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blzzrdstryr · 3 years

Note

Can I request where the reader tells jean that they should break up. What would be her reaction when the reader is been secretly seeing some else? Yes. I'm here for the angsty. Pls make the reader g/n

Wordcount: 1268

CW: Yandere, unhealthy relationships, confinement, infidelity, physical abuse

The thing about dating Jean is that she seems perfect - beautiful, smart, strong and wholly dedicated - most people would kill to have a lover like that. However most people don’t know how torturous relationship with her can be - she is indeed beautiful, smart, strong and wholly dedicated, just not to you, as Mondstadt comes before anything, her health, your love and the little of time you two spend together.

How many times has she cancelled or simply missed your dates, because she was too busy? How many times have you had to look after her like a nanny after a toddler, spending days just cooking and fetching the littlest things everytime she tried to cut her life short by simply overworking? How many times have you begged her to finally take a break and relax, and assign a part of her duties to someone else?

You love Jean, you truly do, but you can’t be with her, not after what she had done over the years of your relationship, not after what you had done over the last weeks. It was an anniversary, you see, a big event that you both planned to celebrate, meaning you preparing everything beforehand and Jean being present for once. You did your part of the deal, working for a week in the row, just to make everything perfect and she didn’t attend.

Mondstadt needed her more than you, it always does.

You lost it.

Maybe it was the resentment slowly piling up with every disservice, every miss on her part, maybe it was the rage and frustration you felt in that moment, a week of your efforts and dedication rendered pointless.

Logically you understood why Jean did it - Mondstadt is a nation, full of people who rely on their Grandmaster and the Knights, you’re just one person, a person who knows that Jean is also human, who can get sick and tired, who overworks herself just to provide everyone with security they deserve, but her silent dismissal always felt so scorching and so cold at the same time.

And so you did something unforgivable - you cheated on her. It was easy to find an eager person who would love and worship you the way you thought you deserved it. The sensations of other’s hands upon your skin, of a mouth licking and biting and kissing brought you a sick sense of satisfaction - it was revenge. In that moment everything was perfect, you felt the happiest, most cherished person to exist.

The next morning greeted you with a cold realization - you did something unforgivable. Jean, despite her dismissal of you, was still faithful and dedicated, yet unlike her you were weak, you allowed yourself to succumb to petty hurt and slept with someone else. A giant wave of shame and self-loathing crushed all over you, threatening to drown your entire being - not even once you felt this despicable and disgusting.

You swore that you won’t cheat on her ever again the same day, not being able to look Jean directly in the eyes for the rest of the week. This oath however was soon broken - the same cancelled date, her missing figure carving out another small hole in your heart. It felt good - to be the center of someone’s world even if it’s just only a night long crude and laughable falsehood.

That’s why you’re standing here now: in the middle of her office, as Jean scribes something in the scroll with a feather. She doesn’t lift her head, writing one line after another, her whole attention focused on the piece of parchment on the table. You stand right before her, patiently waiting when she will finish, and only when you realize that it’s not happening soon do you allow yourself to speak.

“Jean”, you start, voice small and weak - she still writes, yet now lifts her head a bit, stern blue eyes now shifting between you and scroll: “[First]”, she starts not caring to hide the annoyed tiredness in her tone, “could you come back later? I have a lot of work to do”.

You stifle a burst of anger at the familiar, dreaded words: “I am afraid I can’t. We really need to talk”.

This prompts her to finally put the feather aside, her eyes now focusing on you: “[First], I know it’s hard for you”, you raise eyebrows, a spark of hope of her finally understanding how broken your relationships are igniting with a new strength, only to be snuffed out by the next phrase: “But I am pretty sure that whatever you want to talk can wait. Mondstadt never waits”.

You’re disappointed, both in herself and you for the dismissal and unfounded longing; you’re not surprised. Looking how Jean returns to her words, you decide to cut out all the unnecessary build up and blurt out:

“We need to break up, we really do”, her face shifts in the same moment morphing from shock to disbelief to sadness, as she quickly stands up, almost knocking down her chair in the moment: “[First], I didn’t know that.. I.. I am sorry”.

She quickly strides to you, her hands calloused from the fencing cupping around yours: “I.. Do you want me to do something, [First], I didn’t know that you felt so badly. Let me fix that, please”, she sounds so pitiful and earnest, a prick of self-loathing stabbing your heart. You’re the one who should be asking for forgiveness.

“Stop, Jean”, you yank palms from her hold: “I need to tell you something”, she steps up closer to you and takes your hands by the wrist again, her breath suddenly fanning the face. You bare yourself, swallowing the guilt and the lump stuck in your throat down - she has to know, she deserves someone better than you: “I have cheated on you, several times”.

Jean’s hold suddenly turns from gentle to crushing, as she squeezes her palms into tight fists, knuckles turning white. You suppress both whimper and pained expression and look her straight in the eyes: “Yes, that’s right, that’s true. I slept behind your back”.

“[First]”, begging whisper.

“I cheated every time you cancelled our plans or dismissed me”.

Slap.

Jean’s hand leaves a burning, angry imprint on your face. You don’t flinch from pain, welcoming it instead - you deserved, after all of the things you did that is the least thing she could do to punish you. The impact leaves your head slightly dizzy, a coppery taste of blood blooming on your tongue - you must have bit yourself when she hit you. You swallow the taste down, continuing to speak:

“That’s why we need to end things, you are deserving of someone more than just a whorish, unfaithful cheater for the second half”.

She gives you a cold dead stare when you end your line and for the first time you feel a pang of fear, never has she looked so terrifying, so devoid of her usual gentle compassion: “Shut up”, she explodes, her hands cuffing yours again.

“Guards! Seize [First], now!”

A shocked noise escapes you, as a pair of knights burst into rooms, knocking you down: “What are you doing?!”, you shout at Jean, eyes wide as saucers. She gives you a look, a mix of rage and pity.

“Don’t worry [First]”, she adopts the patronizing tone, it’s jarring to say the least: “Someone must have poisoned or manipulated you, I know my [First] would never say or do such things. Don’t worry I’ll find the perpetrator and punish them”.

You can’t utter even a word of protest with a heavy hand around your face.

#Yandere Jean #Yandere Jean x reader #yandere genshin impact #Yandere genshin x reader #Yandere genshin impact x reader #Yandere genshin #Female yandere #Yandere x reader #Yandere #Jean #Jean x reader #my writing

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differenceonlyyoucanmake · 3 years

Note

Do you have any headcanons about a more YA Pearl Princess rewrite?

DO I

This movie is full of potential!

YA Pearl Princess Headcanons

Kuda isn't a talking seahorse. Lumina pretended she could speak to feel less lonely.

Lumina's sheltered upbringing left her with social inadequacies she was old enough to be aware of, but not experienced enough to fix.

Lumina spent a large portion of her waking hours overcome by the desire for something more: the desire for friends, the desire to belong.

At night, she dreams of flurries of pearls. She jolts awake to her dreams manifesting themselves into reality. The pull to use her powers has become so great, the pearls she tries to suppress on her aunt's instructions during the day overtake her room at night.

She is confused and frightened by this change. When she was younger, her pearls came very rarely. She tries asking Scylla about it, but her aunt shuts the subject down immediately.

Previously an obedient niece, Lumina becomes agitated by the lack of answers. She snaps at her aunt. Her pearls glow an angry shade of red.

Ashamed by emotions she was never taught how to handle, Lumina recedes into fantasies she is aware are childish. She dreams of being a princess: always serene and in control of her emotions and powers.

Little does she know, the king and queen are locked away in their castle mourning their own lost princess. Scylla's homeschooling program conveniently omitted most information about the royal family.

The outside world knows the truth. After the disappearance of the baby princess, the king and queen took on a reclusive lifestyle. The Commanding General, Caligo, adopted royal responsibilities in their stead. At first, the general public was willing to believe he was doing this for the good of the kingdom.

After the first few years, it became apparent Caligo was encouraging the royals' seclusion to secure the throne for his son, Fergis. The capital was in a constant state of mourning from missing their leaders, the young princess, and fear for the future of the kingdom.

The light of the capital was visibly dimmer too. One of the heirs to the royal pearl magic ability was too far away to help power the city. This heir was presumably the dead princess.

Scylla is contacted by one of Caligo's lackeys. A ball is to take place to find Fergis a wife before his inevitable coronation. Caligo wants the poison expert nearby in case the king and queen are tempted to ruin his plans. If Scylla doesn’t comply, Caligo will reveal that she was the one responsible for the princess’s death.

Scylla is summoned to the capital about a month in advance. Lumina is left on her own for significant amount of time for the first time she can remember. She tries to follow Scylla’s instructions at first, but she gives in and follows the pull of her pearl magic far away from her home.

After journeying through dangerous locations, Lumina makes it to the capital of Seagundia.

Spirits are high. The city is full of energy not felt for several years. No one knows why, but many suspect the king and queen’s decision to re-enter the public eye means they must be in better moods, boosting the magical energy of the city.

Lumina is overwhelmed by all the new aspects of the city. She soon learns how much Scylla forgot to teach her: you need money to survive, for one thing.

She finds employment at a salon. Though she can’t use her pearl magic outright (she trusts Scylla’s assertion that others would harm her if they knew about it), Lumina uses the faintest traces of her magic to add a pearly sheen to her clients’ hair. This makes her popular enough to earn enough to sustain her for the time being.

Her coworkers are bewildered but intrigued by this seemingly clueless girl. She’s awkward yet outgoing; smart yet uninformed; creative yet rigid in her understanding (or lack thereof) of things like social cues. They befriend her, and when they find out Lumina has been sleeping behind the salon, they take turns letting her stay in their homes.

Lumina learns of the ball. Things are busy at work in preparation of the event. When Lumina gets a chance to get ready herself alongside those she works with, she is reminded of her princess fantasies. Reality hits her when she realizes Scylla didn’t tell her why she left. She could be home right now, unaware of Lumina’s whereabouts and safety. These past weeks had flown by so quickly, Lumina almost forgot about her previous, lonely life. She promises herself she’ll return home after the ball, at least long enough to explain herself.

She is struck with a bittersweet emotion as she watched Cora and Sandrine adjust her jewelry in the mirror. Here were the friends she always wanted, but she might have to leave them forever.

They arrive at the ball. Cora and Fergis get along right away. He takes her aside to show her his collection of rare and exotic plants.

Sandrine mingles with numerous strangers. Lumina gets overwhelmed by all the new people and looks for her in the crowd.

In the process, she encounters Scylla. Too surprised to keep up any sort of pretense, they both start asking the other her purpose of being there. Caligo notices this. Believing Lumina has joined Scylla to double cross him, he orders his personal guards to quietly put Lumina away. She is placed in the dungeon. Caligo tells Scylla she will be released if Scylla poisons the king during a toast later in the night.

Thinking she would not actually have to do any poisoning tonight, Scylla excuses herself. Caligo made her brew some poisons in front of him weeks ago, and she ventures into his quarters to gather some concentrated stonefish venom she had concocted there.

Caligo remembered his henchman mentioning Scylla hiding her teenage “niece” during his visit. Something was wrong here.

It came time for the toast. Sensing a slight odor from his own cup of thick nectar, Caligo switched his cup with the king’s. He did this several times, unable to read Scylla’s reaction.

Lumina escaped from the dungeon using her pearl magic. She swam down the corridors in a panic until she bumped into Cora in the middle of a romantic moment with Fergis. Lumina hurriedly explained that she wasn’t safe. Fergis saw the trail of magical pearls coming from her hands. This was the true heir. She could take the throne, and he could pursue the quiet life he longed for. He begged her to come to the ballroom with him. Lumina obliged, sensing his urgency. Cora held onto Fergis’s hand as he swam as fast as he could to where the toast was taking place.

The force of the young mers’ rushed swimming was so great, it caused a rippple that knocked over the king’s cup. Caligo tried to offer his own. As he tipped it towards his brother-in-law, he noticed faint bubbles in the nectar: a telltale sign of stonefish venom. Scylla rushed forward to stop him just as Fergis, Cora, and Lumina entered the ballroom.

Caligo was prepared for such a situation. He made a subtle motion to one of his guards. The guard stabbed Scylla in the back with a venom-tipped spear. There was a reason Caligo asked for the poison to be made in his own quarters.

Overcome by emotion, Lumina made a giant pearl shield. She sat in shock inside it along with Cora, Fergis, and the dying Scylla.

Lumina recognized the appearance of the poison: stonefish venom. Her aunt had taught her about all sorts of poisons.

She yelled out this realization. Fergis looked up with a glint in his eye. He had just the thing they needed: a lily he had included in a bouquet he’d given Cora earlier in the night. Cora quickly removed the flower from a bundle in her satchel. Lumina administered the flower to Scylla, and she was revived. Lumina joyfully embraced her. The pearl shield now enveloped just the two of them.

Then Scylla shared her true history. Lumina was the princess she was asked to dispose of all those years ago. As more of the story was unveiled, Lumina shed fluorescent pearl tears. The pearl shield bubbled away.

When Lumina became aware of her surroundings, she was shocked to find Fergis and Cora were holding Caligo in place. Fergis was telling the king and queen of his father’s schemes. Caligo was too shocked to argue. He didn’t know his son knew of half his plans. It turned out his son wasn’t half as dull as he thought. Maybe he would have made a decent king after all. It didn’t matter. Caligo and his treacherous guards were taken to the dungeon to be dealt with later. A cauldron of incriminating venom was found in Caligo’s room.

For now, the king and queen rejoiced in the discovery of their daughter. They placed the Pearl of the Sea on her neck. It was originally placed on a pedestal in the center of the room for Fergis to wear after the toast, but now it glowed brilliantly, revealing the true heir of the kingdom. The entire city was intensely illuminated, and a surge of energy flowed through all its inhabitants.

Lumina transformed. Pearls spun themselves in her hair, and her tail shifted colors like none had ever seen. When she came down from her transformation, she felt the calmest she ever had. Things would be different, but she knew she belonged. She knew she would never be lonely again.

#barbie pearl princess #rewrite #barbie movies #barbie movie headcanons

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chimtaesty · 3 years

Text

Moonlit Destiny Part One

pairing: princess!reader x king!jin / 2.8k words

warnings: angst, violence, anxiety, strong language, trauma

plot: marrying a king of a far away country seemed to be your biggest problem, but gradually falling in love with a man who is deeply hurt and isn't able to control his rage turns out to be more troublesome.

A/N: hi! I'm really sorry that the first part of this series wasn't uploaded at the planned date. I had to replan and arrange thigs because my exams were delayed and moved and everything was a mess. I hope you enjoy this opener and you'll stay tuned for more of this series.

comment down below if you want to be added to the taglist!

masterlist / story masterlist / PROLOGUE

“His first wife, Eunbi, was a traitor....”

“W-What do you mean?” The information he’s giving you doesn’t seem to get processed. His wife betrayed him, causing him pain. “She tried to poison him, almost killing his youngest brother in the process. She aimed for his crown, she wanted to be the sole ruler. The emperor had her hung publicly” Your brain doesn’t work.

Your mouth opens to question Yonghee further, but in that very moment Seokjin walks towards you two, aiming for you. “I’m sorry for breaking up the conversation between you two, but i would like to talk to my fiance” He states with a small smile, making you question what Yonghee said a minute ago. How on earth was the man that stands in front of you able to hang his wife. To execute the woman he loved, or maybe he didn’t. It may have been easier to kill her for treason because he didn’t actually love her. Would he be able to execute you when you made a mistake? Would he ever be able to kill you?

“Y/N, I wanted to elaborate the cause of my anger towards you. I realised that it was unfair to be angry at you for mentioning my first wife without actually knowing what happened.” You don’t say anything while he sways on the heels of his feet. You know what happened, yet you let him explain to see things through his perspective.

“My first wife, Eunbi, was a wonderful woman. We loved each other truly and I would've given her everything. I made her queen because she desired to be my wife. I allowed her to learn whatever she wanted, because I loved her. She made me the happiest man alive. But she betrayed me, she used me, tried to kill me for her biggest desire. She wanted to be in my position, be king. She tried to kill me, but she poisoned my youngest brother, Jungkook, instead. It was an accident since the poisoned cup of wine was meant for me. My brother survived, barely, he still has problems with speaking. When it was revealed that she had poisoned my brother's drink she showed her real face.

She admitted that what I had given her wasn’t enough. She wanted to be the sole ruler of my kingdom and she was ready to do whatever it took to accomplish that. Although I loved her, dearly, I had to execute her. I would’ve forgiven her, I would've let her go because I loved her. My brother, Yoongi, took care of her execution. I couldn’t be present. I couldn’t watch the woman I loved being hung like a criminal.” he finishes with tears in his eyes.

His eyes are red and his cheeks pink. You can’t even imagine what he felt, the pain that must torture him every single day. “How many brothers do you have?” you don’t realise what leaves your mouth until it’s too late. A small chuckle leaves his plump lips. “That’s what busies your mind? How many brothers I have?” you chuckle as well. “I’m curious, I now know what happened to Eunbi and I understand that it must be unimaginably painful to execute someone you love but since you don’t want to talk about it too much, I won’t bring it up again. Thank you for telling me” you nudge his arm slightly “Now tell me how many brothers you have”

xxxxx

He has six brothers, Namjoon, the army commander of the south. He takes care of the safety in the kingdoms south. He’s very tall and likes to read, in his free time he likes to take care of the animals which live at the royal court. Yoongi, who takes care of the local prisons. He is excellent at getting people to talk, through torture, to your displeasure. He’s smaller than his brothers and likes to listen to concerts on his free evenings.

Hoseok is the army commander of the north. He shares his work with his brother, Namjoon, and takes care of the safety in the kingdom's north. He is a ray of sunshine. Seokjin said he was surprised when Hoseok asked to be a commander since he imagined him to become an artist like Taehyung, but he assured his brother of his professionalism. He likes to help Jimin with the local orphanages in his free time, remarkable.

Jimin is the third youngest of the bunch. He is a famous warrior, known as the white shadow. He fought in several great wars and always came back as the winner. Even though he’s a scary and very skilled warrior, he has a very sensible personality. He likes to help out at the local orphanages, showing the children how to defend themselves. A secret ,Seokjin pleaded with me to never ever talk about, is that Jimin likes to be read to. He often asks his older Brother, Namjoon, to read to him.

Taehyung is the second youngest, making him the second family's baby. He’s the only one who strayed from the genre of professions among the brothers. He decided to become an artist, painting the most beautiful paintings and writing the loveliest poems, having quite the clan of female admirers. He does know how to fight, though. Growing up with six brothers who like to train for future purposes made him learn how to fight as well. He might not be as skilled as Jimin or Jungkook, but he would survive in war.

Jungkook is the youngest of them all. He’s a warrior like Jimin, known as black shadow. He is the best fighter out of the seven, no one has ever succeeded in having him land on his back. He seems really scary, almost terrifying, said Seokjin. But he’s a nice boy, kind and cautious. He told Seokjin that he would like an older sister in law because Eunbi was younger than him, calling him Oppa, which he strongly disliked.

When he was poisoned, he lost almost all possibility to speak, he has trouble eating and dislikes having to talk to people. He’s embarrassed people would feel disgusted by his raspy and rough sounding voice.

His family sounds fun, complicated but fun.

xxxxx

The maids helped you put the traditional clothes on called “Hanbok”. “Ow!” you shout, startling the maids in the process. “We are deeply sorry, your majesty. We have to tighten this part a slight bit.” Moving in this big thing seems impossible as there’s so much fabric. “You’re almost done, your majesty.” you can’t believe that Seokjin wants you to wear such a hideous amount of clothing.

“You’re done, your majesty! The only thing you will have to put on is the head piece” the smaller girl in front of you instructs. She holds a big golden something in her hands. You’ve never seen something as astonishing and beautiful as this golden thing.

She places the headpiece on your head, securing it in your hair. It’s heavy, feels like they’ve placed a child on top of your head, yet you like it. “You look beautiful, your majesty” you smile at her “Thank you very-“Is she done yet?” An impatient voice wanders through the walls. “Yes, your majesty. Your fiancé is done being dressed” a maid informs him.

“Good, come outside, my dear. Let me have a look at you” he pushes. You’re not sure how you’re supposed to get up. There’s jewelry as heavy as a newborn on your head and ridiculous big clothing on your body. “I’ll try my best.” he chuckles.

The maid helps you up, you’re sure she’s trying to not laugh herself. If the women in his country wear this stuff without a problem?

“Wow, Y/N. You look stunning. Come here, my love” he opens his arms wide. You let go of the maid, focused on making your way over to him. The headpiece weighs down on your already exhausted neck. “Thank you, the headpiece is quite heavy though” your nose crunches up at your small complaint.

He stifles a laugh “That’s alright, you won’t have to wear it all the time. Such big jewelry should only be worn at special occasions” you nod your head, or at least you try to. “Y/N, could you do me a favor?” you hum “Of course” “Please take care of Jungkook, he needs someone to talk to. His brothers don’t seem fit for that job” you nod. “I’ll try”

xxxxx

So here you are, in front of his parents and his six brothers, well not all six. Two are missing. All of them are way taller than you imagined them to be. His mother is the smallest, smaller than you. And his father is a tad bit smaller than the boys behind him, yet he looks like a king. The posture and the way he introduces himself to you makes it obvious that he was king a while ago.

“My name is Y/N, it’s nice to meet you, your majesty” you bow lowly, as low as Yonghee had shown you. “Oh dear, you don’t have to bow to us. I’m not king anymore” you shake your head in disagreement. “I have to, you are Seokjin's family.” You try in their language.

Yonghee taught you the best he could during your months-long trip back to Seokjin’s land. “That’s very kind of you, Y/N. This is my wife Juhyun, and my name is Hyunsuk. I’m pleased to take you in as my daughter-in-law” you bow once again, making sure to bow to his mother once again. You catch her look, the hatred in her eyes.

His brothers introduce themselves as well before Seokjin snatches you away, taking you to his bedchambers. “She hates me” you sigh. “What are you talking about?” You sit yourself on the bed, trying to wiggle the big head piece out of your hair. “Your mother, she despises me and I can’t get this thing out of my hair” you cry out in frustration.

“Don’t think about her too much. She’s just cautious, after what happened with Eunbi. Let me help you” he tries to calm you. “But you didn’t see her eyes. She would’ve stabbed me right then and there if she had the chance to” you sigh.

His big hand finds its way onto your cheek. “Y/N, stop. She won’t ever hurt you. As long as you’ll stay loyal to me, you won’t be in danger.” His words calm you, to some extent.The fact that he’s willing to protect you even though he’s not in love with you is nice, it feels very nice.

xxxxx

“Why do I have to meet her?” You sigh as a maid helps you into a lighter piece of clothing. “Because she wants to get to know her daughter-in-law. Just drink some tea, answer her questions and you’re good to go.” Your nose crunches up in displeasure. Meeting his mother for tea or rather for interrogation is the cherry on top. She might just kill you and call it an accident.

“You won’t have to stay too long, I want you to meet my youngest brothers. Jimin and Jungkook are coming home from war and Taehyung will present his newest paintings tonight. I want you to be on good terms with them.” You nod and squeeze his hand.

He rubs your palm “You’ll be fine”

Two very friendly guards escort you to the small pavilion on the other side of the palace.

“There you are, take a seat” his mother, Juhyun smiles at you. It’s a fake smile, you’re sure. “I prepared some green tea, it helps your metabolism. You should slim down a little, right” you blink in irritation.

It’s not even been two minutes and this woman is testing your patience. “You won’t want Seokjin to fall back on his concubines, right?” She smiles, once again making you puke deep inside. “Ah, yes.” You huff.

Why is she so keen on making you upset, god. “How old are you, child?” She asks after she pours you some tea. “I’m twenty one” she nods her head, her eyebrows twitching slightly “You’re quite young, dear. You’ll have to give birth to a lot of sons.” You nod your head. “I’ll try my best to reward Seokjin with sons”

She gives you a small smile “Of course you will” she mumbles, clear for your ears to hear. “So, how much do you know about our disappointment of a former queen?” your head shoots up. “Seokjin told me about her, tragic.” her eyebrows furrow and she places the cup of tea down. “He told you himself?” you nod, trying not to chuckle because of her obvious irritation. “He did, he wanted me to know what happened to her.” she hums, making you more uncomfortable than before.

“I’m really sorry about what happened. Having to lose someone a part of the family is horrible.” you place your cup down as well. “Oh don’t act like you care, Eunbi has always been and would have always been the wrong pick for my son. I’m quite glad she got herself killed. I would have hung her myself if my youngest son wouldn’t have survived.” she chuckles and you divert your gaze from the woman in front of you. The water lilies swim peacefully in the crystal clear water, wanting you to be a part of them. Having all the time in the world to relax and be left alone. You would like this woman to leave you alone.

“Child, did you hear me?” your eyes wander to her again. Of course you didn’t hear her. “Excuse me, I didn’t, I’m sorry” you sigh. This tea party is taking way too long, where are you, Seokjin? In your mind you plead for Seokjin to show up and snatch you away. “Great, you aren’t a good listener either. You know, when you want to be the queen of this land, you have to be good at listening to peopl-”Mother, excuse me”

Your eyes widen at the voice you waited so patiently to fill this pavilion. “I’m sorry that i have to break your conversation apart, but i would like to take my fiance with me” he smiles at his mother and you’re quick to get up. A quick bow and you almost drag Seokjin with you.

“Slow down, my love. You look as if you’re trying to escape something” he chuckles. He’s playing with you. Of course he knows that you wanted to escape from his mother as soon as possible. “Oh you don’t know, she’s horrible.” he frowns slightly as he takes your hand in his.

“I know, she didn’t treat Eunbi nice either. I’m sorry that she criticised you. Meeting her has to happen out of decency.” you nod and lower your head. “What did she say?” he asks.

His face looks concerned, your cheeks heat up. “Well, nothing serious” you mumble. He stops walking, pulling you towards him. You look up at him as his features grow angry “As my wife you have to be honest with me, weather i like what you have to tell me or not”

A small sigh leaves your lips as you flutter your eyelashes. “She told me to lose weight or you’ll leave me for one of your concubines.” “What else?” You can’t meet his eyes, you’re too embarrassed. “She doubted my ability to give birth to sons. She acted dismissive as i assured her that i’ll try my best to give birth to your sons.” now it is his turn to sigh.

His big hand finds its way to the back of your neck. “Listen to me, you aren’t too heavy in any way. You’re the right size, you match me perfectly. And you don’t have to worry about not being able to give birth to sons. I’m very much able to put perfect children in there” his hand rests on your stomach. “Don’t doubt me, Y/N” he breathes.

You feel hot, so damn hot you might melt. “I would never” you mumble. His lips are so close. Your eyes move from his lips to his eyes as he moves closer. And in a matter of seconds your lips meet his, igniting a firework in the pits of your stomach. They are so soft as your lips move against his, something you never felt.

“Emper-excuse me” a guard stumbles back around the corner as he sees what is happening. Seokjin pulls away, making you close your eyes and replaying the moment he kissed you. “What, I can't have a moment of peace in this palace.” he grasps your waist as the guard comes back around. “Prince Jimin and Prince Jungkook have arrived-”Good, tell them to come to the crown hall.” he bows his head once more. “That’s the issue, Emperor. Prince Jungkook is greatly injured. Prince Jimin brought him to the nobel healer.” Seokjin tenses up and you are quick to grasp his hand.

“He fights in my war and comes home half dead, this boy.” Seokjin squeezes your hand and sighs once more as he pulls you along.

“Let’s meet my brothers”

taglist: @teamtardis-notdead @little7bitchh

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omori-brainrot · 3 years

Text

The Only One Left

tws: suicide, emetophobia, self-harm, death, grief, alcohol mentions

After the worst neutral ending, Aubrey and Kel soon follow Mari, Basil, and Sunny. Hero is the only one left, and he’s struggling to live with that. But at least his college friends are there when he needs it most.

I’m so sorry but this barged into my brain and wouldn’t leave until it was written and posted.

When Hero goes back to school after the funeral, he hangs one of Kel’s old jerseys on the knob of his dorm-room closet. He needs something to remember his brother by, something to make him feel like he’s not alone. Of course, he’s not really alone. He’s still an underclassman, so he shares his room with Josh.

He’d gotten lucky with his roommate: they’d managed to reach the storybook ideal of not only getting along, but becoming friends. Still. He wished there was no one around to see him cry for hours over the jersey, to see him start favoring the snooze button over his morning classes, to see him sink deeper into himself until he was sure he’d never surface.

Josh had been good-natured about it, at least. He never pointed out the cutting classes when Hero despaired about his grades after the fact, and when Hero couldn’t bring himself to stop sobbing when Josh needed to study, he just put on headphones or went to the library without a single complaint or sign of annoyance.

Hero wonders if Josh knows how close he feels to dying too.

How everyday feels like tar is pulsing through his body, getting caught in his organs and weighing him down until it feels like he’ll never breathe again.

He tells himself that if he joined his old friends, he’d be inflicting the same pain he lived with everyday onto his college friends. That if he were gone, their lives would be shattered instead of his.

Get over yourself. They don’t care that much. They don’t even know you. You only met a year and a half ago. They were fine without you before then. And besides, you’re not the best company anyway. You weren’t there though to stop Mari from hanging herself. You couldn't see the signs. You weren’t there enough to stop Sunny and Basil from stabbing themselves the night before Sunny was supposed to get a new start. You should have reached out earlier. You weren’t there enough to keep Aubrey from getting into that stupid drunk accident. You knew she was drinking too much and too often in an attempt to make her world bearable, you should have done something. You couldn’t stop Kel from poisoning himself with all those chemicals in the bathroom. You knew how hard it was for him to open up about negative emotions without being prompted, and you knew he was so alone after everyone else left. You should have come back from college more often. Why would anyone still want to be friends with you? Why would anyone care if someone like you was gone?

When thinking about his new friends doesn’t work, he reminds himself of his parents. They’d already lost one child. They’d be devastated to lose another. He couldn’t do that to them.

It doesn’t matter. They’re disappointed in you anyway. They see your falling grades and talk about how you shouldn’t give up on your dreams just because of what happened to Kel. They don’t understand that your only dream now is to make this constant pain stop. Besides, what does it matter if this hurts them? They should have been there for Kel when you were gone. As soon as you think that, you feel terrible. Which only makes you want to hurt yourself more.

Still, something makes him want to keep trying for a little while longer. Whatever it takes.

Which is how he ends up sitting over the trash can, taking a flimsy plastic dining hall knife to his arms.

If he wants to hurt himself but doesn’t want to die, this is the best he can do. Besides, it’s a little past midnight after a Friday, so Josh is attending whatever gatherings a non-imploding person attends on a Friday night.

Hero supposes that he should feel worse that things have come to this. But with every sting he only feels relief, even when he presses hard enough for the knife to draw shallow lines of blood.

For once, he’s barely thinking about anything else. Even with the jersey casting a shadow at the corner of his eye. He could get used to this sense of mindless pain.

When the door swings open and the light flicks on at a much earlier time than expected, his first response is to flinch back. It’s a second too late when it occurs to him that she should be rolling his sleeves back down.

Josh runs over, gently grabbing his arms and keeping him from doing so. “Wait. Wait.” He inspects the wounds for a moment. Looking worried, yet relieved that the injuries aren’t serious, he locks eyes with Hero. “Are you okay?” Hero opens his mouth, searching for an answer, but Josh continues. “Wait, you don’t have to answer that. That was a dumb question. Of course you’re not.”

“Yeah.” Hero says under his breath. He averts his eyes to the side of Josh’s head. He should have been more careful. What kind of person gets caught their first time self-harming? No wonder he’s so useless.

“If you let me take the knife with me, I can get some wet paper towels from the bathroom to help you clean up.” Josh holds out his hand, eyebrows creased in concern but eyes wide with expectation. Hero hands the knife over, ignoring the pang of reluctance to stop.

Josh races out of the room, and Hero takes a moment to look at his own cuts. He’s surprised at how many there are. He’d stopped paying attention while he was doing it. However, none of them look very bad, with the worst only bleeding very lightly.

Josh comes back faster than Hero expected, and diligently gets to work pressing the paper towels to the bleeding cuts. Hero winces a little at the sting, but he doesn’t mind this. It reminds him of when he was a child and his mother would clean up his scrapes. He realizes with a jolt that he doesn’t want to go back to hurting himself tonight.

“I hope you don’t mind me prying, but does this have anything to do with what you were telling me a couple months ago?”

“About—” Hero swallows thickly. He can’t bring himself to clarify. Besides, what could Josh be referring to besides Kel’s death? “Yeah.” His voice comes out strained.

“I’m sorry.” They sit in silence for a moment. “Hey, would it make it better or worse if I got Michelle and Dennis? We could get ice cream and you could tell us about your brother. Dennis said that helped when his aunt died.”

He was sure he’d want to say no—heck, he couldn’t bring himself to go to his favorite classes easily. But ice cream sounded nice, and he’d never noticed it before, but he was aching for someone to talk to. There was only one issue.

“Isn’t it almost one a.m.?”

Josh waved a hand dismissively. “That’s no problem if you want to go. I know a great all-night diner.”

That’s how he ended up in a nearly empty Denny’s with a few casual friends.

“Of course he’d refer to Denny’s as ‘a great all-night diner’.” Michelle dips a fry in her chocolate milkshake. Hero smiles slightly at her, eating a spoonful of his hot fudge sundae. The coldness of the ice cream is soothing, and he feels just a little bit better.

“Yeah, Josh, did you think Hero’s never heard of Denny’s before?”

“Hey, you’re not one to criticize me here. We came here for ice cream and you got pancakes.” Josh’s voice is light with playful teasing.

“So? They’re dessert pancakes. And there’s a scoop of ice cream on them.” Dennis gestures to the scoop with a flourish. “What does that have to do with you treating Denny’s like some obscure local mystery, anyway?”

Hero laughs a little. It feels unfamiliar and distant, but at the same time, somehow… right. He’s glad to not be alone tonight. Josh smiles with him. His eyes are still tinged with worry, but he’d reassured Hero on the drive here that none of the others had been told about the self-harm.

“So, Josh said we’re here because you had something to get off your mind?” Michelle looks at him, her worry less intense but still noticeable, like the mechanical whirring of a fridge in the background.

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, poking at his sundae. How could he even begin to say what was wrong? Hero figured he should just start with the part that had been hurting him the most in the past months. “I don’t know if you remember my brother’s funeral a while ago, but…”

“You miss him?” Her voice is soft, gentle.

He nods, tears burning in his eyes.

“What was he like?”

Hero takes a rattling breath. “He really liked basketball. He played it every day after school. I don’t think he was all that close with anyone on his team, but he liked playing it a lot.”

“Is the jersey on your closet his team jersey?” Josh glances at him.

He shakes his head. “No, he just bought that one at the store. Sports clothes were like his default uniform, whether he had practice or not.”

Dennis nods slightly. “I’ve known people like that. I think they just practice so much it’s not worth changing clothes.”

A small smile tugs at Hero’s lips. “Yep, that sounds like Kel. Always on the move.” He glances across the restaurant at another one of the late-night patrons, someone about his age drinking a cup of coffee. “Honestly, I bet part of it was all the caffeine .” Hero wrinkles his nose, a strange mixture of affection and loss nested in the hollowness of his chest. “He drank an unnatural amount of Orange Joe.”

“I didn’t know anyone actually drank that.” Michelle takes a long sip of her milkshake.

“Small base of loyal customers, I guess.” A memory drifts into Hero’s mind, and for once he doesn’t push it away. “I can’t believe he kept drinking it after that hot dog competition. He won, but he drank so much Orange Joe afterwards that he threw up before we left the fair. He always said it was worth it, though.”

Michelle shakes her head. “Siblings.”

For a moment, Hero is reminded of a dozen other conversations he’s had about Kel. He’d tell his grade school classmates about a recent squabble, or something funny Kel did, and that’s what they’d say.

Then the stark contrast of reality hits him. This isn’t a petty fight that will be resolved in a few hours, or a story where nothing serious is wrong. He’s up at one am having this conversation because Kel is gone, because Kel will never win another game, will never drink more unhealthy quantities of soda, will never even graduate high school. He’s here because Kel was found dead on the bathroom floor, next to an emptied bottle of cleaning fluid, and Hero hadn’t done enough to stop him.

He puts his spoon down and lays his head in his arms. Everything feels so heavy. “I should have been there.”

“It wasn’t your fault—” Josh starts, but Hero doesn’t let him finish.

“Yes, it was!” A few of the other late-night patrons glance at their table, and he realizes he said that much louder than he meant to. Taking a shuddering breath, he continues more quietly. “I should have been there. I could have taken more time off school, he was more important than a few stupid assignments. I…” he has to stop to take another uneven breath. His voice is shaky, and he’s not sure how much longer he can speak before he dissolves into sobs, so he talks faster. “I knew he was having a hard time, and I don’t think anyone else could tell because he just acted like he was fine. If I had been there…” He breaks. The crying he was holding back can’t be contained any longer. His shoulders shake and his throat burns. He doesn’t even care if the other people in the diner are staring. Through a blur of tears, he can see his friends looking at him with concern, waiting for him to get it all out.

When he catches his breath, he forces himself to keep talking. He feels like he has to get this out, no matter how much it hurts, no matter if he has to look away from his friends to bear to say it. “He killed himself. And I wasn’t there.”

Michelle is the first to speak. “I’m so sorry…”

Josh puts a hand over his. “That’s horrible… I’m sorry you have to live with that.” He pulls his hand back. “You must feel horribly guilty, but I really don’t think it was your fault.”

“You… don’t?” God, he imagines he looks so pathetic right now.

“Yeah, I mean, you’re just a person. There’s only so much you could have done. You clearly loved him a lot, and I’m sure that meant a lot to him.”

“But it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t there enough.” Hero’s sure he sounds like a broken record, but it’s all he’s been able to think about in the months since Kel’s death.

“Dude, you can’t save everyone. You can’t hold yourself to that standard.” Dennis’s voice is gentle, encouraging.

Hero looks away again, fresh tears emerging. “If that was all it was, maybe I’d think you’re right. But it’s not the first time this has happened.” He picks up his spoon, smushing the unmelted parts of the ice cream as he speaks. “I looked it up and it’s called a suicide cluster, but everyone else in town just calls it a curse.” He wipes away the new tears. “It doesn’t matter what you call it, though. Everyone I’ve grown up with is gone.”

“Shit…” For once, Josh is at a loss for words.

Michelle shakes her head. “It’s still not your fault. The only person who’s life and mental health you’re personally responsible for is your own. The most any of us can do for anyone else is be there and hope that’s enough, but if it’s not, that’s not your fault.”

Josh seems to come back to himself. “Yeah, absolutely. I stand by what I said before, no matter how many people died, because the same logic applies each time.”

“Wow… thanks.” It hasn’t fully set in, and to be honest, he doesn’t fully believe it either, but hearing that someone else believes it makes him feel a little better. “I’m… I’m scared it will never stop. What if everyone I get close to just keeps dying?”

“I… don’t think that will happen.” Dennis shrugs. “I mean, no matter what your town says, you’re not cursed or anything. It won’t go on forever.”

“Yeah, I guess so. My brain just needs to catch up, I guess.”

“It will, eventually.”

Michelle tilts her head slightly to one side. “If you don’t mind me asking, who else did you lose? No pressure, don’t answer if it will make things worse.”

Hero shakes his head. “It’s fine, I came here to get things off my chest anyway.” He pauses for a moment. “Let’s see… first, there was my high school girlfriend. That was four years ago. Last summer, her younger brother and a boy we were friends with growing up died on the same night, and earlier this year, before what happened to Kel, another friend got into an accident.” He feels like he should be more emotional as he says it, but he just feels empty. Like he’ll never feel human again.

“That’s terrible… if you ever want to talk about any of them, I’d be glad to listen.”

“Thanks.” The missing emotion is already bubbling back up a bit, and he has to swallow back tears. “You know, I don’t think anyone’s really asked me about any of them before tonight.” He sighs. “I kind of wish they would, now. I really liked telling you guys about Kel.”

“He sounds like a great brother.”

Hero’s tears start falling again, but somehow it isn’t as bad as before. “Thanks, he was.”

#I'm so sorry Hero my brain said you had to suffer #but hey at least you get ice cream out of it huh #tw suicice #tw emetophobia #tw self-harm #tw s/h #tw self harm #tw death #tw food #tw grief #tw grieving #omori #omori hero #omori fanfic #omori neutral ending #omori post-ending #tw alcohol mention

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j-hawthorn · 3 years

Text

Keep Him Close

(This fic can be found on AO3 here!)

ALSO! Wanna join a discworld fanfic writers discord? Send me a message and I'll add you! It's a fun, safe environment to chat about wips, life and just generally hang out!

Whatever strong smelling ointment Lady Sybil was delicately spreading over the backs of his shoulders made Vetinari's skin simultaneously freeze, sting, and most irritatingly, itch. It did, however, soothe the fire that had been burning for the last couple of hours.

Sitting near the middle of her bed, with his legs at odd angles, Havelock hugged a pillow. While he wasn't naked, he did in fact have a pair of Vimes' shorts on, clothing was not something he wanted anywhere near himself. His whole body ached, and stung from faded burns. He hunched forward, his hair up in a small pony tail, giving her all the access she needed. Sybil's hands paused and she kissed the back of his neck, sending a shiver down Havelock's spine. He closed his eyes with a sigh. His arms felt better. With bandages wrapped from around his thumb and palm to just above his elbow, the burning on his arms had almost completely gone.

'Honestly, what a cruel thing to try,' Sybil whispered, clicking her tongue.

'Assassination attempts are never going to be polite, my dear,' Havelock said softly, focusing on her touch and not the stinging itchiness spreading over his back.

Sybil flicked his ear with a scoff, 'Obviously, Havelock, you dopey thing. What I meant was the very concept of poisoned thread! What happened to a good old-fashioned knife in the dark?'

Havelock smiled, 'I shall pass that on, to whomsoever tries to hasten my departure next, that my dear friend and love Sybil Ramkin wishes for me to receive a quick stab in the kidneys. Perhaps I'll hang an instruction sheet on my door and you could initial it?'

'Bold of you to try and make fun of me,' Sybil tutted, but it was good natured and she pressed another kiss to the nape of his neck.

He pressed his cheek into the pillow, eyes half open, a small smile on his lips. The bedroom door opened and a slightly wet and barefoot Sam Vimes wandered in. He kicked the door shut behind himself, his scraggily notebook in one hand.

'Gods, I could smell that stuff from down the hall, what are you smearing on the poor man?' Vimes chuckled, unbuckling his armour. Havelock watched as he shed the layers of metal and mail, leaving him in just his breeches and undershirt. The fabric at the man's neck and sleeve ends were darker, damp from rain.

'Where are your boots?' Vetinari asked softly.

Vimes blinked, 'Down stairs. Didn't want to track mud in.' He wandered over and stood in front of Havelock, 'You alright then?'

Smiling, Vetinari waved a hand in the air, 'Never better. Have your men found anything?'

'Not exactly-'

'Ah -'

'Your man did though.'

'...Pardon?'

Vimes shrugged a shoulder, sitting on the edge of the bed. He flicked open his notebook as Sybil took her bowl and ointment back to the bathroom.

'Your man, Drumknott. Took great offense to the poisoning of your personal wardrobe and sprung his own trap. He and Carrot are sorting it out as we speak,' Sam closed his notebook with a snap, tossing it onto the bedside table.

Havelock paused for a moment, puffing out through his nose. 'Well then,' he said. 'Good show.'

'Top notch!' Sybil said, returning while drying her hands. 'I've always said he was a fine young man, haven't I, Sam?'

'Yes dear,' Vimes yawned, shifting closer to Vetinari. He reached up, lovingly stroking back a loose strand of black hair, tucking it behind Havelock's ear. Turning, Vetinari pressed his cheek into Sam's palm with a soft sigh. Chest heavy, he closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the man's touch soothe him.

'You'd do well to keep him on, is all I'm saying, ' Sybil ran her hands over Havelock's hair, carefully taking the tie out. She sat behind him, humming softly, 'Have I mentioned how dashing you look with longer hair?'

Vetinari chuckled, the smallest blush on his cheeks, 'No, but thank you.'

'Very handsome, isn't he Sam?'

Vimes snorted, shifting to kiss her cheek, his hand braced on Vetinari's knee, 'You flirt.'

Sybil giggled and began running her fingers through his hair, sending shivers over his scalp and down his back. Vimes took his hand in his, lightly tracing the edge of the bandage with a calloused finger. The man took Havelock's pillow away and gently cupped his cheeks, kneeling in front of him.

The bed shifted as Sybil stood, sharing a look with her husband that Vetinari politely didn't see, 'Right, I'm going to go get you some dinner, Havelock. You need to eat something, and I won't hear any complaints.'

As the door clicked shut, Vimes tipped Havelock's head back, leaning in as if to kiss him. He stopped just close enough for the lips to brush as he whispered, 'I'm sorry.'

Vetinari frowned, hand on Sam's knee. He gave him a squeeze, 'You haven't done anything-'

'Exactly. I should have been more aware; I should have kept better tabs on everything, I'm your guard-'

'Sam, please,' Havelock sighed. 'You are only one man. You cannot be hovering in my office every hour of every day. Also, I'd like to say, out of the two of us, you are not the one who gets to be dramatic about all this. Need I show you my back?'

He shook his head, clicking his tongue, 'Yeah, alright. C'mere.' Vimes pulled him forward, guiding him to sit on his lap. Wrapping his arms around the commander's neck, he nuzzled into his damp hair.

Sam's hands found their place low on his hips, 'Go on, then.'

'Excuse me?'

'Have a mope. You've earned it.'

Havelock rolled his eyes, 'I don't think I've ever "had a mope", as you so delightfully put it. And I don't think I'm going to start now.' He cupped the man's cheek, pressing their foreheads together, '...But I would accept some attention from a handsome man-'

'Shall I go find you one-'

'Sam...'

When Vimes kissed him, Havelock could taste the rain. His stubble scratched. Rough hands held Vetinari so tenderly he could almost believe he was made of glass. So enveloped by the commander was Vetinari that he didn't hear the door open -

'Gods, I can't leave you two alone for a minute before you attach to each other like limpets,' Sybil snorted, setting a tray on the bedside table. A bowl of soup steamed enticingly, and Havelock's stomach gave an uncharacteristic pang of hunger. The waft of fresh bread made him light headed.

Sam broke the kiss, hands over his eyes. 'Sybil!' He frowned, cheeks burning red.

Havelock grinned, gently pushing the commander onto his back. 'I have nothing to say in my defence, except simply this: look at him, can you blame me?' He stroked his bandaged hands down Sam's sides, feeling the shift of his body as the man heaved a massive sigh.

Vimes rolled his eyes, 'You're menaces, the pair of you.'

With careful movements, Havelock moved to sit on the edge of the bed. He tucked a leg under himself and picked up the bowl. Warmth radiated through his hands. Pleasant at first, but the longer he held the bowl, the more it seeped into him. He hissed through his teeth, and set the soup down. Vetinari shook his hands, holding his palm up to blow on.

Sam settled on the pillows behind him, hand on his hip, 'Here, one of us can hold it for you-'

'I'm sorry Havelock, I didn't think. We can help-

'I do not need to be handfed,' Vetinari snapped, snatching up the bread. He sucked in a sharp breath. 'Pardon me, I'm sorry. That was uncalled for.'

Sybil cooed softly, sitting beside him, hand on his knee. 'Darling,' she whispered. 'It's okay. I could go get you some more bread?'

'No,' He sighed, covering her hand with his. 'No, but thank you. I'll wait for it to cool. I'm just...tired.'

Kissing his cheek, Sybil stroked back his hair, holding the underside of his jaw tenderly in her palm. 'You're okay, my love. Rest here for as long as you need. We've got you.'

Havelock nodded, feeling Vimes give his hip a reassuring squeeze. He leaned into Sybil, cheek pressed to her shoulder, and let himself accept their kindness. He closed his eyes, his whole body suddenly weighing a hundred tons. Sybil stroked his hair, pressing soft kisses to his forehead. Letting himself drift, he felt Vimes move position behind him. Someone took the bread from his unresisting hand. Eventually he shift to lay down, his arms folded over Sam's chest, his aching back bare to the room at large. But he wasn't worried. With Sybil guarding, and Sam holding him, in that moment he had nothing to worry about.

#my writing #discworld fanfiction #Discworld #fanfic #my fanfiction #Sybil/Vimes/Vetinari #sybil ramkin #sam vimes #havelock vetinari #also on ao3

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decayandfanfics · 3 years

Text

The great book of sayings

PAIRINGS: Tomura Shigaraki x FemReader

SUMMARY: He looks at you, his scarlet eyes fixed on yours, burning a hole through your head, every bit the predator he is, but you are as tough as it gets, so, against your better judgment and any well-founded logic, you answer his silent threat, the animalistic look he gives you with nothing less than a fearless smirk, irises burrowing into his pupils.A clever girl. He thinks, finally labeling you inside his head, cursing himself in the very moment he allows his brain to think of you as more than an asset. He is sure (he knows himself enough to know) he’ll think of this moment many times from now on.A clever pretty girl.

Reader is a typical college student until she gets herself tangled with the league of villains.

WARNINGS: Unhealthy/complicated relationships, violence, Tomura being Tomura, mentions of murder, heroes’ abuse of power, smut.

A/N: I’m trying so hard to write crusty boy here really in character. At least after AfO is taken. Any misspelled words, english is not my native language so i’m trying Helen.

As always, let me know what you think!

_____________________________________________________

Chapter 11 / Chapter 12

Out of sight, out of mind (interlude)

They disappear one night the same way they appeared.

Without a word.

It feels like waking up after a long dream. The way the sunrays enter your little kitchen, splashing your space in golden light looks almost ethereal, no longer their figures staining your white walls, standing out of place in the middle of your living room.

It feels a lot like the mornings after some heavy rainstorm.

It’s over. You think, breathing heavy and tired.

The apartment is quiet and cold, foreign to you. It reminds you a little they way you feel in hospitals. Places without personality, places without any personal touch. Even when everything is in place; the blankets are neatly folded in the closet and your toothbrush is the only one in the bathroom (Toga surely took her time tiding everything up) but you cannot feel at ease in it.

Maybe you are no longer the same person that use to live alone in this place, because it doesn’t feel like you belong inside the four walls that began to close too tight around you now, and even when you know you should run to the next police station and ask for help and protection because you’ve been hostage in your own home for weeks, you can’t get yourself to do it. It feels like a betrayal, somehow. Even when they held you captive, even when they’ve threat you and berated you. Even when there is no guarantee they would not be back to end the job after what you did to Dabi, after what happen with Shigaraki.

He looked like he wanted to hurt you last time.

Sorrow soft and silent start to rise, your heart breaking slowly with realization, smothering you, drowning you gently as you stand alone in the middle of your home, because they will never be back.

He will never be back.

It’s fine…I’m…safe. I’m safe.

You feel the jarring stab of grief, your heart cracking open under the pressure and the loneliness you’ve been trying to keep under control all this time, so you let out a shaking sob, finally admitting to yourself the ugly truth.

This is more than a little crush.

More like falling in love.

And your sweetheart has red eyes like jewels and a starved need for ruin.

So, you curl in a corner of your couch, hugging a pillow that smells way too much like soap and leather, finally allowing yourself to cry because this is painful, the kind of infatuation that can get you killed, that can destroy your life and ruin you. Him never coming back is a gift made of grief and poison, but you’ll take it because you know this is what you get in exchange of an attachment like this for a man who does nothing but harbor resentment inside the dark pit that is his chest.

You cry your eyes out, you cry desperate and lonely, holding tight to the pillow that still smells like him, no longer trying to suppress the nasty wound his gaze carved into your heart the moment his eyes met yours.

You cry because you think he hates you, because he didn’t just decide to go. Shigaraki choose to run away from this just to spite you and your infatuation because he wanted to stab you back. Because that’s the kind of man he is, that’s the kind of man that you allowed to hold grip onto your heart.

So, you stay curled in the corner of your little couch, sobbing and weeping over the painful mess you’ve made, wishing for the kiss you didn’t get the chance to steal and swearing that if you ever see him again, you’ll squeeze that devious grin out of his sharp face with your bare hands because if he wanted to hurt you by leaving without a word, then he should be fucking proud.

_____________________

He wasn’t joking when he asked her if she could handle rough.

“Oh my god” she sobs, inked tears staining her cheeks.

She looks like a mess, but he prefers it that way. He favors that she’s different, a complete opposite with her heavy makeup and revealing clothes, her smudged lipstick painting her chin and her breasts bouncing heavy, scaping her torn little dress. A perfect depiction of ruined and lewd.

She gags when he squeezes her neck hard, his index fingers curled as he yanks her body against the brick wall, too angry to care for his companion. No. He just wants to thrust into her as fast and rough as he can so he can get off the soon.

“Oh my-” she pants trying to hold herself against the wall, but he pulls her neck to him, pressing her back to his chest and then he yanks forward and bites her hard in the shoulder, his teeth leaving a purple mark on her skin.

“Shut up.” He grunts maddened when she sobs and squirms against his body, her smell entering his nostrils, making him gag instantly because he cannot stand the cheap perfume mixed with cigarettes, sweat and sex.

He cannot stand the smell of her hair, nor the shape of her body, or the height difference.

He cannot stand her lewd screaming.

So, he covers her mouth with his hand and shut his eyes tightly closed before resuming his brutal animalistic pacing, trying not to think in the salty flavor of her skin in his mouth. He just needs his release; it’s been a while since he gave himself to this kind of pleasure and for all things he’s ever done, he never fucked this angry before.

Tomura thinks he’s not particularly sexual on a daily basis. He doesn’t go walking around thinking about the next time he gets laid, not when he’s never been that interested in girls anyway, because he just…doesn’t like things nor people. So, his approach on sex is more like a task to be filled if anything else (like eating), rarely relying on another body since he doesn’t want to be touched at all. Now, of course he’s done it now and then, sometimes paying for it, sometimes a nightstand after some vodka in a seedy bar, but always quick to dispatch the person involved.

For Tomura, sex is about him wanting something and obtaining it the easiest way possible to just keep on with his life.

Or at least that’s how it was, but some reason he’s been feeling incredibly starved for it lately, and after being in a heck of a terrible mood and some heated lash out at his crew out of nowhere, he decided to pick his anger and put it somewhere else before killing one of his comrades.

Now, the woman is drooling all over his hand with all the choking, making him feel nauseous so he lets go of her and just digs his fingers on her hip keeping his index up, his long nails clawing at her skin, making her whine, squeezing him tight in reflex.

She tries to catch his wrist to move one of his hands to her breast, but he yanks away to pull her hair, growling a curse against her ear, swallowing hard.

This feels so wrong.

It’s not the right cup size.

It’s not the right smell.

It’s not the right height.

It’s not the right woman.

The mechanic friction is finally working its wonders because Tomura feels his low abdomen tighten before finally getting off.

No, he doesn’t see stars, nor grunts in feverish pleasure. He doesn’t taste her neck nor smiles when he cums. As soon as he releases, he shoves the woman as far away from him, removing the condom with disgust and decaying it (the thought of feeling her bare wet cunt against his naked skin revolving his guts).

He adjusts his clothes before throwing the woman some cash and just walks away, concluding that this was the most unsatisfying fuck in world’s history.

Tomura looks at his hands, feeling the sticky sensation of her saliva and her sweat, troubled because his face it’s super itchy but he feels so disgustingly dirty, that he doesn’t even need to smell them to know that her musky tacky perfume now lingers on his palms.

Maybe if I rub my hands, I can decay it away. He thinks, trying his hypothesis to no avail. ‘kay, that was pointless.

He manages to rub the fabric of his sleeve against his brow until the skin begins to show red dots of blood as he thinks seriously that he could kill for a hot shower, even when he’s not the cleanest guy around (he showers when he can. If he can’t do it, then he just doesn’t think about it), but he can’t stand the way the prostitute’s scent remains on him like a sin, and the thought is so ridiculous, because he’s done plenty of horrible disturbing shit in his life to now feel all guilty and nasty for a “less-than-mediocre” fuck.

So, he walks away, utterly unsatisfied. His anger dragging behind him, leaving a bloodied mess of chaos and longing for something far brighter than a rough fuck behind some lost alley, because he wants more than that. He wants the name, the body and the holy spirit that inhabits the girl with dangerous gaze and healer hands. He wants her violence, her anger and wild bravado, all for him to feaster and be consumed by it.

A violent delight that he can’t afford, not when he’s busy surviving until he finds the doctor or his master’s weapon, so he repeats himself that his infatuation, this sickness will disappear eventually, he just needs to get his priorities straight and focus.

He’ll do it, time will get everything in place again.

Cold creeps into him, the city lights filling the streets between car noises and people returning their homes. All of them busy minding their own lives, completely unaware of the hooded serial killer walking by, quietly sneaking into the fire escape of some old building.

_____________________

III

Internal medicine is one of those courses that drains every bit of life out of you. Arguably the hardest in a career full of hards, you now live under the constant threat of failure because this shit is a monster, and you know the statistics too well to not being aware that this course has the highest rate of reps in all the damn faculty.

So, you enter your uni mode; sugar-rush based diet and coffee like the world is ending to keep your brain functioning like is a nuclear reactor, sleeping four hours at nights and barely dreaming. Of course, it’s not just that class, is that you have three more besides that one, all of them of high difficulty for you to rejoice in your misery, so yeah. You live like a zombie.

I’m going to be rich; I’m going to be rich; I’m going to be rich… You repeat to yourself every morning after showering, watching your body in front of the mirror, admiring the sharp angles and purple eyebags that already began to claim your face.

Oh, and the hair loss due to stress is just the cherry on top of the cake, really.

Yes, your brain is at the brim of collapse right now, but classes start again, and your friends are there to suffer with you and it makes you feel accompanied and secure. Is just another semester of tears, panic, pizza and everything that implies to be a twenty something student, so you are thankful nonetheless, because you don’t have the time to think about the other thing…

You don’t think about it.

You don’t really think about it.

You don’t even think about it.

And you don’t say the name either, you refuse because you’ll do anything to forget about him, anything to erase the memory of his dark figure like a shadow against your white kitchen, too clever and insolent for your own good.

But it’s okay, you don’t think of him, or his slender fingers taking the bishop to strike down your king, and the way his dry lips curve upward before some smartass remark. You don’t think of his lean body towering over you, touching yours in so many places but none at the same time.

No, you don’t think of him while awake, but sometimes he visits your dreams to terrify you with his cadaveric hands and his face hidden by his hair. Ready to strike you down, a hand extended in motion to decay you into oblivion.

Sometimes he hovers over you, kissing your neck while ravaging you, incredibly close and raw and intimate, his mouth snarling dirty words you’ll never dare to say out loud. Dreams where his warm chest press against your naked body and your lips sings lewd lullabies just for him, welcome him to feaster on your skin with your face nuzzling against his scarred cheek, covering your face with his silver hair.

Sometimes he just sits in your kitchen as the sunlight reflects over his milky locks. His hand holding his cheek over the table in serene expression, calling your name to play again as the black king spins between his delicate fingers.

___________________

Tomura has a meeting with this new allied Twice found, like three days from now.

He’s not particularly excited about it, surely, it’s just another capo wannabe with grandeur delusions, but it could be worth it. Maybe he could get some money out of it since the league is completely broken after his sensei’s incarceration. They are in desperate need of a hideout, now more than ever since Kurogiri vanished and he’s sure the heroes must have captured him. (Thinking about this is pointless anyway because he doesn’t have the means to get him back)

Minding his own business, he walks with his hoodie on, passing between civilians like he’s one of them, completely invisible when he sees her.

It catches him by surprise. His heart stopping dead on its tracks, wide eyes and tight lips, uncertainty filling him all of the sudden, but he’s accustomed to make hiding spots out of nowhere, so he gets behind some store sign where he can watch her safely.

She stands outside a coffee shop, animatedly talking with some guy who wears the same clinic uniform that she has on. A school mate maybe? She’s an intern in a hospital so, they are probably on shift. Another doctor like her.

She looks tired and paler, but beautiful, nonetheless. The way her lips move give away she’s talking about something clinic, because her face has that firm expression she always does when she’s being professional.

She already looks like a doctor and God knows he’d gladly be sick every day of his life if she’s the one to treat him.

His feelings betray him. He was sure after a month she would be completely out of his system by now, this stupid illness already cured, but shit just doesn’t go away. It pisses him off to no end because she’s not worth the aggravation. C’mon, she’s just another boring normal civilian, she doesn’t do anything important or interesting. She’s not remarkable in any way that serves him, because not even her quirk is truly useful. Not when it threatens to kill her every time she uses it.

And looking her objectively, she’s not even that pretty, but somehow, he’s torn between his desire to make her see him and get as far away from her he can.

Searing jealousy pierces him, hate raw and jarring dripping from between his ribs when the man leans over and whisper something that makes her laugh and for a moment, he seriously thinks he’s going to kill him right there, no quirk needed because he would just love to gut him out in plain view for her to see what he thinks of her stupid friend.

He hates the man, but he hates her more because she dares to laugh, she dares to enjoy life and people meanwhile he crawls hungry and cold between ruined places.

Like sensing his glare, she suddenly turns her head with her eyes directed to the spot where he hides, her expression changing from joyful to confused in seconds, making him laugh because even when he’s sure she cannot see him, she knows he’s there and it feels like she’s tied to him somehow.

Her face gives away disappoint when she fails to catch him and the thought of her grieving after he left delights him, but he’s sworn to let her behind, so he rejoices for a moment in this little victory of his pettiness over her charms, before turning away from her, fully believing that this is the last time he thinks of her.

Chapter 13

__________________________________________

Hey lovely readers! since English is not my native language and writing Shigaraki is kinda hard because he changes and grows, and because he usually says many things about himself, but then he goes and do completely different things (like when he says he hates everything, but CLEARLY he’s fond of twice and stuff like that) so much in manga, it would be lovely to know what you think of this! I think it’s the only way to be better at something really, So, any questions, comments and concerns, please feel free to comment!

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #bnha 306 #bnha fanfiction #the great book of sayings

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chaoticpuff17 · 4 years

Text

A Dangerous Game

part 21

masterlist

Hello, darlings! Just for you, because I have no impulse control!-- chaotic puff

This time when she walked into the headquarters, she looked every inch the boss’ wife carrying herself with the detached arrogance of those that have power, granted she had none, but she knew how to fake it. This wasn’t a meeting she could go to as a meek little captive. She was walking into a cock fight of the grandest proportions, and she had to hold herself up as the most important person in the room even if she was nothing more than a bargaining chip.

She’d never been in Namjoon’s main office before, but the room was just as cold and imposing as the man himself. The tension crackling dangerously between the two groups of men in the room did nothing to help that either. Namjoon sat behind his desk with the two men who had ambushed her and Jackson flanking him while a man she did not know sat across from him flanked by a man she did not know… and Mark. She looked at the man in confusion only for him to throw her an impish wink.

The gesture did nothing to help the tension that hung heavy in the room. She and Jin could hear the shouting all the way down the hall. It was quite now that they were within the room, but the frigid tension remained.

“Jagiya, you look lovely.” Namjoon said with a cold smile standing to greet her as Jin took the jacket that he had insisted she wear draped over her shoulders for aesthetic purposes.

He held out a hand beckoning for her to join him, when the other man spoke. “I would prefer that, Miss Wang…”

“Mrs. Kim.” Namjoon corrected eyes narrowed dangerously though his tone was cordial enough.

“Miss Wang, be seated with her own family until this can all be sorted officially.” His voice had a stiffly formal lilt to it as he shot Namjoon a look almost as frigid as the one Namjoon had been giving him clearly unappreciative of the correction.

“She is not your family.” Namjoon growled his voice a low rumble and his jaw clenched in irritation.

“On the contrary.” The other man waved him off. “Our dear Jackson has claimed her as kin, and we protect our own.” He turning a disinterested gaze in her direction. “You must be quite something for Jackson to claim you as family and pull us all into this mess.”

“I’m not sure who adopted who.” She replied with a stiff smile of her own.

“Well that doesn’t matter now.” He waved her off. “What matters now is getting Jackson out of here, don’t you think?” She nodded hesitantly in reply. Something about the man that made her feel uneasy, but he claimed to be here for Jackson, and she needed all the help she could get on that front. “I’m Im Jaebum. You can call me JB. I’m the leader of GOT7.”

“Pleasure.” She kept a wary on him as she seated herself in the open chair to the left of him. “How do you know, Jackson?”

“Jackson is my brother.” He smirked. “A loyal member of GOT7.”

“Jackson left the mafia behind.” She narrowed her eyes at him, plastering on a cold smile that could have put both of the crime lords’ to shame.

The man shrugged clearly unbothered by her frigid attitude. “He’s been a little wayward, but he’s still our brother, and I’ve come to negotiate his release.” He turned his gaze to Namjoon again. “Can we see him now?”

“I don’t know why you had to summon her here.” Namjoon grumbled pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I wanted to see the girl that got Jackson into this mess. Now, if you could return Jackson?”

“Hoseok.” He addressed the redheaded man stationed behind him. “Bring him in.”

Despite Namjoon’s promise not to hurt him, the man that Hoseok brought in was in worse condition than the man she had left behind just the night before.

“Jackson!” She shrieked running to him kneeling by his side where Hoseok had dropped him on his knees. “You promised you wouldn’t hurt him!” She shot an accusing glare at Namjoon before she turned her attention back to the battered man beside her. “What have they done to you?” She whispered gently hovering over the bruises and cuts that dotted his face.

“Hey, Y/N.” He gave her a goofy smile making her tutt and fuss in disapproval.

“He proved to be quite difficult to subdue after your visit yesterday.” Namjoon’s reply was so careless that it set everyone who did not work for him on edge.

“This was not our deal.” She hissed as Mark and JB’s other man came to lift Jackson up to his feet.

“I thought you were made of stronger stuff than this.” Mark joked allowing the other man to lean on him.

“Yeah well the little one has a mean swing.” He growled looking towards the dark haired man standing bored over Namjoon’s shoulder.

Namjoon smirked clearly not at all sorry for the damage that had been inflicted. “Yoongi was only trying to keep your man from damaging himself further. He was in quite a state when we left him last night.” False sympathy dripped from his tone like poisoned honey. “You should have taught him to keep his hands to himself.”

“None of this would have happened if you could keep control of your woman.” JB scoffed glaring disdainfully at Namjoon. “Though you have to admire her spunk. She’d fit to be a member of GOT7’s family, don’t you think? Shame she has to be your wife.”

“That was the agreement.” Namjoon growled his eyes darting to her before returning to the other crime leader.

Her head snapped back and forth between the two men dread curling in her belly. “What are you talking about?”

JB turned to her his smile more slimy than anything else. “You see, Y/N, as you are a member of our clan thanks to Jackson, I’ve taken it upon myself as leader of the clan to arrange your marriage for the good of the clan. Jackson was never in any real danger. He just needed the proper push to come home. And you... you are a peace offering for the trouble Jackson has caused with Bangtan in the past few weeks.”

She took a step back stumbling as if someone had dealt her a blow. “What are you talking about?”

“RM wanted you, and I wanted Jackson back. And this way, I get to make a powerful alliance in the process.” He shrugged.

“Jackson?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He called desperately reaching out to her only to have her recoil violently.

“Don’t touch me, you rat bastard!”

Jackson winced, flinching back from her words. “Y/N, please. I was just trying to protect you.”

“You’re still a part of the mafia?” She asked. He nodded. Y/N scoffed, eyes wide and disbelieving as she stared at him. “You told me you left.”

“Y/N…”

“You told me you left it behind.”

“Little bear...”

“Don’t call me that! I trusted you!” She shouted backing away further. “I let… I let him… I… because you… but you were…” She stumbled trying to grasp what had happened, trying to fight down the bile that was rising in her throat. Jackson was quickly at her side supporting her despite his own injuries. “Don’t touch me!” She shrieked flinging him away from her ignoring his wounded expression as she did so.

Her mind was reeling trying to process all the information. Jackson was part of the mafia. Jackson had lied to her. “Did you know?” She hissed.

“Y/N.” He reached for her again only for her to back further away, unconsciously moving closer to Namjoon who was carefully watching the interaction. “I didn’t...”

“Did you know?” She screamed.

“I just asked for help. I couldn’t find you, and he had you. I didn’t mean for this…”

“No.” She whimpered her heart breaking as she looked at the man she had called her brother for so long. “How could you? Do you know what I... what he...?”

“Y/N.” He called pleadingly.

“How could you! After everything!”

“Y/N.” Namjoon called standing up to move around the desk in her direction making the decision to intercede. He’d seen enough of her distress.

She whirled on him. “You already got what you wanted.” She spat before turning her burning glare back on Jackson and his ilk.

“Think of it this way,” JB drawled seemingly bored by the dramatics. “Jackson gets to be free and rejoin the family where he belongs, and you get to have beautiful white wedding compliments of your new family.”

Without thinking, Y/N swiped up the letter opener from the desk and prepared to plunge it into his smug face. In that moment, she hated JB far more than she hated Namjoon. He was playing with lives without a care. He’d played with her life without even knowing who she was. At least Namjoon had met her before he’d started to toy with her life.

The letter opener did make contact, just not with its intended recipient. Namjoon had moved in front of her taking the blow to the shoulder instead of the letter opener meeting with JB’s throat. Fortunately for him, the letter opener was not very sharp, though it had pierced through his suit and made a decent cut on his shoulder.

Y/N dropped the letter opener letting it fall the carpet with an unceremonious thud. She stared at the wound for a moment, blinking in a daze as her eyes slowly rose to meet Namjoon’s tight lipped grimace. She’d stabbed him, she realized. She’d really stabbed him, and in that moment all she could think of was that it was a pity the wound wasn’t more substantial.

“Boss?” Hoseok called moving to come forward, but Namjoon waved him off.

“Jagi.” He murmured softly hands coming up to gently cup her face forcing her to look at him. Her eyes were wide and dazed still, strangely empty. “Jagiya.”

“Y/N.” Jackson limped forward a few steps but stopped as she flinched curling herself into Namjoon’s arms much to Jackson’s displeasure and Namjoon’s delight. “Y/N, please.”

It all left a bitter taste in her mouth. Jackson’s lies. JB’s battering her like cattle. Allowing Namjoon to take her over and over again just hours before. It was all suddenly too much.

“Take me home.” She whimpered into Namjoon’s chest.

“Okay…” He whispered placing a soft kiss to her head. “Yoongi, would you grab Jin please?” Her hold on his suit tightened bringing a frown to Namjoon’s face. “On second thought, I’ll take her home myself.” He turned his gaze on his rival gang. “Bangtan will handle the wedding preparations. Take you filth and go. Keep him away from my wife.”

“We’ll see you at the wedding then.” JB nodded standing and coming over to them pulling a lacquered box out of his suit pocket. “This is for you.” He spoke handing the box to Y/N though she didn’t take it. “It’s a symbol of your membership in the clan.” He opened the box pulling out a silver hairpin decorated with a single white jade calla lily on the end before sliding it into her up-do. “Welcome to the family.” He smirked motioning his men to follow him out. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”

Namjoon’s attention immediately turned back to her as soon as they had left the room. “Jagi?” He cooed handling her delicately as though she was fragile, and maybe she was. There was only so much the human psyche could take before it cracked.

“Take me home.” She whimpered. “Please just… just take me home.”

part 22

#bts #bts fic #yandere bts #got7 #namjoon #namjoon x reader #mafia namjoon #yandere namjoon #yandere #soft yandere #mafia #mafia au #rm x reader #rm #a dangerous game #fanfic

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historyofshipping · 4 years

Text

Just a reminder that Bellamy canonically only wants to survive if Clarke survives, and everyone else knows it.

*literally runs through an enemy battlefield to get to her* *gets stabbed in the leg* *still tries to go after her without a functioning leg* “ “I want to find her too, but look at your leg. You could die out here. We have no trail.” “We can’t lose Clarke. We can’t lose her. “

“If I’m on that list, you’re on that list. Write it down or I will.”

*Goes into enemy territory with just himself and a coffee cup and threatens to murder nearly 300 of their people unless they let Clarke go* “She must be pretty important to you.” “She is.”

“Here we go again, pleading for the life of a traitor - who you love.” *proceeds to poison the leader of a literal death cult*

“You don’t get it. If Bellamy finds out Clarke’s dead, then all of this is for nothing. You might as well kill us all now.”

“We get everything we want, Bellamy. We get to live.” “Not Clarke.”

*puts a target on himself and his family - by literally every single person on the planet - just for the CHANCE to get Clarke back* “If you do this, the Children of Gabriel will kill us both, and my father will kill the rest of you.Is that what you want?” *yup. takes her and runs*

“Don't you get it, you're killing all of us. Not to mention the rest of your friends when my father finds out. Is Clarke really worth all of that?”

I mean... I’m sure I’m missing a ton but these popped into my head and I wanted to remind everyone that these are absolutely canon. No misinterpretation needed.

Oh and there are some the other way around, too, but I’m focusing on Bellamy right now. Mostly in preparation for Clarke throwing herself into the anomaly to go save her husband soulmate.

#bellarke #the 100 #bellarke positivity

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lucywritesreid · 4 years

Text

With Heaven Above You

Summary: A particular case has got the BAU stumped. They’re all working overtime to try and catch the killer. But something happens along the way, and y/n is the only one who can solve the case in time…

Warnings: Mentions of swearing, details of crime scenes/gore.

Notes: Not sure how many parts this is going to have yet, my first go at something with a few chapters! I want to thank @theoutsidersladies for all their help in coming up with the ideas and discussing the plot with me! This one is a lot of talking (sorry) it’s just setting up for future chapters! I’ll have part 2 ready tomorrow! I’m not sure how many parts there’ll be yet. Possibly 5/6. Thank you for all your support, it really means a lot!

Word Count: 1.5k

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Morgan sighed and pushed the photographs away from him, burying his head in his hands.

“Unfortunately, no, this takes our total body count now up to seven,” Hotch replied sternly arms folded across his chest. You were always amazed at his ability to seem concerned and distanced at the same time. Whilst the rest of the team were gradually losing their composure over this case, he always stood clear headed and controlled. A lighthouse in a storm.

“That means his timescale has increased. He’s gone from a cooling off period of a couple of weeks to a few days,” JJ commented whilst picking up the photographs that Morgan had slid across the table. You watched as she studied them closely, sighed, and turned them over so they were face down. You really didn’t want to see what was on them but you knew you had to.

Turning your attention to the computer screen a small gasp escaped your lips as the photographs were now displayed in full view. Garcia hesitated before pressing the remote control to allow the slideshow to begin. There wasn’t much that made your stomach turn, especially after your years with the BAU, but there was something about what this unsub was doing that really made your skin crawl.

“Who’s the victim?” you asked timidly almost afraid for a response. “This one’s Lacey Petterson, 37. Her husband reported her missing last Tuesday and she was found this morning,” Garcia coughed, “positioned like this outside her place of work.”

“Where did she work?” JJ responded. There was a definite moment of silence before Hotch answered the question. “A pre-school.” A collective shudder went through you all. This unsub was taking victims who had steady, respectable jobs and then making a mockery of them. They were showing up outside their work places after the most gruesome and horrifying torture imaginable. A firefighter, a librarian, two police officers, a lawyer, a nurse and now a teacher. “The only real link with the victomology then is their professions. They didn’t live near each other. As far as we have seen they had no social links and didn’t even commute in the same area. Did Lacey Petterson have any other connections that we know of?” Spencer asked. As he spoke, you felt the comfort of the palm of his hand reach up and settle on your thigh. Displays of affection at work were reduced to a minimum, but Spencer knew just how much this case was bothering you and the slightest touch from his hand was settling you back down again.

The team continued to discuss the aspects of the case. Garcia demonstrated from her research how the latest victim had no social ties to any of the previous ones. She then handed out the medical examiner’s report and you all sat in silence while you read the horrific ways he had tortured and mutilated her body before putting it on display. The conversation went back and forth throughout the room, each discussing possible motives, geographical possibilities of future victims (Spencer’s speciality) and how you were going to catch him. You all settled on the fact that he was obviously loving the attention from the case. Each victim had been posed in a public setting and there had been a flood of media attention. The press were referring to him as the ‘career killer’ but you all had your suspicions that he was probably thriving off that nickname.

Then you moved onto potential future victims.

“I hate to be the one to say it,” you chewed on your lip nervously as you spoke, “but could we be targets? I mean, this guy has already gone for two local officers. An FBI agent would provide him with the perfect amount of press coverage.”

“What are you thinking, y/n?” Hotch asked. You felt Spencer’s grip a little stronger on your leg. He knew exactly what you were going to say next and it obviously made him a little uneasy. “I think one of us needs to try and bait him out. Go on TV and be interviewed about him. Taunt him a little. Make him angry. I feel like that would be a good way to lure him out.”

It was a very likely possibility that if he did go after one of the team that somebody was going to get hurt. All of his victims had suffered immense torture. They’d been starved, gagged, stabbed, shot, electrocuted, poisoned. All reports had stated that this torture had began immediately into their capture and not stopped until their deaths. “It’s a good idea,” Morgan shrugged. “I’d feel a bit more like we were doing something to catch the son of a bitch.”

“And you would like to be the bait, y/n?” Hotch asked. The warmth of Spencer’s hand on your leg quickly shifted as he moved to fold his arms. You didn’t dare looking over to your left. You knew he didn’t like you putting yourself in harms way but wasn’t going to say anything because you were at work. “Yeah I think so,” you replied swiftly, “I feel like I could give this guy a piece of my mind.” The mood in the room lifted a little, small laughs being heard but you were unsure who it was. Probably Derek.

“I think she’d be a good choice. A young, pretty FBI agent mocking him on national television would surely give us the rise we’re looking for,” said Rossi. “I’d be happy to help y/n prep for questions if we wanted to go head with it,” JJ added. She smiled reassuringly across the table, showing her support.

“Okay, we’ll set up the press conference for tomorrow afternoon.” Hotch confirmed. “Rossi, Morgan, I want you to go to the latest crime scene and gather all the information that you can. Garcia, keep digging into the lives of our victims and see if there’s any chance they may have crossed paths. JJ, Prentis, talk to the other victims families and see what you can get from them. I’m going to go talk with the police chief about implementing a curfew. Reid, Y/N, stay here and go through the profile with a fine toothed comb.”

Everyone was quick to jump up and act on their instructions. Although he would never admit it, you had the slightest suspicion that Hotch had left the two of you together because of your willingness to be a potential victim. Perhaps he thought you’d end up in an argument and didn’t want it to be out in public.

Before you had any chance to speak to him, Spencer stood up and made his way to the door. “I’m going to get us both a cup of coffee,” he said without looking at you.

“Spence, please…” He turned to face you and smiled softly. You could see the dark circles were more prominent around his eyes. You felt a sudden sense of guilt for sleeping all through the night, sleeping softly next to him, when it was obvious his night wasn’t the same. You would never say that you profiled Spencer, but you had a certain intuition that told you exactly what and how he was thinking at all times. You’d never felt closer to another person in your life, and neither had Spencer. You worked together, lived together, loved together. And the idea that something bad would happen to one of you… You knew all too well that the other one wouldn’t be able to survive it. “I know this case has been hard on you, honey. I don’t want to make it worse…”

He sighed and rubbed his fingers on his temples. “I know you’re not, y/n. I just don’t think I can bare to think about you in this situation.” He gestured towards the pictures still displayed on the screen. “I can’t stop thinking about these pictures. These people. The thought of it being you is just… unbearable.” He stifled a yawn. “I haven’t slept properly since this case started. There’s something about it that we’re missing and I just can’t put my finger on it,” he smiled weakly. “I do think you’re right about needing to taunt him out. I think it’ll work. I just can’t…”

“We’re just gonna have to catch him first,” you interrupted. “Nothing’s going to happen to me, or to you, or to anyone else on this team.”

Spencer smiled back. “Let’s get to work”

End of part 1

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid x reader #spencer x y/n #dr reid #dr spencer reid #dr reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fic

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rex101111 · 3 years

Text

Drink, Drown.

Fandom: Fate Grand Order.

Rating: E (tho this chapter is M)

Chapter 1: The Truth is in the sake. And no one likes bitter sake.

Summary: Raikou and Shuten are tasked with finally putting their hatred for each other behind them. Things go horribly, and then less horribly.

Raikou No Minamoto was certain she had never found a cup of sake more distasteful than the one she was currently holding in her hand. Looking at it rationally, there was no real reason for her to hold this sake cup in such contempt.

It was perfectly serviceable, made of finely polished red clay and containing alcohol of such quality she’d be surprised if her venerable father had any in his vast stores that could match it. The problem was not with the cup, or the sake, but rather the person, the annoying insect, that was offering it to her.

Lounging as a queen on a throne was Shuten-Douji, drinking her own cup of sake with a pleasured flourish. Her long coat hung very loosely around her figure, hiding nothing of the oni’s lithe body save for what was covered up by those ridiculous undergarments that counted as clothes the same way a gnat counted as a horse.

(Raikou expertly hid the breath she had to take to center herself when she found her eyes roaming over the demon’s form, and if Shuten noticed she was polite enough to play along like she hadn’t.)

Raikou herself, sitting stiffly with her knees on a pillow, was dressed as she usually was, the purple silk of her own clothes hugging her curves as it always did. Though now she found that fact oddly grating in a way she found hard to describe, as she made minor adjustments to her posture and tugged at the fabric.

The two servants were alone, in the middle of the day, seated across a simple table in a room far away from the general hustle and bustle of Chaldea. The goal of this situation was both simple and utterly absurd to anyone who had known the two servants for more than two minutes each.

They were sat down in this room, Shuten’s (which explained all the alcohol), and told that they would not be allowed to come out until they could get along. Or at least come to some mildly peaceful arrangement that would have them stop trying to rip each other to pieces every time they passed each other in the halls.

She still couldn’t believe their Master had convinced them to do this.

“You haven’t touched your cup!” Exclaimed Shuten with wounded grace, having already polished off two bottles in less than an hour and was barely showing any signs, “don’t tell me the scion of the Genji can’t handle her liquor! The shock of that would be more than I could bare.”

“Your sarcasm is not appreciated or needed, oni.” Raikou snapped as sharply as the sword that was taken from her before this exercise in futility began, her fingers gliding back and forth across the smooth lacquer, “I will drink when I wish to do so and not a moment more, while you can feel free to drown yourself as you please.”

“So cold!” Shuten laughed imperiously, taking another dignified sip from her wide and flat dish, “I bring you this gift and you rebuke it? Were I not a monster your heartlessness would have broken mine.” For all the dramatic flair, Raikou could see that the oni was in perfect control of herself, every word carefully picked and placed like a gift as she spoke. “You’re not going to force me to be the reasonable one in this situation are you?” Another laugh, this time carrying a bit more bite as Shuten drowned it behind another gulp of sake, “now that would be heartless…”

Raikou wrinkled her brow and scoffed, before she turned her gaze back to her still full cup, the liquid within gently reflecting the meager light of the room and showing her a lightly distorted mirror of her face.

She had been considering this cup and its content since the moment Shuten had shoved it into her arm in the name of celebrating the inevitability of it all, and the longer she did the more a suspicion about it grow in the back of her head.

The history these two shared hung heavy in the air and rested on the back of Raikou’s tongue, leaving something bitter and old in its wake as she considered the liquid more and more…

“Do you think it’s poison?” Shuten asked of a sudden, Raikou whipping her head to look at her. “Do you think this is some stab at revenge for the last time you and I shared a drink? Oh please.” Faster than the amount of alcohol in her system should allow, the oni swiped the cup from Raikou’s hand, drained it in a single motion of her head, and then refilled it with the third bottle she was busy draining herself before handing it back to Raikou. “This is nothing more than what you see, a cup of sake to ease the tension between us two.”

The samurai considered the newly filled cup in her hand just as gravely as its predecessor. “You’ll forgive me if I find your generosity hard to accept, oni.” She fixed Shuten with an arrow point glare. “As you said, last time we shared a drink ended with something a bit more dire than a bar brawl.”

“Unlike you humans, us oni would never consider spoiling a perfectly good cup of sake with poison.” To illustrate her point, Shuten knocked back another mouthful with a pleased sigh. “Raikou, if I had any plans to kill you with sake, I’d throw you into a barrel and melt you with it, so calm yourself and drink, you and I will never have this conversation our master demands if either one of us is sober.”

Loath as she was to agree with the pesky demon, Raikou sighed and finally lifted the cup to her lips, delicately drinking her first serving of sake of the day. “…Not bad.” She admitted under thin lips. “For all your faults, it seems you are competent in this at least.” She narrowed her eyes and curved her sword shaped smile. “Even an insect has her talents, it seems.”

“How gracious of her ladyship to bestow this lowly demon with her compliments.” Shuten’s voice was a mire of sweet acid, her smile thin and sharp as she refilled Raikou’s cup. “Don’t hold back now, wouldn’t do for a Berserker to show restraint, would it?”

Wordlessly, for the next half hour, they drank in diplomatic silence. As Shuten finished her fifth and sixth bottle, Raikou carefully reached half of her second. Being servants meant that things that would normally kill or at least cripple a normal human had profoundly less effect on them, but even then Shuten held the distinctive advantage of being an oni while Raikou was decidedly not (fully, anyway). That meant that while Shuten could soak in sake for a week without feeling it the samurai needed to exhibit some modicum of self-control.

Self-control, she internally groaned, being something she had in already short supply before you introduce alcohol into the equation.

“Right.” Shuten sighed quietly as she put down her last cup, straightening in her seat slightly to look at Raikou directly, “since this is a diplomatic meeting, of sorts, I think it’s only fair that the one person in this room that was trained for diplomacy have first crack at this mess.” She waved a hand vaguely in the samurai’s direction, “so, tell me how you really feel about me, get it off your considerable chest.”

Biting back the irritation of the crack at her figure, long used to it from Shuten, Raikou put her empty glass on the table and placed her hands on her knees, attempting to impale the oni with her glare, “my feelings on you are quite clear, I’ve made them apparent from the first time we met in Chaldea.”

“How you feel about me while sober and how you feel about me while drunk are two entirely different things.” Shuten easily shrugged Raikou off, her smile easy and unaffected. “When you’re in your right mind you want me to die and stay away, now when you have some sake in your system…?”

Shuten trailed off to allow the question to arrive unspoken, a hand outstretched to await Raikou’s answer.

“I want you to stay away and die.” Raikou said evenly, letting the answer hang in the air before she hurriedly added, “slowly. I want you to stay away and die, slowly.”

Shuten blinked. Her face perfectly passive as she took in the answer. Without a single muscle in her face twitching, she reached under the table for another bottle (Raikou didn’t have the strength to question how she had so many) and poured Raikou another drink, “right, not drunk enough yet.” She nudged the full again cup towards the samurai lightly, “here you go, drink up until you’re reasonable.”

“I’m being perfectly reasonable.” Despite saying that, she reached for the cup and drained it quickly, reflexively motioning for another serving soon after. “You’re pestering Kintoki, annoying me, and you’re useless to Master, so I don’t-oh, thank you.” She nodded politely at Shuten as she filled her cup, before throwing it back swiftly, “ahh, right, so I don’t see an issue, do you?”

“Well,” Shuten began as diplomatically as the alcohol in her blood would allow, “for one thing, I don’t want to die, selfish I know,” she took a long swig from her bottle, “and for another, I’m plenty useful, I’ve helped Master on plenty of occasions.”

“That’s debatable.” Raikou muttered as she accepted another refill, almost automatically.

“Well,” Shuten uttered, as she emptied another bottle and got another one, “whatever your opinion on the matter, Master finds me useful and her opinion has more weight, so there’s that.” Putting the bottle down and straightening her posture all the way, the oni locked eyes with the samurai. “So, my death being off the table, let’s try again.”

Raikou kept her stare steady with Shuten for a long, breathless moment, seeing the image of her flushed face in her dark eyes, before she broke it to take another controlled sip from her cup, “Master wishes for us to get along, or at least stop fighting, yes?”

Shuten nodded, “that would be the gist, yes.”

“So, we need to find a way to…minimize the ways in which we antagonize each other.”

“Hah! Well isn’t that a polite way of putting it!” Shuten approved with a short laugh and a subtle smile, “alright then, I’ll start, you tell me what I do that angers you so much, and I’ll try and be subtler about it.”

Taking another, much slower, sip of her sake, Raikou considered this for a long while. If anyone else had asked her while she was sober, the answer would be simple. But now, alone with this demon, her blood purring with the alcohol, it all seemed so…hard to grasp.

Part of her wanted to blame Shuten exclusively, to think up that she unleashed some fog into the air of the room to addle her thoughts. But she knew her too well for that, she had inhaled deeply of that mist ages before, she could recognize the tang of it at the back of her tongue, and could center herself against it.

Perhaps the answer was as easy to grasp as always, only this time she could not afford to acknowledge it.

“What is your obsession with Kintoki?” She asked at last, putting down her cup and placing her palms on her knees. “Ignoring his discomfort at your presence, you glue yourself to his side and shove sake into his hands, why?”

“Oh, this again.” Shuten sighed wearily, polishing off one last bottle before tossing it behind her with little care. “You know, Kintoki is free to talk to whomever he wishes.” She chuckles and shakes her head at Raikou, “it’s very poor form for a mother to hover over her child like some sort of circling raven, you know.”

“Answer my question.” Raikou was now in more familiar territory, anger at the oni burned away some of the sake, making it slightly easier to think. “You remember he’s the one who cut your head off, don’t you?” The memory was sharp in Raikou’s mind, the brilliant gush of blood as the terror of mount Ooe was cut down, “what is your obsession-“

“My interest with Kintoki,” Shuten cut through as pleasantly as a rusty knife, “lays in the fact that he is an interesting and entertaining young man whom I have known since he was a child.” She graciously ignored Raikou’s harsh scoff, “and besides, why should I hold a grudge over that sordid little affair?”

Raikou breathed harshly through her nose, “what on earth are you-“

“I was a man-eating demon!” Shuten exclaimed, cutting Raikou off again, “I was stealing sake and ruining fields and, well, eating men! And woman and children!” She laughed a bit, “honestly you and Kintoki were only doing what was expected of you! I’d be more surprised if you two didn’t go off to kill me.”

Raikou gaped at her, before she picked up her cup again along with a bottle laying nearby, pouring herself another serving with an angry mutter.

“It was all fair enough, in hindsight at least,” she allowed her smile to turn into a toothy grin as Raikou abandoned her glass for just downing the whole damn bottle, “I was a demon, you tried to kill me, I tried to kill you…” She shrugged her shoulders, “all in the past as I see it, water under the bridge.”

(She could still picture it, that moment where Shuten Douji realized she was going to die. Her shaking fingers losing their grip on the sake dish, her skin growing paler, her eyes filling with something between frantic surprise and dread.

Before her form shifted and Ibuki Douji burst out from underneath her skin, Shuten smiled thinly.)

“I thought you didn’t want to be the reasonable one here.” Raikou growled, placing the bottle on the table between them, if this demon thought she could get under her skin she had another thing coming, “water under the bridge? How big of a fool do you think I am?”

“We’re both dead, Minamoto.” The oni said, her tone calm and still as an afternoon lake, “all of us, here, in this place for heroes and legends, we’re all dead.” Her grin shrunk to something small, both in width and presence, “I call it water under the bridge because calling it anything else would be a waste of my time.”

(Kintoki breathing heavily, his axe stained red and his clothes in disarray. One of her swords broken, her right arm’s flesh shredded nearly to the bone. They bury the body and the head in silence, under two separate trees. They say a prayer, light incense, and walk away.

The shadow of Mt. Ooe follows them for miles.)

Raikou gets up, opens a drawer at random, and is half pleased and half infuriated that she finds another bottle. She begins to drain it with her back turned to Shuten, the oni quietly watching her. Something in her blood begins to simmer.

“I do not think you a fool.” She answers finally, leaning back on her arms and looking up at the pale ceiling. “Otherwise I’d be the one drowning myself in sake.”

Shuten leans her head slightly to the left, the motion lazy and sleepy. The bottle shatters with a sound like a thunderclap on the wall behind her.

They wait. No sounds of rushing feet beyond the door to ask them what’s going on.

Raikou sits. “Stop bothering Kintoki.” Her tone is stiff, professional, a shadow of her father’s hand places itself on her shoulder and pulls it back. “You want to ease the tension? Do that.”

Shuten looks back at the shards of the bottle behind her, sighing mournfully at the small pool they float in, “what a waste…” She looks back at Raikou, her eyes glowing a faint silver, “fine, I’ll give the boy his space, mother dearest, so long as you promise not to throw anymore bottles.”

“Good.”

The air grows thick, Shuten adjusts her posture to look at Raikou more directly. Her eyes pin her to her seat, arrows in her legs. She leans forward, the light catching a hint of red in the depths of her dark eyes, “well?”

Raikou barely restrains her flinch. “Well, what?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me? Ask me why I don’t much like you myself?”

“You don’t like me?” Raikou manages an air of surprise despite the arrowheads digging deeper, “I never would have guessed so, considering how much sake you’ve provided me with.”

“You’re my guest.” Shuten explained graciously, though her tone seemed sharper, “Us oni take great pride in being good hosts, I simply put aside my feelings to do so.” She puts a hand on the table and leans closer, the air between her and Raikou beginning to boil. “You are no fool, ask me, if you wish for this to be resolved, for Master’s sake at least, ask me.”

Stay away from me, Raikou nearly says, because she is a killer of monsters and should not suffer this one showing this much arrogance. What you think of me means nothing, you pest.

But there’s something there, in those eyes, some understanding that pierces her bones and pulls out something ugly. And that is why blades fly and blood spills between them, Shuten knows this and lets it lay. And that terrifies Raikou more than she can bare to think, that this demon is the only person in the world, in this life and the last, that can see through her and place her hand on the truth, and then to choose to do nothing with it.

(Raikou’s bones want to shift, her blood wants to scream, her teeth wish to shred.

Something, something old and angry and buried on a mountaintop, wants to wake up.)

“Why?” She nearly curses at how her voice comes out tight and hoarse. “What grudge do you hold, if not for your death?”

“No grudge.” Shuten corrects calmly, drawing still closer, “what animosity I hold towards you is not due to some past blood, no, I prefer to focus on what is now and right in front of me.” Their faces are a few inches apart, Raikou’s ears ring with something like excitement and fury, “and what I see is a coward.”

Raikou is nearly floored by the overwhelming urge to bite her head off, “what did you-“

“I see someone afraid of her own blood.” Fingers capture her chin, her gaze nailed to Shuten, the smell of sake burns in her nose. “I see someone with strength and speed and skill turning away from the truth of herself, I see a monster who refuses to acknowledge herself.”

(Mothers dragging their children behind doors, whispered warnings and panicked bows.

They owe her their lives, they dare not meet her gaze, they flinch from the blood dripping from her blade. They hate me, a voice like a child hiding behind a wall says, they all hate me.)

“You let other’s views corrupt your own,” an inch closer, their noses nearly touch, “for all your growling, you let insects and cowardly old men shape you and chain your teeth.”

(Minamoto No Mitsunaka is like a statue, coldly towering over her as she presses her forehead to the floor. He walks towards her, his steps echoing in her bones, and places a sword in front of her.

“You are Yorimitsu.” He says, commands, his voice bounces off the walls and impales her. “History will remember you as my son, my warrior, my heir, understood?”

This is a pale shadow of what she wished for, living in the woods overlooking what should have been her home. But she dares not ask for more as she closes her fingers around the scabbard.)

“I hate you because I hate to see an oni denying herself so utterly.”

“I am not-!” Her voice catches in her throat when Shuten closes the distance between their faces almost completely. Her vision filled with the yawning abyss of her eyes, their breathes mingling between lips half an inch apart. “I…I’m not-“

“I want you to stop hiding, Ushi Gozen.”

The sake in her blood vaporizes, something in the back of her mind shoulders it’s way to the front and commands her hands to wrap themselves as tightly as possible around the oni’s neck. The next command is to press her thumbs to the base of her throat and to continue until she hears the most satisfying snap of her life.

“O-oh, dear.” Shuten coughs out, a laugh tumbling out of her soon to be crushed throat, “it seems the sake has g-gone to our heads, how ir-rresponsible of us, eh?” Raikou tightens her grip further but all it accomplishes is to squeeze another strangled chuckle out of Shuten, “but…a-amazing, h-how beautiful you are when you indulge yourself,” a grin like a rusty sickle stretches across Shuten’s face, “I think I prefer this side of you most, Ushi Gozen.”

Don’t call me that. That is what she wants to say, that is what she wishes to growl from the bottom of her throat, but all she can manage is an inhuman sound that she cannot acknowledge or else surrender herself to the urge to curve her own lips in a mirror of Shuten’s grin.

One of Shuten’s hands reach out to Raikou face, the other to her clenching fingers, and caresses them both gently. “How beautiful you are when you choose to be honest…” The tips of her fingers dance like feathers on Raikou’s skin, sending a wave of ice where they touch. “I want you like this always, to acknowledge what is in your grasp, and what is forever beyond your…” Her voice, usually so smooth and so quick, slows and cracks as less and less air gets through her throat. “…beyond our reach…”

(Kintoki is bleeding, he holds her shaking form and whispers gentle assurances. There is blood around the edge of her lips.

Her son’s hands grip her arms as tight as iron, to keep her from escaping, to keep her from attacking.

Her head wants to slump forward; the horns are heavy.

“It’s okay.” He promises, his blood dripping from her lips, his golden hair in disarray. “You’ll be okay.”

She did this. She did this, she did this to her own son she did this-

“You’ll be okay,” he repeats again, his hold tightening twofold into a crushing embrace while he buried his nose in her hair, “everything is going to be okay.”

Ushi Gozen wails, her tears flowing down the mountain.)

Her fingers release Shuten, the oni gasping for air and rubbing her sore throat.

Shuten sputters, no attempt to salvage her dignity as she sucks in air on reflex, her voice is hoarse and spiteful, “oh, come now, why the sudden restraint?” She coughs harshly, looking up at Raikou, who was merely standing over her, her hands slowly lowering to her sides. “What?” Shuten snapped, something in Raikou’s gaze jabbing her somewhere sensitive, “was I not clear?”

“What is beyond us?” Raikou asks, suddenly, her voice far away, “why are you so defeated? Why is the terror of Mt. Ooe so quick to die?” Her eyes are dark, and yet something shines in their depths. Something sharp. “Why?”

Shuten rubs her neck, as she considers her next few words.

She looks at the figure in front of her very carefully, up and down, takes note of her stance (rigid, ready to spring forward teeth first), her eyes (unfocused, swirling with a primal impulse), her hands (shaking, growing sharp), and realizes who is truly in front of her.

She almost wants to laugh, she nearly cries. She thought she would be more beautiful than this. Ah, well, another thing to be wrong about, what’s the harm?

She stands up, her posture regal and proud, as she looks deep into the eyes of Ushi Gozen. “Why do you cling to love?” She finally feels what an ocean of alcohol could not impose on her, her head and heart and gut aching in equal measure. “Why reach out towards something you’ll never grasp?”

“Because I had it.” Ushi hisses. She looks down at her hands and flexed her sharpening fingers. “I had it, right in my hands, I held it my hands I had it.” She stops, freezes, her eyes widening in sudden comprehension, “and you want it.” Shuten’s frame locks up, and Ushi doesn’t pass up the opening, “you want it, you wish for it, yearn for it, but you hold yourself back.”

“Silence.” Shuten hisses, her eyes swirling with red and silver, her air of dignity and grace nowhere to be found, “do not presume to know me, I will not-“

“I presume nothing.” Ushi hisses back, and then finally they degrade into what they had always been, the only things they were ever allowed to be, two monsters gnashing their teeth at each other. “You call me a coward, and yet you hide in your coat and your wine and your blood.”

“I said quiet!”

“Why!?” Ushi Gozen raises to her full height, her voice a roar of rage and barely contained terror, “why do you wish for death, instead of reaching for what you want!? Why would an Oni deny herself what she wants!?”

“You know NOTHING!” Shuten puts her foot on the table between them and raises to meet Ushi’s glowing gold eyes, “I will not be lectured on how to be an Oni by a child scared of her own horns!”

“Is that what you think we’re destined for!? To be alone!?” Ushi’s voice gains more in panic and outrage, and then her eyes widen again in realization, “that’s why you cling to Kintoki…”

Shuten clenches her jaw. “You. Know. Nothing.” She crushes each word between her fangs like a sieve working through sand, “you think you held it in your hands? You think you captured love?” She shakes her head with a bitter laugh, “if you did, you would have simply crushed it between your fingers, because that is how Oni loves humans, and no other.” Ushi Gozen opens her maw, but Shuten Douji captures her jaw between her claws before she could say another word. “Hear me now, hear it from someone who has lived as a demon for far longer than you have denied it,” she brings her closer, their foreheads, their horns, touching as nearly all space between them is gone, “to be an Oni and to love is to feel blood between your teeth and flesh between your fingers, am I clear?”

Ushi Gozen raises her left arm and swings her claws to knock off Shuten’s head.

The oni spares one hand to grab the attacking limb’s wrist and continues, “if you think you can deny this, go above your nature, then you are deluding yourself.”

“ENOUGH!” She raises the other hand to attack, but this too is caught by Shuten, though their foreheads remain glued to each other, their skulls and horns grinding against each other as the floor and table beneath them begin to crack. “I won’t surrender to this! Not again! I approached the brink and he pulled me back!”

“Then he delayed the inevitable.” Shuten growls, her arms shaking under the effort of restraining the former samurai, “it does not matter what the world around you says, no comforting embrace or words of passion can change the color of blood.”

“COWARD!” Ushi roars, and the sounds of rushing feet and pounding on the door sound from behind her, though she ignores it, “you hide your fear behind wisdom, you hide your despair behind conviction, you accepted death didn’t you!? You knew what was IN THAT BOTTLE!”

Shuten bares her fangs, lets out a scream of primal anger, and all around them both is red.

A swirl of muffled pain and gnashing teeth follows; neither is sure how long it lasts. The first to regain herself is Raikou, how suddenly finds herself restrained by Kintoki, his arms gripping her like a vice while he swears up a storm between his teeth.

The room is a mess, the walls of metal crumpled and ripped apart like paper, various bottles shattered across the floor, blood staining and pooling in various places across it. And right in front of her, she sees Shuten Douji.

She is being held against the floor by Ibaraki and Tomoe as she roared and thrashed in their grip, the archer’s horns burning red hot while her chest armor carried an imprint of a fist on its face. The yellow oni was yelling at her friend to stop, her own clothes in disarray and a shallow slash on her cheek.

In between her directionless screams, Raikou could swear she saw something going down Shuten’s cheek, something clear…

Raikou looked back at Kintoki, who was breathing raggedly as he held her, his sunglasses were missing, and his lip was bleeding. “What the fuck was that!?” He shouts, first directing his panicked gaze to Raikou before turning to a slowly calming Shuten, “what the hell were you two talking about!? What happened here!?”

Neither of them answer, they both avoid the gaze of every other person in the room…and in doing so they meet each other.

Shuten’s nose was broken, blood streaming down her bruised face. Raikou could feel her own face covered in blood and swollen, one of her fingers was bent the wrong way.

Her head hurt, everything hurt.

They locked eyes for a long, quiet moment, the others in the room forgotten as they felt the weight of everything land on them.

Shuten turned away first, and with that Ibaraki jumped off of her and put Shuten’s face in her hands, muttering worriedly about needing to go see one of the doctors, are what Master would think, and on and on while Raikou felt all of her strength leave her.

“Well!? Are any of you gonna say something-!?”

“Let go of me.”

He stopped short, looking at Raikou with a mix of anger and fear that nearly broke her heart, “what the hell-“

“I said let go of me Kintoki.”

She glared at him, she thinks, she isn’t sure, he flinches away from her so violently. Slowly, like he was handling a wild animal (and, really, wasn’t he?), he released his grip. The look on his face makes her want to crumple into a corner, more so because she put that look there, but the pain in her body pushes her away from him, and out the door.

Shuten let’s herself be handled by Ibaraki, the girl fussing over her wounds. Shuten’s eyes stay glued to the shallow cut on Ibaraki’s left cheek, the thought that she put it there makes her want to vomit, but she can barely gather the energy.

She looks up, meets Kintoki’s gaze. He reminds her, for the first time in a long while, of the little boy that stumbled onto her mountain. He looks at her like she’s some sort of beast he doesn’t recognize, but he soon schools his expression into something calmer, “what did you do?”

She thinks he’s saying “you” in the plural sense, but some wretched part of her is almost eager to take the blame, to resign herself to finally pushing him away for good. But as always, she settles for a half measure, she laughs weakly, tasting the blood in her mouth as she does, “I wasted perfectly good sake, that’s what.”

He scoffs angrily, and opens his mouth to call her out on the bullshit, but he must’ve seen something not worth the volume about half-way, because he closed his lips in a thin line, and then turned on his heel, stomping away in Raikou’s direction.

“Shuten?”

She’s never heard Ibaraki that timid, this small, and she returns her gaze to her sister, allowing a pitiful, bloody smile to shift her face. “Yes?”

“Are-“ She starts haltingly, eyes jumping around the various wounds on her body. “Are you okay?”

A centuries old reflex nearly kicks in, of course I’m fine of course why wouldn’t I?, but she feels the burning glare of Tomoe scorching the back of her head. She turns to the Archer for the first time, and there’s a mix of concern and anger in there that makes her laugh.

The laugh is weak and hoarse, she leans back on the wall, leaning out of Ibaraki’s hands on her face, and looks around her destroyed room, and all the smashed bottles that littered her floor.

She reaches over and begins to pick up the glass shards without a word, gathering them in her bloody palm, “…what a mess…” she mutters, “can’t have Master seeing the place like this…”

Elsewhere, Raikou leans against a wall, and tries to will her fangs away. “Be quiet…” She commands under her breath, gripping the cloth next to her chest as her heart pounds wildly, “be quiet.”

Ushi Gozen rumbles under her skin, her need and hunger unsatisfied, but soon retreats back to her cave. Raikou slides down the wall and sits on the floor, her face buried in her knees.

(The smell of blood and sake stays in their noses for weeks.)

#Fate Grand Oder #minamoto no raikou #Shuten Douji #what's the ship name??#stuff rex wrote #Drink drown

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fatesdeepdive · 3 years

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Entry 12: All Hail Takumi

Castle building time! I built a giant dragon statue that heals units during invasions, which is nice I guess, and also an arena so I can make my soldiers fight to the death and bet on whether they perish! Unfortunately, when I went to use the arena, the dumb clerk said I couldn’t use it yet. Meanie.

Support: Hinata/Oboro

C: Hinata’s hair is too long, so Oboro cuts it for him. He requests she make him look like Takumi, because apparently one dude with a pineapple haircut is too few. The duo reflect on their mutual admiration of Takumi, their desire for his coolness to rub off on them, and their rivalry over who is more loyal.

B: Hinata offers to cut Oboro’s hair and she rejects him, saying that he will mess it up because he’s Hinata. The two of them continue talking about how cool Takumi is and how much they want to be like him.

A: Hinata and Oboro discuss the fact that they only bicker because they respect each other. Also, Takumi is cool. All hail Takumi.

S: The two of them get engaged, talking about Takumi throughout their proposals.

Review: Holy crap you two, shut up about Takumi. He isn’t even cool. They have good chemistry, but all they talk about is how much they love Takumi.

Support: Azama/Hinoka

C: Azama makes fun of Hinoka’s hair, clothes, and clumsiness, despite the fact that she’s a goddamn member of the royal family and probably could have him executed on the spot. She threatens to stab him and he brings up the fact that he’s only her retainer because he saved her life once.

B: Hinoka is sad over the deaths of innocent soldiers and Azama gives no sympathy because people die every day. She questions why he saved her when she was a child and he says he did it because she looked furious and he thought saving her would be interesting. She points out that he’s a horrible person, but says she respects his confidence.

A: Hinoka begs Azama to save a dying man and Azama says it isn’t worth the effort. When pressed, he says the man will die anyway. Hinoka orders him to do his damn job and he begrudgingly tries to save the dying man. He dies anyway, and Azama tells Hinoka that she should have just let him die peacefully, telling her that her kindness will be her downfall.

S: Azama goes up to Hinoka and tells her that they’re engaged. Hinoka kinda just goes along with it after Azama lists his good qualities.

Review: I actually kinda liked this one, oddly enough. Azama’s dickishness went so far that it looped around and made him likeable. This conversation touches on the horrors of war in a way that most conversations don’t and I do enjoy Azama teaching Hinoka that there are limits to her kindness. I just wish that Azama’s lackadaisy attitude was a facade, a la Hawkeye Pierce. The two of them, like most couples in this game, have little chemistry. Still, Azama going up to a member of the royal family and declaring the two of them engaged is so audacious I respect it.

Support: Corrin/Mozu

C: Mozu is lugging around some heavy boxes full of vegetables, because she is a strong little girl. This leads to a conversation about Mozu’s village; Corrin asks if Mozu misses her old life, Mozu says not to worry, Corrin says she’ll probably never stop worrying about Mozu.

B: Mozu talks about hunting as a child. Apparently she fought bears, because Mozu is a god of death.

A: Corrin decides to give Mozu a basic education, which Corrin is in no way qualified to do, considering that she has consistently shown herself to be the dumbest person in our army. Corrin says some stuff about the army being Mozu’s new family and Mozu cries. It’s sweet.

S: Corrin says he used to pity Mozu, but now has nothing but respect for her for her courage. The two of them get married.

Review: Corrin’s interactions with Mozu are very sweet. The S-Rank, again, doesn’t really work, but then again few S-Rank’s do. Overall, a very charming support line, if a bit bland. Also Mozu killed a bear with her bare hands because she is a terrifying death god disguised as a little girl.

Support: Hinoka/Setsuna

C: Setsuna makes Setsuna a cup of tea so bad it’s almost poisonous. The two of them discuss the fact that they both suck at cooking and decide to team up to become better chefs.

B: Hinoka and Setsuna try to make eggs. It does not go well.

A: The girls finally make a good meal by working together and decide they can do anything if they put their minds to it. Setsuna gets stuck in the pantry.

Review: This was a fluff support line, which is okay, I guess. I would have liked it to have a bit more meat, perhaps an explanation of why she made the walking disaster that is Setsuna her retainer, but I will admit that it was a fun read.

Birthright Chapter 10: Ninja Village

The party travels through Mokushu, the ninja country from Kaze and Saizo’s support conversation. Kaze says that he isn’t worried about the people of Mokushu being conquered by Nohr because of their sick martial arts prowess. Zola sneaks up on the party because...wait, hold on, they didn’t tie him up? We weren’t shown him escaping, so I guess that means they just let him go after he tried to kill him. My god, Corrin gets dumber with each passing moment.

Zola surrenders and begs for amnesty. Corrin asks why they should trust him and he says that they really shouldn’t, cause of the whole attempted murder thing. But, he doesn’t have an army anymore, which means he isn’t a threat. He says that he can be of assistance and Corrin decides to bring him along, ignoring objections from the smart people in the party. To be fair, she does say Hinoka will kill him if he acts suspicious, but seriously just leave him in Mokushu he’s obviously going to betray you. Want to know how I know? Because he didn’t join our army.

Suddenly, someone throws a shuriken at Sakura. Kaze identifies it as belonging to a Mokushu ninja. Zola speculates that Mokushu might have an alliance with Nohr. The daimyo of Mokushu, Kotaro, shows up and says that Mokushu has an alliance with Nohr. Then the battle starts.

The map is filled with spike traps that activate as we step on them. We can use the Dragon Veins to spring them on the enemies instead. At the start of turn two, Takumi just kinda wanders into the battle and starts shooting Hinoka, which is weird because she isn’t one of the sisters he hates. Also he keeps muttering kill and is labeled an enemy, which is probably bad. He also whines about his inferiority complex, which is why he’s way lamer than Ryoma.

Azura sings to him and breaks his mind control. What can’t singing do?

During this map, I was reminded that Takumi is an unstoppable death god who can kill everything with ease. I paired him up with Corrin and waltzed through the woods, one-shotting ninjas left and right. I did hold them back and let Saizo kill the boss, though. Because, you know, he killed Saizo’s dad, something only told in an optional support conversation. Saizo actually has unique dialogue with him where he does the whole Inigo Montoya thing. Although, it was technically Hinoka who did the finishing blow, because Saizo doesn’t hit hard enough to kill.

Overall, this map was fine, I guess. The spikes were more a nuisance than a serious game changer. I did get good healer HP, though. Speaking of healers, there’s one stationed in the top right of the map who watched as I killed every other member of the army and slowly approached her before putting an arrow between her eyes. We’re the good guys!

After the battle, Hinoka and Sakura cry over how happy they are that Takumi isn’t evil anymore. He explains that he and Ryoma were separated after being attacked and that he ended up falling into the bottomless canyon. Then he woke up mind controlled and attacking us. I’m sure that’s not something we need to worry about.

At the end of the chapter, Takumi is finally nice to Azura because she saved him. Also Azura starts coughing, which means she is definitely going to die at the end of the game.

Kaze returns with Kagero, Ryoma’s ninja retainer who was imprisoned in Kotaro’s cellar. She tells us that Ryoma went to Cheve to fight Nohr. And didn’t look for his brother ever, I guess.

Overall, this chapter was okay. The stuff with Zola was dumb and could have been handled last chapter, and the fact that is completely sidelines Saizo is kinda frustrating, but Takumi got some cool character development and there was some foreshadowing about the bottomless canyon.

#fates #fire emblem fates #takumi fe #corrin fe #mozu fe #corrin x mozu #hinata x oboro #hinata fe #oboro fe #saizo fe #mokushu #hoshido #nohr #azura fe #fire emblem 14 #fe 14 #fire emblem birthright

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johannstutt413 · 3 years

Text

(requested by calligomiles)

“Hey, General, can you try something for me?” Gummy came home one day with a box from the kitchen. “My friend made a cake, and it’s really good, so I brought you a piece.”

“Huh. Thanks, Rada.” Zima took the box and the fork the chef provided and popped it open. Inside was a rather...strange-looking slice of cake. The form itself was essentially perfect - two layers of cake with some strawberry jam or something like it gluing them together and evenly frosted along the outside - but the deep shade of purple on everything was rather disorienting. What flavors were the components supposed to be? Were the black flecks in the cake itself fruit or chocolate? Nothing in Ursus, or even Rhodes Island, looked like this…

Still, she knew better than to take appearances at face value, and if her gourmand friend thought it was good, who was she to refuse trying it? Sonya stabbed into it, pulled off the front corner, and took the bi- WHOA. “Your friend made this?” She asked, coping with the rapturous delight with her usual composure.

“Yeah! Do you like it?” Gummy came back from putting away her vaul- shield and fighting pan, but as soon as she did, she knew the answer. “I’ve watched her cook, and I don’t know how she does it. It’s like nothing else, right?”

“...I want to meet her. Who is she?”

Rada smiled, but it was rather strained. “Um, well, I think you’ve probably heard of her...Blue Poison, the Sniper?”

“The toxicologist?” Zima looked at the fork in her hand and swallowed. Hard. “She bakes?”

“Yeah, and she’s really sweet as a person, too. I don’t get why people are so scared of her...well, I guess there’s rumors that go around, but they aren’t true.”

The general thought about what she’d heard, for the first time from a critical perspective - that her saliva was a critical component in her darts’ poison, that she coated anything she touched in toxins that could kill a person in moments, that she asked people to touch her so she could eliminate her competition and finally be with the Doctor...and realized just how much bullshit she’d accidentally swallowed without thinking about it. “They couldn’t be, and even if they were, I’m sure the baking takes care of any lingering toxins. I want you to introduce us - invite her over for dinner or something before the end of the week.”

“Yes, General!” Rada’s smile brightened; she loved when she got orders she was going to act on anyway. “If she’s free tomorrow, would that be too soon?”

“No, if she’s free, that should be fine. Thank you, Rada.”

The chef saluted her. “Конечно, товарищ генерал!”

“...Is this whole slice for me?” Zima looked at the rest of it, wondering if Anna or Rosalind might want some. “There’s enough to split.”

“As you wish, General! I’ll go ask them.” With that, Gummy went off, leaving Sonya to her thoughts...and another bite of the cake. It was given to her first, after all.

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

Blue Poison sighed, watching the dessert table with the normal degree of disappointment. Usually, only two or three portions were taken from her contributions - those being the Doctor’s, Gummy’s, and Glaucus’ - which meant she often had leftovers, and it always made her dream of the days her cakes barely lasted half an hour after she made them. One of a few things she missed from home, if she was honest, but there was no point in thinking of going back there…

There was a tap on her shoulder, and she jumped. “Oh, Gummy. Sorry, I was just...thinking. Do you need something?”

“I took a piece of your cake to my friends like I said, and they all loved it! Leto and Istina had to go on a mission, but the General and I were wondering if you’d like to eat dinner with us tonight. I’m making waffles!”

“Waffles for dinner?” The Anura smiled; Gummy had a way of making that happen. “That sounds delightful. What time are you expecting me?”

She shrugged. “I’ll start cooking 1800ish? But really any time after work is fine; if you come earlier, it’s just more time for us to hang out!”

“I think I’ll head over after I change out of this...Have I met ‘the General’ before?”

“I don’t think so.” The Ursus replied. “I’m pretty sure she’d remember meeting you.”

Blue raised an eyebrow. “You think so?”

“You remind me of her favorite UFC fighter, so I think you’d stick in her mind pretty easily. Oh, actually, I also came back here for some scones. Gotta run, talk to you tonight!” And there she went.

“Hmm...Dinner with Gummy and her friend.” The Anura looked at her muffin tin before nodding to herself. “I know just what to bring.”

A few hours later, after helping with dinner and heading to her room for a change of clothes, Blue Poison found the USSGG’s suite and knocked. A bright Ursan voice called from beyond it, “I’ll be right there!” Sure enough, Rada was less than a minute later. “Hi, Blue! I’m glad you showed up sooner rather than later~”

“It’s been awhile since someone’s invited me somewhere, so I got kind of excited. Is your General-”

“Hey, Rada, is she-” Zima emerged from the back room, already in her pajamas, and standing in the doorway across from her was one of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen. “...Evening.”

Blue waved with her fingers, as there was a tray of cupcakes in her arms. “Good evening. I hope I’m not overdressed.”

“Oh, it’s fine! The General doesn’t really have anything else that’s really casual-”

“Rada, could you take the cupcakes to the table for her?” Sonya, in spite of herself, was blushing from the combination of awe and embarrassment. “Do you want something to drink, Miss Blue?”

She nodded. “Water will be fine, General.”

“You can call me Sonya; I’ve told Rada she doesn’t have to call me that anymore, but she insists.”

“You’ll always be my General, General!” Gummy sing-songed. “I’ll get the drinks; feel free to sit anywhere, Blue!”

After standing awkwardly for a moment, the Anura sat on the couch. “Thank you. My friends called me Azure back home, if we’re using first names here.”

“Azure, huh? That’s a pretty...cool name.” For some reason, Zima found herself leaning into the tough girl persona she’d perfected in her school days. Maybe once dinner started, she could let it drop.

“Thank you.” Now they were both blushing. “Sonya is, too. Gum- Rada said you liked my cake?”

Thank God, something to talk about. “I’ve never had something so sweet that tasted so natural. Most of the desserts we had back home were just fruit, but chocolate and strawberry together was something I’ve never tried. I’m glad you brought more with you.”

“Guests usually made dessert for the evening where I’m from. It’s how I learned to bake as well as I did.”

“I imagine so,” she agreed. “You seem like someone who’d have a lot of friends.”

Azure sighed. “I did, but...some things happened.”

“Ah...” Shit, she’d made it awkward.

“I have water!” Gummy emerged from the kitchen with glasses for each of them. “Oh, and something a bit stronger, too, just in case!”

The general blinked. “Rada, isn’t that the vodka Natalya got you for your birthday?”

“Yep! I thought tonight was as good a night as any to try it, don’t you think?”

“Vodka?” The Anura looked from one Ursus to the other. “That’s a popular Ursan alcohol, yes? I’ve never tried it before.”

The chef set the tray she was holding down, opened the bottle, and poured each of them a shot. “Yep! It doesn’t do a lot for us, but apparently other people think it’s really strong!”

“Interesting...Cheers.” They clinked shot glasses, and Blue drank it like a normal drink - which meant she very quickly started coughing.

“Are you okay, Azure?” The name really did roll off her tongue...hmm. Come to think of it, didn’t Anura have- No, brain, not the time to think about that. “The idea is to get it as far back into your throat as possible so it burns less.”

She nodded, downing half a cup of water soon after. “Guh~ I’ll know for the next one.”

“You want another?” Gummy cocked her head, already filling another round.

“I do.” Azure lightly slapped her face on both sides. “But only one more.”

Clink! Round 2 went down much better, although she immediately felt it as Rada went back to the kitchen to start cooking. Zima noticed when she picked up her water and was visibly shaking. “Feeling okay?”

“Mmhmm. Just a little woozy...”

“Alright. Let me know if that changes.” The general stretched her arms above her head and yawned. “So uh...” Damn, what to talk about?

Blue was already two steps ahead, apparently. “Gummy told me that I look like your favorite fighter. ‘Zat true?”

“She said that? I don’t think so; your hair’s similar, but outside of that, not seeing a resemblance.”

“Aww.” The Anura pouted. “That’s a shame. I thought you’d think I was cute.”

...Sonya only had one response to that. “I never said you weren’t; you just don’t look like Jolanta.”

“So you think I’m cute?” Azure leaned towards her, holding herself up with her arms and tilting her head to one side. It definitely looked like a frog poised to jump.

“Yeah?” Sticking to her guns. “I like your pigtails.”

She giggled. “Thanks~ You’re pretty cute, too.”

“Well, that’s a first.”

“Whaaaat?” As it turned out, Blue held alcohol about as well as a sponge as it’s being squeezed. “Your girlfriend hasn’t told you that before?”

Sonya shook her head. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Oh...Does that mean you’re single~”

“I’m not dating anyone.” The Anura hopped towards her. “Azure, what are you doing?”

More giggling. “Your voice cracked.”

“Hey, do you guys want your waffles thick and fluffy or flat and crispy?”

“Flat!” Both called back in unison. Blue hopped forward again, now only a cushion away. “Just like us~”

Zima sighed. “Look, Azure, you seem nice and all, but I’ve known you like five minutes, so slow your roll.”

“You don’t like me?”

“What? No, I do, I just think this isn’t the way to start.” The Anura retreated, hopping backwards. “Azure...Come back.”

She did. “I just want a hug~ Is that too much?”

“No, a hug is fine.” The Ursus stood up, and Blue leaped to her feet and into her arms.

“Yay.” Azure rested her head against Sonya’s shoulder. “You didn’t ask if I was gonna poison you~”

Zima smirked. “I know that’s a bunch of bullshit.”

“You do?” Her arms settled a little lower along the general’s back.

“It’s obvious you wouldn’t.” One of the Ursus’ hands found its way to Blue’s hair. “You’re not the type to endanger your friends like that.”

Azure nodded. “I’m not...You’re so sweet, Sonya~”

“I’m just being honest with you.”

“Yeah, but...” A tear found its way to Zima’s shoulder. “I miss having friends to hug.”

The general patted the back of her head. “Well, you know where to find us. Rada’s a hugger, too.”

“Mmm. You’re willing to share?”

“I-” The approval caught in her throat. “I...hmm.”

Blue’s eyes, still a bit watery, lit up at the hesitation. “Is that a no?”

“...Maybe. You don’t mind, do you?” She smelled the way a candle called ‘birthday cake’ would, somehow.

“One’s enough for me.” The Anura pulled back to look her in the eye. “Sonya...”

The Ursus smiled back at her. “Yes, Azure?”

“Waffles are ready!” Gummy called from the kitchen.

“...I’ll tell you after dinner.” She poked her nose with a finger. “Shall we?”

Zima let go of the embrace, but immediately after doing so she took her hand and led her to the dining room, both smiling more brightly than they had since arriving at Rhodes Island.

#arknights #blue poison (arknights)#zima (arknights)#gummy (arknights)#we uh...we might come back to this #there's a twist i was thinking of pulling #but it can wait while we knock out some other requests #calligo i think you'll know what i mean #arknights fic

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brooklynislandgirl · 3 years

Note

47. “Is this what being poisoned feels like?” (from Larry)

Fall Into You || Accepting

"Yeah, well...not'ing like how it gonna feel when I shove one of dese size fours right up ya okole, Lar!" When Beth snaps back for a moment, glaring at the person behind her who has only just now set her on her feet. Her tone belies the flood of relief that courses through her veins and partially mitigates the pounding remnants of her migraine. Which she imagines is the result of whatever his goon put in her water. And that had to have happened when she'd poured herself into the back of the car at the end of her night or just before. Her normal twelve hour shift had become fourteen when the other nurse coming onto the ward had been two hours late thanks to the trains struggling to keep schedule. With Andy out of town ~Tabby in tow to some secret thing~ and Jay having accompanied her mother Donna to Chicago, Beth's options had been limited. She should have gone with a cab in hindsight. However, she'd been exhausted and hungry and therefore decided to take the rare luxury of the car service. She thought nothing of it when the black SUV pulled up with windows so darkly tinted that nothing short of a trip to the heart of the sun would allow the dimmest passage of light. She'd slipped into the buttery-soft leather seat. asked for a bottle of water. Receiving it and taking a long sip, she'd given the addresses to both her apartment and the O'Tooley's a handful of blocks away from it. She had wanted one of their double Inconceivable burgers with cheese and the largest saltiest greasy side of fries she could get her hands on before going home and hibernating for a month. Beth remembers closing her eyes for just a second.... ...And when she opened them again? She found herself being bridal-carried while inside an elevator by a man the size of a small mountain range. A quick scan of his genetics through shifted perceptions told her that despite the looks and the cheap suit he wore that this man was not a HITmark. A second later she regrets all of her life choices as a shrieking stab of pain lances through her brain. She tries to ward it off with another tug of her own thread in the Tapestry only to feel more agony. This one intense enough to draw a mewl of sound from her. "I wouldn't continue to do that, Miss Riley," the Mountain Range said. "My employer is a very cautious man." Icy fear provoked her into obedience as she tried to imagine who wanted to kidnap her, who had the resources to do so with impunity, and worse, had some way to invalidate her magick. Fortunately, the answer is now staring her in the face, quite literally. He is surrounded by a designer suit, dark woods, and an incredibly sumptuous penthouse that, if not for the current circumstances, would have taken her breath away with its ambient beauty. Instead, it turns fear to outrage. Outrage that transforms into sharp, bitter concern when she gets a good look at Lawrence Lynch. The man was perhaps the single whitest haole she's ever seen in person. If not for the piercing blue eyes that she's only ever seen in Huskies, she might have wondered if he had a touch of albinism. Blond hair this side of angels' wing white, the stereotype Irish pallor. Tall, and broad through the chest ~something she's absolutely sure has more to do with his impeccable posture than sheer muscle mass, she has to admit he's typically stunning. Especially when a hint of cruelty ices his gaze or curves his lips. He doesn't look that way now. His eyes are fever-bright and there's even less colour to him. If Glaciers could sweat she's sure he'd be doing that right now. He isn't. She jerks her shoulder out of the Mountain Range's grasp and makes the small march until she's standing toe-to-leather Oxford-toe with him and she can't help but reach out and press her wrist to his brow. No heat radiates. If anything he's colder than he ought to be. For him she risks another jolt of pain, which comes on the heel of her scanning him the way she had the goon and pairing it with a wince, courting paradox by not doing anything physical to make her exam seem coincidental. For a moment though

there's a flash of colour other than green and honey taking him in. Her brows furrow and she tilts her head to the side, lips pursing in confusion. A stunted little breath that can almost be heard as she exhales. At a loss, she reverts to the Old Ways. The hand so lately inclined to grace his brow is brought around to the back of his neck, fingers cupping him with a surprising amount of strength from one so physically smaller than he is. As she rises up on tip toes like a wave, she pulls him down until she's nose to nose with him, brow to brow. Eyes closed now, Beth breathes him in. His breath. His spirit. His own sacred mana. That is when it happens. Almost before her soft, warm, cinnamon breath can waft over him her eyes shoot open, wide and fearful. Her mouth works silently, open and closing as she lets go and backs very quickly away from him. Her teeth, always a little small and too sharp and in need of a good orthodontist, grow unmistakably pointed. There's more than should comfortably fit in her mouth as she bears something that resembles a snarl. One that appears to be completely accidental as she lifts her hands to cover them. Hands that are a little greyish in hue and don't look as satiny as they often do. The appearance of tiny micro-scales fan out from her knuckles, her wrist bones. Her voice trembles with a mixture of fear and something akin to disgust. "Oh, Larry...wha....what did you do?!"

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ayatosmlktea · 4 years

Note

Can I request a royal au where Levi's s/o gets poisoned and its really bad with her coughing up blood and stuff and Levi's deathly afraid. But she does get better with time and then Levi starts to hunt down the culprits who did this to his queen. King Levi's wrath unleashed ya know

𝑷𝒐𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒅 ❤️

Their long day was finally over, it had been nothing but meetings with ambassadors from neighbouring kingdoms wanting to make alliances. Honestly, Levi would have rather counted grains of sand than put up with the idiotic conditions they wanted him to comply with. Y/N had been with him during the meetings, valuing his queens opinion more than his own advisors much to their dismay, but they had barely had a chance to be alone. His stomach growled, not having eaten since early that morning their meetings had taken up the whole day and he was starving.

Y/N sits next to him, her smile softening the look of exhaustion in his eyes. Her fingers idly stroke the back of his hand as they wait for their meals to be placed in front of them. Dinner was exquisite as usual, Levi was about to dismiss his servants for the evening wanting some time alone with Y/N when her sudden coughing made him pause. One hand splayed across her stomach while the other covered her mouth, her eyes were watering as her coughs became more violent. Panic coursed through his body as he watched her double over the side of her chair blood pouring out of her mouth. Her agonized screaming cut off by more blood being expelled ringing in his ears.

“What the hell is going on?” He bellows rushing to her side, holding her hair back while his eyes are furiously glaring at his servants who look equally horrified. Y/N begins to shiver her forehead quickly becoming drenched with sweat. Gently picking her up into his he hurries to the bedroom shouting for someone to call Hange. Her low groans of pain stab at his heart, her face becoming sickly pale. His mind was consumed with rage, someone had dared poison his queen in his own home no less. Levi ruled out the possibility of it being his own servants, having hand-picked them all himself he knew they were devoted to their king and Queen. It was no coincidence that Y/N had been poisoned just when they had foreign guests visiting.

Laying her on the bed he fetches a damp wash cloth from their bathroom to wipe away the sweat that was dripping down her face. Her eyes were shut tightly, face contorted with pain.

“Levi it hurts” she croaks out, turning to lie on her side clutching her stomach. She started coughing again, more blood splattering against her paling lips. He feels utterly helpless, unable to do anything but wipe the blood away from her mouth and rub her back until the doctor can treat her. After what seems like ages Hange bursts into the room with her assistant trailing behind her, arms full of supplies.

“Took you long enough” he scowls but is secretly grateful that help has finally arrived. Hange examines Y/N’s condition, taking notes of her symptoms and asking about the events leading up to her being poisoned.

“There isn’t much I can do for now until I know exactly what kind of poison they used but I can give her something to stop the bleeding. It isn’t going to cure her but it will slow down the effects of the poison.” Taking a sample of Y/N’s blood Hange coaxes her mouth open before slipping a clear substance down her throat.

“What do you mean by slow down?” Levi asks, dread settling in the pit of his stomach.

“Whoever poisoned Y/N did so with the intention of killing her. The solution I just gave her will act as an inhibitor for now but eventually it will wear off.” Levi’s heart started racing, his eyes glance towards Y/N’s silent form. Her eyes weren’t scrunched together in pain anymore but her breathing was still coming out in short gasps.

“How long?”

“48 hours, three days at most. By then I should have the antidote ready.”

“Then I suggest you get to work” Hange nods, her expression solemn as she glances one last time at Y/N’s sleeping form before gathering her samples and leaving them alone. Levi’s hand cups her cheek grateful that she isn’t awake to see the way his fingers are trembling against her skin.

Levi didn’t want to leave her but he wanted-no needed to personally find the scum who had dared to put his queen in harms way. After much reassurance from Y/N’s personal hand maid, Levi set off with his knights to snuff out the filth in his kingdom. It had to be one of the parties that had arrived the day before, the timing was too suspicious to ignore. If someone from his own kingdom wanted to poison her they would’ve tried it already.

He’d already had Mikasa and Jean search the ambassador’s rooms earlier that day. They’d both come up empty handed much to Levi’s frustration. It had already been a full day since the incident and Y/N hadn’t woken up since being given Hange’s temporary solution. He had thought for sure it would’ve one of the two who had made the biggest complaints at having Y/N attend their meetings. He’d dropped by Hange’s lab earlier, her face dark with concentration muttering to herself. She was still working on deciphering the poison used, it wasn’t one she was familiar with meaning that whoever had access to it either, had come from far away or had connections with the black markets.

The image of Y/N violently coughing up blood was permanently burned into his brain, he wouldn’t accept the possibility of her dying. Hange would find a cure, there was no other way. He couldn’t imagine living his life without Y/N at his side. She was his everything, hell he would even argue that she ran the kingdom better than he did. He feels helpless picturing her face contorted with pain, desperately begging him to make it go away. Shaking his head he tries to collect himself, he needed to focus on finding whoever had done this. The muffled sound of voices coming from the throne room grabs his attention. Unless either Levi or Y/N were present no one was allowed to be in there.

“Yes I did everything like you said, the queen should be dead by tonight” peeking through the crack of the door he finds Zeke standing with his back to Levi, another figure hidden behind him. Levi’s jaw clenches, his hunch had been right. Zeke had protested the most to having Y/N in the throne room, claiming that in his country women weren’t allowed to take part in “men’s affairs”. Needless to say Levi didn’t like him.

“Well I guess you’ve finally proved your worth Floch. Once that useless tramp is out of the way we’ll be able to begin seizing his kingdom slowly.”

“You must be absolutely fucking stupid to think this was the best place to gloat in your victory” Levi snaps. Shouting for his guards he stands in the way of their only exit. Floch’s face drains of colour while Zeke merely looks annoyed.

“Yes your majesty?”

“Take these two shit bags to the dungeon. I’ll be down shortly”

“You might think that you’ve won this time but I have people everywhere. Even in your own kingdom. Your queen is never going to be safe” Zeke’s cocky smirk sends Levi into a rage, he doesn’t think twice about punching him face. The sound of bones cracking under his knuckles the most satisfying sound he’s heard all day. Grabbing Zeke’s hair he pulls his face up to meet fiery grey eyes.

“Let me make this clear, you declared war on me and my kingdom the second you thought about hurting Y/N. It doesn’t matter who you have and where they are because just like you, they’re all going to be eliminated.” Levi’s tone is unwavering, not a hint of emotion can be heard. His lips curl back into a sneer, his demeanour that of a possessed man.

“You’re in for a long night boys, Jean make sure our guests are nice and comfortable” Levi’s eyes follow them out of the throne room, his fingers shaking with rage as he balls his fists.

Returning to their room after calming down he finds Hange leaning over Y/N, tilting her head back to help her drink another clear liquid.

“You found it?” He demands rushing over to her side, immediately he notices colour beginning to come back to her face.

“Yeah, it wasn’t easy but I managed. She should wake up in a few hours but she’s going to be pretty weak for a couple days.” Levi’s hand grips Y/N still one, his conscience can finally rest easy knowing that she would survive.

“Heard you found the guys who did this to her.” Hange remarks, packing away her medical supplies rather haphazardly into her bag.

“Wasn’t hard, dumb shits were bragging about it in the fucking throne room for God’s sake” rolling his eyes, Hange barks out a sharp laugh. Placing her hand on his shoulder, her expression is unusually serious.

“Make them pay Levi, who knows I might drop by myself. I’m a bit rusty but I could use a bit of stress relief”

“Only you would call torture stress relief four-eyes” he snorts.

“I’ll be back to check on her tomorrow morning” Levi’s shoulders slump forward, the events of the past day taking a toll on his emotions. Stripping out of his robes he slips into more casual clothing, curling up beside Y/N. Her body turns over facing him, her hands seeking him out even in sleep. Chuckling he pulls her close against his chest, kissing the top of her head. He was going to make sure Zeke suffered greatly for hurting his queen.

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talldarkandroguesome · 3 years

Text

8th of Sun’s Height, Turdas

I spent the day exploring the city of Daggerfall.

Quite the bustling city, as one would expect of the capital of the Covenant. The sea breeze was all that kept the day from feeling oppressively hot.

I spent most of my time down by the docks, figuring it would be a place for those who were both transient and potentially criminal. And it took me little time to discover where the thieves of the city set up shop out of sight of the law.

I spoke with a few, they were more eager than the regular citizens to talk with me. I think some were genuinely less worried about the implication of a lone Dunmer. Others, I suspect, were seeing me as an easy mark.

So I decided to use such things to my advantage, as one is want to do when there is a Daedra whispering in their mind and keeping them stranded across Tamriel from home.

I played myself the role of gambler, one who had spent everything, save the clothes off my back and was looking for mercy.

It took little time before a pair of Bretons to sympathize and as if I should be looking for assistance. I knew it was actually a nefarious invitation. Though I was unsure what they were trying to get out of me.

But I played along, hearing the purr in my Daedric companion’s voice as she continued to offer suggestions of things I could potentially do to my new Breton hosts.

When they turned, I said quietly for her to please be quiet and let me do this if she wanted me to succeed. Which did work. And one of the Bretons turned and asked if I said anything.

I said I was just commenting on how nice the apartment they brought me to.

The man nodded and went back to getting the table tidied up while his friend got the cards out for us. His friend came back and pulled out a chair for me and she asked me if I would like a drink, to which I said I would indeed.

And I pretended not to look as I watched her as she got out wooden cups and a bottle of ale. The man bringing the cards to the table and beginning some idle chatter while I noticed from the corner of my eye that there was something she was putting into one of the cups, presumably mine.

So I made sure to wipe some of my lip color on the back of my hand. Then when the drink was set down, I offered a cheers, purposely knocking my cup a bit too haphazardly into the others, spilling it over the color on my hand. I apologized and scrambled to try and clean up the spill, noticing that there was no change to the color, it was not a poison. It was likely either a sleeping or paralysis drought.

So I made sure to appear as though I was drinking, though not. Then when a distraction was available, I swapped my cup with the one for the man, knowing it would take more for him to succumb to the effects, especially since they were likely putting in an amount based off my body and he was a rather muscular large man.

I also played at feeling a bit tired, saying that the alcohol was making me so tired, even as we continued to play the cards.

The woman offered me their bed to lay down if I needed to rest. It was clear then that sleeping drought it clearly was. I protested for a round before yawning and looking to be physically resisting the effects.

The man said that I should not feel ashamed, that I had been through a lot already and rest would be good. I feigned continued resistance, even as I could not keep my eyes open and the man hefted me up into his arms and carried me to their bed. I let my Prince’s boon show me what sort of person he was as he laid me down upon their thin mattress. I went limp and let my breathing go deeper and more even.

Then I listened as the pair discussed how mer were just as light weight as they had expected and asked one another what to do with me.

I knew from the man that they would trick people into thinking they had done something that needed to be repaid and get those they tricked to work and earn money that goes to them. Others they would simply sell into servitude.

They began to list through some of the contacts they had and what they thought I would be best suited to.

The woman opened up my tunic and the two of them began to inspect my body. It was hard not to move at their touch and to keep my body from reacting when they began to unlace the front of my trousers as well.

The Daedra began asking me if I had let myself be taken advantage of so soon. I thought to myself how much I wished she would just leave me to do my task and she responded as though she had heard it, saying she would simply continue to watch from her vantage point.

The woman asked the man if I would not make a nice play thing for a particular lady in Camlorn, who had recently grown tired of her latest toy. While it sounded as though it might be fun to spend a short while as a fine Breton lady’s toy for a bit, I had no time for all of that. I had work to do.

I let them do their poking and prodding and waited. And waited.

Until at last, the man seemed to be tiring from the effect of the sleeping drought.

The woman asked if he was okay and he said he was tired. That got them into a bit of a spat. I could hear some sort of physical exchange as they fought about how he could possibly be so tired.

Then I heard a loud thud and some snoring. I heard her yelling at him and failing to rouse him from slumber.

I heard her approaching me and felt her beginning to tug off my trousers completely. I slit open my eyes and made out her going for my boots next. It was hard to tell if she was planning to steal my clothing, or something else.

As soon as she had turned her back, I teleported behind her and held my blade to her throat. She cursed at her partner for turning on her.

As I smiled and told her that her partner was the one on the floor, I heard the Daedra squeal with delight, like a child who just received a surprise gift.

I told the woman not to move if she valued her life. She started to try and spin her lie about me owing money and needing to pay them back, but pressing the blade against her skin was enough to stop her speaking.

I told her to strike her partner hard in the face. She did it, but still he slumbered on. Then I had her get her partner’s belt and hand it to me. I took it and then told her to bend down to tie his laces together.

As soon as she bent forward, I brought the belt around her throat and choked her with it. She put up an awful lot of fuss, but she was a slight enough woman that, sadly for her, she could not get a good strike on me, my shades summoned to hold her limbs from flailing.

The Daedra congratulated me and asked me what plan I had for the man. I told her that he was going to look as though he had gotten wounded in the struggle and bled out afterwards.

I went to their kitchen and got out a knife. I gave him a slash across the cheek to see if he would stir. He did not. It was a strong formula indeed that had been put in my cup.

I took the dead woman’s hand and wrapped it round the handle, then held her wrist from below and jabbed the man in his stomach, aiming for vital organs. And I twisted the blade, pulling it out in a wide slash downward.

Then I let the knife clatter to the floor and laid her body back down near to it.

Finally, I went and retrieved my trousers and got dressed, found the key to the door, and took the third cup and placed it back into their cabinet so that it would only look as though two people had been there.

As I was heading out, I heard the man began to cry out as he felt the pain and then noticed the wound.

He saw me and asked what had happened. I told him to stay away after he had strangled his partner for stabbing him. Saying I was going to get the guard.

Even though he was shaking and seemed to be in a panic, he asked me not to get the guard, but rather, to seek out a medic. I told him I would send him one and not to move, so that he did not bleed out. He was looking for something to cover the wound with, but I told him that he needed to stay as still as possible and to close his eyes and concentrate on his breathing and relaxation so that he would bleed slower.

He sat back, crying out as he did and I walked him through a few deep breaths.

Then I walked out of the apartment, locked the door, then wedged a bit of stone into the door lock, so that it would be more difficult for anyone to unlock it if they tried.

The Daedra was waiting for me just down the street and she took my arm as though we were bosom companions. She congratulated me on the deception, but asked me about finishing off the man and why I had not simply slain both of them and been done with it.

I explained to her that I was in a hostile place and that I would be a likely target. I needed to make sure that if the law were to get involved, they have all the signs point to a lovers squabble, turned deadly. And since only those outside the law had seen me in their presence, the chances are, they would not come forward to say what they had seen of me.

The Daedra took this in and said that I was surprisingly detailed in my weaving of a web of deceit for a mortal.

I thanked her for the compliment and then asked if I had done enough to satisfy her.

She said that I had. For now. And that she would be back soon enough to check on me.

I asked if I could go home.

With a laugh, I felt the world spin and then suddenly, I was just outside of the wall to my manor.

I walked in and ignored the questions of my servants and headed immediately to my room, shutting the door behind me.

Now I shall sleep and deal with the questions in the morning.

#ESO #TES #RP #Dunmer #Elder Scrolls Online #The Elder Scrolls

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