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blzzrdstryr · 3 years

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Moth into flame. Yandere!Kaeya x gn!reader

Wordcount: 4k

A.N: It’s very self-indulgent, but I had this idea for 2 weeks now and needed to get it out. I’ve never written fanfiction and I am not a native speaker, so bear with me.

CW: Violence, unhealthy relationship

For as long as you know Kaeya, he feels different from other people. Odd in the way that empty alleyways and dark rooms are odd, a sense of barely concealed danger lurking underneath the layers of charm and friendliness. You always felt his darker nature, but never questioned it before - you are an adventurer after all, the danger is your thrill.

He must have known that you aren’t particularly repulsed by this side of him, as his friendly facade morphed into something darker right in front of you for a couple of times. You doubt a liar and an actor as skilled as he is would make such amateurish mistakes.

No, he can’t be ignorant about how his more ominous part is what makes your veins sing from the strange mix of fascination and fear. That must be why he kept flashing his less amiable side, enticing you further in his grasp, and you gladly took step after step in the carefully crafted trap he prepared just for you.

How could you not? Kaeya is charming and dangerous, like wildfire and you are nothing but a moth, too blinded by his light to stop and just think.

And now, seeing an irrefutable, but faux proof of the crimes you didn’t commit in his hands, you feel it - how searing his casual coldness can be. Right now, Kaeya Alberich is no human in your heart, he is a small piece of abyss that made its way out of Khaenri’ahn ruins to drag you down the cosmic darkness, where you possibly truly belong.

***

Kaeya both loves and hates your first meeting and he avoids reminiscing about it. It sounds strange, right?

Back then he was still a part of Ragnvindr household and Diluc treated him like a brother, and maybe that is a small part of a reason why he feels such aversion to recalling it - those memories are tinted both by fond nostalgia and bitter loss, enough to make him itch for a bottle in his hand.

Both Kaeya and you were green rookies - a knight fresh from training and a beginner adventurer, accidentally teaming up against a gang of treasure hoarders. It all ended up with both of you victorious, but injured. Kaeya helped you to walk back to Monstadt as one of the criminal's bolts wounded your leg, enough to make you wince from pain at every step.

In the middle of the trail he suddenly grew bored from your barely suppressed pained expressions and soft pants, no matter how cute they were to him, and decided to carry you, just like the groom would carry his bride. He quipped and joked about it, as he made his way to the city's general direction, and you laughed and made some witty remarks in return.

At the moment he didn't think too much of it - you were another adventurer in his eyes back then, a cute, but insignificant passerby in his life and he was just playing a role of gallant knight in shiny armor. Give it a week or two and he would forget your face and your name.

But he didn't.

Just as you were approaching city gates, a miracle happened - red vision materialized right in your hands. You clutched it tightly to the chest, a bright smile appearing on your face. You turned your head to Kaeya, and he could have swore you were using your newly acquired Pyro on him.

How else could he feel so warm inside all of a sudden?

He couldn't help but recall your smile for weeks after that.

***

Your second meeting happened when you were returning to Mondstadt after your first long expedition. Shortly after the word of your Pyro vision reached Cyrus' ears, he was dead set on sending you to Dragonspine to help other adventurers. You were hesitant at first, but then your natural thirst for thrill combined with a hefty pay he promised won over you, and here you were - carrying several stacks of starsilver, absolutely exhausted and frozen to the very bones walking back to Mondstadt.

To say that you were unprepared would be an understatement of the year - even with pyro vision the cold seemed absolutely unbearable and to make matters worse you almost had a run in with a frostarm lawachurl. To avoid hopeless fight, you had to hide behind the tall snowdrift, almost submerging your body in it, as you both admired and dreaded the ice cladden giant.

Nonetheless, you acquired all of the starsilver the adventure guild needed, and now you trekked through the forest as the sun started to set.

Straining your eyes to see through the heavy rain and approaching darkness you saw it - a bright red smudge against the dark tree bark and unmistakable scent of blood. Such stark contrasts were enough to shake off the tiredness. You slowly made your way to the source of the stench, both fearing and anticipating what may reveal itself to your curious eyes.

There was a silhouette of an injured man that started to slowly morph into a vaguely familiar figure as you got closer. Seeing that there was no threat, you threw your ore to the ground and ran to the unconscious person. It was that knight who helped you to defeat treasure hoarders, Kaeya.

He looked horrible - his normally rich bronze skin now looked ashen and grey from the bloodloss, the face that radiated smugness seemed as if it already belonged on the corpse, the blue vest that he was wearing dyed almost completely in purple from the bloodloss, but the most horrible thing was a shallow but wide gash on his chest.

Not wasting any second, you pulled out your trusty dagger, and sliced the vest to inspect the wound. As you pulled obstructing cloth away you noticed another detail - small burns, surrounding the gash, as if someone slashed Kaeya with something hot enough to scorch, but not hot enough to close the wound and most unexpectedly, faintly glowing blue orb. A cryo vision.

You sat on your knees to put his vision in your pocket and clean his wounds. It still bled, as you frantically searched for a way to close it your eyes fell on the small burns around the wound and suddenly a crazy idea popped up in your head.

With shaking hands you used a piece of sliced vest to muffle him and prevent Kaeya from accidentally biting his tongue off, and then you took the dagger again heating it up. You heard about cauterization from older adventurers, but hoped that you wouldn’t resort to using it.

Kaeya’s pained groans were muffled by the makeshift gag, yet it wasn’t enough to wake him. After you made sure that his bleeding stopped, you removed your outerwear and wrapped Kaeya up. You cursed, as you hoisted a heavier body on your back, an exhaustion you have forgotten moments ago hitting you with a renewed strength.

The path to the Mondstadt with a new burden on your back now felt ten times longer. Even if you two were barely an acquaintance, a cold coil of fear for Kaeya's life still set in the pit of your stomach, and it seemed that no amount of fire would make you feel warm again.

***

Waking up in the infirmary was one of the biggest surprises in Kaeya’s life.

There were times when he was sure of his imminent death - an abandoned shivering child all alone in the forest, a stranger in the strange land, a prince of nothing with the weight of the whole dying kingdom left on his shoulders; a rainy night reeking of death and loss, grief and fury burning him just as much as incandescent claymore, rapidly growing pool of bright red blood, just as red as a…

Kaeya was okay with dying - it would be a nice ending to his story. The dead saviour of an already dead nation, an outlander casted out from the only semblance of home he had. He liked the irony.

He could have asked for help right after the duel, calling out that person’s name, he knew that that person wouldn’t leave him if he was dying, but the possibility of seeing hatred in those eyes was too much for him. The second a fiery blade cut through his flesh was when Kaeya decided to die.

And honestly, he couldn't continue to live once he confirmed what kind of a monster he is - the first thing he felt when he saw Crepus Rangvindr, a person who took him in, kept him fed, warm, safe and clothed all these years, a person who loved him more than his own father did, slowly disintegrating under the strain of delusion Kaeya felt no sadness. No, a relief, as if he was freed of a tiresome burden came instead.

Kaeya was disgusted and horrified for even experiencing such feelings in the first place, but he also couldn't do anything with it - for the last few years he was torn apart between Mondstadt and his homeland, and Crepus’ death should have solved his internal dilemma, driving the final nail in the coffin.

Sometimes he felt as if he was no person at all, just an abyssal creature that took on a human form and was allowed to live only to be unleashed on Teyvat. The time at Khaenri’ah was something that stuck with him for the rest of his life - the fear and resignation he experienced there heavily imprinted on his brain.

Every once in a while he had impulses to lie, to hurt and do as he pleases, for a long time he stopped these urges at the root, maintaining the illusion of normalcy he built for Ragnvindr household. He knew it was from Khaenri’ah, a cursed nation of sinners with all of its glorious legacy lost to the sands of time. Immoral impulses were something that would have helped him to survive among the endless darkness that surrounded god-forsaken place.

“Ugh”, he tried to get up, to shake intrusive and self-deprecating thoughts away, but failed. Pain, like melted iron, slowly spread from his chest to the points of his fingers in a second. Even breathing was hard - his entire body ached and burned, a shaking hand slowly touched bandaged torso. Alberich winced as he remembered why exactly it was aching.

“Sir Kaeya, you are already awake! Please, don’t move.”, pretty but forgettable nun fussed over him, rechecking his bandages and then taking out a foul smelling medicine. She made Kaeya drink it all. He still cringing from the bitter taste, half sat on the bed, leaning on the headrest, tried to flash her his most charming smile and asked:

“Do you know how I got there?”, it seemed his charms did work on the girl, as she started to describe the previous night in great detail: what she was doing prior to his arrival, how dark the sky was, how worried she was when she saw his battered body, how exhausted the adventurer and guards that delivered him looked.

“Do you happen to know the adventurer’s name? I would like to say my thanks once I get better”

“Oh, it was [First], I think, but I am not sure. I believe I saw a pyro vision” Kaeya slid in the lying position again, as he remembered you, his first and only crush. Half buried feelings ignited in his chest with a renewed vigor.

Seeing that Kaeya paid her no mind, the nun headed to the exit of the infirmary, but right before she left she turned to Kaeya again, saying that you will visit him tomorrow.

****

Just as you thought Kaeya was conscious today. After you managed to carry him back to Mondstadt, worried but distrustful guards at city gates took away your load and delivered him to the Church of Favonius. You insisted at coming with them, still anxious for Kaeya’s life. Nuns almost showed you out of the infirmary and you, defeated, had to go home.

The next day you spent looking for the abandoned starsilver, thoughts occupied both by Kaeya and the payment Cyrus promised. Fortunately, the stacks lied right where you discarded them and after a quick trip back to the adventurer's guild, you had nothing to do - weekly commissions done days prior, so you decided to spend some time inside the city for once.

As you navigated the city square you felt the tense mood that hung in the air, Mondstadt usually cheerful and carefree now seemed uncharacteristically gloomy. You later learned that the local wine tycoon, Crepus Ragnvindr, died in the accident and his son and young the youngest captain in history of Ordo Favonius, Diluc, left the city and abandoned the knights.

Despite spending almost all of your time outside the city gates, even you were aware of the city's happenings and certainly heard about two dashing young gentlemen. Kaeya was rumored to be a foreign orphan taken in by Crepus and Diluc as you remembered is a claymore swinging pyro user - a picture of Kaeya’s injuries came to mind. Scattered details started to slowly gather into a sound theory.

A fight after Crepus' death(was accident Kaeya’s fault?), that resulted in Diluc abandoning the knights(Are knights also at fault?).

You quickly brushed it off, as theorizing without the concrete evidence was one of the biggest mistakes one could make. So instead of building baseless speculations, you decided to visit one of the key people, Kaeya. Occupied by your thoughts and curiosity, the travel to the church seemed almost momentarily.

Stepping in the infirmary you were hit with a strong bitter scent of the medicine, but Kaeya sitting on the bed seemed fine, if not a bit tired. He was reading a book, but put it aside as he noticed you and gave you a warm smile.“I remember you, [First], you were the one who saved me I was told. Seems I should make it up to you”

“No need for it, you were dying”, you head to him, a hand searching for the vision in the travelling bag. His smile doesn’t drop, even when a somewhat awkward silence hangs around you. Finally, you exclaim: “I found a vision near you, and kept it so it doesn’t get lost or anything”.

“Oh, that’s a surprise, give it to me” the vision in his hands glows alive with a gentle blue light, a small ice shard forming between his fingers and you find yourself holding your breath. Kaeya looks less impressed than you, a strange emotion written on his face,as he looks from the blue orb, to the ice, to your amazed face.

“It may sound rude, but do you remember who injured you?” Kaeya doesn’t appear phased, slowly blinking, a confusion written on his face, as he looks up in contemplation. “Hm, no, can’t remember anything” You shift a little, disappointment not reaching your face. Was Kaeya lying or not?

“I hope I didn’t mess up your adventuring schedule” Kaeya murmured, leaning a little closer to you.

“No. I planned on spending a week inside the city. Why do you ask?”

“Well” he smirks, “maybe a brave and strong adventurer will lend a hand to poor injured me and”, you felt your face slowly heating up “escort me to Good Hunter, the food here is abysmal and maybe your company and decent meal will clear my head a little”

Only a day later you realized that it was your first date.

***

Kaeya likes challenges, and maybe that is a reason why he’s so drawn to you - you’re smart, just not people-smart, and you have enough intuition to guide you away from the schemes and plans he tries to pull off. Of course, he wouldn’t risk your life or general wellbeing - he likes your presence far too much to do that - but the possible less savory reactions he could gauge out of you were too alluring to miss out - frustration, fear, anger.

Alberich is frustrated - a hunger that was ignited by you grew greater and greater with each day - he wants to see so much of you, see you in pain, see you helpless, see you defeated. Would you cry, would you yell, would you curse at him?

He tried to resist it in the beginning - just as he did when he was still a part of Ragnvindr family - but he failed. Maybe, Diluc’s dismissal of him and abandonment was something that broke Kaeya in the way that Khaenri’ah couldn’t. That rainy day he learned one lesson - everyone leaves, and Kaeya didn’t doubt that you would too.

You are an adventurer after all, as free as a wind. It’s just pure luck that someone as curious and thrill-seeking as you hasn't moved to the other nations in search of excitement.

Kaeya feels threatened.

Over the years, you both fell in the comfortable, but vague place between friendship and something-more-than-friendship,a status quo of sorts. You were a loner at heart - fine with keeping almost everyone at arm’s length and Kaeya, to his disappointment, found that even his charms wouldn’t bend your will.

He could see how uncomfortable yet excited you got, when he showed his less considerate side - when he arrested and fought criminals, when he pulled off his complex plans, when he turned and twisted the words of others to make them scream and writhe and beg. Oh, of course you tried to hide it, your face becoming akin to a mask of stone, but there were other tells - the shine in your eyes, the body language and accelerated breath.

Kaeya also knew what an excitement glutton you are - there is a flame inside of you, needing to consume and devour new tastes, sights, adventures and mysteries. You are predictable in that way, he has a gut feeling that you are wary of him, but the promise of a new enigmatic crime that needs your assistance is almost always enough to lure you back into his arms.

And now he has a new problem at hands - his failed plan. Months of subtle work and manipulation led and were supposed to build up your feelings for this. A public love confession, both sudden and extravagant. Kaeya thought that someone as awkward as you, would cave in under the pressure he would put you through by making his love public.

However you didn’t, even if some, if not most of the onlookers gasped in the shocked disappointment - Kaeya was sure that you two looked like a would-be-couple to the observer’s eye. You stuttered some apologies, hid your face and almost ran away from him.

It grates on Kaeya’s nerves in a special way, annoyance slowly building up. Fortunately, he has a strategy to relieve it, by methodically destroying it’s source.

***

“Thank you, let’s do the next commissions together” you wave goodbye to the fellow adventurer, missing an indiscernible look cavalry captain gives both of you.

Only when the said adventurer leaves, does Kaeya step out of the shadow, his single eyes wholly focused on you. After the confession you started to purposefully avoid him - something that Kaeya thought was possible, but didn’t entertain it enough.

Seeing him is what almost sends you to retreat - relationships are messy, especially after failed public confessions, there’s too much burden now and you never felt the desire to work on any of them leaving everything to take its course. Instead, you stand there, enduring his cold gaze and warm smile, hit by a sudden realization of how childish your thoughts are.

Kaeya must have taken your passiveness as an invitation, as his hand snakes around your shoulder, throwing you off your internal monologue. “[First], I have an interesting case again” he leans in, his breath tickling your neck, “and I need an assistant again, the pay will be like last time”.

In spite of your current discomfort you almost space out, body habitually relaxing near him. “What the thing about?” the cases that Kaeya involves you in are always bizarre and something never seen before, a mystery awaiting to be solved.

He begins describing it to you - a strange string of deaths of young adventurers, all of whom were visionless and most curiously they all died off duty. Young men and women did their commissions, plunged in the domains and fought with monsters, but died inside the city walls, inside their houses and beds, surrounded by safety and comfort.

Kaeya shares that his informant found a hearsay that there were some interesting potions on the black market and he needs you to infiltrate as a visionless adventurer and buy potions, as much as possible.

This evening you leave the city, your heart full of trust for Kaeya, even if your relationship did take a colder turn.

***

You, as Kaeya predicted, still believed him. Alberich almost felt bad for exploiting and twisting your trust in him , but as he supposed there was nothing more he could do with himself. Your visage filled his head day and nights, sometimes he even daydreamed about the life he would have with you. It would be delightful - to have you underneath his thumb, ready for any whim and perversion he could come up with.

He came to the Angel’s share and ordered a glass of wine, ignoring judgemental stare Diluc pointed at him. He could almost hear Ragnvindr saying “already” and calling Knights inefficient and lazy drunkards. Kaeya happily took a sip of the liquid - all of his plans always carried an element of risk, so the cavalry captain felt a bit agitated. What if you don’t touch the potions? What if the gang will escape with them?

Nevertheless, if you did touch it or not wouldn’t really matter, as catching you red-handed was more important. He needed to make you look guilty - you worked with him unofficially, which meant that no one knew about it, not even Vile. Sure no one would take your word over his, even if you left significant evidence of your innocence, after all a lot of knights are weak to bribes.

He almost hummed, as he imagined things he would do to you once you were imprisoned and completely in his power. He, of course, would save you from the dank dark cell, finding an “overlooked” detail, but not before breaking and molding you a little.

Finishing his wine, he went to the knight’s headquarters, to request the assistance of other knights in the arrest of a dangerous criminal, a spring evident in his step.

***

It was treasure hoarders again, you silently cursed, while dodging one of the attacks. You weren’t the best actor and within the minutes they exposed you. Fighting among the fragile vials wasn’t the best idea, so you moved the fight to the outside. Once they all run after you, you jump over them, raining a constant stream of fire over them. Some of them started to scream, a pure agony written on their face.

Some of the hoarders used a hidden gas bomb, submerging the whole place in smoke and using it to run away. You didn’t run after them, and headed inside instead. There was a significant change: some of the vials that contained transparent liquid now were bright red. You took one of them in and gasped - it felt so warm in your hands - and then you recognized your own elemental energy.

Out of curiosity you reached for the “uncontaminated” one, the colorless liquid rapidly bloomed with scarlet red, as your vision came to life without your command. Was it that deadly potion that Kaeya talked about? You felt how it sucked some of the pyro energy from you, then it must transmit collected energy to its consumer. No wonder all of those adventurers died - without a vision their bodies weren’t used to receiving and processing such amounts of elemental energy.

You tried to take the vials with the “clear” potion, but no matter what you did all of them got dyed in red the second you stood a little closer. Sighing in defeat you collected ones contaminated with your energy and prepared to head back to Mondstadt. You needed to warn Kaeya to take some regular knights with him if Albedo needed samples for analysis.

Suddenly there was a sound of several people running up to you, a Favonius armor coming into the sight. You almost smiled as you saw Kaeya, happy that he decided to help you, until you heard it: “Arrest them!”

#yandere genshin impact #yandere kaeya #yandere genshin x reader #yandere kaeya x reader #Kaeya x reader #Yandere genshin impact x reader #Yandere genshin #Yandere #Kaeya #my writing

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spc4eva · 3 years

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Star-Burned: Chapter Four

Wordcount: 10,570

Rating: M (18+) for smut

Masterlist

Crossposted on AO3

They were burning it. They were burning your farm.

Bound and gagged, you had to watch as the two generations of work was being obliterated at the hands of the Empire. Tears ran down your nose, not noise escaping you as you shook on the ground, heat curling off the back of your neck, sweltering and making you swoon. Sorrow, fear, misery, agony. Your greenhouse, the water vaporators -- so much wasted. What was the point? Why would they just burn it? Destroying evidence. Smoting your existence as if it'd never been there, as if you'd never made memories here and grown up in that house. You didn't have much, but all your holobooks, your stupid rock collection, and your clothes were in there. Most of the clothes were just coveralls, but they were still yours.

It wasn't the material things you sobbed over. No, it was deeper than that. You'd done so many things here and it was all you'd ever known. Now it was ash in the wind, nothing going to remain other than the steel that wasn't burned out, standing as a gloomy sentinel to hint at the atrocity committed. And why? Because you had been kind to someone, healed them, taken care of them... and where was he? He'd said he would be right behind you and now you were beginning to doubt that. What if he'd seen the mess and decided that you weren't worth it? He was still hurt, so you didn't blame him for not wanting to fight five people at once.

Your heart ached, because you thought that... with all that you'd shared, the fact that he'd taken his helmet off... maybe it wasn't that special. Who cared about you? He knew that you were alone and you'd fixed his ship up for him. He was gonna leave and you'd fallen for all his sweet words. Mandalorians killed for a living, he wasn't going to care if you were just another amongst his tally. You had probably been the biggest sucker of them all. Healing him, feeding him, helping him to the fresher, giving him everything you had --- even your body, maybe even a little bit of your heart too. And for what? Fire and death?

"Ready to tell us where he is?" the death trooper bent down in front of you as you wept in the dirt.

"Fuck you," you sniveled. Everything was gone. You gained nothing out of turning him in.

"Maybe later," he stood back up and you shuddered at the thought.

"Hey, looks like we've got movement up ahead."

You jerked your head up, neck aching and cheeks definitely bruised from where you'd been slapped. Narrowing your watering eyes through the smoke you thought you saw... a dewback? What the kriff. The creature rumbled, upset by the fire and smoke, threatening to charge.

"What do we do?" the white stormtroopers were looking for direction.

"Well shoot it!" the black one exclaimed as if it were obvious.

You got to see the truly unimpressive shooting ability of stormtroopers in action. Dewbacks had thick skin, so all they were doing was agitating it. And then -- fire was returned. What!? How was a dewback shooting? How -- oh, it wasn't the dewback. Even through the haze, the opponent shot back with stellar precision, striking down the two troopers to the left before the dewback reared and charged. Trundling forward, the death trooper tried to square off with it before leaping out of the way. White hot flames ignited, followed by a hissing wine as the death trooper was flung several feet back. The dewback hadn't hit it, but someone else had.

Flames beating high behind you, so searing that you thought you were being burned by the inferno, the dark blue armor appeared almost black in the manic illumination. The trooper was back on their feet, blaster in hand as they began pacing circles with the opposing Mandalorian. You were mildly delirious and uncertain if what you saw was actually happening pace for pace.

This wasn’t a normal death trooper. Paz knew it as he matched the strides, ignoring the other two stormtroopers who were trying to deal with the rampaging dewback. He’d heard of this from his sister, that there were Mandalorians who had switched to the Empire’s side to be paid for their work, despite the fact that the Empire had gutted Mandalore and slaughtered many vod. Now, in the feral line of his opponent, he knew instantly that this masked fiend had once been a vod in the precise manner they moved. But he was in dark plastoid, not beskar’gam. And Paz still overstepped him by more than a head.

The smoke continued to churn forward in a dark cloud and he was wasting time while you choked on the ground. He drove forward, the death trooper knocking aside the muzzle of the rifle before it could find him. The pistol flashed in the mad light of the fire, but Paz’s left hand snapped out gripping the arm of the trooper as he fired, the bolt pinging uselessly off his armor. Had he been a second later, it might’ve struck between the protection of his beskar. Before the trooper could disengage with a well planted kick, Paz twisted, the dominant hand of the Imp making a sickening crack. Dancing backward, the trooper grunted and gripped the broken wrist, blaster having fallen from his fingers in the scuffle.

Ripping a vibro-blade out, his bad wrist was pinned to his chest as he levied it. “Are you ready to go to Manda?” the trooper taunted.

Even between the curling fronds of his fury, Paz managed to laugh spitefully. “At least I’ll be going there one day. You’ll never walk amongst those halls, dar’manda. Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur.” Any Mandalorian who’d chosen the Empire over their own was weak. Paz thought the man in front of him was chuckle worthy as he leveled a blade, as if he’d have the skill to plant it before he was gunned down. He only knew one person who could pose such a threat to him and she loathed the Empire.

The two clashed, your eyes widening as you couldn’t make out between the smoke and carnage. But as you blinked through the bleary wet tears, eyes burning. A blaster bolt went off and you shifted, waiting for the haze to clear just as the other two stormtroopers broke around the edge of the dewback that had started its descent back into the canyon. Stepping through the haze was the dark, non reflective glare of beskar. You were already crying, but the tears were now of unadulterated relief that Paz had won the fight and not the death trooper. With your mouth gagged, you couldn’t warn him about the stormtroopers that were now lining up, taking a knee to begin firing at him.

Only one blaster bolt hit him and it bounced right off of his armor. Turning around, he gave them an unimpressed tilt of his helmet before leveling his pistol. The troopers tried again, but were taken down in a laughable fashion, as if they were stationary targets. Once he gave the scene another hard survey, Paz hurried over to you. "We have to go, Tranyc. We have to go-" he cut the bindings on your wrist and pulled the gag down. You were covered in dirt and soot, tear lines running gashes through the darkness on your face. "Stars, what did they do to you?"

You started crying again as his glove met the side of your sore face. "I-I wouldn't t-tell them-" you sobbed hoarsely. "I-I-I'm scared."

"Shh," he scooped underneath your arms. "Hold on tight. Close your eyes if you need to, but you have to hold on." Pressing you to his chest, you wrapped your arms around his neck and clung as best you could, hooking legs to his hips despite the uncomfortable seat of his utility belt. His jetpack ignited again, the source of the white flames you'd seen through the smoke. The ground was spiraling away, your eyes dropping and you felt... nothing. Just watching the farm become a quavering light in the night, like a single candle's flame across a remote landscape.

He landed by the Kote, your limbs shaking from exhaustion and being utterly overwhelmed by the most action you'd ever seen in your decades. Wrapping both arms around you, he hurried into the ship, didn't deposit you, but took you up into the cockpit before starting the ship. Flipping switches, the engines starting, and continuing his ministrations as you pressed your face into the cowl of his cloak, trying to dab your tears that kept coming. He had come for you. All that doubt and he had come to save you. You didn't know if you should be happy or upset. He'd come too late to save your home, but he'd come.

Paz guided the ship out of the canyons and upward, breaking atmo without an afterthought. His skin was hot, rolling with primal fury as you clung to him, crying softly into the fabric of his flight suit. You'd done nothing to deserve this. But he couldn't stop right now. Not until the two of you were in hyperspace. It had taken the Empire weeks to catch up with him, but they'd managed to do it. Fuel was low, he'd need to make a pitstop and Tatooine was grudgingly close. Maker dammit, that was the last place he wanted to go. He charted the navigation and punched the hyperdrive. Fuel was fuel. That's all he'd stop for.

"Tranyc?" he entreated gently, prying you off enough that he could get a look at your soot stained face. He tried to rub some off, which made you flinch. No, that wasn't soot -- deep purple bruises were on your cheeks from where you'd been struck repeatedly. Your eyes were wet and red, but you had a thousand yard stare, the shock of what had occurred glazing you over completely. "Darling, look at me."

You finally blinked, a few tear drops cascading as you glanced up toward his visor. The troopers had done this to you because of him. There was no other reason they would’ve bothered a farmer or beaten them. Not without orders to conduct interrogations. And you had defended him. People’s resolve crumbled for less, especially when their entire livelihood was on the line. Paz already hated the Empire for everything they’d taken, but the fire was rekindled anew. He was livid, looking down at your wet, bruised face, shame and guilt overwhelming him as he hadn’t gotten there soon enough to protect you. Just after promising you that you were safe with him, he’d let you walk into a den of wolves.

"I'm so sorry. I should have been there sooner-"

"Where were you? I-I thought you weren't coming," your voice broke and your lips trembled. "I thought you'd left."

Hearing those words broke his heart, but how could he blame you? Paz hadn't realized anything was wrong, never thought it until he'd spent the better part of his day picking up around the ship, taking a shower, and running a few checks on the engine before stepping outside and noticing a hellish glow emanating from the upper echelons of the canyon. Smoothing your curls, he shook his head. "I'm sorry. I thought I'd lost them, I never thought they'd find me out here, let alone go after you. I should have been there. I should have never left you."

You nodded slowly and pressed your cheek against the beskar chestplate, the cold metal soothing to your ailing skin. What were you going to do now? Everything you'd owned was gone. "Why were they following you? You never gave me a straight answer, but I didn't think to go poking around..."

"The Imps attacked my covert after I helped one of my brothers escape with a baby that they wanted. Don't know much other than that, but I was one of few who escaped and they must think I know where said brother is," Paz explained. "Whatever they want with that child, it's part of something much bigger than I ever thought."

"One of those troopers... the black one... he said he was Mandalorian. But... he doesn't look like you," you pointed out.

"He was dar'manda. Maybe he was Mandalorian, raised that way, but he forsook his people to become a death trooper. Many death troopers are dar'manda. Looking for the easiest path with the least resistance, betraying our ways to make credits and be on the right side of the law."

"It's not the right side anyone. The New Republic rules now."

"Where was the New Republic when the Imps attacked you?"

You didn't have an answer, instead you sighed and closed your eyes. "It's all gone," you warbled miserably. Even innocent Jumbles was gone. "W-where do I even begin? I don't know anything about the galaxy. Just home. How to farm and stuff-" Your chest felt as if you'd taken a full on sucker punch and you whimpered in discontent.

"You can stay here. With me, Tranyc. As long as you need..." he drawled off. This wasn't how he'd wanted to convince you to come with him. He'd wanted it to be a choice, not because everything had been ripped out of your hands. "I won't leave you again. Not unless you ask me to. I promise.”

You had somewhere to stay and a person to take care of you. That felt like such a foreign concept. For so many years you'd taken care of yourself, carrying the burden of you solitude, and tending to your animals. The idea was queer, confusing, and in your mental state it made you scowl, mind filled with a thick fog that you couldn't see through. You had wanted to spend more time with him and part of you had also wanted to see other planets. Maybe one day you would have asked him to take you, once you had a better solution for the farm in the meantime, but it was gone. You were here now, leaving your dustball planet for the first time in your life and that petrified you. Because as much as you rolled with the punches in your day to day life, this amount of change was overwhelming.

Paz could tell you were on the brink of passing out from a combination of exhaustion and mental distress. Aside from going to your home planet when you were young, he doubted you'd been off of it since.

"I-" you started up again, trying to formulate your thoughts, but the ideas were evading you, running too far ahead for you to catch up and speak. "-don't want to be a burden."

Burden? You were worried about being a burden? Paz's lips tightened underneath his helmet and he stifled a sigh, rubbing circles on your lower back with his palm as he sank into the seat. "What do you want, mesh'la?"

You didn't know right now. Your wounds were still too fresh and deep to make a decision like that. It was such a broad question and honestly, too much for you to handle in that moment. "C-can I help you?" He had just saved your life. In that second, you'd entirely forgotten that you had done the same for him and that technically, this should have made you even. But you were accustomed to working all your life and without that rock solid foundation of regiment you found yourself losing more grip on reality. You couldn't just pitter around the ship or you'd find ways of letting the churning maelstrom of your darkest thoughts beginning to smother you. "Can't fight, b-but maybe I can do things? B-be your mechanic or somethin'?"

Work. You were asking to be put to work. The first bit of direction. You craved it. Everything except for the Mandalorian had come crashing down spectacularly and you were trying to find the first piece to begin rebuilding your foundation on. Work was the most logical place to start. Because you had to work for a living, to survive, and it wouldn't be any different because you were on a ship now. You needed a job for your own sanity.

"I could use a mechanic," Paz revealed, which made you perk up hopefully. "You said the Kote still needs some work. I can make that your job."

Your head was bobbing enthusiastically, hyperfocusing on the distraction from the trauma you'd just endured. Rapidly, you began considering what you remember being on the ship and what you'd require to be capable enough to fix it. "I'd need supplies," you comment, chewing your lip and paling as you realized you needed more than just work equipment. You had lost everything. "A-and stuff."

"Mm," he hummed in agreement, continuing to pet your hair. The sensation was soothing and you melted back against the cool beskar as you rattled out a long exhale. "We'll take care of everything. Maybe not on Tatooine. We'll need to make another stop on a more suitable planet after we fuel up. Why don't you make a list before we arrive?"

A list. You could manage that, but not right now. You didn't want to move right now. Sitting on a man clad in full armor shouldn't have been comfortable, but it was. And you were absolutely drained, face aching, and lungs burning from the smoke inhalation. "Ok," you mumble, clinging onto your Mandalorian as he rubbed you. You were lulled to sleep by the rise and fall of his chest, swaying gently like the rocking of a boat on the ocean, reminded once again that you were safe. As long as he was around, you were safe.

---

He put you to sleep again and when you woke up, you were in one of his oversized shirts. Rubbing your eyes, you glanced around the chamber before getting up. It was cold. Why was it so cold? You grabbed the fluffiest blanket and drew it around your shoulders as you left the captain's quarters behind and stepped out into the hull. Mentally, you had it together a little bit better now, but with that came a soul crushing headache. You were thankful that the ship wasn't brightly lit, mostly just a few amber lights here and there that cast a dim ambiance across the shed.

You wouldn't call it a kitchenette, because that's not what was beside the table. It was more like a flip down hotpad, a caf machine inlaid on the side, a nozzle for potable water, and a little disposal unit for any trash. From helping rearrange the ship, you knew that the nearest drawers contained rations. Which at best, were meh. They were relatively tasteless ways of gaining the nutrients you needed. Sure, they came in flavors but mostly that was savory or sweet. The differences between something like chocolate or peanut butter were almost negligible.

You sat down, not really certain where you were going, but you plopped down on a pillow and just stared at the durasteel table. So... this was it now. You were the mechanic for a Mandalorian with nowhere else to go. You knew the other farmers around your home planet, but asking for boarding seemed like an incredibly ludicrous and cumbersome thing to do. You also didn't know if the Empire would attack your neighbors after what had happened on the farm if you tried to stay on planet. It was safer for everyone if you left.

Funny, you had wanted to have more time with him and your kriffing wish came true. Now you wouldn't be lonely! Your stomach rebelled at your poor attempt to be wry. This was not Paz's fault. From the sound of it, he had been helping his brother escape the Empire and your father had told you before that the Empire never needed a good reason to do terrible things. You'd brushed it off, believing that your dad was just being overdramatic. No one could be that awful. Right?

But they were and now you felt hopelessly adrift amongst an ocean of things you didn't know. You thought you knew how people reacted, but then again you'd only ever met nice people until the stormtroopers. You knew Tatooine was a skug hole. You knew that there was Hutt activity and slave trading there. See, you knew a great many things from reading and watching galactic news, but you'd never experienced any of it first hand.

Paz will protect you.

The very thought made you inhale and exhale at a normal pace. You rubbed your face, cheeks still stinging from where the death trooper had slapped you around. Slapped. Not punched, not kicked. He'd slapped you around and you'd been bruised pretty badly.

"Oh, you're awake," Paz stepped out of the cockpit with a datapad in his hands. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired still," you reveal wearily. "But it's more... mental."

He trotted over, sitting down beside you and pulling you into a warm embrace. Maker you had needed that, just the confirmation that you weren't alone through this. No words were needed. The display of comfort, his powerful arms carefully encircling you and hiding you from the galaxy... You sighed and pressed into him, uncertain why the small gesture was bringing you to tears. "Talk to me when you need to," he offered softly.

"I like this," you tell him, preferring the way he shielded you and the heat of his body chased away the cold. Oh, the cold. "Why is it freezing on this ship?"

"Hm?" he loosened his grip enough so that you could glance up at him. The two of you were close enough that you could kiss his helmet if you wanted to. "We're in hyperspace. Space itself is quite a bit colder than your home planet. Are you cold?"

You gave glance at your blanket, arching a brow at him to make a point. The silly twist of your lips made him laugh. "You're not cold?"

"No, but I'm used to this," Paz returned and you comprehended a little better. He was dressed from head to toe and had the additional layer of his beskar.

"You are warm," you grumble, pressing your face into the fabric of his flight suit. He was big, warm, and totally cuddlable and honestly, you were kind of a greedy bitch for his cuddles. The first taste you'd gotten nearly a week ago had set you up for disaster. At least all the tears you had spilled hadn't been over him leaving and one good thing had come out of all of this. But... you were working for him now. What did that mean for the two of you? Well, you were nearly on his lap right now, so clearly there wasn't too much to worry about, but you wondered if there were any logistics you should worry about. "And quite a bit? It never gets this cold in the canyons. Maybe not as hot as Tatooine, but we still orbited around two suns."

How the heck could a planet be so warm, but the space from one to another was this cold? You weren't an expert on planet stuff, just like you weren't a medic. Seems you had a lot to learn. "Tatooine," he muttered, fingers tightening around you subconsciously at the thought. "We just need fuel and then I plan to leave that awful place."

"I know the Hutts used to be pretty active there before the war. What's so awful about it?" you inquire curiously.

"You might not mind the climate, but it is very hot and dry there. And even with the fall of the Hutt syndicate, there's still remnant activity, slavers, and the overall atmosphere of the planet hasn't shifted much in light of the turn over to the New Republic. It's too far and not much worthwhile for them to chance coming out here just yet," Paz elaborated.

"Wow there's still slavers?" Again, another foreign concept to you. Of course you knew what slaves were, but you couldn't understand how people could do that. How they could treat someone as if they were dirt, less and baser than an animal.

"Not just on Tatooine. There are other places that still allow slavery. Technically, the New Republic has their own form of slavery for criminals. Most have to work in indentured servitude to pay off their crimes."

"But that's... different," paying off crimes and debts in exchange for hard labor seemed fair. Not being held against your will for being unlucky. "Are you wanted by the New Republic?"

"Don't think so," he shrugged. "I try to keep my bucket out of anything that has to deal with them. Fortunately for us, it's only the Empire."

"Yeah, fortunately," you drawl sarcastically, rolling your eyes, but his words make you smile. "So... what are we going to do once we fuel up?"

Paz had a good amount of time to consider this while you were resting. He had been contemplating his course of action and knew that returning to the covert might not be the best idea until the activity with the Empire had settled down. "I know a Guild Master on Dadrus," he began slowly. "The ship costs a decent amount to keep running. Until we're certain that the Empire isn't tailing us, we can't stay in one place for too long. My original plan was to return to my Tribe."

He had very briefly mentioned his people to you and part of you expected the secrecy surrounding them was for their own protection. But now... you felt as if you could ask. "What's it like... with you Tribe?"

"Comfortable. Home," he sighed wistfully.

Immediately your thoughts hitched and you stiffened. You'd not thought to ask it, but now you were really thinking about it. "Uhm... y-you don't have an-nyone-" Anyone that might be waiting for him like a partner or a wife. Would he have slept with you if that were the case? Honestly, you didn't know how Mandalorian culture worked and if that was allowed.

"Aside from the Foundlings that haunt my every step like an army of ghosts, no, mesh'la," he purred. "It's been a while for me too."

That was hard to believe given how dexterous and experienced he was in that field. But his words relaxed you, glad that you weren't homewrecking or expecting to stand toe to toe with another lover. You still didn't know what this was, but maybe it didn't need a tangible name or label. You were content in his arms right now. "So children like you?" You assumed that's what Foundlings were, sounded a lot like Younglings and your father used to refer to children -- of all races and species -- as Younglings.

Wasn't hard for you to imagine why children might like Paz. He was patient, a good teacher, and gentle when he needed to be. But he was also strong and... you thought back to how easy he'd made the fight between the five Imps look. The very death trooper that you'd been unable to writhe free from, he'd kicked to the ground using his jetpack as propulsion. Stormtroopers weren't known for the prowess in battle, but it had been more than you could handle. Easy enough for a Mandalorian.

"Well..." he pittered off, as if bragging a little bit was not suited for him. "I teach the Foundlings, so they are keen on me."

"I can see that," you murmur against his shoulder. "You're a very good teacher."

"You're just saying that."

"No, you were very thorough."

"Helps that you're an attentive student," he rumbled, pressing his helmet into the side of your face, the same type of kiss that he'd done before.

"You should teach me more... sometime," you suggest. "I'm a pretty poor shot and if I'm going to be running around with you, I should probably know how to shoot a blaster."

"Yes," his voice was quiet, barely picked up by the vocoder, crackling with static. "You should know how to shoot."

"I bet I'll get the hang of it in no time with you as my teacher," you gave him a big smile, earnest and bright. While you said these words, you also highly doubted it. Given how well you'd reacted in the face of danger last time, you knew you were just as likely to shoot yourself with a blaster as it fumbled through your sweaty fingers than actually be able to point it at someone with the intention of killing. But you liked the way he taught and it would give you more reason to steal his time over something he was very knowledgeable in. And... your intentions weren't completely innocent. You knew that subject was a bit of a turn on for him.

"Here," he cleared his throat, trying to blink away the haze of arousal that had blindsided him as your sweet smile. "Use this to draft up a list of what you need. After Tatooine I was thinking of bringing us to a supply stop before going to Dadrus."

"Where we going?" you inquired as you took the datapad. Maker, you were going to need everything. From toiletries, to clothes and underwear, shoes, proper attire that would keep you from freezing your tits off on this ship. Then there was also the question of how many tools you'd need.

"Dadrus is on the other side of the Outer Rim from here. I was thinking Gala would make a good stop before we arrive on Dadrus," at your clueless look, he continued. "It's a wealthy planet and under the rule of the Republic. There should be plenty of supplies and we shouldn't run into any issues while there. The Empire wouldn't show face on Gala."

"Why wouldn't we just wait on a planet that is governed by the New Republic then?" You point out.

"I'll attract unnecessary attention."

You hadn't thought of that. Mandalorians were not a dime a dozen and on a safe planet, people might grow incredibly wary of his linger presence. The New Republic may even question his intentions. They were typically bounty hunters, so it didn't make much sense for one to stick around in one place for a long time. "So... what if we go between planets that are New Republic?"

"Because the ship costs credits to run," he reminded you gently.

Ah, right and these planets weren't just going to top off the ship with fuel and supplies. Frowning slightly, you chewed your lip and nodded. Damn, there really was no easy way to manage this. You suppressed a sigh, turning your attention back to the datapad as you began drafted up what you'd need. "We should get real food too," you said out loud, not realizing that you might be rude in saying that. "I-I can cook it."

"I do like your food," Paz contemplated before nodding. A warm cozy feeling settled into your stomach at the compliment. "We might be able to find some salvageable food on Tatooine. It's going to take the better part of a fortnight to reach Gala once we leave the sector."

"Wow? Really?" You had no concept of space travel.

"Gala is hundreds of thousands of light years away. Requires navigating through a few different hyperlanes to get there. Even Tatooine takes the better part of a day to get to from your planet."

"Then we must almost be there," you realized.

"Few more hours," he confirmed. "Here, you should put a little more of this on. I applied it when you were sleeping for your cheeks-" he picked up a bottle on the table, which appeared to be a bacta lotion. You hadn't looked in a mirror since waking up... or since you'd taken a shower a couple days ago. But you didn't feel grimy, so you wondered if Paz had cleaned the soot and dirt off of you while you were a limp noodle. Accepting the bottle, you stood up, immediately feeling the cold of the ship press back around you as you headed over to the fresher to assess the damage.

Flicking the switch on, you had been correct in your assumptions. The ash was gone from your face and the blackened bruising had faded to a sickly yellow. Your cheeks were still raw, but the lotion had done a swift job of erasing the trauma. Still, your eyes were a bit puffy from all the crying you'd done, nose tinged red as if you had a cold. You felt like a kriffing mess, clutching that bottle and staring at yourself for a few long moments, finally blinking and shattering the spell that held you. Just put your foot forward as you'd done everyday on the farm. This was life now and you just had to accept the hand that fate had dealt you. Even if you were afraid, naive, and felt completely unprepared to start exploring the galaxy, you had Paz beside you and he knew what he was doing. He promised he'd never let anyone hurt you and you believed him. Not just because you were too kindhearted and gullible, but because he'd saved you and took care of you.

Opening the bottle, you lathered your cheeks, the tingling sensation tracing electricity over the bruises and numbing them. You distracted yourself by putting a little too much on, creating big circles of white on your cheeks, making a few faces in the mirror, earning yourself a giggle at how stupid you looked. Shooting. Paz was going to take your dopey ass shooting. Taking your elastic band off your wrist, you put it on your index finger and thumb, cocking it like a gun. Maybe you wouldn't be half bad with a professional guiding you. You made a bam motion in the mirror and the scrunchie flew off, ricocheting off the mirror and slapping you in the forehead. It didn't hurt, but you stumbled a few paces back in surprise. Crap, if that was any indication on how shit of a shot you were, Paz was in for a long day at the range.

---

Tatooine was hot. Way hotter than home. Like ten times hotter than home. Holy shit, why did Paz think you'd like this place? You could feel the suns glaring down at you with the full intention of giving you a sunburn. You'd not gotten a sunburn in years. Usually only your face and arms were bared, so you definitely had one heck of a farmer's tan, but you were feeling it coming on now with each second you stood roasting like bantha meat on a spit. Your hair was probably the worst thing about all of this. You tried to find a way to finagle it, because it was getting sweaty and damp on the back of your neck, but you only had one scrunchie and that was not enough to tie all that fluff into a bun.

So you suffered, flanking Paz as you started down the sand swept streets of Tatooine. People here dressed similarly to back home in robes in earthtones. There was a lot of haggling, bustling, and activity. What you picked up on immediately was the fact that people parted easily for you. Well, not for you, but for the Mandalorian. No one wanted to touch him as if they were afraid that he'd burn them if they so much as brushed by. He kept you close, hand hovering protectively by the small of your back, almost holding onto your belt. You weren't going to wander away, but you were very curious about everything around you with your eyes stretched wide.

You hadn't seen many other races aside from humans and Jawas, so getting to see Toydarians, Rodians, Dugs, and a motley of aliens was an absolute delight. Maybe Paz did need to hold onto you, because your legs had a mind of their own and you had never feared for walking somewhere unsafe before.

"Nope, this way," Paz guided you from the direction you had started to list toward, which was a shop of junk, mostly salvaged droids and parts. Not any of the more reasonable places on the strip that had things you might actually need.

"Where are we going? Is it inside? It's hot."

How was he not overheating in all that clothing? Did beskar have some secret high tech that allowed for him not to sweat his balls off? Hmm, you didn't think so, but also didn't know why he wasn't complaining.

"We're going to the range. The stations are in the shade," he told you, which was somewhat of a relief. The range? Thinking back to your battle with the scrunchie you grimaced a little. Dear Maker, you prayed, please, please, please don't let you make a fool of yourself. "Fueling up takes a few hours and there will be a delivery of food too. So we have a little time to kill."

The range was outdoors made up of several lanes with targets. Controls were situated in each booth, allowing for the targets to be turned on to create popup simulations. There was a mild bit of activity on site, a few other shooters amongst the two dozen lanes. The worker for the range gave Paz a dubious look, which made you giggle. Almost as if to say 'Why in the Maker's name do you need to practice?' But you two were assigned the middle lane labeled 12.

"Now, you know basic gun safety, right?" he set his blaster on the shelf in front of him, which met the top of his thighs and was tummy high for you.

"Keep the weapon pointed away from anything you don't intend on shooting. Finger off the trigger until you're about to shoot," you recalled those very basic lessons from your father. "Weapon on safe until you intend to fire. Treat every blaster as if it's loaded."

"Good," he nodded, making you smile slightly. At least you weren't an absolute idiot. "We'll start with closer targets-" he pressed the range controls, turning up the popups at 25 meters. "I need to get a better idea of your form. So go ahead and take the pistol and fire."

Now you were smiling nervously, reaching over to where the pistol that you'd taken apart the other night was. It was heavy and too big for you. He had mentioned that it was custom built for him and he was more than double your size. Finding the most comfortable way to hold it, you held your arms out, fumbled the safety, and then scrunched up your face as you tried to aim. Pulling the trigger, the blaster shot made you jolt, elbows bucking and blaster smacking you right in the face.

Paz caught your arms before you could do anymore damage, setting the pistol back down on the counter. "Let me see-" he tilted your head up, pulling down the hands that had automatically went to where you'd yammed yourself.

"Did I hit it?" you garbled, having not been looking. Oh stars, you'd closed your eyes when you shot at it, hadn't you?

Paz was quiet, confirming your suspicions. His thumb brushed the tiny bit of ripped skin where you'd taken the blaster, but you weren't bleeding. "You locked your arms out, which caused them to buck with the recoil. You're too tense. And... you should keep both eyes open."

You knew that, but your body had reacted on its own and you'd ended up getting hurt in the process. Huffing, you glared back out at the target that you'd whiffed. "What should I do differently?"

"Watch me first," he instructed, picking up the blaster and pressed the range controls to allow for the targets to move in their popup rotation. His arms were not locked out and his stance was wide, supportive, and straight aside from the tiniest lean forward. The first target popped up and his finger was on the trigger, squeezing and hitting square on center mass. The target fell down in defeat, his shoulders turning as one further out popped up. One by one, he took them down, your eyes tracing between him, his form, and then the successful quick shot that he rained down on them with expert precision. His breathing was controlled and he wasn't tense. He was acting as natural as if he were sitting up in the cockpit or relaxing. He was Mandalorian and weapons were his religion, so of course he'd not exert any effort in a skill that was as mundane as walking or breathing.

He reached and swapped the cartridge out before resting the pistol on the counter.

"Now tell me what you observed."

"You had a wider stance, relaxed, easy breathing... and you weren't afraid of it."

"You're afraid of the pistol?"

"I mean it did come back at me like I insulted its mother, so yeah," you admit sheepishly.

"My breathing was controlled, but it may have looked natural to you," he began explaining breathing cycles and how it was important to shoot at either the top or bottom of your breath. Experts could without adhering to the guidelines, but beginners who weren't familiar with bolt pathing needed the extra stability with their sight pictures. Everything sounded so logical and simple, but putting that to practice wasn't as easy as wiring and programming. Usually those things couldn't kill you.

After running down bullet pathing, trajectory, and math - you liked the math aspect - Paz had the pistol back in your hand. It was a tool. It didn't have emotions, you did. But that didn't change the fact that it made you nervous. You tried applying what he told you, but your arms were shaking as you held the pistol out and you were still jumpy. You fired at the 25 meter target and hit the sandy burm beneath it.

"That was better," he encouraged, but it didn't feel that way. "Here, I'm going to help adjust you-" he came up behind you, utility belt brushing up against your back as he clasped onto your wrists. "Relax, mesh'la. Relax," he eased, guiding your arms out from their rigid position. The back of his cuirass met you and for the briefest moment, you did relax completely. His soothing deep voice filled your ears, rumbling like the earth being shaken by thunder in the wet season. Then you remembered you were on the range and started to panic again. "Now both eyes open. Slow controlled breathing. Go for the bottom of your breath, when your shoulders are down rather than the top when you're naturally more tense."

Following the instructions, you narrowed your eyes at the target, promising to give it a piece of your mind as he helped steady you. You sort of imagined that the target had a clever quip about kissing it's ass or something stupid, but your finger brushed the trigger and you fired. For the first time since starting, you hit it. Not center mass, but enough to the side that it caused the target to fall down in mock defeat.

"There you go! Good job!"

You were beaming, absolutely splitting the biggest smile since leaving your home planet. You envisioned yourself as somewhat of a sharpshooter now, wondering how soon it'd be before you were the quickest draw on Tatooine. Ok, admittedly you were getting ahead of yourself with your dumb daydreams, but you were so ecstatic that you'd actually kriffing hit it. Leaning back, you craned your head up to look at him. "That was me? You weren't helping?"

"I wasn't helping you aim," Paz assured you. "Do you think you can try a little further? Without me holding your arms up?"

Try? Sure you could try. You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded. "But can you... stay there?" It felt nice having him right behind you, making certain you didn't hit yourself in the face again.

"I can stay," Paz agreed, which caused your shoulders to relax immediately as he lowered his own hands and moved them to your hips. Oh, stars you liked that so much better. A pod of butterflies erupted in your stomach as he pressed the next set of targets and you had to focus on them. But at this point you were just focusing on him and the nice cool press of the beskar against the inside of your back, chasing away the bitter hottest of Tatooine. You shifted your weight as you went to aim for the first and closest target, grinding into him more than intended.

Paz kept a close eye on how you were lining up your shot, suppressing a huff as you leaned into him. You were inexperienced and green, but he'd taught Foundlings how to shoot for their first time too. But you weren't a Foundling or a child, and so when you pressed into him the codpiece pushing into his groin, he felt a rush of hot white desire as you fired again, missing the target, but undaunted. You tried again and grazed it before making the next attempt at a further target. The pistol was too big for you, he knew that, but he didn't have anything smaller. With the right amount of practice, he knew you could shape up. You weren't a natural and that was fine, he didn't want you to have to use these skills, they were just a safety measure.

But there was a baser hunger in him that was stirred as you applied yourself, the huffing of air as you tried to blow a few stray, sweaty curls out of your face, the absolute focus you'd come under when you were really applying yourself. You'd looked much the same while working on the ship, but this time it was in his field of expertise. Shooting was just... shooting. He didn't derive any excitement from doing well, which he always did. Practice like this was more of a waste of ammo than beneficial at this point. However, when he watched you, there was a thrill in observing you get better, get more familiar with the weight of blaster, and your valiant attempts to not be daunted by the fact that you probably only hit the target once out of every four shots.

And you were flush against him. Each tiny movement from your breathing to the way you shifted your arms, he could feel it.

"I think," he started carefully as the trigger clicked, indicating that the cartridge was spent. "That it's time to go."

"Hm?" you glanced up, pinning him with those big eyes.

"Time to go," Paz repeated again, voice hoarse and staticky as it came out of the vocoder.

"Already?"

He smiled at your enthusiasm, wondering if you'd caught the husk in his tone or the breathy edge. You couldn't feel him, he had a codpiece on, but he wanted to leave -- now. "C'mon mesh'la, let's go-" he brushed some of the scattered curls out of your face tenderly, despite the beast threatening to overwhelm him in that moment. Maker, why were you so pretty? He was careful not to be pushy as you handed over the pistol and he reloaded it with a swift click, jerking it down into his holster. Placing a hand at the base of your elbow, he began whisking you away, his own open strides too large for you as you struggled to keep up.

His eyes snapped upward, helmet tilting as he felt a growl rise in the back of his throat. He had intended on beelining for the ship, but he noticed something -- rather someone and had to readjust his pathing. Nearly picking you up, he dragged you over into an alley, causing you to yelp in surprise. "W-w-what's going on?"

"Old friends," he muttered, glancing back out toward the road before continuing further down the alley.

"Friends? You don't sound very friendly," you observed as he held your hand, bringing you deeper into the labyrinths between the main street.

"Ok, they're not friends," Paz admits, pausing around a corner and letting out a deep exhale. "They didn't see us." At least, he didn't think they had before he darted down the alley. He felt incredibly hot, not just because of the dual suns of Tatooine, but because of how dolefully you stood in front of him, looking for guidance, imploring him. "Mesh'la-" he groaned, crowding you against the wall. "I wanted to go back to the ship." Now he was just complaining. It wasn't your fault.

"We'll get there eventually, won't we?" you point out brightly.

"But that's not-" he pressed his helmet against the wall in aggravation. "Mesh'la?" He brought his fingers beneath your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. You were dewy, a little sweaty from the heat, but all smiles and sunshine. He dragged the pad of his gloved thumb over your lips, tracking the lower down. "Fuck."

Now you were beginning to comprehend why Paz had wanted to get back to the ship and your cheeks began to flush as if the sun really had burned you. You let out a soft breath, staring up into his visor as you were pressed against the wall of a building, boxed in by his impressive form. You knew that you got aroused from teaching you about weapons, but in your own little world, you'd not remembered until now and his insistence to get the heck out of the range. Now you were waiting for the coast to be clear in a dirty alleyway and your own legs were beginning to tremble as a surge of heat -- not from the climate -- rocked your knees.

"P-Paz?" you're stammering, eyes half lidded as he traces his thumb down your chin and against your throat. You weren't really going to...? Not in an alley? Where could anyone see you? Your heart picked up a few beats, ears rushing with the sound of your pulse at the dizzying idea of him taking you in the alley where someone could walk in on the Mandalorian fucking you. Why was that exciting? Oh Maker, that should not have been half as exciting as it was. You should have felt dirty and ashamed by these thoughts as your hand planted against his cuirass, throat bobbing against his fingers as you wondered what was about to happen.

"Do you want it?" he muttered.

You were in your coveralls, not exactly the best article of clothing for a tryst in the alley. But you nodded, chewing on your lower lip. "I... always do."

"Mesh'la," he growled plaintively. "You can't say things like that to me."

"Why?"

"Because I won't be able to control myself."

"I know you'd never hurt me."

"Hey!"

The voice caused the both of you to jolt, necks snapping in the direction of a gesticulating hand. "Fuck. Time to go," Paz grabbed you, hoisting you up like a child, your chest colliding with his pauldron. Air bursting from your lungs, he was running beneath you, blaster in his other hand, arm encircling you from under your ass as he made a mad dash through the alleys. You were wondering why he didn't just use his jetpack. If he did that, everyone would see the two of you.

He was fast, charging through the side streets like the dewback on your home planet. The two of you were back at the hangar, the Kote's gangplank hissing downward before he burst into the cockpit. There wasn't a moment to spare, he was flipping switches, grabbing the controls with you still in his arms, and taking the ship the hell off of Tatooine before you'd even managed to fill your lungs up fully. When you finally lifted off the ground a loud laugh popped out of your throat, hair frazzled and snapping in all directions as you looked up at him.

He was still tense, coiled and ready to strike, but at your giggling he eased, cocking his helmet to the side. "Friends?" You poked.

"Mm, friends," he hummed, unable to keep himself from chuckling as you continued to snicker.

"I'm going to go wash some of this sweat off while you set us back on course," you told him, bending forward to press a kiss to his steel cheek. The sensation of the metal on your mouth was refreshing. Climbing down you left him to that bit of work, checking on the few supply crates that had been loaded onto the ship with fresh food. You weren't really certain what some of it was before ducking into the fresher to wipe your neck and between your boobs with a damp rag.

"Mesh'la?"

You fumbled the rag. How the hell could he sneak up on you like that? Sure, you weren't hyper sensitive about your surroundings, but he was still quite large and you expected to hear his boots carving their path toward you as he crowded you in the fresher. "Hm?" He grabbed your waist, pushing into you, your hips hitting the edge of the sink. You floundered, gripping onto the edge of the metal as you gasped. His codpiece was gone and you could feel the rigid line of his hardness against your ass.

"You were going to let me take you in that alleyway, weren't you?" His helmet fell on top of the crown of your head, lolling slightly as he huffed through his vocoder. Maker, you'd done this to him?

Face sizzling, you gave a small nod. "I..." You hadn't been thinking straight, perhaps the heat had gotten to you and you'd agreed to something so incredibly dirty when you usually wouldn't. His hand glided up to your chest, pushing the shirt up, revealing your perky breasts to the mirror where you could see your own face shifting and your lips parting as you let out a soft whine. The sink was cold against your tummy, but the rest of him was a hot blanket above you. "Yes."

"I would have," he was quiet, mumbling almost as he rolled his fingers over your nipple. "Out on the range you were such a good girl. Listened to everything I taught you. You'll get better. You were doing so well today-"

You moaned louder, leaning into his hand, crushing your stomach into the sink at his praise. Fuck, why did you like it so much when he told you how well you'd done? You knew you were shit at shooting, but the way he said it... he wasn't saying you were amazing, but he was still praising you somehow.

"What if someone saw us?" you managed to squeak out.

"I would have shielded you. You're so small," he answered simply, reaching down to palm between your legs. "I wouldn't have let anyone see you. Do... you want me to show you how? How I would've done it?"

You knew you had to be soaked at this point, his fingers digging in against the material of your coveralls. Each sentence he uttered made your skin blister, heart steadily picking up in tempo, and threatening to give you a heart attack at this point as you were squished to the sink. The ache was awful, so needy and desperate that you could barely answer him. You manage to bob your head when words evade you.

Drawing you off the sink, he pushed you up into the opposing wall, boxing you in just like he'd down in the alley. His helmet fell against your brow and you could hear his heavy pants coming through the modulator. He hooked a finger in your waistband, tugging both the coveralls and your underwear in one fell swoop. Skirts. You definitely needed skirts. The logistics of pants were too much of a hassle, they were --- you keened to his hand as he brushed your bundle of nerves and came down in between your folds.

"Mesh'la you're already soaked," he realized, watching as you pressed your head back against the wall and gnawed on your lips. "You really wanted it that badly in the alley?" He was taken aback by this as you continued to kick off your pants and boots. He'd have to buy you a dress or a skirt, pants wouldn't have worked in the alley. "I would have leaned against the wall and picked you up like this-" he ran down his thought process, steadying himself against the wall by bracing his right side, swinging his hand beneath the supple curve of your ass, before lifting you up, encircling your leg, bringing it to rest up on his hips where the edge of his belt was. Balancing you with the wall as a leverage point, he undid his belt and dug his cock out, which sprung readily, throbbing in anticipation.

Your hands fell on his shoulders as he guided you down, slicking his length against you before holding you by your hips, lower back not touching the wall as he tested his entrance. You quivered, thighs clenching as he fought the resistance of your cunt and buried himself. Both of you gasped, but he moved first, beginning to fuck you against the wall. If he thought you could've been quiet at all when he did this, then he was sorely mistaken. Almost immediately you began to cry out, each fervent lock of his hips to yours stretching and hitting into your molten core. Maker, it felt so disastrously good, your fingers tightening around his shoulders as your heart fluttered anxiously, not wishing to fall.

"And if you were being too loud-" he continued, pushing closer to you on the wall, nearly crushing you beneath his form so that he had more support, he covered your mouth, stifling the hitching whines and yelps. "Mesh'la," he growled in your ear, so gritty and animalistic that it set your teeth on end and stood up all the fine baby hairs on your body.

Your eyes were watering, shadowed beneath him as he breathily pounded into you. Had you not been held in place by his hand your neck would be limp. He was in all beskar, his helmet against the side of your face, glancing down as he fucked you, beginning to mutter in Mando'a as you struggled to keep your legs encircling his hips. He moved a little harder, your muffled gasps punctuated as you dug your nails into his shoulder viciously.

Paz barely felt it, the marks you were leaving through the layers of his flight suit and cowl. You were a shaking, whimpering mess against him, tears spilling from your eyes as your walls tightened. He knew it was coming, pounding harder as you whined and your lashes danced against your cheekbone. He moved his hand, let you scream his name finally, the vice grip of your cunt around him thrusting him over the edge as your orgasm assaulted him with a wave of pleasure.

His hips stuttered and he caught his own moan in the back of his throat as he blissed out, forgetting completely that he was still inside of you, unable to hear you saying his name more insistence and not with the same slurred pleasure as usual.

"Paz!" you were panicked as he panted against you, in his own debauched daze.

He rolled his head, visor looking at you, before he stiffened. "Fuck!"

"I-i-it's," you were stammering as he pulled out of you, setting you down on your feet. Your knees buckled and he caught you, but you were beginning to run down the last time you'd had your period. Theoretically, you should be due in a week. When was the most fertile time for a woman? Fuck you didn't know that, you'd never tried to get pregnant before.

"Tracyn, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"Uhm," you were glancing down at yourself, wondering what might happen... You had liked the sensation of him finishing in you, the way he'd reacted, perhaps even better than when you'd given him a blowjob. But still... you weren't on any contraceptives. "I think... I think it'll be okay."

He crouched in front of you, capturing your face in his palms and framing you. "I wasn't paying attention. I should have been paying attention. If you become pregnant-"

"Then I do," you say dolefully, glaring down at the floor. "We should have a better idea in a week. That's when I'm due for that time of month."

Paz was quiet. So quiet that it frightened you.

But his own mind was reeling. Had you just stated it would be fine if you got pregnant? No, you were trying to stop him from finishing inside you, so it wasn't that. "You wouldn't...?"

"No!" you grabbed your stomach reflexively, defensively. You were of the age where you wanted children, but you and Paz hadn't established any sort of idea for what the two of you were. "I-I mean, I don't think I'm ready, but that wouldn't be the child's fault for our own stupidity."

He wanted children, desperately, but that hadn't been his intention when he spent himself in you. That was something that needed to be discussed prior to a frightening situation like this. But your reaction warmed him. You would have his child if this accident resulted in an unplanned pregnancy. "You're so beautiful. Your ka'rta, your face, everything about you, Tracyn."

You were still holding your stomach, drawing a shaky breath as you tried to combat your anxiety. It was going to be at an all-time high until you had your period. What if it didn't come? Fuck. Then you were having Paz's child, you'd already said it. You were healthy and you knew you wanted kids, you just... wanted something more permanent and to not be on the run while it happened. "If I'm not, then I should really get an implant when we get to Gala. Even if... a short one."

Your suggestion made him smile. You weren't planning on leaving and you wanted to be with him, maybe even have his children one day if the two of you worked out in that way. Paz wanted it. He wanted everything to work out and keep you forever. But proclaiming such things now might frighten you when you were trying to cope with the fact that you might get pregnant. "We'll do that." While he wanted children, you being pregnant during this running from the Empire escapade was not a good idea. You were already a distraction enough and if you were pregnant... He shuddered at the idea, having to worry about protecting an unborn child and deal with whatever sickness that came with that. But he'd do it. Without a fucking doubt he'd do it.

"Can I take a shower?"

He nodded, standing up before planting a keldabe kiss upon your brow. You were doing better since losing your home, but he knew it might come up again later. He hoped the Kote could become your home. "Let me know if you need anything, cyar'ika. I'll be just outside."

Translate: Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur - Today is a good day for someone else to die.

#paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x you #paz vizsla smut #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic #smut with plot #smut with feelings

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quirkdotcom · 4 years

Text

Duality || HERO AU DABI X READER

PART ONE

PART TWO HERE

Triggers: Brief mentions of blood?

A/n: Okay !!! I have finally finished this piece !! Sorry I took so long to actually write it, been a...long few weeks..but anyways ! Here we are ! I hope you enjoy this! I had a lot of fun writing it, and as this was my first time actually writing for Dabi, I think in the future I'll be even better at him and his personality! Also I'll try to remember later to add a "Read more" thingy!

××××××××

Your dreams had always been full of fire. Mesmerizing shades of blue always seemed to be flickering just beyond your reach.

Most people asked you if you were scared of your dreams, however you only ever responded that the flames never hurt you in your dreams, and that you could never be scared.

They always felt so comfortable. The way they danced around you, enveloping you in warmth, had always been something you longed to figure out the reason behind...or the person behind it.

Not only did the world have quirks in it, but also it held soulmates. Once someone touches their soulmate for the first time, the two switch quirks for twenty-four hours. How you longed for that interaction. For those twenty four hours where you would hopefully spend learning all about whoever your soulmate was.

With a sigh, you slowly sat up in your bed, stretching your arms above your head as you yawned. It was about 9:30 at night, and it was time for you to make your way into the city, a long night of your own unofficial patrols to be done.

Technically, some see you as a hero, while others see you as a meddling annoyance. But either way, they called you Riptide.

You had a water based quirk, and with it you could take surrounding volumes of the liquid, and create vortexes of fast running water.

At times it could be hard to control, and caused a lot of damage, hence why some saw you as a menace, but in the end, the water overpowered almost any villain.

Once you showered, and ate a quick meal, you walked back into your room, moving to your closet and pulling out the homemade hero suit.

It wasn't the best thing around, but hey, it was better than running around in civilian clothes. The outfit itself was made from mostly dark blue or black material, so that you weren't easily seen, knee pads for taking falls, a mask to cover the lower part of your face, visor-esque goggles to shield your eyes from your own water and anything else that may be targeted to your eyes.

You pulled on the components to the suit, slowly but surely making your way to being finished.

Once on and ready to go, you grabbed your apartment keys, shoving them into a pocket and zipping it shut. With that, you made your way to the window of the living area, glad to be on the ground floor, and slipped out into the night.

Almost immediately, people ran past you screaming, their shrieks piercing the air around you.

You started off in the opposite direction of where they were headed, a smirk easily making its way onto your face as you picked up the pace.

Finally you skidded to a stop once you drew close to the source.

A villian with some sort of glass shard quirk was wreaking havoc onto the street, blocking traffic and he seemed to be holding a few people hostage.

You couldn't be sure what he wanted but at this point, you didn't have the time to ask.

Instead you leaped into action, hopping onto the hood of an abandoned car, shouting out to the villian, "Hey ugly ! Over here!"

He looked to you, his bright red eyes locking onto your eyes.

"And just who are you supposed to be?" He sneered, his quirk lessening on the citizens for a mere moment.

You sighed heavily, placing a hand onto your hip, just above the section on your belt where a few small impact grenades hung. These you used to not only cause distractions, but also to target fire hydrants and cause them to let some water out.

"Seriously? I figured by now someone would know my name…" You slowly undid the clip that held it to the belt, keeping the villain's eyes on yours, "It's Riptide. And you're about to be washed away,"

In a heartbeat, you pulled it off and pulled the pin, launching it just behind him. You launched yourself off of the car and onto the civilian, protecting them from the blast.

Around you, cement shards fell and water began to spray.

You pulled away, seeing that the villain had released them, "Quick, get out of here!"

They nodded, eyes wide and moved away, once the ground was clear enough, they began to run.

You turned slowly, eyes scanning for the villain, where did he-

Suddenly, you were propelled forwards as a boot kicked at the space between your shoulder blades.

"You little bitch!" The villain angrily drew close to you, grabbing you once more and tossing you off to the side. Man, today must not be your day.

You stood quickly, ignoring the pain in your back, "Me? A bitch? Well I'm hurt! " you pulled your hands up, palms facing him.

Within a moment, the water that was streaming from the hydrant was lifting off any surface it had been on, and now directly spiralling around your arms. Once fast enough you grinned, "I hope you brought a floatie,"

Once the words left your mouth, the two vortexes shot forwards, pinpointing his chest and pushing him back with incredible force. He hit a wall, now unable to go anywhere.

Before you could say anything or do anything more however, a sudden chunk of glass shot forwards, barely giving you enough time to dodge. It nicked your shoulder, a steady stream of blood making its way from the cut.

Just as another one came your way, it was stopped short by blue flames, the glass breaking and shattering into pieces within moments of it being engulfed by the fire.

You turned, eyes landing on a peculiar hero.

He had black hair that stuck up in all sorts of directions, but beneath the hair, a set of gorgeous blue eyes peered out, scanning the scene. He had some sort of burn scars or skin grafts beneath his eyes, on his lower face and neck, and seemed to be along his arms as well.

"You must be that hero who runs around and calls themselves 'Riptide', aren't you?" He questioned but didn't wait for an answer, he instead looked to the villian, "And who do we have here?"

The villain, now soaked to the bone, pushed off the wall, three more shards of glass floating around his hand, "You're that Infernal Phoenix guy…"

"That I am," the male hero spoke, not an ounce of fear showing in his eyes.

At once the fight seemed to pick back up, the villain letting loose the three pieces of glass, then caused the shattered ones from the wreck around the three of you to lift into the air, shooting down towards both the Infernal hero and yourself.

The raven haired male leapt towards you, pushing you away, raising an arm up to attempt to use his fire once more.

However, instead what happened was his arm was now covered in a swirling pool of water.

In shock he let it all fall to the ground, eyes going wide as he thought quietly.

You yourself had a million and one thoughts running through your head, but had to shake yourself of it, "There's no time for this, he's prepping for another attack,"

You stood up, holding your hands out once more, now watching as they lit on fire, but hardly burned you.

"Be careful, don't let the flames get too hot, " he motioned with a nod of his head to his own arms.

"Got it," you clenched your jaw, still amazed on the inside how easy his quirk had come to your control.

As the next set of glass rained down, you threw up a protective wall of flames, keeping it up for a few moments so that the hero could gather enough water.

This time, the villain aimed two chunks of glass at you, noticing that you were the one making new attacks, not even stopping to question the change of quirks.

You turned to aim more blue fire his way, but instead you found the fire clashing with the fast running water of what was normally your own quirk.

With the two together, both the water and the flames died out, and you both found yourself dropping to the ground, instinctively covering your heads.

Once the sound of glass hitting the ground stopped you quickly scrambled to your feet, now seeing the villain once more aiming chunks of glass, seemingly reusing the ones from earlier.

In your hands, the fire lit back up, brighter than before, you charged him, grabbing onto his wrists and swinging him to the side, ignoring his scream of pain.

Once he was on the ground, your knee on his back, you let the fire fade away, spotting a few burns here and there, the pain must have been masked by adrenaline.

"I told you not to let it get too hot," the hero came up from behind, a few cuts on his face, and some on his hero suit.

"Yeah well a few burns wont kill me," you eyed him for a moment, only stopping as reinforcements showed up, "Shit," you looked to the hero for a moment, shaking your head slightly.

"I'll have to meet you again sometime...my show here is done…" you gave a wistful smile and climbed off of the villain, turning and taking off, running away from the scene, the shouts of heros filling your ears as they called for you to stop.

But as you didn't quite have a hero license, getting caught using your quirk would have a few consequences that you weren't looking forwards to.

Once you were sure that you were away from all the action, you slowed to a walk, trying to even out your breaths.

As you walked, you drew the attention of an elderly lady, who seemed to be on her way home from a shift at the nearest hospital.

The woman looked at you, the suit you had on and the cuts from your fight, "Excuse me, but are you okay?"

You gave a weary smile, "Ah...kind of?"

The woman proceeded to pull out bandages, ointment and a few other items, treating your injuries without even a second thought. In return, you took the time to walk her home, answering questions she had asked you about where you got the cuts, though you chose to leave a few things out.

Once she was home, you made your way to your own apartment, deciding to turn in earlier than normal. Your apartment was quiet, a nice change from the night just beyond your window. With a heavy sigh, you made your way to your room, tossing your goggles onto the floor, kicking your shoes off and flopping onto your bed, falling asleep rather quickly.

You were woken by the mid afternoon's sun. Its rays hitting your eyes from the slants in the blinds. You must've forgotten to close them last night.

You rolled over onto your side, quickly remembering that you were still in your suit from last night. You slid out of the bed, pulling off the suit and changing into some everyday clothes.

Then you moved into your bathroom, starting to brush your hair, taking a long look at yourself. It was then that the whole memory of last night hit you.

"Holy shit…" you paused, setting the brush down and making your way into the hallway, bringing a hand up and watching as a small blue flame began to flicker in your palm.

With a newfound burst of energy, you sprinted into your bedroom, grabbing your phone and searching up the name, "Infernal Pheonix"

On the screen a few results pulled up that sparked your interest. He was the son of the number one pro hero, Endeavour. He had graduated from the ever so prestigious UA, and was even rising the ranks as hero at the same agency as his father.

You quickly copied the address of the agency, pasting it in the notes app of your phone. After all, you only had until somewhere around ten pm tonight to prove that it was you.

With the burst of energy and the information at hand, you first grabbed your headphones from the nightstand, and then walked towards the door of your small apartment, slipping on your shoes before leaving. Though you did have to go back inside to grab your keys, almost having forgotten to lock the door.

Now that you had everything, you turned on your playlist, putting in the headphones, and then, pasting the address into your maps app. With that, you took off.

The busy city was actually nice for a change today, though at times you found yourself trying to hide your face in case anyone recognized you.

About ten minutes into the walk, you stopped at a coffee shop, taking some time to decide on a drink for you and for the hero from last night. Hopefully he was a tea drinker, because you weren't sure what else to get him.

Once paid for, you thanked the barista and left quietly, both drinks in hand. According to the map still giving you directions through your earbuds, you were almost to the hero agency. And as you grew closer, you noticed your heart beating a little faster.

Upon reaching the agency, you paused, trying to gather yourself as best as possible. After a few moments, you shuffled the two drinks to one hand, pulled your earbuds out and hung them loosely around the back of your neck and over your shoulder, then pulled at the door, walking inside.

The air was cool, and it was fairly quiet as you made your way to the main area of the agency.

"Can I help you?" Came a stern voice, from a desk some feet into the room. It belonged to Enji Todoroki, the number one pro hero.

You instinctively bowed, and stood back up, "I..I'm looking for Infernal Phoenix! I need to speak with him about..well about this," You again shuffled the drinks to one hand, and held out the other, carefully letting the flames spring to life.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia x reader #bnha #mha #dabi #dabi mha #bnha dabi #dabi x you #dabi x reader #my hero academia dabi #boku no hero academia dabi #dabi hero au #hero au dabi #hero! dabi #hero! dabi x reader

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equisetumspn · 3 years

Text

A Different Kind of Profound Bond

Dean is in that wonderful state between being asleep and awake. For once he feels like he’s had a good night’s sleep, not waking up from nightmares and horrible memories of people dying does wonders for the mood and your energy levels. He is still sleep soft and it’s warm in the bed. It seems to be even warmer on the other side of the bed, so Dean turns over and snuggles closer to the source of the warmth.

“Dean wake up,” the heat source says.

The voice is deep and very familiar, it feels safe. But it’s so insistent and Dean doesn’t want to do what it says, he wants to go back to sleep and see if he can find that blue color he saw in his dream again. He protests and tries to bury even closer to the warmth.

“I understand that you are comfortable, Dean, but you have to wake up. We need to fix this.”

Dean finally gives in and stirs, his face is half smushed into his pillow and half pressed against a body. A body in his bed? What? That can’t be right, he doesn’t bring anyone home to the bunker, that’s way too dangerous, and besides it’s been an eternity since someone caught his eye at a bar or anywhere else for that matter. Dean lifts his head. Cas. That’s why the voice was so familiar even though he was basically still asleep. He groans and lets his head fall back down on the pillow, forcing himself to move away from Cas. Just a little bit, he doesn’t seem to be able to go very far away from Cas.

“Cas. Why the hell are you in my bed?”

“My apologies Dean, but I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? How can you not know what you’re doing here?”

“That’s not what you asked. I know what I’m doing. I’m sitting. I’ve been sitting here for the last two and half hours, almost three hours now, waiting for you to wake up.”

“Potato, potato,” Dean frowns into the pillow, praying to any higher power that listens to give him the patience to deal with this before he’s had his coffee. “Okay then. Why are you in my bed?”

“I told you, I don’t know. I was in Madagascar watching the ring-tailed lemurs, you know how I like when lemurs jump sideways like that, and then all of a sudden I wasn’t there anymore. I had been transported here and was sitting on your bed. Tied to you.”

Cas lifts his left hand; a pink ribbon is attached to his wrist. It curls in a few loops on the mattress before it disappears under Dean’s pillow. Dean sits up very quickly. The other end of it is looped around his own right wrist.

“Son of a bitch! What the hell is this?!” He pulls at it, but it won’t budge. When Dean inspects it closer after turning on the bedside lamp, there are no knots or fastenings of any kind. It’s just there, almost like it’s been welded on to their arms. As for the ribbon itself, Dean looks at it and almost shudders. It’s one of the most aggressively froufrou things he’s ever seen, and he’s seen some weird shit in his life. It has a light pink base, and what he first thought was dots turns out to be hearts in several shades of darker pink, red, and purple. Some are even covered in glitter.

Dean almost suspects the start of a new prank war, but then he remembers that Sam’s spending the weekend with Eileen and that Cas had just popped down next to him like he’d been summoned, so he stashes that idea back where it came from.

“All right. That’s it, let’s go cut this eyesore off before we turn into freakin My Little Pony or something. Then we can figure out what happened.”

Out of old habit, Dean turns to his left to get off the bed on what he considers to be his side. It hits him that it’s kind of strange that he has a side in the bed that is his, when in reality all of the bed is his, and he should be able to roll out of bed on either side of it without it feeling weird. The thought disappears when he’s yanked backwards back onto the bed and his half naked body collides with Cas’ fully clothed body. They both wince at the impact, and Dean is actually thankful for the pain in his head where it bumped into Cas’ as they try to detangle themselves from each other. He really doesn’t need to think about his own limbs entwined with Cas’. Especially not in bed. Not now. Not when he’s only dressed in boxers and a t-shirt.

“It would seem that the ribbon is too short for us to dismount the bed at different sides.”

“Yeah thanks for that input Captain Obvious. I kinda noticed that myself,” Dean huffs and rubs at the sore spot at his temple. “And don’t use the word ‘dismount’. Just don’t.”

Dean sighs and submits himself to the undignified feeling of having to crawl across the bed to the foot end at the other side so they can get to their feet without any more painful incidents. He leads them over to his dresser where he picks up yesterday’s folded jeans and pulls them on, he opens a drawer and puts on a pair of socks before he shoves his feet into his boots, not bothering with tying them, he just pushes the strings down under his feet. On the top of the dresser is a flannel shirt, he tries to put it on but since he and Cas are bound together, only his left arm is able to make it through its sleeve. He lets it go and it hangs from his left wrist. Great, now it feels like both his arms are stuck.

“Damn it! Come on, kitchen time!” Dean says and pulls Cas after him while taking off the flannel that’s dragging behind him on the floor.

When they get to the kitchen, Dean tugs Cas to one of the drawers where he takes out the scissors and in one quick motion, he cuts the ribbon off.

“Yes. It’s very strange. Do you think it’s dangerous?” Cas frowns down at the ribbon, eyebrows knitted together.

“Aha! See, that wasn’t so complicated. Problem solv…” Dean swallows the second half of the word as the ribbon swiftly heals itself and he is yet again bound to Cas. “What the hell just happened? Did you see that?”

“I don’t know, I just want it gone.” Dean lifts the scissors again and cuts it off once more. And again. And again. “Damn it!” He tries with a knife instead; the edges of the ribbon aren’t as neatly severed as with the scissors, but he barely has time to lift the knife before the ribbon is back together. He cuts it off again and this time he takes a big leap backwards, away from Cas, just as he cuts through the shiny fabric that ties them together. His hope of freedom shatters immediately when Cas is shoved closer to him at such a speed that they go tumbling down on the floor, tangled together again. Nearly all of Cas’ weight is pressed down on Dean, Cas lifts his head and looks down on him. Dean feels Cas’ breathing on his face and his eyes dart down to Cas’ parted lips. Dean’s eyes close and after forcing himself to take a steadying breath, he manages to get out “What if we try your angel blade?” His voice still sounds shaky to his own ears, but he hopes that Cas’ll put that to their combined fall and not to the proximity. He keeps his eyes shut as Cas struggles to sit up, determinedly thinking about things that aren’t his best friend’s squirming body against his own. When he looks up, he sees Cas’ face screwed up in that concentrated look he always gets when he summons his blade. Cas cuts off the ribbon and they share a bemused look when it magically glues itself back together.

“Do it again.”

“No Dean. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not? It’s gotta work sooner or later.”

“Perhaps. But it seems like it’s gotten much shorter. I think it’s shrinking a bit every time it gets cut off and then heals.” Cas holds up his left hand. Now that Dean looks at it, he sees that Cas is right; the ribbon started out being four feet something and now there’s just three feet of sparkly material separating their hands. And that is if you’re generous with your measuring.

“Oh fuck. Yeah. Okay, yeah, let’s not do that anymore.” Dean buries his face in his hand.

“What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know Cas.” He peeks out between his fingers, wincing. “But I really need to pee.”

Dean decides to take them to the smallest bathroom in the entire bunker. He hopes that if he does that, he can go in and Cas can stay outside. They manage to do that, but it’s a very close call. Cas has to stay pressed against the door frame, and when Dean has closed the door behind him, he can just about reach the toilet to do his business. On the other side of the door he can still hear Cas muttering about the fact that it’s really very unnecessary to close the door and that urinating is a completely natural process and all mammals do it as a way to get rid of metabolic waste products from the body and why should Dean be ashamed of it and force Cas to stand so uncomfortably close to the door? Dean tunes him out as much as he can. Cas still needs come in for him to be able to reach the sink to wash his hands. It is one of the most excruciatingly embarrassing bathroom experiences Dean’s had in a very long time, which really is saying something considering all his years on the road with dingy gas stations and shared motel rooms.

Dean dries his hands and turns to Cas. “Okay, let’s go back to the kitchen and make some coffee. And then I think we’ll call Rowena up for a little chat.”

“Rowena?”

“Yeah. I think she’ll be our best shot at trying to figure out what’s going on here, since you know she’s a centuries old witch and there seems to be some kinda magic shit going on with this girly leash thingy.”

“Dean, from what I’ve seen throughout history, pink doesn’t need to be a feminine color. In fact, artists often depict baby Jesus dressed in red or pink and Mary in blue in paintings, and in the 18th century it was worn by both men and women of the European aristocracies, and boys were often dressed in pink because people saw it as a lighter red, which was a military color, and in Northern India pink turbans are very common, and” Cas draws in another breath to continue his lecture on the apparently so fascinating history of color. Dean cuts in before he can start talking again.

“Yeah yeah, I’m sure that’s very interesting but it doesn’t matter right now. Come on, coffee.”

“Are you sure we should call Rowena? Wouldn’t it be better to start with Sam? He has a vast knowledge of spells and enchantments; he might know what we should do.”

“No. I ain’t calling Sam about this. Firstly, he’s having a cozy weekend with Eileen, and I don’t even want to think about what they’re doing but I know that we shouldn’t interrupt them,” Dean shudders and hands Cas a cup of coffee as he looks sternly at him, trying to get Cas to realize that they can never reveal this to Sam. “Secondly, if we were to tell him about this, that you showed up in my bed and that we’re tied together by a shrinking pink band with glitter on it? Sam’d laugh until he got a hernia, and we’d never ever hear the end of it. So, no Cas, we ain’t telling Sammy about this. Never ever, got it?” He holds Cas’ gaze until he nods back at Dean.

“Good,” he pours himself a cup of coffee. Dean drags Cas after him to the fridge and takes out what’s left of the apple pie he baked yesterday, he moves to cut a piece and put it on a plate but decides against it. Screw manners, he’s got more pressing things to think about. He takes a fork and shoves pie directly from the tin into his mouth. As he chews, he pulls out his phone and flips through the phonebook, and when waiting for Rowena to pick up he scoops in more pie.

As they are waiting for the coffee to brew, Cas turns to Dean.

“Well well, if it isn’t Dean Winchester.”

“Hey Rowena. How are you doing? Good? Good. I kinda need a favor.”

“A favor? My, what could I do for you, my second favorite hunter?”

“I’m your second favorite? Who’s first?”

“Why, that would be Samuel of course. He shows a much greater propensity for the magical arts than you do Dean, surely you must know that.”

“Uh… Yeah, sure. I’m actually calling you to ask about magic stuff. You see,” he says and launches into an explanation of the things they’ve been through during the morning. He’s not even a quarter through, before he needs switch over to speaker phone since Cas keeps interrupting to add things or to explain them in other words.

“I see,” Rowena says when they’re done. “Castiel, when you say you were transported, did you feel anything out of the ordinary? Something you’re not used to? Anything unusual at all?”

Cas tilts his head and squints as he thinks, and Dean has to dig his fingernails into the palm of his hands to not reach out and do something stupid.

“No, I don’t think so. It felt like it does when I’m flying.”

“Precisely my point. It may be magical but I do not believe that there’s anything particularly malign about this ribbon you speak of, rather that it’s some sort of practical joke.”

“A prank? But who would do that?” Cas asks, head still tilted to one side.

“Oh, come now, boys, you can do better than that. Have a proper think about it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do. Do let me know how it goes. Toodles.” She hangs up.

Cas looks at Dean. “Do you really think it’s a prank?”

“Maybe.”

“Who do you think would do this to us?”

“I’m starting to get an inkling. I think Rowena might be on to something with the whole you not feeling anything strange when plopped down into my bed.” Dean feels himself flush at the possible implication of his last words and tries to hide it by downing the last of his coffee. He sees Cas process the information and the moment it clicks for him he makes an oh-face.

“Gabriel.”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Dean has barely gotten the words out before the kitchen is filled with the sound of fluttering wings and Gabriel pops into the room, grinning around a lollipop.

“I thought I heard the sweet sound of my beautiful name! Hey guys, Happy Valentine’s Day!” He pulls the lollipop out of his mouth. It’s bright red and shaped like a heart, Dean can smell the artificial cherry of it from where he’s standing seven feet away.

“Gabriel, this is not funny!” Cas scowls at his brother.

“Au contraire Cassie boy, I think this is hilarious! Naaaw, I see that it’s shrunken a bit, hasn’t it? I guess that’s your doing Dean-o, cutting it off so many times? T-t-t-t-t. I was so generous with the length of my pretty ribbon, almost five feet is a lot further than the normal distance between the two of you. But of course you couldn’t help yourselves and had to get closer to each other. That’s actually kind of sweet, but I must say, I’m a little disappointed that you figured it out so quickly. It would’ve been so much fun if it had shrunk more…”

“Listen here you smug little fucker! If you don’t remove this girly shit -”

“Dean.”

“Yeah, I know Cas, I know. If you don’t remove this pink shit right now, I’m gonna banish you to the fucking moon using every damn sigil I know!”

“Oh Deanie, don’t be such a meanie! Come on, that’s no way to speak to someone on this day of love. I think it’s time to… Hmm, yes it definitely is.” Gabriel gives the lollipop a few kitten licks before he puts it back into his mouth. He smirks and snaps his fingers. The length of the ribbon shrinks so much that it’s just the loops around their wrists left of it. Dean’s right arm is now pressed flush against Cas’ left and Dean feels the soft skin of the back of Cas’ hand rubbing against his own when Cas moves. Shit. This is not good. “There we are. Much better!” Gabriel smirks again.

“Gabriel, release us now!”

“Nopes, lil bro. Shan’t do that, won’t do that. I’m just trying to help, to give you two a final little push. All that pining is starting to get on my nerves. On all our nerves, I think. It was fun in the beginning but now it’s just tedious and in fact a bit pathetic, so I figured it was time to do something about it. Hey, why don’t you see the ribbon as a different kind of profound bond!”

Dean gapes at the arch angel, feeling himself go beet red. When he glances at Cas, there’s a soft dusting of pink at the top of his high cheekbones.

“As pleasant as this has been, I can’t hang around here all day. I’ve got Valentine’s Day plans of my own, you know.” Gabriel wiggles his eyebrows before giving them a pointed look. “I think that the two of you know deep down how to get rid of the last of the ribbon. I’ve peeked in on you a couple of times this morning and you’ve been reeeaaal close. So I guess it’s up to you now, if you’re gonna do anything about it or if you’re gonna stay stuck together. Not that there’s that much of a difference to how it usually is…” He shrugs. “Well, I really must be off, clock’s ticking, places to be and people to do and all that jazz. Good luck kiddos! Have fun and remember to use protection!” Gabriel winks at them and plops away, the last thing they hear of him is his cackling laughter.

All of the anger and frustration Dean has felt throughout the morning has suddenly left him. He doesn’t really know what to feel right now. Confusion, mostly. Gabriel may be a smarmy little bastard who generally does things just for shits and giggles, but even if he messes with people, he’s not evil. Dean sighs. Shit, why is everyone so insightful today? But what if Gabriel’s right though? Maybe it’s time to finally do something about this thing that’s been between him and Cas since… since when really? Dean loses himself in thought, reflecting back on everything they’ve been through. Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory. Angels and demons. Gods and humans. Working together and working against each other. Dying and coming back to life. Lost memories and having been torn apart. But, he thinks, no matter how many times they’ve lost each other they have always, always found each other again. Him and Cas. Cas and him. If Dean would live a million lives, he’d never meet anyone who could mean as much to him than Cas does, who could affect him as much as Cas does. They have been so much for each other. Allies. Friends. Enemies. Family. And yeah, there’s something else too. Something’s that’s been there for a very long time. If Dean’s honest with himself - and why shouldn’t he at this point, he’s sick and tired of lying to himself, of denying and suppressing things – he has other feelings for Cas. Not a crush, that sounds too childish and besides it’s not enough. Not even being in love is strong enough, he knows that he loves Cas, but what they have is something else. Something completely different. And yeah, he knows that all couples are different from each other and that all couples probably think that their story is the greatest love story ever, but Dean knows for a fact that their story has every other beat. It’s time for them to take the final step now. No one is dead or dying. No one is going through any kind of trials or being a demon or a god. No one is trying to rebel against something and there are no big bads to defeat and no apocalypse to stop. It’s finally time. And if they need a new word to be able to describe what they are to each other, then that’ll come in due time. Otherwise, him and Cas, they have always been good at defying all labels. The timing is finally right, and all Dean feels is the rightness of it.

After Gabriel has disappeared, they stand there, side by side, in the quiet kitchen. The only sound is the hum of the fridge and the occasional creaking from the bunker’s old heating system.

“Dean?”

“Hmmm?”

He turns to look at Cas and when he sees into his blue eyes, he’s absolutely certain that this is it. A life defining moment. He knows that during the last few minutes, Cas has gone through a similar thought process to his own. He can see it in his eyes. Dean is met with so much love and warmth and adoration that his breath catches in his throat.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?”

And that’s all that Cas needs. He lifts his free hand to Dean’s cheek and when his thumb strokes Dean’s cheekbone the look in his eyes soften even more. Dean’s own free hand, his left one, goes to Cas’s hip, and when he sees Cas lean in, he moves it to the small of his back to pull him closer. Dean’s eyes don’t close until their lips meet and he knows that he was right. This is a life defining moment. Dean doesn’t understand how he has gone so many years without kissing Cas and now that he has started, he feels like he never wants to stop doing it. It gets even better once Cas open his mouth when Dean licks at his full bottom lip and their tongues touch for the first time. Dean swallows Cas’ moan and lifts his right hand to bury his fingers in Cas’ dark hair and he feels Cas’ both arms wind around his waist to get even closer. Wait. Both his arms?

At the sound of a fanfare, they reluctantly pull away from each other. Not far away, just far enough to be able to look around the room and see the banner that folds out along the entire wall over the table. It says ‘Congrats on finally getting your heads out of your asses!!!’ in bright cursive letters. They also see the confetti that starts falling from the ceiling. Heart shaped confetti in shades of pink, red, and purple. But what else could they expect from Gabriel when he tied them together with that pink ribbon?

(The confetti keeps falling for several hours. It’s like some kind of Barbie-snow, but thankfully it’s only in the kitchen. They sweep it up later, wanting to get rid of it before Sam comes back home. And if Dean scoops up some of the hearts to put in a drawer and keep as a memory of the final push they needed to get together at last? Well, then that’s between him and Cas…)

(They don’t tell Sam how they finally got together. Gabriel tells him. And yeah, Dean was right. Sam laughs so hard he falls off the chair he’s sitting on and then he keeps erupting into giggles at random times over the next few weeks. Dean’s revenge for the constant teasing that follows is to make out with Cas on every single surface in the bunker. Every. Single. Surface. Including Sam’s bed. Revenge is sweet.

Especially when it tastes like Cas.)

#destiel #destiel fiction #destiel fanfic #dean winchester #castiel #deancas #i tried to do an fiction #valentine's day #suze says #it's not wedding related #but it's definitely valentines day related #supernatural #spn

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dat-town · 4 years

Text

what the hearts wish for

Characters: Seonghwa & You

Setting: pirate au, mostly based on Pirates of the Caribbean

Genre: adventure spiced up with a little romance

Summary: Oh, the two of you had quite a history, a sequence of chance meetings as if the thread of your fates were so deeply tangled, it couldn't have been separated. You have met up before, sparred before, talked before, saved each other’s life before but you never addressed what this unsaid thing was between you.

Warnings: mentions of blood, death, murder

Words: 3.4k

I blame numerous things for this, first and foremost @restlessmaknae (yes, I love suffering, thank you), then the wonderful Ateez concepts and cinematography, whoever’s idea it was to display a boat in the set of their Music Bank performance, listening to too much PotC music lately and the current book I’m reading. Also this prompt, kinda: “just once i wanna put the blade of my sword under a pretty boy’s chin and tilt their head up so i can see both fear and arousal in their eyes is that too much to ask?” (source)

"It's the Royal Navy!"

The watchboy from the crow’s nest hollered and his words made you snap your head towards the back of your beloved ship, Cassiopeia. Behind you, catching up with one of the fastest ships on the Eastern Sea, there were indeed three almighty watercrafts of the infamous Royal Navy. You let out a not too ladylike swear.

"Let the mast down and follow the wind. We need to reach Blackbeard before them," you yelled at your steersmate behind the wheel.

A hand gripping tightly on the handle of your nicely crafted sword and knowing no fear you stared ahead into the storm you were approaching and under it the Black Medusa, that damned pirate ship you had been chasing ever since your father's death. Finally, this was your chance and you weren’t willing to let politics or law mess this up for you.

Women were said to be misfortunes on sea, only angering the goddess of the waters but you earned your title after your father had deceased. Instead of his misogynist men, now you had your own and as he had once been one of the Pirate Kings of the Seven Seas, now you could have been considered a Queen. However, you had no care for titles like that. You didn’t have that luxury. You only wanted the head of the man who oh so cowardly pierced a bullet into your father's chest.

"The water is starting to get wilder, Captain! We are facing an enormous maelstrom," a cabin boy yelled, his panicked voice telling you clearly how crazy he thought your idea was. Chasing a ship down in a spiral trying to make sure you didn't fall into your own end, into that deep abyss? Yeah, it might have been a bit unusual but if one wasn’t ready to die for glory and gold, then he shouldn’t have become a pirate to begin with. You had no time to waste on such weak men.

Not to mention, now that even the Royal Navy joined this chase, there was no way back. Whether they came for you or Blackbeard, only one set of ship could have survived this storm. The Navy needed this blast of fun, you thought to yourself with a slightly amused grin as the wind got stronger. The raindrops started looking like tears on your face and the ship shifted towards the spiral, following the schooner not too much ahead. If you could get beside it, you knew you could have ducked it into the tempestuous sea.

"Prepare the cannons!” you yelled at your crew from the front, nails digging into the wooden material of the foremast pillar as the ship tilted further. Your wet hair got into your face and your hand kept slipping on the surface you grabbed on but you were almost there, ready to avenge your father's death.

However, you were so focused on the distance getting shorter and shorter between the Cassiopeia and the Black Medusa, that you didn’t even care about the compass attached to your belt spinning like crazy. Otherwise maybe you would have noticed the smaller ship from the Navy's Armada getting close. Truly a shame, your father would have been so disappointed to see you being blinded by your rage and vengeance so much that you didn't notice an enemy boarding your ship using the shrouds.

"Are you crazy? Do you wanna die?"

The man yelled into your face, his hands gripping on your shoulders, shaking you as if he could have shaken some sense into you but you just glared back at him. His perfectly styled black hair was now wet from rain and splashing sea water, the now messy strands even got into his dark eyes. The crimson scar on his cheek still hadn't healed completely since your last encounter and his almighty royal uniform was just as soaked as your loose and dirty clothes. You liked meeting him out on the Sea like this because there, almost all your differences seemed to disappear and you liked your chances fair. An odd thing for a pirate, isn’t it?

"It's none of your business!" you shouted back at him, shredding his hands off you but the ship took a sudden turn which made you both lose balance. You would have fallen, body pressed to the wall of the ship, so close to the mouth of the maelstrom if it weren't for him and his quick reflexes to catch on your wrist.

Heavy rain falling down on you, you stared back at him, letting him pull you back, back to his chest and you once again realised that his hands weren’t like a typical prince’s. His were rather calloused just as his skin was a map of scars because he wasn’t the kind of prince one would have expected. Unlike his older brother who mostly dealt with political and economic issues by the side of their father preparing to follow his lead, the second prince had become a general, a soldier, fighting for his country like any loyal subject of his, not expecting more of them than he would have given himself.

"You're running into your death," the man reminded you much softer this time and you knew he was right. You knew you could only get ahead of the other ship to cannon it properly if you went in a smaller circle in the spiral but if you went any closer to the center of it, the maelstrom would have pulled you down, bury you underwater along with your precious ship. It was a suicide mission but in that moment, it didn’t matter.

"If I can take that monster with me, I don't care!" you snickered, pulling away, hands searching for the grip of your weapon while you tried to find your balance on the unstable ship. Knowing you had your sword with you had never failed to put your heart at ease. It was a stable point.

"But I do," the man claimed oh so confidently, voice resonating through your bones, in the blood rushing through your veins and it got to your heart. Your movements halted, your mouth parted as you looked back at him from under your raindrop dotted eyelashes.

In that moment, under the pouring rain, features lit only by lightning, cheek scarred, General Seonghwa looked nothing like the prince you had met at your first encounter. Because oh, the two of you had quite a history, a sequence of chance meetings as if the thread of your fates were so deeply tangled, it couldn't have been separated. You have met before, sparred before, talked before, saved each other’s life before but you never addressed what this unsaid thing was between you.

Not when the pirates invaded the Royal Summer House in Busan and he caught you stealing crystal and gold. He had a sword pointed at your heart and even though he wore a night robe, his eyes, dark like the starless night, were awake. He spoke to you in an authoritative, strict tone, knowing no forgiveness, no tremble in his grip… until you looked up, revealing your youthful, feminine features to him. And oh he was too naive, too soft at heart, the darkness of his eyes melting like caramel over fire. He would have never dared to lay a finger over a woman like this, so just a few bats of eyelashes was enough and he lowered his sword along with his guard. Despite you being a trespasser, a thief, a criminal, he looked sorry and he made it ridiculously easy for you to escape with handful of expensive assets. After selling most of them at a good enough price, you still worn a few of the rings you had stolen from the royal family. A souvenir, you liked to call them, not that you needed any reminder.

Not when the Navy ambushed the den your crew - your father's crew then - had resided at. He seemed utterly confused to find you there but as chaos broke out, you soon found yourselves on two different sides again. He learned that day that even women could be good at swordplay as you sparred through the building, up the attic then the roof. He almost fell as his boots slipped on the slippery timber and you could have let him found his death there, at such an unprince-like place, in the mud down there, among the poor and drunk but you made your choice in a split second. You grabbed his hand before he could have fallen entirely and pulled him back to safety, telling him that he owed you one. Panting, he looked at you with those dark, star-filled eyes of his and you felt his burning gaze on you even when he let you run off.

Not when he paid back the favour. He hid you in his royal carriage when you were running away from guards in another kingdom's coastline city. At first you wanted to hit and kick whoever dared to yank you into the vehicle while you were hiding behind a brick wall watching out for the guards but when you saw him in his shiny, dark blue uniform, his general badges on instead of his crown, you decided against it. He acted stern but you could see the amused crack of smile in the corner of his mouth. You would have liked to call him out on it but indeed there was something funny in always meeting like this. As if it was more than coincidence. Almost life fate, that silly thing. Then, just before he let you go close to the port, he asked for your name and you saw no wrong in telling him. If he had wished to put you on the wanted list, he would have done it earlier and he wouldn’t even needed a way to address you for that. But what you didn’t consider was you not being prepared for him calling your name oh so sweetly.

Not when your father was murdered and his old crew left you on an uninhabited island in the middle of nowhere and he found you. He wasn't even looking for you, his ship just happened to pass by and seeing you on that wrecked boat trying to find your way with that compass of yours, he took you in. He made up some silly story of you being some lady kidnapped and abandoned by pirates. You were grieving too hard to protest or call him out on his lies, threatening him or acting like a proud pirate. Because at least for a night you let yourself be vulnerable and cared for. Before that, you had never worn such soft silk before and never tasted wine as nice as the ones in his chambers. You two sat by his bed with your backs to it and slightly tipsy you told him about your father, that he had been your only relative left and that you had nothing from him but a stupid compass showing you what you really wanted even when you didn’t know what it was. He also told you about his family, that he could never be a king because he wasn't the legitimate son of His Majesty, that he found his true self out there, on the sea. You two exchanged too many innocent secrets that night and by the morning you were too embarrassed to face him. So like a coward you never wanted to become, you stole one of the extra boats and left before he could have woken up.

Not ever since even though you had met quite a handful of times. Like last time when you gave him that pretty cut under his left eye as a warning.

That time, he was cornered by dozens of mercenaries who pondered over the amount of money his head could have worth and even though he fought well, they overnumbered him. Beaten and chained, he laid awake at night when the Cassiopeia passed by. That was his luck, otherwise you wouldn’t have noticed him and wouldn’t have ordered your men to rob the mercenary ship while most of those men were sound asleep.

“Long time no see, princeling,” you whispered as a greeting when you crouched down in front of the man who looked no less elegant even as a hostage. It wasn’t fair.

“Too long, if you ask me,” he dared to smile at you, hissing when pain shot into his split lip. He deserved it.

“It would better be the last time,” you gritted your teeth as you examined his confines. Damn, he wasn’t even paying you for this, so why did you feel like saving him once again? His men were probably already after him, there was no need for you to be so gallant. He was a prince after all, even if he wasn’t the son of the current king, he wouldn’t have let him get away like this, right?

“Then you should give me a proper parting gift as a goodbye, something to remember you by,” Seonghwa said and his daring words made you raise a brow.

Legs tangled as you kneeled in front of his sitting form and your mouth twitched at his sudden cheekiness. You lifted the dagger in your hand, using it to tap his chin from underneath with the metal blade. Tilting his head up you had a clear view of his blown pupils, his slightly agapé mouth and you couldn’t help but wonder what was in his thoughts. Was he afraid? Or the darkness of his orbs were from a different kind of feeling?

You leaned closer, so close that even a whisper would have been too loud between the two of you and smiled down at him wickedly.

“Beware of what you wish for,” you warned him before you swiftly cut through the ropes around his wrists and then grazed the blade along a part of his cheek on purpose lightly but just enough to draw blood. You freed him, lent him a lantern and a boat, then let him on his way. You were a pirate captain after all, not a charity service.

And now here he was trying to stop you? He had quite a death wish.

"Your father wouldn't want this," Seonghwa added at your silence and you hated that he was most probably right. Your father would have wanted you to take the glorious road instead of a martyr’s.

"Captain, what should we do?" your right-hand yelled at you from behind the wheel and looking around, you quickly realized the three ships moved in sync in concentric lanes by now but at least the Navy ship and the Cassiopeia caged the Black Medusa in. They were done for.

“Fire!” you ordered and all your men behind the cannons followed your word.

The noise and tremors of the shots shook the entire ship, even more so when your ship got hit as well. You stumbled backwards, until you grabbed one of the mast’s ropes to steady yourself. The ship tilted to one side dangerously, everything sliding down there and you knew well that once a watercraft this big buried somebody under, there was no chance of survival.

"You have to leave the ship!" Seonghwa reminded you as he pulled you towards a safer part of the ship. He was crazy staying there with you. He should have left already, not caring about dirty pirates dying among heavy waves. This was your fate after all.

"Not without my men!" You claimed and oh, they said there was no loyalty among pirates.

"Tell them to leave, too. The Medusa is sinking already," the general remarked and he was right.

However, it couldn’t have been all thanks to your crew: the Navy was firing the other pirate ship as well. You knew what Seonghwa meant by leaving though: to escape the doomed ships only to reach theirs but once a bunch of pirates were on a Navy ship who knew what was going to happen? You couldn't let yourself trust them just because of Seonghwa. But you had no time to ponder over such things. You needed all your physical strength already to not fall into Death's welcoming arms.

"Everyone, leave the ship! Take the boats or follow me!" you shouted at anyone who heard you and the pirates who were brave enough not to escape by then, now followed your orders. Your ship was close enough to the Black Medusa to crash into it time and time again which sent your balance off but it also meant that the deck-plank reached the other side, making it convenient to climb over.

"Go!" the man behind you encouraged you and the corners of your mouth twitched.

"The ever so gentleman," you rolled your eyes and willed yourself not to look down at the stormy sea beneath you while nothing but two sinking ship and a piece of wood held you. You naively thought it would get better once you set foot on the black ship's board but it was already so unstable that sparring with one of the pirates there looked as if both of you were drunken bastards. At least you saw most of your crew members jump or swing over to the ship, one step closer to safety.

With a kick in the chest you managed to throw an enemy to the water when you heard a playful voice behind you. You would have recognized his anywhere, you realized.

"Captain," Seonghwa called out for you and you turned towards him confused, a part of you afraid that something had happened, but instead you had to catch something thrown at you. Looking down into your palm, you recognized your compass that somehow had detached from your belt. Your father had gotten this tricky device after many struggles and it was the only thing you had from him, so you treasured it dearly and the general knew about it, too. As well as about the reason why the compass was so special. You stared at it, at the pointer that wasn’t spinning anymore. No, it showed you a clear direction.

“Watch out!” You screamed when you saw Blackbeard striking down at the general and you quickly drew your sword again to fight the old pirate.

It didn’t take long for the scene to become chaos: you and Seonghwa fighting back to back with four pirates. Sparring through rain and beside burning barrels, feet slipping on the sloped board, you felt adrenaline, vengefulness and something else you couldn’t name rushing through your veins.

“Y/N, I...” Seonghwa panted from behind you but you didn’t want to hear it. It already sounded too much like a goodbye.

“Shut up,” you snapped at him while your sword’s blade slid one of the men’s throat. You heard one fell to his knees on the prince’s side as well.

“But in case, we wouldn’t...”

“I told you to shut up,” you sneered between your teeth before turning around and tossing a rope around both of your bodies, you told the man to hold on and with one strike you cut through the rope that was anchored by some counterweight. Without that, the two of you shot up to the foremast’s level as the ballast pulled down on the other side. You needed to jump from there to the top of the Navy ship’s cabins and falling onto your knees on that steady watercraft’s surface had never felt so good.

“You’re unbelievable,” Seonghwa whispered beside you and soldiers rushing to you from all sides it was one kind of a moment, a now or never.

“You have no idea,” you chuckled as you toppled the man over, your light weight over his wide shoulders and there was a mischievous glint in your eyes but a genuine smile on your lips before you pressed against his body, kissing him like there was no tomorrow. Beside you laid the gilded compass with engraved runes pointing at him, like it always did, knowing the deepest and most sacred wishes of your heart even when you didn’t.

And Seonghwa kissed you back, sliding a bloody hand behind your neck, into your soaked hair, pulling you closer, smiling against your lips, murmuring his silly confession into the seam of your mouth. No title, revenge, gold or sinking ship mattered then, just his warmth close to you, soft touches burning on your skin and silly promises you wanted to keep. Just like him.

#stories #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa x reader #pirate au #prince au #enemies to lovers

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chapitre7 · 4 years

Text

bloodstained

The Untamed [陈情令] | Mo Dao Zu Shi [魔道祖师] fanfiction

Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian (Wangxian)

Vampire AU

For the MDZS/The Untamed Kink Meme

My personal thank you to @bookwyrmling, @syolen and @starfieldcanvas for the beta work and help putting this all together ❤

Read on AO3

Warning: Explicit sexual content and themes written for a mature audience

Never trust strangers blindly, his uncle would always say. Never show who you really are.

Lan Wangji always remembered uncle's words, the earliest he had memory of. Every year in school, he would keep his peers at the corners of his eyes, and his elbows next to his body. Not so much closed off as cautious, as aware. He would watch his classmates bathed in the sunburned light of late afternoon, knowing that as soon as the sun went down, it would be the others’ time to come out and play. Beings not always shaped like monsters from books to scare children, but friend-shaped, speaking in voices that called him by his name, that sometimes asked for his notes.

He remembered uncle’s words and walked home with his elbows close to his body, his jacket closed all the way up, and his eyes high and alert. As a student, Lan Wangji was always home before dark. And after dinner, after homework, he would take out his uncle’s books and he would read about the world of the night and the creatures that inhabited it. On weekends, after practicing the guqin, the erhu and the violin, he would practice with a secular sword, blade stainless and sharp as if it had been forged yesterday, but ever brilliant under the moonlight. His feet would move exactly where he wanted them to move, and he replayed his uncle’s teachings even when uncle was away, too busy to guide his training.

Never ignore a life in need. Never stray from the family path.

He grew up, remembering the words. He went through college, learning both the history of the human world and of the world unseen. He studied and he trained and he was dedicated and steadfast. A jewel in the family of Lan, an esteemed guide to the ancient hunter families. A light in the darkness, working among used books for the common folk, but with a priceless library just down the stairs that most of his customers would never see.

He remembers the words, the teachings, remembers it all. Remembers even as he stares at Wei Wuxian, sitting on the ground, hands laying down a man’s corpse. Remembers everything, even as he stares at Wei Wuxian’s tongue, sees it lick a speck of blood off the corner of his mouth.

Wei Wuxian. The professional in charge of the apothecary adjoined to the Wen clinic, only a few blocks away from Lan Wangji’s used bookstore in Tanzhou. You’d never catch him there during the day; a well-mannered, sickly-looking, oddly inexpressive man named Wen Ning would sell you all manner of Wei Wuxian’s creations if you stumbled upon the shop before dusk. But Lan Wangji had caught glimpses of him, many a time, when the sun was but a flesh wound in the dusking sky, and the moon already shone bright upon her throne above the clouds. All long legs, long neck, long hair. His smiles were all teeth, easily given if your gazes met. The lights by the shop’s front were always broken, always weak and flickering, but his eyes reflected red flames with no outside source. A candle lit from within. He was always gone, back inside the shop by the time Lan Wangji caught himself enough to check if the man had a shadow.

They said he was kind and welcoming, but his hands were cold. They said his food was red with the smell of spices and something else. They said he had a treatment for everything, barring the chronic and the terminal, and even then, in those impossible cases, he could soothe your pain. They said the lost causes that left his shop met their end in their sleep, with a smile on their lips.

Lan Wangji had never entered his apothecary. He had watched, and he had listened to the rumors, and he had held his cloud-patterned coat tightly around himself. If there was no proof, the rules stated that the hunters couldn’t act. And there had never been proof, he had never been caught with his hand in the till. Not before, not ever, not until—

“Ah, little Lan,” Wei Wuxian says, tilting his head to the side, still kneeling on the floor of the subway station. The man he had been touching lies unmoving and unbleeding. His appearance matches that of a serial rapist in the area, and Lan Wangji had only been drawn to the corner where he found Wei Wuxian by a woman that had been running away from the scene, as fast as she could. There’s little light where they are, the walls are old and cracked and stained, but Wei Wuxian’s eyes reflect the lamps shining down the stairs, reflect the headlights of the train. Reflect yellow, reflect red. “We meet at last.”

There had been no concrete accounts of vampires in Tanzhou, or indeed anywhere in China, in hundreds of years. There had only been whispers and rumors and unfounded suspicions. The records only ever spoke of one name. Watching Wei Wuxian get to his feet, stand to his full height, flip his long, unbound hair over his shoulder, Lan Wangji recalls, maybe mouths, maybe gasps it. The Patriarch.

“You knew it, didn’t you?”

Wei Wuxian’s steps are loud in the deserted night. All of the immediate past and future vanishes from Lan Wangji’s mind. What had led him to the man, his conversation with his brother over tea not an hour before, the reading plans he had been making in his head for when he got home. Hunters, missions, victims, deaths. There’s a corpse lying near them, yet there’s nothing but the present, the now, the tunnel vision of Wei Wuxian approaching him. “Of course you did, you’re the Lightbearer of Gusu Lan, is there anything you don’t know?”

Lan Wangji didn’t know Wei Wuxian knew about him; he had only been greeted with friendly waves before. He didn’t know he could freeze before a monster, something more than simple hesitation. He didn’t know much about confrontation, had always been trusted to be the lighthouse in the fog, to have the answers, to defend rather than attack, although he had always wanted, had always craved, had always desired...

(What?)

Wei Wuxian stands before him. He keeps his hands — his bloodstained hands, long fingers with long nails — to his sides. He ducks his head and leans towards Lan Wangji, not touching, but lingering, just... smelling. Perhaps assessing. Lan Wangji catalogs everything about him, the line of his nose, his tongue wetting his lips, the red fabric lining the inside of his long black coat.

“Say, Lan Wangji,” Wei Wuxian says, and Lan Wangji's attention snaps back to the man’s face, only slightly dazed. He wants to think Wei Wuxian put him under a charm spell, but his ears burn hot with the truth. “The blood from trash tastes really foul. If you give me some of yours, could you pretend you never saw me?”

The vampire licks his lips again and grins. Lan Wangji can’t look away from his canines, sharp and white and beautiful. There’s no trace of blood in his mouth, nor the stench of death in his breath, just something so sweet Lan Wangji can almost taste it. Wei Wuxian can’t touch him, all of the protection spells woven on the inside of Lan Wangji’s blue coat keeps him away, but it’s less like shelter and more like a cage, and Lan Wangji wants to open the door—

“Oh.”

He doesn’t know what he did, or what he looked like. In the next second, Wei Wuxian’s grin falls. The precarious lights in the station flicker, on and off, more off than on, and Wei Wuxian is cast in sharp shadows, predatory. He takes one step, another, and then he’s coming faster, closer, and Lan Wangji backs away until his back hits a pillar.

The lights flicker on, and his vision is all Wei Wuxian upon him, but still not touching. Lan Wangji doesn’t make any sudden movements, or any movements at all, and doesn’t summon his spiritual weapon. Wei Wuxian regards him with catlike focus, unwavering. Lan Wangji holds his gaze to hold his ground. He’s not a bird. He’s not prey.

“Did you know there used to be a flower spirit in Tanzhou?” Wei Wuxian asks, leaning closer, but still at a distance, as if Lan Wangji himself is his favorite fragrant flower. “And she loved poems, so every year she’d wait for someone to charm her with well-recited verses, and then she’d give them a flower that never wilted.”

Wei Wuxian cocks his head to the side, his eyes catching light from someplace else, someplace that is not this decrepit station. Someplace ancient, where the sky is clear enough to see the stars. Lan Wangji swallows.

“Little Lan,” the vampire says, his breath playing on Lan Wangji’s skin. Lan Wangji doesn’t move away; never run away, his uncle had taught him, even though his middle, his very core, trembles. Not in fear of Wei Wuxian. He could try to overpower him, and would suffer no shame in defeat. But he doesn’t want to. He wants...

“I have been waiting all this time for your poem,” Wei Wuxian says, never touching, his fingers and nose and mouth dancing centimeters away from Lan Wangji’s face, his neck. “Don’t you want my flower?”

Dangerous fingers move lower, to the collar of Lan Wangji’s jacket. Wei Wuxian’s eyes follow the movement before locking back on Lan Wangji’s. Time moves around them, seconds, but Wei Wuxian is supernaturally still, having no need to breathe or blink.

He’s even more beautiful up close. Lan Wangji had thought about his proportions, about the swing of his hips, the spring in his step, and the curl of his fingers after he waved, as if he wanted to draw Lan Wangji in. All the rest was imagination, an embarrassing wet dream from a man who had thought for too long about the human contact he had read about in books.

Wei Wuxian is very real. Blinking for his benefit, to punctuate the inexorable passing of time.

Lan Wangji lifts his hands. Wei Wuxian’s eyes follow them, the line drawn by Lan Wangji’s fingers over the buttons of his coat, opening one by one, shedding the material and its protection along with it. The sound of his coat falling to the ground is loud in the silence, but not as loud as the guttural noise Wei Wuxian makes as he pushes forward and Lan Wangji’s head hits the pillar with a painful thud, his wrists pinned above it by Wei Wuxian’s hands.

The vampire’s body is like fire. Lan Wangji knows it’s because he fed tonight, but the heat radiating from his proximity, from his hands around Lan Wangji’s wrists, prickles his skin with goosebumps. One of Wei Wuxian's legs moves between Lan Wangji’s, and he should put up more of a fight over parting them, but he doesn’t. Tension has him frozen, or maybe it’s something else, something more primal, something like—

“Lan Wangji,” Wei Wuxian whispers next to his ear, breath hot, dragging every vowel. “My mouth tastes horrible from before. Won’t you cleanse my palate, hmm?”

His nose touches Lan Wangji’s neck, the tip cold, and Lan Wangji visibly shivers. He can feel Wei Wuxian’s smile against his skin, yet there’s no bite, his mouth is closed, almost a lover’s game. Lan Wangji is not a man for games. Not with his senses going haywire, not when he finally recognizes that this vibration, this need, the culmination of his thoughts and dreams is hunger.

Lan Wangji tries to speak, but only a low sound comes from his throat. He swallows, lightly pushes against the hands that hold him down. He opens the door to his cage, not merely ajar but wide open, and invites the monster in with a clear “Yes.”

Wei Wuxian bites him with no flourish and no warning. Lan Wangji jerks in the action, hits his head against concrete again. There’s no pain this time, nothing that could overcome the pleasure of Wei Wuxian feeding on his blood.

One of his hands — for both are now freed, lost in the air — finds itself in Wei Wuxian’s hair, tugs at it mindlessly. Wei Wuxian groans, pushes flusher against him, rubs his thigh against Lan Wangji’s clothed, swelling cock. One of Wei Wuxian's own arms has reached around Lan Wangji’s back, his hand coming to touch Lan Wangji's shoulder, fingers digging into his skin, keeping him in a close, possessive half-embrace. The other hand pulls Lan Wangji’s shirt from the safety of his trousers, snakes up his torso, and Wei Wuxian lets out another groan at the topography of Lan Wangji’s body.

His teeth and mouth release Lan Wangji’s neck with a tiny pop. If he wasn’t being held up by the vampire, Lan Wangji might have fallen, graceless.

“You taste so good, Lan Wangji,” Wei Wuxian says, sounding like a whining child. “Did you know how good you taste? Is that why you kept tempting me with your pressed clothes, your perfect posture, staring at me like you knew all my secrets?”

He licks at the twin punctures on Lan Wangji’s neck, and it’s only when his chest presses against Lan Wangji’s that the man notices his own erratic breathing. His mind is foggy, comprehending things at a much slower pace. Lan Wangji is a lightweight of a drinker and his experiences with alcohol are merely blackouts in his brother’s presence, but he thinks this might be something like being drunk.

Wei Wuxian looks down at him, at the state of him, licking his lips as his hand under Lan Wangji's shirt continues its exploration. Finds a nipple, flicks at it with his thumb, but otherwise pays it not much attention. Lan Wangji lets out a choked sound.

“You’re wearing all blue for me today, so much better than that mourning white, hmm? You’re like a cute little bird.”

Lan Wangji pulls at Wei Wuxian’s hair again, remembering he still holds it, and Wei Wuxian gasps, laughs an open-mouthed laugh that draws attention to his sharp canines. Lan Wangji thinks he shouldn’t be blushing, not at the condescending praise, but he is. There’s no grace in arousal, just every sense loud and all-consuming.

(Maybe it’s an aftereffect of being bitten. He wants it again and again and again.)

“You have bite in you, don’t you? But you are so pretty and good. Wrapped up like a gift in blue, begging me to take you.”

His hand travels lower, lower down Lan Wangji’s front, fingers working his trousers open. Lan Wangji seems to remember his free hand, and takes hold of Wei Wuxian’s wrist before those fingers find his neediest place.

“I...”

What does he want to say? No? Ridiculous. He’s almost sprawled on the man’s lap, and his virtues were shed along with his coat.

Wait? He doesn’t want to. He wants Wei Wuxian’s teeth on his neck and Wei Wuxian’s hands on his skin, digging deeper and deeper until he forgets his own name.

Not here? Someplace else, darker, where Wei Wuxian can eat him whole—

Wei Wuxian tuts at him, leaning close, so close; he’s a blurred image, a trace of black hair and flushed lips. He doesn’t quite kiss Lan Wangji, but he licks Lan Wangji's lips, nips at them, threatens to bite but doesn’t. Lan Wangji’s hold on his wrist weakens.

“I hear you,” Wei Wuxian whispers, breath mingling with his. Can he? Lan Wangji’s knowledge is hidden behind his cloud of want. Wei Wuxian leans away from Lan Wangji's mouth to whisper against his ear, “Let me take care of you, my little Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji’s hand moves from his wrist, up his arm, and seems to pull him impossibly closer. It’s all the vampire needs to push his hand past the waistband of Lan Wangji’s trousers, inside his underwear, to touch him at the same time as he bites his neck again.

There’s no strength left in Lan Wangji's legs to hold him upright. He slumps down the pillar and all but falls in Wei Wuxian’s hold. There are only flashes of red behind his eyelids, and pleasure shoots through his veins, alight. He doesn’t know if he breathes, only that he rides the pumping of Wei Wuxian’s fingers around his cock, though his movements are restrained by the vampire’s firm hold on his upper body. A hum vibrates against his skin as Wei Wuxian’s fingers show attention to the head, slowing his movements, appreciatively indulging in the wet mess of Lan Wangji's pre-come. He’s not going to last, not with his head so light, not with the intoxicating pressure of Wei Wuxian’s teeth on his neck, not with the tantalizing movements of his hips against Lan Wangji, ah—

It’s a whiteout. He doesn’t know how long it lasts, nor does he take notice of the trembling of his body against the heat of his still-clothed companion. He breathes through his open mouth, the sound of his exhalations loud in the chamber of his head. His limbs feel lost in a tide. He lets his head fall forward, feeling lulled with the light scraping of fingernails against his scalp, and he breathes. He feels himself being pulled away from the pillar, but he doesn’t fall. He breathes Wei Wuxian in, and out.

By the time he opens his eyes again, he’s not at the subway station anymore. He’s sitting on the sidewalk of his own block, only a few steps away from his home. He can see the apothecary, its malfunctioning lettering, and the shadow that walks towards it. Black hair swishes from one side to the other, flipping over his shoulder as Wei Wuxian looks back at him. He can vaguely make out the glint in the vampire's eyes and the feline smirk on his lips. Then he’s turned away again, and he’s gone.

Lan Wangji should feel sated.

He swallows, mouth dry.

***

It takes only a few days until Lan Wangji sees him again. Or rather, he’s looked for glimpses of Wei Wuxian when he’s at the apothecary, finding excuses to walk by but no excuse to interact. He should have reported his encounter with Wei Wuxian to his uncle. He should have told him the real cause of death of the man at the station, since there had been no marks left on the body. He should have done something, as he was taught to do. He shook with his silence, stayed awake with it, but he never spoke. Once his sleep caught up with his restless mind, his dreams were bathed in red, hands drawing with blood on skin, and he grasped at them shamelessly, throwing himself to the mercy of the wolf. For days he woke up breathless, soaked in sweat, and as he took himself in his fist with aggravation and need, he could still feel the pressure on his neck.

So when Wei Wuxian walks into the bookshop while the sun still tinges the sky with the orange of late afternoon, Lan Wangji still isn’t entirely himself, or at least not the same person he’s known for years. His brain tries to match up the two realities: the man known as Wei Wuxian who was rumored, sometimes in jest, to be a vampire, and Lan Wangji’s personal knowledge of who he really was. Wei Wuxian is sporting vintage, round-framed sunglasses and a different coat from the one he wore the last time they met, but one that’s still black outside and blood red on the inside. He’s flashy in the way he walks — under the sun — but when he pushes his glasses down his nose to look at Lan Wangji, his eyes are an ordinary black. Not compelling, just... charming.

Lan Wangji finds no words to speak. This is not a problem for Wei Wuxian, who walks up to the counter behind which Lan Wangji spends most of his days, props his elbow on its surface, and leans forward. Whether he’s hiding in plain sight or enrapturing Lan Wangji in the dead of night, his sense of boundaries is still wholly defective.

“Lan Wangji,” he says in greeting, belatedly, or maybe just with a dramatic flair he had intended. He beams up at Lan Wangji, as if the very sight of him is a delight. Lan Wangji waits for the punchline. “You’re immune!”

“What,” Lan Wangji asks, but it’s flat, barely a question, and more like an annoyed noise.

“I can’t turn you!” Wei Wuxian says, resting his chin in the cup of his palms, peeking up at Lan Wangji like he’s something worth admiring. “I waited this whole time to see if me biting you—”

“You—”

“—would make you my servant, but it had no effect!”

Lan Wangji sweeps the shop with his eyes, trying to see if he missed anyone entering ever since Wei Wuxian waltzed in, but it’s just as deserted as it was a minute ago. He looks back down at Wei Wuxian, waiting for the continuation of his musings, but the man is quiet, seeming lost in thought, a pleased smile on his face. Lan Wangji sighs, barely making a sound.

“What does that mean?”

He has asked himself the same question for days, but couldn’t find the answer in his archives. The Patriarch, age unknown, is apparently the best source he gets.

The Patriarch leans back against one of his hands, the other pushing his glasses up to rest on his head.

“It means there’s something unnatural in your blood. Or maybe... Maybe someone really loved you.”

He leans back from the counter at the same time as the bell connected to the door chimes. A teenage girl walks in, and in the time it takes for Lan Wangji to greet her with a minimal bow, Wei Wuxian is gone into the maze of narrow aisles of Cloud Recesses — Used & Rare Books, only the end of his coat catching at the corner of Lan Wangji’s eyes.

Lan Wangji waits — one, two, five, ten whole seconds for the girl to call for him or ask for any assistance, but she continues her quiet exploration. Lan Wangji gets up, crosses the front aisles and climbs the small steps to the back of the store. He finds Wei Wuxian perched on one of his stepladders, a mystery novel in his hands, browsing through the pages and admiring the illustrations of a murder investigation.

“What do you mean?” Lan Wangji asks, voice low but clear in the quiet space.

“It means,” Wei Wuxian says, not looking up from his book, “that either your immunity is hereditary, or someone went through a great deal to keep you protected.”

Lan Wangji’s eyes linger on Wei Wuxian’s foot, moving lazily in the air as he keeps his legs crossed. Lan Wangji’s mind is far away, in a different time, when a woman would whisper, “Don’t you want to run away, darling? Won’t you run away with me?”, all between lullabies and giggles. She’d giggle even though nothing fun happened during those days.

“Or maybe both.”

Wei Wuxian’s voice is distant, almost an echo. Lan Wangji can’t remember anything about his mother and no one would ever tell him what he did not know. If she was remarkable, if she knew about the other world, if she was from there. There was nothing but void. Mother was kind, was all Xichen would say. Uncle would speak no words but say everything in frowns and glares and grunts. She is gone now, only a memory of a pale nightgown glowing in the night, hugging him to her chest, calling him beautiful, calling him precious, and, in between singing words he didn’t understand, asking him to run away with her.

Run away where?

“Ah, Lan Zhan, my Lan Zhan.”

When did Wei Wuxian get up? He’s close, so close that Lan Wangji flinches, would have stepped away if one of Wei Wuxian’s arms hadn’t moved around his middle, keeping him in place. He’d called him Lan Zhan again, and Lan Wangji can feel his ears burning. Today, his shirt, pants, and even his coat, hanging just behind the counter up front, all of them are in complementary shades of blue. The only white is the ribbon in his long black hair, a ribbon that Wei Wuxian twirls around his finger, all the black of him against the blue of Lan Wangji. His mind had been so full of blue and red, red and blue, the ghost of Wei Wuxian’s breath playing on his skin when he was alone. But it’s here now, real now, and Lan Wangji is rooted in place again, whether by something supernatural or by his own urges, he cannot say. Even though Wei Wuxian is cold, he’s still like the scent of the coming rain to those who have been tired of the heat.

“Someone went to all this trouble, but you don’t want to be protected, do you?”

He keeps a hand flat on Lan Wangji’s back, and the other, which had been playing with Lan Wangji’s ribbon, trails up to run down the length of his hair.

“You want to walk away from this place and into the filthiest corners of the night, don’t you? Find out what’s out there? Stand in the middle of the chaos?”

He crowds in, chest pressing against Lan Wangji’s, his cold lips playing, pecking, pulling lightly at Lan Wangji’s earlobe. And though he’s trained to defend himself, Lan Wangji can’t move.

“The darkness draws you in, doesn’t it, Lan Zhan? You want to immerse yourself in it and come out on the other side. You think yourself strong enough.”

When he traces Lan Wangji’s jawline with his fingertips, Lan Wangji leans into the touch, lets himself be drawn into the spell of Wei Wuxian’s gestures. Lan Wangji looks straight into those thousand-year-old eyes, black and red and shining under the weak yellow lights of the shop. Like a cat’s. The eyes of a predator in the dark.

“Isn’t it wonderful, then, Lan Zhan, that I cannot taint you?”

Wei Wuxian tilts his head to the side, and his lips tip up, closer, within reach. Lips that soak into blood and flesh. Lips that looked alive not too long ago, alive and red and beautiful. Lips that stretch into a wide, knowing smirk, showing a perfect row of teeth. His canines are simpler today, though still protuberant compared to the others. Lan Wangji wants them on his skin. He wants to run his tongue over them and let them hurt, until his own blood warms the mouth they're in. He wants to cast away his sleeping hours and dive into the long night. See what Wei Wuxian sees. Draw his blade, his blood pumping hot in his veins. He wants—

Wei Wuxian breaks contact. Steps away, brings his hands to his own back. Lan Wangji almost falters, almost falls, but he was taught better than that, so he does neither. Wei Wuxian grins, taps his sunglasses back on his nose, but still watches Lan Wangji over the rims. He seems to study the details of the bookseller just like he studied the illustrations of the book he held a moment ago.

“I’ll be waiting for you, my little blue bird.”

And he’s gone. Lan Wangji waits. The seconds stretch into a minute, and when he finally reaches the front of the shop again, it’s deserted. The sun is still up, painting the clouds from behind, brushstrokes rendering the sky in countless shades of orange and blue. Blue like Lan Wangji’s cloud-patterned coat, and his shirt, and his socks.

Lan Wangji sighs, runs a hand through his hair, brings his white ribbon down and looks at it in his hand. Imagines those blood-kissed hands touching it, wrapping it around long fingers, wrapping it around his neck and pulling—

When uncle shows up at five for the evening shift, Lan Wangji says his usual goodbyes and walks his usual path for grocery shopping, just up ahead, a few blocks away. He returns to his apartment above the bookshop, makes his dinner, eats, showers, meditates, and waits.

Waits until the moon is high and bright in the sky, and then he goes out, his uncle never noticing his absence.

***

There is a man who works at the apothecary. He greets distressed parents with a benevolent smile and the perfect cure for tummy aches, and lists all the benefits from his tea blends to the elderly, walking them to the door himself, offering freebies, tonics, and incense to help with sleep.

There is a man who talks animatedly with a youth named Wen Yuan who helps at the apothecary in the early evening while he studies, before the man shoos him off to his home in the second story of the Wen Clinic. Medic Wen Qing needles this man with words every time she stops by, grills him about how he’s always keeping the place a mess despite Wen Ning’s best efforts at organization, about how he should stop instructing Wen Yuan to perform chemistry experiments because now the boy’s room smells as bad as this man does. She points out that he’s always looking for trouble as she pointedly looks at Lan Wangji, resolute in her posture. This man dotes on Wen Ning, always reminding him to take his supplements to boost his immune system.

There is a man who serves Lan Wangji tea by his counter, who asks Lan Wangji about his day and his life and his passions, just little tidbits at a time, like Lan Wangji’s words are snacks he doesn’t want to run out of. When they’re alone, he asks about the missions Lan Wangji assigned to the region’s hunters, laughing and prodding at Lan Wangji’s reticence until he finally gives in and talks about them, not at length or in detail, but enough to keep the man entertained. And when the moon is full, this man takes Lan Wangji out into the night, and then he’s no longer a man.

Although Lan Wangji has worked in a support role for years, he’s known monsters. Wei Wuxian, maybe due to his age, maybe due to the nature of his powers, or maybe for no simple reason, is nothing like them. He’s highly intelligent, stitching sigils and talismans between the layers of his coats so he can walk out when the sun is weakest and torment Lan Wangji, pulling him into hugs the other has not yet learned to accept, making Wei Wuxian laugh. He’s always laughing, so bright, like a youth who doesn’t yet know of life’s struggles.

Wei Wuxian knows. When he leaves the apothecary behind, when he cloaks himself in night, it’s clear as footsteps in the silence. No mission Lan Wangji describes impresses him, no matter how impressed he makes himself sound. No suffering of victims fazes him, nor makes the smile drop off his face. He walks through streets, around corners, up walls, without ever breaking pace, because he knows every place, he’s seen it all, he’s lived it all. Lan Wangji can see it; maybe because Wei Wuxian lets him. Wei Wuxian guides him through the shadows, and by holding his hand, helps him come out on the other side, on some other street, some other place, the top of a building where the wind catches in his long hair.

“Lan Zhan, ah, Lan Zhan,” he insists on calling him. Inwardly, Lan Wangji delights in it, in being pulled close, by a name, by his hand. “I want you to call me...”

It’s a secret, whispered against Lan Wangji’s lips. Wei Ying, he says, lips forming a smile that falters and brightens a couple of times, like the moon peeking through the clouds. Then he closes the gap, catches Lan Wangji in between breaths. His gaze is heavy, before Lan Wangji dares to close his eyes. His eyes crush Lan Wangji with the weight of centuries.

It’s nothing like a first kiss. It’s wet, Wei Wuxian’s tongue lapping at his lips before he covers them with his own, pulling, pulling at the tender flesh until it’s hot, until Lan Wangji’s mouth falls open and he wastes no time pushing through, making his mark on the uncharted territory of Lan Wangji’s insides. His hands, tongue, breath are a hot brand on Lan Wangji, all over, all under. The kiss is drawn out, their mouths parting only to join again with the tilt of a head, on and on until Lan Wangji’s chest hurts with the desperation to breathe.

There’s a sting on his tongue before Wei Wuxian — Wei Ying — lets him go. He can taste the blood in his mouth, and his partner looks pleased with himself, a satiated cat. Wei Wuxian licks his lips, his thumbs drawing circles on Lan Wangji’s sides. What had Lan Wangji’s hands been doing all this time? Had they been holding on tight, like his core demanded?

Tonight, Wei Wuxian seems to say, without speaking the words. Tonight, he promises, with another peck, another lick, another smile against his mouth. Tonight, he vows, his body a flame, alive, and Lan Wangji can’t fathom the sacrifice made so he could have this. How many have had to die so Wei Wuxian could stay. He wants to think them righteous deaths. He doesn’t want to think. He wants to leap.

Without really breaking contact, Wei Wuxian takes off his jacket, turns it inside out, and throws it over Lan Wangji’s head.

It’s a reflex to close his eyes. He lets his breath falter, blinks into the darkness, and when he opens his eyes again, they’re somewhere else. The room — a bedroom — is drenched in the smell of night jasmine, the pot resting close to the window, a bouquet of tiny flowers escaping the frame, as if eager to jump into the night, into the moon. It is the most endearing part of the room, the rest turned over in a mess of bed sheets, clothes, and papers covered in annotations and diagrams. Surprisingly, there’s a skylight in the middle of the room, through which the moonlight showers down, illuminating the dust and the spiderwebs. There’s so much to look at that Lan Wangji almost loses track of what’s going on, until Wei Wuxian touches him, grounds him back to his presence.

Wei Wuxian’s coat is resting on Lan Wangji’s shoulders, the red turned out. Although Lan Wangji is slightly taller, although they’re standing to the side and not under the skylight, the moon reflects in Wei Wuxian’s eyes, and Lan Wangji steps back and stumbles onto the bed, now at the mercy of the beast.

The vampire is on his lap, straddling him, before he knows what to expect. He takes hold of Lan Wangji's face, not quite gently, but not unkindly. There’s nothing kind about the kiss he gives him next, demanding, suffocating, his tongue brushing against Lan Wangji's, against the roof of his mouth. Lan Wangji isn’t quite sitting upright; he has a hand keeping him from falling into the mattress, the other grasping at Wei Wuxian’s waist, but it’s a flimsy balance, the gravity of Wei Wuxian slowly robbing him of his strength. When Wei Wuxian starts moving on his lap, a languid, rhythmic motion, his mouth lets go of Lan Wangji’s for open-mouthed kisses, allowing him to breathe. Those smirking lips travel down, down his jawline, to the spot below his ear, and suck, noisily.

Lan Wangji feels himself slipping. Wei Wuxian’s pearly white teeth graze his neck in the exact same spot as the first time. Wei Wuxian’s hips grind down on Lan Wangji’s groin, and then comes the sudden sharp pain of the bite — Lan Wangji falls, faces the flaring dark behind his eyelids.

Wei Wuxian keeps him from falling, an arm around him, one hand on his back, the other braced on the mattress. He’s still swaying to a nameless song against Lan Wangji’s lap, albeit quieter now, slower, like a soft evening breeze over a warm sea at the height of summer. Lan Wangji is already gone, erect and straining in the confinements of his pants, and if he focuses, if he pushes against the fog of exhilaration brought on by Wei Wuxian’s vampire kiss, he can feel the press of Wei Wuxian’s own erection against his stomach.

He doesn’t know how long it lasts. At one point, the biting turns into laps of tongue, then kisses, and then he’s opening his eyes to Wei Wuxian’s moonlit room again. He’s on his back now, having been so carefully eased down that he never noticed, and Wei Wuxian is still on him, licking his lips, running a hand down his clothed torso.

“Lan Zhan ah,” he says, eyes burning golden, burning fire. He leans down, kisses Lan Wangji again, but oh, he tastes different now — it’s blood, it’s Lan Wangji’s blood. There’s a ritual here, there’s a turn here and Lan Wangji couldn’t care less, he arches into it, inhales through it. Wei Wuxian breaks away, blinks slowly and says, “Open up to me, my blue bird.”

His hands slither under Lan Wangji’s shirt and move up. Lan Wangji obediently reaches to remove his jacket, then his shirt, throwing both of them off with uncharacteristic carelessness. Wei Wuxian’s coat is still under him, still smelling of Wei Wuxian, lulling him, causing his eyelids to droop, and he has to force them open to look at the other man. Wei Wuxian kisses and licks his chest, humming at the lines of his body, hand trailing down what his mouth can’t. As if he wants to touch all of Lan Wangji, all at once. As his mouth works on one of Lan Wangji’s nipples with distant interest, his hand is intent on unbuttoning Lan Wangji's trousers, on sliding down his zipper, and reaching inside his underwear to grab him in a now-warm hand, an echo of the first time.

“Do you think about me, Lan Wangji?” he says, pumping Lan Wangji with cruel slowness, leaning over him like a lion playing with its prey. “Did you think about me before that night? And since then — how often?”

Lan Wangji wants to touch him, wants to answer him, but if his words were scarce before, they run from him now, hide behind his overflowing desire. His hands still lie uselessly by his head, where they’ve been ever since he removed his shirt. Wei Wuxian doesn’t seem to mind; in fact, whatever Lan Wangji is showing, whatever sounds he’s making, only make the glow in Wei Wuxian's eyes brighter and his smirk wider. He teases Lan Wangji’s tip with his thumb at the same time as he licks his neck, pumps tighter as he sucks on his flesh, drawing a bruise but not opening a wound.

“I think of you.”

Maybe Lan Wangji says it. Maybe they both do.

Whether it’s from anticipation or abandon, Lan Wangji can’t discern, can’t think, he just tips over the edge, spilling over Wei Wuxian’s hand and onto his own stomach. Wei Wuxian hadn’t even needed to bite him again.

He’s still panting when he registers Wei Wuxian licking Lan Wangji’s come off his hand like it’s a delicacy. The vampire kisses his way down Lan Wangji’s body, and Lan Wangji’s dazed eyes trace every movement. There’s a performative air to the way Wei Wuxian sticks his tongue out and noisily licks Lan Wangji clean; it should be insulting, how close to laughter Wei Wuxian is, like Lan Wangji is a cute plaything, but it’s not. Lan Wangji wishes he could claim he knows it because he can read him, but he just feels too good to put the proper thoughts into their right places. If Wei Wuxian is enjoying himself, it’s enough.

Wei Wuxian pulls down Lan Wangji’s pants and underwear, and Lan Wangji barely has a mind to help him in the task. The vampire presses kisses to the inside of his thigh, licking off his perspiration, going from one thigh to the other, until finally his mouth closes around the tip of Lan Wangji’s limp, sensitive cock. He shudders, lets Wei Wuxian open his legs, lets the beast do as it wants. Wei Wuxian’s hands, sometimes cold, sometimes pale, burn against his thighs tonight, as if breaking through his flesh and clutching at his bones. Wei Wuxian licks him clean there as well, long stripes up and down his cock, and the muscles in Lan Wangji’s thighs contract at the touch, too much. He’s not given a second to come back to himself, to breathe. Once Wei Wuxian deems him clean enough, Wei Wuxian crawls up, noses at the dark curls of Lan Wangji’s pubic hair, the cold tip of his nose tickling the skin of Lan Wangji’s stomach. Quick, innocent kisses along his lower abdomen are a sweet distraction, leaving Lan Wangji wholly unprepared for the bite that follows.

Lan Wangji’s hips jump from the mattress, but Wei Wuxian’s hands, supernaturally strong, push him back down. The vampire hums, fingers like claws against Lan Wangji’s hips, leaving imprints that Lan Wangji hopes will last for days. He throws his head back, consumed by his wants. The sounds coming from Wei Wuxian’s throat, the touch of his hair against Lan Wangji’s crotch and legs, and the warmth of his hand moving to grip Lan Wangji’s thigh, all form a song that sets fire to Lan Wangji’s desire, bringing him up to a dizzying half-mast. Does he breathe, does he speak? Is he anything more than the end signals of his skin, of his lust?

Wei Wuxian opens his jaw with agonizing slowness. He breathes on the punctures, licks at them, makes them heal. He backs away until they’re not touching, until his presence is just like the warmth of a campfire. Devastatingly cold, Lan Wangji is forced to look at him.

Kneeling between Lan Wangji’s open legs, Wei Wuxian unbuttons his black shirt, throws it far back. He moves further away, off the bed, and unzips his tight pants, shimmying out of them and his underwear and kicking everything away. The room is already a mess and they’ve only made it messier, but Wei Wuxian is a vision in the dim light. Dark lips and flushed skin, body toned and cock erect, he would almost look like a man, if it weren’t for his eyes. Shining, never straying from Lan Wangji’s, even as he moves to the nightstand. Lan Wangji can only look, can only follow. His body doesn’t have time to cool off. Wei Wuxian returns, climbs on him again, covers him, aligns to kiss him on the mouth.

It’s the slowest they’ve kissed, the slowest Lan Wangji has ever been kissed. He wraps his arms around the vampire, discovering that he still can control his body after all, and pulls Wei Wuxian down, pulls until they’re almost melded into one. When Wei Wuxian moves to create friction between their cocks, Lan Wangji hears himself make a sound, but all he can think is Wei Ying, Wei Ying, ah, you...

You.

Wei Wuxian licks his lips. He suffocates Lan Wangji with his scent, burning millennia-old fingerprints on his skin. Lan Wangji has wanted men before, has touched himself to completion before, has fantasized about a lasting connection with someone before. But tonight, the shadows of a world that was only ever just glimpses through a gap in a doorway live in his lungs. Lives in the blood that Wei Wuxian feeds him in his kisses.

You.

Wei Wuxian breaks the kiss, touches his cheek adoringly, reverently.

“Lan Zhan ah. Where have you been all these lifetimes?”

Where has he been? When has he lived?

Wei Wuxian bites Lan Wanji’s neck on the side yet untouched, without drawing blood. Lost in the sensation of Wei Wuxian’s mouth closing around his pulse, Lan Wangji doesn’t pay attention to the vampire’s hands until one of them touches the inside of his knee, pushes up, and one slicked finger touches his rim.

Lan Wangji trembles at the contact, but Wei Wuxian hushes him, places deceptively kind kisses on his lips, lets him breathe away his tension to melt into the intrusion. Wei Wuxian is patient and reassuring, the perfect lover, and it could be a role, it could be more performance, but it works, so Lan Wangji doesn’t care.

“Look at you,” Wei Wuxian says, voice deep, like the humming strings of a cello. “Noblewomen have been in this exact position, kings, but none can compare to you, none are as beautiful as you, Lan Zhan.” Lan Wangji preens, opens up like a flower when Wei Wuxian’s finger curls inside of him, when Wei Wuxian’s hand envelops his cock to work it perfectly erect again, and Wei Wuxian calls it so nicely curved, so thick, so beautiful, the words falling from the vampire’s lips sounding like polished prose.

“Turn around for me,” Wei Wuxian says. Hours seem to have passed since he last spoke, but it was only seconds. Wei Wuxian pulls away and an embarrassing sound comes from Lan Wangji’s throat.

Lan Wangji does as instructed, even if his limbs aren’t the same as they were when the night started, a tingling sensation blooming at the tip of his fingers and toes, and everywhere that Wei Wuxian touches burns like a fever. The coat that Lan Wangji had been lying on is tossed aside like the rest of their clothes, and Lan Wangji mourns its loss in a detached, dream-like way. But when Wei Wuxian guides him to his knees, his ass high in the air, and holds him there with a hand, the other finding its way back inside him, Lan Wangji wants for nothing. Wei Wuxian is an all-encompassing presence behind him, over him, his hair cascading down Lan Wangji’s back. Letting his forehead fall against his sheets, Lan Wangji breathes nothing but Wei Wuxian. He breathes in and out, Wei Wuxian’s fingers move in and out, turning, searching for a spot inside of him that makes him surrender. The voice that comes out of Lan Wangji sounds nothing like him. No words, just needs, just human.

Wei Wuxian bites his neck again, the expanse of the vampire’s chest covering Lan Wangji’s back. The hand against Lan Wangji’s hip moves to his cock, and the fingers inside of him— ah, when did they move? When did the gentle but meticulous stretching stop and Wei Wuxian start sliding in, so much bigger than his slim fingers had foreshadowed? Lan Wangji doesn’t clench up for long, unable to focus on the intrusion; Wei Wuxian’s mouth is closed tight on him, sucking, drinking, making him light-headed, making him cold and hot all at once. His cock is feeling a different kind of pain in Wei Wuxian’s hold, until Wei Wuxian stops pumping and grips, as though sensing that Lan Wangji might come too soon, and Lan Wangji is both tormented and grateful. He doesn’t know if he can take much more once his orgasm has come and gone, so he lets himself be taken and led in an almost painful dance.

Wei Wuxian’s mouth parts with Lan Wangji’s skin, and it’s only then that Lan Wangji can feel him bottom out, the vampire’s hips flush against his backside. Lan Wangji breathes — in, out, in, out, his panting loud in the quiet room. Wei Wuxian doesn’t make a sound: he has no need to catch his breath.

“Is this what you wanted?” Wei Wuxian whispers in his ear.

Is it? To feel Wei Wuxian’s hand, dirty because it was touching him, reach across the sheets and take hold of his own hand, fingers interlacing? To feel the curve of his cock inside, to know him as much as he knows Lan Wangji, on this night, surrounded by a mist of night jasmines? Is it this, the intimacy, the danger, Wei Wuxian’s teeth breaking his skin, his cock breaching past the last of Lan Wangji’s defenses, while a sentient darkness caresses them?

“Yes,” Lan Wangji answers, not because he has to; Wei Wuxian, with his predatory grin, already knows. Lan Wangji answers because he wants to.

Wei Wuxian starts to move. Pulling out only halfway, slowly, like the introduction to a song, and then he pounds back, the sound of their flesh colliding loud to Lan Wangji’s ears, their shadows mirroring their sensual dance on the wall. He does this once, twice, Lan Wangji can’t keep count. Once Lan Wangji has adjusted to his girth, he picks up the pace, slamming into Lan Wangji as deep as he can, as if, having once dug out his place inside the man, he can’t bear not to fill it.

“Lan Zhan ah, do you feel how wet you are, how you suck me in?” Wei Wuxian breathes against his ear, voice shaking with laughter, but never fully laughing. “Do you like it, when I take you like this? Or do you like it when I suck you better, Lan Zhan? Tell me, tell me everything, Lan Zhan,” he says, repeating the name that is a secret between them like a spell, driving Lan Wangji to the edge like the pulling tide.

When Lan Wangji feels close to orgasm, Wei Wuxian pulls fully out, and, with a single movement, manhandles Lan Wangji onto his back. All Lan Wangji sees as one of his legs is pulled up over one of the vampire’s shoulders is red. The space inside of him, every inch of his skin, his blood in his veins, all scream Wei Wuxian’s name. The vampire covers him, pushes his cock inside of him and possesses his neck, one last time.

Lan Wangji swears his mouth tastes sweet. With the night jasmines, with Wei Wuxian’s flavor. Like the tea they drank earlier, or what blood tastes like for Wei Wuxian. He breathes through his open mouth, taking it all in, his body going taut against the pressure and the humming on his neck, his hole still pulling Wei Wuxian inside. There’s barely any room for Wei Wuxian to move in and out of him, but he’s already on the edge, and with a single brush of Wei Wuxian’s hand against his cock, a single pull, he’s falling, lost at sea.

The colors are bright behind his eyelids, and the world around him is vague, a half-awake dream. He feels Wei Wuxian’s teeth let go, and a small, sad sound come out of him, making Wei Wuxian chuckle. His body is still moving with Wei Wuxian’s thrusts, but he doesn’t see the vampire come, doesn’t feel it until Wei Wuxian pulls away and his essence drips out of Lan Wangji. Without Wei Wuxian covering him, without being connected to him, Lan Wangji shivers. One of his hands searches, even if his eyes are still closed, fingertips running across the ghost of Wei Wuxian’s warmth, where the vampire’s hands had been. He wants. Even now, he wants.

Wei Wuxian returns. At his touch, Lan Wangji forces his eyes open, to gaze at this ageless man as he cleans Lan Wangji up, as he pulls the covers from under Lan Wangji’s body and up over him. Now, with the seconds ticking by again, Lan Wangji’s head is empty in a way that is both blissful and concerning. Wei Wuxian is barely visible, covered in shadows. He touches the frown between Lan Wangi’s eyebrows, rubs against it until it’s gone.

“Why are you so cute, Lan Zhan?”

No one has called him “cute” in years. He leans into Wei Wuxian’s touch, and Wei Wuxian chuckles again, the sound imprinted in Lan Wangji’s mind now, to play in his dreams.

“Be careful, Lan Zhan. Don’t you know vampires are very possessive? I may never let you go.”

“Then don’t.”

He says it without thinking, his body weightless. Tomorrow he will ache in places he’s never ached before, and he’ll need to rebuild all of the energy that Wei Wuxian drank out of him. Tomorrow, when the sun rises, a new day begins, in this place he’s never seen, where Wei Wuxian, Wei Ying, The Patriarch, lives. He doesn’t know where it is. He doesn’t know what tomorrow will bring.

Tonight, he tucks his nose against Wei Wuxian’s throat, and he holds on to Wei Wuxian’s body, and he means every word he says. He breathes the perfume of the night flowers, and it’s like he’s been missing it all along. This darkness.

Lan Wangji sleeps, right where chaos lives.

***

The time Lan Wangji spends with Wei Wuxian stretches out. A single night spanning like days, the feeling of being scooped up in someone’s arms rewriting the nights when he slept alone, lonely, thinking of the lives he could be living. These nights, in turn, feel like years of a different life, lived in his uncle’s blindspot. In his uncle’s eyes, Lan Wangji never looks any different when morning comes, when the shadows let him travel back to the place he’s used to calling home.

Home is a broader term to Lan Wangji now. It’s not just the place he knows, the place where he’s comfortable in monotonous minutes, in the practice of his duty. Now, it’s also the dark alleys where he finds monsters that think they’re safe from being caught. He slashes through them with his glowing blade, while Wei Wuxian, perched atop a building, showers him with compliments.

Lan Wangji’s blood is hot under his skin, even on the colder nights. He shakes, as if consumed by a fever, in his place in the vampire’s lap, and Wei Wuxian holds Lan Wangji so tight that Lan Wangji thinks he can never fall again. Even if Wei Wuxian decided to fuck him out in the open, on the edge of a window, under the blue moon, like a ritual, like a pledge, long fingers would hold firm on Lan Wangji’s lower back, guiding the movements of his hips, and in the vampire’s supernatural embrace Lan Wangji would not fall.

Lan Wangji is immune, Wei Wuxian had said. And smart, and serious, and competent, and loyal, superlatives showered on him night after night. Wei Wuxian is mesmerized by him. Lan Wangji doesn’t want to stray a moment from his lover’s gaze, from the beast’s line of sight.

It’s Sandu Shengshou who tips over the hourglass of their time together, changing the course of Lan Wangji’s life back to what it was, or a semblance of it. Looking at his life now forces a painful comparison to the world where Lan Wangji didn’t know all the things he wanted, missed, and longed for. It hurts so much more now, to know and not have them.

You never get a warning for when things are about to change. One night, Lan Wangji had been walking back home from visiting his older brother; when he exited the subway train, a woman ran past him, up the stairs into the city, and he followed the echo of her sobs to find a vampire. Tonight, he’s fighting a painted-skin ghost with little success. Wei Wuxian intervenes, grabs the monster with claw-shaped hands, throws it to the ground, and from his shadow come the wisps of shadows from the beginning of time, from everywhere, to feed on the monster’s resentment. Wei Wuxian raises his head towards the moon, ecstasy on his lips, on his jaw, in his laugh, eating up the darkness. Lan Wangji grips his sword tighter, unable to look away — and it happens.

Zidian is just as old as Bichen, a relic from ages past, just as powerful now as it was when it was first made. Perhaps it’s older than Wei Wuxian himself, and as such, capable of slicing the vampire’s head clean off in a single sweep. Lan Wangji, from the very first moment he laid eyes on Wei Wuxian, knew his hand would never be firm enough to wield Bichen to eliminate the vampire. But Sandu Shengshou has no appreciation for relics and his blood doesn’t sing Wei Wuxian’s name, so with a flick of the wrist that Lan Wangji fails to see, he attacks Wei Wuxian. The vampire narrowly manages to jump off the painted-skin ghost and land on the wall of the narrow alleyway.

Like Lan Wangji, Sandu Shengshou is not known to be a man of many words. But unlike Lan Wangji, he’s known for his powerful voice in battle, a roar as crackling as the sound of his spiritual whip, and he’s admired for having a hand that never holds back. Like every hunter, Sandu Shengshou’s story is one of loss, but his hate for monsters and ghosts is unrivaled.

With fluid steps and turns, he strikes against Wei Wuxian again. The vampire leaps, twirls in the air, and dives into Lan Wangji’s shadow, disappearing by Lan Wangji’s frozen feet.

“No, you don’t!” Sandu Shengshou barks, throws the tip of Zidian into the pit where Wei Wuxian disappeared to, but when it emerges, there’s only a strip of fabric attached to the whip. The portal disappears, becoming nothing but regular shadow, and with a growl and a snap of Zidian, Sandu Shengshou turns to Lan Wangji.

“I trust you’ll report this to the Lan Council.”

He storms away, lightning bolts in his steps. Lan Wangji stays there, one, two, three, ten seconds, before he falls to his knees like a puppet whose strings were cut by the world’s sharpest weapon.

With Sandu Shengshou as a witness, Lan Wangji can’t fail to report it, not this time.

All of the hunter families get in an uproar at the implications of such a powerful being wandering unrestrained for so long. How many lives has it taken? How many years of bloodshed has it caused? The Patriarch becomes the name on everybody’s tongue, becomes the top target of hunters who come to Lan Wangji’s bookshop. Are there any leads? Should they organize a nationwide hunt?

Lan Wangji is left cold. His steps go back to being controlled, few throughout the day. His breath has no reason to go off-rhythm, just like his heart. He searches the monochrome nights of new moons, asks the ghosts about the one who’s outlived them all, but finds no sign that Wei Wuxian has appeared in town since their last encounter.

The apothecary is run exclusively by the Wen siblings and their young cousin now; when Lan Wangji walks past their windows, their tea isn’t as fragrant as it once was. The smell of night jasmines fades into a memory. Some nights, he takes himself in hand, his own fingers pressing against his tongue, and pretends Wei Wuxian fills him, all the parts of him, even the cracks where his real self slips through. He comes and he’s still cold.

Does cold also run through Wei Wuxian’s veins, wherever he is? Does he long for Lan Wangji’s embrace like Lan Wangji longs for his kisses? Were those nights, countless and endless to Lan Wangji, nothing but a few drops in the vast ocean of the immortal's lifetime? Was any of it real, or had Lan Wangji been one of the vampire's thralls from that very first night?

Days pass. Nights, flavorless meals. The Patriarch becomes too bitter a name on hunters’ tongues after their failures. Some of the Jin hunters claim they find his victims, but Lan Wangji knows they can’t prove it. Wei Wuxian never leaves a mark. Not physical. Nothing like the ones Lan Wangji carries.

He ends his shift, bows to his uncle, makes his dinner. He reads, he meditates. He sits by his window, looks up at the full moon, and lets time slow to a halt. He holds on to a strip of red fabric and remembers all the times he held onto Wei Wuxian’s coat, all the times Wei Wuxian was within reach. Lan Wangji remembers being covered in darkness, traveling through it, and arriving at a place he’s come to call home.

Lan Wangji doesn’t see the hand come out of his shadow. Doesn’t feel a presence emerge, little by little – a head, a toned torso, lean legs. It’s only when Wei Wuxian drapes himself over Lan Wangji’s back, wraps his arms around Lan Wangji’s neck and nuzzles him that Lan Wangji jerks in place, shivers, turns his head. Wei Wuxian is too close, Lan Wangji can’t see him properly, but when Lan Wangji closes his hands around the vampire’s arms, he’s solid, real. Lan Wangji exhales, a shaky thing, and his heart beats the song of reunited lovers, an ancient, timeless tune.

“Did you think I’d let you go, my little blue bird?”

Wei Wuxian’s words tickle Lan Wangji’s ear, make him shiver with a name that belongs only to the two of them.

“Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji is wearing blue tonight. There hasn’t been a single day where he hasn’t worn it, like a signal flare in the sky. Come back. Come back to me.

“Do you want me to surrender?” Wei Wuxian asks, his mouth moving against the skin below Lan Wangji’s ear. It’s a delicious sensation. Lan Wangji can’t keep his eyes open, thirsty for every word and touch and second. “Do you want me to give in to your clan, Lan Zhan?”

Lan Wangji opens his eyes. Thinks of all the years he’s lived for his clan, for his duty, for righteousness. Every hunter has a story of loss, every family was almost wiped out from existence at least once. There’s blood on every single one of their backs, and the blood of countless monsters on their hands. Wei Wuxian feeds on humans and monsters alike. He’s as old as time, and he commands Lan Wangji with his fingertips, with his very eyes. He’s dangerous.

The Wens suffered his loss for months. There’s a story there, too. Lan Wangji wants to know. He wants everything.

He stands from his chair next to the window, stands in front of Wei Wuxian. The vampire looks pale. Probably hasn’t fed in a while. But his eyes are still shining golden under the moonlight, and he’s smiling. It’s a soft thing, that smile, weak in a way Lan Wangji has never seen on Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji touches Wei Wuxian’s bottom lip with his thumb, tracing the chapped skin from one side to the other before caressing Wei Wuxian’s cheek.

His other hand moves behind Wei Wuxian’s head and pulls gently. He tilts his own head to the side and guides Wei Wuxian to his neck.

“Wei Ying,” he says, before kissing Wei Wuxian’s temple. He says nothing else. His voice is firm; his breath, calm. For a moment, Wei Wuxian does nothing, doesn’t even hold him, but Lan Wangji isn’t afraid. Are there even words to verbalize everything between them?

All at once, Wei Wuxian circles his arms around Lan Wangji, tight, just short of crushing. He sinks his teeth into the neck so willingly offered and sucks, drawing a pleased gasp from Lan Wangji. The vampire takes a step back and Lan Wangji follows. Another step and they’re falling through the shadows, through the dimensions. Lan Wangji closes his eyes. The smell of the jasmines is like coming home, in an ugly shack in Yiling.

When Wei Wuxian’s teeth leave Lan Wangji this time, he doesn’t lick the wound, doesn’t close it. He lets it bleed, lets it scar, and kisses Lan Wangji. He’s warm now, healthier. There’s blood on his tongue and Lan Wangji savours it. Like Wei Wuxian’s words have become a part of Lan Wangji, of his life, of how he sees the world, Lan Wangji’s blood becomes part of Wei Wuxian — it becomes his lifeforce.

Wei Wuxian once said somebody must have loved Lan Wangji very much, or that different blood ran in Lan Wangji’s veins. Something darker, something from the other side. His parents had their story or tragedy; Lan Wangji might never know his own truth for sure. He feels all that he needs in Wei Wuxian’s embrace: sheltered, appreciated, cared for. And tonight, more than any other night, he dares to say he feels loved.

The vampire kisses the breath out of him, tears his clothes open, and devours him. Lan Wangji clings back, just as fiercely, just as bruising, and bites the vampire’s neck.

Under the gaze of the full moon, Lan Wangji dares.

#The Untamed #Mo Dao Zu Shi #fanfiction #Wangxian #Lan Wangji #Wei Wuxian #alternate universe: supernatural elements #Alternate Universe: Vampires

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sparklebitch · 4 years

Note

If you're okay with it, Lance cutting because he feels like he's not good enough and Shiro finding out?

Ayyyyye I got this prompt and year and three days ago...

Oops.

A/N: Long time guys! Hope you're all doing well during this time. Stay home, stay safe! Mini update time ig? I'm 21 now, whoo! I lost my job because of COVID-19 (and I won't be going back when it's over for personal reasons), but I'm alright. I'm healthy, I'm happy, I'm going to be just fine!

Leave a comment if you have an idea for a prompt!

Trigger warnings: self harm, blood

~ ~ ~

Shiro watched as the team made their way to their respective rooms, sweat-covered and beyond exhausted. Their previous mission had gone well, minor hiccups aside. Nothing major went wrong, just a few miscommunications between Lance and himself. Lance was out of sync lately, always one step behind. Shiro had half a mind to give him a lecture about the importance of what they were trying to accomplish. The universe didn't have time for Lance to be distracted by whatever petty thing someone had said to him, or whatever trivial item he was fixated on.

As the last paladin closed their door, Shiro uncrossed his arms and frowned. Speaking of Lance... Where was he? He couldn't recall seeing him head toward the decontamination room, and his suit wasn't lined up with all the others. Had he even come out of his lion?

Shiro strode toward the Blue Lion and rapped gently on her mechanical paw. "Is he in there?" he asked her. She let out a low growl and opened her mouth in response. Shiro climbed into the lion and made his way to the cockpit, his boots making a clanging sound against the metal floors.

In his head, Shiro was psyching himself up for a long talk. It took a while, but eventually Lance would drop the jokes and actually had a heart-to-heart and let Shiro know what had been bothering him. Shiro just had to find the right words.

"Shit!" Lance's voice echoed through the small room as Shiro stepped into it. Shiro stilled, and didn't make his presence known. "Shit, shit shit! That stings" he hissed to himself. Blue made a yowling sound. "I- Blue, listen, I love you, but I need you to shut up right now. You don't understand. I'm not- I'm not hurt. Er- I mean, I am hurt, but I'm okay!" His voice grated as he spoke. The stress in his voice was palpable.

"You're hurt?" Shiro asked loudly. Lance lept out of his chair and clutched his chest with his left arm. Shiro could see the whites of his eyes.

Shiro moved closed to Lance. Every step forward he took, Lance took a bigger one back, until he was pinned up against the controls. Lance's face twitched as he frantically scanned the room, seemingly searching for an escape. "Lance, why didn't you just say that you were hurt? It's alright. It happens to the best of us. That's what we have the healing pods for." Shiro was only a few feet away from him now. "What happened? Let me see-" He broke off when he saw blood in Lance's chair.

"Shiro" Lance said hoarsely. Shiro glanced at Lance and then back at the droplets of blood that trailed from the arm of the chair, to the floor, leading all the way to-

"Lance... Why are you holding a knife?" Shiro asked in bewilderment. "What- What's going on?" Lance's hand suddenly released the small blade, dropping it to the floor. The time it took to hit the floor seemed an eternity.

"I..." Lance stared at Shiro, open mouthed. It was like he was seeing a ghost. Shiro couldn't make heads or tails of this situation. Was Lance going into shock from blood-loss? There didn't seem to be that much blood on the ground for that to have happened. And why the knife? "I need you to leave"

Shiro blinked in surprise. "You... what? Lance, what is going on? What are you doing?"

"Get out. Get out!" Lance's left arm jerked out, as if he was going to point toward the door, but he swiftly pulled it back, smacking himself in the chest. His eyes were glossy. "Just... please" he said weakly. "Leave me alone"

Shiro's mind was racing. He had to get Lance talking to figure out what happened. "I'm not leaving, Lance. Not until you tell me what happened" Lance let out a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a whimper. He searched Shiro's face, and found that he was telling the truth. He slowly lowered his arm, and braced himself.

It was only a few moments of staring at Lance's blood covered arm to put two-and-two together.

"You cut yourself" Lance averted his eyes. "You- you- Lance you did this to yourself" Shiro stepped closed and gently lifted Lance's arm up so he could see the full damage. Cuts, large and small, old and new littered his arm. The freshest cuts were still oozing blood. Lance peered up as Shiro shook his head in disbelief.

"Why?" He breathed. Lance stayed silent. "Why?" Shiro persisted. "Why have you been doing this?"

The answer took his breath away.

"Because I feel like I'm not enough for you!" Shiro staggered back in surprise.

"Wh- Lance... I don't know- What do you mean?" Lance jerked his arm away from Shiro and paced across the room, kicking the top half of his armor out of his way in frustration.

"Nothing I do is enough for you!" He said bitterly, still cradling his arm. His thumb brushed against the gash closest to his wrist. "You know what I'm talking about"

"Lance, I- Truly, I have no idea what you're talking about. You have to believe me" he said, his feet rooted to the ground.

Lance bit his lip as he unconsciously pressed his thumb against the wound, causing a few drops of blood to drip down onto his boots. The top of the black skin-tight suit material he wore under his armor hung loosely around his waist.

"You focus on me." Lance began. "During your post-mission meetings you focus on what I did wrong. You mention the others, but you specifically point out everything I do wrong" he said. "You scrutinize every little thing I do, every joke I make. I don't think it would even matter if I did every thing right, you would say I had the wrong attitude, or some bullshit like that!"

"Lance, I had no idea you thought this" Shiro said slowly. He was at a loss for words. "I'm sorry you... feel this way-" Lance threw his arms up and laughed flatly.

"You're 'sorry I feel this way,' seriously!?" Lance shivered in anger. "You're not even going to- I don't even... I don't even know what to say to you right now. Obviously you're not the source of all my problems," Lance gestured at his arm. "I have my own issues, and- and that's not the point! You for whatever reason have these unrealistic expectations for me, and I will never be able to live up to them, no matter how hard I try." Shiro held up his finger to say something, but Lance continued. "And don't give me that 'you're trying to make me a better man' speech. It's bullshit and you know it. You're harder on me than anyone else, and I can't handle that kind of pressure!"

"You want me to be this perfect marksman, and to keep everyone happy, but don't joke too much or else it interferes with what we're doing! You're disappointed when I mess up, and you're disappointed when I don't try. I've never been enough for you Shiro. I'll- I'll never be enough" his voice hitched.

"Lance... I'm so-" Lance waved him off.

"Don't bother apologizing. I'm sorry for talking too much. This isn't your problem it's mine" he said emotionlessly. "Don't worry I won't let this interfere with our mission"

"Lance, don't go" Shiro said, but Lance wasn't listening.

"I'm going to bed. I'm sorry for disappointing you, again."

Shiro watched as Lance exited the Blue Lion, his head a storm of emotions.

How did he not know all of this was going on?

~ ~ ~

| Other fics | Ko-fi |

#langst #voltron #vld #lance angst #lance #shiro #voltron legendary defenders #prompt #self harm #tw #trigger warning #self harm trigger warning #prompts

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shions-songbirds · 4 years

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I saw your tag about you okami and bnha au and would you mind telling the details? I saw the post and my heart skipped a beat, I just love them both so much!!

Oh!!!! You’re interested?? I can totally talk about it!! I don’t have to many details flushed out for it but I had two different ideas for it, so I’ll run through them both!

This is going to be pretty long so strap in

Idea #1: They’re different brush gods, all forced to work together to try and stop the world from being consumed by darkness (that sounds like kingdom hearts), or, as I lovingly described it to my friend, “1 person learning all the brush techniques? No. It’s a conglomerate of brush bastards working together to save the world“

None of them are capable of learning any of the other brush techniques, they’ve been apart for far too long, and so instead, they have to band together. It’s a lot of team building and learning how they can make their powers work together to solve puzzles and make it through the dangerous terrains they’re traversing. Certain ones are more combat oriented, and thus, are usually the ones to take on whatever demons might approach them.

Brush god assignments and idea number two under the cut

For all of them, their divine markings are present on their bodies exactly where they would be on their animal forms, and in similar fashion to the Oina, they all have a mask of their respective animal. All of them have a calligraphy brush they can materialize to use their respective brush technique should it be necessary.

Amaterasu - Izuku - He only has sunrise, however he’s also set up with a reflector, Divine Retribution, just like Ammy is. Flowers follow him when he walks, and though sunrise isn’t good in combat on its own, he does know how to use it to his advantage.

Yomigami - Momo - If anyone is going to be rejuvenation, it’s Momo. She can fix anything that has been broken, repair anything. Four orbs circle around her at all times, purple, green, red, and yellow in color, and a thick scroll is rolled up and tucked away at her side.

Tachigami - Tenya - While he’d also be a good fit for Kazegami, bc horses and fast and all that, I kind of just wanted to give him a giant sword. There’s not much in depth reasoning for this other than the guy who wanted to commit a murder for revenge deserves a giant sword. He keeps a sheath at his side for seemingly a normal sized sword, and upon pulling the blade out, it becomes more buster sword sized. The tip of the blade is inked like the calligraphy brushes, allowing him to perform proper power slashes alongside utilizing the strength and sharpness of the blade itself.

Hanagami - ???, Tsuyu, Hanta - I am genuinely at a loss about who should represent bloom, however I do have lily pad and vine down. Now, I know Shiozaki would be an incredible match for vine for obvious reasons, instead I went with Hanta, as his tape translates nicely into vines, and he deserves more love. Tsu should be fairly obvious, frogs and lilypads, so it just made sense to make her the lilypad brush god. Each of the three, whoever their missing link is, has an instrument on them at all times. Tsu has a shinobue, and Hanta a pair of cymbals.

Bakugami (this one should be obvious) - Katsuki - Again, this should be obvious. The god with cherry bombs? Only fitting for this explosive boy. He can roll around on a giant cherry bomb, should he so choose, and his mask has a pair of proper tusks sticking out of it, although it’s usually not on his face, rather settled in his hair.

Yumigami - Fumikage - Considering Dark Shadow, it only made sense to make him the god of the moon. Carried with him is a giant mochi mallet, and though he’s not the best equipped for combat, he’s resourceful, and his ability to control the night is vital.

Nuregami - ??? - I was at a complete loss for this one. If anyone has any suggestions for her, a snake and goddess of water, please tell me!

Kazegami - Inasa - This one was a perfect match, considering Inasa’s quirk being wind. He keeps a battle fan with him, and can control the winds to his every whim. A gentle gust follows him wherever he goes.

Moegami/Itegami - Shouto - No one knows how this boy got two brush techniques, least of all him, but he bears the power of the ox and the power of the phoenix. He wears the ox mask out of personal preference, but he does have the phoenix mask with him. Though a split design would be optimal, I struggle to think of how this would work. Unlike the others, he does get an animal asset, in the form of massive, flaming, red and white wings. However they’re not always around, only manifesting in a blaze when he needs them, or is utilizing inferno. He has a smoking pipe he doesn’t often use and conch horn on him, attached to his waist by a light blue and white belt. His ice is at it’s full power upon him joining up with the others, but his fire is weakened, requiring him to have another source to derive it from, until Izuku gives him the push he needs to get it back.

Kasugami - ??? - Midnight’s quirk would be perfect for this, but on account of me trying to limit it to the children, I have no other ideas.

Kabegami - Ochako - The ability to defy gravity and walk up walls? A perfect fit for her. While most useful for navigating around, it would be impossible for the others to get to where they need to go without her catwalk ability. Like Shouto, she has a cat feature, a long fluffy tail, which serves as her brush and as a means of helping her to balance.

Gekigami - Denki - With a set of lighting arrows in a quiver at his back and a bow always on hand, he can strike that which he sees fit. One of the most dangerous and combat oriented abilities, he has infinite electrical energy for as much as he has ink, which allows for dangerous lightning storms. His lightning arrows are as infinite as his ink, and when equipped with his tiger mask, he’s rather intimidating. He has the most celestial markings of any of them, running in stripes along his skin.

That’s all I’ve got right now, mostly just ideas and character designs, but I think for the most part this would follow the canon plot, just with them travelling in a group rather than all together as Ammy.

Idea #2 is a bit different, and a bit more true to Okami form. Or, rather, Okamiden, as Izuku fills in as Chibiterasu.

All I really have is everyone’s species and like, general backstory, if I know it.

Inko - Sun goddess. Amaterasu equivalent. Origin of all that is good. She’s done her time, she’s served the people, and she’s fixed the celestial plane. She. Is. Tired. All she wants is a break, and she decides the best way to get that is to head to earth once things are fixed and settle down by Kamiki, where she has her son. She sells her artwork, often with help from Izuku.

Izuku - Baby god. Chibi equivalent. He grew up in a small house in Shinshu field near but not close to Kamiki village. He found Katsuki when he was younger and the two have stuck near each other since. He has no idea what his godly status actually means, but his mom has worked with him since he was little on practicing his brush strokes, even if he can’t use them yet. Unlike his mother’s ink, he’s uses charcoal, still a child in terms of powers, though a teen in body.

Shouto - Oina, lost to Yoshpet when he was a child. He survived the treacherous cold and winding paths of the forest, and though he could ask the citizens of Ponc’Tan to escort him out, he isn’t inclined to leave. He spends much of his time in the clearing Ponc’Tan is in, though, and often hangs out with Hanta and Denki. His dog form is a red husky, and his mask is a phoenix.

Katsuki - Oina, however much like Shouto, he doesn’t live with the tribe. He left fairly young, escaping through the path to Shinshu field, where he found Izuku. He attached himself to him, convinced that Izuku would get himself killed if he wasn’t around. He is unaware of Izuku’s godly status. He’s always in dog form, so Izuku isn’t aware that his dog isn’t merely a dog. He and Shouto were close when they were kids.He wears no mask, having thrown it aside upon leaving the tribe.

Ochako- Sparrow clan. Used to only meeting those of the purest hearts but also all too familiar with financial hardships as a result, as her family hardly makes enough to even keep the inn open with their limited visitors. She recently left the inn in search of something to help keep her family better off.

Tsuyu - Dragonian.

Mina - Dragonian.

Hanta - Poncle. One of Shouto’s closest friends, and the one that initially found him in Yoshpet. He wanted to bring him back to the tribe when he recovered, but he refused, and so instead, he often spends any time he’s not within Ponc’tan busy with lessons with Shouto.

Denki - Poncle. Another of Shouto’s closest friends. He takes his art training very seriously, but when it’s him, Hanta, and Shouto, the three of them tend to get up to quite a bit of mischief. They often tag along on Shouto through the forest, knowing that he can get them back to Ponc’tan with minimal effort with how well he knows the forest.

Eijirou - Human.

Hitoshi - Moon Tribe.

Tenya - Human.

Fumikage - Sparrow clan.

Mashirao - Oina.

Yuuga - Moon Tribe.

Kyouka - Human.

Momo - Human.

Neito - Oina.

Getting things all figured out for this idea takes a fair bit more work and since I haven’t talked it through much, it never got very far. So that’s about everything I have. I adore this au, both parts of it, so if anyone has any ideas feel free to send in asks or ideas! I’d love to hear your thoughts.

And I hope this is kind of what you wanted anon! If not, well, please tell me!!

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kimvvantae · 5 years

Text

Umbra; 11

➜ being ruled by an ancient commandment, your sole purpose is to serve. you were born to protect the king with your life, tied by an everlasting oath; you are nothing but a shadow, a silent and insignificant being. he appears to you like the sun, the warmest and brightest star in the sky, and gives you a chance to live. it is then that your entire universe starts to orbit around this sun, and you decide that you are truly willing to die for him.

pairing: King!Taehyung x (f) hybrid!reader

genre: royalty au, fantasy, angst

warnings: descriptions of violence, blood and death that might be triggering.

word count: 9.5k

A/N: ok i officially burned all of my remaining braincells to write this chapter. gosh. anyways, i hope you like it! also forgive me if you find any ugly mistake but it’s 3AM and i am literally dying & had no enough time to edit it. ya girl is dead.

also!! umbra is nearing its end!! from now on i’ll throw all the revelations and deep shit on your faces. be ready.

enjoy uwu

➜ Chapters: check up masterlist in bio!

The moment we arrived at the front gates, that terrible sensation condensed inside of me.

Our run came to a halt and we stared ahead, shocked.

Right in front of the gates, everything was on fire. Black flames consumed everything it touched - but only outside of the palace, at the front square; the colossal building shone with a slight hue of purple: the protective spells in action, preventing the flames to come closer. But the damage outside was already considerable, since black flames spread much more quickly than normal fire.

Panic took over the city; there were many people in the front square at that hour. They ran away from the fire, stumbling in one another, trying to escape from the flames. Inside the palace, the commotion was equal; workers running away, while guards approached, however most of them didn't know what to do.

I tightened my fists.

"Taehyung, stay here," I said and walked in the direction of the front gates without looking back.

When I was close enough, I collected all of my will and screamed a command in dragon language:

"Cease!"

The flames dissipated in one second with a strong gust of wind - the only proof it ever existed was the damage it made and the horrible scent of sulfur.

The guards around me approached with hesitant steps. They looked around, confused, spears in hand.

"Don't come too close yet," I warned, what made them stop immediately.

"What was that?" one of them asked, confused.

I narrowed my eyes. “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

I stepped closer to the front gates carefully, taping my nose to not inhale sulfur. Slowly, I opened the gate – ignoring what the guards tried to warn behind me – and entered the front square that was still fuming too much.

Behind me, Taehyung's voice caught my attention:

"General Namjoon!"

I looked back and saw the General arriving, his features distorted in utter confusion. Taehyung came close to him at heavy steps.

"What happened here?!" The King demanded.

General Namjoon shook his head slightly. "I don't know, Majesty. We just heard and explosion..."

Quickly, more guards and soldiers arrived and gathered around Taehyung and the General; Seokjin appeared as well. Curious people appeared, too - workers and nobles, all of them chatting between themselves, confused and scared voices floating in the air.

I saw Princess Sana going down the stairs, and immediately ran towards her.

"Y/N, what happened? We heard an explosion- is anyone hurt?" She asked, worried.

"We still don't know, Your Highness, but it's not safe to stay here. Please, get inside," I said, pushing her delicately. I did the same with everyone that tried to get out of the building.

"We don't know what happened, but let's take the right precautions," Taehyung's voice stood out over the others. "Take everyone to a safe place. Go to the city in search of wounded people. Let's delimit a security perimeter around the front square..."

I tried to pay attention to what he was saying, but another thing caught my attention.

The palace was still glowing in that soft shade of purple.

The expulsive spells were working.

Why were the spells still working if the danger was gone...?

I approached the front square again, leaving the soldiers and guards behind. The square was already empty, since everyone (fortunately) ran away as soon as they saw the commotion. Every place the flames touched was still fuming, and the scent of sulfur was unbearable.

The horrifying sensation just got worse. I could feel deep in my bones that something was terribly wrong, bringing me nausea and making me dizzy. It couldn't be just an impression. I have learned to never ignore my intuitions...

And once again, I was right.

When I saw what was right in front of me, my eyes widened.

In the middle of the front square, where a fountain used to exist, there was a gigantic crack on the ground. It was probably ten meters wide and fumed too much. I waved my hand, trying to dissipate the smoke from my eyes and give a good look at what was inside the crack.

It was too dark and deep for me to see where it ended, but I immediately knew: that was the source of my nauseating sensation. A strange and wicked energy radiated from that crack.

But still, it took me some moments to fully understand what it was.

And when I did, I almost could not believe myself.

All of my senses awakened in one second, adrenaline taking control of my actions. I turned around and ran towards the entrance of the palace again. Taehyung was in danger. Everyone in that city was in danger...

But I was not fast enough.

The moment I stepped inside the gates again, a shrilling scream slashed the air.

Everyone went silent.

We looked at the direction of the scream - and my heart seemed about to stop beating.

It couldn't be...

What we saw could be mistaken as a human man - two meters tall, using a completely black armor that did not let not even one centimeter of skin at sight. The armored man fumed and smelled of the same sulfur; where he stepped, the grass immediately died.

The unknown man touched the shoulder of an inattentive guard.

He just touched.

From the spot where the unknown touched, a black mark appeared and started to spread through the guard's body; we watched in complete shock as the young man screamed in agony until his entire body was covered with the black mark, making him look like a piece of coal-

And, with a last terrible yell of pain, his entire body crumbled to a pile of ashes.

Panic took control of the crowd again.

Workers and nobles started to scream and run inside the palace, stumbling over one another. The guards immediately tried to put order and make them escape safely, while soldiers built a human wall around the entrance of the palace in one second, their shields in position.

The creature didn’t move.

“Majesty, get inside the palace!”, General Seokjin said hurriedly, but Taehyung stared ahead at the creature with eyebrows furrowed, too shocked to speak.

Silence again.

No one moved. It seems that no one was even breathing.

The creature stepped once.

The human wall tightened. I knew most of the soldiers had no idea of what they were dealing with, so I ran to the front.

“Who is that?” one soldier asked, his eyes glued ahead.

“Not who. What.” I replied somberly and saw the soldier shivering. “All of you, listen well: don’t touch that thing. Don’t let it come too close.”

“How are we going defeat it, then?” another man asked, but I had no time to reply.

Another scream crossed the air, coming from the opposite direction. We all turned around...

Another creature appeared from behind, and the terrible scene repeated: a soldier screaming in pain, until his body was nothing but a pile of ashes.

I have watched enough.

I unsheathed the sword, holding the hilt tightly. The creature in front of us started to run, ready to shock its body against the wall of shields. I focused all of my power in the sword I was holding; slowly, the blade gained a ghostly shade of blue. A rune that meant expel appeared in the base of my weapon.

I ran towards it, ignoring the yells of the soldiers behind me, the sword in position. The creature didn't slow its pace. It was way taller than me, way bigger than me - a creature that radiated wicked, unnatural energy in such intensity it made me shiver. Never did I feel something like that.

But it didn't make me stop.

When we were in front of each other - the creature ready to grab me and destroy me - I attacked.

In a swift movement, I brandished the sword and sliced the creature's stomach. The blade penetrated the armor easily.

The thing stopped.

Instead of blood and entrails, what spilled from inside of its body was something similar to black gems. The creature did not say anything. It didn't even produce any kind of sound.

It just crumbled to the ground in a similar pile of that material that looked like black gems, but actually wasn't. It was something worse. The entire area around it became black, burned, fuming, dead.

It was not time to be shocked. There was yet another creature in the other side-

But when I turned around, I saw the other creature crumbling too.

Yuta.

He ran towards me, his sword blanketed by the same spell I had conjured in mine, a concerned expression on his features. “Where did they come from?”

As expected, Yuta also knew what we were dealing with and how serious the situation was. Better than that - he also knew how to defeat those things. I pointed to the front gates. “There is a crack at the front square-”

The words got caught in my throat, making me gasp audibly.

From far, we saw at least ten more creatures emerging from the great crack. They crawled out of it, got to their feet and started to make their way to the palace.

In that moment, I got actually concerned for the first time.

The soldiers tightened the formation once more, but I knew that wouldn't be enough. I ran to those who were screaming orders.

“General Seokjin!” I called, catching his attention immediately. “This is not going to work. Tell your men to get inside the palace. They don't know how to fight against those things, more people will die.”

“What? But-”

“She is right, Seokjin,” Surprisingly, General Namjoon intervened. He was serious, staring at the creatures approaching instead of us. By the look on his face, I knew: Namjoon also understood what they were. “We already lost two soldiers. Tell them to protect the Royal Family, we'll try to take care of the situation.”

Instead of arguing, Seokjin decided to just nod.

“Guards, get inside the palace in formation!” He ordered. “Take any person you can find to the central zone of the palace and keep them there. If the situation gets worse, start the evacuation system. Go, now!”

The Royal Guards did as said in the blink of an eye without complaining. Soon, the front of the palace was near empty - just me, Yuta, the generals and some soldiers from higher rankings.

The creatures were approaching.

“The protective spells don't seem to affect them,” Seokjin said. “They will get inside. What are we going to do?”

“We'll fight,” I simply said, because there wasn't anything else we could do.

They arrived.

The protective spells shone even more strongly, looking aggressive for a moment, but it wasn't enough. The creatures crossed the gates easily and with no damage.

We attacked.

It was difficult. Even us - dragons - weren't immune to their power, what meant they couldn't touch us. The only contact possible had to be of our blades. The scent of sulfur made my throat dry and the entire place was suddenly clouded by dark and intense smoke radiating from their bodies.

With the corner of the eye, I saw General Namjoon conjuring a spell around his sword as well. Even though we were in such a difficult situation, I couldn't help but feel shocked. A human that knew how to defeat the creatures? It should be expected - he was the General for a reason. I couldn't think too much about it now. What I had to focus on was that we had more people to control the situation: me, Yuta, Namjoon, and…

And…

My movements came to a halt.

It couldn't be serious.

I saw Taehyung holding a sword. It was beautifully forged in styx iron and gold. It was originally meant to be a decorative piece, for Kings do not fight battles, but not on Taehyung's hands. No; on his hands, it became what it actually is - a mortal weapon.

Taehyung sliced the chest of a creature in a swift movement; one second later, he buried the blade in another creature's back with a grunt.

Both creatures crumbled.

His sword shone with a hue of blue.

I recovered my senses when one of them tried to attack me. I turned around and decapitated it with a quick move and ran towards Taehyung.

“What are you doing here?!” I yelled the moment we were close enough.

The King lifted one eyebrow. “I don't know. Walking around a little? Enjoying the pacific night, I guess?”

“It's not time to make jokes! You have to-”

I could not finish my sentence when another creature appeared - more of them were emerging from the crack. We turned around at the same time, and almost as if we were in synch, we buried our blades inside the creature's chest, making it crumble to a pile of ashes and gems.

“You have-”

When another one came, I pushed Taehyung behind me before it could touch him and sliced its chest.

“You h-”

We crouched down at the same time as one tried to reach us; I sliced its left leg, while he sliced the right leg.

“You have to get inside!”

“No.” Taehyung retorted and stared at me seriously.

“What the- Taehyung!” I was really getting out of control. Why this man had to be so stubborn?!

As inappropriate as it was considering our current situation, Taehyung smirked. “I can't concentrate when you say my name like this, you know.”

I wanted to punch him.

But before we could start an argument, I was reminded that we were in the middle of a battle and there was no time to talk. More and more creatures were coming, and the spells didn't even scratch their armors. Sooner or later, they would manage to enter the palace. Worse…

They would manage to get Taehyung.

I knew he was their target all along - not only because they tried to approach him at all costs, but also because I could feel Taehyung was in terrible danger. My intuition was stronger than it had been in all those years when I was Taejun's guardian.

He had to be safe.

But, as usual, Taehyung wanted to do the exact opposite of what he should.

I fought as more creatures appeared, trying my best to protect that stubborn man, but we ended up fighting side by side instead. What I saw that day when I watched his training with Seokjin was proved: Taehyung knew very well what he was doing. He was fully experienced. More than that; I don't think many official soldiers could fight with the same strength and agility as Taehyung did.

And there was something else, too.

Slowly, I noticed the color of the spell he conjured on his sword was different. It was not simply blue… it was turquoise. And it felt different from mine or Yuta's. I didn't know exactly why yet…

Every plant from the front of the palace was burned and dead by now. We already defeated many, but at least twenty more were arriving. I didn't know how long we could keep fighting successfully.

“Taehyung, get inside,” I tried once more.

“No,” he simply said, what made me look at him with anger.

“You are the King! You can't put yourself in such danger, don't you understand?!”

“Y/N, how many people here can fight them?” He asked, his skin shining with sweat. “Not many. If I get inside, our chances will decrease too much.”

“We can deal with it! We'll find a way, but you have to keep safe-”

A row of five creatures came running to us. They were so heavy that their each step made the ground shake. Slowly, they were managing to corner us in the front of the building. We couldn't just keep fighting like this; we had to regroup and make an actual plan-

One creature was too quick in its attack, what made me lose balance in my attempt to avoid being hit.

I fell back.

It's not as if I couldn't have defended myself in that moment. But Taehyung was faster than me.

In an instinctive movement, he put himself between me and the creature.

I widened my eyes the second I saw him lifting his arm.

“Stop-!” I managed to say, but it was too late.

Taehyung touched the creature's chest and pushed him away.

Panic took control over me. No. Taehyung touched it. The mark will spread. He is going to die-

Taehyung buried his sword where the creature's heart was supposed to be.

In one moment, he was helping me to get up.

“Are you okay? Did you get hurt?” He asked, voice rushed, expression covered with worry as he analyzed me from head to toe.

I could just stare back, speechless.

I looked at his right hand - the hand which he touched the creature. And it was…

Normal.

Completely normal.

“You touched it,” I murmured in utter disbelief. “You touched it and did not get hurt?”

Taehyung seemed surprised - as if he just realized what he did in that moment. But, before he could say anything, Yuta's voice crossed the air, calling my name.

I turned around and faced my brother. It seems that no one else noticed what just happened; Yuta had his sword in hand, fully concentrated.

“There are too many. What are we going to do?”, he asked.

I thought for some seconds, until an idea popped up in my mind. “We can gain some time. Can't we?”

We looked at each other in the eye and he immediately caught the message. Yuta nodded.

“General Namjoon, reunite the soldiers immediately,” I said, which he just nodded accordingly. “And you,” I stared at Taehyung seriously, “get inside the palace.”

“What are you going to do?” The King asked.

“We'll gain some time. Yuta, let's go!”

We left the two humans behind and made our way to the front gates, fighting every creature that appeared, defending each other's backs. At least twenty more were running in our direction, coming from the crack. We had to be fast.

We placed our hands on the gates. We did not need to speak to know exactly what to do; our powers were in tune, entangling and merging, becoming one strong connection of powers and wills.

The creatures were some steps away.

At the same time, we screamed a command in dragon language:

“Protect!”

The sound of a thunder echoed through the entire city, made the floor shake. The protective spells gained a crimson red color made of our powers combined; now, a dome was fully visible, going hundreds of meters up to protect the entire colossal building.

The creatures tried to enter, but the red dome kept them outside.

“It worked,” Yuta stated, a slight tone of relief on his voice.

“But it won't last long,” I said somberly. “Let's get inside and trace a plan.”

With no more words, we ran towards the entrance of the palace.

My eyes were glued on the windows.

The apprehension did not cease. We made a provisory shield, but it wouldn't last long. And worst of all… more creatures were coming. After barely ten minutes, I could count at least fifty of them.

And they just stood there. In silence.

As if they knew that trying to get past the dome would be useless - however they also knew that it would fade away eventually.

They were waiting.

I was actually worried for the first time in a very long time.

The reunion room was full of soldiers and guards, a mess of men talking loudly. Every person - including the workers - were already at the central zone of the palace (the safest zone) and ready to evacuate if necessary. But before that, we needed to make the situation clear.

“What are those things?” King Satoshi asked out loud.

“Obsidian soldiers,” I replied without thinking.

Immediately, the entire room went silent and their eyes landed on me. Probably because it was the first female voice they heard.

“Obsidian what? Isn't it just a myth?” One soldier asked.

“No. It is real,” for a second, I felt uneasy. I was not used to be the center of attentions - especially the attention of those who usually despised me. But my eyes landed on Taehyung quickly; he was paying full attention on me and nodded his head almost imperceptibly, encouraging me to speak.

I did not feel uneasy anymore.

“The obsidian soldiers were used during the First War of the Clans, millennia ago,” I continued, stepping closer to the table in the center of the reunion room. It was quiet for the first time since the “reunion” started. “They were useful for some time, but it was until they showed to be too indomitable and dangerous. Their existence then was abolished and the ways to create them forbidden.”

“But are they not people?” King Satoshi asked.

“They were,” I hesitated for some seconds before continuing. Even explaining it out loud seemed to make the room feel colder and darker. “To make an obsidian soldier, you have to absorb energy from Helheim.”

“The Kingdom of the Dead?” Another person asked, his voice shaking slightly.

“Yes. It is the most wicked and unnatural way to manipulate magic. It is… the law of one life for another. To make an obsidian soldier, you have to sacrifice a life.”

It was almost as if I could feel everyone shivering when they heard those words.

“It means that whoever conjured the soldiers killed several people,” Taehyung concluded for me somberly.

“But who?” King Satoshi said out loud the question that has been echoing in my mind. “This person attacked one day before the wedding ceremony. It is clearly a declaration of war!”

He was right.

Jimin's voice whispered on my ears: I’ve seen rebellions before... but not on this level. Taehyung has to keep safe.

The rebellion.

Every hint led me to this conclusion: the rebellion was really behind the attack on our way to Athena, the shapeshifter, and now this. As Jimin suspected, they would try to kill Taehyung again since their first attempt failed. And most importantly - someone as strong and mad enough to conjure obsidian soldiers would be able to attack my mind.

But who? Was it really a dragon? If not, who could be powerful enough to do so?

Anger was the only thing I felt about this rebellion. Now I understood the situation hybrids were in and willing to fight for our rights, but this? Conjuring energy from Helheim, killing innocent people to make obsidian soldiers? They were not fighting for hybrids. They were just murderers.

“We will investigate it, but now our main priority is to deal with the current situation. We have several obsidian soldiers out there and an entire city in danger. We have to keep the population safe,” Taehyung stated.

“The obsidian soldiers are not moving. Why?” One soldier asked.

“They are waiting for His Majesty to appear. His Majesty is their objective,” I said. I was sure of that.

Taehyung kept quiet for some moments, then nodded. “Alright. I'll be the bait.”

“No,” me and General Seokjin said at the same time.

“Why not?” The King said. I hated his stubbornness. “If the obsidian soldiers focus on me, then the guards will be able to evacuate the palace safely and protect the population in the city.”

I also hated how he always had a plausible and logical response.

“You can't be in danger like this. You have ro keep safe!” General Seokjin retorted, and I could see that he was not only speaking as the Leader of the Royal Guard, but also as a worried older brother.

“I am sure you all saw that I am one of the few here that knows how to defeat the creatures,” Taehyung said. “We need as much help as we can, it doesn't matter if I'm the King or not. Besides, what kind of King would I be if I simply hid when my people needs me the most?”

No one knew how to retort his argument.

Seokjin sighed and rolled his eyes, defeated, however worry was still shadowing his gaze. He nodded accordingly. “Alright. But don't you dare dying.”

Taehyung chuckled at this.

“But, as you said, we have just a few able to fight against the creatures. It won't be enough. The most suitable help would be to call the Royal Mages, isn't it?” King Satoshi argumented, being followed by murmurs of agreement.

“We'll all die if we wait for them. Sir Gael and the rest of the Royal Mages will be arriving tomorrow morning for the wedding, there is no way they will be able to come faster than this,” General Namjoon said. “But my elite squad is already here and ready to fight. They received training against wicked magic, although none of them are experienced. We can provide security to His Majesty.”

“And what are we going to do? Fight restlessly until the morning when Sir Gael arrives? Because more creatures are emerging from the crack and they won't stop,” General Seokjin said. “Y/N, do you know a way to stop this?”

“One way is to find and kill the conjurer, but there is no time to search for the culprit. And… another way is to close the crack.”

“Do you know how to do this?”

I thought for some moments. I have never dealt with this kind of magic before. It was also the first time I fought against obsidian soldiers, creatures I have just heard of until that night. I wasn't sure if it would be possible… but there was no time to feel insecure.

“I think I can. I think we can,” I looked directly at Yuta.

He was standing at the back of the room, staring at me with a shocked expression. I knew why. Guardians are not supposed to be the center of attentions, to speak the way I was doing.

He had so much to learn…

“Yes,” he said, voice low. “We can make it.”

“Good. So, that's the plan:” General Namjoon said. “We'll keep the obsidian soldiers focused on the front, using His Majesty as the bait, and we try to eliminate as many as we can. Meanwhile, the Royal Guard will take everyone out of the palace safely using the old tunnels; after that, you can protect the population and evacuate the entire city if necessary. We'll create an opening so Guardian Y/N and Guardian Yuta can reach the crack and close it.”

Everyone around nodded accordingly. “Y/N, how much time the shield you created will last?” Taehyung asked.

“Thirty minutes. Less if we're unlucky.”

“So we have to hurry. Let's go!”

Immediately, every person inside the room started to run. The guards took King Satoshi out of the room so he could leave the palace safely, as well as Princess Sana, the entire Royal Family and many more royals from other Kingdoms that came to witness the wedding. I left to my room running and dressed my armor as fast as I could - what is not an easy task - and ran to meet Taehyung.

The King was already using an appropriate armor as well. I have never seen him so serious and worried in my life; his expression seemed to be sculpted in pure stone. He was surrounded by soldiers and assistants, but for a moment they all left to take care of their urgent tasks… and then we were alone.

“I don't agree with this,” I said the moment it was just the two of us, crossing my arms. “You shouldn't put yourself in such danger.”

“Are you calling me weak?” He asked, quirking one eyebrow.

“No.” And I wasn't lying; Taehyung was anything but weak. “But you're still the King, and you might die fighting. You can't die yet.”

“You're saying this because you would miss me a lot if I died today, right?” And then he was as smirking.

“Taehyung, please. This is not time to make jokes,” I caressed my own forehead. Why dealing with him suddenly became so tiring? “You know very well what the obsidian soldiers are. That is true danger. Whoever conjured isn't playing, they won't rest until you're dead. Do you want to give them what they want the most?”

“No, I will defeat them. I won't simply hide.” It was his time to cross his arms.

We stared at each other, and I felt myself giving up. Taehyung was way too stubborn. When he wanted to do something, no one could make him change his mind.

“But who did it?” I questioned, thinking out loud. “Who could be crazy and powerful enough to use energy from Helheim? King Satoshi is right; whoever did this wants war. I can't think of anyone that could make it…”

I was just rumbling mindlessly, but when I looked at Taehyung, my voice died slowly.

He was staring ahead, eyebrows furrowed. So serious.

I already knew him too well. I could understand every tiny change on his expression.

Realization slowly hit me.

“You know,” I said quietly. “You know who it is, don't you?”

Taehyung lifted his gaze and looked at me.

He didn't answer.

My blood started to boil.

“Tell me. You have to tell me. Who is trying to kill you, Taehyung?” I stopped in front of him, my fists tight. “Do you know who it is all along, ever since the cursed rock?”

He didn't answer again.

“Tell me, Taehyung!”

“I wasn't sure back then,” he said quietly and seriously. “But now I am.”

“Who is it? Stop hiding things from me!” My voice sounded exasperated and desperate all at once. I was so tired of his secrets. “You said you wouldn't hide things from me anymore. And- and not only this,” he was avoiding my gaze, what made me feel more confused and frustrated. “You touched that obsidian soldier, but you didn't get hurt. And the kind of magic you're using… I've never felt it before, and there are only a few things I don't understand about magic. Taehyung, that is on the same level of a Royal Mage.”

“I was taught by two Royal Mages,” Taehyung sighed when he saw my confused expression. “Petrus used to be a Royal Mage, too, but he abandoned them.”

We looked at each other in silence.

“How many more things are you keeping from me?” I whispered. “Who are you, Taehyung?”

“Y/N,” he called softly, and in the moment I felt his hands cupping my cheeks my entire body felt hot. I suddenly remembered of everything that happened barely one hour ago - our argument, and… the kiss. We kissed. My heart raced just remembering how his lips felt against mine - and, again, his face and body was very close to me.

Only this time we were about to have a mortal battle, and we weren't exactly alone.

“Taehyung, anyone can get in at any moment,” I whispered hurriedly, remembering the door was wide opened, but he simply clicked his tongue.

“I don't care.” He analyzed my features carefully, caressed my cheek with his thumb - and once again I felt my body and heart melting like a cube of ice under his gaze. “When all this ends, I swear I will tell you everything. I'll be honest with you the same way you were honest to me, the way you asked me to be. I'll tell you everything I know.” He inhaled slowly. Why was I so mesmerized by his beauty again in such an inappropriate moment? It seems that even though he was still sweaty, he still smelled good. How was it even possible? Men usually smell so bad-

Focus, I scolded myself.

“But now, the entire Capital is in danger and we have to take care of it. After this mess is over, I promise you we will sit down and talk.”

I gulped. “Will you answer my questions?”

“Yes.”

“All of them?”

“Everything I can.”

I still eyed him suspiciously, but nodded anyway. “Okay. I will remember this.”

“I know you will,” he opened a small smile, but his eyes still showed deep concern.

We still looked at each other, and like before, for some moments it felt that the world around us was distant and blurred. Heavy boots running from side to side, voices of soldiers yelling orders - everything was far, far away.

Taehyung approached his face from mine, and for a moment I thought he would kiss my lips again - what made me almost shiver with expectation. Instead, he pressed his lips on my forehead softly and tenderly, something that felt almost as good as a true kiss.

“Don't die out there,” he said, his voice sounding quiet and fragile - worried.

“I should be the one saying this,” my voice sounded as quiet.

“Alright. Us both should not die,” he chuckled.

When we heard steps approaching, Taehyung finally let me go.

“Your Majesty,” General Namjoon said. “Everything is ready.”

The King nodded, seriousness shadowing his features once again. “Let's start.”

The moment Taehyung appeared on the front of the palace, the obsidian soldiers started to move again.

The air around us was impossibly cold - so cold that a thin layer of ice already covered every surface made of metal. The smell of sulfur made everyone's throats feel dry and itch. Smoke has condensed at the front of the palace.

Now, there were at least one hundred obsidian soldiers.

We were barely thirty people.

It was rare of me to feel this worried.

“I'll remind you all once again,” General Namjoon said while soldiers built a wall of shields. “Our priorities are to protect His Majesty and cover Y/N and Yuta's way to the crack in the middle of the front square. Don't put yourselves in unnecessary danger.”

The dome wasn't so crimson anymore, becoming more and more invisible instead - an indication that it was getting weaker by the second. The obsidian soldiers knew about it, too. I tightened my grip around the hilt of the sword.

“It's going to disappear soon,” I warned.

Me and Yuta were in front of the soldiers; we looked at each other and nodded.

And, as if hearing my words, with a sound similar to the electricity of a lightning, the dome faded away.

There was nothing between us and them now.

They attacked.

I felt the power flowing to the tip of my fingers. In a swift movement, I crouched down and touched the ground; when they were a few meters away from us, a barrier of pure ice grew - giant pointed blocks of ice similar to spears that impaled many obsidian soldiers before they could realize what was happening. The ice immediately became black the moment they touched it.

It wouldn't kill them, but would slower their pace considerably.

“Attack!” General Namjoon ordered.

And so we did.

Me and Yuta ran, jumped over the barrier of ice and attacked them from above. The moment my feet touched the ground again, my instincts took complete control of my actions; all these years of trainings and fighting battles weren't for nothing. The obsidian soldiers could have a mortal power, but they weren't faster, experienced or smarter than me.

The sword in my hand was a piece of pure destruction; I swirled around the lines of undead creatures, slicing their bodies deeply and making them crumble, taking them back to the place they should never have left - Helheim. They didn't pronounce a single grunt, huff or sigh. They were not conscious creatures, they had no feelings. They would just try to accomplish their task given by their conjurer obstinately: kill Taehyung. They had stolen the lives of living people, their vital strength. I didn't know if it is true, but it is said that a soul sacrificed to make an obsidian soldier will never be able to rest.

When I found out who was the conjurer, this person would suffer.

At my left, I felt Yuta conjuring an air spell that made one creature go flying several meters away in the air. I saw once again General Namjoon showing why he was chosen as the Leader of the Army despite his young age: he fought restlessly and skillfully, paying attention to his subordinates and giving orders. However, it wasn't enough. I turned around in time to see one soldier crumbling in a pile of ashes once again.

The obsidian soldiers were trying to force their way, always marching in Taehyung's direction. I tried to stay around him and eliminate as many as I could…

Not that Taehyung needed much help.

Dare I say, he was fighting better than the General.

Taehyung fought like a demon. His movements were precise, clean and deadly. He looked less tired than all the other soldiers. In fact, Taehyung was the one protecting the people around him, not otherwise.

“We didn't advance not even ten meters,” the King said, panting. “We'll just keep fighting uselessly like this!”

“They just keep coming and coming. It seems that two more appear at each we kill,” General Namjoon said, concerned.

But not everything was in vain; from far, I could feel the auras of hundreds of people leaving the palace. The evacuation was happening successfully. I could just hope that Yoongi and Chuu would be able to leave the palace as soon as possible…

More obsidian soldiers were emerging from the crack. Taehyung was right. We had to finish this before more people died. I remembered of what Yuta did just a few minutes ago.

“Yuta, let's push them back,” I said. Even though me and him did not live together, it seems that we could understand each other very easily with just a few words. Yuta nodded.

Together, we evoked the same air spell, only this time it was way stronger; the gust of wind threw the soldiers back violently several meters away, so they were outside of the palace at the front square.

“Let's go!” Taehyung yelled.

We ran to them before they could recover - they were big and heavy, what made them slower than us - and attacked with double force. The smoke and sulfur made my eyes teary, however it didn't stop me. I killed soldier after soldier. The sounds of blades shocking, heavy steps, grunts and screams filled my ears. I ignored the scent of sulfur and the terrible dryness in my throat, pushing as many of them as I could, being aware of Taehyung fighting five meters away from me, balancing the power I put in my blade to keep the spell working.

Slowly, we were making our way to the middle of the gigantic square. But it was still too slow. Namjoon was right; at each one we killed, two more appeared.

And that was the moment when the unexpected happened.

Half of the obsidian soldiers stopped suddenly.

They turned around and started to run in the opposite direction.

“What-?!” I exclaimed, confused.

That's when I saw.

From far, I saw guards guiding hundreds of commoners away from that area.

The obsidian soldiers were running in that direction.

I felt my blood freezing.

Obsidian soldiers are like puppets. They follow their conjurer's orders.

The conjurer told them to attack these people. Whoever did this was being clear: you either protect the King, or you protect these people.

The conjurer was watching us in that moment, as we fought.

What the conjurer didn't seem to understand yet, however, is that Taehyung didn't need any protection.

The King grabbed my arm. “If I go there, they will follow me. You have to protect these people!”

My oldest instincts hesitated for a moment. I was his guardian, I couldn't leave his side. But I wasn't that person anymore; Taehyung was not the only person that mattered. I learned to care about everyone around me.

And because of that, I nodded and ran after them without complaints.

When the population realized what was happening, panic immediately took control of them; kids, elders, hybrids and humans - all of them started to run in despair. The guards took position to protect them, and for a moment I felt somehow proud of them even though all of these men always despised me. They knew they had no chances against the obsidian soldiers, but they stood still to protect who needed the most - or at least to make them feel safe. These were honored soldiers.

General Seokjin was leading them.

I ran even faster.

The obsidian soldiers would arrive before me. Without slowing my pace, I collected power in my palm. With a scream of effort, I released that wave of energy violently. All the soldiers closer to me imploded.

When I finally reached them, my sword sliced everything that was close. The last obsidian soldier that fell was about to touch General Seokjin.

The guards stared at me, completely shocked.

“You saved me,” the General muttered, a mix of astonishment and incredulity on his eyes. “Why?”

I could hear his unsaid words. Why did you save me when all I ever did to you was treat you like an animal?

It came to me that it was the first time Seokjin noticed how powerful I actually am.

I just stared at him, recovering my breath. “Don’t let your guard down,” was all I said before turning around.

I was already tired of these obsidian soldiers. It had to end now.

As I ran back, I noticed that Taehyung and the others were almost reaching the crack, but more of our soldiers had succumbed and more obsidian creatures had appeared. The creatures were making some kind of protection around the crack, what made it difficult to approach.

I was tired of this and angry. The conjurer was somehow watching us, they knew what we were doing in real time. They were simply playing with us. I didn't even know who it was but I already hated them-

A terrible scream made me turn around.

Yuta.

An obsidian soldier grabbed his arm.

In one second, I sliced that obsidian soldier. But the black mark was spreading on Yuta's arm.

I acted in pure instinct.

I didn't know if it would work. But I also could not just watch him die.

I lifted my sword and sliced Yuta's arm, ripping apart the part the obsidian soldier touched.

Yuta screamed in pain again, blood spilling from the cut; his hand fell to the ground, and I watched as it became ashes.

But the rest of Yuta's arm didn't. The wicked energy did not spread through his body.

It didn't mean he wasn't in pain, though.

“I'm sorry!” I was quick to say; I ripped away my leather belt and immediately tightened it on his arm to ease the bleeding. Dragon hybrids can heal from many types of injuries, but we can't grow new members. I had just ripped his right hand.

As expected of someone trained to deal with pain, Yuta was not making an scandal. He bit his lower lip tightly, face completely pale. I hoped he could understand why I did it and would not try to kill me afterwards.

“Y/N,” he called, his voice muffled. “I can't do it.”

“What?” I asked, confused, still tightening the belt around his arm.

“I can't close the crack,” he looked at me seriously, pura pain on his gaze. “You'll have to do it yourself.”

Oh.

That's when I felt the smallest hint of panic.

Two dragon hybrids would be able to make it. Just me? I wasn't sure. I didn't even know exactly what to do.

But again - it was not time to be unconfident.

I nodded. “Alright.”

I turned around in time to kill another soldier.

I could feel that everyone around me were already exhausted; at least ten of us still remained. All those young soldiers died fighting. If I didn't close the crack now, I was sure those few would not survive. Yuta was barely being able to fight dealing with the pain and half an arm. Even Taehyung and I would feel tired at some point.

It had to be done now.

“Taehyung!” I called. He looked at me, sweat trickling down his face and hair, fatigue very apparent on his body. “I need your help.”

He nodded.

He started to push our way closer to the crack.

Soon, the ten of us that remained made a tight circle, an unity of soldiers fighting almost in synchrony, Yuta in the center since he couldn't fight well anymore. A chill of panic rushed underneath my skin when another soldier died.

It had to be done. It had to be now.

I was in front of the crack again.

They were fighting around me, trying to keep the obsidian creatures away. I focused, collected all of my power. The crack fumed so much it felt like being in front of a volcano - except it was not hot, but freezingly cold instead.

The energy radiating from it was so strong it made me dizzy, it was hard to think straight. I was literally crouching in front of the entrance of Helheim. Death was what radiated from it. The single fact that a connection between the Kingdom of the Dead and of the Living has been established was extremely disturbing.

How to end this connection?

I remembered the basics of magic. To combat a kind of force, you have to use the opposite. Like water is used to cease fire.

To combat death, I had to use life.

I didn't know if it would work or if I was just being stupid, but there wasn't anything else I could think about.

So, I started to absorb the energy of the nine men around me.

Their will of life. Because they were fighting to live, knowing they could die at any moment, but refused to give up.

I absorbed their wills. I could feel their fear, their tiredness. One of them was thinking about his loved one, wondering if he would meet him again. Another one was thinking about his family.

None of them wanted to die.

I refused to let them die.

I mixed my own power with their energies, until their energy became my own. I did not feel tired anymore for a moment, my chest filling with their forces, each of them different, some of them stronger than others.

And Taehyung's… his life force was the strongest of all.

My hands started to glow with a golden light, and the air around me felt warm again in opposition with the cold. I touched the ground and started to force our energies against the crack, expelling Helheim's presence.

My head started to hurt so much I had to close my eyes tightly; my entire body seemed to be smashed over an invisible weight. If I failed, I would die; my own life force would be taken to Helheim. But my will to live was as strong as theirs. I could not succumb.

So I forced my power even more. I took energy from every fiber of my body; the effort seemed to be about to crash my bones. My nails gripped the floor until the tips of my fingers started to bleed. I couldn't lose. I couldn't succumb.

I wanted to live.

With a painful, infuriated scream, I forced every last beam of power inside of me and released it all.

The front square glowed with a blinding golden light.

A sound three times stronger than one of a thunder made the ground shake.

Silence.

Exactly ten seconds passed.

When I opened my eyes, the crack had been sealed.

All the exhaustion hit me at once and my body completely lost strength. I would have fallen if someone hadn't catch me from behind.

I rested my head on Taehyung's shoulder.

“You made it,” he said, panting. I gulped.

“The obsidian…?” I tried to speak.

“Disappeared as the connection was sealed,” he said.

I nodded. My body seemed to weigh a ton. Slowly, the smoke was fading away, as well as the scent of sulfur. That sensation that made my stomach twirl disappeared.

Carefully, Taehyung helped me to get up. “You must be very tired. I'll take care-”

“No,” I immediately said, standing up without his help. “I'm fine. Yuta is not.”

Taehyung looked at Yuta's arm and widened his eyes.

“Let's get inside!” Taehyung said, approaching Yuta and helping him to walk. “General, reunite the troops. Let's search through the entire city for any type of danger. Search for wounded ones as well.”

General Namjoon nodded. The man was also tired, but just like me, he knew our work was not over. “Yes, Your Majesty!”

As we started to walk again (my pace way slower than everyone else's), I felt the General touching my shoulder.

“You saved us all today,” he said, and I heard something I was not expecting. Respect. “I'll make sure to let everyone know about what you did.”

“I didn't do anything alone…” I said, feeling weirdly sheepish, my voice quiet and weak because of fatigue.

“But you did most of the work.” Namjoon opened a small smile. “You should rest for now. You are an honored soldier, Y/N. I think we were all wrong about you.”

And for a moment, I was left speechless.

The nine that remained ran towards the palace. Slowly, I heard more and more guards and soldiers coming as well now that the danger was apparently gone.

I just stood there, breathing.

I closed my eyes. I sighed deeply. There were only a few times in my life in which I felt so tired…

I opened my eyes again and looked at my feet.

Dirty boots. Burned grass. A soft breeze playing with the rebel strands of my hair.

Something glowing almost imperceptibly near my foot.

At first, it did not get my attention. But I stared at it…

It was a bracelet made of coral and red beads.

My eyes widened slowly.

No.

I have been threatened several times in my life, but none of them really scared me. That is because back then, there was nothing that could actually hurt me.

But, in that night, I found out that the worst pain was seeing a loved one being hurt.

That bracelet.

It was Chuu's.

No.

Panic took control of my confused and tired mind. It couldn't be. I started to run, my legs wobbly and stumbling, as I tried to feel her aura. What if one obsidian soldier managed to get past us and entered the palace? What if she got hurt? What if-

No. No, no, no, no, no.

They were playing with me.

The palace was near empty now, my steps echoing through the large halls. I was not thinking straight. I just knew I had to find Chuu at all costs-

That's when I felt someone else invading my mind.

It was not as strong as the first time, but now I was too weak. I stumbled, felt myself losing balance. Someone was inside of my mind. Someone was fighting to take control - someone powerful enough to break every barrier I tried to make-

I was too tired and weak.

I could not resist. I could not fight anymore.

And suddenly, darkness was the only thing that existed.

Birds chirping.

A soft breeze. Cozy weather.

For several minutes, I didn't move.

It has been a very long time since I slept so much. My body was sore, but I felt somehow refreshed.

What time was it…?

I opened my eyes slowly.

Trees.

Sunlight passed through the branches and leaves, creating a beautiful mosaic above me.

I sighed.

My head did not hurt anymore. My throat felt dry. I had to get up and wash myself-

Wait.

I sat up in a jump.

Wait, wait, wait, wait.

Where was I?

I looked around. Trees everywhere. I was laying in some kind of improvised bed, made of cloth and leaves. I was not wearing my armor nor my boots. My medallion was also nowhere at sight.

Slowly, the memories came to me.

The obsidian soldiers. The fight. The connection with Helheim. Chuu's bracelet and- and someone invaded my mind-

All the alarms inside of me rang at the same time.

When I heard steps approaching, I turned around in a startled jump again.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

Jungkook stared back at me, eyes widened.

I saw the exact moment his expression went from shock to fear.

Probably because I wanted to kill him.

“What did you do to me?” I stood to my feet and ran towards him, while the rabbit-boy stepped backwards. “Where am I?”

“Y/N- listen-” he stuttered, eyes almost popping out of his face.

But I didn't want to listen.

I kicked his legs, making Jungkook fall. In one second I was up on him, my hands strangling his neck.

“What did you do? Where is Chuu?!” My voice echoed through the trees. Bitter betrayal burned inside of me; I trusted Jungkook, I cared about him all along…

“S-She is fine! I didn't do anything to h-her!” Jungkook tried to say, pure panic on his face as he tried to speak.

“What?!”

“I just wanted to get your attention… otherwise you wouldn't have come with me!”

I furrowed my eyebrows, more and more confused…

Until I looked up and realized we were not alone in that forest.

Men and women came from all sides and looked at me, chatting between themselves. Some of them used armors, had swords and spears on their hands, but they were not in position to attack. They just looked at me. There was a similar fear and respect on their eyes as I have already saw in Jungkook-

They were all hybrids.

All of them.

I stood to my feet again. Jungkook coughed, massaging his own neck.

“Where am I?” I asked again, anger flowing in my voice.

“Y-You are in-”

Jungkook went silent when a woman appeared.

She wore an armor, had a sword sheathed on her back. Some men followed her. She seemed to be on her mid-thirties, however I simply knew she was much older than this. For the way everyone seemed to be opening way for her to pass by, I could tell she was somehow a leader of whatever this thing around me was.

She looked like a human, but I knew she wasn't.

For some reason, I couldn't move.

No one said anything while the unknown woman approached me slowly. She analyzed me from head to toe.

There was something familiar about her.

She stopped in front of me.

I still couldn't move. I wasn't even breathing properly.

The woman stared at me.

Her eyes became glossy.

She smiled.

And, for some odd reason, I still couldn't move when the woman hugged me.

I froze in place, completely confused as she put her arms around my shoulders and pressed her body on mine. I wasn't I reacting to this? I usually would not let anyone touch me like this - especially an unknown woman that apparently kidnapped me.

But still - I couldn't move.

She leaned away slightly, but still kept her hands on my shoulders. Why that woman looked so astonished and happy?

“Where am I?” was the only thing I could say.

“You are safe.” She said, and I shivered for some reason. That voice…

I looked around to all those hybrids looking at us in the center of the clearing. All those hybrids wearing armors-

I widened my eyes.

“The rebellion,” I whispered to myself.

The woman nodded.

“Why did you bring me here? Why did you bring me here? Who are you?” My voice was starting to sound aggressive again.

The woman opened a sweet smile.

I shivered again.

That woman was familiar.

She looked like me.

“Y/N,” she said softly, “My name is Ehmerald. I am your mother.”

I frowned my eyebrows slowly.

“No. My mother is dead. She- she died giving birth,” I stuttered, because it didn't make sense. None of it made any sense.

“They lied to you, my child,” she said, putting a strand of hair behind my ear.

I was shivering again… because something at the back of my mind whispered that it did make sense.

“It is time for you to know the truth, Y/N,” that woman, Ehmerald, said - and the air around me suddenly felt cold again. “The entire truth.”

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miniwolfsbane · 5 years

Text

Dark Phoenix Review (SPOILERS)

Like 3 weeks late, but I finally saw it!! (I am HORRIBLE about seeing movies alone. Plus I hate driving, plus I had insomnia the week it came out.)

I don’t understand all the hate it’s getting? Like, I didn’t think it was that predictable. I wanted one thing, Jean in Scott’s arms at the end and didn’t get that iconic scene, but other then that, it wasn’t that bad. I thought it was breakneck pacing here and there, especially in the begining. Ten minutes in and they’re in space? Can we have a little build up? Maybe some more Jean/Scott in there?

However, I thought the rest made sense, even Magneto. (It would’ve felt weird to not have him and they gave him something to do and his revenge was justified.) But one thing I didn’t understand, it’s tiny and stupid, why were they keeping tabs on the kids campfire party? (Can’t really call it a rave I guess.) Let them be kids. Even if it was on the property, it just looked weird to me.

Looking back, I’m relieved they didn’t include yet another “Quicksilver is awesome” scene. Two was enough, three would’ve been overkill. He wasn’t used enough and really faded off. Would’ve appreciated him being around in the last act, but as I just realized, he was recovering. Dangit Jean. >_<

Unfortunately, I knew Mystique was going to die going in because THANK YOU INTERNET!! (/sarcasm) Can’t blame the actress, but maybe this will pave the way for any future sequels not to overuse her. Also, it differentiates the plot a little from the awful Captain Marvel. Also, it’s sad. Always liked Mystique in the reboots. Good, balanced character.

Nowww (breathes) Kurt freaking Wagner!! :D He was used a little more then in Apoc, and as always, they have kept up the X-Men tradition of knocking him out. XD (Go watch Evo again and you’ll see what I mean. Poor boy was getting knocked unconscious like every other episode. Add to that Apoc, and I pronounced it tradition. He might’ve gotten hit in Wolverine and the X-Men, I’m not sure. Yes, I’m a giant X-Men nerd.) I thought the exchange after my poor blueberry got teleported to death was funny and LOL’d in the theatere.

Xavier: Are you okay?

Kurt:No...!

Xavier: Kurt, you have to get me in there.

Because usually the hero will say he’s okay, he’s fine. But my poor baby has surely exhausted himself, so he has to teleport AGAIN and oh glob, I just feel for him. Xavier, stop being a jerk. LOL.

And that fight scene. I don’t just mean Kurt’s part, I mean the whole thing. And people really hated this movie? Come on! Anyway, yeah, that was the reason you don’t enrage my blueberry. And I can see why he has...blades or whatever on his tail now. I don’t agree with it, I still like his original comic/show look and there’s something slightly LESS violent about him choking someone out with his tail VS slitting their throat with it, but, eh, I can’t change it and it does add an element of threatening-ness and danger to the character that simply isn’t present in all his other incarnations. So movie/show Kurt=Cute, almost harmless fuzzy blue elf. Reboot movie Kurt=Potential to be a ruthless killing machine with a bladed tail when pushed enough.

Edit: Another post at the blog Mister Wagner didn’t like that scene, saying Kurt’s always been a pacifist. I have to slightly disagree on that, but I won’t rant too much about it here. The short version is that if Kurt were a true pacifist, he’d have no place on the X-Men and would probably be dead by now. He’s kind, good, and decent, yes, but he, like other X-men have killed and threatened before in the comics. Kurt may only do it as a last resort, but that’s part of why we love him so much. He doesn’t take the obvious route other super powered people do.

Okay, so I never did get my ‘Kurt loves pirates’ reference either, (remember how I wanted that in the last movie?), but, eh, he was in it a little more and that’s what matters. And they actually included it in WATXM, so at least they did it somewhere outside of the comics.

I would’ve had Jean half dead in scott’s arms at the end, and I haven’t ever read the Phoenix saga, (I know! Crazy!) it’s just....I want a little comic nod. Consistency. Continuity. Show you CARE about the source material, Kinberg!

All in all, a three and a half star movie. Not amazing, and I would’ve changed some things, but I as a hardcore fan enjoyed it.

Edit: Another example of rushing it I recalled. I was actually expecting some cute scene between Kurt and Ororo at the party. It may have looked like Ororo was going to open her mouth then-cut to another scene. Not my ship, but, again, room to breathe and some character development in some direction would’ve been nice. Again, I liked this movie. I didn’t love it. Also also, I would’ve had a bang out, crazy bigger fight scene at the end. Less violent. (I write fight scenes a lot for my fics. Just because they’re fight scenes doesn’t mean they have to be bloody or violent.) It wouldn’t have saved the movie, but it would’ve made the last act better. Let the X-men truly go out with a bang.

#x men dark phoenix #Nightcrawler #Jean Grey #X-Men #movie #spoilers

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writinanon · 5 years

Text

Gods and Monsters 2

So this story is just deciding not to work with a linear narrative so it’s probably going to jump around a lot I’m sorry. This is set a few years after everything that went down in the first ‘chapter’. The Seeds have been consolidating their powers, isolating themselves from the other Gods and only talking to a select few, learning about Mercy and Ben and the history of Hope leading to them discovering the Witch. I couldn’t find Wheaty’s mother’s name anywhere or if there was a consensus for what it would be so I picked one at random from a list of my favorite characters. Sorry, I’ll happily change it if there is a better name.

The Witch had been revived. That much was clear from the sickly-sweet smell coming off the water of the River.

“I don’t get it.” Wheaty murmured looking at the life-blood of the county, the Henbane. “I keep trying but nothing works.” He looked up with large eyes. Mercy recalled those same eyes, his mother’s eyes. She had been the one who held dominion over the River before her son. She had been a strong woman. Mercy was saddened by her passing. But the poison had left a mark on her. It had been eating her away slowly, surely, until she was no more. This was the worst kind of Vanir Magic. Mercy would not let another die simply because she was blind to the sins of one from her Home.

“Come. Eli you stay. The Witch’s fields aren’t far. We will clear the poison before it spreads.” Mercy promised, unwilling to let the son of her dear friend suffer. “Stay out of the water until then.” The Young God blinked and nodded, warily looking at the green tinted water.

“Yeah. Good plan.” He nodded. The four of them set out towards the fields.

“You seem to know what’s causing the river to smell so different.” August said, voice questioning and defensive.

“A long time ago, before you’d even come to visit here, there was a Vanir Witch who had followed us.” Ben informed with a shrug. His spear and shield were upon his back and he continued forward. “She was a dangerous woman, she believed herself a medicine woman but only ever destroyed people. Her potions and remedies would corrode the mind, until all you were was a puppet for her desires. She had begun poisoning the River then too…” He trailed off looking at Mercy’s back. She could feel his eyes.

“I did not want to think one of ours would have done such a thing. I was stubborn and prideful. I would not listen to Nisha. In the end I was wrong and it cost Nisha her life. If I had acted sooner, if I had just stopped the Witch, Nisha would be alive and Wheaty would have his mother still.”

“You didn’t want to think badly, she was from your Home, right?” Dakota chimed in.

“Yes. She is crafty. Be on guard. Though we might have an easier time of this. It took Nisha and Ben flooding her fields for me to be able to land a blow last time. This time the Wind is fully on our side.” Mercy glanced with a small smile at August. She shrugged and rubbed at her arms. She had a dagger on her hip only because Mercy refused to let her be weaponless if she meant to join them.

“I don’t see why we couldn’t try talking to her.”

��Because there is no talking to her.” Mercy murmured harshly. “Believe me I tried.”

“Did you? Or did you just bark at her and demand she stop. When she thought she was helping?” August asked back and Mercy paused. Dakota looked between the two and then to Ben.

“Augustine, I understand how you might feel I have betrayed you by not telling you of my True Nature. But I assure you there has never been a lie in my affection. I am not just a mindless Warmonger like other Gods of my Throne. Unlike their Pantheons mine saw fit not to divide the Warrior and the Strategist. I do not want this War. I came here for peace. If there was another way…”

“You haven’t even tried any other ways.”

“Nor have they.”

“Joseph’s tried talking to me, to Ben on several occasions. But you never want to listen either.” Ben and Mercy glanced at each other and Ben sighed.

“Being twins we can tap into each other’s powers.” He said and Mercy started forward again while the other two lingered to listen. “When someone intends to do me or mine harm, I am aware of it. Joseph has never approached me without intention of doing something that will hurt me. Whether he sees his actions as passive or not, the effect will be that I am put into danger, my life is threatened.” The pair of young women stared at him in shock for a moment before looking to Mercy’s back. The blonde had summoned her Lead Cougar and was pointing to something. The big cat brushed against her before darting off.

“What is it?” Dakota called.

“I’m having her scout ahead. We need a rest.” She motioned around them. “We’ll see if there’s a clearing and have a quick meal before we finish our journey.” She said and looked out at the trees.

August felt no small trace of guilt. If they could just talk to this woman, if Mercy would let her reason with her, then they would see that violence isn’t the answer at all time. The Wind God didn’t buy that Mercy knew when someone was threatening her, even if they weren’t directly doing it. That sort of Foresight was impossible. But Mercy was set in her ways.

“We’ve arrived. August if you could keep us up wind so that none of the pollen or her powders blow to us, please?” Mercy didn’t even look at her. And it didn’t sound like she was really asking.

“Yeah sure.” She shifted the wind slightly and Mercy glanced to her and nodded before they moved forward. This still didn’t sit right with her.

“Mercy and I have some immunity as we have faced her before and she’s Vanir, like us. You two should hang back.” Ben said softly as he moved to stand beside Mercy. Dakota nodded and hung back but August was going to try and prove that they could talk to her.

“Hail Lord of War!” A voice called out from all around them before a soft green mist began to seethe around them.

“August the wind.” She moved the mist away from them and looked around for the source. A woman stepped out of a deeper bank of the haze. She was wearing a white lace dress and her long hair fell around her in bronze tendrils. Her eyes were an eerie bright blue. She smiled and held open her arms. “I have awaited your return.”

“You should have stayed dead.” Mercy hissed, hand going to her axe.

“Wait!” August called and the pair looked to her. “Please we don’t want to fight you! We just want to talk.” Mercy looked at her as thought she was insane but she ignored it. The other woman gave her a speculative look.

“Talk? Of what? I’m purifying the river I always have been. And I’ve always helped others see the True Path.”

“You’re poisoning people and turning them into shells!”

“Mercy! Please. Miss…”

“Faith. That is what my Brother calls me.”

“Please, Faith, the pollen from your flowers is hurting others. And it’s making them sick…”

“It’s purging them of their corruption.” She informed simply and shook her head. “But a Childe will never know unless shown. I have made something just for you Bóthildr. Won’t you walk with me?” And then she blew a powder, a deep almost emerald powder, at Mercy.

“August!” But the Wind God wasn’t fast enough and she inhaled the powder. Soon a cloud of it surrounded them all…

Everything was happening so fast. The images all jumbled together. There was a massive Wolf, a large almost Serpent like creature, a Woman tall with her white hair pulled back and a pure black eye, a Man with red gold hair and bright blue eyes a hammer in his grasp, a Man with darker red hair and green eyes tattoos covering his chest as he smiled cruelly, and then suddenly it seems to focus.

An older man, hair mostly white with silver glittering among the strands but the dark rusty red still clinging in some places. His lone eye was a glimmering silver color, shifting and turning. The patch that covered his other eye was a brushed black leather. Perched upon his shoulders were a pair of dark birds, ravens that gave sharp caws. His armor was shining and bright, looking like gold, and his leathers and tunic were made of fine materials as well. A crown sat upon his head.

“So, you think to restart a War, Childe?” He laughed, a booming sound that trailed off at the edges as the world blurred slightly.

“I will stop the Ragnarök by any means necessary.” Voice strong and sure, hand grasping the handle of the Axe. A crackle of lightning, the growls of many large cats joining. He looked shocked but then he snarled and hurled a spear. It was easily cut in half.

Things faded, time moved, swirling and twisting. A Woman, tall and slender with a regal air around her, surrounded by fields of flowers and glimmering pools of magic. Her hands are warm, her nails are sharp. The eyes change, altered eternally.

Everything stops. A field, a Woman of beauty and youth, but broad and muscular, build for fighting. Her dress is deep purple, soft gold stitching lining it intricately. There is a warm smile on her gentle heart shaped face. But her eyes hold sorrow and pain. She does not wish to be here, she does not wish for this to happen. A sharp pain in the chest. This shouldn’t be happening, she shouldn’t be here. Why is she here?

“The Norns have told you, haven’t they? That the Ragnarök will be far worse than previously thought. That it would only be Us wiped away. That the Yggdrasil would survive. That it would recover, but not anymore. Odin’s meddling has caused everything to become so much worse.”

“You’re not one of Them. Come home. It doesn’t have to be this way.”

“I am not Them. But I am tied to Them now. My fate it sealed. I would rather it be you.” Hands, once small and held dearly, lift and remove a golden necklace. “You’ll need this.” Clasped around, the weight is heavy, too heavy. Eyes burn and trails of ice fall down cheeks.

“Baby sister no. Please. No.” Arms wrap around each other. It happens fast. A blade in the hand, those once small hands above scarred, worn ones. Plunge in, smooth motion.

“I love you, big sister.” Gently, so gentle lowered to the ground. Agony, rage, sorrow, pain, fear, anguish, fury, tribulation, wrath. The ghost of a wolf stands at the edge of the mourning circle. Slowly it shifts, alters into that of a mountain lion. A Wolf no more, now honor unto the lost a Cat forever more.

They were yanked from the visions by the scent of smoke and the feeling of heat. Dakota stood not to far from them, having pulled them to safety, with the Bow in her hands. The field was burning and for a moment her eyes were a warm green. She was panting and looked at them.

“Mercy!” She rushed over and hesitated before touching her arm. “Are you okay? What happened? August, I thought you were going to keep the wind blowing hard enough so that this didn’t happen?” She couldn’t stop her voice from raising. Mercy’s hand shot up, wrapping around Dakota’s forearm and she looked at her.

“You used the bow.” She murmured, still shaking off the fog.

“Uh yeah. I… I guess I didn’t get hit as heavy because I listened to Ben and hung back.” Another pointed look at August. “And I managed to pull myself out of the vision. What was that by the way?”

“Memories. Memories of what happened before.” Ben said softly and looked concerned for Mercy. But she was focused completely on Dakota.

“You used the bow.”

“Was… Should I not have?”

“No. It’s a special bow. Keep it. We should go. The Witch is long gone. We’ll need rest to shake off the effects of her poison.”

“Are you sure? Maybe we could just sit here for a bit?”

“No. We should go. We need… fresh air.” Mercy gave a light squeeze to Dakota’s forearm before releasing her and looking over the other two. “Are you well enough to walk?”

“Yes.” Ben nodded and gave a small smile. “Thank you, Dakota; you saved us.” She gave a small bashful smile and shrugged.

“It’s what you would have done. If you could.” They started and Mercy continued to look at August. She looked shaken. She looked horrified. She had felt everything, seen her own hands doing the tasks.

“You…”

“Come we’ll walk.” Mercy motioned to follow her brother and the young goddess. “Are you happier now?”

“What?”

“Are you happier now that you know fully what my True Nature is?”

“Mercy this isn’t about that I was just too slow to…”

“You should have been fully able to keep that powder away from me if you had done like I asked. You don’t trust me because you believe I lied to you.”

“You did lie! A lie through omission is still a lie Mercy?! How can I know you weren’t faking everything huh? You omit that you don’t like cooking but still do it. You omit that you want my company? What else have you not told me huh?”

“I didn’t tell you my past because it was not prudent to my present. It had no effect on how I saw you or how I cared for you. There has never been a lie in my personality, I find it too tedious to do things like that.” Mercy looked over at the younger woman. “The Witch murdered many people. She cannot be reasoned with, cannot be bargained with. She no long feels any sort of pain. She believed she’s helping by destroying. She killed the previous River God.”

“But you didn’t even try…”

“I did long ago. I tried and I tried and I tried because a Vanir couldn’t be doing the things she had done. In the end… In the end not believing my instincts, refusing to see the evidence in front of me cost Nisha her life. I am just as responsible for her death as the Witch. But while I mourn, grieve, and atone for that. The Witch sees herself as purifying the people. She seeks to remake the world as she wants it. Hollow and lifeless.” The blonde woman looked ahead at the back of her brother and her other friend.

“But still… Everything that’s happening… I mean I understand Jacob but Joseph and John haven’t done anything. I’m sorry but the kind of foresight Ben claims the two of you have just isn’t a thing.” August shook her head and the wind wrapped around her in a comforting embrace. A bitter chuckle rumbled out of Mercy’s throat and she reached up, tracing below her eye.

“Is it not strange that Ben and I are twins and yet we don’t share brown eyes?” She asked softly and August blinked. She then moved her hand down and plucked at the chain hanging around her neck before she paused and August stopped next to her. “This belonged to my baby sister. It’s a necklace of many talents. Chief among them being able to tell whom you can and cannot trust. It was given to her by her Aesir husband so it’s of Aesir magic, no Vanir. I have no control over it, nor its opinion of me.” She unlatched it and placed it in August’s palm.

“Mercy you don’t have to…”

“You want to know who to trust. You’re young. You’ll forever be aware of the Monster in your midst now. Even if you don’t know how bloody my hands are, how thick it coats, you know its there. You know I killed all the Old Gods, all the Aesir, the Vanir, the Giants; anyone who stood in my way, I killed until none remained. It’s up to you if you want to wear it.” She turned and walked away, Ben and Dakota now looking back at them. August looked down at the necklace in her hand. Dakota had walked on with Mercy but when August looked up Ben’s deep brown eyes were looking at her. He turned away and followed the other two and she raced to catch up.

Mercy vanished with Jess and Eli for a short period of time. Ben had been reluctant to see her go but hadn’t wanted to leave the others alone. Dakota used the down time to practice with her new weapon. It was of a Yew tree according to Ben, an old and strong one. It was slightly curved, making it a little different from the traditional long bow that Dakota knew about. She could feel the tension and strength in the string. She was able to fire fast and with great force. She wasn’t the best shot but Grace helped to become better. She remarked that it should really be Jess helping her because the other Goddess enjoyed bow hunting. Dakota still couldn’t get it to do what it had done that day at the field. The string was always warm, the bow itself was always warm even when she hadn’t touched it for hours, but it never sparked red like it had that day.

“Has it been mean to you?” Mercy’s voice jerked her from her thoughts and she looked over. Her tunics looked a little dirty and there was blood on her Axe. She had a satchel with her and set it down as she sat at the bench.

“I can’t get it to do the thing.” Dakota waved her hands over the bow and looked at her friend. You know like when we were fighting the Witch.” Mercy hummed softly and pulled a cleaning cloth from the satchel and started to clean her weapon.

“That is a special Bow. When the Vanir and the Aesir agreed to cease all Wars with an exchange of hostages, in a show of good faith we poured all our hatred and fury, rage, and anger towards the Aesir into that Bow.” She explained and Dakota looked at it, almost not wanting to pick it up.

“So, it’s like a sacred relic? Are you even allowed to give those away?”

“Rest assured it’s not sacred in any way. It burns with the deep hate and rage that flowed through our veins. It smolders with the fury and lividity from being muzzled and forced into a pact. Only a few special people can wield that Bow, it would consume someone… lesser.” The brunette felt like the blonde had chosen that word specifically. It confused her, she’d seen Mercy use the Bow so that meant it had to be wielded by a God, Dakota was just a lesser goddess. But she could use it. Maybe it meant someone of divinity period? But no, Jess and Grace looked at the Bow with awe and trepidation. As though it would devour them, but it would be wonderous. “Don’t be afraid of it. Only someone who is capable of feeling that same rage within themselves, of wielding that emotion, but someone who won’t get lost in it, can wield it.”

“But I’m not angry.”

“No, you’re not.” Mercy chuckled softly. “But if push came to shove, if something happened to me, to Ben, to the Ryes, what would you do?” Dakota looked down at the Bow. She didn’t need to answer that. She had already proven that she would burn an entire field for them. Mercy set her now cleaned Axe aside and picked up the Bow. The string shimmered, shifting colors like the dying of coals. She ran her finger up it before pulling it back. Energy crackled through the Bow. An arrow, almost intangible, appeared nocked and ready to be fired. Dakota looked from the arrow to Mercy’s eyes as she focused on the target. Her eyes had been swallowed in red again. It should have scared her but it didn’t. Mercy had never scared her, would never scare her. She released the arrow and it flew straight to the target. It burned but didn’t burn the target down.

“Whoa.”

“Keep practicing. You’ll need to focus your fire.” She explained and held out the Bow. Dakota took it with a grin and set back to practice.

#God of War AU #Far Cry 5 AU #Deputy Mercy #Deputy Ben #Deputy Dakota #Deputy August #Sorry guys this one is gonna jump #please let me know what you think though

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marvel-munchkin · 6 years

Text

Feelings Unmasked

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Requested by the lovely @itsanonymouschick - P.P he has a crush on y/n and he's been trying to confess his feelings towards her but he can't until one day he has to save her from a villain and the bad guy takes his mask off but he knocks out the villain before he finds out who it is and forgets that she's there and while he's looking for his mask she hands it to him and shocked then she promises to keep his secret then he confesses his love 4 her and when he takes her home they do the Spiderman kiss

Word Count: 2.1k (I can’t believe it either lmao)

A/N: I’m sooo sorry this request took forever!! But I really hope you like it 💖 also thank you to @hazzyhollander for helping me out with the secrets 😂

Warnings: both Peter and the reader get a little bit hurt but nothing too serious (also one or two swear words)

Peter Parker had a lot of secrets. He knew that Ned had those Yoda slippers that he always wore around the house. He knew that MJ secretly knew all of the words to every single High School Musical song, though she would rather die than admit it. And of course, there was the small fact that he spent his nights protecting the city as Queens' very own friendly neighbourhood Spiderman. Yeah, he had a lot of secrets, but as he walked into his sixth-period physics class one in particular was weighing on his mind. His lab partner looked up and waved across the room to him, and he smiled as he took his seat. "Hey Peter," you said, your eyes lighting up as you looked at the boy you had sort of liked ever since you'd been partnered for the class. He returned your greeting, a slight blush colouring his cheeks - because right now, the most important secret he was keeping was that he had the world's biggest crush on (Y/N) (L/N).

Time had never seemed to move so slowly as it did during that lesson. You did honestly like the subject, but it was the end of the day and you couldn't stand your teacher groaning on about quantum mechanics any longer. So, you decided you would entertain yourself. You tore a sheet of paper out of your notebook and scribbled a message on it, leaving it sitting between your desk and Peter's. He glanced down at the paper. Wanna play truths?, you had written. Of course, he wrote back. Suddenly, the lesson had gotten a lot more interesting.

Several questions later, you had almost burst out laughing twice and you were genuinely surprised that your teacher hadn't noticed that the two of you hadn't been paying attention in the slightest for the last half hour. About five minutes before the bell was due to ring, you decided to spice the game up a little. You picked up your pen and wrote, hate to bring out the cliché question - but do you have a crush on anyone right now? Peter read your question and went bright red. You're evil, he wrote back. The colour of your face is totally giving away your answer right now, so who is it? You pushed the paper back towards him with a smirk on your face. Someone's perceptive, he replied, attempting to keep his cool but internally freaking out. He watched as you read his response and struggled to contain your laughter, and suddenly he was captivated by you. All of a sudden, he didn't want his secret to be a secret any more. He wanted to tell her more than anything. He felt the paper brush against his wrist and looked down to read the words so are you going to tell me?, written in her familiar handwriting. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves and just tell her, when he was jolted out of his reverie by the bell. The class began to pack their things away, relieved it was finally time to go home. "So?" you teased him. "Who's the lucky girl?" God, he looked so adorable when he was blushing. You didn't really know why you wanted the answer anyway - it was bound to be some other girl, bound to result in your heart being broken. The two of you walked out into the corridor, and Peter stared at the floor with his face burning, trying to work up the courage.

"I- she's- well, she's-" he faltered, struggling to get the words out. Your heart leapt with nerves as the poor boy tried to answer your question. Then, with perfect timing as ever, your friend yelled across the corridor.

"(Y/N)! Hurry up, or we'll miss the bus!" Annoyingly, she was right, and so your curiosity would have to wait. You waved goodbye and hurried off, leaving Peter standing alone by your locker, mentally kicking himself for not being able to give you the answer he so desperately wanted to.

Later that night Peter found himself perched on a rooftop surveying the city below. Tonight had been relatively quiet - he'd stopped one or two minor thefts, helped a guy with a flat tyre, and retrieved a balloon for a distressed little kid. So far, it had been a particularly easy night for Spiderman, but not for Peter Parker. He could not stop thinking about her, how he had gotten so close to finally telling her how he felt, only to chicken out at the last second. What must she think of him now? Suddenly, he was snapped out of his thoughts by a loud scream a few blocks away. He took a deep breath and swung towards the source of the danger. Peter Parker and his struggles would have to wait - right now, the city needed Spiderman.

Peter drew closer to the scene and silently scaled the side of a building to get a better vantage point. He didn't recognise the villain before him. He was a tall man, clearly very physically strong, wearing a black helmet obscuring most of his face. In one hand he held a weapon, a black curved blade which seemed to softly glow with some kind of dark energy. In the other hand, he held the source of the screaming - a young girl, seemingly about Peter's age. She had a blossoming bruise on her face and tears in her eyes as the man twisted his fingers deeper into her hair, causing her to cry out in pain. Peter's brain went into auto-pilot. A civilian was in danger, and he wouldn't let that happen on his watch. He dropped down from the side of the building, landing a kick square in the villain's face. The shock of it caused him to let go of the girl, and out of the corner of his eye Peter saw her running to safety. He breathed a sigh of relief and continued to fight. In his determination to keep her safe, he had failed to recognise who she was - none other than the girl who had been occupying his thoughts, and his heart, all night.

(Y/N) watched from a safe distance, completely mesmerised by the sight. Spiderman was moving so quickly that he was merely a blur of red and blue, almost impossible to keep track of. You could hear his voice, but not his words, yet you could tell from its pitch that he was a mere child - probably not much older than you were. Suddenly, the blur became solid again, as your assailant grabbed him by his neck. Your heart leapt in fear for the young hero as he struggled against the villain's grasp. He managed to escape his hold, but his mask was left behind in the man's closed fist. Your mouth dropped open and you could hardly believe the sight before you. Because surely, surely, that was not Peter Parker. But it had to be - he had the same hair and the same eyes and, you realised, the same voice. You were totally dumbstruck, and then you felt a piece of material land at your feet. Evidently, the villain had discarded Spiderman's - Peter's - mask. You picked it up and continued to watch on in awe.

Great, Peter thought to himself. Without his mask, he had lost his AI and his identity was at risk. But for now, the priority was taking care of this guy before he had the chance to hurt anyone else. Peter hissed as he felt the blade connect with his side, stumbling backwards in pain. He shot a web towards the villain's wrist, pinning him to the wall and causing him to drop the weapon. Quickly, he kicked the weapon out of his reach and shot more webs, securing him to the side of the building. Peter wasn't usually a vengeful person, but this guy had taken off his mask, plus the wound in his side really hurt - so he knocked him out with a well-placed blow to the head. He felt guilty for it, but he'd be lying if he said he hadn't enjoyed it just a little bit. He spun round to retrieve his mask from wherever it had been thrown to, and he gasped in shock when he saw you standing there, holding it out to him with a similar shocked expression on your face. As if this night couldn't get any worse, he thought.

"Shit," he said as you walked towards him. "Are you alright?", he asked. You handed him the mask wordlessly and nodded your head, still a little shaken from both your ordeal and the revelation of Spiderman's identity. Peter muttered his thanks as he took the mask from you, shaking his head. "As if being unmasked isn't bad enough, of course it had to happen in front of the girl I'm crushing on," he said before he could think about it.

"Wait a second, what did you just say?", you asked, barely believing what you'd heard. Did Peter Parker really just tell you he liked you? This night was just one surprise after the other. His eyes went wide as he realised what he'd said.

"Shit, I didn't - I mean that's not how I was going to - I just," he stammered, and then sighed in defeat. "Yeah, I like you. I wanted to tell you but I just -" you cut him off with a finger to his lips.

"Is that what you were trying to tell me at the end of physics?" He nodded, resigned. He closed his eyes, preparing himself for the inevitable rejection. You gently shook his shoulders. "Come on, Peter, you're really telling me that you haven't noticed me flirting with you for, like, the past year?" His eyes flew open in shock. "You're a genius, spider-boy, but my God you're such an idiot sometimes," you laughed as his face broke out into a stupid grin. He wrapped his arm around your waist and smiled down at you.

"Come on, let's get you home," he said as he pulled his mask back over his face and swept you up off the ground.

Peter usually found swinging through the streets of Queens to be quite exhilarating anyway, but with you holding onto him the feeling increased tenfold. He could hardly even feel the wound in his side anymore, because your being so close to him was that distracting. The two of you reached your apartment far too soon for his liking. He set you down gently as you tried to compose yourself - much as you liked Peter, you had decided that you definitely did not like swinging around like that. "I still can't believe you're really Spiderman," you told him. In response, he did a backflip off the ground and attached a web to a nearby lamppost, hanging upside-down in front of your face.

"Believe me now?" he teased, and you could practically hear the grin on his face.

"Shut up, Parker," you laughed, reaching for the edge of his mask.

"What are you doi-" he began to ask, but was cut off by your lips on his. He was frozen in surprise for a moment, but quickly began to kiss you back. You pulled away, smiling shyly.

"Thanking you for saving me, of course," you murmured, noticing the faint blush on the half of his face that you could see. He smirked with a sudden burst of confidence.

"Well I hope I'm not going to have to save your life every time I want you to do that," he teased. You rolled your eyes and laughed as he readjusted the mask to cover his face once more.

"I'll see you tomorrow, spider-boy," you joked as you started to make your way inside.

"Don't call me spider-boy," he complained. "It's demeaning!" You turned on your heel to face him, one eyebrow raised.

"What would you rather I called you?" you questioned him. He jumped down from the web and leaned one hand against the lamppost.

"How about your boyfriend?" You could practically see the smirk on his face through the mask.

"That was pretty smooth, I'll admit," you chuckled.

"That a yes, then?" he asked, trying to keep the nerves out of his voice.

"Totally, spider-boy."

"Don't call me that!" he yelled, swinging off into the distance. You smiled to yourself as you walked up the front steps of your building, pulling your phone out of your pocket. When Peter got home from his patrol later that night, he grinned as he saw the message from you light up his screen.

Love ya, spider-boy ;) (Y/N) xx

Tags: @oliolioxiclean @hazzyhollander @lowkey-writes @minnie-marvel @e-ms-world @cynicallymarvel @being-kind-is-free @secondsineternity @the-amazing-ata @itsanonymouschick

(Hope I didn’t miss anyone!! And if you’d like to be tagged just let me know 💖)

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #spiderman #spider man x reader #Spider-Man: Homecoming #marvel #fanfic #reader insert #My writing #marvel-munchkin #tw: injury

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vex-bittys · 7 years

Text

A Wound Too Deep: Swapfell x Underswap (Part 1: Falling)

Swapfell is a dark and dangerous place. Sans and Papyrus, who simply goes by Mutt, only have each other to trust and rely on. Good thing there are no humans around to ruin the status quo...

Contains: SFW, slightly suggestive themes, character death

(Under the cut due to length)

Mutt yawned and stretched. He really loved napping at his Snowdin sentry station, but Sans would be angry if he fell asleep on the job. Even napping took a backseat to his Lord's approval. He squinted at the light source in the sky that managed to be both blindingly bright and never warm enough to melt the local ground cover. Ah, afternoon. Sans would be re-calibrating his traps in hopes of someday capturing a human. Mutt didn't care one way or another about humans, but he loved basking in the glory of his Lord.

Stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets, the lanky skeleton set out to find his brother, the tag on his collar clinking softly as he walked. It never took him long to locate his brother; despite his small stature, the Malevolent Sans dominated any space he occupied. Mutt could sense his presence, and it comforted him. Their world was a corrupt and dangerous place, but they had each other. It had always been enough.

“There you are, Mutt. You better not have been sleeping on the job again,” Sans scolded sharply.

“Of course not, m’Lord.” Mutt accepted his brother’s words like a caress. To anyone else, Sans’ tone and expression would’ve radiated distaste, but Mutt knew that the diminutive skeleton worried when he slept too much.

“Help me move this rock!” commanded Sans, looking regal in his Royal Guard armor. Mutt always felt a twinge of guilt when he saw the scar his brother had acquired earning that position. Sans had fought savagely to eke out a life for them both, a responsibility that should’ve fallen on him as the older sibling. Mutt never had his younger brother’s ambition though.

Mutt obediently scurried forward to lift the offending object. “Where shall I put it, m’Lord?” The arrangement of rock elements was tantamount in any monster puzzle, but instead of directing him, Sans stepped in close to adjust his grip and stance. The smaller skeleton could’ve lifted the rock easily, but he often resorted to trickery like this to get his lazy brother to train. Surely enough heavy lifting would boost those low stats and lower work ethic. It hadn’t yielded results so far, but, though he would vehemently deny it, Sans had unwavering faith in Mutt.

Mutt, for his part, humored his energetic Lord. They spent hours in the frosty Snowdin forest with Mutt shifting and shuffling various obstacles that somehow all ended up in the exact same places they’d been before. He completed each task without complaint and according to Sans’ specific instructions. The artificial light hung low in the cave ceiling sky by the time his Lord was satisfied with his training.

They stood together for a rare peaceful moment in the clearing by the farthest sentry station. Beyond this laid the Ruins, but nobody really came or went from there. Sans perched himself on the wooden sill of the shack; Mutt took up a guard position in the shadow of the awning. They watched their breath rise in crystalline clouds like glittery shadows of the real thing, something neither of them had ever seen.

Slowly, hesitantly, Sans reached a small gloved hand out to stroke Mutt’s face. Mutt leaned into the touch, loving the feel of the soft leather against his scarred cheekbone. Suddenly, bright blue eyelights filled his vision. It was so rare to be alone like this. So rare to be able to let go and explore their love. “Mutt.” Just one word, spoken low and husky in a voice usually harsh and snappish.

“M’Lord,” he groaned as the distance between them closed. Their mingled breath swirled thick as smoke around them, hiding them from the silent forest, but the forest did not remain silent. The unmistakable crunch-swish of footsteps in snow caused the skeleton brothers to leap apart, both of them unerringly facing the direction of the noise- the path leading to the Ruins. Mutt stepped protectively in front of Sans, orange eyelights straining to pierce the chiaroscuro pattern of the fading light through the dense branches of evergreens.

Cautiously, Mutt crept forward, skirting the path to take advantage of the abundant tree trunks, thick enough to obscure his lanky form from even the most observant of intruders. Sans tried to follow him, but Mutt gestured silently for him to wait. For once, it was his Lord’s turn to obey. Mutt had no problem playing lieutenant in their day to day lives. Few monsters would risk an open attack on someone with the Malevolent Sans’ fearsome reputation, but he’d never let his brother face an unknown danger that he had not confronted first.

Mutt may have been lazy, but a monster didn’t survive long in their universe without an eye for strategy. Pinpointing the interloper’s location, he quickly circled, getting behind his potential enemy. Slipping from the forest onto the path, Mutt made his presence known by stepping heavily on a thick fallen tree limb. The sharp snap! of splintering wood served to direct attention back towards the Ruins and Mutt and away from Sans. If a battle ensued, Mutt wanted to prevent his Lord’s involvement and possible injury.

The footsteps faltered, stopped, and, after a brief pause, changed direction, exactly as Mutt had planned, but nothing could’ve prepared him for what he saw come around the bend in the path. The huge perceived threat that stalked the frozen woodlands turned out to be a very small human. The very small human also wore a striped sweater. In monster culture, stripes were only worn by children as a way to distinguish them from adult monsters and protect them from possible attack. Mutt huffed in relief. And to think, he’d almost exerted himself!

The human slowly approached him, trembling from cold or fear, or possibly a mix of the two. They held one arm furtively behind their back, and the other arm hung limply at their side. No creature in this universe had ever looked less threatening. Silently, the child lifted their head, catching him with their strange, red stare. A little creepy, but still not threatening.

“Is that any way to greet a new friend?” Mutt asked softly, trying to coax the unsettling child closer. What were they concealing in their other hand, he wondered. He shuffled slightly closer; the human remained where they had been standing. Narrowing his sockets, he took in another odd detail. Some kind of chalky dirt caked the child’s skin. It was hard to tell in this light, but it reminded him suspiciously of-

“Mutt! What’s taking so long?”

-monster dust.

The realization dawned on Mutt just as his younger brother made his appearance. Sans strode into view, then stopped dead in his tracks.

“A human!”

Mutt wasn’t so sure anymore as the indifferent expression on the child’s face melted into a horrific nightmare grin. The human whirled, faster than Mutt would’ve thought possible; steel flashed as they lunged at Sans, finally revealing the object tucked into their miniature fist- a knife!

Mutt teleported, an ability he preferred not to use unless completely necessary. Life was so much easier when he could play servant instead of revealing himself as a skilled and capable fighter. He couldn’t let the human get to his brother first though. He materialized beside Sans just in time to wrench the smaller skeleton out of harm’s way. The knife slashed harmlessly through the air, but the tiny human didn’t give up. Their determination to press the attack was surpassed only by Mutt’s determination to prevent it.

Shoving his protesting little brother behind him, Mutt narrowly dodged the next assault, retreating towards the vacant sentry station as the human rained a barrage of blows upon them. Mutt ducked and twisted, desperately shielding Sans with his own body. Their assailant continued to advance, and Mutt felt a bump as Sans, tucked behind him, collided with the unyielding wooden wall of the sentry station.

“Get inside, m’Lord,” Mutt ordered. He needed Sans to be safe, whatever else might happen. Without waiting for a response, trusting his proud brother to be compliant when it mattered, Mutt attacked.

PING!

Mutt caught the human in midair as they leapt forward, and their soul, as bright red as their eyes, immediately changed to blue. Mutt used his blue attack to throw the human child backwards and away from him and his brother. The small body crashed into the trunk of a massive tree and slumped to the ground. Exhaustion washed over Mutt. Why had he let Sans work him so hard earlier? The human rose to their feet, and Mutt steadied himself. He couldn’t fail. Not with so much at stake.

The human laughed, an eerie and unnatural sound. Mutt drew on his deep reserves of magic and blasted them with a complex bone attack. The murderous child darted nimbly through the ever-changing maze of bone spears. He altered his attack, managing to strike them several times, but they only slowed, never stopping. Mutt barely dodged the strike of the knife. He repeated his blue attack, slamming the human against the ground over and over, but his magic faltered. He couldn’t keep it up.

Mutt’s next series of bone attacks were slower, more predictable. The human avoided them easily. With the last of his magic, he summoned a Gaster Blaster, and as the dragon skull opened it’s gaping maw and blasted his opponent with concentrated magic, he saw their HP plummet. It didn’t reach zero though. He braced himself for their next attack; he didn’t know if he had the energy to sidestep this time. Surely he’d weakened the human enough, caused enough damage, that Sans could finish them off and survive.

Mutt watched events unfold with morbid acceptance. The human, eyes ablaze with crimson light, sinister grin oozing black slime, raised their knife. As the blade descended, he heard a shrill scream.

“Papyrus!”

Sans hadn’t called him Papyrus since they were babybones. Sans hadn’t shrieked like that since they were babybones either. Sans always displayed immaculate control of his tone and pitch when speaking or shouting.

Suddenly, Sans’ armored body stood in front of him, arms outstretched to protect, not attack.. Mutt’s sockets widened. The impact of the knife hit him secondhand; his beloved brother had absorbed the blow with his own body. Time slowed to a crawl as Sans bowed his head... in defeat? No. His down-turned skull moved forward, gaining momentum with agonizing slowness until it toppled free of his neck and tumbled down into the trampled snow.

Mutt could only stare in anguish as his brother’s body crumbled, exploding into dust as it hit the ground, a dove grey sunburst on a bone white background. Mutt collapsed to his knees, frantically grabbing for his brother’s skull before it too dissolved before him, but a child-sized shoe crashed down on the bones, crushing them before the deep blue of his bother’s eyelights could even properly fade.

The merciless human continued their trek towards Snowdin, leaving Mutt awash in grief so intense that he couldn’t process it. Sans was so integral, such a permanent fixture, in his life that Mutt couldn’t comprehend being without him. He knelt in the mixture of snow and his brother’s dust, numb and frozen in a way that had nothing at all to do with the temperature.

As a boss monster, Mutt bore the responsibility of stopping the human. His true battle post was located in the Judgement Hall of the castle; Sans would be angry if he shirked his duty. He couldn’t disappoint his little brother, but he couldn’t muster up any motivation. None of it mattered. Nothing mattered without Sans. Mutt laid unmoving on the frozen ground, a monument to his fallen Lord. He felt no desire to leave the last space in the Underground that his brother had occupied.

The rest of the world could crumble; Mutt’s world already had... crumbled into dust around him. He curled up, allowing his sockets to fully, finally drift closed, and waited for darkness to take him.

Falling (you are here) | Hitting the Ground | Rise | History Repeats

INDEX

#vexy writes #undertale #swapfell #swapfell sans #swapfell papyrus #eventual underswap #eventual puppyberry #angst and fluff #angst fic #fluff fic #fanfiction #sf!sans #sf!papyrus #a wound too deep

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