#this is my life now i am the wings au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shiny-jr · 9 months

Text

from DIASOMNIA

- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader.

- Characters: Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge, Silver, Sebek Zigvolt.

- Summary: (Continuation, after this “we just got a letter, wonder where it’s from”) You have barred them from entering the safety of Ramshackle Dorm, but they are determined to make their words reach you. Which is why the letters begin arriving at your doorstep.

- Note: This is just the first part, only with Diasomnia. I’ll post the rest later once its written. For now, I hope you enjoy this part! Oh, and this was inspired by the mention of letters @qierxing‘s fic inspired by the whole imposter au idea. So yeah. Hopefully I caught all the mistakes in this post because I am not rereading all that again.

Diasomnia | Ignihyde

Among the first letters you pick is carefully sealed in a black envelope. You found it peculiar that Grim, who had offered to use his claws to open the envelopes, hadn’t been able to cause the slightest tear as if it were being protected by some magic. But it opened with ease during your first attempt to rip it open.

You didn’t care much for the wax family crest that had sealed it, or the black envelope itself. Maybe it would feel liberating to just set them all ablaze as soon as you finished skimming over the carefully written words.

To my dearest human,

I understand the pain I have caused you.

Ever since that moment I betrayed you, all I have seen in my vision and in my mind is your expression of terror. It tortures me. Your terror spurred by my actions and my very own hands. I am your most beloved and loyalest of companions in this world, and yet, had my retainers behind those doors not intervened, you would have been gone forever. And it would have been all my doing, all my fault.

I write this letter to apologize, but as I write this, I realize that there is no forgiving what has been done. Ever. No matter how I plead or what comes from my lips. But I will say this: there are no amount of words that can truly convey how sorry I am. This will haunt me for the remainder of my centuries of life.

Agonizing thoughts plague my mind and torment me at all hours of the day and night, at every and each moment. Even now, I reflect on everything I had done to harm you. While, the time I believed in those falsehoods was minuscule compared to the days others knew and acted upon it, the fact still stands that I was too easily deceived by mere rumors alone. I was blinded by my rage when I heard that someone dared to impersonate you and had been the probable cause of your vessel’s malfunction, that I did not even take a brief respite to consider the validity of the information that reached my ears.

Believe me, although I realize you have no reason to hold even a shred of faith in a single word I say and for that I would not blame you, but I will atone for the crimes I have committed. In any way possible. Even if it takes my entire lifetime, I will continue forward until I have achieved this goal and you may smile upon me once again. There is a human saying, which if I recall correctly I believe goes something like, forgive but never forget. Well, I would beg for forgiveness, while knowing full well that my misdeeds will never truly be forgotten. The harm I inflicted will leave scars that will never fully fade.

For every scratch my nails left on your delicate flesh, you may drive vines of the sharpest thorns against my own skin until blood pools all around me. For every bruise from my hand that tainted you, I would hand you an iron sword to use as you wish against me until you believe I’ve had enough. If it pleased you, I would even utilize my magic to transform into a figure with wings, which I would then proceed to sever the wings by my own hand and offer them to you on a silver platter.

Any punishment you can think of, I would readily accept.

Although living with the guilt of my mistakes and knowledge of the weight of my actions against you, is by far the most painful torture I’ve ever known.

If I do not receive word from you soon, I fear I may go insane with my own guilt. Yet I know I bring this upon myself. And if I were to go insane, if I was not insane this entire time already, you are all that would be in my thoughts. You are all that would remain in the part of my mind that is intact. You are currently and have been all that I think of, so perhaps my sanity is already long gone.

I would venture into the deepest crevices of hell and back, just to prove my worth to you. Even if I must be punished for the rest of my life, so be it. But I implore you to allow me to redeem myself, let yourself bear witness to the incredible feats I may accomplish in your name. Redemption... The thought of perhaps one day receiving the blessing of your smile and your grace once more in the near or distant future, is the light at the end of the tunnel in this dark period of my existence. I am yours. Whether you still desire me or not, I will forever be yours, and I will brave through trials of fire to demonstrate my eternal devotion to you.

Just know that I will do everything in my power to please you. Whether it be to fulfill the judgement you cast upon me, to demonstrate my worth and determination to achieve redemption, or simply because you command it so, it shall be done.

For now, I will wait on your response and deliberate over my next course of action. Should you desire anything, anything at all, wether it be something as simple as traveling to the store for a purchase, you have a moment of recluse and desire company, or if you command me to move the island or clear the very heavens, all you must do is speak my name. Then, consider it done. Once my name is upon your lips, I will be there as the last syllable leaves your tongue.

I will await the moment I am summoned.

Forever yours,

Malleus Draconia

That was... unnerving. Your hand unconsciously drifted up to the slight puncture wounds on your neck. They had long since dried, but you vividly remember feeling the thin trail of crimson being drawn and dripping down like a steady stream.

You could remember the way Malleus withdrew as soon as he realized the truth, like he had been burned with his hands on you in that fashion. The blood, your blood, staining his sharpened nails. The red was deeper than any nail polish or ink.

You were nearly sent spiraling, until you felt a tap and the texture of paper against your arm. When you glance down, you see Grim pressing his paws with another crumpled letter onto you. The ink on this letter is red, but the feline’s wide curious eyes are a glowing blue.

“You okay? What’s so interesting about that wall you’re lookin’ at? You’re kinda just staring off into nothing there.”

Offering a grateful nod to Grim who frowned worriedly, you accept the already opened envelope while tossing aside the letter from Malleus. “I’m good. Just... thinking.”

Lifting a hand, you place your palm against his head and scratch the spot behind his ears. Grim lets out a content purr and holds a bag of junk food, which he probably found among the mountain of gifts, and curls up beside you. You continue the slow and soothing scratches as you use your freehand to unravel the letter Grim brought you from the towering stacks.

This envelope was already cut open. It was a light brown and more square-shaped as thin rope kept it tied together. It had a mash of colorful strings that formed a messy bow to top it off. At least, you assumed it was meant to be a bow, but it looked more like a messy knot that would be impossible to untangle. Good thing it was already partially cut by Grim’s claws earlier.

As mentioned, the ink was red, an interesting choice. While the handwriting was not as elegant as Malleus’ letter. Some words were written neatly, before falling off the line and blending with other words. Making it a bit difficult to read, but you managed.

If you’re reading this,

This means that I am not irredeemable in your eyes.

Had I been beyond redemption, you would have not even opened this letter. If this was a lost cause, a merry dance, this paper would’ve been tossed into the trash without a second thought. But, my words have reached you. You’re reading this right now, aren’t you? It’s why I decided to write this. I could predict the actions you’d take. You are different from your vessel, but it’s only natural that you would act similarly to the silly little doll you controlled, the same doll that sparked this whole fiasco.

I truly am so sorry if I frightened you. While I will admit, it was my intention to strike fear into your heart and use you to serve for another dubious purpose, that was when I hadn’t recognized you. Although, I know this doesn’t mean much to you, I figured I should be entirely honest to you. It’s the least I can do. I’m such a fool for being quick to believe the rumors like some sort of senseless child.

All I can do now, is remain true and offer up my loyalty. It’s nothing compared to the mistakes I made, and I’ve made plenty, but I know an apology will never suffice. So, even if you’re still uncertain about redemption, I’ll remain loyal. Among all the beings and creatures I’ve met in my lifetime, you remain an enigma. You’re human, but at the same time, you’re different. There continues to be so much I do not know of you. I wonder, could you hear me whenever I spoke to your plaything? Do you recall the stories I told, of my time as a reckless youth? Foolhardy, wild, that I was. But I was also fiercely loyal. For the Draconias, I razed down all foes like wheat in a field.

Now that I consider it, perhaps it's best if you hadn’t heard me recount those tales. While I had been eager to share with you my experiences and act out my thrilling adventures, perhaps my story telling was much too graphic. I wouldn’t want the vivid details of bloodshed to be cause for alarm as our most recent encounter was far from pleasant. You have to forgive me, sometimes I get carried away when narrating my accomplishments and exploits. I’ll share more light-hearted memories with you the next time we meet.

Our first meeting with your true self really went abysmally, didn’t it? I know that things never really go as planned, so I don’t bother planning such things in advance. But, I had pictured it to be a lovely moment. Silver and Sebek would look at you with shining eyes and proclaim their loyalty as they had practiced vows over and over again for such an occasion, I would get to embrace your true form and unlock your secrets, and of course Malleus would be truly content for once as he finally received the company he deserved.

But, as expected, things didn’t go accordingly.

Those three youths are miserable, thinking of the proper words to pen, a way to apologize for the suffering they’ve caused. But now, we are the ones suffering because we hurt you.

They write and write, but tear their letters over and over again as they believe no words they’ve written so far are adequate. Soon they’ll realize that no words will ever be sufficient for an apology. Even if they were to create new words that are unheard of by any dictionary, it would not come close to being enough. That’s why I’ve decided to stick with this single attempt, because I already know that nothing I ever write will measure up to being acceptable.

There is something about you that always leaves me bemused. Your grace left me feeling dizzy and giddy, like I was experiencing a little crush again, although this was much more intense than any crush. The truth about your vessel controlled by you, had me perplexed as I had never heard of such a thing. And well, the disastrous chase that followed your arrival... you know that part well and could assume how I feel about that from what I’ve told you. At present, all I can do is remain loyal, for what my loyalty is worth to you. Beyond that, despite having an abundance of experiences, there is no such situation that could have prepared me for this moment.

Genuinely, I am stumped once again. I cannot even envision what can be done with my own two hands, that can be worthy of your attention once again and earn me redemption. But, you can be certain of one thing, and that is: my loyalty is undying. I still have a few years left in these old bones of mine, and I will use the rest of my life to serve you.

Whether you want me or not. If you still want me, I will be of use to you. Whatever you are in need of, a soldier, a plaything, a companion, or even someone to take out your anger on. I shall be it. If you don’t want me, I will still be there. I will always be there to smile and lift your spirits like you once did for me through your doll.

I eagerly wait for word from you.

Until we meet again soon,

Lilia Vanrouge

None of these letters were comforting in the slightest. In fact, they only placed you further on edge. For a moment, you considered stopping it here after only two and getting rid of the rest.

Grim by now had settled in your lap, and looked up at you with those watchful blue eyes. Had he been staring at you the entire time?

“Let me guess, they’re not taking it well?”

“No, not at all.” You answer with a grimace. If this was how they were like now, you didn’t even want to know how they acted when they found out your vessel stopped working over a week ago.

“Huh, sucks for them.” The feline stretched out, his claws poking out for a moment before quickly retracting as he plopped back down on his back with his stomach up. Maybe it was his own attempts to fill the silence, or to let you know you weren’t alone, but he eventually groaned. “Hey, read me one. I wanna know what they say.”

Unable to say no to your companion, you nodded slowly and smiled weakly, “Alright, alright, let’s see what we have here...”

You plucked out a random letter with neat packaging. However, just because the exterior was pretty, didn’t mean the interior message would be. You learned that already from the last two letters you had read.

This envelope looked somewhat similar to the last one, square-shaped and tied closed with string. However, instead of the knot of ribbons on it, it held a simpler gift. The brown rope around it was tied in a neat bow, and between the string were lavender stems with a small branch of wild berries.

Grim immediately indulged in the berries and the flowers, staining his little fangs and whiskers with the sweet sticky juice and purple petals. All the while exclaiming, “Oh, oh! I remember this letter. Some bird came to drop it and it flew away just before I could catch it...”

A short laugh escaped your lips as you hear him. “So that’s why you were grumbling this morning.”

Not wanting to be reminded again, he swat his paw at your nose as the feline hissed, “Shh! Just read already!”

Dear player,

I truly am deeply remorseful and I offer my sincerest apologies.

I was to be a knight, that has been something I have strived for ever since I was a child. A knight not just to serve Malleus but to protect others, and eventually I discovered my purpose was to serve you as well. But... all I did was stand idly by and watch the torment. Shortly after meeting your vessel, I had promised to shield you from all danger. I broke that promise.

I cannot imagine how frightened you must have been. Had just one person stop and thought things through, they may have realized the horrible mistake that was being made. Had I acted as soon as I felt the tug on my heart when I saw you weakened and on the dirt, I may have saved you from anymore pain.

Those eyes, your eyes, I see them in my sleep. You were scared, and through your gaze you were pleading for help, were you not? I see it every time I close my eyes. You witnessed it yourself, the very moment when I had failed you. You were right there, so close I could have extended a helping hand. But my grief rendered me sightless, all I could think of in that moment is how my heart ached and how I longed to see you again. Even if it was through your vessel. The rumors didn’t quite make any sense to me, as I wondered how could anyone possibly be so cruel as to tear you away from us?

Father had said that it would all be over soon. That capturing the imposter and bringing them to their knees, would make everything better. But when I saw you on the ground before we learned of your identity, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was alright. Would the player have wanted this? Would they have scorned upon witnessing the scene? Would this undoubtedly end the throbbing pain I felt in my heart? The pain was becoming unbearable, and I was not the only one to feel it. The news made little sense to me. Sebek insisted that it was true, and Father seemed to believe so as well. However, that is no excuse for how I went along as if it were okay.

You were innocent and helpless, you, the player, not only witnessed the scene but were the victim. I’m so sorry, I should have done something... If it were the only way to gain your forgiveness, I would spend every moment of my waking hours writing letters of apology. To do so I would keep myself awake for as long as humanely possible. If asked, I would use every moment to pen these letters, each different from the last. Although after several attempts in redoing this single letter, I realize that it would be a pointless endeavor.

After reflecting, the only way to make up for what I have do is be patient.

Be patient and await for word from you. I cannot force you, I cannot pressure you, I can only pause and prepare myself to do whatever I must in order to earn back your grace.

Please, do not keep me waiting too long. I know I have no right to ask you this. I’m willing to wait years if needed, but part of me has this fear that I will never regain a spot near your heart until I’m frail and feeble with age. Rest assured, even in old age, I would be willing to be your knight. Even if my bones ached, I would raise my sword and shield. If I couldn’t use my weakened legs, I would call upon a horse to be my steed. And if I were to become magicless, I would use the remainder of my physical strength to serve you.

If I may be honest with you? I have no idea what to do. Yes, I said I would wait, but what else can I do? What can I do to eventually secure a place beside you, if it were possible? In times of trouble I normally turn to Lilia and Malleus for advice, however, I am a bit unsettled by their approach to this delicate matter. Truthfully, I am anxious, but while they share the sentiment, they are oddly confident that things will turn out alright in the end. I am unsure how they can muster the self-assurance to quell their fears. Maybe they know something that I do not, and have decided not to share this secret for now...

Nevertheless, for now I’ll eagerly anticipate the day we can reunite just as I have dreamed. I greatly look forward to the second where not only I can see you smile once again and your eyes might finally look at me with content, but also the moment where all those I know might get the opportunity to be in your peaceful grace.

I’ve dragged this letter on for too long. If you were to take something away from this letter, let it be this: I will carry out your wishes. No matter what you may think of me, whether it be a positive or negative image in your mind, I will continue forward in your name. Even if you think me unfit for the title of knight, then consider me a humble servant instead. Nothing will shake my commitment, and I will do whatever it is you ask.

This is a pledge that will not be broken.

Cordially,

Silver

This letter felt a bit lighter than the others. Still, it was slightly intense in its own way, but it was nowhere near as extreme as the previous two were. And, maybe you had a better opinion on Silver, not because he was gentle with his words but because he was one of the very few who hadn’t threatened you, directly harmed you, or treated you cruelly.

But! He didn’t get a free pass just because of that. Yes, he may not have directly caused any harm, but he didn’t exactly help you either.

Grim had taken the letter from you, and inspected the paper in his paws. He held it above his head, scrunching up his nose a bit as he looked it over. “I dunno... he’s okay.”

At that, you roll your eyes a bit as a smirk crept up from the corner of your mouth. “You’re not just saying that because his letter came with a snack?”

“No! You think me easy to bribe? I think not! It would take a whole bucket full of berries just to get me to even discuss it. Then, I’d turn them down and take the berries anyways!” The feline proclaimed his brilliant plan should that situation ever arise. Maybe the gifts you allowed him to take were starting to get to his head. “But... he could be worse. Silver, as dumb as he was like everyone else, he did hear me out after they separated us.”

Silver did that? If that were true, it’s possible that he wasn’t as bad as the others who had wronged you.

“That’s... good to know.” You murmur as you pluck up another random envelope from the pile.

The last envelope you pick up before you planned to take a break was surprisingly plain. It was just that. A plain white envelope, sealed by green wax with what looked like a family crest that depicted a creature with fangs and scales. One of the corners was crinkled, as if it was gripped too tightly there.

As soon as you slid out the folded letter, you were bombarded by the ink. Whoever had wrote this, seemed like they applied too much force. This caused certain parts of some letters to be too round and heavy with ink that made those bits feel damp and stain your fingers the slightest bit. Like whoever wrote this, placed just as much pressure with their hands on the pen gliding across the page, as much pressure as they felt weighing on their mind.

Great Player,

As I pen this, I am on my hands and knees.

I have prepared a multitude of letters which I will send daily, so that now and in the future you will continue to hear my apology and know I truly mean it. One admission of regret is not enough. An apology is only an acknowledgment of an offense, it does not absolve one of their wrongdoings. I know this! So, I, Sebek Zigvolt, will atone by any means necessary!

To you, the player who I wronged and deserves nothing but happiness and perfection, I give my deepest sincerest profuse apology. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m SORRY. Right now when I look at my hands that I use to write, I’m reminded of the vicious way I grabbed you like some... heathen! These hands sullied your flawless self, and for that alone I will never forgive myself!

Had it not been for the wise words of Master Lilia and the bothersome yet logical reasoning from Silver, I would have been at your door everyday, every hour, begging for a second chance. In the midst of brainstorming, I presented my idea of crawling on hands and knees, from Diasomnia to the Ramshackle Dorm, to deliver the letter myself. Then, I would display whatever cuts or bruises formed on my palms and knees which I would receive from the rocky roads or thorns, that way you may see my devotion was true and no lengths are too great when it comes to you! No matter the pain or burden! The idea seems to appeal to Lord Malleus, but I was told that it comes off as too extreme...

But! I beg to differ!! I only consider it so that you may understand what I feel, so that you might comprehend the things I would do for you, and receive me back in your good graces! Additionally, delivering the letter in this manner would cause me as much or more physical pain than I caused you! It is a shame that things have come to this. I had wished so much for our first proper meeting to be one of joy where you might accept me as your knight! In spite of that, I will not falter in shame! If I were to deliver the following letters in that method I had detailed earlier, I would wear the scars proudly! It would be physical proof of my faithfulness towards you!

I am sorry, and I will continue to say it. Perhaps, this may be presumptuous of me, but if you consider it, Diasomnia did not torment you nearly as long as any other insolent dorm had! And! We retainers accompanied Lord Malleus every day to check on the wellbeing of your vessel, and watch over it while investigating various possible approaches on how to revive Yuu. We diligently did this until the moment we encountered your true self!

I swear to you, no one shall harm you from this moment forth!

From now on, I’ll march forward and see to it that you are never hurt ever again! This is something I know that my fellow dormmates will tirelessly work toward as well.

Have you realized that we have been guarding you and the serenity of your dorm in the past days? Have you not thought it strange that none have come to needlessly pester you? Yes, that is all thanks to the efforts of those in Diasomnia! Even when you do not realize it, we are insuring your welfare and the tranquility you require to recover! Of course, as much as I desperately want to inform you of the details, I will not. It is best you don’t know.

Now, I must be honest with you. Originally, I had planned this letter to be much longer and have contents that would have been much different than what you are currently reading. I aimed to be honest in my feelings! But before I could sign off on the original draft, I realized that the others may be in the right. It is possible that our devotion, my devotion, may come off as disquieting if I were completely sincere. I’ve had to restrain myself on many occasions, reminding myself to at least appear collected and controlled. That is not as easy as it sounds!

How could it be, when the one I must suppress my emotions and actions for, is you? That’s as if asking to repress part of my very soul and heart! I absolutely detest hiding it!! But when I remember this is for you and your own comfort, it becomes bearable. I can only hope that soon, very soon, I might be able to unveil my true sentiments towards you! As intense and extreme as they may be!

It seems that I’m nearing the word limit that they imposed. Once again, I apologize. I’ll have to contemplate new ways to write ‘sorry.’ I wish I could write a million more words for you! But even a million words wouldn’t be anywhere near a satisfactory amount for me to detail how much I revere you! And it would take more than another million words for me to write a full apology, but even then I wouldn’t be satisfied! No single letter is adequate enough, so be prepared to receive the rest I have written!

I will make sure they are delivered posthaste!

Faithfully,

Sebek Zigvolt

Great... you’re back to being unnerved again.

There was something about them all being so weirdly obsessed, but in vary different ways. Malleus and Lilia puzzled you, they had you feeling the most uneasy by far. Maybe it had to do with the fact that they were both not human, they were arcane beings with enigmatic personalities and objectives that were incomprehensible to you.

Out of the four, Silver was the only one that was fully human like yourself, but even he was a bit of a mystery as he was raised by the fae. It was hard to be wary of him, which was probably because your distrust and fear of him wasn’t as intense as it was towards the others due to his good nature and lack of actions he took during the whole disaster.

As for Sebek, well, he was unnerving in his own right but it was nowhere near on the level that Malleus and Lilia were on. At the very least he wasn’t a complete mystery to you. It was easy to figure out his intentions, because he either said them or wore them on his sleeve.

Your mind was spinning as you looked over the four letters, filled with lines upon lines and more lines of pages. In that moment your breath quickened as you noticed the cloudy sky outside. For a brief second, you feared you would see that familiar flash of green lightning, taking you back to that dark day when you nearly died. It’s like you could feel Sebek’s hands tightly gripping the back of your skull that forced you against the earth, you saw Silver’s sorrowful gaze that spoke a thousand words you didn’t yet understand, you heard Lilia’s words hinting to a doomed fate of becoming some lifeless doll, and god, you couldn’t forget him even if you wanted to. Malleus. He was the worst of all. You felt his nails and fingers constricting around your neck and squeezing out all the air, you saw his haunting green eyes with those slit pupils as he glowered at you with such anger and hate, and you heard what you had thought would be the last words you ever heard come from his lips––

“Hey!”

You were torn out of those dark thoughts by the feline in your lap. A concerned frown tugged at Grim’s lips, but once he saw he had your attention, he mustered a slight grin as he held up what looked like an armful of snacks. At least, as much as he could carry in his small paws. From his grin, you could see his little fangs still covered in the remnants of the berries and flower petals.

“Look, I found your favorite! This is getting boring, so let’s just take a break!”

2K notes · View notes

toruro · 7 months

Text

— ✧ devil by the window

temptation touched my tongue / spread the wings of desire (a friday the 13th special)

description: all your fairy friends warned you not to get tangled up with the demons that lurk on the ground, but you swear on every star in the sky that minghao is different.

warnings: smut (18+), consent is clear but reader is somewhat unaware of what sex is

tags: enchanted forest au, demon hao, fairy reader, corruption kink, loss of virginity, innocence kink, pet names (fairy, pretty), condescension, brief implied exhibitionism

w/c: 5k+

request: hiii for hao could u write fairytailesque theme umm like vibes of love between fairy and devil cdrama! mean dom hao secretly a softie for u<33 i feel like u would rock it!!

a/n: i got something out for friday the 13th! sorry to anon for losing the og ask, hope u see this! for those who saw the first version of this, i am sorry. i popped this out by listening to freefall while being high as hell

Joshua was the first to warn you about those who live below. Those who lurk in the shadows, waiting, and waiting, and waiting to pounce on the first naive soul to cross their path.

You didn’t quite believe him at first. Your head was in the pristine clouds that float above; living your little fairy life among the heights of the forest, days spent buzzing around with your friends, glowing smiles and shining eyes, petal-cloth dress flowing over your soft skin as you flutter from tree to tree—your life was perfect.

Seokmin tells you about it next. He recites a story of one of his friends, Chan, who got a little too close to the ground. The young boy hardly escaped the luring hands of a demon who crept up on him, and to this day, Chan has a scar on his left ankle.

Maybe catching sight of the little mark on the other fairy’s skin the next time you saw Chan was a little bit of a reality check, but still, you don’t worry too much.

After all, how could you? Your life was perfect, so what need was there for all this tension? All this trouble, worrying about a world so, so far away …

⟢

You’re falling.

You’re falling unimaginably fast.

You’re not really sure how it happened—you were floating through the trees and something in your magic spasmed for a second and the next thing you know you’re flailing around, unable to get those sparks flying again.

And you try to yell for help, call for Seokmin because he’s the last one you’d seen, a cold rush overwhelming your body when you realize you’re too far down for him to hear you anyways. You close your eyes tight and brace for the impact as you feel the bases of the trees grow thicker as you near the ground and then—

Wait, what? Why didn’t you hit the ground and—oh, you’re floating again. Reflexes must’ve kicked in upon realizing the difference in air pressure.

It takes a few moments to get yourself back on balance using what little energy you’ve got left. You’re dangerously close to the ground—mere meters hovering above it, really, but right as you think you’ve managed to flutter up a bit higher, you lose control again, dropping straight down with no luck on your side to stop you.

You crash down into the ground, letting out a soft shriek as your body thuds. It shakes you for a moment but as you look around, you’re endlessly grateful to have fallen on a relatively soft patch of grass. Dusting yourself off as you try to sit up straight, the fact that you are now on the ground without your magic is dawning on you.

You aren’t sure how long you sit there, just gazing at the thick, dark trees around you. It’s rather peaceful, you wonder if you landed on the same grounds that Chan did when he got that scar. You doubt it.

You gaze up at the sight, soft breaths and gentle eyes, and you start to think that the ground is much nicer than anyone has ever told you but suddenly, there’s a rustling in the bushes behind you. In an instant you feel cold.

Dreadfully cold.

So cold, you don’t dare to turn around, figure cowering in on itself as you shut your eyes tight when the rustling intensifies, turning into thudding footsteps that approach you. And then, it stops, and you believe for a gracing second if the thing has left you alone, but you know better than that because after just five seconds of silence, you hear it breathing from above.

“Wh—who are?” you murk up the courage to whimper, wincing as you hold a hand up to face your face.

Through the fingers, you catch the silhouette of a man. He doesn’t look much different from all the other boys you’ve seen before, and you wonder if you should take your chances and let your hands drop.

“Are you …” Your breath hitches in when you finally look at him—chiseled jawline and sharp, cold eyes that watch you carefully. You feel your palms sink into the ground as you try to scurry back, but suddenly, it feels as though your hands can’t move. “... a demon?”

The pretty man smiles, but some funny feeling in your stomach tells you he isn’t exactly happy. He smiles oddly, and then he chuckles. He chuckles oddly, and then he laughs.

“What do you think, fairy?” His voice is cool and crisp, cutting through you like a blade of ice. The chill is thrilling. You think back to the story Seokmin always tells you. The scar on Chan’s ankle. The words of caution Joshua is always careful to remind you of.

“Y-you don’t look l-like the other—” You stop yourself from speaking because the shake in your voice is too much. You never even knew you could produce such a sound so potent in … fear? Enthrallment? Heat? You aren’t sure.

“The other what?” Slowly, he inches forward, and still you can’t find it in you to move away. You’re starting to think that you simply don’t want to.

His long, black hair wisps over his forehead and a few strands sit above his nose, and you can’t help but admire his natural elegance. He’s standing right next to you now, and as you look up at him, something in the back of your head buzzes.

Your ears are flooded with a white noise and some part of your brain is telling you you should be scared. You should be terrified, and you should wail for Joshua or Seokmin or Mingyu to come help but a much more convincing part of your brain tells you to stay put. To look up at this demon with wide eyes and parted lips. To whisper, “Demons. The other demons.”

He crouches over you now, so close that you feel his warm breath on your forehead. “Have you ever seen a demon?” You shake your head no, too afraid of the sound your throat might make if you try to speak.

He grins, and this time you don’t question the sincerity. He holds out a hand, and you think to yourself that such beautiful fingers could never taint skin like Chan’s.

“Let me show you,” he murmurs into the hazy air.

You don’t hesitate to take his hand.

Your magic comes back by the end of that day, and you are able to flutter your way up with Minghao’s name and a bidding farewell on your tongue.

You don’t tell the other fairies about what you do at night now. You don’t tell the other fairies how after everyone’s settled into their little abodes that linger from the branches, you creep out of your own. You don’t tell the other fairies about the beautiful views you see as you wisp through the trees, catching cool leaves on your skin as you slowly start to flutter down.

You don’t tell the other fairies of the little, illuminated pond you dip your toes into, or how when you turn around as your feet plant into the soil, Xu Minghao is already slipping into your line of vision from behind a thick trunk.

Dark cloth hangs off his chiseled figure, loose ends flowing with the night zephyrs. He sits on a rock by the pond as you cross your legs over on the verdant green grass, light dress splaying thinly over your thighs, skin shimmering under the moonlight.

He talks to you, tells you about his life, his friends. Every night, you listen with your lips slightly parted as you watch him and his dark hair. He teaches you about the ground, about the soft soil you sit upon, he teaches you about the roots of trees, about the little animals that scurry by the trunks, he teaches you that there is so much that lies beneath the tree tops, that there is so much you still don’t know.

Seungcheol laughed at Minghao earlier when he crept away from where he and his friends usually spend the night. “Going off to see your little fairy?” (Minghao wonders if the weird feeling in his stomach erupts from embarrassment at Seungcheol’s tone, or from a growing warmth when he refers to you as his.)

His friends find it a little funny—a fairy and a demon conversing at the dead of night, but he doesn’t really find it amusing at all.

Enthralling, would be the right word actually, because you come down every midnight where he teaches you, and he teaches you, and he teaches you so much, and your eyes are so beautiful, your voice so kind, your smile so bright, and so you teach him what it means for his heart to race.

You two sit together tonight, your hands neatly folded over your lap as you sit on your knees; Minghao sits next to you, legs out in front of him as he leans back on his arms. Under the light of the half moon above, you’re both silent.

You don’t have anything to say, not tonight. The cool air that sits between says enough.

Some time through the moments you sit in silence, Minghao has a hand brushing over your knee. The touch is gentle and cool like the breeze that washes over your bodies. He leaves his fingers there for a few, graciously long minutes, watching you from the corner of his vision to see if you’ll turn away.

He thinks he might lose his damn mind when you don’t move an inch. And so he moves an inch up your thigh, another inch and then he’s under the pretty petals of your skirt, another inch and then he’s almost brushing against the soft fabric that’s nestled between your legs.

Minghao watches you carefully—the way you chew on your bottom lip and your hands squeeze each other a little tighter and then—fuck, you’re squirming already?

“W-what are we doing Minghao?” you ask him so sweetly he feels he might melt into the ground and take you down with him. You have the vaguest of ideas of where this is going to go, and the thought makes your skin bloom with shivers.

“I …” His breath hitches in his throat when you look at him with eyes that look at him like he holds the universe. “I can show you.”

When you flutter your eyes shut, nodding as you whisper, “Show me,” into his mouth, Minghao wraps his arm around your torso and pulls you onto his lap. His kisses are slow but telling; pressing his lips into yours, tongue lapping at your mouth until you gasp and open yourself to him again. Legs locked around his sides as his hands grip onto your waist, your noses against each other in tandem in hopes to dig deeper into the kiss.

You’re shy against Minghao, lips working fervently—you can tell just from the way his fingers glide up and down your sides, the way his tongue melts into yours, the way he holds you—you feel so safe with him.

And then there he is, hands sliding beneath the skirt of your dress and bunching the shining fabric up to your waist; the cool air hits your skin as you gasp into Minghao’s mouth, hugging him closer instinctively. In doing so, you shift forward, core brushing dangerously close to the hardness between his dark pants, and you swear you hear Minghao mutter a curse you’ve never heard before. The sound makes your tummy do tumbles.

“You’ll let me take this off … hm?” he murmurs as he pulls away, fingers toying with the sheen hem of your skirt.

“Y-yeah,” you murmur, shuffling backwards so you slip off his lap. You lean back on your hands in the grass with a deep sigh, legs spreading out in front of you as Minghao climbs onto his knees. His fingers start at your ankle, and the way his hooded eyes watch you lustfully has your breath caught in your throat.

He slowly trails his fingers over your legs, starting from your calf and moving up until it’s brushing past your knees and suddenly his palms are pressing on your inner thighs and shoving your legs apart to reveal the pretty white panties that sit in the middle.

Your core buzzes with a heat, and you find your bottom lip clamped between your teeth as you try not to whine when Minghao’s finger grazes over the thin fabric. “M-mingh—hao,” you breath out, when he nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck and sucks hard against the skin.

Your skin flushes with heat and a sharp sting when his teeth graze over you, but the small moan that leaves your lips sings a melody of pleasure as he swipes his tongue over the bruising mark. Your mouth falls wide open, neck falling back, and Minghao slots one hand between your legs, pressing the pads of two fingers against that one bundle of nerves that has you squirming into the ground.

“O-oh,” you mutter as your hips start to erratically swivel against his in hopes for more friction.

“Patience fairy,” Minghao sings in that sickly sweet tone of his. You wonder if he dropped from the treetops himself from the way he coos so kindly.

“It feels—oh … Oh, Minghao—”

“Tell me pretty … tell me what you’re thinking,” he whispers in a dangerously low tone, breath fanning over your neck in a way that sends shivers down your spine. Minghao traces methodical circles around your clit, and you can feel a warm wetness grow beneath your panties, causing the fabric to stick against your slick core.

You want to thrash in his arms and squirm into his hold—you want to let tears well up in your eyes and cry because everything’s feeling so good and you can’t think … can’t manage a single damn word.

“Feels—feels good,” you manage out in broken huffs of breath, legs spreading wider than you thought they could. Minghao chuckles as he lifts his head back to watch the way you tremble in front of him, and if you weren’t so dizzy on pleasure, you’d be burning from embarrassment.

“Yeah? Can make you feel even better if you …” He shrugs casually and gestures towards your dress and panties. “If you move some stuff out of the way.”

You don’t hesitate to yank at the straps of your dress, shoving them down haphazardly with trembling fingers. You’re on fire, if anything, and Minghao grins widely as he helps you desperately shimmy out of your clothes.

You start with the dress, flowy fabric slipping off your shoulders and falling down your stomach, finally pooling at your hips where Minghao takes control and pulls it off your legs. You’re left clad in only your panties which are now sheen with arousal, cool air pricking at your bare skin under the moonlight.

“Oh fairy,” Minghao nearily moans when you finally lay back down on the grass, tits bare and spilling all over your chest as your naked legs make room for him to sit between them. “So pretty … so naughty …”

“‘m not naughty,” you try to mumble, but the hoarse desperation in your voice gives you away. “J-just, wanna feel go—oh—good,” you finish with a heavy sigh when Minghao’s fingers are at your core again but this time, sliding your panties to the side to reveal your folds.

“Feeling good, huh pretty?” Minghao murmurs, not giving you a moment’s rest as he plunges his fingers right into the dripping mess. You cry out, back arching off the soft grass as you feel the length of his long, thick fingers slide between your pulsing folds.

“Oh, f-fu—” Your eyebrows furrow when you feel one finger circle around your glistening hole, causing your whole body to twitch with an ache you didn’t even know was possible to feel.

“Say it fairy, say it,” Minghao groans, hearing the dying words on your lips.

“It’s dirty,” you whimper, one hand shooting down to circle around his wrist as you try to guide his finger into your throbbing hole, but Minghao holds his stature firm.

“Say it, or I won’t make you feel good,” he threatens, and your eyes widen as a complaint bubbles at your throat. The way Minghao gives you that warning, predatory look shuts you right up.

“Oh—oh fuck,” you finally mewl. The way your plush lips let the word fall so kindly from your lips has Minghao’s head spinning, and he can’t even find it in him to control himself when he finally sinks his fingers into your hot cunt. “Minghao—”

“So scandalous, huh pretty?” Minghao asks you with condescension dripping from his tone as your eyes roll to the back of your head when he rubs his fingers against your gummy walls. “The perfect fairy … messing around with some fuckin’ mean-faced, bad, bad demon.”

“‘s’not like that,” you try to gasp out, core throbbing when he somehow sinks his fingers in deeper. Your legs writhe around Minghao, but his firm hand plants itself on your right thigh, pressing you down and into compliance.

He hums lowly, the sound rumbling deep in his throat as he watches you struggle to keep your composure; Minghao can see it already—the way your forearms tremble under your weight as you lose yourself to him entirely. “You sure fairy? ‘cause from what I’m seeing … it’s exactly like that.”

There’s a protest right at the tip of your tongue but then he grazes against this one spot inside your hot, tight cunt that has you crying out, head thrown back, eyes rolling all over the place until you’re panting: “M-Minghao it feels—oh, don’t stop!”

There’s a dark sort of grin that tugs at his plush lips as those words leave your mouth. With one eyebrow raised, he starts to fuck his fingers into you faster, thumb toying roughly with your clit as you mindlessly buck your hips into his hand. “Aw, my pretty’s gonna cum? You gonna cum?”

There isn’t a single thought in your mind, and even if there was, you wouldn’t be able to comprehend what Minghao was saying, yet still there’s that funny, burning feeling building in your stomach as all you know is that you don’t want to let it—you can’t let it stop. “Y-yeah,” you whimper as your walls tighten around his fingers. “Yeah … H-hao—I wanna cum.”

Minghao smirks at the slurred words, placing a kiss on your shoulder blade when he feels you spasm under him. “Cum for me, fairy,” he murmurs when you cry out his name, hands flying up to grip his shoulders as waves of pleasure crash down on you.

Broken words die at your lips as you erupt into high pitched moans , orgasm taking over you; Minghao sucks and nips at your neck until finally tracing his lips up to yours, engulfing you in a deep kiss as you ride out the high.

“There we go fairy, pretty fairy … looks so cute when she cums …” Minghao says once he finally pulls away, gazing down at your blown out eyes as you struggle to sit up right. Steadily, he lifts his hand from between your legs, tracing the warm stickiness across the insides of your thighs before holding it up in front of your face.

“Th-that’s—” You inhale deeply before continuing, still staring at the glistening arousal that coats his fingers. “—that’s embarrassing, Minghao,” you rush out, reaching out to swat his hand away, but he dodges and instead plunges the fingers in his own mouth.

His eyes don’t break away from yours, staring down at you in a way that has your sensitive core buzzing all over again with that sweet excitement. “You taste so good, pretty,” Minghao says lustfully, finally pulling his fingers out with a loud popping sound. He watches you carefully for a few moments—the way your pupils are dilated, your bare chest heaving gently, skin wearing a glossy layer of sweat, face flush with swollen lips …

Minghao wants to ruin you.

“You’ll let me do more, pretty?” he asks, and the way he peers down at you with dark, alluring eyes has your head nodding before you can even think to imagine what Minghao means by more. “Good fairy,” he purrs, crawling onto his knees back between your legs, nudging your thighs apart.

“What—what are we doing?” you ask him innocently, eyes widening when he reaches for the dark, ragged shirt that hugs his torso and pulls it off. Your first instinct is to reach out and touch because fuck, he’s beautiful, and you’ve always been one to admire the beautiful.

His body is firm with muscle, heavy round shoulders shining under the moonlight as you back into the ground. Minghao is on top of you now, hands on either side of your head as he hovers over you. “You’ll feel good,” he tells you, watching how you run your hands all over his sides as if you were a child being shown candy for the first time.

“Again?” you ask innocently, eyelashes batting up to look him in the eye as your hands instinctively find the waistband of his pants. Minghao lets one corner of his lips lift up in a half smile, nodding his head as if to tell you to go on.

“Yeah, again,” Minghao reaffirms, and you’d be lying if you didn’t squeeze your thighs just a little closer together at the thought. “We’ll feel good together,” he says, and oh this will mark the loss of your sanity, because something in your blood buzzes at the thought of Minghao feeling good right alongside you and you spiral.

Suddenly desperate, you’re yanking down his pants—you don’t even know what’s coming your way (have no clue really), but you also don’t care because you’re just so needy and you know (you just know) Minghao will give it all.

“There we go,” he coos, helping you out with one hand to shove down the dark pants and black underwear that sits beneath. His length springs out in an instant, firm as it hits against your inner thigh with a loud slapping sound that rings in your ears.

Eyes glossy as you mindlessly gaze down at him, your mouth watering at the mere sight of the flush red tip, milky white oozing out from the top and glittering under the minimal light. “You like the sight, fairy?” he asks, reaching to pinch your cheek lightly. Your nose scrunches up for a moment, but you soon lean into his touch when your eyes trail back down to his thick length.

“Y-yeah,” you admit bashfully, letting him shuffle closer between your legs until his length sits on your stomach, balls pressed against your puffy folds. The light contact has your head going dizzy already, and takes every ounce of self restraint to not moan at the feeling.

“G’na be right here here,” Minghao mutters, running his wet fingers over the base of his length, holding it up just to tap it back down on the base of your stomach. “Cock’s gonna fuck you all the way here,” and the thought of being so deep seems to be just as numbing to Minghao as it is to you because you catch the way he gulps down hard.

“Please,” you choke out when he shifts against you, his cock brushing against your throbbing clit a bit harder. “Please—fuck, I need it now, Hao—please.”

“Poor fairy,” Minghao groans, pulling his hips back so his cock no longer rests against your stomach but now slides between your sticky folds. “Poor, poor baby … begging a filthy demon for his cock.”

The way your cunt tightens around nothing at his words has you questioning everything anyone has ever told you, but the thoughts are wiped from your mind when his fat tip nudges against your now aching hole.

“Oh fuck, it’s s’big Minghao,” you murmur when he presses himself into you. “O-oh, I don’t—I don’ think s’gonna fit,” you gasp out when he slips in further, eyes stinging with tears of both pain and pleasure.

“You want to stop?” he asks, stilling his movements.

“No!” you exclaim, a little too quickly maybe, because your excitement has Minghao’s eyes darkening in a way that tells you you’re really in for it now. “I-I—no … I don’t want you to stop.”

“Hm,” Minghao hums while nodding. “Then there’s nothing to worry about,” he says casually in that low, gravely voice that has your breath getting stuck in your throat. “I’ll make it fit.”

Your legs tremble when he sinks his length into you even deeper, punching moans right out of your lungs and squirming under his arms until you feel his pelvis brush against your clit. You’re a babbling mess right now, Minghao having his chest pressed against yours as you whisper into his mouth about how it “feels so good,” how you “feel s’full,” how you’re “in love … so in love.”

“See fairy,” he murmurs, dragging his length out at a dangerously slow pace before shoving back into you at once so fast his balls slap against your skin with a harsh sting. “Made it fit, didn’t I?”

You wanna cry out and say yeah, yeah he fucking did, but your tongue feels like lead when you try to speak, only moans and squeaks of pleasure escaping your lips as his cock fucks into you faster. Minghao’s got one hand by your head, the other trailing all over your body—tracing the curves of your torso, cupping the flesh of your tits, playing with the sensitive nub of your nipple—you might as well be insane from the way your blood rushes at the feeling.

It’s so much—so, so, so much and you aren’t even sure how your body is taking it all, but there Minghao is, whispering sweet, dirty nothings by the shell of your ear.

“You like it? You like it don’t you fairy?”

“Wonder what the other fairies would think of this …”

“Moan louder pretty … put on a show for the whole damn forest, will you?”

It’s a muddled mess in your head, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you dig your heels into the ground to help thrust your own hips upwards to meet the snap of Minghao’s hips. The sloshing puddle of wetness between your thighs lets out obscene sounds that bounce off the trees around you. You wonder if you should be ashamed by how the sound makes your cunt clench.

“Put your hands up pretty,” Minghao grunts through sharp, pointed thrusts. The words fly over you for a moment, not understanding a bit of what he’s saying until his movements still and your eyes widen.

“W-what—why’d you—”

“Put your hands up.”

“S-sorry,” you moan in blind compliance, quickly lifting your hands and crossing your wrists above your head. Minghao’s larger hand is over them in an instant, pressing them into the soft grass as he goes back to fucking into you.

It’s messy now; hips jamming into hips in a passionately frantic pattern that has your body throttling in all kinds of directions until that familiar feeling balls inside of you once more. “Hao, ‘m gonna cum—”

“Wait. We’re supposed to feel together, right? Isn’t that right fairy?”

“Fuck!” you whine, hands thrashing under the strong hold Minghao has on you, desperate to touch him. “Don’t think I can wait, Minghao—oh—”

“You can do it fairy, do it for me,” he demands, punctuating the last word with a deep thrust that has your stomach feeling like it’s being pushed just to make room for him. “Hold it,” he orders, and you would be damned if you disobeyed Minghao, and so you dig your fingers into his back and pull him down for a deep kiss, trying to hold off from your impending orgasm.

He kisses you sloppily, and there’s tongue and teeth and lips all over each other until you’re both pantining into each others’ mouths. “Are you gonna cum?” you ask frantically when he pulls away, eyebrows furrowed with pure desperation. “Please—please, oh my g—Minghao, I need a cum!” you cry out as your walls begin to flutter and your legs begin to shake.

“Cum fairy—cum all over me,” Minghao groans when you tighten around his cock as he rails into you relentlessly, feeling his own end come near. “Lemme cum inside, pretty, fuck—”

Your mind spins at the thought of Minghao filling your hot cunt up and you can’t even think straight before you start to beg, “Yes, yes, yes please.”

“Fuck, gonna let me fill this fairy pussy all the way up, huh? Oh—pretty, fuck I’ll cum if you keep squeezing me like tha—oh.”

Something warm fills your core, walls spasming in an overstimulated mess as Minghao continues to fuck the oozing liquid back into you with vigor. “Shit—Minghao,” you whimper once his hips finally start to slow and eventually still, softening cock flopping out of your drenched folds.

His eyes are sharp as they watch you look up at him hazily. “That felt nice,” you murmur, swaying a little as the aftermath of two orgasms leaves you a trembling mess. Minghao is quick to reach for you, steadying you in his arms and onto his lap, bringing you in for a kiss.

It’s soft and sloppy, and you can feel your senses getting muddled up all over again as you cuddle into him. Minghao chuckles softly, looking down at your figure and then the dark trees that are around.

“Fuck, fairy …” He grins when he catches a glint of a dark eyed demon in the shadows. “You really put on a damn show, huh?”

(Minghao wonders how many times he’ll get to fuck you before Jeonghan starts telling the other demons about your guys’ little secret. Not that that’ll stop him anyways—he’s got the prettiest fairy in the whole damn forest at the palm of his hands, and he’d be damned if he let you go.)

#svt smut #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #minghao smut #minghao x reader #xu minghao #xu minghao smut #xu minghao x reader #the8 x reader #the8 smut #minghao fanfic #svr fanfic #📝 writing

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larluce · 3 months

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Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

Tagging @virgil-wannabe since you asked for a PART 3 ;)

LINKS TO THE OTHER PARTS OF THIS AU HERE: PART1 , PART 2 , PART3 (you're here) , PART4

In "The Dragon's Call"

Arthur: (bulling a servant for the third time just so Merlin meets him again)

Merlin: (appearing out of nowhere) You, oppressor!

Arthur: (thinking) finally

Merlin: (thinking) Wait, that's not my line.

Arthur: (thinking and barely containing himself from crying, running to Merlin and hugging him and kissing him right there) He’s just as beautiful as the day I lost him 🥺🤧

Merlin: (thinking in panic) He isn’t saying anything. Why isn’t he saying anything?! 😰😖

Merlin: Is that the way you treat your servants? You are a... a prat! and...and an ass!

Arthur:...

Merlin: (thinking) please say something, please say something, please say something.

Arthur: (coughs, just realising he's been staring for too long) You're right I was being mean. My apologies.

Merlin: ... wait what? 😧

In "The Poisoned Chalice"

Merlin: (ready to use a spell to make Arthur drop his cup)

Arthur: (dropping it on purpose) Oh, clumsy of me, I droped it.

Merlin: (to himself) What? But I didn't use the spell yet. (Looks at his hands) Or did I?... Ugh, whatever (picking up the cup) Hey, Gaius! What's that? (Pointing at the flower petal inside the cup)

Gaius: It's poison! Someone tried to poison the prince!

Arthur: (faking surprise) what? Really?

Merlin: (faking surprise too) I can't believe it!

In "Lancelot"

Merlin: He would make an excelent knight. He saved my life.

Arthur: (full panic mode) what?! When?! Are you okay?!

Merlin: (confused) ...yeah? The grif-I mean, the winged beast attacked me when-

Arthur: The griffin attacked you?! (Checks him) Why didn't you tell me?! Are you hurt?!

Merlin: (still shocked but blushing due to Arthur's sudden attention and closeness) Ahm... you didn't ask? And Lancelot stopped the beast before it could hurt me, so you don't have to worry.

Arthur: (swallowing his guilt for not asking in his other timeline)... Right. From now on you tell when these things happen, do you understand?

Merlin: Yes, sire.

Arthur: Good. (Lets go of Merlin realizing he's being holding him for too long) Well, as thankful as I am to Lancelot for saving you, I can't knight him if he isn't a noble. That's the code.

Merlin: I know but-

Arthur: So I'll give him another job in the castle and when I'm king I'll gladly consider knighting him if he's still interested.

Merlin: (more than surprised) You will?

Arthur: (nods) Is that all?

Merlin: Yes... (smiles) thank you

Arthur: (smiles) Anytime, Merlin. (leaves)

Merlin: (looking Arthur leave with hearteyes) 😍... wait. How did he know what the beast was called?😨

In "Excalibur"

Merlin: (debating with himself if he should let Arthur fight the Black Knight this time around or let Uther do it again)

Arthur: (arriving) Merlin.

Merlin: (utterly surprised) You are here! 😱

Arthur: Of course I'm here. You thought I would withdraw? I'm not a coward, Merlin.

Merlin: No! I'm just... surprised Uther let you.

Arthur: He did try to drug me to stop me from coming. (Looks at Excalibur in Merlin's hands, recognizing it) Where did you get that?

Merlin: Oh... I just thought... you would need a new sword for this. So I asked Tom to make it for you.

Arthur: You got it made... for me?

Merlin: Yes. (Thinking) Please use it, please use it, please use it.

Arthur: (holding the sword) It's good. Thank you.

Merlin: (blushing, still not used to Arthur thanking everything he does) I'm just doing my job. There's no need to-

Arthur: There’s every need. (Touching his shoulder fondly and smiling) Thank you, Merlin. For thinking of me.

Merlin: (screaming inside)

#merlin bbc #merlin #bbc merlin #merthur #merlin fic #merlin fanfic #merthur fic #merlin prompt #arthur and merlin #merlin and arthur #merthur fanfic #merthur prompt #Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

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bluegiragi · 5 months

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okay, first of all, absolutely goddamn feral about you, your art, writing, ideas and aus i am chewing on the bars of my cage and foaming at the mouth and screeching incoherent and rolling around on the floor and- ough... anyway

i do have a very self indulgent question, particularly about Monster AU Ghost and Price, but also extending towards the rest of 141 with their involvement

at one point you mentioned that wraiths were rare, and ghost would likely feel pity towards another one

what would happen if they did come across another wraith? especially someone fairly fresh, maybe even young, younger than any of them. is there anything anyone could do to help them? would they help? price seems to know how to handle ghost well enough, and seems like hes been around since ghost's transformation, but how would ghost himself handle seeing someone else go through something like what he did? if he had to, what advice would he give them that he never got?

just been rotting in my brain 😭 ily gira and i hope youre taking care of yourself, thank you so much for the work you put in and share with us 🥺💕

this!! is!! such a good question, anon!!!! I think there's a lot of sides to that kind of situation, especially if it’s a younger person since I hc Ghost as having a massive soft spot for kids.

lots of writing under the cut!!! my braincells were FEASTING.

I think if it was just Ghost and the newly-born wraith, he'd try to mercy-kill it. The circumstances that lead to the creation of a wraith are truly harrowing, and while Simon understands the desire for revenge that burns at the core of every freshly made wraith, he also believes their plight is a kind of torture. In his mind, it would be kind to put one out of their misery. He wouldn't take any pleasure in it - I think overall, it would be a miserable affair for all parties involved.

If Price or any of the others were around, I think they’d try to convince him to take them under his wing so to speak. But while Ghost currently operates decently with his support system, he’s extremely lucky and should be considered the exception to the trend. Price was instrumental in his recovery - years of working under him solidified Price in his subconscious as an authority figure he could trust. When Ghost lost control, he could still rely on instinct - even with his mind fracturing, Price never changed. But not everyone has this kind of person immediately available to them, and it was crucial that Price got to him as soon as he did. What Ghost is now is not what a wraith commonly looks like. Price dragged him back from a brink.

New wraiths are sort of like rabid dogs, with no sense of self preservation. They’d approach every confrontation with the kind of frenzy you’d see in someone fighting for their life. They’d also be basically impossible to immobilize - you’ve seen how Simon goes wispy at times, imagine trying to handcuff a cloud of smoke. If it came down to a situation where any of the 141 were in danger, Ghost wouldn’t hold back. He’d put the other wraith down.

But if Ghost met another wraith who’d survived that first explosion of fury and managed to calm down, AND the 141 were with him, I think he’d try to help. They bring out the best in him.

#also as an aside on the price ghost situation #it was a real blind leading the blind situation during his recovery #not a lot is known about wraiths and practically nothing about minimising their…wraithiness #so price was just acting knowing that this was Simon now #and Simon needed him #I promise I’m going to draw this whole thing in a backstory plot line #askbox #anon

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beefboyandbabygirl · 11 months

Text

Goodbye, Fourth of July (18+)

pairing: lee chan x fem!reader

genre: college au, best friends to lovers, angst w a happy ending, smut (MDNI!!), hints of crack?

description: it's the fourth of july when you realize you're in love with your best friend. unfortunately though, it seems that he doesnt love you back, and this knowledge sends you spiraling. you push him away, but chan just wants to know why you're so upset

warnings: v v sad, pining, brief mention of s/a, chan is kinda dumb in this fr, reader is dramatic af tho, unprotected sex, desperation, praise kink, finger sucking, titty sucking, use of petnames (baby, pretty girl, sweet heart, good girl, cumslut once), mentions of alcohol and weed, irene is chans gf in this but shes not a villain shes mother fr

quotes from my proofreader: "my soul left my body", "no this is too personal", "i feel like im having a panic attack"

wordcount: 8.2k

Fireworks exploded across the sky the night your life was ruined.

Down the gray, dim corridors of your campus where room after room was ablaze with idle lights, daring to imitate the stars above them. Every crevice of the left wing was filled with the noise and decorum of a college frat party, where people lived out their own lives simultaneously to yours - yours, that was shattering into millions of pieces onto Yoon Jeonghan’s kitchen floor. Every moment of teasing, of lingering touches, of adoring smiles, of secret memories and exchanged glances came hurdling onto you on the 4th of July, red solo cup long forgotten in your hand. You were in love with your best friend.

“I’m in love with Chan,” you whispered, looking blankly across the room to see him leaned back against the couch, flashing a bright smile at Mingyu beside him. His blonde mullet - the one, that he had been so terrified to get, and only did so, when you told him he would look great - was tousled and spiky across his neck. He was wearing a red bomber jacket over a white tee, and he looked so good you thought you might cry.

Soonyoung wouldn’t have heard your confession - was it a confession? Admittance? Defeat? - had he not been standing right beside you. He thanked God that your words were not lost to the music and to the ambiance, to lay and die in the sticky, hardwood floor. “What?!”

He was yelling over the music. You turned over to him, mouth cracked into a frown. “What?! You’re in love with Chan?! Seriously?!” He started bouncing and giggling, ignoring your hands coming to grab onto his forearms. He had predicted this exactly five months ago.

“Shut up, Soonyoung, seriously!” You were yelling too, barely overcoming the booming voice of Kesha on the speakers. Bathed in pink light, letting your nails trail over the kitchen counter, you felt your heart becoming soft and trembling.

Your life was ruined.

“What the fuck am I gonna do?” you cried, feeling Soonyoung spin you at your shoulders until he was right in front of you, alcohol dampening the air between you.

“What do you mean? You’re gonna confess to him. You guys are literally in love with each other” He said it as if it was the easiest thing in the world. As if you hadn’t been best friends since freshman year; as if you didn’t know his favorite animal cracker shape and the exact model of his everyday sneakers.

“I can’t do that.”

“Yes, you can.”

“I can?”

“COMINGGG THROUGHHHHHHHH!” Frat-house dork Seokmin pushed between you and Soonyoung with a sky-high Vernon on his trail. Vernon shimmied apologetically, eyes sunken and red. “Getting cross-faded,” he supplied helpfully.

“As you should,” Soonyoung mumbled, slightly peeved in his tone, but Seokmin and Vernon seemed too intensely high to notice his disdain. You were too floaty to be offended by their sudden intrusion. The party, the floor, the music, the stench of sweat had become distant and you felt very alone with your heart. And Kwon Soonyoung, of course.

“You can! Right now! I’ve been telling you for months!” He shook you by your shoulders, apparently sensing your distance. You looked up at him with furrowed brows, tugging at the strapless end of your short, glittery dress. “But he’s-” you inhaled sharply. “He’s not gonna love me back, Soon.” Soonyoung cut you off with a scoff. “He’s so in love with you! He looks at you like you’re the only girl in the…”

Soonyoung trailed off, eyes peering past you into the crowd. “Oh shit,” His eyes widened, settled on you, then flicked back up. What the fuck was he looking at? “Uh, as I was-” you moved to look, struggling against his suddenly deadly grip on your shoulders “- no, don’t look!” He moved to stop you, but it was too late. You scanned the crowd with narrowed eyes, finding yourself confused as to what he’d been crying about. That is until you saw him. Red bomber now discarded, Chan had removed himself from the couch and was currently grinding on your biochem-classmate, Irene.

Oh. Okay.

You felt like cold hands grabbed onto your throat from within, as it contracted and tears stung your eyes. There it went, your heart and all its pieces on the floor, and weighing you down like an anchor, was the knowledge that you’d spend the rest of your life picking them up.

”God fucking damnit. This is awful, I’m awful,” your head was spinning, and you could barely make out how your fishnetted legs started moving, let alone how the tips of Soonyoung’s fingers brushed against your bare back to pull you back to him. You needed to get out. Out, out, out.

You squeezed through the tight crowd, avoiding the gaze of your classmate Seungcheol, who tried to smile at you from where he stood. This had to be some sort of mistake. Some sort of illusion brought upon you by the rhythmic movements and the loose slip of alcohol. Maybe you were hormonal? You didn’t know, but you couldn’t think while some bass-boosted playlist built dams of pressure on the sides of your head.

You finally squeezed through the door, closing it behind you and locking away that cursed, wretched memory. The further you got, the fainter the image of him. By the time you were slipping out of the hallway and into the yard, you could almost convince yourself that it was a mistake. A foolish moment, that you would tuck away and keep in a locked chest.

God, you were cold, shivering in your scrappy fabrics, as you slid down the brick wall by a flower bed, staring into the sky. It was the fourth of July, and your chest had exploded in fireworks while looking at your best friend. Every line had simultaneously been crossed and uncrossed.

You had realized it just a few minutes ago, just standing in the kitchen, when Wonwoo from history had asked you for a lighter. It had just been a graze, but you’d still felt it, in the faraway reaches of your purse. Amongst crumbs, concealer, a couple unraveled cigarettes and wired earphones with only one working side. What was that? You’d handed Wonwoo the lighter and then dug around for it again. A little slip of paper, edges soft and worn. You pulled it up.

It was just a drawing. A little scribbled dinosaur. God, you couldn’t even remember when he’d given it to you. But there you were smiling at it. And then looking at him. And then you knew.

You started crying. Hot, fat tears dripped down your cheeks, and your lips were trembling, and suddenly your body was stuttering and convulsing against the wall, and you were in love with your best friend and he was obviously not in love with you.

“Y/n?”

You snapped your head towards the door and the person you wanted to see the least in that moment (that thought made you cry even more, because when had you ever wanted anyone but him by your side when you were upset?) was peeking his blonde haired head through the door. Chan had such a heavy frown, looking down at you from the wide opened doorway.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong, sweetheart?” He was immediately crouching down, hand burning hot on your back, stroking the muscles. Another hand on your knee and it was all too much, so you pushed him away. He backed off immediately, and you wished you missed the flash of hurt on his face. He looked at you with so much worry. “What happened?”

He was sitting across from you on the pavement and you couldn’t bear to see him, lit geometrically by the moonlight and the explosions in the sky, brows creased. Averting your eyes, you fiddled with the edge of your dress and sniffled. What were you supposed to say? It was hard to say anything. You fought down the tears pressing at your eyes again, swallowing your emotions before you looked at him again, almost robotically.

“I’m fine,” you said, nodding, and only adding more when his face twisted in confusion. You were always honest with each other, he thought, why were you lying? “It’s stupid, I’m.. I’m on my period and my hormones are just.. Bleugh.” You found it in yourself to giggle.

Silence, only decorated with the constant stream of fireworks and distant laughter of drunk college kids. Chan studied you for a moment, legs crossed and arms slung over his knees. “Cheol said you looked upset.”

“Yeah, I, uh, I was thinking of that sad dog movie.”

Another pause. “Old Yeller.”

The distance between you had never felt wider and you were certain Chan could feel it too.

“You know you can tell me anything right?” You wished your laughter hadn’t been so heart-achingly bitter. He looked so confused. All he wanted to do was make you feel alright, why wouldn’t you let him?

A nod. “Yeah,” you breathed in deeply, tear-streaked makeup drying from the gentle wind. “I know.”

The air had become so thick, you had to gulp down breaths. Chan cocked his head to the side and looked at you soulfully. You were staring at your knees, nervously playing with your fingers, and a flush had crept up your neck to the very tops of your shiny cheeks. He sighed. “I can get, uh,” he hesitated for a moment, “I can get Soonyoung down here. If you want.” You nodded before he was even done talking. Anything was better than sitting across from him - not now. This time you knew better than to look at his face, because you knew your entire facade would break down the moment you’d catch the frown on his face at those words.

The moment Chan left, you sighed so deeply, relief and despair coming in a pair to crash over you like a wave. Soonyoung came not two minutes later and, ever the great comforter, immediately tried to make you laugh, sitting in the grass right in front of you.

“Oh my god,” he put on his best Jennifer Coolidge voice, “you look like the fourth of July!” _____________________________

Your first instinct was to hide - to turn over a stone and lay under it without breathing. Maybe then, if you separated yourself from him the feelings would simply dissipate, like perfume throughout the day. But you and Chan had a ridiculous amount of classes together, - something you used to enjoy and cherish - and every interaction had become half-awkward.

What also didn’t help is that him and Irene did not seem to just be a party fling. You were walking the halls with him, backpack slung across your shoulder, and listening to him drone on and on about a date.

“I think it’s the blonde,” he explained, “I think she likes the blond.” He peeked his eyes over to you, as you walked and you nodded. “It looks good,” you smiled, heart crushing when his face lit up, that sharky smile playing on his lips. “Right? But I don’t know what to wear. I don’t think she liked my jacket. You know, at the party.” At the mention of the party, his giddy expression faded a little, eyes flicking back to look at you again.

You’d been different since then. A little quiet and every word a little strained, every breath a huff, every smile somewhat unable to reach your eyes. He knew something was wrong, but he couldn't figure out what. For the life of him, Chan couldn’t. You’d told him when you got a tampon stuck a couple months ago, you’d told him about your awful dates, about your most embarrassing moments in your life. Something had to be serious, he thought, watching the way your eyes had become darker and sunken, for you to shut him out completely.

“Y/n,” he said and his voice was abruptly so, so soft. His hand came to cradle your own, stopping you in your tracks. Your eyebrows cinched together when you looked at the way his thumb caressed your knuckles. “You are okay, right?” and all of a sudden he was so close to you, head bopping downwards to catch your eyes, a little breath becoming humid on your cheek. For just a split second, he saw how scared you were, an emotion that took up all the space in your head, widened eyes darting up to his. Then it was gone. You smiled a tight line, ripping your hand from his. “I’m good. I’d be better if we actually made it to class on time.”

You were bouncing away and for a few moments he stood still, watching you.

“Alright,” he whispered to himself.

_____________________________

You and Chan met through Seungcheol. It was your first year and you were fresh-faced, young and a totally different person. It was your first biochem project and the teacher had paired you with Seungcheol - Seungcheol, who you just so happened to know was amongst the most popular guys at school. He was sweet though, if not a little slow, but he was excited to get into the project and had invited you to his place to study. You had graciously accepted, seeing as your roommate-situation at the time was less than ideal.

You had just hunkered down with stacks of books and laptops open on his desk, when Seungcheol got a call; to this day you’re not sure about the specifics of it, and all the information you’d later been able to pry from Seungcheol was that “Jeonghan was in trouble”. Whatever the case, the man had taken the phone and immediately taken on a crease in his forehead and a small frown on his lips, before apologizing profusely and promising that he’d be back in 20 minutes or so.

And there you were, wearing a dress and hairclips and sitting idly at his desk, while his roommate sat, just a few feet from you, on his bed with a controller and a headset on. That was the first time you saw Lee Chan. He had sharp eyes that you found intimidating at the time - especially with the focused grimace he wore, something you later found endearing. And, of course, you knew he was popular as well. How couldn’t he be, when his muscles were showing through his t-shirt, and he looked beautiful even in the domestic state you found him in. Maybe especially in that situation.

“D’you wanna see me play?” he’d asked, eyes not even leaving the screen. “Um,” your voice was meek, “sure.”

Seungcheol didn’t come home for another three hours. The sky turned from a bright blue into an orange hue outside the campus-curtains, and you sat cross-legged beside Chan on his bed, watching him play Overwatch. Had it been anyone else, you were sure this would’ve been the longest, most awkward three hours of your life. But for whatever reason, you and Chan just clicked. It was all laughter and smiles, and it felt like you had known each other forever. Fate had whisked the two of you together with a gentle push. That was two years ago.

Chan defied all your expectations. Surely, a young man who was attractive and popular would be an asshole, you’d thought, but he was so sweet, something that was most apparent when he smiled and laughed, eyes becoming crescents and toothy grin becoming sharp at the upturned edges.

Maybe you’d always liked him. You’d started reflecting on your relationship after that party, and came to realize that there’d always been a faint mist in your chest. A soft hum that drummed within your ribcage, when you saw him. It was warm, pleasant and constant when you felt his warmth at your side.

And sure, your relationship had had its moments. You distinctly remembered sitting between his legs while watching a movie once, and how you’d been so uncertain if he was okay with the skinship. His face behind your ear, you heard the smile in his voice, as his hands ran along your arms: “It’s okay, N/n. I’m cool with this if you are.”

You found yourself thinking about that often, but now there was a distinct pain to the memory. It was especially painful, when the gap between you and Chan was widening with every day. He tried to reach out, tried to catch you in the halls, but you were always “busy”.

Chan caught on to the fact that you were avoiding him when you started showing up late to classes, just so you wouldn’t have to walk with him; hear him talk about Irene, while that once soft drum had become a marching band in your chest. So you scrambled inside 5 minutes late, much to the dismay of your professors, and found a spot with some random classmate - far away from Chan. You’d have your eyes turned to the board, but you couldn’t focus, not really. Like a constant thorn in your side, you felt Chan’s sharp eyes across the room, boring into with such an intensity you thought you might catch on fire. Scribbling useless notes and focusing your energy - what little energy you had - on the class, you determinedly avoid his eyes. Had you seen them, never once darting astray from your form, you’d see the tenderness they held. “Why are you avoiding me?” His eyes said.

And then: “Why are you avoiding me?” his mouth said, out of breath from chasing after you in your hurried exit. You turned to him, almost bleeding into the blue of the accented-wallpaper. His eyes softened at your wounded expression. You were gently ripping apart at the wish to see him and be around him, with simultaneous urge to ignore him and become free from his scrutinizing gaze. He would never not know that something was wrong.

He scanned the crowded hallway, and gently, almost as if testing the waters (which he hadn’t felt the need to do in years) placed a hand on your upper arm. “Come on.”

You gave in. God, it was so easy to give in. You missed him. You missed him like a fish might miss water, had it been taken away from it. You missed him like a priest misses God, when his presence ebbs away and the sky is suddenly so very empty. So it was so easy to be led on, to sit down in the passenger of his car and just close your eyes and enjoy how it felt to be beside him. Chan scanned you as he drove, laying there with closed eyes, willing yourself to not look at him again, and realize you had to throw this all away.

He said nothing that entire car ride. Maybe he sensed the desperate need you felt to just have this silence. You clung to it as if it were tangible, as if someone would take it away. He would, once you entered his apartment. Seungcheol was nowhere to be seen. You placed yourself on bed and played with the fraying edges of his IKEA duvet cover.

“I miss you.” he said. You sighed, pursing your lips and looking at your fingers. “I miss you too.”

“You’re avoiding me,” he said, only a faceless presence in your peripheral.

“I’m not avoiding y-...” you trailed off when he crouched down in front of you, your entire vision cursed (or blessed?) with his frustrated face. “You are,” he said, eyes boring into yours. You trembled. “I’m not, I’m just busy.” He backed away, sulking, and you tried not to make it obvious that you heaved in a shaky breath from the proximity. “I can tell when you’re lying, you know?”

You laid down on the bed, arms crossing over your chest as if you were a corpse. Was there a way out of this, you wondered. Every glance, every touch, and every word that dropped from his mouth poked and prodded at you sadistically.

“I’m not lying.”

You heard fumbling and raised your head to see Chan, having discarded his shirt, putting on a new one and you cringed at how your heart sped up, seeing his toned stomach, before it disappeared under a sweater. “What are you doing?” you asked. He sighed. He glanced at you before studying himself in the full-length mirror Seungcheol had stolen from Mingyu.

“I’m going on a date with Irene in, like, twenty minutes.”

A pause. You sat up.

“Oh.”

He went on, throwing around scattered clothes and grappling for a cologne in his bag. “I’m sorry, I can’t cancel this, I don’t think she’ll really appreciate it,” he laughed a little. Throwing his head over his shoulder, his smile faded when he sensed your sorrow. His heart hurt then, so he moved, freshly spritzed with the cologne you bought him last Christmas, to stand in front of you on the bed. Your breath hitched when his hand found your cheek and he was suddenly dripping with sincerity and an emotion you really hoped wasn’t pity. “I just- I really wanted to talk to you, Y/n. I’m really worried about you.” You leaned into his hand pathetically, almost whimpering against it. You missed how his embrace felt. His thumb brushed over your cheek and he lingered there, eyes trained on you for just a moment - perhaps a moment too long - before he pulled away.

Suddenly he was putting on a jacket and ruffling his hair in the mirror again. “If you want you can stay here until I come back? It’ll only be, like, an hour and a half, two hours. Cheol will be home soon, he can keep you company.”

“Yeah, maybe,” your eyes were huge, when you willed yourself to stare at the floor. Chan must’ve sensed the meekness in your voice, because he looked over at you through the mirror, a frown on his lips. “I promise we’ll talk, I just- I don’t wanna disappoint Irene.”

It ached when you responded: “There’s nothing to talk about, Channie. I’m fine.”

“I’ll see you in a couple of hours?” you only nodded half-heartedly.

“Bye, N/n.”

“Bye, Channie.”

He left with a rustle of his keys, and when the door was closed, your body contracted, muscles pulling inwards until you were hugging your knees in his sheets. And you were crying because it smelled like him, and because he had held your cheek with such care, only to leave moments later for another woman. Everything you held dear, every moment you lingered on was just one-sided. Your tears were crystalline confinements for your most treasured memories with him and you were bleeding out on his bed, sliced in the heart.

It was Seungcheol who found you there like that, curling up in his roommate’s bed with painful sobs squeezing your whole body. You told him. Maybe you shouldn’t have, but you did. “I love him,” you cried, and Seungcheol stroked your back, as he listened. “And he doesn’t love me back.”

You apologized abashedly when you had calmed down, but Seungcheol only tutted and shook his head. “That’s what friends are for,” he’d said and patted your hair, and you giggled even though you felt all silly with your red face and your puffy eyes. The older man promised not to say anything, and you found yourself trusting him completely. You bid your goodbyes and felt a little lighter.

When Chan came home a heavy duvet of regret settled in his stomach. You were gone, only the faint mist of your perfume left behind in his room. When night fell, he slept on a bed stained with your tears. _____________________________

A week passed and you spent every moment alone in your dorm room, ignoring papers and deadlines in favor of lying completely still under the covers. Soonyoung came over with food every once in a while, and always left devastated at how completely disarranged you were. He felt powerless and if there was one thing Kwon Soonyoung didn’t like, it was feeling powerless.

That was how you found yourself in a very John Mulaney-like situation on a monday afternoon, sitting before Soonyoung and, surprisingly, Seungkwan, Soonyoung’s roommate, in a nearby café.

“What is this?” you asked, arms crossed and leaned back in your seat, unimpressed. Soonyoung smiled sheepishly, sliding a paper across the table. It read “Intervention” in big, bubbly letters, colored with cheap highlighters. “An intervention?” you said incredulously.

“Yes, we’re worried about you!”

“He’s worried about you. I’m skipping physics for this,” Seungkwan butted in.

“The community is worried about you,” Soonyoung gave a harsh glare to the younger boy, who was mirroring your distaste for the current situation. “So we’re hosting an intervention.”

“This is bullshit,” you said. “Agreed,” came Seungkwan.

“Alright, you two! Let Daddy explain,” Hoshi waved his arms in outrage and the two of you groaned at the word choice. “Y/n. I am sick and tired of watching you cry and cry and sit at home over a boy who is fricken’ in love with you!”

“Did you just say ‘fricken’?”

“Unimportant. The point is get your act together and tell him or get over him!” Soonyoung was determined. While you felt his point of view was certainly unfair to you, your demeanor gave way a little. He was right, you knew. This was ruining you more than you’d care to admit. “You are worth so much more than this.”

“As much as I hate to contribute to this, Soonyoung has been telling me all about.. Your situation, and I have to say I agree. I thought you and Chan were dating until Soonyoung told me this,” Seungkwan said, smiling sympathetically at you. You frowned. “It doesn’t matter what you guys think, you know. He doesn’t see me like that.. It just fucking hurts.”

“If he doesn’t see you like that, then fuck him--”

“Don’t say that, Soonyoung--”

“You need to put your energy into a man who will know your worth!” Soonyoung sassed and Seungkwan snapped his fingers once for emphasis, face totally blank.

“I know you’re right, okay?” you reasoned, sighing. “It’s not as simple as that. I know you want to help, Soonyoung, but.. I just need time.”

Soonyoung deflated, but he understood. I guess he was a little powerless in this situation. Even Seungkwan, who definitely was not thrilled about missing physics, smiled sorely. You watched them and hated yourself for bringing worry to everyone around. Like an oil spill in the ocean, your black mass infected everything around you. They’d done nothing and here you were, parading your sadness like My Chemical Romance in 2006.

“Thank you anyway.” _____________________________

Chan was theorizing. There were only so many things that could happen so suddenly, that could make you push him away like this. He hadn’t seen you in a week and he’d begun biting his nails again. Every waking moment had become consumed with this question: why? Why were you acting like this? Irene would pointedly comment on how quiet he was being, and his lies came like flowing water.

Chan was certain that he’d never experienced anything harder than watching you unravel everyday. Every morning more disheveled than the last, every smile more dull. Let me help you, he’d think, watching you slump in your seat on the other side of the room, running an unsteady hand over your face. You’d even found a way to avoid him after class. Day after day he’d run after you when you sped out of class, and when he reached the hallway where students were pouring out, you’d be gone like a faint ghost.

Irene ended things with him over a text. “I just don’t see us working out anymore,” it’d read and lying in his room he’d sighed quietly. He couldn’t bring himself to care. The text diverted his attention for only a minute, before he was staring at the ceiling again, thinking of you. It had to have something to do with him somehow. But no matter how much he scrutinized every interaction you’d had, he came up blank.

“Are you okay?” It was Seungcheol, standing in the doorway and hanging his jacket on their clothing rack while eyeing him. He’d hardly heard him come in. Chan heaved a sigh, long lines of worry oozing out of him.

“Y/n’s been acting really weird with me. I can’t figure out if it’s something I did,” Chan squeezed his eyes shut. “I just want her to be okay.”

Seungcheol frowned sympathetically. “Maybe you should just leave her alone.” Chan’s eyes sprung open and he grimaced, before ruffling the sheets where he sat up on the bed. Seungcheol was settling himself onto his bed, phone in hand and head against the headboard. “Why are you saying that?”

For a moment, Seungcheol flashed his brown eyes with a hint of ‘oh shit’ in them, before they relaxed and he regained composure. “I don’t know, maybe she just needs some time away from you.”

A pause swallowed the room. Chan studied his friend with furrowed brows. “Did she talk to you?”

“Uh-”

“You know why she’s acting like this!” Chan raised his voice, weeks of frustration crackling in the pit of his stomach. He stood up, so he could tower over Seungcheol’s bed. “Relax, man, I don’t know anything-”

“You do! Tell me what’s going on, Seungcheol-” Only a few words had been shared, but they’d tugged at the right strings, and suddenly Chan’s muscles were tightened as they buried into Seungcheol’s collar. The older man scowled and wrapped his hands around his roommate’s wrists in warning. Chan’s hold untightened and unscrewed and he slumped in on himself like a piece of paper, “please, Seungcheol, please. I’m going crazy.”

Seungcheol’s gaze softened. He pushed the boy’s hands away and sat up on the bed, voice a low, solemn grumble. “I can’t tell you.”

“Fucking please, Seungcheol. What if something happened to her? At that party. I keep thinking about it, how I wasn’t with her, and what if some asshole harassed her or something. I googled it and Google said women can feel lost, lonely and embarrassed over stuff like that,” Chan started pacing. “And then I was thinking what if it was a friend of ours? And maybe that’s why she doesn’t want to tell me, but, of course, I’d support her in anything she told me.”

Chan stilled in his wandering across the narrow floorspace. “Can you at least tell me she’s okay?”

All sharp eyes and blonde hair and panted breaths Chan stood in the middle of the room and waited for Seungcheol to tell him that you were okay. Chan would’ve even been at peace with Seungcheol telling him that you never wanted to see him again, fuck, as long as you were fine and you still laughed and smiled, even if it was with Soonyoung and not him.

But the answer didn’t come. Seungcheol frowned and fiddled with his watch. “I don’t think so, man.”

Whatever ties had held Chan back before snapped. He stood still for maybe three seconds in the unlit room, before his body burst into action and he was scrambling for his jacket and keys.

“Fuck this.”

Sprinting down monotonous corridors, a hard-headed Chan let wisps of blonde hair flow behind as the air kissed his cheeks. He wore the crease in his brow that had become permanently etched onto his features. Chan had a one track mind; maybe that’s why things didn’t - wouldn’t - work out with Irene. Currently, the record spinning was you and he’d gone damn near insane, so this time he’d made up his mind. He was not leaving until you talked to him. Whisking past door after door in the quiet nighttime, catching Wonwoo exiting some random dorm and smiling sheepishly, he ignored him and braved forward.

It was not until he was standing right in front of your door that he hesitated. The door framed his figure entirely, trapping him within its confines. What if Seungcheol was right? What if he was making things worse?

But for Chan, he wasn’t sure that he could go any lower. Every day had become a new rock bottom, every day that you avoided him, every moment wondering what he could have possibly done. He missed your smile. So then he was knocking at your door.

“Fuck off, Soonyoung, I’m not going to anymore interventions!” you yelled, voice hoarse from beyond the door. Intervention? Had you developed a drug problem? He knocked again and heard you groan, before heavy footsteps thumped towards him.

“What do you want, Soonyo-” you paused, door half-creaked open. Your eyes were two moons, and your nose and cheeks were red. “Chan,” you breathed, voice nasally from a stuffy nose. Chan said nothing, only pushed past you to get inside. You sniffled.

Your heart was a bomb, or maybe a firework. Chan had lit the fuse and standing before him, where he was half lit in the middle of your room, you knew it was only a matter of time before it exploded, chest blazing with a parade of colors for the fourth of July. Because it was him, a greek fucking god in your toy-decorated room, in his sweatpants and a white t-shirt, and it was you, wimpish and thoroughly out of order, in pyjama shorts and a pink sweater.

“Come. Here.” He wasn’t asking. You nodded and took two steps, and the moment you were within arms reach he enveloped you in his chest. His arms were so strong and warm, one wrapping around your waist and the other bunching up your hair to keep you pressed into him. Your cheek bunched up against his heart, you closed your eyes and heard how fast it was beating. He was scared.

“Talk to me,” you could hear it, too, the fear. His voice was trembling and even though you couldn’t see his face you could imagine his brown eyes glazed over and lips in a pout. The thought squeezed at your heart.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. He squeezed his eyes shut at the raspiness in your voice. “Don’t be, just talk to me. Please,” his voice was a wavering breath. He pulled away, head ducking down to peer into your eyes. Your cheeks burned and you looked away, becoming completely enamored with the white of his shirt, just for the sake of not seeing his eyes. Then both his hands were on your cheeks, a little harsh at first, but then softening. “Look at me.”

He leaned closer, one hand straying from your cheek to hold you by the back of the head. “Look. At. Me.” he gritted his teeth and you felt the warmth of his face hitting yours. You did. You looked at him, saw him again, really, the guy you’d been avoiding and simultaneously praying closer to you standing before you like a kicked puppy. Suddenly you were crying. It felt like he’d turned you inside out.

“No, no, no, don’t cry, pretty, talk to me, talk to Channie, okay?” he frowned before he was pushing your face closer, nosing your cheek and hair, just a big baby in front of you, with hot and humid breaths on your freshly wetted skin when his lips brushed over it. His hand on the back of your head was only urging you closer, and his back was hunched in a long arch just so he could be with you, as close to you as possible.

And while his touch was bliss for a moment, the reality of it came crashing down, and your hands waved him off, taking a step back, which Chan followed with a step forward. He looked so hurt, hands held out for you to take but you shook your head.

“Don’t- Don’t do this to me, Chan. Not when-” you were shaking when you reached up to rub over your eyes. “Not when- Not when you have Irene to go back to.”

“Irene?” He asked incredulously, almost in outrage, almost as if the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. It spurred you on. “That’s what this is about?”

“No!” you cried, “Or- yes, I don’t know.”

Chan was silent for a few moments when you began pacing, hands over your eyes. “You were jealous?”

“No- That’s not the point!” your lip trembled when you removed your hands and looked at him again, his arms at his sides, now that he didn’t have you to hold.

“We were never going to stop being friends, you know-” his voice was quiet and yours overpowered his easily, when you screamed at him to say: “I didn’t want to be friends!”

Boom goes the dynamite, indeed. Fireworks filled every crevice of your ribcage.

“Because I love you,” you paused only to flick your eyes over to his, and you sucked in the fear. Your voice shook when you continued: “And I think I have for- for, like, a year? And I only realized on the fourth of July and there you were with Irene, and I just… And I thought if I backed off these feelings would go away, because you obviously don’t-”

“Irene broke up with me,” his voice was much quieter than yours. You wanted to scream and cry and yell, because what did that matter? Why did that matter when it changed nothing? But then he spoke again: “She broke up with me because I kept thinking about you.”

Silence. It hit you that Chan was not informing you, he was telling himself this.

“Yeah,” he scratched at the back of his neck and chuckled dryly, “I kept being quiet on our dates, ‘cause I was thinking about you. I guess she sensed it.”

You were looking at each other in the dim lights. He was so beautiful, cheeks shiny and soft lashes curling over his lids. You sniffled. “Does that mean that you-”

Yes.

Yes, it did, because before you could even finish your sentence he was taking a step forward and his hand was on your cheek again and this time his lips were on yours and fireworks, fireworks exploded in your chest and on your lips like bursts of static, but this time it wasn’t pained, it was beautiful, and you’re melting into his hold, just as he was yours. Lips moving in perfect unison, he tilted his head down and you tilted yours up, and grabbed his neck, and his other hand slid onto your waist, resting there, as the two of you rocked under the artificial light of your overhead lamp.

Everything you yearned for was in your hands and you didn't dare to pull away, only whimpering when you ran out of breath, and chasing his lips when he pulled away to breathe. He chuckled, mouth curved upwards in that beautiful smile that you love. You love it, and there’s no point in hiding it. He pressed his forehead against yours and you’re panting into each other’s mouths.

“I love you too,” he said. You grinned, a perfect blush spread across your rounded cheeks, and his heart soared so much that he had to kiss you again, pecking and mumbling it again and again against your lips: “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

His tongue slid over your lip and you opened your mouth with a squeak. His tongue was wet and warm in your mouth and his hands were suddenly on your hips, pushing them into his. Then he pulled away, blushing himself when a string of spit connects you. “Is this okay?” he asked, so softly, so gently, and you nodded, flushed and out of breath and pathetically desperate.

“Yes,” you whined, “need you so bad.” He cooed when you pressed your hips into his, long fingers brushing hair out of your face. “Channie’s gonna take care of you. Channie’s gonna make it up to you,” and yet again it's almost like he was saying it to himself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when he lowered the two of you onto your bed. Hair strands stretched from their roots in your head, when you hit your plush pillow, and you were all shiny and sparkling eyes, laid out before him in a way that he never dared to imagine. “Too pretty,” he whispered, kissing you again.

He was grinding into you, anchoring himself on your waist and whimpering into the corner of your mouth at the feeling of your warm center through your shorts. “Baby, need you so bad. Can I take this off?” he tugged at your shirt and you nodded, unable to get anything out but whines. He pulled off the pink fabric, marveling at your bare chest before him. Of course, he’d seen it before, in tight shirts, on days where you’d decided to forgo a bra, and he’d always cursed himself for imagining the real thing. “You’re so beautiful,” he cried, as he hit your core just right and he stared at your tits’ slight jiggle.

“Such a pretty baby, so ready for me, can I touch them, please, please?” he was babbling, somehow already pussydrunk, but you were no better, eyebrows cinched together in pleasure, nodding without even an ounce of hesitation at his request. He groped at your chest, thumbs brushing over the hardened buds, before he ducked his head down to suck on one. You’re gasping, as his tongue flicked over you, hands tangling themselves in his hair, moaning his name into the air. He hummed loudly, and you felt a thick glob of wetness escape your pussy at just the sight of him, hunched over you like a wild animal, panting into your chest.

“You’re so pretty,” you whispered and he let go of your tit with a small ‘pop’, lifting his head to look at you. He was grinning ear to ear, face still hovering over your chest. “Am I?” and suddenly he was so cocky, hand cupping your heat through your shorts, and watching as you buck into his hand with a strangled moan. “Needy girl, need pretty Channie to touch you, hm?” He teased, fingers gently rubbing over the fabric of your damp shorts.

“Please,” you whined, thrashing in the sheets, desperate enough to cry. He cooed and shushed you, hovering over you by one, strong arm: “Shh, sweetheart, shh, I know. I got you, I’ll make you feel good.” As much as Chan wanted to make you beg, he was desperate too, and he couldn’t help the slight guilt of what you’d been through. The thought almost made him frown, but he pushed it away and peeled off your shorts and underwear in one swoop.

You cried out when his fingers were finally sliding through your folds. Your eyes, half closed, flicked up to see him, gaze trained on your core in amazement. “You’re so wet, baby,” he purred, spreading the warm slick up to your clit to start circling it with two fingers. “Just for you- Mngh!”

He plunged two fingers into you with ease, wetness coating his fingers to let them slide in. You were panting and thrashing and moaning his name, and he just watched with the biggest hardon he’d ever had, how he made you feel good and how pretty you were, and how much he never wanted to pull his fingers out of your sopping wet heat.

“Do you want my fingers in your mouth?” he asked, and you squeezed your eyes shut and nodded vigorously. “Hey, hey,” the fingers that weren’t plunging in and out of you and curling into your pussy’s sweet spot, squeezed your chin. Your eyelashes fluttered open, and you stared at him with blown out eyes. “You gotta look at me while you do it.”

Then his fingers prodded at your lips, and you opened them with a whine, willing yourself to keep them open, to see how he smiled adoringly down at you. They were filling you just right, one hand stuck in your pussy and the in your mouth, teasing over your tongue. Your orgasm was approaching, knotting in your stomach, embarrassingly fast.

He groaned at the sight of you, looking up at him with huge, adoring eyes while sucking his fingers. “Fuck, fuck, good girl, such a good, appreciative girl, taking my fingers wherever she can.” You clenched around him at that, and he chuckled knowingly. “Yeah, you like being my good girl? Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum in my fucking pants.”

You released his fingers only to moan - almost scream - his name, as you came around his fingers, curling into you and working you through your orgasm. “That’s it, sweetheart. Cum on Channie’s fingers. Look so pretty when you cum.”

You were still dazed on your bed in the glimmering aftermath of your post-orgasm, when you heard Chan shuffling beside you, and then he was leaning over you once again, shirt and pants discarded and cock proud and stiff and leaking precum onto your stomach. You groaned at the sight, hand trailing over his exposed stomach, where abs dipped and rose, glistening softly. Then your thumb caressed and pressed against his slit and he hissed, dropping his head into the crook of your neck.

He nosed at your neck, pecking a little, before speaking, voice too strained and too pretty: “Can I fuck you, baby? Please, please, I need to feel you around me so bad.” He had shut his eyes tight, fighting the urge to grab hold of your back and press your tits into his chest.

“Please,” you came back equally as whiny, writhing in his hold, where his thumb was rubbing soft circles in your hip bone. “Please, wan’ your cock. Need it.” He smiled into your neck, grabbing your head and kissing your cheek. “So cute.”

You felt the head of his cock slide through your still impossibly wet folds, then pressing against your entrance. You were murmuring his name over and over and he was panting into your neck and licking a stripe of wet glistening saliva onto it, as he began to push in.

You were writhing so much he had to place his hands on your hips to still you, whispering soft reassurances until he was pushed all the way, clit pushed into his abdomen. You’re so full, you can’t stop the wanton moans at the feeling of his pretty, red cock, every bulge and vein pressed against your gummy walls. “You’re so fucking tight,” he spat, fearful that he’d spill his load into you immediately from the way you were clenching him. Then, slowly, he was rocking into you and the both of you were clambering onto one another. Your hands found his neck, his hair, his flexing biceps, and his your hips, waist, boob, and then clambering up to hold your face and look into your eyes.

“Look at me,” you almost didn’t catch the way he repeated those words from before, but you looked into his brown orbs, blonde hair curling over and tickling your forehead. “So fucking pretty, so cute, my little cumslut. Say you want my cum, baby, please, say it.”

“Wan’ your cum!” you cried, as he angled his cock inside you to press into that spongy spot. He was giving in to all his wants at your words, pulling you up by pressing his arms under your back, so your tits pressed against his chest, and he was nosing at your face again, trailing kisses everywhere he could reach. “So good for me, so pretty, all mine. Fuck, sweetheart.”

“All yours,” you babbled mindlessly, when his hand snaked between your bodies to rub circles into your clit. “Cum for me, cum for me, baby.”

His thrusts were growing sloppy, and you felt the knot tightening in you once more, pulled tight and ready to snap. “Cum, cum, come on, my pretty darling. Fuck, Y/n, I love you!”

At those words you came, pussy pulsating around his cock and clenching so tight, he was unsure if he could even pull out in time. He did though, pulling out just in time to see his seed spill all over your soft stomach.

Panting and out of breath, his arms gave out and he collapsed on top of you, body covering yours. “Ugh,” you groaned and looked up at you, laughing softly. “Chan, you’re heavy,” you complained. “I’m a weighted blanket,” he countered, but climbed off of you anyway, lying down next to you. You looked at him, with the side profile of a god, and his blonde hair tousled and chest rising and falling.

“You are pretty,” you said, and you could almost cry when he looked at you and blushed.

“You should’ve just told me,” he whispered, turning his head to gaze at you. You frowned and nodded. “But it doesn't matter now,” he reassured, one hand climbing from the sloping, bunched up duvet and running his hand through your hair. He tilted his gaze towards your cum covered stomach, some of it having smeared onto himself, and he pushed himself off the bed. "I'll get a towel."

Naked and divine, he disappeared into your small bathroom.

“Oh, God..” you groaned suddenly, face morphing into anguish.

“What?” Chan called from the bathroom.

“Soonyoung is going to be the most insufferable person on the planet when he finds out about this."

#lee chan x reader #chan x reader #lee chan smut #chan smut #dino smut #dino x reader #svt chan x reader #svt dino x reader #svt x reader #svt smut #svt angst #dino angst #chan angst #lee chan angst

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sparrowrye · 2 months

Text

Alastor x Fem! Reader {soulmates} Part 2

Synopsis: soulmate AU where you have the same mark on your body as your soulmate, and if your soulmate dies you also die. Alastor needs to make sure that his soulmate is safe so he can continue his reign - whatever that takes.

Part 2 summary: Escape is futile

Part Pilot

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

"And the winner is Python!"

I turned my head from the bloody sight. I had brutally murdered an innocent fighter like myself. But I had to do it. It was my only chance out of here and they were far too mentally gone to even have a chance at a normal life.

I pushed myself up on one foot and limped to the gate. The crowd above roared my fighter name and bets were being collected. My master picked me up and looked down at my injured foot. Usually a head collar was strapped on to keep me from using magic against him, but he had recently gotten more comfortable without it.

I flicked my wrist behind his back. The sweat from my forehead jumped off and sliced through his throat. He dropped me and fell, clutching his throat. I scrambled to my feet and bolted around the cages containing my brothers and sisters in fighting. I ran past the unknowing guard at the gate and into the crowd.

I could taste the sweet taste of freedom beyond those fences. All I had to do was hide in the woods until dawn. It was easy. The crowd didn't know what was happening and people often tried to run out on a poor bet. No one would interfere.

Except one.

Rope wrapped around my throat and snapped my head backwards. The force slammed my back into the cold ground. I coughed violently as I pulled the rope loose. Spit fell out of my lips as I looked up. Standing on the other end of the rope was Striker, a Full mage who liked to terrify others with his illusionist demonic appearance.

He pulled on the rope and it tightened again. I slipped my hand under it and tried to dig my chin between my neck and it. He pulled even tighter, rougher, and pulled me forward, forcing me to fall on my stomach. I sent wind and dirt but he casted a shield of around himself.

I looked to the side and pretended to lift something. His glance was all I needed. I leaned forward and pulled the rope over my head. I barely made two steps before something caught my foot. I tried to pull that one off but the ropes kept coming. My neck, my shoulder, my wrist, and my knee. I flailed and threw every magic I could at his ropes. Yet it did nothing. A Slight hand was no match for a Full mage.

Henchmen appeared and pulled the ropes in different directions. It was mere seconds to have me completely immobile on the cold ground. Striker stepped inches from my face before kneeling down and grabbing my chin. He lifted the rope around my neck at the same time, painfully contorting my neck in what felt like a 90 degree angle.

"Looks like you're mine now, sweetheart," he purred, "'til the day you die." He let go of my head and my face slammed down into the pavement.

I jerked my head up from the pillow with a yelp. I found myself in an old, dusty room with sunlight streaming in from the window. I sat up and examined every inch of the room. How the hell did I get here?

I tried to think past the nightmare but was met with a mental block. Who's house was this? Why am I here? When did I change into a white gown? Who's bed is this?

I put my feet on the cold carpet and padded over to the window. I looked out at a wide open sea and a sheer cliff-face. That's when it connected. I had evaded the worse fighter master for five years and landed right in the claws of the Radio Demon.

A light knock came at the door. I dove into the corner and put my hand up, ready to cast at a moment's notice. But the person who entered wasn't the Radio Demon, but a different one. He resembled a combination of a cat and bird, his entire body covered in gray and white fur and his wings a gorgeous bright red. He had a black top hat sitting between his ears.

"You're awake," he said, "Good. Your clothes are in the wardrobe. Alastor wants to speak with you before he leaves so hurry up." He shut the door.

My neck hairs bristled at being told what to do. I didn't waste five years of freedom to be told what to do again solely because my soul happened to be bound to the worse Full mage of the century.

Yet there was nothing I could do.

I opened the wardrobe to find old dresses that looked like they were from the 1930s. Maybe the 40s or 50s? They were old, that much was obvious. Not my style, either.

Now he's dressing me.

I swallowed hard and picked a long skirt and button down. I locked myself in the bathroom, grateful that it had a lock, and quickly dressed. The sink had a bowl of water in it which told me this old house didn't have working pipes.

I gently splashed my eyes with the ice cold water to wake myself up. I found an old brush in one of the drawers and brushed out my messy hair. It had taken nearly three years to really understand how to take care of this hair. I had grown it out after escaping the rings to make myself more unnoticeable.

I let out a sigh. I closed my eyes and took a moment to ready myself for the next encounter with the mage. He couldn't kill me. He would kill himself in the process. If he tried to keep my in a cage like the others a little self harm should do the trick. I had options. I could handle this. I had handled worse. Right?

Outside the room wasn't much better off. The floorboards caved under my weight and spewed dust up in my face. I sneezed a few times on my way down, careful not to touch anything in case it disintegrated upon contact.

The staircase to the foyer was tight and narrow. I could clearly see the deep purple and dark brown accents of the house now. It didn't exactly look pretty. Though I couldn't imagine much thought was put into any part of this old house.

I turned at the last step to find my soulmate standing by the cold fire. He seemed to be looking at something before he spun to face me. His eyes looked me from head to toe and back again. My fingers tightened into a fist subconsciously.

"Mm, it'll do." I bristled at the comment but he crossed the living room in seconds to stand in front of me. I took a step back. "How did you sleep?"

"Fine."

"Come sit, I have much to tell you before I leave." He stepped to the side and gestured to the room. His other hand was behind his back holding his cane; the cane that made me feel like I was always being watched with the creepy little eye on it.

I looked up at his red eyes before forcing myself to walk into the room and sit on one of the hideous old chairs. He sat on the other one on the opposite side of the fireplace and crossed his legs elegantly. I crossed my ankles and put my hands in my lap. I hated dresses but I had watched enough women and explored the internet enough to know how to sit 'properly'. He seemed like the type to correct me on manners.

"I'll make this simple since I have places to be," he started, "My rules are very simple. Rule number one, you're not to leave the premises. You have until the tree-line before you're considered off this property. Rule number two, you can go anywhere in the house except for my room and office. They're beside each other on the second floor. Don't worry, they're locked so you can't mistake them for another room." His eyes narrowed a tad. "Rule number three, don't bother me. You can do anything you like, request nearly anything from Husker, but do not disturb me."

"May I ask a question?" I ventured. My head was tilted down a little and my eyes glared up at him.

"Yes you may." He laid his cane on his lap.

"If you want nothing to do with me, why the hell are you keeping me here?"

"Silly girl," he chuckled, "I told you last night. I need not worry about my soulmate dying in wasteful ring fights. If you die, I die. Not to mention, if people discovered we were connected you would undoubtedly find yourself against very powerful mages that could kill you in half a second." I gritted my teeth, unsure of how to respond. "And as I said last night, you should be grateful that I'm providing you with a safe haven."

"A safe haven that's about to collapse?" I remarked, looking around at the dusty boards and picking at the old ratted chair.

"Well," he laughed, "if you're bored you could always fix up the place."

"Can't you do that with your oh-so-powerful magic?"

"I have more important things to use my magic on. Besides, your Slight magic should be enough to fix up the things you need." I was about to argue when he abruptly stood up. "Well, I must be going now. I do hope I won't have to remind you of my rules. They are rather simple and easy to follow. Good day." He didn't bother to use the door, disappearing into the shadows and melting into the floor.

I stared at where he had disappeared for a long moment. My eyes then trailed around the room, examining its every inch. It was quiet. Too quiet.

Boards creaked and I looked over to see Husker appearing from the hallway. "I'm sorry to hear that you have a shitty soulmate," he said, sounding genuinely apologetic.

"I never believed in soulmates, really." I stood up to walk over to him. We looked roughly the same height until I got closer and discovered to be a few inches taller. "Is there a reason why you're...here? With him?"

"I'm under Alastor's service for an extended period of time," he answered, turning back down the hallway. I followed him through the narrow entryway and came to an old kitchen. "He told me I'm to fulfill most of your requests."

"Why do you listen to him?"

"For my own reasons," he growled, "I'm not about to let you run off, if that's what you're trying to get at. He can't kill you but he can kill me, and he will if I let you run off."

"Right." I quietly left the room to explore the rest of the house. Next to the kitchen was the dinning room. It was full of random old furniture that looked like someone had dumped the insides of a victorian home here. It circled back to the staircase and sitting room. On the other side of the sitting room was a library study. The books looked like they were nests for spiders, moths, and bookworms.

Upstairs had another sitting room but was mostly filled with old bedrooms and bathrooms. I quickly discovered which rooms belonged to Alastor. Directly across from 'my' bedroom were two locked doors side by side. So long as he came and went at early or late hours of the day, I could avoid him easy.

Escaping shouldn't be hard, though. A pang of guilt went through me as I thought of Husker having to deal with the repercussions. He was obviously a Full mage if he could conjure up a demonic illusion like that. Though what for while he was here, I'm not sure. Perhaps a scare tactic. I shook the thought from my head. I had killed people with my bare hands on the concept of "Me or them". This would be no different.

"Say," I found Husker drinking something in the kitchen, "could we fix the pipes so we can have running water?"

Husker shrugged. "Sure. You want to help?" The side glance his black eyes made me want to incline.

"Sure."

Outside had a cool, ocean breeze crossing the field. I instantly found the tree line Alastor spoke of. The first challenge of escaping would be crossing the field. There was nothing to hide behind or use for a shield. I had to buy time to cross the field and take shelter in the dense trees.

Husker went to the side of the house where an old well stood a few paces from it. He put his hands on the ground and seemed to search through the earth. A moment later he snapped his black eyes open and looked up at me.

"Clean out the well and dig further down until you reach water." He said as he pointed to the stoned circle. I stood on the side that put it between me and Husker. I had heard too many tales of people losing their life to a deep well.

Husker fixed the pipes underground and through the house while I fixed the source. I knew my next request to him was to allow me more clothes that fit my style. And more pants. I kept quiet until the brown water turned into pristine, clear running water from all the faucets.

I dried my hands on my dress in the kitchen and asked, "How did you know I had magic?"

"Alastor told me."

"Right."

"I've also seen you in the fight rings before."

"You what?" I bristled.

"Relax," he grabbed the same bottle from the counter, "I wasn't a master or anything. I was running the bets and gambling." That didn't make me feel any better. How could he just let them keep those fights going? His appearance gave me my answer.

So I changed the subject. "How would you suggest I ask you for different clothes? These aren't exactly right for me." I looked down at the elongated skirt.

He let out a sigh and pulled out a phone. My heart quickened. "Find what you're looking for and screenshot what you want. Then tell me your size."

"You know, that's not exactly how sizes for women work," I tried. "One size in one store could be very different than another."

"Then pick one store and tell me what sizes," he replied. My heart dropped and I took the phone from him.

****

I gave myself a week before my first escape attempt. I had to know Alastor's schedule and Husker's routine. I also need to ensure they weren't bracing for my first attempt. A week should be long enough, surely.

Alastor left in the mornings before or right at dawn and returned at some point well after dusk. Husker preferred to be in the living room or on the outside porch drinking alcohol. I guessed that he had some kind of magic that kept the effects of alcohol to a minimum so he could still keep an eye on me. I made it a habit to join him on the porch most of the time, reading the one book I could think of off the top of my head for him to get.

Alastor had made two more rules since my arrival. Well, one official rule and one implicit. The explicit one was no unsupervised internet access. No phone, no computer, nothing. I had no connection to the outside world.

The implicit rule was my clothing style. Any 'modern' clothing that was even close to being considered immodest disappeared from my wardrobe the next day. This meant he was keeping a close eye on me despite his rules to keep as much distance between the two of us as possible. I had to be careful. I didn't know what type of magic he was using and if he could see me at any point.

But I was ready.

It was a blue evening, the setting sun hidden behind a raincloud. The rain hadn't quite reached us yet but the strong gusts were moving the clouds closer and closer. As much as I didn't want to escape on a rainy night, it was the best chance I had. Muddy conditions and rain made it difficult to see and operate in. For most people. Most likely for Full mages who were used to having everything handed to them on a plate thanks to their power.

Husker had just finished another one of his whiskey bottles and went inside for another. I whispered an apology as the door closed and I stood up from my chair. I used my magic to push against the wood from underneath so they didn't creak. I jumped the stairs and as soon as my feet hit the grass I ran.

I pushed wind against my back to help carry me across the field. My heart pounded in my ears as I reached the tree line and disappeared behind the closest large tree. I sank to the ground and peaked around the tree. I didn't see Husker yet.

I turned and ran further into the forest. The wind from the storm made it easy to maneuver through the dense forest. I had no idea where the closest town or city was but I needed to put as much distance between me and the house as possible.

There was no notion of time as I kept running. My legs burned and chest hurt but I didn't dare stop until I could barely stand. I pushed through the pain and veered off to the side, hoping they would search in the other direction. The rain had started and trees bent against the strong winds, pushing back as best they could. I took this as my cue to find a hiding spot until the storm cleared up.

I picked one of the trees and started pulling up the dirt and roots. I would dig myself a little burrow and wait out the storm. The wind pulled aggressively on my clothes and hair. It felt incredibly strong for a storm and it made my blood run cold. I frantically looked around in search of the bright red of Alastor's coat or Husker's wings. This wasn't natural wind. This was from magic. They were searching for me.

The trees practically uprooted themselves as the wind pushed against them, opening the forest floor to the sky for a moment. I briefly saw Husker's red wings in the sky before the trees cut my line of sight. I dove to the side before the trees opened again. I felt like a field mouse running from a coyote in the field grass.

Husker dropped through the canopy and locked eyes with me. He curled his claws inward and the tree branches reached for me. I pushed against them with wind and snaked through their reaches. I stayed as close to the ground as I possibly could. I needed someplace to defend, somewhere that he couldn't reach me. The forest was proving to be a horrible idea.

Wind and fire were my best friends as I evaded and burned the branches that grabbed at me. Husker went back to the skies and attempted to create a wall with the trees. A branch caught my foot and dragged me towards its trunk. I opened the earth near it and pulled its roots up. I used the storm and pushed the tree all the way down. I jumped into the ditch and pulled the roots back over me, partially covering me from the sky. Husker flapped overhead, arms crossed.

I dug into the earth and filled it up behind me. The further down I went the farther I was from the reach of the trees. Several times he tried to catch me with the roots but he couldn't see me anymore. I had broken his line of sight. That's how you defeat a Full mage, I realized. If the mage couldn't see you, then they didn't know what they were doing.

I picked a random direction and started tunneling again. I didn't get far, though, as I realized my great fault. I had filled most of the earth behind me and it cut off my airway. It was freezing this far down and I was lacking oxygen. I was suffocating. I was already sweating and exhausted but not I was truly fighting for my life.

Praying that they were digging after me in the original spot, I start tunneling back up. Going up was far easier than going down but I was already exhausted, physically, mentally, and magically. I had to take several stops, struggling to breathe.

After what felt like an hour, I reached tree roots. I grabbed hold of one and used the last of my magic strength to pull myself through the dirt. I clambered through the dirt and sucked in the fresh air. I frantically looked around, half expecting Husker to jump on me from behind. But he was nowhere in sight. The light rain had turned into a downpour but the tree I was under gave me enough shelter from it.

I looked around for several moment before collapsing against the trunk. I took deep breaths of the sweet fresh air and let the rain drops patter on my face. Had I done it? Were they digging after me or looking elsewhere for my tunnel exit? It didn't matter. I just needed a few minutes to recover.

"Well done."

My breathing caught in my throat. I looked up to see Alastor leaning against the tree staring down at me. His smile was still plastered on his face and the sarcasm was heavy. I scrambled to my feet and backed away from him.

"I must say I'm impressed that you managed to evade Husker but I'm sorely disappointed that you can't follow simple instructions." He was leaning forward enough this he was at my eye level and creeping towards me.

“I'm disappointed you thought I would just stay put like a pet," I returned with heavy breathing. I was so tired. I didn't know if I had the energy to run from him.

He chuckled at my retort. "I knew you would attempt to run. You watched my schedule. You knew I wouldn't be back until later. I know exactly how your mind works."

“Do you, now?" Using my peripherals, I willed the roots from the nearest tree to uproot and wrap around his legs, making sure not to touch him yet. "Then you'll know that a cornered animal fights back until they die." I snapped the roots tightly around him. He looked down and I ran. I was so tired but desperation kept my blood boiling in all my fights.

I used the strong wind and rode it into the sky. I threw myself as high as I could and looked around. It was nothing but trees. No town, no city, no house, absolutely no sign of humanity. I was in the middle of nowhere.

I dropped into the trees and hide among the branches, eyes desperately scanning the ground. I leaned back to sit on my heels but the strength in my arm had disappeared. I lost my grip on the branch and fell backwards, hitting branches on my way down.

I landed hard on my back and felt a crack run through my spine. I sucked in a gasp of air and stared up at the gray sky. I gripped at the wet grass and tried to pull my strength back in. Alastor appeared above me a moment later, smiling down at my paralyzed body. He knelt beside my head so his ugly yellow smile came closer to my face.

"This suites you," he said, "this desperation. You're trying so hard to escape no matter what it does or if it kills you." He pushed a strand of hair out of my eyes. "Unfortunately for you, it matters to me because we share the same fate."

"Fuck you."

His smile lessened slightly. "I'll add another rule for you to follow." He grabbed my throat and hoisted me to my feet. His claws dug painfully into my skin until I could feel my blood soaking my shirt. He pushed me against a tree and leaned in close to my face. I pulled on his wrist and tried not to cough in his face. "Rule number five. Never speak to me in such a way again." He paused. "Words like that are unbefitting for a woman."

"You can..." I struggled to speak clearly, "you can...keep me here but...but I'm...but I will not play...play by your rules." My heart was racing as his grip tightened even more so. He dies if you die. He dies if you die. I repeated in my head.

He let go of me and I fell face first into the ground. I gasped and coughed up spit as I rubbed my throat. "Give it time." I saw his feet walk around to stand in front of me. "I can be very persuasive."

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin husk #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #soulmates #soulmate au

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throwaway-yandere · 4 months

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𝑫𝒐𝒍𝒄𝒆 𝑺𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝑵𝒖𝒐𝒗𝒐 (Yandere!Dainsleif/Reader)

a/n: I love Dainsleif with every fiber of my being, do you guys know that? Anyways, just like all Dain-fics, this one has illustrations (I hope they give Fairytale book vibes). I’d like to thank @meimeimeirin cuz this was an idea we were laughing abt at 4am and somehow I made something out of it HAHA.

Unreliable Synopsis: “Fairytale worlds follow fairytale laws. There’s always a protagonist burdened with impossible tasks who will experience the rule of three, witness transformations, find talking animals, and learn the power of kept promises. So, before you embark on your journey, "princess" (Y/n), have you heard of the Ugly Duckling’s tale?”

CW: light yandere themes, fairytale!au just for the hell of it. HURT/NO COMFORT. Late/Advanced happy birthday, Dainsleif.

"The destined knight is late," the great dragon clicked his tongue. One would expect that an inferior creature such as an ugly duckling would quake and shrink while perched on the Dragon King's hand. But their expression was nothing short of serene. There is a veneer of calm that the great Dragon Ongri did not overlook.

The "duckling" had the eyes of an old gentleman with worldly disinterests.

He was longing for death.

𝕺nce upon a time, there was an ugly duckling who was abandoned by both their siblings and mother. Oftentimes, he was pecked by his peers, sneered into thinking his big head and scarred face. were both a reason for his survival and misery all the same. The ugly duckling thought himself unloveable no matter where he went. The small waters he was born in had no room for miscreation, and when he traveled to an elderly's house elsewhere, the chickens thought him useless and undesirable. Normally, the story would've been a happier bedtime story if he had gone to meet the Royal birds and begged for them to end his life. Maybe then, he would've realized that he had not been a duck but a swan all along. But alas, our poor ugly "duckling" found his feet at the hands of the great Dragon King- Ongri's mercy.

"Will you kill me?" The ugly duckling asked calmly. "You need to release your anger, and I can be but one of many casualties."

"I am not a creature of impulse."

The divine dragon scowled. "After Bars' and Fein' deaths, the concept that this realm dubs as Time and Moments is now under my jurisdiction. I've no use for wasted breaths."

As it happens, the dragon was in a troubling situation. There is an immediate need for a substitute. Sensing the urgency of fate's call, Ongri unleashed an ancient incantation. Feathers singed into flesh, wings clipped into arms, and in a burst of radiant light, the "ugly duckling" was reborn as a human knight. His body had scar-like spots from the Divine Dragon infusing him with magic, albeit the metamorphosis was far from flawless. Even as a human, he was imperfect. Mysterious dark blue "burn lines" traced his neck and arms. With the new human's eyes still closed, the dragon spoke to him, the last for a long time: "Forget your past and this whole affair." He commanded. "Go, find and protect your princess."

It mattered not if this was the last breath Ongri would tell him, besides…

When a god applies a curse, it takes effect at a higher level of reality than the person themselves.

“(Y/n)…”

“It’s me, Dainsleif… Can you… still remember my voice?”

“…”

“I… understand that once a person reaches this stage of the curse, their senses get muted. The remnants of those who once dwelled here must have been the catalyst of your ailments worsening..”

“… I’m sorry. I am incredibly sorry that I found you at such a later time. It did not occur to me that you would be here in the Chasm.”

“In our next fairy tale, I’ll—”

“No… I cannot subject you to any more empty promises… But know this:”

“I will keep you safe from now on.”

“So, do not leave my side ever again.”

And the new knight opened his eyes.

Memories of the dragon vanished from his mind. He was now a being of larger flesh and bones without recollections of his past. Should another human take his shoes, they would know that it was a fresh awakening. His first breath tasted like rich champagnes. Golden. Even the sun shone in such resplendent light that made the world seemingly revolve around him.

His legs wobbled. Sliding onto the grassy area, he caught a sight of his hair. Blonde. Like hay— they were golden threads silkily strewn about. He soon noticed that the rest of his complexion was a light pinkish-hued color, as did the hands that prevented his head from taking a serious fall.

The reborn “ugly duckling” may have forgotten why, but he felt alienated from his own body. And he has the Divine Dragon to thank for his new vessel and plain armor.

“Help! Someone, HELP!!!”

His ears perked up. It was a scream with a fervor of a “damsel in distress”. Vent clamor as she may with her whole throat, nothing would come out of it.

But fate will not allow this untimely demise. Quick on his new feet, the new knight dashed towards the sound. No cavalry— just a single determined mind. After running for some time, the unnamed knight did not come across any souls.

That is, until he found the young maiden he was “fated” to save. She was on the ground, clinging into her wrist as though she burned her hand. In the ground laid an iron sword, begging to be drawn.

At the sight of the wild animal bearing down on her with frightening speed, the “knight” took her weapon and charged towards the scene, raising it in front of the menacing beast. He gazed at the bear that towered over him, displaying its slobbery maw and long, pointed claws. The untamed creature snarled and dropped to strike.

Perhaps the Divine Dragon saw his noble pursuits, perhaps he was naturally gifted in combat, but the bear was unable to rake the man’s body. Miraculous it was that not a single nasty laceration was left on his person. He lacked the strength to take it down in one fell swoop, but the speed he had made up for it. Like swans that swerved through the wind and flow of water, he dodged all its attacks. With a few strikes from his blade, the bear falls...

He breathed out, shaking in his boots though he tried not to show it. Straightening his body, he met the maiden’s gaze. His blue eyes met hers in a piercing gaze, nearly taunting her as his new opponent. The young lady exhaled a deep sigh of relief.

“T-Thank… you…”

Subconsciously, he circled the shoulder that recklessly swung the sword around. The new “knight” tilted his head. For what? He wished to ask, but words did not come out.

“For saving me, of course.”

The maiden gracefully stood. Her garments had lost some of their value due to the soil and dirt, but she herself was not affected in the same way. She exuded a fierceness that suggested anyone who ventured to hurt her would be receiving more than they bargained for. Instead of tucking her hair to the back, she pulled them forward, hiding her ears.

“Do allow me to introduce myself, kind knight.” She cleared her throat softly. “You may call me Princess (F/n), daughter of King Regan and current crown princess— heir to the throne upon the late Prince Pierre’s demise. May I know your name?”

…

… Silence…

The princess tilted her head.

"... Does my savior have a name?"

"... Name?"

The young man paused.

He couldn't remember his name. In actuality, he had absolutely no memory of anything. His mind was a bottomless pit with little to no air. With wide eyes, his hand moved slowly to around his neck. The act of conjuring up his supposed name left him terrified for reasons unbeknownst to him.

Does he… not have a name?

“... You must be joking.” The princess deadpanned. “How can one not have a name? Were you not baptized under the Divine Dragon’s light?”

She sounded incredibly upset by this fact. Whatever she ranted on about, it must be a human tradition.

“Do you not know how important names are—” The princess sighed, “Never mind. I shall assume you are one of those orphaned folks. Besides, if what you say is true, bestowing you a new name is a power much more potent.”

“I… want a name.” The man spoke up rather shyly, voice almost inaudbile.

"I know, I know… Huh, I usually take names rather than gifting them," the princess chuckled. She seemed wholly aware of his dilemma. "Hmm… Let me see…"

She examined his features closely. He was dressed in the traditional knightly fashion, albeit slightly altered. The holy kingdom's knights, of course, never donned masks—especially not half of one. He was strange, but there was an innocent genuineness about him. The blonde man doesn't have a polished appearance. He looked like a lost duckling.

It was rude to stare at the peculiar blue wounds on his face far too long so the princess’ eyes trailed above his hair.

"Leaf…" She pointed upward. "Leaf."

The knight blinked.

What a peculiar sounding name.

"Understood." He nodded and bowed politely. "I shall now be referred to as Leaf."

"No, I meant—" The princess cut herself off and chuckled. "Oh, well. I meant the leaf on one's head. But certainly the name Leaf does suit you fine."

“Do place your iron sword away, Leaf.” She added, cringing. “It is unbecoming of a knight to point a sword to their princess.”

“May… May I ask as to why you were attacked by a bear?”

“Quite bold of you to inquire a royal about a recent assassination attempt,” she humored him with a smile. He safely assumed she would not enact punishment for his assertiveness. “If you must satiate your curiosity, it is exactly that. An assassination attempt. They believed since my brother had fallen so easily, I myself must be an easy game since I adore wandering around the forest.”

“And they seem to be right,” Leaf muttered, wittily referring to the incident prior that arranged this fated meeting.

“Oh?” She scoffed, her polite smile remaining intact. “You’ve quite the tongue. Are you from the valleys?”

“I do not know.”

She squinted.

“Hmm, I see.” The princess exhaled and shook her head disapprovingly. “Then I am to presume that I should also use my wits to cleverly weave a background for you much like your name, Leaf?”

“You wish for me to serve you, that I can tell, and for that to happen I would need your equal assistance,” Leaf spoke solemnly. “I do not recall anything of my past, but you can always make one for me.”

Leaf knelt in front of her. Silence ensued.

“You are deadly calm for a man who wished his history be erased…” The princess muttered.

Leaf was a strange man indeed. He was perceptive, yet he spoke like fate’s pawn. That is to say, the princess noticed he only ever says the truth. His countenance conveyed little desire to adopt rebellious ideologies. To be honest, there was nothing in those contrivedly starry eyes. It was bare. A false sky.

It almost made the princess worry for his lack of self-preservation had she not been the same. Lies were always at her hands’ disposal, and she greatly hoped it was not what her heart would contain in her last pages. She didn’t wish for a life of deceit. The princess's survival solely comes from her ability to “doublespeak”.

“I see your promise. You are made of self-mettle. Although your blunt tongue may mar your fortunes sooner before you could gaze upon His Majesty, I wish to prescribe you with new duties.”

She took a deep breath.

“This directive shall not be withdrawn in the name of the Divine Dragon. Leaf, a young knight from the Valley of Gaciea who will shortly be appointed retainer to the Royal Highness, Princess (F/n), kneels before me. Until the end of time, he shall be my sword, and I will be his master. Will you keep your word and uphold the oath— the promise?”

“I will.”

Not a moment did he hesitate. Not for a second did he think there was more to life than this. It was nearly bitter. His life sounded so simple to her tongue.

But it was a contract nonetheless.��

A promise that must be fulfilled.

“I find myself stirred in restless days without you my by side. You haunted me so diligently this past 500 or so years.”

“Humor me, won’t you… my b-beloved?”

“Why have you hid away from me? Why did I have to find you in this state? Furred and mute. Didn’t you take a breath to think about how much your pain would mean a greater weight for me? Have you not a second thought about how much it pains me to see you like this— bearing the fangs of the abyss and the claws of the cursed…?”

“The only sigh of relief I can release is that at least in this new sky, Ongri— no, he calls himself Zhongli these days— would get between us no more.”

“This new fairy tale… For how long do you expect me to keep this promise, (Y/n)? How many more stories must we get through for us to reach a happy ending?”

“Please… I’m begging you… Say something!!!”

“…”

“… Speak… Please… Anything…”

“Tell me about our past rendezvous. Seduce me with your musings. Anything… can't you try, just for this special day?”

“Please… don’t turn your mask away from me…”

“Do you find time to flow as quick as the waters by the stream? I am inclined to believe this sentiment. I find it astonishing that we’ve spent eleven or so moonshines joined at a hip. Time ages us but we are none the wiser.”

Leaf grunted, heaving Princess (F/n)’s inventory as she spoke. He didn’t seem distressed by the weight and his princess appeared not at all troubled as well. At least, that what it seemed on the surface. Royals must make their superiority known. Leaf knew (F/n) wanted to also carry some of the bags, but he refused.

There were several notions Leaf refused that noon. When (F/n) entertained the thought of going out as herself and by herself, he disapproved with haste. Leaf had to know where she’s going, who she was going with, what she’s going to wear— just about everything. His voice alone overwhelmed the princess enough that you’d mistake him for the king. The knight practically ordered what she would wear and what route she’d have to take if she wished to see the ongoing festival.

Being herself was a safety hazard and being alone by herself was a death wish.

To his eyes, at least. He had always been a twinge too overprotective.

It was a hectic morning with a picture-perfect, almost cliche scene of bustling streets and frolicking kids on a medieval setting. While children would swerve around adults' legs to avoid getting tagged, adults walked slowly to hear each gossip. One kid had nearly hit the princess herself, but Leaf would not allow it.

Leaf pulled (F/n) away by putting an arm over her waist. The smell of her sweet perfume surprised him. Her smell reminded him of the forest. For the knight who professed to guard her innocence, her warm body lightly pressed against his was a fleeting but almost immoral moment. He set her down slowly, gasping quietly. The princess chose not to draw attention to the troubled expression on her most reliable retainer.

It was better not to acknowledge his growing romantic interests.

To her, he is only a sword.

Even if he is a friend, at the end of the day, he’s only a weapon to be used.

The princess quickly pulled the cape down further to hide her face— mostly her ears. For reasons unknown to him, she seemed to find that part of herself worthy of great insecurity.

He cleared his throat, face dusted in a pink hue.

“You say that time affects you, but you haven’t aged a day.”

The princess laughed.

“Finally, a compliment from a man as stoic as you? Oh, what a day to rejoice!”

Leaf shook his head with a small smile.

“I had given you one on several occasions.”

“That may be true, but random bouts of flattery from you are scarce.” The princess hummed. “I vaguely recall how getting anything out of you was like trying to get a frozen little duckling to quack. Who am I? Your mother duck?”

The smirk on his face was quick, but (F/n) definitely saw it.

Several staff once questioned Leaf’s ability to speak. Many, including (F/n)’s father, were convinced he was mute. Everyone in the castle knew of the princess’s peculiar tastes and thought Leaf’s recruitment was a mere byproduct. His masked appearance and strange scars added more fuel to those rumors. When Leaf defended (F/n) from another assassination attempt in front of the king and inquired about her condition, King Regan nearly toppled from where he stood.

After being bombarded with questions, Leaf merely said he refrained from speaking since he saw no use if he wasn't talking to the princess herself. (F/n) still finds it absurd that she has to give orders for him to talk to other people.

For Leaf, it was simple: he just didn’t see the point of forming other interpersonal relationships.

(F/n) was the only one that mattered in his eyes.

Only her.

Only she is worthy to serve and protect.

“You truly are like a little duckling following his mother’s tail,” Princess (F/n) sighed. “But you have vastly improved in our time together. That, I can commend.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Leaf laughed softly, mocking her tone in his signature subtle way. “Oh, what a day to rejoice.”

She playfully gave him an elbow nudge. “Do not copy me, Leaf.”

“My apologies.”

Princess (F/n) was meandering around because the harvest festival was drawing closer. With her own eyes, the princess intended to see how her people were faring. Rarely did she change into a more "common" outfit and styled her hair with simplicity. Though, if you were to ask Leaf, seeing her in her most simple clothes made her far more youthful than the garbs and crown that wrinkles her smile to a frown.

“Madame, would you be interested in buying your lover here a brooch?”

Both of them stilled as a merchant called out. The undercover royal pointed to herself.

“Yes, yes, of course I’m talking to you, gorgeous!” The merchant grinned. He had silver hair that slightly covered one of his blue eyes. “Do you want matching rings instead? We’re selling for fifty percent off!”

Leaf’s gaze was stern. Despite his reservations, he knew the merchant as Alfstan, another young knight who hailed from a family of vendors. Two moonshines ago, Leaf was (forcefully) placed on training duty and had the fortune of mentoring this aspiring knight.

Mind you— nothing was particularly dubious of his wares. Leaf just simply despised having another man brazenly take your attention away. He did not find their previous exchanges pleasant. Not when Alfstan often joked about replacing his position one day.

What hubris.

While he busied himself glaring at the poor man, the princess awkwardly laughed and dismissively waved a hand. “Oh, no, he and I— we are not—”

“Haha, I know, I was just pulling your leg, Your Highness.” Alfstan grinned, giving Leaf a quick nod. “Morning, Sir Leaf! Were you showing the princess around?”

“Shhh! Be quiet!” (F/n)'s eyes widened.

He protectively wrapped an arm around (F/n) again, this time far more confidently.

“Yes.” Leaf spoke, voice as solid as his resolve.

“Mind if I tag along?”

His stare sharpened. “I would very much mind, now return to your stall.”

The princess shook her head, poorly judging her retainer’s possessive words as acts of protection. Instead, she dwelled on their attire. “Drats, was our disguise that fragile?”

Alfstan assessed her from top to bottom, which made Leaf even more tense. “Eh, you’re really gorgeous that no cloak can hide your beauty, Your Highness.”

“I have to agree,” Leaf said stiffly, clearing his throat. “Perhaps I should hide her in a hay sack. WIthout your prying eyes.”

(F/n) raised an eyebrow. “And what? And be suspected of kidnapping me instead?”

Leaf shrugged. “Does that sound like an offense I would commit?”

Alfstan rolled his eyes. “Well, obviously. Besides, the only way you wouldn’t get caught is if you hid her in something as small as a teapot.”

And he would be right. But it will take eons to prove those suspicions as truth.

“Going back to your wares, Sir Alfstan,” (F/n) digressed. “These iron-framed tassels, are they made by your hand?”

Alfstan's respect for the princess grew.

“Yes, how did you come up with that conclusion? Most passersby believed I had ‘em commissioned from the East.”

(F/n) smiled crookedly. Leaf caught a glimpse of discomfort, but it was gone in a bat of an eye.

“I… I admire your skill with molding iron.” To the untrained ear, (F/n) sounded flustered and embarrassed. To Leaf, he was certain that she was unsure of herself. “It is commendable, how you smith your very own weapons, that is. I know many of our soldiers come to you when their blades are chipped.”

“You’ve heard of my skills?!” Alfstan beamed proudly. “Really?!”

The princess nodded. “Y-Yes…”

It was odd. Despite her high praise, her wariness remained. She looked at the blonde man. “He had also made your new Ulfberht sword too, right? It certainly pierces much better than his old one.”

Leaf didn’t bother with a reply, Alfstan made it for him.

“Yes, Your Highness. I thought it would make for a thoughtful birthday present!”

“Speaking of presents…” The princess gazed down, analyzing the items he sold once more. “What do you recommend as a gift for someone important?”

If Alfstan was elated by her earlier compliments, he could practically jump over the moon at her newest proposition.

“Oh? OH?!?”

Leaf gave (F/n) a strict yet gentle glare.

“Your Highness…”

“I still won’t let it slide!” (F/n) huffed. “I couldn’t possibly be satisfied with just new sets of armor. Alfstan, by my order, suggest a pleasant gift for the stubborn knight beside me.”

“On it!”

Without delay, the two bent down to select the ideal accessory for the man who vehemently refused. Alfstan was the only one touching the gems and (F/n) refrained from doing so. Tiny flecks of gold and iron infused the tassels, but she feared she would handle the stones carelessly.

Leaf palmed his face with one hand as the two chattered. Still, despite Leaf’s disapproving looks, he finds (F/n)’s enthusiasm to make him happy a wonderful notion in itself. To think that (F/n) would continue to insist on a present for a birthday that had since passed… She was more stubborn than he was.

“So troublesome…” He muttered with a soft smile. “I see no point in this, Princess (F/n). Serving you is a miracle enough itself—”

“Halt! Speak no more, Sir Leaf!” (F/n) exclaimed. “There! That one, Alfstan— that gem resembles his eyes, does it not?!”

“You have great tastes, Princess (F/n)!” Alfstan nodded eagerly like a motivated student. “That does look like his shade of blue— and so quick to find it among the pile, too! Are you sure you’re not some sort of custodian of natural treasures?”

Princess (F/n)’s awkward and stifled laughter can be heard again.

“What? Haha, what nonsense.” She shook her head. “Everyone calls me Princess (F/n), any other name would surely sound terrifying and mismatched.”

A nonanswer, but that made the conversation more humorous.

“Here you go!”

Alfstan reached his hand out with the tassel. (F/n) stared at him, silent and unsure. He blinked and snapped his fingers.

“Oh, right, you need a box— my deepest apologies, I was too caught up in the moment!”

The princess sighed in relief.

Leaf crossed his arms. “You’re doing well for your first time setting up a stall, Alfstan.”

“This isn’t my first and you know it, Sir!”

(F/n) laughed.

The merchant wrapped the gift she brought with care. The hush looms large around them as the merchant boastfully goes about his business, his tone comforting to her ears. The Princess walks over to the gift box once the merchant has finished. She can't help but smile because she can feel the tassel inside.

“Not exactly a surprise since Sir Leaf is here, but the packaging adds some charm, right?” Alfstan asked.

The princess couldn’t hold back a smile as she looked at the knight behind her.

“I think most of the charm comes from the person who’ll receive it,” (F/n) chuckled.

“Don’t you think so, Leaf?”

She wouldn’t know. And she’d never know a lot of things.

She never got the chance to ask her most precious knight if he liked that gift.

And she never will. No matter how many days, months, years, centuries— eons Leaf would wait, he would never hear the princess ask that same question again after this.

It would not matter if he was a judge, a prince, a knight, or a mere animal— it did not matter how many sweet new styles he would take. In the end, his arms will always be empty. Everything was pre-ordained. Dying in his arms, whether it’s slow and painful or mercilessly quick— will remain as the last line. He will always hold on to your corpse, warmth draining.

This was your fate, (F/n)— no, (Y/n) (L/n).

This was just the first of many branches of the Irminsul. The first of its many reiterations, possibilities, or better yet, alternate tales or "universal resets".

Princess "(F/n)" coughed, wetting the side of her lips.

"I haven't been able to p-personally attach that tassel on your s-sword, b-but… but I can spare you enough seconds to fly away…"

"Don't make haste!" Leaf gritted his teeth as he applied some pressure down her stomach. "This is not your decision to make!"

She didn't reply to his desperation, but she silently disagreed.

In her palm was the tassel, out of its box. The blue threads darkened with the taints of her blood. The metallic scent was nauseating. It weaved in a disorganized fashion around her fingers.

What a beautiful and tragic loom of fate, to love someone you were bound to hold with ruin.

It would’ve hurt less if it weren’t in his colors too.

"This marks the worst day of my life," the “princess” smiled, tucking the stray hair behind Leaf's face. "And even if given the opportunity, I wouldn't dare c-change not even a minute detail about it."

As if she— as if you— have the power to change destiny.

You're not a descender.

You're just a pawn.

That's when Leaf realized how fragile life ultimately was. With the curse undoing itself, he recalled and reflected on his animal days. He understood the Divine Dragon's intense frustration over a lowly duckling's will to perish. The curse of becoming human meant knowing the greed men had, but also the beauty of their kindness.

His small bird heart was not meant for this much sorrow. His life was meant to be simple. To learn that he was not a duck, but a swan.

How was he supposed to cope that the woman he had sworn to protect was not human, but a fae?

Everyone in the kingdom knew that the king would sooner disclaim his paternity than allow the crown princess (F/n) to truly lead— but they never had any real reason to support the king for this. The princess’s words were always more kind and ponderous than that of her supposed father’s. They thought him mad. They thought him deplorable. They thought him old and senile.

But he would not be king if he were not sharp.

Why, oh why, would the princess make great efforts to constantly hide her ears? Why would the princess utter roundabout ways in speaking her “own” name? Most of all, why would the princess fear the touch of iron?

There was a simple answer: she was not the princess, but a liar.

And yet, Leaf was the sole person who did not care, for he thought himself as the worst sinner or “quack” in comparison.

The kingdom won't learn the full truth for some time after this, but the fae made a bargain with the real princess. The real princess would elope with a farm boy and, in return, the fae would take her name. The trade was not malevolent. The two women were secret friends since childhood and neither wished the other harm.

But the townsfolks had little patience. They would sooner throw pebbles and stones than kneel for a false princess.

The moral of the story, like most Brothers Grimm’s fairy tales, was simple: virtue will be rewarded, iniquity will be punished. The storytellers do not care beyond that, no matter how dark it sounds to the children who will hear it. The fae lied, therefore the kingdom shall rightfully punish her.

They better thank the dragon they oh-so admire that the court fae did not think themselves evil. They better sleep soundly, knowing that they have slaughtered a well-intentioned guardian.

For he will not and never will.

Not even with a change of title, name, and universe. Whether the land he walked on was called Gaciea, Fodlan, Belobog, the Continental, or Teyvat— what the world steals from him, he promised to take back.

There the two were, back to where it started. The same forest and patch of land where the bear had attacked her. Fate had a funny way of telling tales. Leaf can only scoff at how unimaginative it could be, sometimes.

Why couldn’t fate think of more comfortable deathbeds for the one he loved?

"You cannot allow this! I cannot allow this!" The knight gritted his teeth. "You will not die— you cannot die. You and I have a promise… You cannot break that one promise!!!”

“(F/n)” grinned.

The look in her eyes disturbed him.

She knew. It is finished. She knew that it was the last page of the book. Just living in these immortalized pages for the fae was well worth the want she had wanted.

“Consummatum est.”

Consummatum est….

Leaf gasped shakily.

“Did my life… even have meaning to you as well?”

Her expression was enough to tell him the words “who knows?” She surely did not. Her mind was buzzing and her thoughts were fizzling out. No one knows anymore. Maybe the Divine Dragon would but he would not accept any offering or prayers for these two heretics.

This is fine… He’ll forget his tears soon, surely…

He’s only a sword at her side… She never asked him to be anything more…

He should be okay, once she’s gone…

She grinned, lifelessly tracing her thumb across his cheeks. The curse is undone. The loom of fate was slowly disintegrating. Soon enough, he shall return to his original form. That of an animal. That of an ugly duckling. That of a swan who will forget his human memories.

It is finished.

On the book’s final page, there is only ever a fae’s corpse and an elegant bird watching over them. With its wings clipped back, curiously watching the light leave their eyes, he will return to the nearby riverbanks and forget what had happened. As retribution for stealing another’s identity, there will be no one left to remember who she truly was.

And that was all there was to it.

With the fae banished, the Kingdom of Gaciea lived happily ever after. THE END.

Dainsleif closed the book and lovingly looked at the “person” beside him in bed. He stroked the “person”’s light brown hair— its color reminiscent of the bear he had slain in his first life. It’s a shame he had to reunite with you in this condition. But it’s not like he would stop loving you. He doesn’t care if you’re a fae, a sinner—

Or a hilichurl.

He scooted closer beside you.

"So, does the story ring any bells, my beloved?"

Zhongli, upon recalling what happened and the curse he had inflicted on both of you to fulfill some children’s fairy tale, sought the “ugly duckling” and the “false princess”. Retired as he is, he cannot undo the fate you must play nor terminate his contract with Celestia. For consolation, he merely offered the Khaenri’ahn a teapot. Unlike the Chasm, the teapot was forever peaceful and serene. The brightness of lumenstone ores was not as comforting as the adeptal light that peeks through the drapes. This is your current place of residence. Whether you liked it or not.

"To think Nicole would entail the story of our past life." He laughed softly. "And these names... Hah... Are those the best she could conjure up to bypass possible erasure…? I suppose I should still thank her for her best efforts. I can see how challenging it would be to document our story, given how we lived through so many resets."

There’s a slice of cake paired with wooden utensils on the nightstand. If your mind had not deteriorated, you might’ve assumed they were gifts from the aforementioned Nicole and the Geo Archon. Unfortunately, forming a coherent thought required a mental fortitude akin to iron. You currently do not have such willpower.

“Alfstan— no… Halfdan was right. There will come a time that he’d protect you from harm and not I…” Dainsleif mumbled defeatedly, his eyes burning with tears he couldn’t let out. Far too tired to dwell on it. “He must’ve forgotten his old jests in his previous life because as far as he’s concerned, he’s simply doing his duty as a Black Serpent Knight…”

He pecked your forehead, closing his eyes.

"Did you remember, my beloved? Vacation may not have any business being in my vocabulary but it is my birthday today…" Dainsleif leaned his forehead against the cold stone that covered your face. "I know you— do not feel guilty over your lack of gifts. It is not as if I bothered to count my age since the cataclysm. I didn't want to celebrate this occasion for the past five centuries. Not when you weren't at my side..."

The blonde man turned his gaze to the floor.

How many times will he have to “reincarnate” just to see a happy ending for the both of you?

"Happy birthday… to me…" He sang weakly. "Happy birthday to me…"

The man— the former sentimental judge— the former tyrant prince— the former "ugly duckling"— and now the current bough keeper, observer of fate in this new fairy tale, trembled…

“Happy birthday, happy birthday…”

… And sobbed.

You, in your ungreedy husk of a body, tilted your head in innocence. Pain coursed through every nerve now that the Abyss Order’s cleansing equipment broke. The man before you was no different from the shadows you fought and hid from that would terrorize the dark and cold places in the Chasm you’ve instinctively called home. But somewhere deep down, you carried a complex weight that hilichurls wouldn’t normally have.

That weight was a human emotion dubbed as "pity."

You pitied the shadow that loomed and embraced you.

And your lone reluctant arm that wrapped around him was enough to make him fully break down.

His throat constricted as he cried into your inhuman shoulders. Your scent was like that of a wet duckling, and he preferred that over the blood that disgraced your form several "fairy tales" ago. Dainsleif caressed the golden band on his finger. It was the most important ring between the two that Pari Zurvan found him clutching whilst unconscious in the wilderness.

At the very least, you were safe.

And you being alive today was a good enough present for him.

You tilted your head down, feeling his warmth one last time while Dainsleif took a deep breath, singing with more air than a proper tune.

Though it was barely discernible, he could just about make out the words you muttered a phrase from the old language of Khaenri'ah. Or at least, he deluded himself that that was the case. In his catatonic mind, you spoke the words:

Happy birthday, my beloved.

"H-Happy birthday to me…"

Taglist: @pix-stuff @sagekun @vennnnn-diagram @dilucragnidvr @tnsophiaonly @lsleepysimpl @kitkareen @dxprived4-starboys

#yandere dainsleif #yandere dainsleif x reader #dainsleif #dainsleif x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere x reader #yandere fanfiction #yandere male

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earthnashes · 10 months

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The completed version of that sketch I teased a while ago! Angela and Demona have a much needed talk. uwu

So, I know I've been harkin' and hollerin' about starting a Gargoyles AU, and after this lil thing... WELL. I can't help myself man, plz ;w;

But even though I've yet to fully sit down to rewatch the show for concrete foundations, I'm gettin' bombarded with ideas for this badboy. I'll talk at length about my idea once I have something a little more solid, but for now the context is the AU explores Demona's journey to redemption, and her attempts to grow amidst the chaos of the general public now learning gargoyles exist (and the consequences that comes with it).

Below the "keep reading" is a short story I wrote on how Demona and Angela's first uninterrupted reunion could go. Angela is determined to try and convince her mother to give humanity--give everyone, really-- one more chance. Even with all the craziness and the very fragile relations between the supernatural and humans, Angela sees it as their best and only bet to actually build a long-lasting rapport. And a chance to have her mother in her life with minimal conflict.

"--Don't you understand? The humans took everything from me, and they have only grown worse. One so-called 'good' human can't undo that. They are never good."

"But they can be if you just let them!" Angela growls, flailing her talons out to her sides in a wide gesture around the city. "Mother, haven't you ever thought that maybe not all humans are bad? That they and gargoyle are more alike than you believe? You've been around for years. You can't honestly tell me you haven't met a gargoyle you couldn't trust in your lifetime."

"I trust no one," Demona sneers, turning her back on her daughter and hunching in on herself, arms crossed close to her chest. "It's what kept me alive this long."

"But at what cost? Mother... you are clanless." Demona doesn't turn around at the mournful tone, and Angela pushes on. "Y-you have no one. But you don't have to be--"

"Angela--" Demona's voice is loud, unwavering, but her tone is so, so tired. It's almost wrung out of her in a sigh that only hints at centuries of gliding solo.

"That is enough."

For several moments, there is heavy silence. Demona doesn't turn around, but the scent of salt in the air is tell enough. She heaves another sigh and begins to step toward the edge of the rooftop they've chosen for this meeting, fully intent on putting an end to such a miserable conversation.

"...Everyone believes you are nothing more than a monster." Demona keeps going, crouches down and begins to unfurl her wings.

"But I don't believe that."

That stops her. She freezes as if the sun has touched her skin, still as the stone sleep she no longer experiences. She still doesn't turn, but her head tilts to the side. Listening.

"I saw how desperately you want clan when you were with Thailog," Angela whispers hoarsely. "I saw how you looked at me, w-when you realized I was your daughter. You... you turned on Thailog to save me. Save us. But now I--" She whipes furiously at her eyes in frustration. "--you speak as if you want nothing to do with me--"

"You know that isn't true," Demona says, finally, finally whirling to face her daughter. Instinct drives her to open her arms, to reach out, but years of solitude stops her in her tracks. Her hesitation goes mostly unnoticed.

"Then prove it!" Angela barks. She lashes her tail and unfurls her wings. "I want you in my life! I want you to be clan. But I can't do that if you aren't willing to at least try." Angela closes the distance between them, grasping her mother's talons and --almost instantly-- feels like a child again. She gives her a gentle squeeze, and relief nearly floods her when she feels a small, hesitant one back.

"I can't ask for you to forget... or forgive. I won't. But I am asking you to... t-to at least try, and give me a chance? To give humans a chance, one more time."

Angela's eyes bore into her mother as she pleads: "Give me this one chance to prove you wrong."

-----------

Hope ya'll enjoyed! Now that I reread the short there's a lot I'd like to revise and add, but for now this will work. :)

But ye! More to come soon! ;w;

#gargoyles #demona #angela #my art #my stuff #headcanon #au #disney

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mistydeyes · 11 months

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𝔀𝓮𝓵𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽!

click me for asks + requests :)

2k celebration! submit an au/prompt from the list now until halloween :)

requests: open! i am in uni tho so it takes me about 1-2 weeks to answer!

pairings status: closed atm!

rules for requests - i love when you send things 💌

note - message me or comment on any one of my works if you want to be added to a tag list :)

I usually post on mondays, wednesdays, and fridays

izzie's fic recommendations - updated daily!

some things about me :)

the basics: 21, she/her, from the us :)

i'm a second year pharmacy student! also minoring in justice, law, and society

along with writing, i also intern at a perfume company and work at as a pharmacy intern

so naturally my pharmacist series is my absolute favorite to write and research!

𝓶𝔀𝓲𝓲 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽 - the full masterlist

don't know where to start? here's a few readers' favorites :) ❤️ - izzie’s favorites

💌 if you want to peek at all of my writings

S E R I E S

"your prescription is ready for pick-up" - 141 x pharmacist!reader

all of my works and our pharmacist reader

a panacea❤️ - 141 meets the cure to all their ailments

sick day visit - you prided yourself on never getting sick but the day has finally come. as you’re resting in your quarters, a certain group pays you a visit :)

fake hypochondriac ghost x reader (sequel to “a panacea”) - ghost goes to extreme lengths to see his favorite pharmacist

pain-killer fueled thoughts price x reader (sequel to “a panacea”) - price landed himself in the medic tent and his pain killers are making him tell the pharmacist his feelings.

keep your weapons hot and bodies hotter (18+) - stripper!141 x fem!reader (codename: Phoenix)❤️

hunk-o-mania 141 edition - feast your eyes on Delilah's Den's newest male dancers

playboy bunny phoenix edition - an unforeseen guest complicates the mission, now you have to get ready to act as the distraction on stage

the joys of civilian life - 141 x civilian!fem!reader

opposite occupations - while on leave, the boys each meet a civilian that makes their time deployed and defending their country worth it

family moments - 141 x fem!reader

little moments and little voices - precious moments you spend in your home with your husband and children :)

oh, darling, don’t you ever grow up - your husband leaves this world too early and now you have to pick up the pieces with your children

secrets and pointed fingers (requested!)❤️ - simon "ghost" riley

behind locked doors - when the 141 thinks you're the mole, they make sure to extract the information in whatever way possible

empty apologies and avoiding glances - when you return back to base, everything is far from normal

half empty glasses and unchanging perspectives - you try to run away from the trauma at the pub but with a glass in hand, simon finds you

O N E - S H O T S

odd hobbies - 141 x reader everyone has their own hobbies, yours are just unique to 141’s perspective

butterfly effect - 141 x fem!reader they say "a butterfly flaps its wings in the amazonian jungle, and subsequently a storm ravages half of europe." what once was a silly quote now has implications as one action leads to your death.

opposite of a meet cute❤️ - 141 x civilian!reader most people have a cute story as to how they met their significant other but yours is a little more eccentric

V I S U A L S + R A N D O M

random things in pockets and bags❤️ SERIES - what does the 141 carry on them when they’re on leave?

pt i- kyle “gaz” garrick

pt ii - simon "ghost" riley

pt iii - johnny "soap" mactavish

pt iv - john price

E X P L A I N S my series of explaining the various timeline's of the games and characters

simon "ghost" riley's backstory

which modern warfare game should i play first?

some writings from the inbox

medication mixup - the medic unknowingly prescribing you a penicillin has disastrous results due to your allergy

141’s dossier - see what the dossiers laswell gets at the end of mw 2019 looks like! + template

ghost’s doppelgänger - how does the 141 and los vaqueros react to you joining the team? their reactions are even better when you share an uncanny resemblance with ghost

running mascara - 141 x fem!reader harsh words are said and you try your best to run away from the cause. however, everyone needs to face the issue eventually and now the 141 is left to pick up the pieces. initially part of my 1k celebration but i added a sequel as it was highly requested! PART I and PART II

mw2 x reader - my ongoing series of pairing y'all up and writing a short lil blurb about how you met and your relationship

izzie’s 1K celebration! - closed now :) but feel free to look and see some of the prompts + how i answered them

𝓪𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓬 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓴𝓼

#tag list #masterlist

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panphilosopher · 2 months

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Fic Idea: Chaggie/Chaggily child AU except it's Vaggie's child when she was a human. (TW: sex violence)

The idea if Vaggie's human origin still happens.

During her time as a sex worker, Vaggie could accidently be impregnated. The idea she didn't realize she was pregnant until at least the beginning of her early second trimester.

Since abortion is illegal in El Salvador and cultural upbringing, Vaggie could be reluctant to have abortion until decided to carry it.

I cannot think of a name, but I'm calling Vaggie's child Mirabel (lol).

Being disowned by her own family fuck Vaggie up psychologically, and decided to raise her (likely have a girlfriend who helped her).

Vaggie absolutely loves her daughter; she dotted her, she was her moon and sun. Gave her endearing names.

Tragically struck; when Mirabel is between 3-5, Vaggie was killed (either to sex violence, struck by vehicle, gang related death, etc).

Vaggie ascended to Heaven (likely having a traumatic life and still caring for her daughter), but Vaggie was devastated because that meant she separated from Mirabel.

Worse, and this part of my headcanon, time is irrelevant in the afterlife. I get the idea from The Good Place; look up Jeremy Bearimy. That's meant Vaggie will not see Mirabel for hundreds of years.

Every year in the afterlife time, Vaggie will have a somber celebration for Mirabel. I would like to say around September to October. Is Vaggie way for her to grieved for not raising her daughter.

Vaggie was also recruited into the Exorcists early, ascended into an angel.

The fic would follow the canon route: Vaggie did the extermination, spears a sinner, and Lute cut her eye and ripped her wings, Charlie would find her, and both fell in love, opened thr Hotel, battle the Exorcists and won. Also, down the line, Emily would fall too and enter a poly-relation with Vaggie and Charlie because I ship Unholy Trinity.

Like three months after the battle, Vaggie and Charlie hold a somber birthday for Mirabel (Vaggie told Charlie when they started dating).

All the hotel residents wondered who birthday is it, and Vaggie tells them its for her daughter.

Cue everybody is going "WHAT" "YOU HAVE A DAUGHTER" and Emily screamed, "Why didn't you tell me?!".

Even Charlie gasped before saying, "Why am I gasping? I already knew that."

I see Vaggie as a very closed person, won't tell people her past unless she trust them, and seeing she openly celebrating her daughter's birthday means she does now. Also, she likely didn't realized she hasn't tell Emily yet.

Now, here comes the angst: a few days after Vaggie's fell (or forced fall), Mirabel ascended to Heaven.

I don't think Vaggie and her former partner will have a healthy relationship. Not fault for either of them: poverty, homophobic society, and that Vaggie being a sex worker. Vaggie decided to keep Mirabel just add another fight between them.

After Vaggie died, her former partner gave Mirabel up to an orphanage. I do see her feeling guilty and likely giving donations to the orphanage, but that's it.

I will see Mirabel being a selfless girl: the big sister of the orphanage, gave her dinner portion to the children who's nearly starving, is known around the town for helping people, things like that.

She vaguely remembered Vaggie, only remembered that her mother loved her, the pet name, and I believed a nursery song that Vaggie sang to her.

Mirabel likely died around 15-17, and I say either to traffic accident or a bullet stray from a gang shoot-out.

After arriving in Heaven, Mirabel will look everywhere and try to find Vaggie. However, she doesn't know her name and not realize she isn't in Heaven.

A month after the failed extermination, Lute discovered Mirabel, and being the sadistic bastard she is, recruited Mirabel into being an Exorcist, making her an angel too.

She gives half lies about Vaggie: being an Exorcist but was killed during the failed extermination by Charlie's paramor. Since Vaggie never actually introduced herself during the Redemption Hearing, and that Mirabel vaguely remembered how Vaggie looked like (especially her afterlife/her fallen angel form if take fanon route).

Cue Mirabel trained and searched for her mom's killer, not realizing her mom is alive and said killer is her mom.

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svnaaaaaa · 5 months

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Monte Carlo : Charles Leclerc AU (Epilogue)

pairing : charles leclerc x fem reader

summary : the married life went well. so is the pregnancy?

warning(s) : another domestic!charles, progress of pregnancy (i literally have nothing to write now), pictures from pinterest

previous : part seven

next : -

masterlist

author's note : in honour of attack on titan's final episode aired, i presented a long epilogue just like how attack on titan ended its series *sobsob*. i had fun doing this series but i realized of how short the story is because i just don't know how to elaborate the story long but long stories can be boring (with my writing) at the end of the day so i decided to end it before it became nonsense lol. thank you for the support that you guys gave me, i hope you guys enjoy it from the first part till now.

tagging : (if you want to be tagged in, let me know)

recap :

"ready to be a daddy, papa?" y/n whispered as she stroked back charles' front hair to the back. "as ready as i ever be maman." charles replied, taking y/n's hand and kissed it.

10 weeks into pregnancy, y/n realized that her body is going through some changes and that being her emotions as well. her abdomen is getting a slight bloated as if she was overeating things. just a small bloating, nothing more or less. and since charles have a week off from racing, he decides to bring y/n back home in nice, france for some healing time. lately, charles noticed that his wife is having mood swings moments, where himself was afraid that something might trigger her which he assumed that his wife was stressed while he wasn't home.

"honey, you might want to slow down on those wings. it giving you a bloating tummy already." beau reprimanded as he saw his daughter savouring the chicken wings. which has been y/n's craving lately where she craved chicken wings with spicy honey glazed sauce on it. y/n who felt realiztion hits her hard, she put down the de-boned wing back on her plate and placed the plate on the coffee table in front of her as her eyes were getting tear up. charles comes in the living room and he heard his wife was getting to sob. he immediately went to her side and rub his wife's arms. "y/n sweetheart, what's wrong, tell me." charles hushed as the sobbing is getting louder.

"i'm fat!" y/n exclaimed. "which makes me ugly!" y/n continued and the crying comes in. charles sighed silently as he pulled his wife into his arms and hugged her gently, rubbing her back. "you're not fat and ugly my sweetheart, it just your body is going through some phases as you are pregnant now." charles tried to rationalized which makes beau hit with gulit. "i'm sorry baby, i know being pregnant makes you want to eat everything you want but i am just want you to be aware of what you eat. that's all, nothing harm." beau explained. y/n pulled away from charles' arms and glared at beau, which causing him to stutter and carefully walk away from the living room. y/n starting to sob again and once again, charles pulled her to his shoulder, swaying them left and right.

charles thought of how many weeks more for the mood swings to past by.

"charles, y/n, i'm sorry."

as charles making chicken pasta for dinner, y/n who is finished showering, entered their bedroom while patting dry her body until she saw the full body mirror in the room. y/n noticed something different on her body and went closer to the mirror. y/n gasped. "charles!" y/n called. "charles, come quick!" y/n called once again and as fast as a lightning, there charles was, gasping for air as he leaned onto the door frame. "what is it sweetheart, are you hurt?" charles asked, making y/n chuckled. "no silly, look!" y/n exclaimed as she referred to her abdomen, making charles look at it as well. when realization kicks in, charles' eyes enlarged as he approached to his wife's way and saw a small bump. a bump that resides in his baby.

their baby.

"you can touch it you know." y/n chuckled as charles placed his hands at the side of his wife's bloating tummy, carassing it. getting his eyes tearing up, he thought on how he can't wait to meet with the baby soon enough. "hello there little angel, papa can't wait to see you soon. i hope you are as beautiful as your maman." charles said and end it with a kiss on his wife's abdomen.

25 weeks into the pregnancy, y/n's abdomen became a bit larger than the last time she realized she had the tummy. this afternoon, pascale invited charles and y/n to her house for a lunch date. as charles went bonding with his brothers at the front yard, y/n, charlotte and pascale were in the kitchen, prepping things before cooking. since charles and y/n were the only leclerc couple that will be having a child soon, lorenzo and charlotte were more than happy to babysit the future baby before deciding to have their own baby, in order to gain some experience. "how's pregnancy treating you y/n?" charlotte asked y/n as she was washing some apples before handing to y/n to slice it up. y/n sat at the island table stool, rubbing her lower tummy looking at charlotte. "it was like a rollercoaster ride to be honest, sometimes i am okay sometimes i am not. and poor charles had to attend to all my ridiculousness." y/n replied as she chuckled at the thought of charles had to find a rabbit meat for y/n to eat it with a sriracha sauce, where charles had to made an order through amazon for the sriracha sauce.

charlotte chuckled as well. "well, he had to since he's also helping making the baby right?" charlotte asked and y/n nodded at the question. "he had to, if he doesn't want our baby to drooling once it was born." y/n said, had a thought of where her mother used to tell a story of a baby that keeps on drooling because the father wasn't able to fulfill the mother's pregnancy craving. once she told the story to charles, at first he thought it was kinda weird and dumb but the thought of having his own baby might be experience with drooling in its toddling years, he couldn't bear to risk it so he just fulfilled everything that y/n craved.

"is it really a thing?" charlotte asked and y/n shrugged. "it can be real, it cannot but neither of us want to risk." y/n replied while cutting off watermelon this time. pascale chuckled. "i also don't want you two to risk anything bad to my grandchildren." pascale informed, stirring her cookings on the stove. both charlotte and y/n looked at each other, just smiling. "will do pascale." charlotte replied. "maman, arthur's here with carla." lorenzo informed as both arthur and carla entered the kitchen and kissing pascale's cheek, carla holding something in her arms. "here i brought some desserts from patisserie riviera." carla informed, placing a box of desserts on the dining table.

y/n gasped as she holding her lower abdomen, alerting everyone in the house. "y/n, are you okay?" charles asked, rushing in to y/n's side and placed his hands on y/n's. "i-i'm fine, i guess." y/n replied in confusion. "it just, i felt something like cramp but it wasn't that hard or painful." y/n continued as she placed charles' hands on where y/n felt the flutter against her abdomen. charles' eyes brighten up at the feel of the small kicks.

"wait, the baby kicked because of patisserie riviera?" arthur asked.

amélie was assigned to be the planner of the baby shower and she planned it to be an all-girls party at a venue where charles and y/n held their wedding at. amélie also invited kika, carmen, kelly, rebecca, lily, and basically all formula one drivers' partners. the theme of the party is pastel purple because everyone doesn't know the gender of the baby. the baby gender reveal will be held at the end of the party where the men will be invited right after the party ends.

theme and cake

invitation card

dining table

backdrop

"okay everyone, gather around here as we are going to play our first game." amélie announced as she stood on a podium with backdrop that she designed specially for her future niece/nephew. the ladies started to stood in front of amélie as y/n took place next to amélie as she linked her arm around amélie's.

"we are going to play our first game, which i call 'play dough babies', where each of you will be given a cup of play dough and the rule is easy." amélie started as she pulled a trolley that have cups of colourful play dough. "each of you need to create the perfect play dough baby where our mother to-be here, will decide the winner." amélie finished and starts handing out the play dough cups. "also help yourself with props in the trolley there to add some bonus points!" amélie added. the ladies in the hall starts to get excited as the trolley were pushed into the middle of the hall and they saw things that they can get creative with.

"okay ladies, you only have 15 minutes to create the most perfect yet creative play dough baby." amélie said as she pulled out a stop watch. "your 15 minutes start, now!" amélie announced as she clicked on the timer and the ladies started to rolling out play dough according to their own ways. "so y/n, who do you think will be the winner?" amélie asked leisurely as she tried not to make things focus on the game. y/n hummed as she looked at the contestants making their babies eagerly. she eyed on kika's play dough baby. "i had my eyes on someone's but i can't tell who." y/n replied as she giggled. "oh-kay then, ladies your time have five more minutes left." amélie announced and she walked around, eyeing the babies.

"time's up! so y/n, please choose your winner mommy!" amélie announced and y/n walked around to evaluate the babies.

y/n smiled genuinely. "without bias, the winner for this round is ... carla!" y/n announced as carla jumped happily and went to hug y/n at her arm as she doesn't want to cause trouble to y/n.

five games later, at party is now almost at the end and the men now have arrived. y/n's eyes lighten up as charles showed in her sight. charles saw y/n and walked his way to her. y/n smiled at charles and grabbed his arm, hugging it. charles chuckled at his wife's attitude, stroking his wife's arms around his right arm. "alright, now that everyone is here. now is the time for the gender reveal!" amélie announced and brought in a white frosted cake on her hands.

the guests there were starting to clapping their hands, feeling excited at the reveal of baby leclerc. including the new leclercs, where both charles and y/n is fine with the gender of the baby, as long as the baby is healthy and happy. charles gripped on y/n's hand where he pulled it to his mouth and kissed on it, making y/n smiled at her husband's gesture.

"ladies and gentlemen, may i here invite the leclercs to the podium here and cut the cake to present the reveal of their baby's gender." amélie announced and then both charles and y/n went to the front, onto the small podium that amélie made, hand in hand. amélie smiled at the couple and stood a bit away from where the couple stood. "are you guys feeling excited?" amélie asked, being the great host she is. "are you expecting a boy or a girl?" amélie added. "well..." charles started, as he getting nervous for no specific reason. "we were hoping to get both boy and girl but since there is only one baby here," charles placed his hand on his wife's belly, "we are fine with any of it as long as the baby's fine and y/n have a safe labour soon." charles said as the crowd were awed at charles' reply.

"okay, it's time to cut the cake! which gender will the new baby leclerc will be!" amélie said as both charles and y/n cut the cake and the gender has been revealed, which caused joy among the guests there.

38 weeks passed by so quickly and it is time for y/n to be admitting into her labour ward since the baby can arrive soon enough. also she has been feeling mild contractions. right now, charles went off to registering his wife after they got in their ward room.

"have you thought about the name yet?" one of the nurses asked as she was inserting iv drip on y/n's arm while y/n make herself comfortable on a bed that she has been admitted. "yea, we had few names listed but the right one will comes right in when we see the baby's face." y/n told the nurse. the nurse smiled at the excitement of a new mother. this was the first time for the nurse to see new mothers being calm, despite within 24 hours, they had to push a baby out of their uterus.

"all done, if there's any discomfort or problems, please press the button here okay?" the nurse asked and y/n nodded her head yes. making sure that y/n is fine once again, she left the ward room, followed with charles entering. y/n letting out a huge huff of breath. "another contraction?" charles asked and y/n nodded her head yes. "but still, the water isn't broke yet. is it normal?" y/n asked worriedly, making charles nervous and worried as well.

he was a small child when his mother gave birth to arthur and y/n was the younger child in her siblings. none of them experience with childbirth before.

"i guess so, want to take a walk?" charles offered. y/n nodded her head yes.

the leclerc couple walked down the hallway of the ward, waiting for water to break and also for dilation. dragging along the iv drip along. "can you believe it char, less than 24 hours we get to see our little baby!" y/n said excitedly even in the midst of contraction. charles smiled at his wife's excitement and admired at how strong a woman is even if she is in labour. this makes charles respect women even more, especially his mum and wife. "we have been waiting long enough now, please hurry up little fella." charles said while rubbing his wife's stomach, causing y/n groaned silently not wanting to create chaos. charles noticed it and pulled his hand away and immediately hold onto his wife's shoulders, fearing that she might fell down or something along the way. charles looked at y/n worriedly, which y/n saw and smiled a bit. "i'm fine, it just the baby can't wait to meet you too." y/n said slowly.

and their walk ended right there, as to the dilation went from 2 cm to 9 cm. that fast huh.

charles_leclerc

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charles_leclerc Presenting René Jules Valentin Leclerc. I love you my boy, just like how I love your mother ❤️

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yourusername

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yourusername rené jules valentin leclerc, reborn youthful and healthy

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a/n : the end! i didn't know how to end it so i ended it this way. thank you to all who have been supporting this series from the beginning until now. for now i would like to take a rest from writing because i have been in writer's block mode for a while now, hence the ending. if any of you have any suggestions or request, feel free to inbox me and i will try my best to make it a reality! once again, thank for the support and if you don't mind, feel free to follow me so that you will known what will i write next hehe 🩵

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