pace back and forth in my chambers thinking through all the details of the evening since I have nothing better to do. I dressed long ago in a suit twin to the dress I had sent for Jude. If I thought the last dress I designed for her was stunning, I am not sure I’ll be able to survive seeing her in tonight's creation. I gave the tailor a sketch of a silver gown with a fitted bodice and twin streams of fabric that flow from the shoulders. The hope was to create an illusion of the armor she seemed to favor. I doubt the tailor will disappoint and frankly, Jude could wear an old sack and still be devastatingly beautiful.

Before long I receive the signal to head to the ballroom. As I enter the room, I admire for the first time the servant’s efforts to fulfill my image for the evening. The decoration for a typical revel was nothing compared to the fanfare visible this evening. Long strings of lights and streamers hung from the ceiling and sweet and savory treats of all varieties are piled high on trays. The musicians and other entertainment for the evening are already in full swing keeping the guests happy and amused.

As is customary, the party has been going on for some time now, before the king and now queen enter. The center of the space is filled with revelers dancing and singing. At any other party, I would have gladly joined, but I cannot help the pooling sense of unease as I glance through the crowding looking for a particular face.

I do find the face I am looking for, but not the right person. Taryn is standing on the side of the dance floor chatting with some courtier. Locke is nowhere to be seen, which is for the best. If I notice him even causing Jude to frown this evening, I will have him locked in the dungeons for the night.

I occupy myself with some wine while I wait and use the opportunity to boast of Jude’s brilliance to anyone who decides they wish to speak with me. After about a dozen of these conversations, I finally catch a glimpse of her walking into the room with Vivianne at her side.

My Jude.

I admire her with total abandon. She is absolutely stunning. The movement of her steps causes the fabric to shimmer as it flows obscenely over her body. While I will imagine her in this dress for many nights to come, it is the crown that sits atop her head that captures my attention.

The crowd cheers at her arrival and many bow to her. While she keeps her emotions well concealed, I can see the smallest of smiles appear on her face. She enjoys the recognition. Seeing her now, if I could have given her this from the start I would have.

My heart-stopping queen.

I stay to the side where I am and watch her enjoyment from afar. She dances with her sisters from time to time and speaks to members of the gentry with ease. I know she has noted my presence, even if she has yet to look in my direction. When it is time to address the crowd, it is my turn to avoid her direction. I keep my speech to the folk short, enough to praise her and remind anyone who may be considering treason exactly who Jude Duarte is. At the final toast, I steel myself before addressing her directly.

“Welcome home, Jude.”

Our eyes meet for the briefest of moments, burning with a million unspoken words before she breaks away and turns to address the now-growing crowd around her.

It was the first time she acknowledged me since the morning I sent her away and suddenly the emotion behind that realization hits me all at once. I let my eyes linger on her turned back a moment longer, before downing my drink and disappearing into the gardens to wallow in my own self pity.

I told myself I would be happy if she just returned home, but now I realize how badly each moment I spend away from her aches. In school, I hated the way I longed for her. I had chalked it up to being a disgraceful obsession; one I would have been glad to be rid of whatever that meant for Jude. Now, I am equally obsessed with my mortal queen, but rather than having just my thoughts occupied with her, I feel a feral desperation to be near her, to set things right with her.

It is not uncommon for me to be followed, but when I hear soft steps behind me, the last person I expect to turn and see is Jude. Her brown eyes widened in surprise, as if she was not the one following me. We both stare at each other for a half a second too long, before Jude mumbles something and turns to leave. I take her by the arm before she can take a single step away. I won’t let her get away a second time.

“Ask me how hideous you look tonight,” the words tumble from my mouth before I can stop them.

She turns back to face me. I loosen my hold on her arm, but let my hand linger until she decides to brush it away.

“This again?” She asks, sounding more tired than annoyed. I didn’t realize how much I missed her voice.

Desperate to hear her again, I reply, “I can’t. You look like a knight from a story tonight.” A filthy story, perhaps.

Jude’s cheeks pinken as she shifts away from me. If I wasn’t afraid to lose her, I might have found her unease at my closeness cute.

“I’m glad to see the kingdom is still in one piece.” Jude acknowledges, changing the subject away from her. The distance between us feels infinitely greater than the foot of space physically separating us. I’d give anything to embrace her now.

“I had help,” I state simply. It is the truth. The Court of Shadows kept tabs on everyone, friends and enemies, and the Living Council for all the headaches they cause me, they did their job as well.

“Nicasia?” Jude didn’t try or simply failed to hide the accusation in the question.

I sigh heavily and take a seat on one of the garden’s benches. “Ahh that. Yes, it is about time we talked.” I motion for her to join me, to which she refuses.

“I don’t want to hear anything about the two of you. I understand we married out of political strategy, I won’t hold you to human standards of monogamy.” Jude echos my sigh, “After your letters, I thought… Well, I misunderstood the situation.”

My core twists at the way her voice trembled on the words. When did her pain stop being cruel amusement and instead became a twin knife that hurts us both?

“I meant every word in those letters” I murmured softly. How many times had I imagined this conversation before?

Anger burns across her face, “So, what? You got bored of waiting for me to return from the exile YOU-” she jams her pointer finger into my chest hard enough to bruise, “ordered! Maybe next time make sure your letters are actually delivered or perhaps don’t send me away in the first place.”

I stand, challenging her anger with my own. “You think I wouldn’t have waited? I went to bring you home. I saw you dancing with the mortal. Don’t pretend I was the first to stray.”

I expected more anger, denial perhaps, but not... confusion?

“What the hell are you talking about? I haven’t been with anyone else,” Jude yells exasperated.

“The blond male. I came to see you and…” I trail off when Jude laughs suddenly. “What could possibly be funny?”

She covers her face with her hands, shaking her head side to side, “Cardan, you saw me with a friend. Nothing ever happened between us, ever.”

Shame washes over me like a tidal wave. I had returned from that trip thinking Jude had made her decision to forget me and stay behind. I had walked straight into a revel and drank every drop of wine in sight. Nicasia found me a few hours later laying in the grass outside the castle and when she came near I did the one thing I thought would make me feel better.

Nicasia had been the first to notice me, my first real friend then lover. After Jude, I thought she could be the thing I needed again, but I was wrong. It didn’t take long for me to realize it would never be as it was before because my heart still belonged to Jude. If I had only spoken to Jude that night in the mortal world, none of this would have happened.

“I believed the reason for your continued absence was because you were still mad. I thought I could go to the mortal world and convince you to come home, but I saw you with the mortal man. I did not handle the thought of you with another well. Nicasia was there when I got back and… I let her into my bed, but it was you that I thought of every moment you were gone.”

Several emotions ripple across her face before she quickly schooled her face into the impenetrable mask she wears around others. She wears around me too. I continue before the fear of her rejection can stop me.

“There are no tricks within my words, so please hear me when I promise you, Jude, mortal High Queen of Elfhame, it is you I love. My heart is yours and forever will be. There will be no other’s, and if you choose to have me again, it will only be you.”

I raise my hand to cup her face and watch as her eyes flutter close. My name falls off her lips like a plea and I think it might be the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. I lower myself to meet her soft lips. Her hands soon find the front of my jacket and I don't fight when she tugs me closer to her.

Without breaking the kiss, I use my free hand to grip her lower back and pull her back into the garden seat with me. On my lap, Jude opens herself up to me and I greedily take in more of her, missing the taste of her. I can’t help but continue to caress her body with my fingertips, long after we break to catch our breath. I place a series of kisses along her neck, each more drawn out than the last before I speak the cruel fact still on my mind, “of all my terribleness, the worst thing I ever did was what I did to you.”

It hurts knowing I can speak those words aloud. I reach up to wipe a stray tear that has fallen from her eyes.

“Will you have me again, Jude?” My heart pounds in the wake of the question. I watch as she considers it. Truthfully, I wouldn't blame her if she refused me, but it would be torturous to have her so near and not mine.

Slowly, she gives a subtle nod and I don’t hide my sigh of relief. She stares at me for a second longer, before smiling, “I love you, Cardan."

I capture her lips again, finding her more addictive than the sweetest wine.

“My sweet nemesis, how glad I am you have returned.”

Tag List: @wafflesandschemingfaces

If anyone else would like to join the list, let me know!

148 notes · View notes

angelicimagines · 3 years

Note

(Regular Ask | Any Mod) Post-Game Hajime, Nagito, Gundham, Sonia, and Akane dating the Ultimate Enologist who always plays tricks on them with swapping their drinks (innocently). Like; Hajime being asked to taste their new concoction, and it's literally just orange juice/favorite drink with no sweetener/additives, LOL.

Hello there Anon. This reminds me a lot of those "potions" that we all made when we were kids but they were really just soap and some other stuff mixed with water. I also took some creative liberties with this one cuz I had to mix it up a bit. Here's your request. In other news tumblr crashed on me in the middle of this and deleted a whole ass section. I am ready to fight god with only primal rage as my weapon. -Mod Shuichi

(Post–Game) Hajime Hinata, Nagito Komaeda, Gundham Tanaka, Sonia Nevermind, Akane Owari with a playful Ultimate Enologist!S/O.

Hajime Hinata🍊

🍊 Is immediately suspicious of you. You served him a glass of your new "concoction" but it just tasted like orange juice. Does he look like an idiot to you? 🍊 Begins "interrogating" you about the drink like you're in a trial. You must be the ultimate actor because your acting skills were top notch during the questioning. 🍊 He's out of truth bullets, shit. You got lucky this time, he has his eye on you. 🍊 He is also a massive hypocrite. 🍊 He loves watching others' reactions to your "concoctions". You usually pull this trick when they have already tried some of your original work, so they definitely don't expect to taste lemon juice in what is supposed to be a glass of your newest work. 🍊 Tries to hold in his laughter because then it would look suspicious, like you two were up to something. Maybe in the future though. 🍊 Back on track, he just knows you're paying tricks on him and wants to confront you about it, but… 🍊 Man's a simp. You're just so happy whenever someone falls for your tricks and you genuinely have a passion for creating and pranking and who is he to stop your fun. 🍊 When you do pull the trick on him, y'all have a back and forth debate on whether or not the drink is actually a new creation or apple juice. 🍊 You insist it's a new concoction and he goes "NO THAT'S WRONG!" Oh shit, he's onto you. Rethink your strategy stat! 🍊 You gave him something actually original and said it was "orange juice". 🍊 He drinks it, blinks a few times, and then glares at you. You apparently have a deathwish because you lean closer to his face and feign innocence, batting your eyelashes at him while asking what's wrong. 🍊 You expected another interrogation or maybe a "listen here you little shit", not a kiss on the lips. A surprise to be sure. 🍊 That was the start of a routine. Everytime you played your tricks on him, he'd pull you in and kiss you. You didn't know why he did that, but it was a fun way to get kisses. 🍊 If you ask him, he'd say he wanted you to taste teste your new drink <3

Nagito Komaeda☘️

☘ Very conflicted on how to feel. On one hand, he is sure what he is drinking is not the liquor you said it was; but on the other, who is he to doubt an ultimate? ☘ Plays along and congratulates you on your drink, saying it was very tasty. Bonus points if you do this trick in front of others and they're saying it's plain juice and not whatever fancy name you had said. ☘ Lowkey loves when others argue about your drinks. He always takes your side and it's hilarious. ☘ "I'm telling you that's not wine, it's cranberry juice!" ☘ "It's wine, if the Ultimate Enologist says so then it's wine. Did you spend years studying wines and their craft?" ☘ "I'M NOT AN IDIOT THAT'S CRANBERRY JUICE!" ☘ After a few more tricks he figures it out. You're playing a prank on him huh. ☘ He lets you know by saying thanks for the juice instead of whatever it is you said it was. ☘ You almost dropped the glass you were holding. He thought it was due to his luck, but he let it pass. Your face was just too funny to let the opportunity pass. ☘ Even though he knows, he still plays pretend from time to time. One because it makes you happy and two because you have to keep the illusion going for the others. ☘ You bargained with him over that last point. You promised him cuddles (after lot's of convincing that he did deserve them) in exchange for him acting along when you pulled your trick on others. ☘ Now he gets your cuddles, free drinks, and gets to witness your funny moments when you pull the prank on others. Man he really is lucky. ☘ If you name a drink after him or if one of your drinks is inspired by him he'll cry. Will refuse to drink it himself. ☘ You also share a drink that you say it's a new wine but it's really just dyed water. Others are confused by your couple ritual but y'all are happy so who cares. ☘ Nothing makes him happier than hugging you while you work on your drinks though, it fills him with hope <3

Gundham Tanaka🐹

🐹 Is convinced you're working with dark magic. You made wine taste like orange juice, what type of sorcery do you practice? 🐹 Asks you to see the process to check for magic. Oh no, you're fucked. 🐹 Or so it seems. When he's not looking you swap the drinks and keep the illusion going. He has yet to find out. 🐹 You sometimes pretend to add blood (red food coloring) to the decorations of the glass you serve your drink in and pour a special wine into them to make it look like blood. 🐹 People are convinced you two are vampires because of this. 🐹 You make non alcoholic drinks for the Devas in exchange for protection and a special place in his dark realm. You can also pet the devas free of repercussions. 🐹 Is insulted when someone even dares to suspect your drinks aren't really anything new. How dare they question the work of his soul's chosen companion sorry Hajime. 🐹 Very confused as to why others argue with you over your drinks. He is certain the contents of that glass are not apple juice, it's your new concoction inspired by the Devas. 🐹 The day he finds out your secret is the day the apocalypse began (not really but it felt like it). 🐹 You were preparing your drinks for the trick and waiting for him. He decided to surprise you by showing up a bit earlier and that resulted in him catching you mid switch. 🐹 Kept staring at you and the drink back and forth repeatedly, until the information was processed. 🐹 He's been tricked, sabotaged, and quite possibly bamboozled. 🐹 Began to doubt your status as a mortal and started having a crisis. In front of two perfectly fine drinks but ok. You came clean after that and he feigned betrayal. Even got the devan in on it too. 🐹 Both of you acted like it was a scene from a telenovela while trying to hold in y'alls laughter. You eventually got to the part where you begged for forgiveness. 🐹 Will forgive you on one condition, you pull that trick on Souda <3

Sonia Nevermind👑

👑 Before you even got to pull your tricks on her you were already her own personal enologist. Only the best for a princess. 👑 Does notice that your concoctions taste strangely like every day juices you can buy from the store, but she decides to give you the benefit of the doubt. 👑 Loves it when you do it to others though. She might not know what is happening but watching you argue with Fuyuhiko over what you just served him is hilarious. 👑 Gets whiplash whenever you pull your trick right after a formal event. You serve a magnificent cocktail never seen or tasted before and the next second you serve her what tastes like pineapple juice. 👑 You come to her for inspiration on what drinks to do next, it mostly involves references to the occult disguised as fancy people drinks. 👑 Does she find out about your secret? Yep 👑 She was looking for you to spend quality time together when she say you pour a glass of peppermint lemonade and label it as "new drink". 👑 Someone walked up to your stand and asked to try said drink and you served them the lemonade. They were extremely confused and from there a discussion started. 👑 She scurried away before you could catch her, equally as confused as the poor customer you just served. 👑 The next day, she asked to try some of your drinks and they all tasted like normal drinks. What happened to your awesome concoctions you served during parties? 👑 She's on a mission now, she's gonna get to the bottom of this mystery. 👑 One time, while you weren't looking, she snuck into your storage room to confirm her suspicion and found you working on your new wine (legit this time). 👑 You didn't seem to mind she had snuck into your storage room and invited her over to see the process. After that was done you offered her a glass as a taste test. 👑 She took a sip and it tasted like…mango juice? When she looked at you with a confused expression you laughed and offered her a glass of the actual drink. 👑 In that moment she realized she doesn't mind your tricks that much, if it makes you smile that brightly she'll always for for it <3

Akane Owari🤸

🤸 She would gulp down anything that you "concocted" for her because she loves you and you make killer drinks. 🤸 Would probably "get drunk" on whatever you decided to give her because of placebo effects and whatnot. 🤸 It is very fun to give her something like lemon water and saying it's a new type of tequila and you want her to do the honors of taste testing it. 🤸 Gladly does it and comments that it takes a bit like lemon. Then gives suggestions to other flavour you could add in your "tequila". 🤸 Others have tried to convince her it wasn't a new concoction because after the ntheenth time she had fallen for the trick it got a bit worrying. 🤸 She denies it every time. 🤸 One time you were serving her a glass of your new "drink" that was really just apple juice dyed to look like fine wine. 🤸 "Thanks for drink S/O, it looks delicious!" 🤸 You try to supress your giggles as she drank the whole thing and gave you back the glass. 🤸 She did comment that it "kinda tastes like apple juice" but that theory was dismissed due to the color of the drink. 🤸 Your plan fell right into place, good for you. Though the cheering had to be reserved for another time. 🤸 That time would be when you were cleaning the dishes because it gave you some alone time to cheer on your victory and you had a bunch of glasses to clean. 🤸 As you left with her empty glass in hand to get started on the dishes, Akane smiled to herself and lighty chuckled at the recent exchange 🤸 Plot twist, she knew that you were just messing with her. She played along with you because you always had the brightest smile whenever serving her a drink and she loved seeing you happy. 🤸 She just wants to see you happy, plus she gets free drinks <3

180 notes · View notes

eutaerpe · 4 years

Text

the escapades (m)

pairing — jimin x reader

genre/warnings— smut (oral, fingering, orgasm denial) & college!au, fratboy!jimin, brief e2l, brief ewb, acr universe

summary — the one where there’s a lot of unresolved sexual tension, until there isn’t.

notes — 8.3k words of the happiness before the storm i couldn’t write. i realised halfway through this there’s a slight plotwise change in comparison to what i wrote in acr so. yeah. sorry. kudos to you if you find it lol

The first time it happens, you’re pretending to be someone you’re not.

You’re sitting near the end of the table, crossing your legs and playing with the hem of your dress, your lips twisted into a frown. The real reason lying behind the simple decision of having a single, almost infinite table of guests doesn’t, in the slightest, cross your mind; why your idiotic brother would see this as a delightful idea really is above you, but you suppose the valuable genes in the family runs all in your DNA.

You’re playing with the table decorations while waiting for the guests to come, and it’s so fucking boring you regret telling Seulgi no, babe, what the fuck - you even shook your head and decided to sound extra mad at the idea - I won’t sneak in weed.

Too bad for you, she had answered, a cute pout on her lips, I’ll give you an hour before you’re bored out of your mind.

The truth hangs above your head, with a sheepish grin: you just needed ten minutes to be absolutely, drastically bored.

In hindsight, sneaking in weed wouldn’t have been the worst idea: your mother is talking to the in laws, gesticulating excitedly at the idea of kids right after marriage. What the fuck, you text Seulgi, at home trying to get out of bed, my brother has been married for an hour and there’s already baby talk going on at the table.

Seulgi

[12.49]

With the baby talk comes the dick talk

You

[12.49]

Oh no the dick talk

Seulgi

[12.50]

man how can you survive your relatives talking about nonexistent boyfriends without my weed, damn???

You

[12.50]

option a: I’ll tell them I’m dating you

Seulgi

[12.50]

we kissed ONE time

You

[12.50]

option b: I’ll tell them I’m in a relationship with Jeon jungkook

Seulgi

[12.50]

bitch we both know you’re not in a relationship with the hottest guy on campus. he has dimples and long hair and piercings. my sources can even confirm he has a big dick. what do U Have

You

[12.51]

i was talking about my vibrator but go off lmao

anyway I’ve had that D ;)

Seulgi

[12.51]

you’re officially cancelled

when did this happen? I can’t believe you’re telling me over text!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You

[12.51]

last semester!!!!! why do you think I’ve named my vib after him!!!!!!

Seulgi

[12.52]

because you’re lusting after him like the rest of us mortals!!!!!!!!!!

You

[12.52]

I’ve upgraded since then. I’ve leveled up. I’ve seen things People Can’t Even Imagine

Seulgi

[12.52]

just say he got u off and go

You

[12.52]

anyway option c: I scare them away by saying controversial things. Id est: I don’t believe in love. I am choosing my partner solely judging their abilities to finger me under a table when people are around. I am secretly lusting after my brother’s wife. I am trying to get impregnated like in The Sims 2 aka I am waiting for that alien dick.

Seulgi

[12.52]

hate to break it to you babe but that’s literally who you are

You

[12.52]

I literally compliment joohyun’s boobs once and this is the treatment I get

Seulgi

[12.52]

are we not gonna talk about your alien dick kink

You

[12.52]

no kink shaming in this house lady

option d: I listen to their complaints and run

Seulgi

[12.53]

option dick

man sorry I meant option d

You

[12.53]

you didn’t

Seulgi

[12.54]

ur right I didn’t

Option e, also known as I’ll entertain the other guests so I don’t have to talk to you, presents itself in the form of one very hot, very ripped young man sporting the most expensive shirt in the room. You’re only human when you admit to yourself, mental sigh, that he ticked all the let’s get y/n horny requirements in less than fifteen seconds.

You can’t believe Joohyun has kept him hidden for so long from you. Such betrayal ends when your brother, Kim fucking Seokjin, hugs him tight and brushes with utter affection the nape of his neck, gracing him with a warm smile and a heartfelt laugh.

You can’t believe Seokjin has kept him hidden for so long from you.

Well. Scratch that. You can.

Suddenly, the ticked requirements disappear and a giant neon sentence with a very cheap background music impose themselves in your head. WHAT A TURN OFF! they read, the neon red words mocking you; you steal a glance at your brother’s acquaintance one more time - one last time - before slipping your phone in your hands and dedicating yourself one more time at your Instagram feed, scrolling through the most recent pics.

(You stumble upon an extremely rare Jungkook selfie, and you hate to admit you spend the following thirty seconds admiring him before tapping twice on the quality content you’ve signed up for when you joined the social)

You suppose that, even though your brother’s friends with fuckboy tendencies are signed off your let’s get to know each other better ;) list, it doesn’t mean the same goes for them.

So, when the dark-haired young man with a jawline sharper than Seulgi’s retorts after her third beer sits next to you, you reckon you shouldn’t be that surprised.

He acts all casual, you notice while discreetly looking at him; he’s busy taking off his jacket and flexing his muscles, all of this while pretending not to notice you, and you find it immensely cute.

Ah, fuckboys.

“Fuck,” he rasps, lips twisted in a crooked smile, “I didn’t think it would be this hot today.”

“Yeah, sorry, the heat is on me.”

He chuckles in disbelief at your words, eyes turning into crescents.

“Right, there’s always the girl stealing the bride’s spotlight at weddings.”

“Oh! That’s me,” you nod enthusiastically, “That’s one hundred percent me.”

“Groom or bride?” He asks, pointing at the couple with his chin.

“What do you think?”

He looks at you funny, pressing his back on the seat, pondering in silence. Cute.

“Bride. One of Bae’s sorority sisters, maybe? You seem too young to be her age, though.”

“Damn,” you exhale, crossing your arms under your chest, “I can’t believe you got it all wrong. The expectations were low, but I’m still disappointed.”

He ducks his head, still smiling. “Then it’s the groom. How do you know Seokjin?”

Your eyes twinkle with excitement at your next words, but honestly, who can blame you? You’re having fun with this lost, cute chick.

“What’s your take, officer?”

He erupts into a laugh, and you drink in his handsome features; fuck you, Seokjin, for being friends with fuckboys only.

“Alright,” he punches the bridge of his nose, scanning the room, which is slowly filling with other guests. “I’m his friend, and I know all of his friends, which can only mean one thing: option a, you’re one of his ex-girlfriends; option b, you’re one of his secret hook-ups; option c, you’re an old friend from high school.”

“Oooh,” you beam, unrealistically intrigued, “You really suck at guessing, don’t you?”

He laughs, passing a hand through his dark locks, messing his perfectly styled hair. “Ok, fair. Which one was the closest, then?”

“Option d, of course.” You nod, relaxing your features into a sheepish grin, “I’m his much more beautiful and smarter sister.”

You exam his face, now twisting into some sort of what the fuck, such betrayal look, and you take in, for the last time – really the last, this time – his attractive, sculptured face, his full lips, the smoothness of his skin. It’s awful and unfair knowing you two won’t cross paths ever again in your lives, but at least you had some fun messing with him before things could worsen.

“I’ll be sitting in the middle of the table, with my family, if you want to avoid me.”

You wink at him for good measure, and you swear to god he blushes.

Half a wine bottle and two flutes of prosecco down, you realise you underestimated your resident fuckboy.

It happens when you’re grabbing your napkin and channelling your dreamy, happy looks towards the newlyweds, dancing in the middle of the room, their eyes gravitating only towards the love of their lives.

You sigh, pouting for the smallest of fractions, when you feel someone sitting at your side.

“You know,” Fuckboy begins, and you picture him licking his lips as he pauses, “Now I get why he never told us anything more than: I’m not an only child.”

“I know,” you exhale, turning to face him, “Seokwon is the real catch of our family. We’re really protective of him.”

“He’s married. With kids.”

“I was there when the twins opened their eyes, thank you.”

“We thought you were either a small kid or a forty years old woman.”

“Wait,” you tilt your head, “How did you know about us then? And who’s we?”

“We dug into his stuff and he caved in, admitting he had a brother and a sister.” Fuckboy looks at you, eyes dark but reflecting the dim lights of the function room, “Us. The frat guys.”

“Right, the fuckboys.”

He looks taken aback by your statement, bewildered, and you take advantage of his reaction to stand up and head away from him. It’s his words that stop you from doing so, though.

“You don’t know us—”

“—except I do know your pledges and your brothers.”

“But you don’t know me.”

“Maybe,” you shrug, “I prefer to steer away from my brother’s friends, though.”

“Right,” he says, tightening his lips in a hard line, almost hurt, “So, who am I to interfere with your judgmental thinking?” He clicks his tongue, then, a resolute exhale slipping past his lips, smothered by his own tingling despair.

The words hurt.

You don’t know what exactly pinched your senses hard, if the tone or the wallowing sadness swimming in his expression, but, as he stands up and leaves, you’re left facing the cold, hard truth.

The words hurt, you hurt, and you feel guilty.

You say nothing, glancing in the direction of the first alcoholic beverage around, and you fill yourself a glass.

Had it been someone else – had it been another sentence, another less sickening scenario, you would’ve felt proud, righteous. You’re, instead, on the other side of the feelings spectrum, all filled with crippling guilt and a nauseous, pervasive feeling you can’t quite name and pin down.

The guests are dancing around you, moving hand in hand to the rhythm of the pop love song now playing; the ballroom is packed when you let your impulsive side make a choice, eyes following the guy’s composed figure. You can drastically feel the sweat, and the heat the people are radiating, when you stand up and move towards him, the only smiling boy passing his glass from a hand to the other.

You’re close enough to tap his wrist and brush your fingers, which you do; it elicits a gasp from him, all soft, not scathing around the edges yet able to bite you, anyway. It’s the guilt, you remind yourself, looking for a sign of some sort of inclination to accept your apologies between the crease of his brows and tight jaw, and everywhere in between.

It’s sickening—this boy didn’t exist four fucking hours ago. It didn’t even cross your wildest dreams, someone like him. His shape – his silhouette – has left a print in your mind, and no matter how hard you try focusing on something else, someone else, your mind keeps going back to the shape itself.

But you’re a coward, so, while he lets you intertwine your fingers, you admit, voice loud: “I wanna dance.”

He handles you properly, kindly, before pushing you in the crowd and brushing your hips with his hands, all rings and jewellery adorning them.

He blinks twice, biting the insides of his mouth, but he manages,

“Who says I wanna dance?”

Which is a bit stupid, or hypocritic if you might, because he’s swaying you to the rhythm of a ballad the pop love song turned into. You break into the smallest of smiles.

“I want to apologize.”

He scoffs. “I don’t know you,” he says, funnily enough, “But that seems almost unlikely, coming from you.”

“Yeah, you got me there, officer. I was, uhm,” you stare blatantly at his neck, and you suppress the desire to stroke your fingers’ pads on his soft skin, “I was out of line. I’m sorry. You were right, I don’t know you. I do know your frat brothers, my own brother, but that doesn’t mean I know you.”

He hums, moving for a small fraction of instants his thumbs on your hips and it’s enough for your breath to catch into your own throat. He nods, which could mean anything, from I accept your apology to go fuck yourself, this is bullshit. You prefer the former option, if you’re being honest, which is the answer you settle for in your head, hazed and absolutely hazed and madly hazed because of his small physical contact.

To put this into the simplest terms, Seulgi’s words, you don’t like this.

“I like dancing,” his eyes tower you and gaze at the other people dancing; you wonder if he’s thinking about them, who they are to you, what role they played in Seokjin’s life, if they’ll show up to your wedding, too. These thoughts popped into your mind unannounced, before, at the table, before the not-really-fuckboy sat next to you and made you feel guilty. Such absurdity; yet here you are, in his arms. Oh god, what would Seulgi think of you if she saw you?

“Good to know, I’m awful at shoulder-hips coordination.”

“Shoulder-hips coordination?” he inquiries, lips parted.

“Uh, body rolls?”

“Oh,” he chuckles, “I see, you mean classy grinding.”

“I don’t do classy grinding, sorry,” you retort, head tilted to a side.

His smile his amused. “Too bad, shoulder-hips coordination is a nice trait to exhibit sometimes.”

“I prefer hips coordination. Well, hips rotation.”

“Hips rotation?”

“Riding? Is the term somehow unfamiliar to you?”

He flushes, biting back a grin and fixing his gaze somewhere in the crowd. How cute.

“Not at all, it’s nice to meet a hips rotation enthusiast here, though.”

“Statistics say at least a member in each family is a riding enthusiast, did you know?”

“Shit, talk dirty to me,” he licks his lips, pointing at Jin with his chin, “Didn’t peg him for a rider, though. Not at all.”

“I’m starting to think you’re not a STEM major, are you? You’re lacking basic intuition, my friend.”

“Is this your attempt of discovering my major?” – he eyes you, a flick of amusement burning in his orbs – “You’re not very smooth, you know?”

“I have my moments.”

He snorts, placing both hands on the small of your back. You’re at height level with the base of his neck, and it’s fun how your mind betrays you in such moments, providing mental images of your nose brushing against his skin, and you nuzzling in the crook of his neck. Such taunting, invasive pictures. Fuck off, you reprimand your own mind, fuck off.

“I’m Jimin.”

“Jimin,” you taste the name on your tongue, hitting the back of your front teeth. “Jin never talked about you. I’m Y/N.”

“Jin never talked about you either.”

“Of course he never did, I’m prettier than he is.”

His little dimples make an appearance. “You know, you could really steal the bride’s spotlight.”

“That was my ultimate goal all along, even though I prefer the dark side.”

“I,” he licks his lips, and you don’t know why you’re following the gesture, “I meant to say you’re beautiful.”

“Oh my god,” you whisper, eyebrows raising, “Are you a charmer?”

“I mean,” he begins, sheepish smile on display, “I never kiss and tell.”

“Touching.” He smirks. “How sweet of you.”

“You know what else is sweet?”

“Please,” you beg, meeting his eyes, “Don’t say my pussy.”

“Please,” he repeats, same mocking tone, “The possibilities are endless. Your mouth,” he scoots closer, words whispered on the shell of your ear, “Your mouth around my dick,” he almost nibbles your ear, “Your mouth screaming my name.”

“My pussy,” you add, trying not to lose your mind.

“I would never call sweet something I’ve not tasted.”

He raises a brow.

“Are you offering? You’re not very smooth, you know?”

He ignores the last question, tightening his grip. “In the middle of your brother’s wedding? Seokjin’s wedding? I’m not a dick, even though you sitting on my face would be a sight to see.”

“Right?” your voice doesn’t falter for a second, “That’s what I always say”

“Nice to see how we’ve got much in common. But I was thinking of something else, actually—” His face is once again inches away from yours, ear to mouth, hot breath fanning over you bare neck. “I wanna finger you.”

Oh.

“Under the table. Right behind you. Wanna make you whimper.”

It’s almost like being tongue-tied, fumbling for words, body flushing, but you gather somewhere the strength to form an actual sentence, which makes him smirk devilishly.

“I can be very quiet.”

He pokes his tongue into his cheek. “Bet you can’t keep your pretty mouth shut.”

“When I win,” you say, lying your words on an unrealistically high vote of confidence, even for yourself, “What do I get?”

He licks his lips, slow, savouring the moment. “You get to ride my face.”

“Not your dick?”

“I’m not a fuckboy, baby.”

A comeback of some kind is already on your tongue, but – there’s a kiss somewhere in the following seconds, all wet and tingling and perhaps filled with too many lip bites, but he can’t really blame you when you’ve been brushing your thighs together for the past minute, heat pooling down your belly. It’s enough for you to silently pledge for more, and for him to tease, because he takes a step back, smirk in place and lips reddened, and guides you towards his seat at the end of the table with a hand on the small of your back.

Downhill begins as soon as you sit down, legs barely parted, a minimum space not fitting for his plans, apparently, because the crease between Jimin’s eyebrows grows when he nudges them apart with his hand, the cold metal of his rings cooling down your flushed state. You want to gasp at the sudden intrusion, but the sound is swallowed entirely by his hot mouth on yours, distracting once again, incredibly soft and alluring. This kiss is slow, this time, like he’s taking his time tasting you and learning about the hums he draws out of you, the shyness of your previously biting tongue, and how fast you get lost in the kiss itself. You press a chaste kiss on his mouth, before creaking a space between you.

“I’m starting to think you’re all bark and no bite”

He doesn’t answer, but stares into your eyes with his hooded gaze, and he manages to sneak a hand furtively under your dress not breaking the contact. His skin is warm, but you’re warmer, and his destination is even hotter. He cocks his head, fingers brushing against the soaked, sticking material you used to call panties up until fifteen minutes ago, and he must notice—his eyes grow wider, his jaw tightens and his hand gains courage.

Fuck. This should be embarrassing, getting worked up over dirty innuendos and a kiss or two, but you’re instead feeling flushed and more. More sensitive. More open to the idea of him ruining you, even though that’s not what he’s offering. Or— is he?

The question lies unanswered when his digits rub with a sparkled intensity over both your clothed sex and your inner thighs. It’s a continuous, mellifluous melody, his fingers dancing between the two until he settles on your panties only, and that’s when you almost let out a soft moan; you don’t, he raises his brow, challenging, but you don’t, and instead glance around to notice if someone has his eyes on the both of you, sitting in the furthest region of the fucking smart, endless table.

He raises the stake, flushed: Jimin pushes your panties on one side, petting with his index your exposed self, and you suck in a breath. He continues to do so, face still, closing the distance between you two.

You don’t question the sudden kiss, instead you angle your face and close your eyes and let him press his lips on you. This feels like being drunk, or high, stretching underneath a sky dripping with stars. You cup his face with your hands, his lips so terribly soft and inviting, the smallest of smiles meeting your own chapped and curved upwards lips.

It’s when you’re merely inches away from him that he thumbs at your clit, sensitive and tingling, circling with utmost peace and no speed whatsoever. You pout at little, you realize, which makes him melt either cause of your cute frown -oh, how the tables have turned- or simply because he’s the devil himself, pressing a finger against your entrance and delving it into your heat.

“Cute,” he purrs, kissing you, “Is this okay?”

The crude, hot, nerve-wracking fingering has begun, which makes you, quickly enough, putty in his hands and ablaze with ardour for this man whose rasping voice could kill you.

“Yeah,” you breathe on his mouth, eyelids drooping closed, “Yeah, all good.”

You hum to yourself as he starts pressing kisses on your jaw and your neck, a trail of treacherous flames lighting up your skin, and you have the audacity to sigh under his ministrations, a tiny, strained sound not quite a mewl.

If he hears, he doesn’t show it. You’re biting your own lip when he enters a second finger, filling your searing emptiness.

“Want three?” he asks, voice husky and as desperate as you are under his touch. He adds it when you nod, the squelch louder than before, and you moan, rocking your hips against his fingers.

“Shh, baby,” he coos, placing his other hand on your hips, slowing your movements, “Be a good girl.”

He fucks you deep, fast, fingers clashing against the silky dress you’re wearing and sweat sparkling on his forehead. He swallows another moans of yours, sucking your bottom lip and tugging it between his teeth. You’re close. You’re so close, and it’s only been a couple minutes. You can’t hear anything that isn’t your wet pussy clenching around his fingers, his rhythm ruthless and burning.

“Too bad you’re not coming on my fingers, today,” he says before kissing your neck and emptying your dripping pussy, then proceeding to taste and lick his own fingers in his mouth. He lets them out with a small pop, and it’s the most terrifying sight you’ve ever had in front of your almost watering eyes. “I’m sorry I won the bet, though, your pussy is the sweetest I’ve ever tasted.”

That’s the high and dry story of how you first met Jimin.

The second time it happens, it’s under completely different circumstances, and, substantially, against your every predictions, it really happens. It takes place, like a once in a lifetime event: there’s an orgasm involved, not due to the very charming and never disappointing Jeon jungkook the robotic version, and instead it involves a rather attractive asshole with a persistent smirk plastered on his face.

Except it’s a lot more complicated than what it sounds, and most of it is Seulgi’s fault.

Your roommate had pouted all evening, because that’s what semi adults do when they’re denied a companion for the night.

“I just wanna get wasted. It’s been one hell of a month, and you know how I get when I’m stressed.”

“I can suggest you a vibrator and a bottle of vodka. Do you settle for that, your honor?”

“The more you talk like this,” all self-absorbed and assertive and cautiously, like when talking to a kid, she begins, hands in her long, mahogany hair, “the more I just wanna push you up against the wall.”

“Sounds to me you just wanna get laid.”

“Maybe I do,” she huffs, hands on her hips, the light of your abat-jour highlighting her golden skin. “Maybe I don’t. What I know is that I wanna get wasted. Come with me, pretty please?”

“Look,” you raise your eyes from the book you’ve been holding, stretching a leg onto the unmade bed of yours, “I just wanna get this fucking paper done. I need,” you grip the phone on the bed table, checking for the white, large numbers on your lock screen, “an hour. An hour and half to edit it and I’m all yours.”

“This paper is due on Thursday, though.”

“Yeah, but I have a reputation to uphold in the family. Have to be the most beautiful and successful.”

“You’re full of shit,” are her last words, muttered with a smile as she grabs her jacket.

“Hey,” you call, stretching your neck towards her, “I don’t care if it’s two am and you’re already wasted. Call me and I’ll come to you with a whole bottle of vodka to make it up to you. Hell, I’ll even kiss you goodnight.”

“I don’t wanna make out with you, you freak.”

“You didn’t say that last time, baby!”

Seulgi

[2.13]

wassup bitch

make out with meeeeeeeeeeeeee

[location shared]

com n get me littl nuggrt

Not Sober Seulgi is probably the worst Seulgi you have ever dealt with. You let out a sigh, eyeing the frat dorm all lit up and vibrating to the trashy trap music the insiders are jamming to.

Of course, when it comes to Not Sober Seulgi, there’s boys involved. Frat boys involved. At first, you don’t pay attention to the details, the signs, surrounding you like blinding traffic lights signalling stop stop stop, all red and striking. The thought doesn’t cross your mind, the dots connecting in some hidden part of your brain not making your insides short circuit—instead you’re knocking on the door, then banging on the very wooden entrance until a face shows up; the dorm is dimly lit, and the face is partially lightened by a soft, hued red and, that, too, Future You pinpoints, should have been a sign.

It’s useless, anyway, because you hear the insider talk and you’re burning instantly, like after touching a steaming, hot cup of coffee, except that bitter coffee is still good coffee. Smug Jimin plus bitter you isn’t really sweet, nor a match made in heaven. It’s chaotic, a caustic explosion, and you both know it, judging from the sharp smile he offers you, after blinking lazily at your figure.

“This is a mixer party only,” his soothing voice welcomes you, “Do you have an invite?”

You press your tongue on your teeth, mouth carefully closed.

“Yeah, from Hell, I’ve come to take a fallen angel.”

“Sorry to break it to you, oh-kind-lady, but we didn’t give any invite to poor, damned souls.”

“Too bad I don’t give a fuck about your policies, then,” you move towards the small space between the door and Jimin’s body, but he interferes, placing himself right between the two. “Look, I don’t give a single fuck about this party.”

“Yeah, it sure looks like it.”

You roll your eyes. “My friend is here. She’s most certainly not sober and I’ve come to pick her up. That’s it. Do you think I want to be here, among these drunk, perverted jocks?”

He turns around, stretching his neck, his eyes darting through the crowd, inhibited by alcohol, smelling like cheap beer and weed. The moment his eyes bore into yours, though, it’s terrifying; it’s a rustled reminder of Seokjin’s wedding Jimin, and you don’t like it. You loathe it. You dread it.

“Maybe only some of us.”

He tips his head, lips curving into a timid, small smile, and you tear your gaze from his lips in a heartbeat.

“Yeah, keep dreaming of it. I just want my friend back.” You point your chin towards the amalgam of drunk party animals, “I’ll leave you to your immensely interesting activities, then.”

“What if,” he begins, “You don’t. Or—even better scenario, you leave with me.”

“Best case scenario, I leave with my friend. You stay here.”

“What’s the worst-case scenario, then?”

You cock a brow at him, crossing your arms on your chest. “I leave with my friend, you stay here. Sometime before me leaving, you’re punched. Or kicked. I don’t know. There’s a high chance I’ll throw a drink on you.”

“That implies you’ll be here long enough to grab a drink, doesn’t it? And you don’t have to ruin my shirt to get me naked, babe. Just ask nicely.”

You huff, and you’re mildly tempted to shove him against a wall. Or ruin him. Not in the funny way. More like the high and dry way, the one he knows so well. “I changed my mind, I’ll kick you.”

“Ask nicely?” His teasing tone makes your cheeks flush, and you hope the shitplace with subdued lightening can cover it. His expression shifts into an arrogant one, full smirk and little dimples out, so your cute guess is that he can see. He sees his effect on you, albeit completely unwanted and full of hatred from your side, and he enjoys it. Actually lulls in it, letting out a small laugh which, in turn, makes his eyes turn into crescents, all warm and cute—all things he’s not. All things you know he’s not.

“Ask nicely,” you repeat, rolling the words on your tongue, “Okay, babe. Let’s do this, babe. What do you want from me, babe?”

“Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe the answer is you?”

“Yes, actually,” you sigh, fingers brushing his neck, face comically close to his perfect, chiselled one, “That’s exactly what I thought when you stopped fingering me.”

“Right,” Jimin has the audacity to smile, craning his neck as if to close the distance between you in order to meet you for a kiss, “I’m a man of word, thought. You should be impressed.”

“I’m pretty sure the only thing that’s impressed is your face under the orgasm denial definition. Google it, babe, I guarantee you the meaning comes with your name and a brilliant review of one star.”

“Unlike you.” He licks his lips, eyes on your pretty pink ones, smeared with venom, “You’re not coming.” He explains, to further ignite your rage.

“And whose fault is that, babe?”

Jimin nuzzles into your neck, cupping your other cheek with his rough palm, and his thumb stills on your throat, right where your breath is stuck. He adds pressure on it, lips fondling your burning skin, his usual smirk plastered on them.

“Let me make it up to you.”

“You’re not fucking me,” you spit back, mouth now millimetres away from his, gently inviting you to kiss it, and cherish it, and biting it until you’re satisfied with the hot result.

“I’ll eat you out? Until you come.” He hums. “You’ll come.”

His voice is a mere strangled sound, wanting and dripping with need, and you snap out of it with a small smile.

“Nice offer,” your smile is wicked as you scrape his nape with a feathery touch, the slow movement rousing a flutter in your lower belly. “But get in line, babe.”

His shell-shocked face is the last thing you see before you fulfil the let’s rescue Seulgi! party.

(“Why do you smell like softener?” Seulgi sniffs you, arms looped loosely around your neck, eyes completely shut down. It’s a nice sight, all things considered. You’re no angel, no saint, no perfect person, but you’re a nice friend, and that’s probably the most Seokjin trait you recognize in yourself. It’s your shared apartment, and it’s past 3 am and you’re the one good friend who keeps her promises. “It’s strawberry vodka, you heathen.”)

The line turns out to be a real line, queue line, let’s get this coffee line, which, well. How can one word it, how can one phrase it fully catching the irony of it all, the distinctive je ne sais quoi of life without—

“Nice to see you here.”

It’s the perfect set for a rom-com, you notice, taking in the warm scenery around you. What else can one dream of, right? The campus coffee shop, the campus hot not-really-but-also-kinda fuckboy Jimin, partial jock to give him credit, full time attractive idiot with a tendency for orgasm denial. Really.

“What are the chances?” You exhale, voice devoid of emotions. For the sake of your parents’ integrity, you suppose, because they raised no impolite woman, of course, you turn around to face the angel-like human being, black hair partially covering his forehead, little dimples on full display. That’s—that is lack of integrity, or indecency or au-fucking-dacity. It might as well be a mix of the above-mentioned possibilities, all fitting and nurturing you because he’s gorgeous. He’s handsome. Jimin’s the most attractive human being you’ve ever seen in your life, and it’s not fair.

(Beside the fact that you’ve lived with Kim Seokjin, for fuck’s sake)

He pokes his own cheek, and you bask into the otherworldly scenario that takes place right in front of your caffeine deprived eyes. It’s a sight for sore, soft eyes, and it’s the end of the world as you know it, because it’s morning, too early to properly function like a normal human being, but there he is. There he is, Jimin, channelling his inner boyfriend material aura, oozing off boyfriend smell, nice, fresh, aftershave smell, rocking a stupid sweater and the messiest black mop of hair.

It’s honestly a tragedy, and you won’t stand for it. You will make a move—

“You’re squinting your eyes, like, real tight. Are you alright?”

Just ogling you, your drowsy mind offers, the fucking cheater.

“Yeah,” you reply, swallowing a lump in your dry throat, “Just need coffee. A latte. Anything.”

You move forward in the queue, and as you blink you realize it’s your turn, until it’s not anymore. Jimin carefully and gently moves you out of the way, brushing with the softest touch your side.

“A latte and an iced americano, please.”

The sweetened order for two turns into a hushed thank you, a tipped smile, a flutter of you heart. It’s drinks still half full, his curious gaze darting on your lips, your defences down. It’s unfair, because in a hot second all this pent-up tension shifts into a light, chaste kiss, your back pressed against the coffee shop’s restroom; your chest heaves under his tantalizing make-out session with your neck, followed by his frantic lips pressing on yours, his tongue licking lazily into your mouth, a gasp easing its way out of your warm and eager mouth. It’s a hot-blooded supercut, each frame announced by a starving moan, a content sigh, and, before you realise it, you’re on your bed, Jimin hovering on top of you.

It’s Saturday morning, you hum to yourself, fingers sliding into his hair, all’s in check. There’s a warm body slumped on yours, his tongue swerving on your lower lip and his hips shyly bucking between your open legs. Your panties are drenched, you can feel his hard on through the jeans and, really, all’s in check.

He nudges your nose with his. “Lemme eat you out.”

The answer lies sitting on the tip of your tongue, right next to an obnoxious remark that you hope will rile him up enough for him to rip your underwear, which you definitely won’t complain about. However, the words don’t come out, they slur in your craving mouth the second he gets up and shoves you toward the end of your unmade bed, spreading your naked legs open with his calloused palms.

“Nice skirt,” he comments, voice a rasp, eyeing the drenched, lilac underwear, skirt at this point gone up to cover your stomach. “I just want…”

He shuffles closer, enough for you to feel his hot breath on your core, and that’s when Jimin pulls the panties on a side, teasing you with little licks to your entrance. You’re responsive, too eager for anything to quench your thirst that you sigh happily at the barest of actions, gripping strands of his hair. Jimin chuckles, engulfing the throbbing clit in his mouth in one go and drawing desperate moans out of your cute, devilish mouth.

“Fuckboy move,” you emit, voice cracking at the pressure of his warm mouth, “Oh, oh. Fuck…”

He replies flattening his tongue on your core, then licking and lapping against your dripping folds. Jimin positively glows at the cries you let out, face slobbering with your arousal while driving you insane, fucking with his tongue like his life depended on it. It’s almost a spiritual experience, a crescendo of wails and sobs, his face drown in your pussy and his tongue paying reverence to your approaching orgasm. He can feel it in the way you writhe, in his hand splaying over your stomach, keeping you still while he eats you religiously, forehead beaded with sweat.

You come with a trembling hand in his hair, the other flicking your bare nipple, back slightly arched and a lewd mewl; Jimin takes in the way your body trembles, your breath all staggered because of him, and the sight alone is enough for him to cum in his pants with a grunt, completely untouched.

The second time it happens is, coincidentally, the first time Jimin knows there’s no turning back from this.

Complicated is a big word when it comes to relationship, you reckon, emitting something akin to a gasp, truly soap operas worthy material, but, for the first time in your life, you decide to name it this way.

Being with Jimin is… complicated, for starters. Especially because you’re not with Jimin, in the strict, relationship-wise meaning. He knows your favourite colour (“Why the fuck you only own purple underwear?” “It’s lilac, dick, watch your mouth.” “Watch your own mouth, babe. You’re the one on your knees.”), your favourite food (“But you like having your mouth stuffed with my cock, honey.” You sigh, blushing. “First of all, I’m talking about real food. That amazing steak kind of food—“

“I’ll show you real meat, babe.”

“Gross. Gross. How can I cancel the last five seconds of my life?”

“Come here, Jared, nineteen,” he half smiles, tilting his head, “I’ll get us fries.”), your favourite movie (“We can’t get each other off every time your ugly paper cap fits—oh,” you suck in a breath, Jimin flicking his tongue on your turgid nipple, “oh, god, don’t stop.”), your best friend’s name (“I condone you dicking her so good she sometimes cries, you know, I just don’t when I’m in the room next to hers and all I can hear is my best friend trying to formulate a single coherent word but failing because you’re pounding her mercilessly into the mattress.” Jimin chuckles, grabbing his jacket before holding the doorknob. “She begged, Seulgi.”)—so what? It’s not like you sat down and decided not to ask each other dumb questions, so that you could find out in the funny, kinky way. For fuck’s sake, you didn’t even decide on anything, didn’t even talk about talking, because the relationship related shit didn’t even cross your mind.

It’s even quite fucking hard for it to cross it, because half the time you’re together you’re either both naked – except for the time he pleaded for the tartan mini to stay – or stuffing your mouth with food—because, if there’s something you’ve learned after one too many hook-ups with him is that this kind of sex requires strength. Like, actual, physical strength, if we’re not talking about the this test is draining me please fuck me until I can’t walk sex. Which, yeah, 10/10 would recommend. That was the day Seulgi decided to invest in ear plugs while muttering capitalism, here I come.

You also came.

Funnily enough, guess who also came. Not in the funny, kinky way. Think about the grossest thing, imagine the beyond the bounds of possibility, sprinkle it with Jimin earnestly shoving his dick down your throat, stir it with a poor Taehyung brushing his teeth next to the both of you, a step away from the shower, and serve it on the most expensive plate in the kitchen, a recipe not approved by Kim Seokjin.

Yeah, you mentally roll your eyes, licking your lips clean, at eye-level with your sorta enemy with benefits’ pretty dick: the married brother of yours, former fratboy, taller than your current will to live.

In hindsight, maybe it is Seokjin’s fault. Once you’re married, you’re supposed to be committed to the cause, and sometimes, an angry little crumb in you finds the audacity to speak, the cause is made up of your four walls: ergo home, ergo your married life, miles away from the absurdity that once filled his university days. You’re being hypocritical, you realize, skin wet, body trembling. In the simplest, most hedonistic terms, you’re done with the chaos in this fraternity and just wished that hooking up was easier. It’s more than a stolen orgasm, a random spur of pleasure and free de-stresser; it’s also something not quite like art but just as peculiar. Sex with Jimin is more than nice, more than a fast rummage of clothes on the floor and panties teared, or condoms stuffed in every single pocket of his jacket.

It should also be noticed that it’s been one hell of a stressful week, okay, which means that it’s one of those times you seek for naked intimacy, in its least literal meaning. You’re looking for something sure, something silent, something earnest. Jimin gives you that in the simplest of forms, in the easiest of ways. It’s not fair for your brother to come unannounced and burst into the house with his adorable laugh and love for his own brothers. Way to ruin the moment, bro.

Jimin blinks attentively when Taehyung laughs, clapping his hands all happy and following the elder’s voice outside the bathroom.

“I’m getting you my clothes.”

“Wait, what?”

His lips part just enough for his tongue to wet them, and your eyes follow in silence the gesture.

“I mean,” he starts, grabbing a towel, “You either come out with me from this bathroom or you don’t.”

He’s concise, yet harsh, words uttered with those soft lips yet are just as hot as a slap in your face. He’s telling the truth, but you soon find out you don’t really like it.

There’s something abrupt and severe in those chosen words, so well picked out because they’re not meant to hurt, but at the same time they’re so worrying. So terrible, practically as hard as a punch in your guts.

You either come out of the bathroom with him — you had been blowing minutes before, hadn’t you? Quite the intimacy, huh? — or you don’t. You stay behind. Different rooms, a whole door to separate you while he’s out with the people he cares about.

Seems legit, but. It’s unfair. You know Jimin isn’t choosing for you, but it’s obvious he’s inclined towards an option between the two, and you’re terrified to discover whether it’s his own desire pushing or what he thinks you want.

You, instead, push the thought aside when you nod, taking the towel from his hands and covering your body from this terrific half hook-up.

Because that’s what it is—that’s what you are.

It dawns upon you like a cold breeze hitting your face in full December, suddenly, and that’s when you realize winter is near. In your mind, this hooking up scenario seemed nicer. Sounded softer, a cute bubble moving slowly in the air.

But now—well, now the bubble has burst, and it feels wrong, and this unexpected wrong doesn’t feel right in your chest, and that’s the story of how you leave the house escaping from his window, in his clothes, with vision blurred by hot, stupid, idiotic tears.

Seulgi is the first one to notice, and, obviously, the first one to speak.

“Something’s been bothering you,” she says, head tilted in a way that’s supposed to be emphatic and worried but comes off as stiff and terrified. “Care to share?”

It’s just a wholesome amount of terrifying stuff, isn’t it? First the shower incident, now Seulgi’s ways not working around you anymore. What’s next? Avoiding Jimin for a whole week? Blocking his number? Losing the smart and beautiful title to your obnoxious brother?

You wouldn’t be surprised, really. Shit like this always happens at the same fucking time.

“It’s nothing. A stressful couple days, maybe? Or maybe I’m getting sick. There’s a guy always coughing during Physics. Maybe it’s his fault, who knows.”

Seulgi unlocks her phone, an unreadable gaze studying you. She gives up a second later, though, her weak maybe reaching your ears when you’ve already looked down on your book.

One simply cannot be annoyed because of a half hook up. Christ. You deserve better than that. You have some dignity left, tainted by everything that’s not Jimin and his harsh, stupid words.

So, your mind offers, while you squint your eyes, I suppose there’s nothing else you could do about it.

Nothing else besides acknowledging it and moving on.

Sounds like a plan. A fireproof plan, an escape plan, something detailed and precise. Planned to work out smoothly; planned to be executed without pain or mistakes.

It’s seven sharp when he knocks, takeout in his left hand, eyes bulging because it’s fucking freezing outside.

“It’s fucking freezing, what the fuck.” He says out loud, indeed. What he receives as an answer is the sound of your tongue clicking, the biggest amount of interest you’ve shown towards him the whole week. He would finally exhale, weren’t it for the fact that this is still pretty traumatic, because if there’s something he’s learned while orbiting around you, is that you’re constantly awake and aware of your surroundings. Your body language says that you pay attention to him, or Seulgi, or whoever you’re talking to. You follow the guy with your eyes, and you listen and nod in all the right places during a conversation, and you search for his dark gaze when he’s fucking you in the dimly lit bedroom, the bed creaking under your sweaty sex making. He’s not admitting it, he never will, and he’ll pretty much deny this to everyone who will ask but: there’s something hot about it. Something burning with the way your body reacts to him, when your eyes follow his actions, while your voice falters when he fucks you right, and it somehow pushes him to the edge every time. It’s the equivalent of Jungkook getting a boner in the gym while catching girls and boys drooling at him, except he’s talking about you and your crazy moans, your magic aura.

And yes, okay, fucking blame him, the realization alone made him jerk off in his room like a teen, twice, yesterday. That’s a fact. That’s barely a fact, alright? This is a truth; a statement soon forgot by the knowers. Obviously.

You look spent, he thinks, if he had to choose a word, dared by some arrogant deity to define the current mess you were. He glances at your barely done ponytail, at the tiredness written all over your face. He takes in your baggy sweater, your quiet beauty, knowing this is gonna be one of those nights you take a step back.

He doesn’t say anything though, instead he brushes the hair on your forehead, not even making contact with your skin.

You grab the bag from his hands, shivering instantly and hoping he doesn’t read the signs. They’re—they’re there, you know, you’re collecting them slowly, one after another, grabbing one and looking cautiously for the following one, hoping it’s not there. Hoping it doesn’t exist.

You exhale a sigh, disguising it as cough, a noise, something distracting Jimin from his silent staring, which is, funnily enough, loud and cacophonic.

“Hungry,” you state, the single word weighting more because of the soft pout on your lips. Jimin hates that he knows what it means, that it’s gonna be just the two of you this time, no chill whatsoever, no bodies touching and melting against each-other. He’s not complaining, what the fuck, he’s not an idiot. He’s not even mad, he’s just—accepting, on a level. This is the point of no return, he guesses, following you on the couch and admiring the laptop’s screen reflected on your face.

He doesn’t say anything when you search for Brooklyn 99 on Netflix, because he’d say everything, otherwise. He’d mumble something along the lines of this feels real, we could do this all the time, or, worst of all: I like this. I like you.

So, in order: he tugs at your sleeves and scoots you closer to him, and you say absolutely nothing at the gesture. He’s ecstatic on the inside, partially terrified, mostly delusional. He pretends he’s something more when you lean on him, the slightest pressure of your head on his shoulder. He cares zero fucks about the show when he’s breathing your scent in and feels how warm you are and shuts his eyelids down when he pictures you adoring him. Liking him. Liking him a whole lot more—

He’s fucked, he realises, hours later, when you doze off and he has to carry you to bed, something you claim of loathing, which—what on earth. It’s an unfathomable absurdity, that’s what it is.

“You can stay.”

His voice falters. “What?”

You cough, eyes closed as you speak sinful words: “The night, I mean. It’s fucking freezing outside.”

His lips form a small o, and it’s hot all of a sudden. “Alright,” he manages, staring at you on your bed, hands fidgety and heartbeat accelerated for some reason, “Make space for me. Hey, fucker. I’m serious. Let me in.”

You do.

(to be continued. ily)

#BTS jimin #bts #bts fic #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts scenario #bts smut #bts social media au #bts imagine #bts imagines #jimin imagine #jimin #jimin smut #jimin bts #jimin x reader

414 notes · View notes

megan-is-mia · 4 years

Note

Hi! Can we get a monster prompt 2. “If you love me you’ll let me make your beauty eternal” with Malleus please? (Malleus is a real easy fit for most of the monster prompt list, huh?) Hope this in before requests close.

(JOKES ON YOU i dont know how to close this thing) 2. “If you love me you’ll let me make your beauty eternal” (Yandere! Malleus Draconia x Fem! Reader)

Malleus had been in love since the first time he’d seen the human girl. She’s barely reached his hip in height as she’d stared up at him and put her arms up in an indication of wanting to be picked up. Bemused by the child’s boldness the fae had done just that and soon had a small face nuzzled against his cheek with little arms wrapped loosely around his neck. “Pretty” young (Y/n) had lisped, her eyes gazing innocently into the male’s as her hands reached up to pat at his horns admiringly. Malleus could have contently held the little girl forever if not for the child’s parents calling into the woods for her to return. Regretfully he’d lowered her back to the ground and watched her scamper away like an excited squirrel. That should have been the end of it, just a single encounter with a child of man who’d been unafraid of him. Instead, this one interaction only whet Malleus’s desire for companionship and he visited that patch of forest again in the hopes of seeing the girl again. With each subsequent visit the fae finding himself growing more and more attached to the mortal. He’d thought he only felt a familial fondness towards (Y/n), like the one between a parent and a child. However, this notion of only holding parental feelings for her was shattered on the eve of her eighteenth birthday. No longer was she the chubby-cheeked toddler he’d met so long ago, now she was a young woman and a beautiful one at that. Malleus, the King of Thorns, one of the greatest sorcerers alive, and the grandson of the Thorn Witch… had fallen horn over heels for a human girl. Unfortunately his beloved (Y/n) did not view him in the same way. She’d fallen for another mortal and had planned to marry him once they’d both reached adulthood. There was no way that Malleus would let some upstart boy steal away his darling girl. So as the sunset on (Y/n)’s birthday he cast a curse upon her household. Everyone fell into a deep sleep and it was easy for the fae to take what was his from that place. His sweet human fit into his arms so perfectly, like she was the puzzle piece long hidden from his life. Bringing her back to his castle and up to his chambers he dispelled the enchantment he’d placed impatient to see her beautiful eyes that still retained a sliver of her childhood innocence. He’d been forced to cover her mouth as she’d attempted to scream once she was fully conscious. “Calm down, you’re perfectly safe my love” Malleus had said while stroking (Y/n)’s cheek as he cautiously removed his hand. The girl did not try to scream again and merely looked up at him with a confused expression, her lips silently forming the questions she wished to ask but dared not vocalize to the fae.

“Tsunotaro… why am I here?” (Y/n) spoke quietly. She did not understand why her oldest friend had suddenly decided to curse her family and steal her away from her home. She trusted the fae more than anything, even willingly giving him her name when he’d asked for it years prior. (Y/n) truly could not fathom why this situation had come to pass. “I love you. Once the love I held for you was innocent as a newborn fawn, but now it has become something stronger. I long for you (Y/n), I desire you by my side at all times. I need you like I need air” Malleus said in a low voice cupping the girl’s face as he leaned in close to gaze into her eyes. “And yet I know you are destined to eventually fade away with time and I cannot bear to let that come to pass” the fae went on his mouth mere inches away from the human’s as he spoke as passionately as ever. “You love me too don't you? I know you do, I can see it in your eyes” Malleus declared pressing his lips against (Y/n)’s in a fierce kiss. “I do love you, but not as you want me to love you” (Y/n) confessed, confirming the fae’s suspicions about her affection for him. “We’re too different to be happy together Tsunotaro, even if we did love each other as you envisioned” the girl continued trying to turn her head away from the fae.

“Your mortality is not the obstacle you think it is dear (Y/n), I can make you as ageless as I with only a sliver of my magical prowess” Malleus replied forcing the girl to look him in the eye and see the determination he held for accomplishing his dreams of a life with her. “If you love me you’ll let me make your beauty eternal. You’d let me make you my queen” the fae insisted. “I can't say yes to you, not only would it be a false promise to you. But I’d be betraying my betrothed as well and disgrace my family” (Y/n) pressed firmly but still in her soft tone. “Please you have to see reason, take me home and we can forget this ever happened. I swear nothing has to change between us” the girl said hoping to soothe the male’s bruised pride. “So it's that mortal boy that’s getting between us then? Fine, I understand what I must do” Malleus said in a stiff voice. “I was content to just let that whelp keep his life if I could have you, but I see now that I must eradicate him before I can have you as a wife” the fae continued pulling away from (Y/n) and getting to his feet. “I'll exterminate all the loose threads holding you bound to your mortality. Then perhaps you’ll be more willing to accept my proposal of being my immortal bride and queen. Until my task is complete it is better than you sleep instead of burdening yourself with worries about the life you are leaving behind” Malleus said, casting the sleeping curse once more on (Y/n) before leaving to clear the board… THE END

#Yandere Twisted Wonderland #Twisted Wonderland #Yandere Malleus Draconia #Malleus Draconia

140 notes · View notes

booklover41802 · 4 years

Note

Ok can I ask for another Jurdan prompt it’s post Wicked king it’s been several months since Jude was banished and she’s physically healthy again. Vivi decides Jude needs a girls night and forces her into a sexy revealing outfit, Jude gets drugged while Vivi’s distracted but Cardan rescues her before she gets hurt. And it has a happy ending. I love your angst but I want to see your Jurdan happy ending.

Of course! This was really fun to write, and to explore Cardan’s soft side :)

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

Jude

Sitting on the couch in Vivi’s apartment made Jude wonder why mortals ever bothered to do anything. A fish stick dangled out of her mouth, while she swung her legs over the side of the plain colored couch, contemplating life. Her mind had withered and decayed while in the mortal world, wit and strategy a non-essential thing.

She shoved the fish stick in her mouth, swinging her legs and forth, her head resting against the cushions. As she took a bite, Vivi bounced in from the kitchen, a wild glint in her golden eyes, her hands hidden behind her back. When she stopped in front of Jude, Vivi’s lips downturned at the sight of Jude with a fish stick in her mouth. “You’ll choke if you swallow that bite sitting down.”

“I am perfectly content to lie like this while I finish this decadent meal,” Jude said around the food in her mouth. She swallowed, trying to prove her point, but ended up choking. She coughed, ejecting the fish stick from her mouth. Studiously avoiding Vivi’s gaze, Jude discreetly cleared her throat.

“I told you that was going to happen, Jude.”

Jude waved her off and sat up. “Mistakes are the only decisions I seem to be making these days. What’s one more? I have expectations to fulfill, I can’t disappoint myself by doing something good.”

Vivi’s ears twitched as a wicked grin curved her lips, showing off her unnaturally white teeth. “I think I have a solution to your depressing outlook on life.” From behind her back, she pulled out a lacy red body-suit, a black leather mini skirt, and dangerously high black heels. She threw them at Jude. “Put these on, we’re out to a club.”

Jude abandoned the half-eaten fish stick on the table and wrinkled her nose at the clothing. Carefully picking up the body-suit like it was a bomb, she looked at it, then Vivi, and back to the outfit. “You want me to… wear this?”

A mysterious light filled her eyes at Jude’s words. “Of course. How else will you find someone if you wear the clothes you have on,” Vivi motioned to Jude’s wrinkled pajamas. “I have your best interests at heart! It’s time to have some fun, Jude. Cardan is not coming for you.”

Jude winced at her words, knowing she was right, but a small bit of hope was still wrapped tightly around her heart. Of course, Cardan wouldn’t pardon her, but what if he did? What if he still loved her as fiercely as she loved him? What if what if what if. “Only time will tell.”

Taking a deep breath, Vivi took a seat beside her, readying her emotions for the heartbreak she was about to give Jude. “It’s been three months, Jude. You’ve heard nothing from Faerie, and I doubt you ever will. The Fae are not a loving folk. Love is rare to find, especially with a King. Cardan may have loved you at one time, but at this point, it’s better to let go than to hang onto something that will never happen. Cardan is my friend, but you’re my sister-”

Jude raised a hand to stop her from continuing, knowing she was right. The hope that Cardan would show up on their doorstep deflated, but didn’t truly go away. There was one thing that kept it alive. One tiny little detail that Vivi was unaware of. “But what if-”

“Jude-”

“Whatever, I’ll just put it on,” Jude said, trying to hold back tears. Why now? Why had the grief hit her months after being away? Was it the realization that she had something to fight for? That she wasn’t just something that Cardan could throw away, that she was the Queen?

She rose from the couch, outfit in hand, and stalked away to her bedroom to put it on. As she strode towards her room, she angrily wiped away tears, hating Cardan for making her feel this way.

Jude softly shut the door, bracing her hands against the frame, wondering just what she was getting herself into. Her head fell to her chest as she counted her breaths, trying, and failing to calm herself. One breath in, one breath out.

When she had calmed herself enough, she padded over to the mirror up against the wall. Her clothes fell to the floor with barely a sound. She studied herself in the mirror, noting how she had lost weight in her time spent away from Faerie, her gaunt cheekbones protruding ever so slightly. “What have I become,” Jude breathed. “Who have I turned into?” Perhaps it was time to stop clinging to the past as if her life depended on it.

Mind made up, Jude slid the silky lace bodysuit on, shimmied into the leather skirt, and shoved her feet into the ridiculous heels. As an extra precaution, she slipped the rowan berries over her head. When she gazed back into the mirror, she hardly recognized herself. After all, this wasn’t an outfit typically worn by the Queen of Faerie. It was perfect for a night like tonight.

She strutted out the door with a flounce to her steps where Vivi waited beside the door. Vivi donned a steel gray dress with little ruffles at the bottom that clung to her figure in all the best possible ways. Around her neck was a single golden chain that held a circle with the letter H on it. Her wrists were cluttered with chunky bracelets, on her ears dangling all sorts of earrings.

“Jude… you look incredible!” Vivi exclaimed, her hands coming up to cover her mouth in awe.

Jude frowned as she looked down at what she wore. “It’s different from what I’m used to. There’s no place to store a knife in this outfit with it clinging so tight to me.” As if to prove her point, she attempted to pull the fabric down a few inches.

Vivi’s brows furrowed together as she gently grasped her hands to stop her from pulling on it. “Stop yanking the skirt down, it’s supposed to be that short.”

Stretching out of Vivi’s reach, Jude headed for the door, wondering why she even agreed to go out. “Let’s just go before I lose my nerve.”

Behind her, Jude heard Vivi squeal. It was going to be a long night. The pair of them walked side by side out of the apartment, and down to the street below. The streetlights outside of the apartment cast their shadows across the sidewalk, elongating their figures in odd proportions.

Then there it was. The club loomed up like an omnipresent figure dangling at the back of one’s mind. Dark paneling paired with an emerald green overhang shadowed the entire block across from the apartment. High windows rested above the overhang, giving a glimpse into the action inside. Rainbow lighting swirled and twirled from within, music reverberating against the establishment. In golden script the club name was printed on the green fabric.

“The Ouroboros. How original,” Jude said, unimpressed.

Vivi pulled her into the line behind all of the other night owls who couldn’t avoid the enthralling pull of the club. “It’s a new club that just opened up last week. It’s the only place in the entire city where humans and Faeries can come together.”

“Do the humans know they’re among faeries?”

Vivi’s hands twitched as she looked away awkwardly. “Well, no, not exactly. The folk that come here are glamoured to appear as normal humans.”

The line moved fast, and soon enough they were through the door with a flash of false IDs. The bouncer hardly spared them a glance, already motioning for the next set of people inside. They slipped past the velvet rope and into a whole other world.

All along the walls were scones cast with flickering blue light resembling flame, casting the club into a mysterious glow. Jude wouldn’t be surprised if it actually was, as the folk played many tricks upon the mortal eye. High above in the rafters flashing multicolored lights passed over the cluster of bodies dancing in the center of the club, illuminating their features. One glimpse of a tail, another of a wing, scaled skin, a shimmery dress, and sweaty limbs.

Vivi craned her neck, searching the crowd, “I think I see Heather, I’m going to talk to her!” She vanished into the throng of dancing people, leaving Jude alone.

“Thanks, Vivi,” She muttered to herself, casting her eyes around to see if she could find the bar. She spotted it at the very back, the bar made entirely of gold, glistening under the lights.

As she got closer, she noted the bartender possessed eyes like a snake. She wondered how many mortals were deceived by his glamour. His eyes snagged on her, and they narrowed in suspicion. She shifted her gaze to the other patrons sitting there, noticing nothing unusual about them.

She slid into an open seat to have just one drink. She needed it to get her mind off Cardan. Surely one wouldn’t hurt. “Give me your strongest drink,” she shouted over the blaring music thumping in her ears.

The bartender eyed her once and motioned for her ID to be inspected. He glanced at it, her, and back to the ID. He shrugged and poured a glass of a dark frothing liquid in a shot glass. Smoke poured over the sides, like little spiders of death. He slid the drink to her, and she downed it one gulp.

The liquid burned her throat, searing the inside of her mouth. She wouldn’t be surprised if this stuff started to pour out of her ears and eyes. Perhaps she was just a lightweight, but the drink hit her hard. Already her head felt as though it was filled with cotton, the music a dull roar in her ears.

A man in a dark, pinstripe suit with a hat pulled low over his face slid next to her. “Long night?”

Her drink was refilled and she once again downed it, not sparing the man a look. “You have no idea.”

“Allow me to make it better by paying for your drink. They call me Atlas, darling. Can I have your name?” He stuck out his hand over the drink he had ordered for her. A crimson-colored thing that resembled blood.

She turned her head to gaze at the man next to her. The lights passed over his face for a brief second, lighting up the scar that fell over his left eye. With caution she took his hand, gently shaking it, feeling his cold grip seep into her own. “No, but you may call me Nicasia.” Whoever this Atlas person was, she did not trust him in the slightest.

The man, however, burst into loud, obnoxious laughter, banging his fist on the bar. “Now that is the funniest joke I’ve heard in quite some time, darling.” Atlas wiped false tears from his eyes and quickly sobered up, a smirk curving his lips. “Who are you really?”

She took a sip of the drink he had given her and immediately felt the world spin under the feet. “St-Stop calling me darling,” Jude slurred.

“Darling I think you need to lie down. Or, should I say, Jude.” His lips upturned as she stumbled off her chair in an attempt to get away from him. The man began to reach out for her, prepared to guide her to one of the open places scattered across the club.

As she was trying to get away from the bar, Jude backed into another man, the scent of wildflowers and wine tinging the air. She whirled around, nearly falling in her ridiculous shoes. The man steadied her with a light touch on her arms. Her vision was too blurry to make out his features, only detecting a faint resemblance in the back of her mind that she knew him.

“What she needs is for me to take her home. And for you to stop calling her darling.” A voice said. The voice that haunted her dreams, nightmares, and waking moments. Cardan.

“And who are you?” Atlas sneered.

With a woozy head, she turned to gape at Cardan. How did he know where to find her?

“Her husband,” Cardan’s black eyes burned as he glared at Atlas as if trying to singe him where he sat. “I believe my wife will be just fine under my care.”

Those words were enough for Atlas to disappear into the crowd. His figure was gone in an instant, leaving Jude and Cardan alone at the bar.

Cardan reached out and laced his fingers with Jude’s. “Jude, I believe you’ve had enough for tonight. Come with me. You’ll be safe.” He began to tug her towards the exit to bring her where she could get the drinks out of her system.

As soon as she began to walk, Jude lifted her heavy head to look at Cardan, seeing double. Her head rocked back and forth of its own accord, behaving on its own axis apart from the rest of the world. “Jude?” Cardan moved closer, so they were mere inches apart.

The club flickered in and out of focus, her attention torn between giving in to the blissful darkness, or to stay with Cardan. Distantly she could hear him shouting her name, begging her to hold on. Her name on his lips was a panicked scream torn from his lungs. “Stay with me! Jude!”

No longer could she clutch this awareness any longer, and before she knew what she was doing, she grasped hold of his lapels and pulled him close, drawing a breath, to whisper, “I love you, Cardan.” Then everything went dark.

When she awoke some time later, she and Cardan were outside of the club sitting on a bench, with just the open expanse of sky stretching above them, and the luminescent stars winking at them. Cars passed by them, the drivers not sparing them a glance, unaware that royalty was in their midst. It was then that she noticed that she was lying on his lap. She became very aware of their proximity but didn’t deign to move as her head was still pounding from the drinks she had. “Wha-what happened.”

Cardan absentmindedly twirled a strand of her hair through his fingers like a nervous tick. Even just this brief bit of contact sent shivers running down her spine. “A man put something in your drink and had planned to take you somewhere far from the club. I heard him bragging about it before he sat next to you.” Cardan’s face darkened as he reminisced on the past. Jude proceeded to pull herself into a sitting position, her head swimming as she pulled her knees close to her chest. Cardan shifted awkwardly next to her as he adjusted without her weight. “Thank you for… saving me. I owe you.”

He cleared his throat and looked away, focusing on the apartment across the street. “The debt is forgiven.”

The silence stretched out between them, words falling short of what they both desired to express. Jude was the first to break it. “Why are you here, Cardan? You banished me. You humiliated me. Now you’re back like nothing has happened? As though we can go back to the way things were?” He opened his mouth, likely to spout an excuse. She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “No. Tell me the truth, no half-truths.”

He swallowed once, took a breath, and searched her face as if deciding how much to reveal. “I thought you would have gotten my letters by now. They explained it all and my guilt for what I had done. Every day I spend without you is a day with my head underwater. I am drowning without you. I miss you, is that what you wanted to hear? That you are the one person I cannot live without. I-I love you.”

Jude stared at him blankly. “What letters?”

A wicked grin curved his lips at her words. He reached out his hand and tilted her chin up so she was looking into his black eyes. “So you truly have no idea of what I’m talking about?” He cocked his head as he studied her. “Have I finally matched you in your wit and intelligence? I outwitted you, Queen of deceits and lies, admit it.”

She yanked out of his grip, crossing her arms. “I will do no such thing,” she hissed.

But Cardan merely sidled close and ran a finger along the lower side of her lip. Her pulse jumped at his touch. “Hmm, is that so? Is that why you didn’t detect the riddle in my words because you are more clever than I?” His voice was low and throaty, his pupils dilating. When he was like this, she almost wanted to give in, but she held back. Barely.

She didn’t respond, too caught up in what his touch did to her. She was utterly destroyed by him. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing and moved his focus to distract her by moving close enough to kiss her. “What did you say before you passed out? Tell me again.”

“I love you.” She should stop, she should tell him to move away because she was angry at him. But the moment she saw him, her anger had fizzled out, and she had no real reason to deny him.

“Say it again.”

“I love you, Cardan.”

He seemed to be floating on his own isle of paradise. His smile took on a softer edge as he scanned her face for any falsehoods. When he detected none, he leaned forward and pressed a delicate kiss to her forehead. “I missed you more than I can ever express, Jude. Please, don’t ever leave me again.”

“But I’m banished, and I cannot return,” she whispered under her breath.

“Are you not the Queen and my wife? Do you not wear a crown? Until and unless she is pardoned by the crown, let her not step one foot in Faerie or forfeit her life. You could have returned at any time, my darling Jude.”

It was official. Jude was the biggest idiot on the planet. In answer to his words, she pulled him closer to her and hugged him around his middle. Her face was buried in his chest as she said, “I was a fool, blinded by anger. I did not think you were capable of such mastery of words.” She shuddered against him, a few tears falling down her face. “Is this a dream? Am-Am I dreaming?” She was afraid if she opened her eyes, she would wake up in her room at Vivi’s apartment and none of this would be real.

After a brief pause, Cardan rested his chin on her hair and held her tight against him. “This is real. I’m real. We can go home, together.”

She didn’t let go as her lips trembled under the sheer relief that he was here and wasn’t going to disappear. “Take me home, Cardan.”

Jude felt his smile as he brought his lips close to her ears, his breathy voice sending tingles all across her skin. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Tags: @illyrian-bookworm, @highladyofstoriesandmusic, @webcraft4eveh, @thefangirlofhp

#ask #thank you for the ask :)#Jurdan #tcp #twk #qon #the cruel prince #the wicked king #queen of nothing #holly black

58 notes · View notes

eggytranslations · 3 years

Text

Volume 1, Chapter 11-Fate

Content warnings: n/a, maybe prequel to some nsfw?

The night was deathly still; even the candlelight barely flickered.

In this meager space, Shen Qingxuan’s voice was soft, yet it shrouded every corner, his expression serious, even solemn.

With such an expression he had asked, “Shall our separate paths converge into one?”

Yi Mo was somewhat surprised.

How could he not be surprised?

He was originally just a snake, and only because of his cold and unfeeling personality, was he chosen and enlightened by someone who had already ascended to the heavens as an immortal.

He had cultivated for thousands of years, and after one more heavenly trial, he, too, could shed his mortal body and be born anew. Joining the immortal ranks was just a matter of another two or three hundred years. But now there was this mortal, Shen Qingxuan, saying clearly and resolutely: Shall our separate paths converge into one?

Where could that possibly be, Heaven or Earth?

He could tell that Shen Qingxuan did not have the constitution needed for cultivation, which had something to do with his fate. Because of this fate, Shen Qingxuan was destined for prosperity and abundance beyond compare, yet he could only drift about in the mortal realm, endlessly reincarnating. Although he was in dire straits at this moment, it was just a fleeting period of misfortune.

From the first time they met, Yi Mo understood that this was his and Shen Qingxuan’s fate.

They were destined to meet, otherwise why would he, who had always hid himself in the mountains, enter the Shen family’s courtyard on a whim, go so far as to coil himself around the railing in his true snake form to bask in the sun, and let Shen Qingxuan drench him with a cup of hot tea?

Helping him was just a matter of yielding to fate.

As the mortals would say, he was Shen Qingxuan's , fated helper, and assisting him through adversity would allow him to obtain merits as well.

This was inherently a good thing for both parties, and after Shen Qingxuan overcame this calamity, he would naturally follow the currents of fate. In the future when he became some high official, he would no longer have anything to do with him. Yi Mo could care less about the wealth and status of the mortal realm, but Shen Qingxuan’s fate was predestined. With a body weighed down by oppressive, mortal bones, he would never be able to transcend this world.

Moreover, a mortal's life lasted less than a hundred years, and to him a hundred years was just a drop in the ocean. In the future, when Shen Qingxuan died of old age, and his bones returned to dust, he would still look like this, wandering throughout the world. How could their paths converge into one?

Mortals, they were always so greedy. They wanted to live long and healthy, enjoy fame and fortune, and even dared to meet with a yao at the end of the road.

Yi Mo slowly walked over until he stood with his head bowed over Shen Qingxuan, and after intensely scrutinizing him for a long while, he remarked, "I really underestimated you.”

Shen Qingxuan knew that his words were rash, even offensive, but even he did not know why Yi Mo would say something so out of the blue. At this moment, Yi Mo’s expression was as indifferent as usual. Unable to find any clues from his face, Shen Qingxuan decided to take this sentence as a compliment.

He did not expect Yi Mo to drily continue after a pause, “Although you are so thin and weak that even the wind can blow you away, your lust is awfully strong.”

Shen Qingxuan, who did not hear clearly at first, stared at him blankly with his face still turned up. When it dawned on him, a brilliant cloud abruptly blazed across his face. Suddenly unable to speak coherently, he berated hoarsely, "W-what nonsense are you talking about!”

Yi Mo, still standing with his hands clasped behind his back without a single ripple on his face, merely uttered each word slowly, "I saved your life, and promised to restore you to full health, so it is only natural that you want to repay me with your body. But I have not shown any indecent desire, and yet you are already this eager. You have truly surprised me.”

His words were spoken clearly and distinctly, yet they churned Shen Qingxuan’s mind into a muddied bog. He knew perfectly well something was not right, yet his tongue twisted into a knot, rendering him unable to utter a sound.

As he watched Shen Qingxuan’s control rupture into a blush across his face, Yi Mo raised his hand after deliberating for a moment, fingers delicately curled, and touched that shamefully hot face with his fingertips. It seemed as if he were inspecting something and toying with it at the same time. His actions were impetuous, yet Shen Qingxuan was in a complete daze. He did not even think to dodge, and allowed those ice-cold fingers to touch his burning cheeks.

They were so cold. Cold and icy, like lifeless porcelain. Yet soft and nimble, a living being devoid of warmth.

A snake yao—not even a human. Shen Qingxuan truly could not make sense of his deep infatuation. He could not help but gaze at his face through half-lidded eyes, taking in those picturesque and indescribably beautiful features. Then his heart began to flutter in his chest, beating so quickly that it did not make sense. But since when did this world ever make sense?

While in a world of his own, Yi Mo continued to graze his cheeks with his fingertips, taking in their warmth, the delicate skin suffused with a radiant blush. With such thin skin, how could he be this shameless? He opened his palm, turned his wrist, and let his ice-cold palm thoroughly cover that heat source. Extremely warm. A foreign yet familiar warmth flowed through his palm, and he could even feel the faint pulsing of tiny vessels beneath the delicate skin. A moment later, his palm slowly traced Shen Qingxuan’s face, moving from his forehead to his cheekbones, then to his cheeks, before finally resting on his sharp jaw. After enduring those ice-cold caresses for a short while, Shen Qingxuan's face not only did not cool down, but instead grew even hotter until it was scalding to the touch.

Yi Mo was a yao who had lived for over two thousand years; what strange stories had he not heard? Yet he did not understand how this half-crippled mortal of merely twenty or so years could have such ambitions. Nevermind that they were both men, he dared to entertain such delusions between a human and a yao.

Aiya—this truly made him open his eyes.

Absorbed in his own world, Yi Mo caressed him for a while before leisurely retracting his hand and remarking, "Thinner, but still smooth.”

Shen Qingxuan finally reacted with a low "Ah" and instinctively shrank back, coming to his senses and scolding at once, "You think this is a business transaction that you need to inspect before buying?”

Yi Mo raised his eyes and looked straight at him. "So you want to repay me with your body, yet not allow me to appraise the quality?”

Although Shen Qingxuan was still blushing, he had regained his wits for the most part. Seeing Yi Mo speak so directly and shamelessly, with just the two of them alone in this room and almost no distance in between them, Shen Qingxuan decided that he might as well lay down his shame. He murmured, “According to your words, I am only repaying your kindness. But have you ever seen a man offer up his body in the name of gratitude? There are no such records in all those books.”

However as he spoke, Yi Mo stretched out his hand again and untied his belt.

As soon as his belt loosened, Shen Qingxuan pursed his lips and swallowed back what he had wanted to say. All at once his heart realized—It was not that Yi Mo had misunderstood.

He had not misunderstood. Rather, Yi Mo had understood him so well, that he deliberately credited his feelings as mere gratitude. In this way of borrowing and returning, coming and going, repaying a debt was much easier to resolve, without too much entanglement.

––Yi Mo did not want to be entangled with him at all.

Once Shen Qingxuan understood this point, his heart felt like it had been drenched with ice water, the chill permeating his core. Even he could not describe his emotions. But he was somewhat calculating after all, and he recovered without betraying his feelings. He could not compete with that shrewd and experienced old yao. Whatever he says, goes, and Shen Qingxuan could do nothing about it. So he remained motionless, allowing Yi Mo to undress him.

The atmosphere in the room abruptly returned to silence, only the faint rustling of clothes audible.

Shen Qingxuan looked down to see the collar of his robes wide-open, exposing his snow-white inner robe. He watched as those slender yet forceful fingers worked nimbly, loosening the ties on the side of his waist, before untying the next one. When those frigid fingers touched his skin, Shen Qingxuan would shiver, goosebumps rising from his skin.

Sensing his reaction, Yi Mo halted, and after a moment of silence, asked, “Are you still willing to give yourself to me like this?”

Shen Qingxuan was also quiet for a moment, before giving a low chuckle and removing his own crown from his hair. A head of long hair flowed down, the silky strands covering half of his face.

"Since I am repaying your kindness, I should show some sincerity.” The corner of Shen Qingxuan’s lips quirked as he put his hair crown aside and turned back with an easy smile on his face. "Not to mention, you are a snake and cannot freeze me to death. Even if you were a glacier, I would still be willing.”

Hearing his attempt at courage, Yi Mo simply pressed his ice-cold palm firmly against Shen Qingxuan, deliberately making him shudder.

"Then show me your sincerity.”

~~~~~

This chapter is translated by Renee (wooo her first!)

Edited by Eggy and Tao

Happy 520 (an informal valentines day because it sounds like “I love you” in Chinese) so posting one day earlier :~)

Next chapter in two weeks

#a snake encounter #yu she #su hen #danmei #tl #eggytranslations #renee

8 notes · View notes

butmakeitgayblog · 4 years

Photo

Clarke + Lexa (A Romeo and Juliet AU)

“What is she doing here?”

The air steals from her lungs as her eyes fall to the offender in question, her hand tightening lethally around the stem of her glass. Clarke could do nothing more than clench her jaw painfully as she watched the mortal enemy of her family’s bloodline nod and smirk smugly at a scowling passing stranger.

“I don’t know,” she seethed.

Her heart throbbed with indignant disbelief. Though she shouldn’t have bothered with dubiety at any actions rising from her, knowing quite intimately the ends to which the whole lot would stoop to make a point.

At least she seemed to be alone this time.

“Well I’m not going to stand for it. I’m going to have her removed.”

“No, Bellamy,” she said sternly, lifting a hand to the man’s chest to impede his path. “You will not cause a scene.”

“She’s doing well enough of that on her own.” His emphatic gesture drew her attention back to the interloper, feeling a spark of something dark and unbecoming at the way the woman’s eyes traveled along the bust of a party reveler’s gown.

Gritting her jaw at the blatant appreciation, Clarke drew herself up and continued decisively. “I will go speak with her and remind her that she is… not welcomed in these halls. A moment, please.“

Regally squaring her shoulders, Clarke handed her forgotten drink off to a waiter, folding her hands behind her back as she swept across the floor. She felt her stomach tighten in apprehension and annoyance as a twinkling set of green latched onto her instead as though nothing were out of the ordinary as she watched Clarke approach.

Stopping just short of barreling into the self satisfied woman, Clarke expelled an anxious breath of air through her nose as she struggled to restrain herself. “What are you doing here?”

The cheeky grin she registered before receiving a prim bow only served to raise her hackles and internal temperature just that much more.

Straightening, the woman tucked the tips of her fingers into the tight lapel of her posh looking jacket, an air of self indulgence radiating her every word.

“You know how I love a good party.”

“I don’t presume to know what you do and do not enjoy, Ms. Montague.”

Tipping slightly forward, the woman smiled devilishly. “Now, Clarke… We both know that simply is not true.”

Feeling the flush explode across the apples of her cheeks at her regret of her choice of words, Clarke’s eyes darted around to register those whose steely gazes lingered on them through the exchange. “You have to go, Lexa. They’re already unhappy with your presence here.”

“Fortunate for us all that I am not here for their enjoyment, is it not?”

“Lexa-”

“You lot can be unbearably no fun when you want to be… Very well,” she conceded airily, holding her hand up in a show of surrender. “If you say I must go, then I shall leave.”

“Tha-”

“But it will be you who must show me out… If for nothing other than to save us both a scene at the rough hands of others.”

Words dying on her tongue, Clarke floundered a moment, miffed with herself for not having seen that coming. She knew the games, the never ending battle of wit between them quite well enough by now. How she’d walked right into that checkmate of reasoning…

Eyes doing a final lap of the ballroom, Clarke nodded discreetly as she stepped forward and gripped Lexa by the arm. “Do not make this worse than it already-”

“Unhand me!” Lexa exclaimed with a smile as she very much willingly allowed herself to be dragged from the room.

Rolling her eyes deeply, Clarke realized she should’ve seen that coming too.

___________________________________

“Why must you do this every time?” Clarke sighed and then moaned, hands gripping fistfuls of brunette locks as lips trailed over the swell of her breasts.

“My eyes screamed for the chance to see you in this gown, what would you have me do,” Lexa mumbled into the giving flesh. “When I spied it hanging in your chambers, I knew neither God nor the stars above could stop me from making an appearance.”

Grunting annoyedly, Clarke gently pulled the woman back up, cupping her jaw as she panted against kiss bruised lips. “You can’t keep doing these things. They’re going to hurt you one day-”

“I’d very much like to see them try,” Lexa grinned roguishly, her chin lifting defiantly as her hands continued to wander.

“Why must you tantalize them with offerings of conflict?” Clarke asked between pulls from primrose and champagne bubbled lips. “So I or you both may be caught in the crossfire? You’re perfectly content with such thoughts, Lexa?… My family, like yours,” she emphasized for what felt like the hundredth time, “have generations of hatred between them-”

“And yet I love you… With every breath of my lungs.”

Melting into the woman currently pinning her to the wall of the small drawing room, Clarke rested her forehead against her lover’s, needing a moment to clear her mind from the words and suppleness of her kiss. “… This peace, this truce… it is fragile… If they begin warring again-”

“I will side with you,” Lexa pulled back with a small serene smile. “The absolution of that you must hold within your heart, Clarke. The surety of my love and devotion… The sun will rise each morning, the tide will surge and retreat, and I will denounce the very sound of my name, rather than live a life without you.”

“You cannot say such things,” Clarke whispered with pained solemnity, hands cupping the face looking upon her in adoration. “I will not survive should anything happen to keep you from me. And they would plunge heaven and earth asunder at the very whisperings of you and me.”

“That will not happen… My heart is yours. Nothing beyond that matters.”

“Your family-”

“Is stubborn,” Lexa cut in softly, trailing fingers over the cleft of her jaw and chin. “And foolish. And blind for not seeing how beautiful the vowels and consonants the name Capulet can feel upon the tongue.”

Clarke could only fall deeper into the woman, shuddering with baited breath with each declaration, touch, and kiss.

“We will wait for our time. For when I am the head of house and crest… And when that day comes? Family name will no longer matter… As yours and mine will be the same-”

Lexa’s words cut off as their lips crashed together. Strong hands ever steadying as Clarke’s heart swelled beyond her ribs, beyond her body, at the promise and need to reciprocate in kind. She very nearly wanted to cry with it all, imagining a someday that only felt real within the safety of those arms.

And then she heard a knock.

A small gasp burst from her lips as she pulled back with a pop.

They stood frozen, staring flushed and slack jawed at each other for the longest beat of a moment. A smirk began to pull at the edges of plump lips, blue eyes flashing dangerously in warning to whatever ridiculous thought was playing through that infuriatingly gorgeous mind.

A second knock sounded, effectively kicking Clarke’s brain into action. “Go,” she whispered in a frantic rush, unceremoniously shoving Lexa toward the window. “Go, go, go.”

“Ow,” Lexa chuckled under her breath, steps stumbling across the room under urgent hands. “Here I stand dousing you in sweet nothings of devotion, and I receive naught but a boot to the backside in return.”

“You’ll receive much more to your backside if they find you locked away with me,” Clarke hissed, flipping the latch and throwing open the window. “Now go.”

“What? No farewell kiss to tide me and my aching heart over?”

“Lexa,” she grumbled, fisting a hand to the front of her velveted jacket, feeling the stiff embroidered stitching of the Montague crest that stood as a bane on her heart and happiness. She smashed their lips together for a fraction of a second, resolutely ignoring the vibrating laughter against her mouth.

“My word,” Lexa grinned when Clarke pulled away. “Contain yourself, m'lady.”

Huffing quietly, Clarke pushed her to the edge of the sill, holding one hand to steady the woman as she lifted herself over to the ground outside. “The garden should be clear of the party by now, take the rose path to the servant gate. Now, go-”

“Wait,” Lexa interrupted, hands landing on the door of the window to stop it before it could close. “… Shall I come to you tonight?”

“Lexa.”

“Honorably, of course. If only to help free you from the intricacies of your gown.”

Snorting indelicately at that blatant lie, Clarke shook her head. “My dress? I’m sure.”

“If the occasion should arise that you require my hands in other matters?” Lexa whispered into the air between them, leaning until their lips were a mere breath apart, “I would joyously be at your service… However you should need me.”

The sigh escaped her before she knew what she was doing, neck stretching forward to chase the mischievous smirk as it danced just out of her reach.

“Tonight, my love,” Lexa grinned, releasing her hands from the window and beginning to walk backwards toward the path.

Correcting herself from where she had swayed in pursuit of contact, Clarke glared at the glinting green eyes that shone brightly under the hang of the moon. “You will be the death of me.”

“Strange. Within me, you breathe only life.”

Rolling her eyes at the saccharine words, Clarke shook her head and eased the windows closed. “Goodnight, Lexa.”

“Until tonight,” she emphasized through the darkness that had already fallen, finally turning away at the edge of the small grassy patch that lined the sprawling home to take off down the path as Clarke had instructed.

As she snapped shut the latch on the folded shut window, voices filtered in from the hall to her ears. “Clarke?” came the call along with another knock before the handle turned and a head looked in. “There you are,” Bellamy breathed a disgruntled sigh of relief. “Octavia, she’s here.”

“Where have you been?” the younger Blake sibling demanded lightly as she hustled past her brother in the doorway. “We’ve been searching for ages. Why are you hiding in here? What did that wretched girl do?”

“What?” Clarke asked, feeling a slice of anger at the descriptor. “She did nothing. I asked her to leave and she did.”

“Then why the lack of answer when we first passed this room?”

“Not that you are owed an answer from me,” Clarke frowned, drawing herself up with a haughty air of elegance, “but I wished to take a moment for myself. These parties are taxing on the sensibilities as it is… An… annoyance such as that woman’s presence only adds to my distaste for it all.”

She felt sick at the words, the lies coating her mouth thicker and more acridly than normal with the ghost of soft lips and hands still fresh on her skin. She loathed the mantle of feud defined propriety she was forced to maintain. But life was what it was. And her name was unerringly Capulet, so the lies were a hideous necessity to her life, as well as the safety of the fleeing figure who commanded the very beat of her heart.

A hand softly landed on her arm, her gaze shifting up to caring brown eyes. “I’m sorry the party was ruined by her, I knew I should have stepped in myself.”

“Don’t be silly, Bellamy,” she lightly assured, patting his hand warmly before pulling away toward the door. “She is nothing I cannot handle.” Clarke’s heart tripped over that decidedly more pleasant falsehood, smiling to herself at the cunning, sharp face smirking frustratingly within her mind’s eye.

“Well, let us all forget that unpleasantness for the time being and try to enjoy the party,” Bellamy said jovially as the siblings followed shortly behind her out into the hall.

“Yes, let us enjoy what’s left of the festivities.”

“I have a feeling the night is going to turn out much more pleasurable than we’d originally anticipated.”

Clarke didn’t bother to temper her smile at the man’s offhand statement as they reentered the great hall.

‘Yes… More pleasurable indeed.’

#Clexaweek2020 #Clexaweek2020 Day 1 #Day 1 Forbidden Love #Clexa fic #Clexa au #Clarke x Lexa #just a little nothin #romeo and juliet au

329 notes · View notes

not-from-the-absence-of-violence · 3 years

Text

For we rise and we fall, and we crash on the coastlines (Only our love will last 'til the end); Chapter 1

thank you to @drowninginstarlights for editing! Heads up for Travis’ and Gable’s terrible dad’s and mom death!

the journey of a selkie, a cursed fisher, a lighthousekeeper, her aprentice and a very confused mortal as their lives intertwine and the magic around them grows.

or a selkie au with general folklore themes!

In the end, Uriel doesn’t even remember what happened. All they have are pieces of their memories, flashes of knowledge. They remember being afraid of the sea, ever since they were young. They grew up in a big coastal city, where the sea was as much your enemy as your only source of income. They remember their father, a deeply unpleasant man. They remember anger. They remember a fire, and a boat sinking, and they don’t think they’ll ever be sure what actually caused it, but that doesn’t matter. There was no doubt in their father’s mind that it was caused by them.

They remember, before that, being in school and being taught not to curse people, not even as a joke, and certainly not on the sea. Magic is finicky business. It doesn’t take much for things to get out of hand.

So here’s the thing. They remember their father spitting his last words at them, but they can never remember the exact phrasing. Must have been something like “may you dwell upon the sea forever,” or “may you never stray far from the sea.” It must have been, because they remember thinking Odd words for a dying man .

There is power in the last words of a dying man, they did not think.

After that, they couldn’t drown. They remember not being able to drown. They don’t remember the months after, the ones they must have spent on some shore somewhere, slowly realising something in their father’s wording must have made it so they couldn’t die. So they couldn’t ever leave.

They stared out to the vast expanse of the ocean, now both their prison and only companion.

William’s father hated magic. He was a wealthy man whose money made money, and he’d never seen any point in such frilly business as magic.

William’s mother, however, had loved magic. Not only that, she’d respected it, and believed that it was important to teach it, as much as any of the other fundamental truths about the universe. There were even whispers that her own mother had come from the sea itself.

Like anything his father hated and his mother loved, William adored magic. He’d stand and stare with great intent whenever his mother had shown him even the most basic of protection charms. But then she’d fallen ill, and then suddenly she was gone. Really gone, gone as in there was no trace of her left in the house, not even her body. It hadn’t taken long for Father to get rid of all her possessions too.

“She’s gone back to the sea,” William would tell people. They’d look at him uncomfortably, clearly thinking this was just a child struggling to process grief, but he always knew better. The only thing he always wondered is why she hadn’t taken him with her.

Years later, his father was on a trip and William was alone. He had grown up attempting to forget about his mother, about everything, but he couldn’t. He’d grown up to enjoy being left alone in his vast house where he never felt at home, spending the downtime between his father’s presence nursing his wounds.

He stared out of the window of the penthouse, dreading his father’s return, hoping with every inch of him that his father’s ship wouldn’t make it to port.

Eventually, he couldn’t stand there any longer, so he turned inwards. There wasn’t much left of his mother’s teachings in the house, his own memories turned fuzzy with time, but he had managed to snatch a single grimoire from the library. Bargains were easy, he imagined, and especially so for him. He too, in some way, belonged to the sea.

So in the middle of a dark, cold night, while the full moon hung heavy in the sky, he went to plead to the waters.

“I am not, I must admit, entirely sure what this whole deal is,” he said, the moonlight shining off the sand around him, “But you took my mother from me.”

He looked at the lapping edges of the water. The sea remained just the sea. The waves came and went.

“I get that you won’t just drown my father for me, and I don’t particularly have much to offer but-” he shuddered a bit, knowing what he was about to do was cruel and very dangerous, “You can take me, William.”

As he spoke his name, the wind picked up suddenly. It smelt of salt and distant rainfall.

“You can take me like you took my mother,” he continued, “And in exchange, I want you to make sure his ship doesn’t get here.”

The sea seemed to agitate, the waves picking up, dark even in the moonlight.

“Did you hear me?” he yelled, raising his voice over the rushing wind, “You just need to drown-”

As he spoke his father’s true name, the world went black.

He hadn’t expected to wake up, after that. It seemed fair enough, a life for a life. Maybe he would get to be a cool water spirit, scaring tourists. Or maybe a fish, with no memories at all. He did not expect to wake up and find himself a seal.

He knew about selkies, sure, but waking up and being a seal was still a shock. He stared at this new body, his new completely different body, attempting to rationalize what he knew was true - that it was him.

The other thing he did not expect was to wake up looking onto the ocean, and seeing a storm raging. There was a ship, tossing up and down with the waves, a very familiar ship. It was so close to port, but he knew that it couldn’t make it. It was sinking. His father’s ship was sinking.

He knew it was the sea showing him their deal was signed. He hadn’t known, not truly, the enormity of his choice until he stared at it, burning in front of him. He didn’t know how to feel as he stared into the sinking ship.

How many people had he just killed? What was he supposed to do?

He stayed there for a long time, looking on until the ship fully disappeared under the waves. Eventually, when there was nothing but dark wreckage on the surface, he dove down into the water. Time to learn how to be a seal.

At least now he didn’t have to be human anymore. At least then he could swim far away, see where the ocean currents take him.

It’s not like there was anyone at home missing him anyway.

Eventually, Uriel got their hands on two things: a small living, and a fishing boat. The boat was just a little too small for them, but it was cozy. She was old enough that her boards creaked in the wind, ropes faded and fraying, and the paint was so worn that her original name was entirely illegible.

Uriel couldn’t die, and they couldn’t leave the waters for too long,or they got antsy. They’d never gone away for long enough to test the ocean's patience, but it wasn’t hard to imagine the consequences. So living on the water was their only option, and as they still enjoyed food and food cost money, fishing it was.

It was a lonely existence, but they discover you can get used to even the loneliest things. They had eternity in front of them to learn how to do their job, and do it well.

They settled in a small town by the name of Safe Harbour. Uriel knew painfully little of magic to understand the how or why, but the town was protected somehow and the magic was strong. Everyone was perfectly content to buy Uriel’s fish, and never talk to them unless they spoke first.

Routine took over and life was almost pleasant. Uriel wasn’t exactly happy, but they imagined this is as happy as people like them got to be, so they pressed on. There was always more fish to be caught.

William met Uriel the only good way of meeting people, which is while robbing them. By now, he was perfectly capable of hunting for his own food, but it was such a chore, and a boring one at that. Other seals could tell he was different, that the sea owned him in a different way, and anway, he couldn’t actually talk to them. He didn’t have to be a seal, all the time. But it wasn’t like he could really talk to the humans either, and the vulnerability of being human once again always set him on edge. So he stayed a seal, and passed back and forth through towns, being a general nuisance.

The only consistent thing about his life these days was stealing, and that was practically second nature. So he didn’t think anything of it when he swam up to a small fishing vessel to get his lunch for the day.

He managed to climb up on the deck, and was about to flop back into the sea, triumphant with a fish in his mouth, when he heard a loud voice.

“Hey!” they shouted.

He froze, turning to look at the irate fisher. He wasn’t the type to be afraid, not anymore, but this person was incredibly tall with long, flowing hair that was almost stark white tied haphazardly back. They had the look of someone who had been on sea for years, but they also didn’t look older than maybe their late twenties. They were also holding a harpoon, pointed menacingly at him.

He wasn’t the type to be afraid, but he was, perhaps, a little nervous.

“I swear those damn seals get smarter every time,” they muttered.

He dropped the fish out of his mouth and sighed. “I have always been this smart, I'll have you know.”

This made them pause, looking at him baffled for a second before they let out a cry and charged at him with the harpoon.

“Whoa, okay no need to be rude,” he said, attempting to quickly move out of the way. But he was, in fact, a seal, and seals aren’t made for quick motions on land, to his dismay.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. He transformed into a man.

The stranger stopped again, the harpoon dangerously close to his body.

“Who are you? And what are you doing on my boat?” they say.

Travis couldn’t help but grin as he held up his hand, with his fish clutched in it. “I feel like it’s rather obvious.”

Uriel didn’t know how to feel. There was a man on their boat. That’s an undeniable fact. First there had been a seal, and now there was a very annoying silver haired stranger, wearing a ridiculous coat and actively stealing their fish with his bare hands.

They could deal with seals. They could deal with other sea creatures. They weren’t in any way prepared to deal with this.

“Asking for names, just like that?” he said, “How rude of you.”

They could feel more annoyance bubbling up inside them. “I wasn't asking for your name!”

The stranger smirked at them again, clearly enjoying getting them riled up. They should have harpooned him to death then and there. They’ll never know why they didn’t.

“Well, you may call me Travis Matagot anyway,” he said magnanimously, dropping the fish and extending a hand.

They stared at it incredulously, before deciding that their life was already so weird, this might as well happen. They shook it.

“You can call me, uh…” they said. It had been so long since they had to give out names like this. “Gable,” they settled on eventually.

“Like the roof thing,” he said, deadpan.

Gable felt their cheeks heating up. “Shut up!” they said, still holding a lowered harpoon in their other hand, “You were stealing from me, what makes you think-”

“I was hungry,” he said, shrugging. He seemed harmless, if very annoying, so they cautiously put the harpoon down.

“Can’t you fish? You are a seal part of the time, apparently.”

Travis visibly relaxed a little once they’re no longer armed. “Now, why would I, when I can have others do it for me?”

“You could have just asked me,” they said.

Now it was Travis’ turn to be taken aback. He stared at them. “What?” he said.

“I have a lot of fish soup,” Gable said, knowing what they were saying is surreal but being certain that by now they were far too late to stop this trainwreck of a conversation.

“Like in general?” he seemed almost amused.

“I always make too much,” they admit.

That's how Travis ended up in their painfully crowded combined kitchen and living room, his coat draped over the back of the chair he was sitting on, staring at a hot bowl of fish soup.

He almost wondered if he ought to accept food at all, but although he didn’t know what to make of Gable yet, they certainly didn’t seem the type to trap him eternally by feeding him.

Gable stared at him, almost self consciously. He almost wanted to pretend he didn’t like it, just to see how they’d react, but regrettably he was hungrier than he thought, and the soup was surprisingly good.

“You liked it,” they said, grinning.

“It was fine,” he said, stopping himself just short of asking for seconds.

“I have spent a lot of time perfecting that soup, Travis.”

He laughed. Time had been something of a laughable concept for a while now. “Well, can’t have been that long. How old are you, twenty five?”

That made his companion pause. They looked down and, honest to god, started counting on their fingers. “Probably forty by now,” they said, looking at him sheepishly. “No clue what that is in seal-man years, or whatever.”

He stared at them, somewhat intrigued at last. But not enough to pry, certainly. “First of all, you must have heard of selkies before,” he said. They gave him a blank stare that meant they honestly probably hadn’t. “And I don’t know either, we don’t age, exactly.”

Gable shrugged. “Sure, did you want more soup?”

“Well if you insist,” he said, passing his bowl to them.

They fell into this new routine together easily. Travis would come and try and steal things or otherwise be an annoyance. Gable would threaten him with increasingly odd weapons or just bodily throw him off the side.

And sometimes Travis stayed, and ate Gable’s repertoire of fish based dishes, or mucked about in the small space of the boat. They both occasionally went to town, although mostly separately, as Gable had the reputation of a gentle constant and Travis was rather more of a trickster cryptid.

They never talked about the pasts that plagued them or the curses on their heads, and they were both entirely too stubborn to admit this is the happiest they had been in a very, very long time.

There wasn’t a single moment that they realised they had become friends, and certainly not one they acknowledged. There was only a night, and a tipsy Travis falling asleep on the couch, his silver gray coat left behind, still slung over the chair he usually ate at. There was only a morning Gable spent staring at it wistfully, telling themselves they shouldn’t read into it.

There was him waking up, not for a second doubting his coat would still be there, safe and untouched.

And so in the fragile silence of their friendship, time pressed on.

#skyjacks #campaign podcast #campaign skyjacks #travis matagot #gable skyjacks #trable #selkie au

13 notes · View notes

if-found-return-to-gusu · 3 years

Text

Happy Birthday to Me pt 10

While he was gone, I kept dancing with A-Lian and making faces for her to giggle at. It worked quite nicely until she heard the obviously very familiar sound of her parents singing. Instantly deciding she was tired of her poor uncle’s antics in favor of wanting to be held by her mother (fair) I shuffled her along to the stage. She waddled the last few steps to her mom who immediately swooped her up. Jin Ling had already ascended to his rightful throne in his father’s arms again, his favorite place that evening it seems, and the two doting parents started to dance along with their song (which was, fittingly enough, “I wanna dance with somebody”. Pff)

Somewhere near the end of the song Lan Zhan finally came back with the promised sweets. He looked a bit concerned and mildly heartbroken to find that A-Lian was no longer with me. When he asked where she had gone I just pointed up to the almost obnoxiously perfect family picture on stage. (Obnoxious because of the peacock, and almost because Shijie is always perfect and never obnoxious.)

The king demanded that he get to sing a song so before they could be shuffled off the stage they were allowed to sing a rather off-key rendition of “twinkle twinkle little star” with A-Ling belting his little heart out and A-Lian babbling her best to follow along.

It was so adorable that I had to look at something else or I’d end up crying again. So instead I started poking at the cake that was still being held by the steadfast Lan Zhan.

I’d barely managed to shove a huge bite in my mouth when I felt a forceful yank, taking me away from my cake and my Lan Zhan! Unacceptable!

Turns out it was, of course, my darling little brother telling me it was my turn. RUDE

“YOu could have at least let me finish my cake, Asshole!” I grumbled at him once I was finally able to swallow the lump of frosting that had jammed my mouth shut.

(Gamby yelled at me to watch my language so close to the kids. Oops. Sorry Gamby)

I got shoved up on stage then despite my continued protests. SangSang asked me what I wanted to sing and after a moment of thought there really was no other choice for me.

Okay

I know it’s a meme.

Okay I get it. Alright? He-Man and lol and whatever. Haha. BUt for real,

“What’s Up” from 4 Non Blondes fuckig SLAPS okay?

And I’ve loved it WAY longer than it’s been a meme! Fuck you He-Man! (Yes I’m aware I used the meme in question on my blog once. I am a multi-faceted human being and am perfectly able to compartmentalize thank you).

So the song starts off pretty quiet but after a few seconds Gamby all of a sudden shrieked like an excited teenager and practically begged me to sing it too.

So obviously yes, right? I’m not gonna say no to a duet with Gamby!

Oh it was so FUN! We were both really hamming it up in the best way and sometimes barely even able to sing it because we were trying so hard not to laugh.

We had a stellar audience too, all looking comically enraptured by the song, swaying in time to the music. I think SangSang even pulled out a fake lighter ap on his phone to hold in the air as he swayed.

The song ended to energetic applause and we both took our bows dutifully before Gamby pulled me into another tight, tight hug.

“It’s our song,” she said in my ear. “I used to sing this to you when you were just a sprout!”

FUCK

Okay hold on.

Sorry the memory of it made me well up again.

So you have to understand. I have always LOVED this song. Not just, like, liked it or thought it was fun or anything. I LOVE this song. Like top 5 forever. Maybe even number 1. Just.

This song for me. It comforts me. I don’t remember anything from my early childhood but this song made me feel nostalgic. Safe. I found it when I was like… 15? 16? And just it was SO familiar.

It turns out that Gamby and Mom used to sing it together with me all the time. The feeling I was getting whenever I heard that song. It was her. And it was Mom. The feeling I get from that song is the feeling of being loved by my parents. With no expectations. Nothing to repay. Just pure love.

I don’t remember my mom. But I have that now. I have that feeling.

Okay

Okay I’m fine. I’ve blown my nose and we can carry on.

So I’d mostly re-composed myself by the time I found Lan Zhan again only to discover that he’d just stood there the whole time just…. Holding the cakes.

I freaked out a little due to my honestly a bit overly-emotional. I took the cakes away and set them aside so I could rub his arms while scolding him. (Did I really do that? Why?? Ugh I’m an idiot)

I told him he could have put the cakes on the table or something and that his arms must be tired! I think I just wanted an excuse to touch him more. But I was a bit high on adrenalynn and the liquor was still making me a little warm.

So I’m gonna blame it on that.

While I made a buffoon of myself, Jiang Cheng and Huaisang did a cover of Meatloaf’s Let me Sleep on It.

It was hilarious. They had taken the energy that had honestly started with “My Heart will Go On” and just cranked it all the way up to 11. It was so good to see Jiang Cheng just having FUN without having to worry what he looked like for once.

He always has to be on his best behavior. It must be exhausting.

But now, with Nie Huaisang playing the part of the overly-pushy love interest asking him to ‘love her forever’ and Jiang Cheng pleading for more time to consider back and forth. Ah it was amazing. I rested my head on Lan Zhan’s shoulder while I watched it, feeling pleasantly warm and just honestly so loved. It struck me again just how many people had come here just to celebrate me. I still can’t wrap my head around it.

I held Lan Zhan’s hand as I thought about it though, lacing our fingers together because I can and it’s free. I sighed after a while, just feeling so content. I told Lan Zhan as much and was rewarded by a hand playing idly with my hair.

“I’m glad you are,” he said. I could feel the words rumbling in his chest. “You deserve to be.”

I looked up at him then, all indignant because how dare he ruin a perfect moment by embarrassing me like that (he ruined nothing. I just like being dramatic). But then I realized just how close we were and my protests just kinda never found their way past my throat. I traced every feature of his perfect face with my eyes, longing to do it with my lips instead. The urge was almost tangible. For a second it almost felt like I might die if I didn’t press a kiss to every part of his face I could. His forehead. His nose. His cheeks. His eyelids. His chin. His lips.

I leaned forward a hair when he spoke and broke the spell.

Thank god.

I think he asked me why I was staring or something. It’s the only thing that made sense, but I didn’t really hear him due to the fuzzy static in my ears. I got up quickly lest I fall into a stupor again. Curse you Lan Zhan. Curse you and your perfect face. I looked around the room to find something to latch on to and my eyes fell upon the tragically under-utilized photo booth!

It was one of those fancy ones you see at all the weddings and big parties now-a-days. The kind that’s a huge mirror that you can write on and with like the props and stuff.

I immediately decided that there was nothing in the world I wanted more than to immortalize that frustratingly perfect face next to mine and I dragged him over to the photo booth.

We had already agreed we needed to fix our ‘lack of selfies together’ problem after all, didn’t we?

By the time we got here, we’d been beaten to the punch by the beautiful Wens. Wen Ning and Wen Qing were making funny faces in the mirror with A-Yuan and aaaah my heart!

I don’t think I’d EVER seen Wen Qing pull faces like that. I’m so glad I get to keep those photos forever. With that in mind I realized I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to be included! So naturally I photobombed! Well. More I bodily shoved them to the side to make room for me to starfish in front of them.

I suppose I should have anticipated the vicious crack to my head even if it was my birthday. Wen Qing’s finger snaps are murder!

Mortally wounded, I crawled my way back to Lan Zhan so that I might at the very least die in his arms.

I complained that Wen Qing was being mean because she was and that I was going to have a bruise on my forehead for the rest of the night! Mostly I just wanted to see if he would kiss it better for me.

Except.

He actually did.

;ADFJ;LKSDJF;AJKF;ASLJF;JF

WHY MUST MY PLANS ALL BACKFIRE ON ME???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

Wei Ying.exe has stopped. Please wait while we reboot the system.

Would you like to submit an error report? Yes | No

Oh I must have been so red. I was still riding on that ‘It’s my birthday I do what I want’ feeling though and it spawned the following word vomit.

When he asked me if it felt better.

I told him

Yes

But.

“I think I need another kiss just to make sure. You wouldn’t want the birthday boy to be incapacitated for the rest of his party, now would you?”

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

AND OF COURSE LAN ZHAN WENT ALONG WITH IT AND KISSED THE SPOT AGAIN. BECAUSE HE ALWAYS INDULGES ME AND DOESN’T SEEM TO KNOW THAT HE SHOULDN’T BE ENCOURAGING ME LIKE THIS?!?!?!?

I heard the sound of the lovely Dr. Wen gagging behind me. Fair.

But then we were saved by my hero A-Yuan who ran up to hug Lan Zhan’s fucking anime legs and thanked him so sincerely for healing his Xian-Gege.

“You’re so right, A-Yuan! He’s great like that!” said, kneeling down to pat his back approvingly and ruffle his already party-ruffled hair.

Then I noticed that we had somehow managed to edge into the frame of the photo booth and the countdown to the next picture had started. I tried to warn Lan Zhan to get ready but turns out that was the WRONG action. He looked up at the exact worst possible moment so when the mirror showed us back our picture it showed me yelling, A-Yuan looking into space, and Lan Zhan’s face morphed into a hideous slug monster.

This set A-Yuan to giggling right away, claiming that his bunny gege was a monster!

Lan Zhan growled at him, playing along, which got me going.

LAN ZHAN. STOP. MAKING. ME. FEEL. THE. THING. I. AM. NOT. READY. TO. ADDRESS. YET.

FUCK

;LDKJFSA;LJKF;SKJDF;LKFJ;FLK

Lan Zhan is NOT allowed near kids anymore! My heart can’t take the strain!

To cover up my newest surge of emotion, I demanded we take some proper pictures!

Wen Ning, angel that he is, took A-Yuan away so we could have pictures with just the two of us. Lan Zhan looked ready to protest, so for the sake of my poor heart, I pressed the ‘picture’ button to distract him. I gave him an arrow that said ‘birthday boy’ on it, which we barely got pointing in the right direction in time, and grabbed a lovely handlebar mustache for myself while claiming to be DaGe and told him to smile.

Bless his soul he actually did. I don’t know how he manages to tolerate all my stupid antics. Somehow he always seems to be able to take me in stride while staying (mostly) unruffled. I should take lessons.

The picture came out perfect! ♥

So Naturally I demanded a million more.

We did a few with props and a few without. And some silly faces and some serious faces. And some faces that were so serious they circled back to silly. Lan Zhan was a real champ and went along with all my hijinks.

Then I remembered the tree incident that everyone yelled at me over.

If he catches me I’ll…..

That sentiment was so strong. I don’t even know how that thought ends. I’ll what?

I still don’t know.

This time I at least gave him some warning.

I told him to hold out his arms so I could jump into him in a much safer recreation of the tree yeet.

The picture snapped right as I landed in his arms and I remembered to look just in time so that I could grin at the camera and not Lan Zhan in an attempt to be slightly less obvious. When the picture came back though Lan Zhan was looking straight at me. Probably trying to make sure he didn’t drop me. But fuck.

I’m keeping that one in my wallet once we get them printed.

Apparently my leap got the attention of the rest of the party because suddenly EVERYONE was there. It was like a clown car with everyone squishing in to see how many of us we could fit in a single picture. Ah it was amazing. We grabbed some props for added panache and I managed to wrangle it so that Lan Zhan and I were still in the middle with all my friends and family squashed around us.

In a brilliant idea on how to save space, I decided that I should just get as close as possible to Lan Zhan and gave him a big fat smooch on his cheek. I was rewarded when I saw the end result with what had to be the best picture ever taken.

Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng had their hands in each other’s faces, trying to push each other out of frame, each of them barely managing to stay in the back corners of the picture.

Below them and to the left, DaGe was looking entirely too pleased to be squished in that close to Lan Xichen who was holding at least 7 different props and looking ecstatically excited. Wen Qing and Shijie were next to each other on the front right, holding A-Yuan and A-Ling respectively. The four of them were holding up peace signs, their faces all close together to try to fit in the picture.

Front Left was Jin ZiXuan with A-Lian, rubbing their noses together and looking admittedly adorable.

The front center had MianMian and Qin Su making innocent doll eyes at the camera, their hands laced together and their cheeks squished up against each other. Directly in the back center Gamby and Aunty Yi were imitating them perfectly.

To the middle right sat Wen Ning looking like he was just happy to be included. He’s such a sweetie.

And right in the center of all that commotion was myself and Lan Zhan. I was planting the most obnoxious kiss I could manage on his cheek and he was grinning like the sun.

Oh.

My God.

OH MY GOOOOOOOODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

After celebrating the best picture ever made we all somehow managed to disentangle ourselves from each other, with many knocking elbows and a lot of laughter.

#wei wuxian #wei ying #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #cql #mdzs #Long Post #(Modern AU!)

9 notes · View notes

singofsolace · 4 years

Text

Madam Spellman 2020 Challenge Masterlist!

Many thanks to everyone who participated in the Madam Spellman 2020 Challenge! Over five weeks, we created thirty-four, I repeat, THIRTY-FOUR fanfics, and five pieces of gorgeous fan art. A grand total of 73,530 words were published to the collection on Ao3. I am in awe of how much content was created, and over the moon at the response this challenge received.

Since this masterlist is going to be very long, I've decided to put it all under the cut! Check out the 39 pieces of fanwork below!

Week One Prompt: New Year’s

a year has fled o’er heart and head by Singofsolace (@concreteangel1221)

Summary: Mary Wardwell has never been kissed on New Year’s Eve. Zelda seeks to rectify this grave injustice.

A Mortal Tradition by lady_needless_litany (@lady-needless-litany)

Summary: Even though months have passed since Blackwood’s massacre, everything’s still up in the air. Zelda’s barely hanging on - and now she can’t even kill Hilda as a form of stress release.

Remembered Footsteps on Old Roads by brokenmemento

Summary: Lilith asks Zelda to take a little trip, one that will prove difficult for her to do.

Happy New Year darling, for whatever is in store by Saturn_Silk

(@saturn-silk)

Summary: Mary and Zelda spend New Year’s Eve together at the cottage.

this gorgeous fanart by @bainelland

Art Description: A polaroid picture from the Spellman’s album. Taken on a New Year’s Eve night by Sabrina who accidentally walked in on a quiet moment between Zelda and Lilith. Illuminated by the Solstice Tree, with Ella Fitzgerald’s “What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve?” playing in the background. It’s one of Zelda’s favorite pictures in the whole album.

this stunning fanart by @miss-spellman (aka @asterleaf and @moon-rise )

Art Description: Zelda Spellman and Lilith stand, wrapped in an embrace. They are kissing as confetti and streamers fall around them. Zelda has one hand wrapped around Lilith’s waist, and the other is precariously holding a glass of champagne. Lilith’s hand is placed on Zelda’s cheek.

Piece of My Heart by sweetdreamsaremadeoffish (@claire-de-macarune)

Summary: Yes, Lilith, I love you. Yes, Lilith, this is your home now. I could never deny you. Yes, Lilith, I want you to stay.

Week Two Prompt: Road Trip

Strangers by brokenmemento

With the coven in shambles and the Academy without a sense of direction, Zelda finds a place to start rebuilding and settles on asking an unlikely person to aid her in her mission.

this will be our year (took a long time to come) by sweetdreamsaremadeoffish ( @claire-de-macarune )

Mary’s keys in the ignition and her head lolled back on the headrest, Zelda blew a last, elegant kiss out the back windshield to her family and trundled the old Ford down the drive, onto the passing road. They disappeared in a wink of distance rather than magic.

Road Trip by AlexusOnFire ( @alexusonfire )

Poetry, written from Lillith’s perspective.

wrestling with the wind by Singofsolace ( @concreteangel1221 )

When Lilith, the skateboarding, tomato-stealing lesbian meets Zelda, the elegant, willful daughter of a mortician, sparks (and motorcycles) fly.

this sweet fanart by @moon-rise

Zelda and Lilith take an impromptu road trip and stop at a little witch friendly café. Zelda orders her black coffee and Lilith orders a coffee with 4 creams and 7 sugars. Zelda hates the colour scheme of the room but the romance of it grows on her as the sun sets and lights up Lilith’s impossibly gorgeous blue eyes.

Pulp fiction for Zelith by @jyou-no-sonoko19

(please show your support for this fabulous edit by reblogging from the original source!)

~~~

Week Three Prompt: Winter

Breathe by sweetdreamsaremadeoffish ( @claire-de-macarune )

"I think you have what it takes. It’s completely reasonable for you to have some support, but this needs to work. I need this to work. We both do,” Edward said, under his breath. “It’s this or go back home. You know that.”

Chasing Out The Chill by Jyou_no_Sonoko ( @jyou-no-sonoko19 )

After the fall of the Church of Night and its ceasing to worship Lucifer, Zelda in her new role as self-appointed High Priest has to transition them to the Church of Lilith. And while she believes in her Patron, it is a difficult adjustment to make. Lilith grows concerned for her and plans a little getaway.

Dance Under the Winter Sky by TommorowNeverCame ( @its-a-goode-day )

A year later, the coven has a winter ball. Zelda decides it's time for her and Lilith to be happy.

Double Black Diamond by Singofsolace ( @concreteangel1221 )

When Zelda Spellman gets driven off the ski trail by the Judas Boys, Lilith (the snowboarding lesbian) comes to her aid.

Fire and Ice by Saturn_Silk ( @saturn-silk )

Lilith really wants to go ice skating, and eventually, Zelda caves in and takes her.

Their Heart Grew Cold by stellastellaforstar ( @stellastellaforstar )

She looked beautiful, Zelda could tell even through the haze of snow. Her glasses were foggy and her nose was red, but every snowflake seemed to land so beautifully on her head.

These Winters Can Be Maddening by brokenmemento

Winter through the eyes of Zelda Spellman at three points in her life.

Winter by AlexusOnFire ( @alexusonfire )

a lovely winter poem!

winter and hard earth by CallmeCordelia

Zelda observes the Winter Solstice. Lilith observes her.

~~~~

Week Four: Alternate Universe

Like a fool, I fell in love with you by Saturn_Silk ( @saturn-silk )

Zelda Spellman, Greendale’s local coroner, needs a date for her sister’s wedding and who better than her colleague Detective Lilith Morningstar. Will they get away with it? Or will it turn into something more?

Lady Justice by Singofsolace ( @concreteangel1221 )

Lieutenant Lilith Demos had spent the last twenty years investigating New York City’s most sensitive crimes. She was intimately familiar with the worst humanity had to offer, but getting justice for rape victims made everything else worthwhile. There was no case too perverse or too delicate for her to handle; she always remained coolly professional, no matter the situation. But that all changed the day Zelda Spellman walked into her squad room. Bringing Zelda’s abuser to justice proves to be her most difficult case yet, and it doesn’t help that Zelda is extremely uncooperative when it comes to the investigation.

The Muse by AlexusOnFire ( @alexusonfire )

Zelda Spellman attends an art class. Lilith is her muse.

No Man is an Island by brokenmemento

Zelda and her roommate Lilith have been fighting with this thing for five years. With the rain comes absolution. AKA the Madam Spellman as Grace and Frankie AU.

Vying Off Course by Claraon ( @sheep-in-space )

Her eyes stop in their track, surprised at spotting the eldest member of the Spellman family sitting at the bar. Her frock is modest enough – a pale linen thing with a simple blue lacing, and her strawberry hair is tied back in a conservative bun – but she somehow manages to look at once regal yet perfectly at home among the buccaneers and other shady characters crowding the place.

We Lost the Sea by bainel ( @bainelland )

Their eyes locked for a second across the room, and Lilith felt her breath catch in her throat. She felt as if the whole room had faded away. For a fraction of a second, they were the only two people in the inn. But then the bartender placed a glass of amber liquid next to the redheaded woman. She turned away, towards her drink, and the moment was over.

Lilith gets dragged into a series of events that will lead her into one of her greatest adventures yet.

Wild with Adventure by stellastellaforstar ( @stellastellaforstar )

It’s a wild west AU, y'all! Sheriff Zelda and Outlaw Lilith.

Your Song by sweetdreamsaremadeoffish ( @claire-de-macarune )

Songwriter AU

And you can tell everybody this is your song It may be quite simple but now that it’s done I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind That I put down in words How wonderful life is while you’re in the world

The Spelldelaire Children by @claire-de-macarune

(please show your support of this fabulous fan art by reblogging it from the original source!)

~~~~~

Week Five Prompt: Fix It! (the list is in alphabetical order)

a little death (une petite mort) by Singofsolace ( @concreteangel1221 )

Mambo Marie intervenes when Zelda Spellman denies Lilith sanctuary. This changes many things, but not all things. Lilith proposes that the only way that the three of them will survive the wrath of both the Dark Lord and the Pagans is to perform an incredibly intimate ritual. Mary Wardwell stumbles upon this ritual, with gun in hand.

An Offering of Trust by paradox_n_bedrock ( @paradox-n-bedrock )

Zelda and Lilith try just a little harder for each other. They’re lucky Marie has an emotional intelligence greater than a potato.

Forever…(is a long time) by brokenmemento

After the events of Part 3, things are still left hanging in the balance. Lilith forges an unlikely alliance with the least likely of suspects.

From Her Beacon-Hand by CallmeCordelia

Lilith seeks asylum, but what will she find?

home in the heart of hell by sweetdreamsaremadeoffish ( @claire-de-macarune )

And all shall fade The flowers of spring The world and all the sorrow At the heart of everything

I Was Housed by Your Warmth by daisygrl ( @asterleaf )

Something about the other witch pulled her ever closer, made her ache inside. It was the strangest sensation: two parts nostalgia and one part pain. If she had lived lives other than this one, she would have sworn that they had met before. Perhaps their souls had passed one another by as they swam in the primordial muck.

The Witch’s Lullaby by marla_black ( @marla-black )

With Lilith pregnant with Lucifer’s baby, she is in need of a midwife, and who better than Zelda Spellman, the witch who has never lost a child in her life.

~~~~~

Many thanks to everyone who reblogged and commented on all of these pieces! You were as much a part of this challenge as the writers and artists!

#madam spellman 2020 challenge #zelda spellman #lilith #madam spellman #spellwell #mary wardwell

39 notes · View notes

nocturne-inuyasha-ff · 4 years

Text

Chapter Twenty One: Fated Encounter

Author's Notes: Greetings and sorry for the late update. Busy, busy, busy! Working in healthcare just doesn't leave time for much of anything these days, but I've been writing little by little. Fun fact! My chapter titles are all song titles (or lyrics, rarely) that inspired the chapter! Some have words, some don't, but they all give me motivation.

Anywho, I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

Happy reading!

Nocturne - Chapter Twenty One: Fated Encounter

Rated - M (for suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, and coarse language)

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha

He would not follow the mother of his child as she disappeared inside the manor. The time for reconciliation had come and gone. The woman claimed to understand the necessity behind his frequent excursions, yet acted another way entirely. She compounded the situation by blaming him for granting her countless years on top of her paltry mortal few.

Sesshomaru had laid the offer bare to her and she had accepted enthusiastically. He was not to blame that she was unable to infer the duplicitous meaning.

He would not allow her to place guilt onto him. Not even her tears could sway him this time. Yet, the woman was as ephemeral as the sea. Crying one moment and becoming stoic with suppressed anger the next.

Sensing her emotions was child's play. The miko wore them on her sleeve and even when she attempted to veil her feelings, Sesshomaru could sense them broiling just below the surface.

He knew that her distress which had morphed to anger was genuine. The miko would come to accept what had happened and eventually she would thank him. Besides, he had not wanted to instill her with false hope. There was no guarantee the ningyo would work.

Until then, Kagome lashed out as best she could. Her announcement to travel to the village where his brother resided did not resonate with Sesshomaru. It was too far from the Western Lands to effectively guard which left her and Setsuna's safety in the hands of his hanyo brother.

Inuyasha seemed capable enough. The half breed had managed to get this far in life despite the attempts of many enemies to put an end to him, Sesshomaru not included as he had not put his entire efforts into the deed. That, alone, did not ease Sesshomaru's worries.

Then, there was also the carnal part of him that wanted to rip his brother limb from limb for ever touching his woman, even before he could call her his own. Sesshomaru banished the thought from his mind before he sought Kagome out and forbade her from leaving. He knew that would not go over well, recalling a time in the past where he had made that same mistake and the weeks it took for the woman to come back after laughing and leaving anyway.

While it chafed his pride to watch her leave, it may be for the best. Sesshomaru had not yet disclosed to Kagome that the rumors he was investigating were true after all. The past few months there had been sightings of strangers with silver hair skulking about. He knew this was not a coincidence or fabricated tales and now it was only a matter of time before their enemy struck.

The ones who had been sent were scouts, conditioned to probe the enemy for weakness and breaks in the line. Sesshomaru had mounted a rigid detail to patrol the borders and ensure that none made it through. That was easier said than done. It was improbable to expect a scout not to slip through since the whole premise of scouting was to move around undetected by the enemy.

The time for leisure had come to an end just as quickly as it had begun. Sesshomaru would allow his woman this small victory. She could go to the village with their child. Let her think she was punishing him. For the moment, until he could deal with the threat, she was better off away from the manor.

o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o

Kagome flew out to the village on the back of Rei with Setsuna tucked in front. The small nekomata had flourished in Kagome's care and was her close companion when Sesshomaru was not around. He didn't care for Rei much, being a feline and all, but he did well tolerating the nekomata for her sake.

Despite not being able to transform into his larger form when they first met, Rei was perfectly capable of doing so now and Kagome knew that he was much larger than his mother had been. She would sometimes wonder how big he would have gotten had he not been the runt of the litter. Regardless, REI was a wonderful companion to both her and Setsuna.

The trip only took a couple of hours and when they landed in the village, Sango was already outside with a hand shading her eyes and waving them in.

Rei dropped them off near the house of the taijiya and monk, he made a loud roar before transforming back into his smaller form. Kagome thanked him as he rubbed against her legs with a pur. He quickly ran inside the house, likely looking for the children to play with. He popped out just as quickly once he realized the house was empty and made a beeline east. Rei sometimes seemed more like a puppy than a nekomata. His ubiquitous nature was an odd but cherished quirk.

Setsuna ran over to Sango and wrapped her small arms around the woman's waist. "Sango! Look at how big I've gotten!"

Sango laughed and squeezed the girl back before pushing her away and squatting to be eye level. "My, but you have grown since I've seen you last. You are nearly as tall as little Hiro who is 3 years your senior."

"Ha!" Setsuna yelled triumphantly. "I knew it! Is he inside?"

Sango chuckled. "You'll find him with his sisters down in the training yard."

Setsuna immediately turned and ran off in the direction of the training fields towards the outskirts of the village. Since Kohaku had brought new taijiya, the village had all but transformed from a simple farming town into a thriving demon slayer haven.

It was much different than its predecessor, who's people were reclusive and secretive of their craft. Many of the new recruits were people who had been slaying demons on their own for some time, looking to hone their skills or make a life with people of similar interests.

Kohaku and Sango took responsibility for training newcomers, some even who had been born and raised in the village. What made things truly interesting was the mixing of Miroku's spiritual training. There were a few people who had talents for both slaying and latent spiritual powers. Miroku and Sango's children were prime examples. All four had inherited Miroku's abilities, but only the twins had an interest in combining that skill with their mother's slayer training.

Those who were skilled in both were renowned and held in high regard by their peers. Outside of the twins, there was only a handful of older people who had sought the village out for training in both respects.

Kagome considered the village almost over prepared if any yokai were to make the mistake of attacking. "Things seem to be going well here," she said looking around.

People were coming and going about their chores, a number dressed in slayer gear either coming from or going to training.

"It's good to see you, Kagome. It has been too long." Sango pulled her friend into a brief embrace.

"Not that long," Kagome said.

Sango gave a friendly scoff. "A year is a long time, my friend."

"Has it really been that long?" Kagome questioned.

"A little longer, I'm afraid. But, come, let's go inside for some tea. I've only just come from training a bunch of youngsters and I am sorely in need of a break."

They walked inside and Sango prepared tea while they chatted to catch up.

"Kagome, you seem...troubled. what is it?" Sango asked. She passed a cup over to Kagome and began to pour from the kettle.

It felt selfish to unload her personal troubles on her friend after so much time spent away. "Let's save my troubles for later. They are not going anywhere." She gave her friend a beaming smile. "Tell me about you and everyone else. How are you?"

Sango sighed with contentment. "Busy." She took a long sip from her cup, continuing only after she relished the taste of her tea. "But some things have happened since the last time you visited."

"Oh?" Kagome leaned in, her interest piqued by Sango's expression.

"Well, you already knew that Inuyasha had taken Keyuri as a mate."

Kagome withheld a grimace. It was hypocritical on her part, but she had a hard time imagining her former love with anyone else. A selfish, darker part of herself wanted him to remain alone, but she made sure to shove that thought deep, deep down. "Yes, and it took him long enough."

"Keyuri could not be rushed into that. She needed time to heal from her internal wounds. I honestly think she needed more time." Sango nearly chided her friend.

Kagome did not know Keyuri as well as Sango, having not spent nearly as much time with her. She figured that if Sango liked her enough to defend her, she must not be that bad. Keyuri must be great if she could put up with Inuyasha.

Kagome warmed at the thought. "So, then what is different?"

Sango squealed with glee. "I'm going to be an aunt!" She said breathlessly. "It finally happened!"

Kagome grinned from ear to ear. "Really?! That's amazing!"

She and Sesshomaru had been invited to Rin and Kohakus wedding a couple of years ago. Their pairing was expected; at least by Kagome and Sango who had seen the couple making eyes at each other when they thought no one was looking. Sesshomaru, on the other hand, had taken the news as well as he could. He reacted indifferently and Kagome had to take him aside to question why he couldn't be happy for the children he had protected years ago.

He'd told her that he was as happy as one could be for mortals who were binding their lives together impulsively. Kagome had laughed at him and he gave her a cold stare. The daiyokai viewed Rin as a daughter, it was clear, and no man was good enough for her. Even one he had commended and lauded with as much praise as could he expected from Sesshomaru was not up to par.

Sesshomaru would never voice his opinion aloud to Rin, nor even Kagome, but she knew the truth. Ultimately, he had come to accept Rin and Kohaku's decision to wed, even gifting Rin with an elaborate shiromuku for her wedding day.

Kagome wondered how Sesshomaru would react to the idea of Setsuna marrying in the years ahead. Hopefully with more grace than he had mustered for Rin, but Kagome knew that was a lofty dream.

"How far along is she?" Kagome asked. She had given her friend a congratulatory hug and was genuinely excited to learn of Rin's pregnancy. Kagome knew she would make an excellent mother.

Sango put a finger to her chin in thought. "I'd say by the rise of the next full moon. Not long now."

Kagome tried to recall what it was like to be in the late stages of pregnancy, but was instead assaulted with spotty, but intense and horrible memories. She pushed them back down along with her ridiculous jealousy into the dark depths of her subconscious, hopefully never to rise again unbidden.

"That's great. I can't wait to see her." Kagome thought for a moment. "Perhaps I should stay to help with the delivery," she considered.

Sango gave her a strange look. "Stay? For over a month?"

"Yes," Kagome answered carefully. Sango was still regarding her strangely. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"What's the real reason you've come, Kagome?" Sango demanded in a level tone. "Over the past few years your visits have tapered off to barely an annual nod to our existence."

Kagome opened her mouth to speak but Sango held up a hand to indicate she was not done. "I understand being Lady of the West is a time consuming honor and I am not displeased with your unannounced visit, but you have never stayed beyond a week and even then not without Sesshomaru coming to drag you back after a few days."

All that Sango stated was true and Kagome felt twinges of guilt for allowing her new life to get in the way of her old one. Maintaining her friendships had dropped to the wayside of maintaining her family.

Sango now gave Kagome a small, knowing smile. "Trouble in paradise? Can't keep up with daiyokai needs?"

Kagome's cheeks flamed to hear Sangos insinuation. She moved around uncomfortably, looking at her skirts and picking away non existent specks of dust. "No," she responded sullenly. "Nothing quite so incenduoise."

A grin formed on Sangos face. The woman knew she'd struck close to home. "Then what could possibly be so bad that would make you run off and hide away for over a month? That's some punishment you are doling out."

Kagome forgot her embarrassment and her cheeks burned for a different reason. She crossed her arms and set her jaw. "Perhaps a demonstration is in order?"

Sango's earlier smug appearance switched to a confused one as she watched Kagome get up and rummage through utensils until she gave a satisfied sound and drew up a small knife. "What are you doing with that?" Sango asked with concern.

Kagome held out her left palm to Sango and then casually took the blade and drew it against her flesh. Sango gasped when she saw blood run freely from the fresh wound. Kagome winced at the pain but held her palm out to her friend.

"Are you crazy?!" Sango hissed. She jumped up and swatted the knife from Kagome's hand. It rattled to the floor and Sango snatched up Kagome's left wrist to examine the wound on her palm. "You idiot, you've severed your tendon!"

Kagome tried to close her palm, but was unable to do so. She'd pulled the knife down too hard and injured herself more than she'd intended. Admittedly, injuring one's self wasn't as simple as she'd thought and had overdone it. Oh well, she thought. It shouldn't matter.

Sango drug Kagome by the wrist to find something to clean the wound with. "I can't believe you would injure yourself! And to prove what?! Your descent into madness? Just because you live among demons does not mean you will gain immunity to mortality by association!" She chided while wetting a cloth with one hand.

Kagome could already feel the pain ease up and let out a sigh of relief. For a moment she worried she had gone crazy and her experience from hours earlier was a fluke.

With more angry mutterings Sango took the wet cloth and began to clean the wound. She carefully blotted around the edges to clean away the blood. As she did her brow drew together in disbelief.

"What in the kamis name?" Sango questioned aloud and took the cloth straight to the wound, rubbing away now dried blood. There was nothing there. No wound or even an indication of injury on Kagome's palm.

Kagome pulled her wrist from Sango's grasp. "Now you see why I am angry!" She said.

"What?" Sango replied in confusion. "You just healed. How?"

"I was given ningyo. Without my knowledge!" Kagome said angrily. "Because apparently I'm too human for certain daiyokai."

Sango's mouth was slightly agape but she quickly found words to fill the void. "Kagome...ningyo? Are you certain? That particular yokai...if its flesh is consumed...it is rumored that if one dares to do so, they will be granted eternal life." She continued to look at Kagome almost in awe.

"Please don't look at me like that," she told Sango. The woman quickly cleared her throat and looked away at anything else in the room. Kagome felt like a sideshow freak, as if she'd spouted an extra arm, but she knew she didn't look any different than before.

"Sorry," Sango responded. "I-I didn't realize that the flesh of a ningyo would also grant someone the ability to heal, either." Sango chanced a look at her friend. "I think it's best if you didn't tell anyone else about this," she cautioned.

Kagome pursed her lips. "Why's that?"

"Well, the reason more people aren't out hunting ningyo, looking for an extended lease on life, is because of the curse that surrounds it. You seem to have bypassed that somehow, or rather Sesshomaru did on your behalf, but others are not so fortunate. If people learn that you are now…," she paused as she searched for an appropriate word, "...blessed with eternal life and a healing factor akin to a yokai's…?"

"They would be filled with insane jealousy?" Kagome guessed.

"They would probably try to consume your flesh to access your new gift," Sango said gravely.

Kagome's eyes widened in horror. "That wouldn't work! Would it?"

"It certainly wouldn't stop the desperate fools from trying."

Kagome stood up and paced the room. She'd never considered the cost of eternal life. But Sesshomaru must have. He would not have risked her life to grant her eternal youth. He was too calculated for that. She took some comfort in the thought and decided to place her worries aside for the time being.

Kagome stopped pacing and looked down at her friend. "Then I'm glad you're the one I told, Sango, but I'm still mad at him."

Sango gave a harsh laugh. "You're mad at him for extending your years to match his own? What about Setsuna? Now you can be with your child too, well into adulthood. Wasn't your mortality something you dreaded?"

Why did the woman have to be right? Kagome wondered. "That's not the point."

"Then what's the point, my friend?" Sango asked with humor.

"The point is that he lied to me! He told me he would be with me no matter what and he didn't even have to worry about that because he'd already let me eat a mermaid!" Kagome spewed angrily. "He had no skin in the game."

"Can you blame him?" Sango asked.

Kagome felt offended. "Blame him? You're kidding right?"

"Would you not have done the same if the situations were reversed?"

"I would have asked!" Kagome responded defensively.

"Maybe there's a reason he didn't. Maybe he wanted to be sure that you wanted him and not the promise of eternal life." Sango used her hand, pointing her finger for emphasis. "Look, I'm not trying to defend him. I'm definitely not saying he was right, all I'm saying is that there's probably more to it."

Kagome glowered at Sango. "You're supposed to be on my side."

"I am on your side," Sango asserted, her head cocking to the side. "I am happy and oddly perturbed at the same time, but as your friend, I also want you to think about this rationally."

Kagome sighed. It didn't seem as though Sango would commiserate right now. "Fine," she acquiesced. "But he still needs to learn that keeping things from me is wrong! So, I will be staying until Rin has her baby, if not longer. Plus, it will be good for Setsuna to enjoy the company of humans."

Sango chuckled. "If he's anything like Miroku, anything longer than a week will he torture."

"Good god woman, is the lecherous monk's appetite never satiated?" Kagome joked.

"I had thought after all these years he would settle down, but the man still hounds me daily. I couldn't tell you how many headaches I've had to feign to get a full night's rest."

Kagome felt her anger ease and her mood lifted with their friendly banter. The pair sighed in contentment and continued to share their wifely plights. It was good to be away in a change of scenery. This was something they all needed from time to time, a reprieve.

"Mother?" Setsuna called hesitantly into the house.

Kagome turned to the sound of her daughter's voice. The young girl looked confused and she rubbed her nose with one hand and holding up the screen with her other. Her white ears on top of her head twitched back and forth.

Setsuna stayed on the peripheral of the entryway, neither in nor out. She looked around outside, answering her mother without looking. "I smell something funny."

"What's that, love?" Kagome questioned. Her daughter was usually quite boisterous when excited, reserving a more serious side for when serious matters were at play, like her father's lectures. To see Setsuna so quiet and uncertain was worrisome.

"I don't know," she said softly. Her ears continued to swivel in order to pick up different sounds that only she could hear. "But it smells...wrong," she said.

Sango gave Kagome a questioning look, mouthing the words 'What's wrong?' Which she only received a shake of the head and shrug as a response.

"Come inside, Setsuna. You'll let all manner of insects in while you linger in the doorway," Kagome told her.

The young girl stayed put, looking over her shoulder, oblivious to her mother's words. Kagome hurried over to look outside as well. There was nothing as she peeked outside and she could not smell nor hear anything unusual. The only difference was a feeling of foreboding.

"Sango?" Kagome solicited, concern evident in her voice.

The taijiya had already pushed the pair aside and went out to give a proper investigation. Nothing untoward was taking place to the naked eye. Villagers could be seen coming and going about chores and errands and the noise of their movements and chatter could be vaguely heard, but something was different that none could quite put their finger on. "I see nothing," Sango said. "There are always strange sights and smells here in the village, little one," she consoled the rigid girl.

"No," Setsuna replied, "it's not that."

Sango grabbed Setsuna's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Just the other day, Rin attempted to cook and there was the most horrible smell that permeated throughout the village." Her attempt to write off Setsuna's strange behavior was met with little resistance. Setsuna finally looked at her and her mother and smiled.

"I don't hear any birds. That's what it is. Maybe they were scared away by the smell, right mother?" she asked.

Kagome had a strange feeling, but did not want her daughter to worry over nothing. "Maybe they smelled you," she teased.

Setsuna laughed and ran inside, her earlier behavior forgotten.

Kagome followed her in and Sango stood outside, giving the lane by her house one last look around to ensure nothing strange was around. Once she confirmed all was well, she came inside as well.

"So, what brings you back so soon?" Kagome asked.

She pouted, thrusting her bottom lip out in an obvious fashion, and crossed her arms dramatically. "They won't let me play. They said it's unfair because I'm faster and I'm a gooder smeller."

Sango sighed with annoyance. "Was it Hiro?"

"No, but he didn't say anything either. He's just jealous cuz I'm stronger than he is. But it was- it was a girl." Setsuna looked frustrated and and on the edge of tears. "She was mean and said I couldn't play with them and called me a half breed….Mother," she paused and turned her large, wavering eyes to Kagome, "what's a half breed?"

Kagome instantly felt rage swell in her chest. She'd done a damned good job at shielding Setsuna from people who would treat her child differently. Kagome knew she should have prepared Setsuna better for the cruelty of the outside world, but it was easy to forget that there were biggoted individuals out there when you lived in a bubble of protection. "Half yokai and half human, love," she answered as gently as she could. "You know that your father and I are different. 'Half breed' is just a mean way of saying it."

"Don't let her words bother you, some people do not know how to appreciate the differences of others," Kagome assuaged. "If Hiro and the others are your friends, they won't care what that girl has to say."

Setsuna contemplated those words, trying to comprehend as best as a five-year old could. "Father would have punished them," she replied sullenly.

Kagome felt the urge to throttle someone right now, but the child offender wasn't the best choice, so she settled for being angry at Sesshomaru. "What good would that do?"

"Make them stop," Sestuna said, her little nose wrinkling.

"No, it would make them fear you." Kagome pulled the girl into her lap. "Fear only goes so far. Love and respect go so much farther."

Setsuna looked up at her mother, leaning against her chest. "I don't understand."

Sango chuckled, all too familiar with childhhood antics, bullying, and the like. "It means that you can catch more flies with honey than vinegar."

"You grownups don't make any sense," Setsuna groaned.

"Let's go see if we can talk to this girl. What's her name?" Kagome inquired. She rose, pulling Setsuna with her.

"Stupid-Mei," she supplied with a smirk.

Kagome rolled her eyes and tugged Setsuna along, pulling her outside. "Setsuna!" she chided. "I'd ask what your father would say, but I'm afraid to hear your answer! We don't use that word: studpid."

Sango followed along, wanting to deal with the issue so that the behavior did not spill over into other matters. She wore a discreet and knowing smile as she followed.

Kagome made her way to the outskirts of the village where she knew the local children played after they had finished training. Setsuna walked with her head held high the entire way, acting as if Kagome would give the offending child a sound lashing. Once they'd gotten nearly half way, Setsuna stopped dead in her tracks.

"Don't stall, even if you're having second thoughts," Kagome warned.

Setsuna stood stock still and her eyes seemed far away. "I smell it again, mother."

She was already on edge from earlier and now Kagome felt her heart begin to pound. She watched as Setsuna began to look around wildly. There it was, out of the corner of her eye. Movement.

Sango ran in front of the pair, her right arm splayed out in a protective manner, and the other at her side where she kept a blade hidden. She'd seen it, too.

"What is it?" Kagome asked.

"We're being watched," Sango replied, nodding towards the side of a house.

Kagome could see nothing, but trusted her friend's instincts and her daughter's heightened senses. Sango crept slowly and with the grace of one trained not to make a noise towards the back side of a house where Setsuna had glued her eyes. The taijiya had pulled her hidden blade out, brandishing it before her and put her back up against the house, ready to surprise the suspected interlopper.

"What the fuck are you doing, Sango?!" a gruff, angry voice bellowed. The telltale red robe and white hair indicating Inuyasha appeared from around the corner and he looked angry at having a knife pulled on him.

Sango looked guiltily down at her knife before tucking it back in her hidden pocket. "Oh, Inuyasha? Sorry, we...uh...we heard something."

He narrowed his eyes at her, "We?"

Setsuna broke from her strange trance. "Uncle Inuyasha!" she cried and sprinted towards the unsuspecting hanyo, jumping into his unsuspecting arms.

A large grin replaced his grimace and he lifted her up into the air. "Well if it isn't the runt?" he teased. "Bring your mom with ya?"

Kagome hurried over and pulled Setsuna from Inuyasha's grasp. "Please don't call her that."

"What? Runt?" he teased with a smug look. Inuyasha touseled Setsuna's hair and knelt down in front of her. "She is." He defended against the girls small, but fierce punches. "Barely taller than me on my knees, this one."

"This is serious, Inuyasha!" Kagome chided. Leave it to him to make light of a situation when it did not call for it. She crossed her arms and took in a steadying breath.

"Keh, woman. You worry too much," he waved her off. He stood and looked over his shoulder before he was overcome with the look of a lovesick puppy. Inuyasha held out a hand and it was taken by the delicately clawed one of Keyuri.

The hanyo woman looked around hesitantly, but gave a small, secret smile once she spotted Sango. Her eyes became more apprehensive though when she caught sight of Kagome.

Setsuna grinned and squealed with happiness before pulling Keyuri into a hug. "Aunt Keyuri!"

The quiet woman flipped her long hair behind her shoulder and knelt down to look at Setsuna. She motioned with her hands, pointing at Setsuna and Kagome, and then placed her hands over her heart, smiling and tilting her head. Keyuri was a vision of loveliness, her silver hair was soft and long, her smile like a breath of spring, accenting her golden eyes.

Inuyasha looked down at her with a lovesick expression that Kagome found oddly sweet. He used to look at Kagome with that expression and despite feeling jealous just earlier, Seeing them together was not as unbearable as she had thought.

"Inuyasha?"

He looked up to see an ungainly Rin, hand on her belly, ambling towards them. Her face seemed twisted with confusion. Once she caught sight of Kagome and Setsuna, though, a smile broke out, and she waved.

"Kagome? Is that you? It's been so long!" Rin called out.

Kagome hurried over to the heavily pregnant woman, and they hugged as best as possible to compensate for her large belly. "Oh, Rin, I can't believe you are going to be a mother!"

"Yes, it still hasn't quite sunk in yet, no matter how big I get!"

"It won't seem real until you hold that tiny babe in your arms; even then, it can seem like a dream," Kagome answered.

"While I'm happy to see you, I'm a bit confused," Rin admitted. She looked back at Inuyasha.

"What do you mean?" Sango asked, walking up to them.

"I just could have sworn I had seen Inuyasha a few moments ago back at the training arena. It was the most unusual thing."

"What are you talking about, woman?" Inuyasha demanded. "We just got here, Keyuri and me."

Rin seemed perplexed. "Right. I, uh, must be seeing things. I thought you looked different, and you were dressed differently, too."

Sango took up Rin's hands. "Would you like to sit down? Maybe the weather is getting to you?"

"I am fine," Rin assured. "It must have been the light playing tricks on my eyes." She shielded the sun from her eyes as emphasis, but everyone looked at her with concern.

Kagome thought it was too much of a coincidence to let slide. "Inuyasha, perhaps you could join me in taking a look?"

"Keh. Why would I do that? I'm busy," he growled in annoyance.

Infuriating as always, Kagome thought and set her jaw. "Please," she said through clenched teeth. "I would feel better if I knew it was nothing. Plus, Setsuna was acting strange."

Inuyasha looked down at the girl who was now conversing with Rin and grimaced. "Fine. Let's make it quick." He most assuredly remembered the events from five years back that had brought Keyuri to him and nearly taken Setsuna from her. Even though it had been much too quiet, he had to know that the underlying threat was still there just waiting for an opportune moment.

They walked silently towards the training arena with Inuyasha leading the way. Kagome knew how to get there, but the man tromped forward on a mission to get this endeavor over with as swiftly as possible.

Kagome ran her forefinger and thumb down the arrow string, ensuring her weapon was present and ready. She rarely went out without the bow. Just the thought of getting caught unprepared was a fear she did not want to face.

The area known as the training arena was more of a field than anything. The grass had been tamped down flat from constant use. There were dummies placed in a line along the north edge of the field where trainees could practice weaponry or combat moves. Many of them were missing their straw heads or limbs, showing the wear and tear. The arena was currently bare of any people, the day was nearing evening time, and most of the trainees and instructors had returned home for supper and rest from a long day spent preparing for an unknown threat.

Kagome looked around and saw nothing. Just the gentle swaying of distant branches as the wind passed through them. She looked towards Inuyasha, who had jumped over to the edge of the training arena. He looked back at Kagome and threw up his arms angrily, implying there was nothing to be found.

Perhaps it had been nothing, Kagome thought. Children were known to see things and hear things that were not there. Their innocent imaginations were always at play, causing them to confuse fantasy with reality. Kagome wanted to believe that was the case, but she knew deep down that Setsuna was no ordinary child who would have such notions.

Inuyasha's ears twitched back and forth on his head. Kagome glanced over and noticed that he'd frozen in place, similarly to how Setsuna had stopped in her tracks. He threw his hand to his side and grasped at air. Kagome realized that he hadn't brought Tessaiga with him. Why would he have cause to need it here where all was safe?

He growled and turned, wielding the only weapon he had on him. His claws were at ready and no less deadly, but they put Inuyasha at a disadvantage if a foe attacked with a weapon.

"Fucking coward! Bring your sniveling ass out here and face me!" He snarled.

Kagome had already drawn her bow the moment she saw Inuyasha reach for the missing sword. She looked around wildly, not seeing anything, but feeling something amiss.

Answering Inuyasha's call, a figure emerged from beyond the tree line. Kagome could no longer see Inuyasha's face, but she could only assume he wore an expression of disbelief that would match hers. A white-haired inu hanyo stalked towards them with a wicked grin plastered on his face, exposing long and deadly canines. This could be Inuyasha's twin if it weren't for long scars cutting down his cheekbones under each eye. The symmetry of the scars could only mean they were not coincidental and placed there by design. The scars looked angry and fresh, which could only mean that they were replaced each time the hanyo would heal.

"The fuck?" Inuyasha grunted. "What the hell are you supposed to be?"

The hanyo chuckled and crossed his arms beneath his chest, and his chin rose as his head smugly cocked to the side. He wore no weapons nor any armor, just simple clothing that could only be labeled as inconspicuous. "They told me to keep my head low, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to see the famed Inuyasha," he admitted.

"Keh. Should listen to your betters, huh?" Inuyasha challenged. His claws flexed menacingly by his sides. "Or you just too fucking stupid?"

The hanyo just scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Nah, I'm just excited to meet you finally. Heard so much about what a badass you were." He started laughing with mirth, holding his sides. "I'm sorry, I can't-I can't…" he continued to laugh, taking deep breaths," can't keep a fucking straight face."

Inuyasha released a scoff of his own. "The fuck is this shit?" He gestured to the hanyo, who was bent over laughing.

Kagome looked from one hanyo to the next, her arrow trained on the stranger. Her tiny motion brought attention to her.

"Ya gotta be fucking kidding me?!" He yelled with glee. "The damn miko, too?"

Inuyasha glanced over his shoulder towards her. "I'm the one you gotta worry about, kid," he warned, drawing the hanyo attention back to him. "Whatdya want? Aside from a swift death?"

The hanyo whistled through his teeth. "Hnn." He splayed his legs apart and bent over to place a hand on the ground, looking as if he were readying to take off in a sprint. "Gotta catch me first, old man," he said darkly.

Her fingers ached to be free of the bowstring, and Kagome wasn't quite sure why she'd held on so long. This was not a friend to be reasoned with. She knew exactly what this was...a threat to be dealt with accordingly, and time was not on her side. Kagome loosed the arrow and watched as it flew to its target. She'd practiced frequently, as much to blow of worried stress as to keep in top form.

The hanyo looked up at her and smiled, seemingly amused at her attempt to incapacitate him. Kagome felt her pulse quicken, the adrenaline pumping through her veins at full speed the second she realized she had missed. Rather, the hanyo had moved, avoiding the spiritual arrow and fixing her with a nasty leer.

He leaped into the air and landed on top of Kagome, knocking her to the ground and the air from her chest. "Father will be pleased to learn that his miko has left the safety of her nest," he whispered into her ear. The rancid stench of his breath, coupled with the way he used the words 'his Miko', caused her to shudder despite herself.

The hanyo's grin never left his face even as he was lifted bodily off her with a roar and tossed away. Inuyasha stood over her in a protective stance. "Touch her again, and you'll lose the fucking hand!" He shouted.

The man had skidded several feet away and laughed at Inuyasha's threat. "Gotta catch me first, old man," he said before rocketing off.

"Old man?!" Inuyasha shouted in disbelief. He bolted off after the hanyo, growling loudly and leaving Kagome on her rear in the fields of the training arena.

She moved to her knees and stopped when movement registered at the corner of her eye. Kagome's head snapped up, and she saw two figures watching her from a distance. While she couldn't make out their features, the silver sheen of hair was unmistakable. Her heart dropped even as they disappeared into the trees. So they had been watching, she discerned. But For how long?

----------

Chapter on Dokuga

#Chapter Twenty One #SessKag #Sesshomaru #Kagome #Inuyasha #Fanfic

9 notes · View notes

diveronarpg · 4 years

Photo

Congratulations, LIA! You’ve been accepted for the role of MACBETH with an approved FC change to Dev Patel. Admin Rosey: Ladies and gentlemen, we are incredibly excited to announce that we have our Macbeth! Mikael Falco is a difficult character to capture simply because writing him is like a balancing act - you have to understand his own wants and the wants of those he loves and find balance between the two. Lia, you managed to capture him and his voice perfectly making him wholly unique and stand out in an unapologetic way. We are over the moon to have out Macbeth and even more excited to see what ruin he'll bring to the dash! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Liar

Age | 21

Preferred Pronouns | She/Her

Activity Level | I pop in every few days for replies, and I’ll definitely be even more active once school ends in a few weeks.

Timezone | EST

How did you find the rp? | The RP tag many, many eons ago.

Current/Past RP Accounts | *points at Ro*

IN CHARACTER

Character | Macbeth— AKA the wonderfully indecisive and useless Mikael Falco. I would also like to request an FC change to Dev Patel. Dev is 29, so I was hoping to age him down to 31 or 32? That would also make me much more comfortable with the age gap between him and Lucrezia!

What drew you to this character? | Honestly, after I read Macbeth in my Shakespeare class, I began looking at Mikael in a different light. I think there are many people in Verona with one track minds and desires, but none as plagued by their owns demons and indecision in the way that Mikael is. He was told exactly who he was supposed to be. His parents outlined all the steps, set him up with all the tools and knowledge necessary to secure notoriety for the Falco name. This man yeeted his own parents out of Verona. Like who does that? I think I’ve fallen in love with the potential Mikael sees in himself, but his own inability to make anything of it, and I am v excited to see how he can potentially wreak havoc (or not) when he finally does something (or doesn’t, but if he does it’ll probably be stupid lbr). Being a dark, immoral asshole means nothing when you don’t have the intelligence, aptitude, nor motivation to act on it tbh. He’s not the obvious pick for someone in pursuit of throne— but I believe his inability to quiet the lust within him will potentially get him damn near close (or damn near dead).

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

I DARE DO ALL THAT MAY BECOME A MAN; WHO DARES DO MORE IS NONE— Mikael definitely isn’t the most moral of characters. His parents instilled one goal within him. They never said he had to do it in the most right or moral way. I am interested in exploring his own loyalty to the mob, or the lackthereof. I see him taking the most convienent possible route in order to obtain the one thing he acquires most, and that is the crown. Whether that be through the Capulets or through the Montagues.

IT WILL HAVE BLOOD THEY SAY. BLOOD WILL HAVE BLOOD—The ambuigity in his connection with Matthias is something I adore. It never concretely states whether or not Mikael actually killed his father, but considering all the people he’s killed, whether it be for the Falcos, the Capulets, Lucrezia, or himself— Mikael has accumulated a plethora of bodies in his wake, and quite a few ghosts to follow. A HUGE charactaristic that defines Macbeth, and Mikael too is his own paranoia. He’s always convinced someone is out to get him, and that his own actions (mostly lackthereof), will come back to haunt him. This plot isn’t super concrete right now, but I want Mikael to something (or many) deliciously stupid. Maybe it’ll work out, maybe it probably won’t. These are mostly traits I hope to explore through further characterization and plot development.

SHALL HE DWINDLE, PEAK, AND PINE— There aren’t many people nor things Mikael fears (maybe Lucrezia and his own mind), but Theodora definitely creeps him the fuck out. He won’t make it easier for them, he wants to be chased, pursued even, before he ever considers giving in. What happens when they offer him an escape? Through the experimentation of his own body and mind? What happens when they offer him a potential way to quiet his demons? Mikael has never been one to indulge in drugs, Lucrezia has always been intoxicating enough (an equal parts a headache), and I’m interested in how they might end affecting him— for better or for worse. Will it make him more active? Will it make him even more inactive then before? It would take time because Mikael is stubborn as fuck, but these are all things I hope to discover ;-)

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Pls. Don’t let Lucrezia do it though :|

IN DEPTH

In-Character Para Sample:

1. Mikael born to a family that coveted immortality, to the point where they’d procure it by any means, and for any imminent amount. They would appraise their SOULS, and solicit them to the highest bidders. It would be the Capulets that accepted their terms, and from that moment on, their names would forever be intertwined with the Capulet reign. A symbiotic liaison was formed, one that depended on a child, a son, in particular, to propel forward. But hadn’t they saw how precarious of a position they’d left him in? How difficult it was to make a proper namesake for himself, one severed from the Capulet name, when the only prosperity he’d known was flung to him in scraps from their bloodied, opened palms? They’d grown far too content with being the Capulet’s lapdogs, and they’d managed to commit the greatest sin that any mortal man could carry out against him. Doubt. As they boarded their flight back to India, after a very convincing conversation with Cosimo Capulet expressing his concern for their dwindling minds, his parents were then reduced to the nameless commoners that they’d once been all those years ago. They should’ve known better, but they hadn’t known better— and that’s when Mikael understood that he was not the GOD he believed himself to be and that a total recreation of himself was vital. He would no longer be the child of two people utterly content with being subjected to the will of another. Those were not the kind of people that were IMMORTALIZED by scripture long after they were gone. He would become the man unwilling to settle for anything other than absolute IDOLIZATION, no matter who would have to be eradicated from his path in order to do so. He were a man willing to forsake even his own parents; how could anyone believe he would not obtain what he wanted at any cost?

2. He would know of LUST before he knew of love (though can he say he truly has loved? When the only love he’d had known has been distorted and corrupt to its very essence?) That terrible, that wild desire— it was instilled in him from his earliest moments of comprehension. This insatiable want; this unquenchable need for something more. It would lord over him in his youth, towering over him like an ominous cloud, but it wasn’t until adulthood that Mikael would dally with it, exploring its various nuances and potentiality. It wouldn’t be until his parents denied him of what he believed to be rightfully his that he first succumbed to it. The second time would be when he saw her. She’d been a dancing flurry of reds, vivacious energy ricocheting off of her and into the minds of her spectators— men and women of all ages. But there had been a crucial disparity between Mikael and the rest of the onlookers, as he would coo to her months later. They were wholly content with being graced by Lucrezia’s presence. A glimpse of her was all they thought they deserved. He’d been greedy, not wanting to settle for a meager glimpse. Mikae had never been one to stop at what he simply deserved. That same lust that had driven him to exile his own blood was the same lust that electrified him in his pursuits of Lucrezia. He’d been a man of scarce variety in his own thoughts, and a man of even scarcer actions. And truthfully? Mikael had known he wasn’t good enough. Not at that moment when he’d first saw her. But his desire fueled his insignificant life with purpose, and despite his own habit of capitulating to inaction, he were determined more than anything to become good enough. No one could deny Mikael of that— of his unquenchable resolve. Lucrezia could ask him of anything, to stare down the GODS themselves, and he would’ve done so. At that moment, he had been nothing and she had been everything. They would BECOME something together. She would breathe life to the Falco name. He’d signed away his soul and commenced with his dance with the devil. Lucrezia wanted a chase— she wanted him to leap through rings of hellfire for her favor, and he’d indulged her with little resistance. He had not expected the softness her love would instill within him, and how wholly determined he would be to keep her happy. She would become the spark that would ignite his flame; she breathed life into the Falco name as he’d expected, but she’d breathed life into him too. He’d been completely enchanted, blind to the power he’d gradually begun to sign over to her. His soul had gone first, followed by his cognizance, a suspension of disbelief replacing the parts of his mind that were meant to be logical. Mikael would come to know that flame Lucrezia wielded, that flame that once frequently warmed him— and that it was just as capable of SCORCHING him all the same. She’d seized all his shortcomings, and how plentiful they had been, and stored them in her ARSENAL of weapons to be wielded against him. And wield them she did. Each TAUNT bounded him tighter and tighter to her. He was incapable of overlooking his own inferiority in her presence. That inferiority that he’d promised himself to overcome, was now being used to keep him constrained, confining him to his own mediocrity. Maybe this is what he deserved for existing as a being ruled by only lust. Mikael told himself that a lesser man would have befallen the same fate, but how could he truly have known, when that lesser man himself met him every day in the mirror?

Extras: my love and adoration b/c I took too damn long on that para sample sokefgoegek Btw, all my bold text disappeared. :( I redid it twice. And it’s gone, yet again

#accepted #accepted: macbeth

5 notes · View notes

loki-fanfic-whore · 5 years

Text

A Siren’s Haunting

Warnings- none

@drakesfiance

Anon post- Could I please get a one shot with loki x reader where he hears her singing in the tower and all over the place and falls in love with her voice but doesn't know who it belongs to like little mermaid style haha? And then fluff and him realizing it's the reader who lives in stark tower cause she has powers but they're nonviolent so she doesn't do missions with everyone? Thank you💖

One shot!

It started two months ago. It had been an excruciatingly bad day and Loki was angry and hurt. He had been stood up again and was really hoping this mortal would have worked out. He happened to be sitting in the library when he heard it. A hauntingly beautiful melody rang out in the open air, vibrating perfectly among the books and himself. He immediately stood trying to find the siren who had captured his attention, but to no avail. The melodious angel stopped singing the moment he tumbled over a stack of books. He cursed himself under his breath.

The next time he heard it would be two weeks later, midday, from his room. He couldn’t help but wonder why now all of the sudden he could hear the song. The haunting sounds causing his heart to swell with emotions. The voice reminded him so much of his mothers singing when he was a child. He raced from his room trying to find the source only to run into Thor who goaded him about chasing after a girl he didn’t even know.

This evening he heard it again, and was determined to find the siren who had captured his heart. He snuck quietly from his room and towards the voice until he found himself in front of the training room. Pushing the doors open he stumbled as he found you mid-note cleaning the floor.

“e-excuse me…does that exquisite voice belong to you?” he internally rolled his eyes as he cliqued himself by stuttering. A soft giggle escaped you as you leaned back onto your heels.

“why yes…you are Loki right?” you asked standing and carefully stepping through the cleaned floor to stop in front of him.

“Yes I am, but who I am is not the question right now. Who is the woman who owns that exquisite voice is the question upon my mind. You have utterly bewitched me.” He bowed and took your hand placing a kiss upon your knuckles. You laughed and stood him up straight.

“I don’t usually talk to people, so I don’t really have a name, but you can call me siren.” You smiled warmly at him.

“What are you doing in the tower? I have never seen you before.” Loki smiled and took your hand again.

“Well, I have abilities, but none of them are violent, so I do not go on missions, I stay and clean and help around the tower. Fury found me as a child and raised me up here.” You left your hands in his not wanting to ruin a soft moment. After all Loki was the first to see you and hear you in such a long time.

“What abilities do you have my darling?” Loki asked gently.

“well, for one…no one can see me….or hear me….I am like a ghost…or invisible man. It is why I was shocked when you reacted all those times. I wasn’t sure the first time, when you knocked the books over, but after the second time when I heard you trying to get Thor away so you could find me…I knew for sure you could hear me.” You felt yourself blush as Loki took your face in his hands, his own lit up with a smile.

“Well my siren, I am utterly in love with you and your voice…would you do me the honor of going on an outing with me? Since no one else here can see or hear you, we can slip out without you going missing.” He teased and you felt your blush deepen. No one had ever asked you out before.

“I’d like that Loki…let me go get changed…my room is actually next to yours… most people think it a guest room. It is kind of awkward when someone stops in and I am laying there or just out of the shower.” You chuckled. Loki dropped your hands and you found yourself missing his warmth.

“well how about you get changed and I shall knock on your door in an hour and we can go see a movie or grab dinner. I know a quaint café on the corner that has excellent food.” He smiled and you nodded.

“I’ll go get ready…thank you Loki.” You found yourself saying.

“For what my darling Siren?”

“For being able to hear me. I have sung that song for years…my mother sang it when my father left. It is a song of heartbreak and loneliness.”

“Sing that haunting song no more my dear. I am here for you and I do not plan on going anywhere. It is time to sing a new song. ”

“Won’t it be weird being seen without me?” you held your elbow with your hand awkwardly, meaning since no one could see you that it would be weird to go on a date.

“Not at all. If you want though, to start we could order take away and have a movie night in my room. You could serenade me to disney movies.” Loki smiled as he told you one of his darkest secrets. Since coming to earth he had adored the colorful movies that tugged on his heart strings.

A soft gasp escaped you as you laughed.

“I’d like that. I’ll bring my pillow and we can eat and laugh and sing till both of our hearts are content.” you blushed and smiled so excited and happy to finally be seen and heard.

#one shot #sirens song #loki x reader #hauntingly beautiful #bad grammar

80 notes · View notes

queenmorgawse · 5 years

Text

i am in the birds that sing (i am in each lovely thing)

THIS FIC HAS SPOILERS FOR CHAPTERS 123-124 OF TGCF. as a disclaimer, though, i'm only caught up with suika's translation, so i don't know how these two actually end up. pls don't spoil me!! content warnings : suicidal thoughts / ....suicide equivalent? think what mo xuanyu pulled in mdzs canon. nothing graphic, but it's not lightly implied either. please take care! here's some soundtrack, if reading with music is your thing. read on ao3 + end notes.

He Xuan,

This is a graceless beginning to a graceless letter, isn’t it? Of course, it hardly matters. I wish for you to never read this at all, so you can remain as happy as you can be. I don’t even know if this will survive my endeavor. If it has, and if you’re reading it, I urge you to fold it again and burn it. It will bring you no joy.

Why write the letter at all, then? The truth is, I am awfully lonely, these days, and this is hardly something I can simply tell my neighbour when I invite her over for tea. She’s a sweet young woman. I hope she fares well after this. I’ll have to ask her to leave the pinwheels where they are, and see that they don’t get blown away.

I keep getting lost in thoughts, but again, it doesn’t matter. All I have to waste is paper and time, and though I’ve spent much of one already, I shall not run out of the other before I am done.

I suppose I just want to clear my head and go...wherever I am going serenely, without dragging a heavy heart behind. I am also selfish in that special way humans are, and want to cling to the possibility, as infinitesimal as it is, that someone somewhere will know of me.

To the core of the problem, then ⎯ or, actually, the core of the solution.

I have a little divinity left in me, you see. Oh, not much ; figuratively, barely enough to fill a teacup. It will not keep me immortal, or give me my spiritual devices back. Ultimately, it will not save me, so I thought I might devote it to something that will be worth it.

I’ve been doing an awful ton of research. My brother attempted the impossible and, against all odds, succeeded. I made my best attempt at doing the same. There are many spells forbidden and forgotten to find, if one works with single-minded purpose.

I unearthed the one I wanted, after a while.

Shi Wudu’s sixth birthday goes by without a hitch. So does the year that follows it, and the next, and the next. He never presses his ear against his mother’s door, waiting with baited breath for a newborn’s first wail. There is no longer a nursery and no new cradle in the Shi family’s mansion.

When he leaves, stubbornly holding his head high as whispers and gossip surround him, what remains of his belongings tucked in the bag hanging at his shoulder, he leaves alone.

I thought of looking for a way to bring your family and fiancée back to life, at first. Then I realized that if they did, they would still be mortal, and your happiness would be fleeting. It was a great shame to lose them once ; it would have been a tragedy to watch them die again. I discarded that idea soon after I came up with it.

A group of children wades through the shallow current of the stream that runs like a silver ribbon around the town of Fu Gu. The boys rolled up their pants to their knees, the girls hiked up their skirts as high as they dared. They kick and splash water at each other, and the air rings with startled yelps and breathless laughter.

One of the girls latches onto the shoulders of the boy next to her and bears down with all her weight, dragging them both into the river. She bolts to her feet as fast as she can, expecting him to catch her and pull her back again, giggles and wrings water out of her soaked mess of a dress. Instead, he stares at her like he’s never seen her before, like she caught the sun shining high above them and set it into her smile.

Not for the first time, she is mesmerizing. For the first time, he is charmed.

When I found what I was looking for, it took me one year to translate it, then another to check it over again and practice. Aren’t arrays that must be drawn perfectly in a single line so very annoying? I had to make sure it worked.

These are bold words from me, though. Even as I sit here, writing this, I do not know whether it will succeed. All I know is that I won’t be able to live with myself if I do not try.

Red robes rustle as the couple kneel and bow their heads before the family shrine.

There is no gold to line the bride’s veil, and the clothes themselves have been handed down three generations. But the joy ⎯ the joy they radiate changes everything. In that aspect, an emperor couldn’t dream of a lovelier wedding.

As is tradition, the bride and groom bow thrice : once to the heaven and the earth, once to the aging couples looking on with tears in their eyes, and once to each other. They rise to the sound of cheers, their hands still clasped in each other’s. The wedding party wishes them good luck, prosperity, healthy children, their words running together like songs.

Blessings come raining down on them, and the road ahead is endless.

Here is how it works : the only person who needs to disappear is me. The rest is all consequences, like ripples in a pond. Without me in the middle, there is no stone to be thrown, and the surface remains peaceful. There will be no newborn baby for a hungry spirit to latch on. My brother will never go to the lengths he did for someone who never existed to begin with.

You will have the life you should have had from the beginning, without knowing you ever suffered.

In a beautiful two-storied house, a young woman slumps against the bed frame, her face flushed, breathless but somehow glowing. The midwife hands her a small, wailing bundle. She takes it into her arms with infinite gentleness, cradling it to her chest.

The door opens. A young man in dark robes half runs, half flies into the room, a little girl on his heels. The child climbs onto the bed, babbling at her mother the entire time, while her husband leans over her, his gaze softening.

Three dark heads bend together, cooing at the newborn. The baby opens its eyes and chirps at them, small and soft. The mother starts to cry, while the girl whoops and claps until her father shushes her.

A few minutes later, another woman bursts into the room. Gege! she calls, then gasps. Oh, she’s so cute!

He Chunhua, they call the infant, for the spring flowers blooming outside the mother’s window.

It is a simple and elegant solution. The best I could come up with, anyway.

Don’t think I rushed headlong into this. I could have, as I rushed into many other messes ⎯ but I thought this time, neither ge nor you would be here to catch me if I fell, and so I proceeded as carefully as I knew how.

I made a list of everyone my disappearance might affect. Of course, my brother and yourself were the first. I used to be upset at this, but now, I am glad the other heavenly officials were never as fond of me as they claimed to be. Fewer ripples in the pond to mind.

I thought of all the prayers I answered over the years, the little demands and the big. But I trust that you, the version of He Xuan I never knew, are a good person, and that you will attend to your worshipers as I have to mine. Hopefully, you will also help His Highness in his time of need.

I suppose that with all this covered, there is not much more for me to say.

Three children tug each other by the hand. One is, to tell the truth, a teenager already ; the second doesn’t appear older than eleven or twelve, and the third is only a small boy, eight years old at most. The eldest leads them up the temple’s steps and into the semi-darkness.

There, the shadows are broken by thousands of candles lit by a steady stream of worshipers. Even now, as the dusky sky stretches into night, many still pray at the god’s feet. They ask for kind winds on their journeys, for good fortune for their businesses, for beneficial matches for their children. A hundred prayers rise into the sky, with the smoke of a hundred merits. All over the land, there are such temples, with such people sending the Lord Wind Master their wishes and hoping for his blessing.

The eldest sister lights an incense stick for each of her younger siblings. Together, they kneel among the other devotees.

Unlike the others, their prayers do not ask for anything. They tell the god about their mother, and how hard she’s been working lately. They talk about their grandmother, whose health has been improving a little with the death of winter, and about their grandfather, whose extraordinary resilience still has him running the family’s shop despite his old age. They talk about themselves, too ; how their education goes, the friends they’ve made, the life ahead of them.

It always ends the same way. Father, I hope you are doing well. We miss you very much.

They will come back next week.

If you’ve read up until here, you have thoroughly disregarded the advice I’ve given in the first lines, and I must scold you for it. I understand, though. There are few things more tempting than the truth, once it has shown even a glimpse of itself. I hope this doesn’t upset you too much. You were in so much pain that first time ; even after all that has happened, I do not want to add to it, even in a lifetime where you will not remember.

Well, now you know. If this letter exists at all, that is. The person who wrote it was never here, so it is unlikely, but I cling to the childish hope that it will make it through somehow.

I don’t know what will happen to me. The ritual says very little, only that it goes against the rules of the world. I don’t know whether I will be able to enter the cycle of reincarnation again, or if it is forever barred to me.

What I said that day is true. I wanted to die then, and even now, I cannot bring myself to mind the idea. What changed since I left the island is that I decided I would rather not die in vain. If the letter survived, then at least one person in the world will remember my name. I’m quite happy with that.

I hope it doesn't hurt. I hope it feels just like falling asleep.

I want to say more, I really do. But, He Xuan, if you have read this to the end, I don’t want to burden you with anything you might feel towards the shadow of a ghost, be it hatred, or guilt, or (dare I hope) gratefulness.

Once again, I am sorry. The wrongs of this lifetime will never appear in yours, but I will remember them all the same. I cannot bring myself to forgive that version of you for what you did, no more than I can forgive myself for what I took part in.

It is all right, though. There will soon be a blank slate, a world in which neither of these things happened, and we are happy ⎯ or at least, at peace.

Just know that even though you might think I have done much for a stranger’s sake, you were the furthest thing from a stranger to me.

With hope once again,

Shi Qingxuan

In the middle of a convoluted array stands a forgotten god. Blood drips down their fingertips as they bend down to complete the circle with a swift, decisive stroke.

The dawn explodes into shards of light.

When the dust settles, the field is almost empty. A gentle spring breeze blows across neat rows of pinwheels.

All is quiet, and all is new.

#tgcf #tian guan ci fu #heaven officials blessing #shi qing xuan #shuangxuan #tgcf spoilers #kim's fics #tgcf fic

19 notes · View notes