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comfort-questing · 7 months

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for us, there is only the trying

for whumptober prompt 31, "setbacks."

this lives a few months after the last story in my ragbros and Mond hurt/comfort collection, after Diluc has had A Bad Time not too long ago.

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Diluc was ill.

It started, as these things usually did, with a dull headache in the morning, and a dry throat that did not abate even though he obediently drank the tea that Adelinde set at his elbow at regular intervals. Autumn was the season for colds and fevers, as he well knew from previous years, and from Elzer’s discussion of worker absences in the last few weeks. The Winery folk had been taking particular care not to expose him to a single sniffle this year, to his embarrassment. Maybe they had also had orders from the Deaconess, and the doctors of various locales and skill sets that had come and gone from the Winery ever since his close-call incident of last spring.

Nonetheless by midway through the day he had to admit that he’d gotten a cold from somewhere. The by-now-familiar joint pain had intensified and been joined by shivers, and it was becoming increasingly impossible to breathe through his nose, with the headache making it downright painful to try. He did his best to keep his mind on the papers that he was going through with Elzer and the Guildsman who came for teatime, but the tickle in his nose and the burning in his throat didn’t help. The food didn’t seem to have any taste in his dry mouth.

Elzer must have noticed his abstraction, because he whisked the papers away afterwards from the table with remarkable speed, when the door had barely shut behind the Guildsman. And then, as Diluc blinked dully against the light from the window to try to appease the headache, “Are you feeling well, sir? You look a little tired.”

“Yes. I’m… rather tired.”

He’d been lying down in the afternoons for an hour or so, most days, on the doctors’ suggestions, so as not to use up too much of his energy at once - and balancing that, on the doctors’ other suggestions, with a short walk around the Winery grounds each day to build his strength up. In the last few weeks he’d been able to manage a full slow circuit without getting short of breath, but today even thinking of making the attempt made the throbbing in his head intensify.

Elzer glanced at the gray sky outside the window, then remarked it did seem a good day for a nap; that might have been a solid moment to make an escape, if Diluc hadn’t sneezed then.

“Oh,” said Elzer, with an unreasonably knowing sort of expression, and stood up. “Yes, you should probably get some rest, sir.”

Diluc had picked his Winery folk for their efficiency, among other qualities, and their ability to organize with or without his direct orders in response to threats or arising situations. There were advantages and disadvantages to having such capable and well-ordered staff - he thought glumly, from the edge of his bed, as he surveyed the dressing gown and nightclothes Adelinde had set out for him, and heard the running of the water taps in the washroom next door.

His head ached less now that Adelinde had drawn the curtains, a small candelebra the only lamp in his room. He’d left as little space as possible on his nightstand for medicine bottles these last months so the new supply Hilie and Gerald had just brought up had had to go on the corner of his desk instead.

“The bath’s ready for you now, Master Diluc, and after that I think you’d best take your rest early,” Adelinde called, through the half-open door.

“Adelinde, it’s only a cold. I - ” he pinched the bridge of his nose to stop a sneeze - “am perfectly able to continue with my day’s work.”

He’d spent enough nights on the roofs of Mondstadt and the cliffsides, too, feeling this ill or more so. The thought of his carefully-folded red coat somewhere in the depths of his wardrobe was more of a pang than usual, at the moment, as he stared down the flannels spread out on the bed.

“The Deaconess told us quite clearly that your lungs are still weak, and a cold could go to your chest as easily as not,” Adelinde said. “You know that too, sir.”

He did know that. He’d had to listen to Barbara say the same thing, in fact, several times that autumn. He rubbed at his eyes and swallowed lightly, his throat raspy on the way down.

“There, the bath’s ready for you now. I’ll check on the tea downstairs.” Adelinde emerged from the washroom, her sleeves rolled up; she reached out and felt his forehead gently, then bent closer to listen to his breathing. Diluc blinked and tried to measure his breaths, but coughed anyway - perhaps from thinking about it too hard.

“No fever yet,” she said brightly, after a moment. “That’s good. Wash up and change, sir, and I’ll have the tea brought up, with a little something in it to help you sleep.”

The “little something” foreshortened the day most alarmingly, with a heavy sleep full of unhappy half-remembered dreams, with Diluc waking to the thread of fiery sunset light between the curtains and a feeling like gravel in his throat as he swallowed. He lay still and staring up for several long moments, trying to place himself, trying to breathe without setting off a cough by accident. He couldn’t lie abed now, he had work to do. He had been going to meet Vile tonight at the edge of the grounds, and trade business with her, and hear about the news of the war from Inazuma…

He rolled over, and stifled a groan at the pull of aching muscles and joints, shivering as the blanket slipped off his shoulders. He was freezing, which frightened him a bit; it didn’t feel quite the same as a fever, but disturbingly like to one. His throat and temples ached in shuddery waves.

He wasn’t aware he was crying until the tears began to haze and overflow his eyes, and he buried his face in the pillow, sneezing damply. This weakness felt far too familiar, and despairingly so. It’s just a cold, you’ll be fine in no time, he told himself, sternly; but before, he’d been fighting Treasure Hoarders and Fatui through enough minor illnesses and more so. Before, when his claymore had been light in his two hands, when he had been his own weapon and shield alike, with fire burning in his wake. Before - so long ago it seemed, almost like a dream, though it had only been a few months since his illness.

How had he become so horribly breakable…

Diluc slept again, or dozed anyway, and woke to voices: Adelinde, and was that Kaeya, of all people? His brother hadn’t been to the Winery for a week or so, what with the scramble of preparations for harvesttime. His eyelids were heavy, the scent of steam and herbs twining its way thinly through his stuffed-up nose; he lay still, half-awake, shapelessly limp under the blankets.

“…got word from Charles with the delivery wagon today…” Kaeya was saying, in a low voice.

“…nothing serious, we hope,” Adelinde was murmuring, then. “But he’s running a low fever now, and I don’t like the sound of his breathing. If you’d want to stay the night, Master Kaeya, and bring word to the Deaconess in the morning if need be…”

“Of course.” The end of the bed creaked, moving ever so slightly under Kaeya’s cautious weight. “Addie. You don’t think - ”

“No, dear. I hope not, anyway.”

A pause, and then a sigh from Kaeya. “They all say he’s getting better, but they have that funny look on their faces, and nobody promises anything.”

“I don’t think anyone can promise anything, Master Kaeya, when it comes to such things.”

“Yes, but - it seems that they could promise a little more.”

The bed shifted, and Kaeya’s hand ruffled back Diluc’s hair, cool and soothing against his headache-tense forehead.

Kaeya he tried to say, but his throat let out only a pained sort of sound, and he blinked his eyes open to candlelight and his brother by his side.

“There you are, ‘Luc. I was coming by, you know, and fancy finding you in such a state. And you haven’t even been bartending, which might excuse picking up something like this…”

Adelinde leaned down and set a bowl of steaming water on the nightstand, which was oddly vacant in preparation, all of his books and trinkets and even the knife inexplicably vanished. She vanished out of his sight and reappeared again with a mug of something and a spoon.

“Sit up and have something to drink, sir. It’ll help your throat.”

“No more sleeping draughts,” he managed to rasp out.

“No, nothing like that. Just honey and mint, and qingxin from over the border, that the Deaconess’s friend sent you.”

Kaeya helped him sit up, his arm and the pillows supporting Diluc equally, and steadied the mug in his hands as they shook with the sudden chill of the air. “Easy now.”

His throat did feel remarkably better after the first mouthful, and even more so after the second. The warmth of the tea helped banish the shivering somewhat, and Kaeya’s arm around him did more. He blew his nose on one of the mysteriously appearing handkerchiefs that had been slipped in along the side of his pillow, and coughed after, cringing at the explosion of pain in his throat that it caused.

“Thanks. That’s - better.”

“That’s the way of it.” Kaeya’s voice was warmly cheerful, the one he used for Klee, and for the junior Adventurers from the Guild. “Now if you don’t want to sleep again yet, you can stay sitting up, and I think there’s supper on the way?”

If it was soup, he thought he was going to cry again.

“Chicken skewers and mint salad,” Adelinde said, “just a little light food, sir, if you can manage it.”

He nodded, and blew his nose again.

Of course nobody let him out of bed for long that night, and he found, to his shame, that he didn’t really want to be; the shaky trip to and from the washroom before supper was enough for him, the downward gravity of the mattress calling him helplessly back afterwards. Kaeya stayed there, fussing about his room, sticking his nose into a number of places that Diluc would have scolded him for if he had had the voice for it, and eventually settling down with the third volume of some trashy-sounding Inazuman light novel. Not even wartime quite stopped the smuggling of ridiculous books, apparently.

Adelinde replaced the steaming bowl of herbal brew several times, its vapor easing his coughs, although he could barely smell it. He huddled into the bedcovers and listened to Kaeya’s occasional snorts of laughter and acerbic marginal comments.

Vile wouldn’t lose much sleep over his missing a meeting these days, Diluc had to admit as the appointed hour came and went. He hadn’t had very good luck sneaking out even under the best of times in the last months, and he was pretty sure Elzer had set a watch around the grounds each time he’d succeeded.

Sometime late in the darkness, as his eyes drifted open and closed, Kaeya came and pressed a kiss to the corner of his hairline, unless he had been dreaming already; and told him goodnight, brother.

Diluc woke in the morning with a truly ghastly hoarse throat, and unable to breathe through his nose, but at least when he sat up and gargled gently with the salt water Moco brought him he felt slightly more alive by the end of it. Adelinde had another hot bath for him, which helped too, and while she’d pointedly laid out fresh nightclothes and dressing gown for him on the bed she didn’t stop him from moving to the chair instead when he returned.

He took the day slowly by necessity - Kaeya sitting with him until midmorning and talking about the Liyue Qixing succession choices, and then Elzer appearing with a very basic outline of the autumn workload requirements and shipping plans to go over. By noon he was yawning as well as sneezing, his stuffy nose beginning to turn more liquid, and when Adelinde suggested a nap after lunch he acquiesed.

Despite sleeping most of the afternoon he still managed to sleep soundly enough at night - he suspected Adelinde’s tea had contained something to assist with that - and woke again with a slight cough and no more than the usual aches, his throat pain quickly chased away by breakfast.

Adelinde let him go downstairs that day, though she made sure he wore an extra sweater over his shirt, and two handkerchiefs in his pockets.

“I’m glad to see you back up and about,” Kaeya said, when he came by the Winery later that week. He had his own set of scratches and bruises to sport - he’d been helping Razor fight Rifthounds, of all unfortunate but necessary activities - but a genuine smile on his face, and he didn’t twitch back as Diluc drew him in for a quick hug.

“Yes. I’m not even sniffling anymore, and my cough’s gone away.” He put away the knife he’d been polishing, next to the stave he’d been exercising gently with earlier that day in the front courtyard. “I’m sorry for scaring you for nothing, after all that fuss.”

He expected Kaeya to laugh back, and deny that he had ever felt any sort of that way; but his brother only nodded.

“It was nothing because you rested and didn’t try to work through it and pretend you were fine like you usually do.” Kaeya leaned against the corner of the wall, fidgeting one hand along the carved rail.

“It was a minor illness. Don’t be silly.”

Kaeya’s visible eye narrowed. “There aren’t any minor illnesses for you anymore. Haven’t you been listening to Barbara and the others? You can’t afford setbacks; after this spring you haven’t any reserves to lose. And - ” His voice twisted for a moment, and his fingers stilled on the wooden carving. “And we want you, here, more than we want the paperwork done a day earlier; do you understand that, ‘Luc?”

He didn’t like hearing that note in Kaeya’s voice, that edge of fearfulness that he hadn’t recognized since childhood, back when Kaeya was confident to let himself be afraid without shame now and again. But he had had enough fear of his own, muddled between his long naps and nose-blowing and tea-sipping, in the last days. So he only nodded.

“I’ll do my best,” he said, and meant it. Then, because he couldn’t really help it at this point - “So what do you mean about Rifthounds in Wolvendom? Bring me up to date, Cavalry Captain.”

Kaeya smiled again, wide and real.

“Well, when you ask so politely…”

#genshin whump #whumptober 2023 #whumptober day 31 #crossposting to ao3 #eventually I think #whump #crow writes a thing

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lexsssu · 5 months

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Hope (Neuvillette)

TAGS: Neuvillette/Dragoness!reader, breeding, impregnation, smut, drabble Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

Iɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴜsʙᴀɴᴅ ғɪɴᴅs ᴛʜᴇ ɢʟᴏᴡ ᴏғ ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀʜᴏᴏᴅ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴜᴛᴛᴇʀʟʏ ɪʀʀᴇsɪsᴛɪʙʟᴇ.

“You are simply too exquisite for even words, ma petite choue… ”

Sweat dripped down Neuvillette’s temple as his clawed fingers dug into the plush meat of your thighs, spreading them wide open so that he could see the mesmerizing sight of his cocks disappearing into your gushing hole. The wet squelch each time he thrusts inside, the slap of his balls against your sensitive cunt, and, most importantly, your precious mewls and moans are music to his ears.

He had long lost hope of finding more of his kind and of continuing his line because it had been much too long since he’d encountered any of his kin. Eons had passed, and while he remained mostly unchanged, the world around him certainly didn’t.

It must have been fate when he came across you washed up on shore, your scales glittering against the sunlight as your wings covered your prone body against the elements even when you were unconscious. The primal part of himself knew even then that he could no longer go back to the world he once knew before you.

He must mate and breed you so thoroughly that there is no doubt you’re carrying his hatchlings.

He can already see in his mind’s eye how stunning you would look impaled on his cock as your belly swelled with his eggs.

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

When his first batch of younglings hatch and chirp as they wriggle out of their shells before heading straight to their mother for their first feeding, it rains shortly in Fontaine before sunshine peeks out from the clouds and a rainbow decorates the sky.

It comes as a surprise to almost everyone in the capital when the chief justice is seen with a woman who could only be his wife, matching rings glinting upon their hands and pushing a baby carriage.

#lexsssu writes #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x y/n #neuvillette x you #genshin impact neuvillette #genshin impact smut #genshin impact neuvillette x reader #crossposted on ao3

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thebubblesareevil · 1 year

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Family is more than just a word. It means something…

After his “mortal” death, Chronos watched as his children lived their lives, causing chaos among the realms. He watched, and he mourned. He blamed himself, his actions towards his children as the cause of such tragedies. He watched as his children fought and killed, loved and hated, and eventually died. Some joined him in the infinite realms, their forms forever altered. For those who remained he watched… his granddaughter was still new when he first met her.

She was practicing skipping stones on a lake deep in the forest. She was angry that she was not allowed to train with the other warriors. She was too young, or so her mother claimed. After one particularly epic failure she was startled at the sound of laughter from the tree above her. She spun around, stone raised, ready to attack, she scanned the trees searching for the source… There! She threw the stone with all her strength. The blue figure did not move, only catching the stone in its hand before smiling at her.

“That’s quite an arm you’ve got there.” It said. She let out an angry growl.

“IDENTIFY YOURSELF!” She shouted, the intruder just sat there. It’s long purple cape draping down around it’s perch on the branch, it’s blue skin glowing from the light breaching the leaves. It tilted its head, to the side.

“What are you doing all the way out here, shouldn’t you be back home with the others?” She crossed her arms in a huff.

“I’m training of course, I’m going to a great warrior.” She froze for a moment before pointing an accusing finger towards the stranger. “You didn’t answer my question!” It laughed at her, further angering the young child. “What’s so funny?!” She asked stomping her foot.

“I don’t recall you ever asking a question my dear.” The child froze thinking for a moment, before her eyes widened and a slight blush of embarrassment covered her cheeks. She puffed up her cheeks and asked her question.

“Who are you? And what are you doing here?” The being hummed.

“Those are pretty big questions, for someone so small” the girl gave an indignant shout, ready to protest her size. The intruder looked her in the eye, two red orbs glowing with power. She froze.

“I think I will save the question of who I am for a later time. As for the reason I why I am here… I came to see you my dear.” The girl took a step back, one of the first lessons she was taught was when to fight and when to run. She didn’t think either would help in this instance as the intruder gently glided to the ground, it’s boots not making a sound as it stepped on the leaves below. She gulped.

“There’s no need to be afraid, I wish you no harm.” It made its way over to the waters edge before bending over to pick up a stone. “It only seemed like you might like some help, there’s a trick to a proper skip after all.” It threw the stone and her jaw dropped as it skipped its way to the other side of the lake.

“That was amazing! How did you do that?!” She looked up at the stranger in awe. It smiled gesturing a hand for her to come closer. The girl didn’t know how much time had passed, it felt like hours before she managed an impressive 7 skips before her stone sank. She let out a joyous laugh, hugging her stranger. It wrapped its arms around her, before whispering in her ear.

“I must go now, my dear. But I promise I will return, after all family sticks together.” She let go of her stranger intending to ask what they meant but they were gone. She frantically looked around for the being until she heard a shout.

“Diana! Come child! It’s time for lunch!” Diana looked around one more time before rushing to her mothers side.

“What we’re you doing out there darling?” Diana opened her mouth, intending to tell her mother all about the strange intruder. She stopped.

“Just skipping stones, I managed to get 7 whole skips!” Her mother smiled.

“That’s quite impressive, you’ll have to show me later on” Diana gave her mother a wide grin.

—————

Chronos watched as his granddaughter make her way back to her home with a sad smile upon his face. He knew what was in store for her, of the intense training in the coming years. She reminded him so much of her father. The smile slipped from his face. He would not let her story unfold as his did. There was little he could do without jeopardizing the future, but he would do what he could.

He won’t let her turn into a weapon. He won’t let her be used.

———-

Years passed before her stranger appeared again. Once more she was skipping stones on the lake, though she a bit bigger than she was last time.

Diana froze when she heard the sound of footsteps approach from behind. Diana sighed.

“I know what you are going to say sister, but I won’t take back my words. She Alcibie cheated and you know it.”

“Hmmm, those are rather bold accusations don’t you think?” Replied a voice, one from a memory long passed. She quickly spun around.

“You!… you’re real… I thought…” the intruder, a man, if you recalls her lessons correctly. She takes a fighting stance. “It doesn’t matter what I thought, you are an intruder, and you will identify yourself!” She commands, drawing the sword at her side.

The man tilts his head, completely ongoing the blade he makes his way to the edge of the lake. Just as before he bent down and picked up a stone. Diana growled in frustration.

“No games this time! Answer me!” He looked back.

“How can I answer you if you have not asked your question? Besides I think there is something else on your mind today.” Diana slowly lowered her blade with a huff.

“And what business is it of yours? My mind is my own. Tell me how you made it through the protections!”

“How indeed?” He said, tossing the stone across the lake, just as before. “Now what troubles you my dear?” Diana eased her stance, but did not lower her blade.

“What business is it of yours?” He shrugged.

“Curiosity, nothing more my dear.” He turned to face her “you can lower your blade. If I wished you harm, I would have done so when we met last, when you did not carry a blade” Diana huffed, lowering her blade. He handed her a stone, perfect for skipping.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours, but it couldn’t be, as the sun barely moved. Eventually Diana grew frustrated and threw a stone so hard it flew to the middle of the lake, not once touching the water until it sank.

“She cheated” she stated “she cheated and she didn’t even hide it. Such an act is dishonorable for a warrior of themascyra.”

“Is that so?” He asked

“Of course!” She shot back “she knew she was going to lose and she took the cowards way out and cheated!” He calmly looked over at her, tilting his head just so. Diana blushed, embarrassed at her outburst.

“Is it so cowardly to do what it takes to live?” He looked towards the horizon “Have you been told the story of the mad titan?” Diana thought for a moment, nodding.

“The titan Kronos went mad with the knowledge that one of his children would kill him, to stop this he ate them. In the end he was outsmarted by Zeus and killed in the war against his children” She explained.

“But he cheated, didn’t he? He escaped the titans grasp because his mother fed her husband stones instead.” He said with a deep sadness in his voice “It was through trickery that he defeated the mad titan, doesn’t that make him a coward?” He asked. “He even had back up, don’t you think he should have fought his father one on one?”

“Of course not! But that’s completely different!”

“Is it?” He asked

“Of course! He was faced with impossible odds! Kronos was a titan!”

“I see, so trickery is allowed when faced with an opponent stronger than you.” He surmised.

“Exactly!” Diana paused “oh…but she wasn’t facing an impossible enemy, she was facing her student.”

“What was the purpose of this fight? Was it to test your skill? Or was it to teach you?” He asked.

“We fight everyday, it was just a normal spar, but this time she completely changed her approach. I had the upper hand and she…” Diana paused.

“And she increased the difficulty.” He smiled “Take heart my dear, it means you’re improving.” He looked up at the sky “I do believe our time is up, return to your teacher.” Diana nodded, she turned to head back before pausing.

“You never did tell me who you are.” She said as she turned back but once more he was gone. Suddenly she heard the sounds of the forest, she didn’t notice before… how quiet it was.

Diana tucked that information away, in the meantime she needed to apologize to her teacher.

——————-

And so it went that through the years whenever Diana’s frustrations grew too great, or she simply needed a moment away, she would go to the lake and skip stones with her friend. It was peaceful, until it wasn’t and one day when a man breached the shores of themascyra Diana learned the truth of her birth. She journeyed to the world of men and fell in love, in that time away from her mother, away from the pressures of the throne, she thought of her friend and she remembered.

He called her family… but he was not Zeus.

She began to think of every interaction they had, trying to find a clue as to his identity and the more she thought about it, only one thing came to mind.

No matter how long they talked, no matter how much time they spent at that lake, only moments passed when she returned.

She finally had her answer, she wished she didn’t.

So after they won the war Diana went out one night and found a lake. She sat down, and waited, it didn't take long. She felt foolish for not noticing it before... the sudden silence from the world around her any time he appeared. She sighed looking up at the moon as they sat in silence.

"So you finally have your answer." Diana nodded. "Speak your mind child."

"You are Kronos, father of the Gods, what do you want from me? I won't help you. I won't betray humanity to further your madness." He sighed.

"Long before I was father of the Gods I was time itself, Chronos, and in death I returned to my true form." He looks at Diana with a sad smile "Madness is a disease of the flesh, something I am distinctly lacking these days." As though to emphasize his point, his legs vanished, replaced by a wispy tail. "Before the madness took me I greatly desired to be a father, perhaps it was my greed that led me to you. A granddaughter, untainted my sins." Diana clenched her fists. Chronos frowned.

"I will leave if that is your desire, what I wanted from you was a family. That is not something that can be accomplished through force." Diana stood, turning to face the Titan.

"I don't know if I will ever trust you again, knowing what I do now. You have done me no harm in the years I have known you... I will not promise anything, all I ask is some time to think, and decide for myself what to believe." Chronos nodded in understanding.

"You have all the time in the universe, my dear." Diana smiled.

"Thank you Lord Chronos." she began to bow, only to be stopped.

"You have not bowed to me once in all the years you have known me, there is no sense in starting now." He gave her one last soft smile before he turned to leave. "Ah, before I forget. I go by the name Clockwork these days, a bit less alarming, don't you think?" He smirked. Before she could reply he was gone, time resuming it's flow.

Diana smirked. "Clockwork, huh? I like it."

To be Continued...

Part 2

#Diana prince #dp x dc #clockwork #wonderwoman #this is an absolute brainworm that grew too big to ignore #i love grandpa clockwork #probably gonna continue if i do I'll crosspost on ao3 #danny phantom #dc comics #dp Demi-god au

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3minsover · 6 months

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𝙸𝚏 𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝙶𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝙱𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝙼𝚢 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 (𝚂𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚑 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝙿𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚜)

🌧️📦 ❤️‍🩹 Chapter Five: July 1986 pt.1 🌧️📦 ❤️‍🩹

last chapter of vol1, and it's hench: the longest so far, and shit goes DOWN. LOOK OUT FOR @resande's ART!!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/51814153/chapters/131898079

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #fanfic #ao3 #twitter crosspost #steddie big bang 2023 #3minsover #resande

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juggalomary · 2 months

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Saw someone do it and I’m a proud follower

10 notes: I go through my drafts

25 notes: i re-edit my teen au

50 notes: I finish and publish my art

75 notes: I try (keyword try) to fix my iPad

100 notes: I finish and publish all my one shots

Not likely

200 notes: i start my new projects I’ve been procrastinating

300 notes: i clear my tumblr drafts and post that

400 notes: i get twitter

500 notes: smut…

For fun

1k and I get a therapist

#fanfic #ghoap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ao3 #cod mw2 #call of duty #ao3 crosspost #asexual #tumblr trends #notes #help #I’m kinda fuck right?

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kaorisun · 1 year

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𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 immortality is an abundant curse (1)

pairing : blade x reader

tags : angst, hurt no comfort, reincarnation, canon divergence

word count : 5.3k

chapters : one • two • three

crossposted to : AO3

Summary : Like most good things involving his past, Blade keeps them buried deep within, only allowing himself to reminisce in the privacy of his own mind.

Blade recalls the events that caused him to curse his immortality.

Blade smirks at the way the Cloud Knights beside him tremble as they escort him to face the General. His footsteps echo throughout the hall— the only thing he could hear in the silence of the Shackling Prison.

He can hear the General address his underling before he feels a gaze settle on him. Glancing up, he wears a fierce expression as he meets Jing Yuan’s eyes.

The General speaks, “Do you remember me?”

“I remember,” he states, the following words grained into his mind as if they were coded into his very being.

“Of five people, three must pay a price,” Blade starts, smirking at the way the two visibly tense.

“You are not one of them, Jing Yuan.”

Before the General’s young protégé has a chance to react, Blade breaks free from his shackles, the metal flying off his wrists with ease. The Cloud Knights react a moment too late, allowing him the window of opportunity he needs to act first and throw them back.

A watery sword flies past his face, but he merely leans to the side out of the way.

Despite the young swordsman’s skills, his lack of experience and the gap between them is apparent.

With a triumphant expression, he looks to Jing Yuan, anger filling his gaze.

“Goodbye, General. I have more important matters to attend to,” Blade states before disappearing within the shadows of the prison. He can hear Jing Yuan hurriedly command his men to chase after him, but he knows nothing will come of it.

As Destiny’s Slave predicted, they were woefully unprepared, he thinks to himself.

The moment he’s out of their vicinity, that once smug expression falls, returning to its usual stoic, empty state. In his times of solitude, he seems to wear this blank expression often. Without the fires of vengeance fueling his emotions, he becomes a husk of who he used to be.

For a moment, he glances back at the prison he fled from.

Jing Yuan.

While he’s certain he’d be able to pin some sort of blame on the man for his suffering, he refuses to do so. There’s various reasons, but one stands out in his mind as the most prominent.

After all, there was once a time that he trusted his most precious treasure to the man. And that treasure of his was rather fond of the General.

Blade feels a small sliver of warmth at the memory.

Of course, you’d never forgive him if he brought his wrath upon Jing Yuan. You easily angered when he bickered with the man, insisting that the two had to talk it out and make amends. With your peacemaking, he could never stay mad at the other for long.

Besides, he thinks, there are others more directly responsible.

Staring blankly ahead, he pushes the thought aside as he arrives at the designated rendezvous point, eyes gazing off into the distance as Kafka approaches him.

“It took you long enough, Bladie. Thought I’d have to go ahead and get myself arrested without you here,” Kafka chides lightheartedly, “Did the General start monologuing or did you keep me waiting on purpose?”

“I waited for the opportunity to escape, as the slave instructed me to do,” he responds curtly. Kafka looks at him with a small smile.

“Still with that? Elio prefers being called by name, Blade,” she teases. Blade ignores her comment, focusing instead on the way his “name” sounds as she speaks.

“Blade” is but another thing borrowed from others to keep himself afloat. From the clothes on his back to this new name of his, it seems like everything holding him up is borrowed. Even long before he acquired said name, everything he owned was not his.

At least, almost everything. Though, it fills him with bitterness as ghosts of the past enter his head, lingering and meddling in his conscious mind.

Aside from his true name, you were his, were you not? Of course, he’d given you his heart and received yours in return, but that relationship was something that unequivocally belonged to him. It was not something gifted to him, nor was it something lent to him by a bosom friend.

What he had with you was something only the pair of you could understand or claim ownership over. A connection unlike any other— had he been more of an optimist, he’d have called you his soulmate.

Or, rather, if you were still around, perhaps the word “soulmate” wouldn’t drip off his tongue like venom.

Alas, aside from his past relationship, he, too, has his true name. Ren, a name that also belonged to him. Despite that, he prefers to continue on as “Blade” or “the unnamed.”

The name only served as a constant reminder of what is absent, however, so he no longer uses it. Just as he’s grown to no longer recognize the reflection staring back at him in the mirror, the name “Ren” seems less like his own and instead that of a stranger.

Without you there to say his name in the voice he’d once adored, his name became nothing but an untouched fragment of his past.

Alongside his memories of you, he refuses to allow his real name to be tainted by the vengeance, anger, and bitterness that fuels him today.

Like most good things involving his past, Blade keeps them buried deep within, only allowing himself to reminisce in the privacy of his own mind.

“…en! Ren!” a familiar voice calls out to him. Blade cracks open his eyes, finding that he is no longer his Stellaron Hunter self, but Ren.

He remembers this, unable to stop himself from smiling as he sees you fast approaching, a wide, loving smile on your face as your eyes meet. Ren doesn’t need to look around to know that he’s in a memory of his past— much preferring to enjoy this moment.

“You’re back early! Jing Yuan said you’d be out until sundown,” you chime, stopping in front of him. Glancing behind you, Ren spots the General, who offers a casual wave. Chuckling, he looks down at you.

“I finished my duties earlier than expected, so I returned early. What have you been up to? Causing the General trouble?” he asks teasingly, You hit him gently on the arm— a touch not meant to hurt— one that he misses dearly— before smiling.

“He’s causing me trouble, Ren. I’ve been trying to gather herbs and work, but he’s been bothering me incessantly! He seems to only live up to the title of ‘Dozing General’ when it suits him!” you outwardly complain. Ren has to hold back laughter lest he further provoke your ire, so he distracts himself by looking back at Jing Yuan with a quizzical expression.

“I was only telling this one that they work too hard... they could afford to learn a thing or two from my reputation. Ren, why do you allow them to continue overworking like this?” Jing Yuan questions, a docile smile on his face as he approaches, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“It’s because Ren gets injured all the time! He lets me work hard because he likes being pampered,” you retort, glancing over at him with a teasing smile. Ren narrows his eyes.

“I do not enjoy being pampered, as you so claim. You’re merely skilled at healing, so naturally, I’ll come to you for aid,” Ren responds simply. You raise a brow at him before your eyes wander to his arm, gasping.

“Hey! Why didn’t you say you were injured? Come on— I’m patching this up now! See, General? This is precisely why I had to find those medicinal herbs today!” You insist, dragging him off so you can properly tend to his wounds.

While you gather your needed supplies, Ren engages in a game of chess with the other man, using his good arm as you take hold of his injured one with a careful gentleness.

“Ren. Are you that unskilled of a swordsman, or are you doing this on purpose?” Jing Yuan inquires as he observes the board. Ren clicks his tongue.

“Neither. Even our enemies are able to strike me from time to time. I’m not immune to getting injured,” he says, wincing a bit as you disinfect his wound. The other man laughs.

“You also aren’t immortal, Ren. You and this restless lover of yours have short lives. You shouldn’t be so careless,” Jing Yuan scolds, overtaking him and winning their match with ease as if to punctuate his point. You laugh.

“Please, I keep forgetting you’re an old man. You know, I’m not exactly young either. Besides, there’s no such thing as true immortality. There never will be, so don’t be so silly, General. None of us are immortal, and I’m certain none of us take our lives for granted,” you speak gently. Ren glances at you, smiling.

“If we’re truly talking about someone considerably old, then shouldn’t we be talking about—” Ren is cut off by another voice.

“How many times must I mention this? I am not that old.” Imbibitor Lunae approaches with a terse expression. Ren opens his mouth to offer a greeting, but is interrupted once more.

“Injured again? You are lucky your lover is an adept healer, though you should be more careful,” the dragon says before seating himself at the table.

“That’s what I keep saying, but he never listens!” you insist, wrapping bandages around his injury before sighing, “Ren, you’re lucky I love you enough to do this for you.”

“Oh? Does that mean you’re allowing me to make a habit of this?” Ren asks.

“Absolutely not!” you retaliate.

The group bursts into laughter, even Lunae happens to be holding back a faint smile at your annoyance towards Ren’s carelessness.

Ren can’t hold back his own fond expression as he looks around the table— happy to be surrounded by those he cherished, by the people he loved.

Then, his smile falls as his eyes settle on you once more, and he has to remind himself that this is but a memory.

A phantom of what used to be.

No longer is he surrounded by the warmth of close friends. No longer is he familiar with the gentle touch of his lover— all of this is a distant part of his now extended life.

During these times, he was happy.

Despite being surrounded by Vidyadharas, Xianzhou natives, and Foxians, he adored the life he once had. Unlike many others, he did not lament over the span of his life in comparison to those around him. Even if his existence was short-lived, he would be allowed to spend it in its entirety with you.

You were both destined to have a short lifespan, but how lucky he was to be able to spend the entirety of his ephemeral existence with you. The Aeons had truly smiled upon him, allowing him the opportunity to live a fulfilling life alongside someone who had the same outlook.

You both saw the direct effects of chasing after immortality— witnessing the havoc brought by the Denizens of Abundance. Aside from that, having each other was enough to keep you both content.

You’d live together, then you’d eventually die together.

You were supposed to live and die together.

Ren was never supposed to be alive without you by his side.

With that bitterness, the memory quickly fades back into black, another voice bringing him back to the reality he wishes never was.

“Blade? Bladie! Have you always been this unresponsive?” Kafka murmurs. Blade huffs.

“I was thinking,” he mutters.

“I didn’t know you could do that, but could it wait? We still have work to do. First things first, you’re covered in blood, and I have no interest in knowing whose it is, but you should clean it,” Kafka mentions. Blade doesn’t need to look to know it’s his own.

His expression becomes grim at the glaring reminder of what he is: immortal with a monstrous healing ability. More importantly, he’s unable to die.

Blade has become considerably inhuman. Healing salves and medicine are things of the past to him. No longer does he need careful hands to clean his wounds— he just allows them to scar over these days.

Distantly, he can hear your voice echoing in his mind, scolding him for not taking care of himself— insisting that he had to clean his injuries lest they scar over.

But he sees no point. If it isn’t the familiar warmth of his lover, he doesn’t want any sort of first aid or assistance.

Perhaps, each scar is a manifestation of the monster he’s become. Maybe it’s merely his way of punishing himself. Either way, he cares little about it. He thinks it’s counterproductive to ponder about these sorts of things. Thoughts seldom bring back the dead.

“There you go again, lost in your head,” Kafka complains, crossing her arms. “At least enlighten me. You remember parts of your past, don’t you? Care to share with the class?”

Blade remains silent, causing Kafka to laugh a bit.

“Come on. There must be a reason that you’re gloomy and pissed all the time in private. You only have that aggressive ferocity when it has to do with your revenge. Otherwise, you’re practically a husk. So? What’s your story?” she asks with a smirk. He looks away, expression remaining a blank slate.

Such things aren’t her business. Those memories would remain untouched.

“Beyond my need and targets for vengeance, I don’t remember anything,” he claims in a monotonous tone. Clearly, it’s convincing enough for Kafka because she quickly continues with her own train of thought.

“Well, I’ve heard through the grapevine that you used to be less… bland. You used to be cheerful, apparently. I can’t imagine it, personally, much less what could’ve happened to change you into the polar opposite. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was just a rumor,” Kafka muses.

“I can hardly believe it. It’s likely just a baseless rumor,” Blade expresses, though deep down his chest tightens. Reminded of your expression, he knows that there indeed exists a time where he could truly consider himself happy.

All of it is so far in the past that he hardly remembers how it feels— true joy. He’s familiar with the burning sensation rage brought, and the slight satisfaction of getting the upper hand— but happiness?

Much like his former self, it’s a concept that’s become foreign to him.

Despite how he may feel about that, it’s unimportant. The joy of his past is insignificant in the face of the tragedy of your passing and his “prosperity.”

Nothing can change the fact that you’re gone and he, by some curse, isn’t.

Above all else, revenge on your behalf is Blade’s top priority.

He still needs to pay for taking everything away from him.

For cursing him with his current disposition.

Initially, Blade— Ren is naive to just how awful a curse immortality is.

On the brink of a premature death, he lies near motionless in Imbibitor Lunae’s arms, vision blurring in and out of focus. Breathing is painful, yet his body is numb.

He rasps out your name, wishing only to see your face in his final moments— wishing that he had more time with you.

It’s too soon— I need more time, he thinks to himself.

I don’t want to die.

Perhaps, Imbibitor Lunae can hear these thoughts of his, or perhaps, driven by his own desires, refuses to allow Ren to die.

Before he knows it, it feels as if a new life is being breathed into him, his body rapidly healing, taking in a sharp inhale as his vision clears and his body repairs itself.

With wide eyes, he looks to the Vidyadhara, communicating all of his thoughts through a single expression.

Fear.

“I’m… healed..? I feel different… you…” Ren trails off. The other does not speak, and the silence is the answer he needs.

He says nothing. Because that day, he is allowed to return home to you and your loving warmth. Ren fools himself into believing that, perhaps, immortality is a blessing in certain circumstances.

Wrapped up in your arms once more, he actually believes himself to be lucky to have immortality bestowed upon him.

However, just as quick as Lunae made the decision to breathe immortality into him, he’s reminded of why immortality is nothing but a curse of abundance.

Ren finds himself coming to believe that he would’ve been better off dying and awaiting your arrival in the afterlife. Though he would’ve broken his promise to live and die by your side, you both would’ve been better off.

You both would’ve been happier.

Instead, he’s forced to watch you slowly crumble with age. Strangely, you never visually grow any older, but he can see the way your body slows— the pain you’re in.

Jing Yuan, Lunae, and himself are forced to watch as your cheery disposition mellows out as you grow older, unable to run around and gather herbs as you once did, hardly able to keep fighting alongside everyone else anymore.

Despite that, you still dutifully mend his wounds. You make no comment on his immortality or the pace at which he healed— you never did since finding out about it. Whether it’s for his sake or yours, he doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know if you detest him for it.

With time, your mellowness becomes weakness until you can only be out for a couple of hours at a time— bedbound when your body no longer allows for activity.

Your outlook is grim. Ren knows this just as well as his close confidants do, but he never leaves your side. His love for you never wavers.

Just as you did for him in your younger years, he cares for you dutifully. The man makes your meals, mixes your medicine, entertains you— anything you need.

Though you both remain the perfect picture of your younger selves, your body is breaking down while Ren remains as he did the day he was granted immortality.

Desperately, Ren attempts to ignore your incoming demise— trying to push down his pain when he sees you become more and more tired, the color of your eyes dulling with each passing day— the only physical sign that you’re nearing your end.

Before he knows it, before he’s ready, that fateful day arrives.

Ren is forced to leave your side to tend to his duties. As much as he doesn’t want to, he has to go, hardly able to bring himself to walk away, let alone bid farewell, even if it’s temporary.

“Leaving…? When will you be back?” you ask in a gentle voice, the warmth never leaving your tone no matter how weak you’ve become. Ren smiles softly, trying to save face as he runs his fingers through your hair.

“By nightfall. I’ll be back by your side before you know it,” he promises. There’s an expression in your eyes that he can’t quite place, but you speak before he can acknowledge it.

“Ah… but it always feels so long for me,” you mention with a light laugh. The sentence holds an unspoken weight, acknowledging the vast differences in your lifespans. Ren has to hold back tears as he leans down and kisses your forehead.

“Either way, I’ll be back today. I won’t keep you waiting,” he says, pulling away. Ren glances over at the door where Imbibitor Lunae and Jing Yuan stand, soon forcing himself from your side and walking over.

“They’ll be okay,” Jing Yuan states, a silent oath to watch over you visible in his determined expression. Ren nods, preparing to leave before you call out.

“Ren?”

He looks back at you.

“Yes? What is it? Is something wrong?” he asks. You pause, searching his expression.

“If something happens… Promise you’ll find your way back to me,” you say. Ren’s heart tightens at the fragility in your gaze— the worry in your tone. Forcing another smile, he hopes to reassure you.

“Nothing will happen to me. I promise. I’ll return to you,” he swears. For a moment, you seem like you have something else to say, but bite your tongue. Instead, you nod, regarding him with a saddened yet adoring expression.

“If you insist. Goodbye, Ren. I love you,” you say.

“See you again, my love. I love you too,” he responds and walks out the door.

The day passes and upon his return, he wishes that he’d never left in the first place.

“They’re gone, Ren. I walked away for just a moment and they left,” Jing Yuan insists.

“It can’t be that simple! They have to be around here somewhere— we have to find them!” Ren insists in a panic, about to dash out the door.

This time, Lunae stops him with a firm grip of his shoulder.

“They’re no longer with us. It’s been hours since their disappearance. Jing Yuan already searched tirelessly and fruitlessly,” the Vidyadhara reminds him. Ren wants to retaliate— he desperately wants to insist that you must be out there, but Jing Yuan interrupts him before he can start.

“I had a feeling. They said goodbye to you, Ren. They knew. I don’t think they wanted us to see them like that. They didn’t want us to remember them in… this state,” Jing Yuan explains, a grim expression on his face as he glances over at the empty bed. Ren feels his heart shatter, tearing himself away from the two.

“No! I have to see it for myself!” he insists angrily, running off in hopes that you’d be out collecting herbs like you always did— hoping that you’d return to him with a loving smile.

Ren never found you.

Years passed, and aside from tales written in stories and memories, it was as if you never existed.

No matter how hard he looked, he never found you, dead or alive.

As time continued on without you, his resentment grew as grief shattered his mind. Ren learned the true pain of being immortal— living knowing that all he’d ever loved had departed from this world.

Ren will never meet you in the afterlife. And you will never return.

This fact causes him to bury his memories beneath vengeance and fury— his mind set on delivering karmic debt to those who caused this predicament. Cutting himself off from who he used to be, he wanders— an unnamed whose existence becomes bathed in blood.

He’s desperate to die— to meet you once more, but he'll be unable to face you if he doesn’t drag those who caused this down with him. Immortality is a sin, but more so is the centuries he’s been keeping you waiting in the netherworld.

It is then that he meets Kafka and Destiny’s Slave, Elio.

While unable to return you to him, they provide the promise of death in return for his cooperation.

Thus, “Blade” was born, now enacting his plans for vengeance in hopes that at the end of it all,

He’ll be freed from this curse, finally able to reunite with you in death.

Firm in his resolve, he turns towards Kafka once more, having become clearly disinterested given the way he continuously ignored her.

“We shouldn’t idle around. Let’s go,” Blade states, eyes alight with passionate fury once more.

Aboard another section of the Xianzhou Luofu, a lone Vidyadhara stares curiously at a pair of wanted posters newly plastered on the bulletin.

Eyes trained on the male, you feel your heart tighten, a strange feeling of longing filling your chest.

“Blade… Blade…?” The name feels foreign on your tongue, but the face of this man is anything but. A single tear rolls down your face, causing you to reach up, wiping it away with slight confusion.

“Why am I…?” your voice trails off as you look back at the photo. It all feels so familiar, but you’re unable to place it. It’s disheartening.

“Hey! There you are!” a young voice calls out. You turn around, smiling as a young swordsman prances up to you.

“My apologies, I didn’t know you were looking for me,” you say softly. Yanqing hums.

“Not me, the General. The Healer Lady finished your medicine and she wants to see you aga— are you okay? Were you crying?” he asks worriedly, concern etched into his features. You laugh lightly and glance back at the poster. Yanqing’s eyes follow your gaze and he has to hold back a gasp upon realizing what you were looking at.

“It’s nothing. This man just seems… familiar to me. It’s been so long and everything is still so foggy to me… I wonder if he’s from my previous incarnation, but I cannot be certain,” you explain, clearly distressed. Yanqing gently grabs your hand, leading you forward.

“W-Well! Lady Bailu always says you shouldn’t force it, so let’s get going. You can talk with her about it. I’m sure she’ll give you much more insight than I could,” he chimes. You smile, nodding in agreement.

“That’s true. Bailu is far more familiar with this than I am despite reincarnating much more recently than I. I’m grateful to have been in her care. Oh, and of course, I’m plenty grateful that the General has been caring for me now, as well,” you hum, allowing the boy to drag you off to the Seat of Divine Foresight.

Upon your arrival, the General glances over with a fond smile. This man also seems very familiar to you, but as Yanqing mentioned, forcing memories of your past is unwise. Without having anyone who knew your last incarnate, you just had to wait. If they return, they would do so naturally.

“General! I found them,” the boy called out. Jing Yuan nods.

“Welcome back. How was your stroll?” he asks kindly. You walk over, offering a warm expression.

“It was lovely. Though I can’t journey out behind the Exalting Sanctum, I still enjoy the scenery,” you express. Jing Yuan chuckles.

“I'm glad you don’t mind the restriction. It’s for safety purposes. Of course, I’m sure your work with Bailu will allow you more freedom. It’d just be better if you didn’t venture out without an escort,” Jing Yuan explains, watching as you acknowledge his statement with a smile.

“I know, and I understand why. Ah, Lady Bailu is waiting for me, right? She’s checking up on me, then I have to tend to my duties with her,” you mention. The General nods.

“She’ll be here shortly. While I still have you here, have any new memories come through?” he asks curiously, a slight glimmer of hope in his eyes. You look away, that painful feeling returning once more.

“Yes, but… it’s… that man in the wanted posters. He looks so familiar to me, but the name doesn’t feel right,” you murmur before offering a wry smile. “Perhaps he just reminds me of someone I once knew? I’m not certain, but it’s something.”

Jing Yuan remains silent for a moment before brushing it off quickly before you notice. With a sympathetic smile, he walks over and places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Even so, it’s a step closer towards remembering. Now, why don’t you await Bailu’s arrival outside? I have a few matters I need to discuss with Yanqing,” the General says. You glance between the two before bowing politely.

“Of course. I’ll see you two later. Yanqing. Stop by later so I can replace the bandage on your face. If you don’t keep it clean, it’ll scar,” you chide lightly. Yanqing pouts a bit at your insistence but agrees nonetheless.

“I will! See you later!” he chimes. You wave at the pair before exiting the hall. Soon after you leave, the young boy’s expression falls, looking over at the General.

“I know Blade is evil, but… is this really right, General? Keeping their memories from them and hiding their existence from him seems…” Yanqing trails off. Jing Yuan releases a deep exhale.

Truthfully, your return had come as a shock to him as well. Just as Ren did, he firmly believed you were a human.

Imagine his shock when you returned, not as a human, but a Vidyadhara. It was then that he learned that, like Imbibitor Lunae, your horns and tail would appear at your will, and your ears were far less pointy than your draconic counterparts.

When you had disappeared that day, you had done so to properly reincarnate once more. However, he only managed to find you now in your young adult years after seeing you work alongside Bailu.

Since that day, he’d been keeping his promise from ages ago to watch over you and keep you safe. All of it was an easy feat given that you trusted him rather quickly, likely due to an inherent familiarity you had toward him.

You couldn’t remember who he was, those memories buried deep within your consciousness, given that you’d spent years on your own, mind foggy and memories shattered.

While he’s certain that it’s but a matter of time until your memories return, he sincerely hopes it won’t be anytime soon.

Keeping you hidden away from the public eye is difficult enough as is. If you remember, he’ll have no choice but to respect your wishes, no matter what they may be.

Turning towards Yanqing, Jing Yuan gives him a stern gaze.

“Yangqing. It goes beyond the comfort of knowing. If I told Re— Blade, he’d want to remain by their side,” he starts and his expression becomes grim. “Tell me. As he is now, an IPC fugitive and a Stellaron Hunter, do you think Blade could provide them with the life they deserve, or the stability they need?”

Yanqing quiets momentarily before speaking up again, “But..! Back then, you always told me they were so close— that Blade is this way because he lost them. Maybe if he at least knew…”

Jing Yuan sighs. He cannot fault the naivety of a child, let alone the pure hopefulness in his expression, but he has to explain it properly lest the boy do something rash.

“If he knew, he’d stop at nothing to be with them. Right now, he longs for death solely to be reunited with them. Blade has long since abandoned the righteous path. While I cannot fault him for it, I also don’t doubt that he’d burn down the entire Luofu if it meant returning with them,” the General explained. Quickly noticing Yanqing’s saddened expression, he ruffles his hair playfully.

“It’s better this way. I promise you that,” he assures. The young swordsman sighs.

“I know but it’s all so sad! They saw his picture and started crying. I didn’t know what to do…”

“Well, they’ll learn the truth someday. All we can do is keep them safe until then. When the time comes, they’ll make their own decision of what to do with the burden of their past.”

Yanqing frowns. “It seems cruel to have to make that choice. I wish they didn’t have to…”

Jing Yuan hums in agreement, but allows the conversation to taper off, leaving them in silence.

Perhaps, there exists a timeline where neither of you were cursed with immortality— a world where, back in those lighter days, the two of you lived and died together.

However, it seems that the Aeons had other plans for you two. The General considers himself lucky to have been saved from such a tragedy.

After all, Jing Yuan is certain that you and Blade are soulmates. No amount of pain or suffering will change that.

What he’s clueless about is if, or rather, when your memories return to you and you recall the way your soul was once intertwined with Ren’s,

Would you allow it to remain but a distant memory, something to be left to the times of your past? Or…

Would you stray away from the proper path to return to Blade’s side?

Only time can tell, and that time, he knows, is fast approaching.

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #honkai blade #hsr blade #blade hsr #honkai blade x reader #hsr blade x reader #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x reader #hsr fic #hsr fanfic #honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail fic #hsr angst #honkai star rail angst #cross posted on ao3 #ao3 crosspost #kaori-writes

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jokeringcutio · 6 months

Text

Reader x William Afton - Best Friend's dad (Explicit, SMUT)

Below you'll find a FNAF Ficlet, Rated Explicit for Sexual Content, Dub-con elements, unprotected!, fingering, creampie, forced creampie/breeding kink, older man x younger woman, loss of virginity, Best friend's dad x reader, William Afton is not a nice man, dark romance, Penis in v smut, (f) reader. Summary: After working on a project with your classmate (who is also your best friend and secret crush) Michael Afton, you forget your phone and head back to his house to retrieve it. Michael's dad has plans for you.

~ Best Friend's Dad ~

The floorboards creaked under your feet as you tiptoed over to Michael, leaning over his shoulder to watch what he was scribbling. He was seated on his bed, both of you in his bedroom, as you tried to work on a group project.

“It’s looking good,” you said, a bright smile on your lips. “Better with the colors added.”

Michael smiled up at you, a spark in his eyes while his arm brushed against yours, making goosebumps prickle your skin. “Well, it was your idea. And since we need to hold a presentation on this, I suppose aesthetic is just as important," he rolled his eyes, voice jocular, but you knew that he at least had taken your suggestions to heart.

You were there to work on a college assignment with him, but the atmosphere felt charged with something else - tension, desire, and silent communication. You tried to focus on the task at hand, but your body betrayed you, responding to every gentle brush of Michael's arm against yours.

"Hey, do you think we should add this quote here?" Michael asked, his voice low and soothing as he leaned closer to you, his breath tickling your ear. His fingers brushed against yours, causing your heart to race with anticipation. You blushed, shyly glancing up into his intense gaze, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

Though you had been friends for years, it was only recently that you began to feel attracted to him. But you wanted to take things slow; you didn't want to risk ruining the friendship if things didn't work out.

"Uh, yeah, sure," you stuttered, attempting to regain control over your body and thoughts. It wasn't easy, especially with Michael sitting so close to you.

"Come on, don't be so nervous," Michael teased, noticing your discomfort. "It's just me, after all." He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief, making your stomach flutter with excitement. You knew he was right, but you couldn't help feeling overwhelmed by the situation.

"Sorry," you mumbled, ducking your head down to avoid his probing gaze. "I guess I'm just...overthinking things." You focused on the assignment, trying to keep your mind off the electric energy that seemed to flow between you and Michael.

"Nothing wrong with thinking," he said, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. Your eyes traveled to where he had held you, as if the touch still lingered. Your skin burned where he had touched you, your pulse quickening. Then you looked back up at him, trying to read his expression. Did he feel the same way you did? Was he testing the waters, or just being friendly?

The sound of the front door opening echoed through the house, and you frowned at Michael, who seemed just as surprised as you were. The two of you shared a look before he shrugged it off and returned to the assignment.

"Didn't expect Dad to be home this early," he murmured, his pen scratching against the paper.

"Michael, is that you?" A deep voice called from downstairs, and your breath hitched.

William Afton, Michael's father, had an imposing presence that made you feel uneasy in his company. As he appeared in the doorway of Michael's bedroom, you couldn't help but compare him to his son. He was taller, his hair peppered with grey strands, and his beard gave him a distinguished air. The aviator glasses perched on his nose gave him somewhat of a stern appearance, and you wondered how Michael would look if he wore glasses. Pretty similar, you mused.

But beneath the similarities, there was something darker lurking in his eyes – something that sent shivers down your spine.

"Ah, I see you have some… company," William sneered, his gaze traveling over your body like a predator sizing up its prey. He greeted you by your name, “It’s been a while since I last saw you,” he said.

“Hi Mr. Afton,” you stammered, cheeks red as you felt uncomfortable being addressed by Michael’s father directly. You were happy that he usually wasn’t around much, being too caught up at work in the restaurant. The way he looked at you was making you feel uneasy.

While his eyes remained fixed on you, his words were clearly directed at his son again while he loomed in the doorway, hands pressed against the doorpost on either side. "Well, Michael, I didn't know you had your girlfriend over.”

"Dad, she's not my girlfriend,” Michael replied, a bit too fast for your liking, and you cast him a curious glance to see how he shifted uncomfortably next to you.

“She's my classmate. We're working on a project together," Michael snapped, his cheeks reddening in embarrassment. You could tell he was annoyed by his father's insinuation, but you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it than that.

"Right, well, don't let me interrupt your… studies," William drawled, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before he retreated down the hallway. "I'll be in my workroom if you need anything."

As soon as he was out of sight, you exhaled the breath you'd been holding, feeling the weight of his stare lift from your shoulders. You didn't like the way he looked at you, as though you were nothing more than an object for his amusement. It made your skin crawl.

"Sorry about that," Michael muttered, his eyes downcast. "My dad can be a bit…intense."

"It's okay," you reassured him, attempting a weak smile. "Let's just focus on the assignment."

You tried to push the encounter from your mind, but the tension in the room was palpable, even after William had disappeared down the hallway. Michael clenched his fists, his jaw tight with frustration. "I swear, he's such an asshole," he muttered under his breath.

"Hey, it's okay," you tried to console him, laying a gentle hand on his arm. "Let's just get this assignment done and forget about it."

He let out a deep breath and nodded, forcing a smile. "You're right. Grumping about it won’t help us score an A."

“A plus,” you joked, happy to see him smile again.

The two of you scribbled down notes and discussed theories until you both carried honest smiles again. Silly jokes slipped through, weird suggestions for the project were made, and in the end, the two of you were laughing on the bed.

You couldn't help but feel Michael's eyes on you every now and then. It wasn't unwelcome, but it stirred a strange mix of warmth and unease within you. You really liked him. But did you like him enough?

"All right, I think we've got everything we need," Michael announced as he closed his textbook. He glanced at the clock on the wall and sighed. "Damn, I need to head to soccer training."

"Already?" you asked, surprised by how quickly time had slipped away.

"Unfortunately,” he moped, standing up from the bed and putting his book aside. “But hey, thanks for your help today."

He stretched his arms before offering a hand to help you up from the bed. "I'll walk you out."

You smiled as you collected your bag, putting your own textbook and pencils inside before zipping it and flinging it over your shoulder. Michael waited patiently before walking ahead of you, through the clean hallway and toward the front door. He only halted once to grab his soccer bag.

As you reached the door, Michael hesitated. "Listen, I'm really sorry for the rush. I completely forgot the time and you know…"

"It's all right, Michael," you reassured him, giving his hand a comforting squeeze. "Don't worry about it. We finished what we had to do. We can play one of your games later," you said, knowing how you usually loved to spend your time together playing games on his game consoles or by watching silly videos online. You still tried to convince him to start a channel of his own. His impressions were the best.

Michael closed the door behind you before he offered a small smile and pulled you into a hug. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, pulling you in for a hug.

The scent of his cologne filled your senses, making your heart race. You hesitated for a moment before returning the embrace.

"Take care of yourself, okay?" he whispered in your ear. “I’ll see you tomorrow at college.”

With that, you both pulled away and said your goodbyes.

The cold air nipped at your skin and you huddled your coat closer around you. As you walked away from the Afton house, you reached into your bag to grab your phone, seeking a distraction, only to find that it wasn't there.

"Shit," you muttered to yourself, stopping in your tracks. Panic set in as you realized you had left it behind at Michael's place - and it had crucial notes for college on it.

The haunting memory of Mr. Afton’s gaze lingered in your mind, making you shudder involuntarily. You had to go back there, you realized. And without Michael, it meant you would have to face his father again.

Alone.

But it seemed you had no choice. You turned back towards the Afton house, your heart pounding in your chest. The thought of facing Mr. Afton again sent chills down your spine, but you knew you couldn't afford to leave your phone behind.

You hesitated at the front door of the Afton house, your hand hovering over the doorbell. Your heart raced in your chest, the pounding a constant reminder of what you were about to face.

"Come on, it's just a phone," you whispered to yourself, trying to muster up the courage to ring the bell. Finally, you pressed it, the chime echoing through the seemingly empty house.

Not much later, the door creaked open, revealing a displeased William Afton. His eyes narrowed as he looked down at you, an irritated sigh escaping his lips. "Back already? What do you want?"

"Um, I-I left my phone inside," you stammered, glancing nervously into the dimly lit hallway behind him. "I need it for college."

"Fine," he snapped, stepping aside to allow you entry. "Make it quick."

You stepped into the house, your pulse quickening with each step you took toward Michael's room. The door was slightly ajar, and you pushed it open, relieved to spot your phone between the covers of Michael's bed. Bending over, you reached for it.

And then you froze as you felt a presence behind you, too close for comfort. Something hard and hot was suddenly pressed against you. Mr. Afton’s hands found your hips, steadying you as if you were about to fall.

"Wh-what are you doing?" you managed to choke out, your voice barely audible.

"Isn't it obvious?" he replied nonchalantly, smirking down at you. Panic coursed through your veins, your breaths coming in shallow gasps.

William Afton’s hands started to unapologetically roam your body, his fingers tracing the outline of your trembling form. Each touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for the attraction you felt toward him. He leaned in close, his warm breath tickling your ear as he whispered, "I've wanted you for so long, watching you with Michael every time you came over. How I wished it was me touching you instead."

"Michael never touched me,” you whispered, uncertain why those words came out. Why did you feel like you had to defend your relationship with Michael in front of his dad? “We are just friends," you insisted, your voice shaking.

"Really?" William sounded genuinely surprised. “Does he know this?”

You blinked, uncertain of what Mr. Afton meant.

An annoyed groan came from behind you as one of William’s hands roughly kneaded one of your breasts through your shirt. You yelped, arching your back and accidentally pushing your hips right against his crotch. His erection pushed back, making you freeze in his hands once more.

“I suppose what I am trying to ask,” Mr. Afton rasped, his breath tickling the skin of your neck and voice hoarser than you ever heard it before, "is if you ever slept with my son?”

You trembled slightly in his hands, mind reeling. So many memories of being in the Afton household emerged, but they were all friendly. Never like that.

“Not even a blowjob?” He whispered, voice dripping with sin.

A shuddered breath escaped your lips as you shook your head determinedly. “Like I said, Mr. Afton, we are just friends.”

A low hum escaped the older man, his fingers tickled down your skin thoughtfully. “Hard to believe a pretty girl like you never got laid." Something changed about his tune then, as his words turned into a rasped whisper, "I suppose what I want to know is...”

Here he hesitated, brushing his lips past the shell of your ear while his arms kept you trapped against his body, “Are you a virgin?"

The question shocked you to your core, and you stammered, "Mr. Afton! That's... inappropriate."

"Is it now?" he teased, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties, making contact with your sensitive clit. The feeling surprised you, your body instantly responding to his touch. You gasped as he began rubbing slow circles around it, igniting a fire within you that you'd never experienced before.

"You're wet," he stated, his voice low and dangerous. "You must want this, don't you?"

"Please," you begged, unsure whether you were asking for him to stop or continue. Your mind raced with conflicting thoughts and desires, your body betraying you as it craved more of his touch.

"Such a good girl," he murmured, inserting a finger inside you, making you whimper. The haunting tone of his voice seemed to wrap around you like a vice, tightening its grip on your very soul.

"Mr. Afton," you moaned, unable to resist the urge to push back against his hand, seeking more of that intoxicating pleasure he offered.

“Oh-ho, Mr. Afton,” William said while his fingers continued their sinful dance, sliding in and out of your cunt with sopping wet sounds that sounded so sinful, you felt like you were losing your mind. Especially when he started flicking his thumb roughly past your clit.

“I like that,” his words came out as a growl while he nipped his teeth at your ear. “Makes me feel in charge.”

Without a warning, Afton’s fingers slipped deeper inside your sopping wet cunt, you couldn't help but feel embarrassed by the lewd sounds that echoed throughout the room. Your thoughts raced, unable to comprehend that it was your best friend's father who was currently fingering you so expertly.

"God, you're so tight and wet," he growled, his voice sending shivers down your spine. Your walls clamped down on his fingers despite their punishing pace. It felt so, so good. "You must really enjoy this, huh?"

His words were like a knife, cutting through any remaining self-control you had left. You bit your lip, trying to focus on anything other than the pleasure that threatened to consume you. But it was impossible – every stroke of his fingers, every teasing touch against your sensitive clit, only drew you deeper into the dark abyss of desire.

"Please..." you whimpered, the word barely audible as it escaped your lips. You didn't even know what you were begging for anymore – relief? Mercy? More?

"You're such a good girl," he whispered in your ear, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. "So eager to please... Just imagine if Michael could see you now."

The thought mortified you, but it also sent a perverse thrill through your body. The idea of being discovered in such a vulnerable state only served to heighten your arousal.

"Look at me," William demanded, grabbing your chin and forcing you to meet his icy gaze. His eyes bore into yours, daring you to look away as he continued to finger you mercilessly.

"Come for me," he ordered, his voice dripping with authority. It took every ounce of willpower you possessed not to obey him instantly, but in the end, your body betrayed you.

With a cry, you climaxed on his fingers, the waves of pleasure crashing over you like a relentless tidal wave. As you trembled in his arms, he smirked down at you, clearly enjoying the sight of your complete and utter submission.

"Such a good girl," he repeated, slowly retracting his hand from between your legs. You felt a pang of loss as his fingers left your body, but that feeling was quickly replaced by shame as he held them up for you to see.

"Look," he commanded, making sure you watched as he brought his wet digits up to his face. His lips parted, agonizingly slowly, and then his tongue darted out between them, the tip twirling around his fingertips.

He made sure that you watched him as he licked each finger clean, the wet trace of your arousal glistened before his tongue lapped it up. His cold blue eyes were fixed upon you, their pupils blown as he savored the taste of you. A low hum escaped him as he finished the last of your juices. "Tastes sweet."

Then his blue eyes settled back on you, dark and gaze heavy.

His words made something snap inside of you. What the fuck were you doing? You’ve let your best friend’s father finger you?

No.

He had made it look all too easy, and if there was something you were not, it was an easy lay. You had saved yourself for someone special. For Mr. Right. You hadn’t decided who it was yet, but Michael was high on your list. Not his creepy father who he seemed to hate passionately.

Your eyes darted down, away from William’s glistening fingers and to the tent he sported in his pants. The shape of his cock was perfectly outlined beneath the fabric, looking large and heavy.

He wasn’t done yet.

You had to get away.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you tried to push past William and make a dash to Michael’s door, desperate to escape. But he was quicker. Large hands wrapped around your upper arms. You instantly struggled and kicked at him. But he was too strong, easily tossing you back onto Michael's bed like a ragdoll. The air was knocked from your lungs as you landed, gasping for breath.

"Imagine how dirty it would be," William whispered, crawling on top of you. The sound of rustling fabric reached your ears as he undid his fly and pulled out his hard and glistening cock, palming it. "If I took your virginity right here on my son's bed."

Your cheeks burned with shame at his words, but a traitorous part of you couldn't help but feel a spark of excitement at the thought.

"Please don't," you whimpered, even as your core throbbed with a mixture of fear and desire. But your pleas only seemed to amuse him. He smirked, easily parting your legs with his strong hands.

"Come on, work with me," he ordered, his voice dripping with authority. His hands pushed against your legs, making it clear what he wanted you to do.

Reluctantly, you spread your legs wider, not fighting when he started to pull your pants down, making it easier for him to slip your panties off. You knew it was wrong, but the heat pooling between your thighs refused to be denied.

With a predatory grin, William came to stand between your spread legs, wrapping his hand around his cock, sliding his palm up and down, smearing pre-cum from the tip all over his shaft until it glistened.

You couldn't tear your eyes away from the sight– it was as if you were under his spell. Your heart raced, torn between terror and anticipation.

His eyes flitted down to your exposed core and he tutted.

“My, my, such a pretty little pussy,” and you felt your cheeks flush at his comment. "All mine."

The low rasp of his voice sent sparks of arousal deep inside.

"Look at me," he commanded, positioning himself at your entrance. You no longer saw his cock, only felt it as it pressed hot and wet against your entrance.

You locked eyes with him, unable to look away. Slowly, his lips curled into a grin. And then, without warning, he thrust inside you, bottoming out, claiming your virginity in one swift, brutal motion.

The pain was sharp and intense, but it was soon replaced by an overwhelming wave of pleasure as William started to pump into you. First gently, then a bit faster.

Your world narrowed down to the sensation of his hard length filling you completely. You knew it was wrong – so very wrong – but you were powerless to resist the pleasure he was giving you. You parted your lips in silent gasps while your hands sought his arms for leverage.

William's thrusts grew more rhythmic, his hips grinding against yours with a hunger that both terrified and excited you. He leaned down, close enough for you to feel his breath on your ear as he whispered, "You like this, don't you? You like being fucked on my son's bed."

Your cheeks burned with shame, but you couldn't deny the pleasure that consumed you. It was intoxicating, the way William seemed to know exactly how to touch you, how to make your body sing.

"Answer me," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. His hand snaked around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. "Do you like this?."

"I... I do," you admitted, the words spilling from your lips before you could stop them. You felt the stutter of his hips, how he stilled, then looked up to see him frown down at you.

"Do you?"

You frowned as well now, the haze of your building orgasm already slowly fading. It was as if William saw what was happening, for he pushed his cock deep inside, nudging the entrance to your womb painfully with the head, staking dominance.

"Tell me you are mine," the words came out with an animalstic growl that indicated he wouldn't take pleasure with anything less than your compliance. You hesitated, breath caught in your throat, then complied, placing your hands gently upon his clad chest. The checkered blouse crumpled beneath your fingers.

"I'm yours," another raised eyebrow and deep nudge of his cockhead against your cervix, and you flinched.

"Whose?" he asked you sternly, reminding you of a schoolteacher with the way his dark eyes penetrated you from over his glasses.

"Yours, Mr. Afton," you gasped, instantly feeling his hips move again. A low, satisfied growl escaped the depth of his chest. You felt it, felt the rumble beneath your hands.

"Atta girl," you heard the breathless words from his lips. "Call me Mr. Afton more, sweetheart. Show who is in charge."

"Y-yes, Mr. Afton," the words came out as gasps, unable to utter them fully with the way William was moving inside you.

A wicked grin spread across William's face, his hand slid past your forehead and gently down your cheek, almost lovingly. And then he rewarded your honesty with a particularly hard thrust that sent shivers down your spine.

"Good girl," he purred, his fingers digging into your skin as he picked up the pace. You could feel the heat building within you, an insistent pressure that begged for release.

“You can come again, can’t you?” It wasn't really a question, more like a demand. “I want to feel you come on my cock."

His command echoed in your mind as his movements grew rougher, more desperate. The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, your moans intertwining with his grunts and groans.

William Afton was larger than you, bulkier, and incredibly strong. His hand slipped back to your throat, tightening a little, just enough to make you gasp for air. The action made your walls clench down his cock even harder. The way he overpowered you, the way his cock hit that sweet spot deep inside, had you mewling with pleasure. Sweat slicked your bodies, making it easier for him to slide in and out of you.

"Fuck, you're so tight," William growled, his voice strained with pleasure as your pussy pulsed around him.

"Please," you whimpered, teetering on the edge of ecstasy. "Please, I need to..."

"Then come for me," he ordered, his grip on your throat tightening, literally taking your breath away. "Show me how much you want this."

As if on cue, your world shattered into a million pieces, your body convulsing with pleasure. Never had you experienced such an intense orgasm, and it left you breathless, oversensitive, and desperate for more.

You threw your head back in ecstasy, feeling his fingers slip from your neck. Your pussy pulsed wildly around his cock. William's laughter filled your ears, malicious and victorious.

"Feel that?" he asked, his voice rough with lust. "That's how much you belong to me. And now,” he said in between gasps, his hips pushing harshly against yours. You felt how your walls fluttered around his cock as it kept battering your cervix with fervor.

A low grunt escaped the depth of his chest, “I’m going to come,” he panted. Another gasp and deep thrust of his hips that had you shoved up the bed, pussy still pulsing wildly around his cock, “inside you,” he promised, each word punctuated with a fresh thrust. "Deep inside of you."

You were faintly aware of murmuring something incoherently, to which Michael’s dad replied with a murmur of his own, “Inside, love. Put my baby there. See how Michael's gonna like a baby brother or sister from the girl he loves." The thought both thrilled and scared you, and you shook your head no - not yet, too young, not ready - but William growled above you, uncaring about your wish. "Gonna fill you up good."

The thought sent another wave of desire through you, and you found yourself clenching around him, desperate for more. With a roar, William drove himself deep inside you one final time.

Warm liquid flushed into your pulsing core, his hot cum flooding your insides so much that some of it started to drip down his cock, as he, too, reached his peak.

For a moment, the room was consumed by the sound of your mutual pants and gasps, the aftermath of your frenzied coupling.

You felt the hot rush of his release deep inside your tummy and realized what had been done. How you had just allowed Michael’s father to rut into you like an animal in heat.

The room smelled heavily of sex, the scent mingling with the musky aroma of Michael's bedroom. Shame started to creep upon you as you floated back to earth, the afterglow of your orgasm fading.

Slowly, William climbed off you, his cock sliding out of your abused cunt, leaving you feeling strangely empty. You felt a wet trail on the inside of your legs, a mixture of slick and cum.

"Stay here," he commanded, his tone sharp and cold as he strode over to the window, flinging it open, allowing the cool evening air to filter into the room. The breeze stirred the curtains, casting eerie shadows on the walls.

As William returned to the bed, he casually reached for a napkin that was tucked under Michael's pillow. You followed his movements with your eyes, feeling them grow wide as they came to rest on his softening cock. It glistened in the light of Michael’s bedroom lamp. Covered in juices.

And blood.

You watched how Michael’s dad meticulously used the napkin to wipe the remnants of your virgin blood from his cock. Without a word, he then folded the soiled napkin and slipped it into the breast pocket of his blouse, patting the pocket, as if it were a trophy.

The sight made you shudder.

His gaze fell upon the blood and cum-stained sheets, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Well, I suppose Michael's bed has seen better days," he mused. "We shouldn't let his mom see this." Then his eyes locked onto yours.

"But you, my dear... You've been such a good girl, letting me be your first." His words sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of shame and excitement coursing through your veins.

"Please don't tell anyone," you pleaded as you tried to push yourself up on your elbows, your voice trembling with vulnerability. You knew that if word ever got out about what had happened, your life would never be the same again.

"Of course not," William said, his smile taking on a predatory edge. "As long as you’ll be my good girl,” he came to kneel on the bed, a knee at either side of you, cupping your cheeks in his hands and forcing your eyes to meet his.

His thumb slipped in between your lips, pressing down on your tongue, making it impossible for you to speak. You tried to swallow around the digit, mouth suddenly dry as he spoke slowly, as if he were talking to a small child and wanted to make sure the child understood.

“Just remember who you belong to."

The implications of his words hung heavy in the air between you, and despite the lingering thrill of your climax, a cold dread filled your stomach.

Then his thumb was gone from your lips and Mr. Afton had turned away from the bed. You gazed up at him confusedly, watching the movements of his arms as he seemed to zip his pants and straighten his blouse.

He then turned around, pushing his index finger against the front of his aviator glasses. His expression was stern, lips pressed into a thin line, voice betraying no emotion.

"Make yourself presentable, and go home," he commanded coldly. "You wouldn't want to fall behind on your homework, would you?" His tone was callous, as if nothing had just transpired between the two of you.

Confused and still trembling, you pushed yourself off the bed.

Mr. Afton leaned in the doorway of Michael’s room, arms crossed in front of his chest, a bored expression on his face as he watched you get dressed. You tried to straighten your clothes and fix your hair, arms trembling.

"Go home," he told you once you were fully clothed, his voice devoid of any warmth or affection. "Don’t forget your phone.”

You nodded numbly, unable to speak, swung your bag over your shoulder and picked up your phone. Carefully, you stepped toward him, only to watch him step aside so you could pass him without so much as brushing past him.

A little voice piped up inside your head, telling you that it had always tried to warn you of this. Mr. Afton’s coldness had returned in full. His searing hot gaze had been replaced by one you could not read. Distant and cold.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stumbled through the hall, each step a painful reminder of the heavy fucking you had just endured. The reality of what had happened began to sink in, and you couldn't help but wonder what would become of you now that you'd given yourself so completely to this dangerous man. The promise of having to be his good girl - of now belonging to this man - lingered in the back of your mind. Why had you made them?

William followed closely behind, his presence looming over you like a dark shadow. As you reached out to open the door, thinking this was it and you would leave without another word being said, his hand shot up and pushed against the wood before you could turn the handle.

"Look at me," he demanded, forcing you to look up and meet his eyes. His gaze bore into you, making you feel even more powerless.

"From now on, I expect you to milk my cock whenever I desire." Chills ran down your spine at his words, a mix of fear and unwanted arousal stirring within you.

He lifted a finger to your lips, brushing the fingertip past your sensitive skin and silencing any protests you might have had. "This is our little secret, understood?"

The threat was in there, clear as day. You had to keep quiet about this.

Not that you could tell anyone. Not with how famous and influential of a man Mr. Afton was. And you? Who were you? Just a silly college girl.

You nodded, unable to speak.

William gave you a sinister smile before gallantly opening the door for you. “Atta girl,” you heard him say as he watched you intently while you stepped outside. “Come visit again soon," a command. You heard his low voice, a raw hunger underneath, "Michael loves it when you're here.”

And so does he, you thought, because being here meant he could get his hands on you again. It was clear by the way he carefully phrased things. He was abusing Michael as an excuse to lure you back in.

Your name fell from Mr. Afton's lips like dripping honey, a dark promise hidden within them, obviously coated with desire. He wanted to see you again. Do this again. And you realized with a start that you would be back... for Michael. But could you dodge his father? Prevent this from happening again? Did you even want to?

Clutching your phone tightly in your hand, you wondered what kind of twisted nightmare you had just become entangled in.

“Good evening, Mr. Afton,” you whispered, then turned your back to him and slowly started your walk home. Aware of the secret you now carried. Bound to your best friend’s father.

Perhaps forever.

AN: I am open for prompts. ~~ Masterlist - Request Box - Support me on Ko-Fi ~~

#william afton x reader #william afton #Matthew Lillard x reader #Matthew Lillard! William Afton #FNAF #Purple Man x Reader #Reader x william afton #crossposted to ao3 #sorry not sorry

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cosmicstarlatte · 1 year

Text

Devil-Mart ⭐ (Obey Me!)

━━━━━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━━━━━

You got hired at mega retailer, Devil-Mart⭐. Naturally, the guys "suddenly" need a job too and start working alongside you.

»Characters: Demon Bros + Bonus Dia and Barb

»Tags: Humor, Bulleted Style fic, Gender Neutral Reader/MC

»Notes: How about shopping with them?-> [Devil-Mart: Shopping]

Lucifer:

"...Mammon put us in debt this month."

Was worried you'd be bullied (or eaten) surrounded by demons/other monsters

Is that coworker who acts like a boss

Actually does make it to management within the first week

The customer isn't always right. He's the manager to call for rude customers

Actually likes stocking, finds neat aisles soothing

The home improvement dept is his favorite

Frequently makes sure you take all your breaks

Doubles as store security if needed

Mammon:

"I just needed extra cash alright?"

Was worried you'd fall for some other demon

Failed in all departments except online orders (he's very fast!)

Bags for orders would occasionally go missing

Took extra long breaks but Lucifer caught on and wrote him up

Would try to frequently visit you in your department

Started fights with other workers who were busier staring at you than their work

"They're not meat, beat it!"

Got fired for trying to steal electronics

Levi:

"Theres a lot of new merch releases coming up soon!"

Didn't want to be the only one left out so he applied...plus you won't see him anymore!

Electronics department ONLY

You won't find him cross trained anywhere else, he refuses

Is actually really good with upselling

Can be aggressive if you don't go with his recommendations

Has received a few complaints for that reason

Tries to match his breaks with you since that's the only time he really gets to see you

Was the one who tattled on Mammon

Satan:

"This is for research."

A lie he almost believes but knows he just wants to be near you

Works the same department as you so you see each other all day

Never put him on registers or customer service

Almost got into a fight on the first day

Retail is rough for him but he does it for you

Complains to Demon Resources about Lucifer daily

Asmo:

"Ugh...a job!? I'm gonna cry. Oh but my fans would love if I relate to them! And your job will be fun with me there!"

Upfront about his reason lol

Refused to do anything except customer service

Just stands back and talks to customers while the coworker alongside him completes any transactions

Makes DevilToks on the clock

Frequently leaves his spot to talk to you and Satan

Gets all the work gossip

Lucifer never catches on

"You know, this isn't so bad! I'm such a good worker right!?"

Gets employee of the month

Beel:

"I don't like the thought of you surrounded by demons alone. This isn't RAD."

Aalajffkslsjda the cutest honest protector

Is cross trained everywhere but

Never put him near grocery ever again

Likes to work with you if he gets the chance

Usually works in the backroom unloading and back stocking things

Has a doctors note that let's him take frequent breaks for eating

His favorite department overall is security because Lucifer gives him extra treats if he prevents high valued thefts

Belphie:

"I'm here because I have things I would like to have."

Is there an extra meaning to that?

Works in the back with Beel usually

Takes frequent naps in hidden areas of the backroom

Pretends to look busy if Lucifer is around

Also complains to Demon Resources about Lucifer daily

Fights with Levi on your breaks because he also wants to spend time with you when he can

Is the reason some coworkers don't approach you

He makes it known to not fuck with you

Diavolo heard you started a new job alongside the brothers! He goes to visit with Barbatos in tow.

Diavolo:

"Can I get a little help here?"

Flirts with you while on the clock. He thinks the red vest on you is cute!

Was wowed by the store in general

(Normally Barbatos does the shopping alone)

Liked sampling the food that was around the store

Was tempted to apply but Barbatos shut it down

Took a photo of Lucifer in his manager clothes

Barbatos:

"Seeing you here will make my shopping trips more enjoyable."

Praises your work

Did have to go to customer service to complain and ran into Asmo

Didn't believe Asmo was gonna clean the restrooms but at least the complaint was taken

Takes a survey and compliments you

Has to fight Dia to get him off the racecar cart

"It's for parents with children my lord."

Returns the cart to the cart corral like an upstanding citizen

My first bulleted story post lol. I had fun with this & hope to make more in the future. <3

⬦You might also like: Coconut︱Mexican Restaurant︱Waffle House︱You ARE The Father

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phantomskeep · 23 hours

Text

Putting the "Fun" Back In "Funeral" Chapter 4

AO3 | Chapter Three --- Chapter Five

Chapter Four: Gotham's One-Stop Shop For Villainy The first thing Danny noticed about this dimension was it smelled. A polluted haze hung heavy over the sky, casting the urban jungle in a dark mist and assaulting the halfa’s nose with the sharp tang of gasoline. Loud big-city sounds filled his ears as he caught himself in the midst of his free-fall, leaving the man distorted. It was so much different compared to his Keep in the Zone. To be pulled from a place of near-constant quiet into a realm full of honking horns, shouts and sirens was enough to have Danny reel his aura back in. The ambient ectoplasm around him felt sticky, and wrong, like the very air around Danny had been contaminated by something dark and sinister. He pulled his atmospheric spirit back, tugging where he could feel all the tiny little souls around him closer to himself. Bit by bit, his range of feelings depleted until he almost couldn’t feel the filth that surrounded him. Small pants left his lungs by the time Danny could only feel a tiny circle around himself that pulsed with his aura as he tried to keep a lid on his powers that desperately wanted to run free.

Attempting to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of not sensing the people around him, as well as the general unclean feeling of touching such disgusting ectoplasm, Danny spun in a small circle to try and get his bearings. The portal created by the Skeleton Key left him hovering over an old clocktower bathed in the haze of the city. Looking around proved to be near-futile, because even with his superior sight, Danny could barely see the street from where he floated.

The young man shifted the bags thrown over his shoulder, nervously looking around while trying to catch his breath. Clockwork had said his friend would be waiting for him, so where…?

“Hello, my King.”

A feminine voice caused Danny to startle, turning quickly to face the ghost that snuck up on him. The being before him reminded Danny of Shadow, almost. Their form was pitch black against the backdrop of the Victorian clocktower, constantly moving and shifting like a wispy fire. Piercing red eyes bore into him, causing him to nervously rub the back of his neck.

“Hi,” Danny spoke slowly. “Are you the one Clockwork told me about? The Spirit of Gotham?”

The ghost chuckled softly, moving their wispy form closer to Danny. A belated wisp of cold air worked its way out of his throat, letting him know another of the Realms was close. “I am, young King. You may call me Lady Gotham, the protector of this city.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Lady Gotham. I’m Danny Phantom.” He said, remembering the many hours he spent with Pandora and Dorathea drilling the proper mannerisms into his thick skull. Danny bowed at the waist, ignoring how the two bags he carried knocked against his knees. “Thank you for allowing me into your domain and protections. I will treat your lair as my own– with the utmost kindness, respect, and haunting that should be given to any member of the Realms.”

“I accept your gratitudes and give my own, King Phantom.” Lady Gotham’s voice was steady when she spoke the traditional greetings of the Zone, unlike Danny’s own unsteady cadence. Danny rose from his bow to see the other’s form in her own imitation of a respectful stance. After a beat, she rose from it to meet his eyes again.

The young king grinned at the shifting shadow in front of him, allowing excitement-nice to meet you to leave the tight leash he had on his aura to tentatively brush against Lady Gotham. A little trill of happiness left his core at the tender hello-nice to meet you-calm that caressed the small bubble Danny had created.

“Come, Little One,” Gotham spoke gently. “Clockwork has left you in my care until your tasks are complete. The ones who are mine have prepared an area for you while you are under my protection. We will head there and I will teach you the cultures of this dimension. Is this acceptable, King Phantom?”

“More than, Lady Gotham.” Danny continued to smile at his new guardian. “But, please, call me Danny. Or Phantom. Just- just none of that king stuff, please.”

A quiet chuckle emitted from the shadow before him. “As you wish, Danny. If we are being informal, feel free to call me Gotham.” She paused, swiveling the area where her eyes rested around to face to her left. The movements reminded Danny of the character No-Face from Spirited Away, a heavy swing of herself in a dramatic full-body maneuver. “We must head north to reach the lair I have created for you, Little One.”

“Lead the way, Lady G!”

The flight over was a quick one, with Danny’s ghostly guide fading from the visible spectrum before taking off. Danny followed suit, taking care to keep Gotham in his tiny bubble. As they traveled, he strained himself to see through the muggy haze that encompassed Gotham’s city. They passed large, towering skyscrapers with flashy signs, massive highways filled to the brim with cars, and Danny could barely make out dark water when they passed over a bridge. There were no immediate outstanding differences between his home dimension and this one. So far everything seemed pretty normal, besides the slimy feeling tingling on the edges of his senses.

From the past couple experiences Danny had with time travel and multiverse hopping, the man was expecting to see something like flying cars or gravity-defying structures. But everything seemed almost normal. Maybe this world wasn’t one of those crazy superhuman filled ones like the one Kitty and Johnny told him stories of. Apparently, their home dimension was pretty wild.

Danny almost lost his ghostly companion when she led him across a wide-open area filled with plants, though he caught up with her when she began to head slightly to the left. They passed more towers, more open areas with the faint sounds of cresting waves against land, until Gotham finally began to slow down.

“This part of my city is called Cherry Hills,” she said as the two ghosts hovered over the city’s buildings. “Many of the areas to the northeastern side of this section are used as housing, the western as warehouses, and the southeastern as workspaces or labs.” The older being began to gently fly further north, slowly leading them closer to the buildings.

As the structures pulled into view, Danny took in the sights before him. A large highway cut through the housing district, and he could easily make out the far-off sight of warehouses leading to docks where a handful of large ships were tied up. A freight train’s blaring horn was accompanied by the flashes of light as it cut through the city’s haze. The raised railings of a metro train track ran alongside the highway. As they continued north, the housing buildings started to look more worn-down, less like their shiny brethren on the east side of the carpath.

“Is this the area I’m going to be living in?” Danny questioned after a while. He wasn’t too concerned about the state of the building he would be occupying - he (kind of) survived the Fenton household for eighteen years, after all -, but the shock of being in a large city was starting to grate on his nerves.

“Yes,” Lady Gotham said as she began to hover over one of the taller residential complexes. “This is the one.”

With that, Danny could only helplessly follow where he could feel her plummeting through the building’s roof. When he crossed the barrier, he let his invisibility go to match Gotham. Her shadowed form lazed within the large studio’s space, letting herself barely brush against the floor.

“Welcome to your new home, Little One.” Gotham swirled closer to him, the edges of her emotions pressing against him in a soothing tone of welcome-this is yours-take it. “I hope it is to your liking.”

An awed breath left Danny as he slowly turned to truly take in the studio apartment he was presented with. The ceilings were high, with one side tilted at an angle to run alongside the roof. Two large windows let the hazy day’s light peak through the panes, washing the area with a gentle glow. A nice-looking kitchen occupied the space’s far corner, and Danny was only a little disappointed to note it would probably not see much use. An open area was broken up with a sturdy kitchen table sitting innocently next to another large window. The corner along the same wall as the kitchen area ran into a cozy-looking living room area, an elevator space acting as a barrier to the adjacent corner.

Danny was a bit perplexed to note that scattered lab equipment filled that space. Did Clockwork tell Gotham that he was a mad scientist or something? But Danny moved on to take in the staircase leading up to an open L-shaped platform. Floating up, he found a cozy-looking king bed greeted him, along with a computer set-up that would have made Tucker drool. He excitedly noted a window with access to a balcony with stairs leading onto the top of the roof was attached to the same wall perpendicular to the one his bed was against.

The young king zoomed next to Gotham, a large smile on his face. “This is awesome! How the heck did you get this all set up?”

An easy chuckle left the other ghost’s form, gentle emotions swaying between the two as they continued to get used to the other. “The people of my city don’t often question when mysterious jobs line up for them. It is part of their culture to not ask too many questions, after all.”

“That’s…” Danny paused, trying in vain to find the morally correct words without offending his host. “Interesting?”

A rumbling purr filled the air, Gotham letting a gentle pulse of amusement ripple against her king. “Interesting is certainly a word for it. Do not fret, Little One, no harm comes to them.”

The young man awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed that his worries were so easily spotted by the older ghost. He wasn’t quite used to having anyone other than the Ancients or his friends read him with such ease - having another do so, even if she was a ghost and Clockwork’s friend, was unusual for Danny. It made him wonder what type of relationship she had with Clockwork, as he had never before seen or even heard of Gotham before now. Before he could question her, though, she swiftly spoke.

“Before we get too distracted, I must inform you of this dimension.” She shifted her way behind where Danny was hovering, seeming to herd him towards his new couch. “Sit, sit. There is no need to be uncomfortable for such a conversation.”

“Wait,” Danny protested. “Let me put my stuff down real quick.” Without waiting for a response, he zipped up to his new bed. Dropping his duffle and Clockwork’s satchel onto the plain blue bed sheet before rummaging around for the journal gifted to him. When he finally found it, the young man flew back to the simple pale couch where Gotham waited.

It was an odd sight to see. A giant, angry looking cloud of smog hovering like an exasperated parent in a picture-perfect looking home.

“Okay,” Danny started as he landed on the surprisingly comfortable couch. He leaned back, relaxing against soft cushions, as he let his transformation wash over himself. “So what do I need to know?”

Surprise rippled across the air at the sight of Danny’s flashy shift, but Gotham was composed when she spoke. “From what Clockwork has told me, you come from a dimension where you are one of three beings who are more than human?”

Giving a small nod, Danny felt like his chest would explode from the hope-excitement-trepidation at what Gotham was implying. “Are you saying there’s, like, people with powers here?!”

“Indeed,” Gotham agreed, her voice lifting at the other’s obvious excitement. “There are metahumans, those with the meta-gene, who are humans with various powers. Others include humans who have been experimented on, had accidents, know the magical arts, or even been subjected to ancient powers. Aliens have begun to call this Earth home, as well. This includes those from Mars, Krypton, Thanegar, Tamaran…” She trailed off, staring at Danny who was physically vibrating. “My king, are you okay?”

“There’s aliens?” He whispered. “You guys have aliens?!”

“Yes, many of them-”

“Holy fucking shit,” Danny jumped up, coming to eye level with a startled Gotham. “Can I meet them?! Can I visit their planets? How many are there, what do they look like, do they have powers?!” The young man was trying to grab onto something in order to steady himself, but his hands kept passing through Gotham’s smokey form. “Lady G, please tell me I can meet them. Please, I will literally die again if I can’t meet actual people who live in space.”

A happy laugh echoed across the apartment’s space, the City Spirit being the source of it. “You are certainly excited about this, Little One.”

“Of course!” He exclaimed, waving his noodle arms around. “Space is so cool, G. It’s the greatest thing ever, I love it! I’ve always wanted to explore it, ever since I was a kid.”

“Well, you will be glad to hear that meeting the aliens who call Earth home is something you will be able to do.”

“Do any of them live here? In your city?”

“No,” She said, moving her eyes to look out the large windows gracing the two with a hazy glow. “The Dark Knight, a man who helps protect my lair, does not allow ones with powers to operate within me.”

A curious expression overtook Danny. His excited movements slowed to a halt, and he regarded Gotham with a critical, glowing eye. “Do you want me to take care of him, Lady Gotham?”

Calm-do not worry-amusement gently brushed against Danny, causing him to relax. “As much as I appreciate your protection, Little One,” Gotham said as she faced her king. “The Batman has this rule for good reasons, ones that I agree with.”

Danny’s metaphorical hackles lowered at Gotham’s comment. The piercing neon green of his eyes bled back into their usual icy blue, though the curious look did not leave. “Why’s that? And who names their kid Batman?”

Part of the City Spirit’s dark cloud tried to nudge him back towards his couch. “The Batman,” she began, “is a hero who operates to protect my city. He was born here and donned his cape in order to help those in need from the many criminals who call my territory home.”

Danny gave an involuntary awed noise. “So you guys have heroes here, too?” A dark tendril of smog wrapped around the back of the couch, resting gently against Danny’s neck.

The idea of having other heroes around was something that greatly appealed to Danny. Being the lone super-powered protector of Amity Park for so long took its toll on the young man, even with his human companions. It just wasn’t the same, being the only one with advanced abilities. He had to take the bigger hits, he had to be the one to save his friends if they got into too great of a bind, he had to be the one to try and take on the burden of Amity Park alone when they all went off to find their place in the world. With great power comes great responsibility, after all. And being the Ghost King? Well, Danny had more than enough “great power” to spare.

The thought was just as sobering as it was exciting. Other heroes, super or not, meant that there was something to have caused those heroes to come into play. Some great villain, or a world-ending disaster, or even large crime rates. Lady Gotham only said criminals, though, so maybe there were no supervillains Danny needed to worry about.

“Yes. In fact, there is a large society of both heroes and villains.”

Well, it was a nice thought while it lasted.

“But many of the aliens you were so excited to hear about are among those heroes.” Gotham continued, not noticing Danny’s sudden mid-afterlife crisis. “There is the Batman, who is one of the founders of the Justice League. Superman, Wonder Woman, the Flash, Green Arrow, and many others are all part of this superhero society - the Justice League.”

“Okay,” Danny was desperately trying to keep up with this sudden information. “So, Batman is a super-powered dude who helped to start an entire squad of superheroes?”

“He has no powers. The Dark Knight is just a man, same with Green Arrow and many others. They simply are able to keep up with the aliens, gods, and metas.”

Danny paused, taking in a breath. He touched his fingers together, pressing his palms flat. Another breath was taken, this one deeper than the last. With every ounce of teenage angst he still had within him, Danny lifted his hands up together to rest against his forehead before bringing them down in an arch that would have made Sam proud. “What the fuck.”

A laugh rolled from Gotham’s form, his guardian sneakily tightening her protective hold on him. “What the fuck indeed, Little One.”

“Okay, okay-” Danny’s voice cracked with indignation, “So regular everyday humans fight supervillains and are able to keep up with gods? And super-powered aliens?”

“Yes.”

“And one of those humans - who named himself after a bat - is the sole protector of your lair? Besides yourself? And he doesn’t let any of his superhero friends help him?”

“I never said he worked alone. Though, for a long time he did not have any help.”

“Lady G,” Danny said again with exasperation. “I repeat: what the fuck.”

Her only response was to laugh at his expense as he continued to moan about how he couldn’t seem to escape crazy people, no matter what dimension he runs to. The space shared by two multi-dimensional beings filled with an easy warmth.

“So,” Danny started after a couple minutes of his grumbling. “Superpowered people aren’t allowed in your city because one of your protectors is just a man in a… What, fursuit? A crime-fighting fursuit?” He paused, considering, before rapidly moving on. “But there are super-powered people in this dimension who are also heroes.”

“Yes, that is all true.”

The young man took a second, silently thinking, before speaking again. “Okay, okay,” He started. “And the chances that I’m going to have to just… steal all of these ghostly artifacts is pretty high, right?”

“Again, you are correct.”

“So,” Danny said, stretching out the word. “Chances are they’re going to think I’m some sort of villain.”

Gotham made a noise akin to two cars scraping against each other as she hesitated to answer. “There is a chance of that, yes.”

“Great,” he bemoaned, bonelessly flopping around his couch. “Guess it’s time to pull out the ol’ acting shoes. Welcome to Danny’s One-Stop Shop for Villainy.”

Foreign emotions rubbed against the sulking man’s aura, the City Spirit’s feelings of do not fret-all is well-I will protect you soothing Danny’s temperament. “There is no need for all of that, Little King.” When their eyes met, Gotham’s form had smoothed into a rolling fog compared to her usual flaking fire. “If all else fails, you can learn to have some fun with it. Many of the heroes and villains of this world have… gimmicks, if you would, for their respective personas.”

A critical eye was shot to the other ghost. “What do you mean by that? My ghost form’s already pretty gimmicky.”

“But,” she said. “You can always take it to the next level. I would suggest you do some research on the various powers who live within my city as well as this world. You may find some inspiration.” She paused before speaking with a teasing tone. “I also believe that Clockwork told you to blend in? Maybe a name like Inviso-bill would fit right in with the likes of Condiment King and Kiteman.”

“Absolutely not!” He screeched, waving his hands wildly as he bared his teeth. “How do you even know about that?!”

A purr echoed from Gotham’s chest, so fierce Danny could feel it vibrating his own core. “I have my ways, Little One.”

“Fucking cryptic geezers,” Danny sullenly mumbled as he pouted. “I don’t even know where I could get an outfit for stealing stuff, anyways.”

“Were you not planning on doing it in your more ghostly form?”

He stopped, eyeballing Gotham’s face area with a critical eye. The other was facing him, though more of her wispy form had started to curl around his shoulders like a lazy cat soaking up the warmth of the sun. “I thought using powers in your city was a no-no?”

“That does not mean you cannot use your other form,” Gotham’s voice took on a lecturing tone. “You just will not be able to use your powers in an obvious way. It would help to protect your identity, and I know that you know the risks of not being in one of your forms for too long. Clockwork, at the very least, informed me to help you keep track of your health.”

Danny grumbled a bit, remembering the last lecture he endured from Frostbite about his general health. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Can’t I just use my ghost form as is, then?”

“I would not recommend it.”

“Why’s that?” Danny inquired.

Gotham huffed, “Because, quite frankly, there are magic users who know about your coronation. Any being with ties to death - through magic or dying or any other way - heard the Song of Ancients as you took the crown. It will not take long for your influence over the Realms to reach here, and when that occurs they will know.”

“And then the jig is up?”

“Yes, then the ‘jig is up’.”

A loud groan left him, frustration causing Danny to get up and pace. “So, what? I just go around and snatch everything while invisible? Or in the Kingly gear? ‘Cause I don’t think my HAZMAT is the kind of gimmick you’re thinking of. Besides, wouldn’t either form just give everything away from the get-go?”

When Gotham didn’t respond, the young man turned to face her. The City Spirit was staring at him, not saying anything.

“What?” He finally asked when he couldn’t stand it.

“You can change the outfit of your form.” She stated. “Did you not know this?”

Danny nodded his head, “I mean, yeah, I swapped from the robes to my HAZMAT earlier - but I don’t even know how to start on an entirely new outfit!”

The older ghost let out a quiet laugh, “Do not fret, Little One. I can teach you how to alter your form.”

“Can you change yours?” The young man asked, curious. He knew Amorpho could shapeshift and that often a ghost could generally alter their appearance, but he didn’t think he would be able to alter his own.

“I used to be able to,” grief rolled off Gotham in waves, the intensity of it staggering. A dark cloud seemed to roll over the city, the weak light bleeding through the loft’s windows almost completely disappearing. “It was a long, long time ago that I was last able to.”

Danny reached out, letting apologies-you’re okay-I’m okay-we’re safe tentatively brush against his companion’s anguish. “Well, maybe we can figure out how to get you to change forms again. I’ll do some nosying around and figure out the best way to blend in so I can snatch some fun stuff.”

A thankful emotion poked through Gotham’s grief as she agreed with the young man before her. “Until then,” she started. “It might be a good idea for you to settle some more. I need to rest before attempting to mentor you through something as draining as altering yourself.”

“Alright,” Danny easily agreed. “Should I stay in here while you do that, or is it a good idea for me to roam around a bit?”

Gotham paused, considering. “You should be fine to wander, though I would suggest spending time familiarizing yourself with my occupants beforehand.”

“Gotcha,” he gave his new friend a small smile. “Thank you, again, for helping me with this. I really do appreciate it, Lady Gotham.”

“But of course,” she said in a tone full of fondness. “Clockwork has spoken highly of you throughout the years. I am pleased to see his judgment was not misguided.”

“Well, I’m glad that you’re pretty chill.” Danny happily moved closer to the City Spirit.

If Gotham had a physical mouth, Danny would bet that she was smiling at him when she spoke. “I will leave you to it, then. If you are in need of anything simply flare your aura. I will feel it, no matter where you are.”

“You got it, Lady G.”

And with that, the Spirit of Gotham faded from the visible spectrum. Danny felt her slip out of his aura’s bubble and he was suddenly alone in a completely new dimension. Which was, apparently, full of superheroes, supervillains, and everything in between. When the young man began walking up the stairs to where his computer was set up, the only thing on his mind was figuring out where Clockwork’s list of artifacts were and which hero he was going to look up first. That Batman dude sure sounded like a good place to start.

╮(╯▽╰)╭

The sheer amount of non-earthly beings that occupied this dimension’s earth was crazy. That was the conclusion that Danny came to hours after Gotham had left him.

It took flipping through old news channels, trolling internet forums, random fan blogs, and even watching a few interviews of various heroes for Danny to get a vague grasp of this new reality. There were some heroes that he couldn’t get a full view of - the Batman being one of them. All he could find were grainy photos of the hero and hints that he wasn’t the only vigilante in the city.

Which would make Danny’s job a bit harder.

During his deep dive into this dimension’s cultures, Danny flipped through the little journal Clockwork had gifted him. His mentor’s steady handwriting listed out the various artifacts he was going to need to find as well as their general location. Many of those artifacts, after using his shiny new high-tech computer to look them up, were located in public places or stored in secret, secure facilities. Yoinking the public ones wouldn’t be too much of an issue for Danny - his abilities would make it rather easy to avoid detection, after all - but he had no idea what a “Fortress of Solitude” was. Or even something as vague as “The Watchtower”. Seriously, some of these places sounded weird.

But others had cities listed out. Star City was obviously a town, he knew where Gotham was (duh), and even places like Themyscira were easy enough to Google. It was with this brilliant deduction that led Danny to believe some of the weirder names weren’t attached to a city at all which was rather worrying.

Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on who asked) Clockwork wasn’t one to steer Danny in a direction the old ghost knew wouldn’t work out. So with a healthy dose of blind faith, Danny chose to focus on whatever artifacts he could easily access for now. This meant Danny spent a decent amount of time casually scrolling through museum articles, even more blogs, and whatever else he could get his grubby little hands on. Honestly, it made the Ghost King feel like he was back in highschool trying to desperately write an entire research essay the day it was due.

The first item on Danny’s newly named “List of Shit I Need to Steal” was an item called the Hand of Greed. According to the Gotham Museum of Natural History’s website, the Hand of Greed was a statuette found in an Ancient Greek city. There were some general facts about when it was found, who discovered it, and how it came into the Museum’s care. The Wikipedia page elaborated more on the lore behind the dark statuette, though.

According to random people on the internet, the Hand of Greed had been found by Ancient Greek farmers after a lightning storm in a graveyard. There was more than a few forums debating on what caused the storm, where the hand came from, and even some people arguing that everything about the Hand was made-up. The forums then led Danny to a dead end - nothing had ever been formally concluded about the relic’s origins. It frustrated Danny a little bit. He wanted to be at least slightly more prepared for his first ever consensual heist. The half-ghost broke away from his hunched position over his desk, popping his back and yawning. The motions of this move caused his stomach to gurgle angrily, reminding Danny that eating was still something he had to do.

The young man stretched himself out, wiggling around his comfy office chair. “Guess I better get some food or something,” Danny mumbled to himself. His eyes didn’t move from where they were focused on his setup’s main monitor, where a picture of the strong fist carved out of black marble rested.

With a dramatic groan meant for no one but himself, Danny spun his chair around. He easily hefted himself off of the space, casually walking to where his duffle bag still rested. He rummaged around, grabbing his wallet before moseying his way to the elevator.

It wasn’t like Danny didn’t want to steal something, per se. As he smacked the “down” button, he considered the morality of taking something that did, technically, belong to him. It wasn’t like the people who found the statue knew it originated in the Ghost Zone - to them it was just an old statue with a weird story behind it.

The elevator arrived with a happy-sounding “ding!” and Danny stepped into the space as he fiddled with the bracelets resting on his wrist. He would have to make a plan to break into the museum, something the halfa was not looking forward to, especially with how little his research brought up. Reaching out, he poked the lobby button before resting his back against the stainless steel walls.

Maybe he could just go in invisibly? This Batman hero wouldn’t even be able to catch him if he never even appeared on camera, after all. It wasn’t like Danny had an identity in this world, anyways. Any hero would be hard-pressed to catch a ghost in the machine. The elevator stopped, doors opening with the same cheery noise.

But, even though Danny hated to admit it, he kind of wanted to meet the heroes of this dimension.

The young man continued to think about it as he walked out of the building’s lobby, not even taking note of the inside of it or the people loitering. Breathing in city smog, Danny pulled his beat-to-hell phone out of where it was resting in his khaki pants. He focused just enough to figure out where the closest convenience store was, slap a pin on his new home, and make his way in the general direction of where he needed to go.

Danny was honestly pretty surprised to see his phone worked. The shock of finding out that yes, his shitty phone did in fact apparently carry a multi-dimensional data plan, brought his attention to money. Lady Gotham didn’t really explain what forms of currency this dimension used, nor did he even consider looking that up.

Which he could solve right now, by using his phone that did somehow work. But where was the fun in that? He had to spice up his obviously too-boring life somehow. All else failed, he would just act like he was from a different country or something. There’s no way that could backfire on him - no siree, no backfiring here. And technically he wouldn’t be lying, either. It’s a win-win either way.

It was with these thoughts that Danny serenely entered a beat-up looking store with various ads decorating its windows. He had about twenty dollars in his pockets when he hopped dimensions, which would hopefully be enough to grab a sandwich or something.

Danny really, really hoped that the currency of this dimension was the same.

After the halfa snagged a decent looking chicken salad sandwich out of the store’s stacked fridges, he found it was at least similar enough to get him the food and a fountain drink. Danny took his change, thanked the cashier, and went back outside. The man leaned his back against cool glass and took out his phone to see how close the museum was to him. If nothing else, Danny could make his way to the place and do a little reconnaissance.

It seemed like something Jazz would want him to do, after all.

The GPS app on Danny’s phone showed him that the Museum of Natural History was down in Gotham’s University District, closer to where he first came into this dimension than where he was now. A forty minute drive by car, apparently, but the halfa was sure he would be able to fly there in under ten. With a small smirk, Danny stuffed his lunch into his mouth as he hurriedly searched for a decent alleyway to shift forms in.

Finding a decent spot proved to be more difficult than he had expected. The city was teeming with life - people spilling in and out of the streets and bustling across warm concrete as they went about their lives. It was after the fourth time Danny wandered into an empty-looking alley, only to find a shady deal going on, that he felt frustrated beyond belief.

It had never been this hard in Amity to find an unoccupied spot to swap to his ghost form in. The spaces between buildings almost never had other people in them, and even when there were all Danny had to do was make it to the next one over to be alone. Here, though, it was proving to be a larger task. People were everywhere and it was starting to get on the halfa’s nerves.

Danny didn’t miss home already, nope. He hadn’t even been in this dimension for twelve hours - he couldn’t break this early.

Finally, after spending way too much time trying to find a discrete area to die, Danny let his transformation sweep over himself. He faded away from the visible spectrum as soon as familiar rings of light sputtered out. He quickly shot to the sky, gazing down on the city below him with delight.

Yeah, it wasn’t Amity Park. There were people everywhere, it smelled horrible, and Danny could still feel the sticky ectoplasm of the city brushing against his aura.

But it was beautiful in its own way.

Towering skyscrapers outline the heart of the city in the distance, windows reflecting back what bits of sky peaked through the slowly lifting haze. Flashing lights rose from between the cramped buildings, washing Gotham’s people in hues of red and blue. The noise was a pleasant backdrop as Danny flew between the streets, a smile gracing his face.

He could see himself getting used to this.

Minutes passed as the halfa twirled between man-made structures, occasionally dropping down to listen to the various people as they went about their day. It was when Danny flew up to the top of a skyscraper, his whole being bursting with joy as he played in the sky, that he felt an angry pulse brush against his aura.

Startled, Danny hovered over the top of the office space. Warily, the young man sent back a questioning feeling - doing his best to keep his little bubble of safety. He was left waiting, anxiety slowly building the longer no ghost appeared on his senses.

Who had sent that? Danny wasn’t quite sure, but the only other ghost he had met in this dimension was Gotham. It had to have been her, but why was she angry?

His guess was proven correct when a black cloud rose from the edge of the skyscraper, sides flared like an avenging angel's wings. Startled, Danny dropped to the roof, taking a few steps back as his hands rose into a defensive position and his invisibility fell. Belated, a wispy breath left his mouth when the older ghost drew closer.

“My King,” Gotham’s angry voice crashed against Danny’s senses. Long gone were the soothing tones from earlier. In their place were sounds that made the hairs on the back of Danny’s neck raise up, his senses screaming DANGER DANGER! “What did I tell you about using your abilities here?”

“I thought that was just for whenever I was stealing stuff!” Danny protested, trying to recall their conversation earlier. “I was just trying to scope out the museum - the Hand of Greed is something on Clockwork’s list.”

Gotham snarled, her form twisting angrily. “No, you shouldn’t be using any of your abilities. The risk is too great.”

Hesitating, Danny warred with himself. On one hand, he didn’t want to piss off his ghostly host on the first day he stayed with her. That was just bad manners, and he knew Pandora would be disappointed in him if he wasn’t polite. However, not being able to use his powers? Ever, as long as he was inside Gotham’s city? That was just too much to ask for, in his own opinion. Danny could understand not wanting him to use his powers to avoid Gotham’s protector’s wrath, but on a day-to-day basis?

Danny wasn’t too sure if he could do that. His powers were part of him and he thought he was finally going to a place where he wouldn’t have to hide who he was.

At the end of the day, though, Danny wasn’t one to try and piss off his allies. He had made too many enemies over the years to be okay with that.

“I’m sorry, Lady Gotham.” Danny spoke, trying to hide the frustration that had so quickly overtook his fear. “I won’t use my powers in your city - unless I am in my apartment.”

The spirit’s form shifted, considering. “Very well, I accept your apology.” She hesitated, for just a split-second, before continuing. “I think it is time we head back to your haunt, Little One. I still need to teach you how to shift forms and I want you to be prepared for when you meet my protectors in a few days.”

“A few days?” Danny asked, confused. That wasn’t his plan.

“Yes,” Gotham said. “Did you not want to get settled before attempting to lift the artifact?”

Danny shot a confident grin at the City Spirit, his eyes alight with mischief. “I know we just met and all, but did you really think I would do anything else?”

“No,” Gotham conceded. “I will do my best to aid you on your heist tonight, but please be careful.”

“I’m always careful,” Danny sassed as he let his playful nature wash back over him. “Show me how to change my outfit?”

“As you wish, Little One.”

ヽ(ಠ_ಠ)ノ

Gotham’s setting sun cast an eerie, dark red light across Jason’s apartment. The rays washed over him, making it look like the man was stained with spilled blood. Dick had just set off with a cheery promise to see the other on patrol before slipping out the door, leaving his younger brother alone for the small amount of time it took for the sun to set. Soon, Gotham City would be cast into the darkness of night, with the city’s criminal elements slowly spilling onto the streets.

It was during the night that Jason always felt the most alive.

Before, when he was still living in a shitty Crime Alley apartment, it was because that was when Willis would go out. The arguments that came from him and Catherine would scare Jason more than the gunshots on the street. At least those were outside the safe walls of his home, but inside? To him, that was where the real danger lurked in the form of two angry adults.

Then, it was the streets. They had never been safe - but now that Jason was truly a part of them, he had to learn the tricks to stay alive. Part of that meant finding a safe place to squat, to wait out the evils that lurked in Gotham’s shadowed nights. The Bat was known for hunting and hurting criminals - something Willis had raged about more than once - and Jason was just a street rat who stole to survive. He had to stay alert during the lonely nights. Streets clouded in darkness just weren’t safe for a kid.

After the streets, it was being Robin. Fighting alongside Batman, helping give others hope and protection, and doing what he could to make his home just a little safer was like magic. He felt alive, freer than he ever had before that. It wasn’t just the adrenaline pumping through his veins or the thrill of leaping between rooftops, it was being able to help his home.

Jason was Gotham, born and bred in the darkest parts of the city’s heart. More than Bruce, or Dick, or even Babs could ever be - so of course he felt more alive in the comfort of night.

Then, he died, and being alive was never the same.

He was learning how to live with it, slowly but surely. The waves of green rage had originally helped Jason feel more alive, a little bit more sane while he struggled to figure out who he was. But even his own mind had betrayed him, at the end of the day. Basking in the pit rage had become an addiction, a high that he could use to finally feel again.

Within the past few months, Jason’s mind had been slowly coming down from the almost three-year stint of using the Lazarus Pit’s “gift” as a metaphorical emotional shield. It had been rough, trying to notice when it was the artificial rage whispering in his ear or his own emotions coming to the forefront.

Now, though? Oddly enough, even when Jason reached for the space he had learned the Pit coiled in, the green never threatened to take over. Throughout Dick’s impromptu forceful brotherly-bonding day, Jason hadn’t felt a single peep from the corner of his mind occupied by the unwanted side-effects of a green, gooey hot tub from Hell.

It was nice to be alone in his own mind again.

These thoughts raced around Jason’s mind as he went about the motions of getting ready for a normal patrol. It was odd, thinking the last patrol he had been on led him to the Batcave. Jason had been expecting to feel at least slightly off-center with the Pit Rage gone from its sulking corner. If anything, though, he felt more normal than he had in years.

As heavy kevlar fell to rest comfortably against Jason’s body, he noticed a bullet hole in the shoulder of his uniform. Eyebrows scrunched in confusion, he examined the damaged spot. That hadn’t been there the last time he donned his metaphorical cape, but Jason was pretty sure he would have noticed if he had been shot.

… He would ask Dick about it during patrol. Maybe that was how he ended up as high as a kitten on catnip?

Slipping his guns into their correct holsters, the young man snatched his bright red helmet from its hidden compartment. An almost feral grin danced across his face - the Red Hood coming out to play was always the highlight of Jason’s day.

When the sun had finished slowly sinking below the smog-filled horizon, Jason meandered down a stealthily hidden passageway to the secret bunker that housed most of Hood’s equipment. He was surprised to find his beloved hotrod-red bike parked in its usual spot – Jason figured he would have used one of his less-used bikes until he was able to get it from the Cave.

He didn’t think too long about it, though, as he grabbed the rest of his gear and dropped down onto the piece of machinery. A loud rev of the engine reverberated between the enclosed walls of his bunker as he pressed a button on one of the bike’s handlebars. Across from him, a large garage door slowly groaned to life. Jason kicked off from the ground, jumping into Gotham’s old tunnel system with practice ease.

The tunnels had originally been part of the Court of Owl’s underground hideouts, but after the Bat-family took down their operations, Red Hood had quickly laid a bright-red claim to them - including the bunker under his building. The tunnel system was near-perfect as it was. Some of it needed a bit of repairs and cleanup, but hidden ways to travel around the major points of Gotham with discreet access points was a resource Jason just couldn’t say no to.

It was through one of these openings that the Red Hood burst into the darkened streets, engine loudly announcing the start of Jason’s patrol to any bystanders who may be in earshot.

He quickly sped through the dimly lit streets, expertly navigating to one of the many areas Jason leaves his bike during the night. Today, he had decided, was going to just be an easy patrol. A nice little stroll through Crime Alley, maybe a stop at one of his favorite twenty-four hour hole in the walls, and then finishing up his night with a well-deserved bath.

With that in mind, the Red Hood grappled up to Gotham’s darkened rooftops, letting the city’s shadows envelope him in a cool, familiar embrace. Street lights flickered noisily, enhancing the darkened figures thrown across well-worn buildings. The great expanse of Gotham’s ever-changing skyline greeted the helmeted vigilante as he began his daily patrol across his home territory.

A thick layer of smog blocked the moon and stars from being seen by the millions of Gothamites, the haze from the day still lingering at the very edges of the giant city. The early spring breeze brought a light chill to the night, making Jason glad he had a layered uniform, unlike when he was a child strutting around in Dick’s old scaly panties.

He tapped the side of his helmet three times, turning on the communication unit built into its protective metals. A quiet chatter of his family greeted him and against his will, Jason felt his shoulders drop just a bit.

“-I’m saying that it’s obvious that Ivy and Harley are going to get married soon.” Dick’s voice was broken up by the sounds of wind sweeping across his speaker, small grunts echoing in Jason’s ear as his older brother danced across rooftops in a well-loved routine.

Stephanie’s response came with the usual hyper rush Jason has learned to associate with his fellow street kid. “And I’m saying that I think they’re going to wait a little longer. We all know how Ivy is about commitments.”

“But she and Harley have been dating for years. If the two of them can survive that tantrum Kiteman had a few months ago, then I think they’re pretty much set for life.”

“Quiet on the line.” Bruce’s gravelly tone was a bit of an unwelcome entry in the friendly banter, making Jason fight to contain the natural tensing of his body. He forced himself to relax, jumping from the roof of a crumbling apartment building and onto an old office building in a much similar state.

“Don’t be such a stick in the mud, B.” Dick let out a larger grunt, a fleshy sound accompanying it. “Hey guys, mind if I drop in? Seems like you’re all having the party of a lifetime.”

“Fighting on an open line?” Jason drawled, never one to not poke at Dick. “Watch out, Boy Wonder. Daddy-bat’s gonna ground you at this rate.” A single grunt was the only response Jason’s quip earned, making him sneer a bit under his protective hood.

Figures.

Before the gun-slinging vigilante could even get another word in, he heard the “ping” associated with Oracle dragging his communication unit down onto another line. “Hood, I’ve gotten reports of a gang break-in a few blocks from your location. Double back, it’s the building across from where you stored your bike.”

“Of course,” he groaned, but still dutifully skidded to a stop. Jason threw himself into sprinting back across the different roofs he had just parkoured his way over. “Any more information on the situation?”

“Negative.”

“Wonderful.”

It took him a few minutes, but soon Jason was back in the general area where he had started his night. “Is it the jewelers or the pawn shop?” Jason asked the quiet line, staring down at the littered streets.

“The jewelers,” Babs said. “Footage is showing four guys, their getaway driver is waiting outside near the back. Dark blue van. Best to proceed with the burglars then the driver, from what I can see.”

“Got it, going in now.”

“Good luck.”

The large vigilante dropped down in front of the store, scanning through the broken glass. He could barely see the four figures shoving anything they could grab into worn duffle bags. From what Jason could tell, none of them were armed – meaning he was quick to slip sneakily through the opening they had made when one’s back was turned. It was his odd hybrid training that allowed him to move so quickly and silently when his body mass was constantly working against him.

Hood snuck up behind a robber who was rooting around a now-broken glass case. The vigilante’s quiet movements served him well as he suddenly struck his arms out, grabbing the masked civilian around the throat. The man made an aborted shout, alerting his friends to the vigilante among their ranks as the Red Hood turned them around. Now with the thug between himself and his buddies, Jason tightened his forearm against the warm neck he held hostage.

“I’m only going to say this once,” Jason’s modulated voice rippled over the thieves. “Surrender or you’ll end up like chucklefuck here.” With the end of his statement, he tightened his grip and swept the other man’s legs out from under him, Jason placing one of his own legs between to keep his prey unsteady.

The thief in his arms started babbling pleads as he desperately squirmed in Hood’s grasp. His friends cautiously lowered their bags, one even going as far as to show Jason his free hand.

“Easy now,” The one furthest from the door said. “We’re just tyin’ ta put food on t’ table.”

“That’s understandable,” The masked vigilante said in a tone laced with half-fake sympathy. “But there’s better ways to go around getting money than robbing stores. Surrender and I’m sure prison’ll teach ya’.”

“Yeah,” The far guy spoke up again. “Not gonna happen, cape.” With that, the dude kicked a heavy rock at Jason with surprising accuracy, forcing him to let go of the squirming criminal in his grasp. As much as Jason would be fine with the dude getting a concussion, he’s sure the other bats would not be so chill about it.

The thief that was caught in Jason’s grapple was busy running, trying to make an epic getaway. It gave Jason time to pull out his handgun and a warning shot was fired, putting a smoking hole into the floor in front of the fleeing robber. The man, to his credit, didn’t flinch at the loud noise and instead kept gunning for the exit where his friends were waiting for him.

With a curse, Jason realized a bit late that the three of them were almost at the door – which he noticed had been disarmed. He slipped his gun back into its rightful place before he raced after the three thieves. As they ran through the store, jumping over jewelry cases and feeling his boots slide across scattered glass shards dusting the floor like deadly fallen snow. The vigilante pulled out a bola set from where it was hanging on his utility belt, aimed as best he could while running, and threw it with terrifying accuracy towards the first criminal in the fleeing line.

The bolas caught on the robber’s legs, drawing them up short. With a panicked shout, the man went down like a live oak – with a heavy crash and shaking limbs. The two behind him stumbled to a frightened stop, obviously startled. Jason used those couple precious milliseconds to gain ground on the group, already planning his next move. A gloved hand reached back towards his belt, gripping onto his last bola set. By the time he was re-noticed by the criminals, he was mere feet away from the trio. One of them let out a surprised noise, fleeing the scene and leaving his friends behind. It was him that Jason aimed his bolas at, easily letting the capture weapon fly and snag the wayward robber.

The last one had been trying to help his friend out, on his knees with a knife frantically sawing through the rope binding his buddies’ legs. When Jason was close enough, he pulled the man up by the back of his jacket and punched him across the nose. The squirming criminals’s hands came up to clutch at the bruised cartilage and Jason slapped Bat-grade handcuffs across his wrists.

“Now,” Jason said as he dropped his prey. He turned to look at the other two, focusing on the man at his feet while the one in his hands squirmed around. “Maybe it’s nap-time for some naughty boys.”

“Let us go, Hood!” The man in his hands yelled, drawing Jason’s attention. “C’mon, man, we got families! Don’t throw us in jail!”

“You should have thought of that before you decided crime was your best option.” The helmeted man practically growled. “What would your family say if they found out this was the way you made your money? Huh?”

“Don’t be so naïve, Hood,” The man on the floor snarled.

“How about you shut up, huh?” Jason snapped, looming over the other. He dropped the handcuffed guy next to the one on the floor before manhandling the un-handcuffed guy around to turn him into a newly-minted handcuff guy. “Time to take care of your last pal, boys.” But when Jason lifted his head towards the exit of the darkened store, all he saw was his now-sawed bolas and a wide-open door. “Oh you have got to be shittin’ me.”

With a quick tap to his helmet, Hood rejoined the open line Gotham’s vigilantes used to alert when a crime was stopped as he ran through the open doorway. “Oracle, got two of the four. They’re locked up in cuffs, in pursuit of the others.”

“Noted,” Bab’s steady voice filled Jason’s ears. “I’ve got eyes on their get-away car and contacted GPD - so far they’re heading south through the Bowery.”

“Got it. Do I have time to grab my bike or am I using the Rooftop Express tonight?”

“Get the bike, they’re not slowing down.” Oracle paused for a split-second, no doubt cross-referencing the activities of all the vigilantes roaming the streets. “Red Robin will cut them off if they start heading east.”

Red Hood huffs as he spots his bike, having raced over from the now-destroyed shop. “Sounds good,” he started his bike with a deafening cry from the engine, adrenaline pumping through the ex-crime lord’s veins. It was odd, to be so excited for a chase and not feel r agerageragerage in the far corners of his mind, threatening to cloud his thoughts with mindless violence. “Streets?”

As Oracle rattles off the street name Hood’s suspects are using to attempt to get away, the man uses his modified bike to its greatest potential. Weaving through traffic was something Jason was used to - it was as natural as grappling across rooftops for the young man. To slip between cars while traveling at high speeds was a rush he craved. Add in the hunt of criminals? Well, Jason was as happy as a Bat with a cold case.

When Jason spotted the criminal’s van, they were deep into the heart of Gotham. He had chased them through the Bowery, over the Robins Bridge. Gotham itself was a city made up of multiple islands - each broken up by different inlets bleeding into the Gotham Bay. Sprang River separated the northernmost parts of Gotham from the older parts of the city, like the Upper East Side, Diamond District, and University District. As soon as Barbara informed Jason that his suspects were heading through the Upper East Side, a plan started to formulate.

The Upper East side was broken into a grid pattern, much like how New York City was. If Jason could speed through the lesser-used streets parallel to 35th, then there was a chance he could cut them off. A quick one-handed pat down of his bike’s stylish saddlebags confirmed he had a set of tire spikes. Hidden under his hood, an excited smile grew.

“Hey, Oracle,” Jason cut off the red-headed wonder’s listing of streets. “I’m going to spike the van. What’s the traffic lookin’ like?”

There was a pause before a resigned sigh filtered through Red Hood’s helmet. “Traffic is mostly clear, they’re closing in on Robinson Park now. Best thing to do is try and get them in that area - it gives me time to stop traffic around there.”

“Perfect,” Hood purred as he pushed his bike faster, expertly weaving around the late-night commuters. In just a few minutes, Hood got the confirmation from Oracle that now was a good time to enact their plan. With a quick twist of his body, Jason’s bike dodged between skyscrapers as he burst onto the main road in the Upper East Side. The criminal’s van was just barely behind him and, having no time to maneuver, ended up driving over the spikes Red Hood threw into the road.

A pop and the eerie screeching of machinery enveloped Jason’s senses as his prey struggled to keep their getaway vehicle under control. When it finally crashed into a light pole, an odd quiet seemed to brush over the city. With an expert flick of his foot, Jason lowered his bike’s kickstand before stalking over to the smoking van. He brought a padded elbow up, smashing the window in a practiced move. As glass fell like a dangerous snow, he paused to take in the sight of the criminals before him.

The van’s airbags had deployed, leaving his two runaways unconscious in their seats. With a huff, the vigilante opened the driver’s door. He checked over the two thugs with practise ease, making sure there were no injuries he may need to know about before moving them out of their now-busted van.

“Got them, Oracle,” Hood said, pulling the two men out of the van. He set them a few feet away, zip-tying their hands and feet together. “Cops on their way?”

“They’ll be there in two minutes. Any chance you can pick up the spikes?”

“Sure,” Jason agreed easily, sauntering his way down the street. He could see the faraway headlights of cars heading his way as he rolled up the spikes. As the black-haired man secured them back into the saddlebags, he heard the distant sound of sirens.

“You best get a move on, Hood,” Oracle cautioned. Typing joined her speech, urgency picking up in her voice as she directed him. “Looks like there’s been a break-in at the History Museum. You’re the closest unoccupied.”

“Seriously?” Jason groused, hopping back onto his bike. He left the criminals in a trail of exhaust right as the Gotham Police Department showed up. The vague threats they made followed the Red Hood as he sped towards the University District. “You know I hate that place.”

“Well, sucks to suck. Batman and Robin are currently chasing down a lead on Penguin’s drug trade, otherwise I would send the two of them.”

Hood paused, his brain going to places he definitely did not want it going. “New lead or the one from yesterday?”

“New lead - Red Robin and Orphan picked it up while you were indisposed.” With a sigh, Hood parked his bike in a random alleyway, taking note of the streets near it. The large man grappled his way up to the roof of the building before starting to parkour his way towards the museum, grumbling the entire way.

It wasn’t that Jason didn’t want to stop a thief, or that he was embarrassed about being drugged the other day. No, it wasn’t that. A fight was something Jason pretty much welcomed every night he donned his guns and helmet. The museum was simply too full of times before. Before he had died, when things were just a bit easier. When it was just him, Dick, Bruce, and Alfred. Back when he wore the scaly panties and hid in Batman’s cape. When banter and quips thrown at villains came easier to him, when he thought Batman would always be there to catch him when Jason fell.

He couldn’t help but wonder what had changed about the museum since the last time he was there, six years ago, stopping Catwoman with Batman. From doing his best to ignore the flirting between his father mentor and the thief.

Now, instead of the hand-me-down Robin uniform, it was the Red Hood armor Jason wore to strike down a thief.

Jason’s musing cut off as he landed hard on the roof across from the museum. The vigilante rolled into a light jog, shaking off the pain racing through his knees. He could see the top of his targeted building, stopping at the edge of the rooftop he was occupying to try and get a better view.

He needed to figure out what caused the alarm to trip on the building in the first place. It didn’t seem like the type of area one of the usual Gotham Rogue Gallery would target for any occasion. Maybe Catwoman, but Jason didn’t know of any jewels in any exhibit that she would try to steal.

“Do you have any information on who might’ve broken in? I can’t think of anything Catwoman would try to get her hands on.” Jason asked as he kept a moving eye on the building across from him.

A thoughtful hum came from the other side of the transmission. “I’m looking at the CCTV footage now. The person who broke in is still inside, and appears to be wearing a dark, hooded outfit. White accents as well - whoever it is, they’re not one of our usuals.”

Jason cocked his head, body lighting up with a curiosity he hadn’t felt in a long time. “Roger, going in now. Might as well figure out who it is.” Aiming his grapple gun towards a secure part of the museum’s building, he triggered the mechanism with a satisfying pop and whirr. With an ease born from being a Bat, he jumped off the rooftop - soaring above the late-night foot traffic with a small thrill.

Oracle’s voice crackled as she spoke. “Hood, wait for at least one other to arrive before engaging. All CCTV footage is corrupted - this guy must’ve used a localized EMP of some sort, and depending on how strong it is, we might lose contact.”

“I thought the others were occupied?” The man questioned as he landed on top of the museum’s roof. He dropped to a crouch, surveying the space around him.

The Gotham Museum of Natural History was a building made up of pale stone. It had large, rectangular columns racing up the sides to form a grand entrance. The museum was split into four sections: the main part, and then three add-on sections that all intersected at the circular part of the building. While the roof was relatively flat, a massive glass dome rose from the main section with various skylights scattered around the add-ons. It may look cool but, as all the Gotham vigilantes knew, it created many escape routes for various villains to use. Without counting the many, many windows the building boasted.

“Batman and Robin are. Red Robin just finished up with a mugging and Nightwing is heading north. ETA is roughly ten minutes for each.”

Jason shook his head, creeping along the roof. “When did the break-in happen?”

Oracle paused, her silence speaking a thousand words. “About thirteen minutes ago.”

“So they’re probably finishing up grabbing whatever it is, already.” Red Hood kept his eyes out for any sign of break in, eyes expertly scanning the terrain around him.

“Assuming they’re as fast as Catwoman? Yes.”

Jason’s mouth opened to respond when movement through one of the northern add-on’s skylight caught his attention. The Hood hurried his way over, making sure to keep out of sight. As he got closer, static filled his ears. The noise was loud and startled the black-haired vigilante enough for him to quietly curse as he quickly moved to turn off the horrendous noise blasting through the casing covering his skull. Definitely a localized EMP, he thought as he settled next to the skylight to watch the thief.

While Jason typically had decent sight, through the glass he could only describe the person as whispy, almost like the window prevented him from having a clear view. He could barely make out a pitch-black cloak covering the person’s back as they lifted an object from its display pedestal.

Knowing time was running out and not wanting to let this new thief get away, Hood unlatched the skylight with a trick Batman taught him years ago - back when he was still learning the ropes of being Robin. Hooking his grapple claw onto the skylight’s edge, the ex-crime lord silently lowered himself down the large drop as quietly as he could. Even though there was next to no sound of the grapple’s mechanics and his landing was as quiet as an assassin’s, the thief’s head whipped around. Startled, glowing neon eyes met Hood’s through his helmet. Fear gripped Jason’s heart as unblinking Lazarus pools bore into his very soul.

I should’ve waited, Jason thought hysterically as the vigilante and thief stared at each other.

(((ꏿwꏿ;)))

117 notes · View notes

halfbakedideas · 7 months

Text

BatRules

The full list of rules the Bat Family has, for both their civilian lives and their night lives.

It gets a little out of hand. Just a little.

Key

A.P.: Alfred

B.W.: Bruce

D.G.: Dick

C.: Cass

J.T.: Jason

T.D.W/T.D.: Tim

S.B.: Steph

D.T.: Duke

D.W.: Damian

-~-~-

No tampering with any of the coffee machines. —A.P.

Master Tim is to be limited to a maximum of two shots of caffeine every 24 hours. —A.P.

‘Dealing with Damian’ is not a valid excuse to ignore the above limit. —B.W.

Only regular-strength coffee is to be kept in the Manor at any time. —B.W.

Not even after off-planet missions? —T.D.W.

‘At any time’ includes after off-planet missions, Tim. —B.W.

No speedsters and/or Kryptonians are to bring in any as an ‘emergency supply’ —B.W.

Master Bruce is banned from having any coffee at or after 12 a.m. —A.P.

Not even decaf? —B.W.

Why would you even bother drinking coffee then? —T.D.W.

Mayonnaise is not to be put on hamsters. —T.D.

Lucius has threatened to quit if it happened again and he sees it. —T.D.

Rule 11 applies to non-Family members too. —B.W.

Master Jason is not to bring any guns into the Manor. —A.P.

Not even the rubber bullets one? —J.T.

Especially not that one. —A.P.

Hugs are mandatory. —D.G.

Proposed revision: Hugs are recommended. —D.W.

Proposed revision: rejected :D — D.G.

Glitter is to be kept and used only in designated areas. —A.P.

The ballroom is not a designated area. —A.P.

Neither is the kitchen. —A.P.

Vigilante uniforms are not to be worn nor taken into the Manor. —A.P.

I am not allergic to emotions. —B.W.

Proposed revision: Bruce is allergic to emotions. —J.T.

Proposed revision: rejected. —B.W.

Nor am I emotionally constipated. —B.W.

Green hair dye is banned from the Manor. —D.G.

In all shades but especially neon. —D.G.

Excluding Bruce, attendance at galas isn’t mandatory. —C.

Except for the annual Wayne Foundation one, attendance at that one is mandatory for everyone. —B.W.

For every missed gala, you must make one (1) public appearance in that same month. —B.W.

A ‘public appearance’ does not include a trip to Walmart. —B.W.

No more murder attempts, Damian —T.D.W.

Proposed revision: Murder attempts are allowed on Drake. —D.W.

Proposed revision: rejected. —T.D.W.

No poison is to be put in hot chocolate. —A.P.

Why does that even have to be a rule?? —D.T.

Dick is to be kept away from any and all redheads. —J.T.

Including the one that he is currently dating. —D.W.

Whenever I ask any of you to bring me one of the spare Batsuits, I never mean the rainbow one. —B.W,

It’s Vigilante Bingo not Trauma Bingo. Stop being so concerning. —D.T.

If you’re up before 8 a.m. and you wake someone else up, you have to take their worst patrol shift. —T.D.W.

Only Alfred and Jason are allowed to actually make anything in the kitchen. —B.W.

Shower as soon as you get back from patrol. —A.P.

Just because you got cuddle pollen’d, doesn’t mean the whole family needs to be. —S.B.

Richard is not allowed to pick the movie for Movie Night. —D.W.

Unless Movie Night falls on the 29th night of February. —D.W.

Everyone has to clean their own rooms, do not make Alfred do it. He already has enough to do —B.W.

No going into each other's rooms without permission or a valid reason. —B.W.

‘For a prank war’ is not a valid reason. —B.W.

Rule 50 especially applies when the person is sleeping, Damian. —T.D.W.

A minimum of three people have to go with Alfred to do the grocery shopping. —B.W.

The BatComputer is multi-million dollar equipment and is not to be used to watch movies. —B.W.

No tie-dying your siblings, or their clothing, three hours before a gala. —B.W.

No using books as balance beams. —J.T.

Looking at you, Dick. —J.T.

No going to Jason for help with math; you must come to me. —D.G.

Ladies do not start prank wars, but they can finish them. —S.B.

So beware :) —C.

Stop doing monumental things in the hallway because I don't need to see that. —D.T.

Remember: I have POWERS. —D.T.

No stealing Damian's art supplies. —D.W.

If you do, I will disembowel you. —D.W.

Master Damian, no disembowelling your siblings. —A.P.

Cookies are to be eaten before dinner ^-^ —C.

Cookies are not to be eaten before dinner, unless one is recovering from a life-threatening injury. —A.P.

Does that mean I can eat cookies before dinner since I lost my spleen? —T.D.

YOU LOST YOUR SPLEEN????????? D: D: D: D: D: D: D: D: —D.G.

Seconding. —S.B.

Thirding ^-^ —C.

Tt, of course, you have lost a major organ and failed to tell anyone. —D.W.

I will disembowel more of you if you touch my art supplies. —D.W.

Damian, you can't take more of Tim’s organs. He can't regrow them. —B.W.

He can if it's his liver —J.T.

Damian, you should take out part of Tim's liver so he can regrow it and then sell it on the black market and get rich. —S.B.

He's already rich, though. *raised eyebrow* —D.G.

Then he’ll get richer. —S.B.

Are we all just ignoring how Tim doesn't have a spleen now? —D.T.

That's how things work here. —J.T.

Bedtime for anyone under 16 is 10 p.m. on non-patrol nights; and 2 a.m. on patrol nights. —B.W.

12? —D.W.

10. —B.W.

11? —D.W.

10.30. That’s final. Or you have to take Condiment King next time he makes trouble. —B.W.

Tt. Fine. I will accept 10.30 p.m. —D.W.

Toasters are not to be taken out of the kitchen. —A.P.

‘For science’ is not a good nor valid reason, Master Tim. —A.P.

No dye is to be put into the pool. —B.W.

Just because we have the money to replace the tiles afterwards, doesn’t mean you should do it. —B.W.

No climbing on the Tyrannosaurus rex statue in the Cave. —D.W.

Pizza-store pizza is only to be brought into the Cave under specific circumstances. —A.P.

If pizza-store pizza has to be brought into the Cave, please use a napkin. —A.P.

My Ko-Fi

#batfam #fanfiction #tim drake #batfamily #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #jason todd #bruce wayne #stephanie brown #cass cain #duke thomas #crossposted on ao3 #ao3 fanfic #hbi fics

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comfort-questing · 8 months

Text

on these sands I built my fortresses

for whumptober alt prompt "aftermath of failure."

major Fate/Zero spoilers!!!

Once - she tells herself, in the dark between her breath and her heartbeat - once there was a girl who was a stuffed puppet pretending to be a real person, and people would put masks on her until her face knew how to fill them. Once there was a girl who wore a boy’s tunic and knelt for morning prayers with the cracked tiles sharp at her knees, who held smooth river stones in her hands to keep them still at her sides, until someone took them away from her and she wept and wriggled and chewed on her hair till they gave her a nun’s old beads to hold instead. Once there was a girl who was all wrong, but she was also all that they had; and she had always known the names that weighed her down, when she slept in the green hills’ embrace with the old hound snoring at her feet.

That was before the sword, and the flags in the wind, and the stilly hush of night over battlefields where only the crows cried. That was before the eyes and the voices always surrounding her, and the crown that left sweat-lines on her forehead and hair, and the flame under her heart that burned as often as it warmed her. Protect them, lead them, defend them. See how they watch you, how they hang upon your words, with their unfathomable faces and the voices you are always still learning to tune the meanings of.

Guess away. And if you guess wrong, the song is over, the song that is you and them and your fragile bright Britain.

If you guess wrong, the night will fall.

That wasn’t the worst of it, though. The worst of it was that the song did not end, but it changed, until there were no harmonies left and no chance for her to untangle the notes into purity again. The night fell and she was still there, stumbling blindly through it, a little puppet off her strings with every mask rotted away.

The night fell and she was still there, with flame-heat drying the tears on her face, the stench of car exhaust and city grime turning slowly to the all-encompassing smell of burning. And there was blood dripping in her eyes and blood on the sword she’d let fall to the ground, and blood on her hands and her armor as she held her dying knight in her arms, his ragged breaths loud in the hollow of her neck and shoulder.

“Lancelot. If this was my doing - ”

“If you… had hated me… had punished me… but you… standing there… in your righteousness…” The effort of the words shook through him, his spiked armor cold beneath her hands.

“Were it better had I been angry at you? Ought I have judged and slain my own?” The panic in her had reached a pitch of numbness, and now felt like a sheet of glass over an abyss, and if she spoke too loudly she would fracture it. “I - it was already breaking apart by then, Lancelot, the glory and the dream. I could not have borne to lose you as well.”

She thought she saw him smile. She might have imagined it, with the blood dripping between his lips as he coughed, and the fitful flare of the fire around them. Ash dusted her lips as she breathed in, her eyes stinging with more than tears.

“… but I have always known… you are… a most honorable knight,” Lancelot’s harsh whisper came again, softer than before, “and I believe… that all of the Knights… were of the same mind…”

Her throat was heavy with grief, but even now she could not make her eyes meet his for more than an instant, knowing that whatever he needed to see on her face in this she could neither guess nor imitate.

“Honorable,”she said, thickly; “I was a puppet with a doll’s face, and a dreaming child, and Tristan was the only one brave enough to say so. I have failed, Lancelot, and only a miracle can save us all now, so I - I will go and find one, and lay it at your grave.”

By and by as she spoke she realized that the struggle of his breaths had quieted, and the drips of blood slipping down her pauldron slowed. She could not have said exactly when he had slipped away, into what she hoped was peace. But nonetheless his body in her arms lightened and faded, shadow becoming gold becoming dust against the flames that danced around them - no, around her alone now.

Alone.

Irisviel was gone, and Maiya was gone, and Diarmuid was gone, and Kiritsugu her master in unwilling name only. Poor fools they, just as the knights of Camelot; expecting a hero to save them, and receiving her instead.

If she burned in this fire that was now licking hotter and closer about her, eating up the oil spills on the cracked concrete - if she lay down to rest now, as her beaten and exhausted body was begging her to with every aching bone and bruise - then she would indeed be all that they had, in all her righteousness and her wrongness.

Artoria Saber put a hand to the pillar behind her, gauntlet scraping as she steadied herself, clenching her teeth and forcing her knees to straighten beneath her.

Once there was a girl - she tells herself, again, as she climbs the stairs upward step by agonized step - and her name was lost to the tides of time, and she lived in the hills and tended the sheep with her family, and wore her hair long and cried when they combed the tangles out on Sundays before chapel. And she was odd and wrong, but nobody cared, because nobody needed her or looked to her for anything save to bring the flock in, or spin the wool fine and smooth on the humming wheel, or tell her way home at night by the stars whose old names flowed like music on her tongue.

And someone else - someone else, not that girl - was King of Britain, far away and grand upon his throne. A real person, who laughed and smiled and understood people’s feelings, and knew when to chide and when to sympathize, and what words and ways would turn hearts and eyes to him.

And Artoria Saber prays, as she opens the theater doors, that God in Heaven will let her have this much from the Grail’s power, and change the ending of the song from the beginning.

#whump #fate whump #crow writes a thing #me? channeling my autistic anxiety onto Saber? absolutely more likely than you think #whumptober alt prompt #whumptober 2023 #crossposting to ao3 #fate zero

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lexsssu · 5 months

Text

Light (Sung Jinwoo)

TAGS: Jinwoo/Wife!reader, a/b/o dynamics, yandere, possessive behavior, death threats, breeding, impregnation, oneshot Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

‘E-Rank Hunter’ Sung Jinwoo, a title that followed him wherever he went.

Despite being a Hunter, his power was barely above an ordinary human aside from his slightly more durable constitution and slightly increased healing factor.

So it’s only natural that he’d always get hurt. Hell, he’d even nearly gotten killed several times already too!

It’s not that Jinwoo wanted to be a Hunter in the first place, because aside from the danger, others also made fun of him for his weakness. Even the pay was surprisingly not that great.

Unfortunately, someone in his mid-20s who lacked any viable skills that could land him a normal, stable job could only work for the Hunter’s Association as one of their Hunters thanks to their medical aid. Had it not been for that, he wouldn’t have been able to afford the millions of won in medical bills he owed to the hospital that took care of his mother.

It’s not even just his mother that he had to provide for, but there was also his little sister and…

“Look Yeonjin, it’s Papa!”

Worn out from another hard days’ work, E-Rank Hunter Sung Jinwoo felt all the fatigue in his body seemingly melt away into nothingness as the sight and scent of his wife and child soothed his weary soul.

“Baba!” Yeonjin babbled excitedly as his father made a beeline straight towards you both.

“Welcome home, honey.” You press a kiss to the corner of his lips, smiling up at him with those beautiful eyes he always finds himself lost in.

This is why even if he didn’t want to, he would still participate in these Association supervised raids.

No sacrifice is too great when it comes to his loved ones and regardless of how incompetent he was as a Hunter, Jinwoo will do everything in his power to ensure that they are cared and provided for.

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

You’ve been with Sung Jinwoo ever since you were both just awkward teenagers in high school. When his mother succumbed to Eternal Slumber and left the two siblings to fend for themselves, instead of leaving you surprised Jinwoo and moved into their cozy little home and took it upon yourself to keep the house running.

While Jinwoo did his best to provide for the family’s needs, you would ensure that Jinah and the house was taken care of, this of course also included the man himself whenever he came home from a raid. You even managed to get a remote job that helped with the bills in spite of juggling that with your online college classes as well.

You and Jinwoo had gone through so much together over the past decade so was it any surprise you’d end up married and with a child?

Former friends and schoolmates might have tried to dissuade you time and time again to leave him, pitying you for spending your youth making ends meet and watching over your comatose mother-in-law, Jinah, and now your own baby.

But you don’t need their ‘advice’ when it all basically boiled down to having you leave your family because you ‘deserved better.’

They are already what’s best for you.

Why can’t they see that?

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

“ How are you and Sung Jinwoo? Sorry I couldn’t check up on you guys sooner. Life’s been pretty hectic on my end.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t attend your baby shower before! I had an important appointment that I couldn’t bail out on back then. Why don’t we go out for coffee to catch up?”

“...way too long since we last got together! Our whole class is gonna have a reunion this weekend. Everyone will be stoked to see you and Sung Jinwoo there— ”

Beep.

You don’t have the chance to reply to the latest call you received from another ‘old friend’ when your husband pressed the ‘end’ button in one swift movement. Though his face looked impassive, his scent clearly revealed his agitation…not to mention the shadows that seemed to curl spread from the soles of his feet.

“First they tell you that I’m not good enough for you and that you should leave me, but now they’re all tripping over themselves just to get to me through you…” His lips stretched into a snarl, power rolling off of him in waves at their blatant shamelessness.

Jinwoo’s inner alpha snorted and growled, the mere thought of these impertinent swine daring to involve themselves with his mate even if to gain some sort of favor from him made him see red.

How dare they?! He will rip and tear into their bodies and reap their souls to become his puppets if they so much as even approach you. Did they think he was bound by the rules of ordinary mortals? Foolish!

The hunter’s alpha grinned diabolically, cackling from within the confines of his soul at thought of giving them their just desserts.

“My big, strong alpha…Always willing to jump into the fray to provide for and protect us…How can I even think about choosing anyone else?” You crooned and purred at him, the soft sounds and your calming scent enveloping him and taming the shadows that once agitatedly tried to claw their way out of him to carry out his will.

Burrowing into his arms, you embrace his waist and nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck as best as you could considering his height had also shot up recently. A few soothing kisses and kitten licks against the skin of his neck later, Jinwoo’s darkness ceased pouring out of him.

Because now he focused on wholeheartedly pouring every last drop of cum into your quivering pussy, thrusting weakly even as his fat knot plugged you up. Your lower belly bulged with the amount of cum he’d already fucked into you, but he still didn’t think it was enough.

At the rate he was going, he’s definitely gonna knock you up again.

Not that you were complaining. It was about time for Yeonjin to finally have a sibling to love.

#lexsssu writes #solo leveling #solo leveling smut #sung jin woo x reader #sung jinwoo smut #sung jinwoo x you #solo leveling x reader #sung jinwoo x y/n #crossposted on ao3 #sung jinwoo x reader

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saccharinesyrup · 1 year

Text

The Quickly-Solved Struggles of Having an Internationally Famous Boyfriend

Your boyfriend Isagi has been getting too much attention lately.

You never really pinned yourself as the jealous type, but hearing several different batches of random girls squealing over your now internationally-famous boyfriend on the tv screen was starting to convince you otherwise.

This is not to say that you aren't proud of your boyfriend, absolutely not. You've seen firsthand his dedication to soccer and how far it's gotten him. He's on a world stage now like he deserves, but international fame coupled with being a fairly attractive athlete makes for many many fans.

You know in your heart you can't blame them for pining because obviously you knew your boyfriend was attractive. But you were also one of the only people who bothered noticing that fact in high school, so you weren't used to sharing and honestly never thought you'd have to (the girls in high school knew you got to him first already so they didn't even matter in your mind).

A good handful of people in high school managed to realize that Isagi was a perfectly good, boyfriendable choice, but most preferred the more extreme, exciting types. You pride yourself on realizing early that Isagi Yoichi was the best and only choice for you, taking him off the market as soon as humanly possible.

But these girls were innocently, blissfully unaware that Isagi Yoichi had a perfectly good, wonderful, cute, pretty, hilarious, vibrant, lovely, amazing girlfriend waiting for him at home already. And although this is not a sin, the territorial little green monster inside of you would like to claim otherwise.

You almost want to be mad at him for being so obviously attractive in front of live national television. Considering how long it's been since you've seen him last, you might just let yourself be just to keep him on his toes—can’t let him get too comfortable.

"Do you have anyone at home outside of Blue Lock you want to dedicate your winning goal to?"

Your ears perk up at the recognition of your boyfriend's voice coming out of the speakers again. For the man that just confidently claimed he'd lead Japan to victory on his own just a minute ago, Isagi seems to have reverted back to his normal self with a shy, but earnest grin on his face.

"I'd like to dedicate it to my girlfriend back home! She's been my biggest supporter ever since high school and I owe a lot to her! I love you!"

You hear the group of girls immediately groan in disappointment and you feel a sense of smug superiority fill your bones. That's right. Isagi Yoichi loves you , an honor you share only with his parents and soccer and no one else.

"Aw man…"

"Of course he already has a girlfriend…"

You suppose you won't be upset at Isagi for now.

—

It's been several days since then, and Isagi Yoichi's mystery girlfriend has since been the hot topic of the Under-20 soccer world. You are currently laying on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your socials and reading outlandish speculations and theories. You think your favorite is one about how Isagi's girlfriend is a Blue Lock PR stunt and doesn't even actually exist.

You wouldn’t personally call yourself a sadist, but maybe all of the posts lamenting his taken status make you chuckle.

Meanwhile, the very man of the hour was peacefully snuggled into your stomach, arms secured firmly around your waist as you brushed your fingers through his fluffy hair. He’s halfway off to sleep already and you told him just to knock out already, but he’s been fighting off his heavy eyelids for a while now.

Something about missing you for too long and wanting to stay awake to be with you or whatever.

“Yoichi."

A sleepy grumble.

"The web is talking all about you, you know?”

“They are?”

“Mhm. You’re apparently Japan’s number one heart-breaker, right now for dating me. You sure you’re not gonna regret rejecting all the attention?”

You had meant it as a joke, just a little tease to bother your boyfriend. But Isagi has a way of reminding you all the time why you fell in love with him.

Suddenly he’s fully up and awake again, his eyes are meeting yours from below, his eyebrows furrow in seriousness. “Never. I’ll never want anyone else, but you. I’m glad they know I’m taken now.”

You sweep his bangs up with your hand and lean down to give him a little kiss on his forehead.

"I'm just kidding. I know I’m your number one just like you’re mine."

Oh maybe you do feel just a little bad for those girls online. Isagi Yoichi is all yours and they’ll never be loved by him just like this in that way that makes your heart feel full and light.

And they’ll never get to tease him like you get to do.

"But about how those other soccer boys were looking at you…"

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #female reader #ao3 crosspost #blue lock x you #bllk x you #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi x reader #i dont actually know how to tag fics #syrup.scripts

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3minsover · 5 months

Text

𝙸𝚏 𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝙶𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝙱𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝙼𝚢 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 (𝚂𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚑 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝙿𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚜)

🌧️📦❤️‍🩹 chapters 9+10: november 1986 🌧️📦❤️‍🩹

this is it. hold on tight (to that happy ending tag). i figured you might want the last two chapters together.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/51814153/chapters/134112502

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #fanfic #ao3 #steddie big bang #3minsover #twitter crosspost

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kaorisun · 1 year

Text

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 immortality is an abundant curse (3)

pairing : blade x reader

tags : hurt no comfort, angst, canon divergence

word count : 4.88k

chapters : one • two • three

crossposted to : AO3

Summary : “Everything changed the day Imbibitor Lunae committed a grave sin in the eyes of the Xianzhou. Upon Ren, he bestowed the most abundant curse known to man.

“Immortality.”

The full story.

Yanqing wears his heart on his sleeve.

Given this fact, you truly should’ve figured that Jing Yuan would know exactly who had taken his diary upon discovering it missing.

However, this thought doesn’t cross your mind, so when Jing Yuan arrives at the clinic that night to search for his young apprentice, you’re terribly startled.

Yanqing, who’d been carefully showing you the fruits of his training inside the clinic, drops his sword with a clatter, gasping upon seeing the General appear at the door.

“It wasn’t me!” he yelps indignantly. Jing Yuan gives the boy an amused look.

“Oh? I haven’t even mentioned what I’m here for. How did you know I’d accuse you?” the General questions. Yanqing deflates, having exposed himself and his guilt without the man having to do so much as lift a finger. You reach out towards Yanqing, wanting to defend the boy from any potential ire or anger.

All things considered, he’d done it for your sake. You wouldn’t let him take the blame for such a kindhearted action.

Bailu beats you to it first. Grabbing the journal from her desk, she tosses it to the General. The man catches it with one hand before looking at her curiously.

“Take it. I already read through all of it. I have a good memory. I’ll tell them the stories myself, whether you agree with it or not,” Bailu insists, turning away in annoyance. Unexpectedly, instead of disagreement or disdain, Jing Yuan chuckles and shakes his head.

“I think you’re mistaken. I didn’t come here to scold anyone or take this back. Actually, I commend Yanqing for taking a stand against me and remaining firm in his belief that you had the right to know,” Jing Yuan says with a small smile. Yanqing lets out a relieved sigh before picking up his sword, migrating to the edge of your bed to seat himself.

You tilt your head in confusion. “Why aren’t you upset?”

Jing Yuan suddenly looks sheepish, reaching back to rub his neck. “Actually, I went to the Divination Commission to inquire about this situation. Needless to say, the Master Diviner did not agree with how I handled everything.”

You hum softly, the thought bringing you some comfort. “Did she use the Matrix of Prescience to arrive at that answer?” you ask.

“Actually….” Jing Yuan trails off as he averts his gaze. Bailu pipes up with an amused huff.

“Fu Xuan scolded you, didn’t she?” she interrogates. The General sighs softly before confirming the healer’s suspicions with a small nod.

“Well, what she said, and I quote, ‘despite having the title Divine Foresight, you spend no time thinking about the consequences of your decisions. I don't even need a third eye to see why that’s wrong. Your apprentice has more of a head than you do,’ or something along those lines,” Jing Yuan recounts with a guilty expression.

“I’m glad someone got it through that thick skull of yours, General. The memories are a precious thing to the Vidyadhara race. I can hardly believe you hid so much myself,” Bailu chastises, crossing her arms.

“I know, I know. I realize my mistake,” he starts, walking over to you and sitting beside Yanqing on the edge of the bed. “I'm glad my nosy apprentice told you everything. I thought I was protecting you by keeping everything a secret, but I only caused you more stress in the end.”

You offer a gentle smile. “I went along with it without a fuss because I trusted you. It hurt, but I figured you wouldn’t hide things without reason.”

“And even knowing that I’ve been shielding you from something painful, you still want the truth?” the man asks, the worry clear in his expression. You meet his gaze and nod.

“Yes. Learning the truth is allowing me to feel more and more complete. Even if it’s upsetting, I need to know,” you insist. Jing Yuan chuckles.

“Even without your memories, you’re just as headstrong as you were back then,” he muses. “In that case, I’ll take responsibility, and I’ll be the one to deliver the truth to you.”

“At a later date,” Bailu interjects before Jing Yuan can flip open his diary to the relevant pages. “Save any new stories for tomorrow. I don’t want to strain them further.”

“Strain..?” the General mumbles. You quickly pipe in to clarify.

“Ren… I remembered my first meeting with him. I remembered loving him. But… everything else is still foggy,” you explain.

“But that was enough to make you faint! Lady Bailu is right. We should wait,” Yanqing adds. Jing Yuan looks at you and ruffles your hair affectionately.

“In that case, tomorrow. After our duties, I’ll sit down with you and tell you more. Every single day that Bailu allows it, I’ll tell you something new,” he promises. You feel your heart warm, a weight lifted off your chest.

“I’ll hold you to it. I’m sure Yanqing will, as well. Every day…” you murmur, a small grin making its way onto your face at the thought of finally securing a way to retrieve all of what you’d lost.

Soon, you’ll have all of the pieces of your past life. Once you do, you’ll finally know everything that transpired that led you to where you are now.

As excited as you are, you can’t help but feel a sense of dread.

There’s bound to be many joyous tales from your past, but the story of heartache and loss looms over you. It reminds you that, as happy as things may be, you have to prepare yourself to accept the pain and suffering of your previous life.

You can only hope that it’s something you’ll be able to handle when the time comes.

Dusk turns to dawn, and the sun rises on a new day.

True to his word, Jing Yuan begins visiting you in the evenings at the clinic to tell you new anecdotes from your past. Filling your head with stories that feel familiar— nostalgic, he tells tales each night until your head aches, a sign that you’ve taken in enough for the day.

The General helps you recall your first meeting with him— introduced as mutual friends of Imbibitor Lunae. You slowly remember the way you would watch the two spar, happy to clean up any wounds that came as a result.

Beyond that, Jing Yuan even shares how he’d been the one to push Lunae to introduce Ren to you, having always thought that you’d be a good influence on the man. Lunae agreed, and the General had considered it a personal victory.

However, he speaks of the way you fought alongside him in battle. This fact has you curious, having always assumed you were nothing but a healer.

Jing Yuan clarifies that you were a healer, and you once took up a sword to fight against the Denizens of Abundance precisely because of that reason. Each battle he recounts has your hands ghosting over areas where you swear you feel a slight pin prick of pain.

The General mentions that each place you touch is a place where your skin had once scarred over with wounds from each fight. It makes you smile— it seems the body truly never forgets.

Days continue to pass, and with time, your mind becomes less and less fractured. With each new tale, you grow more and more sure of who you are now and who you once were. Skills you once forgot become second nature once more. Memories return to you sometimes with the assistance of Jing Yuan and Bailu. Others enter your mind naturally, a byproduct of the newfound exposure to your past life.

Bailu notes your increased skill and confidence in healing, recognizing the way you improve as you remember the techniques of your profession. Your heart fills with warmth. You start to feel like yourself again— no longer a wanderer with nothing but shards of the past to their name.

Yet, as elated as you are to make such progress, it’s bittersweet.

You know they’re still deliberately avoiding how it all ended— how your Ren became Blade, the nature of your relationship, anything to do with him. Given that they’ve yet to broach the topic, all of those memories remain locked behind a wall. Unlike other moments, you’re unable to recollect it on your own— likely too heavy a topic to be triggered without help.

A frown appears on your face. You haven’t felt more sound of yourself in ages. Are you still unprepared? Is everyone coddling you once more?

How tragic a topic is the reality of your disappearance to cause them to hold off for this long?

Either way, it fills you with uncertainty and unease. You resolve to ask about it that evening, but it seems you don’t have to, for fate aligns itself at the perfect time.

As the sun begins to fall beneath the horizon, Jing Yuan, Yanqing, and Bailu all approach you, seating you on the bed as they surround you. Their expressions are all terse— hesitant.

You’re about to ask about what’s occurred— unsettled by the tension, but Jing Yuan is the first to speak up, interrupting any thoughts you have.

“You’ve made significant progress with your memory recovery. Bailu has deemed you mentally sound enough to learn of the truth. I’ll tell you everything. Who he was in regards to you, what happened to him… and how it all ended,” the General explains. Your heart flutters in nervousness and anticipation alike.

“Everything…?” you echo. Bailu nods.

“You’ve retained everything else well. I can’t promise that this won’t cause some sort of physical reaction. Much like the first time, it’s likely you’ll experience some pain, but… if we’re right, this should be the last time,” the healer promises with a determined gaze. You smile, feeling comfort in the resolve of those around you.

“Alright. I trust you,” you say. Bailu nods to Jing Yuan, who seats himself beside you as he begins to recount his experience from his memories.

He starts. “There’s one thing I’m certain about. The way you could never tell how Ren felt towards you seems to have stuck. You were the same back then, but I knew— everyone knew that Ren loved you more than anything in this world.”

“For a while, you didn’t realize just how hard Ren had fallen for you. It was incredibly obvious to the rest of us, though. Perhaps… it was because you were always looking away. When he regarded you with nothing but pure adoration, you were inevitably turned in the other direction.”

Ren lets out an affectionate sigh as he looks at you, head propped on his hand as he watches you stare down at your work table in pure concentration. The soft grind of pestle against mortar resounds through the building. Jing Yuan chuckles softly, looking at Ren with a smirk.

“Do you plan on saying anything to them? Or are you determined to long in secrecy for the rest of your life?” he questions, teases slipping off his tongue. Ren narrows his eyes at the man.

“Watch yourself, General,” he retorts. Jing Yuan lets the empty threat slide off him with ease, refusing to back down.

“All you do is sigh and stare in every moment you spend in their presence. Why are you so hesitant?” he asks. Ren glances away towards the herbs and medicines lining the walls— all fruits of your labor.

“They’re dedicated to their craft. They wouldn’t have the time for such frivolity,” he laments. Jing Yuan hums and gives a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Nonsense. They have plenty of time to spare. I often hear them complaining that they have too much time to Lunae,” Jing Yuan counters. Ren tenses, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“I doubt they feel the same affection for me as I do for them,” he mumbles. The General has to hold back from barking out a laugh.

“Please! That’s absolutely absurd. All I hear from you are excuses,” he insists. Before Ren has a chance to retaliate, another voice speaks up.

“The General is right about this, as boastful as he’s acting currently,” Imbibitor Lunae adds in, seating himself at the table with the two. “Both of you have a limited amount of time, Ren. It’d be unwise to waste it wondering if they feel the same.”

“Exactly. Besides, if you hold back on making a move, maybe I will,” Jing Yuan jests with a smirk. Ren shoots up in his seat.

“You will not!” he seethes before rolling his eyes, practically stomping off to retreat to your side. Jing Yuan watches in amusement.

“Do you think he’ll say anything or just sulk as per usual?” he asks. The dragon beside him hums.

“Have more faith in him. You pushed him right where he needed to be pushed. Just observe for now,” Lunae says, and Jing Yuan does so.

“I guess Ren really was at his wits end at that point, and Lunae was able to pick up on it. We watched, and you leapt into his arms after he professed his love. All of us knew it was a matter of time before you ended up together, but seeing it… it was a weight lifted for all of us.

“You two were finally happy.

“For a while after that, things were calm and comforting. Ren came to terms with his short life since you’d be there to spend it with him. I’d never seen anything make him happier than the day you became his, and he, yours.

“Truthfully, I think, that day, he found something worth living for in his relationship with you. Of course, he had the rest of us, but we were all long-life species. In you, he came to understand why life was so precious— why he had to treasure his existence, no matter the length of it.

“Alas, he was still… reckless, but just in the normal, stubborn, and headfast way that he always was. You were always there to scold him for it, but we all could tell it was different. Ren was fighting for his beliefs— no longer careless about his life. He was, in lack of better terms, himself.

“As I’m sure you’re aware by now, such tranquility couldn’t last forever.

“Everything changed the day Imbibitor Lunae committed a grave sin in the eyes of the Xianzhou. Upon Ren, he bestowed the most abundant curse known to man.

“Immortality.

“It was supposed to be another battle, but the two of them had been taking far longer than usual. Both of us were worried— aware that something was amiss, but afraid to speak it aloud lest we manifest it into reality…”

Jing Yuan watches you pace nervously outside of the hall. From where he leans against the wall, he can see the frenzied fear in your eyes as you look out in the distance every few minutes, hoping to see Lunae and Ren in the horizon.

The General is equally as concerned, but he knows that he must remain grounded to keep you sane.

“Imbibitor Lunae and Ren are both capable warriors. I’m sure that they’re fine. They’re probably just falling behind,” Jing Yuan reasons. You shake your head in disagreement.

“It’s been weeks. That’s not normal. The last time it took this long, someone—” you cut yourself off, flinching. The man’s expression becomes grim. He knows you’re right— that your worry is not unwarranted.

Neither of you wanted to be “too late” again.

Walking up beside you, Jing Yuan nudges you gently.

“Let’s head out. We’ll find them ourselves,” the General assures. You offer a wry smile and nod, but before either of you can make a move, another voice interjects.

“No need. We’ve returned,” Lunae says as he approaches with Ren by his side. Jing Yuan can see your excitement, but then watches as you freeze, expression falling as you look at Ren. The General notices what you do, too.

It isn’t uncommon to return from prolonged battles covered in blood, tattered with memories of the ongoing war. However, Ren seems far too pristine to have just returned from a battlefield. He’s glowing in a way that seems… unnatural.

Your eyes shift to Imbibitor Lunae, and suddenly your eyes are cold— distant.

“I think you caught something in his mannerisms that I couldn’t. You saw something that I couldn’t see, quickly catching on that something was inherently wrong— that they were hiding something.”

“What happened?” you ask, a seriousness in your tone that felt incredibly off-putting, given that you were referring to your lover and close friend. Instead of a response, Ren reaches towards you, pulling you into a tight embrace as if his life depended on it.

You pause, carefully wrapping your arms around Ren, running fingers through his hair as you repeat your earlier question.

“What happened?” you inquire, almost pleading now. Ren stills in your arms, silently burying his face in your neck. You frown, looking to Lunae once more for answers. Jing Yuan doesn’t move from his spot, either, trying to make sense of what it is you’re picking up on.

Eventually, beneath your persistent gaze, Lunae cracks.

“Ren nearly died on the battlefield,” he admits. You tighten your grip on your lover, eyes wide with a shock that Jing Yuan mirrors.

“He looks perfectly fine… he’s walking on his own two feet, and there isn’t a trace of blood on him…” you note in disbelief. Imbibitor Lunae looks away, seeming guilty in the way his eyes fall.

“I know. That’s because I…” Imbibitor Lunae goes quiet, unable to bring himself to finish his thought. Jing Yuan narrows his eyes, arms crossing over his chest as he looks at the other.

“You what?” the General interrogates. However, the dragon doesn’t spare him a glance, instead looking to you with something that makes your eyes fill with fury. Before he can raise questions, you’re quick to clarify.

“You made him immortal? Why would you do such a grievous thing?!” you snap, forcefully separating yourself from your lover. Ren reaches for you desperately, but you take a step back. Jing Yuan easily recognizes the look of betrayal on your face.

“I can explain—” Ren starts, but you cut him off harshly.

“What is there to explain here?! I’ve treated the Mara-Struck— victims of the Sanctus Medicus, and you want to explain? I’m a healer and even I’m aware that immortality isn’t a remedy of any sort! It’s a venom! A curse!” you yell, eyes brimming with tears. Jing Yuan remains mute, unable to understand why anyone would resort to such a taboo method for any reason, especially given all that they’d witnessed together.

“Please, calm yourself and allow us to talk this o—” Before Lunae can finish his thought, you interrupt.

“Calm myself? Imbibitor Lunae, have you forgotten that I’m dying? In a few decades, I’ll be gone! Ren no longer has the mercy of dying by my side! He’ll have to witness everything!” you cry out, voice cracking as tears slip down your cheeks.

“He’ll endure so much suffering, and he’ll never be able to die…” you whisper, finally gathering enough strength to meet Ren’s gaze. “You promised.”

Ren is quick to scoop you into his arms, wiping your tears away with his thumb.

“I also promised to return to you. We’re both here now. That must count for something. Without immortality, I wouldn’t have returned to greet you again— to hold you again. And immortality doesn’t change a thing. I still plan to remain by your side for eternity,” he promises softly. You look up at him, an unfathomable sadness in your eyes.

Briefly, Jing Yuan catches you glancing at Lunae. There’s a wordless exchange in the expression you share with the Vidyadhara. The General has no idea what it is that you both say, but it’s enough because soon you’re releasing a defeated sigh.

“I’m glad you’re alright, Ren,” you say softly. Ren smiles, leaning down to kiss you gently. You reciprocate for a moment before pulling away, allowing yourself to enjoy the warmth of his presence.

Despite everything, Jing Yuan can tell that it isn’t something you’d ever move on from.

“You never brought up Ren’s immortality of your own accord ever again after that day. If it came up in conversation, you always excused yourself to be alone for a while.

“There was a time that I confronted you about it, though. I knew it was forbidden, but I needed to know what was going through your head. Honestly, I don’t think I could ever forget what you said to me that day.”

“Why wouldn’t I be upset, Jing Yuan?” you start, head in hands as you shut your eyes tight.

“There will come a time where Ren suffers unimaginable pain, and I won’t be there to help him. There will come a day where myself, Imbibitor Lunae, and even you aren’t there to support him through his suffering,” you explain. The General pauses, not having thought that far into the future.

You continue in his silence. “My death is just the start. I don’t think Ren understands how much of a tragedy that is. Soon, we will all leave him, and he’ll come to understand that death is far more merciful than being the last person left alive of all those you’ve grown to love.”

You frown and walk off, your words weighing heavily in Jing Yuan’s heart.

“I grew to understand exactly how right you were in your assumption as the years passed. When you faded away and crumbled— I witnessed firsthand how cruel his affliction was.

“Ren knew he couldn’t live without seeing you once more, I don’t think he ever thought about the inevitable day where he’d have to learn to live without you entirely.

“The day you disappeared… I could tell everything weighed heavily on your mind. In the face of your inevitable demise, you still worried for Ren.”

Jing Yuan lets out a soft sigh, watching Lunae and Ren leave for their duties. Glancing back to you on the bed, he tilts his head.

“You looked like you had more to say back then. Something else on your mind?” he asks as he seats himself on the edge of your bed. You look at him, a serious look in your eyes.

“I promise that, one day, I will find my way back to you all. One day, I’ll return, so Ren won’t have to suffer on his own,” you swear. Jing Yuan offers a sympathetic smile.

“Unless you’re a Vidyadhara, reincarnation is just a legend,” he mentions. You don’t respond, instead humming in acknowledgement to the General’s statement.

“Of course, I didn’t know you were one back then, but what I did know is that you were incredibly firm in your desire. Either way, I’d brushed it off.

“I left the room to make your medicine, but you had disappeared when I returned. Only then did I realize… that promise was your last wish— your final resolve.”

Jing Yuan continues his explanation, telling you the results of your disappearance.

Ren was never the same. He spent countless hours looking for you— searching for a body, but you’d vanished completely, much like the Mara-Struck who faded into nothingness. From that day forth, Ren’s mind fractured and he grew resentful of his curse.

As you predicted, the rest of your group slowly began to die out, your lover forced to suffer through each and every one knowing he’d never be granted the same reprieve.

Then came time for Imbibitor Lunae to pass and reincarnate.

“After Lunae died, Ren disappeared entirely, his mind shattered beyond repair— a shell of who he once was. Losing his bosom friend was the final straw.

“I tried to search for him, but he’d vanished from the Xianzhou Alliance entirely. I figured he didn’t want to be found, so I was forced to move on lest I suffered the same fate:

“Lost in our past without direction or will to live.”

Jing Yuan sighs as he finishes the story, shaking his head. “I thought it all a distant memory, then I saw you again on the Luofu as Bailu’s assistant. You looked the same way you did back then.”

“At first, I thought you just looked similar, but then I saw the horns and tail and I knew— you’d found your way back as promised, and you were a Vidyadhara. I’m sure I acted strange when we first met, but I was trying to confirm that it was really you,” he admits.

The memory of that day rushes to the forefront of your mind. The Arbitor-General had followed you and Bailu back to the clinic. His eyes were trained on your tail, watching the way it swayed as you worked before his gaze settled on your horns.

Jing Yuan had carefully observed you as you made medicine at Bailu’s work table, humming a tune that you’d heard from earlier in the day. It startled you how attentive he was being, but now it made sense.

“I confirmed it through your mannerisms and habits. I saw the way you carefully healed others. Then, you expressed familiarity towards me and that sealed it. Unfortunately, I knew you were without your memories.

“I had been keeping tabs on Blade since he appeared on the IPC’s most wanted list, and I vowed to protect you from him. If he saw you and you didn’t remember him, I had a feeling it wouldn’t go well,” Jing Yuan says, frowning.

“I thought protecting you meant guarding you from the truth so you never had to learn of the tragedy that became of your past lover, but I know now that you have to make this choice yourself. By deliberately concealing this, I’ve already hurt you enough,” he finishes softly, resting a comforting hand on your shoulder.

You remain silent and still, staring blankly ahead. From the corner of your eye, Bailu frowns.

“Are you alright?” she asks, preparing for any sort of pain that might occur as a result of everything.

Instead, tears begin to slip down your cheeks, dripping down onto your hands as you grip your robes tightly in your lap. Smiling sadly, you blink rapidly in an attempt to clear your vision of the glistening drops.

Jing Yuan is the first to react, cupping your face in his hands and wiping away your tears gently as you sniffle softly.

“What’s the matter?” the General questions, concern etched into his features. You shake your head, words caught in your throat.

Everything in your mind is clicking into place, pieces falling and fitting together.

Ah, of course. I promised this so long ago, your mind echoes. I said that I’d return— that I’d remember— so I could make it back to you and protect you from the curse you fell into.

Your shoulders shake as you begin to sob. The General pulls you into a tight embrace, Yanqing leaning against your side in an attempt to provide comfort as well.

You usually never remember any last reincarnations as a Vidyadhara. Memory is a spectrum for your kind, and you always ebbed on the side of starting with an entirely clean slate. It’s why you were so certain you’d die when you left to be born again.

You wouldn’t take any memories of your past with you, and you wouldn’t recall them.

Except, this time you did.

Dying and rebirthing with such a strong resolve meant that, since you awoke in this new life, you’ve always felt that something was missing.

Now, you know what it is.

But it’s too late, isn’t it?

You bury your face in Jing Yuan’s shoulder as you cry, mourning the past you lost, and the lover you abandoned in this world.

If Blade’s mind fractured so long ago, do you even hold a place in his memories anymore?

Is there anything you could do in your current state to help him?

Or was all of this remembrance for naught?

For this, you had no answer.

Hidden away somewhere in the Luofu, a woman observes a man from afar.

Kafka recognizes the distant expression Blade wears as he stares out at the scenery and passing Starskriffs. It’s vulnerable— longing— one that he only wears when he thinks no one is watching.

However, her attention is diverted elsewhere when her phone vibrates with an incoming text. Glancing down at the device, she smirks as she reads the message.

Kafka. Plans have changed. Blade’s initial wish will be granted.

The woman raises a brow in amusement, typing and replying to his message with a teasing response.

Even we aren’t capable of necromancy, Elio.

Instead of commenting on her witty remarks, he merely sends back a simple text which serves as enough of an explanation for Kafka.

The Vidyadhara has remembered themself, thus returning to who they once were.

Await new instructions.

The woman looks back up at Blade, smirking as she pockets her phone.

What new side of him will she be able to witness? What sort of expression will he have when Elio surprises him with this?

Kafka can’t wait to see how this story plays out.

tag rqs : @ceylestia - @thetwinkims - @astralsity - @kaminari-no-ritsusha - @jotaro-souped

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