#in immense pain but the visions continue to plague me

[themratts]

doodlin’

#in immense pain but the visions continue to plague me #and to the anon who sent the request earlier: i have not forgotten! #im still considering your idea👀 i think it’s very adorable.. #but anyways yknow #the band ghost #ghost band #ghost #ghost bc #ghost fanart #ghost band art #ghost band fanart #papa emeritus #papa emeritus iv #papa iv #popia #cardi c #copia #alena #sister alena #copialena #fanart #ratt’s art

[sunandflame]

Flame and Water, Chapter 9

Ship & Trope: Kyojuro x Fem!Reader (Water Pillars Tsuguko) / Slowburn

Warnings: mention of trauma, death and anxiety

Word Count: 1308 Words

pinterest board of Flame and Water

Masterlist of Flame and Water

The smile on his lips never seemed to fade even as he looked at you with his intense eyes. But you couldn't hold his gaze for too long and looked at the floor. "I-" You struggled with the words; you just didn't know how to bring up this difficult subject that had stuck with you all your life. Especially since you'd done your best to avoid it. You hadn’t even had access to the memory until you met him. You found it difficult to breathe again and the nervousness that had plagued your first conversation was back.

Large, warm hands clasped yours and protected you from scratching the skin on the backs of your hands. You hadn’t even realized what you were doing before he stopped you. "L/N-san, it’s okay. Just don't forget to breathe." After knowing him and speaking so much with him it was unusual to hear him in such a normal volume, but he really tried to reassure you like the first time, and you immediately calmed down.

You did as he told you and took a few breaths before you let go of his hands, looking down on your knees. "I- I want to tell you a little bit about my past if that is okay... Maybe it will explain a lot of things for you."

Rengoku gave you an attentive nod for you to continue. To signal you that he won't interrupt you. You quarreled with yourself for a while before you finally started to speak.

"I grew up in a village that was very close to a river. My father was the fisher who everybody could rely on. A gentle and calm man who used to protect his loved ones with all his strength. My mother was as gentle as him and was always busy selling the fish my father caught. I always found it boring to stand at the market with my mother, so I always went with my father, though I was not really a big help. I much preferred jumping into the river and swimming with the fish. He always lovingly called me 'sweet little koi fish'.” You took another deep breath as the happy memories flooded your mind. “One time I was even able to catch a fish with my bare hands, even if it was a small one; I was so proud of myself and I remember how we celebrated that day by eating it. My father kept proudly telling everyone how good of a swimmer and fisher I was." You paused again and chuckled at the fond memory before your face turned sad. Your fingers trembled again and grabbed the hem of your pants.

"I can't recall a lot, but I know that I woke up to the heat. This immense heat... It was-" You choked on your words the memory came alive in front your eyes. Rengoku took one of your hands that was on your knee. He gave you the strength to continue and so you did. "The heat was everywhere, and I remember calling for my parents, but they were nowhere to be seen. I tried to get up, run out of our house but the fallen beams barred my way. But it hadn't blocked my view. I saw how they had been beheaded. A clean cut from a katana. I got scared and ran away, but I started to feel dizzy soon from the lack of air. I started coughing, my vision was distorted and I was in pain-" Your narrative speeded up, but at this point you needed to stop yourself. You need to leave out the part about how your little body was engulfed in flames back then. But there was another part you couldn't skip, and you were worried about his reaction. His hand was still holding yours. "The moment I saw you, I had seen 'him'.  The flame man with flaming hair and the flame haori. He was standing there with his katana. I know it was him. He was the one who killed my parents, he was the one who started this fire. He was the one who did this to me. Your father is the flame man of my nightmares!"

Your breath came out jagged and tears that you hadn’t shed before then flowed unstoppably. You had said enough but it felt like the dam broke. You continued talking through the tears no matter how painful they might be for the listener.

"The sight of you brought back a memory I never wanted to see again. The sight of you made me panic because I was going through the same nightmare repeatedly. I was running away because I was afraid that you, no he, would complete his work and let me burn alive. I-I don't want to die yet! I want to live because I know that is what my parents wanted for me!"

Your whole body was shaking like a leaf and the tears wouldn't stop. Your hands were still entwined, and he didn't seem to want to let go either. Even if you spoke earlier about how much the memories of his father and the heat tormented you, the warmth he radiated was a balm for your soul.

After your outburst, you didn't speak. You sat on the engawa holding hands and both of you stared into the distance until Rengoku broke the silence.

"You must be wrong..." His voice was rarely quiet.

You didn't understand. You looked up to him, but his gaze was still fixed straight ahead.

"It's not that I do not believe you, but my father is not that kind of person. He protects the humans. He protected them until he laid down the katana for an unknown reason."

And then you realized at that moment that his sunny and optimistic disposition was also hiding something. You said nothing and squeezed his hand to indicate that you would be his listener now. That he could speak freely around you.

And so he did. He spoke of the death of his mother, Ruka, who was everything to him. Who was the person who had passed down her sincere morals to him. He spoke about his little sweet brother, Senjuro, who tried so hard to gain the approval of their father. And he spoke about his father, Shinjuro, who was once a man who loved his children and raised them with love and passion. A man who suddenly decided to put his katana away and changed drastically after the death of their mother. A man who succumbed to alcohol, who became lonely and bitter in his grief.

He tilted his head back and looked up at the sky, sharing something he never did once in his life. "The only thing I ever wanted to hear from my father is that he's proud of me. That the things I do have meaning and purpose in his eyes too."

You tried to separate the man, who was his father, from the flame man and tried to look at things objectively. "Maybe he is just afraid of losing you too, especially after your mother’s death, and maybe he doesn’t know how to tell you."

For the first time in a while, he finally looked at you. "Yes, I had the same thought!" Now he laughed again, and you gave him a little smile back. "Only my father knows the answer to this - as with your situation. I'll talk to him as soon as the opportunity presents itself. But you don't need to be afraid of him as long as I'm with you."

You gave him a silent nod, before your gaze lingered into the distance. You sat on the engawa and watched the sun go down, still holding hands like friends would, though you knew your feelings towards him were growing like gentle waves.

🌊 🔥🌊 🔥🌊 🔥🌊 🔥🌊 🔥🌊 🔥🌊 🔥🌊 🔥🌊 🔥🌊 🔥

It looks like even if she opens up that she is not able to talk about her scars. 💔 Big thanks to my lovely friend @desi-the-blue-eyed-kakushi for beta reading and editing❤️) I am open for discussions and critique. All likes, reblogs and replies are highly appreciated!

Taglist:

@krillfromsky @kingmultiverse404 @deepressed @nelissecrectplace @yomoya-girl @theycallmemrsbarnes @roninishere @beelzmunchkin @kyojurismo @stuckinthewrongworld @lynnw @love-me-satoru @felix99999l @noarawriteszr @strawberrymm @rye-flower @demonslayeranimex @kittenssss-blog-blog @hanatsuki-hime @kxthxrinx3180 @thatw3ird0 @lovely-nayiq @annie-napier @cole-silas

#sunnys work #flame and water #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #kny #kny fanfic #kyojuro rengoku #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro x y/n #kyojuro x you #kyojuro x oc #rengoku x reader #rengoku x y/n #rengoku x you #rengoku x oc #kny x reader

[novacqnes]

don’t save her // jinx

summary: you had to believe there was still hope in saving zaun and saving jinx, but you would soon realize that she couldn’t be.

warning: angst, kidnapping

word count: 1.5k

pairing: jinx x fem reader

a/n: it’s been 3 months (or so) since i’ve written for jinx so please enjoy :)

the sound of heavy, thundering rain yanked jinx from her sleep. an intense jarring pain shot through her body when she attempted to move causing her to lose all control. 

she tried once again to no avail, soon realizing that she couldn’t. thick leather straps clung to her dewy skin, keeping her bound to a wooden chair. 

the room reeked of chemicals and thick smoke that made her head throb. the metallic smell of what seemed to be blood lingered in the decrepit room causing her to gag. jinx tried to think back but all she remembered was your beautiful face etched into her mind on the bridge.

her guard was down, she couldn’t help it, she missed you despite her adamance that she didn’t. she wanted to reach out and touch you, kiss you, and beg for things to go back to the way they were but she just stood there speechless.

she remembered your touch, it was soft. your thumb brushed along her cheek, the gesture alone soothing her but once she met your gaze she saw a completely different person, remorse looked terrible on you.

“i’m sorry.” 

she was too distracted to notice it at the time but your eyes held deep regret for reasons she couldn’t understand. you refused to look at her and she believed it to be nerves but she would soon realize it was something much worse. 

after those fateful words everything went black— no matter how hard she tried she just couldn’t remember, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to.

delicate footsteps echoed outside the door with each one closer than the next. she hoped it was you but the jumbled knot in her stomach told her otherwise. the door crept open and bright light rushed into the dark room and without a shadow of a doubt knew it was. 

her vision was slightly blurry but she was able to make out enough to discern your conflicted expression. 

“how are you?” 

jinx wanted to scream, she wanted to lunge at you with every fiber of her being but the restraint prevented her from doing so. she watched silently as you walked over to her, brushing a strand of blue from her face. she hated that she still missed your touch, that she craved your presence day in and day out, just as much as she hated you. 

you continued, “can i get you something? water maybe—“

“go to hell.”

her words stung but you carried on, swallowing the immense guilt that loomed over you. she was exhausted, her head hung low, dark circles weighed down her eyes and you were sure at any moment she would’ve fallen asleep.

“i know you hate me right now, but i can explain.”

silence filled the room like a deadly plague, sweeping over both you and jinx. her menacing glare gnawed at you, allowing a gut-wrenching knot to twist within your stomach. 

“i didn’t want to do this. i swear jinx— i tried talking to you and listening but you pushed me away.”

she scoffed, “always playing the goddamn victim….who’s the one tied to the fucking chair?”

the blood in her veins boiled at your words and her vision smeared with red. fiery tears brimmed your eyes making it even more difficult to see jinx’s enraged face— which you were grateful for. 

“i had no choice.”

you wanted to sound stronger, maybe even intimidate her a little but it came out as a feeble whisper that only sent your ex further over the edge. this was deeper than treachery. and any semblance of a normal relationship that she envisioned for the two of you was rapidly disintegrating before her. 

why couldn’t you have just left her alone? 

“sweetheart there’s always a choice, you just never seem to make the right ones.”

“you don’t mean that—“

“i mean every word.” she spat. 

there was a certain level of venom laced in jinx’s words that unsettled you. the sharpness of her tone, even the intensity of her glare made you feel small in comparison. it was difficult to disguise sweat pooling along the sides of your face, the fidgeting and growing anxiety seeping through your voice. 

but worst of all, she was fully aware of it. 

they were cues jinx knew all too well, details she’d once grown to love now being used against you. 

she watched as your eyes darted away refusing to meet hers. the longer the silence prevailed the more you retreated and she knew you were closing off, not just from her but all of it. 

“when you said you wanted to meet, i thought you’d finally changed. that you and i could…..”

your eyes found their way back to her and this time you held them there as if to plead with her. 

“i want that for us, but i can’t be with you if you won’t stop hurting people,” you strained, desperately holding back a sea of tears. 

slowly but surely your throat began constricting, turning your words into sickly mumbles that jinx could just barely hear. bringing you face to face with your greatest fear. 

“why did you bring me here?” 

her voice was a hollow whisper that offered you the slightest ounce of warmth. you hadn’t realized how much you’d missed it. she’d been so cold towards you these last few months that she almost felt like a stranger. 

“i love zaun— but you’re killing it,” you blurted.

jinx’s brows furrowed as a small smirk took hold of her lips. not even you could believe your pathetic excuse of a lie. heat rushed to your cheeks as she stared at you, remembering just how easy it was to make you flustered. 

“this isn’t about zaun.” 

you squeaked, “that’s not true—“

“well not entirely, you love me, but you can’t handle what i am.”

she spoke with a certain level of conviction that resonated throughout the dark room. confirmation wasn’t needed for jinx to know she was right because she could see it. 

the guilt that crept its way into your voice, the retreating and an overall inability to look at her for longer than a second. it read as a plea for help, a desperate call for her to listen once and for all but jinx was past the point of needing a savior. 

“what do you want from me, y/n?”

“i want you to stop.” 

“i can’t.”

you shook your head clasping her face in your clammy hands. you could see it now, the pink that replaced her once bright blue eyes but these were cold. the only indication of emotion was the severity of her voice and tear-stained cheeks. 

puzzled, you asked, “did he do this to you?” 

she tore her face away from your grip, her features contorting into a threatening sneer. 

“he saved me.”

an agonizing pain rang throughout your mind sending you into a spiral as jinx watched. she was already gone you could feel it. 

“there’s still time—“ 

“it’s too late for that,” she hissed.

the pain intensified with each protest but jinx had made peace with it long ago. this was who she was, she didn’t need a knight and shining armor to save her from something that she’d chosen. 

“just stay here with me—“

“let me go y/n.”

desperate pleas fell on deaf ears as jinx averted her eyes from yours. it was easier to block you out when she couldn’t see you, she didn’t want to be left with the image of what she’d indirectly caused. 

“jinx please—“ 

“do you love me?” 

“i—i do,” you sniffled, sinking to your knees so that you were closer than you’d been in almost a year. 

“then this has to stop, y/n,” she begged, her voice mirroring a careful whisper.

“you can’t save me, stop trying.” 

the reality overwhelmed you beyond belief, she was right. hot tears trailed down your cheeks falling onto jinx’s pants. she had to leave now or else she feared she never would. the sounds of your cries were like sharp knives piercing her skin, she hated the way they sounded and she hated herself for it. 

tearfully you reached over to her left hand undoing the strap. it felt like forever to both of you, you wanted to prolong the experience and keep her with you for as long as you could. with each snap of the leather, the time was coming, and dread washed over you. 

one by one her hands were free, then her feet and there was nothing restraining jinx. you wanted to believe that she’d stay but delusion could only shield you from the truth for so long. 

you watched silently as she lifted herself from the chair leaving you behind on the dirt-stained ground, not daring to move. she made her way towards the door, the lack of her presence leaving you with a massive unmistakable void. 

the turn of the door knob started you back into reality as you snapped your neck to look at her, just one last time. the light came rushing in and you saw all of her, she was so beautiful. 

she looked back at you once more, and through glassy eyes, she mumbled, “i love you.”

#jinx #arcane #jinx arcane #jinx x reader #jinx x fem reader #jinx x female reader #arcane x reader #jinx x you #jinx x y/n #jinx angst #jinx fanfic #arcane fanfic #league of legends #arcane fanfiction

[yhwhsdaughter]

Eunuch! Bum x Queen! Reader + King! Sangwoo

word count: 4.1k

tw: sangwoo, noncon, abuse of power, misogyny, murder, cheating, degradation, choking, cursing, minors dni

Ongoing…

[Chapter 2] , [Chapter 3]

Upon sliding the doors open, you were welcomed to blood spraying on your face. Droplets kissed your cheeks and if it was a calmer atmosphere, it would give the illusion of a blush. Reality, however, was much horrifying. Shocked by this, you stopped to assess the scene. Everyone was afraid to move a muscle as the king swung his sword, killing the chief state councilor with a stroke. As his body fell, more blood puddled at your feet, staining your slippers. Once the initial horror faded, you sprang forward, hugging Sangwoo’s midriff. “Your Majesty! Please stop this!” It was a brave or perhaps foolish action, interfering with your ruler. Words falling on deaf ears, he pushed you from him. The closest guard caught your form. Despite his absolute authority, killing nobles without reason, especially high ranking officers, was frowned on.

This is madness.

Your king was beauteous and cruel. A month into his ascension to the throne and he was already crumbling the ideals in which this nation was founded. Stray hairs hung around his chiseled face, tiny beads of sweat mixed with blood giving him a sadistic gleam as he grinned. Looking your way for a moment, he lazily waved at guards, “Take the Queen to her room.” Without a choice, the two of them gently nudged you from the scene. “Your Highness, please follow us.” Though their faces remained unmoving, their tone revealed their true feelings on the matter. Palm pressed against your mouth, you threw one last glance at the massacre before you. Blinking any lingering emotions, you walked away.

—

Pants filled the room as Sangwoo thrusted into you relentlessly. He was angry; even though he’d appointed new council members, he wasn’t sure he could trust them. In his mind, everyone was after his crown. You were angry as well, but for an entirely different reason.

You laid bare before your king, the fine robes that adorned your body pushed aside revealed your soft breasts; legs spread showed the path to your royal cunt. It disgusted you, thinking how many women had been in this bed, in your same position. Though the silk sheets were pristine, it could never truly wash away the sin. He grunted, “Stop overthinking. Just focus on—” he was close “—taking my seed, it’s all that matters.” Uncaring about your pleasure, Sangwoo bent you into an uncomfortable position, one that allowed his member to penetrate your walls at a deeper angle.

You allowed it.

The two of you, mostly you, were under incredible pressure to conceive. Not just a child, but a male heir. The fact that you hadn’t produced a son for the king was worrying to your mother. She wrote, often. It’s all she could talk about in her letters nowadays; there was fear in her that you would suffer as she did. Four miscarriages, three stillbirths, and then you. Highly superstitious, your mother believed that her misfortune was the price for the murder of the heirs by concubines in a fit of jealousy.

“Put a baby in me Sangwoo.”

You nearly begged, if only to end this. Making love wasn’t an option, nor your life a fairytale. No. King Sangwoo only fucked, and in the most inconvenient places too. You’ll never forget the embarrassment endured when you had tea with several noblewomen; your gracious king thought it would be appropriate to do it in a room adjacent to theirs. He bent you over a desk, throwing everything else off it, before sheathing himself inside of you. Emerging twenty minutes later, you couldn’t even look the ladies in the eyes. No one said anything, lest they lose their heads, but they knew.

Spurred by your words, Sangwoo thrusted faster and harder. “Fuuuck.” He stayed attached to you, like a dog, making sure your womb swallowed every last bit of his essence before pulling out. “Get pregnant.” Is all he said to you as he dressed again and exited the chambers. Out of breath and without a care, you laid there on the bed.

—

A life of servitude awaited YoonBum the second he was born. His poverty stricken parents sold him to be a household slave. Doomed to this fate, Bum tried his best to follow through and avoid punishments. Unfortunately, his master was a sadist and everyday, he received a beating.

After running errands, Bum stood in line to receive the bags of rice his master had ordered. It was the last thing on his list before readying to go home and continue working. Being close by, he couldn’t help but overhear several gentlemen talking, “Where is that damned village?!”

The village in question, it seems, was Bum’s hometown. Because it was a tiny place full of peasants and criminals, cartographers didn’t bother putting it on a map. Only those that came from there knew the area. Sangwoo caught him staring. Quickly glancing away, Bum only saw the man motioning to his companions from the corner of his eye. In a matter of seconds, he was facing the man. He was dressed in purple robes and a gat, symbolizing his status. “Do you know where this village is?”

Daring not to look him in the eye, Bum was slow to nod. He’d been out long enough; his master was probably marching towards the market to drag him home. “Show me.” As guessed, a heavy man came barreling in their direction. He was red in the face. “Bum!” Master Yoon screamed obscenities. Coming to a stop, he sneered at the men.

“We need your servant.”

Though the statement seemed like a request, Sangwoo’s tone made it clear that it was an order. The balding man huffed, ready to curse him out and refuse when Sangwoo showed his name tag. It was made of a cool stone, Oh Sangwoo engraved with the royal crest. The fact that was once red turned pale in realization. Meek before his ruler, Mister Yoon had no choice but to relent. “We’ll be taking him then.”

Bum felt his humanity slip away as he was given to another man so easily. With his head bowed down, he followed this strange new path forged by the man in purple robes.

—

The Heavens decided to smile on YoonBum when he saved the king’s life.

It was an accident, really. The guards felt no threat to the approaching figure in the form of a frail, old lady who was an assassin in disguise. YoonBum saw the knife before they did, jumping in front of Sangwoo.

Adrenaline in his system, Bum didn’t realize he was stabbed till he felt warmth seeping through his rags. Looking down, red spread around the area. It hurt. Badly. Bum’s legs felt like noodles; the little energy he had left his body as he collapsed onto the dirt. Even breathing was painful. His intervention set things in motion. One of the bodyguards chased down the assassin, two stood by Sangwoo and another leant down to help him. He must’ve asked something important but Bum couldn’t hear him clearly. It’s like he was submerged underwater. The last thing he saw before his vision turned black, was Sangwoo staring at him with interest.

He woke up in the nicest room he’s ever been.

The king didn’t visit him personally but he was sent a letter. Red overtook his face as he was forced to admit he didn’t know how to read. The servant relayed the contents, stating that when he was recovered, he would serve the king closely. From someone of his birth, it was the best he could get. YoonBum suddenly felt immensely grateful; he would no longer sleep in a shed with the pigs but a real mat! The pain on his side reminded him of the price he’d paid for this position, but he was used to being hurt. At least now it served to help him.

As the moment of glee passed, Bum realized he didn’t quite know the etiquette of serving the king. Joy left his body as he wondered how he would figure it out.

Like him, Sangwoo was plagued by this constant state of unhappiness. After the attempt on his life, he would think his subjects would be glad to see him breathing but instead he got murmurs of concern. What if he’d died? Who would’ve taken the throne since there was no heir? It would’ve thrown the palace into chaos.

Their silent pleas did not go unheard. “Maybe I should have them killed. Them and their entire families—” he paused when he saw you in the gardens, smiling at one of your ladies. His heart twisted. Sangwoo couldn’t explain it, but he always got the urge to inflict pain on you. He could say it stemmed from a place of resentment. How hard was it to get pregnant? If you gave him a son, he wouldn’t be pestered by these old fucks. Not to mention, your face contorting in distress was intoxicating—not even the concubines could compete with that.

Beneath his robes, his cock twitched with excitement. Oh, how he was going to enjoy this. Approaching your unsuspecting figure, he threw a dazzling smile to your courtesans. Sangwoo knew how to use his assets advantageously. Despite the suffering he caused, people were rendered speechless by his charm and good-looks.

He was like a snake, slithering towards his prey, waiting to attack. You did not hear him coming till you saw your ladies-in-waiting bowing. Greeting him appropriately, you expressed your relief. “Your Highness, I am glad to see you unharmed.”

It’d been a while since you last saw him; when he arrived, the rumour about the assassin spread like wildfire. “My Queen, you are truly a vision. These flowers have nothing on your beauty. You are proof that absence makes the heart grow fonder.” His honeyed words felt like prodding the bees’ nest. If you weren’t careful, you would be stung.

The only times he was this affectionate was when he wanted something. He played the same lovestruck role with your father to convince him of marrying you. Sending your ladies off, Sangwoo dropped his smile. His expression was replaced with desperation. Pulling on your wrist, the two of you traversed to your quarters since they were closer. “Ah!” Thrown harshly onto the bed, you hardly had time to compose yourself before he was mounting you. “Let’s put your cursed womb to good use.” A gasp escaped your lips as he entered you without warning. Your hands formed to fists, grabbing onto the sheets for dear life. It hurts, it hurts!

“Your Majesty! Please— aaah! Be more gentle..!”

Without seeing his face, you could already picture his cruel smirk. “You were born a disappointment. The least you could do is serve your purpose as my wife and bear me an heir.” His words angered you. Managing to twist away, you tried to escape his iron grip. This only resulted in you being pushed onto your back. Sangwoo pried your legs open and realigned himself.

Slap!

Sangwoo’s eyes widened with disbelief. The stinging in his cheek somehow made his pulse beat faster. Hands wrapping around your throat, he squeezed. “You should treat your king with more reverence. It would be a shame if the nation lost its queen. Especially one who can be easily replaced.” Having been the youngest war general, Sangwoo had strength to spare. Your hands seemed small as they banged on his form, silently begging to release you.

Having your life in his hands gave him the edge he needed to cum. With a low moan, Sangwoo emptied himself inside you. In turn, you couldn’t even focus on anything else other than breathing, choking as you gasped for air that you’d previously been deprived of. Knowing that he was capable of committing the worst, death seemed better than staying by his side.

“Perhaps I am not the problem, Your Majesty.”

Your voice was raspy but it rang clear across his majesty’s mind. Your words struck deep, like a knife embedded in his brain. It created a wound that would eventually fester. “Shut up.”

As if to disprove your point, he visited every concubine, not leaving until none of them were left untouched. He needed a son, one way or another, and if you wouldn’t give it to him, he would seek it elsewhere.

—

YoonBum was mostly healed; if anything, it appeared he’d been forgotten after a week of rest. The medic was currently tending to his wound, “It's healing nicely. A few more days and you should be out of here.”

The two of them turned at the sound of the door sliding open, immediately bowing at Her Highness’ entrance.

“Your Majesty, how can I be of use?” It was a bit surprising to see you there; your medical checkup wasn’t till another month. He wondered if you were feeling ill. Fabric wrapped around your neck; the weather was tepid, even inside the palace. That’s when he noticed the purple marks that peeked from under the material. Aware of his pointed stare, you moved the scarf upwards to conceal it. “I need you to acquire these medicinal herbs for me.” Taking the list, he read it carefully. How odd. Before he could ask what they were for, you added, “Your discretion would be appreciated.”

“Of course.”

Bum sat there silently, head facing the floor when you acknowledged him. “Are you the man that saved my husband?” Snapping upwards, he sputtered before letting out a quick “Yes!” Finally having a chance to gaze at your face, Bum felt himself turning red. Dressed in the finest silks from head to toe, standing with an air of regalness, was you. Unlike the king, there was warmth in you. Being in the presence of such a being felt unreal.

At first glance, the young man seemed no different than the other servants. However, his pink cheeks reminded you of innocence that one so rarely saw in the palace, which was filled with betrayal and resentment. His disposition was kind of endearing. You hoped he would remain like this, untainted by the world. “Then I must thank you.”

At your words, Bum’s figure lowered, forehead touching the wood. “Y-your Highness is too kind!” This position caused him a stab of discomfort, applying pressure to his wound yet he refused to straighten up. Noticing, you motioned at him, “Don’t force yourself.”

With that brief interaction, you were gone.

Entering your chambers, you signaled for the maid. Unwrapping the silk bandages, you stared at the mirror. Your husband’s marks served as a reminder of who held the power in this union. The young woman kneeled before you, taking a round brush and rolling it in powder. Although her ministrations were gentle, you couldn’t help but hiss when it applied pressure to your tender skin. “Forgive this servant, Your Majesty!”

“Don’t mind it. Continue.”

—

The king was anxious.

It was one thing for you to not get pregnant, but he’d been keeping busy and there was still no news of concubines with child. Reminded and bothered by your words, he summoned the royal physician. Sangwoo believed he wasn’t the problem, he just needed confirmation. What did you know? He wanted an expert to say that he was fulfilling his duties as king and it was everybody else that lacked.

“I’m sorry to say this, Your Highness.. but you’re infertile.”

With great effort, Sangwoo stopped himself from strangulating the doctor. It was impossible. A frown etched itself in Sangwoo’s face, his handsome features twisting into something scary. “You’re wrong.” It didn’t make sense; as a healthy male in his prime, Sangwoo shouldn’t have a problem fathering as many children as he could. There were several causes that may have caused his infertility, especially since he was a war general but the fact remained that he could not produce children.

Only an heir of royal blood could be king.

He forced the poor man to do every test available to ensure this. The result was the same. Again. And again. “You must not be doing your job right.” As the guards dragged the pleading man, a piece of paper fell from the medics’ robes during the struggle. Picking it up, Sangwoo recognized your handwriting.

“What’s this?”

There was temporary relief in the man’s face as Sangwoo stopped in front of him. “That.. the Queen requested a few me-medicinal herbs.” It didn’t sit right with Sangwoo. Why on earth would you need this shit? The physician seemed hesitant to answer his question. A rough push finally ushered him to say, “Alone these herbs are fine, but mixed..”

As requested, the herbs were delivered to you by the doctor’s assistant. The timing was perfect too. “Why didn’t your master deliver these himself?” Nervous, the boy stuttered a few excuses before asking for permission to leave. That should’ve raised flags in your head but you wanted the plan to work. You needed it to work.

The king had finally taken time out of his busy schedule to visit you, and not just to copulate. He was kind enough to accept your invitation to have a picnic at the pavilion. It was surrounded by a grand lake and vividly green trees; a true landscape.

Sangwoo arrived with a familiar man at his side. You realized you never asked for his name, though that was easily fixed when Sangwoo made a vague motion towards him. “That’s Bum.” He was dressed in green and Sangwoo in red. In comparison to their bright colors, you wore a soft pastel pink, denoting your sophisticated features.

Sitting down, you signaled the servant to begin pouring the soup. Sangwoo raised a brow, curious, “You’re not going to eat?” Listening to your response, a smile appeared on his face. “I wanted to make a special meal for Your Highness, from the bottom of my heart.” It was unnerving, the way he looked at you. Still, you never lost composure, waiting patiently for him. That is, until he asked Bum to lean down and try it. Obedient, the male did so without question. Eyes widening, you managed to stop Bum from tasting. Your hand held onto his wrist tightly—the spoon hovering centimeters from his lips. A few droplets spilled onto the wooden table. Sangwoo tilted his head to the side, innocent expression in tow. “Something wrong?”

Everything is wrong!

Sangwoo knew. You didn’t know how, but of this, you were sure. Fear is what he wanted and you weren’t going to give it to him. “This meat in this broth was especially prepared for His Royal Highness. It shouldn’t go to waste on someone else.” The tip of Bum’s ears burned from embarrassment. He was under the impression you were a benevolent queen; instead, he was reminded of his lowly status. Of course he couldn’t eat the expensive meat, a peasant like him wouldn’t know how to appreciate the flavor. The hurt on his face was evident but he turned to the king, awaiting further instructions. Sangwoo wasn’t fazed, “Don’t be silly.”

Taking the spoon, Sangwoo offered it to you.

You stared at it, unmoving. Sangwoo poked your lips, “Who else but the Queen would be worthy to try such delicacy?” He was baiting you, daring you to deny or confess. Neither was an option. Grabbing the spoon from him, you slowly opened your mouth and dropped the contents inside. Sangwoo’s eyes narrowed slightly but he said nothing. “Swallow.” Damn him to hell. Before you could do such a thing, a guard interrupted. Apparently there were news concerning Yang Seungbae, a traitor to the crown; he was spotted near a town on the outskirts of the forest.

Sangwoo hated him. More than anyone. That bastard was working hard to rally forces that would conspire against him. While things were peaceful at court, Sangwoo had felt a shift ever since the assassination attempt. His eye twitched in annoyance, though you weren’t entirely positive if it was because of Seungbae or the fact that he’d been interrupted. Sitting completely still, you watched as Sangwoo whispered to Bum before leaving. As soon as he was gone, you grabbed a handkerchief and spit out the soup. This action worries a few servants but you waved them off. “It’s cold.” They couldn’t understand as you ordered them to throw it, seeing as it was perfectly edible. Such a waste, disposing of such good meat.

Bum followed you like a lost puppy. The first night Sangwoo bedded him, YoonBum experienced true love. It wasn’t gentle; the king’s touch harbored no hatred but passion. Bum had never felt like that. It made him feel special; the ruler of the country placed his lips and strong hands on his skinny body. He had a queen, concubines, and still, he went to him. Elated couldn’t begin to describe how Bum felt. His feelings for his king were all-consuming. Since then, he’d made a promise to follow every order Sangwoo asked of him. Bum didn’t have anything against you, truly, but his loyalty laid with his king.

On their way back, they encountered Imperial Concubine Min Jieun. The crowd following her greeted you respectfully, and while she did so too, there was a triumphant smirk on her face. Nodding in acknowledgment, you continued walking, enjoying nature. The sun warmed your skin, making you forget about any worries, if only for a moment. Once the group was out of earshot, you glanced at your companion. “What was that about?” It was no secret how spoiled Min Jieun was; she was a woman of noble birth, groomed to perfection. That’s the facade she chose to wear instead of the power hungry bitch she was. Envy burned in every particle of her body. She wanted you out of the picture—she wanted to be queen and mother of Sangwoo’s children. Still, your position commanded respect. Your lady leaned in, whispering, “There’s rumors that she’s with child.”

“Oh.”

Bum watched your composed reaction with intrigue. He could understand if you held a grudge towards her. He did. You would always be first to the king, so he had to accept that. Bum knew it was the way things ran. However, he couldn’t say the same for the other concubines. They had the chance to bear Sangwoo’s child. Bum only wished he could do so too. Alas, this resentment made him feel guilty because the concubines were amicable women—well, except Min Jieun. He didn’t realize that they were shackled to this restrictive lifestyle; that they had no choice but to make the best of the situation.

“Is there something you want to say?”

Almost jumping at the sudden sound of your voice, Bum gazed around to see who you were talking to. Finding your clear eyes on him, he realized you’d seen through him. “Uh.. n-no, Your Majesty..”

“Say it.”

“How.. how does Your Majesty handle it?”

Though the question itself was vague, you got the gist. “Queens are expected to rise above such earthly emotions.” You had a solemn expression and the grip around your fan tightened, “Jealousy is futile.”

Nodding, Bum felt like he’d swallowed vinegar. This revelation left him in deep thought. Perhaps that was the difference between royals and peasants; possessiveness was quick to overtake him while you had to live with the knowledge that your husband would seek the company of others.

Hm, maybe he was right not to envy you.

—

“The Queen has fallen ill.”

It was so sudden; you were so healthy one day and the next, chills racked your body, fever uncontrollable. The court tried to be positive on the matter but it wasn’t looking good. Sangwoo was advised to refrain from visiting you—if he got sick too, it would affect the entire nation. “I will see my wife as I see fit.”

“Open the door and step aside.”

He was like an angel of death, entering with eerie calmness. Even through the soft curtains he could see your weakened form. You looked thinner, unable to eat. The physicians tried to get you to consume anything but it was just regurgitated in minutes.

The bed dipped under his weight as he sat next to you.

“Did you eat something bad?” He caressed your face, pushing hairs away that stuck due to the sweat. Fingers tightening on the blankets, you managed to open your mouth. “Congratulations.” Lips pale and cracked, you smiled sardonically. Sangwoo wasn’t expecting that reaction. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve heard news that Concubine Jieun is pregnant.”

A dark look crossed his face. “Is that so?” He stood, “Perhaps I should pay her a visit.” Though his tone was mocking, there was something bothering Sangwoo. Fortunately for the king, you were too woozy to think straight. Leaning down, Sangwoo placed a hand behind your neck, lifting you just a bit, enough to kiss your lips.

“Don’t die.”

#oh sangwoo #sangwoo x yoonbum #sangwoo x reader #sangwoo #yoonbum x you #yoonbum x y/n #yoonbum x reader #killing stalking yoonbum #killing stalking #ks yoonbum #ks sangwoo #yang seungbae #king x reader

[shushiyuii]

His nightmares... (Subject T0M au - Part 4)

Part 4 is here! Prepare for angst~ Hopefully you won’t cry, please don’t cry i dont like seeing people cry

Warnings: Mentions of death and injury (These are actually pretty heavy in the story so please be careful if you do read it and are sensitive to these things) 

Words: 1.5K

It was the same dream every time, the darkness consuming him like the ocean, always falling. This was always his dream, it wasn’t scary though, rather it was oddly familiar to him.

He was happy to stay in this sort of stasis until he woke up and saw Wilbur again, but this time it was different. The atmosphere of this place was different.

Something was there, it felt so close yet so out of reach. It was just barely out of his control? Every time he thought about it, he felt such immense guilt, sadness, and anger. But why would he feel this way if he didn’t even know what it meant?

“Can you hear me, mate?”. Echoed through the darkness, it sounded so far away and distorted, plagued with worry and why did it sound like Phil’s? The more he thought about it the more a growing pain grew inside his head. Why couldn’t he remember? Why did he remember Phil saying that?!

Why was he trying to remember things that weren’t there? He tried to yell out to Phil, but he got no response, nothing else seemed to happen after that.

“Please! Wake up!”. It was the same voice, although only more distorted and quieter, he responded in the only way he could which was a distorted whine, it was really the only way he could communicate since… Since when actually?

He never really thought about it but where did he come from?...

The headache grew as his vision blurry, he felt so weak, his body feeling as if it could pass out at any moment, the next thing he opened his eyes to see he was in a hospital room? It was so bright…

“Mate? Can you hear me?!”. Phil?... He moved his mouth to speak but nothing audible came out, “Oh... Thank God! You’re awake!”, “H-hel?-“ He couldn’t finish the sentence, his throat felt like it was burning… “Hey! You’re going to be okay! I promise!” he heard another voice, they sounded… motherly?

“W-who…”. There was a moment of silence as he could utter another word, “I’m Doctor Puffy, and this is Doctor Philza” The figure seemed to point to the other but was too blurry to make out, didn’t help with the tears streaming down his face.

“We need to ask you something, I’ll-“ He stopped as he tried to put it into words. “To put it simply, you’re dying.”. He- was what?! When did this happen?! Was he remembering his past?! He was scared and confused!? Phil?! What’s going on?! Where’s Wilbur?!

“We can save your life though-“ With what?! If he was dying, then where was Wilbur- he wanted to scream for help, he hated this, he hated this pain… ‘Wilbur! Help!’ his thoughts screamed.

“We can give you medicine, a special type of medicine. But it does come with its repercussions, if you let us do this to you, then you’ll probably forget your past and other things, but by means, you’ll live.”.

He’d live? So… this was from before? Is this why he couldn’t remember? Because of this? This was a memory; he was a human before then?

“Y-yes…” came out his voice, beyond his control. Did he make this choice? ‘I guess I didn’t want to die. And Phil saved me? I’ll have to try and ask him about it…”. His vision faded again but this nightmare didn’t end there.

 “Tommy! Tom! Stop running will you! I’m not as fast as you!”. Tom was always the faster of the two, and Tubbo was the smarts. Not to say that the genius Tommy didn’t have his own smarts of course! He was a genius, just… Tubbo always had a backup plan in case his master plans went wrong.

Being 17, and recently moving on with their lives. They were currently running around in the forest within the local neighbourhood like they usually did. He’d known Tubbo since he was a kid. So truth be told they were best friends! Best friends for life! Or better say the universe!

“So, Tubs, Did you get accepted into that university?”.  “Course I did, it was easy as hell!”. “I knew you could do it! Always a genius! Not as smart as me obviously!”. “Yeah, nobody could beat you in smarts!” Tubbo playfully nudged his shoulder, the two laughing as they talked about the day’s events.

‘Tubbo?... Who…? I knew him, I remember him, somewhat… I-“.

Time passed quickly for the two of them, time always did, it always seemed so fast for the two. Guess it goes to show how much they actually cared about each other, not that Tommy Danger Kraken Innit would say it himself!

“Hey, Tubs! Race you back to the house!”. He decided it would be funny to run at a slower pace to Tubbo, as for Tubbo’s ego seemed to have boosted since earlier since he ran right past Tommy into the open street. Now that street was quite famous for its… let’s just say, drunk drivers?

Tubbo stood in the middle of the road, making a pose and mocking Tommy who was just as easily caught up, it was the only time really Tubbo was reckless, and who knew he’d regret it.

Just as Tommy, made it up the hill connecting to the road, a screeching was heard in the distance with sirens along with it, it sounded closer and closer every second. Tommy’s heart raced as he realised Tubbo was in danger.

He sprinted as fast as he could as the car approached, Tubbo standing in shock as he seemed like a dear in headlights, his eyes screaming fear. Tommy was a hero though! He’d save Tubbo.

And he did, he saved him.

He pushed Tubbo out of the way safely… And well the next thing was he felt was so much pain, and Tubbo screaming his name, Tubbo ran up to him, desperate to help, but instead, he grabbed his friend’s cheek to make sure he was okay, besides what seemed to be a light gash on his forehead…Tubbo…was…okay…

His vision once again faded as he heard sirens…

 Wilbur had been staying in the office overnight due to an overwhelming amount of paperwork, he had to get it done. But it seems his energy didn’t agree with him since well… He was half asleep writing whatever could be called a report.

His vision faded black for a few moments as he kept trying to keep himself awake but for whatever reason, it wasn’t working, heck he didn’t even think he could get a cup of coffee… That was until he heard a terrifying scream.

He burst up in his seat in an immediate frenzy, the energy he didn’t even know, had rushed through his head, adrenaline pumping through his body. He immediately sprinted towards Tommy. Grabbing his keyboard and very clumsily unlocking the door with his key card.

“Tommy?! Tom! Are you okay?!” Tommy looked over to Wilbur the instant he heard him, “W-Wilbur!” He screamed disturbingly as he ran towards Wilbur, for a moment Wilbur was shocked that he made out Tommy’s voice, although it was only for a moment.

Tommy ran into Wilbur’s arms as he put all his weight on him, he snapped out of his shock, “Tom- Tommy what’s wrong?!”. He got no response besides the whines and cries of his friend. He was trapped in his embrace as Tommy clutched onto him, although tight it was still gentle.

Whatever it was, he seemed to have had a nightmare… “Toms, did you have a nightmare?”. His sobs increased as he held Wilbur tighter. “Oh Toms, hey! It’s okay! I’m here”. The position changed as Tommy sat up, and well changed in size, Wilbur was held protectively close to his chest as he continued to cry.

Wilbur rubbed circles and continued to comfort him until they had both fallen asleep…

Entry 09 – 2/10/20—

Tommy’s been acting a little different lately, he’s cheered up since that nightmare he’s had but when he’s around me he’s been a lot more? How do I describe it? More gentle and mature, kind of thing.

I’m glad he’s okay, I just worry. Just what happened in that dream to make him so scared like that?

 Tubbo placed the flowers gently by the stone that read, ‘Tommy Innit, 20XX – 20XX. Honourable family member and friend…’. The thought of Tommy made him want to sob but he couldn’t he knew Tommy would want him to stay strong…

It had been over a year now since he’d died but, for some reason, he felt as if Tommy was still out there somewhere? Maybe? But that didn’t matter, Tommy would want him to be happy, he’s been living his life just like they had planned. He’s gone to university and such.

He misses his best friend; he saved his life… It was just so difficult to think he was gone, he was there one moment, next he wasn’t. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if the reality had set in for him yet. He…

He held the scar on his forehead and laughed. “You idiot, hope you aren’t causing trouble for anyone up there! I’ll see you soon, okay?” He walked off home, he didn’t know how long he was there for, probably hours, he just had to get back since he had work tomorrow…

#mcyt g/t #mcytg/t #dsmp g/t #sizeshifter!tommy #tiny!wilbur #tiny!tubbo #tiny!phil #tiny!puffy #Shushi's writings #Subject t0m au

[escapewithbts]

Forgetful - Seokjin

———————————————

You sat at the two person table by yourself just staring mindlessly at the menu. You could probably recite the whole entree list by heart at this point.

The dimly lit restaurant was crowded and filled with noises; dishes clanking, people laughing, the soft tune of music. It would have been the perfect atmosphere… had you not been there alone.

 You sighed and glanced at your beautiful (and expensive) watch… one of the many gifts given to you by your boyfriend last Christmas.

 It was 8:43. Your reservation had been for 43 minutes ago.

 “Excuse me,” the perfect-looking hostess came up to you for the third time and spoke to you in Korean, “but we are super busy, as you can probably tell, and if you’re not going to order then we really need your table.”

 You frowned and glanced down at your phone. Still no texts or missed calls.

 “I know, I’m so sorry, can I just wait until nine? I don’t know why he’s taking so long, I’m sure he’s on his way…”

 “So you’ve said,” she replied with a fake smile, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder and walking away.

 Wow rude, much?

 You stared at your phone, your vision becoming blurry from the tears forming in your eyes. You hoped everything was okay with him. And you couldn’t help but wonder if he forgot.

 You scrolled through his texts, the last from this morning around 10:30am saying he was beginning the shoot for the latest Run BTS! Episode and he would see you later. You assumed that meant here.

But he never showed.

 You touched his contact to give him a call, but again it just rang and rang until you were again met with the automatic voicemail. You sighed and typed him another text.

Hey I’m leaving the restaurant now. I hope you’re okay. Please call or text when you get this.

 Then you grabbed your things, stood up and walked towards the exit of the restaurant.

 “Oh my god, it’s about time she left,” you heard the hostess whisper to someone as you walked passed her podium, “She claimed to be meeting a member of BTS here for dinner!”

 Her snickering was the last thing you heard as you pushed open the door and went back out into the warm Seoul night.

By the time you made it home to your and Jin’s shared apartment you were exhausted and your feet absolutely ached from the heels you were wearing. You unlocked the door and went inside, immediately removing them and rubbing your swollen soles.

All of a sudden, you heard noises coming from the living room. Jin was home?

When you turned the corner there he was, sitting on the couch, laughing at some show playing on the tv and eating ramen from a bowl on his lap.

Your heart sank. He was okay. So what you had feared was true after all. He just forgot.

Forgot your one-year anniversary dinner.

“Oh hi, (y/n)-ah!” he exclaimed when he finally noticed you standing there, a heap of noodles dangling out of his mouth.

He swallowed them and continued,

“Wow, you look really pretty! Did you go out with your friends?”

Your eyes instantly welled up with tears and a couple fell down your cheeks before you could stop them. You tried to swipe them away abruptly with the back of your hand but Jin still noticed.

“Jagi, what’s wrong?”

He set his bowl on the coffee table in front of him and rose from his seat on the couch to walk over to you.

He reached his arms out to hold you, but you instantly stepped back to avoid his embrace.

He cocked his head and furrowed his eyebrows confusingly, his large red lips turning into a frown.

“Jagiya? Is everything okay?”

You sniffled and glared at him.

“So you just don’t check your phone anymore?”

He immediately reached into the front pocket of his trousers and pulled it out.

“Aiishh it must have still been on silent from the shoot today. I’m sorry if I missed-”

He stopped mid sentence as he finally observed all your missed calls and read your texts.

His face fell.

“Oh… fuck. (y/n). Shit.”

He looked up at you, an expression of worry and guilt evident on his handsome face.

“(y/n), jagi, I’m so so so sorry. Fuck! I-I completely forgot. I got caught up with work and- ”

You put your hand up to silence him.

“I don’t want to hear it, Seokjin.”

He winced. He knew you only called him by his full first name on two occasions: one when you were really really pissed at him, the other when he was making really really good love to you… and right now it certainly was not the latter.

You brushed passed him and headed toward the hallway. You were tired and hurt, and now to top it all off you had a massive headache. All you wanted to do at this point was take a shower, go to bed and forget this evening ever happened.

But you heard Jin follow you toward your shared bedroom.

“(y/n), please, I’m really sorry. I know there aren’t any excuses. I fucked up. I really, really fucked up.”

You scoffed, not turning back to face him.

“Yeah, you think?”

He paused in thought for a moment.

“Well, what if-what if we celebrate now? I can cook you up some really delicious food, all your favorite foods from home! And-and we can light some candles, have dinner, spend the whole rest of the night together…”

You stopped in the bedroom doorway and swung your whole body around to face him again.

“No. It’s too late, Jin. I waited at the restaurant for an hour for you. I’m exhausted, okay? I just want to go to bed,” you paused, “So please. Just leave me alone.”

Jin’s shoulders fell in defeat as his gaze went to the floor. His arm lifted to scratch the back of his neck.

“O-okay,” he whispered.

Then he squinted his eyes tightly shut, and that was the last thing you saw as you let the bedroom door close in his face.

The warm shower felt amazing on your body, but you couldn’t help the thoughts that plagued your mind while in there. Jin had forgotten arguably the most important date in a relationship. What was next? Your birthday? The next anniversary? It made you feel like your relationship wasn’t important to him, like you were an afterthought. It hurt your heart.

Once you were clean and out of the shower, you changed into a pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. Your head still ached immensely; you had hoped the shower would have fixed that, but all that overthinking had only made it worse. You knew Jin usually kept some pain medication in his nightstand for when his body was sore after a particularly grueling day of dancing, so you proceeded to his side of the bed and sat down on the edge, reaching for the top drawer.

Immediately upon opening it you spotted a red envelope, “My (y/n)” written across the top in Jin’s messy handwriting. You hesitated for a second whether or not to investigate it, but ultimately, with a shaky hand, you pulled it out. You took a deep breath before opening it and removing the card inside.

In an elegant font, the front of the card read ‘Happy Anniversary to the one I want to annoy for the rest of my days’, and written on the inside ‘Hey, that’s you!’.

You couldn’t help but stifle out a small chuckle, accompanied with an eye roll, of course. It was so Jin. Your Jin.

Your eyes then scanned his handwritten message next.

Jagiya,

 Congratulations! You have been chosen by WWH Worldwide Handsome Kim Seokjin himself as the person who gets to be annoyed by him for the rest of your life! Don’t you feel so honored? It’s a coveted position, there’s only one spot, and you got it! We’ll talk about the details later 😉

No, but seriously, my (y/n), thank you for putting up with me for a whole year. I know I can be pretty obnoxious, silly, stupid, goofy, forgetful (ha, he got that one right for sure), busy and sometimes moody, but you have stuck with me through it all and I appreciate it. You are so special and I hope you know how lucky I feel to have you. You’re so supportive and patient and kind. I can’t wait to share many more anniversaries with you.

All my love,

Jin

You clutched the card to your chest, tears streaming down your face again. But this time you weren’t upset. You were touched. His words definitely didn’t excuse what he did (or rather didn’t do) this evening, but at least you knew how he truly felt about you. He really did love you. Your heart suddenly felt full.

You stood up, holding the card tightly, opening the bedroom door to go find him.

 “Jin?” you yelled down the hall. But, to your surprise, he was right outside the bedroom doorway, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, his long legs spread out in front of him, his phone in his hands.

“Jin I-“

But he quickly stood up and turned his phone to face you.

“Jagiya, look I downloaded an app where you can save all your important dates! And you can set it up for reminders days, even weeks beforehand! So I put in today, of course, and your birthday, but please don’t think I would ever forget that, and the day we went on our first date, the day I first cooked for you, the day-“

He stopped speaking when you suddenly stood on your tip toes and wrapped your arms around the back of his neck. He immediately wrapped his around your lower back and squeezed you into him.

 “I’m just so sorry, jagi.” he mumbled into your hair.

You nodded against his broad shoulder.

“I know.”

You pulled away and presented the card.

“I found this.”

Jin’s ears promptly turned bright red and he closed his eyes tightly. Then he put his head in his hands.

“Aiissh, it’s so cheesy, I’m sorry.”

You placed your hand on his upper arm, making him glance back down at you.

“No, Jinnie, not at all. It’s perfect. I loved it.”

He smiled, wrinkles forming at the sides of his eyes.

“See? I didn’t completely forget! I knew it was coming up. I just didn’t exactly remember when we were going to dinner and I should have-”

You placed your lips on his in a tender kiss to shut him up again. He pulled you closer to him, so your bodies were completely touching before you broke apart, still attached at the foreheads.

“Mmm Happy One Year Anniversary, my (y/n)-ah,” he breathed out.

You nuzzled your face into his strong neck.

“Happy Anniversary, my Worldwide Handsome.”

*

Masterlist

Hehe

#bts #bts one shot #bts oneshot #jin #bts jin #jin bts #jin imagine #bts imagine #bts fanfic #jungkook #suga #namjoon #jhope #jimin #rm #taehyung #seokjin imagine #jin x y/n #jin fanfic #bts fanfction #bts kim seokjin #kim seokjin #bts x y/n #jin bts imagine #jin x reader #jin x you #bangtan sonyeondan

[jawabear]

Hi~ Can I request a fic? for season 3 Javier Peña. Maybe some soft Javi. With y/n being a colleague, but struggling to get back to work because of mental trauma. If that's ok with you.

Don’t leave (Javier Peña X Reader)

Not my GIF

A/N: Hey! Here’s another request for my sweetheart Javi. Thanks to anon for helping out a little more. However, I feel like this isn’t great? But I really hope you like it. Thank you for requesting! I hope you enjoy it! Sorry for any mistakes. Stay safe.

Genre: Angst, fluff

Warnings: fem!reader, injury detail, mentions of blood, violence, tears, mental trauma, comfort

Summary: After a mission turns south and months of being off work, she has to face the reality of going back to work.

-

She didn’t know what came over her.

Everything moved in slow motion as one of the men lifted their gun and pointed it over at Javier. She wasn’t in control of her legs as she ran between them.

Her blood seemed to run cold when the gun went off. There was a ringing in her ear. She could hear another muffled gun shot and the muffled call of her name but she couldn’t move. She couldn’t do anything other than fall to the ground.

“Fucking shit (Y/N)!” Javi yelled as he crawled over to her lifted her shaking torso into his lap. “Why the fuck did you do that, you idiot!” he scaled her. He pulled his radio from his belt and gave an order to call for an ambulance before he threw his radio to the ground.

She looked up at him with wide eyes full of fear. She was barely breathing and her lips were trembling. He looked down her body to her stomach that was flooding blood that was seeping into her blue shirt. “J-Javi..” she whimpered. Her voice was barely there though.

“The ambulance is on its way (Y/N). You’re going to be okay” he told her trying not to cry at the sight of her lying petrified in his arms. “You’re gonna be okay (Y/N)”

Javier didn’t move from her. He held her almost lovingly in his arms, gently stroking her hair as he whispered the same words to her over and over again, it got to the point where he was more convincing himself than her was convincing her. But she never responded to him. She just continued to stare at him with the same terrified eyes.

“Peña, la ambulancia está aquí” (Peña, the ambulance is here) a voice came over the discarded radio beside him.

He picked up the radio and put it back on his belt. “Hold on (Y/N)” he whispered to her. He slipped one arm under her knees and the other under her torso and carefully lifted her into his arms as he stood and walked as quickly as he could outside where the ambulance was waiting.

The paramedics raced over to him seeing the state that (Y/N) was in. He walked her over to the ambulance and placed her onto the bed on the inside. She gripped hold of him like her life depended on it, because it felt like it did. She felt that if she let go of him, that would be it for her. “Don’t leave” she whispered desperately.

“I won’t leave you (Y/N)” he told her as he managed to pry her arms from him “I’ll come see you. But you need to go right now”

“Javi..” he had to ignore her as he jumped out of the back of the ambulance. He took one last look at her, tears beginning the fall down her cheeks, either from pain or from the fact he was leaving her. He felt unbelievable guilt wash over him but he had to close the doors.

(Y/N) drew in a sharp breath as she splashed water over her face bringing her back into her equally painful reality. She looked at herself in her bathroom mirror and hated the sight. Seeing how her eyes were red and puffy for her uncontrollable tears of fear. Seeing dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep. Well, peaceful sleep. The sleep she had been getting was plagued of the memory of the event or nightmarish versions of it. Although she still hadn’t come to terms with the fact it was a reality.

But the scar on her stomach was evidence enough.

Taking in a few deep breath, she turned off the tap stopping the water. She stood there for a moment longer, griping the sink in both hands as to try and ground herself. She was trying to brace herself for today.

She knew it wasn’t going to be easy. She would most likely suffer for the whole day. But she had to go back at some point, and if she didn’t now, then she never would.

(Y/N) let out a slow breath and pushed herself off the sink and slowly made her way out of her bathroom. She now face a new challenge; getting dressed. She already had her clothes laid out on her bed, but she didn’t quiet know how to go about it. If she were in any other state, it would be simple. But the injury to her stomach made it all the more difficult.

It had been six months almost to the day since it happened. She had been at home for those six months, bored out of her mind and in incredible pain. She spent most of her day in bed for it was too much to move. Only getting up to use the bathroom, get a drink or make some food. But even doing that let her in excruciating pain and short of breath.

The highlight of her week would be when Javier would come round to visit her, to check on her. He always brought over some ice cream because it was easy to eat, plus she loved it. But since he had been delving deeper and deeper into the Cali Cartel, he had been flying between Bogotá and Cali quite a lot so his visits became less and less frequent, leaving her all alone with her nightmares.

But she didn’t blame Javi for leaving her alone. He was doing his job and she wasn’t prepared to get in the way of that. She was convinced that if it wasn’t for him, she would be dead anyway. She was immensely thankful to have him as a friend.

(Y/N) was also thankful that the ambulance showed up when it did. Not just because it meant she got to the hospital quicker, but because she was a second away from confessing how much she loved him. She believed she was in the verge of death and didn’t want to go without telling him, but she knew if she did, she would have to live with the embarrassment that he did not feel the same. They were friends. Just friends.

Somehow she managed to get changed into her fresh clothes. Today she was returning to work. Ambassador Crosby had warned her against it saying she still needed time to rest both physically and mentally, Javi said this too but she couldn’t spend another minute at home on her own. She had to get back to work.

The journey from her apartment to her car took twice as long than it should have, and the journey from her car (in her car) to the embassy was just the same, but that was partly due to traffic.

When she finally made it to the embassy, she couldn’t bring herself to get out of her car. She sat and watched people walk in and out of the building. To them, everything was normal. But to (Y/N), having to walk back into the building was like walking into the jaws of death.

(Y/N) leant her head on the steering wheel and squeezed her eyes shut, drawing in shaky breaths as she tried to calm herself down and hype herself up for going back inside. “Come on (Y/N)” she whispered to herself “you got this far. Just a few more steps and you’ll be there”

She drew in a few more breaths before grabbing her bag and pulling herself out of her car. She took her time in walking to the embassy, those who were outside gave her looks as she walked past them but she tried her best to ignore them. But when she got inside it was no better. Everyone looked at her and whispered amongst themselves. She was the desk agent that got shot. Thats what she was known as now. Not the smiley, happy, caring agent she was before. She was the one who got shot.

To get to her own office she had to walk past Javi’s. She looked into it and saw it was empty. She also noticed that Van Ness and Feistl’s desks were empty too, meaning they were all out scoping for leads in the Cali cartel, most likely in Cali.

Finally she got to her office and saw a pile of papers on her desk. At least she would have something to distract her. At the top of the pile was a note from the Ambassador welcoming her back and telling her to take it easy.

She sat down in her chair and let out a sigh as she examined the stack of files she had been left to deal with. She grabbed a pen and the top file and began getting to work trying to focus only on the paper rather than the nightmarish visions at the back of her mind crawling closer and deeper into her.

It can’t have been any more than ten minutes before she got a sharp pain in her stomach causing her to stop and sit back in her chair. She was overcome by sudden frustration at the fact that she couldn’t even do her work.

“What are you doing back?” Came a voice form the door way. She looked up and saw Javi standing there.

“Working” she mumbled picking up her pen again.

“Clearly you’re in a fit state to be working” he said.

“I cleared it with Crosby”

“And he told you to take another few weeks off” Javi stepped into her office and closed the door before taking the chair opposite her and crossing one leg over the other “like I did. Why didn’t you listen?”

“You can’t say that” she said with a slight smile “you didn’t listen to me. You remember when we were still in training and you literally shattered your leg? I told you to rest but you came back way too soon”

“That was different (Y/N)” he told her “that was my own fault”

“And so was this” she told him “I’m the one who jumped in front of the bullet after all...”

There was a heavy silence over the two of them as she just stared at the piece of paper on her desk. There were so many thing Javier wanted to say to her. So many things he could’ve said to break the silence but he was scare the open his mouth. Scared that everything he wanted to say would just tumble out of his mouth in a mess that she couldn’t understand and he’d embarrass himself in front of her. But it was selfish of him to be thinking about his own stupid problems when the woman he loved took a bullet for him. But there was one question that was at the forefront of his mind.

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. He watched her as she dropped her pen again and her bottom lip trembled. She brought her hand to her forehead and turned her head from him slightly.

(Y/N) drew in a sharp breath before she started to cry quietly. She didn’t want him to see but there was nothing that could stop him considering he was sat right in front of her. Javier stood from his chair and pulled it round to her so he was sat beside her. He rested his hands on her thighs, rubbing them in a loving manner.

“I’m sorry Javi” she sobbed into her hands “I’m so sorry”

“Hey,” he said softly as he reached out to grab her hands to pulled them from her face making her look at him. His heart sank when he saw her bloodshot, watery eyes. A similar broken look in her as to when it happened. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for” he said rubbing the back of her hands with his thumbs.

“I was an idiot...” she sniffed.

“Yeah, you were” he agreed with a nod making her laugh slightly. “But I would’ve done the same for you” he told her quietly.

“Javi..”

“I’m serious (Y/N). Had it been the other way round, I would’ve taken a bullet for you”

“I wouldn’t want you to do that for me”

“And I didn’t want you to do it for me” he said “and...I’ve never been more scared in my life” he paused for a moment. His grip on her hands tightening as he swallowed thickly trying not to cry himself. “The thought of loosing you...I couldn’t do this without you (Y/N). I couldn’t live in a world without you. You mean more to me than you will ever know...”

He saw tears fall to her hands and heard her drew in shaky breaths. He moved further to her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. She gripped his suit jacket and sobbed into his shirt. “I’m so sorry Javier. I don’t want to live without you”

“You won’t (Y/N). I’m going to help you get through this. You will get through this” he told her placing a soft kiss to her hair “I’m not going to leave you. Not this time”

04/01/21

Taglist: @linkpk88 @phoenixhalliwell @lunaserenade

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfic #narcos #pedro pascal #angst #fluff #fanfic

[yuusa]

-ˋˏ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐬 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠ˎˊ-

       -ˋˏ 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒊𝒓𝒔 𝑬𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈ˎˊ-

               ✧ 𝑪𝒐𝒅𝒆 𝑽𝒆𝒊𝒏 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

·  ·  ·  · ✦ 𝑺/𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑸𝒖𝒆𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒈𝒐𝒂𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑸𝒖𝒆𝒆𝒏.

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: 𝑳𝒐𝒖𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒖𝒏𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝑺/𝒐 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒎𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕, 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑸𝒖𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒐𝒖𝒕. 𝑯𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒔𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒍𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝑺/𝒐'𝒔 𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒚.

You breathed heavily and cried out in pain, the number of Relics being absorbed in your body proving to be too much as you nearly collapsed onto the ground. Louis’s hands began to tremble as your eyes began to grow an even deeper shade of blue that glowed from within the throne room. A familiar light was cast behind you, revealing several of the Queen’s spears that began to fall upon your friends.

You struggled with yourself, trying to pull the Relics out of your body but eventually succumbed to the pain of the Queen’s resurrection. Her miasma grew intensely, the blue color engulfing your vision entirely. As Yakumo and Jack yelled out for a cover, Louis took the momentary distraction to sneak behind your withering body. He slid his sword towards you, only for it to be stopped by your hand, the blade going no further than the first layer of skin. 

Your body moved on its own, their once bright (e/c) eyes had turned into a deep blue that glowed menacingly. The Queen snapped her head towards Louis, the man sweating and restraining himself from breaking down at the sight of you being used as Cruz’s vessel. 

“You got to be kidding me. . .” Yakumo stared at you in disbelief, watching as the Queen held onto Louis’s sword with your hands and flung him across the room, leading him back to your friends.

He coughed out a groan of pain before quickly getting back onto his feet, steadying himself for the approaching and inevitable battle that had befallen them. They must have miscalculated and overestimated your capability score. causing the worst disaster to be born right before their eyes. Although you had the Queen’s blood flowing within you, you were not immune to frenzy nor the resurrection. 

Jack tightened his grip on his weapon, turning his head to the side as his past memories of your journey flashed in front of him, “there's only one thing left to do at this point, isn’t there?”

The Queen stared down at your body, observing your hands and the ground below you before addressing the threat in front of her. She was utterly surprised to feel alive once more, even if it meant the expense of your own body and existence. History will begin to repeat itself if they chose not to stop the Queen at this very moment. 

“We. . . We’re going to do what we must to protect the world!” Mia cried, “it is the one thing they wanted to do the most so. . . We came this far, we can’t let everyone’s death be in vain!” 

Everyone cried out at the same time, lunging themselves forward for what seems to be their final moments. Mia and Eva stayed behind, firing multiple shots and dispersing the spears with their respective elements, trying to pull through to see the start of the world. Louis and Jack ran towards you, hitting their swords against your body but having it be deflected. In the small window of opportunity that had been created from the two’s separation, Yakumo tried to slam his weapon on the Queen’s skull. 

The Queen grabbed onto his sword with ease, using the momentum of his body to have it crash with the approaching Louis and Jack. Yakumo spun around in the air for a short while before his head collided with the hard ground. She tossed his weapon to the other side in a mocking tone, almost as if to toy with the fact that he was given another chance to kill her. The Queen raised your body’s hand to guide the spears towards the group, the sky raining down droplets that stabbed itself into the ground. 

In a matter of minutes, each of them began to detonate, the impact reaching Mia’s fragile body which began to drop to the ground. Eva stepped forward, shielding Mia’s groaning body as she continued to slash through the spears with her bayonet, deflecting them as much as possible but they merely slid centimeters away from her skin. Louis continued to combat you head-on, his sword hitting the bone of your wrist but there wasn’t much sign of damage. The Queen dodged many of his faster attacks, your body leaning much closer towards Jack who fired a bloodshot at her.  

She swiped the shot away and glided forward, hitting Jack with immense power to send him flying back towards Eva. She cried out in frustration, moving to your body while Jack and Mia recovered. She attempted to stab through your stomach but you weaved to the side, delivering a kick to her scar-covered body. She was caught by Jack who gently settled her back to her feet, throwing another bloodshot at you to cage the Queen’s attention.

Yakumo fluidly dodged through the flying spears and his weapon finally connected with the side of your body. The Queen was thrown to the ground as he pushed his legs forward, trying to reach your heart. However, the Queen slid away and frustratedly floated to higher ground. Everyone prepared themselves for another wave of spears but they peeked through their weapons and fingers to see your body crying out in pain. 

As your blue eyes flashed between its normal color and the Queen’s, Louis held onto his sword tightly as he winced in pain. You clawed at your heart, pulling yourself to the ground as you forced a cough through your lips. You were so close to killing your friends that the thought terrified you greatly, giving you the chance to at least regain a small portion of your body. You grabbed onto your wrist, restraining the Queen from taking further action with your body. 

“Everyone. . . Hurry. . .” You gasped, your body trembling greatly as you tried to fight back against the Queen’s strong will to live, “she’s ripping me apart on the inside. . . ! Damn this woman!”

The red-haired man took no chances against you, his will to send you to the grave as a mercy kill growing even stronger than before. Yakumo rushed forward to use a spinning attack, cutting through the first layer of your skin as you step backward. Eva and Mia continued to fire shots at your body, many of them barely grazing the edges of your body as the Queen shoved Yakumo away from her. 

Jack weaved through, dodging the wide strikes that the Queen was delivering in order to break through the bone of your body. The Queen cried out in pain, holding onto your wrist as her form quickly forced your body to regenerate at an inhuman speed. She glared at Jack, swiping her hand across the battlefield to shoot a barrage of attacks. He quickly deflected them by using his sword and body to maneuver himself around the bullets, steadying his body as the rest of the group continued to use up their Ichor concentrate to deliver blows. 

“(Y/n)!” Louis called out, running forward with his sword outstretched to you. You snapped your eyes, the familiar (e/c) color staring at him as you broke free one last time. Your tear-soaked eyes almost saw his outstretched sword as if his hand was reaching for you. 

Fate was cruel yet again as the Queen held onto his sword with your other hand, trying to push him back. The group fumbled with the weapons to continue shooting at the spears that were coming close to Louis’s body, shielding him from the barrage of attacks as he focused on the strength of his arms and your heart. The Queen forced his sword back several inches away from your heart but Louis pressed further, digging his heels into the ground. The man struggled heavily with the strength of the Queen, the pain of living within a world without you in it slowly creeping closer to the forefront of his mind. 

You were a ray of hope within the red mist that plagued the edges of ruined cities, a smile that seemingly brightened the room when you stepped through the doors. With the abundance of gifts you brought for the group and smiles that calmed their nervous jitters, it was hard to believe that someone like you could succumb to the darkness of the world. Louis grit his teeth, the strength of his arms growing tired as the rest of the group tried to reach him. 

“Louis. . .” You whispered, his eyes widening at the sound of your voice slipping past your lips, “damn it. . .”

“Like hell. . . Am I going to let her live!” Your eyes glowed a bright hue of (e/c) as your second handheld onto Louis’s crimson sword, the digits of your fingers wrapping around as you bit your tongue. The ground underneath you shook violently. You glared at the sword in a fierce determination, your body using up all of its strength to battle against the woman. 

Louis watched in shock as you pulled his sword closer to your heart, trying desperately to get the sword to pierce you. The Queen was locked in a fight between your resisting body and Louis’s unyielding passion, her body growing slightly weaker, giving you the final opportunity you were waiting for. 

It was a game of intense tug of war but the biting of your tongue grew even stronger, your blue blood sipping from between your lips and dribbling down your chin. 

“Queen. . . Go straight to hell!” You screamed, forcing his Enduring Crimson blade through your heart. You coughed blood on Louis’s purifier mask, squeezing his blade as you forced it even deeper within yourself. The Crimson color of his blade was dyed a bright blue color, the strength from within his arms being sapped away at the sight of your dying body. 

The spears shattered completely, your body growing limp while the Queen’s miasma quickly died down. Louis begrudgingly pulled his sword out of you, his eyes filling themselves with hot tears. He forced himself to look at anything but you, but his body refused to move as he is blinded by his own tears. You dropped to your knees before your body collapsed to the ground, your blue blood staining the floor of the throne room. 

“Leave this to me,” he said, dropping his sword as he wept over your body.

#code vein #code vein x reader #angst #louis amamiya #louis amamiya x reader

[vesuvianmess]

Second Guessing

・・・・ ・・・・ ・・・・ ・・・・

Character(s): Apprentice Drexxel | Julian Devorak | Asra Alnazar

Rating: Mature - Contains depictions of sickness, bodily fluids, mental illness and mentions of death

The Red Plague had Vesuvia in its grip, ever tightening and refusing to let go. The numbers are rising and time is running out.

I had come to Vesuvia many years ago after my clan had sent me north, a story I will save for another time, and with much resistance I had finally come to call it home. In the beginning of my days here, I spent my spare time hiding away, simply watching the foot traffic flow through the streets through my window. I was a stranger here, an outcast hiding the wrongs they had committed. Hiding the guilt and shame of my past. I wanted nothing more than to see my mother’s face again… But I’m getting off topic. 

At first it was just whispers. Hushed tones and sideways glances. There was talk of an unusual death in the city. Supposedly it had been one of the palace servants. But this was soon forgotten in mere weeks. That is, until another was found. And another. And another. Whispers became buzzing like the thrum of an angry hornet’s nest. The people were uneasy, as was I. It wasn’t long before a dear friend had arranged a meeting at the shop when my aunt was away. They sat me down in my room, pacing in front of me. 

“What’s this about, Asra?” I asked, watching them go from one end of my room to the other. “You’ll wear a rut in the floor at this rate.”

“We need to leave the city.” The magician held their thumb and forefinger to their chin, eyes focused on the floor. “It’s not safe here anymore. I can’t risk you getting hurt.” 

“I can handle myself.” 

“That’s not what I mean. I know you can. But this...this isn’t something you can control Drexxel. We need to go somewhere safe, far away from Vesuvia.” 

“Asra, I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving my aunt here to fend for herself.” I shook my head, leaving her alone wouldn’t be right. Too many loved ones left behind already. 

“There’s been another ten down just since morning, Drexxel. People are beginning to drop like flies!” They ceased their pacing, standing instead directly in front of me. “Please, I can’t let you stay here.”

“I said no.”

“Pack your things, don’t leave anything important behind. We must be off as quickly as we can.” The magician insisted. “I’ll help you.” They started for my things, grabbing clothing from my drawers. 

“I said no.”

A steady flickering flame was beginning to build in my chest. I had already said no twice now and they weren’t listening to me. My patience was wearing thin too fast. I had been running the nail of my thumb under the nails on my opposite hand as we talked, a nervous tick I had developed in early childhood. I watched as my friend continued to ignore my words, instead gathering up my belongings. I couldn’t take it anymore. I snapped, standing from my spot on the bed.

“Asra, I said I’m not going!” 

The magician stopped short, eyes locked with mine. The purple hues stained with a solemn heartbreak. It hurt me to see. But I had made up my mind. Heaving a sigh, I sat back down, keeping my eyes trained on the hands shaking in my lap. The hurt in my friend’s eyes was too much to bear. I couldn’t look at those eyes again. It would break me. Without looking up, I broke the silence.

“I think...I think you should leave.” My voice began to shake, a knot forming in my throat. I was losing my friend. “Go without me. I will follow when this is over.” I bit my lip this time, choking back the tears threatening my eyes. “I promise.” 

・・・

The coming weeks were filled with more and more death. The city’s residents had begun to call this the ‘Red Plague’ due to the horrid leeching red veins that weaved spiderwebs across the face, hands, and feet. I sat alone in the tavern, listening to it all. There were somber ones trying to drown the loss of their loved ones in spirits. Others huddled together, chattering in nerve wracking tones about who would be next. Even though I was listening, everything seemed distant, foggy and unclear. My own thoughts began to mix together with their words until eventually everything else didn’t matter. A heavy weight nested itself in my chest, my hands grasping tighter around my cup. 

Not long after Asra had left, the plague pulled my aunt down with it. I watched her collapse on our doorstep, her life fading away as she struggled to breathe. Everything I had come to love now was gone. I ruined my family for the second time. Part of me wished I would just disappear. That way, at the very least, I could put everything I’d done behind me. There would be nothing left to tear myself up over, nothing to lay awake about at night wishing it had gone differently. I wanted out. Out of this life. Out of this crushing sadness and guilt. 

My chance came when I was invited to work under one Dr. Julian Devorak, a tall and lanky man who looked like sleep had evaded him since the day his life began. I was to work under him as his apprentice while he helped research a cure for this plague. This meant I would be up close and personal to this epidemic. If I played my cards right, I could use this as my out. I would simply be another number on the charts, the stroke of a pen on paper. Another body for the fire. 

In our spare time, Dr. Devorak and myself would drink together at the Raven, going over paperwork at first. Before too long though, we would be up on the tables dancing and singing while others looked on with a glimmer of hope. The doctor began to treat me as more of a friend than an underling. I couldn’t fathom why. I was merely pretending to be happy. A thin veil concealing my intentions. But I liked him nonetheless. He was kind, sincere in his own right, and the stories he could tell always got a weary smile from me. In what seemed like no time at all, I would call him my friend. I would almost regret leaving him behind. 

I’d been given a new task. With a leatherbound book in hand, I was to keep a record of those fallen in the streets. Their names, locations, occupations and the like were all written in the book. Each day I went through more pages than the last. I was beginning to fear that Vesuvia would soon run out of names to fill the blank spaces. In these times, Julian and I had less and less free time to spend together. Our times of singing and dancing in the flickering lights of the tavern were quickly becoming fever dreams I wished I could live through forever, never waking to see the light of reality. Instead, I went alone as I had before. I danced by myself, singing songs only I could hear in a language not spoken by locals. My songs were never happy. On this particular night, I found myself far too deep in the grasp of exhaustion to put on my shows. My body ached and my head felt like static. I left for home early. I must have worked myself too hard. Between my daily counts, records, and tavern visits I had surely expended nearly all of my energy. Leaving my mask on the shop counter, I made my way upstairs. I needed rest. I crawled into bed without even changing my clothes. When the sweet embrace of sleep finally took me, I dreamt of my mother and her soft lullaby.

Snapping out of my sleep with a wretched cough, I shot up and immediately doubled over, an arm wrapped around my abdomen, the other covering my mouth with the back of my hand. When the fit finally ceased, I had to take a moment to gather my breath. My joints ached and my head was spinning. I tried to stand, only to fall back among my pillows. From the edge of the bed I felt the eyes of my companion watching me with worry. I turned to look, offering him a weak smile.

 “It’s okay Bentley, I’m just tired.”

Walking to the bath on shaky legs, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I’d never seen myself so pale. My eyes were sunken in with heavy dark circles from top to bottom and they stung in the light. I swallowed hard and put the sight from my mind. I still had work to do. There was something in me that wanted to find this cure now. Call it curiosity. But this didn’t overshadow my goal. Overworked as I was, I clung to the hope that this disease would take me. The pain I had seen those taken already trudge through seemed immense. I thought that maybe somehow this pain would serve as payment for the years of guilt and lies. Lying about being happy. Lying about being okay. I needed this to be my end. 

Three days passed, leaving me worse for wear by each morning. On the morning of the fourth day, I was wracked with another intense coughing fit. My lungs felt like someone had crushed them under the wheel of a carriage. Breathing was a struggle and standing took all of my energy. My sheets were soaked with sweat and I had, once again, not changed my clothing from the day before. Moving to the edge of the bed I was hit with another coughing fit, this one worse than the last. I felt acid rise to my throat. Ignoring the pain the best I could, I rushed to the bin. Nothing but bile came from me. I sputtered and gagged until it stopped. Without care I wiped my mouth on my sleeve and stumbled my way to the bath. My eyes were unfocused, not looking at anything. I slumped against the countertop, trying to straighten out my vision. I blinked hard, holding my eyes shut for a few heartbeats before opening them. When the haze cleared, I felt something in me churn. 

My hands, pale as they had been before, were now painted with red as if they’d been dipped in dye. Crimson red veins ran from my fingertips like cracks in porcelain. I could barely feel them. Bringing a hand to my face, I turned to look myself over in the mirror. My eyes were an eerie shade of red, watery and horrific staring back at me. Those sickly red veins fell from my eyes like lightning bolts. All those days I had felt so sick… I had my wish granted. But then… Why was there this knot in my chest? I had gotten my wish. I had gotten what I wanted, my way out. I could finally escape everything I’d been hiding from. And yet, I stared at my hands, eyes tracing the patterns against reddened skin. I should have been overjoyed, right? This was my goal. I’d wanted this. In an instant my head was swarmed with memories. Meeting Bentley for the first time at the docks, morning tea with Asra, the smell of the baker’s bread in the market, the thrum of the central square...the nights spent with Julian at the Raven.

Was I...was I crying? 

At that moment I knew. 

I’m going to die today.

I had to tell him. I had to see him one more time. I pushed past the pain the best I could, gathering all of my files, all of my own independent research in my bag. Pulling it over my shoulder I made for the door. I stopped short at the end of the stairs. Bentley was on the shop counter, staring me down. I bit my lip, fighting back the urge to scoop him into my arms again and tell him everything would be okay. I couldn’t lie to him. 

“Bentley….I’m dying.” I could feel his pain as I spoke. “Watch the shop for me okay? Tell Asra...tell them I’m sorry.”

Wiping red stained tears from my eyes, I left the shop behind me. There was no need for my mask now. I didn’t need it. Not where I was going. I used every ounce of strength in me to break out into a hobbling run. I needed to make it to the palace. I had to say my goodbyes. The further I got, the harder it became to breathe. My body burned as if set aflame and my head throbbed like a jackhammer. I caught my foot on an uneven stone and found myself laying face down on the street. When I tried to get up, my arms gave out underneath me. 

“I have to… I need to see him.” I said aloud, as if saying it would make it happen. “I lied.” The tears wouldn’t stop coming. I drug myself forward on sheer willpower alone, clinging to the foolish idea that I might make it out of this. My lungs were filled with blood and each breath felt like razors clawing their way up my throat. “Please! I don’t want to die….I never…” 

That’s right...dying wouldn’t solve my problems. I knew that from the beginning. And still, I craved it. I thought that maybe, just maybe I could find some solace in it. There was no comfort here. I never wanted to die. Not truly. I only wanted to start over, and I didn’t know how.

I never even made it to the palace gates.

#the arcana #the arcana game #fan apprentice #apprentice drexxel #asra alnazar #julian devorak #red plague #past tales #nix hydra #apprentice lore #this was a doozy to write let me tell you

[toloveawarlord]

Sheep Among the Wolves (Ch.1)

You can find my masterlist in my bio!

Characters: Karina, Diavolo, Barbatos

Tagging:  @plumpblueberry  @starry-starry-night24​ @youreawizardharr​ @gay-noodle-clan​

A/N: Day 12 of the 12 Days of OCmas! A lot late and out of order but here it is! Diavolo becomes a dad, basically, to a half-angel.

The ritual had gone wrong.

Searing pain radiated from the branding on her chest. Creaky bones were stretched to the brink of their breaking point. Sour, metallic taste of her own blood dripping into her mouth from the wound on her forehead was nearly too much for the child to bear. Once pure white wings stained crimson on her back.

Her entire being begged for release, battered to the edge of death but not granted that mercy.

No, she lived in utter agony as her body tried to heal itself.

“You are not valuable to me dead, child.” A witch cut her binds, leaning over the girl to check all her injuries. Utterances in foreign tongue removed the sense of feeling, leaving only a comforting numbness. “Your natural healing will soon relieve you of the major wounds.”

And so it did.

A creature of her lineage regained its natural state quickly. Merely an hour had passed, and her ability to move her limbs, stand and walk were returned to her. The pain dulled but ever present.

The scene around her caused only by her hand. A release of strong power had massacred the coven of witches. Their mangled bodies strewn about the room, splattered blood over the walls. The girl couldn’t remember how it had happened, only screaming in agony for it to end.

What did this witch want with her?

“Don’t think me as weak as these.” The threat given with narrowed eyes of a powerful being.

A portal to another realm opened. The witch tugged her along, no concern for the poor state she was still in. Blood caked into her skin, myriad of blue and yellow bruises littered across her body. All that was needed was to deliver her to the Demon Prince for the witch’s pardon.

The air was heavy in this place. Atmosphere darker than that of the human realm she’d been used to. Yet, a glittering castle stood before her, growing ever closer with each stumbling step took as she struggled to keep up with the witch. It was taller than other buildings and even grander on the inside.

Two awaited them in the throne room. Their forms were one that the girl had only read of in stories and seen pictures in books.

Horns. Dark, bony wings. A serpent tail.

Demons.

“Artemisia, I began to think you’d not return.” His voice deep, sounding nothing less than absolute authority as he sat upon the crimson throne. Golden eyes cast an intimidating gaze down upon the witch, muscular arms folded across his broad chest. 

Her head bowed, and she replied, “I promised the nephilim child, Lord Diavolo. I wouldn’t dare attempt any tricks or to run.”

The child wanted to flee. Body so tense it ached. A spell actively keeping her under the witch’s control.

Diavolo assessed the girl from afar. “And you bring her to me in such a pitiful state?” The power that ebbed from that small body astounded him. Quite useful, indeed. His attention moved away to the other demon. “Barbatos, escort the nephilim to her chambers and see to it that she is made presentable.”

“As you command, my lord.” Steps silent as he approached. Barbatos knelt to get a better view of her, assessing how stained and bloodied she was. Mismatched eyes of violet and mint were trembling with fear. “I’ll ask you to release your spell.”

Her body became her own again. The instinct to run, to preserve her existence flared. Yet, her legs refused to move. Being in the demon realm snuffed out any escape. She couldn’t control her powers enough to open a portal back to the human world, and even if she did, she’d only be hunted by humans, witches, and angels once again.

She tired of it all.

“Please allow me to escort you, miss.” Barbatos offered her a gentle smile, holding out his gloved hand. It wouldn’t do to force her, as she already feared them. If they ever wish to have her cooperation, her trust would first need to be won.

A room had been previously prepared in anticipation of her arrival. The prospect of a living nephilim, especially a child, had truly intrigued the demon prince. Barbatos could agree that her power could be useful, but raising a half-angle that was no older than eight or nine physically would prove challenging.

He drew a bath, watching her fidget from her spot next to him. If what the witch Artemisia said was true, a coven had tried to sacrifice her for power. “It’s prepared. I shall take care to clean your wings as well.”

The girl complied, the bite of the near scalding water turning murky red as it eroded the blood from her skin. The silence broke with a meek question. “Why are you...”

Aren’t you going to kill me too?

Her true question unable to pass her lips.

“The young master has no such intentions. You are now the ward of the future King of Devildom. My lord has placed you under his protection,” Barbatos answered, delicately removing the crimson stains from her wings. Her head bobbed, lashes fluttering against her cheeks. His statement like permission for the child to allow herself to relax.

Heavy exhaustion fell over her body. Though healed nearly completely, the aching lingered in her mind. Too many days had passed since her last opportunity to rest. The young girl fell asleep right there in the crimson bathwater.

Barbatos took expert care of her. Drying her off, dressing her in clean clothes, and tucking her into bed. Her features showed the most peaceful expression he’d witnessed since her arrival. “Shall I wake her?”

“That’s not necessary. I expected this after the tale the witch gave. We’ll have plenty of time to welcome her properly after she’s rested,” Diavolo answered in a whisper. She was quite an adorable child, now that she wasn’t drenched in dirt and blood. Truly one with angel blood coursing through her veins.

He expected her to be quite useful, indeed.

*****

A lavish dinner had been prepared and set elegantly on the table. Even from the doorway, the little girl could smell the delectable aroma. She shielded a yawn with the palm of her hand. Even after a peaceful nap, the tiredness continued to plague her body.

Her clothes were new and not worn as the ones that she had been used to. A muted gold dress that fell to her knees and a pair of silver flats that were properly sized. Blonde hair brushed and tied back in a loose ponytail.

“I’ve yet to learn your name. You may call me Diavolo. I am the Lord of this domain, although I’m sure Barbatos has already told you that.” He folded his hands, elbows leaned against the table, and rested his chin on them.

Her gaze fell away, only peeking at him out of the corner of her vision. Although no one had harmed her, the girl would not trust demons so easily. The stories passed down from the humans painted a grim picture. She muttered quietly. One word.

“Karina, huh?” Diavolo pondered for a moment, and chuckled. “A fitting name, as you are the purest thing in Devildom.” He’d amused himself.

Inviting her to eat whatever she wished, Diavolo simply observed. Such strong power locked inside that small body. A timid child. Mismatched eyes darting around the room to find the source of the smallest noise. Yet, the ghost of a smile on her lips as she nibbled at the warm food on her plate showed her innocence.

What he knew of nephilims was that they aged quicker than normal angels until they reached maturity, although it still took a significant amount of time. Their powers were hard to control, but not too much was known as their kind had been hunted down and killed. 

“This place will be your home. I do hope you’ll come to be more comfortable.” She was adorable, petite like a little doll. He awaited the day that he could show her off to everyone, let them bask in all her cuteness. Patience was necessary but not what the young king was used to. “Should you need anything, do not hesitate to ask myself or Barbatos. Anything at all. Books, toys, clothes. Whatever you wish for, it will be yours.”

Without his wings and horns, he wasn’t as intimidating as before. The authoritative gleam behind those golden eyes had disappeared, replaced with.. something she hadn’t received from anyone is so long...

Kindness.

He meant his words. She sensed no deception, no manipulation. It wasn’t clear what he wanted from her, and they all wanted something. 

“I suppose words don’t mean much to you after all you’ve been through. Take all the time you need.”

His smile almost made her feel safe, like she might be able to trust him. Karina had thought those feelings to be lost to her, security and assurance; comfort and warmth. How did a demon make her feel what angels could not?

Diavolo excused himself from the table, having a late meeting with some lesser demons. He’d much rather spend time marveling at his new ward, watching her expression brighten with each new dessert she snacked on.

Barbatos cleared away the dishes, careful not to make sudden noises that startled the young girl. She’d slowed her eating, clearly full but wanting to indulge more in the delicious sweets in front of her.

The girl, however, took the next opportunity alone to sneak out of the large dining hall. Glancing down the seemingly never ending hallway stretching in both directions, she tried to remember the way back to her room, but she ended up wandering endless.

The pictures on the walls moved, some even sounded as though they were trying to speak. Anxiety rose up within her, creeping over her body. Her defense rising.

“Hey there! Are ya lost?” The little round, black creature with horns spoke with pep but it hardly mattered.

She screamed, releasing her angelic power in a huge burst. Wings erupting from her back, mismatched eyes glowing with the immense power. The floor quaked and the castle shuttered. She’d lost control, or what little of it she’d ever had.

All she saw was pure white. A color she detested nearly as much as herself. 

#obey me #obey me! #shall we date obey me #obey me fanfiction #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me fic #diavolo really becomes a dad #he thinks she's so cute

[lamiasluck]

The God of Health

I’ve gotten the chance to talk about my god au because of the lovely @juju-on-that-yeet so I wanted to post a lil origin story I thought of for Edward! Here’s a brief explanation of that au btw

Tags: @alvie-ashgrove @emptynarration @theshysepticeye @verse2wo

Warnings: Character death and violence

-

“Bring him to the town’s square!” an aggressive voice pierced through the loud crowd.

“No!” Edward struggled against the men dragging him by his arms. “You can’t do this!” His voice was drowned out by the crowd’s cheers. Soon enough he was tied against a pole surrounded by the face of people he once called his patients. 

He wasn’t hated, that was far from the truth, they were desperate. As desperate as Edward was to escape this torment. “Let me go! Please!” 

Prayers were chanted amongst the crowd. Another man stood in front of Edward, armed with a knife. Edward recognized him, he failed to save his wife from the plague that fell upon the town. He could see the pain in his eyes.

The man leading the event continued to call out amongst the village. He looked up at something unseen. “Oh mighty gods... please hear our prayers!” 

“This isn’t right!” Edward shrieked. The crowd fell silent, somber expressions painted each of their faces. Even the man in front of him shared their look of remorse, eyes vacant as he stared at the knife he was holding. He was breathing heavily and shaking. “Please... you can’t do this...”

The man tore his gaze from the knife and looked at Edward. “May the gods have mercy on our souls and cure us of this plague. With this sacrifice-“ 

“This isn’t the solution!” Edward struggled against his binds. “You can’t rely on the gods for this. You need my help!” Some gasped and looked at him with shocked expressions. As if he was the crazy one here.

“We need divine help!” the man snapped. “This plague has killed too many of us. Too many good people.” The knife glistened against the sun’s rays. Edward swallowed harshly at the sight. “You’re a good man, Edward, please, forgive us for this.” 

Edward stayed silent, looking at the crowd in desperation. The man raised the knife, causing him to flinch. “No, I’m your best bet on-“ The knife was put to his throat.

--

He woke up with a start as if he had a bad nightmare. Immediately, he grasped at his neck, noticing the rough skin of a scar. His eyes widened at the feeling, and he slowly lowered his hands that never stopped shaking. He looked around. He wasn’t in the town’s square anymore; it was completely dark.

“Hello?” His voice echoed against the shadows. No response.

He shook his head. Memories of betrayal and pain flooded his mind like the damned plague that flooded through the town. His town. 

“How could they do this...” While one patient died, he saved five in their place. He was the best in his field. Why, as he remembered the town’s faces he could recall helping them with their strife. And this is how they thanked him? 

Tears began building up in his eyes. They trusted him with their lives. He found it harder to breathe through his weak voice. He thought he could trust his life in theirs. The sob that escaped him was loud and filled with despair. He trusted them. His hands clenched and grabbed at the wispy black floor, as he collapsed forward and cried out his anguish. They betrayed him; when all he offered was compassion.

“It’s not fair, is it?” A foreign voice rang within the dark room. Edward couldn’t find the effort to care. He stared vacantly at his own hands. A shadowy mist emerged in front of his kneeled form. Soon enough, the mist formed into the shape of a man. 

“They didn’t appreciate your talents, doctor.” Edward slowly looked up at the figure; not caring for how his tears stained his face and disheveled his appearance. While shaped like a man, he knew he wasn’t staring at anyone human. Even if his vision was blurry, this wasn’t natural.

This figure was pale; dressed in elegant, dark clothes that looked expensive. He held an analyzing gaze as he looked down at Edward; black eyes seemingly emotionless. Still, this figure didn’t act malicious to him. “It wasn’t your time yet,” he said in a low, sympathetic tone. 

Edward couldn’t help but whimper at the thought. He tried to wipe away his tears on his sleeve; a pained scowl now plastered on his face. “I did so much for them...” 

The figure nodded solemnly. “You did. You were a noble man.” He walked around the distraught man with a look of disdain. “A soul like you doesn’t deserve this.” This wasn’t supposed to happen. Edward’s death, like everyone else’s, was maliciously planned to go with fate’s plan. Such a barbaric sacrifice never listened to order. “As an act of mercy,” he started as he looked down at Edward, “I can send your soul back.”

Send his soul back? Edward’s eyes light up at the thought, only for that light to be extinguished not a second later. “Back there...?” His voice was strained and dripping with disbelief. “To my village?” 

The figure nodded. “Yes, and with it, I’ll give your people nothing but a warning for this sin.” 

Edward furrowed his brows at the thought. “You won’t cure the plague?” 

“No, they should learn that acts like this will give them nothing.” 

A pit formed in his stomach. His mind flashed back and remembered all those faces. Everyone who was complacent or encouraging his brutal murder. All for something that wouldn’t get solved easily. “Then... then I don’t want to go back,” Edward concluded. “They’ll kill me again.” 

“I’ll make sure you live a life of luxury.” 

He was brave enough to snap at the other. “No, no, you don’t understand! I don’t want to see them again!” 

The figure seemed taken aback by his attitude. “Are you sure?” 

The pain, he could remember it. As his throat was slit the last thing he saw was the remorseful, but stern face of his past patient. He could remember the blood. He could remember the shame. “I’m sure. You can punish me for all I care. I’m not going back there.” 

The figure nodded, pity apparent on his pale features. However, his expression quickly turned dark. “I want you to understand what you’re saying, Edward.” 

Black mist swirled around him, forming shadows that wanted to reach out and grab him. “I underst-” They traveled up and tightened around his neck. He could only let out choked gasps as he fruitlessly grasped at them.

The figure leaned down, looming over the doctor. “You are not going to be treated like the rest. I’m going to turn you into a creation that will make humanity cower and praise you. You’ll be just like me. Do you understand?” 

It was surprising he could think with his blood and air getting cut off from his head. Cower and praise? That didn’t sound too bad. To become what his patients feared and worshipped. To be able to have them regret their betrayal against him. To be able to have them listen. He nodded, or at least, tried to. 

“You’ll be an interesting one, doctor,” the figure purred. “I greatly appreciated your cooperation.” 

The hold around his neck lessened. Edward felt immense pride in his chest as he took deep breaths of air. Whatever this was, it would be something new. Something bigger than what he was before. This figure, no, this god standing over him felt appreciation? He wanted to chase that feeling like a hunter to its prey. Was he being selfish for this? His village was selfish when they killed him. He shook whatever apprehensive thoughts he had out of his head. It was too late now; he made his choice. He needed this. He needed to earn back his respect and pride. Nothing fake. He’ll make sure he gets sincerity.

He looked up at the god with a smile. It’s weak, but still conveyed his feelings. Finally, the appreciation he deserved.

#dr iplier #Darkiplier #god au #markiplier #markiplier egos #fanfic

[owlhart]

Somewhere Only We Know

It takes them almost four days to find Triss' body on the battlefield, hair matted with blood. Burns cover her chest and back, charred skin peeling and flaking into blotches of red and pink and black. The nauseating smell of burnt flesh still hangs in the air but it seemed as if Triss had enough magic to heal any major injuries before she had passed out, hidden away in the corner of the archway before the gate.

The field medics stabilise her the best that they can before Keira teleports the both of them back to the royal infirmary in Vizimir.

But that had been a fortnight ago and though Triss' body had recovered with the aid of magic, albeit with scarring on her chest, she had not woken up yet. It is not long before Philippa appears at the Royal Palace of Vizimir and Keira all but drags her to the royal infirmary without so much as a 'hello'. "Help me," the blonde half demands, half pleads, anxiety and helplessness rolling off of her in waves. "She won't wake up. There's nothing wrong with her physically and this isn't a medically induced coma, but she just won't wake up. She doesn't respond to any stimulus, she doesn't react to anything and oh gods, help her, Philippa. I don't know what to do." Philippa stares down at Triss' prone form. Dressed in a simple gown, she simply lay there, her chestnut curls spread out on the pillow like a halo, a serene expression on her face - there is no pain, only painful memories etched onto her chest in the form of scars. Philippa sits beside her and takes her hand. She sends a pulse of magic through Triss' body and the magic rebounds back full circle. Her eyebrows knit together in thought. Gingerly, she sends a continuous stream of magic into Triss' body this time, slowly probing until she hits a barrier. "What is it?" Keira asks at the serious expression on Philippa's face.

"You are correct in that physically she is fine, aside from the scarring. But there is a magical barrier around her mind - an automatic defence mechanism triggered by immense stress and trauma. It’s rare but not unheard of.”

“Alright, then how do we snap her out of it?” Philippa stills and Keira sucks in a breath at the look on her face, wringing her hands frantically. “Oh gods, what do we do? I mean, Tissaia’s still recovering from dimeritium poisoning and Yennefer’s in no shape to help. What...what about Sheala? Or...or Francesca! She must know something!”

“Keira," Philippa grabs her by the arm. “Pull yourself together and then make yourself useful and go to the library to do some research on this. I need to think.”

“Research?”

“Keira, focus please. I’m not asking you to find a cure for the Catriona plague, so stop panicking and go do as I say.”

Keira moves to rush out of the room and Philippa catches her by the shoulder.

“Look at me. Look at me, Keira.” She holds her gaze. “Take a deep breathe. Focus. Yes?”

Keira inhales deeply. 

“Alright, now go.”

The younger sorceress nods and leaves swiftly. Philippa watches her disappear out the door before she herself lets out a deep sigh, the thundering of her heartbeat in her ears the only thing betraying her true feelings.

She takes a minute to compose herself, compartmentalising her emotions with practiced ease. Then, she takes Triss’ hand in her own, her other hand sweeping back the hair from her face and placing it over Triss’ forehead. The magic surges through her fingertips and she tries to channel it into Triss but the barrier holds fast, and it starts to push back against the intrusion, almost as if rejecting her. Philippa eases off, afraid that forcing her way through would cause more harm.

She tries for hours but to no avail and when she has exhausted her magic, she turns to Sheala.

“I’m sorry, Philippa, but it will take me at least a week to get to Temeria. My megascope isn’t functioning at its full capacity at the moment and I cannot teleport there.”

Philippa grimaces at the other woman’s fuzzy image as the megascope flickered violently.

“Do you have any idea how to wake her up?”

“I don’t, at least not until I’ve examined Triss.”

Philippa feels a knot form in her throat and she gives Sheala a nod of thanks. Sheala disconnects and Philippa tries but fails to contact Francesca and Ida. With a heavy heart, she helps Keira with her research, pouring over every single book, scroll and parchment she can get her hands on. They carry on for days and when Philippa is too exhausted to continue, she drags herself to Triss’ side.

She looks so peaceful lying there and Philippa sinks to her knees at her bedside. She is tired, she is drained, and her heart aches so terribly.

“Triss,” she whispers, swallowing hard, “if you can hear me, I need you to fight. I need you to be stronger and braver than you were at Sodden. I need you to be fearless.” She looks up at the ceiling, blinking quickly. “For the both of us. Triss, please.”

So tell me when you're gonna let me in. I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin.

Her hands are shaking as she stands up wearily. The weight in her chest swells as she places a kiss on Triss’ forehead and she closes her eyes, inhaling the familiar scent - it is warm and comforting and nostalgic and her heart sinks. She places her hands on Triss’ temples and touches foreheads. The world dissolves around her suddenly and she finds herself standing in the middle of a forest. It is dark and grey and the thick damp mist surrounds her. She can’t see past a few feet in front of her and she stills, trying to get a bearing of her current whereabouts. The sounds fade and all she can hear is the thudding of her heartbeat and her shallow breathing echoing in her head. 

She takes a step forward and the mist retreats slightly. She takes another step, and another and another and something pricks at the back of her mind.

The feeling is different but she knows this place. 

She cannot place it but it calls to her, stronger with each step she takes.

Is this the place we used to love? Is this the place that I've been dreaming of? Her boots crunch against the dry bed of leaves blanketing the ground and the sound of rushing water grows louder. Her fingers brush against the smooth bark of the white birch trees thoughtfully.

She knows this place.

The world reveals more of itself as she wanders towards the source of the rushing water until she finds herself with one foot in the river. She remembers this place.

Time slows down, the blood pulsing in his ears so loudly that it roars and rages and she drops down on one knee, one hand pressed to the side of her head. Gasping, Philippa blinks away the tears.

It is the small secluded grove beside the river, tucked away in a dense part of the forest - it is Triss’ favourite spot in Maribor and she had taken Philippa there when Philippa had last visited Temeria; it is the place where Triss had told Philippa she loved her for the first time, where Triss had kissed her so tenderly, so lovingly; it is the place where Philippa had broken Triss’ heart. 

But this is an illusion, a bastardisation of its real counterpart in all its faded colours and suffocating eerieness, and Philippa wants to scream.

A murmur floats to her with the wind and her head snaps up. She sees the figure standing in the river near the shore on the other side and she doesn’t need to see the chestnut curls or cornflower blue eyes or that gentle, tender smile to know who it is.

She would recognise Triss in a thousand worlds, in a thousand lifetimes.

“Triss!”

There is something beckoning her, calling her, and Philippa fights against its hypnotic draw. Triss has almost crossed the river, but something tells Philippa she cannot allow her to reach the other side.

Philippa wades deeper into the river and she can see visions reflected on the surface of the water - she sees Triss conjuring vines to block the Nilfgaardian’s advances; she sees the flames engulf her; she sees the tears and the blood and the agony - and Triss needs only one more step to reach the opposite bank.

A desperate fury ignites in her chest and she surges forward against the water current.

“Triss!”

Triss turns around at her scream, eyes wide. 

Philippa stops in the middle of the river. There is something blocking her and she can go no further. And so, she extends a hand, palm upwards. 

And if you have a minute, why don't we go talk about it somewhere only we know?

Philippa fights to keep her voice steady.

“Do you remember what you told me before we went off to Sodden?”

Pain flashes across Triss’ eyes at the mention of Sodden but she nods wordlessly. “You told me that you would come back to me, safe and sound.” Her voice is thick with emotion but Philippa presses on. “The battle is over, Triss. And now, I need you to keep your promise. I need you to come back to me.” She is vaguely aware of the wetness on her cheeks. “Please. Come back to me.” This could be the end of everything, so why don't we go somewhere only we know?

Triss stares at her before taking a shaky step towards Philippa. She is crying too but she reaches out and takes her outstretched hand so gently that Philippa thinks it is all just a dream.

The world burns away the grey and monochrome colours. The mist dissipates instantly and blue and green and brown and gold sears back into their vision. There is warm sunlight and a cool breeze and the murky waters have cleared into a beautiful turquoise but Philippa does not see or feel any of it.

There is only Triss.

And Triss smiles through her tears, a hand reaching up to caress Philippa’s cheek. 

“Always.”

Philippa gasps and they wake in the palace once again. They stay unmoving for a while before a relieved smile finally tugs at Philippa’s lips.

“Welcome back.”

#merihart #philippa eilhart #triss merigold #philippa x triss #philippa eilhart x triss merigold #the witcher #i did wanna write a small scene where once Phil enters the dream state #there's a barrier encompassing the two of them so no one else can approach them #and they have to wait for Phil to bring Triss back #but it would interrupt the flow here #the idea here was that Phil was drained in mind and spirit and in magic #and it was her at her most vulnerable #also there is such a strong emotional connection between Phil and Triss that Philippa is really the only one who can form this bond #and step into Triss' mind like that #and pull her back out #lyrics from Somewhere Only We Know by Keane

[tazmilyxfamily]

[Drabble] Unspoken

{ just something spooky i wrote cuz some music inspired me! warning for character death and spoilers }

Summary: Hornet learns the biggest difference between her and Ghost; void.

If there was one thing Hornet knew for sure, it was that she never should have come down there.

Though she’d sworn to herself that she wouldn’t become attached, knowing that one slip up could result in the Knight being lost like all the others, she couldn’t help but worry once she directed them down to the Abyss. It was a place of unknown depth, one most bugs couldn’t survive in for long. She could understand why this was, too. It was cold beyond all belief, the temperature biting through her cloak like a nail through the shell of a Lifeblood cocoon and sinking deep into her chitin. The pressure in the air was also quite immense- almost crippling in its weight, being heavy to the point that Hornet had to use her long nail to keep her balance.

Even still, she continued on.

The sharp point of her weapon digging deeply into the ground was the only sound she had to accompany her as she searched for the one she’d affectionately nicknamed “Little Ghost”, occasionally interrupted by the staggered shuffle of her own feet. But it didn’t take much more walking before she found… Them. Vessels of various shapes and sizes, all missing their signature shells and floating limitlessly in the air. It didn’t take long for the group of them to notice her. The dark beings hissed and wailed at her as they flew in to attack, barely sparing her even a moment to recover and reorient herself before they’d try again and again. 

She’d barely gotten away with her life in the end, her shell battered and beaten but her body barely containing enough Silk to heal it. To make matters worse, a dark liquid had begun to leak from her, quivering just as her body did. Hornet instinctively took a breath to steady herself, but all the Void-filled air did was make her cough. Subsequent inhales resulted in a similar reaction until she was... choking, a coughing fit quickly turning into a desperate attempt to breath. Her head felt heavy and her knees seemed to be moments away from buckling. She couldn’t think, she couldn’t breath- she could hardly even see.

The noise inevitably brought the attention of more of the creatures upon her, Hornet barely able to sense their approach. She moved to feebly block them with her free hand, but even this didn’t work, the limb oddly unwilling to do as she wished.

Then, striking through the darkness came a flash of white. Several pained shrieks followed, paired with the familiar and practiced swish of a nail. “Gh… Ghost…” Hornet barely managed to rasp out towards the figure. She knew who this was, their sharp horns recognizable even through the black mist that plagued her vision. She coughed hard again, it taking all her willpower to hold onto the nail clutched in her hand as she hunched over. The vessel approached the half-weaver, evidently alarmed and intending to help, but holding on was swiftly becoming more and more difficult.

One more step. 

It was all she needed. One step, then another, and another… 

Hornet lifted her nail.

But the weapon slipped from her grasp. Little Ghost’s white, emotionless mask was the last thing she saw before the void finally embraced her.

#▷Knight ☿ Drabble.◁ #tw death #hollow knight spoilers #▷Hornet ♕ Drabble.◁

[arxaris]

Reincarnation AU drabble

*Related to my gladiator fic

Thanks @let-me-wander for this adorable idea and that last little bit with Kirishima that I absolutely had to include ❤️

* * *

“Let’s go on a graduation trip, Katsuki!” Kirishima said, his stupid pretty eyes shining bright. “I wanna see other parts of the world before we start working!”

“That’s dumb,” Bakugou growled out. “We should be training, moron.”

“Pleeeeease, Kat? It’ll be fun, I swear!” He pleaded.

Bakugou, the masochist that he was, had grumbled out a reluctant agreement. And that’s how he ended up in Rome, waiting in line to tour the Colosseum with his best friend.

His best friend, who also happened to be the love of his life.

A fact that was seriously complicating the ‘fun’ Kirishima had promised him.

Well, sort of. He was still having a good time, because how could he not be? Having Kirishima all to himself, being the only one graced with the sight of his eyes lighting up and his mouth hanging ajar as they took in the beautiful ruins and sculptures and fountains of Rome, getting to share bottles of wine with him over dinner and watch his cheeks turn the prettiest shade of pink as they neared the bottom.

However, along with all that came the obscene way he ate his gelato, licking it straight from his hand as it dripped in the Roman sun; the soft moans he would let out at the first bite of every delicious meal; the private budget rooms that never had a second bed; and the fact that Kirishima slept near naked, apparently determined to kill him as he fell on top of the covers in only his boxer briefs.

Yeah, Bakugou was dying, and it had nothing to do with the July heat.

He jumped at a pressure on his forearm. Kirishima, grabbing onto him unnecessarily to get his attention, as always. Add that to the list of reasons Bakugou was certainly going to die an early death.

“Come on, the line’s moving,” he said excitedly.

They made their way through security and were finally set free to explore. Kirishima flitted around excitedly, as he always did, while Bakugou made his way methodically out to the fighting area on the first floor, taking in the giant arches of the outer wall, only half of it left standing, a ghost of its original grandeur.

In addition to his jumbled feelings about his friend, Bakugou had been plagued by a sense of unease all morning, since the Colosseum came into view. The disintegration of such an amazing structure made his heart ache for reasons he couldn’t explain, the holes in the exterior stone and the crumbling bricks causing his vision to blink red in anger.

He rounded the corner and the arena came into his sights. Or, what was left of it anyway. The floor of the stage had given way, revealing the maze of the cellars beneath it and leaving only a reconstructed sliver of the sandy fighting ground in its place. Bakugou’s fists clenched at his sides.

Who let this happen? He thought in outrage. It used to be so beautiful.

Bakugou stopped in his slow stroll around the perimeter of the pit.

What?

He shook his head to clear the strange thought away and resumed his step. Lifting his camera, he snapped picture after picture to distract himself from his odd emotional response, from his very personal-feeling offense at the destruction of the amphitheatre. He hardly flinched when an arm wrapped around his shoulder.

“Isn’t this crazy?!” Kirishima said, voice bubbling with excitement and wonder. “This place feels alive, ya know? Man, I wish we could spar in the pit!” He laughed.

Maybe everyone had strong feelings towards the place, then. Important history and all.

“I’m gonna go find the entrance to the arena!” Kirishima exclaimed, pointing towards the reconstructed semicircle of stage. And then he was off again, running around the edge of the stage and away from Bakugou.

Normally, Bakugou might have followed him, but as he looked around, he felt himself more drawn to the second level. He wanted to see how the pit would’ve looked from above, what the spectators would have seen.

Bakugou meandered up the stairs to the second level, finding himself in a small museum exhibit that curved its way around the part of the outer wall that was still standing. The pieces were showcased in chronological order. He enjoyed the first part, from the Roman Empire, immensely. He must have stood in front of the bits of engraved stone, seat markers for the upper class’s reserved spots, for five full minutes, staring and taking photos.

The fractured stone that said ‘Caesa-’ sent chills down his spine. He didn’t even know which Emperor it belonged to, as the name itself had broken apart from its title long ago. Perhaps, he supposed, it was simply knowing that such an important figure had sat directly under the engraving that made him react so strongly to it.

When Bakugou reached the end of the Roman Empire era, however, and the exhibit began to focus on what had happened to the Colosseum since Ancient Rome’s fall, he found that he couldn’t continue to read. The harvesting of lead and iron for Catholic construction, later troops using the structure as fucking target practice. He was shaking with anger by the time he jerked away from the text display. He practically ran through the rest of the exhibit, heaving a sigh of relief when he burst into the interior and back into the sun.

Bakugou walked robotically along the railed path, but he felt himself relaxing quickly as he took in the view of the pit. Frankly, it was beautiful, even with the metal scaffolding and most of the floor missing. The curved walls, lined with their beautiful arches, made him feel oddly safe and protected for housing an arena where countless people were brutally murdered.

Bakugou reached a terrace that stretched out over the pit, and his breath caught in his throat. He turned into it and beelined toward the edge.

Was this where the Emperor himself would have sat, watching the games from a marble throne as his servants fanned him with palms, Bakugou wondered. Was this the spot from which he would have pardoned injured gladiators from fighting, or have them put to death, based on the whims of the crowd? Connecting with his people through the enjoyment of theatrical bloodshed?

Bakugou threw himself at the flimsy railing when he reached it, leaning over it and feeling it shake beneath him. The couple taking photos next to him shot him annoyed glances, but he couldn’t care less. His heart was beating hard in his chest, his eyes scanning the pit, frantic, searching.

Braids, he thought manically. Braids. Where are his braids?

And then Bakugou found him, a giant smile on his face as he play-fought with a pair of kids, no older than seven or eight, using plastic swords from the gift shop. Bakugou’s heart swelled in his chest, and none of it was correct because these were children and Kirishima’s braids were nowhere to be seen and he wasn’t supposed to be wearing a shirt, only his arms were ever armored, but he looked so happy that Bakugou couldn’t bring himself to care.

Gods, he loved him.

His heart ached in his chest; he wanted to tell people, but he couldn’t.

Bakugou shook his head to dispel the odd thoughts; of course he couldn’t tell people, Kirishima himself didn’t even know.

Kirishima fell to the ground in a dramatic fake death, laughing all the while, and Bakugou’s head felt like it was splitting. Anger and joy, past and present, he was seeing and feeling double, pain lancing through him like a spear at the image of Kirishima on the ground while he reveled in his happiness all the same. Bakugou clung to the railing for dear life.

Kirishima, still lying on the ground, handed the plastic swords back to the kids and said his goodbyes with a smile. Then he pushed himself back up and looked around. He seemed like he was searching for something, too.

And when his eyes landed on Bakugou’s face, it was clear as day that he’d found it. A smile stretched over his features and he raised a hand to the sky, waving openly at him.

Bakugou’s heart stopped. His breathing stopped. Time itself must have stopped. One second he was watching his friend waving cheerfully at him, the next an image of him, standing dirty and bloodstained and victorious in that same spot, raising a fist to salute him.

His smile was no longer carefree, but determined, brave, and feral.

Bakugou hurried to throw a fist up as he returned his grin with the same intensity.

And as fast as it happened, it was over, leaving Bakugou hanging over the railing with a raised arm for no apparent reason. The tourist couple scurried away from him as he lowered his hand slowly. He would feel like an absolute idiot, if only Kirishima weren’t blinking up at him, fist still in the air, looking dazed and confused.

Bakugou wasn’t exactly sure where his courage came from, but he suddenly hopped down from the railing and started running from the remains of the Emperor’s box. To find Kirishima.

To tell him.

Kirishima was his, and it was about damn time that he knew it.

He met him halfway up the stairs, and Bakugou felt as surprised as Kirishima looked as he heard himself blurt out a confession with all the confidence in the world.

However, Bakugou’s nerves barely had time to kick in before he was being met with such an adorable and uncharacteristically shy smile that his heart threatened to burst out of his chest.

* * *

When their allotted time was up, Bakugou and Kirishima left the Colosseum hand-in-hand, both still unable to hide their happiness. They strolled down the Piazza del Colosseo, talking and walking, no real destination in mind.

“God,” Kirishima sighed. “I’m so happy we don’t have to hide our relationship anymore.”

Bakugou’s brows knit together in confusion.

“Hah? The fuck are you talking about?”

Kirishima stopped in his tracks, looking as confused as Bakugou felt. He blinked at Bakugou, and then laughter bubbled up out of his throat.

“I have no idea,” he said. “Sorry, today’s been a little weird for me.”

Bakugou squeezed his hand even as he called him a moron. He could certainly empathize with that.

#kiribaku #gladiator au #my writing #in the dark of the night #kiribaku fic #kiribaku drabble #okay sorry this became a bit Long

[loyalflutist]

Knight in Shining Armor (F!Byleth x Dorothea)

Challenge: Bylethea Week 2019 (Twitter) Day 6: After the War

A/N: This is actually a direct continuation of Day 5′s OS, so feel free to refer to that! Otherwise, it could still act as a standalone in a way.

------

Would this be the last time she would see her wife? That sort of question never crossed through Byleth’s mind. No matter how many times she was sent out under Edelgard’s orders, she would always return home.

She was unstoppable. Despite her weakened health, despite the frail heart, despite the abnormal gait, Byleth lived up to her nickname as the Ashen Demon. The woman easily crushed their spirits by mere existence. Terror ran through their spine, her enemies frantically cutting her down. Their actions were elementary. Byleth simply had to sidestep a few times and swing the Sword of Creator with a flick of her wrist. Victory was always one-sided for the Adrestian Empire against Those Who Slither in the Dark.

But what about this time?

A shaky exhale slithered out of her bleeding lips, her head hung, and wrists bound from behind the chair. Droplets of cool water dribbled in the background as the bruised warrior slowly breathed. Goosebumps formed on her exposed skin after having shed the tattered, large overcoat, the piece of attire crumbled in the far corner. Byleth shuddered from the chilly damp atmosphere.

‘ I messed up big time, didn’t I. ‘

Was 29 years of age starting to catch up to her? Impossible, as her deceased father, Jeralt, was far older than that and was in tip-top shape. Could it be from arrogance? Byleth relished in the pride of becoming a hero for the Adrestian Empire and for striking fear in the hearts of her enemies as the Ashen Demon. Whatever it was, she couldn’t fix her mistake. She was stuck in this underground cellar with no natural light peeking in, only the faint, neon blue, technological lights inscribed into the solid walls.

It was a trap she should have seen from a mile away. She, Edelgard, and Ferdinand raced to tackle the main headquarter of Those Who Slither in the Dark. Other members of the Black Eagles Strike Squad were to act as a diversion to the terrorist organization. Soldiers and commanders engaged in a violent skirmish as the three headed into the depths of Shambhala and descended into the secret tunnel.

Edelgard led the two volunteers deep into the dark terrain. Man-made lights eventually filled their vision and dispersed the black surroundings. They were greeted with the city standing without light. Yet it was too late for the trio as the emperor stepped on a thin, silver wire. Boobytraps were rare in this time era. Technological advancements procured simple ones, but not ones that were as futuristic as the ones Those Who Slither in the Dark had.

She hurriedly grabbed the back of their attires and summoned all her strength to chuck them backward. The impressive feat caused the nobles to fly away from their professor. A loud slam echoed throughout the suffocating chamber, a metal barred box trapping its prey. And the moment they landed on their behinds, Byleth was surrounded by hidden assassins and soldiers, their lances, daggers, and swords aimed at the encased female. Edelgard and Ferdinand were spared the misfortune of being captured by the cursed group thanks to Byleth.

Or rather, this was Those Who Slither in the Dark’s intention.

‘ At least they ran away. I don’t know what would’ve happened if they were captured too… ‘

The tales Edelgard and Hubert spoke of about the dreadful organization were full of truths. What made matters worse was the fact that they hadn’t spoken about the horrifying details that encompassed Those Who Slither in the Dark.

“You still awake?” Their dark, lanky boots stopped in front of her. Byleth’s eyes trailed upward to the captor’s face. The sight of the cruel male made her blood run cold. It was none other than Thales, the leader of Those Who Slither in the Dark. A faint smirk ran across his lips as he remarked, “You just don’t know when to give up, do you, Byleth?”

“…”

She glared at him. Seeing as how she will not answer to his rhetorical question, Thales came closer to the wounded female. Standing above the limped ex-mercenary, he added,

“Your body houses the same power that we’ve bestowed to Nemesis. I think it is time we resurrect him.”

“In your dreams,” she spat on his shoes. Never losing that fiery gaze, the teal-haired harshly whispered, “I don’t have the power of the progenitor god anymore. You’re too late.”

“Yet you are still connected to Sothis. Am I wrong?”

“…”

Another silent treatment. This time, it was not well-received, Thales sinking his fist into her abdomen. Byleth’s navy eyes widened, her mouth wide open from the sudden strike. He kept his hand buried into her abdomen and bent down just enough to speak into her eardrum.

“I suggest you tell us the truth, Byleth. You will suffer if you do not.”

“Nngh…”

Despite having the wind knocked out of her system, Byleth remained steadfast on keeping her mouth shut. The torture she endured from him earlier was nothing… sort of. His methods of roughing her up were more extreme compared to the times when she was a mercenary. However, if she was able to survive two of his sessions in the past two days, she could bear through another. Another sharp gasp left her throat when Thales twisted his wrist, burrowing the fist further in. The immense pressure squeezed uncomfortably upon her intestines.

“Think carefully, Byleth. I wouldn’t want to get answers from you the same way as I did to Dorothea.”

“!!!”

This was a first! Fury colored her vision red as she snapped open her jaw. She instantly lurched forward to bite his ear. Tear that pale cartilage off and make him suffer, even if it’s for a little bit. It was unfortunate that he pulled away just in time. His hand was gone, but it instantly came back to her, this time to the face. He socked her squarely on the nose. It was shocking that the fragile body part hadn’t been crushed or fractured from the powerful blow.

An outcry was heard from her and the weight of her body caused the steel chair to fall sideways. She winced when her head collided against the smooth flooring. Stars danced in her vision as the neon lights blinded half of her sight. Byleth groaned from the burst of needle-like pains frenzied her face and skull. She nearly blacked out… but wouldn’t allow herself to do so. Instead, Byleth forced herself to shoot a glare at the leader.

Thales felt humored. He took one step and pressed his foot against her side. The weight of his boot caused her ribs to creak, Byleth biting her tongue to remain silent.

“Don’t act so surprised, Byleth. Those Who Slither in the Dark know everything and everyone in Fodlan… especially you.”

Tears pricked from the corner of her eyes as the old male began his dialogues.

“Dorothea Arnault… She was a precious… hostage. No… Hostage is not the right word. She was vital to finding you. At least, that’s what we originally thought.”

Byleth gasped when he stomped on her bruised side, his features contorted.

“That cursed songstress had nothing to tell us! Even after we’ve tortured her, she wouldn’t tell her where you are. Had it not been for Edelgard von Hresvelg either, we would’ve killed her off long ago.”

“…”

Just… why didn’t Dorothea tell her this? Weren’t they wives now? Byleth grimaced. Ever since she came back from her coma, she immediately leapt back into the fray. The Black Eagles Strike Squad and the Adrestian Empire were so preoccupied with the three-way war… When the instructor had tea sessions with the opera singer, she would never touch upon events that occurred during the five years Byleth disappeared. Thinking back upon it… Byleth never really tried to delve into her wife’s traumatic history. Even when they got together, Dorothea strongly urged that they make new memories in place of old ones.

‘ It’s no wonder why Dorothea argued with me… ‘

It wasn’t just weak health or missing her wife in the end. Dorothea feared that the same fate she experienced would befall upon the very person she loved. Too bad Byleth didn’t listen to her… and it was horrible that Byleth never took the time out of her day to really sit down and relieve Dorothea of the nightmares and depression that plagued the poor woman.

“…I have something to say to you… Thales…”

Thales’s attention reverted to the warrior. A shadow overcame his white eyes as Byleth snarled, “You’re going to regret touching my wife.”

“Wife? How amusing.” He slammed his foot once more. “All the more reason to move forward with our plans.”

“I’m going to kill you..!” She gritted her teeth and barked, “You’ll wish you’ve never captured me here!”

Anger was a foreign concept to the retired professor. She may be irritated and annoyed, but never scathing in pure fury. Byleth squirmed under his iron foothold. Thales squinted his eyes. Then, he laughed. She was just like a bug! The way she squirmed and growled at him… she was more pathetic than a bug, actually! He couldn’t hurt her anymore. In fact, he didn’t want to, the sight of the struggling warrior far too entertaining.

Thales took a couple of steps back. “Perhaps keeping you here for another day isn’t going to hurt our resources. Besides…” He snapped his fingers. One of the two followers for the organization stepped forward from the cell. “I would like to find Dorothea again. This might make you talk.”

“YOU…” Byleth hollered, watching in horror as the listener took a step away from the premise, “DON’T YOU DARE LAY A FINGER ON HER!”

“Not unless you tell us what we need to know,” Thales warned.

“…”

“Smile, Byleth. You have a choice here. I’m not all that generous. I’ve never given anyone any options… not even to Edelgard and Dorothea.”

“You monster!”

“Only if you make me one.”

Byleth audibly snarled at their leader as a dog. She viciously tugged against the bondage and desperately wiggled out of her ensnarement. Thales never was a man to play around. His words were absolute. Those Who Slither in the Dark would always accomplish their goals. Their passion and determination were frightening. The teal-haired slowly lost her strength to fight for freedom and pummel him into submission. Byleth laid still, her chest rapidly rising and falling, her hues darkened while watching the sadistic man.

Was it really going to end this way? In the end, she was never going to come home, was she? If she did… would it cost Dorothea’s life?

Byleth squeezed her eyes shut.

‘ I’m… I’m so sorry, Dorothea… ‘

“ARGH!”

The remaining guard in this room bellowed from the top of his lungs. Byleth’s and Thale’s attention swerved to the man. He was on fire, the flames searing through his exposed epidermis, the black cloths and chainmail melting into his sensitive skin. Screams and wails filled the cramped room as he dashed out of the room. Thales could hardly cast a spell of his own when electricity crackled through his sturdy figure. Yet what would have downed most ordinary man or woman did not apply to the leader.

“You…!”

At that moment, Byleth stared at the person, who wielded the Sword of Creator, standing before the greatest enemy in Fodlan.

“Dorothea…?”

How did she manage— But… why?

Standing behind Dorothea was none other than Edelgard and Hubert. They both quickly parted way towards Byleth as Thales’s gaze focused on only one person: Dorothea. A bead of sweat slid down his face as he forced a chuckle.

“What a surprise to see you again, Dorothea. Did you come here to die?”

“Not today,” the songstress pointed the relic in his direction. Although one should not use these ancient weapons, ever since the disappearances of the Crests and its system dissolvement, these artifacts were nothing more than ordinary weapons adorned in mystical materials. (Excluding Byleth, who still possess some inherited level of the Crest of Flames thanks to Sothis’s permanent connection.) Dorothea frowned. “I’ve come to take back my professor and defeat you.”

“Defeat me? You?” He almost buckled from laughter. “You’re nothing compared to the strength I have.”

When she charged forward with the Sword of Creator, Thales grinned. It was reckless of her. Did she not learn this from the Officers Academy of rushing headfirst without a plan? Dark energy enveloped his dominant hand as he reeled it back. He didn’t bother to use up all his energy in delivering a punishing blow. A direct hit to her stomach. Dorothea felt a spray of pain seep into her surrounding muscles as spit flew out of her mouth. At that same moment, the sword slipped out of her grasp and flew upward into the air. The songstress flew in the opposite direction and slammed into the thick wall.

Dorothea managed to crack an eye open as Thales came close.

“See? You were never a challenge, to begin with.”

She coughed and stared up at the intimidating man. Then, she slyly smiled.

“You… You may be right, but… I have my wife!”

“What—?!”

Thales had an issue with hyper fixation. When Edelgard and Hubert slipped past his figure, he was so focused on Dorothea, his mind automatically ignored them. It was a devastating biological mistake to make. And he cursed them.

Turning around caused the Sword of Creator, bright in its glory, to puncture into his chest. Blood flowed into his mouth and trickled out as the tip protruded out of his back. Byleth had slammed the blade so hard, the hilt smashed right into his chest cavity. Thales could only gasp for breath. His hands violently shook, the pair grabbing ahold of Byleth’s back. His fingertips tried to claw at her in a futile attempt to get back. What he didn’t notice was how weak his attempts were.

Byleth tore the weapon out of his tainted body. Then, she twirled the sword and gave a diagonal slash in his direction. Blood spurted from his newly-formed gash, its crimson substance splattered onto her weakened figure. His death was immediate after the final blow. When he crumbled to the ground, the injured professor glanced at Dorothea.

“Dorothea…”

Dorothea had gotten up from the floor, brushing the debris that soiled her vermillion robe. The punch that the songstress had sustained was minimized thanks to the thick armor plate hidden underneath the attire. (It was a good thing she had listened to Byleth long ago about it.) Linhardt, who was supposed to be retired in a remote village, was present and had cast white magic on Dorothea’s injuries in addition. This made her healthy as a horse, ready to get into another fight if needed.

“…”

Byleth felt like the invisible weight amplified its pressure on her shoulders. The ex-mercenary’s knees buckled, the sensation overwhelming her balance. Her vision began to fade in and out, the whole world begins to tilt sideways.

“Byleth!”

Dorothea rushed in to catch her slumped lover. Byleth barely held onto her consciousness as she murmured,

“You came…”

“Of course I did,” her wife responded.

It was a good thing Dorothea listened to her gut feelings. Since the night she tossed and turned, Linhardt stopped by that same night, providing a message that they should hurry to Shambhala. He predicted that their presence is needed now more than ever for Byleth. How did he know? Linhardt prefers to call it an educated guess... or it was just another fancy way of saying that he had a horrible nagging feeling like Dorothea. Regardless, they hurried as fast as they could to the destination from afar. Bumping into Edelgard, Ferdinand, and Hubert was by chance. That led them to crawl into the underground city and demolish the dreadful organization.

She shifted her position so she could cup one side of Byleth’s swollen face. Scabs from old cuts and broken skin riddled parts of her sturdy features. Dorothea dryly swallowed, knowing that her face would be scarred. She had once been captured by Those Who Slither in the Dark. They hadn't tortured her as Thales bluffed it to be, but it wasn't a pleasant experience either, Edelgard luckily coming to her rescue. The fact that they did a number on Byleth... Dorothea felt her blood pressure rise.

“Oh, why did he do this to you…?”

“Probably… bored out of his mind…”

“This is no joking matter!”

Then again, if she was able to joke around, that probably meant Byleth isn’t in danger of dying. She hadn’t lost much blood either, save it for the beating she’s experienced these past three days. The songstress had to resist the temptation to shake her wife silly when the teacher added,

“Looks like my… my knight… in shining armor… came to save me.” Byleth faint smiled. “Thank you…”

From that day onward, Those Who Slither in the Dark were no more, the remaining members arrested and executed for their criminal activities. Byleth was finally able to retire from her duty as a tactician and a key figure to dismantling the corrupted group. Not that she had a choice as her weakened health began to deteriorate even more after the events with Thales. Going into battle was still possible, but it was more out of self-defense and last resort. It pained the professor to use a cane for the rest of her life... but at least she was alive and by her wife's side. Now, she was stuck with the duty of handling simple responsibilities such as watching over the house and hosting her famous tea sessions with alumni.

Tranquility befalls them. At long last, they were finally able to live their lives in peace. Yet what if danger arises again?

"It's my turn to be your knight and protector, Byleth," Dorothea boldly proclaimed as they snuggled in the comfort of their homes. The two spouses laid on the bed, the songstress resting her head on top of her wife's chest. Their fingers were intertwined as she continued, "I'll always come to your rescue... just as how you did with me."

#loyalflutist #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #f!byleth x dorothea #f!byleth #byleth #byleth eisner #dorothea #dorothea arnault #dorothea x byleth #fan fiction #fan fic #fanfic #fanfiction #one shot #oneshot #os #byletheaweek2019 #day 6: after the war

[bipabrena]

Rodorah/Mothzilla AO3 fic

Sequel to this. You can read this as a stand-alone, but I suggest you read the prequel so you’re not too confused.

Half-arsed summary: so, in the prequel, a lot happened during the fight that challenged San’s perspective, and conflict brewed in him. He thought he wasn’t too different from Mothra and Godzilla. Ichi was forced to decapitate San after he stopped he and Ni from killing Mothra three times, and he begged the two to listen to him. In this fic, Ichi and Ni panic when San isn’t regenerating no matter how hard they try. Ichi and Ni’s emotional states are explored, while Rodan laments what happened in the previous fight to Mothra and Godzilla, even though his devotion to Ghidorah borders on fanaticism.

When San musters the courage to regenerate, Ichi and Ni are overcome with emotion, but they are soon forced to confront San’s actions in Boston. The change in him is overwhelming, one Ichi and Ni can’t understand.

X

Ni knew it.

He just knew it.

Ichi had always been incredibly perceptive, and his senses were far superior to San’s and his own, but Ni had always had a talent for intuition. For things one couldn’t physically perceive. Things for which he’d normally have no evidence for, but he still had no doubts would happen, in one way or another.

This was the final proof.

He just knew this would happen.

He clenched his jaw so tightly he felt his teeth would shatter. Wrinkles formed around his brow as his frown deepened, and his worried, unblinking eyes wouldn’t leave Ichi.

Ichi’s eyes were closed in a pronounced frown.

He was attempting to concentrate and remain calm as best he could, but he was clearly growing alarmed.

After several minutes, Ichi opened his eyes.

“… Well?” Ni asked.

Ichi stared ahead, at nothing in particular, really.

He seemed neutral, like he wasn’t thinking or feeling anything in particular, really. But if Ni concentrated, he’d see it.

And he did see it.

Behind the façade, Ichi looked like he’d made a terrible realisation, and it was slowly sinking in.

His unblinking eyes darted to Ni.

Ni looked worried. Alarmed.

It was an expression Ichi had never seen in him, and the guilt it made him feel burned his insides.

“I can’t do it,” he said.

Ni had no visible reaction. He didn’t say anything either.

So, Ichi looked ahead again.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when the shadow of a silhouette entered his field of vision. He turned his head slightly.

He found Ni’s impossibly widened, dark and cold eyes looming over him.

It was a frightening expression that forced him to hold his breath.

“What do you mean you can’t do it?” Ni asked coldly.

“What do you mean you can’t do it, Ichi?” he reiterated. “Stop fooling around,” his voice grew more belligerent.

Ichi’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.

He was taken aback when a pronounced scowl overcame Ni with a deep growl.

“Stop fooling around and regenerate!” he demanded.

“I…” Ichi frowned further as the realisation fully sank in. “I can’t. I don’t know why, I just… I—“

Ichi’s eyes twitched when Ni head-butt him and pressed their foreheads together.

“What do you mean you can’t!? You have to do it, Ichi! You have to bring San back!”

Ichi’s mouth opened in a frown. He had no idea what to say.

“You have to bring our little brother back!” Ni shouted, growing less aggressive and more pleading.

“Tch!” Ichi scowled, “I’m trying!”

“You’re not trying hard enough!” Ni growled. “Bring him back!”

Ichi felt like their heart was about to burst.

That’s when he perked up. He looked to the side, and Ni’s instinctive reaction was to understand Ichi had sensed something.

They grew quiet as they heard wings a minute or so later, and Rodan landed before them.

He bowed.

“Your Highness,” he greeted.

Now aware that King Ghidorah liked to keep things short and to-the-point, Rodan didn’t await a response.

“The MUTO has emitted the call. She and Scylla have found an egg in what is supposedly called the Yunnan province. It’s most likely Mothra’s.”

When Ghidorah had no visible reaction, Rodan grew a little nervous.

Especially when he realised the left head hadn’t grown back yet.

“… We didn’t want to do anything without your permission,” Rodan continued. “I can go there myself and destroy the egg before it hatches, or would you prefer to allow her to hatch so she can serve you?”

The anguish plaguing Rodan’s insides worsened by the silent second. Was it because he was aware he’d broken his orders, and silently feared for punishment?

He shivered for a short moment, both because of his lack of familiarity with this freezing weather as because of fear.

“I don’t care,” Ichi said firmly. “We already told you that you’re free to do as you please.”

Rodan’s eyes wavered.

That was true, but… he didn’t want to do anything without his permission. Surely Ghidorah would—

“Rodan,” he said, and Rodan immediately looked at him with wide eyes.

The way his name left the King’s mouth—the way his tongue tipped both syllables against his palate, the firmness and imperialness in his voice.

Rodan could feel his heart thumping.

It was the first time King Ghidorah had ever uttered his name, and it was regal.

“We were clear in telling you you’re free to do as you please for now,” he reiterated.

Ni was entirely silent, as it was evidently Ichi who represented the two.

“Do not come to us unless called. I shall not repeat myself. You will not get another chance. Understand?”

Even though his life was being threatened, Rodan could do nothing but stare in awe.

This magnificent creature, this creature that held unrivalled power, asserted his warnings without violence or anger. He was clearly firm, he was clearly no non-sense, but never unnecessarily belligerent or violent.

Not only was Rodan being allowed to do as he pleased, he was not being punished for breaking his first order.

“Do what you want. Don’t come to us unless we call you.”

His greatness was second to none.

“Yes, sire,” he responded.

He was going to fly away, to relish to himself over his awe-inducing experience; until he saw the right head’s expression.

Clearly worried.

Clearly desperate.

The right head hadn’t heard a single word the leader had said.

It took little to no time for Rodan to understand why.

Was his King hurting?

The possibility alone that this was the case tore something inside Rodan. A stinging feeling similar to the lacerations inflicted by the late Queen, except that this time it ran further, it hurt deeper.

Was it because the left head hadn’t regenerated?

Was there something, anything Rodan could do?

He opened his mouth to say something, but it was forced shut the moment he took a look at the leader.

When he heard his rattling tail, Rodan understood.

His ideals were resolute and inflexible; his devotion bordered on fanaticism, but Rodan still held the instinctive, primal feeling of self-preservation.

He would not risk his life thoughtlessly.

He bowed again, and quickly took to the skies.

The moment Rodan was out of sight, the bravado completely vanished for Ichi.

He felt it at once; the overwhelming pain. It felt as though he were underwater, being dragged down by an impossibly heavy anvil.

The grief was so immense, Ichi felt his heart would burst.

It wasn’t only because of his own pain.

The brothers shared a body; every organ, every vein, every pint of blood.

Their heart.

Their bond was undeniable, resolute and unbreakable; one brother’s grief was the other two’s.

Ni’s grief was his own, and so it added to his own.

The guilt ate Ichi from the inside.

He didn’t know what to say.

“… I’m tired,” is all Ni said after much, lingering silence.

Ichi nodded silently. With a sharp inhale, Ni shifted and sought something that had been carefully placed behind the mountain; something that had been treated with tenderness and care, as though the slightest move would disintegrate it.

He gently, tenderly dragged San’s severed head.

He coiled around the snowy head; nuzzled it, cuddled it. He tried to give the insentient head warmth.

After killing Mothra and Godzilla, after the first regeneration attempt failed, Ni had been a quick thinker. He wasted no time to voice Ichi his suggestion, and Ichi wasted no time to accept it.

These cold, sub-zero temperatures had stopped the decomposition process altogether.

Ni closed his eyes with a distressed, pronounced frown as he cuddled San’s severed head.

Ichi’s lids dropped sadly as he observed Ni dose off.

“Brothers, please, just listen to me for a moment!”

“If I had stopped…” he mumbled to himself, “then the three of us would’ve died…”

No, is what he immediately thought to himself.

Mothra and Godzilla had been as shocked as he and Ni had. They were also incredibly weakened. Mothra’s attacks would’ve had no effect, and Godzilla couldn’t even stand.

Now I’m just making excuses, he smiled sadly to himself.

He shook off his undeniable exhaustion after several days of no sleep, and closed his eyes to start again.

Ichi attempted to concentrate as best as he could.

His cells worked hard. They used signalled pathways to speak amongst each other; they operated as a giant symphony, spreading all across the bloodstream to interact and function as an entire system.

He felt the familiar, ticklish sensation in his nether regions, but nothing happened.

He ignored the sickening throbbing inside his head, the throbbing that was a clear warning he was overexerting himself.

The blood trickling down his nose was ignored as well.

Until it happened.

As a primal, self-defence mechanism, his brain shut down.

The copious blood supply Ichi sent to the inner core of bone to begin the process of rebuilding the missing spine left his brain with little to no blood and oxygen.

As a defence-mechanism, his brain grabbed whatever blood and oxygen it could at the expense of Ichi’s bodily functions.

He completely passed out. The mountain vibrated, and piles of snow fell below when his head hit the rocks with a grating thud.

Read the rest on AO3 here.

#king ghidorah #ghidorah #godzilla #rodan #mothra #rodorah #mothzilla #godzilla kotm #ghidorah x rodan #godzilla x mothra