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myherowritings · 3 years

Text

anywhere the wind blows

SUMMARY. After hunting a bounty near Wangshu Inn, you sensed the faint scent of qingxin blowing in the familiar wind. It seemed like it was leading you somewhere.

PAIRING. xiao x reader

WORD COUNT. 2.2k

GENRE. fluff, pre 1.3 release

A/N. my first genshin fic of my fav character xiao !! i’m definitely still getting used to writing for this world and for him but i hope this isn’t too bad 🥺 i’m so excited for xiao’s story and banner and can’t wait to learn more about him! if 1.3 comes and totally undermines the small guesses abt the lore i added into this fic then…we pretend we do not see u.u ANYWAY PLS ENJOY xx sof

“A rock shieldwall Mitachurl with a resistance to cryo,” you murmured to yourself with a satisfied smile, picking up the ominous mask and heavy horn that it dropped from the fight. “No more terrorizing Wangshu for you.”

You had just accepted a bounty handed out to you in Liyue and arranged for the proper party to come pick it up. The rewards were promptly transferred to your tab and you bade the team who came to collect the Mitachurl a swift goodbye.

It wasn’t normally on your daily agenda to hunt bounty for money—though the mora was quite appealing, you couldn’t lie—but when the beasts were too close to civilization and scared both residents and passerbyers in Liyue alike, you felt a greater need to step in. And now, after a job well done with some mora in your pockets, you realized just how tired and hungry that search made you.

Looking up, you saw the peak of the inn from a distance and followed the silk flower-covered path there. It wasn’t often you frequented Wangshu Inn, but you have visited enough to know their Jueyun Chili Chicken and Almond Tofu were pretty solid reasons to drop by again.

Your appearance was rather disheveled from your fight with the Mitachurl but you weren’t too messy-looking—certainly decent enough to interact with other humans you hoped. Smoothing down your clothes and practicing a smile, you headed over to the outdoor dining area and were greeted by a waitress who led you to an empty table as she asked for your order. The exchange was pleasant enough and you were soon left to your own devices once your food swiftly arrived.

It was dark out in Wangshu. The bounty hunt took most of your late afternoon and by now the sun had fully set. The dining area was quiet and empty with only the moon watching over you.

You hummed, taking in a mouthful of the sweet Almond Tofu. The night was nice and peaceful and quiet, just like most of your evenings.

A familiar breeze blew against your face, chilling yet warm. Captivating. There was a faint smell of qingxin, like the flowers you grew fond of during your explorations around Liyue’s stone forests.

The wind was different from what you experienced in Mondstadt. That air was light and playful. Free.

The wind you felt just now, on the other hand, seemed to convey something more wistful. Almost yearning.

And it wasn’t your first encounter with this qingxin-filled breeze either. When you helped comfort Little Luo back in Qingce Village and fended off the pesky Hilichurls on her trail, this wind blew around you and cooled the heat from your cheeks. Around Bubu Pharmacy when you spent time with Qiqi, a zombie you happened to stumble upon one day, you felt the same curious breeze.

Part of you felt like you were being watched over. But not in a bad way. It made you feel safe and protected, yet empowered enough to continue your bold expeditions and help the people of Liyue when you were needed.

The wind stuck around as you finished your meal, the aroma of Almond Tofu wafting through the air from the wandering breeze, almost as if it was seeking a taste. Once your plates were cleared and your drink emptied, you headed inside the inn and hoped they had a spare room on such a short notice and—to your surprise—for once they actually did.

On the way up the stairs, you passed by an open balcony near the top of the inn where you caught a glimpse of a lean figure with dark hair looking up at the night sky. You normally would have walked away from the balcony and left the man to his own devices, promptly going to your rented room to get some much needed rest, but the familiar scent of qingxin flowers dancing in the wind made you freeze mid-step.

Wangshu Inn wasn’t too far from mountain tops where qingxin grew… It could have been a mere coincidence.

But in Liyue, you knew that believing such things could be a coincidence would simply be fooling yourself.

The person on the balcony gave no indication that he felt your gaze, but you knew intuitively that he had already sensed your presence despite not having moved a single inch. His stance was so steady you might have thought he was a statue if not for his teal-tinged hair blowing in the wind.

Could he have been the cause of the qingxin breeze that recently started following you around?

“Hi,” you said gently to more formally announce your presence. On the off-chance he didn’t realize anyone was there, you definitely didn’t want to startle him. But judging by the unsurprised expression on his face as he slowly looked over his shoulder, you sincerely doubted he was one to startle easily. “May I stand here?”

His eyes were scrutinizing but not unkind as they looked you up and down. You took your time examining him as well— From the top of his silky-looking hair to the blue tattoos wrapping around his arms and to the mysterious horned mask hanging from his hip.

“I suppose you may,” he finally replied with a single nod, his voice neither welcoming nor rude.

You stood a few feet away from him, leaning against the wooden balustrades as you let the cool air hit your face. The night was quiet and calm, dimly lit by the moon peeking through the foggy sky. Sighing, your eyes fluttered shut in contentment as you felt the wind soothe the aches from the bounty hunt in your muscles.

You wouldn’t normally let your guard down like this in front of someone you just met, but for some reason you weren’t the least bit on edge. He didn’t seem like a stranger. And you had a feeling that maybe he wasn’t.

“Have we met before?” you found yourself wondering aloud. The mask on his hip looked familiar, though you couldn’t pinpoint exactly why, like you’ve seen it in a book you’ve read. And the air around him certainly felt familiar, though it seemed strange to describe why.

He didn’t respond.

Huffing, you tried a different approach. A more direct one. “Have you been following me?”

His brow raised but he uttered no words.

Was that approach too direct?

After a moment of silence, he said, “Were you not the one who followed me out onto the balcony? If I remember correctly, I was here first.”

“But were you not the one who drew me here with your qingxin-scented breeze?” you shot back, tone more curious than biting.

To your surprise, he said nothing to deny it. “Attentive, I see.”

“I’m not sure it’s quite that I’m attentive rather than you wanting me to know.” You hid a smile. He wouldn’t have made it so obvious otherwise, you were certain of it. For someone who held more power in his little finger than you could possibly fathom, you knew that him alerting you of his existence couldn’t be a mere accident.

“You’re right.” He shrugged. “But it’s not so much that I wanted to call you here than I didn’t mind if you happened to stumble by.”

You ran the palms of your hands over the railings, craning your neck to the side to face him. He was a puzzling creature, giving off the aura of something greater and more powerful than a human. The ominous mask dangling around his hip seemed to serve as a word of caution to indicate a menacing side he hadn’t shown you, but his calm stance and the small tilt of his head made him seem curious—almost inviting.

It was intriguing, to say the least.

“And why did you want me to, as you say, stumble by?” you said. “Not that I mind.”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, shaking his head and looking confused himself. “Intuition? I noticed you fighting, helping the people of Liyue. You’re doing a...good job.”

You shrugged, rubbing at the back of your neck as you shied away from his praise. “So you summoned me here to thank me?”

“I don’t know,” he said again, his impassive tone sounding almost frustrated.

At the small frown playing on his lips, you couldn’t help but let a noise of laughter escape you. He gazed at you in question. This whole situation seemed strange and peculiar, straight out of a dream you’d have at random only to forget the next morning. He seemed strange and peculiar, like a figure out of a story book lost in the ruins of Liyue.

And yet you found yourself enjoying this odd encounter.

“Well, Mr. Stranger, since you seem uncertain of so many things still, are you going to continue to have your wind follow me around Liyue until you figure whatever it is out?” you questioned teasingly, not at all minding that prospect.

He glared, looking slightly embarrassed. “It’s not that I was following you. I only sensed someone in need but happened to see you rushing along the way and decided to let you handle it. The less involvement in the affairs of mortals, the better.”

So he wasn’t a mortal himself, you thought, his words confirming your previous suspicions. Still…

“Is that so?” You quirked a brow. “And what is this if not for involvement in the affairs of a mortal?”

He folded his arms and didn’t say a word.

“Let me guess— You don’t know?”

“Hmph.”

You smiled. “Well, I guess it’s okay you don’t know. It’s okay not to know sometimes, you know?”

He blinked. “You aren’t making sense.”

“And you are?” you retaliated. “I still don’t know who you are or anything about you yet. But… I know you smell like qingxin flowers and feel like a cooling breeze. And I know that I rather enjoy it.”

The mysterious entity looked out into the mountain scenery, gloved hand resting on the dark balustrade. He seemed both lost in thought and completely aware of his physical surroundings at the same time. Suddenly, he spoke up.

“Xiao.”

Your gaze met his as he nodded once. “Xiao?”

“My name. Now you know who I am.”

You laughed, startled by how blunt he was. “I guess you’re right. Nice to meet you Xiao.”

“Hm.” Xiao waited one moment before he asked, “Do you plan to keep exploring Liyue?”

At his question, you briefly considered your options for the near future. You liked Liyue and there was so much you had left to see. Was it like home to you? No— Not yet anyway, though it could be if the situation was right. But that didn’t mean you wanted to leave just yet.

Not when you may have found a reason you would want to stay.

“For the time being, yes.”

He nodded in satisfaction. “That’s good. You being there to help the people of Liyue means less involvement with mortal affairs for me.”

Though his tone was haughty, he didn’t seem like he actually minded what he considered mortal affairs. If he did, why would he be so alert when he sensed people in need?

“And, if you ever need assistance during your ventures, I’ll be there.”

Xiao’s words comforted you as you looked at him, his hair blowing in the wind. Maybe one day you could reach out and touch it. But not today.

You sensed this meeting was about to end. The breeze picked up and you could feel him getting ready to leave. Whether he was going to leave to go to bed or leave the mortal world, you weren’t sure. But you would rather treasure this encounter than dwell on an inevitable—and hopefully temporary—farewell.

“Thank you, Xiao. And if you ever need assistance with...whatever it is you do, I’ll be there too!” you said confidently. “As I’m sure you’ve seen, I’m pretty handy at weilding a sword myself.” You doubted he would ever need much help in the physical or martial department. “Or, I could simply lend an ear as well.”

It happened so fast, you weren’t sure if it was actually there, or if your eyes were playing tricks on you— Xiao smiled. At least, you thought he did. But in the mere blink of an eye, it was gone.

Still, you don’t think you would ever forget that peaceful image no matter how hard you tried. Not that you wanted to.

Sensing the night coming to an end, you asked, “When will I be able to see you like this again?”

He paused. “In this human form, you mean?”

You nodded, though you figured the answer would be those three familiar words he had said many times tonight.

“I don’t know.”

A wry smile played on your lips. Knew it.

“The mortal realm is not where I naturally belong,” explained Xiao, amber eyes glowing brighter than the moon in the sky. “But I will meet you again in this state soon.”

The scent of qingxin grew stronger as the wind picked up. His skin grew paler, almost translucent as he met your gaze one last time for the night.

“Even if it takes time, at least the wind will tell me when you’re near.” You smiled, raising your hand in a wave. “Goodnight, Xiao.”

“Sleep well, traveller.”

And in your dreams that night, with qingxin in the air, you felt contentment and serenity in ways you never had before. You would see the entrancing being who called himself Xiao again. Soon. But you had the wind to keep you company while in wait.

#genshin impact #xiao x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #xiao fanfiction #genshin fanfiction #genshin imagines #xiao imagines #genshin #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact scenarios #genshin xiao

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rebrandedbard · 3 years

Note

If you are still writing 14?

Okay so this one accidentally went from a drabble to an actual fic whoops. The cure is totally inspired by the Rapunzel fairy tale, spoiler alert, where the prince falls in the thorn bushes around the tower and Rapunzel’s tears fall into his eyes, curing him.

14. “Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.”

wc: 4444 which is an awesome number I’m so happy lol

Robbed Blind

Someone botches a spell to steal Jaskier’s artistic vision and he’s cursed with blindness. Thankfully, he falls into the company of Ciri and Lambert. They journey safely to Kaer Morhen, but what could be the cure to his affliction?

She had found him, tripping over the strings of destiny, in Drakenborg. He’d been on his way to Oxenfurt when the curse took hold, and he had gone no further. Jaskier was haggard, gaunt, and looked quite worn. His hair lay flat from constant fussing. It was a habit Ciri remembered well from his visits, always combing a nervous hand through his hair before a performance. She had never seen it look so lifeless. He needed a mirror, she thought. She would soon realize that a mirror would serve him no purpose.

He was blind. He startled when she ran to him, throwing her arms around his waist. She’d been so relieved to see a friendly face that she’d run right into his arms, nearly knocking him from the stool in the corner of the tavern. Why should he not catch her as he’d always done? He’d been looking directly at her; she thought he’d merely not recognized her beneath the mud and hood.

“Let me go! Who are you? Stop—stop this now or I’ll give you such a wallop, I’ll—!”

“Jaskier!” Ciri cried, shocked. She flinched away from him as he elbowed her roughly against her temple. She rubbed the spot, standing out of reach.

Jaskier straightened up at once. “Is that—? Little cub, is that you?” he asked. He turned his head as if searching for her and reached out a hand, feeling the air. It was nowhere near.

Ciri took his hand. During their long weeks of travel, she refused to let it go again. She became his eyes, and together they started for Oxenfurt and the safety of its halls.

He’d woken up blind one day, he explained. No warning or explanation. The mage had told him what magic was at play. Someone had tried to steal his artistic vision and the enchantment had gone wrong, stealing from him his very sight.

“Is there not a cure?” Ciri asked.

Jaskier shook his head. “The mage said it was a botched spell. There’s no telling what will fix it, only that it must have something to do with artistic vision. The mage suggested it might be cured by the old methods: kisses and the like; gazing upon true beauty.”

He squinted and took her face between his hands. “I’m looking and looking at you as hard as I can, and I remember you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen when you were first born. So what do mages know? Have you become a pox-faced adolescent or scraggly Medusa? Ah,” he chuckled, “but you’d still be a fairytale princess in my eyes if you had the face of a basilisk.”

She laughed and squirmed out of his hands. “You were always very good at Blind Man’s Bluff. Do you remember when we used to play it? Back then, you were always stumbling; you aren’t stumbling as much anymore.”

“I’ve grown used to it, I suppose. But you are a princess—do you suppose a kiss from you might cure me? How are you with frogs? Ever wake a sleeping prince?”

“No, but we may try it. There’s magic in me of a sort, I know. Here, kneel a moment.”

Jaskier knelt on the dry road and closed his eyes, tapping the lid. “Right here. Give it a go,” he said encouragingly. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll practice on a frog and work our way up.”

Ciri kissed both eyes to be sure. “Alright. Open them. Do you see anything?”

She tried not to get her hopes up, watching Jaskier squeeze his eyes tight. He opened them, blinked several times, and gave her a sad smile.

“Not to worry, we’ll find a pond in no time,” he joked, trying to keep the mood light.

“Well! I go to find a cat and find a lioness instead. And a songbird. Must be my lucky day.”

Ciri put herself between the stranger and Jaskier, waving a large branch in warning. “Keep away,” she growled. “If you come any closer, I’ll scream.”

The scruffy man put his hands up and grinned. “I’ve heard what sort of screaming runs in your family. Trust me, I would rather not be around for one of them. Heard it knocked pretty boy flat on his back at your mother’s little Surprise party.”

Jaskier put a hand on Ciri’s shoulder. “Wait a moment,” he said. “I know that moniker. Geralt complained of it before.” He was quiet a moment, stirring up a memory. Then, he lit up, asking excitedly, “Did you say you were looking for a cat? A cat witcher, by chance?”

“Why? Find one up a tree?” the stranger pressed.

Jaskier patted Ciri’s shoulder and strode forward, extending a hand. “You must be Lambert! I’ve heard—” his hand buckled against Lambert’s chest, his stride clearing the distance too quickly “—oh, my apologies. I’ve heard about you before. I was hoping to see you under better circumstances if I ever got the chance. Or to see you at all, really. Damnable timing.”

Lambert looked at him, then took his hand. Ciri watched as the understanding settled in, for Jaskier was staring straight at the man’s forehead, a near lucky guess of his eye line. Lambert wore an expression of pity freely, knowing Jaskier could not see it, though his tone was light and cocky as before. “I always wondered what you saw in that sourpuss, following him as long as you did; now I know you didn’t see anything after all,” he joked.

Jaskier snorted. “It’s new.”

“Ah, so you’ve been blinded by love, have you?”

Jaskier flapped his hand until he felt the brush of Ciri’s sleeve at his side, then he tugged her forward and presented her. He cleared his throat, a tad flushed. “May I introduce Her Royal Highness, Princess Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, the Lion Cub of Cintra. Geralt’s child Surprise.”

Ciri tossed her branch aside. “You know Geralt,” she said.

“They’re brothers.”

Lambert sneered. “He got all the looks, Eskel got the talent, but I got the brains.”

“What little there were to be had,” Jaskier added.

“Oh, ho! You’ll fit right in at the keep, talking like that.”

There was a pregnant pause between the three of them. Jaskier nudged Ciri gently forward. “She’ll be safe there. And her wit is more cutting than mine.”

Ciri turned at once to protest. “But what about Ox—”

“And so would you,” Lambert cut in. “A dull knife and a dull wit can be sharpened, and I’d rather keep two knives in my belt than one, whatever their make. Don’t start that maudlin shit with me; you’re coming along.”

Jaskier opened his mouth to protest and Lambert raised a hand. Then, realizing how ineffective that was against one who could not see it, he recovered and smacked the side of Jaskier’s head to shut him up before he started.

“Come on; it’s a long and dull road we have ahead of us, and you’re my entertainment. I want to hear every embarrassing story you can supply. I’ve long run out of blackmail and I’m in need of fresh material. Besides, what better bait for a cat than a twittering bird? If you sing loud enough, we might pick him up along the way.��

They were all together in the great hall when at last he came. The figure stood in the doorway, a black dot against the stark white of winter outside. A pair of bags dropped with a thundering bang upon the floor, the sound echoing throughout the room, and the figure bundled up by the fire started awake in fright.

Jaskier patted the blanket beside him, made frantic by his sudden awakening. “Ciri? Ciri!” he called, for she had been asleep next to him what seemed only moments ago.

She paused only a moment to stare at the imposing figure in the light. Something in her shouted, compelling her to go to him. But Jaskier called for her in that voice wrought with panic once more. She flew from the circle of wolves to his side, abandoning her hand of cards, disregarding the man of destiny at the door.

“I’m here,” she said, taking his hands. “Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always. I’m not going anywhere.” She and the others looked at each other, looked at Geralt, and said not a word.

Jaskier settled and took a deep breath. “I heard something crash. I dreamed—but never mind that.” He sighed, pressing his head to their joined hands. “I’m sorry. I know it’s safe here. I’m just not used to you wandering off just yet.”

“I know.” She stroked his hair gently. It was soft again, though not as silky as before. Lambert and Eskel had drawn him a bath for the first time in a long while, but he had not his customary soaps and oils. He was … less bright, his appearance dulled with his mood.

Vesemir had examined him. Countless hours, the wolves had huddled together in the old library, trying to find a cure for Jaskier’s condition to no avail. As time went by, the reality of his situation weighed on Jaskier. He could no longer read his notebook, nor write his music to be remembered. Ciri read his notes aloud and studied the art so she might transcribe them for him, but it was obvious how he felt.

“I don’t want to be a burden,” he’d said.

And now he gave her that same false smile, the one that failed to meet his eyes. She missed the lines in the corners and wished they might come back. Perhaps they’d flown off with the crows, frightened of the winter snow.

“Go back to your game,” he whispered. “I’ll head up to bed.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” she offered.

He shook his head. “I know the way now. If someone will take me to the stairwell?” he prompted, raising a hand.

Ciri looked at Geralt. There was so little she knew of him—stories and songs … words spared in rumors and stolen from conversations where she lingered unnoticed to listen. What she knew of the wolf and bard she had pieced together with care. For all the tales Jaskier would tell, he would not disparage Geralt before her, and he would not tell the story of the dragon hunt. But dwarves talk. Stories travel and lesser bards would imitate the songs of greater. Witchers collect news of other witchers, and two adults would speak as adults when ale made easy speech. Jaskier had confided in Lambert those tearing words once flung at him upon the mountain. And thus she had put the final piece into place of the great mystery between them.

‘If life could give me one blessing…’

“Who will take him?” she asked. She kept Geralt’s eyes as she rose to her feet. “Who will take him into his hands?”

It was only the barest movement, but she swore she saw the wolf of legend flinch.

Jaskier sat up with a huff. “You make it sound so dramatic. Are we playing at a quest now? Very well, who is my knight errant? The princess has thus decreed a quest is in order: a quest up the perilous tower steps, my-my! Such a task!”

“I should think a white knight is the one suited best for the task,” Vesemir grunted. He shuffled his hand, eyes narrowed at Geralt.

The white knight in question let his cloak fall. He shook the snow from his arms and dusted them slowly, looking at each watching face in turn. His hesitation was clear. When none moved to claim Jaskier, he stepped forward cautiously. Without a word, he took Jaskier’s hand and lifted him to his feet.

Jaskier clapped an arm around his shoulder, hands patting the edge of his long hair. “Ah, thank you, Vesemir,” he said. His hand slipped from Geralt’s armour and he made a face, flicking his wet hand in the air. He prodded the armour curiously. “You’re soaked; I thought you said you’d sent Eskel for the firewood.” He prodded again and bumped against Geralt’s shoulder pad. He pinched it between his fingers, figuring out its shape. He hummed curiously. “What are you wearing? Did you go hunting?”

Geralt stared. Jaskier was not looking at him. Geralt looked at the circle of men by the fireside and there sat Vesemir in silence, watching. He was struck dumb. What … game was this?

“A knight needs a knight’s armour,” Lambert called.

Jaskier laughed. “Oh, of course. Such a soft touch; did you get all dressed up for Ciri? Have I woken in the middle of a game?”

Eskel tossed a card in the middle of the circle. “Yes,” he answered, “but we’ve just started on another, different game.”

“Very cold and calculated,” Ciri agreed.

“Cold and calculated. So a snowball fight has become a snowball war, no doubt born of the most complicated strategies. Shame on the lot of you. You ought to let your elders warm themselves before sending them on tasks. You’re young; you’ve got legs,” Jaskier scolded.

“It was his idea,” Eskel replied.

Vesemir nodded, keeping silent as the game unravelled.

Jaskier looped his arm through Geralt’s and stood straight and tall in an affected manner. “Come, my good knight,” he said, “and let us bid good night to these slacking youths.”

He started to walk in the general direction of the stair, Geralt turning them with truer aim. Geralt looked over his shoulder at the others, frowning. This was not the sort of confrontation he expected when next he saw Jaskier. If he ever saw him. And here was his child Surprise in their midst without a word of greeting or explanation, and the bard, the two of them together and settled within the walls of the keep.

It was too perplexing for him to puzzle out. And Jaskier was acting strangely. Where were his speeches? Geralt had expected him to argue on sight, or else to pretend all was right and greet him, “Geralt! How good to see you,” or, “Fancy meeting you here,” and play off the mountain like it never happened. Or at the very least to ignore him. But to call him Vesemir and take to his arm? What joke was he playing at?

The answer came as Jaskier dodged the first step and nearly fumbled upon the stair. He clung to Geralt’s arm with a cry and his other hand shot out to grope the wall. He flailed for it, feeling his way from the step outward, then sliding his hand up the side of it. He turned his head, looked at Geralt and laughed. “I’m still not used to these uneven steps,” he said. “Give me time and I’ll be able to find my way around unassisted. By next week, I’ll be able to navigate every pool in the hot springs, then you four will never see me fully dressed again!”

Geralt raised a hand to Jaskier’s face. He rested a thumb just beneath his eye. They were as blue as ever, nothing seemed amiss, and yet …

Jaskier’s smile weakened. He closed his eyes and pushed the hand away. “I know the three of you are working hard to find a cure. I know the jokes fall flat. But I must make them. If I don’t … Vesemir, if I can’t make light of it, the darkness I see will be all I have left.”

He turned toward the stair again, hand firm on Geralt’s arm, the other on the wall. “Right then. Up we go. Just one at a time,” he said. He stepped tentatively forwards, prodding his foot before him until he nudged the base of the first step. “Got it. First is always hardest, isn’t it?”

They carried on. Two steps, three, one after the other slowly. They were uneven by design: a final defense against those who would try to invade their stronghold. The spiral stair favored those who walked it every day, gave advantage to the men who would be at the top, swinging their swords to fight back those who would dare trespass unwitting. It was difficult enough for any stranger with sight. With Jaskier, it was a quest in itself.

Midway up, Geralt thought to carry him. They were going so slowly; it would have been easiest that way. He nearly offered, but stopped. If he spoke, Jaskier would know him. He began to reach an arm out to simply lift him, but Jaskier fumbled once more, his knee hitting the step with a mumbled curse. And Geralt heard him muttering through his teeth as he crouched upon the stair.

“I will learn,” he hissed. “This will not stop me. I refuse to be a burden to anyone. Never again.” He touched his forehead to the step and Geralt put a hand to his back. He was trembling.

When Jaskier rose again, he did not take Geralt’s arm. He reached out and took hold of the wall on either side, arms stretched wide to hold himself up. He proceeded to climb the stair alone. When Geralt reached out to help, Jaskier waved him away.

“No,” he whispered. “We’re nearly at the top. Just let me do this much. Please.”

And Geralt let his hand fall away.

Jaskier reached the landing with a powerful stomp, expecting a final step. He breathed a sigh of relief and sagged against the right wall. Geralt followed behind and patted his shoulder. Small congratulations. From there, Jaskier walked down the corridor, tapping when he came upon a wooden door. He passed three, tapped each with his knuckles, counting. When he reached the forth door, he opened it. In this space, he walked with ease away from the wall. He flopped confidently upon the bed and rested a moment as one does after a long journey.

He shucked off his doublet and loosened the laces of his boots. He set these aside at the very foot of the bed where they might easily be found again. He undid the back lace of his trousers, paused, and inclined his head toward the door.

“Are you still there, Vesemir?” he asked.

Geralt did not know how to respond. He stood fixed in the doorway, but dropped his eyes to his feet modestly. After a moment’s wait, Jaskier finished undressing and climbed beneath the heavy furs. A memory stirred—that was not the final task of the evening. What was the last of their routine each night? What was left undone that made this finality seem so abrupt? Geralt realized it in the darkness of the room. He had no candle to blow out.

The truth struck Geralt sharp as a blade to his gut. He stole through the door, walking quietly toward the bed. He sat on the edge, the furs rumpled beneath him, and listened to Jaskier’s breathing. He was not yet asleep—would never be, so soon—but he did not stir.

Geralt took his hand gently.

Jaskier squeezed it back.

“I only wish that had not been the last I’d seen of him,” Jaskier whispered. “I try to remember his smile now. For all my poetry, I can’t remember it clearly. His smiles were so rare, but I don’t suppose you need me to tell you. Or perhaps you do. I don’t know if he smiled here; I know nothing his life in this place. Were you so fortunate that they were commonplace?”

Silent footsteps creeped up the stair. Ciri had waited long enough to follow. Geralt heard no sign of her under the ringing words of Jaskier’s speech. Though he spoke no louder than the breath of the wind, every last syllable echoed like a clap of thunder in his ears.

Jaskier slipped his hand free and turned on his pillow, hugging it close. “I wish I might at least see Ciri now, know how she’s grown. They change so quickly at that age. Does she look like her mother? Does she look like him? Destiny makes strange things of those it touches. She was beginning to look like him, I once thought.”

She saw him well enough, looking through the open door. She crouched behind the wall, listening as she always did in secret, for the things he would not burden her with.

“I always did wonder what you looked like. Geralt spoke once to me of his brothers, his mentor. You’re still stories to me in ways. I know you have long hair, grey with age. I know Lambert is shorn, Eskel is shaggy. I know your voices, your height, and a hundred other things. But do you share his eyes? What color is the armour you wear? How does the sun set over the mountainside? The carpets before the hearth—what pattern is woven there? What thousands of stories do you keep in that library? What do the monsters look like illustrated in the great bestiary?”

He buried his face in his pillow. His voice was muffled, but both Geralt and Ciri could hear the husk in it. “I won’t feel sorry for myself. It doesn’t mean anything—just idle curiosity. It doesn’t matter how the carpet is woven or if you wear brown shirts or red. I’ve seen a lifetime of sunrises and sunsets and stars. I don’t want them!” he barked. He writhed on the bed, his face falling from the pillow, stained with tears. “I don’t! I never needed them, not one! I don’t care—I don’t! None of them are important!”

Geralt rushed forward and took Jaskier in his arms. Jaskier struggled, beating at his chest, and refused to be coddled. “No!” he wailed. “Don’t comfort me, I don’t need it! I don’t want it! I will not be pitied!” But for his hard words, he clung to Geralt’s armour, sobbing against his shoulder. “It’s unnecessary. It’s just a bunch of poetry. Useless poetry and songs.”

Jaskier pulled away, Geralt’s hands trailing from his back to his shoulders as he sat up. Geralt held him there before he could retreat more. Before he could think twice of it, Geralt leaned in, his hands cupping Jaskier’s face on either side.

“Vese—”

Something warm and wet fell onto Jaskier’s lashes. He heard a shaky breath, felt the warmth of it upon his face. Another hot tear fell into his other eye and he blinked in surprise, for it was not his own. He sat perfectly still in shock, blinking the falling tears away.

“They were never useless,” Geralt said. “They were always important—all of them.”

Jaskier twitched, raising his head by instinct up to look at the man who held him now. “You were—!”

“I’m sorry. For not speaking before. For … not speaking then. After. And for saying what I did that day.” He wiped the tears beneath Jaskier’s eyes away, an expression of pain twisting his hollowed features. “If I’d not sent you away—I don’t know what’s become of you, but I might have—I could have tried to prevent it. You would still have your sight.”

Jaskier covered Geralt’s hands. “No, Geralt. This is none of your doing. You can’t—”

A loud bump from the hall startled him. Jaskier turned at once to look.

“Ciri,” he breathed.

Ciri had a finger to her mouth and was glaring up at a tall man. They both cowed back, being caught. Jaskier looked between them as Geralt’s hands slipped away. He stood, walking toward them. He looked at Ciri, gaping, their eyes perfectly aligned. Jaskier fell to his knees before her and took her hands without fumbling.

“Ciri,” he said. “You’re so … my good gods, you’ve grown.”

All were still as he reached out, touching her face as though she were made of glass. He smoothed her hair away, taking all of her in. He laughed, new tears falling as he pulled her close and crushed her in his arms. “You’re so beautiful!” he cried. He stroked her hair, cradling her against him as tight as he dared. “And you!” He looked up at the witcher in the hall, reaching out to him and taking his hand. “Which one are you? Say something now, quickly. Let me hear your voice and know you.”

“Eskel,” he answered. And then Jaskier was up on his feet, pulling him into another embrace.

“Eskel!” Jaskier cheered. “Eskel, you look even more heroic than I ever imagined! Oh, let me look at you. Oh, oh! Lambert! Vesemir! Where are you, come forward!”

He dashed into the hall, only to turn on his heel for another look at Eskel, for just one more eyeful of Ciri. Over her shoulder, he saw Geralt sitting there on the bed, his yellow eyes wide, the tears still clinging to his chin.

“Oh,” Jaskier whispered. “Oh, I see. I see.”

He walked forward, gliding a hand beneath Geralt’s jaw. He touched his eyes with his other hand. Carefully, he wiped the last of Geralt’s tears away. It dangled, a little drop at the tip of his finger and he brought it close. He closed his hands around it, cradled them to his chest.

Geralt stood slowly before him. And he smiled.

Ciri tugged at Jaskier’s shirt, her head turned away politely. She cleared her throat and said, “Jaskier? Lambert and Vesemir are on their way up. And you’re … well, you’re not at your most presentable.”

Eskel averted his eyes, his back turned to the scene, however touching. “You might want to get a bit more dressed. And quickly,” he added, for Jaskier was standing in his smallclothes.

Jaskier snorted. “All of you, turn away for decency’s sake! We’re having a moment, here.”

“And what about me?” Geralt asked. “Shall I look away?”

It was nothing but empty jest and Jaskier smiled. “No,” he replied. “No, you’re looking where you’re needed. But I suppose to be fair …”

He clapped a hand over Geralt’s eyes. He leaned forward, whispering against Geralt’s lips. “There. Now no one can see. No one … but me.”

There were no witnesses to that first kiss. It was a secret Jaskier kept for himself.

However, the second, third, and forth had quite a startled audience, as Geralt and Jaskier both fell deaf to the clatter of footsteps in the hall. Ciri took it upon herself to usher the others from the room, explaining on the way. After all, with the curse lifted, she no longer needed to be Jaskier’s eyes. His mouth, however, was currently occupied.

Send me a drabble prompt!

#my fic #drabbles #witcher #the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #cirilla fiona elen riannon #lambert #eskel #vesemir #I'd tag aiden but he's really only mentioned in passing #ew I came back to look at this and the scene breaks did not transfer over #fixed it now

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dreamties · 4 years

Text

Slashers W/ a Punk S/O

T/W- q*eer is used a few times- in a positive, self affirming kind of way. But I can add other trigger warnings if needed. :)

A/n- Literally no one asked for this, but I wanted to make more HCs like the soft pastel one...so I just went wild and made them.

I included a little bit of punk culture into this as well, because it’s not just about the fashion, but since there’s such a vast variety within punk culture I mostly stuck with my experiences in the community, and some bits and pieces from documentaries(mostly live footage from “The Decline of Western Civilization”).

Characters: Billy/Stu, The Lost Boys, Norman Bates, Michael Myers

Will make one(s) for Brahms, Amanda, Helen or Daniel if asked

Billy Loomis + Stu Macher

so early 90s, the Riot Grrrl movement emerges

bands like Bikini Kill, Bratmobile, Heavens to Betsy or Sleater-Kinney

it’s a very female-powered oriented movement, but I notice that a lot of minorities tend to be drawn to this music and community (LGBT folks, people of color, etc).

both boys, and yourself, being outside of the norm and all (polyamorous relationship, gay/bi) are sort of drawn to it!

and sure there’s a lot of really great queercore/homocore bands, and there’s probably a good LGBT+ punk scene out there somewhere, but in a little town like Woodsboro? Hell no. Sticking with this fem punk movement, while again mostly a space for women in music- it’s the most accepted the three of you have felt outside of you’re relationship.

you’ve always been pretty into the music, stuff like Dead Kennedys, Black Flag, or the short-lived Germs- but it wasn’t until you stumbled upon Riot Grrrl that you really got into it.

the music, making zines about local-ish political issues(probably not so much Woodsboro stuff, more Cali in general and neighboring towns) and a few ones with queer themes and hand-drawn illustrations of your partners, and DIYing all your clothes

since you’re so experienced with DIYing your clothes and sewing on patches, you’ve helped repair the Ghostface costumes on numerous occasions. they kind of adore this(Stu is the only one that will- and does, frequently- admit that)

Let’s face it, the three of you do everything together- but you especially enjoy when Stu tags along for thrift dates.

he’s the more fashionable one, and he makes the whole experience more enjoyable- cracking jokes and just being his all-around goofy self.

Woodsboro is a very little town, so they don’t have much...but they do have a few small stores- usually you’ll make a whole day/date out of it though. driving to the next town or so over, since they have more stores and a better selection, and spending hours looking for cheap, old t-shirts, belts, clothes with funky patterns. heading out for pizza after.

Billy’s more likely to get into the music and everything with you(he’s kinda,, angsty, no offense to him)- will definitely go to shows with you.

just- imagine Billy in ripped jeans. and he’d have like one or two patches sewn on to it- one of them is your all time favorite band, and the other is a band that he found on his own time, and actually really enjoyed.

Stu is dragged along with you guys, you can’t just leave him at home- he’s gonna feel left out and sad. :(

He’s mostly there to keep y’all company- he really likes the energy of the shows though!

the two of them are such a chaotic duo though, so much so that you have definitely been kicked out or banned from a few venues. all for varying reasons. good grief these men can not be tamed.

The Lost Boys

as we all know, these vampires are total punks. so they’re gonna appreciate having a s/o who’s also into that whole scene.

How you meet:

you’re a baby punk, and it’s your first show ever, and you look so nervous. you’re dressed up in pretty plain clothes, a single homemade patch for your favorite band barely hanging to your jacket side(you were mid-way sewing it, when you realized you were gonna be late if you didn’t leave asap).

it’s a few local bands, ones you’d never really heard of really. you look anxious. but when they start playing? you look so unapologetically yourself, you’re so in the moment dancing- it’s completely mesmerizing to the boys. the music isn’t even that good, but you seem to be having the time of your life.

they greet you after the show, and you’re a tiny bit flustered- cause gosh, heck, they saw you. dancing. so embarrassing.

David is the one that introduces himself and the group, and initiates conversation. Dwayne’s a pretty quiet guy, so he just listens to what you have to say.

Marko’s pretty excited about you, and initiates in some small conversation, he may have complimented your little patch(Marko- patch jacket KING, complimenting your jacket?? more likely than you’d think)

and oh, oh- Paul is out there being a total chatty-cathy, and is absolutely bombarding you with questions. like, okay, Paul is pretty talkative, but the other vamps are a little worried that he’s scared you off. and you had seemed so cool :(

you end up pretty engaged in your convo with Paul though, even if all the attention is overwhelming. He ends up snagging a date for the five of you the following week.

once you start hanging out/dating:

y’all just hit it off so well those first few days. they all love how sweet & shy you are- but also how much of a badass punk babe you are.

Marko helps make your patch jacket(collecting ones for bands you enjoy, how to make your own, sewing them on, etc). you probably could have done it w/out his help, but my gosh- you weren’t going to pass up this opportunity. Marko gets really soft around you sometimes, since he doesn’t really do this activity with anyone else, it’s saved for you. 🥺🥺

Dwayne likes listening to you talking about the local scene(outside of the shows you go to- mostly about stuff he can’t attend, protests and meetings during the daylight.)

all of them(especially David) are very protective of you. I mean, generally. but also when you go to shows. they let you do whatever the heck you’re gonna do, but the mere second that someone even thinks about starting shit w/ you?? well, y’know. those vampire instincts kick in.

the four of them obviously share a lot of similar tastes in music- but they all have different favorite bands, & fave parts of the community. which, they can’t even fully participate in,, but it’s okay.

they, individually, introduce their favorite bands to you. and they get it in their head that oh, they said they liked it. they must like it as much as I do. and awkwardly coming out to the four of them, as they argue about your favorite band, “Well, actually- this *insert band they’ve never heard of or barely listen to* is my favorite.” and their just kinda like, oh, okay. please tell us more about them.

so it’s sorta like,, you’ve been learning all this cool knowledge from them, now you get to share cool knowledge with them.

idk. I think it’s cute. 💕

Norman Bates

so first off- let’s just pretend Psycho was in at least the 70s/80s for a moment. because realistically- the punk subculture didn’t really exist back then.

baby boy is absolutely fascinated by the way you dress (mother is less thrilled though)

imagine your jacket is getting a bit weathered, and needs some repairs- so he helps you to sew edges closed, and make sure the patches aren’t on too loose, etc

he enjoys hearing your stories of all the past shows you’ve gone to. you always get so excited about them, and he finds that so endearing. But he pretty much leaves the actual punk scene to you because of these stories.

he was already worried from the stories, and made sure you were well prepared for any trouble every time you left for a show.

but one time, you were able to get him to join you. never again though. he was so nervous!

the music was too loud! and he could hardly understand what they were saying- it was so confusing!

you stayed with him most of the night, standing near the back, holding his hand. he’d gently bob his head to the music occasionally.

but you accidentally found yourself swept into the crowd, but you looked so blissed-out in the moment, that he figured it would be okay for you to dance* over there for a little bit...right?

*Norman is still unsure if you’d even call that dancing.

Thankfully, nothing bad happened in the mosh pit.

you gotta give him lots of attention and reassurance afterwards though- you almost scared Norman half to death D:

He’s happy enough helping you out and listening to you though- and that’s okay for you, too. you still love each other lots, even if this particular interest doesn’t overlap.

Michael Myers

he thinks you’re outfits are pretty interesting.

he’s a little worried at first, when you start experimenting with putting things like safety pins in your ears. cause like- that’s not supposed to be in your ear, Y/n, what the fuck

if you make zines at all, Michael really enjoys watching you make the illustrations for them(not that he’ll admit to it though), and helps to find newspaper and magazine clippings to incorporate into the spreads.

you always show michael the final booklet before distributing it

he doesn’t talk a lot, so he doesn’t ask questions- but he often does the little head tilt once you give it to him. since he’s not very privy to current events, and a lot of your zines are political, you spend a lot of time explaining them in depth.

he has no use for any of this knowledge, but he listens on, intently.

Important note:

dear god do not bring this man to concerts and local shows with you.

it is a nightmare, to say the least

Michael is sort of,, emotionless sometimes, doesn’t really care for people at all, and if he does? definitely not in the same way most people do.

so imagine combining that part of michael, the fact that he’s also a giant stabby man, with super loud, energetic- almost aggressive- sounding music and a bunch of strangers that aren’t respecting any personal boundaries.

you need to keep him at the back of the venue- lest your local scene may go missing.

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hatterstan-shameblog · 3 years

Note

Here is the first one

Second :D

And last..he's looking at you 👀💦

ALRIGHT you know WHAT—

There’s…a lot going on here. So much so, that I have decided to create

CONTEXT

for these three images that is

COMPLETELY FAKE

because I think it’ll be a fun writing exercise. kind of a cringe move on my part, but consider: i have fun making up ridiculous lies about characters who don’t exist in real life.

(which is how I’m treating these, by the way. yes, they are pictures of kaneko nobuaki, but for my purposes, they are NOT actually him. they are distinct fictional characters who are not real.)

so if you’re feeling adventurous skip below the cut and watch me break it down:

Image 1: Accidental “Date” Makes Cousin’s Wedding Less Terrible Than Originally Expected

The year is 1999. Your cousin (who you are not particularly close to) is getting married…on a cruise ship. Your mother insists you attend. You insist upon spending 90% of your time sipping margaritas on the deck and flipping through the latest issue of Marie Claire while trying desperately not to think about the fact that you are surrounded by nothing but open ocean.

One of the (very drunk) bridesmaids tries to toss you a beach ball because you have been, and I quote: like, a total bummer this whole time. She misses. It hits the person next to you in the face. Great. Awesome. You think: well now who’s being, like, a total bummer?

Luckily the person who got hit in the face laughs the entire thing off. He says your friends seem…’lively.’ You say that’s pretty rich coming from a guy who looks like a rejected member of ‘The Clash.’ He insists that he left them, not the other way around.

You slip into conversation. You tell him that you’re here for a wedding. He offers his condolences. You accept them. He says he actually likes weddings—something about two people making a life-changing commitment speaks to him on a soul-level. That and the open bar, of course.

You suggest he crash the wedding. He says he’s not sure if he can make it—there’s a shuffleboard tournament that evening that he would just hate to miss, plus the latest issue of Soap Opera Digest is waiting on his bedside table just begging to be opened. You say that’s perfectly understandable, but, if he suddenly finds himself caught up on the latest All My Children gossip, he can meet you back here at four.

Surprise, surprise: he shows up. He’s wearing the same shirt he was before, but buttoned up this time—and with one of the most hideous neckties you’ve ever seen, which he apparently borrowed from the kind old man next door. Instead of complimenting his attire (because it is truly un-compliment-able), you take the opportunity to mention that this is a Titanic-themed wedding. He says that having a Titanic-themed wedding on a cruise ship is “kind of fucked up” and you solemnly agree.

Everyone is very surprised and pleased to see that you’ve brought a date—even the bride, who tells you that you’re “just like Jack and Rose.” You agree, much to her delight…until you say that, if the ship goes down, you also won’t share the door and let him freeze to death in the icy water. He insists he’d be the guy who jumps off the ship and hits his leg on the propellor—that’s his favorite part of the whole movie, and it’d be an honor to re-enact the scene.

The wedding is…a wedding. Vows, toasts, pictures—and you’re sipping champagne through the entire thing. The two of you spend the evening getting completely wasted and telling everyone a different story about just who your ‘mystery date’ is. Highlights include: the captain’s unruly son whose been tasked with following in his father’s sea-faring footsteps; professional cave-diver who discovered a new species of slug and is spending his reward money on a nice vacation; head of marketing who gives all those clever names to the nail polishes at OPI; the guy who folds everyone’s towels into animal shapes.

You end up where you started: on neighboring lounge chairs, with a margarita, and talking to this stranger who has recently crossed into “acquaintance” territory. You chat about how “My Heart Will Go On” is actually a good song, and he promises not to tell anyone that you said that. He also says that this is the best Titanic-themed cruise ship wedding he’s ever been to, and he can’t wait until somebody decides to do Jaws.

Eventually, you both stagger back to your rooms with promises of seeing each other at breakfast. Unfortunately, you have the worst hangover of your life the next morning and even the thought of ‘breakfast’ makes you want to roll over and die, so you don’t manage to stumble out of bed until it’s time to disembark.

You see him at port, and you each offer each other a little wave before going your separate ways. Six weeks later, you get a Polaroid of the two of you together, sitting at the bar and laughing at something that must have been very, very hilarious.

You don’t remember most of what happened that night, but you remember it was not as terrible as it could have been.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Image 2: Extremely Weird Guy On The Street Has You Questioning Your Sanity

It’s 6:00 in the morning—a truly terrible time to be awake, but a necessary evil. Your flight leaves at 10, and since it’s an international thing, you want to make sure you get there in plenty of time to get to your gate (and maybe sample all the fancy perfumes you can’t afford at one of those high-end stores that are always in airports.)

The streets are mostly empty, save for a few random pedestrians and a handful of passed-out salarymen snoozing on the curb. The sky a rainy gray-blue as the sun tries to rise behind the springtime cloud cover—it’s no doubt going to be another dismal day, as is common during this time of year. Hopefully there’s not too much turbulence on your flight…

You stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the little walking man signal to show up on the light across the way. You’re soon joined by another person—a man in a soft-looking jacket who supplies you with a small “good morning” bob of his head. You respond in kind, throwing in a small smile for good measure. It’s nice that he too understands that it’s entirely too early to be having any kind of conversation, even if it is just a simple verbal greeting between strangers on a street corner.

The light changes, and you both begin your trek across the street. Your fellow walker is faster than you—or, more likely, has longer legs and, ergo, a longer stride than your own—and is nearly halfway across by the time you get your wheeled suitcase over the curb. He seems decent enough. You hope he’s going somewhere nice.

It’s then that you make the mistake of looking up. It would have been much better if you had just continued watching the white painted lines on the road and thinking about how it reminds you of piano keys—and how you hated the six months of piano lessons your parents forced you to take in the first grade.

But no. You noticed someone walking towards you, and you just had to look up.

The first thing you notice is a rainbow tie-dye shirt. The second thing you notice is that the rainbow tie-dye shirt is on a very cheerful looking gentleman, who seemed to be bobbing his head in time with a song only he could hear.

The third thing you notice—and this one’s the real kicker—is the large blue-and-green reptile sitting on his shoulder. It’s bulging eyes are hooded in pleasure as it’s red-pink tongue darts out to eat the green something—maybe a grape or a small piece of melon?—from the rainbow tie-dye man’s hand. It is nothing short of a spectacle, honestly, and you feel a piece of your sanity evaporate.

The rainbow tie-dye man continues on, uncaring of your confused stare at his strange pet. You even turn around to make sure that you weren’t somehow hallucinating, and sure enough, there is definitely some kind of creature draped over this stranger’s shoulder. It’s tail even sways in time with the man’s steps, which is both cute and confusing.

Because it would not do to stand in the middle of the street all day, considering the existence of rainbow tie-dye man and his exotic pet, you do the only thing you can do: turn back around and continue on your journey. You need a coffee. Maybe with an extra shot of espresso, after witnessing whatever the hell that was. Something to set you right again.

“Was that…?”

The other man—the soft-coat long-stride one—is speaking low enough as to not draw attention, but loud enough for you to hear as you make your way towards the sidewalk. His expression reads ‘concerned, but trying not to show it’ which you suppose is the polite and mature way of handling the situation.

“…an iguana? Yeah,” you answer him, “I saw it too.”

The man’s brow furrows. His mouth puckers into a small frown as he considers…well, something.

“…Okay, then,” he concludes, shrugging his shoulders, “Hell of a way to start the day.”

“Yeah.”

And you both continue on your way. He turns left at the next intersection, you turn right—but even though your paths may now be different, you will forever share an unbreakable bond over the fantastical sight you’ve witnessed today.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Image 3: Near Death Experience At Open Mic Night

You are not a poet.

Well, not professionally, anyways. You’ve been known to dabble in the written word, often scribbling little snippets of rhyme in a notebook over your lunch break or tapping a verse or two into the notes app on your phone. It a kind of outlet, you suppose—a way to keep the creative energy that bubbles inside of you from boiling over.

It’s also worth mentioning that you are not a confident public speaker. Not since that unfortunate incident in the third grade where you forgot the single line you had in the school play and ran off stage, tears streaming down your face and—actually, no, you’re not going to think about that right now. Or ever again, hopefully.

So when your (tipsy) coworkers decide that it’s a good idea to push you onto the stage at the local dive bar’s open mic night—while shouting at you to “read the one about the night-blooming jasmine”—you freeze up. There are at least seven strangers staring at you, expectation rising with every passing second of your inaction. It’s nerve-wracking in the way that the third-grade incident was not, and you gulp against the nervousness that rises in your throat.

Shaking hands scroll frantically through your phone, looking for the requested poem—and after a few agonizing moments, you manage to find it. Your voice cracks rather embarrassingly as you begin to read, trying your damndest to get the words out right so you can slink back to the bar and drown the rest of the night in Chardonnay.

Everything is going well—or, at least, as well as can be expected—until you notice that the room is suddenly feeling very hot. That’s the last coherent thought you have before the room goes dark and everything falls silent.

Next thing you know, you’re staring at the ceiling. A man who you do not know is leaning over you, and his mouth is moving—oh, he’s probably trying to say something to you, but it’s very difficult to tell what he’s saying over the throbbing pain in the back of your head.

You ask him if you’re dead. It’s a possibility after all, that you’ve somehow died and landed yourself in some kind of special public-speaking hell. That’s what this feels like, anyways.

The man says no, you are not dead. You say ‘dammit’ in response. He tries to hold back laughter, offering to help you up by extending his hand. You take it and—ouch, ugh, ew, going from laying to standing is not a fun experience.

You thank him (albeit awkwardly) for helping you up, and he insists that ‘it’s cool.’ Passing out in front of an audience is not even remotely cool, but you nod and thank him again, anyways.

Before you’re able to converse with the helpful stranger any further, your coworkers have come to collect you. You are whisked away by someone from accounting, who offers to escort you home—an offer you gladly accept, very excited to leave the site of your failure behind you.

Safe to say, you never go back to that particular bar again.

#writings and such #thought you’d get me with a thirst post WELL I JUST THREW DOWN AN UNO REVERSE CARD BAYBEEEEE #‘he’s looking at you’ YOU TRYNA MAKE ME BLUSH CUZ ITS WORKIN OKAY???#fun fact: the second one was inspired by MULTIPLE real-life events #can’t wait to wake up tomorrow morning and regret this <3

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byeoltoyuki · 3 years

Text

Forever you ⇾ kth

↳Pairing : You x Taehyung

Genre : Fluff / prince Tae

Words: 4k

Warnings: None (except maybe for the fact that he’s watching you swim around naked.)

Summary : He’s a rebellious prince, you’re a free spirit.

****

Taehyung thought that as the future king of this country, he could have everything in life; fame, love, women, money, freedom. And he did have most of it. But freedom? It was an illusion, a dream. And nothing more.

By the young age of ten, Taehyung came to realization that he would never be free. When kids of his age could run and fool around in the streets, he had to stay between the walls of the castle, being watched, being tutored. He could never leave the castle alone; it was too dangerous they said. He couldn’t mingle with other kids, because he was too special and they were not.

In fact, soon enough, Taehyung began to hate his status, to resent his life. He didn’t want to be a prince or a king which led him to become this rebellious prince who would spend his time escaping from the castle and drive his tutors mad.

Taehyung didn’t have just one place where he would escape. No, sometimes he would wander around the capital (hiding his identity, of course), sometimes he would ride till small villages, sometimes he would just wander in the forest, seeking for its peace and calmness.

Just like today, he chose to ride his favorite horse to the forest that surrounded the castle. Some would consider adventuring in the forest dangerous, after all bandits lived in this woods but Taehyung didn’t care. He knew this woods as the back of his hand, just like he could defend himself in case of attack.

“Wait for me here, mate.” Taehyung patted his horse’s head, fondly. “I won’t be too long.” But that was a half lie and both his horse and him knew it. It wasn’t the first time or the last; Taehyung just easily lost track of time which led him to some unwanted trouble.

The summer cool breeze brushed his hair, touched his face. Taehyung paused to enjoy the moment. In this right moment, he was stripped of his title, he was just a young man wandering around the place.

A smile formed on his face, all his worries had faded. No more thoughts about marriage. No more thoughts about a ball that would seal his fate with someone he didn’t know. No more thoughts about his future. Instead, he rambled freely in the woods.

His feet led him to a place, and Taehyung thought he knew these woods like the back of his hand, foreign to him. There was a damn waterfall in what he believed the heart of the forest. But was there always a waterfall? Taehyung was uncertain. And it didn’t matter that much either because this place was a sight to behold.

Taehyung resumed walking, wanting to get closer to the rocks and have a better look on the pool and taste the waters. Maybe he would go for a swim, after all it was a warm day and he bet the water had the perfect temperature. But his plans vanished from his mind as fast as they came.

Here, in the water, someone was already swimming around. Taehyung squinted only to realize that the person in the water was a girl. You. A creature fallen from heaven, there was no other way to explain your presence. He knew the proper thing to do would be to clear his throat and make you realize that you were no longer alone but his voice got stuck in his throat.

You stopped swimming around and simply stood in the water, your back facing him. Taehyung found himself unable to talk, he opened his mouth but closed it almost as soon. You brought your fingers to your completely wet long hair and run them through; Taehyung followed your every move, completely hypnotized, bewitched.

Without even realizing it, Taehyung took a step forwarding, standing now dangerously close to the bank. He stepped on a branch and despite the soft sound of water falling into the pool, you heard him.

Startled, you sank deeper into the water until only your face came out of the water. You were glaring at him with your innocent big eyes and Taehyung found himself one more time captivated and unable to speak. There you were, trying to hide your body from his eyes (and the clear water was of no use) and he tried not to look but the temptation was too strong.

Until you spoke. “Who are you?” There was hesitation in your voice and maybe a hint of fear and curiosity.

Taehyung cleared, quite awkwardly to his liking, his voice, opened his mouth to speak but sadly for him, he stumbled and fell right into the water with a loud and totally unmanly shriek.

He did plan to swim but without his clothes. Now he was left wet and terribly embarrassed. Taehyung quickly emerged from the water - he was right, the temperature was perfect, and looked straight ahead of him, looked at the now giggling girl. Well, you were hardly a girl and more of a young woman around his age.

“You’re alright?” You managed to say in between your giggles - pure and soft and so contagious, Taehyung found himself giggling along with you, embarrassment long forgotten.

“I’m sorry. I should have looked away.” Taehyung, despite apologizing, couldn’t stop himself from grinning, it was hard not to when this lovely creature was smiling so brightly at him. What else was he supposed to do?

“You should.” You approved but your smile told him that you didn’t mind. “I’d be in big trouble if someone sees us."

Taehyung hummed in approval and yet he moved closer to you, eyes on you waiting for a change in them, waiting for you to show him that he should keep his distance. You didn’t stop him. Not when he was getting closer. Not when he found himself inches from you. "Hi.”

Your grin grew wider, if possible. “Hello.”

“What such a lovely creature like you doing alone, naked, may I add, in those woods?” Taehyung asked, voice getting oddly deeper even to his own ears. He knew he was too close, he could feel your naked body under water but he didn’t mind a bit, instead his eyes were glued to your face, to your pinky and like pillow lips - he licked his own unconsciously.

“Who told you I was alone?” You laughed heartily and gently splashed him. You took, no, you tried to take a step back but Taehyung followed and got even closer.

“Then we’re about to get in trouble, aren’t we?” He joked not believing for a second that you had brought someone with you.

But maybe, Taehyung was too captivated with this lovely creature to be reasonable.

“Miss Y/N!” Woman’s voice startled both of you - mainly Taehyung.

Taehyung looked, eyes wide, at you, realizing his mistake. You, on the other hand, only laughed and pushed him out of your way.

“Told you.” You swam as fast as you could back to the bank where your dress was resting on a rock. Just when you were about to get out of water you remembered that he was still watching your every move which forced you to pause and glanced over your shoulder. “I believe you’ve seen enough. Can you turn around?”

“Miss Y/N! Your father is-” Upon realization that the voice was getting too loud and too clear, Taehyung found himself with no other choice but dove under water to hide his presence.

“My goodness! Miss!” The woman yelled in shock at seeing you standing naked. “What were you thinking?! What if someone-”

That sounded awfully familiar. “Mary.” One look at Mary and it was enough to silence her. You thought that all of your servants would be used by now with your careless, free and rebellious nature. Apparently not.

Mary cursed, you believed, under her breath and looked down at her skirt, tried to sooth down but without success. “I’m merely saying that if your father heard of it- no, if someone told him what you were actually doing during your-”

“I know.” You cut her right before she could remind you that once more you had escaped from your tutor. You glanced nervously over your shoulder, only to realize that the intruder was still under water - you had to get out of here as fast as possible.

Which was a shame really.

“Let’s go."

And then you were gone.

Taehyung emerged from under the water, gasping for air; any more seconds under water and he would have died. Taehyung rubbed his eyes, trying to remove the remaining of water from his eyes and face before he looked at the place you were standing a moment ago.

To say that Taehyung was disappointed would be the understatement of the century. He was devastated. Just when he laid his eyes on a lovely creature, it had to disappear. It was unfair, but Taehyung considered himself lucky as he at least got to know your name.

"Y/N…” He whispered to himself, a tiny smile spread on his face.

***

The second time Taehyung met you was barely one week later. As things got too overwhelming for Taehyung’s liking, he escaped. Again. Without thinking twice, he rode to the forest with the hope to see you once more.

And he did.

This time, however, you weren’t swimming or naked (sadly for him). You sat on the rocks with what looked piece of papers on your laps; you were concentrated on drawing. He smiled, happy to see you again.

“Hello Y/N.” He cleared his throat, this time warning you of his presence which still startled you.

Your papers almost fell from your laps but luckily for you, you caught them on time. “Oh. It’s you.” Upon seeing your handsome stranger, your heartbeat got faster and you were certain your face turned pink. Luckily for you, with the sun being on you, you could blame it on staying under the sun for too long.

“You’re not swimming today.” Taehyung stated the obvious, “What a pity.” He wiggled his brows playfully at you and if those words had come up from someone else you would have felt outraged but with him, you only laughed heartily and let him approach you.

“Indeed.” You nodded, “In case someone decide to spy on me.” And you smirked at how red his ears turned.

“I- I was not spying on you!” Taehyung hurried to defend himself but maybe it made him only look more suspicious - he coughed, awkwardly. “I was merely walking around.”

You quirked a brow at him, still unconvinced. “And of course instead of warning me of your presence, you thought it would be best just to watch me from afar huh.”

A girl of your status should have felt horrified, a man had seen you completely naked and if it was heard among your peers, you would be in very big trouble. You, however, couldn’t care less, not when it was about such a handsome, fairy-like man. The only reason you teased him about the accident was because of his adorable reaction.

“I-I’m,” Taehyung stammered and you couldn’t hold in any longer your laughter. Taehyung paused, frowned and then sighed. “You’re making fun of me, Y/N, aren’t you?”

“I would not dare.” You tried to hide your smile by putting your hand on your mouth but it was just too hard. So you laughed and Taehyung thought it was the most lovely sound in the world. How could he stay, no, how could he even pretend being mad?

“Now, come to think of it,” You started, “You’re very familiar with my name, but I still don’t know yours."

In this moment, Taehyung hesitated. His name wasn’t special but for a second he feared you would discover his identity and suddenly change your behavior. But you took him by surprise by humming and letting out a tiny ‘I see’.

"Wha-”

“Don’t worry.” You cut him, “Still, I need to find a suitable name for you. Can’t call you sir or my lord-”

“I don’t mind the ‘my lord’.” Taehyung hurried to say which only made you roll your eyes at him and chuckle. “I’m joking. That won’t do.” He rubbed his chin as he thought of a name. He couldn’t give you his full name, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t give you at least a nickname. “How about Tae?”

“Tae?” You tried out, then nodded, liking the sound of it. “Hello Tae.” You jumped from your rock and got closer to him. “Nice to meet you.”

“My pleasure, my lady.” Taehyung smiled and grabbed gently your hand to bring it to his lips so he could kiss your hand.

It was such a slow and gentle gesture. Your heart pounded hard against your ribs; you couldn’t look away, you couldn’t breathe. He had reduced you to dizzy, nervous state.This man was different from the men you had previously met (not like you had met many but still) and he was extremely dangerous to your weak heart.

***

From this very moment, Taehyung found himself escaping the castle more than he should, more than acceptable just because he wanted to see you, just because he, quickly realized, you would be waiting for him too. It was unreasonable and dangerous thing to do, to keep doing - he knew all that but his heart won over his mind. Because honestly, he couldn’t picture himself staying away from you, from your smile, from your laugh. He couldn’t.

Today, however, was a gloom day for Taehyung. It was almost the end of the summer which meant the ball where he was supposed to pick a bride was right around the corner and he could do absolutely nothing to avoid it. Which meant also, the end for his romantic escape. Which meant he could never see you again and this only thought broke his heart.

He rode to the waterfall with a heavy, pained heart. How could he face you and tell you it was the last time? How could he tell you that despite his strong feelings, he could do nothing except bid his goodbye.

When Taehyung reached his destination you were already waiting for him, sitting on the same rock every single time. Despite his sadness, he smiled at the sight of you, resting under the sun. And god, the sun loved you as it caressed and illuminated your face.

“Y/N.” Taehyung greeted you, trying to control his voice and hide the fact that he was desperate and terrified not to see you ever again.

“Tae!” You beamed and hurried to get to him. Except, maybe you were too excited to see him - you stumbled and would have fallen if not for Taehyung’s quick reflexes. He caught you on time, one hand wrapped tightly around your arm while he had an arm wrapped safely around you. You blinked, confused and mesmerized at the same time as you got so close to him, feeling his warmth, almost touching his body.

“I know you’re excited to see me, but be careful.” He chuckled without letting you go. It was hard to.

You blushed at his words and felt the need to defend yourself but that would be pointless because yes, you were a little too excited to see him. Instead, you huffed and tried to push him away but Taehyung didn’t budge, in fact, his grip around you tightened and you found yourself pressed against his chest. Taken aback, you gasped softly before looking at him. “Tae?”

Taehyung found it hard to think when you were pressed against him. When he could feel your perfect (yes perfect, because he still remembered your naked body, it kept him awake at night) breasts.

“Would it be completely inappropriate if I want to have a swim with you?”

“That would be indeed so inappropriate.” You insisted on the ‘inappropriate’ but by the ton of your voice, Taehyung knew you were fooling around. “Why not. I have nothing to hide from you anymore, after all.”

Which was true but still, the thought of getting naked before him still made you blush and a tiny bit anxious. Back then, he was a stranger, today, he was a friend. You pushed him from you, smiling widely.

“Well then, join me?” You winked and took few steps from him as you grabbed the edge of your thin dress and pulled it over your head. You disregarded all your clothes and before Taehyung could recover from how quick and willing you were, you jumped right into the water with a loud laugh.

“Shit.” Taehyung cursed under his breath and started to undress. You were, indeed, a temptation he couldn’t part with so easily.

He followed you into the water shortly.

“Catch me if you can.” You dared him as you swam farther from him, believing that at least in the water you were faster than anyone.

You weren’t and Taehyung proved it to you right away.

In the blink of an eye he was behind you and snatched you, bringing you against his naked body. You giggled, absolutely delighted that he had caught you so easily (you were usually a sore loser but it was him, you couldn’t resist). But then, you gulped hardly as you realized that you were both naked, that you could feel every part of his body against your back, against your thighs.

“Tae? Your voice came out weaker than you wanted but really who could blame you when the most beautiful man on earth was pressing you against him?

Taehyung didn’t answer, he couldn’t. His mind was going crazy; he could either let you go or do something incredibly dangerous for both of you. He closed his eyes, trying to have some self-control which ended up being useless as your delicious, fruity scent invaded all his senses.

"I’ll be damned.” Taehyung cursed under his breath and then, just when you wanted to glance at him, he spun you in his arms. He cupped your face, gently, “Y/N…” Taehyung wasn’t sure himself what exactly he was asking for. Permission? For a kiss? For something more?

You chose for him as you pressed yourself a little more against him, wanting to get his lips closer to yours. Taehyung licked his lips in response, eyes darting back and forth between your eyes and your lips, before finally leaning over you. You closed your eyes and waited.

It was a light brush of the lips at first, so light you weren’t even sure you had felt it. But then, Taehyung pressed his lips stronger against yours and he tilted your head for better access. You let him take control over you.

Taehyung’s lips felt divine and nothing like you expected it to be. The kiss itself was so innocent, so pure and sweet and so much better than your imagination.

You sighed in delight into the kiss and wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, letting your fingers run through his soft locks while you kissed him back, trying to mimic his gesture, trying to learn from him. Taehyung was your first kiss and a perfect one on top of that. A kiss you would forever remember.

Taehyung wished time could stop. He wished he could stay with you in his arms, kissing you - it felt divine. You were exactly what he needed and yet couldn’t have. Once again, he came to hate his status. If only he was a normal man.

Taehyung pulled from you, only to press his forehead against yours, eyes closed.

“Tae?” One look at his face and you knew exactly what was going on in his pretty mind. He was torn and sad and so were you. Both of you knew that today was probably the last time you could see each other. It was heartbreaking and unfair but there was nothing you could do.

“God, I wish I could make you mine.” He managed to say it through gritted teeth. “I wish for it so badly.”

All you could do was whimper softly, pained as well. “I’m so sorry.”

Taehyung kissed your eyes and licked the tears that pricked in the corner of your eyes. “So am I.”

****

Usually, Taehyung was rather fond of balls; he would dance with lovely women, laugh with his friends and drink as much as he could. This ball, however, was anything but fun. No, it was hell-ish and he wished he could escape discretely through the back door. Or the balcony, that would do too. He wished he could escape forever and elope with you. You, the lovely creature that stayed in his mind wherever he went.

But he couldn’t escape. His fate was sealed.

The sole purpose of this ball was for him to find a bride. The future princess, the future queen. None of the present young girls were fitted to the role and none could possibly melt his heart and make his forget the one he truly desired.

“Son,” The king turned to look at him, scowling at him. “You need to-”

“I know.” Taehyung cut him; he knew it was rude of him, he was addressing his father but also the King, but he couldn’t help the bitterness in his voice.

The King sighed and chose to overlook his audacity. “I know what you think.” Taehyung’s father, despite being the King, he was also a father and he understood his son’s feelings more than Taehyung thought, but sometimes there was nothing he could do. His duty to the crown came first, feelings second. “There is actually someone I want you to meet. My friend’s daughter. I didn’t have the chance to see her more than twice but she’s a brilliant girl. Maybe too brilliant but I do have a feeling you would get along.”

That, Taehyung had a hard time to believe, nevertheless he nodded his head, resigned to his fate.

“Good.” His father approved and then, his face lightened up as the said person walked along with his father in the ballroom. “Ah, here they are.”

Taehyung’s followed his father’s eyes - here, among so many people, you were, smiling brightly as you greeted many persons, laughed heartily as your father whispered something to your ear. He blinked, confused, surprised, and so utterly happy he could not find the words or the strength to describe how he felt.

“Taehyung?” His father noticed his calmness and quirked a brow, curious at the sudden change in his eyes. “What is it?” Then, he saw how Taehyung took a step forward, eyes on you. “Do you perhaps know her?"

Taehyung’s body betrayed him by nodding. His father, however, only chuckled and thought it would best not to ask how it was even possible that the two of you managed to meet and how inappropriate it was.

Completely mesmerized, Taehyung walked towards you, heart beating crazily in his chest, pounding so hard, so excited, so happy to find out that no, there was still some fairness in this world. He had found you, again.

Whispers rose around him as he stopped right behind you. He held his breath, in fact, he wasn’t sure he could talk, too scared that his emotions would give him out. But god, he was just so glad to be once more reunited with you.

"Miss Y/N.” He remembered just on time that he couldn’t call you just by your name without raising some suspicions.

You froze right on the spot. Your ears were playing you a trick, there was no other way, you thought. Scared to be deceived, you refused to turn around. Until your father gently nudged your arm and shoot you a look that told you it was very impolite. So you turned around only to see the man you yearned for.

No words left your mouth, you simply couldn’t while Taehyung, on the other hand, grinned widely, eyes shining brightly at you. Eyes that held promises. Promises of love and a forever ever.

#bts fanfic #taehyung #bts #bts fluff #bts fic #bts x reader #taehyung x reader

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thotsforvillainrights · 3 years

Note

Could I may' ask how would Yandere Setsuno, Overhaul, Mimic and Chronostasis react when their darling is (the first time) drunk and flirting with them? Have a beautiful♥️

(Okay so I wanted to experiment with this one and add a lot more speaking in it. I kinda wanted to write it out in a different way just a bit, so please hang in there and I hope I haven’t bothered you by doing this lol)

~Yandere Toya/Kai/Joi/Hari and their “first time” drunk S/O~

headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up

~Setsuno~

He watched you stumbling around and began to wonder if this was a bad idea or not. When you brought up to him that you had never went to a bar or club and the fact that you never got drunk but you wanted to, he took it upon himself to show you these things. After all, how could he deny his one true love’s wishes? He took it upon himself to bring you out for a fun night, and he even took the role as DD so you could get shit faced if you wanted...which is exactly what you did:

Y/N: “I’m absolutely havinnng a great tiiiiiime Toya. I’m absolutely haaaaa...oh who is that??? Imma just, pshhhhh hahahahahahaHAHAHAHAHHA!!!!”

Toya: “Aw geez. I knew this was a shitty idea. now I gotta handle this later.”

He spoke to himself as he glared at the way you basically threw yourself on another man/woman/person. It’s not your fault. You’re absolutely plastered so he would excuse your bad behavior as he usually did. However...that passerby wouldn’t be so lucky. Luckily for him you finally turned your attention to him and you didn’t leave his side the whole night. He’s more thankful to you flirting with him than anyone else in the room, he just wishes you were better at it. The amount of times you drunkenly poked him in the eye as you tried to romantically move his hair from his face was ridiculous. He could only laugh at it though!

~Overhaul~

You’re aggravating as shit but you’re his after all. So then why are you once again behaving like a child? Is it because you can get away with more than other people could since you knew he has his head up your ass? The answer is yes. He’s obsessed with you and puts up with a lot more than he would do for anyone other than you. You like to take advantage of this by doing whatever you can to annoy him. As long as you don’t talk/look/or interact with anyone else then you should be in the clear with him. That’s why you were now off your ass wasted just because you got into the old liquor cabinet and tasted a few sips of sake...a few too many:

Kai: “Y/N what the absolute hell are you in here...What the F U C K?????”

Y/N: “Chisakiiiiii! You’ve arrived finally! I cannot wait to tell you about the day I, hic...hurrrrrrrrghrhhhgh!!!

Overhaul felt his hives bubble up in no time when you literally vomited all over one of the couches in his office. “Not doing this right now. I not doing this at all.” He quickly turned on his heels and headed out of the office, ordering Toya to lead you to the room and Nemoto to clean up that mess. Once you were in the room, he stripped you down and bathed you gently. It was something akin to the way he gently treated you back when he first kidnapped you and you finally began to fall into his arms instead of running from them. The moment was almost romantic had it not been for the way you endlessly flirted with him (lewdly I might add). He sighed and continued working little foamy bubbles on your upper back with the sponge while you spewed nonsense all in the name of love. When you finally went to sleep that night, he sighed in relief.

~Mimic~

He had no problems at all with you. Actually it was so easy to get you in his arms for the first time that he couldn’t really be considered too much of a yandere I suppose. His tendencies always show their ugly head when too many people are near. That’s why taking you to a club for the first time was a total mistake when he noticed all the eyes you were getting.

Joi: “Hey fuck off you cocksplat! And what the hell are you looking over there bitch! And you! Yeah you buddy, keep your eyes off my woman/man/partner or else I’ll fucking maim yah!”

Y/N: “Pshhhh, you’re so funny mimmy! Turn into a plushie for me again, hahahaha!!!”

You simply sit in his lap at the bar while he’s roasting and threatening everyone that passes and catches eye with you. Perhaps that’s translated into being overprotective, but the yandere comes in when you realize when he’ll gladly murder everyone in there upon your command. He seemed to be in an awful mood all night even when the two of you made it home. He isolated himself in the living room while you were in the bedroom. He didn’t want to scare you away with his anger. He wouldn’t react very well if you tried to run away. Lucky for him, you drunkenly plopped your happy little ass on the living room carpet and began flirting with him. How could he stay angry when you were saying the stupidest pick-up lines in history? He shook his head and chuckled before pulling you into his lap.

~Chronostasis~

Oh what joy. He didn’t take you to a club to get drunk so he didn’t have to deal with blowing some stranger’s brains out in a back alleyway for paying too much attention to you. He simply had to deal with you’re weirdness within the confines of your own home. It all started with him buying you a first bottle of wine. It quickly escalated from that point on, and now you were making googly eyes at him from the foot of the bed while he tried to hear the TV over your loud ass talking. He’d be annoyed but he was too busy trying not to laugh at you. Laughing would only encourage it.

Y/N: “Hari why don’t you and I go catch a pri...what was...A PRIVATE FLIGHT somewhere and lemme give you a big smooch on the fucking w...a big kiss on the wayyyyyy.”

Hari: “...”

Y/N: “Are you from Tennessee because it must’ve hurt when you fell from heavennn. Hallelujah”

Hari: “...”

Y/N: “Please choke me.”

Hari: “...Pshhh HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA OH MY GOD, Y/N SHUT UP ALREADY!”

He’s doubled over laughing but his heart is full right now. Who would ever thought he’d actually end up with you? After all the stalking, heartache, and yearning? He didn’t deserve you in drunkenness or sobriety, yet here you were.

»—————————–———————————————————–✄

Instagram: @pastelbattydraws & @pastelbattystore

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCRNMJH7vHL7APNobUykhK4w?view_as=subscriber

#setsuno toya #kai chisaki #Joi Irinaka #Hari Kurono #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #shie hassaikai #yakuza

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your-local-vamp · 3 years

Text

I disappeared off of the face of the earth for a while, but I’m back ya’ll!! I need to get used to the whole writing and then posting it thing haha. Anyway! I’ve had this idea for a really long time, but was very much procrastinating on writing it. Whoops. But here it is! It’s honestly mostly focused on the whole conflict within the vampire’s mind. I like to show different sides of them. My last one was straight up a stalker, but this one is a liiiiiiitle different, you’ll see :)! I need to shut up before I spoil the entire thing out of excitement lol. Oh and also! I finally took it upon myself to research how I can write better, make it easier to read and stuff. So if there are some errors or if anyone has advice for me, please do leave a comment! Also also, I have a habit to listen to badass vibe songs while writing/reading, so if you’re interested in some recommendations, hit me up! Okay that’s really it. Have fun reading!

Again, this story contains some explicit themes (blood, character death, overall just being angsty af) so make sure to check the tags before reading!

—————

Running From Death

I once again find myself drinking in the bar located a few blocks from my apartment. That intoxicated feeling I get after a few glasses is amazing to me. It’s pleasant to feel good for a change.

Being here also allows me to converse with the humans. Which is… Interesting to say the least. Their different personalities, lifestyles, stories. I happen to eavesdrop into conversations from time to time, which results in me hearing the most outrageous stories sometimes. May they be true or not, they interest me.

I try not to attract too much attention to myself, but I fail in doing so most of the time. Blame it on my charismatic vampire looks, I guess. Humans often strike conversations with me, but I’m not one to complain. I like talking to them when I get the opportunity.

The bell attached to the front door rings. A woman enters the bar. “Oh god, it’s her again,” someone in one of the booths behind me sighs. Hmm, must be a regular. I come here embarrassingly often, enough to call myself a regular as well, but I haven’t seen her before. She’s very handsome looking.

My hand covered with a leather glove tightens around the whiskey glass.

“Control yourself, please. You’ve practiced this many times before.”

It repeats in my head over and over again. Unfortunate things usually happen when I’m drunk. It saddens me, because I wish to not hurt anyone. I was a human once too. And I want to remember the memories from back then. Try to do ‘human’ things. But it’s hard, especially with-

“Hey, how are ya doing?” A voice interrupts my intrusive thoughts.

I look up and see the handsome woman sitting on a stool next to me. Her voice is lively and confident. But it’s probably just the liquor talking.

“Just thinking.”

“Abouuuuut?”

Oh god. She’s totally wasted. I now notice that she can barely even sit up straight without falling over. I can’t help but smile at her actions though, it’s almost endearing in a way.

“Just contemplating life, really.”

“I came here to do the exact same thing!” the woman says.

“How so?” I ask, now completely interested in her story.

“Ugh, where do I even start? My shitty boss fired me today. And you know what the most fucked up part about it all is? The fact that I’ve been working there for years! I did so much for his company, but he decides to just fire me, because ‘he’s gotta cut some people down’. So, I came here to drink my sorrows away. Well, I may have already visited two other bars, so I’m kinda far gone already haha.” The woman keeps on rambling, without actually making eye contact with whom she’s talking to. But I happen to listen to every single word.

“Why did he have to cut people off?” I question the woman.

“Pfshh, I don’t even know. Not enough money, I guess. He could’ve fired literally anyone else, but-“ she interrupts her own sentence, while her eyes make contact with the bartender, “-Hey! Can I have uhhhh. Whatever he has?” she finishes, while she absentmindedly points at my own drink.

She seems to have forgotten what she was talking about before, she’s just staring at the bartender until her drink is ready.

“And what’s your excuse for being here?” she asks, while taking a sip of her whiskey.

“Just taking a break from drinking blood and killing people.”

Well, that’s what I should’ve said if I really wanted to be honest. But being honest isn’t my reality. Lying has become my forte over the many years I have been a vampire. I don’t exist in the eyes of humans. And it should stay that way.

“Just taking a break from life.”

Yeah, that should do it.

“I come over here to share my entire life story, and all you’ve got for me is that? Damn.”

Or not.

“My life is really not that interesting,” I quickly add, trying not to blow my cover.

She takes an observing look at me. I have never felt so uncomfortable in my entire existence. She gives me the feeling like she can look right through my lies. “Hahaha, I’m just messin’ with ya. I don’t like to pry into people’s lives like that anyway,” the woman smiles.

Phew, I barely got away with that one. I return a signature smile to her. The one that makes everyone all the more invested in me, it seems.

*a few hours later*

The handsome stranger and I have been talking for hours. I lost track of time a while ago. Talking, or rather listening to her, reminds me of my human days. I used to help my elder neighbors with chores around the house, but ended up listening to them for hours and hours. I knew that when I had finished the chores, there would be a nice hot cup of tea and cookies waiting for me. The elder couple loved to share their stories with me. I know now that most of them were of pure fantasy, but at that time they were something I would so eagerly wait for to hear.

This woman gives me that feeling of nostalgia. The excitement of finally hearing the story I have longed for. It’s odd, since I have only met her a few hours ago. But somehow I feel like I’ve known her for a really long time.

“Nghn, my head hurts…” She snaps me out of my thoughts. “Woah there, don’t fall off that stool now,” I say, while carefully taking a step towards her. “C-Can you take me home?”

I look at her with disbelief.

Did she really just ask me to walk her home?

“U-Uh, I can call a cab for you? Or ask one of your friends to come pick you up maybe? I’m sure that-“

“Please.”

She looks at me with eager eyes. Her intention is really for me to take her home. If only she knew what I really am. I sigh. “Let me go to the toilet first, then I’ll walk you home.” I finally surrender to the human.

The entire way to the toilet I ask myself what I’m getting myself into. I shouldn’t be doing this, I know that all too well. But I can’t just keep hiding my true feelings all the time. I want to live amongst humans. I know that we can coexist. As long as I control myself, everything will be fine.

I sigh, take my gloves off and use the toilet. My head is suddenly throbbing like hell. I can feel that my body is trying to fight the urge to kill every single soul in this bar. Everything spins.

Shit.

“Hey, you ready or not? I feel like puking!” I hear the woman urgently knocking on the door. “Y-Yeah, I’ll be out in a sec!” I shout back.

I quickly finish and go back to the bar. “Let’s go,” we hurriedly exit the bar. She does so, because she needs to get home asap. And I do so, because of obvious reasons.

I can feel that I’m starting to lose control. It was a mistake drinking this much. I’m usually okay with drinking a few glasses, but this woman has a certain effect on me. And it’s not a positive one. Not while I’m drunk, at least.

The woman is currently walking behind me, laughing at her own jokes. All I want right now is to drop her off as fast as I can.

“Ah, shit!” I hear a loud thud.

I look back and see that she is now sitting on the cold concrete.

“What happened?” I ask, clearly concerned.

The woman shakes her head. “I’m so clumsy, I literally just stumbled over my own feet haha.”

God, we’re never going to get anywhere like this. “Oh nooo! My new pants! Ugh, this stuff always happens to me.”

I take a quick look at her leg and notice that the fabric is ripped open. She took a great fall apparently, otherwise that wouldn’t have happened.

“Damn, I’m bleeding too.”

That’s all she had to say to make my eyes turn red and making my fangs expose themselves. I quickly turn around, hoping that she didn’t notice my weird behavior already.

“Are you okay…?” she asks, proving my thoughts wrong. I disregard her question and return it with my own.

“Is it bad?”

I don’t know why I’m asking her that. No matter of how bad it is, the mere smell of her blood is driving me insane. All I can think about is that right at this moment.

“Uhm, no I think that I’m okay.” I can hear that she’s getting up and has started to walk towards me.

“Please, don’t come any closer.” I say this with a serious tone, hoping that she’d cease to move instantly.

“What’s wrong? It’s not even that bad.”

Fuck fuck fuck.

I can’t hold the urge back anymore. I never want to hurt humans, but I also can’t forget of who I have become. I’m a vampire. To stay alive, I need blood. Alcohol has terrible effects on me.

It’s like drinking water with salt in it. You’re drinking, but it worsens your thirst because of the salt. Alcohol only enhances my thirst for blood. I’m learning the consequences of that now.

The woman has come even closer to me. I turn around, only to see a reached out hand with blood on it. I try to fight the dark side of me with everything I have. That side of me gives in, eventually. I resist the urge and grab her wrist, only to warn her to stop.

However, this action suffers a great consequence. The woman looks at me. The white of her eyes turn dark red.

Wait… I look at my hand, having a firm hold on her wrist.

“My gloves!” is all I can utter at this moment.

I have forgotten my gloves in the toilet area. How can I be so stupid… I’m unable to touch any living being with my bare hands. If I do so, it dies. Everything I touch turns into dust. It’s a curse I have carried with me ever since I turned. It has barely posed as a problem the last few years. But I… I touched her without gloves on.

“W-Wait. No. I’m sorry, please!” I beg for my actions to reverse themselves. But what happened cannot be undone.

The woman’s eyebrows furrow and her eyes look back into mine, filled with betrayal. “H-How cou-ld y-ou,” she chokes on her own blood. She is in immense pain, I can tell. I let go of her hand, terrible guilt now washing over me.

She takes a look at her shaking hand, which gets covered with popping veins inch by inch. The sounds coming from her are agonizing. She stumbles backwards, now nearing her end. Tears roll down my cheek, as I carry her.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know my gloves were…” I’m unable to finish my sentence, as my non beating heart breaks seeing her mouth all covered in blood clots.

It’s ironic, really. I was barely able to resist the smell of her blood before, but now even though I’m covered with it, I don’t seem to mind.

Her body shivers uncontrollably, until it stops moving at all. I hold her limp body, watching my tears fall on her veiny cheek.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” I keep repeating it, somewhere having a wishful thought that I could go back before all of this happened.

But her body stays unmoving. I scream and I scream, all of my human feelings washing over me now. This shouldn’t have happened. My ignorance allowed this to take place. And I will never forgive myself for it.

I hear sounds of a crowd nearing by. In total panic, I let go of her body and hide in a nearby alleyway. I crouch and hold my hands over my own ears, trying to ignore the screams that are coming from the spot where I just killed a human. The tears are now streaming down, my thoughts racing. What have I done? I should’ve never went to that bar in the first place.

Fuck, I need to get out of here before they find me. I try to leave the guilt there and run from myself as fast as I can. I am a monster. And no matter how hard I cling on to the little humanity I’ve got left, I will always remain one.

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that-damn-girl · 4 years

Text

My readers and writers/artists dearest, I need your Point Of View

To all those reading this, I am assuming that you all are following me, so THANK YOU for that. It maybe for the stuff I write or for those I reblog, but I am grateful to you regardless.

To Readers:

I can't help but notice the number of likes on my post and the number of comments have got no comparison at all. While I am thankful to see those notes, no matter however small, on something I've worked hard behind, I would also like to know your thoughts.

For example, let me show you the number of people who have commented on my posts out of those who have liked:

5 comments (by 8% of those who liked)

6 comments (6%)

8 comments (6.5%)

7 comments (11 %)

The thing is, I understand that you are not obliged to like or reblog everything you stumble upon. I understand that that you've got your own "Likes" part where it is entirely up you to keep whatever YOU want in that section. I understand that you've got a blog where YOU have the control to show your followers what kind of stuff you're into, which my content may not be. It may also be that you just didn't like my content enough to share it with others, which is FINE. You are an individual with YOUR Own Preferences.

Those who do like and reblog, THANK YOU!!!

However, as a writer who provides content for free, I'd like to think that I have some sort of right to want to get feedback about my work. It may be positive or constructive negative (constructive criticism).

I know for a fact that I am not perfect. Not everyone will like my work. Even if they do, there might be a lil something that may not sit well with them. PLEASE tell me about it. I am not here to serve anyone, but I do want people to read my work and get as big an audience as I can. So tell me if there is something which you don't like so that I can change that habit of mine in the future as much as possible to give the content both YOU and I can enjoy. For FREE.

If you do like my work, thank you again. Please TELL me that you do so that I can give you more like it; so that both YOU and I can enjoy. For FREE. It's nice to know my work is liked/loved/appreciated by others.

Commenting neither takes up your "Likes" section nor "Posts". But it can make a writer's/artist's day and helps them a lot. It is very much appreciated by them.

As a reader myself, I can say with 100% surety that I do reach out to the content creators to give them feedback of their work.

If you are a silent reader, and for readers in general, what you can comment to help the writers/artists:

Emojis! I would totally accept your feedback in the form of a simple thumbs up/down. If you do feel more expressive, use the faces with different reactions on your keypad. Even just 1 would do!

If you like a particular line/para in what I wrote, ONLY COPY THAT TO PASTE IT IN THE COMMENT AND NOWHERE ELSE, followed by a thumbs up or anything you like. That is the only form of plagiarism I would accept.

Maybe point out a little detail you like/dislike, no matter how obvious it is.

Express however you want to, really.

Just one word/short phrases would do too. It can be "Good", "Liked it", "The previous one was better", "Need more like this", etc.

ANYTHING IS BETTER THAN NOTHING.

To Writers And Artists:

THANK YOU for contributing to the fandom they way you do, though you can never be thanked enough for the time, effort and hardwork you put into your content! It is very much appreciated. 💋❣️

Please tell me/other readers if you are okay with emojis as comments. I often can't describe how I feel with words, so emojis is the way for me. Tell me if you'd prefer that or just simple words.

Tell us if you are open to suggestions/constructive criticism. If yes, how do you want the readers to reach out to you so that neither do they feel uncomfortable nor you offended by any chance?

Please tag accordingly and not unnecessarily.

Express your views too.

To Activate Commenters:

I LOVE YOU PEOPLE TO THE MOON AND BACK! Thank you ❣️💋

Tagging those saints to show my gratitude: @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @autty0314 @myxsecretsky @wintersoldierissucharide @iwishiwasthemoontonight @clapoftheass @thorfanficwriter @stranger-stark-montgomery @loudherobanditgarden @iwillmakeyoucraveme @kahlanmars @the-omni-princess @barjuude @hiddles-rose @proudgarbage @jobean12-blog @writingsoftheloser @bitchassbucky @threeminutesoflife @iluvsumbucky @superlulumac-blog @rayche776 @yn-the-reader @trynnabemultifandom @yetanotherravenclaw

To all the ones tagged above, I APPRECIATE EVERY SECOND YOU HAVE TAKEN TO APPRECIATE AND COMMENT ON MY WORK. Whenever I read them back, I have a smile one my face which YOU have caused. Thank you again. Please keep doing it with other writers and myself too.

#writers #artists on tumblr #support artists #writer #support writers #writers on tumblr #thank you readers #thank you writers #thank you artists #connecting with readers #readers of tumblr

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theforgottendaydreamer · 4 years

Text

in defense of Allura

Disclaimer: I do not accept any kind of hatred under this post. I expect all readers to act politely toward those who don’t share their opinion, and I expect you to expose your own ideas respectfully. Toxicity is forbidden on my blog. I don't hate any character, and this is just an analysis. Anything that stimulates a mature debate is welcomed, as long as you do it politely. Thank you!

The time has come. Long enough I’ve dwelled upon the choices that the writers of VLD have made, especially in the last seasons: in this post, I’ll focus on the decisions concerning Princess Allura.

We were introduced to Allura in the pilot of the show, and it only took a few minutes- should I say doboshes?- to understand her overall personality. The Princess stumbled out of the pod, disoriented and confused, and only an instant later- the time necessary to snap out of her groggy state- she defended herself against a possible threat, being Lance in this case: she physically overwhelmed him with only a few rapid moves, her grip on him steady. Everything about her body language and verbal language screamed “strength”, in the following scenes as well. As she remembered about her father’s death, and about her homeplanet Altea being destroyed, the initial shock faded rather rapidly, and in a few instant she recovered from it. This doesn’t mean that if she hadn’t done it she would have been weak, not at all; it means that Allura, being a leader, knew how to put her feelings aside for a better situation, in order to better focus on the mission at hand.

It’s immediately clear to us that she wasn’t minimally interested in Lance’s advances: she considered him as a teammate, and later as a dear friend, but nothing more than that was shown in the first seasons. When Lance got badly injured, she didn’t seem too worried- though she immediately jumped into action to secure the perimeter. A couple of episodes later, when Lance exited from the healing pod, she spoke to the teen kindly, relieved that he was alright. Yet, this is not a sign of being in love: all of us would be happy if a friend of ours who was at risk was said to be finally out of the woods.

Allura was very practical, focused on her mission: she wanted to save the universe at all cost. At the beginning, her continuous arguments with the paladins may have given the impression that she was annoying and too strict, but she was simply driven by passion and desire to prove to everyone, herself included, that she could do the right thing for the universe. Though she never made it explicit, it was obvious that Allura cared about the opinion that the others had about her (even when she simply insisted on thanking the Arusians) because she tried to overcome her own insecurities by making herself as useful as possible to the cause. Even when she “just” flew the Castleship, she always offered her support and ideas to improve training, strategies and team bonding.

Throughout the seasons, we learnt that Allura had the tendency to blame herself, like when she thought that the Galra were tracking the team through her, for example. Allura also threw herself into battle if it meant saving the others, like when she pushed Shiro out of the way and ended up prisoner, or when she saved the Balmera and risked her own health, pushing herself too far to do the right thing and help the innocents that she couldn’t protect during the 10’000 years of absence. So, according to the evidence we had collected in the first seasons, Allura was selfless and caring, despite everything.

And then, just when we thought we’d seen it all, Allura became the paladin of the Blue Lion of Voltron (I’ll talk about this event in Lance’s p.o.v. in a different post, don’t worry). She was uncertain at first, but ready to dive head-first into the battle, willing to learn and improve her skills. Being an Altean, she immediately connected with Blue, and everything seemed rather easy; though at the beginning her piloting skills weren’t the best, she learnt in the matter of a single episode, and if you don’t consider it quick learning, then I don’t know what it was. Added to that, Allura was also talented, “progressing a lot faster than any of [the other paladins]”, as Lance said some time later.

When Keith confessed his Galra lineage, her attitude towards him was childish, but it was how someone would have normally reacted in a similar situation. People often have a hard time accepting someone that is unwillingly part of a group whose members caused them any harm; it’s one of the principles of racism, and that’s a synonym of ignorance as well. Human minds work like that, because we all tend to associate trauma with a certain group of people, or day, or any other input: it’s despicable, and sadly most people think like that. Luckily for all the Allura stans (me included, though I stan all the main characters of this show) she overcame this issue quickly. What I like about it was that she didn’t brush it off, but she apologised to Keith in person, evidently mortified for her behaviour, and after that she moved past it, accepting her friend and overcoming their differences happily. Mature people apologise, while childish ones pretend that their mistakes didn’t happen: by making amends for her mistake, Allura showed us just how mature she is for a 18/22 year-old (we do not have an official age, so my guess is as good as yours).

Things seemed to be going well for her: she learnt how to better manipulate quintessence, she gave Keith space when he needed to find Shiro after his mysterious disappearance, she learnt how to better pilot her Lion and so on and so forth. It was all going well, until Lotor’s arrival: then, it all started to go downhill.

Lance became inexplicably obsessed with her again, and at the same time, Lotor slowly manipulated Allura. Now, I don’t personally like Lotor since he willingly commits genocide for his own purposes, but I will not dwell further on the topic for it’s not my main discourse now.

Lotor tricked the Princess into believing him, she played into his hands, blinded by love. Mind that when I wrote “love”, my left eyebrow rose impossibly high. In fact, Allura had never shown to be interested in love; surely enough, she was romantically (and sexually, apparently) interested in people as we have witnessed, so the possibility of a love interest wasn’t odd at all. It was just sudden. Too sudden, for my personal opinion.

The problem I have with Lotura (Lotor x Allura, and I specify because I had to google the ship name) is that it’s based on nothing. The team was wholly against Lotor, except for Shiro who was not himself, quite literally. Allura never gave any impression of trusting people easily: not only when Keith said that he was half Galra, but also when Shiro begged her to trust Ulaz. She was hesitant and not happy about having someone she didn’t trust on board. Thus, her sudden burst of trust toward Lotor was odd, especially when it was quite obvious to most of the audience that the Galra prince was not telling the whole truth. I also wish that we got to see more interactions between Pidge and Allura and Hunk and Allura in s6 and beyond, since they rarely talked anymore despite being on the same team. Even Allura’s interactions with Coran were so diminished in number that they looked like complete strangers in the second half of the series, and it hurt.

I mark this point as the start of Allura’s downfall: from iconic character to mere love interest, which is not wrong at all per se, but it is when any other trait and development is purposefully ignored and forgotten by the writers “for the sake of the story”.

Thankfully, Allura seemed to recover quickly after Lotor’s betrayal (the scene when she flips him like a coin? Priceless), declaring all of her hatred towards the cruelties he’d committed and how he let her down irreparably. One good thing that Lotor did- and I have to admit that it was good- was that he made Allura discover new abilities and become stronger, powers-wise speaking. Yet, all of this was secondary to her being a love interest with no other apparent purpose. Why do I say this? Because as soon as she got rid of Lotor, she got together with Lance, and to be honest it’s not quite clear to me how or why.

I can’t deny that when I watched s1, I was an Allurance shipper; I was sixteen, a hopeless goofball who believed in all the clichés. Now, however, I do realize that Lance’s advances were annoying and obnoxious (and he’s my absolute favourite character, so this shows you just how honest I’m being, hopefully), and that I’m so grateful that Allura didn’t give in. At least, she didn’t do it at the beginning. In the last season, however, she fell in love with Lance in a single episode: when he asked her out, she seemed hesitant and only accepted because Romelle pushed her to give it a try. The dinner sequence was where Allura understood that Lance wasn’t the womanizer she thought he was, but I don’t believe that in reality that would have changed anything. You don’t simply fall in love in one evening only because your date’s family tells you that this person isn’t what they seem; in fact, that would worry me even more, personally, because it would mean that my date is a total stranger.

Lance’s “I love you” was not completely uncalled for, but simply very confusing: he seemed to be over her, but he became jealous when Lotor showed up. I tried so hard to see this as a “protective brother/friend” dynamic, but that sentence leaves no space for speculation (again, I’ll talk about Lance another time). What shocked me was Allura reaction’s to Lance’s confession.

She’d never looked at him with any kind of romantic interest, and even if some scenes may be seen as such (when she resuscitates him. And proceeds to hide it from the team. Yeah, another huge disastrous plotline), it’s undeniable that the Princess had trust-issues, and for a good reason too. That one time that she went against her team’s choice and trusted Lotor a bit too much, she got used and heartbroken. So why was she suddenly so in love with a boy that she’d always treated as nothing more than a good friend? My answer is: bad writing.

If Allura had shown any romantic interest in Lance for at least three consecutive seasons out of eight- to create a deeper connection- I would have taken it without complaining much. If Lotor hadn’t committed genocide and didn’t proceed to use Allura, I would have accepted Lotura too (friendly reminder that I don’t do ship hate unless ships involve rape, pedophilia and incest. So I’m not hating on Allurance and Lotura, though Lotor is a villain and I don’t like him, but that’s just my opinion). If Allura was allowed to be both strong and romantically interested in anyone, I would have taken it. But especially in s8, the writers erased her personality, turning a bright and iconic character into dating material. It wasn't fair to her nor to Lance, honestly.

The last straw was her sacrifice: Allura died to save the universe and since it was her main goal, I’m okay with it, though it hurt as she’s my second favourite character. What I didn’t like about it was that the villains got a happier ending than she did. Lotor, who committed genocide, got to live happily ever after with his parents, a violent conqueror and an abusive hag who ripped the universe apart to be with her son (I get it, mothers love their kids, but this is far too extreme). And furthermore, Lotor didn’t even like his parents, but still for some reason he was happy to be with them again, maybe because at least he got to spend eternity with someone that loves him despite everything.

Allura, however, died without saying goodbye to Coran, the man who stayed by her side for all their- but also ours- adventures, the one who believed in her the most and who did everything to protect her. She died without getting a last look at the universe she left behind, at the people who weren’t there in her final moments but that cared for her and vice versa (Shay, Romelle, even Krolia. Even the mice, Kalternecker and Cosmo, really). Each character had about a half a minute to say their goodbyes, except for Lance, whose goodbye was the longest but also the least impactful, in my opinion. The writers played too much with the dramatic idea of it and the result was sloppy- as much as I love dramatic scenes, this was purposeless.

Allura’s last act of kindness- as if saving the whole universe and every existing reality wasn’t enough- was gifting Lance with the Marks of the Chosen. Though, I’m not sure how to interpret it. In a fic I recently wrote, I theorised that “Allura gave you [Lance] these marks because she knew that you had greatness within, and they can actively remind you of it in your darkest moments [...]”. Of course, I’m far from sure that this is the real reason. My question is, was there even a real reason, or did Allura give him the Marks for dramatic purposes? If so, I’m glad that it wasn’t confirmed officially, because at least we get to make our own theories that surely are more satisfying than “we wanted fans to cry more”. Still, I see those marks as scars, and I will talk about it thoroughly in Lance’s analysis.

In conclusion, I don’t think that Allura was bad at all. I think that, in the end, she was simply badly written, which is entirely different.

s1-s5 Allura was a strong, compassionate, empowering, trustworthy, bright, lovable and fun character and for that, she deserved a better- much better- ending. She’ll always be in my heart, and I hope that future reboots will treat her right.

I will always remember Allura dearly. As Coran said in the final episode, “Just around this table I see so many lives touched by her actions. For some of us, she was a diplomat, a teacher, a leader, and a friend. But to those of us around this table, she will always be family”. Raising an imaginary glass, I just want to say... “To Allura”.

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crescent-quill-writings · 4 years

Text

When Raindrops Fall on Moonlit Roses: Thunder (1/3)

Part 2

Fandom: Hamilton - Miranda

Words: 2399

Relationship: Alexander Hamilton/Thomas Jefferson

Additional Tags: Vampire AU, Strangers to Lovers, Thunderstorms, Vampire!Thomas Jefferson, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary: It's a cold and stormy night and poor Alexander Hamilton is caught out in the rain trying to make his way home from the next town over. Better yet, he's gotten himself lost in the woods by trying to take a short cut home and now the sun is sinking below the horizon. It feels like all hope is lost until Alexander comes across an old manor with candlelight in its window. With nowhere else to turn, he knocks on the door.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Alexander clenched his jaw as he fought against the biting winds and the sharp drops of rain pelting his back. His dark green cloak had soaked through by this point, and the chill of rainwater was beginning to seep deep into his bones. He shivered, cold and afraid as he trudged along the muddy forest path.

The traveller looked up, blinking against the rain that fell on his face. He knew the sun had set many hours prior, but the canopy of the forest was so thick that what little light the waning crescent moon produced couldn't reach the forest floor, leaving him in near-total darkness.

Cursing quietly under his breath he pulled the cloak closer to his body trying to find some semblance of protection against the elements despite its drenched state. It didn't help, and he just shivered again. Alexander knew the best he could do was follow the path, hoping that he'd find his way out of the woods before sunrise and that the storm wouldn't worsen.

SHA-BOOM!!

The sound crackled with deafening volume coming mere moments after a blinding flash of light filled the sky. Alexander couldn't help but cry out at the sound as he stumbled and fell into the mud. The scent of ozone was thick in the air and Alexander's body trembled as he tried to escape the memories that wanted to swallow him up like the waves of a raging sea. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his hands into tight fists, trying to physically shake off the memories as he forced himself to stand despite the trembling of his legs.

He needed to get out of the rain, and fast.

Whether by some sort of divine mercy or sheer dumb luck, the traveller's path soon came a fork in the road. The sign staked into the ground was weathered beyond recognition, yet it didn't take much thought before Alexander knew where he wanted to go.

One way was rough and muddy and led deeper into the dark depths of the woods, and the other was paved with smooth cobblestones steeped in a sheen of rainwater. He took a tentative step onto the stone and peered down the path, just being able to make out the silhouette of a house upon a hill in the distance.

Now with a glimmer of hope in his heart the traveller continued down the cobblestone path with a quiet prayer the scene wasn't a trick of the light through sheets of rain.

The trees began to thin out as Alexander approached the house- Though now that he was closer the word house hardly seemed appropriate. The building was large, practically looming over him in its old, gothic elegance. Manor felt like a much more appropriate word. He would've thought the place was abandoned if it weren't for the flicker of firelight in one of the windows and the shape of a man passing through the halls with a light in his hands.

The traveller took in a deep breath and then a hesitant step back, hesitating in his approach and almost considering turning back and continuing through the woods before the sky lit up once more and the clouds rumbled in their anger.

This time Alexander let out a choking shriek and bolted for the manor's door, tripping over his cloak in his rush up the stairs before clambering to press his body against the dark wood of one of the double doors in search of support and shelter from the storm.

"Well, you've certainly gotten yourself into quite the mess, haven't you?"

Alexander jumped back at the voice, eyes wide and wild as he searches for the source before his gaze landed on a man standing in the doorway. He held a golden candelabra in one hand, lighting up the space between them and revealing the subtly intrigued glint in his eye.

"I--! Yes, it seems I have, sir. I apologize if I am interrupting your evening, but I have nowhere else to turn..." Even in his panicked state, the traveller tried to remember his manners, lowering his hood and standing up to face the stranger.

He was tall, making Alexander crane his neck to see handsome features that held an unreadable expression as flames of the candelabra he was carrying flickered in the wind and glinted in his eyes. His clothes looked warm yet expensive, his rich purple coat made of some kind of velvet or satin and the black cravat around his neck shining like silk in the low light.

"Well then, why don't we get you out of the rain and cleaned up a little? Come inside, I'll make us something warm to drink." The man replies with a closed-lip smile, looking down at his guest's small form as he stepped aside and held the door open for him.

Alexander could only nod in response, stunned into silence at the stranger's charming hospitality. The thought of someone being so kind simply out of the goodness of their heart was new to him, and even though he knew he should be suspicious he couldn't help but quietly follow the welcoming stranger into his home.

He paused for a moment in the doorway so he could slip off his boots, not wanting to track mud into a hospitable stranger's home before rushing to catch up with his host.

"Must you walk so fast?" Alexander mutters under his breath with a huff, finding more of his voice now that he was away from the rain and rushed to keep pace with his host.

"It's not my fault that you're so puny... I would've mistaken you for a child were it not for the peach fuzz around your chin." His host replies with a smirk that makes him start to fume.

"Puny? A child!? Good sir, I'll have you know that--!" Despite writing an essay in his mind defending how he was, in fact, not short, and the charming stranger instead abnormally tall his tirade was silenced as the candelabra was pushed into his hands.

"Wait here a moment, will you? I'll be right back with those drinks, and in the meantime, you're welcome to warm yourself by the fire."

And with that Alexander was left alone, blinking in his surprise as he watched the shadow of his host disappear down the hall. The man seemed to move so quickly through his home yet he hardly made a sound... It was strange, but he was a stranger, after all. Perhaps he was just a little too tired and hadn't picked up on the sound properly.

Taking a moment to look around the room as he shrugged off his cloak and hung it up by the fire, Alexander found that the room looked as if it were trapped in time. The gothic style of the exterior architecture carried into the furnishings of the room, with dark hardwood floors and deep red wallpaper patterned with elegant repeating designs seen between a series of oil paintings and tall windows with thick, black-out curtains covering the glass.

"Why have so many windows if you're just going to cover them up like that?" He asks himself quietly as he sat on one of the plush armchairs and turned his gaze to the fire only to be met with the sight of a steaming mug being held out to him instead.

Since when had his host entered the room again?

"I see you were admiring my home. I'll admit, it is a great pride of mine, so don't feel ashamed if you wish to gawk." The charming stranger comments with another one of those smirks as he takes a seat in another armchair across the room.

Alexander could only huff in response, grumbling under his breath as he sniffed at the contents of the mug. It was hot cocoa made with rich chocolate and some handful of other spices like nutmeg or cinnamon to add to the flavour. He took a tentative sip of the drink and found himself relaxing as the liquid began to warm his core.

"This is very nice sir, thank you... You're quite the host." He admits almost begrudgingly, earning a small laugh in response from his host.

"I see you're enjoying yourself, then. I'm glad to see that I still know how to take good care of my guests," The charming stranger replies, stirring his own mug of hot cocoa for a moment and going to take a sip before a kind of realization flashed across his eyes and he sits up with a clear of his throat, "You must forgive my manners, it seems I've forgotten to properly introduce myself. My name is Count Thomas Jefferson, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance Mr...?"

"Hamilton. Alexander Hamilton." Alexander supplies with a curt nod. So his host was a Count named Thomas... It certainly explained his expensive taste of decor, "Do I always need to call you by your proper title or may I just call you Jefferson?"

This response pulled another laugh from the Count, this one ringing with genuine amusement and echoing through the large, empty manor.

"As long as I get to call you Alexander, then yes."

"It's a deal then, Jefferson."

Jefferson laughed again, and Alexander couldn't help but smile as he went back to sipping on his drink. The room fell into a comfortable silence afterwards, the two acquaintances not having much else to share between them other than the crackling fire and the hot cocoa they both held. In the serenity of the moment, Alexander had nearly forgotten about the storm until the rolling of thunder sounded overhead.

He tried not to flinch too visibly and clutched his now empty cup to keep his hands from shaking, but his host still seemed to notice as he watched the Count stand and cross the room towards him.

"Storms like this always tend to last a dreadfully long time out here, and even if it passes in a few days the roads will still be a muddy wreck," Jefferson began to explain, hands brushing against Alexander's as he took a cup and sending an icy chill down his spine, "It'd be best if you stayed until the conditions became more suitable for travel. I do not mind housing you here, for the time being, it's been a while since I've had good company after all."

The Count left no room for protest or refusal of his offer because before Alexander could even open his mouth Jefferson had disappeared down the hall once more. He just sighed and tossed another log onto the fire, trying to ignore the rain drumming against the windows and the continued rumbles of thunder as the storm carried on.

Hearing the sound of running water from somewhere within the house Alexander could only assume that Jefferson was quickly washing up after the late-night treat before he returned to the living room with a bundle of clothes under his arm.

"Alexander? I've drawn you a bath if you'd follow me. I can't imagine you being able to rest well being caked in mud like that." The Count says, holding out his arm for Alexander to take so he could lead him through the house.

"Well aren't you quite the gentleman..." He muttered in response with a roll of his eyes even as he stood and tentatively linked their arms together.

For once Alexander was quiet as he listened to Jefferson ramble on about his manor, his family history, and then some. Alexander did perk up at the mention of a library being in the house, but then Jefferson stopped in front of the washroom and motioned for his guest to step inside.

"These are for you, change into them once you are done so I can wash what you're wearing later. You'll have to forgive me if they're too big for you, though, I rushed myself while putting all this together," The Count begins to explain, handing over the bundle and holding open the door to allow Alexander to step inside, "The guest rooms are just across the hall from here, I'll let you take your pick. My room is the first door in the other hall across from the stairs if you need anything else. Have a nice night, Alexander..."

And with that Jefferson closed the door, leaving Alexander to his own devices.

He took a moment to take in the room, finding it to be just as garish as the rest of the manor before he sighed and stripped himself of his clothes, setting the bundle on the counter by the sink. He knew he didn't have a right to complain, especially as he sank down into the tub and breathed in the sweet aroma of the lavender soaps that had been set out for him.

Thomas Jefferson was an eccentric man, that much was for certain, and perhaps a little old-fashioned, but he had been so kind in his moment of need and had already so much for him. Alexander couldn't bring himself to question the motivation behind his actions, so instead, he let himself soak until his mind and body had relaxed after the all too long day.

He stepped out of the tub and allowed it to drain once the water had turned cold and ruffled a towel through his hair before going to put on his new clothes. For once, Alexander didn't mind the Count's style choices as he slipped on the emerald green pyjamas, running his fingers over the sleeves before he hugged himself to keep the fabric close to his body; they were softer than silk and warmer than anything he had ever known, helping fog-like sleepiness to settle in body and mind.

Yawning as he stepped out of the washroom and picked the second door to the right at random, too tired to care much about which room he stayed in as long as it had a bed, and soon crawled under the covers.

His eyes became heavy as he relaxed into the mattress, though as his eyes began to close and sleep began to overtake him Alexander could've sworn he saw the shape of Jefferson watching him through the partially closed door, eyes gleaming a ruby red despite the darkness of the hallway and smile outlined with a pair of sharp fangs before everything faded to black.

#Jamilton #Alexander Hamilton #Thomas Jefferson #Hamilton #hamilton: an american musical #vampire au #vampire!Thomas Jefferson #my writing #chapter 1

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thespnfriends · 3 years

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When A Monster Strikes- Chapter Three

*Disclaimer: We don’t own Supernatural, it belongs to it’s respective creators.* -TheSPNFriends

Pie and Magicians

Jessica thought that all she'd have to do before leaving the two strange men in their vintage car was answer a question or two. Perhaps about any shady business going on around town or if anything super weird like if a tornado had touched down recently, which was kind of impossible.

Jessica sent another text to Rachel but didn't receive anything. She was starting to really worry now and checked the time. The sooner she helped these guys, the quicker she could get to the police station.

Personally, she wasn't sure if there was any shady business going on around town. She should have directed the two of them to the police station as well, but she somehow found herself in the backseat of their car and headed towards the town diner. The driver, Dean had said something about getting a quick bite to eat and she momentarily was dismayed. She really needed to get to the local police rather quickly.

However, on the way to the diner, the man in the front passenger seat had introduced himself as Sam and told her that they were federal agents.

After that, some of the worry Jess had disappeared. It was good that they weren't serial murders like she briefly thought but technically anyone could have the capabilities. The worry was minuscule until she saw a shotgun lying in the footwell of the backseat. She hadn't meant to find it but she had dropped her hairband and just stumbled upon it. She didn't want to mention the gun because they were agents and according to a lot of shows they sometimes needed a little extra protection so she acted like everything was fine. They should store it properly though if she was honest, anyone could find that and get hurt pretty easily.

In retrospect...she probably shouldn't have based everything she knew about law enforcement on the tv shows she and Rachel binged.

One question led to another and then another and then, of course Dean kept complaining about being hungry. Eventually, they made it to the town diner that was downtown and Jessica was an hour late for work. She had briefly texted a co-worker and said she'd be late due to family reasons but Jess had a feeling that she probably wasn't gonna make it to work any time soon if at all that day. She figured if she helped them then they could help her.

Jessica put her fork down as she finished her pie. Dean had already started on his second piece and Sam sipped on a glass of water. Jessica worked out that he didn't seem to like sweet things but that was okay with her.

"So you're saying that you work at a theme park dedicated to ponies and what's with this Comic-Con crap..?"

"My Little Pony but honestly was that the only thing you got from the whole story?"She asked with a confused expression. "And it wasn't Comic-Con..."

She sighed and tried again.

"The guy in the costume. His name was Nick Jones, at least that is what he told Rachel. I didn't meet him personally... because I was busy trying to rid my clothing of pickle juice."

"Look we're here to help-"

"Dean, I think she's only teasing," Sam said and took another bite of whatever vegan food he had ordered.

"No! No! It was actual pickle juice!" She exclaimed. "Never mind. I will spare you the details." Jessica tipped her nose in disgust.

Sam stared at Jessica before he looked at Dean. His pie had fallen out of his mouth, back onto the plate during her admission.

"Um, okay moving on. What happened after that?"

"Well, I went home and proceeded to take multiple showers." She told them.

"Did you see Nick after that?"

Jess shook her head. "Well no. I was in the shower."

Dean made some muffled noise behind his pie and she gave him a confused look. She didn't know why they were both acting like this but it seemed like they weren't taking her seriously.

"I mean, after that day." Sam clarified.

"No, I didn't. I went to work yesterday, had an overtime shift. Everything was fine until I got home last night. I figured Rach really wasn't feeling well so I was gonna make her some food but when I went to check on her she was gone. I tried to tell myself she was at the store or something but it was quite late when I got home, too late. I knew she was gone but I didn't know what to do."

"Are you sure that Rachel didn't just leave?"

"Yeah, Rachel isn't the type to do things like that. We've always been close, always vigilant. We tell each other everything. Anyway, I've tried contacting her but nothing. When she still wasn't back this morning...I knew something was wrong." She said to the agents as she wrung her fingers in her shirt. She knew she should have called the police or went to the police and now Rachel could be lying in a ditch somewhere and she had done nothing. Nothing to save her best friend.

Dean cleared his throat once more and changed the subject. "So...Rachel and Nick, they seemed like they really liked one another?"

Jessica nodded and tried to push those dark thoughts away. "Oh, Rachel. Yeah, she was totally taken by him!"

"What?" Sam exclaimed and knocked over Dean's drink. Dean sighed and flicked him in the face before throwing down a handful of napkins to clean up the spill.

"Jessica, do you have any idea where they would've gone?" Sam asked her point-blank as he sopped up the mess.

"No...I have no idea. That's why I'm telling you all this."

"But-" Dean interjected but was cut off before he could literally get a word in.

"I meant that she liked him a lot," She started in a rather blunt manner realizing they misunderstood what she had said. She saw the brothers share a look as she handed them both more napkins to clean up the mess that was slowly taking over the table. "Anyway, I'm just worried because of that open case on the radio. The one about the different girls being kidnapped. I think it looks too convenient that Nick was here and the last girl taken was a state away. I mean Rachel looks exactly like those girls that were kidnapped and they haven't been found yet. Something just doesn't sit right with me." She took a breath and then a drink from her soda.

"You think this guy might be the one abducting the young women?" Sam asked as he shared another look with Dean.

"I'm not saying that it's Nick...I just want to make sure it's not. Rachel's convinced he's the best thing since sliced bread. They're Penpals, she said something about them talking for the past year....but something feels fishy to me," Jess looked down at her phone. "I keep texting and calling but so far there's still been no response."

"Well, there's not much to go on." Sam sighed.

"Uh, other than the serial killer lead. I think it's pretty narrowed down here."

"Sounds like this guy's off his rocker," Dean said with fries in his mouth. "Obsessed with ponies and potentially kidnapping girls." He shook his head and wiped his hands on a napkin as Sam and Jessica nodded in response.

"So um, I know I should've probably gone to the Sheriff and I was on my way when I bumped right into you two but literally nothing like this has happened around here before if this is in fact what I think it is. The last major crime was a tourist running a red light and they didn't even get a ticket. Also after you introduced yourselves as feds I figured you could help me better than the local PD. So, uh would you guys be willing to at least see if anything is going on here?"

Silence enveloped the group as the agents shared a look then Sam excused himself from the table and Dean followed him a few feet away. Jessica took the silence as a slight nope and looked back down at her deconstructed pie. She didn't even have the heart to finish it with Rachel in the wind. Looked like it was going to be a trip to the Sheriff after all.

"Maybe we should give Cas a call? It's probably nothing, but what if it is?" He said in a lowered voice and watched as Jessica nibbled on her pie.

Dean perked up at the name and then frowned.

"Let's see what's what. If we have to call in the big guy then we will." Dean said rather quietly.

"You think it may be a bust?" Sam asked. It wasn't uncommon that they had a non-monster case, it just wasn't their job.

"It's looking like it, Sam-"

A hush swept over the room as Jessica heard an odd sound, a fluttering noise like a bird flapping its wings. They all turned their heads to the empty seat beside her. Jessica's eyes immediately widened. Sat beside her was a dark-haired man and he was staring right at Dean.

"How-?" She started with even wider eyes as she looked at the man in the trench coat.

"Hello Dean, you called." A deep monotone voice filled their ears.

The stranger turned to face Jess, his blue eyes filled up her line of sight and then said hello... and that's when she blacked out, but not before a single thought entered her brain.

'Is that guy a magician?'

Previous:Chapter Two Next:Chapter Four

#SPNfic #spn #when a monster strikes #TheSPNFriends #supernatural #spn fanfic series #spnfandom #dean #sam #winchester brothers #cas #jessica coleman

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neighborhoodmoonchild · 5 years

Text

Follow The Light (Warlock!Yoongi x Wisp!Reader)

Genre: Supernatural Au, Fluff, Angst

Warnings: Explicit language (a tad), brief mention of cheating and death, P.O.V. switching, that’s about it

Word Count: 9K (oops)

It wasn’t every day that Yoongi was visited by an unnerved stranger with nothing but revenge on their minds. Well, it didn’t use to be, but ever since he took that idiot’s offer to help him get revenge on a cheating girlfriend in exchange for some monetary compensation, it seems that’s all he could attract nowadays.

In fact, he can’t even remember the last time someone came in for something as simple as an herbal remedy, or maybe a spell to keep flowers from wilting, or hell, even just to say hi and see how he was doing.

He couldn’t hold it against anyone though; his friends were off far away with lives of their own to attend to and the strangers coming and going all seemingly had worse things to worry about than the feelings of the town warlock.

If he’s being honest, vengeful souls looking for a quick fix were better than no interaction at all. It’s when he’s alone in that dark house with his thoughts and demons that scared him the most, so any company is good company in his mind.

The only problem is, revenge comes with a price, and the darkness doesn’t just come for the seeker, it comes for the creator as well.

Yoongi is not unfamiliar with treading the line between good and evil, in fact, it’s a balancing act he’s been doing his whole life. Every action has either good or bad consequences, and those are tripled when you’re using magic.

At first, it was easy to make the right choice, stay the path of light, deny the darkness, and keep the peace. However, as he grew and learned the truth of the worlds, he realized nothing was as simple as it all may seem on the outside.

It was much easier (and fun) to take a walk on the dark side sometimes. Dark magic had less rules, less strings attached, at least, that’s what Yoongi first assumed.

Turns out, the price of black magic is much higher than he thought, and Yoongi has racked up an enormous tab.

Now it was a daily internal battle to keep his demons at bay, and honestly, he’s fucking exhausted. Should he give in to the temptation of the darkness, or should he fight to follow the light? If he thought about that question one more time, he swears he’d have a stroke.

Yoongi was honestly done with wondering what if, he wanted answers and he wanted them now. Maybe that’s how he found himself wandering a path not often taken, searching the woods for an answer, a sign, anything.

If anyone saw him right now, they’d think he’s crazier than they already do. What kind of all-powerful warlock wanders the edge of town for a sign of the right path? Answer, the stupid kind.

Yoongi shakes his head, the corner of his mouth turning up a bit, “If the boys could see me now.”

He knows they’d have a field day. The ever-so wise and sure Yoongi, asking the universe for guidance? Hysterical.

Yoongi was the type of guy who fronted that he knew all the answers, when in reality, he didn’t know a damn thing. He could fake smooth confidence, but it was a different story actually trying to have it.

But he couldn’t let his reputation deteriorate, not when it was one of the only things keeping him afloat. If people lost their confidence in him, he’d lose his livelihood.

He was the scary warlock who lives alone at the edge of town who solves people’s vengeance problems. People seeking revenge wanted the worst of the worst, so that’s what Yoongi provided.

To be honest, Yoongi took walks more often than he’d care to admit. It wasn’t just to look for a sign, but to clear his mind, calm his soul, and keep the negative thoughts at bay. It is harder to do good when you are consumed with bad. To keep on the line, he took the time to clear himself of some of the negative energy.

The woods were a place of solitude. Nature, the sounds of life bustling around him helped him center himself. It was the only time he left the house, and he liked getting away. He likes watching the clouds roll by, the leaves rustle in the wind, and feel with cold air against his skin. It was these things that made him feel almost human, like he was just a normal person living a normal life.

It gave him a break in the constant tug of war, one that he desperately needed to keep a somewhat sane mind.

Yoongi followed the dirt path at the edge of the wood, hands in his pockets, eyes following the line of trees. It was late October and the colorful array of leaves gave him something interesting to look at instead of the ground.

He thanked the spirits that he’d decided to bring a scarf with him, winding it around his neck to ease the chill that seeped from his veins into his bones. Not to say Yoongi didn’t like the cold, he actually much rather preferred it over the heat. Sweaty Yoongi = Grumpy Yoongi.

The surrounding area took on an illuminated cast as the sun began to sink into the horizon. Sunsets were great, but in his opinion, when the stars begin to glitter in the dark abyss of space, now that was truly a beautiful sight.

He was amazed at how bright these little things could shine when enveloped by such a thick darkness.

Stars gave him hope.

Feeling a wave of calm rush over him as the night takes over, Yoongi pauses a second to breath. The air was magical at the shift between day and night. He could feel the surge of energy in every fiber of his being. It was what being alive felt like.

But just as Yoongi felt complete and utter peace, a new, unfamiliar feeling crept its way in. He could sense something was there, something he’d never encountered before. His sense of peace was replaced with uneasiness; a feeling that set him on edge and ruined his good mood.

‘Why does something always have to ruin my serenity?’ He thinks to himself as he cautiously scans the surrounding area. Yoongi is really hoping it’s nothing serious, because he doesn’t have the energy for a fight right now, or ever for that matter.

He’s about to brush it off as a minor bout of insanity, when he catches a glimpse of light disappear down one of the old trails in the woods.

Adventure is not Yoongi’s forte by any means, and he’s definitely not one to chase a mysterious figure into the dark woods at night. He wants to keep walking, forget it and go home.

His legs even start carrying him away, yet when he comes upon another trail, he sees that same glimpse of light disappear into the darkness.

“I’m seeing things. I’m totally just seeing things.” He whispers to himself, rubbing his face harshly in his hands as if to wake himself up. He keeps walking.

It’s when he stumbles upon a third path that he finds himself standing his ground, staring out to see if it would happen again. He stays still for a few seconds, but sees nothing.

“I knew it.” He turns to keep walking home, but this time sees the light in his path. It stays still for a moment, mirroring him, and if he squints hard enough, it almost looks like...hair?

With no other choice, he slowly trails after it, the light keeping its distance but almost beckoning him forward.

It’s almost like it wants him to follow it?

A few minutes pass, and Yoongi becomes impatient. He wants to know what the hell this thing is and what it wants: now.

He picks up his pace, but just as he gets close enough to make out a figure, it suddenly disappears.

His eyes blink rapidly, mouth agape. Standing frozen, staring at the spot this thing was before it disappeared. Yoongi had never encountered anything like this in all his years, and let me tell you, he has seen some weird shit.

But never had he seen something as strange as this. A light that beckoned him forward only to disappear. The craziest part? He swears it looked like... a girl.

It’s an incessant knocking that draws Yoongi from his slumber. If it wasn’t for that, he’d probably have stayed in bed all day. He’d been pushing himself harder these past few weeks, and magic drained him of every ounce of energy he had.

Rubbing his eyes to rid them of the sleepy haze, he waves his hand, sending his clothes to him, quickly dressing as he descends the staircase. A loud freak escapes a loose floorboard, but he pays no mind to it.

As soon as he approaches the door, he knows who’s waiting for him outside, letting out a long sigh before turning the knob. He doesn’t even have time to greet the intruder before he’s already pushing his way inside.

Too tired to deal with pretty much everything, a quick wave of his hand sends his guest gliding right back to the open doorway, shock overtaking his features.

Yoongi would like to say he doesn’t use his powers to control people very often, but he definitely does because people often do stupid things Yoongi doesn’t appreciate.

One being storming into his house like they own the place.

“You Satanist bastard! You ruined my life, you hear me!” The man screams in Yoongi’s face. Most people would’ve shrunk back at the level and harshness of his words. Yoongi stood there, face void of emotion trying to block out the words to avoid hearing loss.

Ah, the best part of the job, unsatisfied customers. While Yoongi is incredibly good at what he does, he’s not incapable of making mistakes. Sometimes things don’t work out as planned, but in most cases, that was customer error, not Yoongi’s.

As the man continued to throw insults left and right, Yoongi searched his mind far and wide for recognition of the man and what his service was. Knowing what they asked for made it easier for Yoongi to deduce whose fault it was when things go wrong.

After a few seconds, it pops in his head, and he tunes back into the scene unfolding before him.

Red covers every inch of the man’s face, but Yoongi overlooks that to finally speak out.

“You came in last week, a memory spell, wasn’t it?” He stays silent, the man taking in heavy breaths after his outburst.

“You wanted your wife to forget your unfaithfulness, correct?” Yoongi knows without a shadow of a doubt this was true. He tried to make it a habit of keeping track of things he sells and who he sells them to, just in case. Information like this came in real handy during times like these, and he was grateful his memory had actually held onto this particular order.

The man nods furiously, “Yeah, I did, and you said it’d work. A few days later, she doesn’t even remember her own name!” He’s shaking, fists balled up at his sides, eyes turning glassy.

“All of a sudden she couldn’t remember how to speak, or eat, and I found her-“ he chokes back a sob, tears dripping down his face, “I found her face down in the backyard, she was dead, dammit. Dead!”

Now this threw Yoongi for a bit of a loop. Never had something as simple as a forgetfulness spell ended in something as serious as death. In fact, when death came about during magic use, it was more times than not the human’s fault, not the magic.

Before he could question the man further, there was swift whistle through the air as the man’s fist landed sharply into Yoongi’s jaw, sending his head reeling to the side. As he lifted his hand to hold his injury, the man suddenly took off, most likely scared Yoongi would use his magic to retaliate.

Did he want to? Of course, there was no better feeling than sending an asshole flying after daring to lay a finger on a warlock like Yoongi. Retaliation was one of the pleasure Yoongi took in making many enemies, because the adrenaline that coursed through your veins when you used magic in such a way was a fucking rush.

However, Yoongi was too sidetracked by the fact that something he had created had led to an innocent woman’s death. First she’s cheated on, then void of everything she’s ever learned, and then suddenly she’s dead. She’d done nothing wrong.

Yoongi had.

Turns out, not only does black magic have a high price, it also can be highly unpredictable, especially when not in the right frame of mind. After so many dark spells, overuse of his magic, and fighting with himself, Yoongi had been left vulnerable to malpractice.

His carelessness cost someone their life.

This time Yoongi didn’t take a scarf to keep warm. He opted for a flask of whiskey instead to warm himself from the inside out, though the guilt building a fire in his stomach kept it warm enough as it is. Maybe that’s what he needed right now, to feel like he was burning.

He’d lost track of how long he’d been walking, but judging by the fact that he no longer had any idea of where he was, he figured either he’d consumed much too much alcohol, or he was very far from his normal path.

Not that he cared about either anyways. Alcohol dulls the sting of emotion while distance tries to leave it behind. Both of which sounded great to Yoongi right now.

Not one case had bothered him as much as this one. He was usually better at separating himself from his work, building a wall between his personal beliefs and what he had to do to keep on living. Once the spell, potion, hex, whatever it was, was out of his hands, it was no longer his problem.

Out of sight, out of mind.

And it’s not like Yoongi had never dealt with an upset customer or a violent one for that matter. He’s had his fair share of scuffles with pissed customers who didn’t read the fine print. Sometimes he actually enjoyed it, standing his ground and belittling the idiots who start things.

It wasn’t everyday he got a chance to prove how cunning and powerful he was, so he really took advantage of it when it happened.

This hit differently though. It’s like the darkness inside of him liked the taste of death on its tongue, which greatly contrasted the sick pang of guilt Yoongi felt. His demons were bloodthirsty, and this may have been the tipping point. After the man had left, Yoongi spent a solid 10 minutes trying not to vomit from the tearing of his insides as his two sides fought over the feeling.

Murder took Yoongi’s line and crumpled it up in its hand, tossing it into oblivion. He could feel the evil inside of him seeping into his veins, reveling in the news that Yoongi had made a grave mistake.

One that could cost him his light.

The devil doesn’t care about intention, he only cares about results.

And the result was blood on Yoongi’s hands.

He takes another swig from the flask, a slight sway in his step as the alcohol really settles in. He should be scared that dulling his senses could make it easier for the darkness to take hold, but he figures he’s probably already screwed, so bottoms up.

Looking around him to get a feel for where to head, Yoongi stops all together.

While the whiskey sure does make it hard to focus, it’s not to the point where he could hallucinate. And he’s definitely seeing a little light flickering at the edge of the woods.

After taking a second to collect himself as much as he can, he takes a step forward, keeping his sight on the glow.

It seems to glow brighter, edging him on, and he can’t stop himself as he lunges forward, chasing after it like a dog after a rabbit.

Yoongi’s mind warns him that he could scare it away, make it disappear, but the light only moves faster, further into the woods, almost like a game of tag.

Alright, if this thing wants a race, fine, he’ll give it one. Maybe it’s the alcohol giving him liquid courage or rock bottom feeling that his life couldn’t get any worse than it already is, but he’s flying through the trees, swerving and dodging limbs, after the little light.

The sober, sane part of his brain is kicking himself for how ridiculous he looks right now, but the rest of him doesn't give a shit. His filters gone and walls down, he was going to find out what the hell this thing was if it killed him.

Yoongi hates to admit it, more than happy to put the fall on the alcohol, but he was tiring quickly and the light didn’t seem like it was giving up anytime soon. So, no matter how badly his lungs and limbs ached, he pushed forward. He wasn’t going to let it get away this time.

Minutes that felt more like hours passed, when the light stopped just before a large opening at the edge of the tree line.

Tired as hell and dizzy from the whiskey sloshing around in his stomach, Yoongi heaves himself to a halt, resting his hands on his knees as he leans forward, trying to catch his breath.

That, needless to say, was more than enough exercise for Yoongi for one lifetime, maybe even two.

When his heart rate had returned to a safe pace, he peeked up between his fringe at the place he saw the light stop. It took a second for his eyes to adjust, but he could finally see what he was chasing after, and despite his efforts to dismiss what he thought was an insomnia-induced hallucination, he really did see the figure of a girl.

She was standing at the edge of an old fountain, back facing him. He wasn’t sure if he should be proud or terrified for the fact that he was also right about the light coming from her hair. It wasn’t as bright as before, but it cast a soft glow that mesmerized every atom of Yoongi’s mind.

Yep, this was definitely something he’d never seen before.

Yoongi collected himself, even straightening his clothes and hair, not that he was trying to impress her or anything, he’s just a gentleman is all.

As he went to take a step forward, he found himself unable to move his feet. He was scared she’d disappear again. What if this was his last chance to uncover the mystery and he blows it?

What if this is his sign?

Just as he was about to pull it together and go for it, she turned her head, a smile visible even in the dark of night. He stepped forward, cautiously, and when she remained constant, he took that as an okay to proceed.

The closer he got, the more features of the girl he discovered. The color and flow of her hair, gently swaying in the night breeze. The curve of her cheeks, her smile pushing them high, a red tinge blossoming at the apples.

She didn’t look at him, but he could see the frame of her eyes, soft and wide, cute.

For a creature of which Yoongi knew nothing about, she looked seemingly human, save for the whole glowing hair thing. Her outfit was simple and warm, smothering her small frame in layers to stave off the cold.

If he had seen her in any other setting, he might’ve given her a second glance, maybe even indulged in some light conversation. He couldn’t deny that she was pretty, but the fact that she is running around the woods at night, seemingly taunting Yoongi to follow, made him leery.

He knew of other mystical beings, from simple to complex, but he’d never come across something like her before. He’d tried, after the first sighting, searching his library for a book on moving masses of light. Of course, he always ended up with nothing.

Learning she actually was a she and not just a ball of energy or something, only further complicated things.

What in the hell is she?

“I like the woods at night,” she says, voice soft and light from not being used. Yoongi stops next to her, looking up from the ground to her, but she remains focused on the fountain ahead.

“It’s quiet and peaceful,” she lifts her gaze to him, smile growing, “the perfect place to think.”

He’s not sure if he’s to respond or stay quiet, so he opts for the latter and turns back to the fountain, placing his hands in his pockets to avoid swaying them like an idiot like he does when he’s nervous.

Yoongi hears her take a deep breath, releasing it and then speaks again, “So many paths to take, yet they all led here.”

Yoongi finally takes a second to survey his surroundings, and he indeed sees several other trails all leading to the fountain. When he looks at the thing, he notes the vines wound around the edges, leaves caked in the bottom, and only the lightest of trickles coming from the top.

It was pitiful, honestly.

“Do you believe in fate?” Her question addressed to him startles him. His mind almost tricked him into thinking this was all just a figment of his imagination, but when he turned to see her waiting for his answer, he feels a cold sensation in his hand.

Her fingers wrap gently around one of his own, holding it softly, and he looks back up into her eyes, smile still present.

Clearing his throat, he turns his attention back to the fountain to avoid showing how pink stained his cheeks grew. He’d never really had many intimate interactions with girls, or anyone really. He’d preferred solitude in the relationship aspect. He didn’t really trust others, and found keeping up with humans and their emotions rather exhausting.

The only friends he’d ever had were the ones he’d met when he was younger. The seven of them used to stir up trouble any chance they could get.

Now that they were older, though, most of them moved on to other things, from starting families, to stable jobs, to traveling the world.

Yoongi was the only one who remained in the same place, following the same path in an endless circle, repeating every day just the same as the last.

He didn’t know how to break free from it, or if he even wanted to.

After standing in silence for a while, Yoongi realizes he still hasn’t answered her question.

“I guess,” he states, hoping it will satisfy her, but she holds her ground, waiting, so he continues, “I mean, do I think we all have a destiny we can’t outrun, then sure. And, we’re here, right now, for some reason, so maybe?”

She releases his hand to settle at the edge of the fountain, looking out into the woods, almost searching for something.

Yoongi is about to ask her what she’s looking for when she speaks before he can get the words out.

“I can sense something in you.” She says, soft smile gracing her lips, eyes moving to look at him, as if actually seeing something inside of him.

Rubbing his neck as he circles her, dropping down to rest on the edge next to her, he sighs, eyes dropping to the ground.

“Yeah, well, I’m kind of a bad person, you’re not the first person to come to that conclusion.”

Yoongi doesn’t lift his eyes from their spot trained on a leaf settled on the ground. He does, however, feel her turn towards him, feels her hand as it comes to rest on his knee.

Slowly, he looks up and meets her eyes, seriousness swirling in them though her mouth stays curved upwards.

“It’s actually quite the opposite Yoongi. Everyone makes mistakes, it’s how you learn from them that matters.”

It was like time had stopped; everything around him had frozen in place and he couldn’t tear his eyes from hers. He wasn’t sure if he’d heard her right. How could she, let alone anyone, possibly see anything but evil in him, especially if she knew what he had done. He could feel it in himself every day, and by the way people gossiped about him, he knew others could too.

And how had she known his name?

She removes her hand from his knee to clasp them together in front of her, “So, what and how will you change?”

After that, he avoided answering you by grilling you instead; you could tell he was startled by your revelations. You liked the mystery, though, so you’d offered him no answers and disappeared into the night before he could object.

It probably wasn’t fair, no, it definitely wasn’t fair, but it sure was fun.

You’d woken up with the sudden urge to visit a place you’d never heard of. Leaving on a whim, you found yourself in a small town with an abundance of hiking trails and the story of an evil warlock surrounding it.

The whole thing felt eerily familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. This wasn’t the first time you’d gotten a feeling so strong it carried you away from home.

In reality, there was no true home for you. You moved around so much, no place was ever permanent, but that was just how your life worked.

You couldn’t ignore destiny.

So here you are, waking up in a little inn on the east side of town, wondering if you’d go to him this time, or continue to let him chase you.

You figured he’d be pretty shaken up after last night, especially considering how intoxicated he’d been, and decided you’d take the initiative.

Packing a small bag for the journey ahead, you quickly showered and got dressed, locking the door behind you and heading off.

You’d known the first time you heard about him that he was the reason you were here.

You didn’t show up in a strange place on a whim just for fun, it was more like, work.

Since you were little you’d been given the task of guiding others to their fate. It started off with little things, because as a child you didn’t truly understand what fate even was. As you got older, the tasks became higher stakes. You’d had some charges that refused to believe, and it pained a small part inside of you knowing there was nothing you could do.

Sometimes, people just needed to figure out their path on their own. When they needed a little extra help, that’s when you came in.

You were here to help Yoongi find his way, and from the second the feeling sparked within you, you knew it’d be more difficult than the rest.

You hadn’t even really met him and you knew he’d be a tough nut to crack.

You did, however, sense his desire to find the right path, so you had hope this wouldn’t end in a total lost cause.

Still, as you trekked your way across town in the direction the innkeeper said he lived, you couldn’t help the nervous tick growing inside of you.

You hadn’t worked with many magical folk, and if his reputation precedes him, then Yoongi is as powerful as they come. Humans were one thing, they could easily be persuaded and helped into understanding.

Warlocks were an entirely different story. Most witches and warlocks pride themselves on knowing everything there is to know about all the worlds. So when a force beyond their knowledge comes in to guide them, they have a hard time releasing the reins.

No matter how difficult this would be, you were determined to give it your all. Yoongi has something incredibly beautiful inside of him and you want to help him find it.

This is the case that would change your life.

You just knew it.

The hangover was worse than any he’d encountered before. Alcohol and startling revelations create quite the nasty combo. It hit Yoongi like a K.O. and he was sure this is where he would die.

In his bed.

Same clothes from last night.

It’d be one hell of an obituary.

What he wasn’t expecting at 8 a.m., just when he finally fell asleep, was a knock on the door. It was softer than the one from yesterday, but it was a pain in the ass nonetheless.

He got up, not even bothering to fix his appearance. He was too exhausted and grumpy for that, and he wanted to make sure whoever was bothering him at this hour could tell.

He took the stairs two at a time, swifter than someone with a hangover should, but let’s blame that on the magic.

Yoongi doesn’t even grab the door handle, he just flicks his wrist and makes the door fly open, hitting the wall behind it so hard, some bits of the plaster break off and fall to the ground.

“This better be good or else-“ and he’s suddenly wishing he could take all of the theatrics back, because he definitely did not think it’s be the beautifully mysterious girl from last night knocking at his door.

He almost forgets that your the reason he’d gotten no sleep last night, but as quickly as his face turns red from embarrassment, it shifts to a shade of aggravation.

It was almost sad that you could tell the difference between the colors, having seen it so many times before.

He stormed off into the kitchen to make himself some coffee to wake himself up, and you stand in the doorway, not exactly sure what to do.

He hadn’t invited you in, in fact, it looked like quite the opposite.

Before you could apologize and walk away, though, your body is pulled forward, the door swinging shut behind you.

This should be interesting.

“Why are you here? Don’t you have woods to wander and people to scare?” He yells from the kitchen, not bothering to come to you, instead beckoning you to find him.

What a reversal of roles.

You take cautious steps forward until you find yourself in the little kitchen, dimly lit by skylights and a door leading out into what looked like a greenhouse.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee filling the air, it was incredibly homey, something you didn’t expect from Yoongi.

“Well?” He sighs, pulling you from your survey of the room. He takes a sip from the mug held tight in his hands, the steam rising softly and enveloping his face.

“I thought I’d switch it up, come to you this time.” He chuckles into his mug, amused that this was actually happening. It wasn’t just some weird dream he’d conjured in the depths of his mind.

No, this was all really happening.

After the initial silence radiating between the two of you as you both tried to figure out where to go from here, Yoongi beckoned you through another doorway, leading to a quaint sitting room. You sat down in the large sofa across from a beat up chair, which Yoongi took his place in.

“Ok, so, you’re here, I’m here, now what?” He seemed impatient. It was probably the lack of sleep, which you could see in the discoloration under his eyes.

“I think the best course of action is to tell you the truth and go from there.” 9 times out of 10 you’d never tell your charge the truth of why you were there. It usually just complicated things and drew them out longer than they needed to be.

Most times you’d just pose as a random character introduced in their life, subtly guide them where they needed to be, and get out of there.

You knew that this was to be treated differently, because Yoongi was different, so you thought he’d appreciate a little honesty.

“Alright, I’ll bite.” Yoongi takes a big swig of his coffee, sets it down on the stand next to him, and leans forward, elbows on his knees. He was genuinely curious as to what you’d drop on him, but he was also still dealing with the repercussions of copious amounts of alcohol mixed with insomnia, so he didn’t exactly seem all that interested.

That didn’t stop you from going forward anyways.

“My name is Y/N, I’m a guide. I help people toward their fate. It’s kind of my thing.” You say, albeit a bit cocky, but you were proud of what you did.

You see the corner of his mouth turn up, but continue, “I’m here to guide you, help you back on track.”

That sends him into a fit of laughter he has a hard time trying to contain. You sit there, staring at him, not sure how to react.

Was he laughing at you or the whole thing?

Yoongi calms himself when he sees the discomfort paling your face. He didn’t mean to make you feel bad, it was just so fucking ironic that he’d been feeling a bit lost and the universe throws him, what, some supernatural spirit guide?

It’s just too hilarious.

“So,” he starts, wiping his eyes as his laughter dies out, “You’re here to get me on the right path?” You nod your head and he has to try really hard not to bust out in another fit.

“What’s so funny about that? I’m serious Yoongi.”

He stops, “And is that how you know my name, Y/N? Some magic man in the sky gave you a prophecy about guiding me towards the light and now you’re here?”

You jumped up, red tinging your ears and flowing into your cheeks. How dare he make fun of your job. This was serious business and he was treating it like some kid’s fairy tale book.

You turn on your heel to storm out, but your body stays frozen just beyond the doorway as Yoongi follows after you.

“Wait, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m just kind of an asshole when I’m tired.”

You ignore his apology, turning to face him, closing the distance, your finger pointed threateningly in his face.

“Do not use your magic on me.” Yoongi pales, lending away from you in retreat, and watches as you open the front door, slamming it behind you.

Some more plaster flies to the ground.

He insisted on following you all the way back into town, keeping at a safe distance, though, in fear you’d reprimand him again.

You didn’t pay him any mind, stomping your way back, posture making it blatantly obvious you were pissed. Maybe Yoongi didn’t have anything good in him at all, maybe he’s not meant to be saved. Maybe you didn’t want to help even if he was.

You hear his footsteps suddenly pick up pace, and he’s now beside you, not too close, but close enough he can feel the anger radiating off of you. Once again, he’d gone too far.

Idiot.

You didn’t feel like going back to the inn, let alone letting him know where you were staying, just in case, so you opted to wander around for a while to blow of steam. After a while, your anger dissipated, and much to your surprise, Yoongi made quite good company.

He stayed silent for the most part, except when showing you different places as you walked. He’d point out little things about the town and watch as you discovered new things, in awe of the place.

There were many things that were different here places you’d been before. With so many lost souls in larger areas, you tended to surface in cities, finding person after person to guide.

This place was so small and secluded, it was like a little paradise. Tiny mom and pop shops, a cute park with a playground, a little bridge over a calm river settling at the center.

It was peaceful.

As you explored, you let yourself fall into casual conversation with Yoongi, swapping stories of childhood and life in general.

You’d hate to admit it, but you were actually starting to feel the warmth from the good in him again. Now you’d definitely have to help him, not that you weren’t going to in the first place, you just liked to make empty threats when you were upset.

Night quickly snuck up on the two of you, but instead of parting ways Yoongi offers to make you dinner to make it up to you.

“It’s the least I can do, I was a dick.” He rubs the back of his neck and you smile, nodding to accept his offer.

“Yeah, you were.” Yoongi smirks at you, and you just walk by him, back to his place. He quickly catches up and you both walk in peaceful silence.

You were growing on each other.

Dinner was simple and quiet, but a nice quiet, one that made both of your souls feel warm and content. He bids you goodnight and you make your way back to the inn, thinking partially of a plan on how to help Yoongi, and partially of the way his face lights up when he smiles and the sound of his laughter.

This job is turning out to be more than you thought it would be.

The following weeks are filled with various activities and tasks to help Yoongi find his way. You start off with the simple things, like tidying up his house, getting his things organized, finding him a proper routine to follow.

He’s hesitant at first, his things were all where he liked them and change wasn’t something he enjoyed, but if you were there to help him, he guesses it isn’t that bad.

Watching Yoongi haul boxes of books, candles, and herbs was a hilarious sight to see, but you didn’t patronize him too much.

You could tell what little tidying he did was done with magic, so forcing him into manual labor was a foreign concept, and one that brought plenty of whining.

It would be good for him to take a step back and remember the human part of him, and tapping into that required a break from the magic.

Eventually, he got into the rhythm and focused on the task at hand instead of focusing all his energy on pouting, and, while you found his pout quite adorable, you were thankful he was finally taking you seriously.

Even though the little things did help get Yoongi on track, he still felt the darkness in him growing, and it was starting to kill his hope.

Every time he looked at you, smiling as you organized his potion recipes or laughing when he dropped a box, though, it pushed all of that evil away and replaced it with a warm fuzzy feeling Yoongi had not been privy to before.

When his friends were around, he felt light and happy, but this was different. This was something sweeter, something more complicated.

Was he...falling for you?

Yoongi didn’t want to dwell on that thought, reminding himself you were only here for a job and that was it. He’d be nothing more than a customer to you, and Yoongi knew all about that type of relationship.

Once you were done helping him, you’d be on your way and he’d be left with nothing but the receipt. There was no room for getting attached.

Yoongi did, however, let himself indulge in some harmless flirting while you were here. It couldn’t hurt, and he liked knowing your smile after a silly pickup line was because of him.

Believe it or not, meeting you opened up a whole new side of Yoongi, and he was growing fond of it.

You talk to him, listen, annoy him, help him. You do so many things for him outside of what he would consider part of your job.

He liked that you pulled him from his dependence on his powers, even if carrying heavy ass boxes up and down the stairs on his own was hell. Doing things the ‘human’ way distracted him from the storm inside.

It made his life a little simpler.

“Alright, I think that’s enough for today, what about you?” Setting the duster down on the counter, you turn back just in time to see Yoongi plop the box he was carrying down on the floor and collapse on the couch.

A giggle escapes your lips, watching him huff a big breath, blowing his fringe all over the place, his cheeks bright red from the exertion.

Yoongi doesn’t even bother to open his eyes as he reclines back on the couch. He’s physically drained and while he doesn’t want to show it in front of you, he doesn’t have the energy to do anything else.

You didn’t mind though. You knew it’d be a change, finding the right path always was, and you admire the amount of effort he put in.

You make your way over to the couch, falling down next to him, mirroring him as you let your head fall back on the cushion. The couch was old, but hell was it comfortable. Now you knew why he enjoyed sprawling out across it all the time.

Closing your eyes, you let silence take over the air, enjoying the peace and tranquility of each other’s company. You hadn’t realized how exhausted you were as well, not noticing how Yoongi peeked one eye open to stare at you.

He mapped your face in his mind. Every detail, from the curve of your lips, to the frame of your nose, all the way to the curl of your lashes. He could stare at you forever given the chance.

When you let out the smallest, softest sigh, the best of his heart increased ten-fold, and he found himself smiling like an idiot just watching you breath.

In a perfect world, he’d lean in and kiss you, and you’d kiss him back, and then you’d live happily ever after.

This was not a perfect world, however.

This was reality, so he’d enjoy the view while he can, at an appropriate distance.

Eventually your eyes opened, turning your head to meet his. You just stared at each other for a while, not saying anything, scared it’d ruin whatever moment you were having.

You thought you saw his head start to move forward, snapping you quickly from your daze.

Clearing your throat, you speak up, causing him to pause, “It’s getting pretty late, I should probably head home.”

That was the last thing Yoongi wanted. He watched as you stood up and began gathering your things.

He felt the sudden urge to use his powers to stop you, to convince you to stay, but he stopped himself. You’d warned him against using his magic on you, so he figured if he wanted this to go right, he’d have to do it the old fashioned way.

He leaps up, taking your bag from the hook it hung from right before you could grab it. You looked at him with a smirk, about to tell him to stop messing around, but he just stares at you, a look of pleading spreading across his face.

“Or you could stay?” Your eyes widen a bit; he’d never been this forward before. You knew there was something brewing between the two of you, no matter how professional you tried to be. There was just something about him that reeled you in; it sent shivers down your spine and felt like butterflies in your stomach.

You’d never taken such a liking to a charge before, but he didn’t feel like a ‘client’ to you. He was more like a best friend, the person you could come to with anything, could lay your heart out to.

He became warm and familiar and all you wanted to do was spend time with him, get to know him, maybe even love him.

You’d spent so much time helping others, you’d neglected yourself and your own needs. If others had paths, you surely did too, right? There was no way, no timeline or universe you could fathom in which Yoongi didn’t fit into yours. He was the only thing you felt sure of.

You knew, however, that there was a possibility that you were not on his, and that after he found his way, you’d be gone and on to a new soul.

You didn’t want to think about leaving Yoongi behind, the possibility of never being able to be like you were now scaring you more than anything else ever could.

Your job wasn’t one you could just quit, and love only complicated everything.

You could enjoy it for now, but it could be nothing more.

Setting Yoongi up to only get hurt in the end would not be an option.

“I don’t know...” you sigh, your own internal battle raging on. If things went too far, you’d never be able to forgive yourself.

“Hey,” Yoongi says, grasping your hand in his. The warmth from his hand envelops yours, soothing your warring mind, “It’s dark out and I don’t want you to go back alone. Plus, you’d just have to come all the way back tomorrow, so if you’re already here, we can get more done, right?”

The hope that illuminates his face is what ultimately convinces you to stay. He quickly sets up the couch for himself, offering you his bed, which you decline but he insists anyways.

He puts on a movie and cuddles up with you on the couch to help you both fall asleep.

Halfway in, your breathing slows to a steady rhythm, your head resting on his shoulder.

Yoongi is about to get up and carry you to bed, but as he shifts, you snuggle closer, burying your face in his chest. He opts instead for leaning back and letting you use him as a pillow. He wraps his arms gently around you, pulling the blanket on the arm of the couch over the two of you.

He doesn’t know how the movie ends, falling asleep not long after you both get comfy. It was the best night’s sleep he’d ever had, holding you in his arms gave him the most peaceful sense of security.

You both slept in well past morning wrapped in each other’s arms.

The more time spent with you, the harder Yoongi fell for you, until every time he saw you, he couldn’t resist the urge to entwine your hands or place a quick kiss to the top of your head.

The more time you spent with Yoongi, the easier it was to let yourself get swept up in the romance of it all. It became a natural occurrence, the skin-ship between the two of you, earning its place in your routine.

The tasks set to help Yoongi find his path turned into domestic activities you shared together, enjoying each other’s company. Checking out of the inn a week or two ago, Yoongi had lent you his spare bedroom so you wouldn’t have to make the trip across town every day.

After the first week, the spare bedroom became spare once more as you decided snuggling up next to Yoongi in his room was the only way you’d be able to get any sleep, not the Yoongi was complaining.

There was never an awkward moment between you two since then, it was almost like you’d lived together your whole lives.

You wake up, obviously before Yoongi, and make a pot of coffee and some breakfast every morning. Yoongi usually smells the food and makes his way downstairs a few minutes later, jointing you for the meal. Your routine has become a joint effort to make each other as happy as possible.

You’d earn a point for every time you made Yoongi a cute egg and bacon smile for breakfast, and he’d earn one for every time he helped you wash the dishes.

You’d earn one for every time you’d surprise him with a quick peck on the cheek and he’d earn one every time he holds you tight and kissed your forehead.

All plans of keeping your distance was promptly thrown out the window long ago.

You’d shared your fears of leaving with Yoongi, and he’d assured you he would never let that happen.

You wouldn’t tell him, but you had your doubts. You couldn’t stay just because Yoongi didn’t want you to go, and there was no physical way possible you knew of for him to keep you with him.

You were pulled by a force not even you fully understood, and disappeared at the end of the job without a trace usually. When you show up to the next soul, your precious soul moves on, forgetting you were even there.

Despite believing Yoongi would come to forget you and move on, you still decided to give everything you had to him while you could.

You wanted to feel love, be loved, but most importantly love Yoongi. You felt it in your bones that this is what you were meant to do, love him with every fiber of your being no matter how long you had.

Yoongi felt the same way. He was perturbed that he couldn’t help ease your mind or find a way to help you stay. You’d helped him so much in the months he’s known you, and he couldn’t imagine living even for a minute without you.

Not knowing anything about who or what was behind your job aggravated him. The fact that you didn’t know either yet could still be taken away from him at any moment without a choice didn’t seem fair to him at all.

He wanted to find your ‘boss’ and make them let you stay with him, or at least try to help them understand that he needed you.

The only thing he could do for sure, was hold you tight and love you with all his might, because the only thing he knew he could give you was himself.

Yoongi couldn’t even remember what it was like to live before he knew you. He credited you for making him a better person, but you knew he had it in him all along.

Every day was filled with so much laughter, so many smiles, and so much love, that the darkness in him had suffocated; the black flame snuffed out.

As he leans in the doorway to the kitchen, watching you wash the dishes from this morning’s breakfast, he realizes you’d shown him the light inside of him was still alive, and even helped it burn ten times brighter. He was excited to wake up every morning, knowing he could wake up next to you.

Yoongi, after the first week of meeting you, had decided to put the vengeance business to rest, and went back to making simple, safe potions for mundane things. He’d dotted all of his ‘i’s and crossed all of his ‘t’s and he felt so good because of it.

People no longer gossiped about the ‘evil warlock in the woods,’ but rather referred to him as ‘Yoongi, the nice boy attached to Y/N’s hip,’ which he much rather preferred.

When the two of you wandered through town, whether it be a grocery run or a romantic stroll, people would offer a smile or a small wave instead of side eye.

Yoongi was finally living his life; truly living.

Yoongi slowly walked to stand behind you. You felt his hands slide from your hips to wrap his arms around your waist. A smile forming as he leaned his head into the crook of your neck, placing a small kiss to your shoulder.

But the sweet feeling was quickly replaced with one you knew all too well. One you had been dreading.

Setting the dishes in the sink, you turn around and Yoongi’s face pales at the sight of your scared expression.

His grip around you tightens.

“It’s time isn’t it.” He said it more as a statement, and you couldn’t help the tears quickly forming in your eyes. Yoongi quickly wipes them away, nuzzling your nose with his to soothe the ache as much as he could.

As soon as he came to the realization that you’d changed his life, he understood what that meant. Now that he was on the right path, it was time for you to go.

He wanted so badly to let tears escape, to hold you so tight they couldn’t take you away. He wanted to scream at the universe, how dare it take away the only thing he cared about.

Yoongi didn’t do any of that, though. He wanted to stay strong for you. There was nothing he could do but hold your hand, kiss you softly, and tell you it was going to be okay.

“I love you. I always will.”

And just like that, you were gone.

Yoongi stood in the kitchen, alone, and finally let a few tears slip down his cheeks.

The universe probably expected Yoongi to fall apart after you’d left, then forget you all together. Hell, he expected that himself.

He couldn’t disappoint you though and he knew that this wouldn’t be the end.

You’d become such a huge part of his life, that even the universe couldn’t strip you from his memory. You are his soulmate, and he is yours, and that’s a bond that can't be broken.

You’d taught him an important lesson about fate, and he knew you were his.

So, he didn’t break down, fall into the darkness, and waste all the effort you’d put into him.

No, he held himself high, and smiled knowing you were out there, somewhere.

He’d broken free from his old cycle of life and dedicated the new one not only to loving you, but loving himself as well.

The universe could throw whatever it wanted at him, he was done taking it lying down.

This life was his, and he wanted to share every bit of it with you, the person who showed him just how much he deserved it.

He doesn’t care how long it’ll take, he’ll find you.

After all, you can’t outrun destiny.

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Guys,

My main man Yoongles’ story is out ya’ll. Honestly, this one was the most difficult for me to finish, don’t know why. Again, came out longer than expected, but I think that'll be a theme from now on. Still love how it came out though, sorry it’s not exactly the happiest of endings, but hey, they can’t all be! Hope you guys like it, and if you find any errors, let me know (there are probably a lot, I suck). Anyways, thank you all for the support of this “series” so far, it means a lot! Enjoy!

-Moonie🌙

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little-writings · 5 years

Text

Jumin Week: Day 3 {AU}

Desperate to bring your wish to life, you summon a demon in search of a trade.

Word Count: 1,489

Ah! I’m so sorry I missed Day 2, the wip is still in my drafts so perhaps after all this, I’ll post it or do a double upload at some point but I did manage to finish this! I really like the result and might consider continuing the AU in a multi-part story series! Let me know if you like the idea! :)

Anyhow, I hope you enjoy and have a marvelous day <3

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“Alright... that’s it... I’m done.”

You took a few steps back from the sigil painted in dark crimson along your floorboards. It hurt a bit to think about cleaning up the mess later, but you shoved it to the back of your mind.

Scrambling for the sheets of paper on your counter, you only worried for a second about how exceedingly easy it’d been to find a supposed demon-summoning spell on the internet.

But then again, it was the internet.

The website was old, maybe from the very dawn of desktop computers, but your friend told you that if you really wanted to meet a demon, this was the way to go.

“If I... if I want to summon a demon...” You took in a sharp, nervous breath, crumbling a bit of the paper between your fingers.

You stared back at the sigil, puffing out your cheeks indignantly.

“If I’m going to spend all day tomorrow cleaning this up -- may as well have someone to help me!”

You lit the candles surrounding the symbol and your dimly-lit lamps sent light dancing about your apartment in warm ribbons. You settled down before the sigil and sighed.

Time to get started.

Your voice began slow and steady, little confidence, but little else to do otherwise. Your ancient Latin could’ve been better, admittedly, but who was about to shame you for not learning a dead language?

Eventually, your confidence grew. Your words became louder and your heart pounded with excitement. And soon enough, with fear.

Your lamps started to rattle, the ground beneath you trembled, and glasses stumbled from your cupboards to shatter to a thousand pieces on the ground below.

Every inch of the Earth -- each nook and cranny to the most insignificant detail -- shook. Like an earthquake destroying everything in its path, you thought your home would be in shambles at any second.

But instead, there was light. It streamed from the candles and warped around the sigil like a blanket, secure and shielding to the world around it -- rushing like wind and as fierce as a storm.

Yet despite it all, for the briefest moment, you could see something -- someone.

And they could see you.

In a burst of light, you were slammed back against the counter. A scream barely managed to escape you before whatever air remained was snatched from your lungs.

You sputtered up coughs in the surprisingly well-kept together remains of your apartment.

It was a mess, yes, enough to make tears brim in your eyes if you let the thought fester, but it was still clearly your apartment, and that was enough.

You sat up, heaving in exhaustion, the papers you’d clung so fervently to now sprawled down the hall in disastrous clusters.

Yet that was far from the thing that caught your attention. The demon in your living room won that competition.

Of all things, the demon wore a pinstripe suit, a purple tie slipping from the collar of his shirt to beneath the jacket. Inky black veins crawled along his skin, not quite bulging, but rippling and pulsing beneath the flesh in a way that sent a chill down your spine.

Horns sprouted from his head, consisting of the sort of twists and turns a stag might have in all its ornate grandeur, a deep jet black devolving to a dusty gray upon its end.

The demon’s eyes of platinum stared you down curiously, his hands mindlessly fiddling with his cuff-links.

“You...” Barely a single, coherent thought came through your head. Maybe you were petrified by his steely expression and overwhelming presence -- or there was always the possibility that you were an idiot -- but you spoke on impulse.

“You trashed my apartment!”

The being’s brow furrowed and he looked around, observing.

“Well, what do you expect from such a sloppy summoning.” He gestured to the red paint, his voice deep and silvery smooth with a rumble almost akin to a purr. “You didn’t even use proper blood.”

“Oh sorry, I’m not some weirdo who harbors blood for a hobby!”

The demon pursed his lips, frowning. “No, you’re simply someone who summons a demon for a hobby?”

You tried to snap back but found yourself at a loss for words.

“Touche,” You wrinkled your nose. “but I summoned you for a reason!”

“Of course you did,” He knelt down, settling his chin in his palm, studying you. “Why else do humans call us for but in hopes of a deal?”

“Well...” He leaned closer, just before the end of the sigil but just close enough for his breath to brush your skin.

Everything else ceased to matter. You couldn’t focus on anything else even if you tried.

“Y-You’re not even going to give me a name to call you by?”

“It’s usually irrelevant,” The demon remarked. “Why do you care?”

“It’s just manners!” You huffed, folding your arms across your chest. “You know, a good first impression can only do good! T-That’s what I-I was taught!”

“Hm...”

You felt like an ant under a microscope, so utterly tiny and defenseless in his wake.

“I suppose that’s fair enough.” He ran his fingers through his hair, his gaze glinting with interest.

“You can call me Jumin.” The ends of his lips tipped upwards just so to reveal fangs, sharp and sleek. “And you?”

You swallowed hard. “MC.”

“Well MC, what is it that your heart desires?”

You took in a deep breath, your nails raking against the floor in your splintering nerves.

“I...” You forced yourself to lock eyes with him as you spilled out your confession. “I want to be your friend!”

Jumin’s collected expression broke in an instant and he gawked at you in sheer, total bewilderment. “What?”

“Well I-I started researching about you -- demons in general, I mean -- last year! I-It was just out of interest at first but the more I read...” You bit the inside of your cheek sheepishly. “the more I understood how absolutely lonely you must be.”

He watched you but didn’t speak in return.

“All you do is look for the next soul to take -- you don’t even get a second chance at life -- the life that failed you!” You softened and a true sincerity painted your words. “The life that put you in the exact same position I am; bargaining my soul with a demon for a dream.”

Jumin tensed, like a needle seeping into the skin you pricked him at just the right spot.

You eased forward, closer to the sigil.

“I want you to have a chance at the life you deserve -- a life you can enjoy, appreciate, and remember -- for all the right reasons..”

Jumin found himself utterly vulnerable as you offered him a smile, sweet and kind in a way almost foreign to him.

“And everyone deserves a friend in their life.”

His eyes widened and he stared at you like one may gaze upon a sunrise or fireworks -- awe-inspired.

It was as if for the first time in ages, Jumin could feel his heart beating.

“Why would you want to do that? You’ll simply end up in the same place I am. If this existence truly is so lonely, why are you so ready to accept it for a complete stranger?”

You grinned.

“Because hopefully by the end of this, I’ll have a friend to make my new life... not so lonely.”

His lips parted in an effort to speak but he couldn’t even begin to find the words to say.

“You’ll take my soul in ten years, but we’ll have each other for the rest of time.”

You reached out your hand, past the sigil and into his space. You were at his mercy and of all things, Jumin was taken aback, shifting away.

“And what if I prefer my empty eternity?” He asked, just barely above his breath, hesitant.

“Then I guess I’ll get used to my own. My soul is still yours.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“What more can I do here?” You laughed. “You don’t have to take my soul if you don’t want to.”

His expression knotted, glancing at your outstretched palm, opening his own but not quite closing the distance.

“Are you sure you want this?”

You nodded. “As long as you want another chance at life, I want to help make that happen.”

You reaffirmed yourself, mustering all your remaining courage.

“So... Jumin, do we have a deal?”

The demon became reluctant, staring at the throbbing coal veins under his skin, the inhumanity consuming him from head to toe.

A second chance at life?

A second chance at a life worth living?

How could anyone reject that?

He took your hand and clasped it tightly, like the last tether clinging to him upon the edge of a cliff. Light overtook the room in a swell of warmth once more. You couldn’t see a thing, but you most certainly heard him speak.

“Deal.”

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7-wonders · 5 years

Text

Naked & Afraid

Summary: You finally (unwillingly, like everything else that’s happened to you since that night in the parking lot) meet your father-in-law in what is arguably some of the weirdest circumstances you’ve ever dealt with.

Word Count: 3734

A/N: What, Claire finally updated Mad Love? Hell must’ve frozen over and pigs are surely flying! Feedback is always appreciated (even the h8ers; bring it on hunny I’m always up for a throwdown), and if you liked this chapter I would love if you would reblog and/or leave me a comment!

Every single thing about Michael Langdon and the life that he lives is the epitome of luxury, so it comes as no surprise that the en suite bathroom that has been deemed yours is just as opulent as everything else you’ve seen. After an incredibly long week that’s seemed to stretch for months, the large, ornate bathtub is the only thing on your mind. After Michael cut dinner short tonight, an issue with the Cooperative requiring his attention, you found yourself sitting on your bed and trying to figure out what to do with an unexpected free evening. Your head is still spinning after everything that’s happened in the past couple of days, and a long bath is where you tend to do your best thinking and decompressing. Today, especially, there’s a lot to think about.

The sound of rushing water fills the bathroom and echoes off of the large granite walls (who has granite walls?). Sticking your hand under the steady stream, you fiddle with the knob for a few moments before finding your ideal temperature. The bathtub starts to fill quickly, and you pour a generous amount of some fragrant lavender bubble bath into the water. You sit back on the balls of your feet, waiting for the bath to fill to your desired depth before rushing to turn it off. Glancing one last time to make sure you remembered to lock the door, you yank your clothes off of your body before sinking into the bath.

You sigh audibly once the hot water covers your body, the heat immediately going to work at relaxing your muscles. Relaxing against the back of the porcelain tub, you turn your phone on to play some music and stare up at the ceiling. There’s a chandelier, because of course there is. Although the signature black is prevalent throughout the room, you’re pleased to see some accents of purple and silver as well. Your thoughts, which can never just remain on one topic for an extended period of time, quickly shift to what’s happened yesterday and today.

The major thing is, of course, the kiss that you shared with Michael mere hours ago. More specifically, why the hell did you reciprocate the kiss? He certainly didn’t use his magic on you; even if you didn’t know what magic felt like when it was used on you now, the stern warning that you would beat his ass scared him enough to not even consider it. But, it’s not as if you like him. At best, you’re starting to tolerate him. That doesn’t mean you’ve ever thought about kissing him before, no matter how soft his lips actually are.

Maybe it was a lapse in judgement? Or maybe drunk (Y/N) was still lurking in the darkest recesses of your mind, just waiting for a moment to come out and screw everything up. A single kiss does not equal attraction of any kind. Michael’s arrogant, nosy, doesn’t understand boundaries, is the literal Antichrist and, to top it off, kidnapped you to be his unwilling bride. But at the same time, he obviously didn’t have a very loving or normal childhood, and he’s been used as a puppet by so many: Ms. Mead, the Satanists, his father. You don’t empathize with him, or even excuse his actions due to what he’s gone through. You do, however, understand why he acts the way that he does; maybe that makes all the difference.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but it’s obvious that you did. One moment, you’re relaxing in a bathtub and pondering how weird your life has gotten, and then you blink and you’re here. Well, wherever ‘here’ is. Everything’s dark, as if you’re standing outside in an empty field with no sign of stars, the moon, or any lights. Your eyes take a minute to adjust, but even then you’re still unable to see any sign of life. Although you can’t see anything, you can feel that something, or someone, is here with you.

The hair on your arms prickles, goosebumps rising as you feel a pair of piercing eyes watching you. The worst part, though, is that you can’t tell which direction they’re looking at you from. Just when you turn around to try and catch them, the feeling’s from behind you. It’s everywhere: Your back, your arms, your side, your face. At times it feels like you’re nose to nose with this entity, even though there’s nothing there. Your breathing picks up, nervously coming out in visible puffs as you wrap your arms around yourself. Looking down suddenly, you’re grateful that you’re not still naked in this dream (or vision, or premonition). You’re wearing the same clothes that you were wearing earlier today, almost as if you had dressed yourself while asleep.

As far as you can tell, you’re alone. That is, until you’re not. You spin around in a slow circle one last time, shrieking loudly when you come face to face with a man. A small smile has his pink lips upturned, showing his amusement at your fear. He’s tall, tall enough that his neck is bent in order to look at you. His unruly black hair somehow manages to look like he styled it that way, and his hazel eyes seem to flicker and crackle with sparks. You stumble backwards, desperate to put some space between you and this stranger. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, reminding you of how Michael looks when he smells your fear in the air.

“Who are you?” Your voice, although you attempt to sound strong, comes out shaky and hesitant.

“I am known by many different names, and I possess many different faces.” He quips, taking one long step closer to you. “Mmm, but of course you would not recognize me as I am now, right, sweet (Y/N)?”

“How do you know my name?”

He doesn’t answer. In a split second, he’s changed from the man with the mop of black hair to a tall man with brown hair and brown eyes, a trimmed beard on his face. If it weren’t for the same sparks in his eyes, you would have thought it was a completely different person.

“Does this not work for you, either?” His form changes again, to that of a teenage boy in an ill-fitting sweater and ratty jeans. His blond hair hasn’t been combed in a while, but he has the same brown eyes as that of the man before him.

“Stop doing this!” You snap, half-tempted to smack him.

“Oh, but I think you will quite enjoy this next form.” Suddenly, Michael stands before you. It looks just like the Michael you know, except for those eyes. Michael’s eyes, the real Michael’s eyes, lack that odd flame in them that this person has.

“Change back.” You say through gritted teeth. You’re not sure why the sight of him makes you feel so odd, but it does.

“You are no fun at all.” He sighs, reverting back to the original form that you first saw him in.

“I’m going to ask you this one more time. Who. Are. You?” Your hands are balled into fists at your sides, and you can feel your nails digging into the calloused flesh there.

“‘The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.’” He quips. It sounds familiar, what he’s saying, but you have no clue where you would have heard something like this before. “Why did you react the way that you did when I assumed the image of my son?”

“Your son? Who’s your…” You trail off upon realizing the only person that he could possibly be referring to as his son. He smirks, knowing that you’re hoping with every fiber of your being that he’s not who you think he is.

“Such a smart woman you are, (Y/N).” His voice drips with the same saccharine that tempted Eve when she stood at that lonely tree in the Garden of Eden, listening to the lies of the serpent as he whispered in her ear that the Forbidden Fruit would provide her the same knowledge that God himself possessed. “Surely you have heard some of my names. Beelzebub, Mephistopheles, Lucifer--” he cuts himself off, and the grin that he shoots your way has you shuddering at the mere sight of it, “--Satan.”

“You can’t be, I--how am I here?” There’s so much about this situation that’s wrong, but for some reason your mind latches onto the sheer absurdity of waking up in an actual hellscape.

“My dear, I’m the Devil. A mere parlor trick is all it took to get you into my domain.” He spreads his arms wide, proud of the desolate landscape that stretches ahead for miles and miles.

“I’m not your ‘dear.’” You retort, eyes widening when you realize that you just sassed Satan himself. Instead of stealing your soul and banishing you to the Ninth Circle of Hell, which is what you’re expecting, he stares at you for a moment before laughing loudly.

“See, everytime I think that I chose the wrong mortal to be my son’s companion, you prove to me that I made the correct choice.” He seems proud of himself, standing tall and with his chest out.

“You ruined my life with your ‘choice.’”

Satan’s face falls, and he takes another step closer to you. “I have given you the opportunity to be great!”

“You stole my free will!”

“Thanks to me, you will rule the New World side-by-side with Michael. You are the missing link to bring about our plans for the Apocalypse. My son, as I am sure you have noticed, is all too human. I blame his mother; gentle, impassioned Vivien did not pass many things down to Michael, but she did manage to give the boy an overly caring heart. He needs someone to fulfill his heart’s desires, and who better than the one who was handpicked for him?”

“The Apocalypse,” you scoff, choosing to ignore the last part of his spiel for now as you look the Devil right in the eyes. “Why do you even want to bring about the Apocalypse? Once everyone’s dead, there’s no more new souls for you to torture.”

“Hell is not just made up of the souls of the damned, (Y/N). Legions of demons, swarms of locusts and scorpions, plagues that mankind has long since forgotten. My domain shall no longer be restricted just to Hell. Instead, Hell, and all of her beasts, will wreak havoc upon the Earth.”

“You want to kill billions of people, just so that you and your buddies can get your jollies?”

“Chaos and disorder are what keeps the world running. I am merely trying to make sure that only those who can survive the most chaotic of situations will populate the New World. Which, might I remind you, you shall have a hand in ruling.”

“I don’t want your fucking crown or kingdom.”

You go to whirl around, hoping that there will be some door that you missed when you first woke up here, but you’re faced again with Satan. When you try to back away from him, a ring of flames encircles both of you, effectively trapping you with him. He snatches your wrist, and your eyes widen at the sharp talons digging into your skin.

“Did your mother never teach you that gratitude is a virtue?” His voice comes out as a thunder, shaking the very ground that you stand on.

You really should tone down the sass and backtalk, but you can’t help it when a man as arrogant as any you’ve ever met stands mere inches away. “That’s really rich, coming from the literal Devil.”

“You foolish, insolent little girl. You have no idea what I am capable of.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as he loosens his grip on your wrist, allowing you to snatch your extremity back from him. You rub the skin, visibly marked and bleeding in areas where the talons pierced through, as gently as possible while trying to gain some feeling back into your tingling hand.

“I embody the seven deadly sins,” he continues. “I can become your greatest desire…”

You haven’t been looking at him while attending to your wrist, but your movements stop at the sudden change of voice when he reaches the end of his sentence. Moving your eyes slowly upwards, you let out a harsh breath when you’re greeted with Michael’s smirking face. The Michael doppelgänger slowly walks towards you, lifting a chilly hand up to your face and caressing your cheek.

“Don’t touch me.” You mutter, unable to look away from his cerulean eyes.

“C’mon, (Y/N),” even his mocking tone sounds just like the Michael that you know, “don’t play coy with me. I can see into the deepest parts of your soul. That purity that you try so furiously to embody, tinted black in some areas. You desire me, even though you hate to admit it.”

“I don’t.”

“Liar.” He whispers, breath ghosting across your face while he moves even closer to yours. “The very essence of your being calls out for me, just as I call out for you. We were created for each other. No matter how much you try and fight it, we belong to each other. Soon enough, your mind will give into what your soul already knows.”

“Stop it!” You shout, shoving him away from you.

Satan goes stumbling back, caught off-guard by your sudden attack and nearly topping into the flames. When he rights himself again, he has a devil’s grin plastered across his original face.

“As I was saying, I can become your greatest desire, but I can also transform into your worst nightmare.”

He starts to shift and change, body convulsing as bones grow from out of nowhere. Satan’s no longer a man, although was the title of ‘man’ ever one that could be bestowed upon him? Instead, he’s a horrific, imposing creature with multiple heads that almost looks like some sort of dragon.

“‘And I saw a beast coming out of the sea,’” he bellows, all of the heads combining their voices to form a roar that has you clapping your hands over your ears. “‘It had ten horns and seven heads, with ten crowns on its horns, and on each head a blasphemous name.’”

Vaguely, you realize that the heads are quoting some part of the Book of Revelation, but you don’t have time to wonder about if the Devil has the Bible memorized when the heads of the beast unhinge their jaws, showing off their gaping maws and the dim glow of fire being conjured from deep in their belly. As the heads start to lower towards you, you drop to your knees and let out a blood curdling shriek.

Michael senses your panic before he hears your terrified screams. He springs up from his plush leather chair in his office, abruptly ending the phone call he was just on with a couple of world leaders. Your screams permeate the air, Michael’s heart pounding in terror at what you could possibly be experiencing right now. In his mind, there’s no time to waste. He blasts the bathroom door open the moment that it comes into view, hoping that you’ll forgive him for barging in on you while you’re nude.

Your subconscious, which Satan had pulled into Hell the moment your eyes slipped closed for longer than a second, had jolted back into your body upon sensing your imminent demise. In your panic, you had slipped under the water, inhaling mouthfuls of it as your lungs tried to breathe normally again. Your hands cling to the lip of the tub, almost like you’re worried that something will swim up from the depths of the bath and attempt to drag you back under. Alternating between screaming and coughing up the water that has invaded your lungs, your eyes remain clenched tight.

Michael reaches for you before his mind can start to think about the repercussions of doing so, arms slipping under your body and pulling you out of the water. His suit is soaking wet now, but he doesn’t care. He’s never seen you like this before, so terror-stricken that you can’t even open your eyes, and it shakes him to his core. You thrash against his firm chest, sure that Satan has shifted back and captured you in hell. It’s only when you hear his frantically calm reassurances that your body stops writhing.

“Hey, you’re okay, it’s fine. I’m here, nothing can hurt you.” He soothes you, waiting patiently for your eyes to flutter open.

“Michael? It’s...it’s actually you, right?” Your voice is meek in a way that he’s never heard before.

“Why wouldn’t it be me?” Your eyes fill with tears at the memory, and you shake your head before burying your face in his chest, sobs wracking your body. “What happened to you?”

The only sounds you make are the small whimpers that slip past the barrier of your mouth, floating to Michael’s ears. His fingers go to your back, freezing when he remembers that you’re naked. Hesitantly, he grabs a towel and wraps you in it, though you’re still too shocked to even care. Michael holds you tightly against him, rubbing circles on your back and listening to your heart to make sure it evens out. It takes a while, but it slowly manages to go to a rate that wouldn’t have an Apple Watch alerting its owner of a possible heart attack.

“(Y/N), is it okay if I get you dressed?” If your head wasn’t pressed against his chest, he wouldn’t even be aware that you had nodded in response to his request, the movement was so small.

Michael can tell that the steady metronome of his heart is calming to you, so he remains silent while he runs another towel through your hair. He’s gentle with you, almost like you’re a wisp of smoke he’s managed to capture in his hands; one wrong movement, and you’ll disappear. He helps to tug the black nightdress over your head, looking up at the ceiling while he inches it down past your thighs until you’re modest. A wave of his bejeweled hand makes the bathtub start to drain, the sound of the water level receding helping to fill the silence of the bathroom.

You’re exhausted, although you’re not sure if it’s from the near-drowning that still has your lungs feeling like they’re burning or the fact that Satan literally had you in Hell with him. When Michael picks you up in his arms, you don’t even bother to protest what he’s doing. The covers of your bed have already been turned down, likely the work of a maid slipping in while you were first in the bathroom. Michael sets you down amongst the plush pillows and starts to pull the blankets up around you, but stops when you grab his hand.

“It was Satan.” You mutter, tired eyes gazing up to see his panicked reaction.

“What?”

“Lay down with me.” Patting the spot on the bed next to you, Michael slowly slips his shoes off before sliding in next to you. You smile slightly at how he still respects your space, fingers just barely brushing against yours in an effort to not piss you off. “I must have fallen asleep while I was taking a bath. It felt like I only blinked, and suddenly I was in this pitch black landscape…”

You tell him everything about the confrontation with his father, only leaving out the part where Satan accused Michael of being your greatest desire. He listens intently throughout your entire story, saving all of his comments for after you’re finished.

“Why did he show himself to you?” Michael mutters, almost as if he’s talking to himself.

“Does he normally not do that?”

“I’ve never actually seen him before. My father has an...odd way of communicating with me, and that usually involves some sort of visions or rituals. I don’t understand why you’re--” he cuts himself off, jaw tightening while he lets out a sigh. “--he’s not pleased with either of us.”

“He couldn’t just have a friendly conversation with you instead of dragging me to Hell?”

“This was intended to be a message that would resonate with both of us. Would you have taken me seriously if he had spoken to me during a ritual?”

“You already know I wouldn’t.”

“Then what better way to voice his displeasure than by getting the skeptic, the unwilling second part of this equation, to be the messenger?”

“I don’t understand why he’s not pleased, though. I married you. Isn’t that enough?”

Michael grimaces. “You’re far more headstrong than he thought you would be. I think, when my father was picking a bride for me, he imagined that she would be this demure little thing who faithfully worshipped Satan and had already accrued a body count by her eighteenth birthday. You are almost the exact opposite of that, and it infuriates him. Any wrench in our plans means more time that’s wasted.”

“What you order on Amazon versus what shows up.” You joke, chuckling when Michael stifles a smile. “C’mon, that was funny!”

“It’s time for you to get some rest, (Y/N).” Michael reminds you, stroking your damp hair back from your face. His clothes are no longer wet, and you briefly wonder if he used his magic to dry them before nerves seize your stomach.

“Wait! Please don’t leave me.” You plead, gripping his arm tightly with both of yours. Michael looks concerned, and you sigh. “I’m scared that he’ll get me again if I fall asleep.”

Michael’s arms wrap around you, securing you against his chest. That steady rhythm that makes up his heartbeat starts to calm you again, and you use the sound to ground yourself.

“I won’t let him anywhere near you, I promise.” You can’t be too sure, considering how fast you drift off, but it feels like he lays a kiss to your forehead.

Michael keeps his promise, remaining with you until long after you’re asleep. When his own eyes start to slip closed, he allows himself to fall asleep next to you, protecting you no matter what.

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jungshookz · 5 years

Note

SIUFSHF so i was supposed to be doing homework until i got this idea!!!! so y/n gets sucked into this alternate universe and so do all of her s/o's and all of a sudden everyone is fighting over her??? like lifeguard jk is like heyo shes my bf and ceo yoongi is like shes my WIFE and mermaid jimin is like well i sacrificed my MERMAID TAIL to date her and its all just chaos

→ pairing: every single character eVER x reader

→ genre: ???? crackhead culture most likely ????

→ wordcount: 2.3k

→ notes: oH my god the moment i got this request i had to write it because i will jump at the chance to write anything that involves the clashing of universes.,.,. anyways i took kind of a monsters inc. approach with this drabble you will see what i mean by that

first of all

you have no idea where the hell you are

and second of all

you have a splitting headache

it feels like there are tiny construction men drilling riGht into the depths of your skull and it is overall not a very pleasant feeling

“oh my god…” you wince as you sit up and you press your hand against your forehead

you don’t remember what happened

one minute you were sitting at your desk working away at your paper that’s due in two days

the next thing you know it feels like you’re getting suCked into a black hole as crazy as that sounds??

then you just see colours whirling around you and you’re hearing sO many different sounds and-

well

now you’re

here?

but where is here exactly

you are sitting at the end of a very long corridor

in fact it’s so long that it doesn’t even look like it ever ends

on both sides of the corridor, there are multiple doors

they’re all about same size but they’re all unique in their own way

different colours

different materials

well

it wouldn’t hurt to explore a bit

it doesn’t look like you have a choice anyway because there’s nowhere else to go

unless you wanna die in this weird corridor you better get a move on

you push yourself up off the ground with a grunt and nearly stumble over because wOo you stood up way too quickly

“what in the fresh hell is this…?” your brows furrow in confusion as you approach the first door

it’s bright red and right smAck dab in the middle of the door there’s a hose that’s just winded around itself

you pick up the hose and unravel it a bit and that’s when you notice there are words printed on the underside of the hose

‘firefighter!jungkook x y/n’

“firefighter jungkook and y/n…?”

what

what??

who the hell is jungkook

…,.,was he that guy u hooked up with two months ago

he was a firefighter??

there’s an angry looking red button right next to the door that says ‘don’t touch’

well

that’s not going to help because now you really wanna touch it

you shake your head and tuck the hose back into place before moving onto the next one

god

maybe you’re going crazy

see this is what happens when you only get like 10 hours of sleep in the span of 48 hours

it’s not good for you!! and now you’re totally hallucinating

maybe this is a fever dream

anyways

how- how the heck is there half a coffee machine just sticking out of this door

‘barista!jungkook x y/n’

whaT

now this jungkook person is a barista??

how does he have the time to make coffee and put out fires at the same time wtf

you’re tempted to just open the door but at the same time lol u ain’t risKing anything popping out and scaring the shit outta you

you reach over to brush your fingers over the machine and you shriek in surprise when the nozzle suddenly hiSSes to life

this one has a red button next to it too

in fact all of these doors have red emergency buttons

but why?

you back away immediately and of course you end up backing up right into another door

you turn around quickly

now this

this is interesting

this isn’t just one door

these are double doors

very sleek looking double doors

they’re plain black and the silver handles wink at you underneath the light

and then you notice the metal panel plastered on the front of the door

‘ceo!yoongi x y/n’

.,,,.WHO IS YOONGI

you scratch the top of your head in confusion

man

you must really be having a good time if you can’t even remember all the people you’ve hooked up with

go girl!!!!

okay

who lives next to ceo yoongi let’s see

“demon yoongi.” you mutter to yourself and raise a brow

this one is interesting

it doesn’t even look like a door

it looks like a black hole and you’re already sweating due to the heat that’s just radiating off of it

when you lean in closer you can hear a hundred voices whispering gibberish to you

oh hELL no

you back away immediately

may the power of christ compel that dOOR

you turn around

oOH this one looks cool

it has like a handprint and an eyeball scan kinda thing instead of a doorknob

omg and that one

is that door is made out of water????

you rush over to take a closer look and you dip a finger into the water

you have to squint to read this sign because the letters are formed from bubbles

“mermaid… jimin and y/n.”

your finger starts to tingle and you yank it out immediately

woAH

you could just dive right in

but also you’re not a good swimmer so maybe don’t do that

and that one over there kinda looks like a bookshelf instead of a door

there’s a basketball hoop hammered onto that one

there’s a life ring hanging on the one next to it

a pair of drumsticks

a tattoo gun

you spend the next half an hour or so continuing to walk down this hallway exploring the fronts of all these doors

a pair of boxing gloves - ‘boxer!jimin x y/n’

a pair of ballet shoes with a raggedy looking bandana wrapped around it - ‘hiphopdancer!hoseok x ballerina!y/n’

damn

a ballerina?????

niCE

you have two left feet so becoming a sophisticated ballerina sounds goOd to you

this one looks like a chalkboard - ‘kindergartenteacher!taehyung x singlemom!y/n’

omg

u have a kid

,..,but why are you single

who’s the asshole that left u

you’re sure this taehyung character is nice tho

this door has nuts and bolts hammered all over it - ‘mechanic!yoongi x y/n’

there’s a croWN hanging from this one - ‘prince!taehyung x y/n’

this door is literally made out of sponge cake and you wanna take a bite - ‘baker!jin x y/n’

this one has vanity lights all over it - ‘model!jungkook x y/n’

and thiS one kinda looks like the chalkboard one except instead of the alphabet written all over it there are just equations upon equations upon equations - ‘professor!namjoon x y/n’

and then it finally (finally) hits you

alternative universes

you studied the theory of alternate universes very briefly in a class that you took during your first year of university but you didn’t actually think… they existed

you’re so preoccupied with your own thoughts you don’t even realise that you’ve reached the end of the hallway

there’s one door left

you approach it and narrow your eyes at the plaque on the front

“jungshookz headquarters… cee pd’s office.”

…the hell is a jungshookz

sounds like a disease

you perk up when you suddenly hear voices on the other end of the door and you lean in to press your ear against the door

“here’s what i’m thinking. i’ll just keep posting drabbles until the next big fic is ready! everyone loves drabbles! that waiter!jungkook one from christmas is stiLL a hit. wha- no, as a matter of fact, i haven’t decided what the next big fic is. what do you mean i can’t work on two at once?! character asks?? i haven’t posted a biG fic obviously i haven’t gotten any character asks as of late-”

oh my god

another human being

well you gotta get in there

you reach down for the doorknob and-

why doesn’t this door have a doorknob

you look back up and you’re about to start banging on the-

wait whAT

WHERE DID THE DOOR GO

WHERE DID IT GO

noW you’re just standing in the middle of an endLESS looking corridor agAIN

“nO nonononono wait wait wait-“

“y/n?” you whip around at the sudden introduction of a nEW voice “what are you doing out of bed? it’s 2 in the morning and the bed is coLd without you…”

okay

first things first

kudos to you

because this boy is very attractive

he has soft blonde hair and pillowy lips and his voice is oddly very soothing

but also

WHO IS THIS BITCH

“i…” you take a step back when he starts walking towards you “you…”

“i…?” he smirks and tilts his head “what’s the matter with you? c’mere silly, come back to bed.” he holds his hand out for you to take and your eyes flicker down to look at it

“where are we?” you breathe out as you take his hand “who are you?”

the stranger turns around and raises an eyebrow

“what are you talking about? we’re… in our apartment. i’m… your boyfriend. j-i-m-i-n. jimin!” ‘jimin’ offers you a smile of confusion and reaches over to pinch your nose “we gotta get you to bed earlier, y/n. the lack of sleep is making you a little crazy.”

he starts dragging you down the hallway to the door that’s made out of water

he’s pulling you along like he’s on a mission and you start to panic because where the heLL are you going

“hold on you can’t just takE me-”

“you’re being crazy, y/n. want me to sing you to sleep?”

“no i don’t want you to sing me to sleep you freAK-”

you smack your fist against the angry red button next to a random door in your moment of panic

“nO-” jimin gasps and moves to stop you but it’s too late

suddenly EVERY SINGLE DOOR swinGS open and an alarm starts blaring

and you are very much no longer alone

people start walking out of their respective rooms

they’re all looking at each other weird

and then it hits you all at once

you recognise every single one of these people

that’s your husband

and that’s your boyfriend who was a mermaid and turned human for you

and that’s your boyfriend who’s a literal android (technology is wild)

and that’s your boyfriend who kept messing up your coffee order

and that’s your daughter

and that’s your othEr daughter who’s slightly older

and that’s your boyfriend who helped you study for your philosophy exam that you passed with flying colours

and that one over there gave you your first tattoo

lifeguard!kook raises a brow at firefighter!kook

“nice hardhat, loser.” he snorts and knocks his knuckles against firefighter!kook’s helmet

“nice tiny shorts, freak.”

ceo!yoongi and demon!yoongi look at each other weird

ceo!yoongi immediately shields hwayoung away from demon!yoongi

“c’mon, man. do i look like i wanna hurt a fucking baby?”

librarian!namjoon and namjoon from the android!yoongiverse exchange glances

“i like your glasses.”

“mm. i like yours too.”

meanwhile a couple of the jungkooks are all mimicking each other in the back

jungkook from the basketball!yoongiverse raises a hand and at the same time mermaid/human!jungkook raises a hand too

“woah.” they both marvel simultaneously at each other

a couple other characters are talking to each other

“did you get a whole fic yet?”

“nah man. she’s still ‘working’ on mine. hasn’t touched it in weeks.”

“damn. same here!”

“she wrote a sentence for me and moved onto your fic immediately”

“don’t be mad at me for that!!”

suddenly ceo!yoongi pushes through the crowd to get to you

“who are you people?? get the hell away from my wife. y/n, c’mon, take my hand.” ceo!yoongi has hwayoung cradled in his arm and he reaches out for you with an expectant stare

you look over at his minty-haired counterpart and he wiggles his brows “or you could come with me and we can pick up from where we left off…”

“oR you can come with me and show me that cheerleading routine you’ve been working so hard on!”

“she’s coming with me!!!”

“she’s coming with US because i’m the godparent of her chiLD and that means she loves our universe the most-“

“mommy, come home with me!! we’re supposed to go out for hot chocolate now-“

“stop!” you scream out but your voice can barely be heard over the absolute sEA of voices

“she literally biRTHED MY CHILD-“

“y/n likes splashing around with us though!! she-”

“i gave up a MERMAID taIL TO BE WITH HER she’s coming with mE-“

“stop it!!!”

“i put out so many fires for her!!!!!! her-”

“uH there’s no way i’m losing y/n to you people do you know how many heart shaped sandwiches i had to make for her-“

the voices are piling up and getting louder and louder and louder and-

“sTOP IT!”

you shoot straIGHT up from your desk with a gasp and press a hand against your chest as you pant heavily

you’re covered with a sheen layer of sweat and you lean back against your chair as you begin to calm down

you’re… back in your bedroom

sitting at your desk

your textbook is still where you left it

your laptop is still where you left it

you must’ve like

fallen asleep or something while writing your paper

jesus

what kind of a dream was that

you look down at your laptop screen expecting to see your google doc but instead

you’re… on the ask page of some blog

‘GOT A QUESTION FOR ME OR A CHARACTER? ASK AWAY!’

the cursor blinks back at you as you stare at the screen

…do you have a question?

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

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