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aquietlifesblog · 13 days ago

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Ravening Wolves (Dio x F!Reader) 12/?

"When it's all over," he breathes, "when I stand supreme, and am no longer a slave to fate... I shall show you heaven..."

At long last, the time has come to set your grand scheme in motion: the elimination of Jotaro Kujo and Dio's glorious resurrection. The Age of Heaven is near, and you won't let the Joestars stop you—no matter how hard they fight. You've defied fate and death for Dio. Perhaps one day you'll tell him how you feel. A sequel to 'Hungry Eyes.'

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First Chapter | Masterlist |

Chapter 12: Through the Grapevine

Time moves at a snail's pace, and for once you're eager for the end of the night. But the clock reads 2:28 am, and you've little else to do but read.

The library here is small yet terribly organized, as the previous owner valued aesthetics over coherency. A pity that consideration didn't carry into the bed chambers. Yet still, after a while, beneath the glow of a warm yellow lamp and framed prints of famous paintings, you begin to feel serene. Your prior conversation with Dio drifts to the back of your mind as you gaze upon a leatherbound book, its facade dyed blue and white. 'An Introduction to Law: Volume I,' the indented gold letters read. There is no volume II or III.

"What a waste," you muse, as a wistful smile graces your face.

A century ago, when humanity still coursed through your veins, Dio allowed you to read his textbooks and essays.

The Victorian age wasn't kind to women like you—the era was unkind to anyone who fell outside the bounds of 'high society’—so the words within those pages were a cherished escape.

Now, as you turn the pages, nostalgia washes over you like a gentle wave. Your frustrations with Dio momentarily fade as you lose yourself in memories of those late nights.

It was the kitchen maid who helped you learn to read after your mother died, believing you would make a better scullery if you could follow a recipe and fetch a list of groceries. Of course, you didn't stop there. You remember snatching Erina's school books from the table, then the novels from Lord Pendleton's desk. You kept a small dictionary beneath your threadbare mattress and used it to decipher terms you didn't understand.

You remember meeting with Dio behind that old abandoned barn, demanding he share everything he knew. And despite his scoffs and eye rolls, Dio rarely denied you. He loved to hear himself talk, after all, and you loved to listen, to understand. Dio gave you what the world denied, and you won't ever forget that, no matter how annoying he can be.

You smile, but your attention is stolen by the sound of footsteps in the hall.

"Vanilla Ice!" your voice rings out, halting him just outside the doorway. "Come, come. Take a moment to sit with me, won't you?" With a graceful shift, you make room upon the plush navy loveseat.

"I cannot. Lord DIO has given me a task," he responds with a nod.

"A task?" You repeat. "What kind of assignment has Dio given you? Perhaps I'll come along."

“I cannot say and you cannot tag along."

"Oh?" Your head tilts to the side, intrigued by his secrecy. A moment of silence passes between you before you smile once again, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"Are you certain you want to assist Dio tonight? Wouldn't you prefer to spend the evening with me?" You suggest, adopting a low, flirtatious tone. "We could stay here and read together, or perhaps take a stroll along a secluded beach. I could even help you catch a few beetles here and there. What was it you were so keen on, another rainbow scarab?"

Vanilla Ice says nothing, though a subtle look of exasperation underlines his stoic features.

"No," he replies, blunt and unyielding.

Feigning disappointment, you let out a dramatic sigh.

"You're breaking my heart, Ice. "

"That's rather unfortunate," he retorts, and you laugh.

"Very well; I'll patiently await your return, anticipating tales of the grand adventure you took without me," you lean back, relaxing into your chair. "And then perhaps when you return—"

He's already gone by the time you look up, and the dim halls echo with your laughter as he disappears into the night.

Vanilla Ice, cloaked in the shadow of the night, arrives at the hotel, just as unpleasant as DIO said it would be. Cream renders his movements unseen as he floats above the patrons and the colorful furniture, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

As he searches for his target, he observes a mother take a photo of her child near the replica spacesuit, a couple becoming cozy at the bar, and a group of friends clinking their glasses together in celebration of a divorce that recently took place. He never liked such crowded places. He was always too bulky, too tall to disappear into a crowd. Someone would always try to speak with him, though they rarely had interesting things to say. Places like this are a breeding ground for pests, he thinks, which is how he knows Midler is there.

It doesn't take much time to spot her, clad in a bright yellow dress amongst a group of rowdy 20-somethings. He follows her throughout the night, though time seems to drag on. Had Lord DIO not told him not to draw attention, he would have snatched her away from the group.

At some point, everyone cheers as an elderly waitress emerges with a round of colorful drinks, and the 20-somethings decide to leave for another bar. Midler isn't invited to join them. One even calls her 'miss' as he thanks her for the fun night.

He notices Mariah, waving Midler over, seated with Kenny G across the bar. But, for some reason, Midler denies her.

So Finally— finally—he finds the perfect moment to strike. Midler takes the elevator to her room and sways down the narrow halls, disgruntled because she'll be spending the night alone. After fishing for her key, she swings the door open and steps inside.

It's a sizable room with soft white carpet, a queen-sized bed, and a navy couch adorned with plush purple pillows. There's nothing particularly wrong with the room, but he recalls Midler's fondness for unnecessary luxury.

With a sigh, she goes to close the door but stumbles, unsteady on her feet as she kicks away her heels. She moves to try again but Vanilla Ice steps into the doorframe behind her.

Despite her inebriated state, Midler summons High Priestess by instinct as she whips around to face him, but Cream is already there, ready by his side.

"Vanilla Ice," she addresses him with disdain, despite the tangible fear in her eyes. "To…to what do I owe the pleasure?" She attempts nonchalance, leaning against the popcorn wall as High Priestess slips inside. Vanilla Ice catches the subtle movement, and Cream moves in closer, its cold breath chilling Midler's face.

"You have become a nuisance," Vanilla Ice repeats the words DIO told him.

Midler, sensing the gravity of the situation, thinks carefully about her response. Her heart thunders in her chest, beating like drums of war, but her nervousness cedes as a realization hits her, and her lips pull into a cocky smirk.

"So I was right about where he lives?" she speaks, but Vanilla Ice remains unamused. He will not allow Midler’s delusions to keep him from his task.

"Lord DIO's patience runs thin, as does mine. What do you want, woman?" Vanilla Ice asks, his voice cold.

"He gave me a special mission," she declares with unwarranted conviction. His rejection, she thinks, was a mere test—a trial designed to gauge her dedication and determination to earn his forgiveness. "Once I fulfill it, he will take me back. You can't hurt me, Vanilla Ice. I have a purpose from Lord DIO...he would never leave me with nothing."

As she speaks, Vanilla Ice thinks back to the countless men and women who fell victim to DIO's seductive allure. He reveled in the desperation of people like Midler. He took pleasure in humiliating them, in making them perform in ways that pleased him. He used their bodies for pleasure and sustenance and discarded them once he was done. Then the next fool would appear, each convinced their fate would be different, that they were the exception as they trod across a line of corpses, their bodies still warm.

Some nights, Lord DIO would invite Vanilla Ice to join him, to revel in the hedonistic symphony of the night. The partners didn’t matter, not really, because he knew they’d be dead by dawn’s light, that he would be the only one left at his Lord DIO's side.

He never pitied them. No. He hated the fools who dared to think they were anything more than a means to an end. Midler is like the others, he thinks, a pathetic fool unaware of how inconsequential her status was before his Lord.

"You will not show your face before Lord DIO until he demands it.” He declares, fixing Midler with a deadly stare. “Lord DIO has all he needs. Do not forget your place."

“My place?” She repeats narrowing her eyes. “What makes you think you're any better than me? Everyone knows you're just a lapdog, fetching whatever scraps Lord DIO throws your way. Don't delude yourself into thinking you're special," Midler hisses, and her every word drips with venom, a venom that does nothing but melt away his stoic facade. He doesn't say a single word as his thinly veiled restraint snaps. Vanilla Ice lunges forward with a speed that catches her off guard.

High Priestess, still merged into the wall, reveals itself with a menacing glare, its teeth bared in silent warning. Vanilla Ice, however, doesn’t care.

He doesn’t even call upon Cream.

With a single motion, he grabs Midler by the hair. His fingers tighten around her long, silky strands before he throws her back against the wall on the other side of the room. A full-body mirror threatens to collapse as the impact resonates through the room with a sickening crack. Her defiant expression wavers, replaced by a mixture of shock and pain as Vanilla Ice stands above her, his foot digging into her side. The dim light cast distorted shadows over his features, emphasizing the points of his teeth and the violent intent behind his eyes.

He would kill her now, but that isn't what DIO wants.

"You won't be warned again," Vanilla Ice threatens, his voice deep. He continues to glare as he beckons Cream forward.

He allows the Stand to envelop him whole and then, in a surge of incredible force, he bursts through the wall leaving a gaping hole and chaos in his wake. The broken wall and the havoc he leaves behind are inconsequential to him, however. All that matters is his mission; DIO's assurance that you retain your peace of mind.

Returning to the estate, Vanilla Ice is met with quiet surroundings, a stark contrast to the busy hotel. As he makes his way down the hall, Vanilla Ice passes by the library and his gaze is drawn to you, still lounging on the loveseat, engrossed in your were reading.

You smile at Vanilla Ice as he stops by the entry, just where he was before.

"Finished already?" you inquire, your attention never leaving the book in your hands.

"I've completed my task for the evening," Vanilla Ice responds, and you instinctively shift on the loveseat.

“Thank you.”

Vanilla Ice’s brows furrow. Puzzled by your gratitude, he settles on the belief that you're grateful for his measly company. Despite this, he senses there's more to your words, something he can't quite pinpoint.

Your gaze doesn't leave the pages of the book, however, but you can sense the shift in Vanilla Ice's demeanor. There's a subtle softening, a relaxation in the air that wasn't there before.

“I’m still free for that stroll through the garden,” you tease him, a playful glint in your eye. “Let's spend the night together.”

"The beach," he corrects you. "Where you will assist me in the capture of beetles."

"Ah, you remember that part, do you?"

"I won't forget," he informs you, an underlying threat in his voice, the type of threat only friends can share. "Though our night together will have to wait. That is if you're certain you can handle such a thrilling venture." He nods with mock formality and departs before you find a fitting retort to his unexpected humor.

Reporting to DIO is his priority.

However, as he traverses the familiar path to DIO's bedroom chambers, the echoes of your laughter fill his ears and his thoughts drift back to the day he learned of your existence.

The air was thick with the scent of incense, as he and DIO basked in the afterglow of sex. It was in that intimate moment that Dio chose to speak of you, his words intertwined with a warmth Vanilla Ice never heard before.

The mere mention of your name fueled a surge of worry and rage within him. He was ready to despise you, he did despise you, he despised all those who dared to encroach upon Dio's world—people like Pucci, Midler, Mariah, Hol Horse, Terrance D'arby— all those who failed to worship his Lord DIO sufficiently.

He despised you when you met, but time softened his perception. Your dedication to DIO and your drive to fulfill his goals was more than just commendable, it earned you his respect. And with you, there was none of the tension, resentment, or fear that soured his interactions with DIO’s other agents (barring, of course, Pet Shop,) you regarded him politely, gave him a new leg to stand on (quite literally,) and included him in all your scheming.

And, perhaps most remarkably, is the simple fact that DIO truly adores you, that you have a special place in his world.

And if Lord DIO adores you, Vanilla Ice thinks, it's permissible for him to harbor such adoration as well.

But as he approaches DIO's chambers, Vanilla Ice pushes these thoughts aside.

He needs to report his success.

Dio doesn’t move. Seated on the bed as Vanilla Ice kneels before him, Dio turns the page of an old leatherbound book, a truly rare and interesting text that spoke to the real-life experience of the maidservants in the 1910s, painting a vivid picture of the isolation felt by the women and girls in the lowest rungs of society.

"Vanilla Ice, how did you fare? Has Midler remembered her place?" He inquires.

“Yes, Lord DIO.” Vanilla Ice recounts his 'conversation' with Midler, his words measured and precise. "I made it abundantly clear where she stands within your priorities. She now understands the consequences of overstepping your boundaries."

"You’ve done well, as always.”

“Thank you,” he nods, his unwavering loyalty evident with every breath.

“I suppose we should discuss your reward, then.” Dio sets the book aside and regards Vanilla Ice with intrigue.

"My service to you is reward enough, Lord DIO. I require no further compensation." Dio, however, chuckles, and the magnificent sound echoes through the chamber.

"You shall have whatever I wish to give you, or have you forgotten?" he smirks, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “You’ve more than earned a reward.”

"As you wish, my Lord. Your will is my command." Vanilla Ice concedes with a deep bow.

Dio, satisfied and amused, leans back, shifting his weight to a single muscular arm.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting something for yourself, Ice. It's alright to desire," Dio watches as he absorbs his words.

Vanilla Ice, though unaccustomed to such notions, nods in acknowledgment.

"If it is your will, Lord DIO."

"We shall see what desires unfold in the nights to come."

As Josuke and Hol Horse emerge from the airport, they are immediately engulfed in the vibrant culture of the city. The air carries an enticing blend of scents—warm food, the rich aroma of espresso, and the gentle whisper of the sea-salt breeze. The streets pulsate with a lively hum of conversation, creating a song that fills the air.

But as they make their way through the bustling crowd, Josuke collides with a darkly dressed boy with a mop of black hair, around 13 or 14 years old. He speaks in a soft voice and gestures towards their luggage, attempting to communicate. However, the language barrier becomes all too evident as both Josuke and Hol Horse exchange apologetic glances, incapable of understanding the boy's rapid-fire speech.

"Sorry," Josuke begins in slow English, "we don’t speak Italian."

The boy looks at Josuke, green eyes narrowed slightly as though he’s seeing the older teen for the first time.

Hol Horse looks between them both but refrains from speaking despite his desire to point out the uncanny resemblance between the two. He doesn’t want to appear…insensitive by suggesting all East Asian boys look alike.

Unperturbed, the boy shrugs off the miscommunication and swiftly walks away. Josuke watches him leave before turning his attention toward the long line of tourists waiting for a taxi. He hopes they accept American credit cards, he thinks as he slips both hands into his pockets, only to find that they are empty.

A wave of realization crashes over him then – he's fallen victim to a pickpocket.

“What the hell?”

Annoyance etches across Josuke's face as he thinks about that boy. He must have taken the arrow when he bumped into him, a classic scheme.

“We need to follow that kid!” Josuke squats down and tears into his luggage, ignoring the strange looks he receives from the people walking by. He searches for the broken pieces of the arrow's shaft, pieces he kept for this exact reason.

Before they went their separate ways, Polnareff suggested they both take a piece and that they try to break the arrowhead in two.

“Just a piece of it should have the same effect,” he theorized. It was their way to ensure they could find one another once they got to Florida, as well as a means of survival should anything happen and they needed to summon the power of Requiem. He can’t allow it to fall into the hands of some petty thief.

Finding the broken pieces, he activates Crazy Diamond's restoration ability. Though even as he does, an odd sensation washes over him– an innate feeling that he can track the boy without the use of his Stand.

Was it the arrow that called to him, or something different entirely?

Strange feeling aside, Josuke and Hol Horse surge forward, sheer determination propelling them toward the heart of Naples.

The city sprawls out before them like a painting, a vibrant canvas of vendors, bikers, and easygoing crowds. Narrow streets wind through the city like an intricate maze, a labyrinth sheltered beneath flower-filled balconies and old buildings. Neither stop to notice the dark dealings in the shadows of the fair city.

Spotting the boy up ahead, Josuke extends Crazy Diamond's power, aiming to retrieve the stolen arrowhead. The boy, blissfully unaware of the invisible force working on his pocket, navigates the crowd with little urgency. However, when his power takes hold of his target, it's not the arrowhead he retrieved. Instead, a small turtle is sent soaring through the air.

Recoiling in disgust, Josuke releases his Stand's power, the turtle falls to the ground unharmed.

"What the hell?" he exclaims, a mix of horror and repulsion etched across his face. Hol Horse, seizing the opportunity, scoops up the tiny turtle and examines it with a bemused expression that makes Josuke cringe.

"Why in God's name did this little fella come flyin’ out?" Hol Horse asks him.

“I don't know, but that thing might be dangerous!” Josuke takes a step away.

“Well, you’re the one who brought it to us.” Hol Horse reminds him.

“There’s no way Crazy Diamond could mess this up!” Josuke exclaims. “Look, the arrowhead must be... somewhere in there,” Josuke mutters, gesturing toward the turtle warily. Questions swirl within his mind – did the turtle consume his half of the arrow? How could it have survived doing so? Was the turtle a stand user now? What sort of stand would it manifest? The bizarre possibilities leave Josuke’s mind unsettled. “What kind of freak keeps a turtle in his pocket anyway?”

“Give it a shot, see if you can fish it out,” Hol Horse suggests, extending the tiny creature toward Josuke before tipping his hat toward a woman walking by.

"Ugh." With a frown, Crazy Diamond reaches out his hand slowly—very slowly, as Josuke dictates. Eventually, he touches the turtle with a single finger and a shiver runs up Josuke’s spine as he feels the impression of the shell. His expression contorts with a mixture of disgust and anticipation as, to both his and Hol Horse’s surprise, the turtle undergoes a seamless transformation, glowing both gold and pink as it morphs into the arrowhead.

As Josuke contemplates the strange turn of events, an uneasy feeling settles in the pit of his stomach. The realization dawns on him – the pickpocket was a Stand user the whole time, he had to be.

Life in Naples is different from what he's used to in Morioh, but the thought of a Stand user prowling the vibrant streets leaves him on edge. But before he can dwell on it further, Hol Horse interjects with a more pressing concern.

“Did that kid manage to lift anything other than the arrowhead?”

Josuke pats his pockets, then across his chest. It doesn’t take long for him to realize that the boy swiped his wallet as well. Irritation flickers across his face and a dangerous aura seems to surround him as he laments the audacity of the thieving boy.

"Before you go blowin' your top, consider this," Hol Horse begins, his tone measured. "What if that kid went for the arrow on purpose?" he scans their surroundings for any signs of suspicious activity, as though an enemy would emerge from the crowd. But Josuke, still fuming about his stolen wallet, scoffs at the idea.

"There’s no way Dio’s sending some punk ass kid after the arrow, even if he did know about it.”

Hol Horse, however, maintains a cautious demeanor.

"Don’t underestimate Dio's methods, Josuke. He's got all sorts of agents workin’ for him – from animals to babies. If he knows about that arrow and its power somehow, he might've sent someone to try and snatch it.”

Josuke thinks back on Silver Chariot’s mysterious power. He wouldn’t put it past you or Dio to be one step ahead, and as that realization sinks in, Josuke's anger shifts to a more focused determination. He clenches his fists, ready to confront the challenges that lie ahead.

"You're right…We need to figure out our next steps."

“Let's make haste,” Hol Horse suggests, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the accommodation vouchers given to them by the airport staff. "Let's get off these streets before we get an even bigger target on our backs."

Following Hol Horse's lead, the duo begin retracing their steps, aiming to find the hotel and secure their safety. But they navigate the vibrant city Josuke scans the faces in the crowd, half-expecting to catch a glimpse of the mysterious boy.

Unbeknownst to them, concealed within the branches of newly sprung trees, the young pickpocket watches their every move as they retreat.

‘That tourist,’ he thinks, ‘could he possibly have the same kind of ability as I do?’

Josuke and Hol Horse spend their time idling in the hotel room. Josuke is grateful to still have his passport and Hol Horse is grateful for the cute lady at the desk who gave them a room with a view. But, despite the relaxing atmosphere and delicious food, Josuke can't help but worry about the young thief's identity. Hol Horse might have been afraid to say it, but Josuke knows their resemblance was uncanny.

An unwelcome thought enters his mind then; the idea that he isn't Joseph's only illegitimate son. But the very thought makes him uneasy, almost sick, so he tries to enjoy what's on TV and allows the day to pass without incident.

They return to the airport around 7 in the morning. Hol Horse is eager to put some distance between himself and whatever agents Dio might have lurking, while Josuke has his eyes peeled for the thief and any other suspicious activity. They pass the long line of taxi cabs and Josuke checks his breast pocket, where the arrowhead is now tucked securely. Josuke isn't sure he can explain it, but it feels restless somehow, as if it wants to fly free. Josuke feels it too, or rather he feels something that pulls his attention toward the entry.

"Excuse me." Amid the airport traffic, a gentle voice cuts through the crowd, addressing Josuke in Japanese. Josuke turns and a familiar figure emerges, a kid, perhaps 13 or 14, dressed in pink. The boy approaches with a calm demeanor, though his large green eyes scrutinize Josuke completely.

"You!" Josuke begins, recognizing the young thief from the previous day. "You've got a lot of nerve showing up here! Did you think bleaching your hair would keep me from recognizing you?" Josuke curls his hand into a fist. He isn’t afraid to beat up some middle-school-aged kid.

The boy, however, only narrows his eyes at Josuke. He has his own reasons for being here, questions that demand an answer.

"Just who are you?" he asks, "and what have you done to me?" A breeze filters in through the door as another wave of travelers enter, rustling the tresses of his long golden hair.

The boy woke this morning as he always did: with the rising sun gleaming through the window, casting a honey glow upon his tiny room. As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he became aware of an unusual weight on his head. He laid still for a moment, unsure of what he was feeling. Surely his step-father hadn’t done anything, not after so many years of begrudging peace.

When he finally did sit up, he touched his head and found that his once dark locks had now grown longer and turned a striking shade of blond. More than that, his hair arranged itself into a mullet, a style that felt completely out of place. Both confused and horrified, he stared at himself in the mirror, struggling to reconcile the reflection with the image he'd always known.

He looked like someone else, someone he had never truly known.

The boy had no dye to cover what happened or scissors to cut his hair, but he felt the need to regain a semblance of control. So, he meticulously styled his bangs into three distinct victory curls, a style he saw in Vogue Italia. As the curls took shape beneath his fingers, the boy couldn't shake off the events of the previous day, particularly his encounter with Josuke. That encounter marked the first time he encountered someone with abilities similar to his own and he's certain this transformation is the result of that encounter. After all, Josuke's hair looked ridiculously out of place too. Did he curse him or something? No, that couldn't be it. But perhaps it had something to do with that golden shard he stole.

Driven by his curiosity and something that felt greater still, the boy felt compelled to return to the airport, return to confront Josuke.

And now that he's found him, he wants his questions answered. So, with a calm yet purposeful demeanor, he hands it over to Josuke in an attempt to make a trade: the stolen wallet for the information he seeks, but the air remains thick with unspoken tension.

Josuke snatches the wallet from the boy's outstretched hand, a mixture of relief and irritation flashing across his face. He quickly inspects its contents, his fingers moving over the familiar items within. His school ID, Joseph's credit card, and the cherished picture of him, his grandpa, and his mom were all there, but a subtle shift in placement betrayed the boy's meddling. Everything he valued remained intact, except, of course, his money.

"You little brat!" Josuke turns toward him again. "Give me my money!" But the boy, undeterred by Josuke's hostility, met his gaze evenly.

“The money is gone. I traded it with someone who collects foreign currency,” the boy explains casually, almost dismissively. He notes to himself the way his question went ignored and then explains the meager benefits of his transaction. Josuke only had enough to buy dinner, ice cream, and last week's issue of Vogue. His carefree attitude, however, grates on Josuke's nerves, and he feels the tension rising.

Hol Horse, sensing Josuke's anger, steps forward, attempting to calm the situation.

"Easy there, Josuke. Let's not make a scene," Hol Horse suggests, his tone placating. However, Josuke, fueled by frustration, ignores the advice. He grabs the boy by the collar, his patience wearing thin. Anyone who saw them gave the duo a wide birth, and decided to mind their business, seeing this as a childish dispute between siblings.

"Pay me back my money, right now!"

"I already told you I don't have it."

"Then give me yours," Josuke demands, his voice sharp. The boy, seemingly unfazed, contemplates the request for a moment.

“You don't know me, so you wouldn't know this, but I don’t like to repeat myself,” he explains, reaching for his wallet.

“And I don’t like punk kids with shitty attitudes,” Josuke snatches the wallet from his hand and releases the boy, pushing him back slightly. The boy's annoyance rises to match Josuke's and he shoots him with a defiant glare.

Twice now his questions have been ignored.

Violence is almost a foregone conclusion as the standoff between the two becomes heated. Hol Horse looks around, worried that someone might call security, but as Josuke opens the boy's wallet, all that tension turns to ice.

Josuke’s attention is immediately stolen by something unexpected and he stares at it with wide eyes. There's a photograph tucked within the folds of the boy's wallet—a photograph of Dio himself.

Pure hatred and accusations rush to the forefront of his mind, and he doesn't hesitate to voice his suspicions.

"So you are one of Dio’s agents after all!" He summons Crazy Diamond without waiting for a reply. The boy, however, doesn't back down. In response to seeing Josuke's power, he summons his companion, and a lean golden figure manifests beside him, ready for whatever confrontation may unfold. And while the airport remains oblivious, more questions unfold in the boy's mind.

"I don't want to fight you. I only want answers. You said 'Dio' just now, didn't you?” He repeats the name of the man he’s never known. “Tell me, how do you know my father? Did he send you here?"

Josuke glances at Hol Horse, their eyes meeting in silent shock.

The revelation hangs heavy in the air, an unexpected connection that neither of them anticipated.

"Father?" Josuke repeats. "You're saying Dio is your dad?" Looking at him now, with his golden hair and soft features, the resemblance to Dio is uncanny. But, perhaps more disconcerting, was the lack of true hostility he sensed from him. There was a certain gentleness about the boy, something familiar yet distant at the same time.

“I mean," Hol Horse mutters. "Dio was no stranger to entertainin' ladies, but...” It was no secret that Dio killed the woman he engaged with, desiring both their bodies and their blood. He wouldn't have allowed one to leave, not willingly. But Hol Horse remembered the day he first entered Dio's treasury, the day he stumbled upon Dio's leftovers lying on the floor.

There were three of them, all beautiful women, each scantily clad with marks on their necks, the telltale signs of having been drained of blood. He thought they were dead at first, thought they deserved their fates for picking a man like Dio. But then he heard it, the faintest whisper of a moan.

He tried to ignore them, tried to walk away, but in a moment of clarity, a moment of bravery, he turned back for the women, held their trembling forms in his arms, and carried their bodies from the mansion. He couldn't let himself be seen with them, so he shoved the three into a taxi, gave the driver money, and ordered him to drive the women to the nearest hospital. Could one of those women have been the boy's mother? Or did she manage to escape on her own?

Hol Horse never knew why he saved those women, but it wasn't something he came to regret. He hopes he won't come to regret it now.

“What’s your name, kid?” Hol Horse asks and the boy draws his brows together. He’s learned English in school, enough to understand and be understood.

“My name is Giorno Giovanna,” the boy answers, “and this is the third time you’ve ignored me.”

There won’t be a fourth.

It was around 11 pm when it happened. The sun had long since set, and there was a soft, distant pull upon his psyche as if something burst to life far away.

Though he was far too busy to acknowledge it, too preoccupied by the demands of the night.

You decided to grace his presence earlier in the evening, the soft click of the door sealing the outside world away.

"...It seems there were no further sightings of that woman lurking about," you informed him. "Cool J performed a full sweep."

"I did say I would take care of it, did I not?" Dio replied with a self-satisfied air.

"Ah, 'you' took care of it, did you? 'You,' who is known to handle things yourself? I suppose I should thank you for taking on such strenuous efforts." Leaning in, you dragged a finger down his chest. He felt the pull then, but the curves that lay beneath the lace of your gown were far more worthy of consideration.

The candles on the mantlepiece flickered, casting an enchanting glow on his sharp, golden gaze. And, with a playful smile, you brushed back his hair.

"Come to me after midnight, Dio. I’ll see to it you enjoy the full benefits of my gratitude.” You promise in a low, seductive voice.

And as he watched you leave him, Dio chose not to concern himself with whatever it was the Joestars were doing.

He held the upper hand, and with Heaven just a few days away, he relished in the fact that his victory was assured.

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saltysaltdog · 9 months ago

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I think there's more you can add to this.

The clipped way Narinder speaks about Ratau almost reads like a pep talk. This is what happened. Here's something about the rat's personality I didn't like, this bad thing happened because of it, thus he is bad, so it's good actually that he's gone, you did good!

It's similar to what he does upon your first death.

"Fear not, for you are my chosen vessel and death cannot halt you. I shall not allow it, for I still have need of you. Take what you have gathered. Build and strengthen the cult. Continue on, undaunted. Each time you are brought down you rise again stronger."

A bad thing happened. it is not a problem, here's what you do, this is still a good thing/progress.

This is arguably because it is a pep talk for the lamb, as whatever the player feels the lamb in the cut scene has tear specks and this hurt them. Whatever Narinder feels has to be buried in this moment, lest he lose the lamb forever but some of it still creeps out into his speech.

"Your treacherous opportunism has far exceeded my expectations." This is not a good thing. Narinder was betrayed by his siblings and constantly reminds you that your power is borrowed. This is the last trait he wants in his vessel. Unfortunately however, he's stuck with you, especially after you've deposed Ratau.

"I sent him to aid you, but..." You've gone against his wishes, but he consoles himself that this is His Own doing. He urged you to be ruthless, to do "unspeakable" things, and you've done that. He's still in control here. This is his fault, he worded it wrong, didn't make himself clear, and now he needs to assure you that this was a fine action.

As a side note, this post brought up a good point that it does sound like Narinder is still in contact with Ratau while having the lamb as a vessel, beyond him first being sent to you. Ratau's first words to you are also "Fear not!" Just like Narinder, showing that Ratau admires him or speaks to him enough that the line is ingrained into his brain.

"Treacherous" implies that there was something to betray. Arguably Ratau should be just a guy, less than a follower as he's retired and can't be bossed around. You've made no deals with him, there's no promises, but obviously to the characters there was an innate understanding, one the player is only privy to after Ratau dies and his unfinished letters are yours to read.

Even if it's one sided, Ratau views you as family. An extra twist of the knife for Narinder, who must be privy to it. But he pretends this means your bond to him must be stronger than even that of a parent. No matter what he feels, he has to praise you. "Very well done."

This is also how Ratau praises you if there's a draw in knuckle bones. As if Narinder can't help but to get in one final jab against the lamb.

Narinder calls three people weak. Ratau, Shamura, and the lamb.

Mercy is what he considers weakness. Shamura by granting him relief from his solitude(or not killing him) and Ratau from his reaction of becoming unwilling to become ruthless after seeing permanent loss.

By denying mercy you become like him. A trait he feels at least some guilt about when it comes to (most) of his siblings. You can almost learn more about Narinder by how others react to him than directly from the cat himself.

Some Narinder character analysis for y’all.

This is a slightly re-edited excerpt from a much longer post of mine where I was specifically trying to provide a rebuttal to someone else. I’m kinda proud of some of my takes here and the write up took me hours so I’m gonna repost it here on its own.

I’m going into specifically into Narinder’s

Speech patterns and way of expressing emotions.

Implications of his post defeat dialogue

Relationship with Aym and Baal

Feelings on Ratau’s death

And a little extra on why do we “babygirl” Narinder

Full analysis under the cut.

The way Narinder expresses his positive feelings

First I gotta establish Narinder’s voice. Narinder seems almost incapable of giving a genuine compliment especially without turning it into something about himself.

Here’s three examples of him giving a complement to The Lamb. Taken from after defeating Amdusias and Shamura. He also complements The Lamb when you sacrifice Ratau but I’ll come back around to that.

I wanted to grab the entire quotes so it didn’t look like I was nitpicking.

"Very good, my vessel. It seems I chose well when I kept you from Death.”

First example, “very good,” is the complement, but immediately after he takes credit for this by calling you “my vessel” thereby claiming ownership over you. His vessel did well. And again “I chose well” doubled down and complemented himself.

“I admit, you have worn it (the red crown) almost as well as I could have myself.”

Again we see the complement layered in ego. “Almost as well as I” in other words you did well, but don’t forget I’m better. Also important to draw attention to is “I admit” this is a very explicit statement of his refusal to acknowledge the success of others.

"Your appetite for death is something I can admire, Vessel. But the Crown is mine, and none - NONE - are worthy. None other than I.”

Here he almost lays down a complement. “Your appetite for death is something I can admire” straight up, states his admiration. He seems to almost realize what he’s done and quickly pulls back into his ego, “But the crown is mine” “-none are worthy- None other than I.”

These are the three of the four ONLY times that Narinder ever says anything explicitly positive about someone else when he is a god. Thus establishing that the head ass cannot give out a compliment to save his life. The one time he gives you full credit for your actions he immediately pulls right back into his ego.

I cannot stress this enough. Someone who is characterized as cold and emotionally closed off as Narinder is WILL NOT suddenly undo this characteristic when they try and express a positive feeling.

Okay with that established we can look at his follower dialogue. Specifically these two examples from when you resurrect a follower and allow him to go on a mission.

“I cannot begrudge supplantation by one such as yourself.”

Literally saying I don’t resent you for taking my place. It’s not an explicit statement that he respects you but this is he weird fucked up little way of saying it. Of course he still lays it out in a way that’s self centred but we know from the way he has spoken that this is about as much verbal praise he is capable of giving.

The other one is a less explicit statement but I think it’s a interesting reflection of the final place of his character.

“…my thanks, Lamb.��

Being his last bit of unique dialogue, it’s an incredible ending to a character. He thanks you. That’s all he needed to say.

Narinder’s reaction to his defeat that he would rather die.

Let’s go over his dialogue in some depth.

"You weak, snivelling, foul thing. You - wait! Waaaiiiiiit!"

I’m starting with this line as it compels me the most. I find that there are two separate readings of this and I can’t really point to one above the other. On my play through I had assumed his wailing was more in reference to being denied death. It could also be read as him not wanting to be reduced to a follower and realizing what your mercy really means for his future.

“-are you to be a vengeful false idol, or a merciful coward? No longer can you blame your vile acts on me."

Okay, looking at the way he presents your two options he seems to push more for the murder action. “-vengeful false idol,” is how he refers to murder. It’s not exactly a glowing review but his use of the word vengeful is important. We know that one of Narinder’s main goals in the game is revenge, we he already acts with revenge I can’t say that he’s using this word as an insult. The false idol part of this statement seems like he’s attempted to separate himself from you, again for is ego.

Then he presents the spare option by calling you a “merciful coward.” The flow of this full sentence puts more pressure on this option. He presents it as the “or” the second option. This is the bad option, the option of a coward.

“So. vou are no different to me after all. You have become as I am."

I know this is a deranged order to go over these quotes but last we got murder. Compared to his spare dialogue this is incredibly sombre. We know from already establishing how big his ego is that saying you are the same as him is almost a compliment. I do find this dialogue incredibly interesting tho, I can’t exactly explain why but I can’t help but read this as damning as well. It’s like he means it in both ways, the ultimate fuck you. You are just as I am, for better and worse.

But from what we know about Narinder his edgy ass cannot express emotion. He wraps his statements in layers of irony and selfishness. Unless it supports the persona he puts on or inflates his ego he WILL NOT right out state his feelings or needs, especially when he was a chained god.

Relationship with Aym and Baal

Aym and Baal are incredibly hard to characterize. They don’t have much dialogue to work off of and only three characters every speak on them, Shamura, Narinder and Forneus. The context of the game does present them as more Narinder’s first (and second) hand, less followers more apprentices, almost, but where’s the fun in assuming.

"Intended as keepers, perhaps, but they were young and in need of guidance. Must I be blamed for my influence?"

I wanna draw attention to the specific wording of keepers. Again, based on the way Narinder speaks its safe to assume he means the formal meaning of a keeper, meaning a caretaker. It is unclear if Narinder was told they where his keepers or if he assumed so, but either way he still speaks on them as such.

For the sake of argument (and I don’t wanna rewrite this bit entirely) I’m gonna put the idea that Narinder brainwashed Aym and Baal against my presented idea of them being his keepers or apprentices.

The proposed idea of the brainwashing angle can be developed based on Narinder saying that “they where young and in need of guidance, must I be blamed for my influence.” This implies that, as much as Aym and Baal may have been sent as keepers, they where still young and Narinder could not help but be an influence on them. I am gonna come back around to this thread so hold onto this for a moment. Moving on.

“Two kits I did have, true love found! And yet one lackadaisy summer day, my beautiful children were taken away... a gift, they said, for the one they loved most, the one that waits...”

“Ooh, kits... I remember, I remember... two kits in my claws... a gift.."

It is unclear and morally dubious how Aym and Baal came to Narinder. First we’re not 100% where Narinder is chained. The wiki lists it as the afterlife and in dialogue Narinder refers to it as “at the gates between this life and the next, trapped at the nexus of what was and what wasn't.” (When he asks you to send him on a mission.) We can travel there both by dying and being summoned there by him.

Either way the assumption is that Aym and Baal had to die. (As an aside I have my own speculation on the conditions required for a person to be presented to Narinder or to be resurrected but that’s off topic.) The horrific implications being that either Shamura themself killed the kits or that they where already dying. However you cannot blame the reaper for ushering the dead away from life.

I’m going to work off of the cult specific definition and characteristics of brainwashing. It’s hard to characterize where Aym and Baal sit here as, again they have little dialogue and due to the nature of brainwashing it’s hard to spot. First I wanna grab my brainwashing resources.

I’m using Encyclopedia Britannica’s page on brainwashing, cults, indoctrination, manipulation as my primary resourse.

Again I kinda wanna apply a layer of irony to how literally I apply real life tragedy to this game that obviously uses cults in a comedic manner. I wanna focus in on the characteristics displayed by victims of brainwashing and the techniques used in brainwashing by an abuser.

Looking at the elements used in brainwashing the only one I can say off the bat that is present is isolation, obviously. But with that let’s grab all of Aym and Baal’s dialogue.

What is clear from their dialogue is their obedience to Narinder. They call him master while his keepers and still when you meet them later when adventuring. And physically we do see them by Narinder’s side the entire main game and they fight the Lamb first. But if we add some nuance and look at their role as keepers or my own theory of being apprentices both actions of obedience make sense still for those roles. On the same note they also don’t display traits you would expect for someone fully under Narinder’s control. They speak to the Lamb out of turn and attack without prompting from Narinder.

Other characteristics are hard to imply. With torture I do want to pass it off an unlikely as based on the way Narinder tries to manipulate the Lamb it’s only verbal and he cannot attack while chained and I don’t see that changing with the keepers. Traits like sleep, water and food deprivation can’t be applied for various reasons (mostly the being dead one) and we don’t know anything about Narinder and the keeper’s interactions in the past so I’ll have to disregard other traits like suggestion.

Baal: "It's you. Usurper of the Red Crown. The one who freed us."

Aym: "Ha! You are nothing compared to our Master. We have not been in this world long, but already I can tell you are weak. You lack discipline. Our Master wielded Death with precision and control. You allow chaos to reign."

Baal: "What my brother means to say is thank you."

Moving onto groupthink I can pretty comfortably say that this is not a present characteristic of Aym and Baal. In their limited dialogue we can easily characterize Aym as more outwardly defensive of Narinder but Baal is more reserved and even contradicts Aym and is able to speak freely of Narinder.

Looping back around to the way Narinder speaks on his influence on Aym and Baal. Again we know how Narinder speaks, he cannot give honest compliments and dodges affection like it’s a professional sport. With the way he will outright tell the Lamb to manipulate followers and then uses the words “guidance” and “influence” about Aym and Baal, he has to be avoiding admitting affection to the keepers. He does follow that up with “Do what you wish, scornful God. I care not for them.” But again does Forneus not also allow her kits to do as they wish?

My own reading of Narinder’s relation to Aym and Baal is that of mentorship but it could also be read as parental. But saying brainwashed is a big stretch.

His feelings on the death of Ratau

This is like another example of like, yeah, wow, an evil character does evil? Who could’ve possibly foreseen this? Sarcasm aside I do see his comments on this being a lesser evil.

First I do have to ask why, if Narinder held strong sense of unrest against his former vessel, did he not have him struck down? The main reason I can see is that Ratau is still devoted to the red crown, most clearly seen by the statue at the lonely shack which generates devotion.

Second, Ratau’s death isn’t on his hands, it’s on yours. I find his pride here is from The Lamb’s actions not the death of Ratau. You killed your mentor, he describes your actions as “treacherous opportunism” and says “A great Vessel takes their master's will as their own.” Based on his later dialogue this is likely more foreshadowing the Lamb becoming as Narinder is. Narinder tried to kill his siblings, and you did kill your mentor. “You have become as I am."

I’m gonna tangent quickly cause there’s a line here that is incredibly interesting.

"He renounced his position after striking a bargain that resulted in the sacrifice of a Follower. He was weak."

Incredibly interesting the way he condemns Ratau’s sacrifice of a follower. Narinder directly contradicts himself. It is implied that the follower was lost to another being that did not benefit Narinder, but the Lamb also sacrifices followers to the Fox and Midas. Just something to chew on.

Why do we “babygirl” Narinder and other evil characters?

This is kinda the last bit I’m gonna get into before I cap this off. It is incredibly funny for me to say “I babygirl Narinder” only to get a reply that’s like “I don’t think you babygirl him on purpose.” But I wanna talk about why this happens and why it happened to specifically Narinder.

When people complain about the fandom interpretation of Narinder I think they forget the tone of cult of the lamb. The closest thing I could think to call it would be a dark comedy kinda energy.

The game has very dark themes going on. Mentions of real horrible things like genocide, cults and religious abuse. But also just like look at the game, it’s visual style is so cute and non threatening, the bird characters have two mouths to commit to the bit. If you look at the way it depicts cults it’s very surface level, it’s more focused on being a satire on the common satanic media kinda look of a cult. Visually it bathes in its aesthetics, taking names from books like The Lessee Key of Solomon, uses villainous depictions of symbols like the pentagram or old Hebrew script, disregarding its nuanced origins.

And then they go onto do the funniest thing ever. The other bishop’s? Gross little freaks, based on commonly disliked animals, worm, frog, squid and spider. And then- and then they make the god of death, who they characterize and manipulative and evil, they make him a catboy. You cannot tell me they did not know what they where doing.

Why have I shot Narinder with the babygirl beam? CAUSE THE GAME DID IT FIRST!

I’m gonna call the god of death my little meow meow and point out his status as a Tumblr sexy man cause he’s a little guy and I wanna give him head scritches. But I’m also gonna call him a layered, fucked up and an incredibly interesting character in the same breath.

#cult of the lamb #cotl narinder #cotl ratau #cotl #narinder #ratau #the one who waits #add it to the list #i could go feral on how each of the bishops are talked about as well. lots of bypassed subtext with them

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merciless-macdonwald · 1 year ago

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more of the 2018 macbeth sequel attempt

tw: threats of violence/murder, mention of execution

ACT I SCENE II. The castle dungeon

Enter MALCOLM in simpler robes and MACDUFF, followed by SEYTON in chains.

SEYTON My master swore he'd never crane his neck To kiss the ground before thy princely boots, And so I hold my ground the same as him: Thou, villain base and wretched, got of one Whose death had done him good; thou bonny boy, Yet green, unfit to rule, still undeserv’d Of Scotland’s throne; thou bastard, damnèd prince-- And thou! to strike an unarmed man, whose hands, So bound behind his back with rusty chains Could not oppose the vicious blows of thee, Advisor, lapdog, nothing more--

MALCOLM Macduff. Hold still your hands: he cannot do a thing.

SEYTON No. Chains alone won't hold a man for long.

MACDUFF They've held thee for two years; why think’st thou so?

SEYTON The moment that these purposed hands are free, I'll kill thee, foolish boy.

MALCOLM ‘Tis treason, then, That spurs thy rage.--Macduff, come hither.

MACDUFF Sir-- He poses quite the threat to throne and land That ‘twould be best if executed, swift As thy most sainted hand could order it.

MALCOLM Thou know’st that I despise such violence, And, like the Hydra, cutting down one head May only cause far more to take its place.

MACDUFF I see thy reasoning, my lord, but still-- Though I am loathe to say that he is right-- Someday, the bonds that hold him may grow weak, And if he were to snap them and escape, There lies the chance that he may seize upon And take thee by surprise with sharpened blade.

MALCOLM What, dost thou not see guards outside my doors?

MACDUFF If’t came to such, my lord, I’d give my life For thine.

MALCOLM Thy royal duties talk for thee.

MACDUFF Not so, my lord. My loyalty alone Might cause me to consider and lose time-- The added love I bear thee strips me of Such hesitation: blindly I would step Between thee and such deadly instruments.

MALCOLM And so I thank thee for these past few years Spent off in England, next at war back home, And finally, advisor to a king Who knows not what he does or if ‘tis right.

SEYTON Quit chattering, ye choughs--speak plain to me, Or else talk not suspiciously alone.

MALCOLM He holds some point. What is it we shall do To halt his blind ambition in its tracks?

SEYTON Go, bold advisor, speak now for the king, Who clearly hath no sense, no free will, none That would for him speak in thy dullèd stead.

MACDUFF If my good lord allows, I sentence thee, Base villain, to be killed within the week And th’ putrid, treach’rous flesh upon thy bones Be thrown to wild dogs and beasts to feed.

SEYTON Let death come. I am past my master’s time. Send me now either promptly to mine end Or thou shalt sleep uneasy, king: beware.

MALCOLM Macduff, I will allow this, and in haste I'll order straight dispatchment of this knave.

SEYTON If I were thee, I'd keep a closer watch: Friends, seeming so, may hide the sharpest blades.

MACDUFF Enough.--My lord, I'll make order tonight And by the morn, I swear he’ll cease to breathe.

MALCOLM I like it not, and yet this must be done.

SEYTON Go, kill me as you wish; my master’s hold Extended far. There's many more who would, Given the chance, have push’d thee from the throne.

Exit MACDUFF with SEYTON.

MALCOLM This crown, though full of valour, rank, and life, May bring me nothing short of pain and strife.

EXIT MALCOLM.

#macbeth #macbeth sequel #malcolm #macduff #seyton #macbeth fic #shakespeare #shakespeare fic #tw threats #tw execution

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fanfic-enthusiast · 2 years ago

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Unbreaking (Cotl NariLamb Fic)

Leshy’s worms were proving to be more of a problem than what Lamb first thought. Nearly halfway through their crusade and Lambs knees felt like they were going to give out. Shaking slightly as they march their way from one section of Darkwoods to the next over and over and over.

Still they kept fighting, they had to survive didn't they, they had their followers at home to take care of. They had to free The One Who Waits, they couldn’t die yet. Not with debts to pay. Not before he could be freed.

So Lamb marched forward, swinging the crusader’s blade with all their might, hacking and slashing at dark robed cultists and leaf covered larva as they went.

Until the next room, there were four worms. It looked simple enough so Lamb ran at them with a bleat slashing at one as it charged up with some kind of acid blast which Lamb quickly rolled to avoid, wait- AH!

They rolled right into some spikes! Where did these come from!! A minute later at the end of the spike trail one of the worms popped out of the ground. Covered in the same spines that were poking out of the ground a minute ago.

Lamb’s heart was pounding in their ears, they had to keep going though. And charged at the spiked worm while it was out of the ground. One hit, two hits! Three!! And it dove back underground towards the Lamb, who was able to dodge this time, and then quickly had to go again when another volley of acid was blown their way.

With ragged breaths Lamb took another few swipes at the first acid worm, putting it down just in time to dodge out of the blast from another one.

Taking the opportunity after it was finished Lamb sliced open the second one, blood smearing the forest floor with the blood from the first. But they lost track of the second spiked worm.

Lamb raised the blade again and brought it down on the one they could see just as it came out of the ground, but it was getting hard to see. The world seemed dizzying. The worm dove down again and Lamb jumped, trying to dodge out of the way, they were so close!!

Searing pain hit them as they were spiked from below and knocked to the side. Blood roaring in their ears as they stumbled and held their head. No, they can't give up. He needed them.

But the strength left their arms and legs they collapsed on the ground. Impaled and bloody. As the forest blurred and faded to black.

‘I tried so hard.’ Lamb thought as their eyes welled with tears. ‘I wasn't strong enough...’

Finally in the blackness, they closed their eyes.

“Fear not, for you are my chosen vessel and death cannot halt you.” A voice called out from the void.

Lamb opened their eyes to find themselves floating in the cloud filled realm their master was imprisoned in. Their movements sluggish as they took in their surroundings.

“I shall not allow it, for I still have need of you.” A pair cold but gentle hands glides over their body, the bloody holes fill with living flesh as if they were never harmed.

Lamb shivers slightly but sighs in relief. The voice chuckles and Lamb sees the sharp toothed smile of their master staring down at them as they carefully repair their body.

“Your journey does not end here, little Vessel. You shall regain your strength and crusade again.” A boney finger runs over their head, ruffling the wool between their small horns. “Build and strengthen the Cult. This is how power is gained. Each time you are brought down, you rise again stronger. Your body repaired in my embrace.”

Lamb nods slowly, still feeling like they're floating on a cloud. “You are doing well. Your faith in me unbreaking. So continue on my lamb, undaunted.”

They nod again and close their eyes, when they're opened again. Lamb is back at their camp with the rest of the cult. Who wave in greeting upon their return.

A chill runs down their spine and they smile. Knowing nothing will stand in the way.

#cotl lamb #cotl narinder #narinder #the one who waits #cotl the one who waits #cotl the lamb #cotl #cult of the lamb

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ncitygirls · 3 years ago

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forgive - hyunjin x f reader

angst, fluff, smut, royal au, 4.1k

to die just as one graduates to motherhood is the tragic fate of countless women of your time. though there is no shame in falling victim to eve’s curse, one does feels a deserving sense of pride in their ability to look the devil in the eye and turn one’s cheek. to crawl through the forest of death and drag oneself towards the light. many are denied the privilege of survival. living is a sign from the heavens that perhaps there is a reason for such trials. that strife is a lesson in one’s journey, a meaning to life.

but to die before bearing your husband a son is a fate you would readily accept in place of the dark nothing you nearly surrendered to. the thought drifts into your mind the moment your greatest trial and grandest reward shifts in your arms, your daughter’s wails slowly rising in pitch and frequency as you smile loftily at her bundled form in your lap. she sings a song most would call unbearable. the screech so shrill, it pierces through even the most impenetrable guard. but never through you. you could continue to find peace in the deafening sound had it not been for your husband. your dear, sweet husband.

your king.

your king, whose presence thus far escaped you. that is until he asked, just a decibel louder than the wailing infant, “could you please settle her, sweet?”

“oh,” you glance at his rigid form, across your living quarters, to find his pretty scowl trained on his heir, only softening when his eyes meet the familiar orbs of his queen. “my apologies, hyunjin. is she distracting you?”

“no,” he breathes, allowing his head to fall back on the loveseat, his sculpted cheek puffs. “it’s just annoying.”

“it?” your eyes quickly return to him, only to be met by the back of his morning paper. “i do hope you are referring to the sound itself and not to your child, my love?”

“does it matter?” he sighs, realising moments too late that the room has stilled. “my dear, i did not mean to offend.’

“of course not, your highness,” ah, ‘your highness’. you call on the title in the times you wish to hurt him most. “she is but a child, of course you meant her no offense. i ask for your mercy, sire.”

“i sense hostility in you.”

“shall I call on a nurse for you, your grace?” he wonders for a second what the reason could be before you readily come to his aid. “it is most unlike you to use sense of any kind.”

“that was out of turn-”

“me? my king, you believe it is i who is out of turn?” hyunjin knows there is no answer to such a question. because yes would present grounds for annulment and no would mean he is wrong. and kings cannot be found in the wrong. “not the new father who refers to his daughter as ‘it’? of course it is not he who is speaking out of turn, not when he is a king.

“when he is a man.”

“ah, ‘men are the source of all the world’s ailments’, must we hear excerpts from your manifesto again, my love? it is only noon,” he assumes you hear only humour in his tone and decides to take it a step further. “is it in your plans to fill the house of hwang with women just to spite me?”

“oh,” you breathe, smiling softly as he watches, “is it a son you desire, hyunjin? is that what you want?” his eyes squint as he watches his love rise to place his only heir in the cot before you glide over to him, sweetness vanishing from your eyes as you succumb to your wrath. “you want a son, king hyunjin? then give me one.”

“leave us.” the servants standing by flee the room, quick to abandon a maid who halts as hyunjin blocks her path. “take the child.”

she takes a hurried step towards your child before she is stopped once more. “take my child and i will take your hand.” the poor girl is quick to abandon her king’s direct order before fleeing the scene, closing the door as she departs.

a biting silence takes the place of the bodies that once filled the chamber, thickening every corner of the room. minutes pass before hyunjin realises you have no further interest in him. “if it were not for the fact my heart beats for you, my beloved, i too would take my leave.”

“your heart? is that what beats in your chest, hyunjin? a heart?” he scoffs, unbothered by the deflection masked by your jab. “kings are meant to rule, not jest. do not humour me.”

“was your tea cup mistaken for a bedpan?”

“i almost died, jinnie!” he withers as you tremble, your eyes misting as you try to find someone resembling your beloved in the man sat across from you. “i almost lost my life bearing you the heir you prayed for, only for you to treat her with the same regard one does a child born in illegitimacy.” he wishes to deny it, and you see it too. but your eyes are alight and hyunjin swears he sees his end in them. “she is your child, hyunjin. and should she be your only, she will wear your crown with pride and rule as well as any boy ever could.”

“i know that.” your scoff stung like a strike to the cheek and winds him like a blow to the gut. “i do. y/n, i swear it to you.”

“then perhaps you should act like it.” he finally sees what fuels your rage and rests behind your eyes: disappointment. “you cannot love me and not my kin, jin. i won’t allow it.”

“my love,” he reaches for you but you repel, moving instead to the babbling baby. “you mistake my desire for a son as a lack of joy for my daughter.” pulling your hands from the sides of the cot, he dwarfs them with his own. “i love her with everything i have in me. i swear.”

“had my father received me as you did our child, i would not believe that to be the case.”

“forgive me, my love.” you’re quick to cast your gaze elsewhere, ignoring his puppy eyed plea. “i will pray the heavens take mercy on me, but i need you to first. please believe me when i say i love her. i do. she is half of the greatest woman to ever walk this kingdom, i worship her.”

“then why? why the cold shoulder? why treat her this way?” he suddenly finds himself unable to answer, opting instead to rock the baby, basking in her glow. with a soft sigh, you raise a hand to his cheek, offering him reprieve as he burrows into your palm. “what troubles you?”

“nothing, my love.” your disbelieving gaze sends his shoulders south, his whole frame sagging. “it’s just my dealings with the courts.” of course. the courts. “i spent every night bowed in ceaseless prayer. i prayed for your health, for your life, for our child. i prayed until bruises formed on my knees, my love. and still i prayed. but as i prayed for my family, they prayed only for my successor, for a boy.” though you find it impossible, he manages to lower himself further. folding himself into you, almost in two, hiding his long face from view. “once I caught wind of their talks with the lord, i condemned it. i condemned any prayer against my wishes but the court can do as they please in their solitude and i know we do not rule on fear but after her birth, for the first time in my life? i wished we did.” it was inexplicable, the difficulty you had beholding an enraged hyunjin, the skin curving around his knuckles and jaw as they tightened with every word he uttered, your heart tightening in kind. “i wanted to make heads roll, to end them for the disregard they paid my child, my family, my wife.” it starts to make sense now, his grinding teeth and red rimmed eyes. his late and sleepless nights. the nights hypnos granted him even a slither of reprieve were spent clinging to you, a cold sweat soaking the sheets, puzzling you beyond belief. it all makes sense. “the courts have filled me with doubt. they warned of foreign enemies who would hear of our heir, of our girl. that they would see her as a sign we are weak, that we are lesser.”

“but how can they speak in such a way? we are ahead of such things.”

“my love, you must see past the likes of lord kim and baron han. the rest of the men in my court are old, and stuck in old ways. our nation has not seen a queen on the throne since the likes of my widowed great, great grandmother.” his hands cup your face, bleary eyes blinking back the tears his heavy words summoned. “i love you, y/n. and i love her. all i want is for you both to be safe. but i live in constant fear that i cannot keep you safe with enemies outside our walls and evidently within.”

“hyunjin, my love,” he settles at the soft spoken call of his name, the loving address soothing his forlorn heart. “i will burn the court to the ground before they bring harm to my kin. or to you.” it is not unlike you to let your anger consume you. in fact, it is but a facet of what made him fall in love with you. what continues to bother him is the fact he was not the first to make such a bold promise. “my love?”

“fret not, my queen,” his nimble hands gather his daughter from her cot, his lips pulling in a soft grin as the child gargles, reaching up for him. “it is just, with my brains and your ferocity, i believe this hwang might be the greatest queen- no, ruler levanter has ever seen.”

“forgive me, my love,” the apology fills the space to his left, from where your temple rests on his shoulder, fingers toying with his undershirt. “but you do not suggest that this girl will be inheriting her brains from her father-”

“watch your mouth.”

“watch it for me.”

“careful,” he warns, dropping his lips to yours for a brief peck before withdrawing but an inch, “i might just give you that son you asked for.”

“careful, or i might just let you.” your rebuttal has him fanning your lips with a breathless chortle, urging you to rise to the tips of your toes and connect your lips to his once more. when you withdraw, he follows, resting his forehead on yours, smiling softly as your eyes meet. your voice is barely a whisper as you enquire, “what do we do now, my love?”

“now, i will handle the courts,” huffing, hyunjin places a kiss to the crown of his daughter’s head, smiling as he does. “i am afraid you will just have to handle everything else.” the regret in his words do not match the smirk on his lips, though he confesses, “i do not envy you, my love.” placing the baby in the cot once more, he pulls you into his chest, resting his cheek at the uppermost point on your head. “but i will keep you both safe. i put my life on it-”

“sire,” you warn, leaning up to kiss his neck. “your life is no longer yours to wager.”

“is that so?” hyunjin only grins at your assured affirmation. “my queen, is there anything that is mine in this kingdom?”

“me.” even after all these years, hyunjin is undone by you. from your matter of fact utterance, a breathless admission of submission to your glowy eyed gaze, eyes shining with pure adoration. “i belong to you.”

“you do?” he sighs when you nod, the small bounce of your head forcing his own head up and down. his eyes and hands slowly trail down your arms stilling at your fingers. slipping his digits between yours, he raises them to his pouted lips, slowly pressing each one with a kiss so soft and so sweet, you nearly jump as he speaks. “and these? do these belong to me?”

“yes, sire.”

“good,” he breathes, joy flashing behind his eyes. “and what about this?” he whispers against your lips, his plump lips tangling with your own. only after playing with your tongue, sucking on the muscle and swallowing your whines does he ask, “is this smart mouth of yours mine?”

“all yours.”

he nods in agreement, fingers gliding down the side of your neck, dusting over your chemise to cup you over your stay. only to find you bare. “were you that hastened to join me for tea?”

“no,” you laugh, hitting his chest as he pulls you closer, enjoying feeling your near bare chest on his. “i breastfeed.” you love your king. for as slow as he is, he is twice as loving. you watch realisation dawn on him not once but twice, a slight pout stealing his lips, exaggerated by their natural downturn. “what is it?”

“i just,” he stops, laughing to himself. “i just realised these-” he cups your tender breasts, thumb barely dusting the sore nubs. “-they’re no longer mine.”

“hyunjin!” his laughter picks up before it stills, the sleeping princess nearly awoken by the delight of her parents. “no, they’re on loan.”

“that’s fine.” he sighs, ducking his head to kiss the center of your chest. “i’ll wait.”

“i’m proud of you.”

“thank you,” your pride does not last long, as he lowers his hands to cup your ass and pull you flush against him. through your chemise and slip, you feel him. all of him. he deftly slips his tongue between your gasping lips, filling your mouth in ways that force your panties to dampen, the fabric soaking with every roll of his hardening cock to your aching slit. “but this is mine,” he reminds you, leaving no room for misunderstanding. “do you understand?”

“y-yes.”

“yes, who?”

“yes, your grace.”

“good. now, go get a nurse for the princess.” the king proclaims, emphasising his point with a firm slap to your ass as you almost sprint out of the room. as you return with the nanny, you feel your heart swell to almost double its size. you find hyunjin by your daughter’s basket, a soft lullaby floating in the air as he gathers her in his long, folded arms. you watch him pass her to the nanny, his fingers passing over her puffed up knuckle, in awe of her inherent daintiness. “sleep well, my dove.”

you fear he might have forgotten you as the two leave and he stares in quiet longing. you finally approach him as his sniffles begin. “hyunjin?”

“i have missed her.” he whines, wet eyes cast skyward, guilt staining his face. “i have been a terrible father-”

“no.” your scold has his gaze falling, his shining eyes searching your frowning face. “not terrible. never terrible. just a little distant.” you soften as he nods, understanding pouring into him as you craddle his face in your palms. “you know now.”

“yeah,” he agrees, leaning to press a wet kiss to your lips. “please forgive me, my love.”

“there’s nothing to forgive.” you hum against his pouting lips, moulding your mouth with his as you try and tear him from this spell of despair. “come sit,” you whisper, guiding him towards his original seat.

when he lowers into it and feels you lower in kind, though to the ground, he frowns deeply. “i-” he stalls as you palm him through his slack breeches, fingers gripping him through the fabric. he grinds up into your closing fist, eyes squeezing shut as you momentarily silence him. the peace is short lived as he moans, realising what you’ve done to him. “i wanted to pleasure you.”

“and you will,” you quickly assure him, smirking when his frown deepens. “once i pleasure you.”

“fine.” he concedes, crossing his arms as you unfasten his breeches. you glare at him through your lashes until he huffs, stiffly raising his hips to allow you room to lower his garments down his thighs. “is there anything else i can do for you, mrs hwang?”

“that is all.” you chortle, fanning the reddened, leaking head of his cock. the sound forces a smile on his face until your tongue glides against his glistening slit. he almost chokes when you gaze up at him suddenly, eyes full of too much love for one king to fathom. “you just relax, okay?”

he can barely make himself nod as he fills your sight with his lovesick smile. “i don’t deserve you.”

“i know.” you rise to your knees to swallow his retraction, enjoying the lurid way he melts under the touch of your lips and palm. you offer languid strokes up and down his length, thumbing at his slit as he practically dribbles down himself. “jinnie, you’re making a mess.”

“‘m sorry.” the whine isn’t worrisome, but rather his second admission of guilt. with a gentle shake of your head, you raise your unsoiled hand to his lips, smearing your mingled saliva across his chin.

“i like you messy,” you admit, watching his eyes glaze over at your confession. “you’re always so proper now. you were never like that.” you squeeze him tighter at his base as you speak, dragging up the length of his cock, forcing a mewl from his throat as he releases his bitten, spit slicked lip. “remember when you were still a prince, and i just a lady?” he nods dumbly, head rolled to the side as drool pools on the corner of his mouth. “you used to fuck me in the greenhouse as it rained on a starry night. and behind the guards’ stables. even in the old maid’s quarters-”

“tha-that’s because we couldn’t anywhere else.”

“true,” you tut, wiping his chin as he fucks up into your closed fist. “yet now the kingdom is yours, you only ever fuck me in the castle.”

“but i always fuck you well.” when you just smile his hips falter, brows knitting as you massage his tensed thigh. “say it.”

“say what?”

“that i always fuck you well.”

“you do fuck me well,” you knowingly half agree, pumping him in your tight fist before he grabs your wrist. only a few seconds pass but the small fire ignited by your defiance burns for an eternity. the warm embers blazed to a full village fire when you squeeze at his base, moving to restart your ministrations. hyunjin only scoffs, clicking his tongue with a soft shake of his head. “a king’s ego should not be so dependent on his queen-”

before you can finish, his fingers cling to the base of your neck, squeezing in a way that traps the words in your throat. he feels you swallow, his dark eyes watching how you struggle to breathe. it’s dizzying. the way he eyes you, flitting between your expanding chest and gasping mouth. he presses the back of his hand to your chin, tilting your lips toward his mouth as he leans in. “it seems my ego rests on the mocking words of my smart mouthed wife,” he whispers into your open mouth, sucking softly on your bottom lip. “so, my queen, mightn’t you humour me? tell me that which i desire to hear.”

“you-” he senses an unfitting retort on your tongue and tightens his grip, marvelling at the delicious way your eyes roll back. he only loosens when theu water, gleaming in pitiful surrender. “you always fuck me well.”

“like i will now.”

“li-like you will now.”

“good,” he grins, proud of your slow but gratifying progress. helping you stand, hyunjin gathers the hem of your chemise in his fists, hiking it up to your waist before placing the fabric in your waiting hands. he feels for your undergarments, fingers gliding along the soft skin of your belly, purposely missing the waistband of your panties. he watches your breathing change with every long second he teases you, missing your sex in obvious ways. when you whine he only tuts, watching a frown kiss your features. “it’s not nice to be kept waiting, is it?”

“no,” you mumble, jutting out a full blown pout. “please touch me, hyunjin.” you too can sense your lover’s utterances before they are ever fully realised. like now, when he smirks, knuckles dusting over your throbbing heat. “properly.”

your emphasis has him chortling, the sound delighting you in ways you cannot explain. how long had it been since you had him like this? warm and open, delighted by the trivialities of foreplay. excited by your pending coitus. it brings a sudden joy to your heart, and, to your husband at least, an inexplicable grin to your bitten lips.

“what tickles you, my love?”

“i just missed you.” you confess, not too dissimilar to his earlier realisation. “i want you happy always.”

“oh,” he breathes, finally pinching your panties and sliding them down past your ankles. “one can feel nothing but joy when you are near.”

“is that so?” you hum as he pulls you to his lap, his thumb dipping into your soaking cunt before slow dragging it along your swollen clit.

“it is so,” he affirms, offering soft pecks to the taut skin of your neck. “it’s why i married you.”

“really- oh,” words stick in your throat as he dips a lone finger in you, his thumb still circling as he presses against your walls. your lips find his in your daze, somehow still embarrassed by the awe with which he regards you. your hips roll against his cramped hand, chasing the beginnings of a tightening coil in the base of your belly. “you’re still infatuated with me?”

“always.” he removes himself without leaving your lips, swallowing your taunt as he guides you onto his awaiting cock. time stills for a moment as you adjust, brain whirring as you both realise the time that has passed since you had him like this. your throbbing walls clamped around his pulsing cock. the subtle tremor of his thighs as you sink onto him, buttocks resting in his waiting palms. he offers a gentle squeeze, one of comfort and question. “can you move?” you nod against his skin, damp forehead pressed to his as he guides your motions with gentle tilts of his wrists. his tongue slips into your mouth, readily lapping at your own as you wrap your arms around his neck. his hands rise to your hips in time, guiding you with a firmer grip, enjoying the slow rock of your hips on his aching cock. he feels you squeeze around him as he sucks on your tongue, his thighs shaking with a looming orgasm. he pulls you in closer, lifting you inches in the air before leaving your slippery lips. before you can even think to protest, hyunjin snaps up into you at a steady pace, enjoying the mewls he conjures from you.

“jinnie, i’m- i-”

“it’s okay,” he groans, on his own verge of release. “it’s okay, my love. let go.”

and you do. moments later you let go, loudly soiling his lap and favourite loveseat as he fucks into your soaking cunt. seconds later he follows you, head thrown back as he releases in you, fearful of nothing but the stained upholstery as he thanks the lord above that you are his wife.

“you owe me a new chair.” he says suddenly, still panting as you pepper soft kiss along his shoulder blade. “and new breeches.”

“it is you who is to blame, sire.” he watches with a raised brow as you rest on his knees. “you always fuck me so well, how could i help myself?”

“ah, right.” he folds when you laugh, the sound forcing his hands upward, along with the corners of his lips. “forgive me, my love.”

“i love you.” you whisper instead, settling against his chest as you both ignore the compromising position you’re in. “so much.”

“and i you,” he swears. “always.”

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zhongliologist · 4 years ago

Text

Due Compensation | Zhongli

Pairing: Zhongli x GN!reader

Genre: Fluff; bordering nsfw

Words: 2.7k

AN: don’t look at me;; i was inspired by one manga I’ve read;; but here you go!!! more zhongli brainrot -Huili

“Ah, you have finished all the tasks you say?”

His deep voice echoed across the empty office as he seated himself comfortably on a leather chaise, reviewing paperwork for the funeral parlor. He seemed busy and lost in his work, yet the amused lilt in his voice had not escaped you.

Zhongli looked up to you, his expression betraying none. “And you wish to add one more remuneration apart from what I have already given you?”

You were nervous that he might think you were taking it too far but nothing can hold you back from the temptation any longer. It was now or never.

“Yes!”

He hummed. “Is sixty primogems and twenty thousand mora not enough? Forgive me, I must have underestimated the risks of the tasks and gave undue compensation.”

You stood there before him, hands balled to fists and brows furrowed. Your indignation was obvious.

“No, I don’t need more money,” you replied. “This is different. So, is it alright?”

“I see no harm in it,” Zhongli shrugged as he set down the papers he was holding and patted the empty space next to him for you to sit. “So, what is it you wish for?”

Sitting next to him, you pondered for the final time if you were seriously going to do this. No! This is no time to hold back!

“I was thinking,” you began, eyes everting his intensely amber ones. “For every task I finished, can I get one kiss?”

For a moment, the whole office halted into complete silence. Zhongli simply sat there beside you with an unreadable expression on his face as the quiet went on and on. It was beginning to make you nervous, wondering if you finally overstepped the boundary you were not supposed to cross.

“I…!” you began, refusing to allow the awkward situation to continue any further. “I was just joking—please don’t take it seriously—!”

“I don’t mind.”

Zhongli interrupted you with a tone of finality in his voice, making you stop and stare at him disbelievingly.

“What…?”

“…how many jobs did you do exactly?” he asked, now lost in thought as he brought his hand to his chin. “As I recall, there are three assigned tasks daily, and for ten days….ah, thirty kisses then?”

As he was mumbling to himself, you only froze there on the spot; not knowing what to react to this unexpected turn of events. You never thought he would agree like that so easily.

“Are thirty kisses enough for you, YN?” he asked once again, gazing at you.

Still unable to reorient yourself to reality, you simply nodded.

“As you wish,” he replied with a small smile; leaning closer to you. “Where shall we begin?”

“I…uh…! Wait…!” you exclaimed, your hands on his chest, holding him at bay. “Just wait for a second!”

“Ah, are you backing out now?” Zhongli was now smirking, incapable of hiding his amusement any longer. “You should know that this opportunity does not come by every day.”

At his words, you pursed your lips. He had a point, and you were the one who initiated this in the first place. It was embarrassing and disgraceful to withdraw at a crucial point, especially if you wanted it anyway.

“Fine!” You exclaimed and cleared any stray locks from your face. “Kiss me on the forehead first!”

Zhongli gave a low chuckle at your sudden enthusiasm and then gazed at you with an expression you had never seen him wear before. Like a mixture of intensity and mischief, his eyes seemed to pierce right through you.

“Very well,” he replied with a smile and leaned in; his hands cupping your cheeks gently.

Your eyes were sealed tightly shut as soon as he went closer; scared of fainting before it even begins. Your heart was pounding as if it will burst out of its seams any moment now; your cheeks heating up to a few degrees. His scent—reminiscent of jasmine tea leaves and silk flowers—was all over your senses; intoxicating, arousing you, leaving you breathless.

Then, in a second, you can feel his lips against your skin; warm and soft—the butterflies in your stomach multiplying to a thousand, the flush on your cheeks blooming heat and excitement; and then leaving as soon as it began.

No. No…it was too fast, too unsatisfying…

Zhongli pulled away, still smiling at you as he touched his lips. “That was one out of thirty. Do wish to continue?”

You nodded despite the intense beating in your chest. “Please kiss me on the cheeks.”

“Alright.”

Once more, Zhongli reach for your cheeks and gave you a small peck. You still had the same tense expression on your face which only made him want to rile you up. In a moment’s impulse, he pressed another kiss on your cheek, followed by another one on the other side.

“Zhongli…?”

This time, he didn’t pull back. Instead, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer to him. Without waiting for a response from you, he asked. “Where to next?”

A shiver ran down your spine when his deep whispering voice reached your eyes. It made it even more real that he was that close to you. “Nose…?”

Zhongli made a small laugh but did it anyway. He gave the tip of your nose a small kiss that was enough to make him break into a grin. “Next.”

“Um…eyes?”

“You seem to be enumerating body parts now,” he teased with a grin, “but very well then.”

Dipping down, he pressed soft kisses on both your eyelids as they fluttered shut. He was, as always, gentle and soft, but also firm and dignified. You could feel it on the way he held your cheeks with his warm hands; his thumb tracing circles on your skin.

Staring back at you, Zhongli had the most endearing look on his face. The way you were getting more and more flustered was both adorable and amusing—tempting him push you even further. You knew what he was going to say next.

“Where else?”

“I…I don’t know….” You replied, trembling as you gripped on the lapels of his coat. “I haven’t thought this far down…”

“I see,” he considered, moving closer to your ear. “Is it alright if I get to choose from now on?”

“S-sure…?”

Zhongli only made a mischievous smile before blowing air on your ear; making you jerk away, but you could only move so far since he had you in a close embrace.

“Hey…!” you exclaimed while you heard him laugh, annoyed that he was greatly amused by your reactions.

“My apologies. I simply cannot resist teasing you,” he finally said once he was done laughing. “Well then, let’s continue.”

Suddenly, he gave your earlobe a small kiss, and then began to nibble it between his lips, much to your surprise.

“Zhongli!” You gasped, squirming at the ticklish feeling on your ear.

To make matters worse (or better), he then glided his tongue on your skin; the cold wet feeling sending a shudder down your spine. Despite your protests, Zhongli only continued and it only made him even bolder.

“This counts as a kiss as well,” he told you as he hummed just right beside your ear, his lips curving into a smirk.

You were already at his mercy, leaning against him when you had lost all your strength from his relentless attacks. You didn’t expect him to be like this—the ever-polite and composed Zhongli teasing you again and again and getting a kick out of it. It was surprising but you loved it.

“I’m going to continue.”

Feeling his hand brush through your hair, you braced yourself for the next set of attacks; not knowing what Zhongli will do.

Without further delay, he had his lips on your neck, giving your pulse long and languid kisses which easily made you moan. Just like all of his kisses so far, it was gentle and slow; almost teasing—enough for you to cling to him in a death grip. His hand was tilting your head up for better access, his lips leaving a trail of splotches on your skin.

“Zhongli…”

He nipped and sucked and bit at every part he could get his lips on, enjoying the dirty sounds you make right beside his ear. The way your grasp on his shoulders tighten whenever he gave you a small bite, or the way your body leaned against his; all warm yet breath heaving from excitement. At this rate, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

“W-wait…!” you exclaimed, as you pulled away, heavily panting. “Don’t…don’t just focus on my neck…”

Gazing at you like this, Zhongli couldn’t help the surge of arousal coursing through him as he noticed his handiwork on your neck. He was the one who did that—the one who made you all breathless and flushed.

Ah, this is bad…

“Where shall I kiss you then?” he asked you who was also looking at his almost disheveled appearance, no thanks to you.

“Um…” you pondered for a bit, before holding your hand out to him. “My hands, I guess?”

“Of course,” he replied, smiling and took your hand.

One by one, he gave your knuckles small pecks as he travelled up to the back of your hand and then to your wrist. Peppering small kisses up your arm, Zhongli glanced at you who was already squirming under his touch, deciding to unravel the button up you were wearing so he can kiss you on your shoulders and collarbones.

Feather-like kisses which sent bolts of electricity underneath your skin, Zhongli was apparently talented at making your heart pound and your mind hazy. It was incredible how he knew what buttons to push and where to land his lips.

“N-next…!” you forcibly told him, unable to hold it in once he moves down your chest. “K-Knees…!”

“Knees…?” he asked, wondering if he had heard it right. It was unusual but it could get better eventually.

“Yes, knees…” you replied as you lifted your skirt/trousers up, still a panting mess.

Zhongli obediently moved to the floor as his gentle calloused hands roamed the exposed skin of your leg. It was simple touching but for some reason, you were getting far more aroused that you had been, especially whenever he glances up on you.

Again, Zhongli pressed soft kisses on your knees, his lips moving, his tongue sweeping across the skin. You could only gasp, controlling a violent shudder as you felt him creeping closer and closer to your inner thighs.

“W-wait…!” you muttered, but it was too late. Zhongli easily nipped at the skin on your thigh, leaving a mark for you to see later on. As soon as he was done, he looked into your heady expression with a smirk—conveying one message only: that he has gotten to that point with you.

There was no denying it already. You were incredibly aroused and he hasn’t even kissed you in the lips yet. It was so unfair how hot and bothered you became with just his lips and his touch. You didn’t know what you had gotten yourself into; what beast you had awakened.

Shifting on his position, Zhongli returned to his seat and held your chin to face him directly.

“We are not yet done here, YN. We agreed on thirty kisses, remember? A contract is a contract.”

“Zhongli…! I—!”

You wanted to refute him, yet he quickly pinned you on the chaise—pressing his lips against yours in an almost feral kiss. Sucking and biting, he was unforgiving and relentless until your lips turned swollen pink. It didn’t take long for his tongue to pry your lips open, exploring your mouth and twisting sensually around yours.

His hands roamed everywhere—from your waist up to your chest—groping and fondling at whatever place he could reach. Eventually, the room was filled with your load moans and heavy breathing; Zhongli finding it music to his ears.

Pulling back, he stared into your eyes, as you did into his; chests heaving and breathes one. You could see it already—he wanted more and you wanted nothing less. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you made a silent agreement together, and both of you understood.

Zhongli smirked, muttering in his deep and sultry voice, “Brace yourself if you must.”

As soon as those words left his lips, he once more captured your lips in a searing kiss; sloppier and more passionate than the last, full of tongue and groans and rasps. You could only do so much but brush your fingers through his long hair, seeking for air after a series of long drawn kisses, unable to breathe because of the intensity of the moment.

Eventually, he shifted downwards and to your neck; marking the places he had missed from last time. Every time he suckled on one area, you made a sound you never thought you could—the ticklish yet dirty sensation of his tongue on your skin, a memory you would never forget.

“Zhongli…” you whispered in between his kisses, his amber eyes shining brilliantly. “How many kisses did you do already?”

He gave your jawline one more peck for good measure. “Forgive me. I stopped counting after the first one.”

“Ahhh! Seriously!” you exclaimed, hitting his chest playfully.

Yet Zhongli only gave you another kiss on the lips before pulling away. Gazing down on you with a lazy grin on his face, he answered.

“Perhaps, if you are still willing to do so, we can do a recount as soon as we return home.”

#genshin impact #zhongli #zhongli scenarios #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact fanfiction

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gottawriteanegoortwo · 3 years ago

Text

WKM Role Swap - Another Séance

Go Back to the Start, Previous Chapter

Welcome back! I do hope you haven't missed this tale too much. Nothing like a bit of prolonged suspense, eh?

Let’s leave the Colonel dying for the time being. We need to shift the scene. In the normal version of events, you don’t have a chance to see how the séance the twins perform goes.

Fortunately for you, I have my ways to help… Bend the rules, shall we say. I will say this much - don’t expect the script to fall completely back in line to what happens when your District Attorney aids Celine.

Unlike in your normal timeline, they have been spotted. But by what, you may ponder? Read on, my curious companion…

The Attorney slowly closed the door after them. Somehow, Abe’s smile did nothing to reassure them. If anything, it left them uneasy. In a moment like this, an individual had to take one person’s word over another. It was a common scenario in the world of law, but this was different. Curses, the occult… None of this was ever considered, unless a culprit was trying to plead a case of possession to avoid a jail sentence.

But they brushed shoulders with William as he hurried off. He was frantic, a far cry from the stern, albeit odd façade they had gotten used to over the course of the day. It was a total flip from what the Attorney had seen, yet it aligned exactly with the request he had asked of them earlier. They had been warned he was eccentric. Instead, they saw a soldier who was protective about those he cared about.

It was what motivated the Attorney to ask Celine why she insisted on staying. Surely something like this can work in another place.

“We don’t have time to move!” she snapped. “We have a window of opportunity. If we miss this, then we miss our chance to find the truth once and for all. And then, we might as well not bother at all. Turn Mark’s death into an unsolved mystery because no one remembers what happened last night. Is that what you want?”

The Attorney shrunk back.

“I didn’t think so. If you want to run like the rest, then I won’t stop you. But if you leave this room, I am locking that door, and you will not be allowed back in. I cannot have my work interrupted, not again.” Celine’s shuffling of the tarot cards slowed to a halt. For the first time since she arrived, she gave the Attorney a smile that almost seemed genuine. “I know you mean well. Heaven knows you remind me of Damien. But this… It’s something I need to do. Or rather, something I should have done long ago if I knew then what I know now. Whatever this dark energy is, it’s been around for far longer than a weekend. Mark’s death is only a footnote in a much larger mystery unfolding in our midst, and this is our chance to get a step ahead.”

As the Attorney mulled over Celine’s words, she finished cleansing and shuffling the deck. Like before, three cards were drawn and placed on the table. The meaning was pondered for a moment before Celine spoke again: “If we go talk to Damien, we won’t make it back in time. It’s now or never. You are strong enough to voyage into the beyond and look for clues that may help us.”

They lingered by the door for a moment longer before finally taking their seat. A good lawyer should always look for the truth. If this could provide more information beyond people pointing fingers at one another, then it was a chance the Attorney was willing to take.

“Thank you for understanding.” Her voice was sincere as she began preparing for the ritual to send the Attorney into a trance. “It isn’t that I don’t believe the Colonel. I simply don’t think running away will make things better. Whatever force is here,” her eyes lifted from her work to quickly take in their surroundings, “is one that might not be on our side. I worry that the Colonel’s outburst caught its attention. You will need to tread carefully. If anything happens and you feel like you’re in danger, pull yourself out of it.”

The Attorney hesitated before meekly asking if that would not go against what Celine just said.

“In one way, yes. I would rather you come back safely. You're needed here.”

Somehow, that gave reassurance to the Attorney. They relaxed and allowed themself to follow Celine’s guidance until the world around them began to slip away.

The Attorney was on the landing on the first floor. Damien stood by the railing. He was reminiscing about the occasion, until his expression turned thoughtful.

“Then again,” he mused, “I’m not exactly sure what we’re supposed to be celebrating. I-I mean, it’s good to have the gang back together, but…”

A splash of water on their cheek made the Attorney spin to their left.

They were outside. The Colonel was walking backward toward the pool. Discovering a common friend had been an icebreaker. At last, he was opening up to the Attorney instead of swiftly dismissing them.

“- there came a time when I could have said the same thing about Mark but -” William’s form tensed, only for him to force himself to relax. “Well. Best not to speak ill of the dead.”

William turned, and with it, the world did too.

Suddenly, the Attorney was in the room of the crime scene. Abe and Benjamin were trying to deduce who was involved, until Abe snapped into the moment. “I think we forgot the most important question of all during our arousing game of whodunit - why?”

A second ‘why’ echoed in a lower pitch as the Attorney lowered their head.

They were outside again, following Damien in the direction of the Manor. Something was plaguing their mind. “Or worse yet… mayhaps our counting skills aren't as good as we assume them to be; and mayhaps… in the shadows of this manor, unseen to any of us lay hidden… a murderer."

A rumble, as though one was aware of a storm brewing in the distance, shook the Attorney to the core. Everything went black, but they heard a familiar voice:

“Damien… You are a hard man to find…”

"Well now, this is a surprise. You're back sooner than I expected." A man dressed in a neat red suit raised his eyebrows in amusement as he acknowledged the figure stumbling out of the darkness and back into the séance room. They weren't in their body, but were a mere ghostly apparition, just like him. He stood to the left of the Attorney’s body, and this seemed to be why his lips tugged into a sly smirk.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” There was no chance to respond, as he quickly continued, "Then again, I'm sure you weren't expecting an out of body experience quite like this. But it's fine. A change to the story is one that should always be pursued. You never know what new inspiration will spring forth from the new opportunity."

The Attorney stormed to the right-hand side of their body. They were more focused. That was Mark before them. Did he always have that air of superiority oozing off him? They crossed their arms and demanded to know what was going on. What was he doing, and what was he babbling on about?

"You wouldn't understand… Not that I blame you. You have barely any involvement in all of this - the only truly innocent party in this mess. Everything that has happened, and everything that has gone so dreadfully wrong, has happened because of her." Mark turned his attention to Celine. She was oblivious to the ghostly presences before her as she concentrated on holding the link between the physical and spirit world.

"The world isn't ready for women like her," he said simply, "How can a man such as I be expected to hold his head high after knowing a woman was the one who tore you to shreds? How can she act like nothing happened, oblivious to all the suffering I have gone through?" He reached out to brush his fingers against her cheek. The Attorney noticed how she involuntarily shuddered. "All of this could have been solved long ago if she had simply stayed in her place and behaved. But the story is in place. At this late stage, I can't betray the script. So many rewrites have been frantically made already."

The Attorney frowned and demanded Mark to explain himself. Fortunately, the fallen actor was in good humour.

"It was simple, really. I wanted Damien in your place. Handsome, free of blemishes, save the obvious leg injury… It would be the perfect look for me, and the ideal way of rendering her helpless. She wouldn't possibly try to harm someone wearing her brother's face. But…" He paused, lifting his gaze to the Attorney, "perhaps this was destiny. After all, she chose you first. You were always inconsequential in her eyes. Losing you won't matter in her world. I daresay anyone would miss you at all, really. You are just a nameless, faceless figure. I'm sorry, old sport… But I can't let you tattle on me and ruin everything."

Mark put his hand on the physical Attorney's left shoulder. At the same time, the true occupant of the body slammed both their hands on the right shoulder. An impasse set in as they realised that neither would be able to claim the body as long as the other was there. But to remove the other out of the equation would require lifting their hands, which in turn would give the other part a split second to claim the vacant body.

"Oh, my friend… I'm sorry for your loss. You aren't going to make it out of this room." Mark raised his free hand and snapped his fingers. The Attorney looked around in alarm as the room became overrun with shadows. They slithered up their legs like snakes, climbing the body and wrapping around their torso and limbs until they bit into the Attorney's hands and held firm. The Attorney didn't even consider they could feel pain in a ghostly form, but they held on. They had to return and warn Celine that her fears of something dangerous were true.

"Hmph. You are stubborn. No wonder Damien was always so endeared by you. But can't you see you simply don't belong in this story? This isn't a place for you!" Mark's grip tightened on the shoulder, making the body shake as the head dropped forward. This, at last, caught Celine's attention.

"Hey. Have you found anything yet? What's taking so-" Celine had reached forward to shake the Attorney awake. Instead, her hand touched an ice-cold body that was breathing. Something had gone wrong this time. "No…. No no. Your aura showed you could manage being put into a trance. So then what…" She trailed off as she looked around. The room was growing darker. The presence she had tried to deter from entering was here and interfering with discovering the truth. At most, she had moments to act.

"Oh, how cute. She thinks she can stop this," Mark cooed in a moving tone. He rolled his eyes as he turned his gaze to the Attorney as he continued. "She acts like she is an expert in all things occult, but she's still making novice mistakes. Who tries to reach into another plane without making sure the space is protected?!" On 'protected', he waved his hand to unleash a pulse of energy that shook her balance. Even so, she kept working to cast a spell from her book. Mark needed to lift his hand and close it into a tight fist just as Celine finished her incantation and directed the energy toward the body.

The room plunged into darkness.

Next Chapter

#wkm role swap #who killed markiplier #celine the seer #occult tw #(yes. I am fully aware Space is out tomorrow. Fully fully aware.)#(But I had IRL things that had to take priority this week)#(I should be getting ready for bed but I'm uploading this instead)

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zodiyack · 4 years ago

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Love Reunited (Love On The Run - Part Two)

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst reader has a bad bitch moment, fluff, threats + mentions of murder, no proofreading

Words: 2,114

Summary: In the heat of the moment, Y/n says something that pissed Klaus off. Elijah does the only thing he can and tells his wife to run for her life. | The only thing standing between Klaus and forgiveness from his older brother is Y/n and her freedom.

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read-it, @dpaccione, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @simonsbluee

Masterlist | The Originals Masterlist

Part One.

Ever since Klaus’ resentment for Y/n, and the sworn death sentence he’d given her, chased her out of New Orleans and into constant relocation just to be safe in hiding from her husband’s brother, Elijah had developed a new feeling. He began to loathe his little brother. Though he’d claimed to have detested his brother many times before, this time was different. Even so, that wasn’t the only thing different about this time.

This time, Klaus knew he was fucked.

He’d cried for forgiveness over the past few years, yet Elijah ignored him every single time. One of the, scarcely occurring, times he actually spoke to Klaus about his apology, he’d brought up the situation with Y/n, quoting the hybrid word for word.

“You did say, ‘live with Elijah’s hate,’ did you not? So, why can you not just live with the burden of the reality that I in fact do, and will always, abhor you, Niklaus? Or are you just so diabolical, so selfish. that you merely cannot fathom losing the one person whom has vowed to stay by your side, always and forever? The one person who can tolerate you.”

“Elijah- ple-”

“So long as my wife is on the run from you, running quite literally for her life, you will never be reprieved.” Everyone who knew Elijah knew that he always kept his word. “I give you my word on that.” Always.

“Please, brother! I’ll do anything for your forgiveness-” He was genuine. As Klaus begged, practically on his knees with tears stinging his eyes, he was a hundred percent genuine.

Elijah turned his head, finally facing his brother with full attention and interest for the first time in a painful handful of years. “Free Y/n.”

“W-what?”

“Free my lover from this condemnation you have unjustly sentenced her to and allow her to walk away from your grudge without harm and without the risk of you creating blackmail material of her actions that you have unreasonably deemed intolerable.”

“Anything else?” He was only kidding, but Elijah wasn’t.

“You’ll have to collect her from whatever location she’s at currently. And please Niklaus, do so without any violence on your behalf.”

He chuckled for a second. Then his smug, carefree, expression morphed into one of uneasy guilt. “You’re...serious?” Elijah held his stern manner. Klaus took his lack of response as a yes and sighed, “Alright. Consider her free.” then he turned to go hunt for Y/n and earn his brother’s pardon.

“If you lay a hand on her,” Klaus halted in his tracks, eyes darting to the side as though he could see his brother clearly despite Elijah being directly behind him, “be it a hair pulled from her head or even a tiny meaningless spiteful threat, there will be splinters for you to pull out of your skin for years. And though it will not permanently kill you, I shall drive stake upon stake through your chest and never feel remorse for any part of it.”

Klaus almost wanted to scoff, laugh it off and tell Elijah he’d never actually do that but a part of him wondered if he really would. If his own brother would end his life for anything done to Y/n. Deep down, he knew Elijah would have a rage that would overflow and cause terror and destruction in it’s wake.

He knew the wood couldn’t kill him. He’d do it over and over again, for the next centuries to come, and the centuries after those have passed, the cycle never ending. A never ending cycle of a living hell. And a hell that he knew would be well deserved for it would only come to such a punishment if he did anything to hurt the love of his brother’s life. An easy mistake to avoid ...if your name wasn’t Niklaus.

“Understand?”

Klaus wondered what happened to the old him; the merciless, blood thirsty, cruel and sinister hybrid, the one true immortal being, now showing mercy to, and retrieving, someone who’d crossed multiple lines in his eyes. Whilst she did have a point, he chose never to say so. He chose to ignore all attempts to draw the light in him into the world. He chose to ignore all pleas for his goodness in fear of his softness- his weakness getting the people he loved hurt.

But it was time to push past that, for if he didn’t, there wouldn’t be any people for him to love.

He swallowed and redirected his narrowed eyes to the door. His jaw clenched and his breathing became uneven. “Understood, brother.”

Niklaus was a stubborn man, and he knew it. But he would do anything, very close to literally anything, to gain his family back. To atone for his mistakes over hundreds of decades. To plea for redemption from their bad sides. And although Elijah would forgive him with simply letting Y/n return to his arms once more, Niklaus new his pleading wasn’t quite over yet.

Y/n wouldn’t just forgive him so easily. She wouldn’t, and because he knew that, he wasn’t surprised when she narrowed her eyes at him and furrowed her brows before releasing an avalanche of years, years of which felt horribly elongated, of pent up rage upon him instantaneously without any form of hesitation.

He found her with the help of witches, and quite easily seeing as moving from place to place as quickly as possible would require avoiding any type of relationships with everyone. She didn’t have anyone to preform a cloaking spell, but she did have great strength as a back-up strategy.

A note, placed by the barkeep, was subtly dropped in front of her, the words written in blue by the pen he’d snatched from a barmaid’s apron as she walked past. Two little words sparked her curiosity almost immediately. Her head snapped up and turned left and right, looking for who the mysterious messenger, whom she hoped was Elijah. Much to her disappointment, the person who suddenly placed a hand on her shoulder was a different Mikaelson.

Y/n grabbed his hand and flung it off of herself harshly. “You?”

“Don’t sound so disgruntled, love, I am here to collect you after all.”

“No. I won’t be going anywhere with you.” Venom entwined her words as she referenced him. She clenched her jaw and swiftly turned to face the bar again. The scrunched up napkin was thrown over her shoulder. He opened it, “come home” sprawled messily across the soft material.

Klaus felt the anger wash over him but promptly remembered Elijah’s words. He calmed himself with a few deep breaths before clearing his throat and trying again. “I’m afraid I can’t take no as an answer.”

“And I’m afraid I would rather stake myself than go literally any place on this green fucking earth with you.” Y/n spat through her teeth.

Her blatantly obvious execrating feelings for him amused Klaus, a small grin appearing on his lips as he tilted his head. “Do you even know where I’m taking you?”

“To hell, most likely.”

Klaus, unsurprisingly, had a snarky retort ready on his tongue, but she was already out the door and taking a sneaky head start for her run to the farthest place from Niklaus possible. He was on her tail within seconds and cornered her in the woods. A smug leer, not uncommon to see upon his features, promptly slid onto his face.

“What the hell do you want, besides to kill me?”

“You to come with me.”

Y/n paused, as if she were considering his demand, then rolled her eyes. She tried to step around him, “Like that’ll do me any good-”

“It will.” Klaus stepped in front of her, blocking her way once more. “C’mon. From here on out, your sentence is over, you can return to New Orleans-”

“And how do I know you mean the words you speak? How do I know you shall stay true to whatever comes from your mouth?”

“You know me, I-”

“You’re quite correct, Klaus. I know you. I know that you are not infamous for nothing. You lie, deceive, torture, humiliate and do so many other things to people underserving of your cruelty! How should I forgive you when you have yet to adhere for the hurt you’ve infected innocents with?”

His gaze dropped, guilt creeping over his face. He knew what he did to those people.

“Do you even feel bad for what you’ve done?”

Not really. Not all the time. Hardly ever at all if he were to be honest.

“Do you feel the need to morn those you have wrongfully sentenced to death? Those you have sent to the deepest pits of hell based on erroneous judgement?”

She came for his throat, each fact that was spat from her mouth verbatim.

“You are callous and you are heinous! You wonder why your siblings hate you, and yet you constantly do vile things to people! You have erroneously punished people over and over again. You swear you will change, many times, and they believe you but then the next thing they know, they’re in a box for a couple decades. And you think they need to plead for absolution?”

Hundreds of years spent seething in hostility for her brother in law, all ranted in this one moment hit Klaus like a bus, taking the air from his lungs and sending a feeling deep into his gut like someone had just swung a baseball bat into his stomach a dozen times. But she wasn’t finished yet.

“You want to ask for my exoneration? Well you have years, and I mean fucking years, to make up for.” She laughed sarcastically. “To absolve you from everything you’ve put me through, everything you’ve taken from me, everything I’ve fucking missed because of you- to absolve you from all of that would take many years of penitence and work to fix what you have done. Are you really prepared to do that? Are you, Niklaus fucking Mikaelson, ready to take a lengthy withdrawal from your wicked and corruptive reign of evil to earn my remission?”

He hated the fact that she teased him for it, rubbed it in his face, but he knew he deserved it. Klaus knew he deserved every harsh and bitter word she spat at him. He had a thousand of years of blood on his hands, the true number of all the lives he’d snuffed out still paling in comparison to the amount of power that radiated from Y/n, the amount of guilt and remorse she’d forced onto his shoulders with simple words.

“You are no fucking king,” she sneered, “at least, not compared to me.”

Silence made the air heavy with tension as the minutes passed by. Then, she sighed heavily and spoke, slicing the thick tension with an imaginary blade. “I will go with you,” he looked to her with relief, “but I meant every word I said. You will have to work to ensure your vindication. And it will not be an easy task.”

“I understand.” Klaus bowed his head, submitting to her and trading in his crown to prove his worthiness of her forgiveness.

She happily accepted it.

“Y/n?” He couldn’t believe his eyes. Last he’d checked, he hadn’t been bitten by a werewolf or hybrid, nor had he inhaled or consumed any witchy substances that would make him hallucinate. He didn’t pray much, but in his head, his thoughts muttered over and over, “please be real.”

“Elijah!” Her eyes lit up the second they met his form. She surged forward, lips colliding with Elijah’s for the first time in years. He wrapped his arms around her and twirled her round.

The world faded to an irrelevant blur. It felt amazing to be home, to be in his arms once more, to be free of Klaus’ ridiculous furry, free of the ill intentions previously directed towards her. Minutes had went by and yet, neither of the two noticed a single thing.

Years that had passed by soon drifted away, like they weren’t apart for any of it. Like time had hit pause when she’d left his arms and resumed when she returned to them. It felt as though time froze whilst the two embraced. The moment could’ve lasted an eternity had Klaus not cleared his throat to announce his presence.

“So uh...brother...have I earned your forgiveness?”

“I suppose you have.”

“And Y/n? Have I made progress on clearing my name with you?”

She made eye contact with Elijah, exchanging a small grin before returning her eyes to Klaus and nodding slightly. “You’ve got a ways to go, but you’re off to a great start. Thank you, Klaus.”

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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years ago

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Day 29, Post #2 by @maggotsstuff

Title: The Masterstroke

Author: maggotsstuff

Pairing: Ron-Hermione

Theme: A Friendship like no other/Bravery

Beta Credits: Two amazing person – Adenei and Folk-melody.

The sleepy stone corridors of the Castle of Durmstrang reverberated with the sound of heavy footsteps. The echo of the rhythmic pace pierced through the silence of several corners and passages until it came to a halt before an old wooden door. There was a gentle knock on the wooden surface, which was soon followed by a series of raps.

The din was answered by a slow and lazy creak of the hinges, followed by the dim light of a candle that floated in the air. The silhouette of a woman dressed in black robes and a black hood appeared at the door.

“Prince Draco! What business brings you here to my chamber at this hour? Could this not have waited until the daylight had shone?” she asked haughtily.

“Huh? Is this the way to speak to the future King of Slytherin, Ravenclaw?”

“My fault, Prince Draco. But your aunt, Queen Bellatrix is still the Queen of Slytherin.”

Draco became so pale that his face was almost the same colour as his silver blonde hair. The sentries escorting the Prince, who stood a few steps behind him, lowered their heads.

Draco’s face contorted with a scowl, which was smothered by the smirk playing across his thin lips.

“You are too smart for your own good,” Draco replied darkly. He didn’t wait for her reply as he paced back through the corridors.

Ravenclaw heard warning bells chiming inside of her. Draco certainly had not come to invite her for any midnight tryst. She hurried after him. The floating candle moved ahead of all.

The quartet marched through the long corridors and then through a small passage, which opened in a big hall that was decorated with a throne with a serpent headed backrest. Ivory chairs were arranged in rows at a distance from the throne on both of its sides. The tall walls of the hall had human heads affixed to them. It seemed that each head had a story of an atrocious death to tell.

At the far end of the hall, a flight of spiral steps was erected. The small procession halted there. Draco turned back and feigned surprise.

“Ah, Ravenclaw! Did you follow us until here? Am I so lucky that the mighty witch of my land has finally discovered the truth in my words?” he jeered, raising a silver blonde eyebrow of his at her.

“I cannot ignore the nephew of my Queen. If he cares to visit me at this hour he would certainly have urgent orders for this servant. I am waiting for your commands, Prince.”

“I am humbled that the mighty witch has expressed her desire to fulfil my wish,” Draco stroked her cheek over her black hood. She clenched her fist to resist herself from cursing him back.

“But tonight, your service is reserved for my aunt. You will regret wasting more of her valuable time. The fulfillment of my wish can wait until then,” Draco brushed his hand against hers.

Without another word or a second look, Ravenclaw glided over the staircase.

***

Queen Bellatrix lived in the innermost quarters of Durmstrang. Her chamber was decorated with exotic furniture and guarded by the Naginis. They were serpents with human heads and were her pets. The Naginis spiralled themselves on the way to her bedroom. They hissed at Ravenclaw. Their hisses were silenced as a tall woman with dark hair and heavy eyelids strode forward from behind a tapestry. Ravenclaw bowed to her.

"Welcome to my palace! Was my nephew good to you?" Bellatrix winked.

Ravenclaw did not want to bite her bait.

"At his best, my Queen." She tried hard to maintain a neutral expression.

Bellatrix snorted.

"I know you have much disdain for me and my actions. Yet you never fail me, Ravenclaw. Isn't it difficult for you to serve the same woman who wiped out your entire village, maybe even your family?"

"If you hadn't raided my village and stolen me from my family that day, the villagers would have killed me because they thought I was a curse to the village."

The Queen acknowledged with a nod.

Since the Queen was silent, Ravenclaw continued, "May I ask the Queen why she summoned her servant at this hour?"

"This is what I like in you. You're always in to business," Bellatrix laughed.

Ravenclaw stood silently. There was stony silence, which was soon broken by the Naginis' hisses.

"Alright, I take it that you don't want to have a friendly chat with me. Ravenclaw, tonight I dreamt of a knight."

Ravenclaw's eyes blinked in astonishment. She was not at all prepared to listen to the Queen's rendezvous with a knight in her dreams.

"The Vision," Bellatrix gestured towards a glistening mirror, "told me that he can give me the child who will help me conquer the world."

Bellatrix, who was pacing around Ravenclaw, stopped on her tracks and gauged her reaction. The witch kept on staring straight. Bellatrix handed over a scroll of parchment, several quills and an assortment of ink pots to Ravenclaw.

"I want you to paint me a picture of this knight. With your mystique powers you will tell me who he is."

***

Ravenclaw sat deeply immersed in her thoughts in the confines of her dingy room. Her companion of recluse, the black robes and the hood laid discarded in a corner. Eyes shut, she let her mind run free.

While she was at Bellatrix's palace, she had decided to safeguard the man from the evil designs of Bellatrix whose sketch she had unintentionally made. Soon after, her mind worked at the speed of light.

Bellatrix wanted to have him captured by her Dementors. She convinced Bellatrix that if the Dementors captured Ronald, Gryffindor would definitely know that Bellatrix had him kidnapped.

King James of Gryffindor was not on good terms with Bellatrix. (The relationship between the two monarchs had soured after she had executed Sirius, her brother and James’ friend, on charges of treason.) The king would encash the opportunity for a war because of this; Slytherin's army would not be able to sustain Gryffindor's warfare, she reasoned.

Instead of creating unwanted repercussions, Bellatrix could allow her to steal him away from Godric's Castle. No one would know as she would kidnap him through her magic.

Bellatrix's eyes gleamed with evil delight. The echo of her savage laughter still rang in the precincts of her mind.

Ronald — the valiant warrior of the kingdom of Gryffindor — the knight appearing in Bellatrix's dreams — the man with fiery red hair grown up to his shoulders, long nose and strong jaw, with arrogance in blue eyes — his eyes stirred the memory of someone far, yet so near, that someone who was always so kind to her, that someone whom she loved, whom she might still love. But Ronald was not him. Still….

"RONALD! We shall meet soon!" Ravenclaw thought aloud.

At Godric's Castle, which was miles away from Durmstrang, Ronald heard his flute piping out a syllable which strangely felt like his name. He hurried to the object which was staked in his old leather bag.

He shook his head in disbelief and unwittingly blurted out, "It's not possible!"

But a part of him still hoped.

***

Draco kept lurking around and pestered her for information about her meeting with the Queen. But as days elapsed, he gradually lost interest in the matter. Ravenclaw regarded that the time had finally arrived as Draco’s prying eyes were off her.

One moonless night she flew off to Gryffindor in quest of Ronald, the man with blue eyes. She flew hundreds of miles across rivers, forests and oceans, until finally she noticed Gryffindor's red and golden flag fluttering with the wind. Her tired body immediately recovered with a fresh surge of energy.

Ravenclaw hovered over Godric's Castle for a few seconds. To her relief there were no protective enchantments over the Castle. But the Castle was much bigger than Durmstrang. She decided to perch on top of a low tower until it was dark.

Ravenclaw chose a window as her hiding place which was hidden from direct view. When she crawled onto the panel, she was alarmed by the sound of a low cough. She crawled through the panel into the tower and found herself standing in a small bedroom and staring at an old dog.

"Fang!" she exclaimed. The dog ran towards her, barking with delight.

But, there was a rush outside and she hid herself under the simple four poster bed.

"Fangiekins! What's up," the entrant hollered. Fang pulled him to where Hermione was.

Down under the bed, Ravenclaw tried to control her breath. She knew it was him.

Ronald — Ron! What would she do now?

Before it was too late and Ravenclaw changed her mind, she exhaled through her mouth, emptying her two lungs. Right after her action, she saw Ronald's legs lose balance and before he tumbled onto the floor she withdrew herself from her position and helped him fall asleep on the bed. Fang fell asleep too. All she needed was to wait until dark to steal him away. She hid herself again under Ronald's bed, her mind wandering back to the alleys of Hogsmeade where she met Ronald for the first time.

***

Before darkness crept in, Ravenclaw came outside. She paused to stare for a moment at the tall man sleeping soundly in his bed and then set to work as fast as she could. She gathered ropes, leather straps, even iron chains that she found in the tiny room and strapped Ronald securely to his bed. When the Castle went silent, she levitated Ronald's narrow bed and with a little shove pushed it outside of the window. She fastened her robes to one of the four posters and flew away towards the land of Slytherin where Bellatrix was waiting for her prey.

***

Ravenclaw zoomed into her chamber with a sleeping Ronald on his four poster bed, through the open window of her chamber. The morning rays of sun followed her soon after.

No one noticed except a man with silver blonde hair who had patiently waited for Ravenclaw's arrival since her departure. He hurried towards the Queen.

Ravenclaw headed straight for her bathroom. She needed a bath and food for further functioning. But when she finished her bath and entered her room a hard punch on her head welcomed her, knocking her straight to the floor.

She laid on the floor trying to gather her wit when she saw Ronald's familiar pair of boots running past her. There was a thud and the door to her chamber swung open. She tried to crawl towards the door, but she felt too weak.

She heard Ronald. He kept on swearing. There was the sound of hitting, punching, kicking and cries of pain. Ronald roared.

Ravenclaw somehow managed to stand on her feet. She snatched a scarf, covered her face and hurried out of her chamber. Injured bodies of sentries laid scattered on the stone floor. She saw Ronald clutching Draco’s neck and suffocating him with his bare arm.

"Ronald! No! Please don't kill him!" Ravenclaw screamed. Ronald continued holding Draco’s neck but it seemed to her that he had relaxed his muscles.

"Bring him to my palace." Everyone who was not gravely injured turned with surprise to the spot from where Bellatrix's voice came.

"Well done, Ravenclaw. But your service is not over yet. Follow us to my palace," Bellatrix commanded. Ravenclaw obliged, forgetting that she was awfully hungry.

On their way to the hall, Draco sidled her.

"Why did you bother to save me from that beast?" he asked out of the corner of his mouth.

"Maybe because I hoped that you can do better than what you are," she whispered back. Draco became sober.

***

Bellatrix ordered all but Ravenclaw and Ronald to leave the hall. Ravenclaw furtively glanced at Ronald. He was still fuming.

"Follow me," she commanded while climbing up the stairs. Ravenclaw followed. But Ronald could not break the magical barrier and climb the staircase.

"My Queen, this is the magic of your ancestors. No man can ever cross this barrier and reach your chamber," Ravenclaw said concernedly.

"But you're a witch. Break the barrier so that Ronald can follow his destiny," Bellatrix demanded. Ronald frowned.

"Your ancestors' magic is far more superior than the feeble witchcraft I practice."

"In that case, I beseech the responsibility of his well-being upon you. My nephew Draco shall be commissioned for your assistance."

Ravenclaw understood the subtle warning. Yet, she felt relieved.

"Unlock any room nearby to your chamber and arrange for his stay. You can take him away now." With an air of finality, Bellatrix flounced away.

***

"Why am I here?" Ronald growled as he followed Ravenclaw through the corridors and passages.

"I am not supposed to tell you. Ask the Queen," Ravenclaw kept on marching forward without looking back at him.

Ronald let out an exasperated breath.

"You are the one who kidnapped me, aren't you? Not her. So you will tell me."

"I didn’t know you could be so naive, Ronald. If you haven’t noticed, I am a plain servant here and I work on orders. It's the Queen who decides," Ravenclaw's voice vibrated out shrilly.

Ronald was taken aback. They walked in silence for some time and then Ronald said grumpily, "I am hungry."

"So am I. I haven't eaten for more than twenty four hours. Besides, there was nothing to eat in your room at Godric's Castle and the stench in it was horrible," Ravenclaw barked.

She was listless. That was the first time after so long; she had a banter with someone and was thrilled about it.

"Now it is my fault that I don't keep food to feed my kidnappers!" Ronald retorted back.

Ravenclaw smirked. They kept on walking and reached the same point where Ronald had caused quite a stir some time back.

"This is where you will stay. I will send for some food if you are hungry. And behave yourself. Don't try to run away again. We have had enough of your nuisance," she said sternly.

"This is mental."

Ravenclaw heard him say before she left, and she felt butterflies fluttering inside her belly.

***

Almost a month had passed since Ronald's kidnapping. To Ravenclaw's relief, Bellatrix was yet to figure out how to let Ronald into her palace. The wizards she had summoned to break the jinx failed miserably in their mission. Bellatrix ensured that those wizards were punished adequately.

When Ravenclaw entered Ronald's room, he was lying on his small bed, blankly staring at the ceiling. He didn’t even stir when he heard the door to his room open and close.

"I just came to check on you," Ravenclaw tried to be as comforting as she could. He said nothing.

Over the past one month Ravenclaw had shared many details of her dark life and Ronald shared his experiences. They became much more civil to each other, if not friendlier.

"Look I never wanted to put you through this—"

"Bellatrix came here yesterday," Ronald blurted out.

Ravenclaw's palm automatically covered her mouth over her hood; her eyes popped so wide that it could have bounced out of its socket.

Ronald stared at her for a moment and then said, "You knew about her intentions, didn't you?"

Ravenclaw slowly nodded her head. She knew that he would now hate her forever.

"Then why did you bloody kidnap me?" he yelled.

"Or else she would have sent the Dementors after you. They are the worst kind of species. They would have plundered everything you had in Gryffindor and scarred your people for life," she screamed back.

"Huh, Dementors! As much as Bellatrix called you a brilliant witch who traced me out of her dreams, you failed to understand that I am not afraid of any mortals or demons. But since you wanted to become this angel," Ronald marked quotes in the air, "you could have spared me too. Why did you bring me here?" Ronald asked sarcastically.

"Because I was stupid and thought that I could protect you. Besides, I knew that Bellatrix's palace was forbidden for man. Her father, King Salazar, was a wizard and a blood purist. He cast those unbreakable spells so that no man of lesser blood ventures near her. And I knew you didn't have royal blood running in your veins. But I must admit that I didn't know Bellatrix well. I didn't think that she would keep you a hostage and…," Ravenclaw's eyes were downcast with guilt and she faltered.

"What if I refuse to oblige. Would my head be displayed on the wall of that scary hall?" Ronald asked, frowning.

"No. I will never let that happen. Tonight you will escape from Durmstrang. And you needn't escape through that tunnel underneath your bed." Ronald stood up in attention.

"You think I didn't notice," Ravenclaw said with a chuckle. Ronald deliberately bumped his head against one of the posters on his bed.

"Don't do this," Ronald snarled. "I don't want you to risk your life for me."

"You needn't bother about me. I'm tired of my life, anyways. People like Bellatrix keep me safe, but scar my soul. Your world will not take me back because of who I am," Ravenclaw turned away to hide the tears glistening in her eyes.

Ronald tentatively placed his hand over her shoulder. This was the first time he touched her in the past month of their acquaintance.

"You never asked me why I didn't kill your friend Draco when you asked me not to kill him," Ronald said gently. Ravenclaw turned around in surprise.

"The day you kidnapped me, I heard your voice coming out from the flute an amazing girl once gave me. She was a witch, but she didn't know that I knew. We seldom met. But I remember all the moments we shared together in the village of Hogsmeade," Ronald paused. Ravenclaw's eyes began to shed those unshed tears of years.

"One day she told me that she cannot be friends with me anymore. Rumors of her being a witch had already rippled through our village. I told her that I wanted to be friends with her no matter what. I would stand by her even if the gods were against her. She cried. Just like you're crying now."

He brushed his fingers against her tears. Ravenclaw closed her eyes.

"She gave me a magical flute and said that if she ever needed me she would call out for me through that. She had indeed called out for me on the day she vanished from her village. I went in search of her, but the entire village was in shambles," he hesitated and then added, "her family was murdered too."

"OH, RON!" Ravenclaw wrapped her arms around Ron's torso and buried her head into his chest and cried. He embraced her with equal passion.

They sat down together on Ron's bed. She craved more of Ron's warmth and comfort, which he was more than willing to give.

"What gave me away?" she asked softly.

"Your voice, Hermione!" Her body tensed at the mention of her name which she thought had died a thousand deaths already.

"You could have found me using your magic. Why didn't you do so?" Hermione could sense hurt in Ron's voice.

"I was in captivity, mind you. But after that I thought that you would never want to be my friend after knowing my truth," she said with a shaky whisper.

"From the day we met here, I wanted to say something to you, but couldn't sum up my courage—," Hermione covered his mouth with her palm before he could complete his sentence and said, "Say it Ron."

"That Ravenclaw is a stupid name and your costume is ridiculous," he chuckled.

Hermione punched his gut.

"Ouch! Hermione it hurts!" He gasped in pain.

"I can curse you and make you speechless," she threatened him with mock anger.

"I know you won't because, I — I wanted to say that I was and will always be yours," Ron whispered.

Words didn't seem enough to express what Hermione felt at that moment. She lifted her hood in one swift motion and kissed Ron's mouth. She was finally back with the one she belonged to.

***

Hermione braced herself to execute the plan of their escape that she and Ron had hatched. If caught, she knew both of them would face a gory end. Ron was, however, amused to find her so worried.

"Come on, love," he said, "I am the best commander of Gryffindor. I know the rules of the games. From what I could make out of the excellent details you have provided, we are on the right track."

We are on the right track—We are on the right track— She kept on repeating.

And then she found the person she was searching for — Draco. He was standing on the edge of an open terrace.

"Good Evening, Prince! Have you gotten tired of spying on me so soon?" Hermione cooed. Draco was startled. "And oh! Please don't let yourself stand on these edges. A sweet little shove could be fatal," Hermione murmured into his ears and smirked mischievously.

For a moment Draco was shocked at her audacity, but thereafter he composed himself.

"Why did you come here?" he grunted. "Are you not supposed to be guarding your captive?"

"Umm… the Queen herself guards him now."

Draco glanced at her sharply.

"Didn't you know why she made me kidnap him? She wanted to have an heir to her throne. The Vision told her that Ronald is the man who should father her child if she wanted him to be invincible."

Draco was gobsmacked. "And did she tell you all this when she summoned you?"

"10 points to you. At least you figured this out. Yes, indeed she told me. You should have known that he meant more to her than other men when she refrained from killing him after he created all that nuisance on his first day here."

Draco was staring at her in silence.

"But I pity you, Prince. After how she murdered your grandfather and your parents, you still believe that she will let you be the king of Slytherin."

"You are lying. My parents murdered my grandfather and she punished my parents for spilling the blood of their father. She brought me up like I was her own progeny," Draco countered.

"For a Prince, you have an intellectual range of a teaspoonful," Hermione snorted.

"What do you mean by that?" he growled.

"Your aunt staged everything. She didn't kill you because you're not capable of harming her while you're a kid. But times have changed."

Draco contemplated for a moment.

"But why are you telling me all these things? I have never been really good to you. In fact, my words only confirmed my not so good intentions for you," Draco said plainly.

"Like I said before, I believed you could be better. I always considered your behavior towards me as an act of spite. You said those things because you were jealous of me and wanted to rile me up. If I am not wrong you would have considered it to be a personal insult in laying your hands on the dirty knickers of a witch," Hermione said in a breath.

"What now?" Draco asked intrigued. He had dropped all his pretense and listened to Hermione with rapt attention.

"News is that Ronald is going to escape tonight. If I were you I would have never stopped him," Hermione finally made her move.

"I will not stop him. But who's going to stop Bellatrix? Her Dementors will find him from any corner of the earth," he stated matter of factly.

"Did you know how your grandfather was murdered?" Hermione asked.

Draco scowled and shook his head affirming his lack of knowledge.

"Bellatrix turned the Dementors against him. And from what I know, you have access to her palace being of royal blood. Bonus — the Naginis would not be very happy with her if they knew that Ronald does not have royal blood running in his veins, yet she had been pursuing after him."

"Ravenclaw, you are simply a genius. I would have actually married you if you were not a witch. What do you want in return? I will give you anything," Draco blurted out. His eyes were gleaming with pleasure.

"I want to leave Slytherin. No one should come hunting for me," she said boldly.

"Granted. Tonight you and Ronald can leave Slytherin, and no one from Slytherin will come after you. I will handle the rest," Draco announced.

"Fine. I take your word. Goodbye," she said.

"Ravenclaw, one final word. If Ronald does not accept you, you can still be the old witch of Slytherin," Draco sniggered.

Hermione left him without another word.

***

The death hour had arrived. Ron didn't agree to be flown away by Hermione. He wanted some action during his escape so that no one became suspicious of Hermione helping him. In case Draco ditched them and Ron was captured, he didn't want her to be tortured.

When it was dark, Hermione reluctantly let him crawl out of the tunnel he had dug out on the wall. She supplied him with all the ammunition he wanted. They kissed each other before he left promising to meet soon.

Hermione watched through her window as Ron dropped himself on the ground with the help of ropes suspended from the tunnel. He was dressed in the robes of sentries of Slytherin. After some time, she saw his silhouette riding a horse towards the entry gate. And then she saw the big gates ajar. Draco had ultimately kept his word. She heaved a sigh of relief. She watched until she could see his silhouette fading away in darkness.

Hermione swept her glance one last time all over her little room and then with a smile on her face leapt out from her window to fly away. She deserved to share her home with Ron. They had always belonged with each other.

***

The news of murder of Queen Bellatrix by her own pet Naginis spreaded like wildfire through Gryffindor. The king of Gryffindor, James, announced a feast for all his countrymen in honor of his dead friend Sirius, who was framed and killed by Bellatrix.

Hermione watched everyone making merry from the small quarters where both Ron and Hermione now lived together along with Fang.

Ron watched her golden wedding ring glisten under the sun. He tried to steal a glance of her content face as she examined her ring. As much as he tried to watch her smile, the cascade of her brown untamed hair teased him by causing hindrance.

In a way, her wild hair was like dark clouds in the sky, hiding away the brightness of the sun beneath them, he thought. In his case, it was the pleasure of experiencing the sweetness of her smile that her hair was robbing him off. Ron smiled. He was a goner.

Ron trudged towards the window beside which his wife was standing. He lightly grasped a fistful of her hair and kissed her neck. Hermione sighed. He closed his eyes and savored the feeling.

"Ermynee! You're so intoxicating. What have you done to me?" Ron breathed into her ears.

Hermione turned to face him. They kept on staring into each other's eyes.

"What did I do?" Hermione asked, raising her brows.

"I was a savage warrior. And now I am a moonstruck lover."

He pressed his hand against his heart and staggered backwards.

"But how could I help in this situation?" Hermione asked with mock dismay.

She flung her arms around his neck. He embraced her with fervor and crushed her chest against his.

"As much as I like your clothes, your skin suits you best," he hummed breathlessly, lacing his fingers in her hair. And then they kissed.

"I love you so much, Ron," Hermione murmured in between kisses.

"I love you more," Ron panted and smiled.

They kissed deeper and became hungrier. The anticipation of intimate touches became too much for both of them to bear. Ron pulled Hermione to their bed and worshipped every inch of her body with every inch of his until both of them surrendered to spasms of ecstasy.

Hermione smiled. She would never need those black robes and the stupid name with Ron around her. His love was enough to keep her safe.

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