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freakynct · 3 years

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𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: sub college student!yangyang, mentions of bullying, slight angst, oral sex, very slight mommy kink, fingering, pegging, praising, slight degradation

"hey beautiful, looking real good today." yangyang said, chuckling along with his asshole group of friends while eyeing you down as he passed by you in the hall. you never understood why he wanted to be associated with people like that, going around pretending like he only had two brain cells. you knew him since middle school. you grew up in the same neighbourhood and everyone saw him as the sweet cute kid that always helped and befriended everybody. because he really was. but once he got into college everything changed. you guessed the pressure of wanting to fit in and being afraid of getting left out scared him and he felt like he had to mold to the likings of the college assholes to be somebody. but you knew better. you knew who he really was and you were the only person he could not fool. and all thanks to the tutoring lessons you gave him in algebra. he could be as much of an asshole as he wanted on campus but once he was inside your dorm, you made the rules. and that cheesy line from earlier would serve him right tonight.

you looked at the clock, marking a quarter past six. normally at this time your roommate would be studying in the library, which would give you some privacy for yangyang's tutoring lesson. and only a couple minutes later, there he was knocking on the door. you opened up, revealing a wet haired yangyang, fresh from the shower, carrying his basketball equipment bag on his shoulder still.

"you're late." you simply said as he kept his head low, his wet bangs dangling over his forehead and hiding his eyes under them.

"practice ran late. not my fault." you liked this. he was still trying to put up a front and act tough.

"just come in." you stepped aside, letting him enter your room and set his things on the bed. now that he was standing a little further away you could take a closer look at him. he wore baggy basketball shorts with an oversized sweater that gave him the cutest sweater paws, white ankle socks and his black and white skechers d'lites. you never got tired of seeing him wearing this. it was in fact your favorite outfit on him, made him look even tinier.

"brought your books?" you asked, setting yours on your desk as yangyang sat on your bed.

"mhm." was all he murmured as he unpacked his books from his backpack. you chuckled at his behavior, stepping closer to him slowly, watching as he followed your footsteps with his eyes, his body frozen in place until you were standing right in front of him and that's when his head lifted up carefully, his big shiny eyes looking up at you in a mix of confusion and neediness.

"i liked that line you used this morning. very charming." you smirked, watching him quickly look away but being stopped by your hand on his chin, squeezing his cheeks together and forcing him to look at you. "what is it? you're getting shy now, xiao yang (little sheep)? you were so confident with your friends, what happened?" you could see the red tone building up on his cheeks and even though you were holding his head in place, his eyes still couldn't look at you, wandering around the room and shyly avoiding eye contact. you chuckled, finally letting go of his chin and dropping to your knees so you could be at the same level with him. your hands slowly raised up his thighs and you felt him squirm and shiver, noticing how his eyes would look down at you and immediately drive away as soon as you made eye contact, his bangs still hanging freely on his forehead.

"can we start studying?" he mumbled, almost inaudible if the room wasn't so quiet, his stare fixed on the dark wooden floor.

"well that's a first." you answered surprised, your fingers dipping under his shorts and caressing his thighs. "you always prefer to do something else. what's wrong, xiao yang?" you cooed at him sweetly but was caught by surprise when yangyang suddenly moved your hands away, getting up more quickly than you could react.

"can you stop? lets just study, ok?" you could tell that he was angry but his voice was weak, almost breaking at the last part and you realized that he was on the verge of tears. your heart ached inside your chest and this was the first time that you didn't know what to do. he stood by your desk with his back turned to you, flipping the pages of the algebra book as if looking for something but only paying attention to not letting you see how red his eyes were turning.

"yang..." you softly called out, getting up and walking slowly towards him. "really, what happened?" you didn't dare touch him or come any nearer, afraid that it would only make him more upset.

"it's just... it doesn't matter what i do, it's never good enough." his voice trembled and you saw the wet mark on the white page where his tear had landed and suddenly you felt like crying too. "i'll never be one of them." he sniffed, his finger nervously playing with the edge of the page.

"what did those jerks do?" this time you moved forward, placing your hand on the back of his head and gently caressing his hair while you stood by him, your eyes trying to read any facial expression from him. he stood quiet, a knot forming on his throat and all he could do was stare at the useless book in front of him. "yang... have they been bullying you?" you tried to be as gentle as possible, your hand sliding down his neck and your thumb caressing his cheek lightly, not letting another tear fall from his face. he just nodded at your statement and you sighed. it was as if you could feel his pain and nothing could hurt you more than that. "xiao yang, look at me please." you asked softly, drawing him closer to you, his red shiny eyes looking shyly at you. "you're so special. and sweet... so sweet." you whispered the last word, yangyang's eyes closing as he felt your hands gently grabbing the sides of his face and the tip of your nose touching his. "they don't deserve a boy like you." his warm breath made you feel at home and you felt him relaxing under your touch, placing his hands shyly over your waist. not another word had to be said as your lips softly touched each other, feeling each other's presence before connecting in a passionate yet slow kiss.

as you moved away you saw his eyes sparkling back at you, this time not from his tears but from excitement. "please." he whispered, his head leaning forward in search of your lips again but you just gave him a warm smile, your hand coming up to run through his brown hair.

"are you sure? don't want you to feel like we have to do anything." you reassured him but he just moved closer, his arms tightening around your body and his head nodding softly.

"yes... i really want you... please." his words were getting desperate and you could feel his fingers pressing harder over your waist in anticipation. if it was any other day you would’ve teased him for longer but after what he had told you, you decided he deserved to get exactly what he was asking for so sweetly.

“come here.” you smiled warmly at him, taking his half covered hand in yours and pulling him gently towards your bed, inviting him to sit on it. in just a matter of seconds you were both back in the position from earlier, yangyang sitting shyly on your bed as you kneeled in front of him, your hands caressing his thighs as his eyes wandered in excitement.

you chuckled as he reached down to kiss you one more time and you loved how desperate he gets when you touch him and the deceiving innocent look on his eyes that makes the little puddle on your panties grow.

"what if we try something new today?" you smirked up at him, your fingers slowly wandering under the hem of his basketball shorts, feeling his thighs tensing up at the question.

"uhm, like what?" his voice was unsure but deep down he was just as curious to find out what you had in mind.

you dragged your hands over his stomach and chest until you reached his neck, cupping his face with both of your hands, and you noticed how his breathing got heavier as you moved your face closer to his. "have you ever been fucked, xiao yang?" you couldn't help but chuckle as you felt his cheeks burning up under your palms and his eyes immediately trying to avoid yours.

"y-yes, you do it all the time." his voice came out as nothing more than a whisper and you held his chin in your hand, prompting him to look at you.

"no yang, not like that. i mean, actually being fucked." you raised your eyebrows in a playful way and even yangyang couldn't help but smirk at your comment, chuckling softly as his cheeks turned a bright red color.

"oh… in that case no, i haven't." you bit your lip in excitement, he looked so cute like this in front of you, the tips of his bangs still wet and sitting shyly on your bed, at your mercy. you could tell he was a bit nervous but he was intrigued by your idea.

"do you want to?" you asked as your thumb slowly ran over his bottom lip, always so soft, and you had to fight against the urge to kiss him. he hesitantly looked at you and nodded his head softly. “you know nothing happens if you don’t use your words.” you said as you moved your thumb to caress his burning cheek.

“i want to.” it was his turn to bite his lip but this time more in nervousness than in excitement. “do you think it’s gonna hurt?” his fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shorts as he looked down but you were quicker to hold his head up.

“you know i would never hurt you, xiao yang. and we can stop whenever you want to.” you lifted yourself from the ground a little, planting a sweet kiss on his lips before looking in his eyes and murmuring “but something tells me you’re gonna love it.”

you smirked as you stepped away from him, leaving yangyang with his mouth slightly open examining your next move.

“take your clothes off baby.” you said as you moved closer to one of your drawers, shuffling between your clothes as you heard yangyang behind you quietly removing his clothes as you asked. you turned around to be met by a half clothed yangyang, patiently sitting in your bed waiting for you, his hair all messy from undressing. “are you getting shy now? i meant all your clothes.” you chuckled as you slowly moved closer to him again. “or are you leaving that part to me, hm?” as he was about to answer your question, he was quickly distracted by what you held in your hand.

“is- is that a strap-on?” he almost whispered the last word as if it was a sin to say it out loud and you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh at his innocence.

“of course. how do you pretend me to fuck you? i don’t have one of my own.” you chuckled and you watched as his cheeks returned to the bright red color that suited him so well.

“lock the door.” he quickly said, almost startling you and you rolled your eyes as you placed the strap-on next to him on the bed and walked to the door to do as he asked.

“you can relax yang, i already told you we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” you explained softly to him as you stepped in front of him again, smirking as you noticed the little bump under his underwear. “but it looks like you’re enjoying it already.” you smirked and as soon as he realized what you meant, his hands moved as fast as light to cover the evidence of his excitement, causing you to laugh.

“no one can know about this, ok?” he warned as he watched you start to strip away from your clothes until you were standing naked.

“why? are you scared your friends will make fun of you for liking to be fucked like a little slut?” you chuckled as he let his bangs cover the clear look of lust in his face but the growing boner inside his boxers gave everything away.

before he could even say anything you moved to straddle his lap, your lips finding his in a passionate and intense kiss as if you hadn’t done it in a really long time. his hands shyly touched your thighs, his fingers although warm creating shivers down your body. his lips slipped from yours, hungrily kissing the skin of your neck, down to your collarbones until you were feeling his warm tongue evolving one of your nipples, sucking it in his mouth. you couldn’t help but roll your eyes back as your fingers intertwined with the freshly washed locks of his hair.

“hm, you’re such a good boy, i don’t even have to tell you what to do, do i?” he only hummed in response, too fixated on your breasts and how good they felt in his mouth. he had been thinking about this exact moment since last week when you were still in spring break but his mom had insisted he invited you over to his house to study but it’s needless to say you both ended up fucking in his childhood bedroom instead. his poor mom is probably still wondering how her son’s grades are still so low when you two join up to study so much.

“i missed you so much.” he gasped as he finally let go of your nipple to look up to you, lips just as rosy and plump as his cheeks.

“i know you did xiao yang.” you pulled him in for a kiss before you stood up to grab the strap-on that patiently waited next to both of you. “and we’re gonna have so much fun, aren't we?” you smirked as you put it on, yangyang following your every move with his eyes and you were caught by surprise when you saw him falling to his knees in front of you, his eyes big and shiny and his tongue running through his lips. “what is it baby? you wanna suck it?”

“yes please.” nothing could sound sweeter than yangyang begging and how could you say no when he’s kneeling so pretty in front of you. you didn’t need much convincing and he didn’t give you much time either as he stepped forward, his tongue shyly catching the tip of the strap-on, sucking it into his mouth and it didn’t take much time for him to have more and more of it inside is mouth, his cute little eyes fluttering shut as he tasted it and as your hand locked in his hair once again, incentivizing him to continue.

“i didn’t know you liked sucking dick this much.” you said biting your lip and you watched as his eyes opened for a little bit and he let the dildo slide away from his mouth.

“i like it when it’s yours mommy.” it wasn’t exaggerating to say that those words almost made you cum right there. he always had an impact on you that you couldn’t explain and before you could say anything in return he was back to wrapping his lips around the strap-on.

you let him have his fun for a few more minutes until you were pulling his hair back, ripping a whine out of him as the dildo fell from his mouth, a string of spit still attached to his bottom lip. you looked down and you chuckled as you noticed the little wet stain in his boxers.

“is that all excitement xiao yang? i bet you can’t wait to be fucked.” you helped him get up and moved him to the bed, laying him down gently as you kissed his now wet lips. you couldn’t help but move your hands down his torso until you were palming his boner over his underwear, causing him to softly moan against your mouth. “i think it’s my turn.” you smirked and lowered yourself, hooking your fingers on the hem of his boxers and pulling them down slowly, his cock hard and leaking pre cum. he had the prettiest cock you had ever seen.

yangyang’s eyes rolled back and he let out the cutest moan as soon as you wrapped your lips around him, bobbing your head slowly and swarling your tongue around the tip of his cock. you watched him try to grab to the sheets as he moaned softly, his eyes closed shut and his chest rising up and down heavily as you felt the pre cum leak more and more onto your tongue.

“i’m not gonna last like this.” he moaned out, his hand weakly trying to grab you to stop you but he was way too out of it to do anything and you gave him a last suck before taking his cock from your mouth, watching it glisten against his tummy.

“i’ve barely started.” you said before reaching over to your bedside table, opening the drawer and taking out a small bottle of lube. as you leaned over him again you saw him biting on his bottom lip hard, his eyes wandering between the bottle in your hand and the strap-on you had attached to you. you ran your nails softly over his thighs, his cock twitching at the touch and you chuckled. “lift up your legs, xiao yang.” and you didn’t need to ask him twice as he eagerly lifted them, giving you a full view of his ass.

you opened the bottle, letting some of the thick liquid fall over your fingers. you heard him hiss as you slowly rubbed the lub on him.

“is it cold?” you chuckled and he resorted to nodding his head, biting his bottom lip and letting his head fall back and sighing as you slowly started easing a finger inside him.

“you think you can do two?” you asked and he quickly nodded his head again causing you to smirk at his eagerness. you slid a second finger in and this time yangyang could not hold a moan that sweetly fell from his lips. “that’s my good boy.” you cooed as you started moving your fingers slowly inside him, stretching him out and preparing him for what was coming next.

you watched as the pre cum dripped from the tip of his cock and stuck to his bare tummy and you suddenly had the urge to have him in your mouth again but this time you had to focus on something else. he whined as you retracted your fingers from him and you grabbed the small bottle again, this time letting the liquid fall on top of the strap-on and you used your hand to spread it all over it. you lowered your body down and gave yangyang something he was craving so much since the beginning, evolving your lips with his in a intense and wet kiss, noticing how his breathing picked up pace.

“you think you’re ready baby?” you asked softly as you stared into his eyes and you couldn’t help but melt at the sweet smile he gave you, murmuring a small “yes”. god he was so cute, you couldn’t wait to destroy him.

you gave him one last kiss before positioning the tip of your strap-on at his entrance and slowly starting to make your way in. you could see his chest moving up and down as his breathing got heavy and his hands trapping the fabric of the sheets between his fingers. you gave him a moment to adjust to the new object inside him before starting moving at a slow pace, examining his every expression to make sure you were not hurting him but he was always so good for you and you weren’t surprised at how well he was taking your cock. eventually small moans started falling from his soft lips that he couldn’t hold back anymore, his head thrown back and small little droplets of sweat starting to form on his forehead and neck.

“you like it? hm?” you smirked. “want me to go faster?” he tried answering you, you heard the start of the yes word starting to form on his mouth but there was no way he could say it, he was way too far gone into the new feeling he was experiencing.

you picked up the pace of your hips, thrusting faster into him. you held his cock in your hand and ran your thumb over the tip, ripping out a whine from him that made your clit pulsate. you stroke him at the same time you fucked him and that seemed to hit the spot for him. his moans turned louder and his cute little hands found place on the back of his own thighs, holding his legs in place as he let you use him in every way.

“you take it so well, xiao yang. such a good little fuck toy.” you bit your lip as you watched the flustered yangyang in front of you, cheeks redder than before, his lips plump and his mouth slightly opened, letting escape the sweetest moans, his bangs now wet from the sweat, sticking to his forehead, and his cock hard and leaking in your hand, as you stroke him faster.

“f-fuck…” he moaned out, his body squirming as you realized you had found his prostate and that was your queue to not stop no matter what.

“you can cum baby, don’t hold back.” you said as you hit his g-spot over and over again and moved your hand up and down on him, running your thumb over his red and now swollen tip and it didn’t take long until he was moaning out and cumming over your hand and his tummy.

“good boy.” you said as you slowly stopped your movements, letting his cock rest against his stomach and carefully removing the strap-on from him. yangyang’s legs slowly fell on the bed, his body tired and you smirked at him, quickly removing the strap-on from your body and discarding it somewhere next to you.

“you’re ok, yang?” you asked softly, placing a kiss on his still burning cheek and he was prompted to finally open his eyes as a cute smile appeared on his lips.

“that was the best thing ever.” you chuckled at his response, running your fingers over his messy hair. “wait.” he suddenly said, startling you. “did you cum?” you couldn’t help but laugh at how concerned he looked but that still didn’t seem to relax him.

“no. but don’t worry, seeing you like that made up for it.” you reassured him and kissed his lips but as soon as you looked at him again he still had the concerned look on his face. “yang i’m serious, it’s ok.” you chuckled as you got up from the bed, extending your arm out to him. “c’mon, let’s go take a shower.” you smiled and that seemed to finally make him let go of his worry.

he held onto your hand and both of you walked to the shower. you loved these moments with yangyang too. the hot water running through your bodies while you kiss, washing each other up, laughing when one of you almost slips, those were always priceless moments.

“what are you doing?” you asked as he pressed you against the shower wall and started running kisses down your body.

“what does it look like i’m doing?” he said as he looked up, now kneeled in front of you, his lips placing a kiss over your hip bone. “i wanna make you feel good too.”

#nct smut #wayv smut #nct dream smut #yangyang smut #liu yangyang smut #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #yangyang scenarios #yangyang imagines #nct scenarios #nct reactions #nct dream imagines #nct dream reactions

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years

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Hearth.

A/N: I dunno if I've got any desi/brown/poc readers but if you're reading this I love you so much and you (us) deserve the same validation and representation others get.

Here's a blurb as to what it feels like celebrating Eid with Harry! Enjoy!

Warning: none — just loads of fluff.

More Inspos, Masterlist, Let's Talk

The night's pretty with murky clouds and thick layer of moon's brightness as Y/N cleans her flat, from scrubbing her Persian rugs to deep cleansing her vases back from her homeland. The flame evaporating from her candles scented like springs of Kashmir, flickers from her blowing sheer curtains due to the zephyr flurring outside.

She feels content, at peace waiting for Harry who promised that he'll be at her place by 11. He always comes an hour early helping her in setting the table before the iftari, they've been doing it together since the start of ramdan until today when he texted her he's busy along with a sad smiley.

It was fun. He fasted with her once or twice and would make sure she's hydrated enough once they break it, his love for rooh-afzah (it's a drink red in color made from essence of roses and some sweet herbs) will never fail to make her giggle as he'd demand for more after gulping two glasses already.

Then showing her his tummy along with his food pregnant jokes.

Her classes are online so it gave her time to experiment some cooking. They'd make samosas together and she always had an urge to hold back her cooes as his tongue used to poke out in concentration everytime his diligent fingers folded the samosa sheets skillfully.

"Did a pretty go'job here, innit?" He'd grin raising it like a summat trophy.

The moment he used to leave her flat (ofcourse after giving a tight hug before doing so) they both missed eachother terribly, y/n doesn't like the way her home falls into an abyss without his presence.

He's like a sunshine that warms her insides up.

The whistle of kettle and several raps of knocks on her door drags her from her fond memories of them together, she slings her feet down from the coffee table rushing to open it.

"Angel."

Harry says breathlessly prolly because he climbed three flight of stairs to get to her or that he's utterly flustered.

Her eyes remain struck at the thingies piled in his arms, a box of chocolates, many brown bags and stems of freshly blood ripped roses tucked between his knuckles.

He bought all of these gifts for her.

To make her feel like home.

To be her home.

What the fuck, nobody has ever done that for her —-- she just mighty cry.

Her mouths gupples like a fish too overwhelmed to react her emotions out and he gives her a sweet smile kicking the door shut with his feet -- gestures her to wait when she almost jumps like a cub to hug him and puts everything on the sofa knowing the things inside them's too delicate.

"C'mere, baby." He grins and she doesn't waste a moment falling in his embrace. Her cheeks smashes against his taught chest and she fists the hem of his shirt smiling too hard for her own sake as he sways them with his own rosy cheek squished against her temple.

"I love you so much, thank you." She murmurs gazing up at him with glinting eyes -- arms still lopped around his waist and his chin doubles adorably as he gives her his signature bunny grin kissing the tip of her nose, "Love you too bubba ... don't want ya homesick, at alllll."

The aggressive whistle of kettle parts them away, "Cuppa cha? Then we'll unwrap these pleasanteris." She points at the paper bags.

He nods flopping onto the floor cushions beside the large oak window of the balcony where they could bathe in moonlight.

"Thank you." He quips, kissing her fingertips while slipping his fingers under the handle of mug and takes it from her as she sits infront of him. He admires her for a second —- fawning over how she's looking so soft and cuddle-able wearing a baggy mauve kurta and some mismatched shalwar.

The tearing open of the stuffing tissue brings him back to focus --- this, he wanted to see this happiness dance over her features as she clutches the ethnic traditional dress he bought for her infront of her and when lifts it down he's met by overly excited eyes.

It's ethereal with golden details, handmade wire work and sheer fabric.

"It's gorgeous, pups." She squeezes his hand and he takes the sip of his cha smiling against the rim of the mug shyly, "Wasn't s' sure -- Sarah helped me in collecting stuff." Sarah's Y/N's bestfriend who was the only desi/brown in her filming class.

"No wonder she was being a lil sneak." Y/N chuckles already rummaging for what comes next.

He wanted to make sure he gets her everything they do traditionally in her culture and ate Sara's ears off to help him buy the most special thing and it's right there creating sweet noise when they touch eachother, dangling from her fingers.

"Churiyan .... " She whispers bitting down a smile. She loves glass bangles. Their colourfulness cheers her mood up and she'd always go with her Nani a night prior eid to select the most flamboyant pair of them from a bazar (market).

"This -— " She gestures to the gifts scattered around them, " —-- all of this and you, means alot to me." She sighs giving him a wet smile and he smoothes his thumb against her cheek like she's the most fragile thing to exist.

He watches her in a tad confusion when she stands up with a giggly squeal putting everything away and comes back with a tube of henna in her hand.

"It's chand raat t'night 'cos tommorrow is eid -- usually I spend it with Sarah and we apply henna to eachother, we're horrible at it honestly but now she isn't here 'm gonna bite yours ears —-" He cuts her off. Ushering her to sit back on her spot. He couldn't be more glad to spend all of his time with her whether it's just watching her make designs on her hand with henna.

"Your cha's waftin'." He shakes his head bringing it to her lips, "It's hot." She tells him drawing a circle on her palm and filling it with beautiful darkness of henna.

"Okie then ... " He blows at the hot beverage to cool it down and again brings it to her lips, "Now." He croons softly to her. She holds his wrist taking a sip from it -- he tucks the strand of her hair back and she smiles up at him making him chuckle when she takes a huge sigh as if her soul just woke up.

"What do we d'tommorrow?" He asks. Knowing most of the time they went to Zayn's house on Eids his mother used to fill the whole table with delicious dishes and the whole day was spent having fun.

"We do nothing but have loads of nice time -- I already made a dessert 'cos I know I'll be too lazy in the mornin', and invited your friends if that's okay?" She glances up at him done with her left palm.

"Perfect then," He nods, "D'ya need help with the other one?" He asks grabbing her right hand and the tube of henna from her.

"Yes, please." She shows him her hand covered with with henna and since it's wet she could do one thing wait or let him do it. The second options sounds more good.

"Not on me if it gets messed up." He warns her nonchalantly following the same pattern of her left hand. Stealing glances of her attractive face every now and then, dotting her moles with his intense gaze, he just thinks her brown eyes look more intricate – it's specks as if the forests soil on the first rains when they dilate with her racing heartbeat.

They're like an open book to him and at the same time mysteriously dark that he feels like burning a match to melt in them.

"You did it way better than me," She snorts examining it closely and turns the other way round to lay down on the carpeted floor and rest her head in his lap. He wipes his own hands watching the dark henna leaving a swipe of color on his fingertips.

He pets her hair, dimples milking into his cheeks when she raises her both hands infront of him -- blocking the moonlight that's falling on her, "When I was small I always used to end up getting it on my face and lemme tell ya. Having a yellow blotch isn't even a tiny bit fascinating on the only day you could dress up fancy."

His chest rumbles with giggles and he brings her hands closer to her lips blowing raspberries at them to get them dry early.

Comfortable silence envelopes them in to the point where they could hear crickets singing outside and moonlight sparkling on their skin —- she breaks it cuddling up into his chest.

"I really appreciate this, Harry." Her voice hushed whisper and her cherry stained lips couldn't resist but to patch kisses where his heart lays and she could sense it kicking a pace, "The fact that you did so much just for me -- is beyond my thought. I really feel like home." He let her speak. Squeezing her shoulders to convey the fierceness of his emotions he holds for her. His silken lips pressed to her temple and his eyelids flutters with each spurt of breath she inhales.

"I'll keep making you feel like home, till the day you'll allow me." Today. He for actually felt that his home was never a building or the luxurious furniture adorned inside it, but her. It's always gonna be her.

Because the moment he gets lost in those eyes all he come across is their shared laughter, their moments spent on this balcony right outside sipping onto their chas and watching the city wake up infront of their eyes, going to places he has never been to before, doing things he never thought he'd do in hundered years —- he isn't a big fan of spices but he still pretends like a big boi infront of her while eating pani puri she's oh so obsessed with.

The times she was never embarrassed to introduce him to her community or her friends, and getting soaked into rains even though they could've just used his car, having days planned to make him try new desi dishes, going to buy candles of many scent and shapes with him but then never feeling like leaving the store until he warns her that he'll throw her on his shoulder infront of everyone.

Going to Turkish markets together. He's a bread lover and so all this time he doesn't feel like leaving the shops filled with different kiln and tandoori breads. Eating Simit and drinking black tea in the amardu cups sitting outside the cafe –- he likes it with cheese while she might sound bland she just likes a bit of butter.

Them deciding for hours and hours which Persian rug to buy -- but never buying it apologising to the shop keeper.

Giving eachother head massages from the organic rosemary Morrocon oil that one of her friend gifted her, (Y/N) thinks she's one hell of a masseuse but Harry thinks otherwise —- though he would never ever break her heart so it's better keeping it a secret.

His nose creates a purring sound while he sleeps leaning against the wall, he doesn't even remember when he fell into the deep slumber with his large hand still wrapped around her wrist in a protective manner to keep her from moving.

It's cute.

Though when she stirs to regain consciousness with the birds chirping outside she feels remorseful finding him sleeping in such an uncomfy position just because of her and he wakes up with a loud wheeze —- blinking rapidly to see what just happened only to visibly relax back when she shushes him gently.

"Baby .... shit." He grogs out, knuckling at his eyes pointing at her jaw which's covered into a orangish streak, "Don't tell me." She groans bumping her head against his bicep.

A moment later they burst into fits of hoarse giggles and chuckles. She'd try to suck in air to not to snort and would do it nonetheless driving them more into belly aching laughter.

"Eid Mubarak, I guess?" He cackles loudly. Dimple coveting in to his velvet of skin. Rubs the tip of his nose against her's affectionately and swoons her in his arms to hug her warmly.

"Now -— go 'n dress up, c'mon." He cups the nape of her neck playing with the baby hair there and she whines smushing her face against his chest, "No. Lemme sleep some more."

"Heyyy none of that, c'mon sleepy girl you'll regret it later." He boops her nose smiling down at her fondly and she grumbles mumbling something in between you're so annoying or you're being so much like my mum.

He waits for her laying on the sofa with his arms folded and eyes closed. Prolly took a mini version of nap only to perk his head up grabbing the back of sofa when she returns with wet hair, soft clean face and lips tinted cherry wearing the dress and bangles he bought for her.

An enchantress from head to toe, he wouldn't even complain if she bewitches him.

He needs someone to pinch his bum because he thinks his eyelids might have struck. He takes a dramatic breather mischievously, pupils dilated cutesly and heart shaped lips parted with the sweet loving words in praise of her beauty burning at the tip of his tongue.

His fawning gives her butterflies. Expanding her chest with warmth and she does a three-sixty when he spindles his nimble in the air demanding her to show herself from every angle.

Her head falls back. An echo of happy giggles resonating in the room when he smacks his hand against his chest and flops into heaps of sofa cushions.

"You're fuckin' beautiful, a total knockout." He walks towards her with his hands spread open and takes her's to kiss the inside of her palms, "So are you." Her voice small with shyness. He sits on her on sofa and stays beside her with his chin perched upon his knuckles staring at her like she hung the moon -- as if she's a prayer come true.

"Did you get me ready to d'nothing?" She turns towards him. The curled up fringes kissing the apples of her cheeks same as his fingertips are dying to do so.

"I might sound selfish but it was a trap to get you ready early so I could admire you till everyone squeeze between us ... " He smirks and she huffs sinking deeper into the sofa throwing her limbs in air and his breath hitches when her bangles clanks together producing a beautiful noise.

"Harry!!" She whines.

"Okie, time to fill some grumpy kitten's tummy." He announces standing up to head to kitchen and she shakes her head with a silly smile trailing behind him.

All she knows is that. This Eid she'll have the best time of her life, as she could already feel his energy and love radiating in every corner of her home.

@harryforvogue idk why but everytime I'd sit to write this blurb you'd pop in my mind, hope so you're not hiccuping wildly.

#harry styles imagines #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x y/n imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shots #harry styles blurb #harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles dirty imagines #harry x reader

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lanland04moure · 3 years

Text

미안해 •| ᶜʰᵒᶤ ʸᵉᵒⁿʲᵘⁿ |• [ ᵖᵃʳᵗ ⁵ ] αlтєяηαтινє ƒιηαl

Very long text, the end of a series

1 2 3 4

we тaĸe ιт ғroм нere;

The door burst open giving way to the rushing sounds caused by the boys entering the room. I took a seat on the bed and they were all there.

Taehyun was the first to speak.

—They've found them. They've been put to safety.— He paused unnecessarily, should I celebrate? You were safe now.

—Yeonjun was not with them.— Soobin's words broke my heart again.

•×•

I woke up, not sure what was going on, without moving I managed to look around, the building collapsed on top of us. Could we die here, would they find us?

I have no idea how much time has passed or if they are even looking for us. I try to stand up. But a great pain in my left shoulder stops me.

It hurts a lot.

I don't remember where I am in the building and it's killing me that I left those girls alone and now we are in this situation. I try again, this time slower. Pain travels up and down my back but this time I don't stop.

I glance around again and remember that it was just that that got me into this mess.

A column. A column was what kept me from being crushed to death. I see no way out, everything is collapsed, I'm trapped.

I need to get out, I need to get out of here, I need you.

I move around the place looking for a way out. There must be a way, there must be a way out.

Please wait, I'm on my way to you.

•×•

We left the apartment immersed in a silence that was not normal for us. Especially the guys.

We were all willing to check on our own if it was true that you were not among those who were rescued.

Because if it was true, if you were not there, where were you? Where did you go?

I needed to convince the rescuers to look some more.

Please hang in there!

The rescue teams are already leaving the site by the time we arrive. It's over for them. They found most of the victims, that's all that matters to them.

For them the testimonies of these girls who claim that you saved them were not enough. I see them crying, I see them begging you to continue the search. They cry for you, they are worried about you. And that's enough for me to take their word for it.

But they don't really care.

They insist, they claim that you are there, they claim that it was you who saved their lives.

Where are you Choi Yeonjun?

I don't want to give you up for lost. I don't want to think that I have lost you. I don't want to get the idea that I lost you.

If they don't look for you, I will. I'm going to get you out of there.

I made sure that no one was watching me, that everyone was distracted so I could sneak through the concrete debris. Not far from where I was entering, the television stations were interviewing the rescued women.

A group of trainees and stylists from the agency.

They asked them the same questions, made them repeat their story over and over again. But they still didn't believe a word of it.

But I do, I really believe them.

My heart knows they are not lying. Whatever happens I will rescue you.

"He was there, I can swear it. He was the one who saved our lives".

"He saved us, he was willing to give his life for ours."

"I owe him my life, that's why I refuse to end the search. He is out there somewhere."

Once upstairs I heard my name being called. I didn't turn around though. Nothing would stop me. I would get to you.

But Kai's screams were getting louder and louder. Which would draw attention. I had to be quick, I had to keep them from reaching me.

—Noona what are you doing? Noona you're going to hurt yourself!— Seeing that I wasn't going to stop Heuning carefully climbed up after me. All the while wailing.—My hyungs are going to be upset.—

—Noona is going to get hurt, but she doesn't care.—

—Soobin Hyung is going to lose his mind when he notices Noona is gone.— Lost in his words we made it to the top of that huge concrete mountain, there were so many places to start looking.

You could be anywhere. They swear you helped them so we have to find you.

We can't give up.

We split up and started moving and searching through the rocks. We will find you, don't worry.

After about 20 minutes a distant scream caught my attention.

They were calling me, was it you? I stood still with the intention of listening clearly. But it wasn't you and it wasn't just me they were looking for.

The boys had already noticed our absence.

I tried to ignore them, tried to silence them in my mind. But I found it impossible the boys were insistent and I knew Kai wouldn't ignore them.

—Min where are you?—

—Heuningkai where did you go?—

—Hyuka!!!—

—Min!!!—

I still continued my search. If the rescuers quit, we wouldn't. At least I haven't

—Huyng!!! Hyung!!!—

—Heuning damn it! What are you doing up there?—Beomgyu's shout echoed through the place.

—I went up following Noona.—

—What?!!! MIN IS UP THERE?!!!—The unmistakable voice of Soobin reached my ears. After his shout all was silence again.

I continued my search, the concrete pieces were heavy, too heavy to tell the truth. But it didn't matter because I just wanted to get to your side.

I felt in my heart something that told me we were close. We were close to you. I leaned down again to move another rock when something abruptly brought me back to my full height.

—Are you crazy? What do you think you can do up here alone? You're only going to hurt yourself!—he was clearly angry and about to lose his mind.

•×•

I was worried about you, how ironic isn't it? I'm the one at risk of being buried to death, but I still can't be selfish, I can't think only of myself. Every minute here I was flooded with worry about how you were doing.

The more time passed, the more it became a torture to keep my eyes open for long periods of time. I was resigned to the fact that I would never get out of here.

Time seemed to move so slowly that it made me think about the probability that maybe I was already dead, but it was not possible, how did I know?

Because of the pain. I once heard that it was pain that made us human or something like that. Because of that and the immense pain that spread through my body I knew I was still alive.

But what I wasn't sure yet was if I would still be alive to remind you how much I love you.

What did we do to deserve this, is it some kind of lesson to make you value what you have and those who are with you, is it some kind of punishment? Thousands of questions come to me in the moment, but so does your image.

Your smile.

It was your smile that made me fix my eyes on you, did I ever tell you that?

Your smile was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and of course it still is. That was the first time I saw you.

It was right after our debut.

Soobin was very tired and looked sick, but he wouldn't admit it. One day just like that you appeared in our practice room, carrying some lunch boxes with you.

Beomgyu immediately stood up to help you and Soobin pulled you to him in a tight embrace. His face and yours glowed with happiness as you were in each other's arms. And something stirred inside me.

It turned out that you brought some snacks for everyone, soobin bragged that you were the best cook. I can't deny it, your food was delicious.

Remembering that day I had an immense craving for that rich food that was your favorite, something typical of your city. Some time later it became mine too.

•×•

One by one each of the boys came up behind us.

Soobin was still upset, but I knew he would help us, he would support us. We would find you, we would.

We basically split into groups so we could move the rocks. About 20 minutes passed and there was definitely no trace of you.

Come on Jun, you can't do this to us.

Time went by and little by little more people joined our search. The girls you rescued, agency staff. Even MOA was coming from different parts of the city to help us find you, we all wanted you back.

The authorities were completely opposed to what we were doing, because there was a possibility that someone would suffer some kind of injury. But we didn't care.

More MOA's slowly arrived to help. Girls who had taken a train, or taken a plane ride to help find their idol. I would love for you to see the love everyone is showing you right now.

Why wouldn't we let you, wouldn't we.

The newsreels were all about filming us. They were broadcasting us for hours, broadcasting as much as they could of our search work.

In the headline you could clearly read ;

THEY ARE THOSE WHO STILL HAVE HOPE

And boy, did we have hope.

No one was giving up. We are fighting for you. Hours went by, endless hours in the sun. And now I was really losing hope. We had moved tons of debris and nothing to show for it.

Should we resign ourselves?

I took a moment. A moment to admire all these people who took the risk of joining our search. What will happen will happen. Whether we found you or not, I was going to be eternally grateful for it. Maybe it was time to take a break. Or maybe it was time to give up and stop.

The sun was killing me.

The heat was intense and the glint of something was burning in my eyes. I covered them for a moment, it was bugging me.

Where was it coming from?

I slowly withdrew my hand and looked around for it. I couldn't believe it. It had to be. It had to be. It was your watch.

Your watch was barely peeking through the rubble.

—It's here, it's here."—

•×•

The more time passed the stronger the pressure I felt.

My heart ached so much, I ached so much from how much I missed you and the fear I felt about leaving you alone. I was desperate to get out. To come back to you.

My body slowly stopped responding, maybe because I was tired. Maybe because of the hunger I felt or maybe because of how damaged and hurt it was.

And just now that he was so close to freedom. It was a matter of minutes, a matter of moving a few more rocks. But it was impossible, I reached my limit. I saw the light, I saw the light of my freedom but everything went black.

I wish I could turn back time and not fight with you. Or failing that take Soobin's advice and stay with you the whole day.

•×•

Taehyun ran beside me as soon as he heard my screams.

We had finally found you!

In a matter of seconds there were dozens of hands moving and throwing the rocks in the area where you were. All treading cautiously but in a hurry to get you out of there as soon as possible.

I'm not going to lie to you. I was praying to God that you would be okay, that he wouldn't take you away from me. When we finally managed to get you out of that place, the paramedics snatched you from our arms.

They did not allow us to see you, they immediately transferred you to the nearest hospital, they had to make sure you were okay, that you were not hurt in any way.

I don't know how long we spent in the waiting room of that hospital, they didn't allow us to see you, they didn't want to give us any report.

We didn't know anything.

Was it so serious?

Doctors came in and out of your room non-stop, but they kept ignoring our pleas for information, it got to the point where they forbade the nurses to come near us.

And just like that, one day when we were still waiting for some details about your health condition, this girl came up to us.

It was a nurse, she asked me to accompany her, without hesitation I went after her.

She would take me to you.

You had woken up, after a week, you had woken up and the first thing you did was to ask for me.

•×•

I woke up once again.

I was alone and without further ado I began to remember everything I had experienced being trapped in the building.

A nurse came into the room, not once did she look at me.

—Park Min, I need to see Park Min.— The nurse left the room without giving me a word or even a small glance. Time marched on, but nothing was happening.

Or so I thought, because within seconds after my thought the door to the room opened again.

But this time it showed me someone totally different. This time it was your beautiful eyes peering out from the other side of that door.

You crept in. Neither of us uttered a word. Then you threw yourself weakly onto the gurney crying and with what little strength I had I clung to you even tighter.

I was afraid that we would be separated again. And now we would not be able to find our way back like this time.

—All the time I was so worried about you.—

—Why? It was you who was stuck in that place, you should have left that for us. I was so scared I'd never see you again, that we'd get separated like that after that stupid fight.—

—I was worried about getting to leave you alone, I knew you'd be scared and I was so mad at me for turning down that dinner the other night.—

—That's in the past, let's try to forget about it. We're here together now.—

—Please never forget how much I love you.—

#yeonjun x reader #yeonjun txt #txt #txt imagines #txt oneshots #tomorrow x together #txt drabbles #txt scenarios #choi yeonjun #txt yeonjun #txt choi yeonjun #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun oneshot #yeonjun drabbles #yeonjun scenarios #yeonjun #yeonjun tomorrow x together #yeonjun x you

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mar-amaranthine · 4 years

Text

Rule

Changbin x Reader

Smut (choking, degrading, slapping, spitting, no use of protection, Dom! Changbin, sir kink, crappy ending)

Note: I had this whole thing written and then tumblr deleted it. I'm big sad but hopefully this is still okay at least.

Also it's Changbin hours for me so... yeahhh...

NOT EDITED!!!

You shiver when you feel Changbin's eyes on you. You bite your lip, refusing to look up at him even as his footsteps draw closer and closer.

"Sir... I'm so-" he cuts you off with a harsh slap to the face.

"No one gave you permission to speak. So keep your whore mouth shut." He growls at you. He grips your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

"Open." You obey him, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue. He spits. You try to close your mouth, but he stops you.

"Keep your mouth open. You don't deserve to swallow my spit." He slaps you again. Water wells up in your eyes.

"Oh, my poor little slut. Already crying? Without my permission?" He scoffs, shaking his head in disappointment. You whine and he grips your hair, dragging you to the bed. He tosses you onto the mattress and spreads your legs, exposing you to him.

You didn't mean to close your mouth. But you did. Your eyes widen and you open it back up quickly, but Changbin has no sympathy.

"Filthy little whore." He slaps your heat. You flinch, and choke out a moan. He smiles, and wraps his fingers around your throat. He squeezes the sides tightly.

"You can't even follow basic orders? My stupid, pathetic little cocksleeve. All I've done is slap you around and now look at you. Staining my fucking sheets. You're too worried about your needy cunt being filled. You can't even think straight." He shakes his head again and squeezes your throat. He slaps your heat, harder this time.

Tears start to fall, and you can't stop them. You're soaking the sheets already, mind fuzzy and hair damp with sweat. You're an absolute mess, and Changbin can't get enough of it.

"You're going to try again. You're going to do what I fucking say, got it?" He releases your throat so you can answer.

"Y-yes sir-" He squeezes your cheeks, forcing your mouth open as he spits again. You keep your mouth open, and he smiles sadistically. He leans forward, and nips at the shell of your ear before whispering.

"I'm going to fuck you. Not because you deserve it, but because I want to. And since you decided that you could cum while I was gone, you aren't going to right now." You whine at his words, huffing. He slaps you across the face.

"Do you understand my rules?" Reluctanly, you nod. He presses the pad of his thumb very lightly to your clit, rubbing it in slow circles. You start to moan quietly.

He pulls away and strips from the rest of his clothes, and crawls over you. He slides his cock along your folds, teasing you before he lines himself up and thrusts into you.

You moan loudly, and he smirks. You spread your legs wider, a whimper leaving your mouth. You'll never get used to the burn that comes with him filling you up. The stretch sends waves of prickling pleasure throughout your body.

He sets a quick pace, groaning as he pulls nearly all the way out before thrusting back in.

"Such a pretty little cockslut, yeah? Do you like being filled up?" You could only nod. He squeezes the sides of your throat again, moving faster.

"S-sir... harder.... please" He's turned you into a whimpering, drooling, stuttering mess. But you can't say you don't love it.

He thrusts into you hard, and trails his hand up to grope at your breast before he slaps it. You moan loudly, and grind your hips up into his. He hits the spot inside of you, making you clench hard around him. He smirks, and continues to thrust against your sweet spot.

The heat starts to build in your tummy and your thighs begin to shake.

"Sir please- I can't do it! Please, please I'll be good! I'll never break another rule just please let m-" he slaps you hard across the face, and spits on you.

"No." His voice is cold. He doesn't slow down, and you sob. He offers a cold smile and slowly trails a hand down your body.

He's squeezing your hip before you realize his intentions. Your eyes widen and you try to wiggle away.

"Sir wait! Please don't, I can't! I'll-" he presses the pad of his thumb to your clit, rubbing quick circles. You arch your back and press your chest against him, your walls gripping him tight.

"Don't you fucking dare" he slaps you, and rubs you faster. You clench around him again, hands moving to his shoulders to claw his skin. You desperately try to hold yourself back.

"I can't-"

"Don't. Do. It." He accentuates his words with harsh thrusts. He leans in and bites your shoulder and pinches your clit.

You lose it. Your vision turns white, and you yell his name. Your entire body trembles, tears pour down your cheeks. Sobs wrack through your body and he continues to thrust.

You whimper at the overstimulation. His thrusts slow, and he sucks a large bruise into your neck. A few more thrusts and he stains your walls white. You feel the fluids drip out of your cunt, even as he's still inside of you.

He pulls out, and stands up. He catches his breath, and chuckles darkly.

Your chest heaves. Your vision disoriented and your body worn out. Your eyes start to flutter closed until another slap is delivered to your sensitive cunt.

His next words wake you up, making your blood run cold.

"Babygirl. You are in for a very long night." He smiles once more and spreads your legs.

You broke his rule.

#changbin smut #stray kids smut #stray kids scenarios #skz smut #changbin x female reader #changbin x reader #skz fanfic

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pumpkinpaix · 4 years

Note

HI! I'm new to the MDZS fandom and I fell in love with Suibian, but you don't see it that much. I seen somewhere that it would burn out a weaker core and I cried cause I wanted to see that, and as far as I know it doesn't happen anywhere. I'm wondering if you could tell me anything and everything you know about Suibian. I'm starving for anything about it

hi anon! ahahah, it’s always a dangerous thing to ask me about “anything and everything” on a topic because I usually have too many thoughts, most of which are unorganized. but! if you’re interested in that, then here we go!

First, re: your comment about Suibian burning out a weaker core: I am not aware of this theory (or is it something from an interview?? if someone knows, please say so!), but if it brings you joy, then it’s certainly an interesting one to consider! Unfortunately, I don’t have much more to say on it because I’m unfamiliar with it, but I do have quite a lot to say on some other Suibian concepts!

ask and ye shall receive (a very jumbled heap of thoughts as i spiral further and further out of control):

[all rough translations are mine, and thus all mistakes are mine. I am using the version of the novel that is available on luoxia because I can’t be bothered to go flipping through my print edition ahaha.]

the questions about Suibian that interest me the most are why it sealed, when it sealed, when Wei Wuxian began to wield it again, and what that might all mean. I’m going to be talking about novel, CQL, and audio drama canon all together, because I think looking at each canon alone and in combination can raise a lot of very different points!! (I have not watched the donghua or read the manhua yet, so forgive me, I have nothing to say about them. /o\)

So! the one piece of information that we’re given consistently throughout all three of the canons is that Suibian was sealed after Wei Wuxian’s death and that no one but Wei Wuxian himself (and Jiang Cheng, by proxy) could draw it from its sheathe. Thus, Wei Wuxian’s identity is revealed and the golden core swap comes to light. Wei Wuxian is surprised by this, and asks Lan Wangji, “Did it really seal itself?” (novel, chapter 63; CQL, ep 42; audio drama, S2E15).

The novel and audio drama both include a line from Wei Wuxian that emphasizes Wei Wuxian’s surprise, implying that sword-sealing is very uncommon:

万中无一的大好事竟然让我给撞上了

Something incredible that happens less than once per ten thousand times, and I actually encountered it.

the irony, of course, is that this incredible thing is what ended up blowing his cover. rip Wei Wuxian.

but what I think gets really interesting is comparing different points at which Suibian sealed itself and what that might imply in conjunction with other information. Jin Guangyao says “shortly after” his death, but CQL includes a scene in episode 19 that implies that Suibian actually sealed itself much earlier.

[ID: Gif from episode 19 of the untamed drama. Lan Wangji attempts to draw Suibian after he and Jiang Cheng storm the Nightless City and retrieve their swords. He cannot pull it from the sheathe. /end ID]

(in case anyone is curious, it’s about 30 minutes in. I spent the effort to make the gif, so I might as well give you the timestamp lol)

this scene takes place during the period of time when Wei Wuxian is in the Mass Graves (aka the Burial Mounds) after Wen Chao cast him down and left him for dead, right near the beginning of Sunshot. I’m fairly certain it’s not mentioned in either the novel or the audio drama, so this is a CQL-only detail. (please correct me if I’m wrong; I get my canons muddled all the time //hides face)

CQL basically does nothing narratively with this scene other than giving us some sad shots of Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng (honestly, valid ;A;) but!! if we decide to accept this scene as our jumping off point, we can get to some interpretations about Wei Wuxian using information from the other canons!

take this exchange from chapter 57 of the novel (immediately prior to the massacre at lotus cove):

江澄道：“还不是又为咱们的剑的事去温家了。一想到我的三毒现在说不定被哪只温狗握在手里，真是……”

他面露嫌恶之色，魏无羡道：“可惜咱们的剑还不够灵，要是能自动封剑，那就谁也别想用了。”

江澄道：“你再修炼个八十年，说不定可以。”

Jiang Cheng said, “He’s gone to the Wen sect regarding our swords again, hasn’t he. Whenever I think that my Sandu might even now be in some Wen-dog’s hands, ugh…”

His face filled with loathing, Wei Wuxian said, “What a pity our swords don’t have enough spirit. If they could seal themselves, then no one could even think about using them.”

Jiang Cheng said, “If you kept cultivating for another eighty years, maybe.”

from the novel, it seems clear that sword-sealing is something that only happens when a person’s cultivation level is exceptionally high. if this is true, and we go with the CQL timeline of Suibian sealing itself long before Wei Wuxian’s death, it means that Wei Wuxian’s cultivation level wasn’t just high, it was leagues above pretty much anyone else when he was still a teenager. (In fact, Suibian had most likely already sealed by the time this conversation takes place.)

If we don’t go with CQL’s timeline, however, I think we could make a very different argument. It’s a bit of a reach, but I think it’s a lot of fun, if you’re willing to come with me on this journey!

Jin Guangyao says Suibian sealed itself “shortly after” Wei Wuxian’s death, but we don’t really have external confirmation of that. For all we know, someone only bothered to test it sometime after his death, and Suibian had been sealed for some indefinite amount of time. All we can say for sure is that by some point shortly after Wei Wuxian’s death, Suibian was already sealed and resisted being drawn by anyone who tried it.

We’re told over and over that one can only wield a spiritual sword effectively if you have a golden core/the spiritual energy to match it. Wei Wuxian stops carrying/using Suibian because he knows that in his hands, it will act as nothing more than an ordinary sword. His method of cultivation is no longer suitable for the sword. Suibian is tied to both Wei Wuxian’s soul and his golden core.

If sword-sealing only happens when the cultivator’s level is unbelievably high, then I think we can make the argument here that by the time of his death, Wei Wuxian’s core was likewise unbelievably strong – but Wei Wuxian is no longer the one developing his core. Jiang Cheng is.

I know it’s a ridiculous reach. To be clear, I don’t think the text actually intends this or supports this in any meaningful way, but I do think that it gives us some very tasty potential!! If Suibian sealed itself sometime after the core transfer (which, honestly, we wouldn’t know – after all, who’s been trying to draw Wei Wuxian’s sword?), but just if, I think we can plausibly make the argument that Jiang Cheng’s cultivation is truly extraordinary.

:DDDDDDDD

It’s fun right?? It’s a fun concept!!! Even if it’s nonsense, even if it’s not that deep, even if this was an unintentional coincidence, I think it would be interesting to look at this as being some kind of measure of Jiang Cheng’s accomplishments. On the flip side, I also think it’s very important thematically that Jiang Cheng’s value as a person has nothing to do with his cultivation, that he is, in fact, always second-best, but that doesn’t make him any less worthwhile or deserving of love. Maybe I’m just projecting lmao. Of course, being extraordinary doesn’t preclude him from still lagging behind Wei Wuxian–Wei Wuxian might have just been more extraordinary ahahah. We can have both!!

Now for a totally different thing! Interestingly, this conversation about cultivation levels and sword-sealing (the one with Jiang Cheng) also happens in the audio drama, S2E12 (about 15 minutes in, since I just checked), but Wei Wuxian adds an additional comment:

(don’t have the transcription of the original chinese, I’m just going to translate it as I hear it)

“But maybe you don’t need to cultivate to a certain level to have your sword seal itself. What if there were some other way?”

these two versions of the conversation actually imply pretty different things, I think! this addition opens the possibility to the audience that sword-sealing is possible even without an extraordinary level of cultivation, and I think lends credence to the idea that Suibian is just an unusually loyal sword, regardless of Wei Wuxian’s cultivation level. Whether that’s something inherent to Suibian’s “personality”, or whether this says something about how Wei Wuxian inspires loyalty wherever he goes, or whether it just speaks to the strength of their bond remains to be seen.

(obviously, this could imply any number of other things as well, but I find this to be the interpretation that makes me happiest.)

If we go with “Suibian seals itself after Wei Wuxian’s death” in this canon, I think this emphasizes the loyalty aspect with a touch of grief.

If we combine this with CQL and have “Suibian has been loyal since he was a teenager”, that also emphasizes the loyalty aspect – just in a different way.

Of course, doing meta combining unique details from different canons is largely pointless in terms of crafting any real “analysis”, so I’m mostly saying all of this because I enjoy the process of building the supercanon in my head that brings me the most joy! To summarize the varied interpretations I’ve brought up in this post:

CQL-only: Suibian sealed itself when Wei Wuxian was a teenager, at latest, by the time he was thrown into the Mass Graves.

Novel-only: Sword-sealing is very rare and achievable only through extraordinarily high cultivation. Shortly after Wei Wuxian’s death, Suibian is discovered to have sealed itself, so Wei Wuxian’s core, by the time of his death, was extraordinarily powerful.

Audio drama-only: Sword-sealing is considered very rare and achievable only through extraordinarily high cultivation, but might also be accomplished by other methods. Shortly after Wei Wuxian’s death, Suibian is discovered to have sealed itself. If Wei Wuxian’s core is not wildly and improbably powerful, this implies that Suibian has become an exceptionally loyal sword by the time of his death.

CQL/novel: Wei Wuxian was already incredibly powerful by the time he was a teenager.

CQL/audio drama: Suibian has been exceptionally loyal to Wei Wuxian since at least his teenage years.

Novel and audio drama-only have a much wider range of when Suibian could have sealed itself, as mentioned, so there are further variances within those interpretations.

there’s a lot of potential here!! with my personal feelings regarding the story, I like novel-only with Suibian sealing post-core transfer, audio drama-only with Suibian sealing post-Wei Wuxian’s death, or CQL/audio drama with Suibian sealing as a teenager pretty much all equally. I think the CQL/novel interpretation gets too close to casting Wei Wuxian as a hyper-special and innately noble individual in a way that undercuts the strength of his character arc, but that’s my opinion. (As an aside, this is actually one of my major complaints about CQL in general, independent from what I’m talking about here. But that is a topic for another day ahahaha. To be clear, I still love CQL very much, despite my many frustrations!)

As for what I think is the most “likely” to be the “right” interpretation (whatever that’s worth), I would probably say the one that emphasizes Suibian’s loyalty with Suibian sealing post-death, because I think it’s the most thematically cohesive and has the textual support to back it. (I think it’s a valid interpretation even using novel-only text; it’s just slightly less explicit without the additional comment from Wei Wuxian.)

A final detail:

We don’t get anything from either CQL or the novel that explicitly addresses when/if Wei Wuxian is able to wield Suibian again, but the audio drama’s rendition of the “Yunmeng” extra very subtly indicates that by the time that extra takes place, Wei Wuxian has cultivated a golden core and is carrying his sword once more. You only get it at a couple of moments, but Suibian sometimes clinks when Wei Wuxian moves or when he bumps into something. The two instances I can remember specifically are when Lan Wangji tosses the ring onto him (the ring hits Suibian), and when he’s rowing the little boat onto the lotus pond and the motion makes a sound. It’s!!! Extremely good!!! It makes my heart very full!!!!!

ANYWAYS, if all of my scattered rambling didn’t fill the Suibian-shaped hole in your heart, I would also like to recommend @zeldacw‘s wonderful WangQingSuiChen series of comics, featuring anthropomorphized versions of Wangji guqin, Chenqing, Suibian, and Bichen. I believe the most recent comic is here, and there are links to the rest of the comics in the post. If you just want her general tag for the AU (which is more than just the comics), it’s here!

If you have interest in listening to the audio drama yourself, you can purchase it through the MissEvan app (Mao’er FM). There are buying instructions linked in this post! If you need English subtitles, @suibiansubs is the group that does them. :)

I really can’t recommend the audio drama enough, tbh, it’s really really dear to my heart, and the team clearly worked so hard and cared so deeply for the story they were trying to tell. Consider this my regularly scheduled plug for the audio drama ahaha.

As always, my meta is my meta and if you don’t vibe with it, that’s chill! I change my opinions constantly (I think I changed them like three times in the course of writing this ahahaha), and I know some of my older meta has been making the rounds and every time I see it I think about all the ways my views have shifted since I wrote it rip. For this post moreso than usual, I want to emphasize that pretty much all of the meta included in this is meant to explore intriguing what-if possibilities, not for serious literary analysis purposes. I am aware that a lot of this is reaching/overinterpreting into implications that probably aren’t there. I just think they’re fun to consider!

so this was a mess, but I hope you or someone out there enjoyed it anon!!

(ko-fi, if you’re so moved)

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fayeimara · 4 years

Text

Meant To Be Series || One For Every Billion

Episode 4. If You're A Masochist

Putting your phone away after posting your latest update, you look around one more time for either of your cousins. The oldest, Ren, had left you with his brother Shin, strictly telling him not to leave you alone before he met back up with you both. But then you convinced Shin to call the car and drop off the bags you'd overloaded him with, agreeing to meet back here this cute café. It had been pretty easy to convince him, seeing as how you could barely make him out over the bags and boxes of items you'd bought for your friends and family back home. It was fair play, after all, you'd brought just as many gifts with you for your cousins here when you'd arrived.

Smiling as you tip the cup of coffee up to your lips, you consider if you've harassed him enough for the day or if you should top it off by ordering him something he'll hate just to see that distressed look on his face. He deserves it for the prank he pulled on you a few days ago, when they picked you up from the station, literally scaring you half silly when he snuck up from behind you, grabbed you, and started to run. You were pretty worried because not a single person in the busy terminal had tried to stop him even though you were clearly (momentarily) terrified and not aware of who had 'kidnapped' you until he'd finally put you down. You guess you should have expected this with him though, given you both have always messed around with each other, pulling fun pranks and stupid stunts, since the two of you were kids, but you'd gotten completely complacent since you'd last seen these oh so lovely cousins of yours.

If there was any doubt on whether you had any payback planned for Ren, well, he was the one who'd grabbed not only your bags but also several pictures of your embarrassing slip in composure, i.e. your briefly terrified face, and shared it with the world. So yeah, you were sure he was sleeping with an eye open for the time being, which is why you would call on your considerable patience before hitting him subtly and satisfyingly when he least expected it.

With that in mind, you head back to the counter to place another order and then ask if there are any specialty dessert shops in the area. Happy to hear of one pretty close, you're sure you'll be able to quickly head over and back before Shin returns.

The shop is as incredible as promised because it only takes them about ten minutes to prepare your custom order of mochi with a spicy twist. Trying one out, you can't help but enjoy the sweet flavour and texture even if you're disappointed that it doesn't seem to have the effect you were hoping for, until you feel the heat slowly build the more you chew. Oh. Oh my. Oh my g- Mouth burning, you quickly gulp at the coffee still in your hand to try and relieve the pain. Okay so.. it's perfect! Cue evil laugh.

You thank the brilliant artisans, because that's what they are, and promise to leave a review on your way out. It's not until you're walking by an alley (how typical, right?) between shops on your way back to the cat café, that you're pulled from your thoughts of not-so-sweet revenge.

"Give it up, kid." It's nothing alarming at first. Not until you hear the next cry.

"Don't touch me! Leave me alone!"

Um. What?

You've stopped even before you turn your head to look in at a couple older guys surrounding a little kid. Seriously, what's with the cliché? You honestly thought this only happened in anime but you guess dummies always prove people wrong.

Debating who you should call, because you're not going to assume adding yourself to the equation alone is going to be any help, you quickly look around only to realize that the only people passing by near or across the street either don't seem to care, or aren't the kind of people you'd feel comfortable asking for any assistance from. People can call you out on stereotyping but really, where's the kind but strong elderly gentleman or tough, no nonsense, do-gooder woman when you need one??

"Hey!" The tears in the kid's voice draw you back, with your head whipping around to witness one of the bullies reach out to grab his collar. Quick kid, he manages to dodge even if barely but he's about to be blindsided by one of the other guys.

You don't even have time to sigh at your stupidity as you run up between them as fast as you can, slapping the second guy's hand away from where it was reaching for the kid's arm.

With that loud sound and dramatic entrance, all eyes are now on you, but the element of surprise does provide enough time for you to pull the boy behind you and back the two of you up a bit so you're both not completely surrounded.

Okay, this kid barely reaches over your hip, he can't be older than about 6 or 7 maybe, what's he doing here alone?

"Well, well. What do we have here?" The first guy that had tried to grab the kid's collar studies you. You want to say his voice is annoying or that he's an ugly creep but he's just an average guy of about a few years older than you. The only distinct feature are his glasses and that's probably because you don't typically think of wannabe thugs in glasses. Again, so sue you for you conventional stereotypes, but you're in a kind of delicate situation to be worried about thinking inside the box.

"Why don't you tell me," You shoot back, pretty upset about this pathetic tableau, "since it looks like three guys old enough to know better than to bully little kids."

The third guy hasn't done much until now but he laughs at your statement and, okay, at least his laugh is kind of annoying, like a dumb donkey's braying. You hope he's trying to fake an evil laugh or something and that's not his real one? Seriously, it sounds forced and fake so you hope for his sake it really is or no one will trust him once they hear it if that's all he has to work with for the rest of his life. You're tempted to say that to his face, but you've also been told by your friends that your reckless impulses tend to escalate the situation when you need the opposite so you hold back.

Because you're outnumbered. With only a crying kid at your back, quite too literally.

"Oh no, we're not bullying him. He's my kid brother, you know? We were just messing with him since he was being a brat and grabbed the new games we just bought."

You hesitate, thinking it over. Did you make assumptions and jump in too fast? He didn't call out for help or say anything specific to indicate he didn't know these guys. You don't want to turn away to look him over, but he had been holding something clutched against his side.

You feel a little hand clench into the back of your dress and a couple tugs follow, so without turning away, you cast your gaze down and meet teary hazel eyes that are peering up with a little hope among the fear, "He's lying, oneesan, I don't know them."

"Ahh, stop lying and dragging the nice, pretty girl into this." Second guy speaks up, trying to reach around you to grab the kid, but you quickly shift the both of you back a bit more. You realize the wall is just behind you, if the kid's gasping sob means anything. You're out of space to maneuver.

So...you're in a tough spot, you've got your hands literally full and you're up against three guys that are definitely living up to your first impression of them. You don't really have time to think it over as 'glasses' loses patience and reaches for you directly, grabbing your arm that's holding the trick mochi and trying to pull you forward. "What's this? Maybe we should take it for the trouble you've added by interfering in a family issue."

"How about this instead?" And before you can pity the loss, you've thumbed off the lid to your delicious hot coffee that you guess won't get to finish drinking, and toss it in his face.

"Arhggh!" Wow, high pitched for a tough guy, but you really can't think about that right now. Goodbye, coffee, your sacrifice is appreciated.

"What the hell, you crazy b-"

"Don't bother, dumbass, it's probably not hot enough to permanently scar him at this point." True story, you like your coffee cooled down more than most.

They're staring at you like you're crazy but it's really just the recklessness you're known for. Although you should have held on to that reminder of your friends' warnings that ran through your head earlier because the situation has definitely been escalated if the mean, hateful looks that are appearing from behind their fake polite masks are anything to go by. They clearly weren't even trying that hard to pretend. While the second guy is supporting his friend who's flailing, 'Fake laugh' reaches for you, this time angled for the collar of your dress or even your neck, "You stupid bitch."

Oh okay. Well, I'm so sorry for my impertinence, god. This is payback for the mochi prank, isn't it? You actually roll your eyes upwards for a split second with that thought.

Then you prepare to drop the maybe-unlucky box for the coming fight but just before his hand reaches you, another suddenly shoots out and grabs it. Hard.

"Don't you know how to treat women, buddy?" Wow, now that's a nice voice.

Shifting your eyes to your left without turning your head, you catch sight of a handsome bedheaded guy about your age. You would probably be all heart eyes in any other situation- who are you kidding? This is literally the perfect situation.

"I don't think he does, but that's probably because he has zero experience with them." Yay, your mouth can run freely with your attitude now that you have some back up. Not that it stopped you earlier, though..

This new guy shifts his gaze to meet yours and looks pretty surprised at your smirky smile (yes you're calling it that). Why so surprised though? You guess you should have been crying or even praising this god for stepping in. Whatever, he's just a boy. Even if he is drool worthy.

He studies you and pauses briefly on the redness marking your wrist from where one of the guys had grabbed you and then his golden eyes flick down to the boy hidden behind you before focusing a steady stare back on the bullies, "I think you should leave before I really get pissed off."

He must be a magician because they vanish pretty fast after his low declaration, supporting their friend who's managed to wipe most of your precious coffee off of his slightly reddened face. Looks like, he'll live to be a dumbass another day. Could've told them that and avoided the escalation. Oh wait, you pretty much did, right?

The guy is turning back to you after watching them leave the alley and you reach for the little kid with the hand that once held your coffee. Feeling his little hand slip into yours, you start to walk the two of you towards the street while keeping your body angled so you don't completely turn your back on this new guy. You swear the amount of times you've had a situation like this turn into something unexpected is a little unnatural. "Wow. Well... Thank you, stranger, for your help."

He narrows those stunning eyes on you but you don't think he's angry, just a little confused for a moment, before he realizes you're equally wary of him. He moves out of the alley after you both, but thankfully not too closely, because you have to turn your back on him so you don't trip or walk into anyone once you reach the main street.

"It's Kuroo. Kuroo Tetsuro."

You silently startle around at the sound of his voice coming from a lot closer to you than expected but compose yourself quickly so as not to offend him by whirling around in alarm.

"Oh, uh.. nice to meet you." Okay, you both should be safe now. You turn back to face him and the kid is now glued to your side, tiny hands gripping your dress with both hands, one at your back and one at the front. At least it's not silk because that would leave quite the wrinkles. "Anyways... we have to get going now to find whoever lost this little guy."

His arm moves up, rubbing his hand in his hair at the back of his sheepishly tilted head. Probably can't get his hair any messier at this point. "That would be me."

"What?" You raise a disbelieving eyebrow. Always the unlikeliest odds with you and really, what are they anyways here in this situation? But it turns out he's not kidding and you're not misunderstanding.

"I'm the one who lost him. That's my little cousin you're trying to walk away with."

"Hey!" You protest his teasing implication, before looking down at the boy. The other guys tried this too, though.

So you delicately crouch down (aware you're in a dress and heeled ankle boots that could spell impending disaster if you lose your balance) to make sure you're at eye level with the kid. He's not crying anymore, but not looking happy or relieved either. Just staring back at you steadily, a little like the calm gaze of this other guy, actually, but let's not go with confirmation bias. Maybe he's just not an overly excitable kid to begin with.

"Do you know this guy?" You ask softly. He told the truth before, under the stress of a pretty scary situation, after all.

He looks over and up at the tall teen claiming to be his cousin before nodding. "Oh." You give the little boy a reassuring smile before leaning in to whisper in his ear, "Can I ask your name?"

And when you turn your ear to him so he can whisper a reply, you hear, "Itsuki."

Giving him another sweet smile, you stand back up and he's glommed right back onto your side. You meet the bedhead's eyes with your own slightly narrowed but steady too, and settle on a serious expression with an eyebrow raised. He hasn't looked away from you even once but that's fair considering you might actually be trying to take away his little cousin... whom he's lost already once today, if we're all being honest.

"What's his name?"

He raises an eyebrow to match yours, stance indicating he's in no rush but expression definitely amused, "You mean Itsuki?"

"Yeah.. okay, then." You look back down at the boy who's reluctantly releasing you as Kuroo moves closer to you both, your smile back on my face. "It was really nice to meet you, Itsuki. Thank you for being so brave and strong back there. I couldn't have sent those bullies away without you!"

"Or me?" Kuroo asks but it's not really a question more like an amused statement sliding into remind you that he did save you both in the end. Isn't he a little too close for politeness?

"I suppose." Now you have tilt your head back to look at him again. Argh, why is it like a compulsion to just stare your life away when you look into those eyes? "Thank you, then.. Kuroo."

"Not that you needed my help." Ohh, he's smirking at you and it. is. something. "You looked like you were mostly holding your own before I stepped in."

You laugh, because he's really just being nice and you don't know what expression your face might make after seeing his smirk if you don't pick amusement, "Pretty sure it was painfully obvious who brought the most advantage on our side if it came to a fight... and it wasn't me."

"Oya? Our side, huh? And what's your criteria for assessing that advantage?"

And before you can stop yourself, his question has you looking him up and down like.. like you're checking him out. Cue your blush. Ugh. You pass it off and try to push through, "What? I'm not supposed to notice that you have the physical advantage over me?"

Yeah, you worded that deliberately and wouldn't change it for anything because it's so worth it to see the red lightly tint his own cheeks. Yeah, I see your thoughts went there.

"Anyways," You start to step backwards, "Really, thank you."

You turn away to walk over to the coffee shop just another door down.

"Wait," You look over to see both Itsuki and Kuroo catch up to you quickly, the latter now holding on to the former gently but firmly, "I should be thanking you. You did step in to help my cousin when not many others would."

"Oya?" You copy his cute phrase with a look at him from the corner of your eyes and a teasing smile of your own, "How do you know he didn't step in to help me?"

"Somehow I doubt that." The three of you come to a stop in front of the coffee shop and Kuroo's distracted for a second, "Wait, this is your stop?"

"Yeah, why?"

He chuckles, "Ours too. We'd just stopped in here ourselves when Itsuki wandered away." We?

"Oh, I was here a little earlier too, but I needed to grab.." You lift the box, ".. this, for someone. I left my order here though."

"You lose your coffee often or just an addict?"

"Haha. Neither. It's... a thing. You'd think I'm horrible if I explain."

"I doubt I'd ever think that at this point. Can I pay for your new order and you can tell me about it over your next cup? You know, as a thank you for putting yourself in a dangerous situation for my cousin." Why does he make that sound both grateful and like a stern admonishment at the same time?

"I covered it already and it wasn't really for me. But I really appreciate the offe-"

You're cut off by the door opening and Shin bursting through with a very exasperated look on his face. Whoops, guess you took too long. He immediately starts complaining, "Where have you been?! Imagine my worry when I arrive here and you're gone! You promised you'd wait here."

Another guy has walked out behind him but you ignore that because you see that Shin's holding the drink you got him, but that has your name on it, and can't help but point out both literally and dryly, "Clearly so worried, you picked up my order in the meantime?"

"Hey, there are two drinks so I figured one was mine! But they're both awful!" Of course he tried them both. His face turns into a sad pout, "Why would you order such sour drinks when you know I hate them! And I know you do too! So... do you really hate me for that little thing? You've been so mean today."

You chuckle because this is literally the perfect opportunity. Well, actually, Kuroo is still standing by politely with Itsuki, watching you both with interest, but that other guy has walked up to them and is now also standing there. Is he gaming out here? Never mind.

You give Kuroo an apologetic smile with a finger held up to indicate you'll be a moment and then turn back to offer the box you've been holding onto this whole time to your dear cousin. "I can't imagine why you'd feel that way, but I did get you this, too. You can't have it all though, it's also for Ren."

He reaches for the box when you pop it open and happily exclaims, "Mochi? Aw, I take it back, you're the best!" before proceeding to pop two in his mouth. Oh. Uh-oh.

Okay then, closing the box, you walk back over to Kuroo as Shin happily munches away behind you. "Sorry, yes, I appreciate the offer but as you can see, I have my hands full with-"

"Ahhh! OMG, my mouth is burning!!! What is this?" Is he crying? He's definitely chugging that 'horrible' drink. "I take it back that I took it back. You do hate me. And for what?! I'm sorry I tried to kidnap you, okay?! Ahhh! Make it stop-"

He keeps rambling, even while alternating between choking down the sour drink and pausing for quick panting breaths every now and then, as tears actually run down his face. Even the gamer boy is momentarily distracted watching. You can't help the satisfied smile that stretches across your face as you watch Shin dissolve into tortured agony from the corner of your eyes and finish your sentence "-a pretty troublesome commitment already."

Kuroo looks a little worried but definitely way more amused, "I thought that box was something really special, the way you held onto it the whole time."

"Yeah, even in exchange for my precious coffee-" You wipe away a pretend tear and swear he mutters 'so you are an addict' under his breath before you finish, "but it was worth the revenge, wouldn't you say?"

"Well... He tried to kidnap you?"

"Ugh, don't ask. It was a stupid prank that I briefly fell for. But I think he won't try getting me back for a while. At least a week of peace."

"So.. don't mess with you, is what I'm hearing."

You laugh at his accurate interpretation, "Pretty much. Or do, if you're a masochist."

He looks slightly awed and a whole lot intrigued when he states, "At first I thought you were some incredible angel.. but you're pretty much more an incredible devil, aren't you?

"Incredible, either way? I'll take it." You smirk, thinking of the irony he'll probably never understand.

"How about my request for a name?"

"Isn't it Kuroo Tetsuro?"

"I'm asking for your name, Kitten." He's a little exasperated and just a smidge embarrassed that you made him spell it out. I mean, you like that he's all witty and smooth but... you really like a guy's direct side, too.

You do still smile and tease a little more, "Kitten could work, given the irony..." He gives you an unamused look, but you were continuing anyway, "But since you asked so nicely.. I'm Y/-"

"Oi!" Ren is standing across the street with the car, door open, "I've been looking for you. It's time to go."

"Oh," You look back at Kuroo who's still looking at Ren a split second longer before focusing back on you, "I'm sorry, I have to go!" You smile at him apologetically then face Itsuki, slightly crouched, to give him a bright smile, "Bye Itsuki! Take care and don't wander off again!"

You don't have time to say anymore than those goodbyes to the pair of cousins before your own is dragging you away, cursing you out and swearing he'll get you back. He's listing a lot of pretty creative ideas, silly boy, you'll just use them before he can.

You check both sides of the road as he's pulling you across since it doesn't look like he's going to but you both make it safely to Ren who just gives the two of you a droll look. "You guys definitely didn't listen to me."

He didn't even pose it as a question. You just shrug and give him a kiss on the cheek before sliding into the back of the sleek car, followed by Shin and then Ren, who calls out to let the driver know to take you all home. Maybe you glance out the tinted windows to steal one last look at Kuroo before the car starts to move away. Maybe you see that he's looking too, he's staring at the car but his mouth is moving and when it stops, the gamer boy says something back.

The last thing you see before the car pulls away completely and you can't see anymore is Itsuki pulling Kuroo back towards the café and he takes one last look your way before heading inside with his friend following.

You turn back around, not realizing you'd shifted your whole body. Ren is looking at you oddly so you just raise an eyebrow at him, but smile when Shin happily exclaims, "Hey Ren, we got you some treats too!"

Prev | Next

Masterlist

Behind The Scenes!

-Kuroo not only didn't get Y/n's name, but was pretty curious as to her close relationship with the two guys that we know as Shin and Ren

-If she had to measure, Y/n felt about the same level of attraction and connection with Kuroo as she did with Oikawa when she first bumped into him at the boba shop; he was interesting but still just a casual, fun encounter in the end

-Gamer boy was obviously Kenma, yeah?

-Is it funny for anyone else that Bokuto is liking or retweeting the posts about Y/n? Or is it just me because I clearly know too much?

-Itsuki is non-canon, if you weren't sure :(

A/N: I really like how this one turned out, I don't know why. It could have something to do with the fact that I've been a Kuroo simp the longest but I dunno, it just... flowed. And I barely even chewed over the edits.

Btw, if you guys ever see first-person POV (my, me, I, us, we) or 'Faye', it's probably a good time to restate that this started out as a purely self-indulgent imagining, which is why I write most seamlessly as myself in the scenarios. I then change it over to 'Y/n' and reader perspective during multiple levels of edits so you all can hopefully enjoy the story/scenarios too, but it can (and likely will) still slip through sometimes. Just let me know, and I'll fix it, thank you :) <3

Taglist: @delusivist

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evil-fork · 4 years

Text

Yandere Narancia x Reader

warnings: violence, blood, stalking, angst

----

A sinking feeling settled deep in the pit of your stomach as you hurriedly ducked behind the corner of a pastry shop. You clenched your purse closer to yourself, chest heaving as the reality of the situation ﬁnally sunk in.

He wasn't going to stop, was he? You had thought he moved on, and yet here he was--stalking you from a distance. Did he not know that you'd noticed him? And how did he always know where you were?

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, remembering all of the events that led up to this.

You ﬁrst met Narancia two months ago.

It was late in the evening and you had just ﬁnished buying groceries. You were in a hurry, trying to get back to your apartment before the sun went down.

About ﬁve minutes into the trek back home, two bulky street thugs approached you from the shadows. Before you could even react, one of them roughly ushered you into an alleyway. The other stood at the entrance, glancing around for any witnesses.

Your heart leapt to your throat when you spotted the glint of a knife. The groceries clutched in your hand slipped through your ﬁngers and clattered to the ground with a damning thud.

"Look--there doesn't have to be any trouble," the dark-haired man said in a rush. "Just hand over the cash and you can go."

You were frozen in shock, unable to move. You knew that you should reach for your bag and do as you were told, but for some reason you couldn't take your eyes off of the blade.

Would he kill you after he took the money? He couldn't be serious about letting you go unscathed, right? You'd seen their faces. But trying to run wouldn't end well for you either--you were unarmed and outnumbered.

Apparently you had taken too long because all of a sudden, the knife was pressed up against your cheek. A small bead of blood trailed down from where it dug into your skin. You felt the burning sensation of hot tears prickling the corners of your eyes.

"Hurry it up already! Do you want this to get more ugly?" The man snarled, drawing closer to your face.

You tried to ﬂinch away, but you couldn't retreat any farther--your back was pressed up against the cold brick wall. He had you cornered.

As the knife pressed down harder, a loud gurgling sound suddenly broke the silence. Startled, the thug withdrew slightly to look towards the entrance where his partner was stationed. It gave you enough time to push him away with both of your arms. He stumbled backward with a yelp so you made a break for it.

His hand shot out to grab you again, but before he could wrap his meaty ﬁngers around your wrist, another hand reached out and pulled you forward. You were pushed behind the newcomer protectively as he stood in front of you like a human shield.

"Get your hands off of them, you bastard!"

Your savior promptly aimed a well-timed punch straight into the thug's nose with an enraged shout. The man let out a pained cry and clutched at his nose as blood spurted forth, staining his hand with a river of red.

But the new arrival didn't stop there--he rushed forward to land another punch and when the thief fell down to the ground, he reeled his foot back and began to furiously kick the man's curled up body. He cursed exclamations of "Asshole!" and "Motherfucker!" inbetween kicks, each strike seeming to gather more and more force.

You were immensely grateful for his help, but you couldn't just stand around and watch as he beat a man to death, deserving or not.

Taking a tentative step forward, you stuttered out, "H-hey! I--I think that's enough! He's unconscious...!"

Your words seemed to break him free of whatever trance he'd been put under. He froze mid-kick before lowering his foot back down to face you. The rage that had previously occupied his face was all but gone, instantly replaced with a good-natured smile. He subtly stepped in front of the bloodied and beaten body, almost as if to hide it from your view.

"Hah--sorry about that! I guess I got a bit carried away," he said sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. "I had to make sure he couldn't get back up to hurt you. I'm Narancia, by the way!"

He held out his hand eagerly for a handshake.

It was spattered with blood.

You stared at it for a moment, unsure what to say.

"Oh! Whoops," Narancia immediately withdrew his hand to wipe the blood off on his...skirt--thing? When his hand was suﬃciently clean enough, he offered the limb back out to you.

This time you took it without question, not wanting to upset him. He'd saved you, but you didn't know what to make of his casual regard for being covered in blood. It screamed danger.

Narancia shook your hand vigorously.

"(Y/n)," you introduced. You didn't see any harm in giving him your ﬁrst name. "Thank you. If you hadn't come, I don't know what would've happened..."

As you went to pull your hand back, his hand tightened for a moment. You tugged a bit harder and he ﬁnally released it, his hand twitching at his side.

A moment of silence passed before he noticed your discarded grocery bag. The contents were splayed across the concrete, having rolled out of your bag when you dropped it earlier. His eyes widened at the sight, and he snapped into action.

"Ah! Your groceries! I'll get them up for you!"

Before you could protest, he was already moving to pick up all of the fallen items. Once they were all gathered up and placed inside your bag, he strolled back over to you. You thanked him and reached out to grab the bag, but he pulled it back at the last moment.

"Hey--it's really dark out! It would be safer if I walked you back home, right? There could be more of those guys still hanging around," he said, looking at you worriedly.

You didn't exactly want to lead a stranger back to your apartment, but you didn't want to walk home alone either. It was dark and the streets would be even more dangerous than before. Logically, you would be safer with him--someone who genuinely seemed concerned about your well-being.

You nodded. "Alright."

The two of you carefully stepped over the other body blocking the exit, Narancia holding out an arm to steady you. You smiled softly, your anxiety ﬁnally settling as you both walked. Narancia chattered away about his favorite foods and how you had the same tastes as him, having noticed the pizza sauce in your bag. You told him about your favorite recipe and he listened keenly, despite admitting that he wasn't much of a cook himself.

Before long, you were already standing at the entrance to your apartment building. You had such a great conversation with Narancia that you completely lost track of time. Once again, you sincerely thanked him for all of the help. The night could've ended much worse for you.

As you took your bag back, you paused at the feeling of his hand on your cheek. You looked up at his face, which had gone completely blank. All except for his eyes, that is. There was something dark swirling in the depths of his violet eyes--some emotion that you couldn't put a ﬁnger on.

You felt a shiver crawl down your spine and you pulled away, covering the trail of dried blood with your own palm. "I'll clean this up later. It's not as bad as it looks," you said reassuringly.

His eyebrow twitched once, and then a wide smile stretched over his face. "I've been cut before in the same place! And look--" Narancia pointed to his unblemished cheek. "No scar, or nothin'! It should heal just ﬁne, I promise!"

You simply smiled back, inwardly wondering how many ﬁghts he must have gotten into in his youth. It was probably a lot, if tonight was anything to go by.

"Well, it was nice to meet you, Narancia," you said sincerely. "I wish it had been under better circumstances, but still--thank you. Be careful getting back home yourself, okay?"

Narancia seemed extremely touched by your words, an expression of complete adoration creeping over his face. He nodded enthusiastically. "I will! I'll see you around, yeah?"

"Of course! It's a small world."

And that had only been the beginning.

Even during your ﬁrst encounter with Narancia, the signs had always been there. When the news reported the deaths of two serial muggers the day after, you hadn't even thought to look closer at the faces pictured on the TV. You'd gone on with your day, too worried about getting ready for work and not even thinking to put two and two together.

Everything started out ﬁne. You would "happen" to run into him, and the two of you would get along very well--laughing and giggling over some silly joke of his, or even discussing your favorite music artists over lunch. It didn't take long for him to wiggle his way into your social circle, soon becoming a treasured friend among few.

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end eventually.

You don't know precisely when it happened, but Narancia started to become very...clingy. Slowly but surely, it was like your entire life began to revolve around him and him alone.

Whenever you wanted to make plans to hang out with another friend, he was always there to convince you otherwise. He would tell you about how he only had his family to talk to, and that you were his ﬁrst real friend in years. It would make you feel bad for even considering leaving him alone.

But then he started to insert himself into your life even more, pushing the boundaries as far as he could.

You'd come home to ﬁnd him waiting on your couch, uninvited. If you hadn't recognized his familiar clothing, you would have called the police.

The door had been locked--only you had the key.

"Narancia?" you said, desperately wanting to give him the beneﬁt of the doubt. "How did you get in? The door was locked..."

"Oh, that?" He slapped a hand over his pocket. "You weren't here so I just used my knife! I hope you don't mind!"

You were at a loss for words. The way he admitted it so casually left you with an uneasy feeling. Did he really think breaking and entering was acceptable behavior? You could overlook many things when it came to Narancia, but this was too much.

"...I actually do mind, Narancia."

"Don't worry, nothing's damaged or anything!" Narancia assured you, standing up to show you the intact doorknob. He looked almost proud.

"T-that's not the issue here," you sputtered weakly. "You just broke into my apartment--why did you do that?"

He ﬁnally seemed to realize that something was wrong. His face scrunched up and he looked at you with uncertainty. "I thought people who were dating are supposed to let themselves in...?"

Dating...? Where had he gotten that idea from?

"You think--" You stopped to gather your thoughts.

Athough he was greatly overstepping your boundaries, you still couldn't bring yourself to treat him too harshly. Narancia was a child at heart, he couldn't comprehend why what he was doing was wrong. You had to be careful with this.

You took a deep breath. "Narancia," you started. "What made you think that we were dating...?"

"We've gone on so many dates already!" He looked at you as if it were obvious, gesturing wildly. "And we hang out all the time! You have my phone number--of course we're dating!"

You slowly shook your head. "No, Narancia. We hang out as friends. We're not dating."

Narancia looked like a lost puppy. Your heart clenched painfully inside your chest. "Then what do I need to do so that we can date? Please, tell me! I'll do whatever you want!"

You wanted so badly to reach out and comfort him, but you knew if you did it would only give him the wrong idea. He needed to learn that your friendship wouldn't end in romance, as you didn't feel the same way. You saw Narancia as too much of a kid, almost like a younger sibling.

"I'm sorry," you apologized solemnly, averting your gaze. "I don't see you that way. I can only be your friend--nothing more." Better to honest with him, than to dance around the issue.

Narancia marched up to you and gently grabbed your chin, tilting your face up so that you would look him in the eye. "Am I moving too fast?" he asked, desperate to understand. "Is that it? I'm sorry if I did something wrong!"

You were trying to spare his feelings, but it seemed like he was going to make you say it outright. "You're barely an adult, Narancia. I see you more as a younger brother."

The emotion that ﬂickered through his eyes in that moment could only be described as despair. "B-brother...?" His expression crumbled under the weight of your words.

You looked away as guilt began to eat at you.

"I--" His voice sounded choked, and you could tell that he was trying his best to hold back tears. Narancia lowered his hand and stepped past you, toward the front door. "I've gotta--go." A sniﬄe. "I'll...call you later, okay...?"

From that day onward, nothing was ever the same.

Narancia would send phone call after phone call, begging you to rethink your decision. He told you that he would do whatever you wanted--that he would change and become more mature if you would just see him as a man. You told him that you weren't looking for a relationship, but even that didn't work.

Eventually, you were forced to make a tough decision. He was becoming too overbearing, refusing to listen to anything you had to say. You couldn't even get through dinner without your phone blowing up from multiple missed calls. There was a point where enough was enough, and you truly believed that this was that point.

You grabbed the phone and held it up to your ear.

"(Y/n)! You answered! Just hear me out, what if I--"

"Narancia," you said, cutting him off. "If you won't respect my wishes for us to remain friends, then I don't think I want to see you anymore. I'd hate to lose you as a friend, but this is getting to be too much...

There was nothing but silence on the other end.

"Hello?" you tried. "Narancia...?"

You were answered with a click as the phone abruptly hung up. As you set the phone back down on the table, you tried to gather your thoughts into something coherent. Perhaps it was for the best that he responded in that way--you definitely needed some space.

The following few days were like a blessing. It seemed that Narancia had finally accepted that he couldn't woo you over. The phone calls stopped completely after that night. You didn't see him around town anymore, but you understood why. Sometimes distance was the best cure for unrequited crushes.

Apparently, you were wrong.

It started a week after your last phone call with Narancia.

Whenever you would leave your apartment building, you'd start to get the feeling that you were being watched. The hairs on the back of your neck would stand up, and you would feel on edge for the rest of the trip. Sometimes you'd even see a glimpse of familiar colors out of the corner of your eye, but when you turned to look, it would disappear.

You didn't want to believe that it was him, but your suspicions were finally confirmed.

You opened your eyes to stare out at the wall of your hiding place, purse still clutched tight to your chest. Your breathing was elevated, your anxiety skyrocketing. He'd been following you all this time, hadn't he?

Not knowing what else to do, you dug into your purse, fumbling for your phone. You could call the police. Except, you didn't have any proof that he was stalking you...and he hadn't done anything to you yet. Would they even take you seriously? What were you supposed to do...?

A thought suddenly occurred to you.

...You still had Narancia's number.

Hands shaking, you brought your phone up to your face to scroll down to his contact information. The digits stared back at you ominously as your finger hovered over the call button. You would tell him to stop, and if he didn't--you would call the police.

You finally pressed dial, waiting with bated breath. There was an echoing click as the call was immediately picked up.

"Narancia," you quickly whispered into the speaker. "Please stop this. I know you've been following me. It's scaring me..."

"You called! I knew you would!"

His response didn't come from the phone.

The phone slipped between your fingers as you looked over. Narancia was leaning up against the opposite wall with his arms crossed, a victorious grin lighting up his face. You felt the world tilt around you.

He pushed himself off of the wall to come closer.

"I asked the gang for relationship advice and they told me about this old saying!" Narancia scratched the back of his head. "What was it again...? Oh, right! Something about setting the love of your life free, and if they come back it was meant to be!"

You froze when he threw his arms around you, hugging you tight. He held on to you as if you would disappear, your face pressed up against his toned chest. You wanted to say something--anything, but you couldn't seem to formulate any words.

"And you called! You came back! Looks like it was meant to be, (Y/n)!"

#jojo narancia #yandere narancia #narancia ghirga #Narancia #yandere narancia x reader #yandere #yandere jojo x reader #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #narancia x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #jjba

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spirit-of-vengeance · 3 years

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@spxcemuses @mr-mansnoozie @xxstar-bluesxx

Guess who gathered enough mind to finally write her full backstory of Western Verse. Her being a bounty hunter is set in the Wild West time period (1865-1895), there is no current year(s) to set her story in mainly because I don't want to make a mistake messing up the timeline.

Calm before the storm

Her father, Attila a lesser Hungarian noble whom supported the 1848-1849 revolutionary war but after the failure of it he escaped emigrated to America to avoid the Habsburg revenge, soon followed by his brother Gábor. He could save a small amount of his fortune along with his two most important horses: a purebred Lipizzan stallion and an extremely rare Akhal Teke mare. He had settled near a small town, due to his financial situation and education as a noble he established a school with the support and approval of the local church. To quieten his guilt for abandoning his country in its peril, he poured all of his heart into educating children; at least he is still useful in some way.

One day, a group of artists traveling artists, acrobats traveled through the town and the aristocrat fell in love at first sight. She was like the queen of fairy from the folk tales he'd heard in his childhood, she was tall, blue eyes sparkled like light sapphire, long golden brown hair floated ethereally with every twirl. The smitten lord shamelessly courted the the graceful acrobat, determined to know at least the name.

The group had stayed in the town for a few weeks, allowing Attila's and Myra's romance to blossom; after a month she ended up staying with him, just like in true fairytales.

My obsession with angst backstory strikes again

The lord was in love, deeper than poets could express it. Since the loss of his home and country he had found his place in the universe along with the perfect companion by his side. He paid less attention to the school, the church and other public affairs; it wasn't like he abandoned them but became more withdrawn to spend time with the love of his life, especially after the birth of their daughter. She was almost the perfect miniature of her mother, same beautiful hair glinting gold in the sunlight, only her eyes were the brightest emerald green he'd ever seen.

While Myra's heart and aura was as pure as a fairy's; the local church was beyond distressed. They claimed that Attila had completely abandoned helping those in need because of her wicked seduction. When they witnessed her performing for the amusement of the crowd, the 'temptress witch' brand couldn't be lifted. They gathered a few enthusiastic townsfolk whom shared their views and a few morally questionable men whom only wanted a piece of the lord's fortune.

10 year old Karma was awakened from her deep slumber by her frantic father; smoke and yelling blinding her senses as he carried her out of the burning house into the nearby forest so the mob won't find her. He promised her he will be back but he had to return into their home for Myra; he couldn't leave her inside. Karma watched her dad disappear into the flames, the air filled with suffocating smoke and religious shouts for god to smite the sinners. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the spot where her father was gone, waiting for her parents to stumble out of the half collapsed building; but that never had happened. She sat unmoving from her spot, struck staring into the flames then into the ashes as the sun has risen.

Birth of the marksman

Attila's brother, Gábor arrived the next day after hearing the news, he was the one whom found Karma still staring at the ruins in a catatonic state. He couldn't avenge his sibling as it meant endangering his niece and she has lost more than enough.

Gábor expected her to become a soft spoken, reserved lady once she overcame her trauma; that theory was soon abandoned when once he had awoken to his niece practicing with his rifle outside with frighteningly great accuracy. The young girl naturally had an extraordinary aim and after a few long talks, he'd seen the determination burning in her to avenge the murder of her parents. Given by her mother's dance lessons, she was also flexible and capable of many different acrobatic moves; this combined with her aim proven to be a very dangerous combination.

To not awaken suspicion he told his friends Karma was an orphan whose parents were killed by bandits and he had adopted her to give her a family and education. Karma was fascinated chasing greater heights of her skills, this involved reading every possible book about anatomy, marking, engraving the useful spots of the body. Karma knows where to shoot to disarm, to cause a slow death, to paralyze, to disable for life and when it is only a warning: an injury which will heal with time. Along with her accuracy, her drawing speed only can be compared to lightning. Although she prefers/most comfortable with her dual revolvers (model undecided yet), she is still a menace with shotguns, rifles, flintlocks and even bows due to Gàbor's 'A Hungarian is not a Hungarian if they can't use a bow' mindset.

The bounty hunter quicker than death

Karma had her first official gunfight at the age of 18 on the auction. for Vihar (Storm), the filly of her father's horses.

Detailed post about Vihar

She officially entered the bounty hunter business when she was 20 and Vihar was 2, aiming for the most dangerous criminals whom committed the worst acts possible. In her early years after the kill she slit open corpses she trying to find the bullet, surverying the damage it caused and adding filler information to her anatomy knowledge. Of course she didn’t bother burying the bodies, she knew as a woman she has to be extremely vicious above talented to be hired and mutilated dead bodies did send a great message & served as cement for building her reputation. The name Karma wasn't entirely her idea, many thankful family members claimed that karma has came for their loved ones' murderers. Her talent spread like wildfire among the men of law, glad to be rid of the dangerous scum; with careful planning, use of environment and Vihar as backup she had wiped out gangs, not solely focused on individuals.

Unfortunately her reputation summoned an unofficial grand price on her head as well in certain circles; they had tracked her back to her uncle's house. The battle claimed Gábor's life and nearly her sight as her right eye was almost slashed out. The new loss opened old wounds: her not being able to protect her loved ones. She couldn't look into a mirror, the scar a reminder how despite all years of training she wasn't untouchable; after burying her uncle plan to gain control over her psyche already formed.

She took a knife and carefully carved four half circles around her eye to form a crosshair with her pupil being the middle of it. She made sure she kept the wounds open for enough time to scar as visibly as the vertical cut; she wanted a symbol to add to her legend. Excuse my pathetic excuse of an edit, I'm not good in this, nor I can draw.

Now Karma is 25, Vihar is 6, both of them in their peak physical prime; the name Vihar is also symbolic a little, Karma is the lightning to her horse. She is dancing on the thin edge of bounty hunting and being an outlaw as she often takes...side jobs to help people who deserve it and usually that person doesn't have a bounty on their head, therefore it is technically murder.

Local antisocial feral monk & cocky gunslinger feral lady / addition of the AU with the amazing @mr-mansnoozie

Near her uncle's house, Karma had discovered a cave and a grumpy mute monk living in it along with his pet bear. The monk, Sandy eventually became a second uncle to the traumatized angry orphan, he taught her how to move & creep upon someone soundlessly, disappear without a trace, cover her stances and behavior patterns of various animals. Before and after returning from a job she always visits her uncle of choice for a chat; a silent way to prepare him to the possibility of her not coming back. But she always do. She considers Sandy as part of her tiny family, although his...copying mechanisms with his own traumas were a bit strange to get used to; she adapted quite fast, after all who is she to judge with a past like that?

I'm a dead man walking, Hell's at my door.

aka collection of small headcanons

🎯 Her dual revolvers are called Salvation and Damnation because she's dramatic

🎯 Karma has a small sketchbook filled with anatomy drawings for further practice.

🎯 She actually can sing, but rarely does, only to Vihar since she never received positive feedback on it. Her voice is gritty, rugged and deep; definitely not the usual and desired sounding from a woman.

🎯 If her target was an outstandingly cruel bastard and/or one of those whom killed her parents she uses a little psychological torture. After fatally wounding them she starts whistling (for the most terrifying experience wear headphones & close your eyes while listening) as they try to crawl away or beg for mercy. The first time the whistle gets shrill & more intense is when she lazily reloads, knowing she has both the time and the upper hand. The second pace shift is when she aims; she shoots during the last, long drawn out high note.

🎯 This is her only verse where Cindy is afraid, no terrified of fire; during her....26 AU's she's always been associated with fire despite dying in or being wounded by it. In this verse she is more tied to lightning, the scent of smoke is enough to send her into a silent panic attack and despite loathing the cold she will never sit close to the fireplace. Her other deep fears include injuring her hands & sight and losing Vihar. Her horse is the only remaining family member of hers, she can't fail her too.

🎯 Most of Karma's scars, injuries are a result of her standing between Vihar and a knife/bullet/ even a bullwhip when a criminal was smart enough to catch on their deep emotional bond.

🎯 She has recurring night terrors about the night her parents died, she always wakes up in cold sweat; she's sort of used to them. Though, sometimes she still cries but thankfully Vihar is there to comfort her.

🎯 Karma has a special morning stretch routine to keep her flexibility and warm up her hands & keep them steady and fast.

🎯 Due to her dad and uncle she received high quality education

🎯 For the untrained eye, the belt of her hat are simple crosses while in reality, they are inverted crosses to symbolize her stance with Christianity

🎯 Karma's middle name is Emerald, given by her father due to her eye color.

🎯 Karma was first inspired by League of Legends Miss Fortune because that name alone is great but unfortunately she is too pirate coded for a western so I abandoned the relation. Though when Karma is not being the 'Call me a slow reader but I only made it to the Dead part, the or Alive didn't register.' ; her personality is similar to hers.

🎯 Due to her dad, Karma is actually half aristocrat. Not like she cares about it the slightest; the only indication of noble blood is her idle stance. It is an unconscious mirror of how her father used to hold himself: back straightened to almost impossible point, left arm behind it, right hand resting on the grip of in her case, revolver instead of hilt of a sword.

🎯 If given the chance to live a normal life, she would've grown into a captivating, lively young woman, much like her mother but with the aristocrat elegance of her father; finding a suitor who lives up to her parents' and her standards would've been the challenge of the century.

🎯 Her special move is called Dance of Death. This is used as last resort when she's facing more opponents up to 12, as with her dual revolvers she has 12 bullets without reloading. She mentally marks the stances of all opponents, predicts their movement, firing order and possible way of their bullets before whirling out of her hiding place. Each pose minimizes the chance of getting shot, and with each change of movement two bullets are fired, two men drop dead.

🎯 Her accuracy isn't just 'gun goes boom >:D' but a combination of natural talent, endless practice, movement prediction, sharp, quick thinking & analytical skills and different techniques molten together to utilize them all at once

🎯 Her hair is now as long as her mother's, she always keeps it in a single tight braid to keep it out of the way; without her hat and hair down she actually loses some of her dangerous edge.

🎯 The only physical memory Karma has of her parents is her dad's hussar sword she found underneath the ruins of the house, it was protected by a very thick wooden box & a lock of her mother's hair is tied to the grip. She has hidden it in the nearby forest, her thoughts often wander to it along with the wish to wield it.

#🦂 western au🔥| one shot; one kill #🔥headcanons🔥 | secrets of the fire #I can't help myself with the little hungarian details can I?#it just makes me so happy because my country doesn't really get any recognition in media & it feels good to weave the history of my country #into a badass character #I also spent 2.5 hours typing this. my fingers ;-; though totally worth it 😄#🔥alright to reblog🔥| let the wind carry the cinders

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scribbleseas · 4 years

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The Indignant Pawn, Chapter II: The Woman In Beige

Description: You are Y/n Y/l/n- formerly known as Princess Helena, the runaway princess.

You're an assassin for hire who only agrees to find the worst of London's criminals at the business end of your knife; until a mysterious woman hires you to end the likes of Ciel Phantomhive, the King of the Underworld. You find yourself trading your weapons for your abandoned family crest in order to infiltrate his home as none other than Princess Marie-Louise, your twin sister. What's to happen when you find that the young Earl is more than a callous businessman?

OVERALL STORY WARNINGS: sexual assault, objectification, death, detailed description of blood/gore, detailed description of murder, lying, impersonation, theft, weapons, detailed panic attacks, symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder.

Author’s Note: If you have any questions or concerns about these warnings, please don’t hesitate to contact me! Otherwise, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

-Dan

⇠ PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER ⇢

. . .

DECEMBER 17TH, 1891

LONDON, ENGLAND

The outside of the Globe theater was alight with bustling crowds as Oscar Wilde's London premiere of Salome had just concluded for the evening.

You were never partial towards theater. In fact, it made you wonder how a show could captivate such a diverse audience, as you watched formally clothed aristocrats and their servants cringed amongst the middle-class plebeians as they exited the theater through the matching front doors. Little did they know, the real show would take place inside of the closed carriage you waited in, peering through the red blind that covered it. Your thumb ran over the smooth pommel of your dagger. You focused on its smooth entirety as you sat back in the carriage to wait, distracting yourself from the consuming darkness.

Thankfully, Felix Keating, the wealthiest factory owner from Birmingham, valued his privacy. He opted for a carriage that had a single window on the door. This made his carriage an ideal place for you to intervene and elude any potential witnesses, considering the man had little to no time alone. In your case, it was less than optimal, but strategically, it was going to do the trick.

You stared at the wall of the carriage across from you before squeezing your eyes shut. You tried to focus on something concrete- perhaps the weight of your weapon, the tickle that your wool scarf gave your lip as it concealed the bottom half of your face. You inhaled deeply, reaching out for the drape of the window to let a fraction of light, but you froze and for a moment, you were...gone. When you opened your eyes again, you found yourself in the hallway of your home, a lantern burning dimly in your hand as you heard two men talking- one voice familiar, the other strange.

'Lass? I haven't the slightest-'

'Just hand over the money and we won't have to blow no one's brains outta their skulls.'

Gunshots. Blood.

'Has she already been broken in? Lord knows what she was doing here with that old bum.'

'Doesn't matter, she's ours now, isn't that right?'

'Whore?'

Cold.

Piercing pain in your neck reminded you that you were in a carriage with years of difference from that morning. You had a job to do as you heard approaching steps and the posh voice of the factory owner himself. Before sinking to the corner furthest from the door, you took a generous inhale of the drafty air and focused on how it filled your lungs, rather than the poorly timed panic that the darkness insisted on showing you towards. You wiggled your toes in your black boots and wrinkled your nose, which served as tics that you had cautiously picked out years ago to help ground yourself when necessary. You held the dagger in your hand, the blade ready to pierce a sinner's flesh.

"That playwright will bring tears to the steeliest of lads. Quite brilliant. I must write to Wilde," Felix Keating's dulcet voice sounded as his coachman greeted him. "Reckon I could stick my nose into the theater enterprise, Her Majesty is quite interested in renovating these rubbish theaters," Keating mused, his muffled voice growing closer by the step.

"A clever investment, Mr. Keating," the coachman validated as you hugged your legs, making yourself smaller in the corner of the carriage, your head down and hood up. The door opened and you held your breath, as your heart pounded against your ribcage in protest. "May I offer you extra linens for warmth? The wind's just startin' up."

This wasn't the first time you've had to hide in order to carry out an assignment, yet the adrenaline between waiting and pouncing was always riveting.

"Ah, no Horace, I'll be 'right," Keating took his seat, more focusing on lighting his cigar. The scent caused you to tense, reminding you of the conman, someone smoked as if his life depended on it. He was a smart man that would scold you for the way you grew past his death. He'd be disappointed in you, a relentless advocate for diplomacy. Ask questions, shoot later.

"Right. If you change your mind, you gimme a holler," Horace, the coachman, shut the door as Keating settled himself with an exasperated sigh. He pushed the short drapes that were concealing the window, allowing the city lights to illuminate the small quarters and simply watched the street go by as Horace told the horse to "get walkin".

Without wasting another moment, you got to your feet, your dagger precariously reflecting light that shone through the window.

"Who is it? Who's there-" Keating started to shout, immediately sitting to attention as you used the whole of your arm's strength to shove him back against the wall that he was previously reclining against. Your nondominant hand barely fit around the circumference of his clammy neck, but nevertheless you were able to force his head back completely, his torso following in suit. You squeezed firmly, your fingers digging into the warm flesh and you could feel his hurried pulse with ease as you kept your back straight and legs strong. The angle was awkward, seeing as you were bent over in a moving carriage, but your balance was more than you gave it credit for. "Why- please!" he gasped for air, his glasses low on his nose, threatening to fall to the floor. "Stop! I have...money! Take anything you want. H-Horace!"

"Shut up!" Unintentionally, your grip tightened as you shoved his head back into the wall again, causing Keating's extinguished cigar to fall on the cushioned seat next to him. His hands flailed in panic as his chest tensed with effort as he tried to yell out to Horace again. "Maggie Calvert," you snarled as your petticoats moved with your short steps closer. Your nose could have touched his while you held his sightline. You adjusted your hold on the wooden handle of your dagger in your dominant hand before impelling the blade between his fourth and fifth ribs and close to his midline. "This is for her."

His body froze, his mouth agape. You couldn't tell if he recognized the name, but you wanted him to. A greedy businessman of his caliber deserved to think about someone other than himself during his last few moments alive. You pushed your dagger until both quillions were making contact with his white shirt. You have the dagger a small jerk for maximum damage before pulling it out, allowing blood to immediately gush out of his wound. Finally, your heart rate was beginning to slow with the rush of merely completing the task and you let go of his neck, your fingers aching from being tense. Keating was choking as he tried to yell or scream, or perhaps curse you, but the blood that was rushing into his collapsing lung was going to keep him from doing so.

"Maggie Calvert," you repeated solemnly, using Keating's long coat to clean off your dagger and tuck it into your pocket bag, one of the two large pouches that were nestled between your skirts. The body was limp and the strangled hacking had finally come to a stop. After all, the blood had stained your stomacher as it had come up through his mouth during his final moments of struggle. However, the compensation you were about to receive for this task would more than cover it. Unfortunately, it left Horace with more than a mess to clean up. Blood was a stubborn substance.

. . .

DECEMBER 20TH 1891

BIRMINGHAM, ENGLAND

Before you could knock, the door of the brick building flew open, causing you to jump in surprise.

"Miss Y/l/n," Eric Calvert's muddy green eyes were glassy with unshed tears as you pushed the hood of your cloak off of your neck out of respect for the modest home. The housing in Birmingham, an industrial town, was much different than London's. It was more compact, the air was more polluted with factory smoke. The Calverts seemed to be better off than most common families, but that meant nothing in this case. Factory conditions were poor, even after the reform laws from the 1830s. You were blessed to be introduced to more lucrative work upon your arrival- drawing money straight out of pockets with the most genuine man to have strolled down the cemented walkways of the city. "Please, come right in," he gestured with his gloved hand, moving out of your way as he removed his hat and bowed.

"Mr. Calvert," you offered a tight-lipped smile at the bowing man. In the hand that pressed against his chest, Eric pressed his grey hat into it, like a proper gentleman. The gesture had only fed into your discontentment, while Eric seemed no better off. You weren't blind to the pallid shade of his face, the withheld energy in his stance. "You mustn't bow to me," you assert, waiting for the man to right himself as he frowned.

"Oh, please... Mr. Calvert's my father." Eric said with a miffed shake of his head, raking his fingers through his sloppy waves of hair. The two of you walked down the short hall that led into a big foyer. A fireplace was on the far side with several articles of outerwear hanging on the mantle to help warm them from snow, you presume. The scent of the burning wood brings you a foreign nostalgia that ideally, you would've failed to notice. The past deserved to stay where it belonged- in the past. The only hearth you were to be a part of was your own.

"Evelyn, dear! Draw some tea, she's come back!" Eric called his wife, who seemed busy in the kitchen that was located in an attached room. "Hurry!" You presumed that he felt apprehensive about being left alone with you, which was fair.

"Just a minute!" Evelyn called from the attaching room, the door left ajar. You were right to assume that it was a kitchen of some form, seeing as the general layout of this building resembled that of your own home, the fuss of her brown petticoats catching your eye. You wished she'd move with more urgency. You had yet to eat properly, seeing as you were more occupied with moving efficiently over the past day or two. At least the vicinity was warm, allowing you to pull off your thick gloves and tuck them into either pocket bag as Eric led you to a small area near the fireplace. There were two big loveseats across from each other and with a rug in between. The cushions were patched together with random sheets of fabric.

There was a single photograph in a hanging frame over the fireplace's mantle, the glass dirty. It was Eric and Evelyn, jubilant in light, fancy clothing as they cradled their baby girl between them. You understood how the couple found themselves in such desperation to acquaint themselves with someone like you when they had once smiled without any semblance of malignity. She was stolen from them, and it had seemed that the world was prepared to let the men at fault see their own children grow up. You were the one to right that wrong- by driving your knife between the ribs of Felix Keating and watching him choke as blood filled his lungs. His eyes tearing as he begged for mercy when Maggie Calvert, who was no more than nine, died in his workhouse because of his cheaply built machinery. She wasn't given a chance, so who was Keating to think he deserved one?

"She'll be uh...right out," Eric smiled at you again, repeating the words of his wife, those of which you had no problem hearing. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the uncomfortable way he held himself, as opposed to the haughty attitude he sported during your first meeting. He was dubious that a mere lady like yourself (months shy of twenty) could hurt a fly, much less hold a body count to her name. Yet the morning prior, the bustling headlines of The Daily Telegraph reached Birmingham, selling quickly as they covered the murder of Felix Keating, owner of many iron manufacturing factories who narrowly escaped an immense prison sentence for a major accident in his Birmingham factory a week before.

"Oh my, Eric," Evelyn entered the main room, precariously balancing a steaming teapot and a modest spread of small bites on a tarnished, silver tray. "Where have your manners gone?" she tutted, setting it down on the oakwood table before turning her attention to you. Her blonde hair was tied in a disheveled bun, droopy and with tendrils falling out of it like spider legs that swayed as she moved.

"My manners?" Eric began to protest, only to be interrupted by his wife again. You found their dynamic as a couple quite refreshing. After all, you would not have been there, had Evelyn worked to contact you without her husband's knowledge.

"Miss Y/l/n, allow me to take your cloak," Evelyn gestured to the many hooks that were nailed into the fireplace mantle where there were drying articles of clothing hanging, narrowly dodging the short flames.

It was difficult to compel yourself to smile, but the corners of your lips turned upwards anyhow. There was a line where social niceties ended and another where gullible kindness started. This was the latter as they knowingly welcomed you, a murderer into their home because you made an ally out of yourself. "Don't trouble yourself any more than you have, Mrs. Calvert. My time here is brief," you found satisfaction when she shook her head and began to pour you a cup of the steaming tea, despite your words. Thankfully, she made no attempt to sit with you.

"Brief?" Evelyn repeated, gently passing the delicate teacup to you. The warmth spread over your palms on contact as you brought the rim to your lips. Your hold was improper, though necessary, seeing as the finest details are what make the best disguises. Only the wealthy held their teacups with so much consideration. Besides, the warmth was much more satisfying when it went beyond the tips of your fingers. "I reckon a woman such as yourself is a tad busy," she concurred, causing you to tense in surprise. You were rarely referred to as a woman.

"Quite," you mused after her, taking a contemplative sip of your tea. "I ought to be at the station in less than an hour," you lied, gently tapping the tips of your short nails on the warm cup. All that was necessary was payment and crucial parting words. The assorted bites on the tray were beginning to seem unappealing, the longer you stood there. "But we must discuss a few things-" you start, only to be interrupted by Evelyn, which was common.

"Your fee. We have the first installment," she gestured to Eric with her chin, her smile long gone as he offered a small pouch made of different, threadbare, fabrics. While you had already discounted your normal charge for the couple's situation, they could hardly afford a fraction of the sum.

"We've tried to save as much as possible. Take it. It's the least we can do at the time," Eric spoke, linking his arm with his wife's. Reluctantly, you hold your cup in one hand and deftly slide the pouch into the pocket bag between your petticoats. They would have felt worse if you refused to take their money. After all, you avenged the silenced death of their girl.

"It's plenty, thank you," after finishing the rest of your tea, you proceed with your original thought before they could try to pass their relief for protest. You had to recite the practiced discourse that you gave to every one of your patrons before making your leave. "Now, the two of you will be suspects to the Yard, be cautious," you put emphasis on your words by meeting each of their gazes. "You must avoid London and keep your heads down. Do you understand?"

"And... what happens to you?" Eric asked, sipping out of his own teacup. His shoulders were still unnaturally squared and attentive as he actively avoided your sightline. "Where are you off to?" his focus quickly turned to Evelyn, who was untangling her arm from his and bringing the tray back into the kitchen.

"The distance from Birmingham to London is great, she'll starve before she returns!" Evelyn stopped to yell from over her shoulder before leaving the door open behind her. In the kitchen, she promptly began to wrap the biscuits in napkins.

"Nevermind me," you coaxed Eric back to the conversation by answering his question. You smiled once again as you put your cup on the table and begin to put your gloves back on their respective hands. "You need to make certain that you both have an alibi for the night of December 17th, I cannot stress this enough, Mr. Calvert," you looked up from your gloves, pulling them so they covered your forearms again.

"I assure you, Miss Y/l/n. We were both working in that refinery- until dawn," you had no doubt about the truth to that statement, though any Peeler would press further. That part was to the Calverts to handle, seeing as you had played out your role. Pursing your lips, you took a generous inhale to soothe the ominous pit of anxiety that had settled in your stomach.

"Sure," you pulled your hood back over your head as Evelyn returned with a minute basket. It was covered and you wished you still had your appetite from when you had entered their home.

"Here you are," Evelyn allowed you to take the handle in your non-dominant hand. In a city, it was always smartest to have your dominant hand free, which was yet another insignificant habit that you had inherited from the old conman. What was the date? December 20th, which meant there were still a few weeks before it was the anniversary of his death. Otherwise, the most difficult twenty-four hours to bear out of a calendar year.

Evelyn was smiling, but it didn't reach her eyes. After all, for most women, motherhood was a privilege and it had been torn away from her. She was attempting to care for you as she would have for Maggie...had she lived to nineteen. Tears were welling in her eyes as she watched your hand extend to briefly touch her shoulder. "Take care," you said, finally meeting Eric's green hues that were tearing up as well. "I can show myself out," you shook your head dismissively when he moved to go to the front door with you. Evelyn needed to be coddled more than you did.

. . .

JANUARY 5TH, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

Evenings at home always unsettled you, being the start of an all-too boring night, which made you feel restless- itchy for action. Rather, your quiet home always put you on the height of your guard, even as you were sitting behind the short shed, submerging your assorted gowns and petticoats into the warm, soapy water that bubbled in your wooden tub. It was a tedious, once a week process that perhaps irked you more than cooking. With a huff, you directed your stress into the iron grip that you kept your washboard upright with, rubbing fabric over its ridges.

The water made your fingers prune and the stool under you caused your bottom to grow sore, the longer you had to sit there, toiling away until each article was hanging on your makeshift clothesline- fastened with pins. When you were a girl, you had about twice the amount to wash and yet, you enjoyed the task because there were two more hands to make light, fun work of it. The conman liked to sing to pass the time- the lyrics had taken you ages to comprehend, seeing as your English had challenged for years. He was anything but a schoolteacher.

You cringed as your hand slid down the washboard too quickly, causing the hot water to splash back up at your face. The weather was foul, the winter in London was always tempestuous and the warm water on your face had only reminded you of how little warmth your wool scarf provided. It was wrought with holes by now, but you couldn't bring yourself to give it away, you've had it from the day you arrived...nine years ago. Dismissing the thought, you allowed the cooling water to run down your forehead, passing the slope of your nose, until it finally fell and assimilated with the top of your stomacher.

You squeezed the wet petticoat, turning it in order to ring the water out. Although you could have been more thorough, the boredom that came with domestic chores was causing you to rush and find something more occupying to start. The tranquility of the night was eerie, an uneasy contrast to the violent life you led.

The sound of approaching voices caused you to pause, your hands pulling the washboard out of the water to hold, ready to swing. The petticoat that you had been wringing out fell back into the wooden tub with a quiet splash. The soap suds ran down your forearms, dampening the brown sleeves of your gown.

"No entiendo por qué la señora quiere una chica. Podríamos bombardear el sitio de Phantomhive más rápido que esta pérdida de tiempo," the voice of a woman spoke quickly, in a language that you couldn't identify. A denomination of Latin? Knitting your eyebrows, you conceded, deciding to focus on what you could understand. Bombard, Phantomhive. Bomb?

Vaguely, you recognized the name 'Phantomhive' from the newspaper. The Earl Phantomhive ran the Funtom Company, children's' toys and confectionery.

"Quiere su nombre lo más lejos posible de esto. La chica es una asesina exitosa, así que sería más discreta que los explosivos," a masculine voice responded, a stiff twig cracking beneath one of their shoes. You scowled as you shifted your weight from your left side to your right. The washboard was a viable weapon, but it was simply a matter of timing. Their silhouettes were getting closer, each short and clad in neutral earth tones.

"A menos que te interese en enredarte con ese mocoso," the man chuckled. He wasn't secretive or trying to be discreet. By the way he trudged, he was probably leaving deep tracks in the slushy excuse for snow.

"No tengo un deseo de muerte, a diferencia de ti. Callado!!" The woman said, her voice suddenly at a harsh whisper.

"Ah. There," the man spoke in English, finally a language that you could comprehend. "Y/n Y/l/n?" He asked, pulling down his scarf to expose the rest of his face. In comparison to yours, his accent was much thicker. Your grip on the washboard didn't waver.

"Who are you?" You demanded, stepping forward to stand your ground as they approached you. The pair wasn't visibly armed, their figures weren't particularly threatening to you. The man merely smiled at you while the woman to his side scowled.

"Diego- and uh, Carmen. Peace! We come in...uh, peace," Diego stammered, stopping at a respectful distance from you while showing you his empty hands as they beckoned with his rapid words. He seemed amused with your choice in weapon and assertive stance. "Carmen," he elbowed the sour-faced woman, causing her to grunt and hold her gloved hands up as he was.

"What brings you here?" They must have knocked at your door and came around when there was no response and a dim light behind the shack. Their winter gear suggested that they had some tier of wealth or deft hands in thievery. If it was business, this wouldn't be the first time you were asked to aid in stealing. However, as tempting as the offers were, you turned each one down.

"Business." Carmen answered this time, her hand slowly reaching into her jacket pocket. "No fret. Is just a letter," her English was just as mediocre as yours had been, years ago. Your eyes followed her hand as she pulled out an envelope with a dark red seal. "Business for our...líder?" She explained and looked at the man, leaving a long pause before her last word. It was essentially 'leader', but the stress was on an 'i' sound instead.

"Yes. Leader," Diego cleared his throat in a weak attempt to mask a laugh as you dropped your washboard back into the washbasin with a short splash. You ignored him as you took the letter from the woman, your wet hand causing the ink on the front to smear. It read your name, Y/n Y/l/n, in a pompous script, the illegible type that royalty and aristocrats penned. "All you needa know is there."

The Undertaker was supposed to be the partition between yourself and clients. Who did he think he was to give these servants your address? You'd have to give him a stern reminder for the next time you cross paths. With a frown, you pushed the envelope into your pocket bag, allowing it to jut out due to its dimensions.

"Is this all?" You asked as you waited for them to either leave or proceed with more broken commentary. Your lips were pressed together in a tight purse, a fresh lump of apprehension growing in your stomach. However, you couldn't let it show as the man sheepishly removed his hat with a shallow bow. It was more unctuous than anything as it only caused your scowl to deepen.

"Yes, Miss. We can... be going now," Diego righted himself and put his hat back over his dark curly hair. You didn't offer either of than a proper dismissal for the favor of going back to your washing and ruminating over the letter. It merely had a location, date, and time with no further information. No explanation of identification. You could appreciate the impudent nature of it, as this 'leader' assumed you had no plans for January 10th or presumed that you would handle any conflicts yourself when they were approaching you for your services. It was crude of them to assume that you still took orders.

. . .

JANUARY 10TH, 1892

READING, ENGLAND

Perhaps it was curiosity or a lapse of judgment that led you to board a train and throw caution to the wind. Whatever it was, your default prudence seemed to abandon you at each instance you dared open the letter that you were given- if you could call it that. The paper inside merely had your name, a distinct address, time, and date all in a presumptuous formality that made you want to tear it to shreds. But you refrained and instead, rolled your shoulders back and down as you knocked on the painted door of the lofty residential home that coincided with the address in the letter. The walls were constructed with sturdy brick and there was smoke wafting out of the chimney. As you predicted, the entirety of the property before you suggested wealth, just as the note and the delivery had.

You knocked on the door, the letter in your hand as you waited several long, cold moments before a woman greeted you. Most of her features matched Carmen's, deep olive skin and brown hair that was tied back. "You are late," she spoke, disdain clear in her voice as she ushered you through the open door and into a foyer. You were only late by a few minutes, according to the clock on a passing wall. "My mistress is impatient," the woman added as an afterthought as if that fact was supposed to faze you into an apology. Her accent was quite notable, pronounced, and sharp like the other servants.

As she led you to a winding staircase as your gaze trained on each room that you passed. They were each decorated in a modest fashion and the colors were left to a simple tan palette. It was more simple than you would have expected from the manor's proud exterior. The woman cleared her throat, "Doña, she has arrived," she knocked twice on the closed door before opening it, revealing another woman. She stood behind a mahogany desk, watching you with relaxed shoulders. The bay window behind her illuminated the silk of her beige dress, contrasting her tan skin as it hugged her slender figure. Beige was uncommon at the time, given the dullness of it, although this woman wore it like a badge, using the simple color to allow other parts of her appearance to stand out.

"Leave us, Andrea," the woman's gaze had yet to leave yours, causing you to look away in mild discomfort. Once the door was closed again, she extended her hand to you, speaking again as you cautiously shook it. Her grip was confident and warm against your bare palm. "It is my pleasure, Princess Helena. I feared you would disregard dear Carmen and Diego." You retracted your hand, the name causing you to meet her eyes again.

"Y/n," You corrected, your mouth running dry as you calculated each of your words, down to the syllable. This foreign woman was able to unravel each of your lies within the latest nine years and frankly, it took every bit of your skill to remain composed. The conman would assess the person standing in front of him and decide if they were entitled to the truth that they were trying to extract. He would run through each advantage and disadvantage and return to the same conclusion- murder was always an option. After all, it was the only sure way of containing sensitive information. "Y/n Y/l/n," you repeated, causing the woman to laugh, her rounded cheeks eclipsing her eyes.

"We may both employ our pseudonyms, then. Address me as Doña," she sat in the red, cushioned chair behind her. Doña raised her eyebrows at you expectantly as she motioned towards the decidedly less opulent wooden chair across from her. You complied, frowning at her as she leaned towards you. Her smile only seemed to expand. "I have a task for you, Y/n. Only you can complete it for me."

"I know there are other services in London you might have requested," you contradicted, sitting back in the uncomfortable chair as you showed no qualms in testing her.

"No," Doña said with a simple shrug of her slender shoulders, "I need you to eliminate the Earl Phantomhive- the Queen's Guard Dog who puts an end to anyone she names. The graveyard to his name exceeds even yours. Although... it seems to be watered with the blood of the innocent, instead," her smile finally melted, causing her red lips to lay in a natural frown. In the streets of London, her lip color was enough to impose any of the filthiest assumptions about her.

"How does this concern me, specifically?" You asked. As your interest piqued, your eyebrows furrowed and you found yourself leaning towards the edge of the desk, rather than sitting slack against the wooden chair. The notion of the proprietor of a children's company having blood on his noble hands was more endearing than anything, especially to someone such as yourself, living substantial evidence that no one was who they appeared to be.

Your eyes followed Doña's hand as she opened a drawer in the desk, pulling out a pristine, folded newspaper. The masthead read 'DIE SUEDLlCHE POST' (THE SOUTHERN POST), a German newspaper with the headline of 'PRINZESSIN MARIE-LOUISE GIBT IHRE VERLOBUNG MIT PRINZ ARIBERT VON ANHALT BEKANNT' (PRINCESS MARIE-LOUISE ANNOUNCES ENGAGEMENT TO PRINCE ARIBERT OF ANHALT). There was a picture within the columns of words of your twin sister as she sported a gaudy dress and faux-smile as she beckoned the public into her personal life. Seeing Marie's matured face resemble yours so flawlessly was disarming and you only remembered to release a breath you had been holding when Doña spoke again. "The Queen trusts the Earl implicitly- enough to put the safety of her granddaughter in his...capable hands. At any mere threat, the Princess will come overseas to stay under his protection," she paused, smiling again as she unfurled the groundwork of a meticulous plan. "The monarchy is quite predictable, no?"

You had to give her credit for her unwavering confidence. The idea that she implied was beyond mad and yet, she sold it well. "We intercept her transportation before she reaches the port," Doña raised her chin as she explained, her expression smug to challenge you. Someone had trained her to manipulate others, just as the conman had done for you. She was reflecting your body language, while keeping her own polished mannerisms as a subtle attempt to establish trust, but express her own certitude.

"And you intend for me to take her place," you finished mapping out her plan for her, almost speaking in disbelief. Reclaiming your past? Your sister represented the whole of what you had resented in Germany; the wealth, the social faux pas, down to each ruffle of every gown. "Kill the Earl within his own estate," you bit the inside of your bottom lip, keeping yourself in the present.

The door opened behind you, the startling sound of a crying baby caused you to jump and turn your head to the source. A frazzled Andrea, the servant who greeted you, held a crying infant in her arms as it squirmed. "Doña, su hija te necesita ahora," she said, offending you as again as the two individuals conversed in a foreign tongue, ignoring your confusion.

At the sight of the distressed child, Doña's expression curled such as milk did. Her nose wrinkled, her eyes staring at it in disdain. Her glowered response came quickly as she gestured with her hands, "debes llevártela. Andrea, deberías saber mejor que interponerme cuando estoy ocupado con los negocios."

Immediately, and to your relief, Andrea left the office with a mumbled curse that you couldn't decipher. The baby was still crying. "You never learned Spanish?" Doña mused, her hands slowly returning to the wooden surface that separated herself and you. At least you had been correct in assuming it was from a Latin dialect. "That was my daughter," she explained with a careless shrug, causing you to frown. Your mother always spoke of you with the same amount of indifference, if not more than what this woman expressed, calling her daughter a 'that'. Bearing witness to that treatment left you vulnerable to frustration, an emotion that distracted you from the clear thinking you were trained to maintain.

"Earl Phantomhive," you said, bringing her back on topic before she could fiddle with your strained heartstrings any more. "It's a personal vendetta, is it not?"

"Ah. Correct," her face grew serious again as she brought her heavy stare back to yours. For a moment, you looked down at the newspaper- at your beaming sister and her Prince. "The Earl killed my husband after my whole family," Doña said as she shifted in her seat. Her eyes pried into your soul as if she was weighing each of your sins and virtue against each other in that moment. "I cannot rest until he feels the same anguish. What do you say?" She asked, raising her thin eyebrows, leaning forward in her seat.

For the first time that afternoon, you understood the woman sitting before you. You understood the lingering pain behind every smile, the loneliness behind her confident handshake. For that, you didn't need her to prove that the Earl was deserving of just intervention when normally, you required a means that ensured you that you weren't being sent to murder an innocent. The Calverts allowed you to read the court records of Keating's failed prosecution. But in this case, you recognized the raw emotion in her face. You saw it weekly in your employers and it used to stare back at you in the mirror...before you grew.

"Fine," your shoulders relaxed as you shifted in on the wooden chair, tempted to retreat, the more she invaded your space.

"We will begin our preparations immediately, then. We may discuss the finer details over tea."

. . .

JANUARY 17TH, 1892

READING, ENGLAND

"Diego and Carmen have returned," Doña entered your room without the formality of knocking, even though Andrea was in the middle of preparing you for your arrival to the Phantomhive Manor while you were attempting to keep yourself present. You gave your toes a discrete wiggle while they were crushed in tall heels. At least the slight pain was grounding. "Your personal effects will be included with ours," she added as a suggestion for you to respond. Over the week you had spent in her presence, you learned that talking to her was an exhaustive endeavor when most of the time, all you needed to do was listen. Meanwhile, Andrea was finishing your complicated hairstyle behind you. She tied strands of your hair into braids that led into a single low ponytail behind your head. Frankly, the steps she took had you standing there for ages, but you didn't protest, as opposed to the riot you always threw in Germany.

"At last," you stared at your reflection in the mirror before you, willfully ignoring the addition of her behind you. It was almost difficult to recognize yourself, considering you were staring at the visage of your sister, Marie as you dawned a sky blue gown that was embroidered with white designs around the bodice and top petticoat. The neckline had simple ruffles that covered the top of your stomacher, alternating with lace. Your skin was smooth to touch, almost delicate with the amount of cold cream that Andrea had insisted on smothering over every inch of you each morning and night. Even the apples of your cheeks were lightened with a gentle hand of pink rouge. "Putting that off to the last day was careless."

"At least our princess needs not to remember her privilege," Doña smarted, her red lips pursing in a sardonic grin. "Only her grace."

"And what of the princess?" You asked, turning away from yourself to give the packed trunks in your room a quick once over. They were each packed with fine clothing and luxury products that Doña had procured over the week, whilst important belongings of your own had just arrived, according to the woman herself. The conman's watch stayed with you for each task, whether you wore it, forced it into your pocket bag, or wrapped around a garter.

"Her steamship was supposed to dock about an hour ago. It should be in the process of sinking in the North Sea." The words had no effect on you, other than perhaps, relief. While Marie was your sister, you grew up in her looming shadow, her constant jibes, and haughty smiles. Her death secured your role in perhaps, one of the most complicated schemes you have ever dared take part in and did well to rid the world of another self-absorbed leech. Doña's hand gave your shoulder a patronizing pat as she smiled, "peace, Y/n. Your face is too young for frown lines. Remember, princesses haven't a care."

"You would know?" you asked, pressing your lips together and gathering your breath in a shallow inhale. The statement affected you more than it should have, but you blamed the superior tone that Doña attempted to pull over you. Although there were many years separating the two of you, it gave her no right to treat you as a child. You believed that Evelyn Calvert said it best- you were a woman, a lady that deserved every brutal sentiment that the world had to offer. "I believe the monarchy in Spain ended years ago."

"Someone did their reading."

"Enough," you glared, "I believe it would be best to allow Andrea to finish here. Before I stain this gown with your-" Andrea gave your hair a slight tug to tighten the hold before she gave you a quick once over. She seemed proud of her work- turning a runaway back into a princess. Quickly she patted a bit of power over the exposed junction between your neck and shoulders, adding some to your throat. Rather than making you appear paler, it was mostly translucent and served as a more natural aromatic while hiding blemishes. Andrea then left and quickly returned with a white coat that ran down to your mid-thigh. Deftly, she buttoned down the middle of it, closing both sides with little effort, seeing as it was made to be snug over all of your tight layers.

"-No, I believe that is quite enough, Y/n. Don't forget- we are allies, love." Doña reminded you with a smile. "In fact, I retrieved something else of yours to prove it," her hand disappeared into the deliberate fold of her pocket bag, revealing a small box. It was a black velvet that was soft in your hand. "Go on, she prompted, nodding at the box with her chin, "open." Slowly, you opened the box as it revealed a breathtaking emerald ring. The band's soft rose gold shone in the sunlight that came through the windows as small diamonds lined its circumference and outlined the expensive gem itself.

It couldn't be-

Your breath hitched as you took the ring out, putting the box on the vanity to your side as you looked at the interior of the band, your eyes wide as the engraving read 'Prinzessin Helena Victoria, 5/3' (Princess). It was your family ring, the exact one that you had given to a young boy because he was too poor to buy himself a proper jacket. All he wanted were a few coins for you to buy his newspaper, but you had no currency at the time. Instead, you gave him the ring and changed his life, rather than allowing the damned thing to burden you any more than it already had.

"That ring has seen...nearly all of Europe before returning to you," Doña said as she watched you slide the ring back over your satin glove. It fit your ring finger perfectly. Marie was made a completely identical ring, emerald, rose gold, and diamonds. You shared the same birthdate with her, being twins. "It would have been wiser to procure hers, but we must make do. You may never take it off." She was right. Though the ring was in fact, a smart decision to make your appearance more legitimate, the engraving could just as easily be the end of you.

"I understand." You confirmed, with a generous inhale. You felt your chest expand against the confining corset you wore.

"Andrea, ¿está lista ahora?" (Andrea, is she ready now?) Doña asked the servant, who was cradling her daughter, a chubby infant in her skinny arms, seeing as she finished tending to you. Andrea was not given enough credit, seeing as she took care of you, the baby, and everyone else within the household. She seemed to be around the age of Doña herself, perhaps younger, though missing a ring on her own finger. You owed her more respect than Doña, seeing as she took the time to teach you bits of conversational Spanish. Sitting in that house for a week while most individuals spoke in their native tongue was frustrating to you, and she cared enough to alleviate some of that pressure.

"Yes. You all should be going. Marie would have been near to our destination." Andrea said, before leaving your room to presumably, get Diego and Carmen to load the carriage with the aforementioned trunks. She left you and Doña alone, in temporary silence.

"Diego and Carmen are escorting you," she spoke, ushering you to leave the room behind her and start to the carriage that waited in front of the brick manor. "They are dock workers to you since the Queen called for finesse; minimum security." Marie's steamship was private- it made sense that she'd only have a few individuals as personnel. Although, they were likely dead at the bottom of the sea with the intended princess. "I will be in contact," her eyes, once again, stared into you, but you refused to falter. At a time like this, it was important to appear confident, even when there was residual panic racing through you.

"I won't be long," you replied, quite sardonically. The Earl Phantomhive was just a boy, about two years younger than you. He had a butler and four servants and an opulent estate that gave you plenty of opportunities, space, and minimal witnesses. You have surmised much harder conditions in the past, considering you've posed as a maid and drowned a woman in her own bathtub since she kidnapped and sold little girls to the highest bidder. That case had reached a particular soft spot within you, although it made you sensitive to the scent of rose water.

For a moment, you were back in that bathroom. The steam of the heated water hit your face in droplets as the curvaceous woman thrashed, her knees peeking out of the water, kicking. She was screaming, but it was garbled by the water as she choked on it. You had to use both of your soapy hands to press her forehead against the porcelain tub and apply moderate pressure around her trachea before she went limp...

"I'm sure," Doña rolled her eyes as she opened the carriage door for you. Diego and Carmen came out the front door with the small trunks in their arms. Carmen's tan features were still warped in her perpetual scowl, but Diego beamed at you, his eyelashes fluttering. You squeezed your eyes closed before opening them again, repeating the process multiple times while wrinkling your nose. It was, naturally, still cold and unlike the staff, you were only given a coat and gloves to stay warm. How Doña stood her ground without sleeves in this weather was lost to you.

"Andrea, fixed you up real good, Your Highness," Diego said, leaving Carmen to finish packing the carriage as he approached you. He bowed at his waist, over-exaggerating the movement. You had come to the conclusion that he was an excitable puppy dog, personified in a man. It was hard to imagine a man like that had the nerve to use the handgun in his holster. You frowned, the sight of firearms never failing to unsettle you, despite your line of work.

Trap the gun.

You urged yourself to focus on the people in front of you and the task that was rapidly coming into fruition. "You ought to ask her for a hand," you shrugged dismissively, the jab subtle as you shrugged and showed yourself through the carriage door. You sat down on the cushioned seat, closing the door and staring out the window of the carriage. Though you could have afforded a simple goodbye to the staff, your growing demand to be alone was overwhelming. Even the carriage, though it was white and an unassuming beige upholstery lined the seats, you had to force yourself to stay present.

Felix Keating.

"Y/n, we're pulling out now!" Carmen's grumpy voice announced as she knocked twice on the closed door to get your attention. She and Diego were to be driving the carriage- as Doña said, they were acting as port attendants to substitute Marie's dead servants. Your fingers wrapped around the pommel of your dagger, giving it a long squeeze.

"Fine!" You responded, watching the street from your window as it slowly passed by, paired with the trotting hooves of the horse that dragged you to your possible demise.

. . .

JANUARY 17TH, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

The Phantomhive manor was on the outskirts of London, shielded within the countryside by a thin forest line. As it rolled into your sightline through the small window of the carriage, you shamelessly allowed yourself to gape at the sheer size of it- the height of the walls, the militant stone masonry, and expansive stone garden that surrounded the cobblestone path. The cobblestone caused the carriage to bump clumsily and you could hear the sound of the packed trunks shifting around, even though they sat in the front with Carmen and Diego. To you, having so much space for one person was simply a waste- you made do in a shoebox that was going to be comparable to a linen closet on this property.

There was no describing the intimidating grace of the noble manor that stood proudly before you- although it was the furthest from your first complicated infiltration and as much as you tried to repress it, grew up in a castle. However, even Glücksburg was feeble in comparison to the fortress that your carriage slowed to a stop in front of. Diego wasted no time in opening the door, allowing more of the afternoon light in. You shuddered as the cold, once again, attacked your face and outer extremities, despite the petticoats that Andrea had precariously piled under your gown.

"We have made it, Your Highness," the joke was obvious in Diego's face, the apples of his cheeks too perky with his enthusiastic smile. He needed some of Carmen's restraint while the latter required at least a semblance of his warmth.

Your Highness. The form address was foreign to you. It was nothing but a burden that weighed just as much as the genuine metal around your ring finger and the tight corset that restricted your torso. But this was your role- at least for the next week or so. Your smile was small enough to not seem horribly forced, though anything but enthused. Restraint was something Governess Lydia always stressed, making it one of the single things she had in common with the conman, who never let you forget about the strength of words. This task required you to heed lessons from the both of them, which was unfortunate, considering the conman represented the best two years of your life, while Governess Lydia was the embodiment of your poisonous girlhood.

"Your prudence is more than appreciated," you accepted his hand as he helped you down the two, rather short stairs of the carriage. This was it- now you were Princess Marie of Schleswig-Holstein. Her identity belonged to you- rather than a withering corpse in the sea- however Doña had managed to get her there. For your own sake, you found it easier not to ask. You didn't need the blood of your sister on your conscience while you embodied her likeliness. Or at least...what you could recall from your spoiled bias and hourly etiquette classes in the castle. "Thank you, Diego," you let go of his hand once you stood on your own feet. You didn't need to look at him to know that he was shaking his head, discouraged that you were being kind to him simply because you had to. Prior to the carriage ride, you'd told him to see Andrea and give her a chance to improve his scraggly appearance.

"Of course," he responded with a hasty bow. Diego shut the door with a slam, clumsier than he needed to be. You pretended that all of your doubts were conveniently left sitting on a cushioned seat- as dispensable as a glove. Confidence in your own vast skill sets was going to get you through this and the blade of your dagger between the Earl's ribs. "To the door, Your Highness. You'll catch cold." Diego led you to the door, leaving Carmen to unload your baggage. The door opened immediately after he knocked, revealing a simpering man.

"Wir heißen sie herzlich willkommen, Eure Hoheit. Ich hoffe, dass Ihre reise bis zu diesem punkt angenehm war.," (Our deepest welcome, Your Highness. I do hope your journey was pleasant to this point,) he spoke, his German succinct as if he was a native speaker himself. Following his practiced welcome, he bowed, the silver accessory that was pinned on his lapel moved as he did. A gloved hand pressed politely over his heart as he righted himself at your nod. In this case, you would have preferred him to speak to you in English, seeing as the whole of the experience was already quite out of body for you. "Bitte, treten sie ein." (Please, come in).

You complied, reluctantly crossing the tall threshold. Diego was behind you and silent as you took a moment to look over the barren foyer around you. "Sie haben ein schönes anwesen. Danke, dass sie mein Refugium beherbergen - Ihre Majestät kann mehr als exzessiv sein," (You keep a lovely manor. Thank you for housing my retreat- Her Majesty can be more than excessive,) you replied, noting the butler's endearing features. His face was pale as if the moon decided to bless him with natural illumination and in contrast, his hair fell in black tresses that framed his face. His smile was too perky for his darker disposition.

"Es ist unser privileg, mit ihrer sicherheit betraut zu werden." (It is our privilege to be entrusted with your safety.) The unctuous pleasantries were in excess. A little went a long way, especially for you, who tended to be brief towards every accessory- every pawn. As a girl, that efficiency labeled you as ill-mannered, as Lydia, the uptight Governess, cautioned you.

"Gibt es einen namen für sie?" (Is there a name to call you by?) It was more appropriate for his master- the rudely absent Earl, to introduce him properly, but you were growing weary of having no name to associate with the man. You tilted your head, thinly smiling at the butler who immediately stood to attention to respond. He had more effortless poise than you did, but at its essence, it couldn't be hard. Between your intense life in the monarchy was nearly a decade of living amongst the middle class and working for anyone with the fortune to pay you.

He bowed again, the palm of his right hand returning to his heart. "Natürlich. Mein Name ist Sebastian, mein meister-" (Of course. My name is Sebastian, my master-) he was interrupted by the door opening again, proceeding with three individuals and Carmen entering the foyer, bringing the trunks that were in the carriage. There were only six boxes, but the shorter boy out of the group was holding three heavy boxes instead of one.

"Sebastian! Where should we be putting these?" A woman asked rather loudly, as opposed to the smooth dulcet of Sebastian's German. Her voice had a clear, animated quirk of an English accent and it took you a moment to return your brain to the language, seeing as focusing on one at a time rather than two at once was simpler. Then you entered her sightline, causing her to shriek in surprise as she gasped. "Princess Marie- Your Highness!" she dropped the box, sinking into a clumsy excuse for a curtsy. At your side, you could hear Diego attempting to stifle his laughter. As for yourself, you weren't one for sudden noises and had to feign understanding. By the end of the day, your cheeks were going to ache from constantly having to smile.

"Your Highness, these are the other servants of the house," Sebastian finally spoke in English as he gestured with an arm to the two men and the woman. As the three other servants put the trunks down. The woman's face was red under her disproportionate glasses as she looked from the older man to the younger one at her sides, searching for validation for her abrupt enthusiasm. "Our gardener, Finnian-"

"-Finny!" He interrupted with a bright smile, before meeting Sebastian's eyes and shrinking. Finny cleared his throat, his gloved hand rubbing under the hat that covered the nape of his neck. "Please, um...call me Finny, Your Highness." In front of him were the three trunks that he had been carrying- stacked vertically. One alone was heavy for even yourself, but he seemed unaffected.

"Right...Mey-Rin, the maid," Sebastian continued. Mey-Rin's face was still red as she looked at Sebastian and then you, uncomfortable with the attention of the room on her. "Our cook, Baldroy."

Baldory seemed to be the most composed of the three. Notably, there were strands of grey in his blond hair as he regarded you with an easy simper, his shoulders relaxed. "Good to meet ya," he said with a simple nod of his head. His voice reminded you of the conman's- perpetually at ease.

"And ...Tanaka- the executive director of the Funtom Company," Sebastian said, guiding your attention to a small man that watched you from behind Baldroy's legs. He wore a monocle and seemed to hold a cup of tea as he bowed. The executive director of the Funtom Company was a frail man?

"Oh but, that's how he is- he rarely goes into his full size," Finny chimed in, once again, cutting himself off at Sebastian's pointed gaze. He only gave you more questions than he had answered. How was such a large estate taken care of by such a small cast of individuals?

"Might I ask about the Earl himself?" You didn't feel the need to properly introduce Carmen and Diego, seeing as they were only supposed to be distant dockworkers to you. Marie wouldn't have thought twice about them, seeing as she was her own sun, moon, and savior. Instead, she would be miffed that a mere Earl had the self-importance to show tardiness in meeting her.

"Our master should be with us in a moment. Please allow me to show you to his study," Sebastian said, easily making a transition from the exhaustive introductions to sitting in. "In the meantime; you three, take Her Highness's belongings to her quarters." This time, Baldroy picked up Carmen's neglected box as she stood at Diego's side. The three of them responded enthusiastically as if they were excited to be given a laborious task from their superior.

"Sure," you agreed, more than aware that this was going to be a temporary goodbye to Diego and Carmen, the final allies you'd speak to before heading into a minefield of social complexity, corsets, and lies. You turned to Diego, almost unsure of how to let him depart. It was almost pathetic of you, growing tongue-tied from a simple goodbye. The duo had no semblance of sentimental value to you. All you had was yourself, a dagger, and a large sum of money waiting for you.

"We leave you in capable hands, Your Highness," Diego smiled as he bowed, before quickly winking at you.

"Farewell," Carmen added, her expression illegible as she too, bowed and left with her counterpart.

"Right then," Sebastian led you up the massive staircase. Each step was narrow and troublesome but you attempted to tread smoothly. "Would you care for tea? You toiled through quite a long trip..."

. . .

Tags:

#ciel phantomhive #ciel x reader #black butler #black butler fanfic #strangers to lovers #anime fanfiction #sebastian michaelis #murder #angst #historical romance #historical fiction #victorian era #the indignant pawn #the woman in beige

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