#if you want respect you have to give it. not one of the dreaded rabbit people have been disrespectful about their criticism. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

codebts · 2 years

Text

TEARS DRY (m)

couple jungkook/reader, ft. eunwoo

content smut, angst; hybrid au, university au; one-sided love, unprotected sex, descriptive sex, choking, spitting, slapping, degradation, marking, toxic behavior from both characters, crying, alcohol use, dirty talk, loss of virginity, i don’t even know what else.

summary “he walks away, the sun goes down. he takes the day, but i’m grown. and in your grey, in this cool shade, my tears dry on their own.”

words 6,570

author’s note hey. it’s vi. i made a new account, and i’m completely rewriting the series. i changed the title, since it didn’t quite fit the plot. it’s inspired by amy winehouse’s tear dry. the original, of course. fixed a lot of things that made me annoyed with the first part. it still isn’t completely perfect. i think it’s going to only be one part, but i’m not sure yet.

“So Jungkook,” asked Jaehyun one Wednesday afternoon, “what’s your relationship with (Name)?”

“(Name)? As in nerd (Name)?” Lian quipped, ears perking curiously.

Their captain’s relationships were often kept relatively private, so it was rather unusual for him to be linked to someone so publicly. . . and to a prey hybrid of all people.

As usual, the panther hybrid could only glare as his football teammates stared eagerly at him from across the table.

After a beat of silence, he clicked his tongue. “We did stuff. Once. Twice. It doesn’t mean anything.” He confessed reluctantly.

“She must be a pretty crier. . . if you know what I mean.” Yuta elbowed Kai, earning a soft chuckle.

“And she makes him lunch too. What a sweetheart.” Namjoon added, to which Seokjin nods in agreement. This seemed to suffice the team’s thirst for answers, and they quickly returned to their own conversations.

“She’s very kind, Kook. You shouldn’t be so harsh to her.” Jimin eyed the man. Jungkook could only roll his eyes before turning back to his phone.

All of a sudden, a familiar scent swept through the university’s cafeteria. Raspberry, violet, and amber — a mixture that could make any man, prey or predator, fall sick with hunger. There was only one individual’s scent that could have that effect on people and Jungkook couldn’t help but groan in dread.

“Jungkook!” You squealed, bounding towards him. You were wearing a knit sweater —stolen from Jungkook’s closet— and black trousers, paired with your favorite suede clogs. Two ivory ribbons were tucked at the base of your floppy rabbit ears, giving you a rather innocent appearance. You were anything but, the panther hybrid thought.

Unbeknownst to Jungkook, his teammates were more intrigued of his latest lover than he had initially thought. As confusing as this “couple” was to everyone, they could understand why he claimed your virginity. After all, you smelled delectable, and you were a feast to the eyes.

They observed you with curiosity and something akin to desire, so much so that Taehyung could practically feel their want. If Jungkook didn’t want you, they certainly did.

“Lucky bastard,” Soobin whispered, eyes lingering on your plush lips.

Jungkook looked up, black hair drooping softly over his honey-colored eyes. It gave him an almost smoldering gaze, and you couldn’t help but blush as you approached your crush of over a decade.

You had fatefully met him at a park near in your neighborhood, where he had been visiting his maternal grandmother. He had saved you from a group of predator boys who were toying with your prized telescope, a gift from your father. Even in your youth, you knew he was stronger than most— more powerful than most. An aura befitting of the most highest on the food chain oozed from the adolescent. Enthralled by the sheer strength and confidence that the lanky boy had, you began to follow him everywhere, despite the obvious difference in class and species.

Along the way, you befriended Taehyung and Jimin, a bear and wolf hybrid respectively. They were quite a mischievous pair, but they were kind, and accepted your devotion to their best friend. They saw the deep connection you shared with him, despite Jungkook’s denial. After all, he hadn’t actually pushed you away, and often tolerated your romantic gestures.

Tolerated it enough to accept your request for him to take your virginity, at least.

“I missed you so much, Kookie.” You exclaimed, curling your arms around his neck from behind. You knestled your nose into his neck, taking in the strong scent of whiskey, sandalwood, and mint.

“Don’t call me that, brat.” He chastised, pulling away from your touch. You pout.

“Of course, sorry.” You apologize before digging into your satchel. You sat down, right between Taehyung and Jungkook, and pulled out a bento box. Shyly, you pushed it to Jungkook.

“Here.”

Jungkook peeled open the box as if it was second nature. Food. “You can leave now,” He says with a swish of his tail, his attention piqued.

“But look! We have matching boxes.” You replied, pulling out another homemade box. When Jungkook didn’t say anything, you slumped deeper into your seat, ears wilting against your curls.

His best friends notice.

“It’s lovely. You must’ve put a lot of thought into it.” Jimin said, petting your head. You basked in his touch, legs subconsciously thrumming. Rabbit hybrids adored physical touch, no matter who it was from.

“Aren’t you cute? If you don’t want Jungkook anymore, I’m always available.” Taehyung winked and turned to smirk at Jungkook.

“You better not, brat. You aren’t allowed to fuck any of my friends.” Jungkook snarled, slightly pinching your arm in warning. The panther hybrid was known to be quite territorial, so you didn’t give it much thought.

It couldn’t be jealousy. Jungkook wasn’t interested in you, and he made it terribly clear.

Instead, you grinned with your eyes closed. “I’m sorry, Taehyung. My heart will always belong to him.” As a sincere apology, you offered him a tuna roll tucked between your chopsticks, to which he gladly accepted. With a sneer, he grabbed your wrist, eyes never leaving Jungkook’s, and bit into the roll. Your cheeks turned pink at the close proximity, and you quickly pulled away in embarrassment. Even if you were attracted to Jungkook only, Taehyung was still a young man, a beautiful one no less.

“Delicious.” He purred with a flick of his tongue, and Jimin laughed.

Jungkook, who had watched the entire interaction from under his bangs, was turning red. He clenched his fist from under the table.

If you were so in love with him like you said you were, why were you feeding another man? Were you trying to make him angry—? Why was he getting so worked up anyways!

“Kookie?” A shrill voice exclaimed, breaking Jungkook’s train of thoughts. His head shot up, and within seconds his anger had evaporated.

“Noona.” Your ears perked up at the —was it fondness?— in Jungkook’s velvety voice. He has never called you noona, despite you being a few months older.

Does he even call you by your own name?

You quickly realized that she had used your nickname for him, noticed that he didn’t even flinch at it, compared to how he reacted when you called him Kookie.

“Hey, Jeon. I haven’t seen you since Saturday.” said Karina, a fox hybrid. Female fox hybrids were known to be enchanting, and she was nothing short of the standard. Karina was gorgeous, with her large bust, pin-up curls, and slender figure.

The entire table was staring at her. Some were practically drooling at the sight of her exposed skin. You couldn’t be mad at them, you were ogling her chest too.

“Missed me?” Jungkook replied smoothly, leaning his chin against his palm. He was smirking, almost smiling, something you rarely see happening. Karina crossed her arms and pushed herself onto his lap. He maneuvered to fit her, unintentionally pushing you into Taehyung’s chest.

“You took a toll on me, Jungkook.” she purred into his ear, “I couldn’t walk for days.”

You deflated at her words. He was sleeping with other women? He smiled charmingly, unfazed by her dirty comment.

Sure, he didn’t exactly say you were exclusive, but you weren’t the type to be in an open relationship. You’ve given yourself to him countless times, how did you not know that he wasn’t monogamous?

Karina turned to drink in your small frame. You wouldn’t beat her in a beauty competition, she was sure of that. “Is this your girlfriend? A tiny bunny hybrid. How. . . submissive. She isn’t fainting on you when she’s pleasing you, is she? You know you can be a bit much. . .” She purred in false concern, biting her lip to hide her sleazy grin. Your puffball tail twitched at her backhanded comment.

“She’s nobody, noona.” He said, voice husky and ocean deep.

Taehyung’s eyes widened, and so did Jimin’s.

Your ears drooped back, and you could feel tears forming. Rabbit hybrids were considered to be terribly, if not the most sensitive creatures, and you couldn’t help but prove that stereotype by often crying. You attempt to hold back in hopes of putting a strong front for everyone, despite the fact that all you want to do is run back to your apartment and sob into your pillow. Jungkook despised weak people, and you had an annoyingly teary deposition.

Karina looked at her wristwatch and sighed. “Aw, I have to go now. My biology class is about to start at three. I’ll call you.” With a quick kiss on his cheek, she scampered off.

He didn’t pull away from her touch once.

“You slept with her Saturday night? We were just together on Friday. And Saturday morning. And Sunday night. And the day after that. And yesterday, before your morning class.” You whispered in disbelief, lips quivering. Jungkook glanced at you, and rolled his eyes.

“We aren’t exclusive, (Name). I’ve never once said that I would stop sleeping with other women.” He replied nonchalantly, casting his eyes back to his phone. “You shouldn’t expect things from me. I’m not some prey hybrid that can be satisfied by just one newbie girl.”

His selfish remark completely set you off.

“You know how much our shared moments mean to me, Jungkook. I wanted them to be special, to be shared by only us. You. . . know I have feelings for you. You know how much I—I wanted to please you.” You stated, surprising him. His best friends looked on in shock.

“And I’ve told you multiple times that I don’t see you romantically.” Jungkook retorted harshly. “You shouldn’t have assumed in the first place. Always fuckin’ jumping to conclusions. You’re good at that, huh?”

Did you forget your place?

“So it’s okay that you’re fucking someone else, but I can’t fuck your friends?”

“For heaven’s sake, (Name). You and I just fucked a couple of times. That’s it. That’s all that it’ll ever be. I don’t want you in any permanent sense. I don’t want to be tied down to prey, to a virgin rabbit girl who can’t handle my needs. You cry easily, you’re pathetically clingy, and you have zero self-awareness. Do you know what family I’m from? Do you think anyone in my clan will ever accept you? Please, for the sake of me and you, let your stupid feelings go and leave me the fuck alone.” He laid it hard, slamming his fists on the table as he got up. “I don’t even know why I bothered giving you the time of day. I must’ve been out of my fuckin’ mind.”

The noise caught the attention of virtually everyone in the room. They began to whisper as they stared at you and Jungkook’s brooding figure.

“She’s so obsessed.” Whispered Lalisa, a girl from your astrophysics class.

“A rabbit and a panther? That’s unheard of. She must seriously be delusional.” Said another.

“He’s just being realistic. I mean, he’s heir to Jeon Industries. He can’t just date anyone!”

“Isn’t he going to marry that snow leopard heiress, Akra?”

“Look at her. She’s so desperate!”

“Hasn’t she been chasing after him for years now? It’s time to let go.”

“She’ll never be loved if she continues this!”

She’ll never be loved if she continues this.

You nodded slowly in realization, and everything seemed to finally click.

He would never be yours, no matter how hard you tried.

Jungkook searched for a response, for a hand to come flying towards his face, anything. Maybe even a punch to his gut, and yet, he received nothing. His comment had been excessive, and he knew it. So, why did you choose not to react?

His glare softened into surprise as he soaked in your tear-stained face. Despite the sadness in your eyes, a watery smile adorned your lips, but it carried a weight of finality. It was a silent declaration that you had reached your limit, no longer willing to endure his outbursts and nonsense.

You rose from your seat and gazed up at the ceiling, taking in deep breaths in a desperate bid to stem the flow of tears that cascaded relentlessly down your cheeks.

"Of course, I apologize for intruding," you murmured softly, offering a bow before making your way toward the exit.

“(Name). (Name), wait. Don’t be fucking petty. I said wait!”

You didn’t hear him. It was as if your body had shut down.

“Bun.” Jungkook groaned, feeling almost apologetic. He reached out for you, unsure of what to do, but you shrugged him off.

That was a first.

He sensed the overwhelming sadness emanating from your very presence, as if it permeated the air with its poignant, vulnerable, and jaded essence. It was a scent of resignation, as though you had surrendered to defeat.

Were you. . . giving up on him?

Guilt tore through him as he realized his unnecessary brutality, his eyes flicking to the crowd witnessing the entire exchange. Despite their support, bitterness consumed him.

You found yourself in the nearby art classroom, pressing against the door as you slid down to hide your face in your knees. Your carefully applied makeup was beyond salvaging, a futile attempt to impress him. With each slow breath, you struggled to steady your racing heart. It wasn't just the insults anymore; something deeper had fractured between you, unleashing a torrent of suppressed emotions.

Instead of cleaning yourself up, you choose to cry out all your heartache.

His cruelty cut deeper this time because you had allowed yourself to be vulnerable with him, only to discover that your connection meant nothing to him. Every kiss, every touch, and every glance filled with bittersweet longing now felt like a cruel facade. You had opened yourself up to him completely, body and soul, only to realize that you were just another passing girl in his life, a test to see if he could. It hurt because you had hoped for something real, something lasting, but it seemed he was only interested in those who could match his pace.

Despite your romantic gestures and the raw display of your vulnerability, nothing seemed to sway his resolve. He remained unmoved, unaffected by the depth of your emotions and the naked honesty you laid bare before him.

It was all for nothing.

You could vividly recall your first time with him. He hadn’t said anything sweet, or kind. He didn’t kiss you sweetly, or tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. No, it was all teeth and desire, all blood and bitemarks. He left no room for affection when he took the virginity of the only prey he’s ever bedded.

He had first eaten you out, nails leaving deep indents into your soft thighs as he held you open, like a sacrifice, knees flat against your chest. He ran his tongue repeatedly over your clit and into your weeping hole. You came with a choked sob as you rode out your high on his face, begging for him to fill you. He sank two thick, practiced fingers into your quivering cunt, curling them as he went in and out. You’ve never felt something so deep and penetrating, and his carnal look only spurred you on even further. God, he could really feel it. Your insides were so warm, so cushiony, so soaked. With it’s spongy, elastic ridges that he just knows would clamp right onto his shaft, he could practically feel the pleasure it would give to his cock.

Fuck, he wasn’t even inside yet!

“You’re so fucking pathetic, look at you.” He laughs as you shutter when he presses against your sweet spot. “Just rutting against my fingers like a bitch in heat.” He watches your reaction carefully, hungrily, not wanting to miss anything. He could feel himself growing increasingly hard. It was rare for him to get worked up so easily over simple foreplay, and with a measly virgin bunny of all people.

After pushing in a third and stretching you out, he pulled out, leaving you contracting around thin air. When he pulled out his cock from his sweats, you clenched in both anticipation and dead. It was chillingly large, fit for a predator. More so. No wonder he took his sweet time in prepping you.

“You can back out, pet.” He drawled. Leaning back on his knees, he began stroking himself, eyeing your heaving chest.

Yeah. No condom. He needed to feel this completely. This moment needed to be ingrained in his fucking cranium, to be stored for all his beat-offs.

You weren’t packing as much as the other women he’s fucked, but he found himself being very pleased with your soft, yet disheveled appearance. You looked absolutely wrecked, nails digging into his knees that possessively held you in, and he reveled in the fact that he’ll be the first and only one to see you like this.

“Don’t want to.” You mumbled, trembling under his hungry gaze. “Want to see you the moment you finally fall in love with me.”

Hah. What a fuckin’ brat.

“I won’t stop even if you say so.” He tries.

You reach for his free hand, and push his palm against your mouth, kissing it. “Make sure I can’t say stop then.”

“You’re being very snarky today, huh? You think this pussy can make me stay?”

“I hope so.” You replied innocently.

“Hm? You hope so?” He looks down, sliding his cock between your pussy lips. “Look, my cock’s going to practically fill your womb, baby. You can’t possibly take me.”

“I will, Jungkook. Don’t push me away. I-I can be the cock sleeve you want me to be.”

“Who taught you that?” He snarls, cupping your chin harshly.

“Hoa said I should say that.”

He growled, and his eyes flashed red. You could only gulp in both nerves and unadulterated anticipation.

“You better show me that this little sleeve is worth it, then.”

He loomed over you, hand gripping the bedframe of your childhood bed behind you. It cracked under his grip, but all you could focus on was his hot breath and muscular neck.

“Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.” And with that, he sank into you. He went impossibly deep, filling every crook, cranny, and crevice with one single stroke. He sighed, involuntarily pressing his forehead against yours. In less than a second, he had found the bundle of nerves tucked deep within your body and you could only close your eyes in a silent scream. It hurt so much, but you couldn’t be happier.

He was fucking up your insides, kissing all up on on your cervix with just his tip, and you could feel the blood of your ripped tissue seeping past his cock. He stilled, and raised his torso.

“Good?”

You could only nod deliriously, and with that, he began drilling into you unforgivingly. He curled his large hands around your neck, your head, your shoulders, anywhere he could hold you, as pounded into you. You instinctively placed your hands on his chest, but you didn’t push him off. His pace was monstrous, and you couldn’t help but feel jealous of all the other women he’s been with. The pleasure was absolutely heavenly.

He reached the deepest parts of you, places you didn’t know existed, and he was barely halfway in.

“It barely fits.” He groaned, watching the vulgar entrance of his fat cock stuffing your tight, little cunt.

His hair and forehead was matted with sweat. He looked down, quietly admiring your fucked out face with an almost evil, shit-eating grin. Your eyes were rolled back, and your tongue was slowly making its way past your lips. He let his chain dangle in your face as he focused on making you cum, hips thrusting in and out, thirsty for your essence. You clench around him at the feeling of the cold metal, earning a growl from his throat. You reached behind him to claw uselessly at his shoulders, preening.

He let go of your throat, trading it for pushing your knees to your ears. In this position, he saw everything. He bit into your ankle, and then your toe, his eyes never leaving your face.

“Look at me when I’m fucking you, slut.” You struggled to meet his eyes. He was practically making out with your legs. With nothing of him to hold, you could only grab your breasts to massage them.

“So fucking dirty. Look at you, pulling me in with this pretty cunt. Fuckin’ brat.” He gently slapped your cheek, coaxing you out of your daze.

He flips you to your side and comes behind you, using one arm to pull your leg up, the other coiling around your neck in a headlock.

God, you were facing your mirror.

“Watch me make you cum, (Name).”

“Want you to cum first.” You mumbled, head sinking deeper into your pillows.

“There’s no fucking way.” He said with a slap to your left breast. He looked down at your connected parts.

“Little girl taking big things.” He mumbled offhandedly, irises expanding. He could feel his balls twitch, begging for release, but he couldn’t give you the satisfaction of orgasming before you. He couldn’t pussy out of watching you come undone first. “My.” Thrust. “Kind of.” Thrust. “Woman.”

His hips slowed to a grinding motion, pelvis right against your pulsating clit, as he cupped your jaw and turned it. “Open.” He commanded, thumb pressed against your bottom lip. The cold metal of his rings pulled you out of your haze and you obliged, watching him waft up a glob of spit and depositing it into your waiting mouth. You swallowed, eyes watery.

“Say thank you, brat.”

“Thank you so so so so much.” You whimpered, reaching for him. He kissed you feverishly, eyes still open as you sucked and nipped at his tongue and lips.

You were whiny and breathless as he resumed his harsh pace, oscillating his hips at the perfect angle.

Your toes curled at the sight. He remained relatively quiet, except for the occasional grunts and dirty talk, too enthralled at the idea of making you cum for the first.

“Fuck, get on your knees. Need to see it from the back.” He looms over you, taking your earlobe into his mouth as he encased you in his arms and resumed his harsh pace.

You ran a hand over his lower stomach, chiseled to the gods, and traced the veins that lead to his cock. He tilted his head back, enjoying your soft touch. When you touched his iliac furrow, he shuddered.

You could feel it— your approaching orgasm. It was coming fast, and your toes curled in anxiety. It felt like it was going to be too much to handle.

“I can’t, Jungkook.”

“Hm?”

“It’s too much.”

“You can handle it, brat.” He said, fucking you faster. You yelped at the sudden change. “You were right. You were made to take my cock. Such a tiny thing. . . I shouldn’t have even passed your pretty lips.”

“So vulgar.” You mumbled, blinking back your tears of ecstasy.

“Cum, woman.”

“Can’t.”

“You can, petal. You’re taking me so well. There’s nothing you can’t do, hm?” He pressed his lips against your cheek, and then to your ear. He bit into it, suppressing his own sounds of enjoyment. Th sweetness of his gestures seemed to spur you on, just like he wanted. “Gonna cum, Kookie.”

“Fuuuuuck, me too.” He groaned. The bed was practically falling apart as he fucked into you, balls slapping against your pussy.

“Cum inside, please.”

“Gonna give you a fuckin’ kid if I do.”

“Please.”

“Filthy. Fuckin’ filthy. Make me cum then, brat.”

And with that, you came. Your insides gripped his cock painfully tight, so tight that he couldn’t even get another thrust in. You milked his cock for everything he was worth, convulsing around him like a fucking vibrator. You were drooling as you reached up to bite his neck, leaving a not-so subtle mark. He let you claim him for only moment. It was your reward for cumming so perfectly.

“Shit.” He said, watching you arch your back as you laid back down. So fuckin’ pretty. With a few more strokes, he came, painting your insides white with his seed. You could feel the spurts of cum, felt it inflate your stomach at the thickness, and it all but made you feel even more horny. You wanted nothing else but to bear his children. To be bred by that beast of a man. Semen eased out of your hole when he pulled out, but all he did was plug it back in with his fingers.

He coaxed another handful of orgasms from you that night. He didn’t give you a break for the next couple of hours, and in the morning he let you go with a bouquet of insults, marks you couldn’t hide, and a tremble in your walk.

You trudged out the door and into car, ready to receive an earful from him.

You must’ve left a long lasting impression on him, because he continued to call you at the wee hours of the night, asking for a quick fuck. You hastily agreed, hoping these hangouts would turn into dates.

Oh, how you were terribly wrong.

He had been out and about sleeping with beautiful, smart, and experienced predator hybrids.

“Are you okay?” A voice rang through the room, pulling you out of your trance. You looked up, meeting the eyes of none other than Cha Eunwoo, Jungkook’s vice-captain, the student body president, and your astronomy classmate. He was a handsome cheetah hybrid with his toothy grin, sweet demeanor, and adorable sweater vests.

You wish you had fallen for him instead.

“Yeah,” you sniffled, “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look too fine.” He chuckled, and you did too. “I heard about what happened. I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that.” Eunwoo said, softly shutting the door. He sat down next to you, and offered you his handkerchief.

“I thought things would be different.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He whispered, touching your shoulder. “If it makes you feel better, you’re beyond beautiful. Any guy would be lucky to have you.”

“Thank you, Eunwoo.”

“It’s no problem, (Name). Let everything out. I’m here to listen.”

“It’s just that . . . I chased after him for so long. I don’t know anything else but chasing.”

“What if I chased after you?” He replied, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear. “What if I showed you what’s beyond chasing?”

“W-What?”

“I know you’re vulnerable and hurt right now, but I feel like I’ll never have another chance to tell you how I feel. Just know I’m not using this situation to manipulate you into anything.” He breathed in.

“I’ve always liked you, (Name), even back in high school. You were so sweet, and passionate about what you loved, whether it was Jungkook, or astronomy. I admired that from afar, since I knew your heart already belonged to someone. When you helped me with my physics homework, I fell for you even harder.” He confessed with a wistful look. “I wish Jungkook knew how much you meant to him. It wasn’t about his appearance, or his status. It was him. Everything about him, you embraced, even his flaws.”

He looked at you, cyan eyes sparking with hope. “I hope you’ll give me the chance to pursue you. I want to help you forget your pain.”

“Eunwoo. . . I don’t want you to feel like a rebound.”

“Of course you aren’t. I want this, and I don’t expect you to give up your feelings for him instantly.”

You thought about it. This could be your chance to forget, to build a relationship with someone who actually reciprocates your feelings. You were given the chance to feel what true love finally feels like, and you would be dumb to give up this chance.

He was going to give you what you longed for from Jungkook. He was looking at you the way you looked at Jungkook.

“Okay, Eunwoo. You can try, but I can’t promise anything.” Within seconds, Eunwoo had pulled you into a tight embrace. You basked in the scent of cedar wood and cocoa. Despite it being foreign, you felt comfortable in his presence. He picked you off the floor and twirled you around, earning a soft squeak from you.

“Thank you, sweetheart. You won’t regret this.”

Days went by and Jungkook didn’t hear from you at all. He had checked your favorite university cafe, that spot you liked to study at in the library, and even waited at the door of one of your classes. You were nowhere to be seen, and Jungkook was getting severely annoyed. It wasn’t the first time he had said something mean, so why were you hiding now?

He hadn’t had a good fuck in a minute, the last one being you. You, the woman he seemed to despise the most, making him cum the hardest and quickest he’s ever had. Even the sheer thought of you, sprawled over his bed or leaning over his desk, dripping from his cream pie, has him popping a boner in the middle of class.

He couldn’t even cum properly without thinking about you. Balls deep in the captain of the volleyball team, and all he could think of was you.

Things wouldn’t change over a single argument, right? Similar things have happened before, but you always crawled back after a few pretty texts of “I miss your cooking” or “I miss that pretty cunt sitting on my face.”

You would be back soon, he was sure of that. With that thought in mind, he made his way to your next class, hoping to catch you leaving the room. He’d give you a public kiss, even wrap an arm around you. That’d satisfy you enough, right?

Right?

“Is Eunwoo and (Name) dating?”

His ears perked up. What?

“I saw them holding hands. He was holding her satchel and textbooks.”

“I guess she’s over her crush. Good for her.”

“Finally finding her self worth after all these years? It’s not something to be proud of.”

He turned to stare at the female gossipers that loitered around a vending machine. Surely they meant someone else. Not (Name). Not his (Name). She would never leave over some pathetic argument.

He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. That was impossible.

When you didn’t come out, he strolled to the cafeteria to meet his friends. As usual, Taehyung and Jimin were bickering. Something, or someone, was missing in the equation, but he didn’t dwell too much on it.

“He doesn’t know, does he?” Jimin whispered to the bear hybrid.

“There’s no way he doesn’t know. The entire law department knows! Even the engineering department! And the bio—“

“Shut up, he’s coming!”

Jungkook sat down, quizzically staring at the pair. They awkwardly smiled at him, and quickly shut their conversation down.

“Wow, this must be the longest (Name)’s been away from you.” Taehyung drawled, side eyeing Jimin.

“She looked really hurt that day. You were out of bounds with that one.” Jimin added, slurping his juice box.

“Don’t you think I know that? She’ll get over it with some sweet little words.”

“Hm.”

“She’s so obsessed with my health. She can’t go a week without whipping me something to try in the name of her ‘proving herself worthy to be my girlfriend’ bullshit.”

“Then why isn’t she coming over? She��s right over there.” Jimin said, pointing his fork at the direction behind him. Jungkook whirled around. He must be playing a prank on him. He could smell your overwhelming scent from a mile away.

Sure enough, there you were, sitting right next to fucking Cha Eunwoo. You were drenched in Eunwoo’s pheromones, it was no wonder why he couldn’t smell you. The can of soda that was in Jungkook’s palm was crushed within seconds.

Eunwoo laughed at one of your jokes and softly petted your hair, easing the morning licks that seem to always pop up after a good night’s rest. He scratched the base of your ears, and your left foot began to endearingly thump with glee.

Jungkook glowered at the sight. Why the fuck was that cheetah hybrid touching what’s his?

“Oi, looks like (Name)’s found her new object of affection.” Taehyung whistled, turning to look at Jungkook. “Good for her. . . and for you, man. She’s finally off your back, just like you wanted.”

“Yeah, I guess she is.” Jimin cocked a brow at the boy. Liquid continued to ooze from the crushed soda can, and Jimin could only shake his head.

“I don’t give a fuck. She was annoying in bed anyways. So loud.” Of course, that was a big fat lie. You were the most enjoyable to be with. (And if anything, he was the most vocal with you.)

“Whatever you say.” Jimin retorts, and that was the end of the conversation.

Jungkook couldn’t help but send a quick glance your way. You looked so happy, as if that argument never happened. Were you ever really in love with him to begin with?

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed in on the box that sat between you. You were saying someone as you eased a roll into Eunwoo’s mouth. He bit your finger playfully as he pulled back, making you blush like crazy. He wanted to strangle Eunwoo, but he also wanted to laugh.

You were never in love with him. You just wanted to see what the fuss his dick was about. If you were truly in love with him, you wouldn’t have given up so easily.

But why did it hurt so much? Why did it feel like heaven ripped half of his soul away from him?

For fuck’s didn’t need you. He never needed you.

He quickly pulled out his phone, and his finger hovered over Karina’s recent message that he left on delivered.

Are you busy?

Three dots. And then;

Never for you.

Two weeks goes by. You spent your days mostly being whisked away by Eunwoo, who took you to fancy dinners, movies, and museums. Yet, every time you were alone in your thoughts, you thought of him. Jungkook. His touch, his warm scent, his smirk whenever he was around his friends, and his smile, the one that showed every time he talked about his grandmother. You missed all of that.

You missed all of him.

Jungkook and Karina’s newfound monogamous relationship spread through the campus fairly quickly. Of course, you played off your true reactions when Nayeon from your literature class asked you how you felt about it.

“I’m happy for him. He deserves someone good by his side after everything he’s been through.”

(Nayeon had given you a pitiful look after hearing your response. She must’ve thought that you were spiraling.

You were.)

Despite him giving Karina the one position you longed for, you were actually happy for him. You didn’t lie when you said that he deserved it — deserved a pretty and accomplished predator hybrid that could proudly stand by his side as an equal.

It took you awhile to come to terms with it, but you came to realize it wouldn’t work anyways. He was a panther, the heir to the strongest clan in the world. He had beauty, wealth, education. . . he had a lifestyle that couldn’t work with her’s; a middle class prey hybrid who can barely make rent.

Eunwoo didn’t allow you to dwell on it, and soon, your entire schedule was filled with him, classes, and your four best friends, Hoseok, Hoa, Momo, and Yoongi.

This feeling of knowing what laid ahead was comforting. You were going to graduate, date Eunwoo, and live out your days doing what you loved.

“Don’t worry princess, I’m always going to be here for you.” Eunwoo said, pressing his lips against your hair.

You were so used to Jungkook’s sarcastic pet names that being called princess or sweetheart made your head spin. It was welcomed, though. Bunnies needed love and everlasting attention, and Eunwoo was gladly offering it.

Back at your shared apartment, you checked your outfit one last time. A sundress, one that complimented your curves and brightened up your skin. You slipped on your glasses and tote bag, ready to head out. Before you could leave, you stopped to touch the photo of you and Jungkook at the sweet age of seven. There were actually many photos, some with friends, some alone, and they were mostly from ten years ago. One of them was from five years ago. It was a picture of Jungkook sitting on the edge of a secret hilltop that overlooked the city. The sun had been setting, and you took a snap of him admiring the rare sight.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it? I used to come here a lot whenever my grandmother worked at the planetarium.” He had said, pointing at the array of colors that coated the evening sky.

You nodded absentmindedly, but you weren’t looking at the view. Long eyelashes, a few pimples and scars, and chapped lips. Cherub skin, a little fat in his cheeks that later faded as he aged, and sparkly gray eyes. You were looking at him, and all that he was.

This was who you loved. God, how could you not love someone so pure?

He grew muscle and lost his baby fat, but he never lost those large grey-amber eyes, ones that seemed to hold entire galaxies in them.

“Yeah. It’s beautiful.” You murmured.

You blinked, and turned away from the picture frame. You didn’t want to immerse yourself in a fantasy that you could never relive.

Once you left your apartment, it only took twenty minutes to reach the university. You bounced down the halls in pure excitement. Eunwoo was taking you to an exhibit that featured space stones!

In your excitement, you had accidentally bumped into someone.

“Watch where you’re going!”

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there.” You bowed respectfully, and turned to keep going. A hand curled around your wrist and stopped you from going. You looked up, only to see Karina’s cat-like eyes. She sneered.

“Well, if it isn’t Jungkook’s old clingy bunny experiment. (Name), wasn’t it?”

“Look, I really have to go.” You casted your eyes down. “Again, I’m sorry for all the trouble—”

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, prey.” Karina screamed, pushing you against a bulletin board. You gulped, but your face remained brave.

“What do you want from me?”

“He’s probably told you this, but leave him alone. Stay far, far away from him. He’s mine now, and he told me to tell you that. You were his plaything, and I’m his girlfriend. As it should be.”

She was antagonizing you, that much you could tell.

“I wasn’t planning to go near him again. You’re right, he’s yours and I can respect that.”

“Panther hybrids aren’t meant to be with puny prey hybrids, (Name), and I’m glad you finally put a stop to your delusions.”

Your blood ran hot at her comment. With a sprout of strength you never thought you had, you twisted away from her grasp and pushed her into the wall that you were pressed against seconds before.

“You already have him, so why are you being so rude? I’ve never done anything to you—!”

“What the hell is going on, (Name)?” You turned, meeting Jungkook’s red eyes. You instantly submitted under his harsh gaze, knees failing at the sudden wave of nausea. He was going to make you go into heat if he didn’t stop. He pushed you away from Karina, making you trip and collapse onto the floor with a thud. You gasped as the pain rushed through your spine. You attempted to sit up, but the pain was too much.

Jimin and Taehyung quickly came to your aid. You winced at the contact, pulling away from their touch. There were too many predators surrounding you, and with Jungkook’s pheromones, it made you feel even more unsafe. They attempted to sooth you with words of encouragement as they lifted you to your feet.

Karina was sobbing into Jungkook’s chest as she pointed at you.

“She attacked me when I told her that I loved you!” Jungkook turned to reprimand you, but Jimin stood in front of you, baring his fangs. He was beyond tired of watching you get insulted for nothing.

“You attacked her over something so pathetic? Jesus, (Name). I knew you were insane, but I didn’t think you were violent.”

“You know (Name) wouldn’t attack her over that! She obviously provoked her.” Taehyung said, coming to your defense.

“She’s so fucking obsessed with me, I wouldn’t be surprised if she did this out of jealousy.” He spat. Your temper returned tenfold, and you angrily limped toward him, pushing past Jimin.

“Don’t you start fake crying, (Name). I’m not falling for your shit, anymore.” Jungkook said sarcastically. “Just drop the shitty innocent act.”

You slap him. Across the face.

“Fuck. You.” You heaved. Your throat fucking burned. You weren’t used to raising your voice. “I’ve been in love with you for more than a decade, Jungkook. Is this some kind of sick joke? I’ve taken care of you, looked after you, loved you even when you didn’t want to have anything to do with me. It’s fine that you don’t reciprocate my feelings, I respect that, but for you to undermine my love for you as some obsession is fucking low. I’ve left you alone, and you continue to insult me, and for what? I’m sorry that I was annoying. I’m sorry that I was clingy. I’m sorry that I can never live up to your stupid standards. I’m sorry that sex with me wasn’t up to your standards, so you had to find pleasure in other experienced women. I’m so sorry for wasting your time, and I’m sorry for loving a predator like you, even when you told me to stop. I’m happy for you! You deserve to find love with someone who’s your equal, so why can’t you be happy for me, just this once? Why can’t you see that I’m still trying for you, even when you hate me?”

You were full blown sobbing now, and Jungkook couldn’t help but look at you in pure agony. He could see and feel your pain, like he’s never had before. It was as if something clicked inside his soul, and he had come to the realization that you weren’t just a fuck to him. No, you were more than that, he could physically feel it. As if he was possessed, he pushed Karina off of him and slowly reached for you. It was as if his instincts were telling him to comfort his mate. You backed away and shook your head. “Don’t touch me. I’ll dirty you. I’m just a brat, right? A filthy slut who doesn’t deserve your love. Who can never amount to anything to you and your family.” You covered your face and turned away. You couldn’t handle anymore embarrassment.

“No, (Name). I didn’t think. . .” Jungkook tried. Why weren’t his words forming right?

“(Name)? Are you okay?” asked Eunwoo from across the hall. He hastily rushed towards you. You were supposed to meet him at the campus parking lot, but you weren’t there and it was about fifteen minutes before the exhibit.

You cried out, reaching for him. He pulled you into his arms protectively. You snuggled into his hold, using his scent as a way to calm yourself. Jungkook watched, his soul crushed to oblivion.

“Please take me home.” You mumbled in tears. “Everything hurts.”

“Of course, sweetheart. Give me your bag.” Eunwoo shrugged your bag off and onto his shoulder. He lifted you off your feet and gave you a one look over before making his way towards the exit. Jungkook stood there, drowning in pure regret. There was no way he could fix this.

“I’ll take you to the clinic first, okay?” Eunwoo murmured as he tucked you into the passenger seat.

“Mhm.” You mumbled, already exhausted.

“Sh, sleep. I’ll wake you when we’re there.”

“Thank-you, Eunwoo.”

“Of course, princess.”

“I think. . . I can finally look at you now, Woo.” You said as you dozed off. “In the way you want me to.” Eunwoo paused before smiling, opening his car door.

“I’m glad, (Name).” His eyes flashed red. “I’m so, so glad.”

That night, you nestled into bed after applying some ointment onto your bruise. It would be hard to walk for a couple of days, but your boyfriend would be there to support you every step of the way.

Your phone buzzed with several messages, but you ignored it, thinking it was your group chat. You groaned when it continued to insistently vibrate. After a few moments, you peeled it off your bedside table.

It was Jungkook, of all people.

(Name)?

Can we talk?

I want to fix things.

I miss you. A lot.

Please.

I promisr I’lk changw.

I won’t pusd yoi away amymorw.

I can’t di this. Pleasr.

Mert mw on our hill, plwese?

(Name).

I thonk I luvb you.

Talj to me. Pleasw.

Jungkook took another swig of his vodka as he laid sprawled on the grass, on top of a very special hill. You weren’t replying, and as the minutes passed by, he was drowning himself with more alcohol. He wanted to beg on his knees for your forgiveness. He’d give everything to finally treat you right. To stop fighting the attraction.

He tried to text you again, fingers messily typing against the screen. He could barely make out what he was typing before he pressed send.

I’d leavw everythinf behind four yoy, (Name).

The message didn’t go through, and his heart dropped.

In the end, your tears dried out.

You had blocked him.

#jungkook #jungkook smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #bts jungkook #bts #bts angst #kim taehyung #park jimin #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #jung hoseok #min yoongi #jeon jungkook #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts recs

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whumpshaped · 1 year

Text

Drabble #4

inspo masterlist

trigger warnings: missing person, implied trauma, hidden injuries, emotional whump

Len was fidgeting with his hands as he stood on the porch of Andrina’s home, unsure of whether to even go through with this. He wanted to see it again, of course, but he wasn’t sure he was ready for all the questions and worried looks and most of all, the answers he would be forced to give. Either that, or lying. He didn’t know which outcome he hated more.

He raised his hand to knock before he could think about it, stepping back afterwards and waiting for someone to open. Maybe it would be best if no one came to let him in. He stared at the wood, studying the door handle, the cracks in the wall next to it, then the wood beneath his feet, and the dirty shoes he was wearing. Andrina would surely be mad that he came here so… run down.

Way too soon, the door creaked open, and Andrina’s eyes widened. Len wasn’t able to give it anything more than a tired smile and a clumsy wave before sinking his hands right back into his pockets. He kept forgetting that there were bandages just below the cuff of his stolen jacket, and he could only hope it didn’t catch a glimpse of it.

“Len?” Its voice was soft and tentative. It sounded like it had dreamt about this moment several times before, maybe even seen him during the day in its more fragile moments.

“Hi. Can I… come in? Just for a bit?”

Andrina stood aside hastily, gesturing towards the inside of its home and towards the living room couch. “Would you like a cup of tea? It’s cold out.”

“I’d love that. Thank you.”

They sat on the couch silently, both of them drinking their respective hot beverages. Len had a cup full of chamomile tea, three sugars, both freezing hands wrapped around the warm mug. Andrina had a cup of matcha, plain, its eyes fixed strictly on the liquid, never even glancing at its guest, lest it make him uncomfortable.

“Is it good?” it asked quietly, still making Len flinch. He caught the apologetic look on Andrina’s face - it must’ve registered the movement even without looking directly. It didn’t comment on it, and he was grateful for that.

“It’s really good.” He took another sip, thinking of something to ask in return. He had a lot of questions, none of which he felt he deserved to know the answer to. If he asked, he’d be asked right back. If he wanted an answer from Andrina, he’d have to give his own. “Yours is matcha, right? I had no idea you liked that.”

“I got into it lately. It’s good for the heart, apparently.” It stirred the tea some more, watching the liquid swirl. Its mug had several inspiring phrases on it, such as ‘Don’t give up!’ or ‘Tomorrow is a new day!’ He wondered how much heartache he must’ve caused for Andrina to turn to affirmations and matcha tea. “It’s an acquired taste, I think. Once you’re on your third cup, or thirtieth, you start to like it.”

“Tell me about it. I got into eating carrots. Just like that, raw, without anything else. Like a cartoon rabbit.” He smiled, prompting it to smile back. “Could be worse, I suppose. I could’ve gotten into actual bad habits.”

Andrina nodded. “Carrots aren’t the end of the world. Maybe a little strange, but you’ve never been one for normalcy.”

The sun was setting, and the shadows on the wall kept stretching further and further. Len was beginning to think that he might be able to spend the night at Andrina’s, without having to answer the dreaded question. He took another sip, enjoying the warmth travelling down his throat and settling in his belly. The jacket did nothing to protect him from that permanent, bone-deep chill.

Andrina set its cup down, finally looking up at him. There was something in its eyes that Len just couldn’t bear to see, and he quickly took another sip, hiding his face behind the mug. He couldn’t protect himself from the words, however. “Why did you leave?”

Len’s vision was swimming as he lowered the cup, gently placing it on the table. Memories of his past months came flooding back, and he teared up, as if he wasn’t guilty, as if he had any right to cry when he’d caused Andrina so many headaches. He opened his mouth to answer, desperate to give his friend the explanation it deserved - and nothing. The words got stuck in his throat, and in the next moment, he was bolting towards the door and running away from that godforsaken house.

taglist: @ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen @rainbows-and-whumperflies

#whump #whump drabble #emotional whump #hidden injuries #implied trauma

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kakubun · 3 years

Text

boo boos

about: where bonten gets patched up by you.. eh except for a minoorrr error

a/n: i hate writing bonten because it's so damn cliche and "you're the only one i love" type of bs but it's addicting🔫🔫

warnings: mentions of blood and violence, chapter 189-206 spoilers‼️‼️, kissing in kakucho's part

tag tag: @rindousarus, @lucylikesbluehairedmen

(lucy idk who you like in bonten but here you go😭😭)

sanzu

obviously sanzu is the type to be careless and he sometimes would scratch his face whenever a bastard had a chance to touch him but he easily kills them off

most of the times (would say 3 times), he would be high and it's a completely wrong time for him to be sent off to a mission but he lives the risks of being high so he'll just take whatever the hell mikey gave him

it would be a lot more messier execution and blood would stick and drip down his face while rindou and ran asked him to wash off the stains of his face (no sanzu, doesn't matter if it's the results of your hardwork after pill popping and killing idc)

he eventually does clean off the grime on his face and felt a stinging sensation on his cheek, he touched up everywhere on his face and the scar was lined on the left of his cheek

he sighs with a grin and pressed the wound again and again, feeling the burn of the scar opening and closing

he hums as he slid into your private room to find anything to patch him up or maybe you.. if you could

he peeked from the door way and you were writing down.. who knows? whatever you were writing down was long forgotten when you looked up cause you felt a precense and immediately rushed to sanzu

"cmere you idiot" it's the shocking way to find out, you the partner of sanzu being the bigger person than him. the other members of bonten just watches sanzu being nagged by you like a mother a lot of times when his wild ass doesn't do things right and perhaps one of them let a snicker escape.

you grabbed onto his face gently but quickly pushing him onto a chair and he whistles like a tease to your concerned actions and you grumbled under your breath because of your wreck of a husband. you stopped going through the medkit and paused to look at him, he knows you wanted to pop a question so he tilted his head yo let him know what is it.

"um.. are you okay with hello kitty bandaids?" it was reasonable for him to laugh very loudly because you looked so nervous when you couldn't find any normal bandaids and you didn't say anything when you wiped a clean rag over him. well until he stopped laughing.

"i don't want to make you look like a fool infront of the other members, you clown"

"what are you a kid, why do you even have hello kitty bandaids in the first place hm~?" you told him with a smile threatening to grow on your lips that it was ridiculously cute that you had to buy it. don't waste your chance before it's out of stock <33

so he agrees,

one of the many things that his sweet partner can intoduce him is wearing hello kitty bandaids that fits his hair colour

he DOES NOT give two shits if any of bonten were to make fun of him, he doesn't care if he had to be called preschooler or that you were sending him to school but all that matters is to be showy with his glamarous bandaids that he had so he could remember that sweet expression on your face when he decides to wear them

it's completely okay if you called him extra because you know this man has the audacity to ask if you had hello kitty bandages if his arms bled

extra!!:

"sanzu, do you think this is a fashion show" you deadpanned at him when you see him sneaking on bandaids on his face, to what show you? because you know damn we this fool is wasting precious stuff during the time he won't need it.

he slowly starts peeling off another one when you start scolding him, giving empty threats on how you'll wrap him up in bandages to bury him later and the time you turn around again is where he quickly pushed the sticky bandaid on you.

"there, we're matching!" he points at the mirror or better he shifts you towards the mirror by grabbing your waist and loosely hugging it when you look at the glass when both you and sanzu had the cute bandaid on both your noses.

perhaps you shouldn't rub your temples and stress about this a lot because your husband will not take this seriously.

mikey

this was a boss we're talking about so mikey had to intervine because this smart group of asses are actually breaking into bonten's bank, carefully taken care by the haitani brothers

the boss got held at gun point before the last few seconds of his breath to get him to spill but mikey got impatient and accidently killed him too soon

mikey gripped the gun in frustration that his fingers could form a bruise with how hard he's holding it, an unfortunate turn of events had happened when the windows in all the rooms got smashed in by the other members of the sleaze he killed and managed to land a kick on his head

sanzu dealt with the problem quickly, blocking mikey from the enemies slinging the katana he had lazily on his side with a crazed glint in his eyes threatening the other members from getting way too close

the kick was unnessarily strong for no reason that mikey wobbled to his knees to the sheer impact the feet of the slain man (sanzu specially killed) could effect him so much

kakucho swiftly lead mikey out of the room whilst shooting down any person running in

mikey settled in your shared bedroom as he informed sanzu and kakucho to put him in the room whenever anything serious occured because he atleast wanted to see his beloved when he wakes up

the soft plush pilliows greeted his head as his half unconscious form laid on the bed before his eyes gave up and met darkness (like his impulses‼️‼️)

the taps of a wet cloth made him jolt out of his slumber and you panicked, telling him it's just you and you were just taking care of him while he's asleep. his head hurted when he shifted to look at you and you gently told him to rest when he feels bandages wrapped around his head.

he sensed your worry when your lips trembled on the face of his skin when you pecked kisses all over him and he couldn't help pulling you over into a hug which you squeled when you stumbled out of your chair.

"sleep with me love" he kissed you back on all the places you touched him with your lips to calm down the hurting beats of your heart when you see him writhing from the danger he put himself in, you held his face which he tiredly nodded to your thoughts which were all concerned for him.

you're worried if the head injury's bad, nah don't he shakes his head if you ever think that, he just needs to bask in the comfort of his love.

hours passed as mikey fell asleep in your arms, relaxed by your side when he wakes up but eventually he had to talk to the other bonten members for them to fill him in on any news

he reluctantly gets up because he wanted to still admire your sleeping face, the serene peace you were in as your chest slowly bumps on his arm when you breathe in and out when he shifts away made him feel bad but he had no choice

this was sonething he worried about and he didn't want to happen but he felt your fingertips on his back when you reached for him to stay

"mm.. mikey, your face.."

he touches his face feeling baindaids on it and he got on his knees to stare at your lips and to hear what you wanted to say

"um.. we ran out of actual bandaids from the last time you got hurt but i found my rabbit bandaids but i don't know if you want to go out to the others like.."

you stopped rambling when he puts his head down to laugh quietly to how worried you got, he shushed you to not get so concerned and he looks in the mirror to see the bandaids plastered on his cheek. he waved at you before going and shut the door noiselessly.

there's no need to be scared of his public image or whatever, mikey nonchalantly wore it around the members, he didn't mind if they let out an amused sound of them when the feared leader of bonten walks around with cute rabbits plastered on his face.

even he couldn't keep a grin from slipping out.

kakucho

they had divisions and they were given to kakucho and sanzu, mikey's trusted men

they supervised their own divisions and trained them with the basics they need to know in bonten, also giving the excuse to watch out for any spies or 'traitors'

with that the two had the time of their lives.. minus kakucho, sanzu was going crazy on his men and if you glanced quickly, you wouldn't notice how hard sanzu was on his men

there were times that sanzu might've just played all of them and kick their teeth out instead of doing warmups with them but kakucho's a lot more responsible while sanzu was respected in fear, everyone respected kakucho because of his strength and level headed behaviour

the division each took turn with kakucho, sparring with one another eventhough it might've taken a whole day because he wanted to see how capable they are without dreading that their lives would be in danger if he took his eyes off one of his men

let's just say some of them were really aggresive

while kakucho would applaud them for this to be absolute beasts in beating the hell of out of him in the session, he still tasted spite from getting pushed back and forth but he kept cool and thought this as a process for his patience

by the end of the day, everything's dismissed and sanzu would look at him with a toothy smirk because of how much damage he endured

sanzu calls kakucho reckless as he spits at him to clamp his mouth shut before a gun goes in it as bruises and scratches were on his face, the same with sanzu who liked the pain and took a while to patch up

kakucho looks in the mirror to see how bad it is and to how bad he flinched, he gets twitchy

he thought of you, he didn't want to hurt your feelings and see you glare at him in sadness on how rough things were at the headquarters when he trained so he tried his best to get rid off any visible marks on his face

it was time for him to go back so he bowed to mikey, a sign for him to leave and trudged home to see you again

it was at dead of night, clock nearing 1am when he greets the safe home an "i'm home" and he hears the television on, he slowly walks into the living room and placed a hand on the couch to pull himself to it to see you wrapped up like a burrito and snoring a little.

he smiled to himself, his lover leaving the movie they loved playing and accidently falling asleep which made him frown a bit when he realizes that you were probably waiting for him to reach.

he patted your shoulder and whisperes that he's home and asked for you to hold on when he carried you in his arms and hugged you tighter when you were all warm but your hands cold when he felt it sting against the back of his neck. he planted you on the cold sheets of the bed which you stretched like a cat to look up at him and he hisses at you not to get up so quickly when you held his face.

you smashed your lips on him which he didn't expect and he felt himself heating up to how straightforward you are, you missed him so much although it's been a day. you cursed at him for being an idiot for hurting himself all over and rested your forehead on his and he feebly says his apologies.

"but you're my idiot, c'mere" his ears red when you got off the bed to open up a medkit and he tells to stop and you were not having it and you grabbed his chin for him to look at you while he squirms a little when you also have to observe his face to look at his state.

you dragged to the shower and though he hates how troubled you were when he's hurt, he finds it endearing when you start bossing him around. he really needed someone to pull him out of his roughed up state with a little scolding.

also a bonus that he's also a simp for you so it's two good things in one to obey.

extra!!:

after the warm shower and the scrubs you did to each other, he felt relaxed while you threw yourself on the bed in sleepiness but you had to deal with some things first.

you straddled his lap while applying the bandaids on his face and he squints and looks closely at it, they were small [animal/s] dancing around on the bandaid and he left out a soft chuckle that made your heart leap.

"these [animal/s] are like you" you lift an eyebrow while pressing it down on his jaw and he explained on how you were the bigger person than anyone and 'ferocious' you were but he knew that you cared deeply about the people you love.

you lightly smacked on his cheek which made him yelp, if that wasn't the cheesiest bullshit he spewed then you didn't know anymore, kakucho has his face recognized as the respectable bonten 3 but he still had the heart of a boy holding his gifted new puppy.

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redrobin-detective · 3 years

Text

the only ghost in Amity Park

Continuation of Half Of

______________________________________________

Only in Amity Park did the revelation that a local teenager was sorta, kinda a ghost just blow over in a few days. Sure, people still stared at Danny Fenton as he walked by and everyone was still wondering what exactly he was, but overall life had moved on. Star sighed to herself as she organized her notebooks, waiting for class to begin. Just another day.

Star herself really didn’t want to get involved in whatever was going on with Danny. She didn’t like him before he was a celebrity and didn’t plan on starting anytime soon. While Paulina still relentlessly, and vainly, pumped him for information on her dead boy crush, Phantom and he and Dash formed some weird macho bond or whatever, Star avoided him. He’d given her the chills since the day he’d walked into Casper High. When Danny’s secret had been exposed mid-attack, Star hadn’t been surprised. She didn’t need some ghost to tell her that there was something deeply, unsettlingly wrong with Danny Fenton.

Danny didn’t seem particular bothered, by his inhuman nature or by suddenly having his secret exposed. If anything, the nerd looked more relaxed than ever. Star had been watching him, they all had, but Fenton kept his ghostly antics to a minimum when in public. The occasional flash of green eyes when emotional, a grin of sharpened teeth. He made Mikey’s locker lock intangible the other day when the kid had forgotten his combination and he floated down the stairs instead of walking sometimes. It had been a week and it was frightening how quickly such strangeness had become almost normal.

“Alright kids, phones and notes away we’re starting class with a pop quiz. Hope you’ve all kept up with your weekly readings,” Faluca announced cheerily. The whole class, including Fenton, moaned and packed up their bags. Star supposed being an undead being haunting his own life didn’t make him immune from normal human problems. She was biting her lip trying to remember which antibody caused allergic reactions when she got an uneasy feeling. She looked up and was not surprised to see Danny Fenton looking around too. It had been a solid week without ghost attacks, looks like Fenton’s supposed vacation time was up.

Star stopped her writing and adjusted the bag at her feet to prep for evacuation. She briefly wondered what Fenton would do, what he could do? Did he also hunt ghosts, like his parents? Like Phantom? There were no blasts, no screams, no monologues but the dread increased when a ghost shield descended over them. Actually, it looked like it was just covering their classroom. Now everyone was looking up from their quizzes and out the window at the flickering, green shield.

“You’d think the administration would’ve warned me we were going to do a drill,” Faluca said but his voice was hesitant. Clearly this wasn’t planned so despite the lack of alarms, there was a good chance this was real. “Pencils down for the moment while I figure out what’s going on.”

“Mr. Faluca, I need to go,” Danny said, raising his hand. Star was so used to hearing the request she almost ignored him but the dread curling in her stomach made her look again. His face was pinched, sharp and his eyes burned with an icy fury like a sudden storm blowing in without warning.

“Mr. Fenton, I don’t think...” Faluca murmured uneasily. Danny frowned harder.

“It wasn’t a request, actually,” Danny said roughly as he stood up and began walking towards the door. He was almost there when the door slammed open and Fenton had no less than 3 ectoweapons pointed in his face. A few kids jumped back in alarm but Danny held his ground as half a dozen Guys in White agents entered the room and surrounded him.

“Spectral scum formerly known as Daniel Fenton, you’re coming with us,” one of the agents said.

“Danny not Daniel and it’s still my name,” Danny quipped, eyeing each of the government officials and their weapons. “And no, I’m not. I’m still alive, somewhat anyway, so I have rights. The courts backed me up.”

“Everyone who signed for your freedom doesn’t know ghosts like we do,” Another agent said so forcefully, some spittle flew out of their mouth and hit Danny’s cheek. Star watched it freeze and fall away the instant it hit his skin. “Your kind are too dangerous to wander around, you need to be contained and eliminated. Don’t worry, your parents will receive a sizable check as recompense.”

“I’m the one who needs to be contained?” Danny said slowly, evenly but there was a static to his voice that caused the hairs on the back of Star’s neck to rise. When she breathed out, she saw her breath was misting. Everyone’s was as the room temperature continued to plummet. “When you come in here and take hostages to threaten me?” Danny hissed, he took a step forward and his eyes took on a neon green glow. “You didn’t come to my home or on the streets, you came to take me in the middle of biology when I’m surrounded by civilians, kids.”

“You delude yourself into thinking you’re still human,” another agent scoffed. “Everyone knows ghosts are weaker when giving into their obsession.” Danny laughed, it was loud and mocking and like fingernails running down a chalkboard. Faluca, stuck in between Danny and the agents, was white as a sheet and gripping his desk like it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing.

“You know nothing,” Danny hissed, his voice barely recognizable as human. His hair and shirt floated in an invisible but angry breeze. Frost crawled up his arms and his face. Various ecto alarms were ringing on the belts of the agents and they started to look a bit nervous. He looked nothing like the kid who, minutes before, had clearly been struggling with their bio quiz. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with. You cannot come into my haunt and threaten my people to get to me. Protecting what is mine will always make me stronger!”

“This whole town is constantly under attack because of things like you!” One particularly brave agent said even as a few others had backed up. “Amity Park is on the verge of collapse because of all the ghosts!”

“There is only one ghost in Amity Park,” Danny said, he tilted his head, his black and white hair dangling in his face as he gave a sharpened smile. “There is only me and the ghosts I allow, ghosts who know the rules, who respect my authority here by keeping damage to people and property down. I am the only ghost haunting this town and why do you think that is?” One agent threw down his gun and ran through the open door.

“You’re-you’re a monster!” Another woman shouted, shaking as she stepped back before fleeing.

“I’m not the one who needs to threaten innocents to get to their target,” Danny sneered. “It’s a good thing you did though, I wouldn’t hold back if I wasn’t worried about collateral.” Another three agents turned tail and ran. Until there was only one left. His gun was still trained on Danny but his hands were shaking.

“You don’t scare us,” the agent trembled through the obvious lie having been abandoned by his comrades. “We’ll get you monster, if it’s the last thing we do.”

“Looking forward to it,” Danny drawled sarcastically as some of his horrifying aura dissipated along with the freezing grip on the room. Within moments Danny has settled back into more human form. While he’d been angry before, now he looked almost bored. At no point had he seemed afraid.

“You take your people and your equipment and you leave Amity’s borders by sunset tonight,” Danny declared resolutely. “If you have continued problems with my existence, you take it up with the courts. We settle this as humans but if you treat me as a ghost then I will fight back like one.” His eyes turned green again as a threat. As a promise.

“I don’t take orders from spooks!” The agent shouted, securing his finger on the trigger and preparing to fire. Star had ducked to avoid the blast so she missed exactly what happened. All she saw was the green glow and heard a strangled scream from the agent followed by a series of thumps. By the time Star had gotten back into her seat, Danny was aggressively pulling apart the ectogun with his bare hands. There was no sign of the agent and, around them, the ghost shield fizzled away.

“Jerks,” Danny grumbled, kicking at the remains of the ectogun he’d destroyed. “Sorry about that, Mr. Faluca. I knew they’d cause problems but I didn’t think they’d come to school.” Their teacher stared at Danny like a rabbit facing down a lion. “You okay?”

“Fine, Mr. Fenton, just fine!” Falcua grinned in a high pitched voice. “Shall we get back to our quizzes?” The bell rang just then and Danny did a little fist pump.

“Tomorrow then? After I get a chance to study more?” Danny asked with puppy dog eyes. It looked wrong on his face that had just threatened the government with bodily harm. Faluca just nodded dumbly, not sure what else to say. “Yes! I’ll pass tomorrow for sure. The attention kinda sucks but it does come with some perks.”

He walked back to his desk, ignoring the wide-eyed looks of the class when he stopped and gasped, his breath fogging in front of him. His lips pursed again with annoyance. A few people jumped in surprise as the Box Ghost, a familiar annoyance, poked his head through the wall.

“Child! Your requested reprieve is up and the Box Ghost is here to cause insurmountable square shenanigans!” He laughed heartily, stopping when the room temperature dropped again. Danny didn’t even turn to face the ghost.

“Your watch is off, Boxy. I have another 10 hours before I have to deal with you annoyances again,” Danny growled. “I’m feeling good right now, take advantage of it and leave in one piece.”

“Uh right okay then,” the ghost stammered, sinking back into the wall. “See you tomorrow.” Danny cracked his neck before he walked to his desk, grabbed his things and walked to the front of the room.

“Late bell’s gonna ring any minute, you guys should hurry if you don’t wanna be late,” Danny said as he left. Falcua’s strength gave out as soon as Fenton was gone and he hit the floor, one hand clutching at his chest.

“Jeepers,” Mikey surmised appropriately before stuffing his things in his bag and leaving as well. Star watched everyone loosen up themselves and begin gathering their things to leave. No, she would never like Danny Fenton but he and his ghost weirdness was just part of the deal now, whether they wanted it or not. Such was life in the most haunted city in America which was only haunted by a single ghostly entity.

#feral danny my beloved #i wasn't going to continue Half Of but I was Inspired (tm)#In an AU where Fenton and Phantom aren't known to be the same #Danny lets all his unholy elderich nightmare self out as Fenton and keeps Phantom as cute and friendly as possible #also Danny didnt kill the GIW agent lol #just intangibly threw the bastard outside and took his gun #I was inspired (obviously) by the implication of Danny being the only ghost to truly haunt amity #that any other ghost there is only there bc Danny allows them in #that you can come to Phantom's haunt but you must follow his rule or its Death 2.0 The Trauma Edition #also I lost my shit writing insurmountable square shenanigans so please appreciate it #I actually had two whole paragraphs on Star being sensitive to otherworldly things how it ran in her family #then decided that it kinda distracted from the story so i took it it out #but Its still somethng interesting #explains just why she dislikes danny so much (from what we saw in canon) compared to other A listers who tolerate him at least

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darkdevasofdestruction · 3 years

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My Beloved Cherry Blossom ~ Yamaoka Kazan/The Oni x Fem!Reader

Note: Since Kazan lived in the feudal era, and died there, his S/O would be someone from that time, so, just like him, she'd be dead, so the shock of seeing the dead back alive would be great for him...Who also died in a painful death. Haha.

"My son, you reached the age when you have to marry and ensure the continuation of our bloodline. Since you haven't bothered looking for a potential wife, I took the liberty of finding you a pretty girl. She is the daughter of a respectable samurai who guards the Emperor, and her father ensured she is a very capable, smart and understanding woman, so she will be able to deal with your...Temper." Kazan's father sat down with his son, who scowled, offended at what he heard, but despite all this, he was well aware of this bother he had to deal with. "...Yes, father." he muttered, sharply looking down at the floor. "We will go to meet her tomorrow, at her home, an in less than a month, we will have the marriage. I know you are not the type to care about families and women...But you have to do anything in your power to ensure the honor and survivability of the Yamaoka bloodline." yes, of course, his father just had to sigh in disappointment. "I understand, father. I will make you proud." Kazan answered before leaving the room to train, as a way to let out the pent up rage.

Who needed women and a family? He certainly didn't care about that. They were a nuisance. A weakness, at best. Father is too much of a sentimental, even for a samurai. What a ridiculous charade...

And his displeasure continued even the next day, as he dressed in a rich, official kimono, to show off his heritage, but at the same time, his long hair was put in a disheveled ponytail, rebel strands flying with the wind, and the neck of his outfit was lowered down enough to show his outlaw-ish predisposition. Needless to say, his father was angered by this side of his son - Surely, he taught him better! - But it was far too late, and they had already arrived at the L/N estate.

Just outside the big, beautiful house, a petite young woman, her long dark hair shining like ebony, her skin as white as snow...She looked so frail that she'd almost resemble a snowdrop. And she was delicately playing a soft, yet sorrowful tune on her bamboo flute, while her father put a pink flower in her hair, looking at her with nostalgia and love.

Kazan look at his own father, before glancing back at the girl whom he found out was named Y/N, and realised how big of a difference it was to was a son, compared to having a daughter. The difference in the two men's behaviour was huge.

He once heard a samurai, whose wife had just given birth to his daughter, "Treat your daughter the way you wish her husband would treat her." He didn't care at first, obviously - Kazan's mind was never on marriage - But now he was beginning to understand the meaning of his words, for they were wiser than anticipated.

Her father was tender, and treating her as if she was the soft petal of a cherry blossom, and his voice was low, loving and respectful, not wanting to startle her in any way...He was talking as if he was trying to keep the zen equilibirum intact at all costs.

The love between a man and a woman is supposed to be like Yin and Yang...

But how could Kazan possibly behave in such a way, when all he knew was to be a rageful brute who would destroy everything in his path in the loudest, brashest way possible?

"Ah, Yamaoka-san, you have arrived. And you brought your son with you. It's an honour finally meeting you, Kazan. Here, this is my daughter, Y/N. Y/N, dear, why don't you go prepare some osmanthus tea for our tired travelers, while I guide them to our table in the cherry blossom garden?" her father pat her hair, and in return, she bowed slightly at the guests, offering them a gentle smile, that would put all of Spring's flowers to shame. "Yes, right away, father. I hope you will like our flower garden. Papa had them all planted in honour of my mama. They are all her favourite kinds and colours." ah, yes, of course. Women have a special kind of bond with their mother - That was something he would never be able to fully comprehend, Kazan realised very easily, by the way the girl was close to shining as soon as she talked about her birth-giver.

The son of the Yamaoka family obvious saw women before - He wasn't an idiot - And he had enough experience with them...But there was something different about this one. She was...So...Innocent? She seemed to naive and not from this world, almost as if she had no idea of the terrors of the world outside of her residence.

It was such an endearing thing, almost exciting - But the young samurai wasn't sure if he wanted to protect this innocent ignorance at all costs...Or if he wanted to shatter it into pieces and taint it completely.

But that question was easily answered as soon as she came back and started pouring tea for him. And then later in their marriage, the way she behaved so gently with him, it was so weird, so foreign to him, and yet, it made him feel something else...Something completely different from the bubbling, infernal rage he could feel in his chest all the time.

It was soothing, mending his soul completely, for some reason that he couldn't comprehend at all.

But why should he, anyway? He was content just having her by his side whenever he was home. Only she was able of taming the storm that clouded his mind and soul.

His little cherry blossom.

And only the Gods knew how many men he had to kill to make sure she isn't harmed, or prayed upon. He never realised how many desperate, disgusting, dishonorable and lecherous men could be, but Kazan wasn't going to let her see anything other than the honour of a samurai - Like him, his father, and her own father.

However, not even her gentle soul would be able to contain his rage whenever he'd hear that dreadful, shameful nickname they would call him.

"Oni-Yamaoka"

Why was he an Ogre, all of a sudden? Because he brought justice upon the fakes who made a mockery of the code of the samurai? Because he wanted to protect the sole person he cared for in this life? Even his father was against the aggressiveness he displayed on the battlefield, and in the actions he took...It almost felt like even his father was agreeing with that stupid nickname!

"Here, Kazan, lay your head on my lap and forget about your worries, at least for tonight." Y/N pat her lap with a sweet smile, her eyes gleaming with love and benevolence as she reached out her other hand to reach out to him, and as if possessed, he followed her lead absent-mindedly. "Y/N." Kazan called out after a few minutes of having his eyes closed, feeling himself relaxing as her fingers were soothingly playing with his long, untameable hair. "Why do you always tell me to lay on your lap, whenever I'm angry?" "Do you not like it, darling?" she asked, but the passive smile on her face showed that she knew that wasn't the case at all. "I do. I was just wondering why." he grumbled in a lower voice, which made her muse, her smile shaping into an almost kitten-like one. "My mama always did that to papa. She said that the best place for a man to relax is on a girl's thighs. I don't think she was wrong." oh, what a sweet giggle she had. It sounded crystalline, like a river of diamonds going through the forest. "...I won't comment on that." the man closed his eyes, not wanting to give in to the flushed sensation he felt hearing something so embarrassing. "You do not have to be embarrassed, my dear. We are man and wife. There is nothing we could do or say that would be worth or deemed as embarrassing." she reassured him with an amused tone, as her small hand touched his bare chest, just where his heart would be. "Why are you not afraid of me, like the rest of them? You are nothing more than a frail woman. You have the eyes of a baby fawn, and the frail bones of a rabbit. You are nothing more than a flower in comparison to me. I could snap your neck like a twig if I'm not careful touching you. And yet, you allow yourself to be vulnerable around me, and while at it, you encourage me to be the same as well. I will never understand the complexity of women and their thinking." the samurai sighed, grumbling in faux annoyance. "My, my, was that what was on your mind? How lovely of you to be concerned about me. Well, I will tell you a little secret, since you are so curious, but make sure it stays between the two of us, alright?" she giggle softly, almost like a little child kissing her crush on the cheek, and it made Kazan's heart flutter. Was she truly trusting him with a secret? What did he do so worthy to her that she deemed him the perfect candidate as a secret-keeper? "I would not dare tell your secret even to the Emperor himself, or my father." came the samurai's vow with such seriousness, that made the girl grin. "You see, women aren't physically strong like men are, but what we lack physical prowess, we make up for our incredible emotional strength. So, I believe that, at least in these times of war and bloodshed, a man's role is to protect the physical body of the woman, while the woman's role is to protect her man's heart and soul. Without balance, there is no future and no happiness, wouldn't you agree? If we don't make the best out of this life, and look at the beauty of the world...Then have we even lived at all?" there was wisdom in the words that Kazan deemed rather naive, and yet...What she said wasn't wrong, per se. In fact, it was true. He was well aware that, with his body, the best he could do was protect her, but he would never be able to sooth her broken heart the same way she does to him...And likewise, he remembered the mirthful laugh he let out when she tried lifting his weapon from the ground.

However, he wasn't going to say anything out loud, and decided that, instead of voicing his opinions, he'd rather grunt and close his eyes, letting sleep take over him, his head still resting on her soft thighs.

Maybe having a wife wasn't as bad as he once thought...

But times change fast - Years pass, lives pass, the river passes...And yet, only one thing doesn't pass, and that is Yamaoka Kazan's rage, which only grew stronger and stronger with each day, and each time he heard himself getting called "The Oni".

He was desperately angry, and not even Y/N's loving touch or sweet voice could save his soul, so much, that in fear of accidentally hurting her, he decided to stay out and train or go on and kill more and more samurai impersonators, hoping to somehow release all his anger and be able to return home.

He knew Y/N would be worrying for him, but she needn't do such a thing, it would only hurt her heart, and that was the last thing he wanted. He was strong, and feared - Who would dare go against Yamaoka Kazan, anyway?

The days away from home multiplied, and he was away for a stupefying month...Y/N must be crying, worried sick. He wasn't afraid of anything physical in this world, yet the thought of her doe eyes shedding tears...It was something he was terrified of, especially if he was the cause of that.

But on the way home, he found a pink lotus flower, and he thought she would love it, so he gently took it with him back home. It was raining, and an ominous feeling crept into Kazan's heart, and he realised there seemed to be an almost dark aura around his home.

It wasn't yet sleeping time, so why were there no candles lit? There was no sign of any living being there? Where were the servants? Where was his beloved Y/N, waiting for him on the porch, playing the flute the way she always did?

Something was not right...

The man rushed inside the house, and as soon as he slammed open the sliding door, he was met with nothing that he expected - Pools of blood on the floor, while the otherwise neutral-coloured walls were splattered with the red liquid, and the corpses of the servants were brutally mangled and thrown around as if they were defect ragdolls.

It wasn't the horrifying sight that scared him, but the fate of his wife - So he made haste and ran to their shared room...And there she was.

In more pieces than she should be in.

Her hair was a mess, her kimono was a mess, her make up was a mess...And she had been tortured, from the way her wounds, slashes and cuts looked on her body.

Who...? Who could do something so...So...Disgusting...To a defenseless woman who had no means of fighting back? Where was the honour in defeating a weak civilian, such as her? What was the purpose of this massacre?! Was it to anger him? To bring out the Ogre from him? Is it what they all wanted? To see The Oni they feared and hated so much? They got revenge on a small woman, just to get to him?!

"Ah, Kazan, finally. Took you quite a while to return home...I thought her body would rot away and get swarmed with maggots by the time you'd return. And what's that in your hand? A flower? Did you want to apologise to her with a stupid flower? You have caused my daughter immense distress, and yet, she loved you to the very end. You should have seen her cry out your name, praying for you to come back home and save her...But, alas, the Ogre is never home! He is so busy killing, that he didn't realise he killed his own wife! Hahaha! Yamaoka Kazan, you are a pathetic excuse of a man, you could never come close to her strength! I tried everything to get her to tell me your secrets...But she didn't say a word. She ignored me. In the end, she came to hate me, her own father, who cared and loved her since she was born...And she loved you, some spineless monster who knows nothing but carnage!" what...? What was this man saying...? Is he truly implying that he tortured his own daughter to death, for...Information...On him...? "What...Did you do...?!" red was the only thing he could see, as he couldn't help but stare deep into her dead eyes that still held the fright and agony they last felt when she was still alive. "I KILLED HER! I KILLED MY OWN DAUGHTER, Y/N! This whole marriage was meant to bring down your stupid family of brutes and uncontrollable monsters! It was meant to kill YOU! But she was stupid! Nothing more than a sentimental woman! She LOVED you, a monster who knows only bloodlust! It's YOUR fault that she is dead, Kazan! YOU killed her! YOU!" her father yelled at him only meaningless gibberish.

In fact, Kazan couldn't comprehend words anymore. Instead, he could only hear whispers - They were soft and feminine...They sounded like Y/N...Could her ghost be talking to him? Was she trying to calm him down one more time, from beyond this world?

Yes, you were a saint, truly...It was a pity you had to meet him...If you hadn't, you'd have still been alive...And your beautiful flute song would still resound around the forest, along with the thrill of the birds.

"I am sorry, Y/N" was the last thing Kazan thought...

As The Oni took over completely, and went on the greatest blood shed known to mankind at that time...

------

What am I doing here...? What is this strange place...? It looks nothing like the beautiful flower garden Kazan made for me...So where am I?

The girl looked around like a confused meerkat, asking herself a limitless amount of questions, only to look down and realise her beautiful pink kimono was dirty with mud, and she gasped in shock. How could she let that happen! She can't let Kazan see her like this, what would he think?!

Ah, yes, that's it, just look around for Kazan, he'll surely know what's going on!

However, instead of finding her strong samurai, she saw three other people, all looking of a different race than her, and wearing such strange clothes...

Was she behind fashion, and she had no idea? She was sure she was buying only the best kimonos there were...!

"What are you just standing around for?! Run! We have to repair the generators!" a girl with unnatural coloured hair yelled at her before she sprinted the hell out of there.

Generators...? What are...Generators...? And why is this place so creepy...?

Hold up...This paper wall maze...This was from her home! Yes, that means she was close to home!

She ran through the little maze with a smile on her face, only to see one of the man working very focused on some kind of contraption, and he urged her to help him out. She sheepishly crouched opposite of him, frightened, but she carefully tried to do something, but instead, a loud noise and sparks came out, and she shrieked in fear, shielding her face as she fell on her back.

"What kind of sorcery is this?!" she cried out, her eyes watering. "What the hell is wrong with you?! Do you want to die that badly?! Get a grip and do something useful for once!" the man screamed in her face, before running the hell out of there.

Why were they all so rude to her...?

She was so used to her family, her servants, friends and Kazan to be nice with her, that she didn't realise people like these existed too.

A bit shaky, Y/N got up, trying to pat away the dust from her dirty kimono, and continued to look the estate...Only to find her home...But why was it in such a deplorable state...? Surely, she wouldn't allow her beloved home to end up like this...!

As Y/N made her way inside the home, she noticed the scary amount of blood splattered all over the place...Almost as if there was more red than colours of walls an the floor. It was so frightening...And confusing.

Who died here? And how in the world...I mean...She was sleeping, and then...

Oh.

No.

She wasn't sleeping...

As soon as she stepped into her room, she didn't notice the blood on the floor, but the discarded pink lotus that laid on her pillow. As she crouched to take the flower in her room, she got a sudden flashback of her memories from the night she died...

She waited for Kazan, and the elderly servant woman was comforting her, pouring her tea and patting her back, as she played the same flute song she did when she first met beloved.

But then, her father paid her a visit...And a true hell was unleashed...

Her own father did something so atrocious...Such a betrayal was nothing she could ever phantom in her own life, and yet, her life was ended not by a stranger, but by her own kin.

As silent tears escaped her eyes and streamed down her delicate cheeks, a loud roar shook the whole estate, and the brusque blurting in the room of a huge man was enough to fright her to fall on the ground with a startled yelp.

And yet...

The raised weapon, the samurai garments he wore...And that Oni mask... There was only one person in the world who could look like this.

"Kazan...?" her voice came out weaker than a whisper, and she wasn't sure if he even heard her calling out his name. For a split second, she was terrified of the thought of that horribly enormous weapon striking her down where she stood, in her own bed, for the second time...And yet...

The monstrously big man dropped his weapon and slowly crouched in front of her, picking up the flower and putting it in her hair, pinning it away from her gorgeous face.

"Y/N...It really is you..." his voice came out as a dark grunt, in fact, in very much sounded like a demon, and yet, his moves and actions seemed more delicate than even this lotus flower.

The girl started laughing from happiness, allowing more tears to escape her eyes, being reunited with the love of her life, and she threw herself in her arms, feeling safer than she ever did in her life.

"I missed you so much, my dear Kazan...I missed you so...I can't believe such things happened to us...And yet, here we are, together again, even in death, even in hell." as she said that, she slowly took away his mask, and revealing his rugged face, obviously one of a man seasoned in war and tortured to death - She put her hand on his cheek, just as he used to do with her, and caressing him, she leaned in to plant a kiss on his forehead.

It was meant not only as a lucky charm, but as a 'home sweet home' as well, for there was no home without Kazan's arms wrapped around her protectively...

And there was no home without the petite body of his beloved S/O in his strong embrace, watching her fall asleep.

"I promise you never leave you again, my beloved cherry blossom." he said so, and yet, having been in this Hell longer than her, he knew of the atrocities she, as a Survivor, would have to endure, and the hell the Entity would put on the both of them.

And yet...

If anyone even dares to look at her the wrong way, The Oni would make sure that, no matter how immortal the Killer might be, he would bring an end to them.

He already lost her once, and he's not going to let a tragedy befall her ever again.

#dbd #dbd x reader #dbd imagine #dbd oni #dbd oni x reader #dbd oni imagine #kazan yamaoka #kazan yamaoka imagine #kazan yamaoka x reader #dead by daylight #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight imagine

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yandere-wishes · 3 years

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A Story Told In Maybes {Part #1}

🗡️Yandere! Enma Yuuken x reader

🗡️Summary: Enma Yuuken lives on the fine line between "Hero" and "Villain" but his story will never end in a "happily ever after" or a "tragically ever after" it will only end in Maybe...

🗡 Edited by the amazing @tealyjade-libran

🗡️ Alternative title: How many times can Genie use "Damn" in a story...

Maybe in some other world, they could have been lovers

Imagine that...

picture it as vividly as a fresh stab wound to your heart. Sketch the vision of a red waterfall carrying away your life.

Now picture two people. A young man and woman, sitting on a park bench, holding hands and laughing, inching closer and closer.

Imagine love, happiness, tranquility...

But those things only exist in fairy tales. And his life was most certainly not a fairy tale.

They were foreigners, outsiders, aliens. Banished into a strange land were twisted fairy tales, roamed the earth. Where magic and mischief came as naturally to the inhabitants as breathing. Where nothing mattered, because nothing was. Everything is and thus it isn't. Nothing made sense, and sometimes, in some rare moments of stolen repose, Enma Yuuken was scared that nothing would ever make sense again.

All of it, every microscopic thing about this 'new world' was wrong, abnormal, twisted.

Everything except his traveling companion. Another lost soul as disjointed and out of place as he was. Another ghost trying to survive in this matrix of a so-called reality.

There was no shock initially, no surprise in not being the only normal creature to be transported to this bizarre world. Enma knew full well that he wasn't special in any way. Another foreigner being here was one of the few things that actually made sense.

But as the old expression goes, everything comes at a price.

Someone else just like him being here, being stuck in this nightmare, made sense. Yet the price of logic was a thread of hysteria that had woven itself deep within his battered heart. A maddening sense that gripped his lungs, robbing them of breath. That picked off pieces from his tattered mind, replacing them with clear cutout thoughts of her. It was always only her.

His companion in this broken world just had to be you. A frail, naïve little girl with no sense about her. Some pretty-girl protagonist straight out of the pages of Shojo Beats. The kind of girl who finds her happily ever after no matter where the hell she is.

Yet he did not have that luxury, his life was dictated by a series of maybes and could bes. He was a secondary character at best, a background shadow at worst. With no purpose other than smiling and waving. And listening to the protagonist weep about their love-driven woes.

Some days, when the dreary bell chimed for the last time, when the students marched back to the solitude of their dorms, Enma would wander around the halls, squirming in his own misery. Pondering why, oh why of all the people, in all the towns, in all the worlds, did you have to be the one to wind up in this grim land along with him.

Why fate always had to be so cruel, so domineering, thinking it knew better than the people whose miserable lives it toyed with. He wanted to be your lover, your prince, yours. But what would a guy, who doesn’t even belong in this backward world, have to offer some heroine-type sweetheart?

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

The Ramshackle’s flickering porch light glows in the distance. Like a dying star beckoning him to a destroyed paradise. He knows what's waiting for him behind the worn door. He knows you'll be there standing by the cracked dinner table, laying out days-old sandwiches for dinner, while Grimm rangles with an expired can of tuna. He knows you'll smile with tears in your doe-like eyes as you retell the fables of your endeavors. Telling him in great detail how the so-called king of beasts overpowered you in the school garden. How the King of poisons stole yet another kiss. The tales go on and on. Never-ending, never stopping, never giving him the chance to scavenge the fragments of his shattered heart.

You play your role so damn well. You know how to be the damsel in distress, the poor thing in need of saving. It's repulsive, disgusting...but only because he doesn't know how to be the hero that you need.

If he was being honest -something he rarely did nowadays- Those "prefects" were the root of all his problems. They were the evil that made this dark world an endless horror. They'd been the ones to drive him into the "caring older brother" role. They had twisted his hand, leading him to the role of the "side-hero" like a lamb to the slaughter. Made him into a prince charming in a world that ate princes alive and spat them out once more.

They had sealed his fate with a few insults and loaded threats. With just a few longing stares overflowing with lust and envy. They were villains, in a world that celebrated sinners. A world that cheered when the dragon steals the princess and rejoices when the evil king sits upon his skeleton throne. They were villains in every dreadful sense of the damn word.

It's hard to be in love when all odds are against you.

When your fate binds you into one role with no way out.

Like a rabbit hole made of quicksand. It dragged him deeper and deeper into intimate madness.

Maybe in some fair world, those leeching villains could keep their greedy blood-drenched hands off of you.

Maybe in a world where the sun never dies, you could bring yourself to love him.

Maybe he could have been the love interest, maybe, maybe, maybe.

It's always only MAYBE!

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

"Welcome home Nii-san,"

It's a sweet greeting that ties his guts into ribbons. His hands grow damp as his heavy eyes stare into yours. His lips curl into a painted smile, shielding you from the pain that's clawing in his stomach.

"Hi..(Y/n)"

His voice cracks and croaks like a dying frog. His lips feel abnormally dry and his eyes sting as if they've been pierced by diamond daggers. His steps are heavy as he plops down in his seat. The weight of his worries pulled him down harder than gravity ever could. He watches you through tried, restless orbs. Watches as you waltz over to your seat and sit down with the half grace of some future queen to be. It's bitter, dreadful, leaving a sickly toxin-like taste in his mouth. The mere thought that someday one of those, sinners, will take your hand and drag you to some kingdom far far away makes Enma want to claw his brain out with his bare nails.

Enma's focus shifts over from his traveling companion to the silver-coated fireball licking his paws. Grimm's teal eyes scan him nervously before he offers a nervous smile, a rarity for the narcissistic cat. He's usually so talkative, so boasting, there was never a moment of tranquility with that cat around...

It takes a moment. A steel coated moment before the gears in Enma's head begin to turn. Before he can place his finger on the heavy abnormality weighing down the atmosphere. His nerves jolt to life, leaving a freezing sweat behind their trail. The room is spinning like a ballroom floor. Something's off, something big and obvious and hidden and...

Maybe...

"So..."

It's your sweet voice that breaks the tension creeping into the air. Melodic and luscious just like the sensation of a blissful dream. The room freezes in its tracks. The heavy atmosphere melts away like a cube of ice. Normality has one foot through the door. Behind it, hope and tranquility peek their heads through the tiny gap.

Maybe just maybe everything is alright. Maybe it's just him, his stress and anxiety are starting to play cruel jokes on his wonder mind. Maybe he's just going mad. Yeah, that's the sanest conclusion to draw from all this.

Enma cranes his neck to the side to get a better view of your face. Distress is scribbled all over your skin, like pristine razor cuts. You shift around in your seat, clawing at your uniform skirt as if the midnight black fabric is cutting off your circulation. Your fingers nudge the entrance to your pocket fiddling with something he can't quite make out.

His voice is low, shaky, as he replies. The unusualness of the situation has him on edge. Nervous to the bitter bone. Maybe he was wrong, maybe his nerves were right to be wary of whatever this was. This uncertainty permeated the air-tight room.

"What is it?"

Slowly you drag out a white envelope flooded seven times over from your pocket. You stretch out your hand placing it in between his fingers. Enma throws a passive look at the note, his nose wrinkled up at the familiar scent that pervaded from the paper.

"What's this?"

It was rhetorical, asked out of dull, morbid courtesy. This time he didn't bother looking at you, in fear of seeing you look -lord forbids- gleeful.

"A love letter, Grimm found it in our locker after class."

There was a pause, lengthy, nerve-wracking, heart wrenching. Yuuken could hear the way your breath hitched in your throat, he could almost feel the excitement radiate off your body.

"Can you believe it Nii-san? Someone actually left me a love letter!"

It hurt it really did, this time his heart didn't shatter. It simply broke, in two or three or maybe four. Who knows, who cares. They had escalated from simple harassment and unsightly displays of public affection to leaving you love letters. How ungodly, how absurd, how brave...

He laments, eyes tracing over the fog of his breath as it wafts through the musty room. He wants to rip that damned piece of paper, shred it into millions so the words become ineligible, so you'll never read those horrible words again. So you'll forget that some damn fool other than him can actually love you. But he doesn't, he has too much self restraint and too much respect for his dear "little sister" to actually do it.

His arm stretches over the table, skin illuminated by the dying candle on the center. He places the letter back safely in between your fingers. His eyes meet yours for only the second time that night. He takes in your face, Committing every piece of it to his miserable memory. The heartily glow in your crystal eyes, the faint schoolgirl smile dancing across your lips, the rose blush kissing your cheeks, the way the candle illuminates your skin, wrapping in a sparkling glow like the princess from those tales of old. You're mesmerizing in every way, it would be reasonable for other men to notice your elegance. No wonder those "prefects" were drawn to you so naturally like moths to a golden flame.

"Who sent it?"

His voice comes out like a block of ice, shielding away any and all his stray emotions. He doesn't want to know how doleful he is, he just can't have you taking pity on him.

Your smile fades ever so slightly, your brows draw closer. Confusion is etched on your face. You haven't got a clue.

"Well...I'm not sure, but they did say to meet them at the school gates when the clock chimes twelve."

Oh, joy, another fairy tale reference. It's comedic how fairy tales have begun to dictate his life. Everywhere he turns there's a grim tale awaiting him. Yuuken spares a quick glance at the crooked clock hanging by a loose thread. It’s a minute to midnight.

"I should come with you"

It's not a request but you take it as so.

"No need to bother, I'll take Grimm, he could use the walk. He's starting to bulk up a bit"

"HEY! The great Grimm-Sama doesn't "Bulk up" He only gets more powerful!"

Before the older male can protest, you're already halfway out the door. Grimm scurrying to follow you on all fours like a pesky rat. The door slams on your way out, leaving Yuuken alone with his morbid screeching thoughts.

There goes the only good thing in his life. Into the arms of another.

For a second he contemplates leaving you to fate, after all, who's he to disobey fate, go against whoever orchestrates this universe. But it's only a second, short lived and quickly died.

Maybe he's a hero.

Maybe he's a Prince Charming.

Maybe he's a villain.

Maybe he's just some honorary older brother looking out for his kid sister.

Maybe, just maybe, he's your future lover;

and he'll be damned if he lets you slip out of hands.

Enma's quick to grab his old practice blade from the overstuffed closet. It's not much, but it's all he has from the normal world, from his world.

The door grates for the last time that night as he steps out into the cold midnight air. The stars blink in some sort of secret tongue, either warning him or encouraging him, he doesn't know. Nor does he truly care, for Enma Yuuken is done letting life and fate and villains decree his meaningless life. Here and now that's where he'll make his stand, he'll save you. Kiss you. Love you. Marry you. You, You, YOU

But there's still one nagging thought that screams inside his head as he dashes for the school gates. This world worships villains, prays at their feet, and hands them death and destruction on golden plates. And he's no villains, he's some sort of upside-down, in-between. Rotting alone in the border between Hero and Villain. By law of society, he's a reject, a useless foreigner, an alien, an outsider.

and MAYBE he's already too late...

Who wrote the love letter? Was it the head of the savanaclaw dorm or maybe the head of the heartslabyul dorm ? Maybe it’s the ever mysterious Tsunotarou...

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narrators-journal · 3 years

Text

Step one

Hoo boy, this one is potentially dark as fuck, so remember that this is entirely fantasy. Do not think this is healthy or copy anything here.

Cw: heavy heavy nsfw. Drugging, b+e, somnophilia, Illumi gets possessive lowkey

previous part: here

First part: here

Illumi used the month or so you were closed off and mourning to try and dig up as much intimate info on you as he could, from childhood fears to how many times you've had sex. With this knowledge added to his collection, the last thing he needed to do was set up a cover story, than introduce himself. If this fails, she can be killed, or trained He told himself as he read through your social media on his laptop, ignoring a nagging sense of dread he hadn't felt since his first solo kill as a child.

The cover story was easy enough, murdering the people across the street from your home was boringly simple, setting them up to die of heart attacks and a break in, waiting out the investigation, nothing new to the assassin. By the time things had cleared up there, you were beginning to cheer up anyway, which was good, it'd be easier for Illumi to court you if you weren't verging into suicidal territory. Finally, the day came when he moved into the home, much to the teary refusal of his mother. "I'm not leaving permanently," Illumi assured her the day he moved out, taking only a duffel bag of clothing with him, the issue was that his mother was holding him in a hug and refusing to let go. "You were so excited for me to be courting a woman, you can't sob and cling to me when I need to move out to properly 'woo' her." His voice was level and uninterested, as always, though on the inside he did feel a bit of reluctance at leaving, which was why he guessed he didn't use a lot of force to remove his mother's iron grip. "I know, but why can't you go about the process from home?" she blubbered, Illumi's father standing a bit behind her sighing at her antics, "To build up proper propinquity I need to be near her a lot, I cannot do that from here while also doing my work. Besides, it is relatively frowned upon for a 24 year old to still be living with their parents, so I need to have my own place for...the later portion." Sadly, even logic didn't calm Kikyo down, so Silva was forced to pry her from Illumi and simply wished the long haired assassin well as the man left. To atone for the sin of leaving the Zoldyck estate, Illumi was required to call his mother at least once a day, but other than that, he was free to live across the street from you when he wasn't working. This set up proved to be very useful, as it allowed him to linger on the street without suspicion, watch you from his windows, and it gave him more opportunities to run into you 'organically', despite having your meager outing schedule memorized already, and more. The day he moved in properly, Illumi was helping a trio of butlers move furniture in, trying to seem as normal as possible since he could see you sitting on your porch, getting some fresh air while also watching your new neighbor curiously. It's good to see her out at least, vitamin D is necessary for good health. he thought as he moved the last bit of strategically aged furniture into the home, letting the butlers return home after that. If he was to blend in, he'd have to slum it for a while after all. Though, he could put up with that as long as you stayed as friendly as you were the first night he was there. It was pretty late, the dark hours cooling the relatively warm air of the late spring day when he heard a knock at the door, but when he opened, there you were, your (h/l), (h/c) hair pulled away from your face, in a (f/c) jacket and some of your nicer casual clothes, "Hello! I'm sorry if you were asleep or anything, but I wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood!" you chirped, your kind smile making something weird happen to his heart, but he hid that, not wanting to scare you by saying he was having a heart attack, "Ah, hello miss. No, I was just trying to cook some dinner, not to worry." he assured, watching you relax a bit before tilting his head, "I'm sorry if this is curt, but have we met?" he asked, your (e/c) eyes shining with confusion for a moment before realization washed that away, "Oh! you're the man I bumped into at that party!" he mimicked your stunned reaction, chatting a bit before you heard angry sizzling from his kitchen, the sound earning a concerned look from you. "Um?? Should you step outside?" you suggested, and when he looked in your eyes again, he saw that undeserved concern in those captivating orbs. That weird feeling returned in response, but Illumi repressed it once again, "No, I believe that's just my food," he said nonchalantly, watching your expression change to panic, it was so intriguing to see how expressive you were compared to his family, "Maybe you should go check on it??" you urged gently, the panicked look in your eyes compelling the empathy-less assassin to do as you said, so he nodded simply and returned to the pot of boiling water that was leaking with angry bubbles splashing water onto the burner. He simply turned the stove off and returned to you once the water had settled again. You were still there, nervously peeking in to try and check on him he assumed. "Why didn't you come in?" He asked, making you jump, "I-I wasn't invited, it's rude to just walk in." you pointed out, and he mentally kicked himself for forgetting that fact briefly. Though he verbally just sighed in defeat, running a hand through his long, silky hair. "Actually, would it be uncouth of me to maybe ask if you would help me with something?" He asked, and when you shook your head he reluctantly continued, "You see, my family is rather well off, so I've...never learned to cook. Would you maybe teach me how to make the food?" He asked, and he liked to think it was the power of his natural charm that made you agree, not the pitiful mask of helplessness he put on. Either way though, you were now inside of his new home. Could this be considered a date? Illumi mused as he followed your instructions to bring the water to a boil again and put the store-bought noodles into the rolling liquid, People cook together as a date, so this should count as a date. He decided after a moment of watching you prepare food, following your orders until the two of you had managed to make a rather respectable looking dinner. He cemented this occassion's 'date' status by handing you a plate, "It's fair that since you helped make it, you eat some of it with me." he pointed out when you went to refuse his offering. After that, the two of you sat in his living room in silence, neither making the first move to speak. For Illumi, the silence was comfortable, it gave him time to judge the weird thing that had happened with his insides. He wasn't dead, and the warm, fluttery sensation was fading, so it didn't seem to be fatal. I should get the family doctor to check me over. he decided as he ate, finally glancing over at you while you sat on the opposite end of the couch. Judging by the tension in your limbs and how you radiated discomfort, you were about to bolt like a scared rabbit. That's not good...

"so." He hummed, hoping to ease your anxiety with some conversation, plus it'd give him a chance to dig into you, "why were you at that party?" There was a stretch of silence, your mood falling again for a moment, but than you seemed to put on a fake smile for him, how sweet. "I'm a bit shy, so my friend decided to try and hook me up with a man she worked with." you explained, shrugging it off, "He ended up ditching me for some friends when we got there, so I didn't ask for a second date." Well of course your date went badly, you're supposed to be with me, not some stranger. a dark part of him thought, than stopped. What brought that up? I haven't even decided if she's really worth 'dating'. He reminded himself, but that possessive thought still lingered a bit more than he would've liked. However, that issue was for later, right now he wanted to see just how much information he could get you to willingly tell him. "So, are you looking for a partner?" he asked, and he just caught a bit of a flustered epression on your (s/c) face at his question. He was beginning to enjoy seeing such an expression. "R-right now? Um..not actively, b-but I'm not against a relationship." you said, not looking at him as you spoke, your body language screaming how flustered you were. After that, the two of you simply chatted, Illumi enjoying when you fully relaxed and opened up a bit more, but what felt like only a short time later, you were thanking him for the food and leaving for your own home. The tall man was polite back, but for the third time that night, his torso felt odd inside. He wanted to ask you to stay, maybe offer you a drink and slip a sedative into it, that way you'd stay the night, but no, he refrained from stopping you. If you drug her, she'll wake up tomorrow and be terrified of you. Maybe even call the cops. He told himself as he shut his door behind you. However, the thoughts were already there, making him groan. What is going on with me?! I'm losing control of myself so easily now. he thought, rubbing his face as if that would wipe away the bubbling waves of dark lust that were once again flooding his mind with images of you naked beneath him, calling out his name, mixing with the urge to control that he usually kept a close eye on. This is absolutely pathetic. She's not even that attractive! He chided himself, glaring down at the growing bulge in his pants as if it were to blame for his urges. Which, to a point was true, but either way it still twitched, demanding to be tended to. However, he refused to masturbate again. His sperm was precious, and while he could produce quite enough to impregnate a woman despite such a shameful act, he didn't like wasting his DNA. So, for a bit, he tried to cook up ways to relieve himself, unable to shake the lustful thoughts of you. Could he wait until tomorrow and lure you over again? No, that'd leave a horrid impression of him in your mind. Maybe he could sneak some aphrodisiacs into your food and than offer to help? No, that'd take too long, and he didn't know how long he could control his lust. Around eleven or so, Illumi finally came up with a satisfactory method. So, he turned his lights off and slipped out into the cool night to slither across the street and into your dark home. It was late enough that he knew you were asleep, so he was free to make his way in and towards your bedroom, What he wasn't expecting though, was to find you sleeping on your couch, your blanket fallen to the floor, revealing your pajamas to him. The sight only seemed to throw gasoline on the fire of neglected needs within him. "now this is simply inappropriate," he breathed, shaking his head at your baggy t-shirt and (random color) panties, "(y/n), you should know better. Such outfits should be saved for your husband." He kept his voice low, making sure not to wake you as he chided you and his lightless eyes zeroed in on the bit of panty he could see with the way your shirt was ridden up ever so slightly. teasingly. He sighed, this would make his plan easier anyway. So, he just pulled out a needle of sedative and carefully moved you so that he could get access to your neck without waking you, sticking the needle in and injecting you with the fast acting drug. Within a few moments you were certain to stir for nothing less than a natural disaster, so he was free to do whatever he wished. The assassin's body burned with lust, his cock throbbing within his pants while he moved your thighs apart, revealing more of your panties. You weren't much to look at, he'd seen prettier women, but the feeling of your perfectly malleable thigh in his hand, seeing you so complacent and welcoming for him while his hormones were so out of control, you could've passed as a goddess in that moment. He wasted no time in removing your underwear, leaving your shirt and bra on so it'd be less work afterwards, revealing your most intimate parts to him with no arguments. It gave him such a rush to see you so obediently laying on your back, your legs apart and welcoming. your vulnerability was like a form of foreplay for him, but when he ran a slender finger up your slit and realized just how dry you were, it ruined his fantasy. Though, not enough to deter him. Instead of stopping, Illumi simply pushed your shirt up with your bra, using one hand to massage your breast while he kissed down your sternum and up the soft mound of flesh. His free hand slipped between the two of you, rubbing slow circles around your clit until breathy whines and moans slipped from your lips. Carefully, he teased your nipple between his fingers, simultaneously moving up to your throat until he found the spot that made you gasp and whine in your sleep again. The only downside was despite how badly he wanted to mark you, he couldn't. He had to wait until he securely had you, until then he couldn't leave any visual evidence of his actions. So, he nibbled and kissed the spot, but didn't bite too roughly and claim you. He simply teased you, rubbing your clit, massaging your breasts or hip, and pressing hungry kisses to your unresponsive lips until he could dip his fingers down into your warmth and pull them back coated with a healthy amount of slick. With you properly aroused, he eagerly freed his throbbing dick from his pants, giving himself a few pumps before running the head up and down your slit, making you hum at the stimulation. God, how he relished how your face twitched and you groaned at the feeling of him grabbing one of your legs with one of his hands before pushing into you. God the tight warmth alone could've made him cum, but he once again held himself back. He'd gone this far, he wasn't about to squander the opportunity to indulge himself by not savoring it. No, He simply grabbed your hips once fully inside and began moving, pretty soon slapping his hips into yours roughly. He might regret being so aggressive later, when it undoubtedly left you sore, or at the very least left bruises and scratches, but right now he just enjoyed the way your pussy squeezed around him and your breasts bounced with each rough thrust into your womb. He let out a few soft noises after a bit when the waves of pleasure began fogging over his mind again. The combination of your breathy moans, your warmth squeezing around him, begging to be filled, and the possessive urge to claim you continuously driving him forward, encouraging him to go until the blinding waves of pleasure erupted and he stilled himself so that every drop of cum was safely inside of your womb. It took him longer than usual to regain his composure afterwards, but when he did he swiftly pulled out, pulling his pants up and slipping your panties back onto you before too much of his essence escaped. He grimaced at the marks of his nails on your (s/c) flesh, though hopefully they would fade before you noticed. Right now though, his main priority was to get out of your home, and leave as little evidence as possible, save for his cum. He refused to feel sorry for filling his obviously needy wife with perfectly good semen. That's right. his wife. The phrase seemed to fit perfectly.

#Illumi x reader #yandere illumi x reader #Illumi zoldyck #x reader #hxh #hunter x hunter #yandere #part 6 #fanfiction #quotev #not sfw

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crystalninjaphoenix · 3 years

Text

The Winter Solstice

Fantasy Masks AU: Chapter Seven

A JSE Fanfic

Well after last week’s brief foray into writing for a different fandom, we return to the septics once again. The FM!septics to be exact. It’s the winter solstice, meaning there are holidays to celebrate! Chase, Jackie, and Henrik have a great day that totally doesn’t become suddenly serious near the end haha nope just fun times all around with some world building and character development :) Enjoy :)

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The day dawned cold and snowy, but nobody at Wyvernlair cared. Not when today was the winter solstice. This was a time for celebration! And with all the people in the camp, there was bound to be a big party. Preparations had been ongoing for the past few weeks. Food was made, games were planned, and time was set aside for those honoring the various holy days. When the day itself dawned, normal duties were put on hold so that everyone could join in.

Chase woke up at sunrise. He had a quick breakfast—light, since there would be a lot of food at the feast planned for that night—and strolled about, taking in the changes. Everyone was bustling about as usual, but now they chattered with excitement. Some people had hung decorations outside their tents: replicas of snowflakes made from white-painted sticks, candles with carved designs set on the ground, pine branches and snippets of other winter-blooming plants scattered about. Combined with the white layer of snow, it was quite beautiful.

Yet, Chase felt a pang somewhere deep in his chest. Last year, he’d spent Longest Night with his family and the rest of the village. There’d been town celebrations in the square. He helped Quentin carve his first candle. And now? Now, he didn’t know where his family was.

“Chase!”

He was snapped out of his melancholy thoughts when he heard someone call his name. In the middle of turning to see who it was, that ‘someone’ barrelled straight into him. “Oof!” He was about to respond, but found he couldn’t, because he’d been wrapped in a tight bear hug.

“Sorry, did I knock the wind out of you? Sorry!” Jackie was too full of energy to notice he apologized twice. He gave Chase one last squeeze before breaking off the hug.

“It’s okay, just give me more warning next time.” Chase took a minute to catch his breath. “Well. Happy Longest Night, then?”

“Happy Longest Night, then!” Jackie repeated. He whirled his cloak around dramatically. It was still red, but slightly nicer, with a fur lining. His wolf mask was pushed back, sitting on his forehead. “You know the plan, right? We’re having games all day. War games, dice games, card games—a few strategy games, too, the ones we have the boards for in storage. Then there’s the feast later, and the Dark Vigil tonight.”

“Yea, I understand,” Chase said, a faint smile on his face. He couldn’t help it; Jackie was contagious. “How many people will be at the Vigil?”

“A fair share. Schneep won’t; he does something at moonrise instead.” Jackie shrugged. “Are you planning to do any of the games? What about archery?!”

Chase laughed. “No, no, I’m not good enough to compete in a war game. I’ll probably just drift around and join in where I can. Do you think anyone will be playing Luck of the Deal? I’m very good at that.”

Jackie rolled his eyes. “Everyone’s good at Luck of the Deal. That’s the whole thing about it, it’s luck.”

“You don’t know that. There’s skill involved, too,” Chase insisted.

Jackie patted his shoulder. “Whatever you say, Hunter. It’ll be some time before everything really gets going. Anything you want to do before that?”

“Umm...” Chase thought about it. “Well, is there anything I can do to help with the feast preparations? That’s usually a community thing, isn’t it?”

“Well we already have a lot of volunteers for cooking. They’ve already gotten started, in fact.” Jackie thought about it. “But if you want to help, you could put your hunting skills to the test in the surrounding woods. Always good to have more food than less, on these occasions. People would eat their plates, if it was possible.”

Chase laughed. “Oh, I know that. Amabel would eat us out of home on Longest Night. She must’ve gotten her appetite from Stacia’s side of the family.” Saying their names, the melancholy threatened to return.

“Honestly? I have a confession.” Jackie leaned closer. “I’m one of those types, too.”

“Oh? Somehow, that makes sense.”

“And somehow I’m offended.” Jackie gave him a playful shove. “If you want to go ahead, you know where the shortbows and arrows are. Oh!” His eyes widened as he remembered something. “But try not to shoot any pigeons. Those are important.”

“Important?” Chase put the pieces together. “You mean...messenger birds?”

Jackie nodded. “I don’t expect anyone to send messages on the solstice except for an emergency, but there might be some arriving that were sent a fews days, or even a week, ago. It takes a while to fly across the island.”

“Got it. I won’t shoot any pigeons.” Chase shook his head, a bit in awe. “Messenger birds.” He’d heard of them, but never seen them in use. Somehow, they seemed almost as magical as actual magic. Getting letters sent across the kingdom in a matter of days? That was amazing. “I’ll just head out, then.”

“Good luck, Chase!” Jackie said cheerfully, waving as he turned to leave. “Be back before noon, that’s when the fun will start!”

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

If possible, it was even colder out in the forest, away from the magic heat of the dragon bones. Chase clutched his jacket tighter and made sure his hat was securely on his head. He doubted that he’d find any animals out here. By Longest Night, most of them were hibernating. But it was worth a shot.

Snow crunched under his feet, so he slowed down, carefully placing every step so it wouldn’t make too much noise. There wasn’t a lot of foliage to hide behind in the winter, but he had made sure to grab a white jacket from storage to help him blend in. He’d also turned his hat inside out so that the red ribbon around it didn’t show. After a while, he found what he thought was a good spot to wait. So he settled down, nocking an arrow so it would be ready to fly at any moment.

The world became very still. The only sound he heard was his breath, accompanied by the small puffs of mist that breath caused in the cold. He made sure not to move a muscle.

Until there was a sudden sound. Footsteps, very light, being pursued by much heavier ones. His eyes darted towards the sound. The bare branches of a bush rustled, and suddenly a streak of brown fur dashed out in front of him followed by something much larger—

Chase reacted, letting go of the bow string and loosing the arrow. It shot through the air and landed solidly in the brown furry something. Shocked, he laughed in the rush of actually shooting something moving that fast. But then a voice cried, “I knew it!”

“Wh...?” And Chase finally noticed what the large something pursuing the small animal actually was. He looked up from his position near the ground to see...Lukas. It took him a moment to recognize him without his usual fox mask, but once the brown-auburn hair and tall longbow registered, his heart immediately sank with dread. “What are you doing—”

Lukas took an arrow out of the quiver on his back and nocked it, aiming at Chase. “Did you think you could take me out when nobody was looking?! Claim it was an accident?!”

“What in the world?!” Chase stood up. Slowly, of course, he didn’t want to get skewered by that massive arrow. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t try to play dumb, you just tried to kill me!”

“I was shooting the rabbit!” He pointed at the small animal, which was, in fact, a rabbit.

“A likely cover story.”

All of a sudden, Chase felt hot rage rise up his throat. “I know you hate me but you don’t have to be an idiot about it!” he burst out.

That seemed to take Lukas by surprise. He blinked, and lowered his bow slightly.

“I don’t know what kind of trust issues you have or where they come from, but I’m sick of you always acting this way! I’ve been here for almost a full season now, and you still act like I’m about to stab you in the back the first opportunity I get! I know, you’re probably thinking something like ‘he’s playing a long game to get everyone to trust him,’ but let’s be honest, you’re just looking for any justification to be like this. I wouldn’t trust someone like me in your position either, but I wouldn’t be so obvious about it. You don’t have to like me, you don’t have to trust me, but elders be damned, you don’t have to stir up this much trouble for Jackie and Henrik and everyone else here!” Chase ran out of breath and was forced to stop. He waited silently for Lukas’s reaction.

For a while, there wasn’t one. Lukas just...stared at him. Then he lowered his bow fully, putting the arrow back in its quiver. “What are you doing out here?” he asked in a carefully-neutral tone.

“We have some time before the real celebrations start, so I thought I’d help out by trying to find more food for the feast,” Chase explained. He walked past Lukas and picked up the rabbit, trying not to feel sad. Something about shooting rabbits made him feel guilty. Maybe he respected how hard they worked to stay alive, running so swiftly. Or maybe he thought they were cute. “What are you doing out here?”

“The same thing,” Lukas answered.

Chase snorted. “And you decided to bring that monster of a bow for hunting?”

“It’s more powerful than yours,” Lukas retorted.

“Yes, but it’s also heavier and more cumbersome. I remember my second day here, Holly said that big bows like that were more suited for long range, while shortbows—” Chase waved his bow as an example. “—are better for mobility. Look at all these trees. Do you think you’re able to shoot long range in a forest? Not to mention if you miss, you’ll end up burying your arrow in a tree with all the force you need to fire it. That’ll just be a pain to pull out.”

“I know all this,” Lukas said irritably. “But I’m most familiar with this style of bow. I can make it work.”

“Maybe if you weren’t stomping around the woods,” Chase muttered.

“Excuse me?”

“You were running after the rabbit. Bad idea; you’ll never catch up with them. It’s better to wait and let the animals come to you. If you have to move, be quieter about it. And slow. Conserve your energy; animals get tired faster than humans.” Chase glanced downwards. “You’re wearing heavy boots, I see. Those will make a lot of sound no matter how much you try to be quiet. And your clothes stand out, too. Especially that red band on your wrist. It’s bright and you have to hide it. Like I did.” He turns his cap right-side out again, letting the red ribbon show.

“Hmm.” Lukas eyed him. He did that quite a lot, but somehow, it felt different this time. More...respectful. “Well. I’ll keep that in mind.” He turned away.

“Um...right.” Now that Lukas was leaving, Chase felt the sudden energy that had filled him starting to fade away. “I’ll...see you at the celebrations, then.”

Lukas didn’t say anything, but he raised his hand in acknowledgement, not stopping as he headed back to camp.

Well...that wasn’t too bad, all things considered. Lukas clearly didn’t think worse of him. And he had managed to shoot a rabbit, something he’d rarely done in all his years as a hunter. Though he’d only done that because the rabbit was too busy running from Lukas to notice him crouching nearby. So really, he should thank him.

Maybe later. For now, Chase headed back to camp, ready to join in on the festivities.

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

By the time Chase returned to Wyvernlair, the festivities were starting to get underway. Games, mostly. People gathered in circles playing cards, or in threes playing dice, or in pairs playing board games. Others clustered around the players, watching the game and shouting encouragement. Some food was already prepared. Plates of sweet buns and meat pies were passed around. Chase grabbed a couple buns as he looked around.

But though the camp inside the circle of dragon bones was crowded, most people were out on the combat field. That was where the war games were set up. Chase decided to stop by for a moment. Even if he wasn’t going to participate, he wanted to see how things were going.

Targets were set up for archers to test their skill. People had grabbed close-quarters training weapons and were sparring, onlookers cheering on their favored winner. Someone had dragged over a rock and a large branch, setting up a makeshift see-saw that people were standing on top of, trying to knife-fight without losing their balance. Chase shook his head at that particular event. He himself had some scars on his hands from knife-fights as a young man; they really weren’t worth the bragging rights.

There was an especially large crowd gathered around one particular sparring match. Chase stopped, edging his way into the mass of people as he tried to see what was going on. Wait a minute...was that Jackie?

Indeed, Jackie was one of the sparring participants. And he was easily outclassing his opponent. He easily danced around jabs and swipes, not striking for a while, then jumped forward and hit his opponent on the side with his wooden practice sword. The crowd cheered, and the two participants backed away, shaking hands as they parted. Chase could’ve sworn he saw money change hands among the watchers.

“Anyone want to go for another round?” Jackie called to the crowd. “Doesn’t have to be to the first contact. What about to the ground?”

At that, a tall man grabbed a practice sword from a nearby rack, stepped forward, and announced, “I accept the challenge!” The crowd cheered again. “To the ground!”

Jackie grinned. “To the ground! Someone give us a count!”

In unison, the crowd started chanting, counting down from five as Jackie and his opponent started circling each other. Chase joined in. “Five!...Four!...Three!...Two!...One!...Clash!”

The two men immediately started going at each other with the practice swords, jabbing and backing up, swiping and dodging. The new opponent tried to make use of his height advantage, but Jackie was just too fast. The sparring lasted a few minutes and the crowd was enthralled for every second. Until Jackie managed to get behind his opponent and knock out his legs, making him fall to the ground. The crowd cheered. The opponent got up, looking no worse for wear and in good spirits. He shook hands with Jackie before leaving. Now Chase was sure he saw people exchanging money.

“He’s got skill, doesn’t he?”

Chase looked up, and saw Holly standing beside him. “Oh. Yea, he’s really good.”

Holly laughed. “That’s an understatement. You know he trained at Fíornear Field?” Chase nodded. “Well, so did I. But he could beat me in a fight nine times out of ten.”

“Really?” Chase asked, interested. “That many times? I thought it would’ve been closer between you two.”

“Everyone does. I say it’s the size difference. But what Jackie lacks in height, he makes up for in practice and sheer determination.” Holly watched as Jackie started sparring with another opponent. “Anyway, Chase. Come to watch or try your hand?”

Chase laughed. “No, no, just watching.”

“Well. In that case.” Holly leaned closer. “Care to try for chance?”

“You mean betting? Don’t tempt me.” Chase shook his head. “Besides, I can tell that betting against Jackie is a waste of time and money.”

“Doesn’t have to be at this spar. There’s many more war games to be had. I hear there’s axe throwing.”

“Axe throwing?” Chase perked up. “Alright, I have to see that. Lead the way.”

Holly laughed, and the two of them left, heading towards a set of targets. Indeed, some people had taken up throwing axes at these targets. Not competing against each other at the moment, only themselves, and also showing off for the passersby. Chase watched as one of the axe-throwers hit the center of her target. Then, surprisingly, he recognized the axe-thrower. “Nemet!” he called.

Nemet turned around, smiling at him. “Hello, Chase! How are you?”

“I’m doing fine. What are you...uh...I didn’t know you threw axes.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Is it so unexpected?”

Chase shrugged. “Well, you’re a doctor.”

“I am. I am a doctor who likes to throw axes.” Nemet picked up a throwing axe on the ground beside her. She held it back, paused to aim, and threw. It landed right next to the last one she threw. Holly and Chase clapped, impressed.

“Wanna shoot something, Brodyson?”

Chase yelped in surprise at the voice that came from behind him. He spun around to see Tripp grinning up at him. “You did that on purpose,” he accused.

“Maybe,” Tripp said. He was tossing a rock back and forth between his hands. Getting bored of that, he threw it to the side. Magically, the rock curved around, shooting for the target, where it bounced off the handle of one of Nemet’s axes. “Ah, almost a bull’s eye. Anyway, wanna shoot something, Brodyson? We could have a triple competition, axes versus arrows versus sorcery.”

“Hmm.” Chase considered it. “You know I had only planned to watch, but...that doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Don’t let him pressure you if you don’t want to, Chase,” Nemet said.

“No, do let him pressure you, I want to see this!” Holly insisted.

Chase laughed. “Alright, fine. Just a few rounds.”

Though as the afternoon passed, those few rounds stretched out into many. Chase had never been one for war games, but somehow, he didn’t mind.

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

Eventually, of course, came the main draw of the winter celebrations: the feast. The people who’d volunteered to cook had been preparing food all day, and shortly before sunset, declared it ready. Instantly, a good half of everyone dropped what they were doing and headed over to the cooking fires.

Chase wasn’t sure what to expect from the feast. Wyvernlair didn’t use tables for food, so would everyone be standing around with plates? But it seemed as though they’d found tables, if just for today. Probably borrowed from storage. Some of the meat stayed on the skewer, roasting over the fires to keep it hot until someone wanted it. But most food was lined up on the tables, free to take. Sweet buns and meat pies, of course, but also preserved fruits that had been kept for a special occasion like this, and tarts covered in sugar, and pumpkin pie, and roasted potatoes, and more than could be counted.

Everyone ate until they couldn’t anymore, washing down the food with water, juice, and ale. Chase savored it, mingling and talking with the other Phantoms. And for once, he didn’t feel out of place here.

Time passed. The sun set. And as the feast died down, most people began talking about the Dark Vigil, the ceremony used to honor the Elder of Dark and thank them for protecting humankind from the shadows. Chase yawned. They’d be holding that in the center of camp, where a spot had been cleared specifically for that purpose. But it would be some time before everyone was ready. So, Chase decided to slip out. He headed towards the outside of the skeleton, away from the noise and bustle.

The stars were beautiful tonight. It was clear, without any clouds fogging the view, and the moon was nearly full. Chase leaned back against the bone and stared upward. He hadn’t really had the opportunity to appreciate the world lately. It was all busy, working with the Masked Phantoms. But it was nice to slow down for a moment.

Some minutes passed in silence. Then, he heard footsteps approaching. And then, a small thud, the sound of stumbling, and a muttered “Shiesse!”

Chase looked over towards the sounds, already grinning. “You doing alright there, Henrik?”

With a huff, Henrik emerged from the darkness. “I would be better if I know no one heard that,” he muttered.

Chase laughed. “Anyway, how’re you doing? I haven’t seen you all day.”

“Ah, I am fine.” Henrik leaned against the bone next to Chase. “I have been stuck in a dice game for most of the evening. I almost missed the moonrise.”

“I see. Jackie told me you had to do something around then. Is it like the Dark Vigil?” Chase asked.

“Similar, in ways. Different, in others.” Henrik looked up at the sky. He pointed upwards, at the moon. “She is beautiful tonight, yes? I never understood why your Elders never come from the sky.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Well, I understand there is the Winged Elder One, but they are for more weather, yes?” Henrik kept his eyes fixed skywards. “None of them are for the heavens.”

“Well why would they be?” Chase shrugged. “The sky’s beautiful and wonderful. But it’s so far away. We live on the earth. Shouldn’t we be more concerned with what’s down here?”

“Hmm. Perhaps.” Henrik sighed. He reached down his belt, removing his flask and taking a drink.

“Oh—” Chase started to say something, then stopped. It would probably be rude to ask, wouldn’t it?

Henrik looked over at him, and guessed what he was about to say. “Yes, I am still taking the medicine. It is...not something that goes away.”

“Sorry,” Chase mumbled. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Is okay,” Henrik said, giving him a small smile. “You are polite about it, so I do not mind.” He returned the flask to his belt. “Ah, though I am afraid I must change the subject now. I just remembered. We managed to get the materials for more plaster this week. So you can finally have a mask of your own!”

“I can?” Chase repeated.

“No need to sound so surprised,” Henrik chuckled.

“I did? I didn’t mean to. It just seems a bit...unreal.” Chase had left his borrowed mask, the hedgehog one, back in his tent. Most people had—or at least he assumed they had, since most of them were walking around without them.

“Yes, I understand.” Henrik nodded thoughtfully. “Do you want to wait?”

“Wait no, I didn’t say that—”

“I am just making sure.” Henrik playfully nudged his shoulder. “You will need to choose an animal, you know. Do you have anything in mind?”

“Oh right. I forgot about that part.” Chase thought about it for a moment. “What about...a deer?”

Henrik raised an eyebrow. “A deer?”

“Is that not allowed? I mean, Tripp’s mask has those ram horns so I figured antlers would—”

“No, is not that, I just suppose I did not expect that.”

Chase shrugged. “I like deer. They’re good animals. Um...do I have to make the mask myself, or...?”

“You can if you want, but if you’re not artistically inclined, someone else could do it easily enough. It’s not that difficult if you are...” Henrik trailed off. He was staring out into the trees, eyes fixed on a point. “Chase. Is something moving there?” And he pointed.

“Hm?” Chase peered into the darkness. Indeed, he could see the faint movement of shadows. “Oh, yea. It’s probably just an animal.” He paused. “That’s...getting closer?”

They looked at each other, but unsure what to do with this information, just turned back to watch the animal get closer. And closer. It was too small to be a threat, but Chase felt Henrik tense anyway. Eventually, the animal got close enough to make out what it was. “A...cat?” Chase asked, confused.

“A cat,” Henrik agreed.

“What’s a cat doing all the way out here?”

“I am not sure...” Henrik said slowly, brows lowered as he thought through the possibilities.

The cat continued its course, walking in a straight line up to the two of them. Chase crouched down and held out his hand. “Here, kitty.” Once it was close enough, the cat sniffed his hand. Then, satisfied, butted its head against it. Chase laughed. “Y’know I haven’t met that many cats. When I was young, maybe about twelve, Pastor Cait had a cat. We joked about that, since her name was so similar, ha. But it’s gone now. I don’t think the town had another cat since then. A couple dogs, but no cats.” He reached out and petted it. And after a few seconds of that, scooped up the cat and stood. “Does someone here have a cat?”

“No, there are no animals in camp,” Henrik said, still puzzled. “Does it have a collar?”

Chase checked. Difficult, given that the cat clearly didn’t like being held and was wriggling a bit. “Yea, right here.” He pointed to a braided leather collar around the cat’s neck. “No name, though. For the cat or its person.”

“Well. It is cold and snowy, and even with that fur, I don’t think the cat enjoys being out here,” Henrik stated. “Maybe we should take it into camp? We have that fire set up in the skull now, that could warm it up.”

“Good idea.”

The two of them headed back, passing between the dragon bones and into the main body of Wyvernlair. By now, the festivities were starting to die down. Games were ending, and a lot of people were getting ready to attend the Dark Vigil. Chase and Henrik walked quickly by, since the cat was really struggling against being held by this point. Luckily, it hadn’t used its claws yet, but Chase could already feel them digging into the fabric of his jacket.

They reached the skull soon, passing through the gap where it joined the rest of the bones and ending up inside. It was almost empty here. Except for two people and several birds. Chase blinked a bit at the surprising sight, but then remembered what Jackie had told him that morning. So these must be messenger birds, then. There were about seven of them, pigeons in a variety of colors; white, gray, brown, spotted. Actually, Jackie was here, too. Along with Ana, who Chase had figured out by now was the head of organization at Wyvernlair. They both seemed rather impatient, quickly putting away documents. Probably heading to the Vigil like most others.

Ana looked up, noticed Chase and Henrik, then turned to Jackie and said, “It’s your best friend and his best friend. They have a cat.”

“They have a what?” Jackie spun to look at them. “Oh elders, you have a cat. Where’d you get a cat?”

“It just wandered up,” Chase said. “We thought it might like to get out of the cold—ow!” The cat dug its claws into his skin, managing to pierce the jacket, and Chase instinctively opened his arms. Of course, the cat landed on its feet, and trotted over to the side of the fire, which was slowly dying but still giving off a lot of heat.

“I’ve never seen a cat like that before,” Jackie muttered. “That’s a really unique pattern, isn’t it?” The cat was mostly a brownish off-white, but its ears and tails were dark gray, almost black, and the tail had rings of lighter gray. Its legs were striped with light brown, and it had markings on its face of the same color. Big blue eyes stared up at the strange people.

“Oh!” Henrik’s eyes lit up. “I had not noticed outside! It was fairly dark. Oh, you are a pretty kitty, aren’t you?” He slowly approached the cat, and when it didn’t run away, bent over and started petting it.

Meanwhile, Ana was bored, and anxious to leave. She looked at Chase, and her eyes lit up with a strangely sly expression. “Hey, it’s Chase, isn’t it? Do you mind helping me open this?” She held out a small tube made of metal and leather. “I’ve been trying for a while, I think it’s stuck.”

“Um..sure,” Chase said warily. Was this going to be a joke of some kind? He took the small tube and turned it over in his hands. There was a door on the side of it, and after some effort, he figured out how to open it. Out fell three items. Two folded pieces of paper, made of pressed wood pulp and therefore pale brown, and a rolled-up piece of vellum tied with twine. “What’s this?”

“Messages,” Ana said, grinning. “Can you see names written on them?”

Chase looked down at the items, sorting through them. There was writing on the folded papers, but...well, it could just be his lack of reading skills, but it looked like absolute nonsense. “These are names?” he asked doubtfully.

Jackie and Henrik looked away from the cat, noticing the exchange between Chase and Ana. “What do you mean?” Jackie asked.

“These words written here, these are...names?” Chase shook his head. “I’ve just never heard names like this before. Um...here, I-I’ll try to read them. Uh...” He squinted at the writing in ink on the two papers. “This one is ‘Ee-uh-oo-koh’ and this one is...um...‘Ffssehffmuh.’ I think? The handwriting could be—”

Henrik’s eyes widened. Suddenly, he was right next to Chase, grabbing his arm and squeezing it tightly. “What is it?! The two papers?! Which one is—that one, can I see that one?”

“Whoa, hey, calm down!” Chase leaned back. “You mean this one?” He held out the paper with the ‘Fsefma’ name on it.

“Yes!” Henrik snatched it up, then retreated, unfolding it.

Jackie leaned over his shoulder, then grinned. “Oh, I see. Vsevna sent you a little letter, didn’t he? What’s it say? Is he confessing his love?”

“Shut up, Jackie,” Henrik said, holding the letter far away from him so he couldn’t read it. “Is just another report.”

Jackie laughed. “Yea, with your name on it. Come on, Henrik.”

“That does not mean anything.”

Chase, listening, raised an eyebrow. “So...I don’t know everything that’s going on, but I think I can figure out that this Fsefna person—”

“Vsevna,” Henrik corrected.

“...Vsefna—”

“Vsevna. It is important that you voice those sounds.”

“He’s the person you’re pining for, huh, Henrik?” Chase pressed on.

Henrik was slowly turning red. “I say nothing.”

“Right,” Chase said, grinning. “So, who is he?”

“He’s another one of the Phantoms,” Jackie said, sensing that Henrik wasn’t going to answer. “He and Yuko—that’s the other name on that second paper. Last we heard, they were in the Southern Moors with the rest of their crew. They said they’d scout it out for a bit more, then move on. These are probably their reports. Or...Yuko’s is a report, at least.”

“Shush,” Henrik muttered. He retreated a few steps away from the others, clutching the letter. As he passed Ana, he shot her a glare. “You make Chase open that on purpose.”

Ana just smiled. “Same results, right? Anyway, that’s the last capsule. Do you mind if I head out now?”

“No, go ahead, Ana. Send Harrison to take care of the birds,” Jackie said. She nodded, and left the skull. He then looked at Chase. “Uh...can I have the other two things?”

“Oh right.” Chase forgot he was still holding the other paper and the vellum scroll. He handed them over to Jackie, and the metal tube as well. “I’m surprised. That’s a lot for a bird to carry.”

“Well these guys are trained for it.” Jackie gestured at the pigeons, now strutting around the table. “Especially Mokin here, who had this stuff.” He patted the wings of a particular pigeon, mostly white but with brown wings, which had strangely curly feathers. “They all deserve the best seeds before we send them out again. Anyway.” Jackie unfolded the paper with Yuko’s name on it, scanning the words written there. At first, he looked excited to get a letter from this person. But the more he read, the more serious his expression became. “Henrik.”

Henrik looked away from his own letter, picking up on the tone in Jackie’s voice. “What is it?”

“I...read this while I open this scroll.” Jackie passed Henrik the letter, then began working on the twine knot holding the vellum shut.

Henrik read the letter quickly, and soon his expression matched Jackie’s. “Oh. Oh, Schwestern. Oh, no.”

Chase started to back up, feeling he shouldn’t listen to something like this. But Jackie noticed him leaving and said, “No, it’s fine, Chase. We should tell everyone this, anyway. Tomorrow, maybe.”

“What is it?” Chase asked anxiously.

“Well...you remember we told you about Marvin, right?” Jackie said slowly. “About how he went out on his own and we sometimes get reports of him?” He waited for Chase to nod before continuing. “This...was a report about him. Apparently, he was in the Moors. But...he didn’t just cause chaos and leave. He’s been...caught.”

“Caught?” Chase repeated numbly.

Jackie managed to untie the twine, and unrolled the vellum, scanning what was written there. He nodded grimly. “Yep. You know what this is?” He turned it around so Chase could see.

“That’s...a royal declaration, isn’t it?” Chase asked slowly. He recognized the format, and the royal seal in the corner. “Um...‘The King...announces a...mighty...triumph.’”

“You do not have to keep going, Chase,” Henrik said bitterly. “There are better words to read than that.” He took the declaration from Jackie, glancing at it for just a moment. “I see. Marvin is accused of attempting to kill the King and some other nobility. They caught him in the act, and now...they plan to execute him. Four weeks from now.”

Jackie looked over at the cat, now sitting and licking its paws, and gasped. “Henrik. You don’t think that’s his cat, do you?!”

“What? I suppose perhaps. But if it is, how did it get all the way up here?” Henrik sounded puzzled. “It takes a week or two to get to the Moors from here, and that is for humans on horseback. For a cat...”

“Wizardry?” Jackie guessed. “I don’t know, it was just a thought, since he likes cats so much.”

Everyone fell silent. Henrik looked back at the royal declaration, reading it slowly, taking in the information. “So...how are we going to do this?”

“Do what?” Jackie asked.

Henrik stared at him in surprise. “Well, we have to rescue him, of course.” Jackie didn’t say anything. “Do not tell me that you’re going to let your grudge stand in the way!”

“No, it’s not that!” Jackie protested. “It’s just—you read the letter, right? Yuko said that these declarations were sent everywhere. Since when has the King announced his next move like this? Everything he does, he does in secret. I mean, damn, the Phantoms are just rumors, and we’ve been taking serious action for years now. He’s hushed up so much, why wouldn’t he just make Marvin...you know, disappear? Why a public execution?”

“You think it is a trap,” Henrik stated.

“Well...yes,” Jackie admitted.

“That is fair, but if it’s a trap, who is he planning to catch? If he wants information about us, he could get it from Marvin.”

“But Marvin hasn’t been part of the group for a year now! His information would be out of date.”

“This does not change the fact that there is no guarantee it’s a trap in the first place. Perhaps he wants to strike fear into the population. Given his actions, it seems likely.”

“If it does turn out to be a trap, though, we can’t afford to lose anyone!”

Chase coughed awkwardly. Jackie and Henrik jumped, then turned to him, looking embarrassed to be fighting while he was still there. “You know...I don’t know if I have any place in this. I mean, you two are in charge, after all. But...I think you should try to get him back.”

Henrik and Jackie looked at each other, then back to Chase. “Are you trying to say something?” Jackie asked.

“I just...” Chase paused for a moment, searching for the words. “I don’t think...you should leave someone behind. He was still part of the Phantoms, right? Didn’t he help create it? A-and weren’t you three...Well. You don’t have to talk to him after we rescue him, but it just doesn’t seem right to leave someone behind in this situation. I know you had your fight and all, but maybe...this could be...you know.” He paused. “Also, I want to know if this cat is his or if some random cat just wandered by.”

Jackie laughed. “Yea, that would be good to know, wouldn’t it?” He sighed, and his expression fell, becoming serious as he was lost in thought.

Henrik leaned closer to him and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Jackie. Chase is right, this does not mean he is rejoining the group. You do not even have to go. But...we should do it. Marvin does not deserve this.”

After a moment, Jackie nodded. “You’re both right. Of course. Even though he was an ass last time we talked, that doesn’t mean I want Marvin dead.” He took a deep breath. “But we should prepare for the possibility of a trap. Just in case.”

“Of course we will,” Henrik assured him.

“...Hey. Chase.” Jackie gave him a smile. “Thank you. I-I don’t know what it is about you, but you know what to say. It’s really easy to talk to you about stuff like this.”

“It’s not a problem,” Chase said, returning the smile. “But, um...I think the Vigil is happening soon, so if we want to go—”

“Shit, I almost forgot about that!” Jackie gasped. “Henrik, I don’t want to leave the cat alone, can you look after it or something?”

“Don’t worry, I will take it to my tent,” Henrik said. “You two go and...is it alright to wish you fun? In a ceremony like this?”

“Come on, Schneep, you’ve lived here for over a decade, don’t talk like it’s so strange to you,” Jackie chuckled.

“I think it’s fun,” Chase said.

“Well, you two go have fun, then,” Henrik said. “I will see you later. Tomorrow, if not tonight.”

“Thanks, Schneep.” Jackie gave him a quick one-armed hug, then headed towards the skull entrance. “Let’s go, Chase. We don’t want to be late.”

They almost were. The Dark Vigil was about to start when they arrived, shuffling into the crowd. Everyone stood in a circle around a set of candles, one blue and the rest black, which were in turn set in a circle around several smooth, round pieces of black onyx. Three people stood inside, lighting the candles.

After the candles were alight, everyone sat on the ground, clashing a bit as they all tried to make room. Then once everyone was sitting with their legs crossed, the three in the center started the Vigil. They spoke the traditional lines, describing the Elder of Dark—their vague appearance, their actions, their history with the other Elders—and finished it by thanking them for their guardianship. Everyone joined in on the final part: “As you stand and watch vigil, so shall we this night.” And then silence fell.

During the silence of the Dark Vigil, each individual offered their thoughts about those who needed protection. In the past, Chase had asked for his family to be alright. For them all to stay healthy and happy. Today, he asked for that again. He wished, silently, desperately, for them to be safe. And not just them, but everyone else who had disappeared from his town, as well as all the other mountain towns that had been destroyed. He thought about Henrik and Jackie and all the other Phantoms he’d met here, and wished for them to have luck in this fight against the King. He thought about Marvin, someone who he’d never met but who was dear to his friends, and wished for them to be able to rescue him.

As Chase stared at the candle flames, he thought he saw...something. He wasn’t sure what. A shape in the smoke. The shape of a four-legged animal, with...antlers. A deer.

Then as was the tradition, the candles were extinguished, and the night was left in darkness.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #jacksepticeye au #septic egos #septic egos au #chase brody #jackieboy man #dr schneeplestein #brigid writes fanfiction #fantasymasksau

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annmarcus63 · 3 years

Text

The kindest thing

“Yes yes, I remember the I don't need anyone needing me situation, but well, here we are, don't you know? you are my very best friend on the whole wide world"

Geralt's heart is broken but Jaskier intends of heal him with kindness.

-I wanted to post this here again, because I can and I want to. Sorry for my bad english. Love you.-

Here's the link to ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/24114205

The war has shaken all the realms, everyone everywhere talks about the tragic death of queen Calanthe and the wiped out of her army, people fearfully whisper about the mountains of corpses the Nilfgaardian army leaves at its wake. Jaskier awakes sweating and trembling on a cold night, his chest contracting despite his controlling breathing. He fears the war, of course, but not for him, he’s safely away after all, whta is war for a bard but geat songs. He fears for certain witcher and his child surprise. News about princess Ciri's death haven't reached him, he really really hopes she's ok, again not for him but for Geralt. Because although the witcher has never showed any interest in the child, the bard knows the loss could be too great for the witchers' heart. Yes, he believes Geralt holds a heart, big and hard to reach, but a heart no less.

It's been over a year since that dreadful day on the mountaintop. Over a year since that scornful words and the look that spoke volumes. Jaskier healed himself with music and dancing, also with the normal tears rivering down his cheeks every now and then. Jaskier wasn't a stranger at traveling alone, after all he and Geralt used to part ways more often than not, even though that used to happen after months and months of traveling together. He forced himself to picked his broken heart, rebuilded even if he still could see the cracks.

After the sadness came the anger. Anger for the unfairness thrown so casually against him. How dares he? How. Dares. He? all those years of friendship and loyalty repaid with words aimed to pierce, and pierce they did. Words that were the outcome of the witchers' broken heart, because Yennefer had walked away from Geralt despite the love he feel for her. True love or not, it was still love. Jaskier was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

And then came the sorrow for his sweet witcher, and his perpetual broken heart. He wasn't justifying the harshful words and his own broken heart, of course not, but at least he now understands why Geralt said what he said. He needed to broke something, even if that something was their friendship. Oh that idiotic emotionally abused witcher, if only Jaskier could mend him back together, if only Geralt let him. And one day the opportunity presented itself. After a very glorious performance at the local inn, he heard a couple of farmers gossiping about a witcher fighting an Alp no far from there. In all his traveling years he has never encountered with a witcher other than Geralt, he hopes that same fortune still follows him around. He packs his lute and the rest of his possessions to get back to the road. Asking is always the best resource if you want to find someone or something, and is oddly easy to locate Geralt.

Maybe destiny is part of their relationship, not that he'd ever mention it to the witcher.

An old woman point him to a road towards Kaedwen. Uh, So he's going to Kaer Morhen. He considers himself lucky to find him before disappearing like he used to every winter.

He walks and walks until the smell of smoke reaches his nose, he has learned a thing or two from Geralt about tracking, thank you very much, he's not that useless. Again maybe destiny is helping him, he's not that good, you see.

He goes through the trees until reaching a small clear and the unmistakable arrange of a camp. He sees a small figure, a girl with a black cloak covering her face, tending a very familiar horse. He clutches at his lute strap, by Melitele he's so fucking nervous, his heart beating frantically against his ribcage, his ears stuffed with white noise.

What if Geralt sends him away without a word? what if he spat more hurtful words? what if he's not welcome? Well, at least he'd have tried.

"Hi" he says softly

The child tense visibly, slowly she takes a step away from Roach and turns around.

"You better go before he sees you" so young age and so much steel in her voice, no wait-

"Princess?"

"Bard?" of course he returned to Cintra after the child surprise incident, Queen's Calanthe court liked so much his first performance that he was invited to play three more times, one on Ciri's birthday. He is the best bard of all the continent after all.

Of course Geralt would find her, of course. He felt a wave of pride surging from his chest. He did it, he found her. He was not alone.

“Jaskier?” Oh that voice, that damn voice reverberating on every fiber of his skin. And suddenly the witcher is there, in all his splendour, sword on one hand but he's not wearing his armor.

"Hello Geralt" and he gifts him with a sweet smile, despite the sweat on his palms and the creeping terror of being rejected. But Geralt doesn't said anything, doesn't move, some may think he's a statue. "Don't worry I won't stay long, I only want to talk if you allow me" he didn't came with the intention of staying, no, he'll respect the witchers blessing no matter what.

More than a year full of a banquet of emotions for the witcher, oh and how he love him still.

The silence stretch for long seconds, it may be hours for all he knows. And just when he's about to turn back to were he come from..

"I'll stay with Roach to give you privacy" dear Ciri says and Geralt nods rather insecure and Jaskier's heart aches at the picture. Jaskier follows Geralt to the camp, not that far from Roach and Ciri but that'll suffice. He's sure Geralt would want to keep an eye on her. The witcher sits against a tree leaving the bedroll for him. Jaskier place gently the lute on the ground not far from him. They sit facing each other.

breathe in breathe out, come on Jaskier you can do this. Bollocks, Geralt probably can sense how nervous he is.

He sees a small twitch on Geralt's lips like he wants to say something and Jaskier freaks out. "No!" he yelps, and then more softly he adds "No, let me talk. You know how much I love the sound of my own voice" he says with a small smile, but Geralt doesn't sees it, he's golden eyes are planted on the grass.

Here goes nothing.

“I've known you for a long time now, Geralt. It may be not that long for you with all your long long years, but it is to me as the fleeting human that I am. You knew me as the annoying bard, and now you know me as the annoying old bard. I've spent most part of my life by your side, if not the best part of it. And I did it gladly, and I would do it again gladly, because I choose to. Even in the first years when you were trying rather desperately to get rid of me. I choose to. Not because of the magnificent songs I wrote but because I liked -like- your company.” Jaskier force himself to stop, a nasty bump forming in his throat, is harder than he though. You are already here, you may as well give it all. "You...you’re all that I have" And this earns him a reaction, Geralt twitch against the tree and sends him a indecipherable look to return it at the same spot on the grass. “Yes yes, I remember the I don't need anyone needing me situation, but well, here we are, don't you know? you are my very best friend on the whole wide world" There, yes, a smile on his lips."You are, my friend. I mean, no matter how many times you denied it. It took me more than two decades to get to know you. It took me five years to know that you would rather spend a night under the stars than in a inn without proper stables for Roach. Ten years to know how much you hate fish but love the rabbit broth I cook. More than ten years to know when to shut up otherwise you'll snap at me, though I admit I've not always follow this knowledge. I could go on and on but not today. And so I know you really didn't mean what you said on the mountain, at least I hope, not completely. You were unfair and cruel. Nothing of what you accused me is my fault, not entirely, but if it’s my fault then you must know I'm truly sorry, If I had known I assure you I would have left your side a long time ago.”

"Not your fault" Geralt says with a weak whisper. And Jaskier feels something loosening up on his chest, carefully he closes the distance between them, knees almost touching. "Good, good. I came to apologize even though I didn't do anything wrong, but you should know that I won't do it again. I'll not tolerate more words with intent to hurt. I'll no longer be taken for granted or tossed aside like a old pair of shoes. Have I made myself clear? Because if you do something like that again, oh by Melitele I promise I'll make you pay.”

"Yes I understand" Answers. The white wolf stripped of all his barriers. He sounds so tired, so broken.

"Oh my sweet sweet witcher" he says lovingly, daring to reach out for a lock of white hair falling above Geralt's cheekbone to tuck it behind his ear. And Geralt for once doesn't pull away. "Life has not been kind to you. But I am, I have and will be kind to you till my last breath. You have me, even thru distance, you can count on me, even if I'm not that resourceful. Look at me Geralt. Yes, there you are. Hi. You have my undying loyalty and consideration, and you know why? because I'm your friend and I love you. By the way I'm amazingly happy for you have finally found your child surprise, although I wish it had been on better circumstances” Geralt smile at him, that small curve on his lips accompanied by the delicate flutter of his eyelids. And Jaskier falls for the man a little bit more. "Oh well, that was intense. I should get going, I'm planning on staying on the road for few more months maybe years who knows? I still have a couple of great songs on my sleeve about our adventures. Oh! and I received a letter from Oxenfurt. They recognize me as one of the best poets of the age. They have a classroom reserved for me, can you imagine? Me? teaching! a terrible idea If you ask me. But i'm not prepared for being the grumpy scholar, not yet if ever, I'll make them wait a few years, if old age doesn't take me first. You must come and visit me there, yes you must! or on the road when all this is over. Don't make me wait that long, ok?” He reach one last time to grab Geralt's wrist and squeeze, fully smiling before standing up, he dusts his fine clothes and hang his lute over his shoulder. "Be safe my witcher and take care of each other" he says loud enough to be heard by Ciri. He approaches the princess in question and Roach who neigh in delight, she's got a soft spot for him and the sugar cubes he always stuff in his pockets, just like the ones currently on his fist. Roach gently took a couple from his open hand.

“You're safe with him, princess”

"I know...and uhmm it's Ciri"

"Ciri” he replies

"Is good to know he have someone" say Ciri in a small voice.

"He’s always had but he needs to be reminded of most of the time.” She nods solemnly, in that moment Jaskier knew she'll grow up to be an excellent warrior even better than Geralt. He hopes he'll be there to witness it. And with that he leaves, throwing a last glance at the witcher, who's still sitting against the tree, lost in thought.

He looks at the sky, nightfall is about to come in more or less two hours, enough time to reach the nearest town to rent a room. He'll not perform, not tonight. Tonight is for him alone. His stomach grumbles embarrassingly loud, he's only eaten bread and a green apple on the entire day. He can't wait to get to the inn to order a plate of the delicious pork he could smell as he passed by. Perhaps he can afford to buy honey pastry, oh yes.

With every step taken away from the camp, he feels like he's finally free, the acid sensation in his chest and throat is no longer there. The sorrow finally gone. Suddenly, subtly, unexpectedly tears began to pour, he's sobbing, but smiling at the same time. He’s undoubtedly content.

Footsteps. Heavy footsteps behind him. He stops.

It can't be.

He turns unhurriedly, and he sees him, sees Geralt running towards him . A desperate expression on his handsome features. And Jaskier knows what's about to happen. With a swiftly movement takes the strap of his lute to let it fall at the ground. Sorry girl.

"...Jaskier" he grunts just before engulfin the bard in those strong arms. Barely recovered from the shock, Jaskier sobs some more on the witcher's shoulder. This is truly happening. Geralt is hugging him like he's an anchor, like he's worth it.

And then Geralt takes his face between his hands, cleaning the still flowing tears with his thumbs. Faces inches apart. "What have I done to deserve you" he whispers with devotion. "You should be angry, you should hate me. I don't deserve..."

"You deserve this and more. Much more." Geralt's eyes are wet and Jaskier feels blessed to be granted the trust to seeing him so open, so vulnerable.

"And you, do you deserve this despicable treatment? Forgive me" Jaskier smiles against the tears, bumping his forehead with Geralt's. "Forgive me"

"There's nothing to forgive, my witcher" Sweetly Geralt guides his lips to his forehead, his eyes, his nose, the corner of his lips. Jaskier may as well die with the happiness surging from every part of his being.

“I wanted to search for you, I was planning on to, after leaving Ciri at Kaer Morhen. You're too far important for me and therefore you're important to Nilfgaard. Come with me, come to Kaer Morhen with us."

"Yes" Because he'll always say yes, no matter what. Yes to this life, to the danger, to the songs. Yes to Geralt. They stayed like that for a long time, holding each other, breathing each other scents, loving each other.

There were still things left unsaid, but it was enough for now. They needed to rest. To hold each other some more, maybe.

#geraskier #jaskier #hurt jaskier #hurt Geralt #geralt of rivia #jaskier x geralt #the witcher

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ibijau · 3 years

Text

Futures Past pt7 / On AO3

Lan Xichen's plans for the day get derailed, but not as much as he feared

After a long and silent eternity, the people of Yunping Huang finally started to wake up, as did their Lan guests. Lan Xichen and Nie Huaisang, both relieved to have company at last, joined everyone else for breakfast. The younger boy made a point of sitting as far away as possible, clearly still upset about that Su She incident. Even like this, Nie Huaisang threw a sharp look toward Lan Xichen when Lan Qiren dropped by to announce that they would all be staying until that afternoon, since the three sect leaders present had things left to discuss.

Lan Xichen tried his best to look surprised at the news, and discreetly nodded at Nie Huaisang to confirm he would still be helping.

By the time Lan Xichen felt it safe to head out without risking being seen by his uncle, Nie Huaisang was already at the door of the sect, nervously biting his nails again and tapping his foot on the ground as if waiting to be given a chance to bolt out. He must really have wanted those spring books, Lan Xichen thought.

It wasn’t so hard, convincing the Huang disciple guarding the entrance that Nie Huaisang was actually allowed to go out if it was in Lan Xichen’s company. It helped that Lan Xichen, in spite of his age, already had a small reputation going for him, and that he’d performed so well against those fierce corpses the previous day that the guard was a little in awe. The two boys then headed out together, having agreed to stick together until they were out of view, and to meet again at a certain hour when they had both taken care of their respective errands. They would surely be scolded when they came back, but less than if they returned separately.

Nie Huaisang was about to run off on his own when they heard someone calling their names behind them. They turned as one, terrified to have been already discovered, only to find Jiang Cheng running toward them, a frown on his face.

“Where are you two going?” Jiang Cheng asked when he caught up with them, throwing them a suspicious look.

“Nowhere,” Lan Xichen said.

“And we’re not going together,” Nie Huaisang added. “We just happen to be heading out at the same time.”

Jiang Cheng’s expression only turned more suspicious. If that Huang disciple had been easy to fool, it seemed Jiang Cheng remembered that Lan Qiren’s punishment of Nie Huaisang had made no mention of exceptions.

“Can I come with you?”

Lan Xichen gave the younger boy a puzzled smile, and turned to look at Nie Huaisang, awaiting his answer. He hadn’t noticed that the two boys had talked at all the previous day, but he wasn’t surprised either that they’d have some affinity.

They weren’t supposed to have met yet, but Lan Xichen remembered that they would become somewhat close the following year, especially after that Wei Wuxian boy would be sent home. He didn’t think the friendship between Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng had gone anywhere after they’d left the Cloud Recesses, but it would still be good for them to…

“No, I meant with you, Lan gongzi,” Jiang Cheng corrected with some embarrassment, having followed his gaze. “I had a few questions I’d like to ask you, about yesterday. Lan gongzi really was very impressive,” he explained with a small bow. “I hoped he might spare some time to teach me?”

The request startled Lan Xichen, as did the rather mild and calm tone in which it was made. Come to think of it, in that terrible future he’d very rarely interacted with Jiang Cheng without Wei Wuxian being present as well, who always unwittingly drew out the worst sides of his shidi’s personality. And then, after Wei Wuxian’s death… well, Jiang Cheng just hadn’t been a pleasant man with anyone.

He too would grow into a lonely man, Lan Xichen recalled, and the idea upset him. How much could have been changed, if he hadn’t relied so much on Meng Yao’s friendship, if Jiang Cheng had had someone on his side other than Wei Wuxian?

“I have an errand to run,” he explained, only to see Jiang Cheng’s face tighten at the apparent rejection. How odd, that he’d never noticed before that Jiang Cheng was a little sensitive, but he recalled an argument in that temple where Meng Yao would die, and… well. Sensitive was a mild thing to call it. “It’s fine if you come as well,” Lan Xichen heard himself say.

“Really?” Jiang Cheng asked, sounding almost suspicious.

It would be a dreadful idea to think of dragging the son of a sect leader into the sort of places where Meng Yao could be expected to be found. But Jiang Cheng looked too pitiful to be left behind, and Lan Xichen decided even if this visit to Yunping City turned out to be a failure, he could always try to come again later. He’d have to lie about the reason why, but since it was for a good cause, he figured it wasn’t too big of a crime. In fact, maybe it was for the best if he gave up for the day. He hardly had a plan on how to deal with Meng Yao, anyway.

“I was also impressed by how well Jiang gongzi did yesterday,” Lan Xichen said with a smile. “For being so young, you are very competent already. I was wondering why Jiang zongzhu had brought his young son to a Night Hunt that could have been dangerous, but after seeing you in action I understand better.”

“Yes, Jiang gongzi was really impressive,” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, as if he knew enough about martial arts to give his opinion. “Yunmeng Jiang trains for flexibility and speed, right? It really showed! And you have very good posture and a strong grip on your sword. I think even my brother would have found nothing to say against how you fought!”

Lan Xichen threw Nie Huaisang a sharp glance, surprised to hear him make such an accurate assessment of Jiang Cheng’s skill. Apparently lacking any talent himself didn’t stop him from understanding the strength of others.

Jiang Cheng’s cheeks turned a little pink at the double praise.

“You’re both too generous,” he said in a tone of voice that made it obvious he thought he deserved the compliments. Then, quite suddenly, his face turned sour. “To be honest, I’m only here because Wei Wuxian was supposed to come as well and we work well as a team. But he got punished and had to stay behind. If you’d seen him, then…”

“That Wei person isn’t here though, so who cares about his skill!” Nie Huaisang cheerfully cut him. “If he got punished, he can’t be that good. Ah, but I really should get going now… Jiang gongzi, please entertain Lan gongzi for me, and I’ll see you both later when it’s time to leave!”

With this, Nie Huaisang darted away, the way he’d been wanting to do since Lan Xichen first saw him that morning. For someone so reluctant to do any physical exercise Nie Huaisang could run fast, and in the blink of an eye he had just disappeared in the sparse early morning crowd.

“What a weirdo,” Jiang Cheng remarked.

“He’s a very unique person,” Lan Xichen agreed. “I just hope he won’t get himself into too much trouble. Ah, well… shall we go?”

“Sure. What’s your errand? I’ve been here a few times before, maybe I can guide you around.”

For a brief moment, Lan Xichen was very tempted… but no. He would find another occasion to deal with Meng Yao. This was important too, he felt.

He'd been focused on saving Nie Mingjue, on protecting his sect's library, on averting Meng Yao's fate, because those had been the thing weighting down the man he would have become, but he didn't have to stop at that. There were many more tragedies in the world, small and big, and maybe Lan Xichen could change those too.

Maybe Jiang Cheng didn't need to grow with no friend but Wei Wuxian.

“Forget about my errand, it’s something that can wait. Instead, would Jiang gongzi show me around while we chat? I’m sure you know some interesting places.”

The praise, however mild, had an instant effect on Jiang Cheng who proudly nodded, and offered to take Lan Xichen to the market by the lake, where some sellers always had some unique things to sell, he claimed, as well as delicious food. Besides, if Lan Xichen didn't enjoy the market, then they'd have the option to just walk by the lake and enjoy the sight. It seemed like a pleasant enough plan so Lan Xichen agreed.

As they walked side by side, Jiang Cheng started asking questions about Lan Xichen's performance the previous day, and about Gusu Lan's style of cultivation in general. Jiang Cheng was surprisingly observant, it turned out, and quite curious as well as gifted with a good memory. He lacked the sheer genius that Wei Wuxian seemed to have, but hard work and stubbornness were valuable skills as well. After just this short chat, Lan Xichen thought it made sense that Jiang Cheng had managed to single-handedly raise his sect from the ashes, in that future that couldn't be allowed to happen.

He thought, also, that his future self had missed out by never taking the time to really talk to Jiang Cheng. The younger boy's character was a little rough around the edges, but he knew how to be polite, and some of his remarks showed an understanding of politics that surprised Lan Xichen. In some ways, Jiang Cheng reminded him of Nie Mingjue as he had been before rising to power.

When they reached the market, their conversation drifted to lighter topics. Jiang Cheng was disappointed at first to learn Lan Xichen was a strict vegetarian who couldn't handle any spice to his food, but quickly took it as a challenge to find something his companion could still taste. They also wandered from stall to stall, checking on the various wares offered. Lan Xichen was thinking of buying something for his brother, who had been quite unhappy to be left behind when Nie Huaisang had been invited, but wasn't sure what to pick. A year from then he could have gotten something rabbit themed and be done with it, but Lan Wangji hadn't yet developed a love for those animals, and was just impossible to shop for.

Just as Lan Xichen was about to ask for Jiang Cheng’s opinion, since he was of a similar age to Lan Wangji, a commotion further away in the market caught their attention. There seemed to be an argument happening just three stalls away from them, between a seller and a young customer whose voice Lan Xichen had the displeasure of instantly recognising.

Lan Xichen pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed. Of course Nie Huaisang would have gotten in trouble.

“Isn’t that…” Jiang Cheng started, squinting toward the altercation.

“It is. I’m sorry, Jiang gongzi, but I fear our little excursion ends here.”

Lan Xichen darted ahead, and couldn’t help feeling a little grateful when Jiang Cheng decided to follow, even though this didn’t concern him.

Nie Huaisang, it turned out, had gotten into an argument with a middle-aged man selling cultivation manuals. Both he and the man were shouting loudly at each other, sometimes trying to drag two other people into their fight, a boy whose face Lan Xichen couldn’t see but who even from the back was radiating embarrassment at being caught into this, and an elegant woman who looked just as ashamed.

“If you don’t want me to ruin your business, then you should have an honest one and this wouldn’t happen!” Nie Huaisang was shouting, pointing a threatening finger at the merchant even though the man was two heads taller and at least twice as large as him. “But if you scam people, then I’ll call you a scammer, and a disgrace as well. I’m going to denounce you to the Yunping Huang sect, and then they’ll just…”

“You’ll keep your stupid mouth shut if you know what’s good for you!” the merchant retorted. “Or else I’ll…”

“I’m not scared of you!” Nie Huaisang boasted. “You’re just a liar and a scammer and I’m not scared and I’m going to make sure you never sell fakes again!”

“I'll teach you some respect, you brat!" the man shouted, as he grabbed a sheathed sword from his stall and raised it above his head in a threatening manner.

There were a few frightened cries coming from the crowd that had gathered to watch the argument, but nobody seemed inclined to move forward and protect an insolent but scrawny child from a much more imposing adult when the adult in question had a weapon. Lan Xichen and Jiang Cheng too only watched with some curiosity.

Even a cultivator as mediocre as Nie Huaisang could deal with such a situation. The merchant might have been big, but the way he moved and breathed showed he had no martial training at all, while Nie Huaisang was already positioning himself to avoid whatever blows might be thrown at him. And anyway, even without seeing the blade, Lan Xichen could tell that the man’s sword was of very low quality and would likely bend or shatter should it encounter the blade of Nie Huaisang’s high quality sabre… but it was unlikely it would come to that.

The issue of the fight was obvious to all watchers, although Lan Xichen guessed that most of the crowd was deeply wrong in their certainty.

Among those people was the boy standing near Nie Huaisang, and who appeared to be involved in the dispute as well. He and the woman with him had been trying to get out of this mess up until then, but seeing Nie Huaisang in apparent danger, the boy’s posture changed and he sprang forward when the merchant brought down his sword, pushing Nie Huaisang out of the way.

The boy cried in pain and fell to his knees when the sheathed sword hit his shoulder, while the woman with him gasped in horror and ran to his side to check on him, as did Nie Huaisang once he got over the surprise. It had not been a particularly hard blow. That merchant, regardless of his business practices, must have known that seriously harming even a particularly bratty teenager would turn the crowd against him. But the boy wasn’t strong, and even that light attack seemed to have been too much for him.

Sensing that the situation was about to go bad, Lan Xichen pierced through the crowd to try and calm things down, Jiang Cheng still trailing behind him.

There were a few murmurs when the two of them came into view. The people gathered there glanced at Lan Xichen dressed all in immaculate white, at Jiang Cheng in rich purple, took note of their posture, the sword at their hips, and started whispering among themselves. The merchant too, who had been so confident when arguing with Nie Huaisang, and who had started accusing the other boy of faking his injury, went pale when he realised that some true cultivators had joined them.

The man immediately started gathering his merchandise to run away, but wasn’t fast enough to stop Lan Xichen from grabbing one of the manuals on sale. He quickly browsed through it, and pinched his lips.

“That is indeed a fake,” Lan Xichen announced, much to the shock of the crowd. Then, behind him, the woman yelled in rage. She jumped to her feet and abandoned the hurt boy to throw herself at the merchant, slapping him so hard he dropped all his merchandise.

“You liar!” she shouted, trying to slap him a second time. “I’ve been buying from you for nearly a year! You said A-Yao would become a cultivator for sure with those!”

“They’re real, they’re real!” the merchant replied, trying to shield himself from her blows. “Maybe your son just doesn’t have what it takes!”

“No, he’s got it,” Nie Huaisang announced, causing all eyes to turn on him. He had kneeled down to grab one wrist of that other boy, and seemed to be inspecting his meridians for any sign of talent. “In fact, I think he could be very good. He just needs some real lessons.”

The boy’s mother stared at him for a moment. Her eyes were wide with surprise at first, but quickly her expression turned into one of triumph at the news of her son’s potential, before she became enraged again and started hitting the merchant once more, demanding her money back. After a moment, Jiang Cheng intervened, trying to calm down the woman while preventing the merchant from fleeing now that his crime had been exposed. Lan Xichen should have helped, he truly should have, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from the woman’s son.

From Meng Yao.

Because that boy, shorter than Nie Huaisang but with a slightly broader frame, who looked dazed from the unexpected turn his morning had taken and perhaps also from the blow he’d suffered, was Meng Yao. Having seen his face there was no doubt possible, even if he was younger than Lan Xichen had ever known him. That boy was the one who, one day, would murder Nie Mingjue and many others, who would ingratiate himself in Lan Xichen’s good graces, who would use Lan XIchen's reputation as a shield before ultimately turning him into a hostage, only to die by his sword.

Lan Xichen felt his throat start to close, the now familiar choking sensation slowly seizing him as he watched Meng Yao, until…

“Really, you’ve got great potential,” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear as he patted the other boy's hand. “You know, my da-ge is a sect leader. Maybe you’ve heard of us, Qinghe Nie? Well, my da-ge is its sect leader, and if I tell him about you, I’m sure he’d be thrilled to let you join us!”

“Nie Huaisang!” Lan Xichen cried out, his panic fading quickly in the face of absolute horror.

Everyone turning to stare at him. Meng Shi stopped trying to hit the crooked merchant, and liked her son seemed puzzled by his intervention. So was the crowd still watching everything unfold as if it were a particularly entertaining play. Jiang Cheng frowned but retained his hold on the merchant, while Nie Huaisang…

Nie Huaisang was not happy, a scowl forming on his face.

“Nie gongzi shouldn’t go around making this sort of offer,” Lan Xichen said, only to see Nie Huaisang’s expression grow darker still.

It wasn’t quite the open hatred he would have shown two decades in the future, at the second funeral of Nie Mingjue, the very last time they would have spoken.

It wasn’t far from it either, and that realisation made Lan Xichen shiver.

“I’m not saying anything unreasonable,” Nie Huaisang argued. “I know my da-ge, and if he hears about a competent person who wishes to become a cultivator, then for sure he’ll want to give them a chance. It’s the sort of person he is.”

Of course Nie Mingjue would give Meng Yao a chance. That was how Lan Xichen had ended up in this whole mess, wasn’t it?

“I am most grateful for these venerable immortals’ interest in my son,” Meng Shi said, returning near her son and bending to wrap an arm around his shoulders, the very picture of a proud mother. “But this will not be necessary. I have good hopes that someday my A-Yao will enter the Jin sect, and…”

“No!” Lan Xichen and Nie Huaisang shouted at the same time.

Meng Shi startled at the cry, as did her son.

He looked so young, Lan Xichen thought. So young and innocent and… but of course, Meng Yao was innocent, more so than when they would have met in that other future. He hadn’t yet lost his mother, though Lan Xichen thought her complexion already betrayed early signs of illness. He also hadn’t yet been thrown down the stairs of Jinlin Tai by his own father, not for nearly another year, if Lan Xichen were to guess.

Meng Yao was just a boy, who hadn’t yet started on his path of murder and betrayal.

He was a boy who could still be saved, just like Nie Mingjue.

“Oh, I really wouldn’t recommend that you try joining Lanling Jin,” Nie Huaisang said, throwing Lan Xichen a suspicious look. “It’s not a very good place, not unless you’re born into money and power. Their sect leader is a bit of a prick, too.”

“Nie gongzi shouldn’t gossip,” Lan Xichen said out of habit, earning another glare.

“It’s not gossip if it’s the truth. Everyone knows Jin zongzhu is the worst,” Nie Huaisang insisted. “Did you hear about that girl he seduced some years ago? Da-ge said she was just sixteen, and then she got with child, and then he told her that he’d take care of the child, and then he got bored and never went back again.”

“Oh, the one from that rich family in... what was it again? Mo village?” Jiang Cheng remarked. “I’ve heard mother talk about that one. She’d been pestering Jin zongzhu about taking their son into Lanling Jin, but he was worried his wife would figure it out. But Jin Furen still heard about it even like that, and she made a scene. That’s why he stopped going. Well, that and he’d started playing with that other girl… where was it, the one because of whom he didn't go home for two months?”

“No gossip,” Lan Xichen repeated without conviction, his eyes set on Meng Shi.

She’d gone pale at the mention of another bastard, paler still at the news that even a woman of higher standing than hers had failed to make Jin Guangshan keep his promises, but she said nothing and only tightened her grip on her son’s shoulders. Meng Yao too looked shaken by what Jiang Cheng had said, but he appeared less distraught than his mother, as if perhaps he’d already guessed this might be the case but kept on hoping for her sake more than his own.

“It’s really not gossip,” Nie Huaisang claimed, throwing Lan Xichen another annoyed look. “Anyway, Lan gongzi, what if you went to fetch Huang zongzhu and your uncle and Jiang gongzi’s father? Then you won’t have to hear anything that might upset you, and after we’ll get to deal with that man who scammed money out of honest people.”

Lan Xichen hesitated, glancing again toward Meng Shi. She didn't look like she might still try to send her son to Lanling after this, not for a long while at least. But to leave her with Nie Huaisang who had apparently decided to ruin all of Lan Xichen’s plans by inviting Meng Yao into Qinghe Nie.

And yet, there was no other option but for Lan Xichen to be the one who fetched the grown-ups.

If Nie Huaisang went, Lan Qiren would lose time scolding him, which would give that merchant a chance to run away, or to turn the crowd against them if he was smart… not to mention the Meng family probably had other business to deal with and wouldn’t wait forever, not even for a chance to enter a cultivation sect.

If Jiang Cheng went, he might just get ignored. Lan Xichen hadn’t personally seen it yet, but he knew his future self was aware that Jiang Cheng had a… complicated relationship with his parents, and Jiang Fengmian didn’t particularly favour his own son.

But if Lan Xichen went, his uncle would give him due attention, as he always did when Lan Xichen made it clear he considered a matter important. Perhaps he might even listen to his nephew’s argument in favour of a poor but talented young man, one righteous enough to get hurt trying to protect Nie Huaisang.

That might mean further punishment for Nie Huaisang but Lan Xichen, furious at the other boy for trying to ruin his great plan, didn’t feel particularly sorry about that.

“Nie gongzi, don’t make any more outrageous offers while I’m gone,” Lan Xichen ordered, then turned to Jiang Cheng. “I’m sorry to impose on you, Jiang gongzi, but please keep the situation under control for a little while. I know I can count on you, and I’ll try to be quick.”

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes, looking more angry at Lan Xichen than before, if that was possible. It mattered little, because Jiang Cheng’s face shone at being trusted like this by someone older, and he nodded with such serious that Lan Xichen felt a little less worried as he left the little group behind.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #jiang cheng #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #double time travel #operation: give everyone friends that aren't going to die/betray them

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local-spoon-does-a-thing · 3 years

Text

Doomguy x Reader headcanons

a/n: this exists because I have a simping problem. Also this is probably bad and I'll maybe rewrite this in the future.

First meeting

Okay for this man to fall in love with you, you'd have to not be intimidated by his demon slaying reputation

Which in realistic circumstances, would be DIFFICULT

BUT THAT'S THE POINT

That would very much impress him and you'd catch his eye

It's nice to talk to someone that isn't shitting their pants whenever he's in a 70 mile radius

Treat him like a normal person PLEASE

He never asked to be The Doom Slayer or any of his titles

He never wanted to be King of the Night Sentinels

He just wanted to be with his pet rabbit Daisy

What your friendship would be like

At first, he'd be quiet and reserved in the friendship

He wouldn't talk much and would mostly only give hummed responses or just do something that acknowledges you that doesn't count as talking

He's still trying to grasp the fact that you WANTED to be his friend

Doesn't fully trust you at first

But with VEGA's encouragement and your persistence, he'll eventually come around

And when he does, oh boy is he a nerd and a dork

He would let you read his comics, play video games with him, make jokes, etc

Just like any normal friendship

The big guy hasn't had a normal friendship in a LOOOONNGGG time

He forgot the feeling of having a friend that isn't a robot

Would definitely become much more chatty when you're around

If you manage to gain and maintain a friendship with this guy, you are one lucky person

The crush stage

He either wouldn't realize it at first, deny it, or both

VEGA is the one to inform him of this

"Sir, your serotonin and heartbeat has increased. Are you alright?"

Oh god, it increased when you and him were in the same room

He'd definitely deny it and brush it off like it was nothing

But it would linger in the back of his mind

Whenever you come into the room, his cheeks would flush and he would sit up straighter

Would stutter and trip over his words a bit when he's talking to you

Becomes a fidgety mess

VEGA soon realizes what's going on

"Sir, do you like Y/N?"

S i l e n c e and realization

"...Sir?"

Whenever you're with him on missions, he would try to show off as much as possible

Oh, was this an opportunity to flex on his muscles and great killing skills? Would 100% take it

Confession time

The day he confesses to you, it's obviously with VEGA's help

Doomguy brought you to the big window that showed the stars (or something idk I forgot what the doom fortress looked like)

His hands were shaking and he was a nervous mess

He didn't want to screw this up

But he took in a deep breath and told you about how he felt

He told you about the first time he realized he had a crush on you, how you would make his face flush, make his heart race, and keep him up at night

After a few more words being said and asking you to go out with him, his breathing became a bit heavy and uneven, more nervous than ever

The wait for your answer was dreadful

If you reject him

It was painful even though he'd done his best to prepare himself for the worst

Of course, he won't lash out on you or anything like that

He'll respect your answer and give a few apologies

But goddamn, the rejection still hurts

Please let his man down gently

It's been a long time since he felt like this

He thinks he ruined the friendship

After the rejected confession, he'll leave you alone for the whole day/night but not before giving another string of apologies

In the meantime, he'll try to distance himself from you while also try to make it seem like nothing was wrong

VEGA would be there to comfort him

Slowly but surely, he'll get back up on his feet

Your friendship with him will still mostly be intact but not completely the same as before

Maybe he should've just kept his mouth shut

If you accept him

Was not expecting that at all

He was expecting you to reject him and for the friendship to go downhill

He would need a few reassurances

"Are you sure?"

"This isn't a joke, right?"

"Are you really, REALLY sure?"

After all of that, he will be the happiest demon slaying man in the universe

Finally, something went right in his hell-ish life after so long

Would definitely pick you up by the waist and twirl you around before giving you a big bear hug

He MIGHT cry out of joy

He was so so so happy

"Thank you."

What your relationship would be like

He's no longer as nervous as before in his crush stage

Sure, during the beginning of the relationship he's sometimes a bit nervous that he might do something wrong

But overall, it's just an overwhelming sense of euphoria

Flirting with you during missions? Hell yeah

Although he wouldn't really know how to flirt, he'll still try

"You looked really cute when you ripped out that cacodemon's eye"

"NOW'S NOT THE TIME– THERE'S A PINKY TO YOUR LEFT"

Cuddles after a mission? Yes please!

He wants to be the big spoon but once he falls asleep, there's no escaping his thicc arms

If you two were to sleep together, he'll probably roll over on you and crush you with his big body

VEGA has to wake him up so you can breathe again

You two become the best demon fighting duo there is

Although if you get hurt during a mission, he will absolutely become 200% more protective of you

He finally has someone that can tolerate his death stench and there's no way he's going to lose you that easily. No way in hell at all

Such a worried boy during your health check ups with VEGA

"Is she going to die? Did she get an infection? How much blood did she lose?"

"Sir, she's fine. Just a minor cut on the abdomen– uh, where are you going?"

"Going to kill all the demons."

As if he doesn't do that already lol

#doom eternal #doom slayer #doom 2016 #doomguy #doomguy x reader #vega doom #headcanons #x reader #sorry this is bad i got lazy lol #i have a simping problem #doom slayer x reader

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besanii · 4 years

Note

12 for shattered mirrors? :)

12. a hoarse whisper “kiss me”

Shattered Mirrors 59

[directly follows #19]

Their presence at the festival inevitably turns heads.

It is unsurprising, given Wei Wuxian’s famously reclusive nature and the astronomical price tag attached to his company, not to mention the abundance of rumours surrounding him since his arrival in Gusu over a year ago. To see him accompanying their very own Lan Wangji, Gusu’s most eligible, most powerful and wealthiest bachelor, who has never demonstrated any prior interest in romance or marriage, is reason enough to set tongues wagging.

They walk side-by-side along the river, the lantern swaying from its handle in Wei Wuxian’s hands emitting a soft orange glow in the darkening night. The streets are growing busier as the night sets in, the fading sunlight replaced with candles and lanterns like fireflies rising from the water’s edge. There is music in the distance where local troupes have erected makeshift stages for the night’s festivities, and many delicious aromas fill the air the further along the path they walk.

Two laughing children run past on their way to a stall selling lanterns, brushing against Wei Wuxian on their way. He stumbles sideways with a small gasp, and a hand is there at his elbow and on his shoulder to steady him. The children continue on their way without realising.

“Are you alright?” Lan Wangji asks gently, brow furrowed with concern. “They did not hurt you?”

Wei Wuxian shakes his head with a smile.

“I’m fine, Wangye, no need to worry,” he assures him. “Children are boisterous by nature. It’s to be expected.”

He goes to step out of the protective circle of Lan Wangji’s arms, but the hand at his elbow tightens imperceptibly, just enough to still his retreat. When he looks up, Lan Wangji is regarding him with a soft, open expression, his lips slightly parted as his eyes check him over for injuries. Heat rises along the back of his neck under the scrutiny, keenly aware of the curious looks they are receiving from passersby.

“Wangye,” he murmurs. “We are in public.”

His reminder is thankfully heeded and Lan Wangji lowers his hands back to his sides, the tips of his ears pink. Wei Wuxian inclines his head and steps back to put a more respectable distance between them, his fingers fiddling restlessly with the handle of the lantern.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji starts, then falters, uncertain. At a quirk of Wei Wuxian’s eyebrow, he clears his throat. ”Thank you for accompanying me tonight.”

Wei Wuxian laughs softly, teasingly.

“It is an honour to be in Wangye’s company,” he says. “Xian-er should be the one to thank Wangye for allowing me to accompany you.”

Lan Wangji exhales heavily through his nose, pained.

“You know that is not what I meant,” he says. “And dispense with the formalities. There is no need for any of that between us. Not anymore.”

“On the contrary, Wangye,” Wei Wuxian says, turning away to look down at the length of the street they had yet to walk, “the differences between us are still very much akin to Heaven and Earth. I would not dare to presume familiarity with Wangye, especially not in public, where our every action is scrutinised.”

He knows Lan Wangji can see the sense of his words when he sighs—a tiny, displeased little sound that would be almost petulant on anyone else—and turns in the direction Wei Wuxian is facing. The sun is almost completely set now and the festival in full swing; the street before them is crowded with revellers, mingling in front of stalls, leaning over the water’s edge to talk to vendors along the river, running and bumping into each other on their way. There is scarcely any room to move without being swept up in the throng.

A younger Wei Wuxian would not have hesitated to jump right into the thick of things, darting from stall to stall, trying every dish from every vendor, laughing and shouting and celebrating to his heart’s content. Now he stands quietly at Lan Wangji’s side, a wistful smile playing on his lips, and makes no move to go.

“It’s gotten quite busy,” he comments, voice light. Lan Wangji hums in assent.

“Perhaps you would like to go somewhere quieter?” he suggests. “I hear the new braised lamb at Fan Tower is excellent fare on a cold night.”

The suggestion is met with a surprised laugh.

“Wangye would eat the braised lamb at Fan Tower?” Wei Wuxian asks. “I thought Wangye usually ate vegetarian.”

Lan Wangji glances at him out of the corner of his eye, lips twitching upward.

“Usually,” he concedes with a slight inclination of his head. “But I have been known to partake in meat on occasion.” He gestures to his right with one arm. “Shall we?”

Wei Wuxian laughs and dips his knee. “Please, lead on Wangye.”

Fan Tower is one of the busiest and most renowned restaurants in all of Caiyi where common folk would usually be hard-pressed to find a table without booking months in advanced. In his youth, Wei Wuxian had liked to come here for their wine—the highest quality Emperor’s Smile in all of Gusu—and had made friends with the owners of the establishment so as to never have to worry about finding a table. Since his return, however, he had not been back.

The appearance of Lan Wangji at the entrance sends management into a frenzy of greetings and preparations, and they are ushered into a private room upstairs within minutes. They greet Wei Wuxian politely, but the hospitality holds none of the exuberance that it had for Lan Wangji. Not that Wei Wuxian had expected any less, but the difference does not sit well with his companion.

“It really isn’t anything to worry about, Wangye,” Wei Wuxian assures him. “I am a stranger, after all, and one with a reputation. Wangye, on the other hand, is the esteemed Hanguang-wang, the younger brother to the Emperor, our stations in life are vastly different—they are only responding as is proper.”

As the waiter leaves, he pours them both a cup of tea. It is the finest biluochun of the season, no doubt in recognition of Lan Wangji’s preference for green teas, and he takes a deep breath to savour the fruity, floral aroma with a smile. He catches Lan Wangji watching him as he does, and raises one eyebrow in question. Lan Wangji shakes his head minutely, embarrassed.

“I did not mean to stare,” he says. “But I noticed that you no longer drink wine, even though it is in abundance.”

Ah. Wei Wuxian sets the cup back on the table, his smile slipping.

“I’m afraid my body no longer tolerates alcohol the way it used to in my youth,” he says with a weak chuckle. “I get the most dreadful headaches when I do indulge myself in it, it really isn’t fair.”

But his attempt to lighten the mood only serves to deepen Lan Wangji’s frown, so he changes the topic instead. He reaches for the lantern that has been set on the table beside him, running his fingers over the two rabbits.

“The style looks familiar,” he says. “Did you paint this yourself, Wangye?”

Lan Wangji doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t need to—the glow of his ears gives the answer away. A warm tenderness unfurls deep within his chest at the thought of Lan Wangji bent over his desk, painting these rabbits and assembling the lantern piece by piece, as they had once done many years ago. So consumed by his own reminiscing, he starts when a large, warm hand wraps around his on the table, drawing his attention back to Lan Wangji beside him.

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji’s eyes, usually the colour of rich honey, turns molten gold in the candlelight, sending shivers down Wei Wuxian’s spine. “About my offer, the other day—”

For a moment, Wei Wuxian is half-afraid Lan Wangji will say he has changed his mind, that his offer of protection, of freedom, of home has been rescinded. He would not blame him if he did; after all, he had been most cruel in his initial rejection, had pushed him away over and over again despite his earnestness and sincerity. The memory of his actions, his words, has shame welling up in the back of his throat, thick and choking, and he has to turn away in order to breathe. He does not deserve forgiveness, even if Lan Wangji is willing to give it, does not deserve his kindness, nor his pity—

He starts to withdraw his hand, swallowing past the lump in his throat as he does, but Lan Wangji holds him fast.

“Wei Ying—”

“Wangye,” he says, struggling feebly against his grip. “You have been nothing but kind, generous and good, and Xian-er is most grateful for your patronage. You have no obligation to—”

“No. Wei Ying, listen to me.” Lan Wangji pulls him close, the hand not holding onto his coming up to rest, trembling, on the side of his face. “I have no intention of taking back what I said. The offer stands, will stand for as long as it takes for you to accept.”

“Lan Zhan…” the name falls from his lips on a shuddering breath. “I will bring you nothing but shame and ridicule—associating with me is a stain upon your honour—I don’t want to drag you down—”

A thumb slides across his jaw to press against his lips, silencing him.

“You will bring me nothing but joy and love,” Lan Wangji tells him, eyes bright with unshed tears. The sight of them sends tremors through Wei Wuxian’s skin and heat prickling int he corners of his eyes. “And I want nothing more than to do the same for you. Anything you want, Wei Ying. Ask it of me, and I will give it to you.”

Wei Wuxian closes his eyes and sags with relief, laughing under his breath at his own foolishness. How could he doubt Lan Wangji, when all he has ever been is steadfast and true despite Wei Wuxian’s repeated attempts to make him see otherwise? He turns his head to brush his lips against the palm of Lan Wangji’s hand, smiling as he feels the muscles twitch beneath his touch.

“Lan Zhan,” he murmurs, his heart full to bursting. He opens his eyes as Lan Wangji inhales sharply, meeting his eyes with a heated gaze of his own. “Kiss me.”

Lan Wangji does not need to be told twice, leaning forwards with a muted sound at the back of his throat—his lips tremble, breath stutters against his, damp and salty with tears. But as Wei Wuxian surrenders himself into Lan Wangji’s arms, he knows he would not have it any other way.

ko-fi link and master post on my sidebar :)

#la-belle-et-la-bete #asks #mdzs #wangxian #shattered mirrors au #shattered mirrors fic #wei wuxian #lan wangji #王爷机 X 花魁羡 #courtesan!wwx #prince!lwj #kiss prompt #my writing

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in-tua-deep · 4 years

Note

Daemon AU? Yes PLEASE!

I will give u the pre-canon material exploring Five and his daemon’s relationship ;3c

---

Pancha prefers small forms. Five never knows for certain why, and when he asks her she just tilts her head and shrugs at him because she doesn’t know what to say, either.

She likes being a hummingbird, flitting around Five’s head and hovering in front of his face before nesting in his hair. She likes being a mouse, scurrying up Five’s arm and tucking herself into the pocket on the front of his blazer. She likes being a rabbit, feet thumping against the floor as she zoomed around the room at top speed.

Five never knows, or maybe just never vocalizes why the representation of his soul prefers to be small.

But when Reginald Hargreeves gives him scathing performance reviews, his cane clicking against the floor in time with the soft clicking of Aryia’s claws as they look down their noses, as Five stands with his back straight and proud while -

While Pancha curls up tight in his pocket, a mouse biting the end of her own tail so that she would not whimper aloud. They know then, even if they never voice it aloud. The reason that Pancha prefers to stay small.

---

The thing that people learn early is to watch daemons. Not directly, that would be rude, but to keep them in the corner of your eye and observe. Daemons are the representation of a person’s soul after all, and souls can’t lie.

If someone is nervous, their daemon will shuffle anxiously. If someone is angry, their daemon will puff up in fury. When someone is scared, their daemon will cringe and cower. It’s easy to spot a liar in a world where the heart lays outside of the body.

Five’s very good at lying with his own body. He stands up straight and proud. He bares his teeth in furious smiles, licking blood from his lips and refusing to back down. He speaks loudly, with purpose, with challenge in his voice and in his words. Five is hard-headed. Five is disobedient. Five is an unruly little monster.

Pancha shifts into a hummingbird, because everyone knows hummingbirds flit around to keep aloft. It doesn’t look like nervous energy when it’s for a purpose. Pancha shifts into an australian tiger beetle, because they don’t have lips to draw back in wordless snarls. Pancha shifts into a gerbil and hides in Five’s pockets, because what you don’t see cannot betray you.

They call her adaptable, laugh when their siblings’ daemons begin to settle. They tolerate the speculation about who is going to settle next and what they will become.

They both dread the day Pancha will settle, even if they don’t say anything to one another. They don’t address the fact that she changes from one form to another, cycling through dozens within the space of a day even though their siblings stick to perhaps three. They don’t talk about the buzz under their skin that drives Pancha racing around their room at top speed until they crash on the bed panting together with something clawing desperately inside their soul.

They don’t talk about a lot of things, but they don’t need to. They’re two halves of the same whole.

---

Luther snaps at Five for cheating, for running ahead on a mission. They’re twelve, and Andromeda looks down on Pancha with something cold in her eyes and says, “Of course they can’t obey. They’re still unsettled.”

She says it like an insult, lip drawing back to show off too sharp teeth, says it like it’s something for Five to be ashamed of. Says it like what she’s really saying is that Five is a child. Like they aren’t all twelve-years-old and just settling into their own skins.

She says it like it’s Five’s fault that Pancha can flit through forms like she can’t shed them fast enough. Even as Andromeda speaks, Pancha is a bat, is a wren, is landing on Five’s shoulder as a sugar glider, is curling around his neck as a ferret.

She says it like it’s his fault that he’s twelve-years-old and his daemon is unsettled. Like half the twelve-year-olds running around aren’t doing so with daemons just as unsettled as his.

(Five read once, in a book, that trauma can make daemons settle earlier. There are so many cases of children as young as nine, seven, six with daemons tiny and scared and permanent.

The same book mentioned that abused children’s daemons often fell into one of two categories: large predators, to protect themselves and bare their teeth and intimidate any who try and hurt them. And the small ones, who are tiny and scared and do their best to be beneath notice.

Luther and Diego’s daemons are large, with teeth that can tear flesh and muscles beneath their skin.

Pancha likes to take small forms. Five doesn’t think about it too much.)

Five curls his lip and snarls back at Andromeda in a way that he never does when they’re in front of cameras, because etiquette says that people don’t talk to other people’s daemons, “If you weren’t so slow then maybe I wouldn’t have had to go in alone.”

Pancha shifts from a ferret to a squirrel to a kangaroo rat. The others are used to her rapid changes, but they also mean that they can’t pin down Five’s mood based on his daemon’s body language. She’s shifting too rapidly for that, clawing down his jacket as a hispid cotton mouse and settling into his arms as a pika, as a pygmy rabbit, as a stoat.

“Maybe I should hear a rumor about everyone calming down.” Allison threatens, her hands on her hips and tapping her foot impatiently. Amraphel is wrapped around her shoulders like a scarf, lazily flicking his tongue out.

(Allison has been of ill temper and short of patience ever since Raph settled a month ago. The whole house had heard her shouting about it, and none had dared to address it when they came down to dinner with Raph draped over the back of the chair instead of his customary place in Allison’s lap.

Raph and Allison haven’t sat properly together since he settled, and no one talks about it.)

But Allison’s words settle Andromeda and Luther, both of them backing up in a way they wouldn’t for any other sibling.

Pancha is a bush baby now, climbing up to Five’s shoulder and tugging lightly on the hair behind his ear.

Five holds his hands behind his back and twists his fingers together to the point of pain.

“No need for that.” Pancha says, voice clear and level and almost haughty. “They’re only jealous they can’t be as adaptable as us.”

Luther snarls and lunges forward, only to be blocked by a bristling Andromeda. “They’re not worth it.” She growls, low and deep in her chest with flashes of white teeth. Luther and his daemon try so hard to be respectable, to be cool and aloof like their father and his daemon. It’s almost sad, really.

Pancha is a manipur bush rat, scurrying to Five’s other shoulder. Five untwists his hands from behind his back and reaches up to grab her when she shifts into a black jackrabbit.

“Have you looked in a mirror lately?” Five says, with all his twelve-year-old wit, “Your face isn’t worth it.”

The black eye he sports for three weeks is, in fact, worth it.

---

Pancha is the last one left unsettled. It shouldn’t bother them, they don’t even really want Pancha to settle, but it does in some terrible inexplicable way.

Pancha flits between forms, and none of them feel right.

“We’re obviously going to be something that can jump properly.” Five muses, tapping a pencil against a little black notebook as he thinks. “You said the kangaroo mouse didn’t feel right?”

“Nothing will feel right until the moment we settle.” Pancha points out, flicking the tail of her current ginger-tabby-cat form back and forth, “Val was definitely a wolf a few times before she settled.”

“Yeah, well, I’m like 90% sure Val settled out of pure competitive spirit.” Five dismisses rolling his eyes.

Valencia had settled two hours before Andromeda had, and has lorded it over the other daemon ever since. Diego still preens about how he was the first of the siblings to settle before even Luther.

(Five kind of wants to tell them both that Tamaya settled a week before Valencia and Andromeda both. No one noticed because Ben hadn’t brought it up, and Tamaya had always favored hiding to confrontation. Instead, Tamaya ‘officially’ settled around three days after their siblings.)

“I’m probably not going to be a big animal.” Pancha says, her claws pricking into his skin through his pajama top as she leans against his shoulder to peer at his list. “You can cross kangaroo off.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t be sure?” Five says, eyebrow raised.

Pancha just stares at him blankly. He stares back. Pancha shifts into a Florida king snake.

“Not having eyelids is cheating.” Five scowls, crossing his arms.

Pancha easily swaps into a possum, shaking out her fur. “It wasn’t cheating, it was adapting.” She tosses his words back in his face, “Besides. You thought I could be a kangaroo.”

Five grudgingly crosses an entry out. “Well why are you a possum now?”

Pancha shrugs as well as she can as a possum. “Dunno. It’s a marsupial or whatever, isn’t it? Besides, I’m sort of digging the fingerless gloves aesthetic.” She offers a foot out for Five to inspect.

“You look like you just climbed out of a trash can.” Five informs her.

“No, that was last night.” Pancha shoots back, shifting into a pine marten to crawl into Five’s lap and bat at his notebook. He just holds the notebook a little bit higher, making her huff in irritation.

“Dad really needs to feed us more.”

Pancha nuzzles against Five’s stomach as comfortingly as she can, even though she can feel the slight pang of hunger gnawing at her belly as well as he can. Their power takes so much out of them sometimes, it’s difficult to justify taking more to a man who sees them as an experiment instead of a person.

“I could turn into a tiger and eat Aryia.” Pancha offers, shifting into an otter and making another grab for the notebook that Five easily avoids.

“You don’t like taking big forms.” Five dismisses easily, as though it’s nothing. As though it isn’t something they don’t discuss between them.

Pancha is silent for a few minutes, and even Five stops scribbling away as he waits for her response.

Finally she says, very carefully, “Just because I don’t like to, doesn’t mean I can’t.”

They both are silent after that, Five lowering his arms to curl around Pancha’s latest form in something just a little bit too loose to call a hug.

“It’s safer.” Pancha whispers, breaking the silence between them, “I don’t know why, but it’s safer this way. Smaller daemons - they aren’t looked at as closely. When a tiger daemon bristles, people pay attention. When a mouse daemon bristles, no one even notices.”

“Is my soul really mouse shaped?” Five huffs a laugh, but they both know that he wouldn’t be disappointed in her being a mouse so much as he would her being trapped a mouse.

Pancha nudges at his chin with her broad muscular head, “Hey, don’t knock mice. They’re survivors. Practically anywhere you go, you’ll find mice. Inside, outside, they know how to get around.”

Five hums, dropping his notebook on the bed and bringing his hands up to run them through Pancha’s fur.

“Maybe we should be something with a beak.” Pancha whispers, knowing that Five will hear her no matter how softly she speaks. “No one bothers to look at bird daemon expressions, either.”

“Maybe you’ll be a swan, able to break someone’s arm and look pretty while doing it.”

Pancha snorts, “Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you. Vicious representation of our soul, that.”

Instead of saying anything more, Pancha shifts from an otter into a meerkat. She curls into a tight little ball in Five’s lap.

“Not this one either, then?” Five says with a smile.

“Shut up.” Is Pancha’s intelligent response. “Next time you ask, I’m going to bite you.”

---

The moment they figure out what they can, theoretically, do, the buzzing under their skins gets louder than ever.

“Ask dad again, please.” Pancha begs, shifting from a budgie to a canary to a superb fairy wren as she flits about close to the ceiling of their room.

“You ask Aryia!” Five shoots back, bouncing lightly on the top of his bed even though it’s sort of childish. If anyone comes in though, he’ll just say he was trying to catch Pancha and they’d probably believe it.

Pancha turns into a magpie and immediately tries to divebomb Five in irritation, who stands there unimpressed and she’s forced to veer back towards the ceiling or crash into him. “You know she’s a mythic bitch!”

“And you think dad isn’t?” Five asks incredulously, bouncing a little more frantically.

“You don’t get lectures on how you’re -” Pancha flies to the floor and shifts into an impressive rendition of a marble fox identical to their father’s daemon, “Still unsettled Pancha, honestly, I expected better of you. Why can’t you be like the others, you’re so unruly and disheveled and I have no idea why dear old Reggie didn’t do away with you long ago -”

Five is cackling, his bouncing having come to a stop so he could slap a hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter at Pancha’s, frankly, spot on impression of their father’s daemon.

Pancha grins, shifting from a fox into a jack russell terrier and jumping on the bed with Five. “Spot on, wasn’t I?”

“Absolutely impeccable.” Five manages, sticking his nose haughtily in the air, “Why, I almost thought our dearest Aryia was in the room with us!”

Pancha nips at his heels, making him flop down onto the bed with her automatically. The shift in weight and position makes them both bounce a few times before they settle down. They’re still buzzing with energy though, even sitting still.

“I bet time travel would fix us.” Pancha says finally, voice strangely serious in the face of their previous jostling and cheer.

“We aren’t broken.” Five says equally seriously, watching as Pancha shifts into a grey collared chipmunk, then a harvest mouse, and then an antelope jackrabbit. She uses that form’s legs to launch herself from the bed to the desk across the room and back again.

“There’s something wrong with us, Five.” Pancha corrects him fiercely, clawing up his arm as a pallid bat to his shoulder. “The others weren’t like this. We’re thirteen, now. Statistically, we should have settled by now. Or - or slowed down at least.”

Now she’s a margay, precariously balanced on his shoulder with her tail whipping into his face. Five brings up a hand to gently grasp at the twitching appendage, “The average is twelve to fourteen, technically.” He corrects her gently, “We practically just turned thirteen, we have time.”

Pancha hisses, hopping down off his shoulders in the form of a mongoose. “If we just - we have to try, Five. Can’t you feel it?”

Five bops her gently over the head, half scolding. “Of course I can, I’m you aren’t I?”

The buzz under their skin gets stronger by the day, and Pancha hasn’t been able to hold a form for longer than five or ten minutes in almost a year. It takes more effort not to jump than it does to actually jump, these days. Pancha shifts into a brush rabbit and levels him with an unimpressed look.

Five heaves a sigh, foot bouncing against the floorboards as though Pancha has transferred her nervous energy to him. “You know what dad’s gonna say, anyway.” He brings a hand to his chest and put on a nasally fancy tone, “Maybe we can revisit this topic when you’ve matured a bit, Number Five.”

Pancha gnashes her teeth together as a beaver. “You know what that’s code for.”

Five’s look is just as bitter as his daemon’s tone. He does know. Everyone knows. It’s a whole thing - people have weird ideas about what it means to settle. That it means, in some weird way, that it’s a transition into adulthood and responsibility.

How many hospital dramas and detective shows make it a point to draw attention to a child actor’s shifting daemon? How many true crime shows have grieving parents wailing about how the daughter or son wasn’t even settled yet, as though it might have been less of a tragedy if the kid’s daemon had been permanently stuck as a woodchuck. How many courtroom dramas have dismissed eyewitness testimony on the basis of the kid isn’t even settled yet.

Five and Pancha thinks it’s stupid, the emphasis put on settling. Thinks it’s dumb that he’s somehow considered less mature than a nine-year-old with a settled hedgehog daemon, even though he’s thirteen. But his age doesn’t matter. Just his daemon’s settled status.

“What if time travel fixes us.” Pancha proposes again, fluttering over to the desk in the form of a cardinal. “What if it helps. What if it’s what we need to - ”

Settle, she doesn’t say. Because to settle is to know yourself, and they don’t even know they extent of their powers.

Five shakes his hands out, blue sparks flying down his wrists as he does so. Anything to try and get the buzz out from under his skin.

“I’ll ask dad again tomorrow.” Five says finally, “And if he says no - ”

“Then we do it anyway.” Pancha is a coyote, lips pulled back in a wordless snarl before blue lightning runs down her form and she’s suddenly pressed against Five’s side.

“Then we do it anyway.” Five confirms, grim.

---

Time travel does not fix them.

Time travel breaks them.

They stand in the rubble of the end of the world, howling for their family with something that tastes like desperation on their lips, and no one answers. Dust swirls across the ground, glittering and gruesome as the smoke chokes the air from their lungs.

They claw through ruin until they find what they’re looking for, until Five shoves a piece of debris off of a face that belongs to a wrist with a black umbrella inked upon it, dark and final.

He finds Luther. He finds Allison, finds Diego, finds Klaus. He does not find their daemons.

Pancha is a falcon, is a racoon, is a wolf howling desperately into the crackling air, hoping, praying for an answer. But the only thing they hear are the quiet roar and crackles of the fires and their own footfalls.

It’s eerily quiet, at the end of the world. There’s no movie soundtrack, or screams, or howling winds. It’s just the pops of distant fires and the sound of rock across rock as their feet dislodge pieces of the wreckage.

“We can fix this.” Five says feverishly, “We have to go back.”

“It’s not working.” Pancha grits her teeth, pushing and pushing and pushing against the wall of their powers. It’s about as useful as trying to break down a brick wall with her shoulder.

“We’ll make it work.” Five vows, “We’ll go back. We’ll save them all.”

Pancha nods, equally grim and equally serious.

“What we need,” Pancha says slowly, sounding out each word. She has Five’s full attention on her, “Is an equation.”

Math isn’t something they technically need anymore. It’s a crutch from their younger days, something that soothes them and calms them and helps them focus. They can jump without it, their brain doing most equations automatically.

But when they’d first been figuring out their limits on distance, when they’d first figured out the differences between jumping in water and jumping in air - they’d used math. When they were figuring out time travel was possible, they’d looked at the math.

“Okay.” Five says, breathy and small and scared, “Okay.”

---

They don’t figure out until a week in that the buzzing under their skin is - not gone, but lesser somehow.

In their defense, they have a lot bigger things to worry about.

Five is scooping cold spaghetti-o’s directly into his mouth with a spoon he’d buffed against his shirt when he finally looks at Pancha and realizes that she’s been a barbary macaque for… hours now. She has a box of children’s sidewalk chalk by her side and is concentrating fiercely on writing while Five takes a break.

“Pancha - ” Five starts, and then finds himself at a loss for words when she looks up at him.

“Hmm?” She asks absently, little monkey face still scrunched up in concentration. Five can’t help but wonder when the last time Pancha stayed in one form long enough for him to pick up proper expressions from her face.

“...Never mind.” Five says, and watches Pancha turn back to her work.

They have more important things to worry about now anyway.

---

“This is a bad idea.” Pancha informs him, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth as she pants in the scorching heat. She’s a dingo today, has started experimenting with bigger and bigger forms.

(Five is seventeen-years-old. She still hasn’t settled.)

“We’re literally starving to death, Pan.” Five says dryly gripping bright packaging between thumb and forefinger like he would prefer not to be touching it himself, thanks. “Look, I definitely remember something about these things never going off.”

“That doesn’t sound right.” Pancha frowns, “But then again, I don’t know enough about twinkies to dispute it.”

They both look at the innocent little treat that Five has managed to unearth from inside of what looks like it used to be a child’s backpack. They don’t think about the child the backpack might have belonged to.

“Don’t those things have like, cream in them or something?” Pancha asks doubtfully, leaning forward to sniff the treat suspiciously, “Pretty sure anything with dairy in it went off like, years ago.”

“They’re like, 90% preservatives probably.” Five says, bringing it closer to his face so he can sniff it as well. “What do you think?”

“I think this is a terrible idea.” Pancha shrugs, which looks strange with a Dingo’s shoulders, “But then again, we are starving to death. Not sure we can afford to be picky.”

“We also can’t really afford to be sick.” Five points out sensibly.

They both take another pause to consider the twinkie.

“We’re so going to regret this.” Pancha sighs, laying down and putting her head on her paws. “But hey, if we die, we die.”

“We’re not going to die.” Five scolds her, peeling open the twinkie finally and giving it a distrustful look, “We totally aren’t going to regret this. Power of positive thinking, right?”

They absolutely regret it.

They don’t die, though.

---

The bright side of Pancha being unsettled is that she’s actually very useful in the apocalypse. She can take on the form of an elephant, acting as a one-daemon construction crew to clear out debris when they need a place to stay. She can run through the rubble as a mouse, squeezing through cracks in search of anything useful.

She takes the form of a chameleon, snagging insects from the air and offering them to Five when his skin starts looks paper thin and his ribs stick out prominently.

Pancha lays in the body of a tiger, curled around her human to protect him from the cold nip of the night air. The weather is turning, and soon enough there will probably be snow on the ground.

“We’re twenty-one this year.” Pancha says quietly.

Five hums, fingers twisted into her fur. “Five more years and then we’ll have officially been here longer than we were there.”

“Doesn’t matter how long it takes us.” Pancha says, squeezing her paws around his shoulders in warning, “We’re going to get back to them.”

Neither of them are sure they really believe it anymore, but oh how they want to.

They let the silence sit for a while between them before Five speaks up with a snort, “Not this one then?”

The question is almost an old joke at this point. Thirteen was a late bloomer. Sixteen was maybe-we-should-get-you-checked-out territory. Twenty-one was practically unheard of.

Pancha gives him a punishing lick with her sandpaper tongue over his forehead, making Five squawk with outrage. “Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to, idiot.”

“You know, calling me an idiot is really only calling yourself an idiot.” Five bites back, but they both know he’s not really offended. If he was, he wouldn’t still be cuddled into Pancha’s fur. Even their arguments are performative these days.

“I can call you scruffy without offending myself, I suppose.” Pancha says dryly, “What is wrong with your face.”

“If you can find a good razor kit in the apocalypse then be my guest.” Five says grumpily, but he ruins it by nuzzling his face into Pancha’s chest fur making her huff with laughter.

Pancha squishes him closer, mindful of her big paws and powerful muscles. But even in this form - her hip bones are too prominent and her ribs can easily be felt through her fur. They’ll go out scavenging again tomorrow, but for tonight they can just… lay here. Bask in one another’s company.

“Stop thinking so much.” Five draws his head back a little to sleepily scold his daemon, “You’re going to keep us both up.”

“Shut up then.” Pancha shoots back.

“Night, Pancha.” Five’s words are muffled against her fur, but she hears him loud and clear.

“Night, Five.” Pancha says softly.

---

Pancha hops tentatively through the first snow of the season, her white fur blending in well. “Five,” She says, not sure how she’s planning on following up.

“I know.” Five says quietly, reaching down to pick her up. She rubs her face under his chin comfortingly, feeling the scratch of his beard across her fur. “Happy birthday to us, I guess.”

“Twenty-six.” Pancha whispers.

“It was - it was 2019, right?” Five asks suddenly, “When the apocalypse happened?”

“April 1st, 2019.” Pancha confirms solemnly.

Five hums. “They’d have been, what, thirty?”

“It was still April.” Pancha corrects, shaking her head gently, “Our birthday is in October. They’d have still been twenty-nine.”

Five is very quiet for a long time, and Pancha keeps her own silence as they trudge through the wasteland. They’ve been doing a little better food-wise recently. They’ve discovered that while Five doesn’t get much out of Pancha eating, they get something out of it. She’s taken to wearing herbivorous forms and munching on grass and other plantlife where she can. The coming winter may make that trickier, though.

“If we go back before we hit thirty, we’d be about the same age.” Five says finally.

Pancha hums in agreement.

“But - ” Five hesitates, “We have to go back to, to before Ben dies, right?”

“They were what, sixteen?” Pancha taps at Five’s chest in a request to be put down, which he readily complies with. “Maybe we could get them out. Be the responsible adult.”

Five snorts, “Adopt our siblings?”

Pancha grins, “Hey, don’t tell me you wouldn’t enjoy the hell out of bossing Luther and Andromeda around.”

“We’ll see who’s the kid then.” Five chuckles before they both fall silent.

After all, Luther’s entire thing about Five being a brat was because - well. Pancha silently shifts into a husky with thick fur, coming over to nudge at Five’s leg as they walk side by side.

“We never really talked about what we’d do about - about me once we get back.” Pancha says carefully, warily.

They don’t need to change like they used to. Don’t shift between forms with the blink of an eye. They’re more solid now, Pancha tends to take a form for hours or entire days now unless she finds another form more useful to their current situation.

But they aren’t settled.

Five offers her a strained smile, “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“Maybe if we get back, it’ll fix us.” Pancha offers, but her voice is soft and a little bit wistful. She doesn’t believe what she’s saying any more than Five does. They already travelled down that road before, and look where it got them.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” Five repeats firmly, before his face softens a little bit, “Happy birthday, Pancha.”

“Happy birthday, Five.”

---

“Do you remember how old we are now?” Five whispers, his hair and his beard have gotten streaked with grey. Pancha’s not exactly a spring chicken herself anymore, allowing Five to card his fingers through the feathers in her wing and straighten them out.

“Too old.” Pancha complains, “What’s the point in keeping track anyway? It’s not like we know what day it is.”

“We should probably keep track in general.” Five sounds amused, “Gotta remember how far to go back after all.”

“Fuck it.” Pancha declares, nipping at Five’s fingers when he’s a tad rough with a tender spot, “Just overshoot. Either we’ll pop out when the family are babies, and we can just steal everyone, or we don’t and bam we’re right on track.”

“You’re suddenly finding a motherly bone in your body, somewhere?” Five removes his hands from her wings to brush them off on his pants. Pancha gives them an experimental flap or two. “I, for one, could not be paid enough to deal with a baby Diego. Can you imagine?”

“He’d have fantastic aim when he’d throw his toys at you.” Pancha snickers.

“Can you imagine baby Allison?” Five demands, and they look at each other for a heartbeat before they both break down into laughter.

“Oh my god,” Pancha gasps, burying her face into her own wing, “Can you imagine what she’d rumor? Everyday would be Disney world day and she would be the prettiest princess of all.”

“Ruling the world with an iron fist and a sparkly tiara.” Five manages to get out, his own face buried in his hands as he wheezes.

“Klaus would be right next to her, tiara and all.”

“Fuck you’re right.” Five laughs, a deep belly laugh they neither of them hear very much these days, “There would be so much glitter.”

That statement makes Pancha dissolve into giggles again where she was just getting control of herself.

“If we ever get back, I’m going to buy both of them the sparkliest tiaras available. No, wait. Gonna buy the whole family a bunch of those little kid birthday tiaras, and never explain why.” Five declares, grinning, “They’d be so confused.”

“When.” Pancha corrects, and the mood suddenly turns serious. “When we get back.”

Five doesn’t apologize, doesn’t sputter or claim it was just an error of speech. He just inclines his head a little bit and says, “Right. When we get back.”

---

They’re old and broken and creaky and tired when their endless days of bouncing math off of each other and testing at the boundary of the blue that stays frustratingly solid to them changes.

Five’s hair is entirely grey now, and his beard is long and scraggly where he hasn’t taken a knife to it in a while.

Pancha is a european hare and she’s the one that first senses danger.

The thing about living in the apocalypse, is that it’s quiet. There’s no hum of electric lights. There’s no brawls between stray cats or dogs. There’s no squirrels or rats or mice scurrying around.

So when Pancha’s sensitive ears pick up the sound of footsteps she feels such an intense sense of - of something that it makes Five drop his chalk and swing around to look at her with alarm.

She’s glad her form today is swift, because she’s across their little ‘camp’ in seconds and in his arms, clawing her way up to his shoulder to press her mouth to his ear, “There’s something out there.” She whispers, somehow terrified and she doesn’t know why.

To his credit, Five doesn’t even hesitate despite the impossibility of her words. He scoops her under one arm and turns and picks up the gun (they don’t talk about why they have a gun) with the other. He turns around and points it at -

A woman. They both freeze like deer in headlights.

“Hello!” The woman calls, picking her way down the debris in high heeled shoes.

“Five.” Pancha swallows, making her human look at her, “Five, where’s her daemon.”

Five’s head whips back around, and they both stare. It’s entirely possible that the woman’s daemon is just small, just out of sight and out of mind. It’s even possible that she’s a witch, and her daemon is off gallivanting about.

But Pancha can feel a scream trapped behind her teeth, feel her ears go back as she fights the urge to run run run away from this terrifying woman who tastes of empty empty empty. Something is wrong.

She can see the way Five’s fingers tremble as the sense of wrong wrong wrong reverberates through their bond.

“Who the hell are you!” Five snarls out, and Pancha takes the opportunity to squirm and wriggle so that she’s balanced precariously on Five’s shoulder, freeing up his other hand to steady the gun.

“I’m here to help.” The woman says brightly, still picking her way towards them.

“Five.” Pancha whimpers, and as she feels her paws tremble she watches his hands go still and steady.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t just put a bullet through your head right now.” Five raises the gun further, but the woman doesn’t even hesitate.

“Because,” The woman says, smiling a carefree smile as she adjusts her hat and pulls her sunglasses from her face. “Then you wouldn’t hear the offer I’m about to make you.”

Five and Pancha are more tense than they’ve ever been before in their lives, and considering some of their childhood missions - that’s saying a lot.

“Which would be rather tragic given your…” The woman looks around and even though she doesn’t look disgusted the implication is there anyway which makes them both bristle, “...Current circumstances. I work for an organization called the Commission. We are tasked with the preservation of the time continuum through manipulation and removals.

“Why are you telling us this.” Five manages to grit out, never letting his gun drop.

The woman just looks at him like he’s a child and she’s disappointed he asked such an obvious question.

“I’ve come to offer you a job, Number Five.” She says simply.

They don’t miss the way she only offered the job to him, not to Pancha.

There’s a lot after that. The woman explains that she wants to hire him - them - to, to eliminate threats to time caused by humanity’s free will. She tells him that her organization has had their eye on him. That he has potential. That Five can retire with a pension plan for the low low price of his soul.

Well, he’s paraphrasing.

She at least allows him a moment of privacy to discuss things with his daemon, telling him that she will be back in an hour to pick him up and that he should take the time to gather what possessions he wishes to take with him. She seems awfully confident he will take her deal.

“She doesn’t have a daemon.” Pancha shudders against him, “She’s so empty inside. She scares me, Five.”

“I know.” Five says, smoothing his hands over her fur comfortingly, “But - Pan, the chance to get out. If they know how to properly time travel - ”

“Then we can finally get out of here.” Pancha says softly, longingly. “It’s been so long, Five.”

“I know.” He whispers.

“She wants us to kill for her.” Pancha tells him, “Removing the problems - she just wants us to become an assassin. She wants us to be a weapon.”

“Would we kill to get our siblings back?” Five asks, but it’s a rhetorical question. They both know that they’d probably let the world burn all over again if only it meant saving the people most important to them.

“We’d have food.” Pancha offers finally, “If it’s a job, we’ll have money. No more scavenging. We could focus more time on, on - you know.”

Five nods solemnly, “So, do we take the job?”

A shudder ripples through Pancha’s body, “What about me, Five?”

“What about you?” Five asks, brow furrowing.

“I’m not normal.” Pancha states tightly, watching Five’s face light up in comprehension. It’s been a long time since they discussed Pancha’s ability to shift. After so many years, it almost seems normal. “She’s already seen me as a hare. So do I just - pretend to be a hare?”

Five bites his lip, “Just until we figure out how to get back.”

They both know that’s not a real answer. They both have no idea what they’re going to do when they show up, old and decrepit and still unsettled.

“She can’t know.” Five says, because at least that much is certain. “She doesn’t have a daemon. She can’t know.”

Pancha sighs, but they both already know what their choice is going to be. “Okay. Okay let’s become assassins.”

---

They’re in a hotel room, and Pancha shifts a few times just to prove she can. She likes being a hare, but sometimes it just gets itchy. Wrong. Sometimes she needs wings, or fangs, or something.

She feels like she needs fangs a lot around the Handler. Or like she needs to be something small, like a mouse and curl up in Five’s pockets again to hide away. Usually she just hides behind Five and lets him deal with the woman, which is perhaps unfair of her but Five hasn’t protested yet.

(Actually, Pancha doesn’t speak to anybody. Not after the doctor and his capuchin daemon looked entirely scandalized when she addressed him instead of his daemon. Apparently missing out on socialization for an estimated forty-five years led to… some not so great manners.)

Five methodically cleans his gun as Pancha shifts from a lion to a gazelle to a pallas cat and back into a hare to jump onto the bed with him.

“Today?” She asks him.

He looks up at her and frowns, his hands pausing.

“Something feels different. More right.”

Five tilts his head a little bit in though and then nods. He’s been quiet, since they got back. When they’re alone together at least. The opposite of Pancha. Sometimes she wonders if they’re just switching off, the way they do when it comes to shows of emotion sometimes.

Pancha crawls into his lap, nudging at his hands until they put the gun aside and bury themselves in her fur.

“We’re going to save the world, Five.” She says, projecting as much confidence as she can into her voice, as much confidence as she can into him. “We’re going to save them all.”

Five’s hands tremble in her fur, and they both politely pretend that they don’t.

“You aren’t going to do this alone, because you have me. We’re a team.” She cranes her head back so she can offer him a smile, “Team Adaptable, right?”

“Right.” Five rasps out, touching the silver patches in her fur.

And then they get up, and move out. They’re on a mission now.

#daemon au #yeAH #long post #far tua long #i started writing it and then got super busy oops #but this probably would have been the first chapter #just establishing five and pancha as the main characters #and their whole relationship #and what it means that pancha is unsettled and why she hides it #there's a level of shame involved in a world that treats settled as matured #i'm 100% sure there are parties thrown when a kids daemon settles #like it's a BIG deal in this au #and they don't want to settle because they're so adaptable #but they also desperately want to fit in rip #the handler does not have a daemon and pancha is terrified of her #dolores is not super necessary in this au bc they have each other #i only have like six and a half more google doc pages written tbh #and they're not great bc writing the coming back was awkward #me: i struggle with juggling a lot of characters in a scene #daemon au: oh? double the amount of characters you said?#Anonymous

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