#He probably thought he was setting himself free getting rid of all the 'chains' that were holding him back... except he's not free. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bountyhaunter · 6 months ago

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TIMING: Current LOCATION: ClubWeigh PARTIES: Wyatt @loftylockjaw and Daiyu @bountyhaunter SUMMARY: At clubweigh, Wyatt's eating a sandwich when Daiyu slides down in the seat across from him. She knows him from somewhere, but where... CONTENT WARNINGS: N/A

Daiyu had walked into ClubWeigh thinking it was Subway — she’d seen the distinct green and yellow and thought it was the chain she knew and loved. She wasn’t even aware that this wasn’t the same store she’d frequented plenty of times before, more focused on the way the employee was assembling her sandwich and how her stomach was lurching with not just hunger but something else.

There was a lamia in the shop.

She had this feeling – the hunter tingle, as she called it – a lot in Wicked’s Rest. It seemed the place was relatively overrun with shifters. It wasn’t often that she felt it this distinctly, though, that she was hit with the certainty of the nature of the shifters. Lamia were rare, after all. But there was one here in this shop.

It wasn’t going to keep her from her meal, of course. She had her priorities straight. And so when her sandwich was done, she maneuvred around the shop, setting her sights on the only other person eating away and plopping down across from him. It was pretty shit manners, to sit down at someone’s table when there were other ones free, but Daiyu had a speech prepared, “Sorry to barge in on your eating moment, but you know, in this society? We have allll these public seating spaces and no one ever sits together. Really sad. So! I’m doing a thing where I sit down with strangers.”

She lifted her sub (which was really a club) to take a bite and eyed the other, who looked very familiar. This was troubling. Encountering a lamia during lunch was one thing, but a lamia she recognized … “Which sub d’you have?” She didn’t know where she recognized him from, though. Maybe he’d tell her. Possibly by reaching across the table and attacking her because he knew she was a hunter — but she hoped he’d have better manners than that. “I got the Italian … something. Fucking slaps.”

—

Despite gaining no real nutrition from it, Wyatt was still a habitual eater of human-food. Cooking was his passion, after all, it wouldn’t be right if he never ate any of the things he made. Plus it still tasted good, usually. And empty calories, well, that was a win-win! The lamia could gorge himself on ice cream if he wanted without suffering a single side effect. That meant that trying shifty local sandwich shops was never a waste of a meal, and for whatever reason, the locals were a little nuts about this one. The whole rabbit’s foot promotion thing aside, they swore up and down it was a million times better than the chain it often got confused with. So.. fuck it. He wanted to stress eat, anyway.

Sitting down alone with his food, he paid no mind when another customer entered the restaurant ten or so minutes later. He was staring out the window at the street beyond it, sunglasses hiding his eyes that had decided they didn’t want to be their usual, human blue, and instead insisted on remaining yellow with slits for pupils. It wasn’t just that, either—there were scales on his midsection that he couldn’t get rid of! No matter how hard he focused, his body was determined to fuck around today. It probably would have been wiser to stay home, but he was going fucking stir crazy in that place. Wyatt was lost in his thoughts when that other customer was suddenly sitting across from him, drawing his gaze away from the window that was now getting streaked by raindrops.

“... it was somethin’ like a Chicago dog, but a sandwich. At least, I think that’s what they were goin’ for…” he spoke after a moment of stunned silence. As he answered the stranger’s question, his surprise waned and he gathered himself up, pushing his other worries from his mind for the time being. “That’s mighty brave of you, anyway. Can’t say I disagree with the sentiment.” He smirked gently, but there was a general air of sadness about him that he couldn’t seem to shake. “So… you find a rabbit’s foot in yours, or…?”

—

Her aunt had been killed by a lamia. Nay, eaten. Hair and skin and all. Daiyu hadn’t really known her, as she’d been off in a different state, but it’d made quite an impact on her when she’d been young. She’d conjured up images of it in her mind’s eye, picturing a gigantic snake wrapping its jaws around her aunt and swallowing her whole. Sometimes the imagined snake would burp up some of her aunt’s signature blonde hair. Sometimes it’d lick its paws. (In this fantasy, the snake had paws.) She was a big eater, but swallowing a whole person or animal in full made her feel rather uneasy. It seemed like a pretty shitty death.

So why was this lamia eating a Chicago dog-sandwich? Daiyu wondered if he’d loosen his jaw to swallow it whole. It wasn’t the first thought on her mind, but it was definitively there. She mostly was just trying to remember where she knew his face from as she worked on a bite of her sandwich. Was it from somewhere back in Seattle? Couldn’t be — most lamia she and her family had encountered there had been killed. Her sister had a nice lamia-skin pair of boots to prove as much. Maybe he was an actor. Mack Ross was a zombie, after all, so maybe this guy was also an actor whose name she couldn’t recall, and just happened to also be a sandwich eating lamia.

She was trying to remember all the lamias who had met an end at her hands, but those weren’t ringing any bells either. It was also making her head feel fuzzy with static, like an old tv. Like she might shock herself. “Soooo…. not very authentic, then?,” she concluded, as if she wasn’t remembering blood spurting from half-reptiles, half-humans. At least these things never managed to ruin her appetite. “Good, good. Otherwise this would become very uncomfortable real fast. We’re becoming too lonely as a species.” They were not the same species. Daiyu did not eat aunts and other people whole. “Nope. I checked right when I got it. Disappointing, you know? I could use some luck. You?”

—

“Not especially, no,” Wyatt agreed. “Granted, never had one from Chicago itself, so really, who am I to talk?” He reached for his cup, taking a sip through the straw as he regarded the woman with a critical eye. He wasn’t nervous, but her behavior was unexpected. Maybe not suspicious, it was difficult to say just yet, but still. He was trying to be more aware of his surroundings since keeping his head in the dirt had only caused him trouble lately. “God, yeah. Could use a whole truckload of it, as it happens. Been mighty unlucky these past few weeks! Super lame.”

Making sure his hands were clean first, the lamia extended a hand halfway across the table. “Well, stranger, I’m Wyatt. What should I be callin’ you?” His gaze was drawn briefly to the window again as the rain suddenly came down harder, pelting it so hard it sounded like hail. A flash of lightning lit up the dark afternoon sky, and thunder rolled in the distance. Wyatt raised a brow, shaking his head and giving a gentle laugh. “Damn… dunno if I wanna be steppin’ out into that any time soon.”

—

“I mean, that whole authentic shit doesn’t really matter to me anyway sometimes. I just want my food to taste good, ya know?” There were some instances where she was more critical, especially as it pertained to the Chinese cuisine — but generally speaking Daiyu’s palette was far from refined. She thought herself a connoisseur all the same, though, and so did her 16 instagram followers. (Half of them were bots, but they were smart bots.) “Very fucking lame. Has to be something in the water, then. Maybe we should order a truckload of sammies and see if we get lucky.”

She shook the hand, her gut protesting at the physical proximity. She tried not to let her lip rise in something negative. Not disgust – she’d never really been good at feeling disgust – but it was something all the same. She still didn’t know who this Wyatt was. Wyatt… Why… at… It rung no bells. “I’m Daiyu,” she quipped in reply, eyeing the weather outside at the same time as the other. “Nah, I definitely don’t. Been rained on so much these past months. Fucking Maine.” Not that Washington was any better, rain wise. “Must be because we didn’t get the rabbit’s foot that the weather’s this bad.” She turned her head, jumping onto another topic as the other’s familiarity continued to be an itch she couldn’t scratch. “Say, you look familiar. Are you a model or something?”

—

“Sure, if you’re buying,” Wyatt laughed. Daiyu. The name was scratching the back of his brain. Something about it was familiar, though he was nearly certain he’d never heard it spoken aloud before. Quietly pondering this as the woman asked him a question, he broke out into a wide grin. “Wow, straight to model, eh? I’m not, but between you n’ my other friend’s comments, I’m startin’ to think I oughtta put this face to good use…”

…. wait, Daiyu? It struck him suddenly. “Hold on… you’re the one that said you’d sign my tits! The one with a sticky sweet center,” he cackled, delighted to be meeting the wisecrack in the flesh. His gaze dropped to the drink she had with her and he shook his head almost fondly, clicking his tongue. “And look at you go, workin’ hard on that as we speak.”

—

“What?” She looked offended. “What do you mean? We’re gonna dine and dash. Or, lunch and leave, I guess.” Daiyu didn’t want to make an enemy out of the sandwich shop, in all truth, but in this hypothetical there was no fucking way she was paying for tens and tens of sandwiches. If they were going to eat their weight (and then some) in clubs to get that rabbit foot, they’d do it for free.

She was about to go on about his modeling features when he made the connection. “Oh my god,” she said. “You’re him! The rotten fruit with bad taste himself! Do you have frog legs on your sandwich?” Daiyu crinkled her nose at the fact, which was ironic considering all the Snicker-Snackers she’d eaten in her life. She squinted, wondering if that online conversation was where she knew the other from, but no. Her itch remained unscratched. “Yes, I am ready to be eaten. After I am done eating myself, of course.”

—

Giving Daiyu a smirk, Wyatt made a show of opening his sandwich to show her the (peculiar) ingredients. “See? Decidedly lackin’ in frogs legs. Coulda thrown some on there, though… wouldn’t have minded.” Yes, I am ready to be eaten. Her declaration, however innocuous given the context of their online conversation, still made him chuckle. And… consider. She looked like she’d be tasty. He didn’t have a particular sweet-tooth, but still.

“Well, then… to dyin’ and bein’ devoured,” he toasted with a small lift of his sandwich, grinning as he went in for another bite. Chicago dog sandwich… who came up with this shit? Wasn’t a hot dog like, already a sandwich? He was pretty sure there were countless online arguments about that subject.

—

There was a lot more to be said and Daiyu was ready to prattle on forever and ever before taking a bite of her sandwich. It was really unfortunate, the way her chatterbox nature kept her from eating sometimes — but this time it wasn’t that which kept her from taking a bite. As Wyatt lifted his sandwich to take a bite and a bit of sausage covered his upper lip from her perspective, the dots connected.

“You —” She lifted a finger, this time. “You used to have a mustache!” Daiyu quickly remembered herself and took hold of her own sub (club?) and took a large bite to keep herself from revealing how she knew that. But her itch was finally scratched. She had not seen Wyatt before in a family context, nor had she seen him in magazines or simply online — his face had been plastered on the bounty wall. Dead or alive, for eating someone alive. With a nice sum. She swallowed half the bite and tried to sound normal, the excitement from recognizing the other dissipating. “Where’d it go, man?”

—

That was… odd. He had not been the only mustachioed man in town, though perhaps he’d been the most handsome… still was, of course, stache or no. His brow furrowed curiously, an uncertain smile following shortly after. There might have been good reason to be suspicious, given everything about this town, but the shifter’s ego was of course always the first consideration, and being recognized by someone he didn’t know was only one rung below being complimented on the ladder of hubris. Of course she recognized him. Even if she’d only seen him out in public once, of course she would recognize him. He was hard to forget.

His free hand swiped across his face as if to confirm that yes, it was in fact gone now, matching the length of the rest of his facial hair instead. “That I did,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Got tired of the upkeep.” Got depressed, was more like it. Shaved it off, then decided to not fuck much with his general appearance. He didn’t need to fuss, anyway. He was pretty even when the curly hair on his head was experiencing wanderlust. “Sorry, have we met before? I can be shit with faces…”

—

See? This was why she preferred to hunt in the woods. That was how it was supposed to be. She, nature, her weapons, her tracking equipment. Daiyu grumbled inward at her mess up, annoyed that the person across from her was a murdering alligator person who wasn’t lounging around in a bit of woods but in stead just sat here. Across from her. Eating a sandwich just for the heck of it, because it certainly didn’t fit into his serial-murder diet. (Although she was a foodie who was known for shoveling food into her mouth, she always found the way lamia ate pretty distasteful.)

“Aaaaaaah,” she said, drawing out the sound and quickly stuffing her mouth with another bite. This was awkward. It was even potentially really stupid. She tried to remember how much money the shifter across from her was worth and recalled it was a fair bit. But there was no attacking people in a place of business. Especially not ones she wanted to return to — but the other knew her now, and she didn’t like being known by her prey. Whatever. She’d talk her way out of it and figure it out. “Yeah, man, totally — I remember now. We met at a bar, I think? You def had a mustache then.”

—

A bar. Well, it was about as likely as anything else. And if it’d been a bar, there was a good chance he’d actually met her and just wasn’t remembering it. Wyatt had a tendency of getting a little out of hand when alcohol was involved. Speaking of things getting out of hand… he could feel his control over his current state of human-ness slipping again, likely a result of his staunch refusal to let himself nap for even a moment. Things kept going to shit every time he closed his eyes, so he was on day… oh, who knew anymore? The sunglasses weren’t just hiding yellow irises, but the exhaustion his eyes could no longer mask. The teeth in his mouth had gotten sharper, noticed as he fidgeted on the spot and accidentally scraped his own tongue on them.

It was time to go.

Crumpling up the last few bites of his questionable sandwich into its wrapper, the shifter cleared his throat. “Sounds like me!” he agreed, offering Daiyu a smile. “Hey, I just remembered that I have to be somewhere, so… I’m gonna go.” There wasn’t time for being clever. He glanced outside again, dreading the rain as much as he had when remarking that he would not be going out in it, but now he had no choice. “Good to meet you in person, and all. Don’t be a stranger!” He was clearly trying to get out of there quickly, offering no more explanation as he chucked his trash into the bin on his way to the door, hissing in a breath as the cold humidity hit him in the face. Ugh. Ugh, it was too fuckin’ cold when it rained around here.

—

The sense that a lamia was in the store with her grew stronger, which was a strange thing and most likely meant he was becoming more … reptilian and less human. Daiyu considered the person across from her, wondering if Wyatt would start showing what kind of lamia he was. If scales would spread on his hands, if he’d grow his teeth into pointy, poisonous things in a response to her recognition of him. She could have been more smooth about it, but smooth had never been her style and her mouth did move faster than her head at all times. But the shifter did not … shift. Not fully, at the very least, and nothing came from the feeling tugging at her stomach.

“Oh,” she said at his vague statement. Daiyu watched from where she sat as the other got up, not having to play up how flabbergasted she was by this sudden turn of events. The guy across from her was a lamia wanted for eating a guy alive. That same lamia was also someone she’d shot the shit with online. And before she could properly grasp that, he was gone.

She made quick work of wrapping her own sandwich in a bit of tissue paper and got up, moving on instinct alone. Stache or no stache, there was a bounty connected to this guy and with good reason — the least she could do was track (or tail, in this case) him to wherever he was going for future reference. So Daiyu got in her car and kept her eyes sharp, following her literal gut feeling as she tailed the other from a distance as her club sandwich laid on the passenger seat, waiting to be finished. The route they were driving was familiar and it was almost like she wasn’t even tailing the guy — it was almost as if she was just driving home to her rented cabin in the Pines. He took a left where she’d usually take a right at some point, though so it at least wasn’t like he was driving to her house (a worry she’d had for one paranoid minute).

She waited in the wings, watching the lamia get out of his car from a fair bit away before driving past and stopping by the side of the road some 700 feet further down. Daiyu opened up her phone, got out her maps app and placed a pin at 12 Mudpuppy Point for later, before restarting her car and going home.

#you look familiar.#threads.#wyatt.

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cinnamonest · 3 years ago

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Alright, so I'm thinking maybe Xiao would also be really really into a person that shows him some maternal affection. Like maybe a gentle god that saved him from his evil master. God!Reader saw a poor leetle boy, all chained up, that's so cruel :(. She just cradles him and takes care of him till he's a big strong man. Since reader is a gentle god, obviously she would treat everyone she meets with kindness. Oh, but Xiao does not like that one bit! Filthy little humans thinking they deserve the kindness from his mommy god?

Xiao would be blinded with the knowledge that he's just protecting his savior (momwife) from being defiled by humans, just like what happened to him when she rescued him from the evil god. He would force her to stay with him, guilty tripping you that, "Oh no, my karmic corruption. I sure hope I don't die while you're away. If I do, it will be all your fault." Despite his obvious strength, reader chooses to stay, because she's nice like that :). If she still decides to leave however, wouldn't you just be a good little wife goddess, chained up on a bed for him to fuck for eternity. It's funny really, you saved him and got rid of the chains that held him captive, now you're the one captive with chains that he put on you himself.

Goddess darling trying to reason with him and begging, doesn't he remember how awful it was? What it was like to be chained up, enslaved, stripped of autonomy? Why would he do the same to her when he knows what that's like? If he truly loves her, wouldn't he set her free?

It actually hurts his feelings, he pouts and furrows his eyebrows because... Are... Are you really comparing those two things? Are you comparing him to the god that enslaved him? How could you say something like that? This is different... This is because he loves you. And he's not cruel to you... Not like the god was to him. He takes care of you, he feeds you, cuddles you, fucks you... Those are all the basic needs, right? You're not human, you don't need sunlight exposure to be healthy. And social interaction... You get that with him. He knows it's probably lonely when you're all by yourself... But he makes up for it when he comes home and talks to you. He's not the same...

He's not forcing you into doing his will, doing things you don't want to. Except for sex sometimes. Because he loves you so much and you make him feel so good and if you just let him do what he wants, you'll feel good too.

And he'd never hurt you... Except when you try to leave, or you make him really really mad. But again, it's because he loves you, not to be cruel. And well, the whole karmic transfer hurts when you begin to suffer the pain of his condition due to his proximity transferring it to you, but he holds you the whole time during those episodes and murmurs in your ear that you'll be okay.

And you'll never feel all alone, like no one in the world cares for you, like he felt back then. No, you won't feel alone even if you want to. You have him to sleep by your side and nuzzle up to you all the time.

But yeah for goddess darling not even the thought of eventually growing old and dying can help you, you're immortal like him, you're trapped forever. Literally with him and only him for eternity. I mean, a normal human mind breaks in what, a year? The most stubborn humans maybe two or three? How far gone, then, will you be a hundred years from now? Three hundred? A millenium? Nothing but him as your only interaction... And for an immortal like him (even a very impatient one like him), a few years won't feel like too long.

Still, that comparison really hurts his feelings. He gets all hurty and pouts until you comfort him. Preferably with a nice hug with his face buried in your chest.

#lena's asks #q #.x #xiao + a goddess darling but shes like lady dimitrescu #the smol and the tol big tiddy mommy gf

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angelicyoongie · 4 years ago

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the crimson shell (llll)

— pairing: jungkook x f!reader — genre: mermaid au, yandere au — w.c: 4.6k — warnings: explicit sexual content! heavy dub-con touching/intercourse, forced breeding, oviposition, mentions of death/violence, general yandere themes — notes: ah, here we finally are, the last part/finale to the story! please keep the warnings in mind, and don’t read this chapter if you’re uncomfortable with anything stated above!

Part I / II / III / IIII

You’re not sure how long you’ve been here. After the second week of just blankly staring at the never changing cave walls surrounding you, you figured there was no point in keeping track of it. What good does it do you anyway? It’s not like counting the days will miraculously get you out of here. While you might not know the number, you do know that it’s been far too many. Your skin has grown pale and gaunt from the lack of sunshine and warmth you’re so used to, and the diet of raw fish hasn’t exactly been very kind to you. The cave is tall enough for you to stand up in comfortably, so at least your circulation isn’t completely shot, but you honestly lack the energy to stay on your feet for too long. Escaping, even just back up to the island, is your only chance at survival. You don’t think you’re going to last very long down here. It’s already gotten to the point where you’ve begun looking forward to Jungkook’s short daily visits, even just the sight of something almost human enough to keep you sane.

You let out a heavy sigh, the noise echoing around the cave as you lean back against the stone wall. Over the last couple of days, the creature has begun to bring you little treasures alongside with your food. You’re not exactly sure why, but it’s nice to have something to do – even if it’s just tracing the patterns on the lockets and pendants over and over. You run your fingers over the small pile of golden jewelry by your side, trying your best to keep your thoughts away from the people it must have belonged to. Jimin might have managed to get away, but you doubt the rest of them did. Two of the pendants in your pile belonged to the crew Jimin brought with him, and you suspect that if you give Jungkook a few more days, he’ll bring you the remaining three. As if you summoned him with your straying thoughts, a small splash in the water alerts you of the creature’s arrival. You turn your head just in time to see Jungkook hoisting himself up on the ledge, another fish and a new pendant dropped at your feet. You silently scoot closer to the edge, offering up your hand to the creature’s expectant red eyes. Jungkook nuzzles into your hand with a happy thrill, rubbing his cheek along your palm. You suppress a shudder at the sound, ignoring the soft skin underneath your fingertips as you stare at the headless fish at your feet. Sometimes you wish you could share the same fate as your food.

You let Jungkook cuddle your hand for as long as he wants, knowing that denying him will only make things worse for yourself. If you look past the sharp claws and teeth, Jungkook is hardly anything more than an oversized puppy. He seems to crave constant affection and confirmation that he’s done good when he brings you food or treasures. You think you might would have found it sweet if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s keeping you trapped here – and that he’s a monster. There’s nothing sweet or innocent about the creature in front of you. You let out a small breath of relief as Jungkook drops your hand, but he doesn’t immediately sink back down in the water as he normally does. You watch in confusion as he pushes the fish closer, the gold chain around it rattling as it drags against the stone. You hesitantly pick it up, praying that Jungkook isn’t going to stay here and watch you eat it. The raw fish already makes you nauseous, and there’s no way you’ll be able to stomach eating it with an audience. Especially one that likes to punish you when you do something he doesn’t like. Call you crazy, but you don’t think gagging at the food he brings you will make him very happy.

You slowly unwrap the chain, putting the fish back down to turn over the locket in your hands. You suck in a harsh breath at the familiar design at the front, the intricate carved flowers making bile rise in your throat. You had this made for Jimin years ago, back when you were still best friends. You two stayed friendly even after you started drifting apart, but you figured he would’ve gotten rid of the locket by now. You can’t believe he kept it all this time. That he still wore it. Your hands shake as you gently pull on the clasp on the side, a strained sound leaving your lips as you flip it open. A picture of you and Jimin smiles back at you, your faces bright and carefree. Jimin has an arm slung around your shoulders, his eyes closed into little crescent moons from how hard he’s grinning at the camera. The pure happiness in the photo makes your heart clench. Despite knowing Jimin was the one who lead you here, you find yourself desperately missing him for a split second before you can catch yourself. God, maybe if you accepted that marriage proposal from the baker’s sleazy son last year you would’ve at least been safe. Home.

You’re yanked out of your thoughts as Jungkook tugs you closer to the ledge, a clawed hand quickly snatching the locket out of your grasp. He lets out a series of chirping noises as his red eyes drag from the locket to you, and Jungkook taps your smiling face in the photo before he does the same to your leg. You stare in bewilderment as the creature drops the locket back in your hands, his lips stretched into a nightmarish version of a smile before he lowers himself down in the water. You swear your heart stops the moment you see the rows of teeth lining his mouth, and it refuses to work again until Jungkook is fully submerged and swimming away. You hastily scoot back from the edge, the locket clutched tightly in your hand. A bitter smile graces your lips as it dawns on you that you’ve figured out how Jimin traded your life for his. The picture. While you can’t be sure of exactly how he managed to communicate with Jungkook, you’re sure that being stranded here for six months must’ve been more than enough time to figure out a way to converse without using actual words. With Jimin as living proof in front of him, the creature must’ve understood that it meant that you were real too. And that if he had managed to get Jimin, then there would be a way to get to you. It was probably easier for Jimin to trade your life for his when he had something tangible to show Jungkook, when he had proof in his hands that you were out there too. A part of you hopes that maybe Jimin tried to convince Jungkook to change his mind, to take someone else instead, but you have a feeling that even if he did, the creature wouldn’t have budged. From the time you’ve spent on the island it has become very clear that Jungkook is stubborn and used to getting what he wants – but you suppose that’s only natural for a creature like him. How can something tell you no when it has already been eaten?

Of course, Jimin had no way to be sure that you would set sail for Jungkook’s island. But, while there was no guarantee you would risk travelling that far, your old friend knew how desperate you were for money, and the lengths you were willing to go to keep your family afloat. You suppose he knew how easy it would be to trick you as long as there was a bit of gold involved, and Jimin was dripping in it when he came back. You just hope he at least had the decency to spare your family a gold ring or two after you left, considering he sacrificed you to go free. You toss the locket aside, not really caring where it ends up as long as it’s far away from you. You force yourself to take a few deep breaths, trying your best to quell the anger burning through your veins. Being mad at Jimin won’t do you any good while you’re stuck down here, so you allow yourself to whisper out a string of curses at the man before you lock away the heavy feeling of betrayal deep into your chest. Seeing Jimin’s smiling face has reignited your dwindling spirit, and you decide that you will get out of here, even if it is just to hunt Jimin down.

The next time Jungkook comes back to visit you, there are no more treasures. Instead, your eyes widen in surprise as the creature gently places a familiar shell and pearl down by your feet, next to your twitching meal. You’re certain you left them near your bonfire higher up on the beach, but judging by the scratches and roughed up skin on Jungkook’s arms, it seems like the creature probably dragged himself all the way up there to get them. You feel your throat run dry at the thought, at the fact that you weren’t even as safe on land as you had first believed. If Jungkook was willing to bring himself up on land to get them, then you’re sure they must mean something important. It can’t be a coincidence that both the shell and the pearl have the same deep red colour as Jungkook’s tail and eyes, and come to think of it, didn’t your luck begin to turn after you picked up it that evening before you left?

Jungkook lets out a chirp as you pick up the shell, the creature leaning forward to rub his head against the back of your occupied hand. You eye him warily as your mind races through what has happened ever since you left home. You really, truly, hope that you’re wrong, but based on how everything started after you picked up the shell and how the creature acts – how he provides for you, how offended he acts when you push him away and how affectionate he is, you fear you might have accidentally accepted a courting offer. You’ve seen similar patterns in animals before, and while you’re not entirely sure what Jungkook really is, you think it’s safe to assume that the same thing might apply for him too. What you can’t really wrap your mind around is why he waited so long. It took weeks before you left after Jimin returned, and you were down by the beach every night. The unexplainable fear you felt was probably something deep inside of you that recognized that you were being watched by a predator – by him – but you didn’t know enough to connect the dots. Jungkook had many chances to grab you, but he didn’t. Not until you accepted his shell. Convenience maybe? That this whole trade was easier if he made you come to him? Or maybe some weird kind of custom his kind has? He is half human, after all. But you can’t be sure. If anything, Jimin could’ve at least had the decency to teach you how to converse with him if he was going to throw you to the sharks, or rather, Jungkook. Either way, you’re sure Jungkook would’ve eventually found a way to get to you even if you didn’t leave on that boat.

You’re shaken out of your thoughts when the feeling of soft skin leaves the back of your hand. The clicks falling from Jungkook’s lips are uncharacteristically soft as he pulls himself up on the ledge, those deep red eyes trained on yours as he tugs you closer. It only takes one hard yank before you find yourself caged in underneath Jungkook’s arms again, legs on either side of his waist. Your pulse quickens as you’re reminded of what happened the last time – you’re not exactly eager to pass out again from being smothered by his weight.

You feel like you shouldn’t be surprised that Jungkook manages to carry his entire weight on one arm, while the other begins to roam across your body. After all, he did drag himself up on land and back, and the part you had on top of you last time was hardly anything. The weight of his entire tail must be extremely heavy out of water. You know the creature doesn’t like it when you don’t pay him attention, so you let your eyes rest on his collarbones, watching as a few drops of water run down his skin. Keeping eye contact is too intimidating, those deep red irises makes it feel like you’re staring right into the depths of hell.

You dig your fingers into your thighs as Jungkook’s hand dips under the torn fabric of your shirt, the unusual texture of the web between his fingers making you squirm uncomfortably as it drags over your skin. You’re very aware of the sharp claws hovering above your delicate stomach as he explores, but at least the creature knows to not let them touch. Jungkook’s hand trails over your sides, your stomach, all the way up to the underside of your breasts. You swallow thickly as a knuckle brushes against the soft flesh, Jungkook’s motion suddenly stilling at the contact. You’ve always managed to push him off before he’s gone any further, but you can feel the shift in the creature’s mood today. You know he’s not going to take no for an answer. But, that still didn’t prepare you for the sudden gush of wind brushing across your exposed chest, your shirt split clean in two with the help of Jungkook’s claws. Before you can scramble to cover up, Jungkook lets out an excited chirp, his hand quickly moving back to your chest. Your mind goes blank as he places his palm over one of your breasts, experimentally squeezing and massaging it as he watches you curiously. You grit your teeth as Jungkook plays with it, ignoring the little tingle of heat in your stomach whenever he does something your traitorous body likes.

You try to convince yourself that Jungkook is probably just excited to see parts of a human body he hasn’t seen before, that he doesn’t really know what he’s doing. Your breath hitches as the webbed texture between Jungkook’s fingers glide over your nipples, a soft moan falling from your lips before you can stop yourself. The noise only seems to spur him on more, Jungkook repeating the motion to hear the sound again. A harsh squeeze on your breast forces out another moan, your hands flying to Jungkook’s chest. Your fingers twitch against his skin, your head telling you to push him away, while the building heat in your stomach and the growing wetness between your legs wants him close to finish what he’s started. You settle for digging your hands into his skin, grounding yourself in his body, knowing that pushing him away won’t do you any good. Jungkook lets out a happy thrill at your touch, lowering himself closer to your body as his hand moves from one breast to the other. You can feel his eyes burning into your skin, your body growing warmer and warmer under his intense gaze. There’s too many sensations at once – cold water dripping against your overheating skin, Jungkook’s long hair tickling your face, the soft and rough skin of his hand squeezing and moving across your flesh. Your eyes glide shut before you can stop yourself, forgetting your own rule of never letting Jungkook out of your sight. It’s just .. too much. Your body doesn’t know whether to hate the attention or love it, your chest tight with disgust while your stomach swirls with pleasure. At least with your eyes shut, and as long as your hands stay on his chest, he feels human. Human enough to make this whole thing a little less horrible.

Your legs tense as you feel more of Jungkook’s weight against your body, his hips pressing down more firmly against yours. You don’t pay it too much attention at first, too occupied by the hand on your chest. At least, that’s until you feel his hips begin to slowly move back and fourth, grinding against your clothed core. Your eyes fly open at the sudden friction, head spinning as your walls clench with need. You’re sure the flimsy material of your trousers must be soaked by now, and the realization that this creature is the reason behind it makes your cheeks flush red with mortification. You stifle a gasp as Jungkook pinches your sensitive nipple between two fingers, another happy thrill filling the cave as he rolls his hips harder against your mound. You can feel the heat in your lower stomach building rapidly, the coil almost ready to snap when Jungkook suddenly stills. You push down the needy whine in your throat as Jungkook removes his hand from your body, the creature pulling himself up further on the ledge.

Your confusion dies as your eyes travel down a little further past his hips, the arousal you felt quickly washed away by terror as you notice a slit in his tail, and something extending out of it. You nearly choke on your own spit as it finally clicks, trying your best to scramble out from beneath Jungkook’s hold as his cock becomes fully unsheathed. Jungkook lets out a series of low, warning clicks at your struggle, his clawed fingers digging into your shoulders as his arms keeps you caged you in. You look down in horror as you feel him resume his grinding against your clothed sex. It’s nothing like you’ve ever seen before. His cock is slightly tapered at the tip, growing thicker down against the base. What you thought was just some misplaced curiosity is obviously more than that, because now, there’s no doubt in your mind that Jungkook’s plan is to fuck you. You ignore the pain as sharp claws dig into your skin, trying your best to twist out of his hold. Logically you know there’s no place for you to run to down here, and that was probably what he wanted all along. Still, your heart hammers painfully against your chest, urging you to at least try.

You don’t succeed in doing much more than twisting yourself over on your stomach, fingers clawing at the stone in an attempt to pull yourself away. You barely have time to process the hiss leaving Jungkook’s throat before the remaining fabric of your trousers are sliced clean in two, leaving you completely bare. The next roll of his hips sends his cock rubbing over your ass, your body trembling at the wetness that seems to be coating it. The scales on his hips are rough and sharp as they drag over your soft skin, and you don’t doubt they'll feel like tiny little razors if you move against them wrong. You’re still trying to drag yourself away when Jungkook’s arms comes under your body, one wrapping underneath your arm to hold the opposite shoulder, and the other curling around your stomach. The creature lets out another hiss at your squirming, pulling your flush against his chest. You can feel his heartbeat against your back, the steady rhythm such a contrast to the wild beat of your own as he once again moves against your body. The new position sends his cock gliding between your legs, the shaft rubbing along your folds and coating it with the same slick fluid you felt on your skin. You dig your fingers into the stone floor, but your body is locked up tight against Jungkook. There’s nowhere for you to go.

Jungkook lets out another warning noise before he rolls his hips forward again, the tapered tip of his cock catching on your entrance. You let out a strangled moan as Jungkook’s cock sinks into your heat, your walls stretching around him as he pushes in deeper. Your arousal from earlier combined with the wetness around the creature’s cock makes the slide painless aside from the uncomfortable burn of being filled too much, too fast. Jungkook’s excited thrill at finally being buried inside your heat rings in your ear from the close proximity, his tongue dipping out to flick across the sheen of sweat at your nape. The creature begins pulling his hips back, not giving you any time to adjust before he snaps them forward. You let out a choked moan as he fills you up again, vision growing hazy as he sets a brutal pace from the get go. You can feel the harsh slap of his hips against your ass with every thrust, Jungkook letting out a pleased hiss as he continues to slam into you. You can feel the tapered length twitching and pulsing inside of you as he moves, more wetness seeping out of his cock to mix with your own. Every thrust leaves you gasping for breath, and the hold Jungkook has around your body feels like you’re wrapped up in steel. You have no choice but to lay there and take it, but as the creature’s cock nudges over your sweet spot repeatedly, you realize to your own horror that you like it.

Lost in a daze of arousal and fear, you don’t even realize the creature has been moving the both of you backwards until you’re suddenly plunged into the cold water. You let out a startled gasp as Jungkook’s length disappears from your heat, and you thread the water forcefully to keep your head above the ripples as you try to figure out where the creature went. You feel his hands before you see him, claws wrapping around your waist as Jungkook pushes you against the ledge. You let out a pained groan as your back collides with the stone, your hands scrambling up to grip the edge of it. You freeze as Jungkook’s head slowly emerges from the water, those deep red eyes looking hungrier and wilder than you’ve ever seen before. It only takes a moment before you feel the creature’s chest pressed against yours, his cock slipping in even easier with the new position. It doesn’t take many thrusts before you’re forced to wrap your legs around his waist to keep yourself afloat, your arms shaking with the effort of keeping your head over water. Your fingers slip a little against the wet stone, your eyes widening as you seem to sink even further down on Jungkook’s cock. You’ve never been so full before, almost delirious as he picks up his pace. Jungkook’s hands are relentless as they glide over your skin, pinching and rubbing every part of your body.

“F-fuck,” You moan as your clit rubs against his tail, the roughness of the scales making a bolt of arousal shoot through your body. You don’t even realize your hips are moving against his as the tightness in your gut grows, the pressure building more and more until it suddenly unravels, waves of pleasure ripping through your body and making you see stars as you come on Jungkook’s cock. The creature lets out something close to a growl as your walls clamp down around him, and he fucks you straight through your orgasm and into oversensitivity with an animalistic pace. You whine as Jungkook’s cock begin to swell, grow, his hands stilling on your hips to pull you flush against him as he comes. He lets out a pleased chirp as the burning hot come floods your insides, a broken moan escaping your lips as Jungkook slows down the harsh pace. It’s done, you think, relieved. He’ll probably leave you alone now. So it confuses you when Jungkook’s eyes slide shut, soft clicks leaving his lips as he pushes you even harder against the stone behind you. He’s still working his hips in and out of your heat, and you realize that even though he just came, his cock is still hard and growing, still stretching your walls.

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head as you feel something moving up Jungkook’s cock, a firm but soft sphere spurting from the tip and into you. It takes a second for your hazy mind to connect the dots, and you realize a little too late that the creature is laying eggs. Inside of you. Jungkook is breeding you. You desperately try to push against his chest as you feel the second egg travel up his cock, but Jungkook only tugs you closer, tucking his face into the crook of your neck as his chest rumbles. You stifle back a moan as the second egg joins the first, the foreign texture brushing along your sensitive walls. The creature purrs as he released another spurt of eggs, slowly grinding his cock back and fourth as he breeds you. You cling on to the ledge behind you, disgust and pleasure wracking through your body as another egg joins the rest. A deeper click, something almost close to a groan, falls from Jungkook’s lips as he forces the last egg into your tight heat. Your eyes nearly roll back as you feel his cock nudge against your cervix; Jungkook’s slow pace fucking the eggs around inside of you. If you thought you felt full before, it’s nothing compared to being stuffed to the brim with Jungkook’s thick cock, eggs and come.

You can feel Jungkook’s breath ghost across your exposed wet skin, the harsh puffs of air sending chills down your back. Your hands finally slip from the ledge, too exhausted to keep you up anymore. Before you can wrap your shaking arms around Jungkook’s shoulders, the creature suddenly detangles you from his body, quickly hoisting you back up on the ledge. You let out shaky moan Jungkook’s cock once again slips from your heat, your body feeling surprisingly empty despite the eggs still resting inside of you.

“Shit,” You hiss as you strain to push yourself up on your elbows, gliding a hand down to your stomach. You can feel them inside of you when you press down, little bumps gliding around under your fingertips. Panic builds under your skin – you have to get them out. There has to be a reason you’ve never heard of creatures like Jungkook before. You doubt you're compatible to carry his eggs, and you don’t even know what will happen once they begin to grow. And even if you were, it’s not like you want them. Just as your hand is about to slip down to your slick folds, Jungkook hoists himself up from the water, once again covering your body. He snatches your hand away with a series of threatening clicks, barring his sharp teeth as he lies down on top of you. You twist your head with a fearful whimper as Jungkook pushes your hand into his hair instead, the weight of his body not totally crushing, but still enough to make you feel lightheaded.

You squeeze down around the eggs without meaning do, bile rising in your throat as they catch on your entrance, too big to push out without any help. Your eyes land on the crimson shell and pearl pushed over to the side of the cave. Your chest feels tight as it dawns on you that while the shell were likely a courting offer; the pearl must’ve been a mating offer. And you had accepted both. Your eyes begin to sting as you feel Jungkook’s chest rumble against yours, the pleased purrs making you feel sick. You hesitantly shift your gaze back to him, curling your fingers painfully tight into the wet locks underneath your palm as you find those deep red eyes already staring back at you. A twisted rendition of a smile blooms on his face, the rows of sharp teeth glistening as he looks down at you. The message in his gaze is clear – you’re keeping the eggs.

And there’s no way he’s letting you go.

a/n: oh boy. hopefully only those of you that were okay with the warnings made it this far. because i know i’ll get questions: jk fertilized his own eggs when he bred y/n, and y/n will basically serve as an incubator (poor girl lmao) for a while. she’ll push the eggs out eventually and then the eggs will hatch on their own. and no – i have no plans of doing jk’s pov any time soon, and it’s up to you to imagine y/n’s fate. anyway!! i hope you uhh, enjoyed this! and thank you for all the love and support for this mini series, it means a lot to me! as always, see you all soon and stay safe! and in case you enjoy my stories and want to buy me a coffee, you can do so here! 💖

#mermaid bts #mermaid au #yandere bts #yandere jungkook #mermaid jungkook #bts smut #jungkook x reader #yandere au #bts x reader #yandere mermaid #yandere x reader #bts au #bts fanfic

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hangovercurse · 4 years ago

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The Things We Can’t Tell Pete About viii

Pete confronts you about the pictures of you and Colson on a date, Colson hears the song you wrote about him, and you decide the future of your relationship.

Colson X Davidson! Reader

Warnings: Cursing, light smut (18+)

A/N: The song in this is called “Death of Me” By PVRIS if you wanna check it out

Word Count: 1424

| i | ii | iii | iv | v | vi | vii |

Your hand was on the doorknob to leave your office when your phone vibrated in your pocket.

We need to talk

Was all Pete said. Attached was a screenshot of some news article with the headline “Best Friend’s Sister?” and a picture of you and Colson walking to your studio.

Shit.

You walked to Pete’s house, trying to figure out what lie you were going to tell him. The pictures weren’t that incriminating, just you and Colson walking around New York. And technically, at that point, you were being friends.

You didn’t even get a chance to knock before Pete was swinging the door open, ja clenched. “Pete, let me expla-“

He pulled you inside by your arm, slamming the door behind you. “You fucking lied to me.”

“I didn’t-“

“Are you fucking kidding me? Colson?” Pete grabbed onto his hair, pulling at the strands. “This is a joke, right? You didn’t seriously go on a date with Colson fucking Baker.”

You sighed, “Pete, I-“

“I asked for one fucking-“

“Peter let me talk God fucking damnit.” You yelled, shutting your older brother up. “We went to lunch as friends.” That wasn’t a lie. You were friends at lunch. “Because we’re friends.”

Pete squinted at you, trying to read if you were being truthful. “When did you and Colson become such good friends.” He spit out the word.

You had prepared for this question, “you passed out that night we were watching SpongeBob and we just got to talking. We have a lot in common, you know?” Your hands were shaking, even though you still hadn’t technically lied. You and Colson did become friends that night, right after he kissed you.

“So, you didn’t go on a date with him?” You shook your head, not able to bring yourself to verbally lie to your brother. “Because I’m serious, Y/N, I will lose my fucking shit if you-“

“I didn’t go on a fucking date with him. Trust me, I’m not that bad of a sister.” You huffed, turning to the door to leave before tears could spill down your face. The truth was you really were that bad of a sister. “But if I was, if I ever did date any of your friends and you pulled this shit, I wouldn’t be the only bad sibling.”

Pete rolled his eyes, letting you leave, “if you did, you would be selfish.”

You slammed the door after shouting “I’m not the only selfish one here, Pete.” As you walked away from the house you pulled out your phone, texting the only person you wanted to see right now. I need u

It didn’t take long for him to text back, I can be at your place in 10.

You felt your chest loosen up just slightly knowing Colson would be there to comfort you when you got home. You wiped at your eyes, trying to keep the tears from making an appearance.

Colson was leaning against your door when you got there, standing up straight when he saw you. “Hey.” He said softly, letting you throw yourself into his body. Your head was pressed into his chest, arms wrapping around his stomach tightly. “What happened?”

You moved back while shaking your head and unlocking your door. You led Colson inside, letting him pull you into the couch, back against his chest. He ran his fingers through your hair softly, comforting your shaking nerves. “Some fucking reporters took pics of us at lunch.” You finally muttered.

Colson let out a “fuckin paps” under his breath.

“Yeah, and then Pete saw them and freaked out.” Your voice was very pouty, and any other time Colson probably would have found it adorable. “He accused me of lying to him and being selfish which hurts because it’s true.”

“I thought we decided we weren’t lying to him anymore.” Colson commented, a frown falling on his face.

You let out a sigh, “I don’t want to lie to Pete, but he’s being unreasonable. I can’t even bring up the idea of dating you without him flipping his shit.”

Colson moved you so you were sat facing him, letting you see the distress on his face. “Y/N, we said we weren’t gonna lie to Pete. He’s your brother and he’s my best friend, he’s gonna find out eventually and it’s only going to make things worse if we wait.”

You pleaded with Colson, “can we just, keep this secret for just a little it longer? Please? I’m just not ready to handle that situation quite yet.” The man sighed, hands moving to hold both of yours.

“Just promise me that we tell him soon, okay?” You nodded in response, leaning up and pecking his lips. His hold on your hands pulled you into him when you tried to pull away, deepening the kiss. Your hands moved to his upper arms, stroking his biceps as he placed his hands on your waist.

When you finally pulled away for air, you remembered the song you had written earlier. “Can I show you something?” You asked him, already getting off the couch to fetch your guitar from its place next to the TV. “I wrote this earlier, after you left the studio.”

Colson raised an eyebrow, “no one’s ever written a song about me.” You bit your lip, positioning the guitar and strumming the first few chords to warm yourself up.

This love looks like a loaded gun A noose around my neck or a sweet poison If it gets in the wrong hands, then we're fucked 'Cause heaven knows what you do to me You could chain me up or set me free And you could suffocate or let me breathe, yeah Baby, you could be the death of me

Maybe I'm crazy, I know you're danger Baby, you could be, you could be I'm falling, fading, and seeing angels Baby, you could be the death of me Maybe I'm crazy, I know you're danger Baby, you could be the death of me I'm falling, fading, and seeing angels Baby, you could be the death of me

Colson watched you with fond eyes, biting his lips as he watched you strum the guitar. When you finished, he continued to stare at you, leaving you to blush. “It’s just the first verse through the chorus but-“

“You’re amazing.” Colson cut you off, moving closer to you. You stumbled over your words of gratitude as Colson moved the guitar off your lap, placing it on the floor in front of the couch. His fingers gripped under your chin, pulling you so your eyes were locked into his blue ones. You hadn’t realized how close he’d moved to you until that moment, when you were so close you could feel his breath on your lips.

Without hesitation, you leaned up and planted a kiss on his lips, letting his hands travel to your hips and pull you towards him. You climbed onto his lap, lips never parting. Your knees were on either side of his torso, hips spread across his own.

You pressed your pelvis into his own, a moan spilling into your mouth from his. He squeezed your ass through your pants, pushing you further into him. Soon he was guiding your hips into his at a steady rhythm, letting your lips leave his to suck on his neck.

He tugged at the bottom of your shirt, prompting you to pull away from him and strip it off yourself, your bra falling from your body soon after. Your lips went back to Colson’s briefly before he moved to take his own shirt off, revealing his canvas of tattoos. You lifted yourself from the couch, pulling on his hand for him to follow you. You had all intent to lead him back to your room, but he pulled you into another hot kiss, hands reaching down to your thighs and lifting you up.

He carried you to your bedroom, dropping you down onto the mattress. He tugged your pants off, leaving you in just your panties, before doing the same to himself. His bulge was evident through his boxers, the outline making you drool. He kneeled over you, hips grinding into yours teasingly. You leaned up to kiss him, hands in his hair pulling him down onto you. Your bodies intertwined perfectly; his seeming to know everything to do to drive you crazy.

Your body was on fire when he rid you of the rest of your clothes, only extinguishing when you were finally releasing around him.

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk angst #mgk fluff #mgk smut #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #Colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #colson baker x reader

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writingthingsisdifficult · 3 years ago

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Double booking

Word count: 3934

You just want a night in peace at the hotel, after travelling for hours, but alas, it's not to be. Inspired by a dream I had a while ago, though that was not as coherent or logical by any means.

Obligatory English is not my first language.

Please let me know what you think.

_______________________________________________________________________

The bed is soft as a cloud and you crawl under the blanket with a satisfied sight. The chill of the luxury fabric feels divine against your weary body, and you pull our tee off to get the full experience. Goosebumps erupt over your back, and you wiggle down into the mattress. Letting out another sigh that morphs into a yawn, you close your eyes. After hours on the road, a good night's sleep will do wonders.

You turn for a bit, trying to find the ultimate sleeping position, settling for a half side, half stomach that provide that sweet, sweet relief for your achy back. With your free hand, you pull a corner of the blanket between your thighs, longing for the extra soft pillow you have at home, but that you just couldn't be bothered to bring with you. At least this way you won't chafe.

The linen caresses your bare skin, the cool of the newly made bed pulling you closer to dreamland, and then you're drifting off into the vast nothingness.

What feels like only seconds later, you wake with a start, from the lights turning on. Fumbling for your glasses and feeling your heart in your throat, your brain scrambles to make sense of what's happening. Is the fire alarm ringing? No.

Once the glasses are comfortably on, you glance around, only to notice a man standing in front of the wardrobe, mouth half open and a bag slipping from his shoulder. He's tall and menacing looking, and he's wearing gloves and a leather jacket, and you let out a strangled scream as you tumble off the bed, knocking the book from the nightstand and trying to wrap the thin blanket around yourself with trembling hands.

The fabric feels way too flimsy now, letting the draft from the open door wash over your body. There are goosebumps again, but this time they're not pleasant at all, and they wave back and forth over your scalp, making your ears buzz. You're painfully aware that the blanket is the only thing between your skin and the open air, and you pull it even closer as you back into the window wall and pull your knees up in front of you.

Your heart pounds like a bass drum, and you're pretty sure the stranger can hear it across the room. He still hasn't moved, and without conscious thought, you scan the room for an exit. But this is the fifth floor, and there's only one door that doesn't require you to go past him, and that leads to the neighbouring room. Not that it is, in any way, shape, or form, possible to get that far in your current condition.

Your breathing speeds up, and you crouch, trying to make yourself as small as possible. The coarse curtain prickles against your shoulders.

The stranger looks between you and the white key card on his hand, his mouth trying to speak, but managing no sound. Finally, after what feels like years, he looks away and stammers. "Sorry. Sorry. I must have gone to the wrong door." His neck has turned a deep shade of crimson, and he hunches his shoulders a bit, like he's trying to make himself smaller too. "I… uh, sorry." He picks up his bag and disappears through the door, closing it firmly behind him.

On the floor, you're barely aware that he spoke; the shock has practically paralysed you. It's not until the door smacks shut you manage to move again. Slowly, fighting the galloping heart and breathing, you get up and sit down on the edge of the bed. It's no longer tempting to crawl under the covers, and you don't have the courage to cross the room to put the security chain in place just yet. The encounter has spooked you so much, adrenaline is coursing through your body.

"I need a drink!" you mutter, voice croaking and airy at the same time, and pull on the discarded shirt. There's no chance of sleep for a while. That much is clear! "Idiot!" You berate yourself, mentally slapping the back of your own head for forgetting to fasten the chain, but you had been so busy worrying about the twin door that it completely slipped your mind.

The selection in the mini fridge is limited, but at least there's a couple of bottles of cola, and a small vodka. After mixing them, you down half the glass in one go, and the burn of the alcohol on your tongue makes your face scrunch, but you immediately relax a bit, and your thoughts clear somewhat. What the hell just happened? This is supposed to be a good hotel. Not very fancy, but better than the bug infested dumps you usually have to stay in.

You make a mental note to talk to the management. Tomorrow. Right now you're to riled up. Nothing good will come of it. Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes and focus on the buzzing in your ears. Slowly it fades until your hearing is back to normal, but there is no getting rid of the uncomfortable sting in your shoulders, or the occasional THUMP-THUMP in your chest.

As you finish your drink – you've almost decided on a second one to keep you company while you read for a bit – there's a sharp knock at the door. That makes you jump and spill the remains of your glass down your front. That doesn't register, though, because the door opens again, without waiting for a reply. You groan at yourself for once again not fastening the safety chain.

A stern looking woman enter, followed by the stranger, who, you notice, looks almost ashamed. "You're in this gentleman's room." It's a statement, but she might as well have yelled why are you here, you creep?

"Um, what?" You desperately try to jump-start your brain; this is definitely enough excitement for one night. After all, it is past midnight, and by all means you should be sleeping now.

"This is not your room," the woman says, in a voice that shows clearly what she thinks of you.

A frown appears on the man's face, and you squint between them. "What, yes it is." Your voice is breathy, and with a sigh through your nose, you grab the folder on the desk and pull out the papers from the check-in. "See, here? This is my name, that's the room number –" Suddenly your stomach plummets. What if you are in the wrong room? But the key card worked… A glance at the still open door – no, right room. You let out a small breath.

The woman grabs the papers and studies them, while holding out her hand to the man, wiggling her fingers when he doesn't respond. He fumbles with his bag and produces a set of identical papers. She compares the two, the furrow between her eyes deepening every second.

Finally she looks up. "My apologies. It appears there's been a misunderstanding," she says, her voice a lot softer than earlier, tired. She turns to the man behind her. "The room has been double booked or something."

That much is obvious. He nods. "Yes. Will you find me another room, please." He speaks softly too, and the panic that threatened to overcome you earlier subsides a little. He is just another weary traveller – of course he isn't here to hurt you. That thought seems quite silly now, or maybe that's the drink talking.

"Sorry," the lady says flatly. "There are no vacancies." She winces slightly, as if she prepares to be yelled at.

His shoulders slump, and he lets out a small groan, looking at you, then at her. "But…"

You smile apologetically and take another sip of your drink. It is empty, and you grimace from the embarrassment.

"However," the woman says after a pause, visibly relieved that neither of you seems to be the shouting types, "since it's so late, and you probably won't find a room anywhere else tonight, what with the festival and everything, I can probably set up something in the lobby. We have a few partition walls and –"

He scrunches his eyes shut and grimaces, and you feel sorry for him. He is a stranger, and you were in the room first, but it's not his fault that the hotel screwed up. Sleeping in the lobby is not an alternative. Your mother raised you better than that.

"Wait," you interrupt her, and they both turn to look at you. This is probably a bad idea, but the man looks nice enough now that the shock has diminished. His eyes are kind and tired and though he holds himself with authority, he keeps a respectable distance from both you and the other woman.

Gesturing to the unused bed next to yours, you try a smile and sigh when you feel it's just a grimace. "If… if it's okay with you, it is with me. You can have that bed tonight. And then we'll sort it out in the morning."

The woman's face relaxes, and you wonder how many rules she offered to break to keep you happy. The man frowns, as if he doesn't quite understand what you're offering. Maybe he doesn't, maybe he doesn't speak English very well. Then he gives you a flat smile. "You sure?"

Are you? "Yes," you answer, not at all sure, but it's too late to change your mind now.

"Well then, I bid you both a good night, and I'll leave a note for the morning staff, Mr Barnes." The woman leaves the room and shuts the door with a soft click.

"Y/N." You nod, hoping you look relatively normal, though you feel everything but, with your glasses askew on your nose, a tattered t-shirt and no bottoms. Awesome. At least the shirt is long enough to cover your butt.

The man remains by the door, looking forlorn and confused. "Bucky." He looks everywhere but directly at you, and for that you're grateful.

"Please," you say with a small nod, gesturing to the bed and the light switch on the wall beside him. "I'm really tired…"

Carefully you get back into bed and tucks the blanket tight around yourself, feeling a bit dizzy from what just happened. But you are really too tired to care at the moment, and the soft pillows are screaming your name.

Turning over on your side, with your back against the windows, you pointedly yawn and close your eyes to give the stranger some privacy. Seconds later you hear the soft thump of a duffel bag hitting the carpet, and a small click. Then the bathroom door opens and the man shuffles in.

As the door shuts, you dare to open your eyes again. He's switched off the light, but there's a small sliver leaking under the door, and you see shadows move over the floor. There is something soothing about the noises of running water and the clacks of his belongings on the marble countertop, and it suddenly occurs to you how much you miss travelling withsomeone.

Once he's done and the bathroom door opens, you close your eyes again. The bed creaks under his weight, and the sheets rustle as he gets in. Something heavy hits the headboard, but not long after, he settles.

You sneak a peek through half-open eyes. The man is handsome. Sharp, but gentle features, a calm face, but he's lying on his back, stiff as if he's unused to the luxuries of a bed. His arms are on top of the blanket, and in your sleepiness you wonder why he's keeping his gloves on when he's sleeping.

"Good night," you offer gently, before sighing and pulling the blanket over your ears. The warmth and muted sounds give you a sense of safety, though it is minimal.

"Good night," he replies. "And thank you."

You wake up earlier than usual. The red numbers on the alarm clock blinks 06.38. Something feels off in the room, and for a fraction on a second you feel panic rise in your chest, but then you remember the night's events. The panic fades into a vague discomfort, and you grab your glasses. The man, his name is Bucky, hadn't he said so, is still sleeping, his gloved hand under the pillow and one foot dangling over the edge of the bed. It's kinda adorable.

As quietly as you can, you get out of bed and tip-toe to the bathroom, collecting your clothes on the way. You quickly change and put on contacts, leaving the glasses by the sink, not really daring to take a shower with the stranger in the room next to you. Instead, you splash water in your face and drag a brush through your hair, and with a short glance in the mirror, you deem yourself presentable.

Careful to bring your wallet and your key card, you exit the room and walk briskly to the elevator. The trip down to the lobby only take half a minute, but it feels like an eternity, and once you step out of the door, you're met with a buzz of voices from the lobby. Oh, yeah, the festival.

Luckily there's not much of a queue. Most people are on their way out, or to breakfast. The staff are too happy and smiling for it to be this early, and they're chatting and laughing with the guests, pointing their way to the restaurant or showing places of interest on the map on the counter.

"Good morning, what can I do for you?" one of the receptionists chirp.

You wince internally and focus on bringing a neutral expression to your face. It's not easy, as you'd rather be back in bed. "Yes, uh, I don't know if the night employee let you know, but there was a mix-up with my room last night."

The receptionist frowns, then smiles apologetically. "Ah, yes. There's a note here. Room 508, right?"

You nod. "Yeah."

He calls over his colleague, and motions for you to wait a moment. They talk silently together, sometimes gesturing to the screen, and then he starts typing and scrolling. "Looks like," he says, interrupting himself. "Yeah. Oh god. Lisa, will you look at this?"

His colleague looks at the screen over his shoulder. "Oh, jeez. Really? She's so gonna get fired, for sure," she mutters, then look up at you. "Yeah, so there's definitely been a mix-up. It looks like housekeeping accidentally marked Mr. Barnes' room as occupied when they had cleaned it. It shouldn't be possible, but to me it looks like… a glitch in the computer system –" She lets out a guttural groan, most likely thinking about the amount of work she now faces.

The one behind the screen clears his throat and gives you what is probably supposed to be a disarming smile, then continues to type. "So, I've updated the database with Mr. Barnes' new room, and yours of course. Would you accept a refund of the night, and a meal in the restaurant, free of charge, of course?"

You nod again, unable to find the words to express how not okay this whole thing has been. "If you offer the same to Mr. Barnes," you say, not sure where that comes from, though when you think about it, he's probably had just as rough a night as you.

"Of course. Here's his new key. Would you mind bringing it to him?" The receptionist's voice trembles ever so slightly, but he keeps the smile plastered on.

"Yeah. I can do that. Thank you for figuring out what happened." You inhale deeply, and rub the back of your neck. Your shoulders are stiff and the beginning of a headache murmurs along your temples.

Now that everything is resolved, you feel weirdly chunky. You drag your feet, your head feels like it's filled with cotton, but there's a lightness to your chest that you hadn't expected.

Back in the room, Bucky is still sleeping, and you decide to let him sleep as long as he needs, feeling almost protective over the man that sleeps so peacefully in the bed that should have been empty. Anyway, you're up now, there's no need to stay in the room. Just then, your stomach growls. Breakfast, then. And after that… Well, you'll see. You hastily scribble an explanation on a piece of paper, leaving it on his bag along with the new key card, then you hang a do not disturb on the door before you hurry down to the restaurant.

When you get back, stomach full and head light, the room is empty. His bag is gone and the only sign someone's been in there is a bed with rumpled sheets and the slightly unfamiliar, sleepy scent. You sit down on your own bed, surprised that you're not sure how you feel about being alone again. It's probably the shock still lingering in your system, you think, and shake the feeling off before picking up your art supplies and heading out into the city to work.

That afternoon, when you return to your room to change and relax before you start sorting through the day's drawings, there's a vase with hydrangeas on the small desk, along with a handwritten note that says thank you for letting me stay. The ball of blue and purple flowers makes you smile. Bucky obviously is a decent man, and you find yourself wishing you could get to know him, regretting not even peeking at the room number on the key.

It doesn't take long going through the drawings – you've been too distracted, really, to get any good ones done, and the project isn't due for another two weeks, so you don't have the pressure on you to finish it now, so you decide to take the hotel's offer and have dinner in the restaurant. It's a nice place, and you try to tidy up a bit, refreshing your make-up and putting on a clean top that feels nice against your skin.

The waiters all but trip over each other trying to please you, and you figure there's a nice note going with your name. You've always felt a bit uncomfortable eating by yourself in a fancy restaurant, but this time you're determined to just enjoy it, but you've brought a book just in case. And you're partly hidden behind a palm tree, so no staring from other guests, hopefully.

You're halfway through the meal when you feel your face tingling, as if someone's watching you. Stopping mid-chew, you look up. There's no one there. You swallow and put your fork down before glancing over your shoulder. Bucky is seated three tables behind you, but when you look at him, he looks away. Your heart speeds up a bit – christ! You'd forgotten how pretty he was.

He looks up again, and you smile before returning to your meal. At least you can let him know there's no hard feelings. Maybe, if you see him again, you'll pick up the courage to talk to him too.

The food is delicious, and the dessert is simply sublime. How the chef has managed to make the chocolate mousse so creamy and light is beyond your comprehension. Cooking has never been a strength, though you have a few signature dishes, but you know how to appreciate it. The red wine is perfectly paired, and when you're full and satisfied, you're almost ready to go talk to Bucky. But he's not there when you turn. Your heart drops for a moment, but then you remind yourself that he's a stranger, and probably has his own life. All you can do to quench the disappointment, is a short detour through the bar, where you pick up a nice gin fizz, before you head back to your room and call it a night.

The room feels too empty now. The bed is just as soft as it were before, the covers slide over your skin like water, but something is missing. You can't sleep. The room is too silent. The air is too still. You toss and turn and can't seem to find a comfortable position. In the end you roll over on your side, facing the empty bed. Hugging the pillow, you sigh and pull your knees up to your chest. It's too cold. The blanket isn't thick enough to give enough comfort tonight.

Suddenly there's a soft knock on the door. Your heart beats hard in your chest as you cross the floor to look through the peephole. The hallway is empty.

There's another knock, and you jump, bumping your head against the door. It's coming from the other one. The twin door. Slowly, you remove the safety chain and unlock it, opening it just an inch or so.

"Sorry," the person on the other side says.

For a moment you forget how to breathe. The person on the other side is Bucky, smiling sheepishy, and looking like a fucking model in his pyjamas.

"Hello," you answer, resisting the urge to smooth down your t-shirt.

"I just, I just wanted to apologise," he stutters, scrunching his eyebrow together. "For, for last night. I didn't mean to… I mean, I didn't mean to scare you, and the lady in the reception jumped to conclusions before I could explain, and…"

You blink and exhale slowly. "Not your fault," you mutter, too drunk on his presence to articulate properly.

"I know, but still. I'm sorry."

"You're forgiven."

"Good. Okay." His voice drags a bit, and it looks like he's turning away. You're just about to close the door when he turns back. "Listen… Uh, it's… Can I ask you a favour?"

Not ready for the conversation to be over yet, you nod. "Of course. What do you need?"

He grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck and hems and ums for a while. "This is gonna sound… You can say no, of course, but…"

"What is it?" The buzzing has returned to your ears, and you have to focus to hear what he's saying.

Bucky mutters under his breath, it looks like a screw it. "Last night was the best night's sleep I've had in, well years. I was wondering, maybe, if… if I could sleep in your room again."

You're a bit taken back by that. "What?" Your voice is squeaky.

"Yeah, no, of course, I understand." He smiles and inhales deeply. "Good night, Y/N."

It takes a second for your brain to unscramble. "Wait. Yes, I don't mind. It's nice with some company," you wheeze, holding the door open, though a small voice in the back of your head tells you that this is crazy. Not crazier than last night, you interrupt yourself, and open the door fully.

There's uncertainty in his steps as he enters your room, invited this time, unsure if he's heard correctly, but your smile makes him warm inside and he quickly crawls under the covers.

You leave the door ajar, and with a giddy smile and a racing heart you return to your own bed, climbing in with more grace than you thought you possessed. This is nice. The room is settled, it feels natural. You exhale and turn over on your side, facing Bucky. He's facing you too, and there's a sleepy smile in his eyes. As you place your glasses on the nightstand, he closes his eyes.

"Thank you," he breathes.

"Sleep tight, Bucky," you answer, but he's already drifted off, soft snores filling the room. You feel oddly at peace.

Part 2

#bucky barnes x reader #marvel #bucky barnes #fluff #sleeping #misunderstandings #hotels #oneshot #fan fiction #fanfic

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wolf-and-bard · 4 years ago

Text

The Geraskier dark academia AU of my dreams (because writing these up keeps me sane; TLDR at the bottom because this escalated):

-Jaskier is so ready for college. Like, the readiest he's ever been for anything in his life. He couldn't wait to get out of his stuffy family home, away from his narrow-minded hometown, he is ready. He signs up for a Liberal Arts major, moves into a dorm, drinks his brains away during the first week. He makes an archnemesis, he makes friends, he live-documents the whole affair on Snapchat for his friend Triss who lives across the country, but is always with him in spirit. Life is good.

-Jaskier doesn't think twice when his roommate Zoltan invites him to come along to a party at the Kaer Morhen fraternity house because hello? Orientation week was last month, high time he goes to an actual frat party full of guys like wardrobes that eminate sexual self-assuredness and hopefully some sexual flexibility as well. He puts on his most revealing shirt and too tight jeans and joins Zoltan. The fraternity house is old, red-brick with sandstone pillars and iron-wrought gates which would seem rusty if not for the ivy that curls around them. It's chock-full with people of every kind of major and age, most of them drunk beyond reason by the time Jaskier and Zoltan arrive. Zoltan disappears in a tangle of rugby-players and leaves Jaskier to his own devices. He befriends a group of Archeology majors, their leader being a cute blond called Filavandrel, and they share a bottle of red wine, round and round. He meets his archnemesis, the one he spent all orientation week bickering about music with, Valdo or some nonsense, and they do tequila shots. It’s a nice party and Jaskier has the time of his life until he returns from the bathroom to find a god of a guy standing in the hallway.

-"Oh hello," Jaskier mutters under his breath. Before, his evening was aimless, he let the wave of the vibe take him wherever, let the alcohol blur the world around him. But now, he has an objective. And that objective stands all by his lonesome, scowling down the hallway. Man, does he brood well. Jaskier usually goes for people that are easy to read if some casual fun is what he has in mind -and it's not out of his mind just yet - but this guy intrigues him; there is more to him than simple dudebro-ness. He has shock-grey hair and startling amber eyes and seems to cast the longest shadow. Jaskier wants to ride him. Jaskier also wants to serenade him on a starlit wooden bridge and collect all the guy's deepest secrets and desires to keep under his pillow and draw divine inspiration from. Okay, that may be the Tequila shots talking. He scurries over to the bar, downs another two, then approaches the guy.

-"Hi," Jaskier says as he sidles up to him. The guy half-heartedly raises his beer in greeting. Taciturn, dark, dramatic. Jaskier decides to go for it. "I absolutely adore the way you just stand here and brood." (Jaskier will only learn much much later that he accidentally used some weird Kaer Morhen frat code and set off a chain of events that changed his life forever). "Lamb," the guy calls out instead of answering, something that makes Jaskier think he's so far gone that he's actively hallucinating. But no, seconds later a guy with equally lush red hair and equally thick arms appears from the crowd. He wears a scowl which has Jaskier's throat tighten. "What is it, Wolf?" Wolf, huh? "Go collect Goat and Kitty-Cat. I found him." And Wolf-Guy grabs Jaskier by the back of the neck and hauls him through a door, down some stairs - is that marble? are those torches? GARGOYLES? - and into pitch blackness. Jaskier squeals. This is what he imagined when he dreamt of college. Well not exactly this, but close enough.

-They bind him with silk scarfs and put a blindfold over his eyes which, okay. Jaskier knows he shouldn't find this as sexy as he does, but he can't help it. He has no sense of self-preservation and this will just be the best of fuel for the first assignment in his screenwriting class. "Oh, this is fun," he murmurs when someone tugs off his boots and someone else smears a fatty paste onto his lips. It smells like... okay it smells lot like his uncle Matthew's pigsty. Weirdly disgusting. "Who are you guys anyway?"

-They don't speak at all that night, don't take off the blind-fold until way later. All night, Jaskier can hear them rustling around him, chanting in some language he doesn't understand. They give him several drinks, most of which honestly taste like asphalt, but make his insides go fuzzy. When the blindfold comes off eventually, Jaskier finds himself on the front-seat of a pick up truck, Wolf guy behind the wheel. They are parked behind the frat house. "Look, I don't think you're a suitable candidate. The guys all said they want to keep you, but my friend recognized you from the freshman introduction party and we usually only inaugurate sophomores." Jaskier blinks. He has absolutely no idea what's going in anymore. His friend Triss is probably worried sick because he hasn't checked in all evening. The faint taste of burned rubber clings to his lips and all Jaskier can think is: Fuck, is this man hot. "Go out with me," he blurts. "Go out with me, I'll show you how suitable I am."

-Over the course of a month's worth of introductions, preparation and inauguration traditions (which, among other things, have him dropped butt-naked in the middle of the forest, requiring him to find his way back to campus; have him spend more time learning long-dead languages than he is comfortbale with; have him getting thoroughly intimate with Eskel's (Goat) helper syndrome, Lambert (Lamb) and Aiden's (Kitty-Cat) ostentatiously loud fucking, Coen's (Hawk) frequent absences and Geralt's (Wolf) quiet, but passionate idealism) Jaskier learns the truth at the core of Kaer Morhen. It is more than a fraternity, it is a brotherhood of students that spend their free time in rituals to protect the college, its city, likely even the whole state from supernatural creatures that threaten to cross over into the world. The existence of these is no surprise to Jaskier who's come out of an adolescence of escapism and coping through fiction and song, but the fact that there are handsome tough guys who work to banish him is too much of a dream to be true. It is true. Unofficially, the call themselves Witchers. They catch wraiths in cricles of runes, they re-direct necrophages into Kaer Morhen's basement and slay them with blades of silver. They brew potions and cast minor spells to get rid of mutated insectoids. And Jaskier is to be one of them. They call him Lark.

-His first ritual goes bat-shit wrong. Jaskier is reasonably sure he did everything right, but the wraith doesn't stay contained after they bound it . "Fuck," Geralt growns after, pressing a cloth to the gaping wound in Jaskier's shoulder while they wait for Eskel to whip out the first aid kit. Jaskier shudders, can taste blood. "There shouldn't be fireflies here, right?" - "Ah, nope," Lambert says. He keeps snapping his fingers before Jaskier's eyes. "Hey, Lark, stay with us, okay?" - "He's fine," Aiden says, inspecting his nails. "If anything, it's Geralt we should be worried about. He's about to have a full blown panic attack." Geralt grunts and holds Jaskier closer.

-"Does this mean I can ask Priscilla to let me copy her homework," Jaskier asks later. He's in bed, bundled up in one of Kaer Morhen's bedrooms. Portraits of alumni line the wall and a hearth crackles away. Geralt sits next to the bed, a pretense-book on his lap. His eyes bore into Jaskier, wide, haunted. "Jask," he breathes out shakily. - "Hello, big guy. How are we doing?" - "Better now that you're awake. We... we had to call in Vesemir. He will want to talk to you." - "Alright, okay," Jaskier says. He knows who Vesemir is of course, but he has no idea what exactly his job entails or what having to talk to him means. "Geralt?" - "Hmm?" - "What did I do wrong?" - "Nothing. You were uncharacteristically precise... but it turns out I was right all along. You're not suited for this kind of work." - "Because I'm not big and buff like all of you?" Jaskier asks, pouting. Geralt has the audacity to laugh. But he also takes Jaskier's hands and kisses his knuckles and huh? What? Jaskier's brain short-circuits. Fuck when did he fall so hard for Geralt? "No, Jask, you're perfect. I mean, uh, ah, perfectly annoying." That bastard. "The wraith went crazy because it turns out you're an amplifier. That means supernatural creatures are pulled to you and can draw from you to manifest easier in our world. You wouldn't have noticed this unless you ever passed by a spot where the spheres overlap significantly. As it is, your participation in the ritual poses a danger." - "TLDR: I'm fired?" - "That's for Vesemir to decide... truth be told, I don't want you to go. But I can't stand the thought of you being in danger. Because of me, this." - "Go out with me, Geralt. Please. One coffee," Jaskier practically begs. Yes, his shoulder is minced meat and he feels exhausted from the blood loss but Geralt has never been this open and honest with him. "...fine."

-Jaskier heals up under the diligent care of his friends. Priscilla is allowed over too, practically drags him though his classes with tutoring and copies of her homework and sugar-coated emails to his various professors. Triss video-calls him three times a day. Eskel's med school expertise leaves Jaskier with the most neat scar he is ever going to get out of this, Lambert and Aiden hang out to play Gwent with him, a strange card game they invented and custom-painted, Coën even pops in to bring Jaskier his guitar and a venti Matcha Tea Latte even though the nearest Starbucks is miles away. Geralt... Geralt is there almost all the way. He sleeps in the chair at first, then - on Jaskier's stern insistence - in the bed with him, though careful to keep his distance. He helps Jaskier into the shower, something so strangely intimate without feeling innately sexual, he takes him out on slow walks. Geralt doesn't talk much, but Jaskier knows he feels responsible. It's fine. Sure. Absolutely fine. Jaskier is so far gone for this man by the time he moves back into his own dorm that he considers getting injured again just to have Geralt by his side. They never do go out for coffee.

-Vesemir doesn't so much invite Jaskier as have him called out of his choir session by a girl about Jaskier's age. She has the same hair color as Geralt and Jaskier thinks he's seen her around Kaer Morhen's bigger parties. "Hello, Jaskier," she says sweetly, but one look at her tells Jaskier she's deadlier than any of the frat boys. If his drunk memory serves correctly she also does a phenomenal keg stand. "Ves sends me to collect you." Which has Jaskier even more impressed with her. None of the boys dare to call him anything but Vesemir or Sir, even when he's not around. - "I've been expecting this," Jaskier says, shouldering his bag. The girl laughs and grabs his arm to guide him out of the building and across campus. - "You are cute," she says. "Geralt said so, but I thought that was just because he's so infatuated with you. I'm Ciri, by the way, his younger sister." Infatuated, huh? Jaskier has just enough brainspace left to save her name. Ciri. They will have to become very good friends. Infatuated.

-It turns out, Vesemir isn't half as scary as the boys made him out to be. He's closer to sixty than fifty, has a stern face, but a kindly voice and the first thing he does after dismissing Ciri with a meaningful glance is offer Jaskier a glass of whiskey. Jaskier sneaks a photograph of the bottle's label when Vesemir stands at the window and glances down at the campus, hands clasped behind his back. Triss will never believe this. It's the sort of alcohol that exists only in myth, at least to college students. "So, Mr. Pankratz. I'm afraid apologies are in order." - "Please, I prefer Jaskier." - "I know," Vesemir says and turns. "I would kindly ask you to delete that picture, my office and its contents fall under the terms of the non-disclosure agreement you signed when entering our brotherhood." Jaskier gulps heavily, the whiskey suddenly sour on his tongue. But he's quick to paste over a smile. He's gotten this far with the mysterious Kaer Morhen fraternity, he can pull all the way through. He deletes the picture. "Good," Vesemir says. "Now down to business." Vesemir gives him two options. Jaskier can consult a local magical artisan and have his memories of Kaer Morhen's true purpose removed. It is an easy procedure, won't cost him anything. Except for his new-found friends and the love he feels for Geralt. Except for the only place he's ever truly felt at home. Jaskier chooses the latter option which is to become the fraternity's chronicler.

-After that, things are supposed to calm down and they do, for a bit. Geralt still dodges any and all attempts Jaskier makes at flirting even though it's evident his resolve is thinning out. Jaskier observes and documents the rituals, begins to collect old notebooks. He's planning to go above and beyond his job and compile a comprehensive history of Kaer Morhen and its members before he's graduated. He may not be able to partake in the rituals or help the guys protect this city from monsters, but he can play his part. Leave behind a legacy.

-Between that and his normal studies, hanging out with his theater group, meeting Triss on alternate weekends and throwing epic frat parties, all of Jaskier's time is consumed. There are several instances in which Geralt and him almost manage to have their coffee, but then they have Eskel on the phone because Lambert and Aiden managed to give themselves poisoning over a simple Endrega job, or Priscilla needs an emergency stand-in for her weekly performances at a local bar, or Jaskier is simply too tired and falls into bed, sleeping over Zoltan's aggressive snoring. Jaskier doesn't mind so much. They catch glimpses of intimacy, Geralt's hand on the small of his back as he guides him downstairs for another ritual, a good night kiss on the cheeks once it's done, a spot of quiet homework-doing in Kaer Morhen's common room together, their legs pressed close under the table. One of these days, Jaskier will find the courage to close the last bridge between them. He just wants to wait until Geralt seems absolutely comfortable with it.

-All is as well as can be until Vesemir comes up with an idea. Because more and more creatures have been getting through and they are unable to hold off all, he wants to capture one of them, an Archgriffin, to bind in their world and act as guardian against lesser creatures. "You're mad," Aiden says. "That's fucking brilliant." - "It's a good idea," Eskel and Coën agree. Lambert keeps exchanging grim glances with Geralt because they both know what this means. They will have to use Jaskier to lure the beast. Which is why they both protest the idea heavily and Geralt gets into a fight with Vesemir. Jaskier is not there for it, but Aiden and Lambert tell him later, once he's back from theatre rehearsal. He watches them fight over it too and then it's only him and Lambert. Jaskier steals one of Zoltan's bottles of spirits and they get stupidly drunk, wandering around campus all night until Eskel collects them and tucks them into bed at Kaer Morhen. "I will not stand to lose you," Lambert slurs, arm dragged over Jaskier's chest. "You're like, almost my best friend. Plus, Wolf would be devastated." - "Aiden seems to think it'll be fine," Jaskier says, snuggling up to Lambert. - "Yeah, fuck him." They fall asleep like that and the first thing Geralt does when he finds them is kick Lambert all the way down the stairs.

-In the end, Geralt and Lambert are outvoted, not that they can stop Vesemir. Geralt is more silent than usual throughout prep and Jaskier can't seem to cheer him up. He knows his life is likely on the line, but he wants to help so badly. These guys are his family after all. If he can make their lives a little easier by doing this... well, he wants to. He needs to. Being in Kaer Morhen is the first time he seems to have a purpose other than writing angsty teenage songs. Eskel keeps checking up on him. Vesemir writes preliminary excuses for all Jaskier's exams which leave him with only A's, something Priscilla does not appreciate in the slightest. Lambert and Aiden fight and fight and won't stop fighting over this whole affair until Jaskier sits them down and makes them talk. Geralt... remains quiet. Jaskier can tell he doesn't sleep. Can tell he rarely eats. He decides now is as good a time as ever.

-It's the night before and the others have all returned to their dorms, but Jaskier stayed in Kaer Morhen under the pretext of Zoltan having his girlfriend over, and Geralt rarely ever goes home. He has a flat off campus, but Jaskier suspects it's drab and lonely. He gets it. Kaer Morhen has soft fluffly beds and fire places and wards and books. Currently, it has the two of them, bundled up in one of the upstairs rooms. They share an armchair before a low fire, not an unusual sight for them, not anymore. And still, Geralt pretends they're just friends. It's ridiculous. "You know I'll be fine, right?" Jaskier says. He has his head tucked under Geralt's chin and has been humming show tunes under his breath for the last half hour, something that usually puts Geralt right to sleep. Not so now. "I can't know that," Geralt replies. He lifts Jaskier's hand which he's been holding and traces the veins on the back of it with his thumb. "You've no idea how dangerous the ritual is. Even more so with you being an amplifier." - "So protect me." - "I will. I promise, I will." - "Geralt, when are you going to finally give in?" Jaskier sighs and pulls back a little. Geralt stares at him, a little cross-eyed and Jaskier gives a shaky laugh. "I'm going to kiss you now. Pull back if you don't want to, but allow it and I'll never let you go." Geralt allows it, kisses back. It's the first night they indulge in a love that has been growing for almost a year and it's gloriously sweet, blazing, beautiful. It leaves Jaskier with faith that, even if things go sideways, Geralt will get them both out of it alive.

-The ritual goes well thanks to the Witchers' meticulous preparations, the dozen or so warding spells they put on Jaskier and Geralt's reflexes that save him from a swipe of the Griffin's claw. They bind the creature to one of the basement holding cells and celebrate with excessive amoutns of vodka and cake. "All is well that ends well, huh?" Jaskier asks from where he sits on Geralt's lap. Strong arms hold him and his chest is full of nightingales that flutter and sing. He watches Eskel drunkenly dance-offing with Coen in a corner, watches Lambert and Aiden make out in another. Vesemir took off, but Ciri is there, lounging next to them on the couch, nose buried in her phone. "I will never put you through such danger again," Geralt grunts, his nose buried in Jaskier's hair. "Of course, love." Jaskier relaxes into the embrace. All is well, though it is not nearly the end of this story.

-TLDR: Kaer Morhen is an occultist fraternity that keeps supernatural beings away from campus. Jaskier, unable to participate in the actual rituals due to a genetic predisposition, becomes their chronicler. Geralt worries a lot. Jaskier tries for the longest time to get him to go on a coffee date or something. Lambert and Aiden are a disaster couple. Eskel keeps them all together, literally and figuratively. Ciri is the one who got all the brain cells.

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lost-in-the-80s · 4 years ago

Text

City Of Angels

Pairing: Axl Rose x reader

Words: 3,820k

Requested by: anon

Summary: You and Axl have been friends since childhood, but you haven’t seen each other since he left Lafayette. What would happen if the two of you met again, years later, at the city of angels? (fluff)

A/N: Dear anon, I hope you like it! <3

Tag list: @roger-taylors-car @ladieswttda @teasid @metalheartofgold @slashscowboyboots @ginny-rose-sixx @rumoured-whispers @normatural @bigdaddylars add yourself to my taglist :)

“Fucking hell.” Axl complained as he walked down the streets of Los Angeles, he didn’t know where he was going, he had no plans that night.

He was angry and upset, he didn’t know the reason too, he had just yelled at his drummer and realized that he needed to disappear for a while to get rid of that heavy feeling in his heart. He needed to calm down.

The sun started to set, spreading orange and pink tones all over the city, and he would’ve been able to see its beauty if he wasn’t so irritated.

He stopped at a corner, taking a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lighting one. Tons of people passed by him, going to one way or another and he couldn’t help but feel lost.

He had left his home three years ago, coming to the city of angels to chase his dream of being in a successful band, and even though he had a band, it seemed that his dreams were always out of hand reach. His band worked really hard, going from gig to gig and never complaining, not even when they had nowhere to live, or nothing to eat, but still, the so-called success seemed to be so far away.

“Fuck” He sighed blowing out some smoke.

Throwing the remains of his cigarette on the floor, he crossed the street, stopping abruptly when the smell of apple pie got his nostrils. He felt his stomach growl. How many hours since he had last eaten? Six? Seven? He couldn’t tell.

Looking inside he saw a 60s inspired cafe, with light pink walls and white furniture, inside there were a few customers as well as three waitresses, with their mint green dresses.

Searching for his wallet he sighed in relief when he saw a ten dollar bill inside. At least he could eat.

Opening the glass door, a bell rang and all the customers looked at him for a second before focusing their attention on their food again. Inside the cafe, the smell was even stronger, making his stomach growl again.

Taking a table at the end of the establishment, he waited until a waitress around his age came towards his table. Her hair was up in a bun and she had white nail polish on her nails, there was something about the way she walked that seemed familiar to him.

“Good evening, how can I help you?” She was looking at her notepad but her voice made him realize it, it was Y/N, Axl had no doubt about that.

The two of them had been friends ever since they were children, she lived in the house beside his in Lafayette, and every time his stepfather went too harsh on him, he’d run to her house and sit on her white fluffy area rug, feeling safe for at least a few hours.

They weren’t similar though, to be honest, they were the complete opposite from each other, but music always linked the two of them together. Both of them used to sing at the church’s choir and as they grew up the two of them fell in love with Zeppelin.

To be fair, Zeppelin wasn’t the only thing they fell in love with, since they fell for each other, but their friendship and their differences always stopped both of them from making a move.

She was sweet and delicate and lived in a pink world, not that her life had been easy, her parents always demanded a lot from her and she never had a day without being judged or pressured by them, but she always saw the bright side of the story. And if you asked Axl, he’d tell you that she was the definition of what an angel should be.

And he? Well, he was brut and angry, a kid born with no future, a kid born with nothing to lose but himself. He came from a violent home and even though singing hadn’t been his own choice, that was one of the few things that he could use to express himself, and even with his constant pressure on himself for being optimistic, he had to admit that he sometimes just saw the bad side of everything. And if you asked Axl, he’d tell you that he was the definition of chaos.

He always thought the two of them shouldn’t be close, always thought that she should stay away from him, but he was selfish and the calmness and safety she passed him were too good for him to be able to part ways from her.

As teens, they would spend hours walking around in a nearby forest, they had a place there, a place they liked to call theirs, it was by the river, and every sunny day they’d bring a blanket and lay there, watching the clouds until the sunset.

He could still remember the last time they had been there, it wasn’t sunny, on the opposite, it was raining, and she had heard screams coming from a discussion in his house and opened her window, waiting for when he’d climb it and lay his head on her lap, while she’d run her fingers through his hair to calm him down.

But he didn’t even go in that direction, going straight to the forest, making her realize that something serious had happened. Jumping out of her window, she chased him all the way until they reached the river, the heavy rain hitting the water disabling them from listening to anything other than the rain.

“Billy!” She shouted over the rain, and he turned around, facing her, her hair was all soaked, as well as her clothes, and he thought that he probably looked the same way.

“Not now, Y/N!” He gesticulated with his arm before turning around.

“Hey, talk to me!” She touched his shoulder, but he didn’t look, still facing the river.

She moved, stopping in front of him. “What happened?” She seemed worried as she tried to take her wet locks away from her face.

He looked into her eyes, but he had no words. “I’m leaving.” He shouted over the rain.

“What?” She frowned

“I’m going to L.A.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

“What? Why?” She couldn’t believe what was happening.

“There’s nothing for me here.”

Ouch.

There was silence for a few seconds, and then he cupped her face with both hands, trying to catch all her attention.

“Come with me!”

“What?”

“Come with me to California! Fuck this place, let’s go together, just you and me!”

“You know I can’t.”

He growled, letting go of her face and pacing around before asking: “Why?”

“My life is here, Billy, my parents would never accept this.”

“Fuck your parents!” He yelled, making her widen her eyes. “Fuck them! They will spend your entire life manipulating you, making you kill your dreams so that you can fulfill theirs, and you know that! You know that I’m right!”

She opened her mouth, but no words came out of it.

“What about your dreams of being a painter? Huh? What happened to that little girl who loved painting?”

“It’s not like that. You know I would starve as a painter, no one can pay their bills by painting.”

“That’s bullshit! That’s what your parents want you to believe!” He stopped in front of her again, calming his tone of voice. “Please, Y/N, come with me.”

“I- I can’t.”

So in the next morning, with all his stuff packed, he waited for the bus that would drive him to Los Angeles, he hated leaving her behind, but she had made her choice, and there was nothing he could do about it.

The bus parked and he was about to climb its stairs when her voice yelling his name caught his attention. He stopped in his tracks, turning around to see her running towards him.

She enveloped him in a hug, letting go of the floor for a few seconds, almost making the two of them fall. He dropped his bag on the floor, hugging her back, smelling deeply on her perfume and smiling. Maybe she changed her mind, he thought.

“I knew you would change your mind.” He said when they parted ways.

But his smile faded as soon as he saw the sadness in her eyes, she wasn’t coming.

“I’m sorry, Billy.” She tried to smile.

“It’s okay, don’t be sad.” He caressed her face, trying to keep a normal expression, at least to avoid her from crying. “Take care of yourself, ok?” He removed his hand from her face, picking up his bag and turning around.

“Wait.” She grabbed his arm, making him stop.

He looked at her as she removed her necklace, a simple and delicate golden chain with her initial letter on it. “Take it with you.” She placed it in his hand, holding herself not to cry.

He looked at the material for a while, before leaning in and kissing her forehead. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

He turned around and entered the bus.

“Goodbye, Billy.” She whispered as a single tear left her eye when the bus drove down the street.

And now, looking at her right in front of him, he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips.

He was taking a long time to reply, so she raised her head, ready to repeat her question when her eyes met his and a huge smile took over her face.

“Billy.” She whispered.

“Hello, Y/N.” He got up, and before he could think, her arms were around him.

Someone clearing their throat in the background made them pull apart from each other.

Looking to the side Axl saw an old lady with her nose crisped as she pointed at Y/N with a pen. She mouthed a “Sorry.” towards the lady before turning towards Axl.

“I can’t really talk now, but I’m free in one and a half hours, if you want to wait for me…” She bit her bottom lip, afraid that he’d say no and she wouldn’t ever see him again.

“Oh sure, I’ll be right here….” He sat down again, looking at the table and grabbing the newspaper that was on top of it. “reading the newspaper.” He smiled at her.

“Oh, okay then.” She returned the smile, turning around and starting to move behind the counter, before coming back to the table.

“Ah sorry, I forgot to ask what do you want to eat?” She giggled and Axl smiled again, he had missed that sound.

“Apple pie.”

“Sure! Want some coffee too?”

“Sounds great to me.”

“Ok, I’ll be right back.”

And that one and half hour seemed to pass by in just a few minutes, watching her kept him entertained enough to didn’t even see the time passing by.

She returned from the kitchen with a denim jacket in her hands as she walked towards him.

“My shift’s over, lets go?”

“Ah, sure!” He got up, placing the money on the table and following her outside.

They walked for a few minutes before they sat down at a bench on the sidewalk.

“You look so handsome.” She whispered, touching his face lightly.

Axl leaned into her touch, closing his eyes. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“Me neither, I spent a good while trying to find you and Jeff, but never found anything.” She shrugged.

“It’s probably because nobody knows us by those names.”

She frowned.

“I’m Axl now, and everybody calls him Izzy.”

“Axl.” She repeated, seeing as his eyes shone with happiness. “It suits you better than Bill.” She giggled. “But I can’t promise not to get confused in the first days.”

“It’s ok, you can call me whatever you want.” He smiled. “For how long have you been here?”

“Little more than a year.”

“Fuck, so you’ve been around for more than a year and I had never seen you.” He shook his head.

“It’s fine, everything has the right time to happen.” She smiled softly.

“What happened to your Lafayette plans?”

“I thought my life was there, I was happy and thought that I had everything I needed there, but after you left nothing seemed good enough, after you left nothing made sense anymore, especially living there.”

“Didn’t your parents freak out?”

“What do you think?” She laughed lightly. “But they couldn’t stop me, I had some saved money and was an adult, so I simply packed my stuff and left while they were in church.”

He laughed lightly, before reaching inside his shirt and holding a thin golden chain, the necklace she had given him, making her gasp. "I’ve been using it every day." He smiled slightly.

"I can't believe you still have it." She leaned closer, touching the pendant for a few seconds before returning to her previous position.

“And how are things going for you here?”

Axl’s lips turned into a thin line. “Things have been kinda rough, I got a band, this is actually my third band here, but it’s not easy to survive without a label.”

“Is it too difficult to get a label?”

“Yeah, we had an offer last month, but they wanted to change lots of things, we would stop being us, you know?”

She nodded slowly.

“We have a meeting with another label next week, let’s hope they have a better deal.”

“They will, I’m sure about it.” She reached out, touching his hand.

“Where do you live here?”

“I share an apartment with the two other waitresses, it’s 10 minutes walking from here. What about you?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s complicated, we don’t have an official place yet, we’re staying at Izzy’s girlfriend’s apartment this month.”

“Oh, I see. So he’s got a girlfriend.” She smiled.

“Yes, her name’s Angela, she’s nice.”

“That’s good to hear, Jeff, I mean, Izzy has always been a nice guy.”

“Yeah.”

“What about you, found yourself a girl?”

“I found one, a long time ago, but she never wanted me.” He looked straight into her eyes, burning her soul.

“She must be dumb then.” She smiled, touching his shoulder to comfort him, trying to hide her sadness.

“Yeah, she must be.” He shook his head. “You know what? I should introduce you to the rest of the guys, they’re gonna love you, and Izzy’s gonna be happy to see you again.”

“Re-really? You want me to meet them?”

“Yeah! Why not?”

“O-Okay then.”

“Do you have any plans on Saturday?”

She shook her head. “Nope, it’s my free day.”

“We have a gig at The Roxy, ever heard of?”

She nodded. “I saw a few gigs there.”

“Nice! Our gig starts at 2 am, but they’ll have bands playing all night. You should come over.”

She widened her eyes about the time, but agreed on going nonetheless.

So here she was, entering The Roxy at 9 o’clock on Saturday, wearing a pair of ripped jeans and a black tank top, she moved among the countless people inside, until she found a nice spot near the stage.

Three bands played before Axl’s band and she had to admit that was having a good time, the bands were good, but her stomach flipped and twitched with butterflies just with the thought of seeing Axl again.

His band came on stage and his eyes scanned the place until he found her, smiling in her direction.

Guns n Roses, as they called themselves, were amazing, way better than the previous bands from that night, and even though she was slightly sleepy because of how late it was, she enjoyed every minute of it.

Every chance he got, Axl moved near her, singing the lyrics to her, and looking at her at every moment to see her reaction towards his band and the ways he swayed onstage.

The gig was finally over, another band took their spot and Guns n Roses moved backstage, but not before Axl could give her a gesture to go backstage with them.

The place was the size of a normal living room, there were two dark purple velvet couches and one four armchairs with a black area rug, the walls were filled with pictures from bands that had played there and there was a large table full of booze near one of the windows.

Members from the previous bands were everywhere, drinking, smoking and making out with girls, her eyes widened when she saw one of the vocalists receiving a blowjob at one of the couches, making her turn her head in the other direction, ending up facing Axl.

“Hey, sorry, I know this place’s a mess right now.”

“It’s ok,” she managed to say, even though she wasn’t comfortable there at all.

“Come, I’ll introduce you to them.” He offered her his hand, which she happily took. They walked to the other side of the room, avoiding the people who were in the middle of the way, until they stopped in front of the other couch, sitting there were his other bandmates.

“Y/N, these are Slash, Duff, Steven and you already know Izzy.” He pointed to each one of them. “Guys, this is Y/N.”

They all waved or said “hi”. They seem friendly, she thought.

“Wanna beer?” Duff asked as he got up.

“Uh… sure.”

“Come, let’s sit there.” Axl pointed to a free armchair, where they had to squeeze to sit together.

Soon enough, Duff came back with a beer for each one of them, before sitting in his previous place.

And together, Y/N and Axl engaged in conversation and didn’t even see the time passing by, they didn’t feel tired, they didn’t feel lost, they felt at home, and that was the moment that the two of them realized that all these years, home had never been Lafayette, home had always been the two of them.

Even the guys noticed it, it was obvious, really, the way their eyes shone when they spoke to each other, the way they smiled all the time and how in peace they seemed to be. Even with the loud music and the stink of sweat and alcohol, they seemed to be fair away, in a warm and safe place, just the two of them.

“I’m thirsty, do you want something to drink?” Axl asked, getting up.

“No, I’m fine, thank you.”

Nodding he moved towards the booze table, leaving her with an uncomfortable expression as she looked at the boys.

“You didn’t change a thing,” Izzy spoke up.

“Your hair is longer.” She noted.

“Yeah.” He gave a nasal laugh. “It’s good to have you back Y/n/N, Axl’s better when you’re around.”

She smiled, feeling her cheeks burn as the other boys looked at her. “It’s good being around again.”

Izzy focused on his cigarette again and Y/N looked back, trying to find Axl, he was talking to a blonde girl, she was touching him every few seconds, it was noticeable that she was into him.

He probably wants to go home with her and I’m stopping him from doing so. She thought, as another wave of sadness took her.

“I think I’m going home.” She got up, stretching her jeans.

“Now? Won’t you wait for Axl at least?” Izzy asked.

“Nah, he’s busy and I have to work early tomorrow. Tell him I said goodbye.” She started to walk.

“It was really nice meeting you guys, I loved your gig!” She smiled, before opening the back door and leaving the place.

Outside, a cool breeze involved her, making her hug herself to try to keep her warm. She sighed before starting to walk down the street.

“He’ll always see you just like a friend.” She mumbled to herself as she turned in a corner.

On backstage, Axl came back, but found Y/N nowhere to be seen. “Where’s Y/N?” He asked.

“She left.” Slash replied.

“What? When?”

“A few minutes ago.”

“Fuck.” He sat down, running his fingers through his hair in an exasperated way.

“Axl, go after her!” Izzy spoke up, catching his attention. “Ever since I know you that you like this girl, don’t let her go away, go find her.”

“Seriously, man, even we noticed the way you look at each other.”

Axl leaned against the armchair. “She would never want me like that. We are too different.”

“Bullshit,” Slash said.

“You don’t know her, man.”

“But I do, so listen to me:” Izzy started. “How many years have you wasted because of this stupid fear of rejection? Go after her and tell her how you feel before it’s too late, dumbass!”

He said nothing, just placed his beer on the floor and thought for a few seconds, before standing up quickly and leaving the bar, running down the street as fast as he could.

He ran until he started to feel tired and her figure showed up at the end of the street, hugging herself from the cold wind as she walked slowly towards her place.

Jogging a little, he removed his leather jacket, placing it on her shoulders, making her jump startled.

“It’s not polite to leave without saying goodbye.” He stopped in front of her, making her stop moving.

“I told Izzy to say goodbye to me.” She moved to the side, trying to keep on walking, but Axl blocked her again.

“Why did you leave?”

“I thought I was stopping you from getting all the girls.” She replied simply, she was too tired and sad to keep on lying.

“Then you really are dumb after all.” He laughed slightly.

“What?”

“I would never want them. You know why?”

“Because you are….” She stopped, thinking for a while and she widened her eyes before saying. “gay!?”

“No, idiot, because I love you.”

Her mind went numb for a second, and her brain just started working again when she felt his lips delicately press against hers for a few seconds before moving away.

“Wait, are you telling me that you love me? Like love love? Not as in friends?”

“Yess, dumbass, I love love you.” He laughed again, leaning in to kiss her again, but she stopped him.

“Wait! Since when?”

“Since we were 15 or so.” He smiled, leaning in, just to be stopped one more time.

“So you’re telling me that all this time we could’ve been together!”

“Basically.” He shrugged.

“But-” He rolled his eyes.

“Will you let me kiss you or not?”

She giggled, “I think you need a little more patience, Mr. Bailey.”

He rolled his eyes at the sound of his last name, before leaning in and finally kissing her lips. She moved her hands to his face and his hands found her waist, bringing her closer to deepen the kiss.

“I love love you too.” She said when they pulled apart.

“Good to know.” He smiled before involving her in another passionate kiss.

#harley writes #axl rose #axl rose fanfic #axl rose fic #axl rose x reader #axl rose imagine #guns n roses #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses fic #guns n roses imagine #guns n roses x reader #classic rock #classic rock imagine

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chaoticminhos · 4 years ago

Text

chained

pairing: seo changbin x reader

genre: smut, halloween !!

warnings: home invasion

word count: 2.7k

a/n: happy halloween my babies!!! enjoy sex demon changbin :)

summary: bombarded with chain messages the night before halloween, y/n expects nothing but her friends being stupid, or maybe some practical joke. what she didn’t expect, however, was for the message to play up to its threats, landing her with a surprise visitor.

you rolled your eyes as the message flashed across your screen for the nth time in just that day alone. nearly a dozen of your friends, and even some people that you wouldn’t call more than an acquaintance, had forwarded the same long, obviously bullshit chain message to you.

“the veil will be thin this halloween. send this message to 10 of your friends to lock in your safety. if you ignore, something bad will happen halloween night.”

it was the same type of shit that got thrown around in middle school and the fact that people still believed these cheesy things was really diminishing your confidence in your college for letting them in.

completely ignoring the message jisung had sent before the chain message asking if you were going to a halloween party the next day, you clicked off your phone. if he made you deal with stupid messages, he could deal with being left on read.

you made your way to your bathroom, setting your phone on the sink and ridding yourself of your clothes. you stepped into the shower, wincing at the cold. curse the cheap apartment for never having enough hot water, but it’s all you could afford.

despite the water being less than warm, you took your time. living in the situation you did, you actually sort of got used to the cold showers, and even liked them sometimes. of course you still wished it wasn’t temperature roulette whenever you needed to take a shower, but at least cold showers weren’t the most terrible things in the world.

eventually, though, your toes started to stiffen and the cold became unbearable. maybe the water heater was more busted than usual or maybe you were just in a cold spell, but either way, you could only handle so much of the ice cold water. even when you semi-enjoy them, a cold shower is only soothing for so long.

you stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel securely around yourself, wrapping your hair in another to dry.

just as you bent down to pick up your dirty clothes from the floor, your phone buzzed on the ceramic of the bathroom counter. you reached for it, pressing the clothes from the floor against your body to hold the towel up with the other arm. unsurprisingly for it being nearly the middle of the night, the name on your phone read jisung, jisung, jisung. no one else was usually up this late on school nights, and when they were, they weren’t texting you. unless it was jisung. as your best friend, he took it as his personal duty to keep you from getting a healthy night of sleep, ever.

you unlocked your phone and went to messages, where you had 5 unread messages from jisung just since you’d been in the shower. clingy, as always.

upon opening the chat, you were met with 5 more messages matching the chain message he’d already sent you. as you were typing a reply and telling him to stop being annoying, another message came through. same person, same words.

with a huff, you deleted the start of the grumpy message you’d been forming and decided you’d stick with leaving him on read. he would get bored eventually. or so you thought.

nearly half an hour passed and you were still getting regular messages from jisung, all the same exact thing, copy and paste. you’d resorted to silencing your phone to avoid the constant vibrations signaling a message, but they kept coming. by now you had well over 30 of the same text from jisung, and you were getting fed up with it.

seeing that ignoring him obviously wasn’t doing what you’d hoped, you wrote a message and hit send.

can you not be a pain in my ass for literally two seconds?

you watched as the message tried to send, only to be stopped by a red error mark.

“message could not be sent. check your network and try again.”

great, so not only were the showers freakishly cold, the wifi decided to play favorites as well, working enough to deliver jisung’s messages to your phone but not allowing you to reply.

you took a deep breath as you sunk into the couch you were sitting on, willing yourself not to explode. your phone lit up in your hand with another message, jisung, of course, and you caught a glimpse of the time on your screen. it only made your bad mood worsen.

it was 10 past midnight, making it officially halloween, and instead of being happy as you should on your favorite holiday, you were busy trying not to walk straight to jisung’s dorm and strangle the ever living fuck out of him.

your phone screen dimmed and shut off. you took a deep breath and decided to follow suit, lifting yourself from the couch and making your way to your bedroom. maybe you just needed some sleep. maybe it was just as funny as jisung seemed to think it was to be spamming you like a middle school girl and you just couldn’t see that through your sleepy grumpiness.

you let your shoulder hit the door, gently pushing it open as you stepped into your bedroom. not bothering to turn a light on, you tripped over something, probably a pile of clothes, arms flinging out to your bed to catch yourself, only you didn’t come in contact with the soft fuzzy feeling of your favorite blanket. instead, your frantic hands were met with another pair on arms. a stronger, really steady, definitely-not-your-roommates-because-you-didn’t-have-one pair of arms, so who the fuck was sitting on your bed?

a scream erupted from your throat before you even had time to process the current situation. you immediately put distance between yourself and the intruder, tripping backwards over the same pile of whatever you had stumbled over in the first place. you fell backwards, luckily not close enough to the wall to have hit your head, and shuffled until your back was flush with the wall.

you watched in shock as the shadow of whoever the fuck had broken into your apartment leaned across the bed and to the table you had beside it, turning the knob on your reading lamp until the room filled with light.

he leaned back into his original position, the only difference from before being that how you could see him. he didn’t look like what you’d have imagined someone breaking into a young girls apartment to look like. he was sporting a bright white t-shirt and black sweats, his hair brushed out of his face. not really the best outfit for someone to avoid detection in.

unless he didn’t want to avoid detection because it didn’t matter if you saw him because he was going to kill you and it didn’t matter if you’d seen his face because you’d be dead and... oh fuck.

the words that left your mouth would have made you cringe at how cliche they sounded if you hadn’t been in fear for your life.

“w-who are you?”

you’d expected anything other than the reaction he had. he cocked his head, a small pout forming on his lips.

“think.”

your jaw moved and you tried to get something coherent to form, but nothing came out.

he chuckled at your reaction, keeping the pout on his lips as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees with his hands intertwined in between them.

“it’s been, what,” he glanced at the alarm clock on your bedside table, “five minutes since the last message and you’ve already forgot?”

your guard fell a little as the confusion of his words set in.

“what messages?”

he rolled his eyes, moving his arms behind him to support his body as he leaned back, and began reciting the message you’d been receiving nonstop for the entire night.

“the veil will be thin this halloween. send this message to 10 of your friends to lock in your safety. if you ignore, something bad will happen halloween night.”

you blinked at him, “i still don’t understand.”

he stood from your bed and began towards you. you knew that you should run, hit him, make a grab for your phone, anything, but you were frozen. you watched with wide eyes as he crouched down right in front of you, his knees touching yours, which were pulled up against your chest.

“it says something bad would happen.” he raised his hand for you to shake, “so hello, i’m something bad.”

when you didn’t take it, he sighed and let his hand fall to rest on your leg. your eyes snapped to his hand on your knee.

“of course,” he let his hand slide down from your knee and onto your thigh, “i don’t have to be a bad thing.”

your head was clouded and the only processable thought going through it was how warm his hand felt against your thigh. you knew that logically you should have done anything to get him to stop touching you, he was a fucking home intruder for gods sake, but you honestly didn’t want to. every moment he was near you, you felt the initial fear in your body melt into wanting.

he cocked his head, “i won’t even hurt you.” he raised an eyebrow, “unless you want me to.”

his eyes trailed up from his hand on your thigh and across your torso until he locked his gaze with yours. a smirk grew on his lips at how compliant you were being. he raised his free hand to your other leg and gently pushed your legs from against your body until he could fit himself in between them, leaning forward so his lips were only inches from yours.

if he’d doubted for any second that you didn’t want him, the way your legs trapped him close to you and your eyes were locked to his lips wiped it all away.

surprising him, you were the one to close the gap between you two, pressing your lips roughly to his.

he hummed into the kiss, bringing a hand up to cup your face while the other remained rested on your thigh.

he took your bottom lip between his teeth and you greedily accepted his request, letting him deepen the kiss. it only lasted a moment before he broke it off, grabbing your arms and helping you stand. he gestured towards the bed, and you me legs took you there before you could even really process what he was asking.

you sat on the edge of the bed patiently, eyes locked to his back as he pulled his shirt over his head. as much as you could have stated at his muscular back for ages, a rush went through you when he turned around. you let him lean down and gently kiss you before manhandling you until you were laying on your back in the middle of the bed.

you gladly opened your legs and let him place himself between them, crawling over you and reconnecting your lips once again. one arm kept him stable above you as the other trailed its way down your body, sneaking under your shirt and up your back to unclip your bra. you whined as he took his lips off from yours to lift you up and pull your shirt and bra over your shoulders, but he quieted you with his lips back on yours as soon as the clothing was out of the way.

a soft moan passed your lips as he trailed wet kisses down your jaw and to your neck, softly nipping at the sensitive skin. he continued his path down your body and to your chest, taking your nipple in his lips while his other hand came up to tease the other. you’d never been someone who got very worked up from having your nipples touched, but something about the way changbin did literally anything to you made you squirm. he continued to trail kisses along your stomach until he reached the waistband of your pants, his hand leaving your chest to hook around the waistband. you lifted your hips and he easily slid your pants and underwear to your feet where you kicked them off, leaving you completely nude under him.

he bit his lip as he scanned your naked body, completely on display for him. the fact that he’d managed to get you on this position for him just minutes after introducing himself to you made him throb in his jeans. he knew you’d give in to him eventually, it wasn’t possible for a human to deny his aura, but you’d given in right away. maybe you’d have given in to him even if he didn’t have a seductive aura, and the thought of you being attracted to him for reasons other than the fact that everyone was turned him on beyond belief.

he could have sat there between your legs and admired you for the entire night, but the impatient whine that left your mouth told him you wouldn’t be too happy with that idea. instead, he leaned back on his heels and undid his pants, pulling them down enough to finally release himself from the constraints of his underwear.

there really wasn’t an aspect of this man that wasn’t perfect, it seemed. he gave himself a few slow strokes, groaning at the long awaited stimulation. his hands returned to your hips and drifted towards your heat only to be stopped by your hand grabbing his wrist.

“i don’t need prep, just please fuck me.”

he caught a groan in his throat and replaced it with words, “say that again.”

you hooked your legs around him and pulled him close to you, close enough to make the head of his cock brush gently against your wetness.

“fuck me, changbin. i need you.”

how was it that he, the sex demon, seemed to be under a trance by you, a mere human? he didn’t question it, just immediately listening to you and lining himself up with your entrance, slowly sinking in.

you tried to keep your eyes open, you wanted to watch the pretty faces he was making as he sunk into you. you succeeded for a while, but when he gave the first harsh thrust, hitting you right in the sweet spot on his first try, you couldn’t help but screw your eyes shut and let out a borderline scream of pleasure. he was doing you so well, you thought maybe he was made for this.

it honestly surprised you how long you lasted with every single move of his hips being aimed at the exact correct spot. with a few particular violent rolls of his hips and his expert hands on your clit, you had the most overwhelming orgasm you’d ever experienced. you caged your legs around him, moaning a mantra of curses and his name. you felt him full you up and you could have swore that the feeling mixed with the unholy noises he let out could have made you cum again just from that if he hadn’t worn you out so hard from just one round.

he gently pulled out if you, cooing at you while you whined at the overstimulation. he fell down on the bed next to you and turned to face you.

“i made a good choice.”

you cocked an eyebrow, “what? breaking into my house and seducing me?”

he chuckled, “i didn’t break in. you let me in when you didn’t answer a single message i sent you.”

“that’s not even good logic.”

he shrugged, moving the bed a bit. “it’s clear in the rules i wrote.”

“yeah, okay.” you gave him a skeptical look. “how did you even get jisung in on this? he usually prefers to terrorize me alone.”

“didn’t need him to know about it. i don’t think his phone even registered the texts. they’re only on your end, if i did it correctly.”

you raised an eyebrow, “you some kind of hacker?”

he smiled, looking over at the bedside lamp and turning it off without ever touching it, not that you noticed.

“something like that.”

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sekceesimps · 4 years ago

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A Rose Made of Chains Ch 4

a/n hey all, thanks for 125 followers! Publishing Ch 5 tomorrow night. Might be a delay for Chapters 6 and 7 because of classes and depression. Hopefully I’ll be able to get that out soon.

This part will lack Kurapika and dive more into reader’s relationship with Chrollo as well as the Phantom Troupe. Hope you all enjoy!

sincerely Coffee

Kurapika x Reader x Chrollo - Soulmate AU

Part 1: Teaser, Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3

Part 2: teaser, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7

Weeks. It had been weeks of you being left here in the dark damp room. After your initial failed escape plan, the man who came and hurt you everyday, whom you later learned was named Feitan, had begun to bring you a small piece of the morning newspaper. It was your only source of entertainment as well as knowledge about the outside world. Nothing significant ever happened, you just looked at the date and tried to distract your mind with the light read.

It was getting colder too. You could feel the chill of the outside in your room. There was always a bite in the air that you felt in your bones whenever the door opened and Feitan came in. The nice man named Chrollo had offered you a real blanket once. You had shrugged him off, trying to hold onto your last shreds of free will. Your sensible side always got angry and screamed at you to accept the heat.

Chrollo came almost everyday and repeated his offer to you. Everytime you would say no, but he would still stay. He was the only form of comfort in the cold darkness so naturally you clung onto it, quite literally sometimes.

Some days he would stay silently by the door and read. This could be silently or out loud to you, it would vary. He always came in with a different book, always mentioning the importance of reading whenever you asked about it. Other days he would ask you about your life and in turn he would answer perhaps one question that you asked about his favorite things. You deduced that he was probably incredibly disinterested in topics regarding himself. You didn’t mind, he had a smooth voice and you had missed having conversations. Once he had even brought you a set of chess for the two of you to play. You could tell that he enjoyed spending some time with you.

There was another time when you had visibly shivered due to the cold right in front of him. He let out a little grin and hugged you, simply saying that his warm body could easily give you more heat than your clothes. You had clung onto him for what felt like hours all while he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

It was one day you were feeling resistant when you asked about his past that he had seemed incredibly off-put. You made the stupid mistake of pressing further and asking about what would happen to you if you kept saying no to his offers. It fueled you to edge him on even if you knew it could lead to your demise. His eyes had held a dull fire as he left and slammed the door shut behind him. Perhaps your taunting had been a little too much.

He didn’t come back for a week. When he was gone Feitan also stopped bringing the med kit. This made your wounds more aggravated and the torture much more painful. It was slowly breaking down your body and will. The food given to you also was much less nutritious. It was clear that these people, if you could even call them that, no longer cared for your well being. So they’ve decided that they no longer need me, huh, I really am going to die here.

Surprisingly you were okay with this. The pain was numbing and prevented you from really thinking about anything else. When your injuries had been lighter, you still had the ability to think of rescue and your friends. Now even the thought of your soulmate sent lightning hot flashes of pain through your body. Looking at your soulmark made you want to throw up, since you would have to see the mark of the 12-legged spider right next to it. You sigh and curl up onto the icy floor. Your clothes were damp and bloody, making the chill in your bones even greater. At least when Chrollo came he would allow you to get a new shirt if it had gotten too bloody. You wouldn’t even get to die with your dignity now.

He had come in rather uneventfully. Quietly closing the door behind him. He came to your room and opened his book. Silent, more silent than usually. It confirmed your suspicion that they were finally going to get rid of you once and for all.

“Yes,” you voice out weakly. You refused to say more. Your will had given out, but you knew in your soul that if you stayed here any longer then you would die, either from the neglect or from your wounds and the sickness you knew was growing within them. This man could make the excruciating pain go away and all you wanted to do was hope that he would keep his word. Hope was something you had gone dry of.

He turns back, raven locks slightly obscuring his gleaming eyes. He had the faintest smile on his face, “I’m glad.” He walked towards you slowly, as if you were a wounded animal, which in all honesty you probably looked like right now. He leaned down at your level and gave you a hug. His warmth and smell invade every part of your body. You didn’t mind because now you might survive, “Let me take you to your new room,” his smile grew larger and now more sincere as took your hand, hoisting you up.

You tried to move, but your legs didn’t seem to listen to your brain and you promptly fell down. You scrunch your eyes close and expect your face to get smashed onto the ground, a final embarrassment. Surprisingly, Chrollo had caught you. You suppose that he decided that you wouldn’t be able to walk on your own so he carried you bridal style. How his lean frame managed to support your entire body weight surprised you. His mellow scent slowly eased you to sleep in his arms. This would be the first night's sleep in a while where you felt genuinely secure.

»»————-　　————-««

Waking up in this new room was bliss. You don’t remember being in as much ease and comfort before. The bed was empty but a window allowed for a single ray of light to come in. You hadn’t been around true sunlight in so long. Your mind briefly wandered to where you could possibly be but that thought was pushed away with a loud growl of your stomach. Oh right, you think, I need to eat something. You got up slowly from the bed and started walking towards the door. You turned the knob slowly, expecting to get electrocuted or something.

You opened it and padded slowly down the hall hoping to run into Chrollo or at least get to a kitchen-like area on your own. He had probably changed you in your sleep as you were now wearing real clothes in the form of sweatpants and a huge shirt. It was a huge step up from your tattering bloody rags. You kept trudging on and eventually found yourself in what looked to be a common room area. The hallways so far seemed to indicate that this place was an old hotel or maybe a dorm room. You weren’t too sure, honestly you didn’t even know if you were still in York New City.

The air here smelled damp and sour, like people who sweat and had just exercised lay down on the couches and let their stink stay permanently. I hope I don’t smell like that you thought briefly before you made a left and found yourself in a kitchen.

Maybe I should have waited for Chrollo, you scolded yourself as you look through the pantry for something good to eat. You had been starved for weeks after all. As you finally reach for a bag of pop tarts on the shelves you hear someone walk in. You quickly grab it and attempt to make yourself as small and non threatening as possible. You take in the appearance of the people who had come into the kitchen, a familiar pink haired woman as well as a short haired blonde woman who had an interesting form of clothing. The pink haired one only chuckled at your meek demeanor and gave you a hand with the food.

“Paku, this is Y/N, our newest and most gorgeous recruit” she announced lightly and moved to heat up your pop tarts.

“Pleasure to meet you,” her calming voice was directed at you. You smiled loopily at the blonde, she was hot you think to yourself.

“All done! Time to go to the meeting,” she called out to you and handed you a plate of your steaming breakfast. Lightly patting your head, trying not to startle you too much. They’re both so hot, you continue thinking. Their stares make you feel overwhelmed, you don’t remember ever being around such beautiful people.

“Meeting?” you ask weakly as you take a bite. The sugary flavor explodes in your mouth making you let out a soft moan from the happiness of it.

She and Paku share a smile before saying, “The leader called a few of us to a meeting, just some basic introductions is all.” you only nod and continue eating. When you finish you hurriedly clean your space and let Paku and the pink haired woman named Machi lead you expertly through the halls of this new home.

You come across a large empty space with some rubble and chairs where Paku lets you sit in between her and Machi. They had made pleasant small talk with you through the walk and gave you a vague idea of the layout of the area. You were definitely going to get lost but they had put you in so much ease that you felt safe with them leading the way. You had been the first to arrive and sat together in a peaceful atmosphere.

As time goes by, some people start trickling into the meeting space. You take note of a person wrapped up in bandages as well as a girl with glasses in a cute black turtleneck. A very large man with strange looking ears had come in last. They had greeted your companions and had largely ignored you before sitting down. It wasn’t until a few minutes later that your savior had come in looking quite different. He seemed quieter and more serious, but his entire look had changed. His normally loose raven locks were now slicked back on his head. He seemed less human this way, but if he was really the boss then it didn’t surprise you too much that he looked the way he did. His entire aura simply radiated authority, but in a subtle way. You had noticed how everyone in the room had perked up and stood at attention when he had come in. Even the aloof looking girl in glasses was paying attention.

“Good morning,” he remarked in that familiar smooth voice. You crooned on the inside just hearing it. “As you all know we have our newest potential member here to perhaps take spot number 11,” he stopped briefly as everyone in the room nodded their heads slightly, “and to make sure that she is fit to take that place, I want her to go on her very first mission as a sort of recruitment exercise. It will be a perfect way to test her skills and get her comfortable with the rest of us,” he didn’t look at you but at this point everyone in the room was beginning to glance your way, trying to see what kind of reaction those words would elicit. You remained unmoved by his words, trying to keep a stoic demeanor. “It’s going to be a difficult mission that will only require one other member. Their job is to just assist, but not lead, I want Y/N to do that,” he finished as he looked at you for the first time since he came in the room. His eyes held pride, you knew that he believed you would pass this test. Your lips curved into the smallest and softest of smiles. He continued, “I don’t plan on assigning anybody, so whoever wants to go can just volunteer.”

Machi raised her hand swiftly. She smiled at you and announced, “I’ll go with Y/N,”

Chrollo nodded at her and replied, “Very well, everyone else may leave and go about their business for the day. Machi and Y/N, stay so I can tell you what I want from you two.” With that the rest of the group made their way out of the room. Paku waved at you before also turning and leaving.

“There’s going to be a museum showing some of the rarest objects in the hunter world. It’s nothing like the auction as these items are more private and are owned by famous pro-hunters. In turn the museum only allows pro-hunters in. I desire one of the rarest nen blades that’s currently being shown off for about 5 billion Jenny. I have the utmost faith in the two of you,” he grinned and left. Your stomach filled with dread, having no idea how you were supposed to complete this task. Machi grins at you too and pats your shoulder.

“Good Luck, Y/N!” she laughs, “I’ll meet you back in your room in about an hour to discuss plans on entering tonight. I really like you so I hope for your sake that you can get the blade.” she leaves you to your worried deliberations. So this was the life of a thief huh?

a/n sorry it took so long to get this out, we reached 100 followers much faster than anticipated. Thank you all so much for that we love every single one of you! However, we have gotten some rude comments regarding how long it has taken to publish this series. We assure you that we are trying our best to get this out to you (we're glad you're liking it •u•) but leaving rude comments was unnecessary. Again thank you so much for the support <3!

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tentimesthecourage · 3 years ago

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Colors and Ihcamodot

Summary: Four’s turn! This was... something.

"Mister Rinku!" Rinku's ears perked and twitched as he turned to the two young daughters of one of the Sheikah guards. He crouched down and tilted his head, smiling softly.

"Yes girls? How can I help you?"

"We found a little creature!" Koko chirped with Cottla nodding, holding something cupped in her hands.

"Is that right?" He hummed, wondering if they had managed to catch a Restless Cricket or something. But when Cottla held out her hands to show him, he was taken aback.

It (They? He? She?) was a mouse-like creature with wide yet soft dark eyes and short blonde hair held back by a headband that had a red and white feather attached to it. They cocked their head at the sight of the hylian male before glancing at the girls and squeaking something that Rinku couldn't understand, but apparently they did.

"He says he wants to go with you!"

And that was the first meeting of Colors.

-----

Colors rolled his eyes in a seemingly sassy manner when Rinku mentioned the name, giving the taller male a 'Are you serious?' look causing Rinku to shrug helplessly. "Hey! At least I didn't suggest something like Mouse. You certainly look like one-ow." He huffed at the sharp nip he got in response. "Maybe I should go with 'Brat' instead."

Colors merely smirked, clearly pleased with himself. Meanwhile Rinku threw Link, who was sniggering, a look.

"Great, gonna spend my time being bullied by a mouse and my own twin."

"Edusuam aw nesamira!"

"I don't know what that means!"

Even with their bickering, a bond was definitely forming.

-----

Well, he might not be able to understand the language, but he could definitely tell Colors was disappointed in him by the way he was going off. Nearby he noted that Link was getting his own 'scolding' by means of disappointed glare from Wolfie, but his attention was drawn back to Colors by a sharp nip to his index finger. He pointed at the Hylian, visibly shaking with... what? Anger? Fear?

"Agek o atihs omak nesamerihs! Atana ag uraednezna ot nihsukak etihs iani on in, ezan atana aw inan'nos anobum otok o urus usedon ak?!"

Rinku almost jolted when he heard the tiny hitch in his voice. Colors either didn't notice or didn't care as he hastily scrubbed at his eyes. Was he... crying?

"Atana aw ihsataw o aragawok ates... Ihsataw aw attomo... Ihsata aw atana o uoraduanihsu ot attomo..."

The ex guard's ears drooped and he reached his free hand to gently rub the top of Colors' head. The smaller being looked up and he felt even worse to know he was right, seeing tear stains on his flushed cheeks.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to worry you so much..." He brought him closer, watching as Colors flopped against his chest, right over his heart. It was almost as if he was checking that it was still beating. Had he really worried him that much?

"Anakoro..." He barely heard the mutter. "Atana aw ometot usedakoro... Ihsakihs, omotukanukus atana aw okok in usami. Omotukanukus atana aw usednezna..." Rinku gently brushed his fingers over his head, feeling more than hearing his cries dull down.

He never wanted to worry him like that again.

-----

Hyrule Castle was menacing, even just from the outside. They were sitting by the broken fountain in the ruins of Castle Town, taking a moment to breathe after getting rid of the guardians that had been in the area and checking to see they were prepared to face the chaos that would be inside those stone walls.

Rinku noticed Colors seemed distracted by something, continuously glancing off in the distance.

"Is something wrong...?"

He lifted his head before sighing, ears falling back.

"Ihsataw aw... Aberekanaki ianaran..." He gestured out in the direction he had been gazing. Rinku followed his gaze, seeing nothing, but when he looked back at him, he took note of the saddened expression and slowly it clicked.

"You... you have to leave, don't you? Like Wolfie did." The Wolf had disappeared a few days ago after a tearful farewell from Link. It hurt to think that Colors would have to do the same.

He nodded before climbing onto his hand, gesturing for him to lift his hand. Rinku did so slowly, enough so they were eye to eye. He reached out and placed a clawed hand on his face gingerly, smiling despite the tears shining in his eyes. Rinku could have sworn they flashed several different colors.

"Atana ot okok in uri otok aw ometot ihsarabus usedotok... Abotok aw ihsataw ag odoherod esawaihs ak o negoyh urus otok aw nesamiked..." Colors used his free hand to wipe his eyes, being so close Rinku could see the little crystal clear droplets sliding down his cheeks. "Nezna o ohukak etihs iasaduk... Iagato on awes o etihs iasaduk..."

"Don't you worry... we'll be careful... and maybe... maybe we'll see each other again?" He hoped, he wished. Colors' smile widened slightly and he nodded slowly before tapping him gently.

"Ihcamodot." He said firmly, looking so sure of himself. Rinku still had no idea what he was saying, but the word made him feel warm. He smiled softly and shifted his hold on the smaller male to gently press him to his cheek in the slightest imitation of a hug he could manage. He both felt and heard the startled squeak before it melted into gentle purring.

Reluctantly he pulled away and lowered his hand to allow Colors to jump off. "I'll miss you..." He whispered. Colors gave him a sad smile before he turned and darted off. It didn't take long for Rinku to lose sight of him and the ex guard slumped.

He glanced over when he felt Link's hand grasp his shoulder and squeeze gently. His twin gave a sad understanding smile causing him to return it before they nodded together and headed towards the castle. It was time to finish this.

-----

"There, you see them?" Rinku pointed at the small creatures. "They're so cute... what are they?"

Four raised an eyebrow in surprise before chuckling softly. "They're called Minish. Normally only good children can see them, myself being an exception of course... so I don't know why you can." His tone was teasing. "As you are not a child. Not physically anyway."

"Oh hah hah hah..." He huffed gently, nudging his boyfriend gently. "You're hilarious."

"I know~"

It was a peaceful silence before Rinku spoke again, watching the Minish scurry about. "I... met one, in my time." He didn't notice Four stiffening beside him.

"Oh...?" The smith's voice was near breathless causing him to blink before he continued.

"Yeah... I didn't know what he was at the time... never heard the word 'Minish' until today... but he was definitely one of them." Rinku's voice was fond and sad. "I couldn't understand a word he said, but I knew he meant the best. He was my friend... a companion throughout the journey. Though he would probably say he was more of a babysitter, keeping me from doing stupid things." A little laugh escaped him. "I miss him..." He felt Four take hold of his hand and squeeze gently and he smiled faintly in thanks.

"I um... I called him Colors, because of the outfit he wore... it was different from those..." He gestured towards the small group. A small thoughtful frown crossed his face and he glanced over at Four who looked slightly nervous. "Now that I think about it... it kinda looked like yours."

When he averted his gaze, Rinku tilted his head, gently squeezing his hand. "Four?"

"...I didn't want to bring it up." He wouldn't look at him. "How do you even bring something like that up? It sounds insane."

"We're ten heroes, nine being named Link, traveling from Hyrule to Hyrule to fight monsters that bleed black with no idea where the source is. I think we've gone past insane." He pointed out gently. "But talk to me... please?"

"I..." Four faltered. How did he put this? "I'm sure it's obvious now... but I knew you... before the rest of us came back to your Hyrule. Like how Twilight was Wild's companion... I was yours." He fiddled with his tunic, clearly struggling with how to explain this. "I don't know how I got there... just remember waking up there... and when the girls brought me to you... I just knew... I knew had to stick with you." He still wouldn't look at him.

"For not telling you sooner... I'm so-" Four tensed as he was abruptly cut off by a tight hug.

"I'm sorry for worrying you so much." He blinked at Rinku's words. "It... made me feel so guilty when I saw you getting upset if I was hurt or if I did something that could have gotten me hurt or worse." The ex guard pulled back just enough for their eyes to meet.

"I'm not upset that you didn't tell me. We've all got secrets after all." He smiled faintly before leaning down to press a tender kiss to his lips. "I'm just glad I get to see you again... to be with you..."

Four could feel his cheeks and the tips of his ears burning, but nothing was going to wipe the smile off his face. It didn't stop him however, from reaching up and suddenly yanking on Rinku's ear causing him to yelp.

"That is for being stupid and setting off that chain of bomb barrels with Wild when Wolfie and I told you no!"

"Owowowow, FOUR!"

Mini Bonus:

"Clearly you understood Hylian... could you not speak it?"

"No, I could and still can when I'm in Minish form."

"Then why didn't you??"

"Because you kept doing stupid things, so that was my own form of payback."

"Oh you...!"

The Chain is not even going to ask why they've come across Rinku and Four wrestling in the campsite. Wild snickered silently while Twilight merely sighed, both having a general idea what was happening.

Minish Translations:

Edusuam aw nesamira! - Not a mouse! Agek o atihs omak nesamerihs! Atana ag uraednezna ot nihsukak etihs iani on in, ezan atana aw inan'nos anobum otok o urus usedon ak?! - You could have gotten hurt! Why would you do something so reckless when you didn't know for sure you would be safe?! Atana aw ihsataw o aragawok ates... Ihsataw aw attomo... Ihsata aw atana o uoraduanihsu ot attomo... - You frightened me... I thought... I thought I was going to lose you... Anakoro... Atana aw ometot usedakoro... Ihsakihs, omotukanukus atana aw okok in usami. Omotukanukus atana aw usednezna... - Stupid... you are so damn stupid... but at least you are here. At least you are safe... Ihsataw aw… Aberekanaki ianaran… - I... I have to go... Atana ot okok in uri otok aw ometot ihsarabus usedotok... Abotok aw ihsataw ag odoherod esawaihs ak o negoyh urus otok aw nesamiked... Nezna o ohukak etihs iasaduk... Iagato on awes o etihs iasaduk... - It has been so wonderful to be here with you... Words cannot express how happy I am... Please be safe... look after one another... Ihcamodot - Friend

#Rinku #LU Four #LU Wild #LU Twilight #Linked Universe #Drabble #Minish Four

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alch3mic · 4 years ago

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in between. (drabble series)

chapter five (comfort.)

cheshire!sans x gender neutral reader. 3k+ word count.

please be advised for themes of addiction, drugs, alcohol, self deprecating thoughts and apathetic feelings.

* it’s time for our dear underlust sans, cheshire, to have his turn! if you’d like to check out more about our resident catboy, feel free to check out his tag here on my tumblr! thank you and i hope you enjoy!

Don't get attached.

That seems like a pretty simple motto to live by, huh?

Well that's because.... it was.

In a world that cared little for anything beyond their momentary value, it was easy to not get attached. Everything changed day by day in this fast paced life. There was always a new video to look at, or a new phone to buy. Always a new trend to jump on or a new topic to talk about. You didn't form attachments to those things, you just used them to pad out your day so you didn't have to think about your meaningless existence, and then you were done with it.

You got rid of it.

Threw it out.

Forgot about it.

It no longer mattered because it no longer entertained you.

There was always something newer and shinier to look at just around the corner anyways, so.. why would you think twice about it?

Things were just.. easier.. when you didn't get attached...

You.. couldn't feel the pain of being let go.. if there was nothing holding you there in the first place.

.....

A shame he had to learn that the hard way, but that was life.

This world treated it's people like a commodity, always being bought and sold for their looks, money or talents.

Anything else was just worthless.

Filler.

Like packing peanuts that belonged in the garbage after you stripped a box of its goods.

Nobody cared how you felt.

Your emotions didn't matter in the slightest.

All that really mattered is that you played your part.

You spoke your empty words.

You did your flashy dance.

..You sold your soul.

..And then.. you'd collect your earnings and leave so you could go and buy the newest phone model you had your eye on.

.....

Emotions were.. well..

...Worthless.

...Just like they always were..

Just like they had been.. back in his own Underground.

Which is why, on that day..

When that realization set into Sans' bones that the surface really was no different..

That it didn't matter what he did..

Or how he felt..

...He swore to himself...

That he'd never get attached.

......

..And that's exactly why...

He could never forgive you.

Because in a world that was ever changing..

Day by day...

And always moving forward...

..How dare you stay the same.

Ah.. dammit!

Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!

It just wasn't fair..!

Just what the hell was wrong with you anyways?

He went to all that stupid trouble to close all those damn doors!

He boarded up every stupid window and stuffed everything shut as tightly as he could!

He gathered up all those loose emotions, tied them with a lock and a chain, and then threw them into the basement to never see the damn light of day again!

He even threw away the damn key to it all and yet...!

..And yet...

Somehow.. someway.. you still..

Weaseled your way right into his soul.

....

It just wasn't fair.

...He hated it.

..Or.. rather.. himself.

Because despite the fact that you were the one who did this, even after his multiple attempts to shove you away.... he could never say he actually hated you.

....

Maybe jokingly but..

No.. he could never actually hate you..

Despite how hard he tried.

You were just so damn.. persistent.

Not even in the annoying way! You were just..! Always there!

Really..

How dare you.. become someone that meant something to him!

How dare become a pillar of support for him to lean on!

How dare you open your arms to him, offering your gentle words and affirmations to him like he deserved them or something, and letting yourself become such a comfort that he actually sought you out now to help mend these pieces of his broken soul.

....

H-how dare you..

...Always be there for him.

Time and time again you were.. just..!

There!

You were always there!

Why were you always there!?

Christ, it's like you really had nothing better to do!

What, was he just your entertainment!?

A cute little show!?

Did you just want a front row seat to how much of a mess he really was because you were that bored!? Is that why you were always there!? Is that why you always picked up the phone when he called, no matter the starsdamned hour of the day? Is that why you were always there... no matter how far it was..? ..Rain or shine.. snow, hail or even when the damn wind was blowing nearly everything off its feet you were..

You were.. always..

....

There.

And that was just so damn unforgivable.

.....

There were times when he wished to himself.. that you had always been there.

...Way before.. he became like this.

Maybe he wouldn't have been such a mess if he had you in the first place but..

Life just wasn't fair, now was it?

He wanted to be angry about it still.

To blame you.

But he couldn't.

Really all he had to blame was himself.

He.. betrayed his own promise.

He had sworn to himself on that day that he'd never get attached.. and yet here he was.. more dependent upon you than he had been for anyone else in his life.

..Even to his own brother.. who had really seen him at some real bad lows.

But you..

You saw him at rock bottom.. and yet..

...You were still here...

.....

Really, you were by all accounts, an anomaly.

An outlier.

Someone who shouldn't be counted with the rest, because unlike the usual scum of this city.. you were...

Well you certainly weren't a ray of sunshine, that's for sure.

A little stoic and kinda stone faced, which probably worked to your benefit because people seemed to shy away from asking things of you, but..

You were.. different.

Despite the fact that you grew up here in Ebott, a vile city filled to the brim with criminals and thieves who ate people up for breakfast and then spat them out before lunch.. you.. were.. still you.

Calm.

Insightful.

...Caring..

..And... dependable.

....

...And how...

How was he not supposed to get attached to you?

..When you were always there for him..

Like now, as you held him steadily in your arms while he so desperately clung on to you as if you'd run away if he let you go. Of course a part of him was always scared you would because.. why wouldn't you?

What could someone like you possibly see in someone like him..?

Someone.. shallow and.. terrible with a whole novel's worth of issues.

Not at all good at comforting people.

Fickle and who practically ran at the first signs of trouble.

If he were you..

Well.. he would've given up on himself a long time ago.

..So.. why did you.. stay..?

.....

He was too scared to ask that question.

Too scared of the answer that may come from your lips, even though those words might just save him...

..Because he was absolutely certain that they'd actually just be the final nail that turns him to dust..

So he pushed the thought far from his mind to the back to die with the rest of his unnecessary feelings. Not that it was hard really, Sans' mind was a bloody fucking mess, clouded by a horrid mixture of alcohol and drugs that had him feeling on top of the world just a measly few hours ago.

Stars.. it really was easy to get lost in that madness wasn't it?

..Into the pleasure and fun that came at the end of a bottle, or at the end of another hit.

In a way.... it was just like magic.

In an instant, all those troubles that clouded your mind would seem so far away...

For a while you'd be unburdened by responsibility or society.

You'd let go of the constraints holding you back, you'd let loose and finally just be free.

Your mind would let go of it's troubling thoughts..

Of things... and...

..People...

......

You'd have fun without stress.

You'd lose yourself to the motions

To movements.

To the descent.

..To the fall.

Down.

Down the rabbit hole you'd go.

....

But with every fall.

Came a landing.

....

Right to the very bottom... and you'd suffer the consequences of your descent.

Now that once hypnotic neon that drew him into this club seemed sickening to his eyesockets, and the smell of smoke mixed with sweat and grease made him want to hurl. He didn't want to hear anymore words spoken by anyone else, much less those so called 'friends' who invited him here in the first place. Their words had long faded away to numbing static in the background now that the intense music was gone. He was sick of their empty flattery and jealous praises anyways, all trying to catch his attention so they could use him as a footstool to higher society. The only reason they invited him here was to get some damn clout for themselves and he was lonely enough to accept the offer because...

For once, you weren't there.

.....

Well you were technically there, because you always told him to call if he ever needed you, you just weren't like... there there!

..And he was feeling sad and...!

You weren't.. well-!

It's just-! He.. just-!

....

He didn't want to...

.....

Ugh.

It didn't matter.

He was just tired of it now. Tired of those damn pieces of trash..

They deserved to sit in the dumpster where they belong, but he was too fucked up to put them there so instead he just let it become background noise.

He wanted nothing more than to stay right here, in the only place he really felt at ease.

..With you.

So he turned his head away from it all and breathed in deep, a familiar scent washing away the muck that clung to the edges of his mind. It was fresh and a bit misty, like the scent of rain just before it fell with just a small hint of earthiness, and it brought him such a sense of..

..Comfort.

Just... like it always did.

Just like you always did, whenever you were around.

It made him clutch on to you all the tighter as he buried his head further into your shoulder, wanting to be lost in the mellow scents of your coat and the steady rhythmic beating of your heart as you spoke softly to someone else.

He was just..

Tired.

Tired of this, and tired of that.

Really he was tired of everything and just wanted to.. go..

"...home," he slurred, clearly interrupting your conversation with someone but not having the slightest care in the world.

His skull could hardly make sense of what was being said anyways, still washed up in the dizzying effects of alcohol and.. whatever else he took, but he really didn't care.

He wanted to go home.

That's why he had messaged you in the first place.

So you could come pick him up, yet again, and take him back home.

At least.. he hoped that's why you were here.

Who knows, maybe you'd finally come to your senses and would just dunk him in the trash can where he belonged.

"We're heading out in just a second, alright?" you said gently, your words cutting clear through his own thoughts.

.....

He barely turned his head to peek at you, catching the vague shape of your face through the fluorescent neon.

Funny.. how just your tone settled his troubled mind, almost making him feel silly for thinking you'd abandon him. Even if he didn't understand why in the slightest, you clearly cared for him. It came through in the way you spoke, and in the way you held on to him, like he was something precious and worth keeping.

...He just really didn't get it..

So he didn't think about it, instead just squeezing his eyesockets and letting out.. a noise in response.

..Really it was more like a painful, almost guttural groan, but he didn't want to acknowledge how unattractive it sounded, so a noise it was.

Thankfully it was enough.

"Just hang tight."

And then you spoke again, but not to him, so he let your voice fall to the side too, the gentle rumblings steadying him as he buried his face back to his usual spot.

For right here, in the small space between your neck and your shoulder was his own personal Wonderland. It was the same place his skull always went, whenever you two were close. The place he buried his face when he cried, or where he turned his head away to escape from it all. He loved to feel the pleasant heat of your skin against his cheek, and let those soft and subtle scents wash over him once more.

He really could just.. get lost in it.

He'd stay there forever, if you'd let him.

And that's exactly why he could never forgive you.

Because.. you did.

Time and time again you gave him that place all to himself, without question or complaint.

You let him come undone in so many ways in that small space, that house he had built for himself and boarded up.. no longer felt like home.

..And the feelings that he had locked away tight..

They were always so close to just.. coming out.

They threatened to spill from his mouth and dirty your jacket with their sullied words.

His admiration.

His respect.

His... love... for you..

..And all that you've done.

They danced tantalizingly on the end of his tongue, sometimes escaping in the friendly ‘I love you’s you both shared, or passed through his fingertips when your hands gently brushed, sending shocks to his soul. They seeped into almost every action and he..

Well..

A part of him felt like he was going to just go crazy over it..!

Or maybe.. he always had...

But for every moment he stayed in your presence it lingered..

And it swished and swirled... bubbling at the surface and just threatening to...

Break.. loose..!

"You doing okay?"

No.

No, he really wasn't doing okay.

Really he wasn't.

The words.. they were...

Slipping...

No...

He was...!

..Going to..!

"....i think i'm going to throw up."

"...Ah."

......

He probably would've been angrier if that wasn't the truth.

The excess magic bubbling in his soul was threatening to rush out thanks to the alcohol, and he certainly didn't want that spilling out of his ribcage so the only other option was out from where it came.

"Can you hold it?"

Ya know, normally that kind of question might've been seen as insensitive given the circumstance, but you very well knew Sans hated throwing up in public areas because it was... well kinda gross.

"..yeah.."

"Then let's go home."

And that was it.

You looked back to whomever you were speaking to and said your goodbyes before turning and heading out of the club with him in your arms while he tried to cling to you like a koala.

The awful neon was fading away along with the horrid smells, leaving him in just the gentle presence of you..

At least until you opened the door to the outside world the city lights and smells hit him like a fucking truck. He cringed, for even in the late hour the lights were in full shine and cars honked aggressively at each other in the streets. It was overwhelming and only made him retreat farther into arms, trying to escape from it.

Oh great, here comes the nausea again.

He groaned and you thankfully put a bit more pep in your step as you headed into the musky night air, finally reaching your car after what felt like a small eternity.

He had felt the keys already in your hand when you picked him up, and now you carefully tried to unlock the car door while maintaining your hold. It was surely a fairly easy task, considering the two of you had been in this exact position so many times before, and it wasn't long before you opened the door and tried to place him into the passenger seat.

"...You know you gotta let go so we can go home."

".....no."

He could feel your breathy laugh brush past his skull and neck, nearly making him tremble, but he still held on tight.

Sans just didn't want to let you go.

"..Please?"

.........

He.. reluctantly released his grasp, slowly sliding into the seat as he already began missing your warmth. His eyes automatically slipped shut, feeling more relaxed in the familiar space of your car. The passenger side seat was still just how he left it, tilted back just enough so he could nap comfortably.

"Just a sec."

"...mmmhh."

At least it was a more attractive sound this time.

Then he waited.. for what felt like another small eternity, almost tempted to brave the bright world to look at you before he was joined by a pleasant warmth, and the soft scents of rain and earth.

You laid your jacket on him, and he quickly hugged on to it while you busied yourself with buckling him in. Another easy task, as he heard the click of the seatbelt in place, and felt your presence leave him once more. He barely cracking his eyesockets open to catch your gaze, and for the briefest of moments he was greeted by your smile

"Was it fun?"

"...no.."

You let out a snort, shaking your head at his bluntness before standing up closing the door.

One last small eternity later and you opened up the driver side door, seating yourself before buckling yourself in.

"If I remember correctly you didn't have fun the last time you went out with her either, so why go?" you asked, turning the key and starting your car.

There was no judgement in your tone, more like a genuine curiosity. Surely it must've seemed dumb to keep torturing yourself in the presence of people you didn't like.. but..

"i'unno..." he muttered.

He was lonely.

"..jus didn' have anythin' else...since you were gone.."

There was a small pause as he watched your brows furrow, but you kept your gaze ahead as you pulled out of the parking lot and into the busy streets of Ebott.

"Well I did invite you," you reminded him and he let a small huff.

"i didn' wanna... intrude.. on your.. family... whatever."

"You know my mom wouldn't mind."

"...i know.."

Urgh.

Darn that woman for being almost as equally likeable as you were.

Really.. at first he could hardly believe the two of you were related with how bright and cheerful your mother was compared to your rather indifferent demeanor, but you both had that same tenderness that shone through in the way you cared for people.

...She always made him feel so welcome anytime he came around.

Like family..

....

And yet...

He didn't want to sully such a happy image with someone like himself.

So instead of joining you for an evening of board games and home cooked meals with your mom, he filled his meaningless life with people who were just as meaningless. He stuffed that empty skull of his with hollow praises, and anything that'd take these vile feelings away.

He didn't deserve this.

He didn't deserve.. you.

He deserved to be used up.

Thrown out.

And forgotten.

..Just like the rest of the people like him..

So... why did you refuse to let him go?

....

Once again he was too scared to ask.

Too scared of the answer he might receive, even if there was a possibility that it could save him. He just wanted to keep holding onto this. On to you, in hopes that you'd still just always be there for him.

Just like.. you always were.

....

He let out another huff, feeling those words threatening to spill forth again as he clutched on to your jacket. His hand wandered over to the same place it always did when he felt like shit but couldn't say it, to the middle console where it waited patiently.

His patience was rewarded, one small eternity later, when he felt your hand gently settle over his.

There was nothing more he could do to keep the words from spilling forth.

"i love you..."

And he meant it, with every fiber of his soul.

"I love you too Sans."

..Not in the same way, he knew, but...

This was still just enough.

Enough to keep him here.

Enough to keep him going, with the hope that maybe some day.. you would really love him too, in the same ways that he loved you.

#it's real sad boi hours #luckily he always has you #cheshire!sans #sans #undertale #underlust #lust sans #undertale fic #long post #fic #fanfic #alchohol tw #drugs tw #drabble #alch!writes #inbetween!fic #one left!

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notabloodmage · 3 years ago

Text

Even then. (DA2 fic)

doin some writing on my canon version of the Hawke family!! this is kind of messy but i needed to get some ideas down ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ anyway listen to me there is nothing in canon that says malcolm hawke couldn’t be an elf @ bioware let me have this

They hadn’t planned to settle in Lothering. Leandra was five months pregnant, the plan was to keep pressing towards the wilds, in hopes of finding a band of Chasind or Avvar that wouldn’t be so opposed to Malcolm’s magical abilities. The prospect frightened Leandra, but Malcolm insisted it was their best shot at a Templar-free life.

The storm had caught them off guard.

The torrential downpour was on them suddenly, and all at once. Malcolm had enough mana remaining to protect them from lightning, but there was no way for him to subtly shield them from the cold that was creeping in through the wet. Ferelden was not always an easy place to live, but it had to be better than Kirkwall.

At least that’s what Malcolm repeated to himself as he scooped his firstborn child up into his arms, trying to ignore the way his back ached from days upon days of travel. The long nights of sleeping on the cold hard ground probably weren’t helping either.

They’d passed several small settlements on the road, but they always tried to avoid contact with other people. People didn’t even need to suspect him of being a mage--being an elf was bad enough for a lot of the country folk. He couldn’t take five steps in a town without being accused of stealing, it seemed.

They always tried to sleep beneath the stars if they could, or in a tent if they thought it would be well hidden enough. Leandra had accused him of being paranoid, now that they were already so far from home but as far as Malcolm was concerned you couldn’t be too careful.

He had done so much--sacrificed all of his ideals-- just to get them this far, and Maker be damned if he was going to be caught now.

Still, in a storm like this exceptions had to be made, and Leandra had spotted an old farmhouse on the horizon. Malcolm, while hesitant, grew more and more at ease as they approached. It seemed to be abandoned.

The couple trudged through the rain hand in hand. The land surrounding the farmhouse was uneven, muddy, and completely overgrown. Malcolm prayed that the rain would cover their tracks as they made their way to the

It was a little worse for wear, looking like it had been sitting untouched for years which was a blessing in disguise because all it took was a swift kick (combined with a bit of mana, of course) to break the rusted padlock.

Malcolm guided them in cautiously, scanning the room for any threats. Abandoned didn’t mean safe. He wasted no time setting up wards to protect them-- but Malcolm was tired too.

Perhaps he’d missed a spot, perhaps he hadn’t been as thorough as he’d thought. Perhaps his wards were weak with his exhaustion as he joined his wife and daughter on a bed of stale hay. Perhaps he’d been distracted with casting a quick warming spell to ensure the most important people in his life slept soundly. Perhaps he’d given in, for a moment, to the sense of hope burning brightly in his chest as he pulled his family close. He slept far too soundly that night. Better than he had in months.

The high-pitched creak of the barn door swinging open jerked the three of them awake.

Rays of sunlight were streaming in through the rafters--had morning really come so soon?

The sight was so peaceful that Malcolm nearly didn’t register the clunk of boots on the wooden floor, and the wide figure stepped towards him, fiddling with the trigger of a small hunting crossbow. Malcolm scrambled back, drawing Leandra closer with one arm while the other fumbled for his staff--lost in the hay.

“Hold still now, friend, I’d prefer not to use this--”

“Stay away from my family!!” The stranger was interrupted by his daughter’s tiny voice.

She had leaped out of the shadows beside them, brandishing the pocket knife that Malcolm kept strapped to his belt.

How did she-- Malcolm didn’t have time to finish the thought. He rushed forward, intent on yanking her back by the shirt collar. He’d been in such a deep state of sleep that he hadn’t even registered her absence. Then again, she was always so sneaky. Malcolm hadn’t the faintest clue where she’d gotten it from, but she had a way of sinking into the shadows and completely disappearing.

She was only four, and a tiny little thing at that-- shaking in the little booties Leandra had made her. Leaping to defend her family with a .

So brave, even then.

“Minerva NO!!” Leandra was shrieking. “Don’t shoot, serah--please!! Minnie get back here--“

For a moment Malcolm thought that all was lost. He pictured himself in chains, being dragged away by Templars-- leaving his wife and daughter alone and penniless in a foreign land. He’d let them down. He’d failed.

The atmosphere of the room changed entirely, however, when the stranger began to laugh.

It wasn’t a bad laugh.

Not condescending. Not cruel.

It was light and youthful, despite the obvious late-middle-age of its owner. It rang through the morning air like a Chantry bell on the breeze. It was the kind of pure laugh that can only be created by the innocence of a child. In that moment the light in Malcolm’s chest returned, soothing his racing heart. He paused, studying the face of the stranger in the barn doorway as he raised his weapon in mock surrender, humouring the child.

“Oh my! Be careful with that, little dragonling!” The stranger smiled down at the child warmly, crouching down to her level to look her in the eyes, before his gaze rose to her fathers, noting the matching eyes that seemed to burn with something he couldn’t quite name. Malcolm saw what he hoped was understanding in the old man’s eyes. “Put that there knife away, and settle down. We can talk this out, I promise.”

Malcolm hurriedly ushered Minerva behind him-- the child kept her eyes glued to the intruder, even when she began to cling to her father’s pant leg. Malcolm could feel her trembling, so he reached down and carded a comforting hand through a mop of brown curls that matched his own, trying to be as brave as his daughter.

A tense quiet had settled over the barn as Malcolm tried to appraise the man before him, who was doing the same. They must’ve been quite the sight--all clinging to each other, covered in hay. Malcolm didn’t dare reach for his staff, he just prayed that wherever the damned thing was it was out of sight.

Finally the stranger huffed, standing and leaning back on his heels.

“Name’s Barlin,” The stranger jutted his chin at Malcolm, crossing his arms casually. “Sorry for bargin’ in on ya.”

“Malcolm…” He held his head high, meeting Barlin’s eyes as he introduced himself. “Malcolm Hawke.”

“Quite the little bodyguard you have there,” Barlin’s voice was genuine. Warm.

Malcolm’s mouth twitched with the ghost of a smile.

“Small but mighty,” He could feel Minerva nodding against his thigh, as well as the tears she was smearing into the fabric of his trousers.

He called her that a lot, especially when she was little. Such a simple little phrase, but it always made Minerva feel big, in a way.

“Look, I was just checkin’ to make sure you all weren’t bandits, or bears, or something.” The man shrugged disarmingly. “I didn’t come here for a fight. Lothering’s a peaceful little town, and we like to keep it that way.”

“Peaceful? What’s that like?” Malcolm’s sarcastic question slipped from his mouth before he could stop it, and Leandra squeezed his shoulder tightly in warning.

Barlin merely chuckled, smiling at him wryly.

“Y’all don’t look like the type of folk who are accustomed to peaceful.” He observed. “I’m just glad you got out of the storm-- it was a good one!”

Barlin took a step inside, eyes travelling upward, surveying how the roof sagged and leaked. The old building had fallen into disrepair, but it wasn’t unsalvageable.

“Look, this place ain’t even mine. It was my brother’s before he moved to Denerim for work. Place hasn’t seen any life in aside from rats and the occasional nug in a while, as I'm sure you’ve noticed.”

The old man paused for a moment, gaze landing on the family before him. He’d later told Malcolm that he’d had a good feeling in his gut about them, and his gut was just about the only thing he trusted.

“I run the tavern in town, why don’t you all come back with me and let me fix you something to eat.”

Minerva perked up at that, and even Malcolm couldn’t stop his mouth from watering at the prospect of a hot meal. Leandra looked cautious, but when he met her gaze she nodded slowly. Barlin smiled at that.

“Come on, while we walk, why don’t you tell me what you know about farming?”

Malcolm would find out through gossip in the years to come that Barlin had been trying to get rid of that property for years, but that didn’t change the kindness. He didn’t ask anything about where they’d come from or why they were running. He asked Malcolm what he did and he’d told him he was an herbalist--which wasn’t a lie, and he suspected Barlin could tell.

“Herbalism? Farming? Sounds like the same thing to me.”

The old man let Malcolm pay him back for the land over time after they’d settled in and started earning some money. He’d also scoffed at the notion of charging interest.

The farmhouse was rotting and falling apart, but with a lot of hard work (and a bit of hidden, domestic magic) they turned it into a home. Minerva grew up toddling around the gardens and helping Malcolm till the fields. She’d climbed gnarled tree in their front yard to watch the sun rise every morning since she was six, regardless of weather, much to Leandra’s chagrin.

His eldest child had grown up far too quickly for his liking, and couldn’t help but blame himself. He knew it wasn’t fair to place her in charge of her siblings, especially with the added responsibility of protecting Bethany--but Minerva would insist that she could handle it. She’d lead the twins on adventures in the fields and forests surrounding the little town-- quests, she always called them.

They had to work hard, but Malcolm had taught her to always try to make it fun. The children would race each other home, Minerva usually in front, although Carver would occasionally shove his way past her. Bethany was a lot quicker than she looked too--and always smarter than she let on. Malcolm would never forget the looks on Minerva and Carver’s faces the time he’d taught Bethany how to freeze their feet to the ground, nor Bethany’s own wide grin as she’d crossed the finish line (their garden gate), cheering with victory as Carver swore and Minerva laughed alongside her.

His children were adventurous-- all three of them. Malcolm had lost count of the amount of times Carver and Bethany had burst through the door, shouting that Minerva was in trouble. She had a habit of getting stuck in trees, that girl... Bethany claimed to be the least so, favouring staying inside to study most days, especially as she got older, but even she couldn’t resist the call of a bright summer day.

Minerva always knew exactly what to say to coax her out of hiding, too. Be it a promise to stop by the Chantry for one song, or spinning a scheme so grand that even Bethany couldn’t resist. Bethany was more competitive than she let on, and Minerva was always too clever for her own good. The eldest sister got herself and Carver into heaps of trouble throughout their youth. They were so rambunctious, and Minerva was always pressing Carver’s buttons on purpose, but never in a way that pushed the lad too far.

Always so precise, even then.

Malcolm had had to come down hard on her only once. She’d set off a tar bomb in barracks of the local Templars, bringing the Knight Captain huffing and puffing to their doorstep, completely unaware that he was in the presence of not one, but two apostates. Leandra was beside herself, disguising her frantic panic for Bethany’s safety as being furious at the tar tracked all over their home. Andraste’s Mercy, she had given poor Minerva an earful. Malcolm knew it was mostly for show-- so the templars could believe it was just a well-meant prank by some kid. Malcolm had a reputation around town for being good around a cauldron, and he promised to supply the knight commander with a free shipment of potions, and assurance that Minerva would clean up the mess. Minerva had inherited his alchemic ability. but not his connection to the fade. He’d taught her the recipe himself, so she could help him fix the thatching on their chicken coop.

He was mostly just mad he didn’t think of this himself--he would’ve done the same at her age. He couldn’t tell her that, though, could he?What he did tell her was that she was old enough to know better, he’d said. Perhaps that was too harsh… For the Maker’s sake she was only ten...

He’d come up to her guiltily that evening, offering her a glass of her favourite tea-- a recipe they’d invented together. She was gazing up at the stars, before she mumbled an apology and he did too.

He made it up to her by telling a story about a similar prank he played on the templars back at the Gallows.

“I know they’re the worst, but provoking them won’t do us any favours, Mighty Mini,” The nickname made her giggle. “It’s not your fight.” That made her pause.

“But…” She looked up at him, eyes full of concern. “They make things just awful for you and Bethany!” She protested. “You shouldn’t have to hide your magic! Magic is good!” She said it with childlike simplicity. He’d taught her well… Maybe a little too well, if he was being honest.

“I know, Min, it isn’t fair, but that doesn’t mean you should go out of your way to cause problems for the templars. You don’t want their attention. Think of Bethany.” He gave her shoulder a firm squeeze.

She stilled, gazing at her feet.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He took her up into a tight hug. “It’s just not fair...”

Always seeking justice, even then.

Malcolm was far from the perfect father, but, Maker, did he try. At the very least, he was always there when his children needed him. Even years later, he cherished every moment spent outside the walls of the Gallows.

He was able to give his kids the childhood he’d always wanted-- more or less.

On (idk what the dragon age equivalent to Sundays is but That LMAO) Minerva and Carver would spar for hours, using swords carved out of sticks they’d found exploring woods, while Malcolm, Bethany, and Leandra would go into town. Malcolm would take care of the shopping for the week and the two of them would head to the Chantry for the service. Bethany always tithed her allowance at the Chantry, even when her siblings teased her for it. She was always such a sweet, gentle girl. She wanted to help, and the cloister in Lothering was vastly different from the Kirkwall Chantry. They were a peaceful folk, down to earth.

Once their farm was in its prime the revered mother even asked to buy some of their harvested herbs for their healers on a yearly basis, and Malcolm given it to her for free--inspired by the kindness of his youngest daughter. He knew the gift of magic weighed on the poor girl, and he wished he could take the burden from her.

He would’ve preferred they not have to worry about hiding his and Bethany’s magic at all, but he figured that this was as good as it was going to get.

And it was good, indeed. For a time.

Minerva grew up with a Father who could coax her down from the trees she’d get stuck in, and catch her when she fell. Bethany had a Father who could guide her in the ways of the Fade and teach her not to fear her power, but to control it with ease. Carver had a Father who encouraged his study of the blade despite having no combat experience of his own.

Whatever made them happy, as long as they were safe, just, and kind. That was who their father was.

Malcolm Hawke died too young, and too suddenly.

The fever came when Minerva had just turned seventeen, and the twins were only twelve. The illness swept through their entire family, but it took her Father with it when it left. He was buried beneath the apple tree in their garden as a free man. Not a mage, just Malcolm Hawke. His children worked in tandem to carve a headstone themselves, nestling it with care between the roots.

Lothering wasn’t the same after Malcolm died. Minerva did her best to fill the void, standing in as her Sister’s keeper, trying to smile her way through the tears the way her Father taught her to.

Carver left to join the king’s army as soon as he turned sixteen, prying himself out of his mother’s arms with a groan. Leandra drew her daughters even closer in his absence, especially Bethany. The young mage became even more reclusive, afraid to wander too far from home by herself. She became convinced that the Templars in Lothering suspected something, no matter how many times Minerva assured her of how careful they’d been.

Then, Carver was back, and the Blight was upon them. They’d only had a few short days on the run to cherish their brother’s return before the darkspawn ripped him away from them once more, this time for good.

The farmhouse in Lothering never received a proper goodbye from the family that had inhabited it for all those years. The Blight fell upon them far too suddenly for them to grab anything more than their most precious of possessions before running for the hills.

Barlin visits it sometimes, finding the tombstone beneath the trees. The old man hasn’t died yet, even though he’s buried many of his juniors. He chats to the stone as he clears it of moss, pulling out a book with a dwarvish name on the cover.

The eldest Hawke child--the little dragonling who’d stood her ground in that old farmhouse brandishing a knife while shaking like a leaf all those years ago had done quite well for herself, it seemed. Barlin was glad of it. He hadn’t known Malcolm was a mage, but it certainly made a lot about the strange elf make sense.

Barlin wonders sometimes if the Champion of Kirkwall knows how proud those few that survived Lothering are of her.

#barlin is an icon ok i love that dude #he's just a crazy old man who like poison and i can respect that #anyway here's some Emotions #Hawke #bethany hawke #carver hawke #the hawke family #amell #leandra hawke #leandra amell #malcolm hawke #elf malcolm hawke #rogue hawke #dragon age 2 #da2 #da2 fanfic #minerva hawke #handers #if you squint

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infinite-xerath · 4 years ago

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Runeterra Retcons 1: Thresh

This is something that I did today. I plan to make this an on-going series (might even take it to YouTube someday if I get the nerve to share my voice), but for now have it as a tumblr post.))

The world of Runeterra is one of the most interesting and complex fantasy settings in modern gaming; a fictional realm bustling with fantastical beings, characters, and a wide variety of plot points offering near endless potential for story-telling. The story of League of Legends is not, in fact, a singular narrative, but rather a collection of different stories spread out across a variety of fictional countries, continents, and even dimensions.

Runeterra as we know it today wasn’t always like this, however; in 2015 Riot Games opted to effectively reboot the lore of their world to be rid of the more restrictive plot elements like Summoners and the Institute of War to allow themselves more wriggle room to tell the stories they wanted to tell. While the decision to effectively make League of Legends non-canon to its own story was initially controversial, the writers of Riot Games have effectively proven themselves extraordinarily capable of using this newfound freedom to its full potential… For the most part.

With a retconned world came the need to retcon characters; Riot has made a substantial effort in the last few years to reimagine and redefine the backstories of the iconic Champions to make them fit into the new narrative, albeit with mixed results. Let’s face it: no writer is perfect and hindsight is 20/20, so a number of characters throughout the years have been left with less-than-stellar backstories compared to most of the roster.

Welcome to Runeterra Retcons, a series in which I’ll be analyzing some of the more controversial champion bios in the game to pick apart the good, the bad, and the horribly missed opportunities. With all that out of the way, let’s begin, shall we?

Episode 1: Thresh

Thresh is at once both an interesting and a bland character. He’s arguably one of the more iconic characters in the game, to the point where he’s practically become the unofficial mascot for the Shadow Isles. In-spite of this, I’ve long felt that Thresh is one of the most awkward fits into the region; before we can discuss the problems with his current lore, however, we first need to address Thresh’s backstory pre-retcon and see if we can analyze the core of his character.

Insert original lore here

So, we can see the concept behind Thresh’s character pretty easily: he’s a jailor who loves tormenting his charges, so much so that he continues to do so even after death. If you were to describe Thresh in a single word, it would probably be “sadistic.” Unfortunately, the original lore doesn’t give a lot beyond that; not where he’s from, not when he died, not even where his prison was located. The bio itself literally says that no one knows the details, and while that does add a faint air of mystery to the character, it doesn’t do much to tie him into the faction he’s supposed to represent: The Shadow Isles.

With that out of the way, let’s now take a look at Thresh’s new bio and see how Riot decided to change him after the retcon.

Insert new lore here

Alright, so, there’s a lot to unpack here. Perhaps the most notable change is that Thresh went from tormenting people to… Tormenting “living relics.” The relics are offered no further explanation in the lore or given any prior context. There’s just… A mirror with a soul in it. There’s a sentient book hidden down in the vaults. For some reason, the monks of the Isles even decided to stash a living person down there because he infused his body with raw magic. Why? Who was this person? What did he do to end up in chains? If this was a dangerous mage, wouldn’t it be better to build a proper prison for him rather than stuff him in a vault full of powerful, dangerous artifacts?

There are so many mysteries here, but perhaps biggest one is this: why was Thresh changed from a warden of people to a warden of relics? Why did they feel the need to turn him from a jailor who enjoyed tormenting his inmates to a curator that was slowly corrupted by the very magics meant to help him do his job? Well, I believe that’s meant to tie into the change made to the Shadow Isles themselves, or rather, the Blessed Isles.

While we never had much info on what the Isles were like before becoming an undead haven, a lot of the lore suggests that they were effectively a paradise, hence the name “Blessed Isles.” This was a place without war, without starvation, without corruption. Naturally, there would be no criminals in paradise, and so this of course means that to make Thresh a warden of things that are inhuman… At least, this is the thought process one might have until they introduce the mysterious regenerating mage, but I guess he’s meant to be one bad egg amidst the crowd, assuming he even came from the Isles at all. Again, it’s never really elaborated on.

So, while the change does make a degree of sense, it kind of feels… Flat. I mean, a guy who enjoys tormenting prisoners in their cells to hear their screams sounds a lot more terrifying than a guy who just stops his sentences halfway through to spite a book. Also, the fact that his lantern just becomes a seemingly endless vessel for souls because of the Ruination is a little silly; like, I know the Black Mist does all sorts of nonsensical things to matter, but the fact that an ordinary lantern gets turned into a relic arguably far more dangerous than anything Thresh was ever guarding seems kind of backwards, at least in my opinion.

So, how can we change this? How would I, personally, retcon Thresh if given the chance? Well, there are a lot of base elements that I would keep, but also some key components I’d like to alter. I’ve written up a short bio of my own for you all to enjoy, so without further ado…

In an age all but forgotten to history, there existed a realm known as the Blessed Isles. Hidden away from the world by a veil of magical mist, the Isles were a place of peace and prosperity; a land free of war, corruption, plague and misery. This paradise was ruled by an order of sacred monks devoted to learning and enlightenment. It was within this paradise that Thresh was born and raised by a pair of humble farmers, growing up surrounded by nature’s bounty.

Though expected that he might follow in his fathers’ footsteps, Thresh showed an aptitude for learning from an early age. In-particular, Thresh seemed fascinated with matters of philosophy; the nature of the soul, morality, and other complex subjects were frequent on the boy’s mind. This attitude quickly earned Thresh the attention of the brotherhood, who invited him to join their order as soon as he was of age. Thresh agreed without hesitation, leaving the farm behind to study at the Isles’ monastery.

For many years, Thresh studied under the tutelage of the order, distinguishing himself from his peers for his ability to grasp complex philosophical issues. Though acknowledged by his teachers, Thresh was met with looks of envy and scorn from his fellow students; rather than let himself be disheartened, however, Thresh instead took an interest in the root of their envy in scorn. Upon approaching his elders with such questions, Thresh found himself being led to a secret chamber deep beneath the monastery, guarded by powerful wards and runes. It was here that Thresh learned the truth of the Blessed Isles.

Thresh watched as one of his fellow pupils stood surrounded by figured in ominous robes, chanting an ominous spell in unison. Thresh’s teacher explained to him that this was ritual had been used by the order for ages to ensure that the Isles flourished. Evil was present in all humans, and so the only way to ensure it did not corrupt their paradise was to extract it from the soul, and seal it away. As the ritual drew to a close, Thresh saw the essence of all the other student’s hatred, envy, malice and warped desire ripped from his body, and placed into a special lantern made to contain it.

Thresh was intrigued. He approached the lantern without hesitation as the other boy was escorted from the chamber, and to his surprise, he heard voice whispering to him from within. The monks explained that though the evils of humanity could be removed, they could not be truly discarded. They needed to be contained, and more than that, they needed a warden to watch over them. Thresh volunteered in a heartbeat, and the monks smiled, pleased by their pupils’ devotion.

What they did not know, however, was that the whispers in Thresh’s mind had already begun taken root. From that day forward, Thresh vigilantly stood guard over the lantern, watching each successive cleansing as it took place. Each time, the wicked essence in the lantern grew stronger, as did the whispers in Thresh’s mind. He began to dream of enacting twisted torments upon the monks, the other disciples, and even his own parents. Slowly but surely, the brotherhood noticed a change in Thresh’s behavior. Fearing that he himself would be subjected to their cleansing rite, Thresh stole the lantern and fled the monastery.

The monks chased Thresh for days, but their search was brought to an abrupt end when strange ships arrived on the Blessed Isles: something Thresh thought impossible. From the safety of the cliffs, Thresh watched in delight as a soldiers led by a foreign king massacred his fellow monks. Their screams were music to the warden’s ears, and as the chaos spread, Thresh found himself reveling in the suffering of all who fell to the foreigners’ blades. Even at the cost of his own life, Thresh dared to move about the battlefield, searching for survivors left in the king’s wake only that he may snuff out the remnants of their lives himself.

Finally, as the screams of his victims began to subside, Thresh turned his attention to the heart of the Isles. From there, he saw a cloud of pure darkness rushing to meet him, and opened his arms wide to embrace it. In that moment, all the wickedness trapped within Thresh’s lantern was freed, bound to his soul through the power of the Ruination. Thresh emerged a being of pure maliciousness, and his lantern, now empty, would serve as the perfect vessel to enact his twisted fantasies.

Thresh now roams Runeterra as an avatar of sadism, bringing pain and misery to all unfortunate enough to cross his path. He stalks his victims and torments them by slowly stripping them of their sanity, before finally prying their souls from their bodies with his wicked sickle. If you hear the sound of chains in the dead of night, run… Though it may already be far too late.

So, what did you think? Now, it’s at this point I feel I need to clarify something: I’m not trying to bash on Riot’s creative team, nor am I saying that I can definitely make a better version of someone else’s character. Hell, I’m not even really saying that my version of the story is flawless; it would probably need to go through several more rewrites before I’d ever consider publishing it as canon, not that I have the power to do so, of course.

Rather, I wanted to take a closer look at Thresh’s character and how well his current lore represents him. I said earlier that Thresh is at once and interesting and a bland character. I consider him a little bland because you can sum him up in a single word: “sadistic.” He has no goals and no motivation other than to cause pain and suffering. Even the other undead of the Shadow Isles typically have some kind of agenda, even if it’s only to spread the Black Mist’s influence. Thresh doesn’t care about that; he just wants to see you writhe in agony, both before and after death. I’d argue he has more in common in with League’s demons than the other specters of the Isles, but it’s BECAUSE Thresh is undead that he has so much potential for an interesting backstory.

The main points I wanted to emphasize in my rewrite are: expanding on the magics that corrupted Thresh into being so sadistic, giving his lantern some greater significance in the story, and replacing the vault full of otherwise pointless macguffins with something a little more sinister that gives the Blessed Isles a hint of dichotomy. Riot loves adding a little morally grey to all their characters and factions, after-all.

Anyways, what do you all think? Could Thresh’s lore be improved, or do you all like his story the way in currently is? Lemme know down below, and I’ll see you all next time!

#Outofpower #League of Legends #Runeterra Retcons

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marshmallowprotection · 4 years ago

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You've probably received an ask like this before, but do you have any specific thoughts/headcanons for Ray Route AE, in regards to the twins, as well as Saeran and MC's relationship? And what I mean by that is... do you think Saeran would have an easier time (even just slightly) getting over his hatred for his brother than he does in 707 Route SE? How would they interact? Would it be similar to how many people interpret their interactions for after the SEs (brotherly love-hate type deal), except maybe toned down a little?

And as for Saeran and MC, I'm not so much referring to the contents of their relationship, but Saeyoung's reaction to it, how he feels about it, etc.

I hope this makes sense, because I love the way you explain things and I would love to hear your thoughts on these ^^

[417]

Hopefully, Cheritz will give us a canon answer soon. I’ve definitely had the time to compare the two of them since I spend so much time in Saeran’s headspace playing around with this and that. Now, if we compare the events of the Secret Ending and the events of Ray Route, Saeran is in a very different headspace by a long shot. His place in his life is also drastically different. Unknown spent two more years in Mint Eye than GE Saeran did. There’s a vast difference between 6 months of being trapped and two years of being trapped.

Both Suit Saeran and Ray were long buried in Unknown’s consciousness with no MC around to keep them tethered to the front. It was only a matter of time until either of them couldn’t function with what Rika did. I view Unknown to be another personality that split from Suit Saeran after some point during that two year period. Unknown and Suit Saeran have some things in common but they don’t read to be the same person to me.

SE Saeran is just Unknown post-therapy and confrontation with Saeyoung, so I don’t see them as separate people, but the same person just in different eras of life. I’ve got a whole other people I could make about how it’s possible that Ray could flood back to the surface in therapy, as well as Suit Saeran, but they may not have the same names by that point. That’s more so just a big post on the way that their system works and how all of them cope with their trauma.

But that wasn’t your question, but I’d be glad to answer that too at some point if you’re curious! Some people are torn on if Saeran has DID or OSDD specifically, and that’s a whole other topic. Anyways, back to the task at hand, SE Saeran in question went through literal hell for a very long time. He is fraught with so much anger and pain. He physically lashed out at Saeyoung and took weeks if not a few months to truly come to terms with what happened. He has to live with blood on his hands as well.

We all know that SE Saeran tried to get rid of himself and Saeyoung, too. His emotional crisis is a strong one. He’s hurting so much until Saeyoung can get through to him and they can start to heal. It wasn’t easy. It was a fucking mess and that’s how life is. After what they went through? It’s wrong to assume that it would be simple or without pain and tears. Even after the Secret Ending comes to a close and we see Saeran with everyone, he looks so tired. His emotional state isn’t healed. He’s going to be dealing with panic attacks and much of the lingering PTSD for years to come. Saeyoung will as well.

It’s going to be a constant battle for them.

But, they’re both trying and the MC, as well as the RFA, are going to be there to help, which is great. A good support system is important but that’s also going to be messy because... well, you know, the truth wasn’t completely revealed to all of the RFA and that’s a ticking timebomb in itself. Saeran’s got issues trusting and being around much of the RFA. He can’t be around Yoosung or Jumin for obvious reasons.

Either way, the Secret Ending has a lot of weight to it and it’s going to hurt just as much as it can get better for the Choi boys. Saeyoung believes that things can get better, and he’s willing and ready to stand by his brother to fight for their happiness. You know how much turmoil Saeyoung went through because we watched it. We know that he’s willing to do whatever he has to do for the ones that he loves.

Even if it feels like pulling teeth.

Now, thinking about what happens in Ray Route, we see the boys past revealed to the world with a direct attack. Saeran is able to realize that he was lied to and manipulated by the people that were supposed to take care of him. He is able to find out on his own that he needs to leave Magenta if he truly wants to be happy and free from his chains. We watch him be so damn strong and turn against the brainwashing and gaslighting. What he did should not be glossed over because going against your abuser is not easy.

I was so proud of him for learning that for himself. He says himself that MC isn’t the one that got to him completely. It was a combination of factors that allowed him to see it. From how Ray was treated to how Saeran is treated, how they are promised things, and how those things are taken away. How it just didn’t make sense that Rika was disrespecting him and taking away everything. Nothing at all made sense anymore. She said one thing and did another. He decided to fight it even though it made him feel sick.

You can watch his actions on the last day. How talking about Mint Eye as a bad place makes him gasp and choke, and whenever he tries to give his brother a chance... well, you see how he acts when you’re still holding onto your phone so tightly, asking him to take a chance on the RFA. He nearly has a panic attack when he tries to even say that he should look into it, much less talk to the RFA about it. He knows that he’s been tricked but he’s bouncing between what he has been told and what he’s trying to learn.

That’s not an easy process. Saeran is going to be dealing with a lot after the events of his ending that we know of. The sudden fusion of Saeran and Ray can actually happen, I know some people feel like that was out of the blue but that can very well happen whether they make the conscious choice to do that or not and it was the best thing for the body at that time. GE Saeran isn’t Ray and he isn’t Suit Saeran, he’s not the two of them smashed together and he’s not one or the other. He’s someone made up of those parts but also his own person. Again, that’s a whole other thing that I’d have to get into here.

Saeran has a lot to deal with as far as his trauma goes but you know what the difference is between GE Saeran and GE Saeran? GE Saeran had the choice to set himself free and SE Saeran had no choice. He was cornered like an animal and just... exploded. He was put in a position that he couldn’t decide. GE Saeran had the choice to leave Mint Eye on his own. That already makes the world of difference in his recovery. If we’re talking reasonably here, he definitely needs to start seeing someone to talk about what happened as soon as he feels ready to open up.

So, he’s going to be spending a lot of time working on his problems and God knows how long it’s going to find Saeyoung so he’s likely to be making some good progress on his own. His relationship with the RFA is already pretty good compared to his counterpart as well. He gets along with everyone in the RFA, and he’s particularly close with Jumin, which makes sense given their natural wits.

Now, therapy and getting a support system is good for Saeran. He’s got his MC as well with him. However, that doesn’t mean that he’s ready for Saeyoung to be back. When they find his brother... he’s going to need time and space for this to work. But, I imagine that he’s in a better headspace to handle it. He will tense up if Saeyoung hugs him and gets overwhelmed to see that his brother is alive after whatever he went through. Saeran will have to gently stop him and let him know that he needs time, he can’t handle all of this at once. Saeyoung needs to take it easy too.

He’s got to react to the fact that he’s no longer bound by the agency and that he can live a life not hiding behind a mask. That’s going to be his own journey in itself that we could talk about for a while and I hope it doesn’t get glossed over because Saeyoung’s got a lot of his own woes to work on. So, don’t expect it to be perfect or anything here either.

Saeran is able to breathe through the unease this time, but his MC will be there to hold his hand and help him speak to his brother about it. That first meeting is going to be a lot. It might trigger him, too. That would be the first time that Saeyoung is able to see that Saeran has someone that cares about him and that would be the selling point. If his brother is overwhelmed and scared and the one with him holds his hand and gently calms him, and removes him from the issue at hand, he’s sold.

No hesitation.

You protect Saeran, you show Saeyoung that you love Saeran, and that’s all he needs to see to trust you. He may not know all the details at that point but you can fucking count on him to be on board. He knows how to spot liars and people with bad intentions, and you don’t have that.

He wouldn’t forget to tell you that, either.

I think even more than that when he’s around the MC, he will notice how they just know when to touch Saeran’s hand and calm him. Saeran and his Mc have this silent communication. They don’t even really need words. They just look at each other and understand. That’s not something that is easily found in any relationship and when you see people that work in harmony you can’t help but smile. Saeyoung has hardly ever seen Saeran smile and you know when he sees it, he feels grateful that someone was there for Saeran when he couldn’t be there.

There’s going to be guilt and other feelings in that but he’ll swallow that down. One more thing to add to his list of things to talk about when he’s ready to get his own help.

Saeyoung and GE Saeran are going to interact slowly but surely. They’re going to be awkward... tense... maybe not angry, but there will be tight moments that feel overwhelming for both of them. Saeran might get angry and Saeyoung might be upset so there’s no avoiding a fight here and there but it may not be as violent as with SE Saeran and Saeyoung. Them getting to know each other is like getting to know a stranger... it’s been nearly a decade, they really don’t know each other at all.

Sad as that is, it’s fun to get to know each other again. Saeyoung gets to learn things about his brother all the time and he writes that down, trying to make things right and make up for the past... Saeran swallowing back his shame and telling his brother that he’s not mad, and them just looking forward. It’s not always easy but I do think that GE Saeran and Saeyoung will have a different kind of relationship given purely from the fact that Saeran was allowed to choose recovery instead of being forced into it.

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