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flowercrown-bard · 3 years

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Pairing: Eskel/Jaskier

word count: ~2k

content warnings: Animal death (griffin)

summary: Eskel waits for a griffin to show up when a brightly dressed bard shows up and tries to set the little goat that Eskel wanted to use as bait free

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“It’s alright,“ Eskel said as soothingly as he could. “You’re going to be safe. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

A mellow bleat was the only reply he got and the tiny goat nudged Eskel’s chest with her head. Eskel smiled. He could feel the scars tugging at his lips, but it didn’t matter, not when his goat was the only one around to witness it.

Eskel secured the rope that would keep her from running away on a stake he had stuck in the earth, making sure the knot would stay in place. With one last pet or her head, Eskel stood up.

“I’m coming back for you,” he promised, before retreating into the shadows of some trees.

As soon as Eskel was out of sight, Lil’Bleater began living up to her name. Searching for Eskel and tugging at the rope, she let out a pitiful bleat.

If her scent hadn’t already been enough to attract the griffin’s attention, those sounds would do the job.

Eskel pressed fiddled with his crossbow, every muscle as tense as a bow string as he waited for the beast to arrive.

But instead of the unmistakable shriek of a griffin and the darkening of the sky as the beast flew before the sun, something far worse appeared that made Eskel’s heart drop like a rock.

It began with the sounds of snapping twigs and rocks being kicked, coming closer. Then, carefree singing joined in the distracting sounds.

A human.

Eskel couldn’t see them yet, but it was clear they had no intention of turning back.

What was a human doing here? Everyone in town knew that this field wasn’t safe. There was a reason why they had hired Eskel. No one dared come here anymore, not as long as there was a griffin attacking everything it could get its claws on.

And now there was a human – unsuspecting or just plain stupid and reckless – coming towards the griffin’s hunting place. Right where Eskel had set up bait to lure the griffin out.

For a brief moment Eskel contemplated leaving his hideout and telling the person to leave. But approaching lone travellers was never a good idea. Eskel knew what he looked like. He had no illusions of being received in a friendly way. If he told the person to leave they would likely run straight back to the town and probably tell some tale about how he had just barely escaped a witcher attacking him.

It wouldn’t be the first time of something like that happening to Eskel.

So he stayed hidden, praying that the person would just leave quickly on their own.

Lil’ Bleater’s cries got louder, more urgent. The singing stopped. For a moment, so did the sounds of the person’s footsteps. Then, they picked up again, faster this time.

From the trees that had blocked Eskel’s sight before, a man appeared, hastening towards the goat. A lute that marked the man as some sort of bard, was slung around his back and he wore a bright teal doublet that looked so out of place in this area that was mostly inhabited by farmers that Eskel could do nothing but stare.

The man cocked his head to the side like a curious bird when he laid eyes on Lil’ Bleater.

“Hey there, you adorable little thing.” Eskel couldn’t see the man’s face, but his smile was evident in his bright voice. “The shepherd forgot you here? Don’t worry, I’ll get you back home.”

Eskel stifled a curse when the bard kneeled down in front of the goat and ran a hand over her fur with a delighted laugh when Lil’ Bleater nibbled at his fingers, all the while babbling excitedly at her. His laugh was almost as melodious as his singing had been before. Eskel didn’t get many chances to hear people laugh so carefree. Most laughter died when people realised that there was a witcher in their midst.

Eskel watched with a strangely fast beating heart how the bard started to work on the knot. He let out a string of colourful curses when he realised that the know was too tight for him to untangle.

“Fret not,” he said in a dramatic voice through clenched teeth from the effort. “I will rescue you.”

He was so strangely theatrical, that Eskel forgot himself and let out a short laugh, not loud enough for the bard to hear, but enough to startle Eskel himself. He couldn’t remember a time when he had laughed outside of the halls of Kaer Morhen.

Eskel was so taken aback by the unexpected thought, that for a second he forgot to pay any attention to his surroundings. Being negligent was a mistake a witcher only made once in his life.

A moment of distraction was all a griffin needed to emerge from the sky. It was quiet as it approached its prey. The man probably would have never noticed the impending danger if it weren’t for the shadow falling over him. His head snapped up and he let out a terror-filled cry.

It tore Eskel out of his stupor.

He jumped forth from the trees, his free hand stretched out before him and racing towards the bard. A burst of igni interrupted the griffin’s dive, but it Eskel wasn’t close enough yet to even singe the beast’s feathers.

“Get out of here!” Eskel shouted at the bard, whose head snapped up to him.

Eskel had no time to pay any attention to the way he looked at him. He had to focus on the real threat. Readying his crossbow, he ran ever closer. The first bolt flew through the air while he was still mid-run. It barely hit its mark.

The griffin screeched, Lil Bleater let out a terrified cry and the man panted in panic. And still he didn’t get up, didn’t even scramble away.

Out of the corner of his eyes Eskel saw how he worked more frantically then before on Lil’ Bleater’s restrains.

His heart skipped a beat. The distraction lasted only a second, but it was enough for the griffin to take a turn and dive down again, his claws aiming for Eskel.

Eskel cursed and unsheathed his sword. The griffin was almost there. Only one more second and he would be close enough to hit it. Or be seized by the deadly claws.

“Watch out!”

The shout came at the same time that something barrelled into Eskel and it wasn’t the griffin.

No man could push a witcher to the ground with his strength alone, but the shove came so unexpected, that Eskel tumbled to the ground when the man tackled him. The man let out a muffled groan when he fell onto Eskel, for some reason not even trying to catch the fall with his hands.

The talons of the beast missed the bard by a hair’s breadth, Eskel could almost see them gracing his hair.

His heart clenched and without hesitation, Eskel flipped them so that the reckless stranger was lying beneath him. Eskel didn’t look at him as he shielded him with his body.

The griffin’s beak darted forwards and Eskel threw up a quen-shield.

“Stay down,” Eskel commanded harshly and jumped back to his feet and spun around. This time, when the griffin lunged for him, Eskel’s sword buried itself deep into its flesh.

Panting, Eskel stood over the beast as it crashed to the ground, just a few feet away from the man. Without hesitation, he delivered the final blow.

The stranger whimpered when the sword made a squelching sound as it was torn out of the griffin’s body.

Eskel wanted to whirl around and scold the bard for how stupidly reckless he had been. Heroes didn’t survive for long out in the real wold. If he had died that would have been on Eskel.

He forced himself to take a deep breath and tried to sooth the frown lines on his face away as he slowly turned to face the man again, though not enough to put his scars on full display. The bard had just escaped death, he didn’t need to be scared any further.

“Are you alright?” Eskel asked as gently as he could, but his breath hitched when he finally met the man’s eyes.

They were wide and impossibly blue and they didn’t look at Eskel as if the bard thought that Eskel would be the next thing to attack him. The blue-eyes man didn’t flinch back from the yellow gaze on him and no renewed spike of fear reeked off of him. True, the smell of panic still clung to him, but beneath him, but fainter than before and there was a strange sort of excitement coming off of the man.

He let out a startled laugh, likely a result of the realisation that the danger was over now.

“That was fantastic!” He shouted, his voice cracking with excitement. “That was the most amazing thing I have ever seen!”

Eskel’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I didn’t….”

His words dried in his mouth and he had to force himself to tear his eyes away from the curve of the bard’s smile and the glint in his eyes. Eskel shouldn’t let that get to him. Neither of these things were truly meant for him. Once the bard calmed down enough to think rationally again, the would realise that Eskel was not someone to smile at.

“I told you to run,” Eskel said, more to keep himself from wishing that this brilliant smile stayed on him. “You could have gotten hurt.”

The bard tilted his head to the side and he gave Eskel a long look. “Something tells me you wouldn’t have let that happen.”

Eskel didn’t reply. It was the truth, but the bard almost made it sound as if he thought Eskel was some sort of hero for it.

Uncomfortable under the almost admiring look, Eskel let his eyes wander over the bard’s body, making sure he truly wasn’t injured.

Eskel’s breath got stuck in his throat when his eyes fell on what the bard was holding protectively to his chest. The tiny goat that was cuddled comfortably in his arms gave a happy bleat.

“You…” Eskel’s eyes snapped back up. “You saved Lil’ Bleater?”

For a second the bard looked like he was about to scoff at the idea that he could ever let an animal get harmed, but then his eyes lit up in delight and his smile widened as if Eskel had said something that earned him such a reaction.

“Lil Bleater? That is the most adorable name I’ve ever heard.” A glint of mischief entered his eyes. “And what might your name be? I can keep calling you my valiant saviour in my head, but I think I’d much rather put a name to that handsome face.”

Eskel let out a huff and turned away a bit more, making sure that his scars were as hidden as they could be. He knew even without the bard seeing them, he wouldn’t be considered handsome. He was too broad, too soft in places where his muscles should show and yet too bulky to not be intimidating. But it was nice hearing the word directed at him. The way the bard said it, Eskel could almost let himself believe that he meant it.

He risked another quick glance at the bard’s face and he found no trace of mockery in it.

“I’m Eskel,” he said, swallowing thickly when the bard’s smile grew into a full grin.

“I am Jaskier,” came the reply.

Eskel’s chest clenched uncomfortably. People didn’t offer witchers their names. They didn’t smile at them or talk to them without squirming in discomfort. They didn’t save goats from griffins and push witchers out of apparent danger.

And yet, Jaskier had done all those things. It did something strange to Eskel’s chest, something he wasn’t sure he liked. He knew he should just leave. Get his pay and forget all about the man with the lovely voice and the blue eyes.

Instead, he heard himself asking, “Would you like to go back to town with me?”

It was a foolish thing to ask and Eskel knew the answer before Jaskier even opened his mouth.

But instead of coming up with an excuse of flat out refusing the preposterous offer, Jaskier’s face brightened. “Of course!” He winked and Eskel’s insides gave a strange twist at the unexpected gesture. “After all, I promised Lil’ Bleater to get her back safely. And I would be loath to part with the lovely thing already.”

Jaskier’s teasing tone allowed no doubt that it wasn’t the goat he wanted to spend more time with.

“I’m sure she would hate saying goodbye to you already as well,” Eskel replied in a strangely choked voice.

A soft laugh tumbled from Jaskier’s lips and Eskel felt the corner of his own lips twitch up in turn, for once not caring how his smile twisted his face. With the way Jaskier’s eyes softened at Eskel’s smile, he almost began to think that this strange man that saved goats and called him handsome, could see Eskel as something other than a scarred and shunned witcher.

His heart fluttered at the thought and as he held up a hand to pull Jaskier up from the ground and Jaskier took it without hesitation, Eskel thought that for the first time he could dare take the risk and find out if Jaskier’s smile would maybe stay on him a little longer.

He was almost certain that it would.

#jaskel #eskel x jaskier #jaskier x eskel #eskel/jaskier #witcher #witcher fic #fic #fanfic #oneshot #first meeting #lil bleater #my writing

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blackbat05 · 3 years

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You don’t like me when I’m angry (Part 1)

Shangqi x Reader

A/N: Back again but I’ve decided to switch my theme a little! Reader has pyrokinetic abilities (like the human torch). Katy is still quirky and a talented archer. Shangqi... well he’s the man! Again, do like and comment if you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading!

Genre: PG 13

Warnings: Maybe just watch out for a bit of detailed descriptions of injuries and the fighting.

The pub was bustling. Men were noisily gathered at the bar, eyes glued to the latest soccer match. As the match went on, the reactions became more intense. Perfect cover for a hooded figure to slip into the pub unnoticed. She quietly orders a bottle of soju, pouring it into the drinking glass that came along with it.

‘Careful there, you don’t want to loose the target,’ a voice crackles through the coms in her left ear. ‘Relax Shangqi, unlike what you think, I have a high tolerance for alcohol.’ Smirking into thin air, the girl takes another sip. Another muffled voice causes Shangqi to pry away from the surveillance footage. ‘Oh yeah, Katy’s got the picture, just sent it.’

Everything about the target screamed danger. As if his rugged look didn’t scare one away, the man had a cut that was hovering dangerously near his eye. Goran Lee, aka Gor - the biggest mob boss who holds an iron fist over the underworld of Busan. How did (y/n) ended up here? That was a very good question.

‘What’s up Wong?’ I stepped into the sanctum after Shangqi and Katy who were having trouble concealing their yawns. The man in question turns his focus away from the round table, a solemn look on his face. ‘I think it’s best if you three take a look for yourselves.’

Throwing each other puzzled looks, we decided that it was best to just follow Wong. Crowding around the table, it glows bright orange, showing several images and videos at the same time. But all had one thing in common. A man - no he couldn’t even be called a human... more like a human animal hybrid was seen terrorizing the streets.

‘What the hell is that thing?’ Katy was clearly grossed out.

‘A vampire werewolf,’ Wong replied simply, not surprised at our confused expressions. ‘A what?’ Shangqi steps forward to observe the hologram that was a bit too real for his comfort. The animal whips its large head, red eyes tearing into us. I flinch as it lunges in our direction, knocking into Shangqi. The screen turns black.

‘That’s exactly what it is,’ Wong sighs. ‘It’s a real mess out there. A few weeks ago, Oscorp industries reported fifty boxes worth of vials missing from their storage in New York,’ He pauses to see if we’re following. ‘The substance - substance KXV is strong enough to trigger the person’s metagene and apparently, it’s fallen into the wrong hands. They’ve managed to trace it down to Busan but they’re tied down.’

‘Lemme guess... something to do with preventing an international incident on the front page of the Sunday Times?’ Katy drawled. ‘Why us then? Aren’t any of the avengers available?’ We looked at Wong expectantly.

‘They’re either off world, working with the UN or on the run from the government themselves,’ Wong pauses, thinking if he should continue. ‘And that Peter boy is in school.’ Shangqi raises his hands in defeat. He thought that after coming back from Ta Lo, he had escaped from the craziness. Well, at least he had you and Katy.

‘I don’t see him, this place is god damn dark. How do people drink here? And why am I here? Shouldn’t Shangqi be here instead?’

‘Because our faces have been plastered all over the internet? We don’t want to scare him off - and I know you’re not used to it but would you stop talking before he catches up on to us?’ Katy shakes her head at Shangqi inside the van as she talks to you. You never failed to impress them with your short fuse.

You sit quietly, nursing your last cup of soju, grumbling inwardly to yourself. For a guy who runs the underworld, he sure is tardy. A greasy hand rests on the surface of your shoulders, stopping your current train of thoughts. You hear a loud and abrupt movement from your com. ‘Hi, can I help you?’ Turning to the clueless jerk who decided it was ok to touch an unsuspecting woman, you inwardly trusted Katy to prevent Shangqi from running in balls first into a situation that could easily be defused. You were no pushover.

The guy reeked of alcohol. His foreign looks and a varsity jacket told me that he was probably an exchange student. ‘Hey pretty... why not have a drink with me and my guys over there...’ His finger jabs to the other end of the pub where his friends were watching him with excitement. ‘Don’t be shy... we’ll give you a good time!’ He guffaws before stumbling slightly.

My nostrils flared - as if making myself claustrophobic with a room full of rowdy and leering men weren’t enough, I’m having to deal with a boy who can’t seem to control whatever’s going on in his pants. This would have to be quick. Taking a few large strides over, I gripped his wrist tightly, lifting 185 pounds of dead weight. Staring into his unfocused eyes, my hands turned orange. Poor guy was flapping like a fish, wincing for me to stop. Thankfully with the loud music, no one could hear him.

‘I’m not exactly in a good mood today, so I suggest you scram before I fry your arm into barbeque here.’ I got my message across as he fled back to his group who were coincidentally trying not to make eye contact with me.

‘Harsh (y/n), harsh.’ Katy sniggered in my ear. I would have made a smartass response to her but my attention was focused on the man who had just sauntered into the room. Gor. And he didn’t come alone. ‘Look sharp guys, they’re here.’

I was determined not to loose them as they walked towards where the group of university students were, disappearing behind the back entrance shortly after. I darted among the group of servers who were to preoccupied attending tables, reaching the back. Dimly lit with red lights, every inch of the hallway was covered in questionable and even vulgar portraits that made my blood boil.

‘Don’t engage alone, me and Katy are on our way.’ Shangqi signals to Katy, tossing her bag of arrows. ‘No promises there Shangqi, I have no idea what the hell their going to do. Get here fast.’ I inch closer towards the sound.

Gor is the biggest out of them, towering over his tallest henchman by half a head. He takes the red vial, drinking it in one gulp. I knew I saw the pictures at the sanctum but I wanted to bleach my eyes out there and then as I saw him transform into that monstrosity. For a moment I thought I was caught as the furry beast glances at the transparent door.

‘The ambassador?’ Gor’s voice came out in an oily snarl. The henchman nearest to him bows, ‘On his way sir, he has the cash.’

‘Good, we kill them all the moment he arrives.’

‘Including the child- sir?’ The reply came back in a stutter.

‘I have no use for useless midgets,’ Gor bares his fangs. ‘Shoot them if you must.’

So it was true, Gor was really as sadistic as they claim. Just then, A warm hand clamps over my mouth before I can react. Shangqi.

‘Thank god. Take a look for yourselves. Gor’s after the ambassador. The ambassador knows that they’re the ones behind the raid at Oscorp. So Gor gets his men to kidnap the ambassador’s family, threatens him for some hush money in return of some promise that he must have made.’

‘But Gor’s not going to follow with his promise,’ Katy narrows her eyes. ‘Do you know where they might be holding the family?’ I shook my head. She loads her first arrow into the bow. ‘Can’t wait to try these new babies out. Heard their made of dragon skin.’ She turns to Shangqi, nodding in silent agreement.

‘Just what did you guys plan without me?’

PART 2 COMING SOON...

#xu shangqi #shangqi imagine #shangqi x reader #katy shang chi

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zukoszukhoes · 4 years

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Don’t Speak- Zuko x Reader

// Soulmate au- Zuko x reader

// summary: In the Fire Nation, when you turn 16, the first words your soulmate will say to you appear on your wrist. Just after y/n’s 17th birthday, they don’t think they’ll ever find their soulmate. Until a certain prince, back from his banishment, comes to stay at their family’s estate on holiday. Suddenly, y/n is faced with a complicated problem; after all, what do you do when your soulmate is the crown prince of the nation you hate?

//part 2 here

//warnings: none, just some angst and a little threatening

// (Y/M/N)= your mother’s name

“(Y/n), the royal procession is here! Come quickly!” The head maid, Lotty, cried into your room.

Shit! You thought, lurching up from your bed. You’d gotten so engrossed in your book you’d forgetting to keep track of time. And now your hair was a mess, your clothes were wrinkled, and you still couldn’t find your shoes. Your father was going to kill you when he saw you.

“Lotty, have you seen my shoes? The ones we got last week for the procession?” You shouted, throwing on your banquet wear as fast as you could.

“It’s in the closet!” Lotty called back from the other room, her voice panicked. Having visitors always put Lotty on edge.

“No, they’re not!”

Lotty rushed in your room, face scrunched up with stress and hair resembling a bird’s nest. “What do you mean they’re not in the closet?” She screeched.

“I checked the closet and I’m telling you they’re not there!”

“Spirits, child! Could you at least try and be organized?!” Lotty cried, digging into the closet. She emerged a minute later with the shoes held triumphantly in her hands and shoved them into your chest. “Now, go, quickly! The prince will be here any minute!”

The prince. The words echoed bitterly in your mind. Despite being the child of a powerful Fire Nation government official, living in the Fire Nation brought you no joy.

Growing up, you’d watched as the Fire Nation conquered the rest of the world. You’d been taught that it was the right thing to do, that you were sharing your success to create a better world. But when your father told you of the lives lost-on both sides- you couldn’t help but hate the war, and the Fire Nation. To you, it was all senseless killing, poorly disguised under the name “progress.”

When you heard about the prince’s banishment for speaking out against the Firelord’s war plans, you’d hoped it meant that he was a fair, wise, and just person. And, that maybe, one day, he would come back and be the Firelord the world needed him to be. However, when you learned he’d killed the avatar in Ba Sing Se, you knew in your heart that he was just as evil as the rest of his family.

Still, your reservations about the royal family did not deter your own family from idolizing them. After all, the Firelord had given your father a respectable job, a good home, and a steady living. Being a high-ranking government official had opened all kinds of doors for your family. So when the Firelord asked your father to host his son, Prince Zuko, while he was meeting with his war generals, how could he say no?

“You’re late.” Your father grumbled as you fell into line in between him and your mother. “Why, on today of all days, did you choose to be late?”

“I’m sorry, father.” You replied, fixing your shirt surreptitiously. “I lost track of time.”

A horrified gasp escaped your mother’s lips. “(Y/N)! Your mark!” She whispered, grabbing your wrist.

In the Fire Nation, everyone had the first words their soulmate would every say to them imprinted on their wrist. However, it was considered improper to display your mark in public. Anything having to do with soulmates was considered private, intimate, and extremely personal. To show your mark to the public, when you haven’t met your soulmate yet, would be considered betraying your soulmate’s trust before you’d even met them. Your parents seemed to believe in this idea more than most. They’d gone to extreme lengths to make sure no one other than themselves, Lotty, and yourself had seen the mark.

You glanced down, reading the words you’d read a hundred times over: “Your shoe is untied.”

“Here,” your mother huffed, handing you her own wrist cuffs. Her mark was gone, disappeared the first day she had met your father. You slipped on the cuffs, watching the words disappear under the bronze metal. “And next time, be more careful!” Your mother scolded you.

You rolled your eyes. But before you could respond, the front gates opened. A palanquin, painted blood red with regal gold detailing, appeared through the gates. Held up by four exhausted-looking palanquin bearers and flanked by guards, it was a statement of royalty that could not be ignored. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the pomp of it all.

“It’s a bit excessive, don’t you think?” You snorted. Your father glared at you, but cracked a smile nonetheless.

Gauzy white curtains fluttered in the wind as the palanquin bearers strode their way up to the house. In between the curtains you caught a glimpse of a high ebony ponytail, a flaming crimson scar, and two golden, piercing eyes. Eyes widening with surprise, you quickly averted your gaze, a shiver racing down your spine. What was that? After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, the palanquin finally stopped in front of your family.

“Please bow for Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation!” One of the guards barked, dropping to one knee. Immediately all of the other guards followed. You slipped into a low bow, watching out of the corner of your eye as the palanquin bearers parted the curtains for the prince to descend.

You’d expected to find the prince revolting. When you imagined meeting him before, his image only conjured anger over the war, anger over all of the injustices you’d heard of over the years. But when the prince emerged from the palanquin, you didn’t feel anger; instead, you felt your heart skip a beat.

Tall and regal, Prince Zuko had a commanding presence that seemed to wrap around your heart and squeeze. You’d always heard that the royal family was cold and calculated- but the prince reeked of raw emotion. He did not smile- or show any expression at all- but his presence emanated raw angst. And those eyes. Once again, the flash of molten amber met yours, one eye haloed in dark red, and sent a jolt down your spine. Looking into his eyes, you felt as if you could watch the gears in his head turn and twist as he studied you. All of his turmoil, rage, and sorrow swirled in those pools of amber, shaking you to your core. He narrowed his eyes, his gaze of liquid gold seeming to find something interesting in you.

You knew it was improper to hold his gaze for so long, but you couldn’t look away. He was incredible, yet turbulent; beautiful, but terrifying. Part of your brain saw him and thought he was nothing more than a teenage boy. The other part screamed that he was nothing but another killer.

“Prince Zuko, it is an honor to have you with us,” your father greeted in a booming voice. He clasped his hands behind his back and stood to attention, looking very much like the important official he was. “I am Executive (L/N). This is my wife, (Y/M/N), and my child, (Y/N).”

“Thank you for hosting me. It is a pleasure to meet all of you.” Zuko replied, his voice quieter than you expected.

“We hope the home is to your liking. If you need anything at all during your stay, feel free to take full advantage of the staff,” your mother said with a gracious smile.

The prince dipped his head in a subtle nod. “I appreciate your hospitality.” He paused, gaze sliding to yours once again. His eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly. “You’re (Y/N)?”

You simply nodded. It seemed better not to speak than to speak and say something out of turn (which, as your mother liked to complain, was a frequent and annoying habit of yours).

The prince walked forward until he was standing just a few paces away. He continued to study you up and down, face devoid of emotion. Finally, he remarked in a flat tone, “Your shoe is untied.”

Immediately all of the blood drained from your face. Underneath your cuff, your wrist burned. Your mother let out a small gasp, her excitement palpable. But you felt nothing but dread.

This is impossible. It has to be! Your thoughts raced frantically. Your heart began to thump loudly in your chest, fueled by panic-induced adrenaline. It had to be fake. It had to be.

Because if it wasn’t, than that meant that the crown prince- heir to the throne- of the nation you hated was your soulmate.

You glanced to the side and caught Lotty’s eye. She was practically jumping up and down with excitement, coaxing you to say something. Of course, she, your mother, and your father all knew your words. They knew that Prince Zuko’s first words to you were the first words your soulmate would say to you. No doubt they thought this was a good thing, a cause for celebration. How could they not realize Prince Zuko being your soulmate was the last thing you wanted?

A bead of sweat traveled down the back of your neck. Your father nudged you inconspicuously, prodding you to say something. But you couldn’t. Because those words would cement you as the crown prince’s soulmate.

Suddenly, an idea popped into your head. If speaking would make you Prince Zuko’s soulmate, then you just wouldn’t speak at all.

You clamped your mouth shut, choosing to nod again instead of replying. The prince raised an eyebrow, tension thickening in the air as he waited for a response.

“Excuse my (Y/N).” Your mother laughed suddenly, breaking the tension. She placed a hand on your shoulder in a seemingly harmless gesture, but her nails dug into your skin. “They can be so forgetful sometimes!”

The Prince’s eyes never left yours. “I understand.” He said flatly. His gaze lingered on you a moment longer before he turned away, towards your father.

“You must be tired after your journey. Let me show you to your quarters.” Your father said, lowering himself into a bow.

“Thank you.” The prince replied. He nodded to the palanquin bearers to bring his luggage forward.

“Come, right this way.” Your father directed him towards the entrance. They walked inside, thankfully releasing you from the prince’s presence.

You exhaled slowly, feeling some of your anxiety melt away that the prince was gone. However, your mother’s tension was clearly rising.

“What were you thinking?” She hissed, nails digging deep into your shoulder. “Refusing to speak to a royal! Spirits, (Y/N), I knew you could be headstrong but- but- this!”

Quickly, you looked around for the prince before turning back to your mother. “You heard what he said to me. It matches.”

“I know!” She squealed. “All the more reason to speak to him! You don’t want to insult your future husband more than you already have, do you?”

“Future husband?!” Heat rushed to your cheeks. “Spirits, mother, I just met him!”

“Darling, he’s your soulmate.” Your mother’s voice softened along with her grip on your shoulder. She smiled gently, her other hand raising to caress your cheek. “You two will be together, whether you want to or not.”

You swatted your mother’s hand away, a furious blush scorching your cheeks. “We don’t know that he’s my soulmate. After all, I haven’t even spoken to him yet.”

Your mother’s eyes narrowed and she leaned back, crossing her arms. “So that’s why you refuse to speak to the prince?”

You simply looked away. Lotty caught your gaze, concern swimming in her eyes.

Your mother scoffed. “Don’t be a coward, (Y/N). You have a great opportunity here. You could rule alongside the Firelord, and bring glory to our family!”

You turned away, anger simmering inside of you. “I’m not a coward. And I don’t want to rule beside the Firelord.”

Your mother opened her mouth to reply, face red with rage, but before she could, a servant came out of the front doors and rang the dinner bell.

“This is not over.” Your mother glowered, sweeping past you towards the dining hall. You sighed, about to follow, but stopped for a moment. Glancing down, you groaned. Your shoe really was untied.

~~~

The night was cool and clear. A breeze drifted lazily through your open window, bringing sounds of toad-crickets and beetle-sparrows with it. The last embers of a dying fire crackled in the fireplace. Under your mountain of blankets, you should have been fast asleep. Instead, you were wide awake, the day’s events replaying over and over again in your head. Having a soulmate was terrifying enough, but having the prince of the Fire Nation as a soulmate? That was something else entirely.

Throwing back your covers, you slipped out of bed, abandoning your futile attempts at sleep. You lit a candle and silently left your room, making your way towards your favorite spot in the house. It was a small balcony situated just off of the hallway leading to the servants quarters. Small and hidden from outside view thanks to some nearby trees, it was the perfect place to hide and think. You often found yourself seated there on nights you couldn’t sleep, listening to the cicada-frogs until you were tired enough to go back to your room.

You quietly opened the door to the balcony, looking forward to the solitude, but that night it seemed you had company.

Prince Zuko sat on the weathered stone, staring up at the stars with a dying candle next to him. His head turned as you opened the door.

Panic flared in your chest and you immediately receded, but before you could retreat fully, the prince’s voice called out to you, “Wait!”

You paused, your heart hammering in your chest. Your mind screamed at you to ran back to your room and forget the interaction had ever occurred, but something compelled you forward. Slowly, you opened the door and stepped out onto the balcony.

Zuko was staring at you inquisitively, like you were a puzzle he was trying to piece together. A slight blush colored his cheeks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take your spot. I couldn’t sleep.”

You didn’t respond.

The prince’s face suddenly soured and his hand curled into a fist. “Why won’t you speak to me?” He yelled, features scrunched in rage.

Your eyes widened, a jolt of fear electrifying your heart, until you remembered who you were. Yes, you were technically one of Prince Zuko’s future subjects. But you were also not one to be bullied.

Crossing your arms, you glared at the prince, daring him to yell at you again.

It seemed to work. The rage melted into annoyance. Zuko huffed, blowing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes, and turned his attention back to the stars. “You’re very frustrating.”

You cracked a smile and slowly relaxed a bit.

“You have a nice house. Do you like it here?” Zuko asked, doing his best to appear nonchalant.

You grinned and shook your head, as if to say, Your tricks won’t work on me.

Instantly, Zuko’s demeanor changed. He become more guarded, more shrouded in angst. “Do you want to know the real reason I’m here?” He started suddenly. He waited for your slow nod before continuing. “My father thinks there’s a spy here.”

Shock sliced through your chest despite your attempts to appear indifferent. A spy? At your house? You shook your head. It was impossible.

Zuko turned to you again, his gaze suspicious. “Maybe I should be looking at you more closely. Maybe you won’t speak to me because you’re the traitor.”

A laugh burst out of your mouth. You, a spy? You certainly had your qualms with the Fire Nation, but your town was tiny and your father barely let you talk to anyone outside of his own circle.

“I know you hate me!” Zuko snarled. “Everyone knows you hate the Fire Nation and the royal family. Who else would betray their country but you?”

You stayed silent, unsure whether to be afraid of Zuko or laugh at him. His anger was impressive to be sure, but it was all bark, no bite. It was a facade to protect himself from his true feelings. You could see that it in his eyes.

Finally, Zuko looked away, a frustrated groan escaping his lips. He leaned against his knee, his other leg sprawled out on the cobblestone. He radiated nonchalance, but there was an uneasiness in his stature that betrayed the turmoil raging beyond his perfectly-measured exterior. Slowly, you reached out with your hand and placed your palm on his shoulder, trying to convey as much compassion as you could in the touch. You knew Zuko didn’t really think you were the spy; if he did, you would have already been in a Fire Nation prison.

The prince shrugged your hand off, still refusing to look at you, but you could see some of the anger dissipate from his frame. Cautiously, you sat down against the opposite railing, keeping your gaze on Zuko. For a minute, the two of you simply sat in silence, you waiting for Zuko to say something and Zuko too proud to do so.

Finally, Zuko broke the tension with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. Things are just a bit... complicated, at the moment.”

You found yourself nodding in agreement.

Zuko glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “You can talk, can’t you?”

You smirked teasingly. Zuko grunted and looked away, running a hand through his unkempt raven hair.

“Good. Glad to know I didn’t just yell at a mute person for not being able to speak.”

A quiet laugh escaped your lips. Zuko whipped his head to you in surprise, his blush deepening. Despite your determination to hate the prince, a blush of your own warmed your cheeks.

“I’m... glad I was able to talk to you tonight. Even if you didn’t talk back. Lotty said you’d probably come out here, but I wasn’t sure if you'd be here,” Zuko said.

You frowned. Of course Lotty had told him where to find you. She may not have been your parents, but she definitely thought highly of the royal family and would be thrilled if the prince was indeed your soulmate.

“Don’t blame her. I asked her to tell me,” Zuko reassured you quickly, seeing your frown.

You nodded; of course you didn't blame her. Suddenly, you yawned, a wave of fatigue washing over you.

“You’re tired.” Zuko stated, regaining the calm, princely demeanor he wore earlier in the day. You nodded again, crossing your arms to keep yourself warm in the cool night air. “Let me walk you back to your room.” He offered, standing up and holding out his hand. Quickly, you shook your head, launching to your feet. If one of the servants saw, rumors would no doubt spread like wildfire. Besides, you were trying your best to dislike Prince Zuko, and every second you spent with him was waning away your hatred. It was better to stay away.

Zuko’s outstretched hand fell to his side. His face settled into a steely glare and he raised his chin slightly, trying his best (but failing) to appear unaffected. “Fine. Until tomorrow, then.”

You paused, part of you wanting to stay back. Instead, you bowed hastily and retreated from the deck, quickly walking back to the safety of your room. When you were safely nestled under your blankets, heart racing from the encounter, you finally allowed yourself to breathe fully.

In the matter of a few hours, your life had become more complicated than it had ever been before. There could be a spy in your midst, you may have found your soulmate, and that soulmate may have been the crown prince of the Fire Nation. Despite the thoughts running through your head, however, you found yourself yawning. Burying yourself deeper into your pillows, sleep slowly tugged at your brain, sinking you deeper and deeper into darkness. But your thoughts of Prince Zuko spiraled with you, until, when you finally tumbled into sleep’s warm embrace, it was Zuko’s amber eyes that watched you fall.

~~~

The next morning, you decided you needed to do whatever possible to avoid the prince. You couldn’t risk another meeting with him, especially after your meeting from the night before, which had left you with certain... sympathetic thoughts towards Zuko. So when Lotty came into your room that morning, you proclaimed sudden illness and told her to leave you for the rest of the day. “To prevent the sickness from spreading to the prince,” you had claimed. Lotty, thankfully, had obediently left you alone and promised no one would come to see you. However, you still felt defenseless in your room, susceptible to a visit from Zuko. Thus, you found yourself following a path towards the back of the gardens, searching for seclusion. The gardens, lush, green, and sprawling across a whole acre, provided plenty of solitary clearings and hidden grottos to hide in. As you walked through a tunnel of trees towards the back edge of the gardens, you felt the tension from the past day melt from your shoulders. Vines spilled from trees and onto the path, dotted with Fire Lilies in bloom. The intoxicating smell worked its way into your muscles and dissipated the stress. Finally, as you reached the end of the path, you pushed through one last wall of leaves, feeling the last of your anxiousness fade away with the promise of solitude-

You gasped and immediately withdrew, your heart beginning to thump in your chest. Where you were sure you would find solitude, a moment of peace and quiet, you found something else entirely- Lotty. And, to make matters worse, she was speaking with Prince Zuko.

Luckily, the pair didn’t notice your presence. They were too busy arguing to notice you behind the wall of vines.

“Please, your Highness, have mercy!” Lotty was saying, a tremble in her voice. Peeking between the vines, you watched her sink to her knees in front of the Prince, her head bowed and hands clasped together.

Zuko’s face was scrunched up in anger, cheeks red. Faint wisps of steam curled outwards from his clenched fists. “You are a traitor to your country. How dare you ask for mercy, after all you’ve done?!” He shouted.

“I know I don’t deserve it. I know I don’t deserve your kindness. But, please, your Highness... for the sake of the girl... for the family... spare me!” Lotty whispered, face wide-open and terrified.

“When I was thirteen, my father permanently scarred me for speaking out of turn. If I didn’t receive mercy, you won’t either,” Zuko snarled. “Espionage is a far worse crime than foolishness.”

Your eyes widened. The spy. Lotty was the spy!

Lotty, the woman who had practically raised you. Lotty, the woman who had cooked for you, cleaned for you, and taken care of you your whole life. Lotty, who loved the Fire Nation so ardently- had betrayed your family to the rebels.

You sagged against the tree, shock paralyzing your limbs. She had betrayed you. And now, she was going to receive her punishment.

You forced yourself to look back through the curtain of vines, hands shaking.

“I’m sorry, Prince Zuko-” Lotty gasped, shielding her face. Zuko had a blazing fireball poised in his hand.

“Apologies won’t save you now.” Zuko growled. Raising his arm to strike, the fire cast monstrous shadows over the scene, highlighting Lotty’s terrified expression. You watched as her eyes widened, fraught with the knowledge that she was about to meet her doom- and before you knew what you were doing, you were running towards her, screaming at Zuko to stop.

“Don’t you touch her!” You cried, skidding in front of Lotty just as Zuko prepared to strike.

Zuko’s fireball disappeared.

Chest heaving, you glared daggers at Zuko. “If you want to get to her, you’ll have to go through me.”

Zuko’s mouth dropped open in horror, his face becoming pale. “No,” he whispered, a look of horrible realization dawning over his face. He ripped off the cuff on his right wrist, exposing his pale skin and the black words inked into his flesh:

“Don’t you touch her.”

His eyes met yours, panic filling his gaze. “What does yours say?” He whispered, his voice eager yet terrified.

You slipped your cuff off and your own words came to light. The words on yours and Zuko’s wrists began to turn golden from the inside, shining brighter and brighter until the words vanished from your wrists in a blaze of light, confirming the worst.

You and Prince Zuko really were soulmates.

Except, after seeing what he was capable of, you knew you'd never love him.

#atla #avatar aang #hello zuko here #atla x reader #avatar the last airbender #prince zuko #zuko x reader #zuko x you #zuko imagine #imagines #atla imagine #soulmate au #atla soulmate au #zuko #atla fanfic #atla zuko

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kozumebunny · 3 years

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Seijoh + Shiratorizawa + Maid Dress

Consider supporting me!

uhh flirting that has some implications? mostly gn reader

has: oikawa Tooru, iwaizumi Hajime, matsukawa issei, hanamaki takahiro, kyotani kentaro, ushijima wakatoshi, tendou satori, semi eita, goshiki tsutomu

Oikawa Tooru

>he's wearing the maid dress because a) he lost a bet with Seijoh 4, b) you asked him to wear it or d)he wants to tease you for having a maid kink

>there's no other possible reason he's wearing it

>he'd bake milk bread with you and he's such a flirt omfg

>"are you having trouble kneading the dough, my mistress? let me put my hands over yours and show you how it's done"

>ok bitch

>he doesn't really clean

>believes he is above cleaning

>thinks he should just be eye candy and not do any actual work

>kind of the worst maid for that reason

>idk why he thought bragging to Hanamki and Matsukawa about wearing a maid dress was a good idea but he did

>now everyone knows

>Hanamaki got real oh you haven't heard energy

>so yeah now his fan club wants him to wear the maid dress for them

Iwaizumi Hajime

>no he won't wear it for you

>it's heartbreaking

>even when he loses a bet he says the only way they can get him in it is if they forcefully do it

>they tried and failed

>mildly upset about him not wearing the maid dress

>but it's okay because he later on tells you "I don't need to wear a stupid maid dress to take care of you. Besides, I thought you liked my muscle tank tops."

>ok mr. heartthrob you right about that

>(don't admit to him he will hold it over your head and wear muscle tops to fish for compliments from you. don't give him the power)

Matsukawa Issei

>you just come to his house one day and he's like "what's up" as if he isn't even wearing a maid dress that hangs loosely on him?? clearly one or two sizes too big

>"amazon said to size up. amazons a fucking liar"

>will not do anything you ask of him

>won't call you mistress or master or anything like that that puts you in the position of power

>He'll make food for the both of you and do his cleaning chores and that's it

>just sits on the couch watching tv with you in the maid dress.

Hanamaki Takahiro

>he'll wear it but if anyone asks him about it directly he denies it

>doesn't care if you tell everyone. he still denies it

>he can't cook but he can clean

>will do what you tell him to, but there is a limit to how much he'll do for you so don't push it

>is also probably wearing a maid outfit that isn't like. meant to be a maid outfit

>it's a sex shop type maid outfit lmfao

>"what maid outfit was I supposed to get?" pls he's so clueless on this shit

Kyotani Kentaro

>the only person who can convince him to wear one is Iwaizumi

>you're not getting him in the maid dress otherwise

>f in the chat

>I really need to stop saying that

>I think he might go for a lacy or more delicate looking one. Not because he feels like he's good looking in it, but he associates maids overall as very like. prim and proper delicate things. like pink floral porcelain things

>can't cook. if you ask him to clean he will immediately stop doing it. he's a stubborn dick

>will just straight up leave your house if you push him to do stuff for you too much

>won't ever admit to wearing it. iwaizumi won't tell anyone that Kyotani wore one either

Ushijima Wakatoshi

>this reeks tendou mischief

>he had a hand in it

>semi could not stop him

>either tendou knows that you like boys in maid dresses or he thinks Ushijima in a maid dress would be the perfect thing for you

>Tendou may or may not have such a hard time finding a dress size for Ushijima

>dude is 6 foot and built y'all idk how he would even find one

>power of god and anime on his side I suppose

>he also wears one that is really basic

>black and white with an apron

>"an apron is good so I can stay clean while doing my chores."

>"Waka-chan we want to go for looks and beauty with maid outfits not practicality"

>wears the maid dress for you but he's still a little clueless

>he doesn't get that he should be calling you master or mistress so you have to explicitly tell him. treats it as a more boss/worker relationship than maid/master relationship

>like yes he understands do as he's told, do what you ask, be efficient about it, all around take care of you

>proud of the fact that he can take care of you

>he will give you healthy snacks and cook a healthy dinner

>won't give you candy

>"it's not good to eat so much candy so let's eat healthier snacks"

>you have to give in cause he's such a sweetheart

>wants you to watch him cook cause he does all sorts of fancy tricks to impress you

>may or may not have learned said tricks from Tendou

Semi Eita

>oh good god he will only wear it for you in private and deny it if ever asked

>no photos or videos allowed!!

>he's so blushy and nervous in it it's not something to laugh about

>put the cat ears and tail on him. you know you want to

>but he will wear it for you

>wears it cause you express interest in it

>blushing when he calls you mistress/master

>very sweet

>cuts fruit for you and even hand feeds it to you

>a sweetheart

>calls you sweet pet names in between like "of course, my puppy"

>will do what you ask of him so don't take advantage of him!!

>his love language is acts of service so really, him wearing a maid dress is just. him in a maid dress going out his normal routine with you

>10/10 would date him in a heart beat

>ASKING HIM TO PLAY GUITAR FOR YOU??? PLEASE DO IT?? SINGS ALL SORTS OF LOVE SONGS FOR YOU OR LULLABYS OR DISNEY SONGS

>DONT TOUCH ME IM SOFT LIKE JELLO

Tendou Satori

>wears it for you of his own volition

>if he even has a sneaking suspicion you're into it bam he's already on a cosplay website

>probably cosplaying an anime character

>like he's wearing ram or rem's maid dress (from re:zero)

>can't cook. don't trust him with it. he will accidentally kill you

>can clean but does it super fast so he can spend more time with you

>so not really a good job

>calls you all the master/mistress/pet names he can

>oh he's soaking this shit up

>he's expecting you to wear the maid dress in return for him

Goshiki Tsutomu

>I feel like he would have a very traditional approach with the maid dress

>might wear one that's like a kimono or yukata base style?

>will only wear it if you explicitly ask him to

>Tendou probably riles him up into it

>"but what if she wants you to Goshiki? Don't you want to be the best boyfriend possible?"

>will bow when you come to his home

>always yes thank you with a sir/maam at the end

>Does his best

>when he cuts fruit for you he even cuts them out into little shapes

>its honestly so sweet

>Will even give you a massage

>brushes your teeth, dresses you in the morning

>very proud of himself because he knows he can take care of you for a fact now

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angellesword · 3 years

Text

MAGIC SHOP | JJK (01)

Description: You and Jungkook were best friends who were in love with each other. What would happen when Soojin, your half sister who you’re trying to impress, told you she’s in love with Jungkook too?

Alternatively:

“Would you believe me if I said that I was scared of everything too?”

Genre: childhood best friends to lovers, family drama, angst, fluff, slow burn, pining, slice of life au.

Pairing: Architect!Jungkook x Architect!Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings/Note: This fic doesn’t include incest okay? Taemin only treats Jungkook like his own son but he is not related to OC and Soojin by blood. But if you’re uncomfortable, please don’t read. Soojin’s mom HATES OC for being an illegitimate child.

SERIES: CHAPTER 2

"Oh shit, shit, shit—"

You clamped your eyes shut upon hearing the unending profanities leaving Soojin's mouth from the other line.

This same thing had happened more than you could ever count that was why it didn't come as a surprise to you when Soojin, your sister, asked you this: "Fuck. Can you please pick me up? Dad is going to kill me!"

When she said 'dad,' what she really meant was the head of the architects as well the people involved in the project you two were currently working on.

"Soojin, Both of us will be late if I come and pick you up. Can't you just hail a cab or something?" You sighed, stopping the car when the traffic light turned red.

You were just two minutes away from the office.

"But I hate the smell of cabs!" She whined. You could imagine her pouting her lips since she didn't get what she wanted in the first try.

"Please?" She tried again.

You remained quiet.

"You're my sister. You should always be on my side!"

You could no longer keep your mouth shut after that.

You exhaled loudly, finally relenting. She won. You could never say no when she started pulling the 'you're my sister card.'

Admittedly, it was the key to your soft spot, the only thing that could melt your cold heart—the only thing that made you feel like you were a true Kim.

Kim Soojin. This was your half sister's complete name. Her surname was something you had wanted to use ever since you were a little girl. Your father promised you that he would let you carry his last name when you reached the age of majority.

You were twenty six now. Eight years had passed since you turned eighteen and yet, the last name of your mother was still attached to your first name.

Huh. You should have known that nothing would change. You didn't even know why you were still expecting when it was clear from the very beginning that Kim Taemin, your father, never kept his promises to you.

He always let you down, always made you feel that you didn't matter. You didn't want to be like him. This was one of the reasons why you chose to pick up Soojin from a hotel even though it would cause you to be late at work.

You didn't want to disappoint Soojin. This, however, didn't mean that the latter felt the same way.

"You reek alcohol..." You winced as soon as your sister entered your car.

She was wearing the same dress she wore at the party last night. Soojin liked bar-hopping with her friends. She actually invited you but you couldn't join them because you were busy preparing for today's presentation at work.

You and Soojin were both architects at Castle, the architectural firm owned by your father. As mentioned, you two would be presenting today—both as leaders. There were two teams in your department and Jungkook, the head of the architects, chose you and Soojin to lead each team.

In short, your sister was your rival. You knew you should be rejoicing now that it looked like she was an intoxicated mess, a clear indication that she wasn't ready to face your colleagues.

However, instead of delight, the only emotion you felt was disappointment. You were disappointed that she was acting so reckless when she was supposed to be leading people towards success.

"Yeah I know. My head is killing me." She sighed dramatically as she eyed you from head to toe. "Let me borrow your coat. I'm wearing a tube dress. I can't go to the office looking like this."

You took off your coat and handed it to her without a word. She needed it more than you do. Your dress was already appropriate for work. You only paired it with a coat because it's cold in the building, but you'd live.

"Ugh. I need coffee. Can we get one? And what's that thing you made me drink when my head's spinning? I need that too." She locked in her safety belt, a sign that she didn't want to get what she needed to make herself feel better.

She wanted you to be the one to buy her a coffee and probably some ibuprofen to help with her hangover, and since you were the best sister in the whole world, you did exactly what she wanted you to do, leaving her in your car—but not after asking her to open your laptop to send your presentation to one of your teammates via email.

You had the revised copy of your team's output. You knew you would be late so you wanted them to start without you.

You trusted your group. You were certain that they could manage even if you were out here buying vanilla bean frappuccino with three pumps of raspberry syrup for your sister.

Unfortunately, you overestimated your team.

They were a hot mess without you. They couldn't start the presentation since they believed that you had what they didn't have.

"Oh, so now the VIP decided to show up, huh?" You were welcomed by Sin-ae's sarcastic remark the second you entered the conference hall.

Kim Sin-ae was your father's legal wife so you understood why she hated you.

"I'm sorry. Traffic's terrible..." You lied, bowing your head as you continued to apologize to everyone.

"And yet you still have time to buy yourself a coffee..." Sin-ae raised her brow.

You automatically hid the plastic cup on your back. This was Soojin's coffee. She asked you to hold it for a while since she needed to go to the washroom to freshen up a little.

"I'm really sorry..." This was the only thing you could say before making your way towards your panicking teammates.

"What happened? Why haven't you guys started yet?" You whispered, eyes darting to the black screen of their laptop.

"We can't start without you, team leader. You have the revised copy of our project." Mina groaned, tears pricking at her eyes.

She was frustrated as she explained that they tried to sidetrack the important people in this room through motivation and corny jokes.

It didn't work. The panel was pissed off, especially Soojin's mom.

"Did you check your email? I asked Soojin to send it to you," your heartbeat doubled when Mina nodded, feeling dejected.

"I did. But you sent a blank document."

"Shit." You tongued the inside of your cheek, striving to calm down as you opened your laptop.

You still had ten minutes before Soojin's team took over.

You could do this.

But for the second time around, you were incorrect.

You couldn't do this—not when your file seemed to be corrupted. You couldn't even find its contents anywhere.

"Shit, shit, shit..." It was your turn to cuss nonstop. What happened to your damn file?

You felt like you were about to faint when someone suddenly tapped your shoulder.

You looked back only to see Jungkook's soft brown eyes. He had this look that instantly calmed you down.

"Are you having problems?" Even his voice was soft. "Do you want help? Tell me what I can do for you..."

Jungkook knew you were stubborn. You rarely admitted your weakness so he already expected you to shake your head, refusing to accept any form of help.

"There's nothing you can do. Our file is corrupted..."

Jungkook's eyes dilated.

"No." He shook his head too.

How could this happen? It was impossible. You were many things but being reckless wasn't one of them.

He knew how much effort and time you had exerted for this project. You would never allow bad things to happen to it.

Fuck.

Did someone sabotage you?

But who?

"Good morning, everyone!"

The door of the conference room abruptly opened, revealing Soojin who didn't look intoxicated anymore.

She looked fresh, like she woke up on the right side of bed.

She looked like she had already succeeded.

"I'm right on time, aren't I?" Soojin smiled when she spotted your team packing up.

You were too stunned to know what was happening around you—too stunned to know that Soojin planned all of this.

She only pretended like she was drunk so she could sabotage your whole presentation.

She was a good architect, but she knew she'd lose this project. She saw glimpses of your plan and it was clearly better than their team's output.

Soojin couldn't accept defeat, not when this project would serve as a way to be closer to Jeon Jungkook, the love of her life.

The winning team would have the privilege to work with the head of the architects. Jungkook would lead the project together with Soojin.

Mrs. Lee, their client, was a business person who was also an advocate of mental health. She said she wanted Castle to think of a plan that would ease the mind of people.

Soojin's plan was to build a luxury spa that would help people who were in distress to feel relaxed.

Since you blew your chance to show off what you've got, the architects working at Castle didn't have a choice but to just agree with Soojin's plan.

It was approved immediately, especially because Kim Sin-ae coaxed everyone to choose Soojin's idea.

Sin-ae wasn't an architect but she was allowed to be in this conference room since she was not only the wife of the chairman, but also a great friend of Mrs. Lee.

"Thank you so much for choosing our team." Soojin's smile was big as she shook the hand of Mrs. Lee.

"It's my pleasure..."

It broke your heart to see Mrs. Lee smiled. It wasn't because you were jealous of Soojin's achievement. It was more like you hated yourself for being an idiot.

You overworked yourself. Maybe because of exhaustion, you deleted the contents instead of saving the changes you made.

Damn. You should have checked it again this morning.

You continued to beat yourself up as you watched Mrs. Lee conversed with Jungkook and Soojin.

Your stomach dropped at the sight. Soojin was wrapping her hands around Jungkook's biceps.

Luckily, someone blocked your eyesight. You didn't think you could bear another second looking at them.

But you know what they said, it wasn't always luck.

You knew luck wouldn't be on your side now that your father was in front of you, demanding you to look at him.

"Father..." You bowed, greeting him.

Taemin didn't smile, keeping a stoic expression.

"You disappointed me," was the first thing he told you today. You knew he was here, watching you fucked up.

He didn't say anything when his wife threw sarcastic remarks at you. He also didn't ask if you were okay or if he could help you when it was apparent that you were struggling a short while ago.

Your father paid you no mind as he conversed with Seokjin, your half brother who was five years older than you and Namjoon, your other half brother.

Your two older brothers were engineers but Jungkook invited them to ask for their opinions, hoping he could learn a thing or two.

Out of the six members of your family who were here today, only Jungkook showed you kindness.

Jeon Jungkook who wasn't even related to you by blood.

He was just a dear childhood friend who happened to be loved by the Kims, someone who was adopted by your father when he became an orphan.

Taemin couldn't just abandon little Jeon, which was very in contrast to how your father treated you.

"I'll do better, father." You said, voice sounding like a robot.

Taemin clenched his jaw.

"You better. The next time you fucked up, you won't be allowed to set foot inside my building. Do you understand?"

"Yes, father..."

With that, Taemin left. He was immediately followed by your brothers who didn't even spare you a glance.

"A bastard without a brain. I'm glad you're not carrying our last name—" Sin-ae sneered at you right before following her sons out. "—because it would be such a shame."

You didn't have the chance to respond because as soon as Sin-ae left you alone, Jungkook and Soojin came near you.

"We're having lunch with Mrs. Lee and our family today. Wanna join?" Soojin smiled sweetly at you.

You couldn't answer because of the lump in your throat, and also because you didn't really hear what she said. Your whole attention was focused on Soojin's hand that was still wrapped around Jungkook's biceps.

"Yeah, didn't you say you like steak?" Jungkook also smiled at you. His doe eyes were sparkling.

"Ah," you swallowed thickly, finally realizing that they were inviting you to have lunch with them.

"You go ahead. I still have things to do."

"But you haven't eaten breakfast yet." Jungkook's lips protruded into a pout, his forehead creasing.

He knew you for more than two decades now, meaning he could tell if you had eaten already or not.

Judging your expressions—constantly touching your stomach while hiding your other shaky hand behind your back, he could tell that you were hungry.

He also knew that you had a habit of skipping breakfast because you had no appetite from five to nine in the morning. You usually ate at around 9:15am, but you didn't have the chance to do that since you were caught up with today's meeting.

"Uh..." You bit your lower lip, trailing off. You didn't know what excuse to give him since your mind was still not working.

What was the polite way to say leave me alone. I don't want to be with anyone right now?

"Don't force her, Jungkook. Maybe she's not in the mood to eat yet..." Soojin. She was the one who found an excuse for you. She was looking at you as if to say that she got it, that she would not let Jungkook bother you any longer.

Soojin pulled Jungkook towards the exit, leaving him with no choice but to just look at you until he couldn't anymore.

No one could see you anymore.

You were alone in this cold empty room.

You knew you would break down if you stayed here any longer.

And so you left too.

You left the building because the whole place was suffocating you—reminding you that you messed up.

The only place that could calm your heart was the playground. It was located near the elementary school where you and Jungkook studied before.

No children were allowed to go to this playground during class hours. Most of them flocked here at around four pm so right now, it was only you who was sitting on the swing, sighing.

It was such a gloomy day. You were glad that the sun refused to shine while you were having a bad day.

At least one thing felt right.

"I know you'd be here..."

Or maybe two things felt right.

"Are you stalking me?" Your head snapped up, meeting Jungkook's gaze.

He was standing in front of you. You saw him shrugged his shoulders upon hearing your question.

"Whatever you wanna call it. I'm just here because I know you're hungry..." He flashed a toothy grin as he handed you some food.

You accepted it without hesitation. He brought your favorite sweet probiotic drink, some chocolate bars, and a corn dog.

"I can't believe you only bought one corn dog," you shook your head, feigning disappointment.

"Ah, I bought two..." Jungkook was blushing. "But I was hungry so..."

His response elicited a hearty laugh from you. Of course he bought two corn dogs, of course he ate the other one even though he swore to himself that he would never give into temptation.

He loved corn dogs, just like you did.

"Don't laugh at me! You're not the only one with a growling stomach, you know?" He pushed the swing forward.

"Jungkook!" You gasped, heart skipping a beat because of the sudden movement.

He only stuck his tongue out at you.

God. He was such a child.

"What? I didn't get to eat steak so you can't judge me for eating your food!" He snatched the beverage he gave you.

He wasn't planning on drinking it. He was only opening it for you.

You were holding the corn dog on your left hand while your right hand was gripping the chocolate bars.

Jungkook brought the small bottle of beverage closer to your mouth, urging you to drink from the straw.

You did.

You moaned too. It was delicious.

"Stop moaning, you wench!" He glared, causing you to smirk.

"Why? Are you turned on?"

"Shut up." He was flustered again. He even pouted his lips after drinking from the same straw you used. Just like with the corn dog, he also couldn't resist drinking this tasty beverage.

You didn't comment on it. Jungkook was your best friend. He could have whatever you have. Apart from this, you didn't have the energy to nag him.

You appreciated the silence. You simply wanted to enjoy your lunch and Jungkook's presence.

He was lightly pushing the swing back and forth. It made you feel relaxed and for a moment, you stopped the negative emotions from clouding your mind and heart.

You decided to only let the good stuff embrace you. After all, you had a lot of things to be thankful for.

You made a mistake but you were alive, breathing and able to correct it.

You made a mistake but you were healthy, having the energy to create a plan in order not to let the bad things be repeated again.

You made a mistake but you still had a job.

You also had enough money to get by.

But most importantly, despite your mistakes, you still had Jeon Jungkook—someone the world couldn't take away from you, even if they tried to.

And that was enough for you.

more JJK fics:

one shot: EUPHORIA

completed series: YOUR EYES TELL

MASTERLIST

i appreciate feedback 🥺

#ficswithluv #btsjungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook fanfic #jungkook best friends to lovers #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #soft boy jungkook #jungkook magic shop #armywriterssupport

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mintytrifecta · 3 years

Text

Blood and Whiskey

Summary: washed up actor and a time-warping talk show host who likes disco walk into a bar

Aka: I was getting tired of writing one setting and the same people for forever and wrote this drabble as a break

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

If you were to ask the actor standing in front of you why he did what he did, there’s seldom doubt he’d be able to clearly tell you.

A grand finale.

A final show.

A shake of his fist at the cruel fate life handed him.

Just like him, all it became was an extravagant joke.

Actor growls, shoving away the echoing feeling of shadows with eyes burning into his back, grabbing and ripping him apart, pulling him back together vertebrae by vertebrae until he danced to a vengeful tune once more.

The entity, to put it lightly, has not made it easy to escape it’s grasp. A fool, he was, to think he could use its power to his own whim and not face the consequences.

Even so, with a new body and purpose he can see it lurking in the shadows.

Even now, as he trudged through a dimly lit street in the dead of winter he can hear it ringing in his ears.

After all, it takes time to escape from memories.

God he needs a drink…

Actor stops in his tracks and looks to his side. Blaring music vibrates in his ribs, shaking and stirring his insides.

It’s a bar.

A very neon, very bright bar.

A perfect place to sulk, He thinks to himself.

Tightening his grip around the pockets of his red velvet jacket, Actor takes a breath.

And walks in.

The music is even louder on the inside than from the outside. For some unknown reason, that fact surprises him.

All around the hall people can be seen dancing in a frenzied craze. Lights flashing in a showcase of every conceivable color available to the blind eye. Under the lights, a live band was playing some indistinguishable disco with a fervor and passion Actor wishes he still possessed. He scoffs and sharply inhales through his nose.

The air reeks with the familiar stench of alcohol and mania.

Actor squints his eyes and burrows his face deeper into the black scarf tied around his neck and shuffles his way to the leather bar stool. Slamming his hand on the wooden surface of the table to get the bartender's attention.

With a sigh, they dreadfully approach.

“What can I get for you, sir?”

Actor mumbled deeply, head miserably laying on polished oak. "Red wine. Any year, I don't care."

The bartender curtly nods and leaves to get the drink. Actor's in no hurry tonight, why should he care if it's taking forever?

"Here you go, sir. Red wine, 1926."

Ah, prohibition wine. Nothing quite like tasting secret rebellion acid slipping down your throat, whispering sweet illegality and chaos in the wake of conformity.

Actor downs the wine in one gulp and haphazardly slams the cup onto the table. Beside him, a man chuckles.

"You sure needed that one, huh friend?"

Turning to face the voice, Actor attempted to hide his widening eyes in reaction to the speaker’s appearance.

A man in a silky pink long-sleeve shirt tucked into… the ugliest shade of yellow Actor had ever seen paired with white shoes, stained and worn from long nights out dancing, no doubt.

The top of his head layed home to the biggest and most extravagant pink afro Actor had ever seen in his life.

And on his face… an eerily familiar, upturned, almost pink-like at the edges mustache.

What a strange-looking person, Actor thought.

“Yeah… hey, aren’t you one of the stage performers?” He questions offhandedly. Actor was sure he’d seen him perform when coming in.

“Oh, not for tonight. Maybe tomorrow’s yesterday though…”

Actor stares at the man, trying to piece together his offputting comment.

“You… what?”

The man grins at him, swishing in his hand a martini that definitely wasn’t there before.

“What did you say, friend?”

“Your-your comment on when you’re going to perform. What did you say?”

He gazes at Actor, brows furrowed in concentration before his eyes glaze over. He sits still on his creaking barstool, focusing on nothing and everything before jumping in his seat and grinning at Actor.

“Bah, who can remember things like that? I know I can’t. Anyways, I don’t think I caught your name, fellow. Or maybe I forgot that too, it’s entirely possible.”

Actor blinks with incredulity. His words caught in his throat, unable to pass.

“My name is… irrelevant.” He finally decides on saying.

“Irrelevant, hm? Sounds french! Have you ever been there? I’ve heard it’s lovely this time of year.”

Actor raises his hand to get the bartender’s attention and signals another round. It’s going to be a long night.

“Firstly, it’s winter. Second of all I didn’t even get your name, how am I supposed to talk to you without it.”

The man sits gasps for air, dramatically arching his back in shock before responding with a curt bow in his chair.

“Oh my apologies, Irrelevant, it must have slipped my mind! Name’s Wilford Warfstache!”

“Wilford Warfstache?” Actor echoes.

“That’s what I said!”

Actor snorts, picking up his second glass of wine, inspecting it as if passing final judgement.

“Well, Mr. Warfstache, what exactly do you want with me? Out of all the seats in the bar why’d you sit next to this one, huh?”

Wilford smiles and pats him heartily on the back. “My friend, you looked so lonely sitting at the bar with nobody else around you! I-I figured you could use some good company!”

Actor rolls his eyes. “How thoughtful…”

Wilford nods brightly, looking the Actor up and down with a slight hitch in his breath.

“Say… do I know you from somewhere?”

Actor winces, tirelessly holding on to a shred of hope that tells him he hasn’t faded into obscurity.

“I’m an actor. There’s a good chance you’ve seen me on the silver screen.”

With this revelation, Wilford’s face lights up in wonder.

“An actor! That’s fantastic! What movies have you done, my friend? Was there love? Was there murder? Was there treacherous betrayal at the hands of an ally?” He questions, voice getting louder and louder with each passing query.

“You could say that… It’s been a while since I landed a good role, however.”

“Well, it doesn’t have to stay like that! I’m sure you can find something big to be in soon!” Wilford cheers passionately.

“Yeah right… the last time I did some big movie was… god I don’t even know how long it’s been since then.”

Wilford pats Actor pitifully on the back, softening his voice to the best of his ability.

“Well, whatever role you played I’m sure it was wonderful!”

Actor took a sip of his wine. “I played a detective.”

“A detective! That’s a wonderful role to act! Why, I happen to have a friend who’s a detective and he’s one of the best people you’ll ever meet, trust you me.”

Actor nods solemnly, eyes and throat caught in a crossfire of guilt and rage. “So did I. Met him on set as a professional consultant and stayed friends afterwards. At least until...” he trails off.

“Until what?” Wilford asks.

“I… did something. Something bad that I can’t take back. I got stuck with a shitty hand, tried to use it and it backfired and no matter what I try to do I can’t get new cards. It’s not fair!” Actor growls.

Wilford hums, circling the edges of the martini glass with the paper umbrella. “Such is life, my friend. You can’t always make sense of it’s chaos, hell knows I don’t.”

Rolling his eyes, Actor spits with venom. “Oh, please. What bad thing could you have possibly done?”

“Everyone has some blood on their hands, my friend. There’s no need to dig for specifics.”

“And yet, here we are. Hell, the only good outcome from anything I did slipped out of my fingers and forever from my grasp.”

Wilford held out a finger, motioning for Actor to shut it.

“Never say never, my good man! If I know anything, it’s that things always come back to you. If they don’t you keep looking for them!”

“How inspirational.” Actor deadpans.

“It’s true! I say you should keep looking for the positive, even if it’s hard!”

"I don't know…"

Wilford tuts sotfly. "Come on now, don't you trust ol' Warfy?"

"Not really, no."

He shockingly gasps, bringing a shaking hand to his chest and spilling his martini on the floor. "W-well whyever not? I give pretty good advice, why not trust me?"

"I met you tonight."

"But it feels so much longer than that, doesn't it?" Wilford sighs, leaning his head on Actor's sunken shoulders.

He shakes the afro-d man off and takes a swing of his wine.

"Whatever you say, Will."

The two sit in silence, taking in the music echoing in the hall with comfort.

"You know, I did get an offer for this television series a while ago."

"Did you, now?"

"It was for some kind of choose-your-own-adventure thing. It seemed silly at the time and I didn't say anything yet but maybe I'll give it a shot." He mumbles.

"Wonderful idea, my friend! That seems marvelous to work on."

Actor sluggishly smiles. "You think?"

Nodding brightly, Wilford responds. "I do! And if it's any consolation, my friend," he pauses and shuffles through his afro, pulling out a small, pink flower. "I think you'd make a wonderful hero."

Actor lightly picks the flower from his hand, petting the rosy petal. It's soft and delicate, smooth under his touch.

"Whatever you choose to do, you'll be great at. I'm sure of it."

He gazes at his newfound friend, eyes shining with reinvigorated light for the first time in years.

"Thank you, Will."

"Anytime, good man! Anytime."

Actor stands up and brushes his jacket, smiling at Will. "I think it's time I left. I've got a friend to pay a visit to."

"Good luck! And remember you always have a friend here!" Wilford raises his full martini glass high into the air.

"You got it, Will."

And with that, Actor left. Perhaps it's time to resume his search for a certain Mayor.

Back at the bar, Wilford chuckles into his glass.

"What a strangely familiar person…"

#Markiplier #Who Killed Markiplier #Fanfiction #My Writing #WKM #Actor Mark #Actor Mark WKM #Wilford Warfstache #William J. Barnum #Wilford Motherlovin Warfstache #dude why is wil so fun to write

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purplesauris · 3 years

Text

A World In Monochrome

My brain is firing on like, almost all cylinders to pump out all of the sweet sweet ideas I obsess over. This one stemmed from playing the game and realizing that Cat causes total loss of color from Geralt’s sight until the potion wears off

Enjoy it on AO3 here!

Geralt hated fiends. Well, he can’t say that with any honesty- for as brutal and base as they appeared, there was an elegance to them. They left people alone for the most part, content to wander their forests, caves or swamps, and only attacked if necessary. They were huge yet moved with incredible speed, and if necessary, their third eye opened, stunning and allowing them a chance to escape. To be compared to a fiend among friends was almost a compliment.

What he hated most about them was how often they took him into caves; the dank, musty smell of old corpses and fiend dung clung to him for days after he’d finished the hunt, and he couldn’t carry a torch with him to light the cave. Not that he hadn’t tried when he was young and just set out on the Path. After too many times plunging into darkness without anything to light, Geralt prepared himself more carefully. Relict oil for his blade, Thunderbolt and Swallow on his belt, and Cat, choked down at the last minute to give himself all the time he needed.

He hasn’t fought anything cave dwelling in a while, and isn’t expecting anything out of the ordinary when he takes his latest contract. Jaskier had wanted to bargain for a higher price, since this was Skellige and the fare back to Velen was expensive, but Geralt couldn’t. Mutation’s took all Witcher’s feelings people claimed, but his heart had gone out to Ohden, worried over his son, and he gave Jaskier a glance to keep him quiet. Jaskier hadn’t pushed, just hummed thoughtfully and thanked the man for his account of where to start.

That was another thing that Geralt hadn’t expected. When Geralt told Jaskier he was headed to Skellige for the summer he fully expected Jaskier to disappear wherever he goes for the winter. Instead, he was met by Jaskier waiting on the docks, bag slung over his shoulder and lute clutched against his front. He’d only complained of seasickness in the first two days, and spent the rest of their trek across the sea singing bawdy sea shanties and learning new ones from the crew to delight whatever crowd he could find in Skellige. Geralt had spent his time making potions and sharpening his blade, sat atop a barrel to keep a sharp eye on the bard under his care. He tried to look casual, but half the crew gave him a wide berth and the others stared in open hostility. The only thing keeping them somewhat friendly was Jaskier and that magnetic charisma he seemed to exude.

“Stay here.” Jaskier perked up at the sound of Geralt’s voice, then rolled his eyes.

“Geralt, how am I supposed to tell of your exploits if I never get to go?”

“How are you going to if you follow me and die?” Geralt’s throat tightens at the thought, and his voice sounds particularly grating when he talks through it. “You’re staying here.”

“At least let me see you track. I’ve never seen that even!”

“No.” Jaskier gave him a look, blue eyes glancing up just so through his lashes, and Geralt’s heart gives a wild leap at that. He sighs wearily, rolling out his shoulders. “Fine.”

“Yes!”

“But-” Geralt silences him, eyes narrowing a bit. He hears Jaskier breathe in sharply, but finds him staring with that same eager intensity. “If I let you come, you have to promise you’ll run if I tell you.”

Jaskier grins, eyes sparkling, and bows low at the waist. “As you command, White Wolf.”

Geralt finds someone to care for Roach while they’re away, and only has to narrow his eyes to ensure she’ll be taken care of and their stuff won’t be plundered. Skelligers are hardy, but even they know not to mess with a witcher, let alone Geralt. Geralt heads southeast, toward where Ohden had gestured to, and it isn’t long until he finds footprints. They’re from a male, that much he can tell, and that puts him on the right track.

They hike in relative silence for a while, Geralt occasionally pointing out a footprint that Jaskier would be able to see and explaining when Jaskier seems lost on how Geralt is leading them. The dirt road becomes pebbly a couple of miles later, and it’s then that Geralt spots the crumbling castle ahead of them and smells blood.

“Quiet.” Geralt hisses, Jaskier trying his best to stay as quiet as he can. Geralt’s silver sword slides free from his sheathe with nary a whisper, and he rolls his wrist, careful not to hit the bard behind him. He can hear breathing, heavy and bovine, and he creeps forward, Jaskier at his back. Geralt slips through a gap in a broken wall, nostrils flaring as the scent of decay and musk hits him. He holds out a hand, telling Jaskier to stop, and moves a bit further into the clearing of what used to be a courtyard. The ground near the south wall is saturated in blood, and flies buzz around it, grating to his ears.

He straightens up a bit, casting a glance around; whatever caused the gore doesn’t seem to be here, and this is the best lead he’s gotten so far. Gravel crunches behind him and he whips around, Jaskier freezing as the sight of Geralt, pupils mere slits and nostrils flared. “Nothing then?”

“I told you to wait.”

“Right, except I couldn’t see anything and I-” Jaskier’s eyes are pinned on the background behind him, and the hairs on the back of Geralt’s neck raise. His medallion hums angrily against his chest, and the sharp, eye watering scent of a fiend hits him hard.

“GO!” Is all he can say before throwing up Quen, grunting as the barrier around him crystallizes and shatters, having effectively warded off the fiend’s first charge. He won’t have time for a second, and all he can hope is that Jaskier heeded his command as he dives out of the way of a second charge. It’s a narrow window at best, and Geralt rolls to his knees, throwing a plume of fire in front of him. He almost chokes on the scent of burnt fur, the fiend roaring and hopping back a couple of steps. Geralt downs a dose of thunderbolt while he has a chance, throwing the glass away. He can come back and hope it isn’t broken later.

He falls into the fighting as easily as breathing, spinning on his toes and grunting at the twinge that goes through his knee and up his thigh. So it’s going to be like that. He can ignore it for now, and a dose of Blizzard has his blood singing and muscles working double time as he whirls and dodges the blows that the fiend throws. The fiend seems slow as Geralt hacks at the black and white patterned hide, tiring with the effort of trying to hit a target that won’t stop moving. This fiend is old, Geralt can tell just by the scarred hide and brutal efficiency in which he goes after his target.

Geralt can tell that the fiend is almost done for, blood oozing out of multiple cuts that regenerate before his eyes. He finds his opening when a well placed shot of Igni has the monster stumbling back, Geralt lunging to drive his sword through the beast’s skull. A flash of red catches Geralt’s attention, and he watches with a helpless kind of fury as the fiends third eye flares open, stopping his blow in its tracks. The fiend swings a meaty paw and sends him flying back into the wall of the abandoned keep, Geralt wheezing as the air is knocked out of him. His scabbards dig roughly into his back, sure to leave bruises later, but they might have just saved his spine.

In the time it takes Geralt to stumble to his feet, gasping for air, the fiend has fled the field, out of the ruins. He’s off like a shot, following the scent of blood and decay and singed fur through the rest of the ruins and down the bank of the river. It’s there he finds a cave, reeking of gore and pitch black.

“Fuck.” Of course he’s going to have to use Cat. He downs the potion as quickly as he can, not wanting to give the fiend more time to recover than is necessary. He skids down the rocky entrance as color leeches from his sight, every inch of the cave lit up in a murky haze. The fiend is crouched in the corner, tearing away at the entrails of some poor soul. This time the fiend won’t surprise him, and Geralt leaps onto the offensive, slashing a gaping wound through the beast’s left flank. It should slow the beast down enough, and Geralt is already leaping away when the beast roars and swings wildly behind itself.

Geralt dispatches it with another quick blow to the throat, silver blade digging in so deep that he lodges against bone for a moment. Geralt isn’t a fan of denting his blades, but the fiend has fought long enough, and Geralt just wants a quick end to the fight. He pants as the fiend twitches, crashing to the ground and eyes rolling sightlessly. One last blow ends the fiends suffering and severs the rest of the head- he’ll need it if he’s going to prove he killed the beast. A quick glance around the cave shows that this was definitely what was killing all of the travelers on the road, and though he can’t see it, he highly suspects that the lighter tone of the tunic he spies has to be yellow. He cuts a swatch to bring back with him, and drags the beast’s head up and out of the cave.

-*-

Jaskier had scrambled to climb the ladder when Geralt had yelled for him to run. He’d noticed it earlier when they first came in, and figured height would be a good advantage against whatever had charged at Geralt. Watching the fight was better than anything Geralt could have described, and Jaskier takes it in with reckless abandon. The way that Geralt’s hair had flown about him as he spun, the sun glinting off his blade. The way that his shield, brilliant orange in the light had shattered after the first charge.

He’s going to have the best ballad to write when they get back to town, and already a melody builds in his throat. He hums it while he watches, nervous to see Geralt go up against such an impossibly large foe. He trusts that the witcher knows what he’s doing, and he winces, gripping the craggy wall as Geralt crashes into it just below his hiding place. A normal man would have snapped his spine from the impact alone, but Geralt struggles to his feet and runs off, following the fiend wherever it fled to.

Well, he can’t miss this, can he? Jaskier creeps down the ladder, stooping to pick up the vial Geralt had tossed aside earlier before plodding after where the two disappeared. He isn’t able to leap off ledges like Geralt can, so he has to pick his way down the side of the ruin and hope he doesn’t trip and fall. By the time he makes it down to the bank and follows Geralt’s footprints he can hear the dying bray and gurgle of a large animal. It comes from a cave in the hillside, and Jaskier is loath to go inside. Especially if it smells as bad as he thinks it will.

“Right, uh, I guess I should get a bit closer…” The bard says, not moving an inch from where he’s standing, staring down into the pitch black of the cave.

“No, you shouldn’t.” The voice has no owner for a moment, ragged and deep, and it takes Jaskier longer than he’d like to admit to recognize it.

“Geralt? Are you alright? I’m coming in, let me just-”

“No.” Geralt’s voice is sharp enough to stop Jaskier in his tracks, and he wrings his hands together in a nervous habit. “Go back to town.”

“I can’t just leave you here, what if a-a bandit or something were to come?” There’s a rough chuckle, and Jaskier thinks he spies a lock of white hair, dyed pink at the ends by blood. “Geralt, come out? Please?”

-*-

Of course the bard had followed. Geralt had asked one thing, one thing of him, and wasn’t even granted that. He had hidden at least, because Geralt had no clue where he’d gone in the rush of the fight. He doesn’t want to step out into the sun, not while everything is too much, too bright, but the longer he stays down here the worse it’ll be to adjust. And the more likely it will be that Jaskier comes in anyway, despite the stench he knows keeps the man away for now.

“Move.” Is all the warning the bard gets before Geralt tosses the head out of the cave, listening to the dull thud of its landing and the sharp yelp Jaskier lets out at the sight. He limps from the cave as his knee gives another sharp twinge of discomfort, hissing at the brightness of the sun filling his eyes. It blinds him- leaves everything in washed out shades of white and grey and he hates it. The wildflowers bunched around the rocky ground sway in the wind, but Geralt can’t see their true colors. He knows the stems should be green, the flowers a pale blue or white, given the local flora, but all he sees is three different shades of black and white.

He hears a sharp intake of breath near where he tossed the head, and his body goes taut, attention snapping to the source of the noise. Jaskier stares at him, eyes wide and pupils blown wide within what Geralt knows should be blue irises. But they aren’t. They’re so pale they almost blend with the whites of his eyes, and Geralt’s heart drops into his stomach. Jaskier’s heart pounds a frantic, steady rhythm in Geralt’s ears, and his scent, usually so dominated by lavender, has taken on an edge of what Geralt can only describe as cloying spice. He isn’t sure what it means, at least for Jaskier, and he draws in another breath, trying to sniff discreetly, or as discreetly as a witcher hopped up on potions can.

Jaskier reaches out for him then, to lend him a hand or- he doesn't know what- and Geralt flinches. He can see the hurt in Jaskier’s eyes, can smell the scent of dying roses on him, and he struggles to push words from a throat more ready to strangle him than talk.

“Potions.” He looks at Jaskier again, eyes searching every inch of him for any sign of blood or injury, and grinds his teeth in frustration when he can’t differentiate the difference between what’s the stitching of his doublet and what’s the silky chemise underneath. They’re all the same color.

“Oh.” Jaskier sighs out, breathy and soft, and that confuses Geralt more than his lack of color or his racing heart. “Do you need anything right now? Water, stitches?”

“Stitches?” He manages to mumble, taking a step back into the cave where it isn’t so damn bright.

Jaskier’s lips quirk in a soft smile, and he shrugs. “I can’t see if you’re hurt. So, stitches?”

“No. White honey?” Jaskier winces, shooting Geralt a sympathetic look.

“Back in the packs, I think. Should I go fetch it?”

The offer is tempting; Geralt’s heart is still racing and every nerve in him screams that Jaskier is an enemy and he can’t fucking see color, but he doesn’t want Jaskier to leave. Not with his humanity still crumbling within him as he tries desperately to hold himself together enough to talk. He closes his eyes, hoping that taking away one sense will help with the noise in his head, but he’s not sure anything will help right now.

“No. Gotta meditate.”

“Well, come out of the cave then, I’m sure you’d rather not smell whatever it is that’s in there.”

“Bright.” He hears Jaskier chuckle, and the soft shuffle of fabric and leather creaking as Jaskier moves toward him. The thought makes him want to run deeper into the cave, where he can’t do anything that might scare the bard off, but something warm and reeking of lavender is being draped over his head. The light burning through his eyelids lessens immediately, and he gasps as Jaskier gently takes his hands. His grip is iron on Jaskier’s poor hands, but the bard doesn’t protest or pull away, just talks soft and low.

“Do you trust me?”

Does he? He tries to think of all the reasons he shouldn’t trust the bard, but fails to come up with anything meaningful. “Yes.”

“How long till this wears off?”

“Couple hours, maybe more.”

“Okay. Let’s head back for the keep, it’s a bit safer I think. Can you carry the uh, head?”

Geralt nods, and Jaskier leads him over. Geralt can navigate by the scent alone, but he doesn’t want to let go of Jaskier if he can help it, and uses one hand to lug the head along by the horns. Jaskier leads him up the path he must have taken to get down, and settles him in the shade underneath a small ledge. He only lets go of Jaskier’s hand once he knows they aren’t going to move again for a while.

“Okay, go ahead and meditate, I’ll keep watch and let you know if I see or hear something.” Jaskier goes to move a few steps away, but Geralt’s hand shoots out, gripping his wrist.

“Stay here.” Jaskier’s heart gives a little stutter, but he laughs softly and settles down next to Geralt. It’s nice, Geralt decides, and though he doesn’t actually feel it much, he figures he has a right to complain. Blizzard has an apt name, both for making everything seem to go in slow motion, and for shooting ice through his veins. “S’cold.”

“Fire?”

“Too noisy.” Jaskier hums for a second more before suddenly leaning against Geralt’s side. It’s near impossible to notice through the leather armor he wears, and must be wildly uncomfortable, but he can feel the heat seeping into him and his heart beats just a bit faster at their closeness. Jaskier being so close also drowns out any other scents around him, and slipping into his meditation is easier when he has one thing to focus on. It's also the closest that Jaskier has gotten to him in days, and he finds he misses the contact. He tries to shut out the noises around him, bouncing through his skull, but where Jaskier has settled them has created some kind of echo around him, and he grits his teeth. It might not be so easy after all.

Jaskier reaches for something, dragging it across the ground before the distinct sound of two metal clasps pops close by. A note is hummed, a string strummed, before Jaskier begins picking away in earnest. The song is new, one he's never heard before- or maybe he has? The melody picks at the edges of his brain, and he finds himself slipping into that trancelike state he was looking for.

When he comes to a couple of hours later, dusk has fallen behind his lids, and he cracks an eye open experimentally. His heart and brain have calmed, and he doesn't feel nearly as cold as he did before. The potions have mostly worn off, except for the Cat, which should be gone in another half hour or so. He hopes.

For now, he'll just have to be content with the watery color bleeding slowly across his vision. Jaskier has stopped playing, lute tucked away, and has his jacket back on to ward himself from the cold. Now he scribbles in his notebook, tongue peeking out from between his lips as he concentrates on whatever he's writing.

"A new one?" His voice is rusty, and he clears his throat while Jaskier jumps, sitting up and clutching his book, cheeks red.

"You should warn a man you know, I could have done something drastic."

"Like what?" Geralt's lips quirk in a small smile, and he's glad he can somewhat recognize the teal of Jaskier's doublet again. Jaskier doesn't seem as amused, and pins him with a withering glance. "New song?"

He tries it again, hoping that showing interest will soften Jaskier's apparent anger. Jaskier regards him with suspicion for a moment more before sighing, nodding while also shrugging.

"I have a lovely new ballad coming, yes, but I was… drawing." Geralt hums low in his throat, nudging his companion and dipping his head toward the journal still clutched to Jaskier's chest. A silent question of can I see it? Jaskier hesitates, holding on a bit tighter before he sighs, holding it out for Geralt to take. "Don't laugh. Poetry was more my strong suit."

Geralt says nothing as he pulls off his gauntlets- they're covered in dried blood, and he doesn't want to ruin the page. Upon taking the journal and seeing what Jaskier has drawn, he almost wishes he had. It's a sketch of him, he can tell by the line of his jaw and the straightness of his nose, but he hates what else he sees. His eyes have been filled in with black, a spiderweb of inky veins creeping over his face and down his neck. His hands shake as he stares at himself immortalized in a state he never wanted Jaskier to see. He was too hopped up on potions to care at the time, but looking now, he feels his heart constrict. How could Jaskier touch him, sit beside him while he looked like this?

"Do you like it?"

"No." Shit, that's not what he meant to say. He glances up, can smell and see the hurt on Jaskier's face, and his throat tightens, strangling his words.

"Give it then, so you don't have to see it." Jaskier takes the book back quickly, closing it with a snap and standing up. He grabs his lute case, slinging it across his back and pacing a few steps away. Ready to go back to town. Geralt struggles to his feet, his damn knee cracking painfully as he rises from his kneeling position. He has to take a second for it to settle before he can bear any weight.

"Jaskier-"

"Let's go, Geralt. I'm tired of being outside." He finds that hard to believe, seeing as they've only been out half the day, but Geralt doesn't know what to say and Jaskier doesn't want to hear it. Geralt follows him in stony silence, hoisting the fiends head away from the ground and wincing at the congealed blood that saturates the ground under it. It reeks. He's not sure how Jaskier could tolerate the smell, let alone sit by it for hours.

Geralt collects his reward from the grieving father and hands over the scrap of what he can now see is mostly yellow fabric. The man laments his son's fate, and Geralt can't do more than stand there and promise he was avenged. The man waves them off, wanting to be alone, and Jaskier heads off with a brisk comment about finding an inn for the night. Geralt goes to check on Roach and gather their things, wanting to give the bard time to cool off. He's brushing Roach down, sneaking her a couple sugar cubes when Jaskier comes to fetch him, leaning with his arms crossed against the doorframe. Geralt follows without complaint, refusing to let Jaskier carry his own pack despite the hand held out for it.

The room in the inn is sparsely decorated, and there's only one bed, but a steaming tub of water waits for him, and his heart gives a strange leap. Jaskier’s doublet is off, tossed carelessly on a chair with his boots sitting nearby, and Geralt has to force himself not to stare at the dip of Jaskier’s chemise. "Bathe."

The command is rough, but Geralt complies easily, stripping himself out of his armor and the soggy clothes beneath before sinking into the water. Heat prickles uncomfortably at his skin, but he lets out a small groan and sinks a bit deeper. Jaskier perches wordlessly behind him, tugging the tie from his hair and working any blood out with whatever soap he'd managed to get from the innkeeper. It smells a bit stronger than Geralt would like, but he doesn't say anything. Maybe now he can try again, while he's relatively safe.

"It was nice." Well, that's a start at least. Jaskier's hands pause in his hair, nails digging in a bit too hard, but Geralt groans and leans up into the touch. Jaskier scratches along his scalp, nails digging in, and Geralt relishes the sensation. His vision is almost back to full color, and he stares at Jaskier's doublet, discarded on the chair. "The drawing."

Jaskier scoffs. "You don't have to lie."

"M'not. Just don't like seeing it. The monster." Geralt adds on the end, not wanting to fuck things up twice. Just saying what he feels makes his skin crawl, but Jaskier gives a soft oh, continuing to scratch at Geralt's scalp.

"So you weren't insulting me then?" Geralt shakes his head, going still when Jaskier clicks his tongue. He begins scrubbing at the blood under his nails while Jaskier talks, needing something to pay attention to. "I thought you looked… Gorgeous, ethereal, effervescent- I could wax poetry about it endlessly.”

Geralt snorts, shaking his head, causing Jaskier to press his fingers in harder to keep him from moving. “Don’t. Don’t pretend.”

Jaskier scoffs this time, fingers tightening in Geralt’s hair and pulling until Geralt is straining to look back at him or risk his scalp. A hot wave of arousal washes over Geralt at the sensation, but all he does is grunt, looking back at the bard with a mixture of annoyance and hopefully- suppressed lust. Geralt notices, faintly, that his color is back completely as the two of them lock eyes, glaring at one another.

“I’m tired of you telling me what to do and how to feel, Witcher.”

“What am I telling you to feel?” Heat creeps along Geralt’s spine, and oh he’s playing a dangerous game. Maybe those potions aren’t as worn off as he might have thought.

Jaskier looks at him, brow furrowed, and Geralt feels Jaskier’s grip in his hair loosen. He misses the sensation for an instant before Jaskier leans forward, pressing his lips to Geralt’s in an awkward, upside down kiss. It’s almost painful- Jaskier’s chin and nose dig into him at an odd angle, but his hands come up and out of the water instinctively to grip Jaskier’s hair, keeping him from moving away. Jaskier takes that as a good sign it seems, because he nips at Geralt’s lower lip before pulling back. Geralt doesn’t want to hurt him, ever, and he lets Jaskier go, breathing hard and pupils contracting to mere slits. He tracks Jaskier’s every moment, listens to the way his heart is hammering, that same cloying lavender scent oozing through the room.

Geralt leans forward as Jaskier moves around the side of the tub, a pale hand smoothing over his shoulder. He wants to know what’s going on, wants to ask Jaskier what he thinks he’s doing, but nothing escapes him other than a low growl. Jaskier laughs softly, almost mockingly, and leans forward to kiss the corner of Geralt’s mouth. The witcher moves faster than might be necessary, but just barely catches Jaskier before he leans back again.

“Bard.” Geralt warns, voice vibrating with the steady growl that’s built up. Jaskier glances at him, eyes darting down to Geralt’s lips for an instant as a smug, self satisfied smile lights up his face.

“Witcher.”

“Say you want this.” Geralt’s mind moves slow, so slow that for a moment he fears he’s drunk off of the scent of Jaskier, so incredibly close yet just out of reach. He can’t think with Jaskier so close, grinning at him like he’s a cat who’s just gotten a delightfully fat mouse, and his fingers twitch on the edge of the tub.

“I’ve never wanted anything more.” That’s all that Geralt needs, and he reaches out, snagging Jaskier by the hips and bodily hoisting him forward. Jaskier laughs as he slips against the edge of the tub, a hand splaying against Geralt’s chest.

“You’ll ruin my clothes and the floor.” Geralt grunts, not caring, but Jaskier is undeterred. “Out.”

Oh, this is dangerous indeed. He groans, impatient, but Jaskier is already stepping away and tugging at the ties on his chemise. A moment of hesitation slices through the haze in Geralt’s mind, and he pauses in the water. Jaskier has seen him naked more times than he can count, but it’s different this time. This time, he’s allowed to look, and Geralt isn’t sure what to do with that thought. He’s waking up slowly from the raging of his heart, but Jaskier reaches out, fingers brushing under his chin and tipping his head up. He kisses Geralt slowly, luxuriating in the action and nipping gently at his lower lip. The small bit of pressure from Jaskier's teeth has Geralt gasping, and he stands up blindly, stumbling out of the tub as Jaskier continues kissing him.

That one point of contact, their lips sliding against each other, is the anchor that Geralt clings to. His hands come up, fingers shaking before finding purchase on Jaskier’s shirt and gripping it tight enough that he can hear the fibers straining not to rip. Jaskier hums against his lips, hands sliding over Geralt’s chest and pushing him back and away from the tub. Geralt walks blindly, and every time he breathes, opens his eyes, the world is skewed with vibrant contrasts of color. Geralt’s calves hit the edge of the bed, and he tips back, dragging Jaskier with him and wheezing out a laugh as the bard lands on top of him. It feels good to have Jaskier’s weight on top of him, and he hardly lets him get far. He can feel Jaskier’s cock pressing against his hip, and he groans, glad it isn’t just him affected. Jaskier kisses him harder for that, and Geralt whines against his lips.

“The potions.” Geralt hums, glancing up at Jaskier with half lidded eyes. His hair is a mess, lips red and cheeks redder, and the sight steals his breath. He props himself up on his arms, sighing when Jaskier settles astride his hips. “Are they still affecting you?”

“I don’t know.” He admits softly, humming when Jaskier leans to lay kisses along his jaw. He arches his neck, giving the man atop him more room to work and huffing when Jaskier drags his teeth lightly down his neck. “Why?”

“I don’t want to do anything if you aren’t in full control of yourself. Not unless we’d agreed upon it before, of course.”

“It’s not like being drugged.”

“No, but how do I know this is because of sober thought?” Jaskier grinds down suddenly, and the friction of cloth against his bare skin has him hissing, hips snapping up of their own accord. Geralt chokes on a breath before glaring at the very smug bard atop him.

“Don’t-” Jaskier laughs, kissing him in apology and lifting himself up a bit. Geralt is both grateful and infuriated, hands clenching into fists. He’s definitely more affected than he thought. “What did you mean, agreed upon?”

Jaskier looks at him, humming softly and shifting to sit back on Geralt’s thighs. It sends a shimmer of pain through his knee, but the sensation grounds him further, and he sits up fully. “Geralt, if I can be frank-”

“When aren’t you?” the bard pins him with a look and Geralt raises his hands, gesturing for him to continue.

“I find you in all your witchery, black eyed glory incredibly attractive. I’m surprised you haven’t smelled it on me by now.”

“I don’t like to pry.” He can’t help himself now though, leaning a bit closer and taking a deep breath. He smells sweat, the lavender oil Jaskier uses, and most powerful, the sickly sweet, almost spicy scent of Jaskier’s arousal. “Really?”

“Really.” Jaskier shifts off his lap now, padding over to their packs and digging out clothes for Geralt. “So, get dressed before I decide to ravage you fully.”

Geralt catches the clothes as they’re tossed at him, flexing his thighs and steadying his breathing to calm himself down. He dresses slowly, skin hypersensitive and every sense trained on where Jaskier tidies up across the room. Now that the other man isn’t kissing him senseless Geralt takes a moment to think, and to admire him in full color. Jaskier catches him looking, but merely smiles and nods toward the bed. Geralt crawls under the covers at the silent request, and lays back, watching as Jaskier strips down to his small clothes and blows out the candles, leaving just the hearth for faint light and warmth. He crawls into bed and into the waiting arms of his witcher, pressing their legs together and grinning when Geralt loops an arm over his hips.

“Have I told you why I hate fiends?” Jaskier shakes his head before tucking under Geralt’s chin, cheek pressed to Geralt’s collarbone to feel the vibrations.

“Does it have to do with caves?” Geralt grunts, squeezing a bit tighter and reveling in the pleasant squeeze Jaskier gives back.

“Yes.”

#geraskier #the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #minor sluttiness #high toxicity geralt

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sellyoursoulforagoodfic · 3 years

Text

Shelbys at Somme Chapter 23

Thomas X Reader

Word Count: 962

Summary: Always make friends with subordinates.

by @adventuresintooblivion

She wasn’t sure how long it took. Every second felt like years of time wasted as she scrambled for an idea that was better than this. Any idea really. At least one that didn’t bring her to where she was right now, sneaking into Rothschilds’ territory, armed with a crowbar and her wits.

It was near the edge, close to where she told the others to meet her. A warehouse district that was being constricted on all sides by residential flats. In the middle of the day the streets were packed, which was probably the only reason she’d made it this far without someone recognizing her. Smoke tinged the air making it look hazy and taste of tar.

A few doors from where she stood was her target: a building with the Rothschilds’ sun emblem painted on the door. It had once been a storehouse for illegal goods (and probably still was if she was being perfectly honest.) The fact that the gang now felt powerful enough to broadcast the existence places like this only stoked the embers of rage burning in Y/N’s chest.

Guarding the door were two men. She knew them both by name. Charlie, the shorter one with a clean shaven face, had two children at home waiting for him. His wife died of consumption four winters back. His companion, Rudy, sported a scraggly beard that she knew reeked of stale booze and cigarette smoke.

She took a deep breath and stalked around the corner. It was moments before they saw her. Charlie, bless his heart, waved. Rudy just watched her with bleary eyes, his hand reaching for his side.

“My God! Look who it is. Y/N where have you been? Almost thought the war had gotten you. Hell, Rudy here won some money on it.” Charlie rushed forward encompassing in a hug similar to one Freddie had given her not that long before.

Y/N bit back the tears, “Hey Charlie, Old Man and I got into it when all the boys got rounded up for the war. And you know him, not exactly the forgiving type.”

Rudy watched quietly, listening.

Charlie shook his head, “That’s a shame. Granted right now the business is big enough that it doesn’t need you watching out for all the details, but it still hasn’t been the same. Your Da’s been running everyone into the ground. Blimey bastard doesn’t even remember half his lieutenants' names without you reminding him.”

Y/N let out a shaky breath, “Probably doesn’t remember that your Stevey’s birthday’s coming up.”

“Holy shit, you remember?” Charlie shook his head in astonishment. “If I tell him you said anything, he’d be over the moon.”

She nodded before taking in a deep breath, “Charlie, I need a favor.”

Rudy shook his head, “Not saying a single ‘Hello’ in three years and suddenly you show up needing a favor?”

“The Old Man sent me away. That’s… why I haven’t come back.”

“Banished you is what I heard.” Rudy growled.

Y/N snapped, “He sent me to a fucking asylum.”

Rudy’s mouth opened and closed, his eyes wide. “He...He wouldn’t. Everyone knows what those places are like. No.”

The color had drained from Charlie’s face as he stared at Y/N.

She once again looked him in the eyes, “I know this could get you into a lot of trouble, but like I said, I need a favor.”

〜

John paced beneath a lamplight, shoving his hands in and out of his pockets. “Where the fuck is she? They could’ve left the city twice over by now.”

“Trust her, John. She’s not gonna let anything happen to him,” Freddie said again. He leaned against the post, arms folded as he tried to contain his own nerves.

“You said Y/N was gonna marry him right?” John suddenly spun to face him. “Was Tommy also gonna…”

Freddie nodded, “Definitely. Granted he’s a stubborn bloke and wouldn’t admit it to himself. But you should have seen it. When those two stood side by side it was like destiny herself bowed before them. Hell, if they were both running the Peaky Blinders, and I mean as partners, your little gang there would be unstoppable.”

“That’s quite a tall order,” John chuckled dismissively.

Freddie shrugged, “Those two are the only reason as many of us made it out of that war as well as we did. It wasn’t until after Y/N got shot that we started taking any major casualties.”

They were interrupted by a carriage suddenly pulling to a stop beside them. It wasn’t until it was practically on top of them that they noticed the symbol on it’s side.

“Stop telling tall tales about me and get in,” Y/N shouted from the driver's seat of a garishly painted carriage. A sun proudly stood out against the orange that coated everything else.

Freddie’s jaw dropped, “Did you go out and steal a carriage? By yourself?”

She rolled her eyes, “No I asked nicely. Now get in. Freddie, you're driving.”

She clambered into a small seating area on the roof, helping John up beside her. As he stepped over the lip his foot bumped into a heavy ammo canister. Several guns had been scattered across the floor.

John glanced around, eyes wide. “Where the hell did you get all those guns?”

“Once again, I asked nicely.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

Y/N shrugged as she loaded up a clip, “No one ever does. Are you ready to go get Tommy?”

“Please, let’s just get this over with.” John’s hands closed around the stock of a gun, his eyes getting a far off look. “I never thought I’d be holding one of these again.”

“Let’s hope this is the last time.”

#thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #reader insert

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

Come Home

Prompts: Omg ur twins series has given me the seratonin I didn’t know I needed ;-; love ur fics!!! can I request maybe a one shot where Merlin confronts hunith about his birth parents, and they have a wholesome talk about it? Also bonus points for Merlin coming to terms with the fact that uther is his father and Morgana is his half sister (everyone notices now that they share similar features) - anon

ahhhh i loved the second installment of the twin series, the ending makes me yearn for more no matter how much i reread it *prompt idea* brotherly love pleaseeee, you've built so much hype 😭 some overprotective arthur over his younger brother, maybe some asshole noble treating merlin like shit because he grew up peasant, a merlin-arthur talk about feelings and new revelations, merlin-morgana-arthur talk (maybe?) take as long as you want really, no pressure i know it'll be worth it but a bit longer third installment please 💘 - anon

I have a very simple request oh ruler of the angst town. You've been graciously filling the stomachs of the Sanders Sides fandom but the Merlin fandom requests one thing: More, please, oh good lord. Thank you - alittletoo-obsessed

SO MANY OF YOU WERE SCREAMING FOR A PART THREE SO HERE YOU GO

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none, babes.

Pairings: it's found family hours

Word Count: 4574

The twins come home.

After a long, long time, the twins come home.

For Arthur, home is that empty space just over his shoulder, always there when he turns absentmindedly to talk to someone he never thought he’d see again. Home is someone to curl up with when the nights get cold and lonely, dark hair brushing under the tip of his nose as he wraps them in his arms. Home is someone else to see what’s happening, to stand as a silent vow of I’m here, I see you, I’m with you, I’ve got you.

For Merlin, home is someone who knows he’s not crazy, who catches him when he flies too high on the wings of his magic. Home is someone who wraps firm, solid arms around him, smelling of slightly spiced fruit and afternoon sun. Home is the space the magic curls about, searching for something to hold onto like an anchor as the world spins faster, faster, faster.

They leave the hall where Uther still sits, thunderstruck on his hollow throne, back to Arthur’s chambers. They don’t part when they get inside, stumbling across the room to the bed, somewhere they can sit and look and look at each other where there is no one else can see. Arthur reaches out to run his hand through Merlin’s hair.

“I always thought your hair would be dark,” he mumbles, losing himself in the way his fingers card through the strands. “Just had a feeling.”

“Mum’s hair was never dark enough to be mine.” Merlin closes his eyes as he feels Arthur’s hand go through it. “And—and Balinor, he—he wasn’t the right magic.”

Arthur’s hand stills. “Balinor was your father?”

“He was married to Hunith, he—but—“

Arthur’s arms are suddenly around him, warm and perfect and real and it feels like something else slots into place. Arthur’s breath warms the top of his head and Merlin feels his fingertips start to buzz.

“I’m sorry,” he realizes Arthur’s saying, “I didn’t—if I’d’ve known, I would’ve—“

They will come to find that they don’t need words. Merlin just buries his nose in the crook of Arthur’s neck and breathes in the smell of home.

“I kept the blanket I was taken in,” he mumbles, “and it smelled like this.”

“Like—like me?”

Merlin nods. “Fruit. Sunlight. Warm.”

“Warm doesn’t have a smell, Merlin.”

“Sure it does.”

“What does it smell like, then?”

“Warm! You don’t explain what apples smell like, they just smell like apple.”

“Sure you can, they smell tart, a little sweet, but it’s a thin smell, it’s not rich.”

“Where and why do you know how to describe smells so well?”

“Morgana went through an alchemy phase, dragged me into being her test subject.”

Merlin snorts, nuzzling deeper into Arthur’s warmth. “I imagine you reeked of an awful assortment of perfumes.”

“Oh, it was an excellent way to get out of court duty.”

They laugh together. Then Merlin quiets, burying his nose in the smell of home and willing his magic to help him come up with something.

“…it’s barely noticeable,” he says quietly, “but it’s…it’s there. It’s slightly, um, it smells a bit like old leather, or old wood, but it’s…it’s earthier.”

Arthur’s quiet for a moment, then Merlin feels his head turn and bury into Merlin’s hair.

“I always thought you’d be colder.” His arms tighten slightly, as if he can feel how Merlin’s magic is trying to pull him closer—and hey, maybe he can. “I—you used to get really strong on winter nights. I used to imagine that you’d—you’d be cold and it was my job to keep you warm and if you were warm, you’d—you’d stay.”

“I’ll stay,” Merlin says immediately, “I’ll stay.”

“You’d better.”

For Arthur, it’s finally seeing that figure sprinting ahead of him, goading him to chase faster and faster. It’s hearing about how cruel bullies were and sternly promising that if anyone ever tries anything like that again, he’ll kick their arse. It’s hearing a mumbles admission of crying while angry and promising that he’ll never judge Merlin for crying, not when he’s here to protect him.

For Merlin, it’s his magic finally having both of them to wrap its blanket around, someone else to hold him firmly when it can’t do the job itself. It’s hearing about how lonely life as a prince can be and vowing that he’s just going to sit next to Arthur and damn all the customs. It’s hearing about the cruelty of a king that didn’t know how to be a father first and muttering that Uther would see what the bloody hell he was doing wrong.

It’s home.

——————————————

News that Uther has another son spreads like a sickness in the castle. Servants whisper that the long-lost boy has returned, that the curse of the dead queen has lifted because her son is back, that finally, finally, Uther will stop the hell-path he’s wrought upon the kingdom.

Servants whisper that the nobles won’t like this. That they’re sick of having to put up with Arthur already, that if there’s another son, they’ll have another obstacle in their path.

Some nobles are clever.

They know that if Uther has a peasant son, he’ll have to make the boy a noble or denounce him completely. Or, and this is not a very likely option, he’ll have to accept that he has one royal son and one peasant son.

Some nobles aren’t clever.

They think that if Uther has another son, it doesn’t matter.

The nobles that know the knights know that they won’t be able to get within ten feet of Merlin. Many of them don’t want to. They’re not quite sure what position Merlin holds in court, but it’s not a manservant’s. They know that the boy who came to Camelot and managed to get the prince to shut up for once is a good one. Some of them hold the opinion that if Uther is what he made his son into, he might actually listen to the boy as well.

The nobles that don’t know the knights are stupid.

One such noble decides that it doesn’t matter whether or not the boy is of royal blood, the king hasn’t claimed him, and thus he is still a peasant.

He decides, in his infinite wisdom, to humiliate the boy by dousing him with wine for forgetting to thank him for giving him an order.

Merlin has been covered with wine before, this isn’t new to him. What is new is that he has a brother that takes great pleasure in dragging the unsuspecting noble to the front of the room and publicly shaming him.

“Have you so little sense of yourself that you must stoop to the humiliation of others for your own amusement? Perhaps if you spent more time thinking of what to do with your words you wouldn’t be so intimidated by the confidence of someone else. I would be surprised to learn if you had a mind since your only defense is to sling wine all over someone’s front. You are a disgrace to everything you proclaim to be and I would be ashamed of you if you were one of my men.”

It’s not the most direct way to banish someone and strip them of their place in court, but it is one of the more entertaining.

Of course, when a noble is demoted to a knight, he ends up at the mercy of the elder knights on the training field. It’s one of the only times Gwaine shows up promptly for a training session.

Merlin mumbles that Arthur didn’t have to do that, that he’s had worse, but later in the privacy of their rooms, Arthur says that he’s making up for the years where he wasn’t there.

“And it wasn’t just for you, it was for the knights too.”

“How noble.”

——————————————

It’s in the way Arthur still tries to turn into the tower corridor that first tips Merlin off. It’s the way his hands still twitch toward an old sword hanging on the wall. It’s the way he turns to his other side, not where Merlin always stands, expecting someone to be there. It’s the way he looks at the other side of Uther’s throne, expecting there to be another one.

It’s the way Merlin knows what feels like to miss another half of yourself.

“I want to find her,” he says quietly after a long day, “she’s your sister.”

Arthur pauses, fingers faltering on the edge of a cabinet. His head bows low.

“She is, Arthur,” Merlin says, standing, “and she’s mine too.”

“I know.”

“There’s still good in her, Arthur, I know there is.”

“I know.”

“I—“ Merlin swallows. “I’m to blame for what she’s become, I’m the one who poisoned her.”

“I’m the one who drove her away from the start,” Arthur says, a rueful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “I’m not blameless either.”

There’s a pause.

Arthur glances at Merlin. “There was a time when I thought you were her. That the—the person I was missing was her.”

“She’s magic too, it makes sense.”

Arthur nods, staring into space. “But she wasn’t you. Her—I guess I didn’t know it was magic, then, but her—her magic never felt right.”

He turns to take a hunting satchel down from the hook.

“Do you know how to find her?”

“Yes,” Merlin says, “but you’re not coming.”

“What?”

Merlin holds his hands up. “She’ll try to kill you, you know it. She won’t listen to you. Not at first.”

“And she won’t try to kill you? You poisoned her!”

“I have magic. She can’t beat me.”

“Merlin.”

“I’ll be safe!”

“When have you ever been safe in your life?”

“Like you’re in any position to judge!”

The bickering continues until Merlin grabs Arthur’s arm and tells him that he needs to do this. That it has to be him, only him, that he knows how to reach Morgana in a way that Arthur can’t.

Arthur lets him go with a strict promise to be back in a fortnight, no more.

Merlin knows how to find Morgana. Arthur’s connection to magic isn’t like his, but he is born of the stuff. And so is Morgana.

There’s a tingle in Merlin’s fingertips non-stop when he’s in Camelot, his magic tugging him towards Arthur and the magic in him. But Uther’s blood flows in both of their veins, so if he focuses, he can find Morgana.

His travels lead him to a forest home, modest and slight, but secure enough that he knows he can’t just walk in. There are half a dozen places where she could be hiding nearby, half a dozen more where traps could be. So he picks his way carefully through the undergrowth and knocks on her door.

He expects to be knocked out and strung up. He doesn’t expect her to raise an eyebrow and try and bind him with a curse.

He bats the curse away without trying to hide the way his eyes glow gold.

Morgana’s eyes widen and she stumbles back. He raises his hands and weathers the spitting, the curses—just cusses, this time—of his betrayal, how dare he, and apologizes.

“You were the vessel,” he says as his only defense, “I didn’t think there was any other way.”

“And what if you told me?” She draws herself up, looking every bit the queen she was born to be. “I could’ve helped! Perhaps I would’ve taken it of my own free will, you had no right to strip me of that choice.”

“I know. And I am sorry. For all of it. For not telling you, for trying to kill you, for—for everything.”

She evaluates him cooly. “Well, I suppose that’s that, then? You want me to accept your apology and toddle back to Camelot?”

And the thing is…he can see it now.

He and Arthur don’t share that many features, but he and Morgana…

It’s the angular jaw. The way the nose slopes slightly to the right instead of the left. The way one eye is a little bit longer than the other. The dark hair, wavy but not too wavy. The slender build, the sharp shoulders.

The way their magic curls about their fingertips before the spell is cast.

Morgana seems to notice him staring and frowns, snapping her fingers in front of his face.

“Sorry,” he manages, still marveling at how he never noticed, “sorry, I just…”

“Just…what?”

His magic thrums in his hands, telling him to let it go, reach out to their sister, help her see. He obeys, opening his hand and letting the magic swirl up, into the air. Morgana’s eyes widen and she takes a step back, preparing a defensive spell of her own only for her jaw to drop as her magic touches Merlin’s.

It doesn’t feel like coming home, not like finding Arthur did, but it feels like something.

“What…how is this possible?”

“I’m your brother,” Merlin whispers, peering through the lattice of magic, “I—you’re my sister.”

At the word ‘sister,’ something in Morgana’s magic flinches. Merlin frowns, peering closer, eyes widening when he notices a dark patch, almost as if the magic is bruised from being constrained. His own magic touches it carefully, recoiling in shock.

“What is that? Morgana, what happened to you?”

She rubs her wrist absent-mindedly, her face contorting into a scowl. “The last person to call me ‘sister.’”

Merlin’s eyes widen. Morgana retracts her magic, burying it deep inside herself and taking a deep breath. When she looks at Merlin again, she looks almost like the woman Merlin met in Camelot.

“So. That means Arthur’s your brother too.”

Merlin nods. “I was…we were born of the same magic.”

“And that makes Uther your father.”

Merlin's face contorts in rage and Morgana snorts.

“Yes, that was my reaction too.”

“Balinor was my father,” Merlin says firmly, curling his hands into fists, “Uther is not.”

“But you have his blood,” Morgana says quietly, not meaning to hurt, just to inform, “and you are bound to him. Just as I am.”

Now it is Merlin that has to look desperately at Morgana, hoping for it to be anything other than the truth.

“You can’t have Arthur without Uther, Merlin,” she murmurs, “you have to accept that. You can’t have Arthur without Camelot. You can’t have your brother without your father.”

“And what about my sister?”

Her smile is sad. “I had neither for a long time.”

“I just got my sister,” Merlin says firmly, “I’m not letting her go again.”

“Oh, and that’s your decision, is it?”

Merlin blinks. “Um—well, I mean—if—if that’s okay with you—“

Her laugh is high, like pealing bells, and it makes him smile to hear it. “How you manage to switch between those two will always astound me. No wonder no one else ever figured out you had magic.”

“Excuse you, I did a perfectly good job at hiding my magic.”

“Gaius used to scream about it with the door open, Merlin, that’s not exactly subtle.”

“How is that my fault?”

She giggles and oh, is this what it’s like to have a sister?

Their laughter ends and Morgana crosses her arms, head bowed as she thinks. Merlin lets his magic flutter around the room, cleaning up, until she raises her head again.

“Do you think Uther can change?”

Merlin sighs. “I don’t know. But I do know we can change the minds of everyone else.”

“Starting with Arthur, I presume?”

“Arthur. The knights. Most of the council. The servants.”

“Got a plan for this, do you?”

“…not really good at plans.”

“Well, no, not if most of them involve poisoning sisters.”

“Hey!”

Morgana laughs again, then her smile softens and she rushes forward to wrap her arms around Merlin.

“Your magic feels warm,” she mumbles, “not like Morgause’s. Maybe I’ll enjoy being your sister.”

“And Arthur’s?”

“If he can pull his head out of his arse, we’ll see.” She lets him go and walks toward the front of the house.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“To see if we can both pull his head out of his arse, it’s so big we’ll need the two of us.”

“Right now?”

“Unless you think I should wait?” There it is. The tiniest hint of vulnerability in the way her voice wobbles at the end.

A question of whether Morgana would actually be welcomed back into Camelot, a question of whether Arthur would want her back. A question of how true this fantasy really is.

Merlin straightens. “No,” he says firmly, “let’s just hope the two of us can do it together.”

—————————————��

Arthur never thought he’d see his sister again.

But the instant Morgana walks into his chambers, looking as if she’d never left, she barely has time to open her mouth to deliver a snappy remark before he’s rushing across the room and wrapping her in a hug so fierce it makes Merlin laugh.

Morgana laughs at him with some incredibly clever quip but he isn’t listening. He’s too busy hugging his sister. Who’s finally home, who’s finally here.

“…oh, alright, you big softy,” she mumbles, wrapping her arms around him too, “there. Are you happy now?”

“‘Gana.”

“Yes, that’s me. Is your head alright? Merlin, what did you do to him?”

“He’s happy to see his sister, Morgana.”

She sighs dramatically. “Oh, don’t both of you go all sappy on me.”

Arthur just pulls her closer, burying his nose in her neck. “‘Gana.”

There’s a pause. Then: “Oh, Arthur, I missed you too.”

It’s too much. He sticks out his arm and grabs Merlin’s tunic, yanking him closer. Merlin makes a noise of surprise as Arthur bundles them both into the hug. Morgana makes a slightly affronted gesture as she makes room for the two of them, pulling her hair out of the way as Arthur buries his nose between their shoulders.

“I certainly don’t remember him being this clingy, are you sure this is the same Arthur?”

“His head’s certainly big enough.”

“Well, yes, but that’s not exactly the most reliable thing to go on. He’s always been utterly obnoxious.”

“Don’t have to tell me.”

And they’re bickering like siblings and it’s right and it feels right and their magic is here now and he can feel both of them and it’s warm and it makes his chest tingle and—and—

“Oh, oh dear,” he hears Morgana murmur, “Arthur, are you—are you crying?”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, Arthur, it’s okay.”

“Come, let’s sit down, if you fall over you’ll take the two of us with you.”

“Just try and breathe, it’s okay, we’re not going anywhere.”

Arthur can’t bear to let them go. Not even for an instant. Morgana stays with him, her arms wound tightly around his neck, her fingers scratching lightly through his hair. Merlin sits at his back, his chest warm.

“Come now, you silly man,” Morgana says, trying to keep the tears out of her own voice, “there’s no use crying over this. No man is worth your tears, remember?”

“You’re not a man,” he mumbles, “you’re my sis’er.”

“He’s got a point.”

Morgana sighs. “Oh, Arthur…”

He registers how long’s been crying only when he feels his head start to ring from how stuffy his nose feels. He hooks his chin over Morgana’s shoulder.

“Go on.”

“What?”

“Go on,” he mumbles, “tease me. I know you want to.”

“…I’m not going to tease you, Arthur.”

“Really? All this material and you won’t?”

“Not today,” she murmurs, sounding a little hoarse herself, “not—not today.”

She holds him tighter.

“Not when I’ve just learned I have two brothers.”

He can live with that.

She does tease him later, when he says that he hasn’t missed her at all—a blatant lie, that, and they all know it—or that he’s always been a model of a knight. Of course, she doesn’t have to train with him alone, anymore, she has her pick of the knights. And Merlin.

Because Morgana has magic.

Merlin has magic. Is magic, if the stories are to be believed. And Morgana has always been a quick study.

So sometimes, Arthur will just…watch them. But it’s always that. Just watching.

Merlin is the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth. Morgana is a High Priestess of the Old Religion.

What is Arthur?

“You’re pouting, Princess.”

Arthur barely flinches as Gwaine plops down beside him. He does raise an eyebrow as he feels the rest of the knights sit down around him.

“I’m not pouting, Gwaine.”

“Sure you are.” He flicks Arthur’s arm. “You’re pouting.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

Arthur sighs. “And what is it you think I’m pouting over?”

“The fact that you now have to share Merlin with Morgana.”

“That’s not—“

“You’re bright red, Princess, you know I’m right.”

“Enough.”

Lancelot lays a hand on Gwaine’s arm. Gwaine hushes. Percival glances around to make sure there aren’t any other knights near and nods.

“What’s troubling you,” Lancelot asks quietly, “and how can we help?”

“There’s nothing you can do.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” Elyan sits up a little more. “There’s always something we can do.”

“Not with this,” Arthur mumbles, still watching the two magic users train, “not with this.”

Leon follows his gaze. “Impressive, aren’t they?”

“Mhm.”

“Do you wish you had magic too?”

Damn you, Leon. Damn you.

“…no.”

Leon chuckles softly. “Come now, sire, no need to lie to us.”

“I just—“ Arthur sighs, scrubbing his face with his hands. “It’s fine.”

Leon lays a hand on his shoulder.

“…they’re both…incredible—don’t tell them I said that,” Arthur says sharply.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Gwaine lies.

Arthur sighs again. “I just…I know I was born of magic, but…”

“You don’t have any,” Leon guesses, “not like they do.”

He shakes his head.

“Eh, you don’t need it,” Gwaine says, leaning up against Arthur’s side, “you’re plenty fine without it.”

Arthur’s head whips around to stare at him in shock. Gwaine raises an eyebrow.

“What? You are.”

“Since when do you give me compliments?”

Gwaine shrugs. “’S not about compliments, it’s about the truth. You’re able to do a shit load of things perfectly fine on your own, you don’t need to have magic for it.”

“He’s right, sire,” Lancelot adds, “your skills are a testament to you, not to whatever magic brought you into this world.”

“I’d follow you with or without magic.” Percival stands tall. “Just so happens you don’t have it. Doesn’t make a difference to me.”

“You’re our commander,” Elyan agrees, “that’s that.”

Leon’s hand on his shoulder rubs soft circles, brushing away his protests. He’s not sure if he believes them entirely, not just yet, but maybe…

Maybe one day he will. After all, he thinks with a smile, he’s got some people to help him with that.

He never thought he’d see his sister again.

——————————————

“Mum?”

Hunith turns around and smiles.

“Merlin, come here.”

Merlin rushes forward, wrapping his arms around her in a warm hug.

“Why didn’t you send word you were coming,” she scolds gently, “I would’ve gotten everything ready.”

“I wanted to surprise you!”

“Well, I am surprised. Sit, sit, tell me everything.”

Her son sits, idly toying with his hands. She frowns.

“What’s the matter?”

“I, um…I have a question for you.”

“What is it?”

“Where…where am I from?”

Oh.

Hunith smiles and tells him the story. Tells him of how Balinor arrived one night, a little babe clutched in his arms. How he told her how the queen had two children, one that had to be kept safe away from Camelot. How his magic had reached out to her once she held him, wrapped around them as he fell asleep against her breast.

Merlin listens, tears in his eyes, as she tells him that she loved him from the moment she saw him, that he would always have a home here.

“You’re my mum,” he mumbles, wiping away tears, “and I—you’re always gonna be my mum.”

“Oh, Merlin, come here—“

She holds her son in her arms and thanks the magic of the world that gave him to her.

——————————————

Uther responds about as well as you’d expect.

As in, not at all.

At least, not until he realizes that there are three children who are about to make sure he does what he promised Ygraine he would, and if he doesn’t, they’ll do it for him.

He tries to deny having another son, one that was raised as a peasant, no less, only for Arthur to stand up in court and publicly acknowledge Merlin as his brother.

He tries to deny that Morgana is his daughter, only for Morgana to stand tall and proud by Arthur’s side as they declare their intent to rule as brother and sister.

He tries to deny that not one but two of his children have magic, only for Arthur to open talks with the druids by using his brother and sister with magic as ambassadors.

He tries.

He fails.

He wants to think that he still has his loyal knights, but Gwaine and Percival decide that they’re Merlin’s bodyguards, and Leon and Lancelot won’t leave Arthur’s side. Morgana doesn’t need her own bodyguards, but Elyan and Gwen are never far from her.

He wants to think he still has the support of the Council, but Gaius had stood and given a speech about being so happy to see Ygraine’s children home again and his words had been frozen before he could say anything.

He wants to think he’s still the king. But everyone is starting to look to Arthur, to Morgana, not to him.

Once, and only once, he considers getting rid of the boy.

When he wakes from a terrible nightmare of drowned children, burned houses, and Ygraine’s immortal disappointment, he doesn’t think of it again.

Uther isn’t dragged kicking and screaming from his throne, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t many who’d love to if he gave them the opportunity.

He’s not worth lingering on.

#merlin #merlin bbc #bbc merlin #arthur pendragon #morgana pendragon #dragonbabbles #fic

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fixxofvixx · 3 years

Text

Stay With Me - Demon Leo AU - Chapter 29

Hello my beautiful people! I hope you are all well and healthy. I always have you all in my thoughts and I wish you the best. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Please let me know what you think. Depends on who creeps out of my brain next, I should have another update soon!

Enjoy!

😈😈😈😈😈😈

"I should have known you'd help those humans." You looked around Leo and saw a woman standing there. She was elegantly tall. Her long legs were surrounded by a nearly sheer dress and only covered the important areas. Beautiful long hair the color of the moon cascaded down her back. Her arms were crossed over her more-than-adequate chest. She looked at you and then focused on the feather you wore in your hair. After she realized what it was, she leveled you with a glare that would have caused you to hide in a corner if Leo wasn't holding you.

"What are you doing here, Cresenda? Shouldn't you be at home taking care of that child you keep trying to convince everyone is mine?"

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

"You don't need to worry about me. You should be more concerned with yourself and your little plaything there." She waved her hand towards you but it was far from friendly.

You felt Leo's hold on you tighten for a moment before he relaxed slightly.

"Leave, Cresenda, you aren't welcome here."

"Your mother invited me. She said you needed some help with some pesky humans." She moved close but Leo didn't budge. He didn't want her to have the upper hand. Black smoke swirled around your feet and you wanted to somehow bury yourself in it.

"I need nothing you have to offer. My mother has no right over anything I do. She also has no power here. This village, the forest, and everyone in it is in my domain."

"Pathetic, wasting your time on humans! Don't try to delude yourself that you are some sort of hero. Your powers are nothing compared to your father's. You have to answer to him and you know he's always favored me." Cresenda sent a look your way that was a mix of pride and superiority.

"That may well be….if he was alive."

"He's dead?! What the hell happened?!"

"I killed him. Now leave and I won't do the same to you." Leo teleported and you were back inside the house.

"Leo…"

"Not yet." He was mad. He didn't release for a moment and took a deep breath. Leo pulled away from you but still kept his hand attached to yours. He went to the door and let out a shrill whistle.

The wolves were there almost instantly. They gathered around looking just as serious as Leo. He motioned for you to stay inside as he walked out to talk to the pack. You noticed Danté breaking from the pack to sit at attention just in front of the door after he bowed his head to you.

"There is a she-demon that will try to enter the forest. She shouldn't be able to get past the barrier burnished does, do not try to fight her. She knows she is not welcome here but she will try nonetheless. If you see her, alert me immediately. The same goes for my mother. Let the other animals in the forest know."

The wolves bowed and dispersed. Danté stood and looked up at me.

*Please call upon me if you need my assistance, My Lady.*

"I will," you smiled at the young wolf, "but please just call me Y/N."

*Of course, My Lady.*

You sent him a playful glare as he trotted off to catch up with his pack.

Once Leo was back in the house, you could see how stressed out he looked. His face was stone and for a moment you didn't know how to approach him.

He took one look at you and his face relaxed and he reached for you. He saw the hesitation in your expression and the worry you held for him.

"I'm okay. But I would be even better if you hugged me."

You smiled and wrapped your arms around him.

"Ah….much better."

"You're a hopeless flirt, you know that?"

"Sure, I do. I also know that you like it."

*Did I miss something? The animals in the forest are on edge. What did you do now, demon?* Sibena walked in the front door, looking around.

Leo used his best scowl on her but she ignored him.

"Be nice, both of you." You playfully hit Leo's arm and then explained the situation to Sibena.

*That wreck of a she-demon always causes trouble. When she couldn't bed this demon she went after my master. He rejected her also so she tried to kill me in retaliation. My master caught her and almost turned her to dust if his father hadn't intervened.*

"Why did your father like her so much?"

"She is the daughter of an old flame he was head over heels with before the marriage was arranged with my mother."

"Arranged marriage?! They still do that?"

"This was a few hundred years ago, sweetheart. It's pretty much non-existent now. But I will admit that my father wanted to arrange a marriage with Cresenda and I. When I refused, she started the whole thing with her son being mine. That was about 6 or 7 years ago."

*As much as it pains me to do so, I will confirm what the demon has stated. Everyone in the demon world knows he never touched her. No one knows who the father is.*

Leo looked at Sibena, shocked that she sided with him.

"So if everyone knows, then why try to convince everyone? Even your mother supported the idea."

"I believe they're trying to convince you. My mother hates humans and Cresenda just follows what my mother wants. But that still leaves the question as to why mother sought us out after she was released. She never cared much before. She says she didn't know our father was dead but I don't really believe that. His death is the only thing that could have released her."

"So does she--"

"CAAH!!"

You jumped a good foot into the air and Sibena went on alert when you heard the noise. Looking to the door you noticed the largest black bird you had ever seen. It wasn't any bird you had seen before. It looked like a cross between a raven and an owl. Its head was as big as Sibena and its beak looked razor sharp. Its eyes were as red as fire and its claws looked perfect for tearing into flesh.

"It's okay, it's one of Ravi's messengers. He wants us to pay a visit."

"Both of us? Can I even go down there?"

"Ravi can allow it for a while. Sibena, you as well. Hakyeon would like to see you."

Sibena was instantly alert and swished her tail and for a moment she looked like an excited kitten. When she realized what she'd done she sat down and raised her head high.

*If my master commands it…*

Leo pulled you towards the large bird but you hesitated. The closer you got, the larger the bird seemed to get.

"He can't hurt you, Ravi would kill him. He can transport us all to the Underworld. Just hold on to him. Normally I could just teleport but with humans and a lynx….we need a little help."

You nodded and reached out to the bird. Its big head bowed and you hesitated. When you realized it was just saying hello you smiled. You placed your hand on the side of its neck and was surprised how soft it was. Leo placed his hands on your waist and lifted you up to sit on the bird. You thought it would protest but it seemed completely at ease.

"I'm not sure he would be willing to give up a feather." Leo chuckled, assuming you were thinking of that.

"That's alright, I'm pretty picky about the feathers I collect anyway." You smiled at him and winked.

"Don't look at me like that or I'll cancel this trip and take you upstairs." Leo's eyes brightened with the threat and you suddenly felt warm all over. You cleared your throat and broke eye contact with him.

"Let's go, Ravi is probably waiting."

*Yes, please, before I throw up.*

As soon as Leo reached up to touch the bird, everything went dark. You felt a rush of wind mixed with heat and then cold. You wanted to reach out for Leo but you couldn't move. You buried your hands in the bird's feathers and prayed you wouldn't fall off. It felt like you were moving in a whirlwind but completely frozen at the same time.

After a few seconds, your vision returned and you were outside the familiar sight of Ravi's front door. A wave of dizziness suddenly hit you and you swayed.

"Easy," Leo's hands came up and pulled you off the bird. You leaned on him as his arms came around your back to steady you, "it takes a little getting used to."

"Sorry about that," Ravi came out of the door and smiled, "Strix isn't known for being gentle. But he's powerful and quick. It was the best method I had of bringing you down here without causing too much damage."

"I'm alright." You turned to the bird and patted its neck. "Thank you for the ride, Strix."

The bird leaned forward and touched his large head to yours.

"Watch out brother, Strix might give you some competition."

You laughed and turned to Ravi.

"As much as I think Strix is beautiful, I'm not sure how much competition a bird would be to Leo."

A large puff of smoke caused you to jump and you turned to see a tall man standing where Strix once stood. He was young but had years of wisdom embedded in his still red eyes. Long black hair flowed around him and his clothing matched the darkness. His attire suggested that he had been around during ancient times, his robes flowing around him. He was strikingly beautiful but in a "I bring destruction" sort of way.

"I'm not always a bird, milady. And you are welcome to ride on me anytime." The man bowed and took your hand. Your jaw dropped at his words and you blushed a little. He started to kiss the back of your hand but Leo was faster. He grabbed your hand and pulled you to his side.

"Brother…..how fond are you of this….bird? My wolves have been asking for a good snack." Black smoke lifted from the floor and you could see Leo's hair turn in all directions. You almost smiled at his obvious show of jealousy but held it in.

"Strix...you should know better. You're still on thin ice and I haven't ended your probation."

*This bird reeks of pheromones. He wants more than what he is saying.* Sibena let out an annoyed chuff and settled into an attack position.

"I apologize, miss, if I have offended you." He bowed once more but you caught the half-smile on his face before it disappeared. He wasn't sorry at all.

"Uh….maybe we should go inside before a war breaks out? I don't feel like bloodshed today." Ken came around and blocked Leo's vision from Strix. Taking the opportunity, you grabbed Leo's hand and pulled.

"Let's go. The sooner we get back, the sooner we can be alone." You leaned up to whisper in his ear and you saw it twitch. He seemed to think over what you'd said for a moment and then looked down at you with the most sinful look you had seen yet.

"Ravi, what did you want to see us about?" Leo never broke eye contact with you while he was talking. The look in his eyes made you feel as if you were completely exposed and you swallowed hard. He saw your dilemma and smiled, knowing what you were thinking.

"Come in and I'll explain."

Leo let out a short sigh and then turned to Ravi. He nodded and pulled you along behind him. You were almost to the door when you heard running footsteps. You looked to your right and saw Hakyeon coming down the road.

"Sibena!" The lynx immediately took off and ran to Hakyeon. Hakyeon sat on the ground and held out his arms like a child. Sibena ran full speed at him and knocked him to the ground. She nuzzled his face like a puppy that had just found its master. Tears threatened your eyes when you realized just how much they had missed each other.

Leo tugged on your hand and motioned for you to follow him and let Hakyeon and Sibena have a moment.

Once inside you were greeted by Ravi's wife.

You smiled and started towards her. Leo stopped you and leaned down to your ear.

"If you have any questions about what you were thinking about earlier, you can ask her."

You turned to Leo, confused at what he was talking about. He put his hand on the back of your neck and smiled.

*She's pregnant. Weren't you concerned about whether we could have children?*

You gasped at his blunt words and what he was insinuating.

"Get away from me." You pushed him toward his brothers as he laughed.

With red cheeks, you sat down beside her and smiled.

"Here, have some tea."

"Thank you….my goodness, I don't even know your name. I'm sorry, I should have asked before!"

"That's alright. I don't even know my name."

"What do you mean?"

"When I agreed to live here with Ravi, I had to give up my mortal self. That included letting go of my name, family, everything. I have memories but no identity. He's not allowed to tell me either."

You stared at her, unsure what to say.

"Don't worry about it. I don't mind. He did tell me that my name meant "love" so he just calls me that."

You smiled, thinking about how sweet their relationship was. You silently thanked the powers that be that these demon brothers didn't turn out like their parents.

"What was the reason we needed to come down here, Ravi?" You turned to the man currently sending lovey-dovey looks at his wife.

"We need to do something about our mother." Ravi turned to you and then to his brothers.

"Agreed but did something happen?"

"She's been turning the Underworld upside down looking for something. As soon as we got her down here, she didn't even look for Hakyeon. She immediately went to the armory and started looking through there."

"Has she tried to contact our father?"

You snapped your attention to Leo and gasped.

"He's not dead?!"

#demon leo #vixx fic #taekwoon au #leo au #vixx au #taekwoon fic

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one-boring-person · 4 years

Note

How would stealing the lost boys signature clothes go- SO tries to take it when their boy isn’t looking

This is an interesting idea, thanks for requesting it! I hope you like this!💛💛

A/N: I've done this seperately for once, so I hope that's alright. I'm sorry that some of these are shorter than others, I just didn't really know how to expand on them effectively enough.

"Borrowing" Clothes.

Masterlist

David

It's nigh-on impossible to steal something that is never left alone, and David's coat? Well, he doesn't take it off for anything, even if it does reek of blood, motorcycle oil and cigarette smoke, though he does insist that he cleans it, so there is little to no chance of me ever getting my hands on it. It's not like I haven't tried - I made an attempt a year or so ago, but it was easily shut down by the platinum blonde, who seems to have eyes in the back of his head. I later found out that this is because of his super-hearing, which is an unfair advantage, and one that means my whereabouts around him are almost always known to him.

For this reason, I'm almost certain that he's pulling some trick on me when I find the long overcoat folded neatly on his wheelchair one night, as if the vampire has left it there to pick up later. It's position is almost too obvious and staged, so I approach it hesitantly, expecting the four of them to jump out at me from the shadows as my hand reaches out ever so slowly, fingers gingerly making contact with the worn fabric. Nothing happens, so I step closer and pick the coat up properly, enjoying the feeling of the black fabric as it shifts under my fingers, lifting it carefully to my face, burying my nose into it with a deep breath, relishing the ingrained scent that is David. Glancing around, I make sure one more time that no one is nearby, before quickly slipping it on, giggling quietly when I feel his long it is, the hem brushing the ground as my hands disappear into the sleeves, the smell of it enveloping me as I spin in a circle, my chilled skin soon heating up under the thick garment. Pushing my hands into the pockets, I feel around a little, locating his lighter, cigarettes, some spare change and what feels like a ring, which I pull out curiously, only to feel a burst of happiness when I notice that it's one of mine. I'd lost it a few months ago, and had wondered where it went. Now I know.

Smiling to myself, I replace it and go to one of the sofas, the coat dragging slightly in my wake, sitting down as I wrap myself in the comforting layer, burying my cold nose into the rapidly warming fabric. Laying back against the arm rest, I kick up my feet and turn up the collar of the coat, grimacing slightly as I get a whiff of what is probably blood, only to then find it is followed by an undertone of cologne. I settle myself down, intending to sleep until the boys come back, my eyelids just starting to droop closed when I hear a deep chuckle reverberate around the room, the sound making my eyes snap back open again, slight panic erupting in me. My eyes swiftly find the vampire hanging, upside down, from the ceiling rafters above me, his blue eyes glittering with mirth as he looks down at me, lips pulled into a smug smirk, the sight of which makes shivers go down my spine.

"David! I didn't notice you were there! I'm sorry-" I go to start, only to be cut off by another chuckle, this time sounding more amused at my attempt to cover myself up, his smirk pulling into a smile.

"Don't apologise, kitten. You look damn good in my coat." He compliments me, dropping elegantly from the ceiling so that he's standing beside the sofa, hair slightly dishevelled from being upside down, eyes roaming over my obscured figure with unconcealed admiration and pride.

"T-Thanks." I murmur, blushing a deep shade of crimson as he unashamedly stares me down, the vampire quite content to just watch me squirm under his intense gaze. His lips pull into a grin, before he gently reaches down to pick me up, briefly holding me against him as he lies back down again with me cradled against his chest, arms pushing under the coat as he manoeuvres me so that I'm on my front, hands smoothing against the planes of my back as mine rest against his collarbone.

"Don't get used to it, though. It's never going to happen again." The vampire reminds me, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

"Oh yeah? You sure about that?" I probe in response, lifting an eyebrow at him as he stares me down again.

"Very sure."

Dwayne

There aren't many occasions where Dwayne takes off his jacket, being shirtless underneath and all, so stealing it can prove difficult at times, but when I do succeed in nicking it, the result is always great. Over my time spent with him, I've come to learn the specific times when he will remove the piece of clothing: when he's working on his motorcycle, when cleaning himself up after a hunt and, more conveniently, when the two of us go skating together.

When the both of us figured out the other likes to skateboard, we quickly decided to spend time together at the skatepark, where we show off to each other and help each other learn new tricks, though it's incredibly rare that Dwayne needs help with anything, so it's more or less just him helping me. In a week, we can spend hours upon hours in the more secluded skateparks of Santa Carla, thoroughly enjoying our time there, especially when no one else is around. Somehow, however, I never really noticed that he removed his jacket to skate until a few weeks ago, at which point a plan started forming in my head, subconsciously observing his other habits and mannerisms at the park with a keen eye. By now, I have it mostly figured out.

My skateboard clatters to the concrete floor beneath me as I fall out of the flip, my arms flailing slightly as I travel at speed through the air, only to suddenly find myself face-to-face with a toned bare chest, dark eyes looking down at me in a mixture of concern and amusement.

"If you keep doing that in public, someone's gonna figure you out." I scold him teasingly, grinning thankfully up at him, "Thanks for catching me."

"If they figure it out, at least they'll know I don't let people fall into what is probably going to result in serious injury." Dwayne smirks, floating back to the deck a little way away, placing me carefully on the side of the bowl where we're skating, retrieving my skateboard for me.

"Oh right, I forget. You're a righteous vampire." I joke, laughing as he mockingly bows to me, lips pulled into a smirk.

"Only for you." He reassures me, before grabbing his board and dropping off the edge of the bowl, falling into an elegant series of tricks, which is normally pay close attention to. This time, however, I cast my eyes around elsewhere, knowing this is my only chance.

Quickly, I spot my target lying a little way away, out of the way of the lip of the ramps and bowl, a cunning smirk making its way onto my face as I stand and walk over to it, making sure that Dwayne is still focused on his run. Glancing over at him, I pick the leather jacket up when he isn't paying attention, slipping it on before grabbing my skateboard, standing in preparation to escape, noting now that the vampire has come to a halt, his eyes quickly finding me.

"I'm gonna need you to give me that back, (Y/n)." He informs me, starting to walk around the lip of the bowl towards me, lips pulled into a small smile.

"Oh yeah? Make me." I challenge, before kicking off on my skateboard, away from the bowl and towards the smaller features a little way away, intending to lead him on a series of twists and turns through the different obstacles.

Behind me, I hear a quick chuckle, the sound of wheels rattling on the concrete swiftly following as he gives chase, his longer legs giving him more momentum as he starts to catch up to me. Giggling, I veer around a tight corner, using a raised half-pipe as support as I go round, evading his reaching arms momentarily.

"I'll catch you, (Y/n)! Just you wait!" He calls after me, amusement lacing his tone.

Marko

Marko and his jacket are near enough inseparable, so taking it is an incredibly rare occurrence for me, and always results in a playful wrestling match between us, which he always wins. The only times he ever takes it off is either to add another patch, or to wash it if it got particularly bloody during a hunt, and he will not let anyone touch it at these times, not even me, who has offered to help him sew on new bits and pieces from time to time. Each and every time, he has declined, insisting that he does it himself, despite the fact that my sewing is clearly better than his.

One thing he can't stand, however, is when his pet pigeons decorate it with droppings, so he usually takes it off during the times he's caring for the small birds. He always keeps a close eye on it, but he can't always be watching it, so I've made several attempts to steal it at these times, only to be found pretty quickly by the fact that I always scare the birds away. Having realised this, I managed to figure out a way of grabbing the jacket without alerting the pigeons to my presence: befriend some of them.

Marko was delighted when I told him I wanted to help him care for the birds properly, knowing that David gives him all kinds of crap for having them in the first place, eagerly accepting and showing me how to look after them. Soon, the birds became used to having me around and didn't fly off when I came near, meaning it was finally time to put my plan in motion.

I carefully stand from my place on the sofa, eyeing the place where the curly-haired vampire is faffing around, my eyes finding the patchwork jacket quickly, calculating the distance between me and it. As silently as possible, I walk over in that general direction, smiling as a pigeon flies over briefly to greet me, flapping around me once before returning to the crop top wearing vampire, providing me with a distraction, which I gladly take as I go to the jacket and snatch it up. As discreetly as possible, I push my arms through the sleeves and shrug it on, the scent of Marko easily flooding my nostrils as I start to back away again, managing to get to the fountain before he notices me.

"What've I told you about stealing my jacket?" He remarks, tone amused.

"I don't quite remember. You should probably remind me." I respond, continuing on my way to the sofa, only to squeak when he suddenly pops up behind me, having used his abilities to get there in record time.

"Oh, I'd love to." He purrs into my ear, before his fingers swiftly find my side, brushing at the sensitive skin in practiced motions.

"Oh, no, no, stop! That tickles..!" I protest, laughing and squirming as he continues, his hands holding me in place as he continues tobtickle at my sides.

"That's the point, (Y/n)." He remarks again, chuckling at my attempts to break free of him, "You need to learn your lesson, missy."

Squealing now, I keel over onto my knees, clutching at his hands as I try to get away from his persistent tickling, my strength easily overpowered by his, his body falling over mine as he trips slightly, pressing us both into the ground.

"Fine! Fine, you can have it back!" I give in after a minute or so, writhing wildly underneath him.

"And?"

"And what?" Confusion floods me, until I realise what he wants, "And I promise I won't take it again."

"Not without my permission, anyway." His smirk is almost audible as he pulls away, helping me up, "Keep it on for now, it looks good on you."

Paul

Someone as irresponsible as Paul is easily stolen from, even by an amateur like me. And his clothes are no exception to this rule, often finding themselves thrown into the most random corners of the cave at the best of times, sometimes left behind at hunts and especially around my house, as if he leaves a treasure hunt for me to follow every day. It makes stealing from him simple enough.

Tonight is just another of those nights where I've come downstairs again to find a few scattered pieces of clothing around my own lounge, their positions apparently inexplicable in that they seem to be there randomly. Gathering them, I figure out that he's left a pair of his white trousers, a black mesh shirt and a few bracelets, too, basically creating a whole outfit, which I decide I will finally take advantage of after months of just returning them to their owner. Going back upstairs, I take off my clothes and pull on Paul's, smiling slightly at the sheer size of them on my shorter frame, pairing them with a leather jacket of my own and some knee high boots, admiring myself in the mirror before I leave the house for the night, heading for the Boardwalk. On my way, I receive a good few nasty looks, but I ignore them all, flipping one man off as he makes some snide comment, arriving at my destination in a pretty quick time for once, eager to see if Paul will notice my choice of attire.

On the Boardwalk, I quickly locate the boys and go over to them, Dwayne, David and Marko instantly recognising the scent littering the clothes I'm wearing, though they don't say anything, smirking at me as they choose to let Paul figure it out for himself.

"Hey, guys!" I greet them all, jumping on Paul's back as he forgets to turn around in time, giggling when he let's out a huff of air and stumbles forwards.

"Hey, (Y/n)." The other three chorus, smiling at me before turning their attention elsewhere, half-listening to us so that they can catch Paul's reaction to my clothes.

"What's up, sweet cheeks?" The vampire in question replies to me, carefully letting me go as he turns, leaning in to press a kiss against my lips.

"Not much. How about you?" I continue, amused that he hasn't quite slotted the difference yet.

"Likewise...is that my shirt?! And my white trousers?!" He exclaims, blue eyes roaming my fame as he takes this in, clearly not expecting this turn of events at all.

"Indeed."

"But...how? Why?" Is all he can manage, eyes still pinned to me.

"You keep leaving your clothes at my place, so I thought I'd wear them for once." I shrug dismissively, "They smell like you, so I'm quite enjoying this."

"Well, i guess that's fair enough." He muses, smirking at me, gaze darkening as he makes eye contact, clearly more affected by my clothes than I am, "Wanna go somewhere more private?"

#the lost boys #joel schumacher #vampire #david(thelostboys)#kiefer sutherland #paul(the lost boys)#dwayne(the lost boys)#santa carla #marko(the lost boys)#star(the lost boys)

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thecursedhellblazer · 2 years

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@paradiseturnedhell sent:

One moment he had been chilling at a bar, sipping some bourbon. The next, Tantabus felt the agonising pull of a summoning and before the Bussekater had even been able to put two and two together, he found himself in a neatly drawn circle of salt with somebody burning several herbs in a bronze bowl.

Tantabus scrunched up his nose. He cocked his head aside, blueish green eyes shimmering furiously. “Wow”, he said, “Rude much?!” Before the summoning circle stood a man in a long trench coat, messed up, dirty blond hair and a worn down face. He looked like he had seen better days. His clothes and skin reeked of cigarette smoke. He was even having one of the blasted sticks between chipped lips.

Tantabus looked almost humble in comparison with his black jacket and grey hoodie. He also didn't smell of any weird substances, minus the bourbon maybe. His brown hair was combed and clean. Cats were notoriously clean, so Tantabus was no exception, even as a human. A low groan escaped his lips. It had been years since he had last served a master. And apparently this lost cause had found out how to get him here.

Welp, here we go again.

Sometimes he felt like he was too old for this song and dance.

Tantabus said: “Okay, dipshit, sorry... Master - need to get back into the swing of things, you feel me, pal? - what can I do for you?” He even spread his arms and did a little, flourish bow. “Given that you have summoned Tantabus and all his qualities.”

Summoning a demon was always a bit of a hazard, even for someone who was, by now, an expert in the field. The slightest wrong accent and the ritual might not have worked. Or, worse, you could have ended up pulling the wrong motherfucker out of the Pit and that could be a real problem if the containments seals you had prepared weren’t powerful enough to hold it.

John had learnt that latter lesson at a very young age, back when he had had the reckless, stupid idea of trying to get rid of a demon by summoning a stronger one. A mistake that had cost him his soul and a great part of the mental sanity he had left and that had damned an innocent little girl to Hell.

Not to mention that, while technically the pull was impossible to escape, the strongest demons often found a way to take their good ass time to show up. He remembered one time when he had sat in front of circle all in all similar to the one he was looking at now for over two hours before the hellish bastard he had been trying to summon had bothered to show up.

Thankfully, this time around he merely had to wait a couple of minutes before a figure started to form in the middle of the circle. The magician was in no mood to wait and, especially, time was of the essence with the mess he was dealing with.

“Woh, where yeh in th’ middle o’ somet’in’, mate?” He snorted when the creature hissed his annoyance at him, blowing out a mouthful of smoke. “Well, welcome to th’ blood club. Tha’s jus’ ‘ow life works, innit? Can’t even sit down n’ finish yeh drink in peace.”

Blue eyes quickly scanned the creature in front of him. He had been expecting to see it manifesting in a different form, but, if the Bussekater had been already on the mortal plane, those looks were definitely less eye-catching than a giant black cat.

Discarding those thoughts, Constantine took one last drag from his cigarette and let it fall on the ground, stomping it under his heel. A hint of amusement touched his face as he watched the creature struggling to slide back into a less harsh and more theatrical mannerism and he even snorted quietly under his breath at the bow.

In a way, it was refreshing, because the Bussekater had showed no sign of having recognised him. It was one of the reasons why he hadn’t picked a demon. He had hoped to avoid the biases that came with the ill reputation he had among the ranks of the hellish hierarchy.

“No need to try so ‘ard n’ lick me arse. It’s bloody obvious tha’ yeh pukin’ in yeh mouth jus’ sayin’ tha’ word. ‘Master’. Let us skip th’ formalities, aye? I ain’t ‘ere to enslave yeh or shite, I jus’ wants to make a deal ‘cause I could use yeh ‘qualities’, as yeh like to call ‘em, for a job. Den we can bot’ go back takin’ care o’ our own business.”

He took a step closer to the circle, careful to keep out of it. “So, yeh wants to be dis th’ easy, civil way or do I gots to put a magical leash on yeh, mate?”

#* Blokes like me? We cheat. * ::ic::#* Nobody should fight demons on an empty stomach. * ::casual interactions::#paradiseturnedhell #(( relax and work flows just fine. ::queue:: ))

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mattzerella-sticks · 4 years

Text

Enjoy the Present (1k, 14x15 ‘The Last Holiday’ coda, Destiel, Dean, Sam, Jack, & Cas)

(ao3)

Sam had a birthday, Jack had a birthday...

It would only be fitting for Dean to have one, too. It's expected, really. Yet the one Sam and Jack throw him still catches him by surprise. Maybe because he actually agreed with Butters, about having outgrowned birthdays. Or because his thoughts were pulled elsewhere because of some disappointing news.

If it's the latter, than a birthday will definitely take his mind off of that. Especially when it comes time for his present.

Dean rereads Sam’s message as he walks into the Bunker’s main room. “Sammy!” he yells, “I’m here. What’s so damn urgent that you…” He trails off, catching sight of his brother and Jack, both adorned in festive gear. Tiny cardboard party hats sat atop their heads, colorful party beads hung around their necks, and party horns that announced his entrance. Them, as well as the single balloon tied to a chair and a covered cake platter, reveal Sam’s true intentions. “Oh no,” he sighs, tiredly chuckling, “really?”

“Yes, really,” Sam says, Jack still blowing madly in the background, “it’s your turn.”

“But we celebrated Jack’s birthday, like, a day ago.”

“Three, actually.” Sam pulls the chair back, gesturing Dean forward. He relents, taking the seat of honor. Jack attacks a second after he’s settled, threading the ‘Birthday Boy’ headband through his hair. “Figured that was enough time for you to let your guard down.”

He rolls his eyes but does not disagree with Sam’s statement. There were no faults that he could nitpick. Dean thought they were more than satisfied with the crash course of holidays Mrs. Butters put them through. That she left before his birthday, Dean hadn’t minded. She was right, in a sense, about how at his age there’s no point in celebrating one. But seeing Sam and Jack do this, it reminds him why he wanted one anyway. Makes him grateful despite the disappointment he suffered earlier in the day.

Dean won’t focus on the missing space in their group, however. It might be his party, but he knows crying would kill the mood faster than their radar could ping a monster.

“Well,” he claps his hands, staring at the platter in front of him, “show me what you got.”

Jack unveils the cake, beaming. “I made it,” he tells Dean, “to return the favor.”

“You didn’t have to do that –“

“But I wanted to,” Jack continues, setting the cover aside. “It’s… not the first cake I made today. The third, actually. I hope you like it.”

The green-frosted dessert slides a bit, top half slanted and unbalanced. ‘Happy Birthday Dean’ scrawled so messily he only knows what it meant given context clues. He swipes a finger across the side, taking frosting and crumbs of cake with him. Of all the cakes Dean saw, Jack’s… is here.

Dean cannot judge too critically, having his own difficulties with cakes. When making Jack’s cake Dean certainly stumbled. Not greasing the pan enough, batter barely enough for two layers, frosting used as both decoration and glue. It turned out well though. Moist, fluffy, and rich. Dean saw himself baking more cakes in the future, perhaps when things have quieted down. He and Jack can learn together.

“It looks great, kid,” Dean says, squeezing his wrist. “Why don’t we jab a candle in there so we can get to eating it!”

Sam clears his throat, wincing. “About that…” he laughs, holding an unlit candle out. “Why don’t we just light it and you blow without having it… ruin the cake.” As if hearing Sam, Jack’s creation sinks further. Depressed at not participating with this tradition.

Dean agrees, taking the candle from Sam. Jack taps it with his finger, lighting it. “Make a wish Dean!” he says, stepping back.

A wish. There’s so much on his mind, that he could ask. Past the age of actually believing in wishes, Dean wonders if he should shoot for the stars. A quick end to their Chuck problem. An island retreat where Dean can grow old at. Superpowers and a kick-ass costume and shield. He spends so long thinking, the wax drips and burns his fingers. Chastising him for not taking it seriously.

Reflecting again on what he wants, the answer is obvious. Dean closes his eyes and blows the flame out. “Okay,” he hands Jack the candle, “now can we dig into the –“

Creeaaak

Dean pauses, the front door opening above him. He looks up, on the edge of his seat. Doubtful. Wishing on a candle never works, especially that fast. But Sam and Jack exchanged twin looks that reeked of smugness, like they knew who this guest was. There’s only a short list of people it could be. Dean dare not hope…

Cas meets his gaze from the balcony, a red bow wrapped around him like a sash. “Happy birthday, Dean,” he says, eyes crinkling from the weight of his smile, “I hope I’m not too late.”

There’s no cake. No balloon. No party hats, beads or horns. Dean stands with enough force the chair topples over. “Cas,” he says, grin threatening to crack his face in twain. Voice raw with too much feeling. “What are… I thought you weren’t coming back today?”

It ruined his entire morning. Waking, a voicemail on his phone from Cas about being delayed by a possible lead. Dean knew it was important for their mission, but the rejection stung. He went about in a haze, restructuring for another day without Cas. Holding off on the Dean Cave, the stack of movies he left there pointless without the other man. And why would he wash Baby when Cas promised Dean it’d be something they do together for once.

The sun, having risen, continued across the sky. And Cas descended the stairs towards Dean. “It was Sam’s idea,” he explains, “that you might… appreciate the surprise. I’m sorry if I caused any undue worry, or stress –“

Dean wraps his arms around Cas, nuzzling against his cheek. “Glad you’re here man,” he whispers, “every time you leave, the more I want you to come back.”

“Dean,” Cas sighs, his hands tight on Dean’s waist. “Leaving has become increasingly difficult. Because I’d rather be here, with you, more than anything.”

This is the moment. He knows it. His bones shake, and skin itches, because all that Dean hopes, fears, and feels has culminated for this brief second where Dean can finally put them all into words and be confident how Cas will respond.

Except the second slips by. Dean leans back, Sam and Jack invading their space. “So,” he smirks, brows waggling, “you like my present?”

Another time. There’ll be another chance. When they’re alone and can carry on uninterrupted. Maybe in the backseat of his Baby, heaven knows it’s been years since she’s seen something beautiful and bloodless.

Dean lays his hands on Cas’s shoulders, smiling. “The best damn birthday present I’ve ever gotten, Sammy.”

#supernatural #spn #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #spn coda #14x15 the last holiday #14x15 coda #dean winchester #sam winchester #jack kline #castiel #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic

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laadgovernorandsankadevi · 3 years

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IPK Rewatch: Ep 04; who writes our fates?

The episodes picks up from where we had left off previously, with a frantic and impulsive Khushi running behind the ASR, making him stop. With today's episode, we start the journey into the first two promos of the show. (The promo with Khushi saying she makes her own clothes and people matter more than money whilst ASR priorities appearances, and the second one posted in the very first post.)

The biggest divide between the two has not been their lifestyles, but their moral code, their beliefs. Khushi blends with the Raizadas very well especially Anjali and Nani which lets us believe that Khushi might have gotten along with Ratna quite well as well. Khushi stands steadfast in front of Arnav and his look of intimidation. This is one of the very few times where when he moves forward, she doesn't take a step back. It's also representative of in my opinion, of what he refuses to budge against. Her beliefs and her self-respect is something she wouldn't be intimidated easily from.

Arnav's "kya kiya main ne?" is insightful of his cheekiness, his entitlement, and reeking arrogance. The thing is, that the person who asks her this questions wasn't ASR, it was Arnav switching in and out of his persona with Khushi, and Arnav will be regretting the realisation - and the effect Khushi has on him that makes him switch between his personas as much.

I also love Khushi's sandals slipping out of her feet, specifically I think the left feet concisely as she walked behind him, ran behind him and then away from him. Khushi's path towards Arnav is filled with pain. It's often observed that and bare left feet means awaiting sorrow and that does seem to be the case for Khushi at least. If Arnav is restless at him not seeing Khushi on occasions later onwards, then Khushi looks for excuses to be around him while denying that she does so, to see him.

What I think pisses Arnav off is that while Khushi points at his arrogance, and his attitude of getting his way or creating terrible circumstances when he doesn't get his own way, whatever happened between them was not solely him. We see this belief translating into her conversation with Payal later when she points at everything happening for a reason. She remarks at Arnav as well that even the decisions he thinks he is making for himself are being taken by him because of how Devi Mayyian is guiding him. She remarks at his lack of gratitude instead of affirming that he has accomplished everything on his own.

However Arnav is quick to respond with a classic comeback, of pain wouldn't be existing if God was present. The exchange on pain, and God providing us with aids to heal the pain is a classic exchange between someone who finds themselves aligned to religion because it has been their biggest source of comfort , and someone who decides to move away from everything as a reactionary. Whilst Arnav had behavioural issues growing up even when his parents were alive, it is Arnav's displeasure with everything that his family stood for which make it easy for him to embrace everything opposite of what they believe in.

Before the last sentences exchanged between the two, he tells her to not come in his way again. Coincidentally, the next time they meet one another is when she collides with his car!

Khushi's last words to him echo within him that no one is in control besides Devi Mayyian. Not even Arnav Singh Raizada and this starts the cat and mouse challenges between them. To show whose in-charge, he makes sure the clip of a girl like him, in arms of a man like him is circulated to all news channel. Oh Arnav bitwa, if only you hadn't! If only! - it's funny that this one action of his sends the person already living with the Raizadas to save this girl whose clearly been caused distress because of Arnav/Saale Sahib

Absolutely love Khushi and Payal's bond with their conversation. I sorely missed their little banters, and moments of assurance after their wedding.

One of the few lines I loved in this interaction was Payal asking where did the pearls disappear, and if a crow took them away. kawa udda le gaya kya? crows are insightful, curious, misunderstood creatures. They symbolises magic, transformation, and change. There is also a common superstition that arrival of crows means arrival of a guest. The reason for adverse transformation awaiting Khushi's life is the one who took those pearls away. That person, earlier in the day made sure that the change would shake Khushi's life.

It is after this Khushi berates Arnav Singh Raizada. She refers to him as Laad Governor for the first tike in front of Payal. Not many people are aware of this name which later turns into a term of endearment but Payal before Akash is privy to these change in Khushi's life. Payal is also one of the few people to be able to differentiate between Khushi being Khushi, or Khushi lying. In telling about the encounter earlier, I love how she calls her to-be husband whose a diabetic, barfi ka tukra! how ironic. Barfi in general is made from sweet condensed milk which is a symbol of fertility. That is what Arnav is for his family and loved ones. He takes on the responsibility of being a provider, of being a protector. Correlation of people with food plays an important role in the show throughout. It also reflects Khushi's unconscious feelings about that person. For now, Arnav has made a spot in her heart for himself without intending to and Khushi has willingly given him that space just for the ruckus he's caused. With Payal's clarification of her being upset at a partner like Abhishek, Khushi isn't doesn't necessarily blame Arnav either this point forward. She blames herself for taking on the responsibility and leaving without informing others. This is a streak within Khushi where her insecurities of being overtly impulsive rise. Later she doesn't blame Arnav for misunderstanding Shyam and her. She blames herself for not sharing the information with him.

In contrast to the scene between the sisters, we finally see the brothers interact with one another. Clearly there is a comfort level between the two and an easy, playful, camaraderie. We see Arnav yelling at someone for minor mistakes and it's established Arnav striving for perfectionism is reflective of his need for control at all times.

I love how Akash after sharing about the photographer stopping the shoot says "aab toh usse koi nahi bacha sakta" and the scene cuts to Khushi saying she has her Devi Mayyian. Devi Mayyian does protect Khushi from everyone but Arnav, however it's Arnav as Khushi says who eventually ends up needing Devi Mayyian's favourite child to be his saviour when he's kidnapped. It's also him who bows in front of Khushi instead of the other way around.

Roop Suhana Lagta hai is Payal's song. I think with both the sisters' and brothers' scene running parallel, the song provides an insight into what lays the foundation for Payal's relationship alongside Khushi's. After all, Akash ji loses his heart in first sight.

The mother daughter finally unite after Khushi urging Amma to call her, her daughter. I am pretty sure laho peti ho roughly means sucking the life/blood out of someone, and Khushi can often inadvertently become a reason for the Guptas to find themselves exhausted. However all is well when Khushi exercises her right over Garima and Garima admitting the same.

Shashi walks in, into the reunion of mothers and daughters and we get an insight into how wonderfully happy this small family is together. This is in quite contrast to what we will eventually see with Raizadas whose happiness appears to be a facade threatening to break until the arrival of their bahus into their house and the exit of their damad who had been holding everyone together.

Later Khushi gets called out by Shashi as they leave the house and Bua ji back home. Bua ji doubling down on Khushi is a common theme all throughout. As much as she adores her, she also makes sure ti be equally tough on her. I think one of the reason her harshness is more prominent with Khushi is because how obedient Payal is. Payal is the perfect daughter, Guptas could've imagined where as Khushi is chutki, Sanka-devi, a bit spoilt, given leeway to help outside with her father, and allowed to be rude to others on occasion which the youngest of the households get the reigns to be. Garima allowing Khushi to run her mouth with kaka ji later gives us a peek into that. I absolutely love that!

We finally meet the deva-esque photographer who clearly has no idea who he is dealing with however the way few people talk to Arnav despite how he forces people to perceive him shows us that Arnav is indeed someone new to the industry whose been fortunate enough to get amazing success. If ASR is really who he lets us believe he is, there wouldn't have been payment issues. He would've also fired the person and gotten a replacement in an instant however Arnav settles by humiliating the man working for him.

the photographer here is unhappy with his payment plans.> I think these were suppose to allude to the past that they ended up changing in the narrative later so technically me decoding it is useless. The person who is aware of the entire truth is unhappy with the lack of their truth being acknowledged.

kis kheeth ka gajr hai > how are you so prosperous? the mysterious persona makes a comeback and begs how the Maliks who wronged others. had their children prosper despite being driven out of their homes.

mooli hai, not gajar > mooli or radish’s symbolise quarrel and the former narrative, that the show changed later onwards was about the big quarrel between Chacha ji and Malik Sr. Carrots on the other hand symbolise prosperity and happiness within family. Whatever happened in the past would’ve included facades of happiness but we all know now to some extent that the brothers were quarrelling, the heir to the house was thrown out and ASR is the repersonaification of that spiteful younger Malik son. These interpretations do not matter as much now as they wiped off Shyam’s backstory and Chacha ji later because of fans’ demand to not separate the couple on the wedding day but goddammit what a fruitful foundation they laid! Carrots also symbolise end goal. ASR thinks he’s met the lifelong, he’s put the past away. Now that is far from the truth because the true past comes in form of Khushi. Just when he didn’t expect it, the truth pushes him just like how just as he opened his eyes, Khushi (his happiness) fell into his arms.

jis uchai par mein kada hoon wahan kutton ke bohnkne ke awaz nahi pohonchti > ASR is a rising name of the industry and he's reminding the photographer to not forget how he could potentially change the entire field. I think this is decoding of the tracks being laid out. ASR loses to Khushi, but Arnav wins until Khushi is ready to accept ASR's win. It can indicate how unbothered Arnav is as long as the cost of anything changes into his success.The juxtaposition between wins and loses of ASR and Arnav with Khushi are incredibly important. ASR never falls for Khushi until after Lavanya and after coming back from kidnapping. However, it’s Arnav (Arnav Malik) who falls for Khushi for the first moment, whose love surpasses condition despite laying them.

asli aukat > too many people today have tried telling ASR his aukat today , but really what is his aukat. what was going to be his place in the past?

discount ka kam > Akash's expressions and eyes dart towards Arnav at the term discount being used.

The man doesn't receive a slap, a full palm slap until he brings up Arnav's mother. 50,000 signifies the failing of totality and inability to excel in destiny however the 20 Million for the slaps signify that ultimately, regardless of the past, the duality of forces of love will strengthen Arnav's position enough to be able to make sure that the narrative sways in his favour. the twice 4 zeros are also numbers which hold the spiritual power of bringing soulmates who are twin flames together. And we all know, that with Khushi by Arnav's side, the past that we eventually find out about removes the stain from Garima's reputation and frees Anjali of the man who had been using her as a pawn.

The episodes ends with a relative calling Gotmi Sadan to inform Shashi about the news which is a call picked up by Bua ji. Bua ji saying that yahan toh yeh pora ka pora baghicha khila de rahi adds a perfect layer of how Khushi's encounter with Arnav leads the girls of Gupta house to their eventual rajkummars.

In the market, Khushi has become the talk of the town with people readily able to identify her. An exciting journey awaits us as the next player of this game joins us in the next episode.

#endlessly rewatching ipkknd #ipkknd #ipkknd 10 year rewatch #10 years of IPKKND #arnav singh raizada #arnav and khushi #khushi kumari gupta #iss pyaar ko kya naam doon #iss Pyaar ko #myipkkndrewatch

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sourbkg · 4 years

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[suga] [when will i see you again; shakka]

┊- i ͙۪۪̥˚┊get up, you know i’ll see you again┊ [ -ˏˋ⋆ˊˎ- ] song used 一∘.· [ -ˏˋ⋆ˊˎ- ] sugawara koushi x reader 一∘.· [ -ˏˋ⋆ˊˎ- ] mafia!au 一∘.·

[ -ˏˋ⋆ˊˎ- ] 𝙃𝙚 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙨 𝙛𝙖𝙩𝙚 was against him the moment he was born; having been brought into a family working directly beside the leader of the Karasuno Mafia group for generations, and not wanting to be the first to break whatever line of power they may have accumulated. Sugawara learned from a young age how to be a perfect right-hand. He knew how to load a gun by the time he learned how to do basic multiplication, and knew how to take someone down twice his size at the same time he figured out the difference between throwing knives and switchblades- all in the same year.

Sugawara was 20 when he first met you, watching you wipe down counters in a seedy bar Daichi liked to frequent. He wondered if you enjoyed your job; being ogled by others as you ask what type of drink they’d like, or snickering when you switch out their tequila for water when they’ve had too much. Sometimes you’d catch his eye, but he’d look away just as fast, leaving you to wonder if he was staring at you in the first place.

There were some nights when someone sketchy would be around you for too long, looking you up and down like a piece of meat. Sugawara didn’t mind taking it upon himself to teach them a lesson; whether it be to not leer at others who are obviously uncomfortable, or to just not stare at what he’s obviously interested in, he didn’t know. Regardless, there was unnecessary blood on his hands, all in an effort to defend you.

And you didn’t seem to know a thing about it. Sometimes, he could hear you asking a coworker what happened to certain regulars, wondering why they just stopped frequenting the bar, then explaining that you’re grateful they aren’t at the bar. That they made you uncomfortable, but you still wish good health upon them despite their not-so-kind-intentions.

Sugawara liked that about you. You were kind; forgiving, even if the person didn’t deserve your forgiveness.

One night, while Daichi, Sugawara, and Asahi were talking about strategies, ways to get product a from location one to location two, he picked up your voice under the sound of loud music and his friends’ voices. It was strange, being able to hear it over anything, the only time you’re usually heard being when someone’s directly ordering from you. With a glance behind him, he sees why he hears you.

A customer, he can assume, drunk, had you by the wrist, looking like he was attempting to drag you over the counter. With a nudge to his best friend and boss, and a nod of his head, the man had captured the rest of the group's attention. Wordlessly, the three slide out of their booth, Daichi putting out what remained of his cigarette and tossing a good amount of cash on the table, before tucking his wallet on the inside of his jacket.

“Isn’t that the bartender you’ve been making heart eyes at?” Sugawara feels Asahi lean over his shoulder to ask, hands shoved in his pockets and feeling for whatever weapon he may have. Sugawara doesn’t look away from the situation, but doesn’t deny the claim.

“Excuse me.” Someone says, loudly. You find yourself pausing trying to escape the drunk patron’s grasp, eyes meeting the group of regulars you’ve become used to. The darker haired man is the one who spoke, Daichi, you think you’ve heard them call him. He stands behind the man with his arms crossed, his friends flanked on either side of him. The man holding your arm pauses as well, sneer present on his face as he glances to whoever he assumes spoke.

“Yer ‘scused.” He says, grip tightening when you pull yourself out of your stupor and attempt to use the distraction as a way to yank your arm away. The glare he sends has you freezing all over again, eyes meeting the hardened stares of the men behind him.

“You’re bothering this bartender.” The man with his hair in a bun states the obvious, hands fidgeting in his pants pockets.

Daichi steps forward, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder with a tight-lipped smile, “Why don’t we take a trip outside. Have a little chat?”

The man eyes the hand on his shoulder with a growl, leaving you to stumble backwards as he lets go of your wrist to shove the appendage off. Without a second thought, it seems, Daichi uses his hands position to turn the man around before delivering a punch right to the apple of his cheek.

“I said ‘let’s take a trip outside’,” he reiterates, “so, let’s take a trip outside.”

With a nod to the man with a manbun, Daichi wipes his hands on a handkerchief and the brunette guides the offender towards the door. You stare at their backs as they leave, holding your arm to yourself as a means of defense as if the man would somehow break free and direct his newfound anger towards you.

You jump when the remaining patron speaks, eyes wide and brows furrowed. You didn’t catch a word he said.

“What?” You ask, willing your voice to not shake.

“I asked if you were okay,” he says, voice soft. You find yourself nodding, despite your lip being pulled between your teeth as your eyes flit between him and the door. “Do you have time for a break?,” he continues, “you deserve one.”

You look back at him, then glance behind you to the door that leads to your bosses office before shaking your head, “I-I.. I don’t, no-”

“Then let’s go talk to your boss, see how he feels about Daichi having to deal with one of *his* customers.”

He’s guiding you around the bar’s counter before you can really process it, grip soft on your upper arm as he leads you to the door you had just been looking to.

“We don’t have to,” you try to sound assuring, “I’m fine.”

You know he doesn’t believe you from the way he eyes your trembling hands, “It won’t hurt to try, right?” And he gives you a smile, something sweet like honey and completely fighting the dread that had previously settled into your stomach.

He knocks on the door before you can really think to protest, waiting patiently for your boss to answer while his hand moves from your arm to your lower back; maybe it’s to keep you grounded. To keep you from scurrying away from confrontation.

Sugawara's hand settles on your lower back as an excuse to touch you, but also to make you remain in place beside him. He’s almost certain, if given the opportunity, you would’ve left the second you were able to. Within a few minutes, the door is swinging open, and the two of you are faced with your boss.

A short, stocky man who holds a cigar between his teeth. His glare settles on you first, and you avert your gaze to the floor instead. Sugawara clears his throat, feeling your muscles tense underneath his fingers. At the sound, his eyes cut to Sugawara, before they widen a fraction and he ushers the two of you into the cramped office.

It reeks of mildew throughout the room, and Sugawara wonders if this bar was really the *only* place you could find to work. You deserved somewhere better.

“What can I do for you, Sugawara? Is Daichi with you?” Your boss asks, eyes finding his hand still flush against your back, “They did something wrong?” He continues, filling in gaps for himself and not waiting for a proper answer, “I can take care of them myself, just tell me what they-”

“It isn’t anything they did.” Sugawara cuts in, voice icy and nothing compared to how he had previously spoken to you, “A customer of yours was causing a ruckus. It seems they were being harassed. Mr. Daichi, Mr. Asahi, and I had to step in. Mr. Daichi isn’t happy about it, at all, might I add.”

He turns white at the explanation, “I-I see... I wasn’t aware this was something that... happened in my bar... “

“You should monitor what happens outside of this office more often,” Sugawara continues, the hand not on your back settling underneath his jacket, showing the weapon strapped to his belt. A warning. “And I’m here to give them the rest of the night and tomorrow off; compensation for having to bear the weight of something so heinous.”

“I can’t let them go home tonight, I don’t have anyone to cover them, Sugawar-”

“It’s Mr. Sugawara to you,” he punctuates, fingers flexing against the cool metal of his gun, “and I wasn’t asking.”

You hear your boss gulp, sparing one glance up at the face of the man you’d deemed your savior, and seeing the steely look across his features. He wasn’t messing around or willing to compromise.

“R-right, I’m sorry.” Your boss bows, writes something down on a piece of paper and passes it to Sugawara, “Here’s a waiver; the next time you come, drinks will be on us.”

Sugawara takes it and shoves it in the pocket of his jacket before sending your boss a brief nod, then leads you out of the office. Daichi sits again at his regular table, the other man who you can assume is Asahi standing beside him. When the two of you approach, Daichi stands. You note briefly how red his knuckles are. He seems to take in Sugawara’s annoyed expression, looking his friend, then you, up and down.

“Everything go okay in there?” He asks, taking it upon himself to guide your group out of the bar.

Sugawara nods, though even you can see the tenseness in his shoulders, and feel the way his fingers flex as he continues to guide you outside by the small of your back.

“Just peachy.”

Asahi lets out a low whistle, “Seems like it.”

No one makes any further comment.

You have no idea where they’re leading you, but your apartment is in the other direction, yet you can’t find it yourself to ask. Sugawara’s armed, but you don’t think he’d hurt you... well, you hope he wouldn’t hurt you. He doesn’t seem like the type. His friends, however...

You’re brought out of your thoughts when they pause at a sleek black car; a BMW that looks more expensive than anything you own. Sugawara opens the door and gestures for you to enter. You eye him warily, giving the first bit of physical resistance since he’s begun helping you.

“I’m not comfortable with... just getting into a stranger's car,” you cross your arms over your chest before adding quickly, “don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for everything you’ve all done so far but... I don’t know any of you.”

Asahi gets into the front seat without a word, and Daichi eyes you from the driver’s door.

“We’re not gonna kidnap you, if that’s you think.” He says nonchalantly. It’s not that the thought hadn’t crossed your mind, you just didn’t want to speak it into existence. You open your mouth to reply, but Sugawara is quick to assure you.

“We just want to make sure you get home safe; it would be kinda tragic if all our work was for naught.” He adds the last bit as a means of a joke, but you can’t help but scrunch your nose at the thought. You weigh your options.

It *is* late out. And dark. It’s not that you’ve never walked home on your own this late, it’s just that... you’re still a little paranoid of the man from before coming out of nowhere and seeking an onslaught of revenge. And really, who are you to say no to these men after they’ve seemed to help out of the kindness of their hearts? No other person in the bar even batted an eye to your struggles. For a cherry on top, it’s a free ride- your feet are killing you.

“Fine.” You agree after a moment, “I don’t live that far anyways.”

Sugawara smiles at your acceptance, ushering for you to enter the vehicle, before climbing in himself and shutting the door. Dachi gives a satisfied smirk and gets in himself. As promised, the ride is short; Daichi pulling up to a curb beside a rundown apartment building. You gather what you own (which you realize, isn’t much. You’d been essentially ushered out of the bar- you hope no one steals from your work bag), and get out of the car, offering a small smile to the three.

“Thank you for everything, I’m grateful you three were at the bar,” you pause for a moment, as if thinking of what could’ve happened if they weren’t, then shake your head, “I owe you guys. Really.”

With one more wave goodbye, you’re unlocking the gate that leads into the building (you’re glad you at least kept your phone, wallet, and keys on your person), before going up to your own apartment.

The next day is boring to say the least. You’re uncertain if you should abide by Sugawara getting you the night off, knowing your boss was not happy with the encounter, or being demanded on what to do. You also know you have bills to pay, groceries to buy, a life to sustain. With a huff, you’re pulling on your shoes and jacket. Too antsy to not do anything.

When you pull the door open, a certain gray-haired man stands behind it, fist raised as if he was just about to knock. You both make a startled noise, eye widening as you take in the other person.

“Uh... hi... ,” he says after a moment, lowering his hand until both settle themselves into his jacket pockets, “just wanted to uhm... check in on you. Are you heading out?”

You clear your throat, blinking and glancing into your apartment for a second, “I was just heading to work... how’d you figure out which apartment is mine?”

“Ah,” he blushes, as if he’s been caught in a secret. It’s kinda... sweet, “I just asked a tenant if they knew you. They told me what number.”

You lean against the door-frame while puffing out your cheeks, “Well, I’m glad you’re not a murderer.” You pause, seem to rethink your words before narrowing your eyes at him, “You’re not a murderer... right?”

“No, of course not!” He assures quickly, brows furrowing, “I’d never even think of killing you-”

He cuts himself off when you laugh, the sound surprising him and calming his nerves at the same time. It’s cute. Really cute. You steel yourself within a few seconds, covering your mouth with your hand and letting out a few giggles.

“So, you said you were going to work?” His shoulders perk back up, smile gracing his features as he asks.

“I was, yes,” you hum out, “it feels weird just sitting at home, and I have things to buy.” His posture slumps.

“Don’t tell me I got you the day off for nothing?” He asks, almost with a pout, “It’s like I said: you deserve the break. Especially after what happened yesterday.”

“Maybe,” you shrug, “but still-”

“Nope, no buts,” Sugawara cuts you off with a wave of his hand, “you’re taking the day off and that’s final.”

He ushers you back into your own apartment, despite your protests. There’s a moment your eyes roam across everything you own; a stray blanket draped across your couch, some unwashed dishes in your sink, unorganized bills haphazardly thrown onto your table- you’re partially self-conscious, if only for a moment, but Sugawara is quick to draw you out of your thoughts.

“How about we sit down and have some tea? I heard chamomile is great for helping with relaxing.” He guides you all the way to your couch, forcing you to sit by your shoulders, then steps back and points at you, “stay.”

You hold your hands up in defense, brows raised, “I will, I will. I don’t think I have that blend, though.”

Sugawara grins, “That’s alright, I came prepared.” He steps back towards your door, opening it and grabbing something from just outside of it; a plastic bag containing what you can assume is tea.

“Wow, you are prepared.” You tease, moving to stand and assist him with making the brew, but the look he shoots you has your butt falling right back into the cushions.

Instead, Sugawara continues without your help, looking through your cabinets for cups and a tea kettle. You watch from the sidelines, itching to aid him, but knowing he’d probably just ridicule you in the end; it’s funny, almost, how he basically made himself at home despite you only speaking to him once the night prior.

It’s comfortable, the way he moves around your home without a care in the world. Within a few minutes, he’s pressing a warm cup into your hands and settling in the seat beside you. You sip on the drink, watching him do the same from the corner of your eye.

There’s a pause, a moment of silence that isn’t unwelcome, before he asks, “So, why don’t we get to know each other?”

Days turn into weeks that turn into months. Sugawara and his friends made themselves residents in your life, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to complain. While they were wary, and rightfully so with their “jobs”, you didn’t seem to bat an eye.

You understood where they were coming from, you did! But, the amount of people who harassed you had dropped down to a whopping zero, since you’ve become acquainted with them.

It’s a miracle, really.

The Boys, as you’ve decided to call them, come in every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday during the odd hours of the night. Your boss picked up very quickly on this fact, and ensured you were scheduled for them; out of fear or for brownie points, you were uncertain, but they were nice and left an outrageous tip, so you weren’t complaining.

You felt it was unethical, taking money from whom you’d consider friends, but they assure you it’s alright. You promise to pay them back one day. They dismiss it with a wave of their hand.

Sugawara makes it a point to stop by when he can; personal visits to your apartment with tea and his honey-sweet grin that makes your chest flutter and knees weak. Something more grows between you, but neither of you move to comment. You only go with the flow of whatever it is. Sharing soft kisses between sips of herbal tea becomes a regular occurrence, only to be distracted by the sound of Sugawara’s phone buzzing. He’d pull away with an apologetic smile, giving you one final peck to the lips, then nose, then forehead, before standing and leaving you to do his own business.

He doesn’t hear your silent prayers for his safety, or your whispers for him to come back to you safely.

You don’t see the hardening of his expression the moment he’s past your door-frame, or see the blood that stains past his fingertips while the cool metal of his gun presses against his palm.

“What keeps you coming around?” You ask one night, your tea sitting forgotten on the coffee table while your head rests in Sugawara’s lap. His hands find purchase on your cheeks, pinching them slightly as if you’d just asked the dumbest question in the world, and you retaliate by scrunching your nose and holding his wrists with a whine.

“You, of course.” He answers without missing a beat, seeming to enjoy the rise of sudden heat he feels against his fingertips.

“Sh-shut up.” You groan, pulling his hands from your cheeks and instead pressing them against the entirety of your face. He assumed this is in an attempt to cover your growing embarrassment, but it does nothing to stop his teasing.

“What? I’m telling the truth.” He feels you breath heavily from your nostrils, the air tickling his palm, before you press a kiss against the worn skin.

Now, he flushes.

A light shade of pink decorates his cheeks at the intimate contact, despite the fact that you’ve done so much more before. You pull his hands away with a hum.

“Your cheeks are red.” You comment nonchalantly, giving him the goofiest grin.

He smothers your face with a stray pillow in retaliation.

A routine is built between you and Sugawara. Not one based on a schedule, or written on a calendar for you to follow; he only comes to the bar to take you home (sometimes, he allows himself to indulge you in a drink, that soon has you drunk off him, instead).

It’s endearing, the way he makes the time to drive you somewhere that’s no more than a ten minute walk, but you can’t find it in yourself to complain. It’s an excuse to talk to him. To be with him. You enjoy it.

Sugawara insists it’s nothing more than to ensure himself you make it home safely, but you know deep down he enjoys the time spent together as much as you do, if the hand resting peacefully on your thigh as he drives is anything to go by. He makes it a point to walk you all the way to your door, and only pauses once you're inside safely. You take it upon yourself to press a chaste kiss to his lips; the same kind that could lead to more if he’d allow it.

Tonight, he doesn’t let himself bask in your presence, pressing a kiss to your forehead and bidding you goodnight. The promise of seeing you tomorrow after a job being the last thing on his tongue as he gives his farewell.

Being on your phone while working was never something you’d done before meeting Sugawara- your boss's icy stare used to be enough to make you hide it away in your back pocket until the end of your shift. Being involved (if you’d even call it that), has made your boss change his mind, however, now averting his gaze when he sees you take a glance at the screen and type a quick message to the gray-haired man.

[kou 1:47 am] Are you sure you’re alright with walking home alone?

[me 1:48 am] i’m sure i’ll be fine:) i’ll have some tea ready by the time you get finished

[kou 1:52 am] If you’re certain...

[me 1:53 am] i am, focus on your job! i’ll be waiting

You jump at the sound of someone tapping a glass loudly against the bar, pushing your phone into your pocket while sending the patron an apologetic smile. He doesn’t return it, only shoving the glass in your direction and grumbling something under his breath. Quickly, you refill his glass, along with his companions; a group of about five men that you’d never seen before that had come into the bar a few minutes after your shift started and hadn’t left.

That was at 10:00 pm. You wonder how they’ve held down their drinks so well.

The man you’d just served remained at the bar the entirety of the night, while his acquaintances seemed to make their rounds wandering the bar. Each one had matching rings, you note, golden bands with red jewels decorating the side and a ruby sitting in the middle- the letter N carved into the gem.

You feel his eyes on you as you do anything- from wiping down tables, to serving others their drinks, his gaze rakes over your form. From the corner of your eye, you see him lean over and speak to who you guess is closest to him; a shorter man with dyed blonde hair and dark roots, whose eyes don’t leave the device in his hands.

His other three companions seem to be scanning the bar, each a decent length apart and making eye contact with one another. You watch the man who’d been watching you, his eyes settling on his surroundings. Black hair covers his eyes as he lifts his hand, then brings it down in a motion just as quick.

You should’ve been able to realize what was going on before.

The three men pull out guns- automatics, you think. You don’t stay around long enough to see, instead dropping to the ground behind the bar seconds before shots ring out. Shakily, you pull out your phone and dial Sugawara’s number, lip pulled between your teeth and praying the sounds of the guns overwhelms the sound of ringing.

“Well, well, lookie who thought they could just hide and be safe.”

One glance up, and you see the man leading this charge; he leans over the bar counter with a lazy grin, as if the screaming and gunfire was nothing to him. Maybe it wasn’t.

“You’re the bartender Sugawara’s been getting cozy with, right? A shame this had to happen to your lil ole bar.” He stands at his full height, and you scramble back against the opposite side behind the bar, feeling your shoulders press against cheap alcohol and shot glasses.

“Is that the man himself on the phone?” He continues to speak, hazel eyes skimming over your phone.

You phone, that lays abandoned where you had just been sitting, screen lit and face up. When did you drop it?

The call read that it’d been going on for 00:24 and counting. Maybe Sugawara answered? Or maybe it was his voicemail. God, what could he even do? It’s not like he’s at your beck and call at the moment.

“Oi, why don’t you pass it here? Maybe we can chat about something,” his grin widens, arms shifting as he moves to grab something you can’t see behind the bar.

You’re scrambling to your feet before you realize, grabbing a stray bottle of vodka and throwing it haphazardly in his direction. You don’t wait for the shattering of the glass, or his cursing under his breath; instead, you stumble into your bosses office and slam the door shut behind you.

After ensuring the click of the lock, you back away from the door, glancing around the room. Your boss, you note, is nowhere to be found. The room itself is almost barren of anything, and you wonder for a moment why.

A stray letter on his desk tells you.

Skimming over it all you need to do; apparently writing to the leader of the Nekoma gang, and explaining for a small fee, he’d allow them to come into his bar armed with the promise of Karasuno’s new toy being there. He sold you out.

Rattling of the door handle has you freezing.

“Come on, cutie, don’t be shy.” Another forceful tug, “Don’t wanna hurt you,” there’s a pause.

,“yet”

You glance around the room again with desperation. There’s nothing that you can defend yourself with- hell, would you even try if given the chance? They have guns.

“I’m getting impatient!”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Something slams against the door and you have to cover your mouth to hold in your scream.

“Just make this easy for us!”

Another hit. You can hear the wood splinter. You’re running out of time. Think, think, think.

Closet or window. Closet or window.

You open the window, breaking down the screen behind it with a huff as more splintering echoes in your ears.

“This is irritating.”

With one final hit, the door is thrown open.

Kuroo Tetsurou walks into the room, pistol in hand. Kenma follows him in, glancing around the space with a grimace.

“It smells in here.”

“Doesn’t look like we’ll be in here long.” Yaku emerges past the two, eyes set on the opening within the wall.

“A shame,” Kuroo sighs, putting his gun in its holster, “Yamamoto and Lev won’t be as kind as us.”

A stray gunshot rings outside the building, and Kuroo pouts, “And here I thought we’d have something to hold over our friend’s heads. Oh well.” A shrug.

Kenma hums, “We should get going. They’re nearby.”

“What would we do without you, Kenma.” Kuroo’s grin returns, ruffling the shorter males hair.

Kenma grumbles, swatting his hand away and is the first to exit the musty room. Yaku follows, snatching up the stray letting and crumbling it on his way out. Kuroo pauses, letting his eyes skim over the area one more time.

“Kuroo, come on! We gotta pick up Lev.”

With a sigh, the black-haired male obliges.

You stay where you are, cramped in the closet. You don’t move, despite knowing they’re probably well away from the bar.

It feels like hours before you find enough confidence to move, a burn in your thighs that settled forever ago. The second you move, you hear the sound of the bar’s front doors opening. You curse yourself for not leaving earlier.

“(l/n)?” Someone calls out. You freeze all over again, recognition clear in their voice.

Sugawara.

There’s shuffling beyond the bar, the sound of chairs scraping and broken glass being crushed under footfall.

“(y/n)!” You jump up at the urgency in his voice, scrambling to get out of the space and tripping over your own shaky legs just as he pushes past the broken door frame.

The two of you stare dumbly at each other for a moment.

“You’re okay.” He whispers, if only to assure himself. You throw yourself into his arms the second the words leave his lips, and he pulls you flush against his chest, burying his face in the crook of your neck with a shuddering sigh.

“You’re okay.” He says again, and you nod.

“I’m okay.”

He pulls away a moment later, cupping your face between his hands, and wiping stray tears from your cheeks. You didn’t even realize you’d begun to cry.

“I need you to go now,” he continues. Your brows furrow.

“What?”

“You need to get out of here. Go to a friends house, the library- somewhere that isn’t here or your apartment.” He explains.

“But-”

“I’ll find you, I swear. You just can’t be *here*.”

Looking into his eyes, you know he’s completely serious. You nod your head.

“Good. Okay. Asahi will take you wherever you decide to go.”

He’s met with another nod.

Sugawara presses a quick kiss to the crown of your hair, lips lingering for a second longer than necessary before pulling away completely.

“I’ll see you again.”

#mafia!au #sugawara koushi x reader #koushi sugawara x reader #sugawara x reader #koushi x reader #mafia!haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #welcome to the mafia zone

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