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happypopcornprincess · 9 months

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Tangled Fates (Part Two)

Part One

What happened after Sapuna left for Garud Lok, and how Wansarut faces a challenge to decide her future.

GIF by @25shadesoffebruary || Original Post by creator is here

a/n - Thank you to literally everyone who showed so much support on my previous fic! I really had the time of my life writing for The Sign series as it just keeps on getting interesting with the release of new episodes! can't wait for those saturdays dude! till then... do give this a read and let me know how it was! Thanks a lot <3

Also major shoutout to @ayansbff for suggesting the song for this fic! [Galliyan by Ankit Tiwari]

The Sign series spoilers ahead!

---/---/---

Having craned her neck for so long, Wansarut tilted her head to get some relief. In response, Wanwisa pulled her hair into an angle. Again.

“Phi Saoo! ” she cried, looking at Wanwisa through the mirror. “Stay still just a bit longer!” Wanwisa let out a laugh while braiding her hair.

Prince Chalothorn was expected to visit their family that evening, and all responsibilities for making Wansarut presentable had fallen on her elder sister. This included preparing Wansarut for the occasion. Although she knew the prince favored her family as members of the Naga court, Wansarut had no romantic interest in him. To her, he was more like an older brother.

“Where is your mind wandering off to?” Wanwisa inquired.

Days had passed since Wansarut last encountered the Garuda. Her thoughts occasionally drifted back to their last conversation, especially how she had revealed her name without thinking. She had been in such a hurry to escape from him that she hadn't even bothered to ask for his name in return.

“Nowhere. Just… thinking,” Wansarut replied.

“About…” Wanwisa sang, “The Prince?”

Wansarut shot her a glare with a frown. “No.”

Wanwisa sighed, combing her hair. “I can't fathom why you're so determined not to like him. He's the prince of our kingdom, fighting for our clan. He's always been good to our family. Imagine how incredible it would be for you to marry him – you'd be a princess, our future queen!”

“I've always seen him as a brother, Phi Saoo. If you're so fond of him, why don't you marry him?” Wansarut blurted out before she could restrain herself.

Wanwisa's hands paused, and she gently caressed Wansarut's hair with a sad smile. “He doesn't like me, Nong Saoo. He likes you.” She placed the now complete braid on Wansarut's shoulder and hugged her from behind. “You'll make a fine princess, Nong Saoo.”

Without offering further explanation, she left the chamber. Wansarut watched her vanish behind the entrance curtains, a thought appearing inside her mind: does Wanwisa has feelings for Prince Chalothorn. If she did, wouldn't she have confided in her?

---/---/--- Sapuna settled on the windowsill of his house, gazing at the floating mountains of Garuda Lok, absent-mindedly toying with his golden flute – a gift from his sister.

His mind replayed every word spoken to Lord Aruna. After urgently requesting a meeting upon his return, the fact that he emerged unharmed from the human world granted him the audience.

He had practically begged the sun god to suggest a truce with the Naga prince. Despite encountering resistance from those present, Lord Aruna dismissed him, promising to consider the suggestion. Excused from the battlefront for the time being, Sapuna was sent back home.

Thoughts of Wansarut only added to his turmoil, her image recurring in his mind. He felt a tugging sensation in his chest at the memory of his savior – her almond eyes, pointed nose, and the crease of her eyebrows beneath her hair haunted his dreams each night. Despite his grandmother's attempts to appease him with sweets, he longed for the sweet wild mangoes of the human world.

Sapuna noticed an object hurtling towards him at tremendous speed. He catched it effortlessly, and discovered it was a message from Lord Aruna. He read its contents, and standing standing abruptly; transformed into his Garuda form, soaring off to the human world. Despite Wansarut's reluctance to have him there, he now had a valid reason to visit her.

Because the letter in his hand read:

Neither side wants the blood of their clan to spill for nothing, and our aim is to attain peace given the animosity between our clans. I have proposed a truce to the Naga kingdom. And if they answer, you will be accompanying me to meet Prince Chalothorn along with my court.

I trust you, Sapuna. Don’t make me regret this.

---/---/---

Beneath the sheltering branches of an ancient banyan tree, Wansarut perched on a swing, trying to make sense of the events from the previous evening at her home.

Prince Chalothorn had engaged in conversation with her family while she and her sister eavesdropped from behind the curtains of the halls, accompanied by the servants. Just as she prepared to meet him with Wanwisa, a royal guard rushed in, whispering something urgent to the prince.

The prince's face swiftly transformed from a benevolent smile to a furious scowl. He rose abruptly, apologized to the elders citing an emergency on the front lines, and departed without meeting her. The rapid shift in his demeanor left her unsettled, prompting her to slip away while her family debated the reason behind his sudden departure. Uninterested from the start, she wanted no involvement in the drama.

Swinging back and forth, Wansarut felt a forceful gust propel her forward. She glanced around to witness the forest settling into an unusual calm, as if a presence had touched down amidst the canopy. Descending from the swing, she observed a figure emerging from the woods, recognizing the silver breastplate of the Garuda as he approached.

"Swadee kha, Wansarut," he greeted, joining his hands.

She whispered inquisitively, "What are you doing here?" scanning their surroundings for any witnesses.

The Garuda responded with wide-eyed innocence, "Why are you whispering?"

"Your entrance was not exactly subtle, Khun," she signed.

Amused, the Garuda burst into laughter. The resonant sound stirred something within her, it felt like a warm embrace. She couldn't help but be captivated by the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

---/---/---

Sapuna felt an ice-cold grip on his arm, and Wansarut tugged him towards the expansive Banyan Tree grove. He followed, too shy to meet her gaze, opting instead to focus on the ground. With every step, her emerald-gold anklets gleamed against her fair skin, and the hem of her garments brushed the ground in front of him.

Wansarut halted and turned to face him. Reluctantly, he lifted his head to meet her gaze. As she parted her lips to speak, he stopped her, saying, "I have news regarding your request."

Sapuna proceeded to share everything, from his visit to Lord Aruna to his journey to this place. Wansarut's face brightened with each word, as if she had realized something crucial and couldn't wait to express it.

"Prince Chalothorn visited my family last evening and left abruptly without explanation, citing an emergency. He didn't seem very pleased about it, maybe this was the news." she said, tilting her head.

Sapuna attentively absorbed her words and, driven by curiosity, inquired, "Why was Prince Chalothorn at your house?"

Wansarut glanced at him, her shoulders slumping. "My family has been members of the royal court for centuries, and he has asked for my hand in marriage."

"Oh," was all Sapuna could manage to say.

While he had suspected her high social status based on her jewelry and attire, he shouldn't have been so surprised that she was engaged, especially to Prince Chalothorn.

"I haven't given him an answer yet. I was supposed to yesterday, but..." She trailed off.

"You would have said yes?" he asked.

Wansarut gazed at him with a pained expression. He could decipher from her look alone that she harbored no interest in the proposed union.

It felt inherently wrong. She, with her purity and kindness, seemed incompatible with someone like Chalothorn. The Naga prince held nothing but bitterness in his heart, responsible for the ongoing conflict between their clans.

"I have to go," Sapuna said, distancing himself from her. "I hope you make the right choice."

"Khàapkhun Kha... Khun," she replied, bowing her head.

Sapuna chuckled at her formality. "Please, Wansarut, I should be the one thanking you. And you can call me by my name; no need to be so formal." Wansarut remained silent, directing her gaze to her feet and fidgeting with her hands. He realized the reason. "You don't know my name," he sighed.

"Sapuna. My name is Sapuna-Naparuj," he said, smiling at how Wansarut snapped her head to look him in the eyes, clearly surprised.

"Sapuna." she repeated.

He swore no one had ever uttered his name quite like that. His heart raced, warmth spreading across his face, and he took a step backward, still looking her in the eyes until the pounding in his chest became too much.

Turning away, Sapuna unfurled his wings and soared toward Garuda Lok, a smile playing on his lips as he stole glances at the fascinated Wansarut with his infinite vision.

---/---/---

Bonus Scene

"Come on, man," Phaya pleaded with the lunch guy to give him an extra slice of mango.

"I told you I can't give you extra. Two slices for everyone," the server stared him down, not a hint of emotion in his eyes.

Phaya looked at the tray overflowing with fresh mango slices, his mouth watering at the mere scent of the ripe yellow fruit.

"Phaya, move," Khem urged him from behind. Giving Khem a look, Phaya moved to the end of the line. Finding an empty table at the hall's far end, he sat down eyeing the tray of food before him, with food portions standardized for trainees following a specific diet plan.

Phaya ate his lunch, attempting to chew the sticky rice while reminiscing about how every year, a friend of his grandma who owns a farm would send crates of fresh mangoes. Him and his sister would always quarrel for the juiciest ones. If he managed to snag one, he would tease her by eating it in the messiest way possible.

Maybe this is karma for teasing Nee when we were young.

Deciding to save the mango for last, he focused on the chicken curry instead, grateful it tasted better than the vegetarian stew served the day before.

Tharn, Khem, Yai, and Thongthai approached his table, sitting down with their lunch trays. Phaya smiled at them and continued eating, while Yai and Tharn shared stories of a festival in their hometown.

As Phaya scooped up the last bite of rice, he saw Khem reach out to his tray and offer him his share of mango slices. Phaya stared at him in awe, then noticed Thongthai, Yai, and Tharn doing the same.

At a loss for words, he looked around at his friends, all of whom had smiles on their faces.

"Aww, Phaya, stop looking at us like that!" Yai jabbed him in the ribs. "It looks like you're about to cry."

"I love you guys," Phaya said wholeheartedly and dove into the pile of mango slices on his tray.

Busy enjoying his favorite treat, he missed what Yai was about to say. "Ay Phaya, it was Tharn who... Ouch!" Yai winced.

Phaya looked at Yai in confusion. "What?" he asked.

Tharn spoke up while gathering his now empty tray. "Nothing. He was rambling about something. We're gonna go, we... have to practice... questions! For the pre exam." He tilted his head at his friends, and they all got up and left, one after another.

Phaya tried to recall what Yai was saying but stopped when he felt all eyes on his tray. He quickly finished the fruits and made a hasty exit before someone could tip off the trainers.

---/---/---

Back in their dorm hall, Yai yelled at Tharn, "Hey, Tharn! Did you have to kick my feet that hard?" rubbing his toes that were now red, while Tharn furrowed his brows, searching for balm to soothe his friend.

"Khao thot, Yai, I just don't want him to find out it was me," Tharn apologized earnestly, extending his hands to Yai.

A hoot echoed from Thongthai and Khem's bunk, and Tharn rolled his eyes as they approached Yai giggling like children, bearing an ice pack.

Khem playfully poked Tharn in the ribs. "Tharn, you look so cute trying to impress your crush..."

"...making such a big sacrifice of your share of mango slices and threatening your friends to do the same!" Thongthai teased him, dramatically fanning himself, extracting laughter from Yai.

"Okay, okay, just don't tell Phaya. Please," Tharn laughed along, taking a seat opposite Yai's bed.

Khem inquired taking a seat beside Yai, "By the way, how did you know he likes mangoes?"

Tharn tilted his head, genuinely puzzled about how he knew Phaya liked mangoes. "I don't know. I just assumed, I guess."

Khem and Thongthai nodded, and Yai interjected, "Are we all going to talk about Phaya? Can't you see I'm injured?" He tried his best to give them puppy eyes.

"Oh, Yai! You're such a drama queen!" Khem laughed as he pressed the ice pack onto his feet.

---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---

More fics? reblog this with what tropes you want for Sapuna and Wansarut!

---/---/---

Guide

Sapuna - Phaya's name in past life as a Garuda

Wansarut - Tharn's name in past life as a Nagini

Naga - A creature from Hindu and Thai mythology who has magical powers and can shapeshift into a Serpant

Nagini - Females of Naga clan.

Garuda Lok - The realm of Lord Garuda

Naga Lok - Realm of the Nagas

Phi Saoo - older sister in thai

nong saoo - younger sister in thai

Khapyn kha - Thank you in thai

Khao Thot - Sorry in thai

---/---/---

Taglist (i tagged everyone who replied and reblogged part one pls dm if you want to be added/removed to this taglist)

#the sign the series #fic #the sign bl #bl drama #bl series #thai bl #thai drama #phaya x tharn #phayatharn #au fanfiction #thai series #asianlgbtqdramas #bl fanfic #happypopcornprincess writes #forbidden romance

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thefeistyfoxden · 3 months

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An orginal story from myself based off a winter fling I had with a man who was very mysterious about his work. Enjoy!

The dimly lit bar thrummed with the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses. Cassie leaned on the worn counter, staring into her third whiskey of the night. The amber liquid reflected the warm glow of the bar lights, blurring her thoughts with each sip. She swirled the glass absently, her mind replaying the events of the evening. Viktor had bailed on her again.

Their arrangement was simple: friends with benefits, no strings attached. Except Viktor had a knack for disappearing without a trace, leaving Cassie to nurse her frustrations alone. His text had come through just an hour before they were supposed to meet, a curt “Can't make it tonight” with no further explanation. Cassie had already dressed up, her anticipation fizzled into irritation.

“Another one?” The bartender asked, nodding towards her empty glass.

“Why not,” Cassie sighed, pushing it towards him. As he refilled her drink, she felt a presence slide onto the stool beside her. She glanced over and saw a familiar face, but not the one she had hoped for.

“Hey, Cassie,” Mike, a regular at the bar and one of her casual acquaintances, greeted her with a warm smile. “You look like you could use some company.”

Cassie forced a smile. “Just one of those nights.”

Mike followed her gaze to the full glass. “Trouble with your mystery man again?”

She shrugged, taking a sip. “Something like that. He’s got this habit of vanishing into thin air.”

Mike laughed, shaking his head. “Sounds like a real winner. What does he do, anyway?”

Cassie hesitated. Viktor was always vague about his job, referring to himself as a “problem solver.” She doubted he was an accountant or a tech guy, but she never pressed for details. Part of her didn’t want to know.

“He’s... complicated,” She said finally.

Mike gave her a sympathetic look. “You deserve better, you know.”

Cassie opened her mouth to respond, but a sudden chill ran down her spine. She had the eerie sense of being watched. Turning, she saw Viktor standing in the shadow of the doorway, his piercing blue eyes locked onto hers. He was wearing his usual dark attire, blending into the dimness like a ghost. He began walking towards the pair, making Cassie turn back to her now watered down whiskey.

“Mike, would you excuse us?” Viktor’s voice was calm, but the undercurrent of authority was unmistakable.

Mike looked between them, clearly reluctant, but Cassie nodded. “It’s fine, Mike. I’ll catch up with you later.”

As Mike moved away, Viktor took the stool next to Cassie. For a moment, they sat in silence, the tension between them palpable.

“Nice of you to show up,” Cassie said, her voice sharper than she intended. She swirls a finger around the rim of the glass, nervous to be in his presence.

Viktor’s eyes softened slightly. “I’m sorry about tonight. Something came up.”

“It always does,” she muttered, staring into her drink.

Viktor reached out, his hand brushing hers. “I don’t like disappointing you, Cassie. But my work…”

“Is problem solving, I know,” She interrupted, pulling her hand away from his. “And you’re very good at disappearing when it matters.”

He frowned, his eyes flicking to the bartender who was watching them with interest. “Can we go somewhere private?”

Cassie sighed, finishing her drink in one gulp. Barely flinching. “Fine. But this better be good.”

They left the bar together, the night air cool against her flushed skin. As they walked, Cassie’s frustration simmered. She led him to her apartment, a modest one-bedroom in a quiet part of town. Unlocking the door, she gestured for him to enter.

Inside, Viktor seemed to relax slightly. He looked around, taking in the familiar surroundings before turning to face her. “I really am sorry, Cassie.”

She crossed her arms, leaning against the door of her room. “I don’t need apologies, Viktor. I need you to be here when you say you will be.”

He stepped closer, his expression earnest. “I want to be here. But my work… it’s dangerous. I can’t always control when I’m needed.”

“Dangerous how?” She challenged, meeting his gaze. “What do you really do, Viktor?”

He hesitated, then sighed. “I solve problems that can’t be fixed by normal means. People hire me to make their issues disappear.”

Cassie’s eyes widened. “You’re a hitman?”

He didn’t respond, but the silence was confirmation enough. She shook her head, stepping back. “This is insane.”

“Cassie, please,” He said, his voice pleading. “I care about you. I want to keep you safe.”

She laughed bitterly. “Safe? You think this makes me feel safe?”

Before Viktor could respond, a loud crash came from the kitchen. Cassie jumped, her heart racing. Viktor moved swiftly, his body tense as he approached the sound. Cassie followed, peeking around him to see the source of the noise. Broken glass. In the kitchen, the atmosphere was tense as Viktor's gaze swept the shadows. Cassie's fear intensified as she realized they weren't alone.

Viktor's eyes locked onto hers, his expression dark and inscrutable. "You need to leave, Cassie. Now."

The urgency in his voice sent a shiver down her spine, and she knew she had to make a choice. Trust him, or walk away.

As she hesitated, Viktor's presence seemed to envelop her, drawing her deeper into a world of danger and uncertainty. With a final glance, she turned and fled, leaving behind the enigmatic allure of Viktor and the shadows that surrounded him. In the aftermath, Cassie knew she'd never be able to forget the intensity of their connection, nor the darkness that lurked within Viktor's mysterious world. It was a chapter she could never revisit, yet one that had left an indelible mark on her soul.

#fwb #writing #dark romance #mystery #orginal character

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whiteqnn · 4 years

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PURE [3] - Corpse Husband x Fem! Reader

A/N: Over 1 thousand notes. You guys are insane. I can’t see any other explanation.

Thank you so much for all the love and support under the previous parts, all those comments just absolutely made my day! I would never expect this story to receive such a positive feedback, which I’m extremely grateful for!

Anyway, I decided to add some additional plot to this story - mainly, the sudden criticism and hate directed on Y/N after the last Among Us stream. I thought it would make things more interesting.

That being said, I hope you enjoy the third part ^^

part 1

part 2

part 4

part 5

PURE [3]

Y/N stared at her phone screen, reading through the latest tweets of her friends inviting their fans to watch their streams. It was Thursday evening and just as it was planned, everyone was getting ready for another game of Among Us. Just as she would do if it wasn’t for all those comments...

The last stream caused sudden, unexpected amounts of attention on her social media. She probably shouldn’t be that surprised by it, given the fact that by appearing in Sean’s and Felix’s videos she wasn’t all that strange to their fans. But people who watched Rae, Toast, or Corpse’s streams didn’t know her. And apparently, some of them weren’t that happy to see a new face among the group of well-known gamers.

She always tried to avoid the unnecessary spotlight as much as she could, preferring to stay hidden somewhere behind other, much more popular streamers. And it never bothered her. She was never one to enjoy too much attention anyway.

That’s why when she discovered how upset, or even angry, some people were when she played with all those famous streamers, she was quite shocked, to say the least.

Like all those comments under Poki’s tweet, in which she mentioned who’s gonna be playing this time...

“Duh, why’s that Y/N chick supposed to play with them again? There are at least hundreds of other, much more popular streamers I can think of who would be better than her.”

“Who the fuck is she anyway? Why’s she there?”

“lmao, some random girl who got lucky enough to know jacksepticeye. Don’t get why she’s playing with them though.”

“NOT HER AGAIN. I SWEAR TO GOD SHE WAS SO FUCKING ANNOYING LAST TIME”

Sure, she wasn’t as famous as Felix, or Sean, or Rae, or anyone else for that matter. Her audience wasn’t very small, but it was nothing compared to the number of fans other YouTubers had. It was understandable that most people didn’t know who she was, and didn’t understand why she was there in the first place.

She was, in fact, just some random girl who was lucky to have Sean as her friend. But in a group of such great and well-known streamers, she definitely stood out like a sore thumb.

Y/N almost jumped in her seat when her phone beeped with a new message, Sean’s nickname showing up at the top of her screen.

Jackaboy: We’re starting in a few kiddo

Jackaboy: But join the call now so we can both make fun of Felix

After the last game, she was so excited and couldn’t wait for this evening. She looked forward to cooperating with Sykkuno again, to arguing with Toast, to laughing with Sean and Felix, to murdering other people with Corpse... Yet now, all this excitement seemed to vanish just like the mood to play, let alone talk with other people. They would surely see right through her and try to make her spill the beans, which would ruin the stream. And the last thing she wanted was to ruin their game.

Jackaboy: You there Y/N??

She sighed, thinking of some believable excuse that wouldn’t arouse suspicion, but her mind was flooded with all those comments and DMs she received over those past days, which expressed nothing but hatred towards her.

Y/N: I’m really sorry Sean, but I don’t think I will be joining you today... I don’t feel very well.

She waited for Sean’s reply impatiently, expecting him to send her some angry emoji or tell her to move her ass and join the discord call. What she didn’t expect though, was that he would facetime her.

Her first instinct was to throw her phone across the room as if it would make Sean stop calling. He wouldn’t stop unless she’d tell him the truth.

So she cleared her throat and plastered the widest smile on her face, before answering his call.

“Alright, what is going on?” Sean asked right away, staring at her with his brows furrowed. He wasn’t in his recording room, but in his kitchen, which meant that he left his stream to call her. “And please don’t tell me you’re sick cause I won’t believe it anyway. And neither will Pewds.”

“I’m tired, Sean... I was working late again and I really need to rest.” she lied, trying to keep her voice steady and calm. She really didn’t want Sean to interrogate her now, not when his fans were waiting for him. “I’m sure you’ll find someone else though. Please tell the guys that I’m sorry”

“Y/N, c’mon, cut this bullshit. What’s wrong?” he asked softly, moving his phone closer to his face. “You know you’re a terrible liar, just tell me what happened. If you don’t wanna play then neither do I.”

“Sean, please don’t do it” she shook her head with a sigh. “Your fans are waiting for you, I’ll be fine.”

“Well they’re waiting for you too you dummy, I already promised them you’ll be playing with us tonight” he stated matter of factly, rolling his eyes. Y/N remained silent for a moment, and Sean suddenly furrowed his brows, narrowing his eyes at her in a suspicious look. “Did someone tell you something rude last time we played? Who and what?”

“What? No, Sean, oh my God. Everyone was super nice, it has nothing to do with the last stream... not with you guys, at least.” she mumbled under her breath, dropping her eyes from Sean’s confused face.

“What do you mean not with you guys? Y/N, what the hell happened?” he demanded, slowly getting more and more worried. She wouldn’t tell him though, too scared that Sean would just laugh it off, even though he also sometimes had problems with dealing with hate. And just as if he was reading her mind, Sean sighed, his face softening in a sad smile. “You’ve read the comments, didn’t you?”

She felt so stupid for being so easily offended by comments of some random people on the Internet, that she just nodded her head meekly, still looking anywhere but at the man.

“Look kiddo... I’m not gonna tell you to get yourself together and just ignore them, cause it won’t help, and I know cause I’ve been there. Hell, I’m still there.” he chuckled to himself and continued “Anyway, you really shouldn’t be worrying yourself about people who don’t even know you. They don’t know you, Y/N, why would some complete stranger’s opinion matter to you?”

“They said I shouldn’t be playing with you guys... that I’m nothing but a burden and you should be playing with someone who’s at least recognizable.”

“Well excuse me Miss, last time I checked I could choose who the fuck I want to play with.” Sean scoffed, clearly irritated by such comments “You’re one of my best friends Y/N and I don’t give a fuck what some haters say. And neither should you.”

“Maybe you should just invite someone else... It would make everyone happy.” she muttered almost inaudibly, but Sean almost barked at her when he heard her words.

“I told you to cut that bullshit, Y/N! Everyone couldn’t wait for this game and now you wanna back out? C’mon, kid. Do you have any idea how heartbroken Sykkuno’s gonna be? When you left so quickly last time, he kept complaining that he has no one to team up with.” she couldn’t help but smile at that, letting out a tiny giggle. “And Corpse? Have you even seen his last tweet?”

“What? No, I- I don’t follow him...” she said, wondering what Sean was talking about. She quickly searched for Corpse on Twitter, still being on facetime with Sean, and her heart almost dropped when she saw the last tweet.

@.Corpse_Husband Really excited for tonight’s Among Us stream, 8PM PST.

Jacksepticeye

Valkyrae

Pewdiepie

Pokimane

Sykkuno

Disguised Toast

Logic

Mr Beast

and, hopefully, my partner in crime - Little Y/N

She stared at the screen with her eyes widened, and her lips corners curling up in a small, bashful smile. It was so nice of Corpse to mention her as well, especially with the nickname that he seemed to like so much since their last game.

“God, if you could see yourself right now. How’s it that my pep talk didn’t do shit, but Corpse’s tweet magically made you smile, ugh.” Sean reminded her of his presence, and she quickly returned to the call, trying to somehow control her burning cheeks.

“It’s not like that, Sean, I really appreciate that you’re trying to cheer me up... I just didn’t expect your friends to like me...” she admitted quietly, and if Sean could, he would probably strangle her at that moment.

“I JUST TOLD YOU THAT SYKKUNO KEPT BUGGING ME ABOUT YOU FOR TWO FUCKING HOURS. YOU THINK HE WOULD TALK ABOUT YOU IF HE DIDN’T LIKE YOU?!”

“I just... what if they’re just being nice, but they don’t actually want me to play with them?”

“I’m done.” Sean groaned, shaking his head furiously. “Alright, here’s what you’re gonna do. You stay away from your phone, join the discord call, say hi to everyone, and we’re all gonna have fun, okay? If not, Pewds is gonna murder you, cause he was already growing impatient even before I called you.”

“I’m still not sure if that’s a good idea, Sean...”

“But I am sure, Y/N! Now come on, we’re playing in five. I’m telling everyone you’re joining as well.”

And before she could even reply, he hung up. Y/N groaned, rushing to her computer to turn it on. Now it would just be plain rude not to join the game, especially after Sean wasted his time talking with her, while he should be talking to his fans. Just as he suggested, she kept her phone far away from her desk, deciding to stay away from Twitter and all those comments for a bit. Maybe it would help her clear her mind and at least try to have some fun.

An invite to the group call was already waiting for her, along with a message from Sean with a code to the game. Y/N put her headphones on before joining the call and quickly typing in the code.

“... so let me repeat myself. I ALWAYS sound guilty, no matter what. Please, guys, don’t vote me out!”

Y/N shook her head with a smile on her lips when the first thing she heard after joining the call was Felix’s pleading voice. Clearly, he was already trying to save his own ass even before the game began.

Y/N could hear Sean’s loud voice as he commented on Felix’s plea with some snarky remark, later also catching the sounds of Rae’s laughter. Everyone was already there, they’ve been clearly waiting for her to join.

“Hey, look who’s finally here! Hi Y/N!” Poki noticed her presence first.

“Hello everyone” Y/N said, as shy and quiet as usual.

“Oh, Y/N! It’s so great to see you again, I was worried you weren’t joining us tonight” Sykkuno said, a pout clear in his voice.

“WELL ABOUT DAMN TIME” Felix all but yelled, making her roll her eyes with a smile. “What did I tell you about being late?!”

“Give her a break Felix, her mic wasn’t working again... Luckily, I was there to save the damsel in distress” Sean said, and even though she couldn’t see him, Y/N was almost certain that he was smirking.

“Yeah, I’m really sorry guys to have kept you waiting so long...” Y/N said, feeling genuinely bad. Maybe Sean was right after all? They could have just invited someone else, and yet they decided to wait for her.

“It’s okay, you’re here now and it’s all that matters” a deep voice sounded out, and whether she liked it or not, Y/N grinned like an idiot with a blush rising up her cheeks.

“Shit, here we go again...” Felix sighed, making everyone else laugh. Y/N bit at her lower lip, feeling her heart thump in her chest as she felt a sudden wave of courage, deciding to speak up despite her initial shyness:

“Well... I couldn’t just leave my partner in crime alone, right?” she asked, and she could swear she heard Corpse stutter as if he completely didn’t expect her to say that.

“Ah yes, after all, killing wouldn’t be the same without her, right Corpse?” Toast teased, repeating Corpse’s words from the last stream. Everyone in the call laughed, Y/N included. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling, even though just mere minutes ago she was on the verge of crying. “It’s good to have you here, Y/N/N. Maybe I’ll actually get a chance to finally kill you this time.”

“Jesus Christ, Toast. You sound like a psychopath. Hey, I’m happy you’re here, lemme stab you in the back, please?” someone whose nickname was MrBeast spoke up with a chuckle, before directing his next words to Y/N “I believe we haven’t played together before, I’m Mr Beast, it’s really nice to meet you Y/N”

“Yeah, pleased to meet you!” another player, Logic, spoke up “I also didn’t have a chance to play with you yet, but I’ve seen Sean’s last stream... Let me just say, that Toast murder was absolutely perfect!”

“Wow. And here I almost managed to block it out. I’m fucking traumatized Y/N, you should be ashamed of yourself” Toast scoffed over Felix’s laughter.

“You should be proud of yourself!” Sean interfered “Just so you know lads, Y/N may seem like a little angel, but she’s a little demon. You’ve been warned.”

“Yeah, she’ll charm you with her voice only to snap your neck next second.” Felix scoffed.

“Just like she did with Corpse!”

“Charm?!” Y/N gasped, her cheeks burning.

“I don’t recall Y/N killing me...” Corpse said in his low voice.

“I love how that’s the only thing he denied” Poki pointed out in a teasing voice, which only made Y/N sink further into her chair.

“Can we please start the game now?” she asked in a pleading voice, hoping that everyone would stop making fun of Corpse and her. She could only imagine how uncomfortable he felt, for some reason being the target of their jokes... They must’ve made him feel awkward, right?

“Jack, did you tell Y/N how we’re playing tonight?” Sykkuno asked, and she sighed in relief that they dropped the jokes.

“Oh, right! So there’s this mod called proximity chat, where we’re able to hear each other as we pass by another person, and it seems quite fun so that’s what we decided to try out tonight.” Sean explained to Y/N, and before she could ask another question, he added “I’ve just sent you the link, it’ll take a minute to install it.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you Sean” Y/N said, before downloading the mod and quickly installing it. When everything was set and ready, she pulled up Among Us again and typed in the code, and the game finally began.

“Woah”

“Holy shit!”

“Guys this is so cool!” Sykkuno exclaimed, his voice so happy and excited that Y/N couldn’t help but giggle.

“Okay, I’m scared now. I feel like encounters with Imposter are just gonna be perfectly cut screams” Felix chuckled, as they left the dropship and moved down the map. That’s when Y/N gasped in surprise, upon seeing the locations completely different than those she was used to.

“Wait- is that a different map?” she asked through her mic, hearing Toast’s distanced, devilish laugh. There was only Rae and Sykkuno beside her, as everyone else have already split up to do their tasks.

“Oh yeah, that’s Polus, it’s much more fun than the one we were playing in last time.” Rae explained happily and Y/N groaned. She didn’t know that map.

“Great. I don’t even know how am I supposed to do tasks in here...”

“Oh, it’s not that hard. They’re in most cases similar to those you already know, they only look a little bit different.” Sykkuno said in his kind voice, before asking “Do you want to team up again, Y/N?”

“I thought you would never ask Sykkuno” Rae chuckled under her breath.

“Yeah, that would be great! I need someone to show me around” she smiled. The trio finally moved from their spot beside the dropship and went to the left where, as Y/N later realized, was electrical. She quickly did her task in there, being under the watchful eyes of both Sykkuno and Rae.

Before the latter could do his own task, the first body was reported.

“The body is in the lab” Felix said, and Y/N couldn’t help but smirk as she saw that it was Toast who was murdered first. One less person to accuse her or try to frame her, if he was the Imposter.

“I just ran towards the lab from the left side, I only saw Poki on my way there” Corpse said right away, and the accused girl was quick to try and defend herself:

“Okay, I wasn’t in the lab, I was doing that engines task which is next to the lab.”

“Did you see someone else there?” Jack questioned.

“Nope, just me and the engines.”

“Okay. Sykkuno, where are you?” the lime astronaut was next on Jack’s list of suspects, which made Sykkuno groan.

“Why do you sound so suspicious right away?” he asked in disbelief, causing the rest to giggle “I was with Y/N and Rae all this time, we were all doing our tasks in electrical.”

“Is that true Y/N?”

“Yes Sean, that is true” she rolled her eyes with a laugh “I don’t even know this map, I have to stick with someone so I don’t end up like Toast.”

“Alright, what about rest? Logic? I think I saw you in admin but then you disappeared somewhere.” Felix said.

“Yeah I’m with Mr Beast in the office”

“That’s right” Mr Beast confirmed, which didn’t bring anything new to the investigation, so everyone decided to skip.

“Wo- Okay where are we now?” Y/N asked in surprise, when the new round began in some completely new place Sykkuno didn’t manage to show her yet. She could hear as Corpse laughed at her shocked voice, which made her smile widely.

“Yeah, I’m also not used to this new map yet” he admitted, his black astronaut walking up to her white one “Hey, wanna see something cool?”

“Sure!”

*Meanwhile Sykkuno*

“Okay this is bad guys, we lost Y/N” Sykkuno said to his mic, running around the map to find the girl he was earlier teamed up with. “I thought she followed us when the new round began, but she must’ve gone the other way... What if she’s dead already? Not good, not good...”

"Woah! This looks amazing! Is there some task here as well?”

“Yes, there’s temperature recording right here” Corpse said, standing by the lava pit, watching as Y/N’s character ran back and forth over the pool of lava.

“I wonder if you could jump into it. What do you think, Corpse?” she asked curiously, standing close to the edge.

“Not that I’m aware of it...” he mumbled coming closer to the edge as well “Why would you jump into it?” he asked with a half-smile on his face.

“So Felix can’t stab me in the back.” she whispered, even though there was no one around them.

“You think it’s him?” Corpse mirrored her voice, and she hummed in response “Why?”

“He’s constantly suspicious of everyone, last time we played he also kept interrogating us all, without even telling his own location.” she stated as if it was very obvious. Corpse couldn’t help but let out a laugh “What? Why are you laughing at me?”

“Not at you, Y/N. I’m just impressed by your investigation skills” he admitted “In that case, we better both jump in. Felix likes to frame other people.”

“You wanna jump into the lava with me?”

“Sure I do.”

“There you are!” Sykkuno’s lime astronaut came out of nowhere, followed by Mr Beast. Two of them walked up to Y/N and Corpse, and before the latter could even say anything, Mr Beast snapped Y/N’s neck.

“WAIT, NO-”

“OH GOD, OH GOD” Sykkuno yelled in panic.

“KILL HIM CORPSE” Mr Beast screamed, frantically running around.

“What the heck?” Y/N stared at her screen in shock, her dead body laying over the lava pit. Mr Beast had already fled to the left, leaving her, Sykkuno and Corpse standing between two of them. None of them said anything for a moment before the black astronaut finally spoke up.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N” he kept repeating, regret clear in his voice. “And Sykkuno, I- I can’t even express how-”

He was cut off by Felix’s scream, who reported the bodies before Corpse could kill him as well.

“IT’S CORPSE ALRIGHT” Felix yelled right away “HE’S STANDING OVER Y/N AND SYKKUNO, HE HAS THEIR BLOOD ON HIS HANDS”

“That is- I did not kill them” Corpse replied, calm as ever, as opposed to his frantic apologies.

“Then why were you standing there?! Without reporting the bodies?!”

“I was... mourning their death.” he replied, which caused the whole group to burst out laughing. “Seriously guys, you think I would murder Sykkuno? And Y/N? I would never even think of hurting them.”

“The simp is strong, we get it, but it doesn’t really save your situation” Rae laughed.

“Let’s kick him out guys, he can’t even defend himself” Sean chuckled, and everyone else didn’t need to be told twice. Soon enough, Y/N watched as Corpse’s black astronaut was thrown into the lava pit... Oh, the irony...

The game continued with her wandering around the map, doing the rest of her tasks to at least support somehow her fellow crewmates. She stumbled upon Corpse’s ghost at some point and laughed wholeheartedly when he started circling her little character in something she read as an attempt to apologize.

A little while later another body was reported, this time it was Felix who lost his life. Y/N didn’t really focus on the conversation this time, glancing at her phone instead. There was this urge to reach for it and check how people reacted to her joining the game, but she kept repeating Sean’s words in her head. There was no point in worrying about the opinion of somebody who doesn’t even know her... or at least that’s what she tried to convince herself to think.

Her attention was brought back to the game when she heard the sound of a new message from someone who was also dead. She clicked on the chat, seeing that it was one of the Impostors.

Corpse: :(

Corpse: I’m sorry

Y/N thought it was sweet of him to apologize for it, even though it was his main goal to murder everyone after all. She believed he was genuinely sorry for it, just like she was each time she was an Impostor and had to kill somebody.

Sykkuno: Welcome to the afterlife, Corpse!

She laughed at Sykkuno’s constant happiness, which was evident even in his messages, before typing one as well:

Y/N: We’re all corpse here

Sykkuno: Oh, so it means we’re all really cool then ^^

Y/N: Fair point

Corpse: See Y/N

Corpse: I told you I would jump into the lava for you

Y/N: You didn’t exactly jump...

Corpse: :(

Y/N: But let’s say it counts as well :)

Corpse: :)

Before they knew, the voting ended. Mr Beast was thrown into the lava, which ultimately lead to the victory of crewmates. Y/N cheered happily, when the blue sign appeared on her screen, right above everyone else who was innocent.

“Yaaay, the first time I wasn’t killed in the first game!” Sean announced enthusiastically, his astronaut running around the dropship.

“Yeah, and the first time it went so fast...”

“Right? Corpse, I’m disappointed in you. What happened to the King of Impostors?” Rae asked.

“Well.. no matter how good you are, you can’t always win, right?” Corpse replied calmly.

“Hmm, you seemed kinda absent-minded during the game, though...” Poki suggested with a smirk hiding in her voice, and Rae was very quick to pick on it.

“Oh, you’ve noticed that too? Almost as if he was distracted by something”

“I don’t know what are you talking about” he chuckled nervously, and Y/N just sat in her chair confused about what was going on. “Anyway, who’s up for another round?”

“Yeah, I have an idea” Sean said, effectively shutting everyone up “What if we play something along the lines of hide and seek? Let’s have one impostor, and everyone else needs to get their tasks done before he finds them.”

“That is...” Felix took in a dramatic breath “THE BEST THING I’VE EVER HEARD ABOUT”

“Yeah, I think it will be fun” Sykkuno replied.

“It sounds really cool, but let’s maybe tell who’s the impostor? I think it would be more fair” Rae suggested.

“I think it’s a good idea” Sean concluded, before changing the settings for one impostor only. Y/N waited patiently for the game to begin, and when she saw that she was a crewmate again, she sighed in relief. Only to gasp in a panic a second later...

“It’s me.”

Everyone stumbled out of the dropship as Corpse admitted that he’s the impostor. It seemed that knowing exactly who can murder everyone made the whole game a little bit terrifying...

“I don’t know where the heck I’m going” Y/N mumbled to herself with a nervous laugh when instead of doing her tasks, she searched for the perfect place to hide. When she entered security, she spotted Mr Beast fixing the wires, so she decided to join him.

“OH SHIT- god damn it, you scared me to death!” he all but yelled when she appeared next to him, doing her tasks.

“Sorry” she giggled, quickly finishing the wires, before speeding out of the room. On her way to weapons, she stumbled across Felix’s dead body, and could hear some screaming in the background... but didn’t recognize who was murdered next.

Y/N managed to do most of her tasks without meeting Corpse, whom she hoped not to see probably for the first time since they played together. She was just leaving decontamination when she heard Sean’s panicked laughter:

“...tee, bitches love me?”

“Wrong.” Corpse’s voice almost made her squeak in surprise, only to really scream when he suddenly snapped Sean’s neck.

“Retreat, retreat!” Y/N laughed as she sped past oblivious Rae and Logic, Corpse hot on her tail. She quickly returned to the decontamination room, hoping to flee from her inevitable death, when Corpse’s black astronaut walked in, and the door closed.

“Please don’t kill me” she chuckled, even though there was no hope for her.

“Finish my lyrics, and I’ll let you live...” he began, and Y/N furrowed her brows in confusion “ I spilt wine...”

“Wait- what lyrics? You sing?” she asked, completely dumbfounded. Corpse was silent for a moment as if he didn’t understand her, before bursting out laughing “What’s so funny again? Corpse, come on!”

“Yes, Y/N, I do sing, I was actually hoping you’ve heard some of my songs...” he admitted, still chuckling to himself. She felt a blush rising up her cheeks.

“Oh- I- I didn’t, I-... but I will, okay? I’ll do it right away!” she promised, quickly jumping up to grab her phone and listen to Corpse’s song. She was genuinely shocked, she would never expect him to sing!

She unlocked her phone with a wide, somehow nervous smile on her face, which, however, dropped the moment she saw her notifications. Hundreds of notifications.

“You there, Y/N?” Corpse’s voice reached her after a moment, when she still didn’t say anything, just kept looking at her screen. “I hope my music isn’t so bad that you passed out from listening to it...”

She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, her phone gripped tightly in her shaking hands.

“Um, Y/N?” his voice became more worried now “Is everything okay?”

Y/N cleared her throat and quickly wiped her eyes, closing them for a moment to steady her breathing.

“Yeah, all good Corpse” she forced herself to smile, so her voice wouldn’t sound weird. “Look, um, I need to leave, can you tell the others bye from me?”

“Is something wrong?” Corpse asked confused.

“No, of course not!” she laughed through her tears “Something just came up and I really need to leave.”

“You sure you’re-”

“Bye Corpse. It was nice playing with you.”

A/N: I hope you guys are not too disappointed in me... It didn’t turn out as I initially thought it would. Isn’t it too dramatic? And is this hate plot fine? Or is it not? What do guys you think?

TAG LIST IS CLOSED!

@slytherin-chan @pillowjj @afuckingunicornn @love-and-virtues @ignooynim @crapimahuman @hannahjsworld @laugh-like-the-moon @fallengoddess772 @kingric03 @dolphinpink310 @paigeyisme @bunnychano3o @dxrtygxrl28 @z-nyx @baby-iyania @trashygeek

#corpse husband #corpse x reader #corpse husband x reader #fanfiction #youtubers #corpse husband imagine #writing #imagine

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gaiuswrites · 3 years

Text

Original Sin | Darksaber!Din

Pairing: Dark!Din x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ older for the love of all things holy)

Word count: 3.4k~

Summary: Things change after Grogu leaves. People change. No one is exempt.

Warnings/tags: DUB CON?¿, masturbation (m and f), inappopriate use of darksaber, sex toy (...), Dark!Din, Dom!Din, sacrilegious references, really dark shit, i am so sorry

Update: This should go without saying, but as it turns out, it’s in need of being said: every word written in this fic is my own; any likeness to any other work is coincidence, regardless of how bizarre. I don’t mean to offend anyone or raise suspicion, as I am certainly not a plagiarist (literally couldn’t be even if I tried: I am equal parts too incompetent, too busy, and too lazy to steal from someone else. Fellow writers can attest, I’m an absolute garbage reader and fall behind on almost everyone’s work. There’s an embarrassing amount I haven’t read.) Please reach out to me personally if you have any concerns. I respect everyone here like you wouldn’t believe. Sending love to you all. Be well. ✨

Notes: When I go to hell (it really is only a matter of timing, and not so much a question of if anymore), this fic will rank number one on the list of reasons why I’m sent to my eternal timeout. This... I'm twisted. I have issues. God help us. Seriously, this is basically a horror show. I bow down to the Darksaber!Din content creators who came before me, and the original artwork that inspired me to write this— thank you for lighting this (descending, dirty) path. I HAVE TAGGED A FEW PEOPLE HERE WHO MAY OR MAY NOT BE INTERESTED but really— REALLY— there’s absolutely no pressure. Cheers friends x ( gif credit: @skyshipper )

Masterlist | Read it on Ao3!

The days stretch long like morning yawns—hours passing on creaky bones, slow and congealed inside the metal womb of the Crest.

It wasn’t always this way.

They used to be filled with pitter pattering— with wily antics and vanishing acts that could baffle even the most veteran of illusionists— with prying frogs from tiny, green hands and giggling as blocks and baubles floated through the hull. Laughter. There used to be laughter here.

But that was then. The child is gone now. The Razor Crest is quiet.

Time fills itself like this; there’s little for you to do now but wait. Wait for the dusk to blur into the dawn. Wait for your food to cook. Wait for the shower to warm. Wait for the parts you ordered to arrive at the port. Wait for Din to come back—to come home.

Home. You used to be so certain—you’d bite the head off anyone who questioned otherwise— but you’re not so sure this is home anymore. Its not that anything has changed. No, the galley, the carbonite pods, the cockpit, the deck—it’s all still here. The scuffed walls, the durasteel, the littered crates and packed arsenal. But—

It’s different. It feels different. Something is...

off.

You can’t quite put your finger on it. Its intangible, but it’s everywhere—like gas. Invisible to the naked eye, but encircling you all the same. Choking you.

Killing you.

There’s no good explanation for it. You feel eyes on you when there are none. You find yourself glancing over your shoulder, knowing full well you are alone. Something keeps snagging you, pulling at an unseen thread. The corners of your peripherals tugging at you. Beckoning.

Was that a shadow? No.

Is someone there? It’s just you.

There is a tickle at your ear - a constant - dancing along the shell of it. Wherever you go, it follows.

Home home home. It only feels like home when Din is there, safe and sound at your side. But even then, even Din—in all of his plated exterior—even Din has succumbed. Even Din has

changed.

The truth is, Grogu left and a part of Din left with him. There’s less of him now— more, too: there’s less where it matters, and there’s more where there shouldn’t be.

You don’t remember when it started—when he first disappeared. When the spark in him died, and he was reignited anew.

When this Other became.

On multiple occasions you’ve caught him murmuring into the bellied dark of the Crest with a bent spine, hunched over himself as if he’s shrinking—enveloping in in in as far as the beskar along his chest will allow him to cave. You can never pick up what he mutters, but you catch the sounds of his teeth and lips brushing together, hissing. It’s not Basic; you’d recognize it if it were. You don’t think its Mando’a either. It’s too sharp— too vile. There’s none of his language’s elegance in it.

“Did you say something?” You asked once, poking your head around the doorway, eyes resting on the shine of his helmet.

A beat—and slowly, he unfurled, rearing to his full height and like a sentinel he swiveled, pivoting to face you.

“No.”

Your throat bobbed. “Oh, I-I thought I heard-”

“Come here, mesh’la.”

And you did. You always do.

The darksaber appeared on his belt one day, shortly after the child went away. It came, only once, and there it stays. Indistinguishable - inseparable - there is no dismembering the two. It accompanies him in all things; when he pilots, when he hunts, when he eats. It sleeps by him.

By you, too.

Din has always been stoic—of scant words and physical timing—but now he is a golem. A silent, shrouded figure. His Creed is broken, and you wonder maybe - briefly - if Din is broken as well. He is never unkind to you. He is never threatening. But he is never him. His eyes— the oaky comfort you once found in them— have blackened. He is a pit.

Din Djarin is a pit of a man.

And within that pit he has born rage. Immaculately, it has sprung from him as woman did by Adam’s rib. Like mold growing upon stale fruit does he have this—this wrath. It crept through him. It stalked along his soft flesh— his tawny hide—and it waited; patient, there in the shadows, it waited for him. Waited for him to turn his back, to close his eyes and drop his guard— leeway, an entrance— as to slip in undetected.

To inhabit.

The virtue and love that once thrummed within the heart of him has burned away. Charred. Only this of him remains; this insatiable lust— for blood sport, for the promise of split knuckles and fractured bone, for you.

For all of you.

Now, Din goes out on bounties like he needs it—like it’s oxygen. He lives off it. He’s sustained by the rush, by the adrenaline laced chemicals pumping through his arteries. He’s gone for days and weeks on end and when he returns, he fucks you like he’s been starved. Out in the wilderness without a morsel to eat, he devours you. He’s ravenous as he tears his way across your body—all too pliant for him, all too willing—letting him feast on the nectar dripping from your heat.

You can feel it in his foot steps as he storms the ship, the bassy echo of it. You can see it in the pitch of his visor. You can feel it in his cock as he slams into you, night after night after night—ceaselessly. Tirelessly. Unnaturally. The number of orgasms he wrings out of you is countless—his need so incurable, you have to fight to stay above it all; you have to war against your urge to slip away completely.

Din is one grey choice - one hair trigger - from coming undone.

And you should be scared. You should be terrified—he should terrify you. Like scalding water, you should flinch away at the mere sight of him—at the warning steam that rises from his pauldrons. This predator, unhinged and off his leash—a great, crushing beast at which you are at the mercy of.

But— you aren’t.

You couldn’t place it at first: the gnawing. The gnawing at your insides like maggots festering upon a grizzled carcass hanging limp at a wet market. You couldn’t name the tremor in your gut. You gave it epithets as best you could, you gave it placeholders - fear, worry, intrigue - all until one day it spilled. One day it seeped past the tremble of your stomach and sank lower, lower,

lower.

It settled in your cunt—the gnawing. And you named it Want.

You want him. You want this—you’re addicted to it. This sin like led-lined velvet, you want to roll in it until it poisons you, until you’re smothered with it, just like it’s smothering you now— blanketing you as you mewl naked in your bed, knees knocked together. Your eyes roll back into your skull as you frantically work circles into your clit with the all consuming thought of him: his teeth at your shoulders, his hand around your windpipe.

You’re nearing your finish, the promise of that tight coil unraveling there - there - right before you. You’re so enrapt in it—in this dizzying, wanton act—you don’t register the ramp lowering. You don’t hear the carbonite chamber whir, his quarry freezing over, or his foot falls sounding their way to your bunk.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You gasp, frightened eyelids wrenching open as his baritone timbre crackles through the hull. The Mandalorian stands there, backlit by the glow from the galley and he looms—expressionless. Haunting. You blink at him rapidly, batting away the desire that’s glazed over your eyes.

“Y-You’re back,” you stutter lamely. You try to smile. You try to distract him. “I uhm, I didn’t hear you come in. I thought you wouldn’t be back until, u-until..."

Your excuses fade, mouth parched dry. The film of his visor gives you nothing. He is unknowable, but you feel it - sense it - that energy—unbridled and rippling off of him in sick, suffocating waves.

“I’ll ask you again,” Din starts.

“What-" he steps towards you, darksaber hanging heavy at his hip, “do you think-" you shimmy up your cot, shoulder blades digging into the steel sidings, “you’re doing?”

Your heart thunders against your chest, beating until you’re sure it’ll burst.

“I’m-"

I’m sorry you almost say, and you have to force yourself to gulp down the apology. You know he doesn’t want it, and he knows you wouldn’t mean it even if you offered it to him.

Your brow wavers. “I-"

He rips away the sheet you had drawn up over you and reflexively you jerk back, revealing the gloss on your fingers and the patch of hair above your mound, shimmering shamefully—exposing you, mocking you under the dim lights.

“What’s this?” he asks, and fuck he’s patronizing you. He’s smirking—you don’t have to see it, you can hear it in the curving lilt of his voice as he drinks in the sight of your very obvious indiscretion, laid bare before him. You can’t bring yourself to answer him—you can hardly look at him—and you bristle, hair on your arm prickling up.

“You fuck yourself speechless, little one?”

Your cunt throbs, burning and contracting around the orgasm that was snatched away from you and fuck, you’re drowning in him. Din is tar—he’s an oil slick, and you’re plummeting through it—gasping for air, for the surface, for sunlight. He’s everywhere—his broad frame, his voice, his scent like copper and smoke. You can barely breathe through the thick of him.

“Answer me,” he growls, leather croaking at the clench of his fist.

“Yes—yes,” you utter, proceeding with honesty, no matter how pathetic. “I missed you,” you squeak out.

Din cocks his head, a smug look scowled onto his visor. “You missed me?” he purrs through a sneer and you nod, precious and small, worrying the inside of your lip.

He sinks one leg and then the other onto your bedroll, just between your parted feet, kneeling before you. The flimsy spring mattress squeals under his weight—all of that armor, all of that boiling soot trapped within him.

“How much?”

For a moment, you must look confused. Puzzled. Your eyebrows furrow as Din unclips the saber from his belt, rolling it over in his hand. You rake your gaze up from it, dilated pupils landing on the unforgiving black panel there.

“You claim you missed me. Prove it.”

Your cunt bottoms out.

He crouches over you, tracing along your inner thighs with it's steel shaft and you bury your fists into the cot. You don't know which to look at: Din or the rod in his hand. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you trust me.”

Fuck, it feels like you’re going to rattle apart. There isn’t an inch of you that isn’t humming—isn’t seizing up wild. “I-I trust you,” you mouth softly. And you do, whether you should or not—you trust him with your life, to make or ruin.

“Fuck, you’re wet mesh'la,” he appraises darkly, leaning in to run a leathered digit through your seam, parting your curls. Your legs twitch, heels of your feet digging into the bed. “So ready for me. So eager."

Your eyes dance frenetically down to the handle and back up to him as he aligns the saber with your pussy. The blunt end of it touches your lips and you shudder, instinctually fidgeting away from it. Din splays his hand on your knee, anchoring you in place. “Shh,” he coos, rubbing a thumb soothingly into your skin. It doesn’t feel sweet. It feels sickly, cloying— like arsenic.

You don’t dare breathe as he prods the shaft into you, inch by terrible inch. It doesn’t matter how slicked and wet you are from touching yourself, your walls strangle the foreign intrusion. Your body resists.

“Fuck,” you sob. Your throat, your pussy, all of it— it’s all compacted. It feels so fucking tight, both words and air fighting to get out and in all at once—everything inside you constricting.

“Show me,” he grits through clenched teeth. “Show me how much you missed me.” He drags his gloved digit over your clit, pressing down onto it until you see stars, fizzing in front of your vision. “I know you can take it, sweet girl. Be good and show me.”

Be good. Be good for him. Be his only vice.

He continues to swirl at your bundle of nerves and you’re nearly thrashing with it— with all of this— hair fanned and mussed against the pillow as you writhe, swallowing his saber to the hilt. Fuck, you’re so full. Maker, you’re stuffed with it; with the cold, uneven edges, the ridges woven into the grip of it— and he slowly - tortuously - delves the handle in and out of you, hitting against your cervix with every thrust.

You can only mumble. Your lips have gone slack, your mind is cavernous. All you can do is quiver and beg— beg for release. Beg for it to end.

Beg for more.

“Oh gods, oh g- Maker, please—”

Your bleary eyes shoot open as you’re silenced by the grip of his gloved hand.

“No.” Din pinches your jaw in the web of his palm, fingertips dimpling your cheeks. “No, your God isn’t here,” he seethes, low and deadly, graphite venom dripping from his lips. “Pray to me.”

Fuck.

Trembling, your lips pucker ugly and sloppy as you babble uselessly in his stony grasp, chin crinkling with a whimper. “D-Din.”

He inhales sharply, mouth snaking into a wicked grin behind his helm. “That’s it. That’s my good girl.”

He’s deboning you as he would a fish. Practiced, he plucks you into messy pieces—gutting you through your open maw. His ministrations are crawled. They’re slothed and carnal with arrogance and pride and it’s not enough—its all together too much, but still—it’s not enough. You’re hungry. You paw at him, scraping over his breastplate.

“Din, please—more," you gasp feverishly, eyes blown wide.

A blip of static huffs through his modulator. “You want more, you filthy little thing?” He gives you another squeeze, indenting scorch marks into your face.

You nod—you try to, his grasp is too firm, rooting your neck to still. “Yes.”

Din groans, all but obliging you as he begins to fuck you harder, pistoning through you as he thumbs your nub with his rough pad.

“Din-”

You’re whining now, tinny and depraved. It’s wrong. Every part, every second of this, is wrong. Immoral. But you can’t stop the way your body convulses at his every touch—you can’t stop the heat roiling in your core.

“Din, Din baby- fuck fuck fuck-”

It’s like he’s trying to split you in two—all of you. Your pussy, your mind, your soul—he’s bisecting you. Divvying you up to bits of nothing. It’s only then that horrid realization occurs to you, winding through your addled haze as he fucks you deep and splintering: you’ll never be whole again.

And scarier still—you don’t think you want to be.

No, you want to be these loathsome shards. You want to be broken glass. You want to draw blood.

You want to be possessed by him.

“Fuck yourself,” he pants, his cock straining violently against his trousers, begging for relief. “Be good and fuck yourself. Let me watch.”

Be good be good be good

He leaves your clit and you whimper at the loss. Your face is stained with tears. The salty trails cascade down to mingle into your hair, into the sheets. You’re vibrating, but you do as he says and you reach down, recoiling when you touch the chilled metal tip. Tentatively, you pad along it, settling on the end that’s peeking out from you.

A pained sound rumbles through Din as you wrap your fist around the saber, and your eyes flit up to meet his, hidden somewhere behind his helm. Hurriedly he unbuttons his pants in a flourish and removes himself from his constraints. He’s pulsing and proud, flexing up against his stomach, the veins choked to bulge along the angry, silken shaft of him.

Finally, you begin to move the hilt—finding an aching, undulating rhythm and he can’t fucking take it. He rips his helmet off, letting it clatter to the floor.

“Din,” your pray, “Din, I think I’m going to-”

You’re wrecked – fried like a livewire– as you look for him, as you search and search—for that warmth, for a trace of him left there. The Din you knew, the Din you agreed to fly with all those months ago, the Din you love. You think you see it sometimes—in the slant of his mouth, the bridge of his nose— but here, now, he is gone.

He is a pit.

Din Djarin is a pit of a man, and you want nothing more than to fall. Standing on the ledge of him, staring down into the abyss—you want this. You want to fall. You want to jump.

“Tell me you’re mine. Tell me, sweet girl— tell me.” He’s fucking his fist raw, humping into his palm as desperate as an animal.

“I’m yours,” you mewl. Furiously rubbing your clit with one hand and spearing yourself on the rod of his saber with the other, your hips buck and spasm. You snap. A blinding light sears through you, ricocheting off every scrap of muscle and tendon sewed up in your body. “Just for you,” you cry, “I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours—”

Your ragged sobs mix with the lewd slaps of skin as Din pumps himself, hot ropes of his release spitting onto you— painting your pussy, the divot of your navel, coating along the slope of your tummy.

“Look at you—fucking, look at you,” he moans throatily, easing through his rough strokes as he softens.

Your chest is heaving and you feel dumb, empty—like a puppet, arms and legs moving on phantom strings. Din removes the handle from you with a wet squelch; a viscous strand of your juices clings on, obscenely connecting your pussy to the base of it, and you rasp—the wind punched out of you with its gaping absence. You gush. It dribbles out the slit of you, leaking past your abused hole and soaking into the bedroll.

When he unsheathed the saber from your scabbard, he took a part of you with it. You’re so fucked out—you’re practically a parsec away— it went unnoticed.

Undetected.

It brushed past you. You didn’t feel it—you didn’t recognize the whisper that has slithered in in it’s place, nestling within your swollen folds.

Breeding there.

“Beautiful,” Din murmurs, placing it on the mattress beside your head, the chrome of it gleaming with your slick. He bows his head to lick a path up your cunt, laving you clean as he climbs higher and higher, tonguing off his seed from your stippled skin. “Fucking beautiful, mesh’la,” he growls. “Mine—all fucking mine.”

You’ve gone heavy. You’re too heavy to keep your eyes open—you’ve been hollowed out and you’ve got nothing keeping you tethered here. You start slipping under in slow motion—intervals between languid blinks lasting longer and longer. You’re spooled in a knot of tangled limbs with Din’s mouth, fervent and needy, flaying you open as he sees fit— with his hot mouth and teeth, suckling your breasts, biting at your nipples and bruising your pretty neck.

It’s not long before you hear it again, as you have before— as you always do: the faint caressing of speech, of lips forming language you cannot understand—made indecipherable in your strung out high.

“D’you say something?” you mumble, half conscious—half dreaming.

Din laps a long stripe up your throat, his stubble sanding your skin. “No.”

You sigh, breathy and girlish, as his fingers find your mound, dipping into you once again. He makes you cum twice more that evening. You barely have the strength to watch him do it.

Finally, when he’s satisfied—when he’s spent with driving you mad, making you rile— he grants you respite. He permits it – generous, charitable - and you sleep like the dead, soundly through the night until—

until you don’t.

Eyes. You feel them somewhere— there are eyes on you. You stir, stuttering in your sleep to squirm in the dark. You don’t know what you’re listening to at first. It’s a sound of some kind, a noise. There is a hiss—

A frigid hand seizes around the bloody organ pulsing in your ribcage.

No, not a hiss—it’s a voice. It’s— no-

You pat around for Din beside you but he’s gone—he’s long gone and his vacant spot has grown cold without him—and your nails dig into the sheets, desperately clawing into the fabric.

Inside you.

The voice, the sharp hush of it—it’s inside you. It speaks from inside your own mind, its forked tongue fluttering against your ear.

‘Wake up, sweet girl.’

Tags (IM SO SORRY): @djarinsbeskar @pedros-mustache @krissology @keeper0fthestars @read-and-rec

#darksaber!din #dark!din #dark!din x reader #dark!din x you #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mando fanfiction #mando x you #mando x reader #the mandalorian #star wars #sw fanfic #darksaber #Im so sorry #dom!din #haunted!din

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kohanayaki · 3 years

Text

.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 3

Continuing the story of how you and Sirius became friends; as James and Remus grow closer to you, Sirius continues to treat you coldly until a late night encounter makes him question everything.

LINKS: CH 1 CH 2 CH 3 CH 4 CH 5 CH 6 CH 7 CH 8

________________________________________________________

Ch 3 .:Resistance and Reconciliation:.

~Previously~

“I'm not going to bother making friends with someone whose family is so wrapped up in blood politics they forget to be human beings first. Trust me, I've met their mother enough times to know.”

“Did you ever ask them about it?” Remus pressed.

“I don't really need to, do I? They're a (L/n). Open your eyes, Moony!”

Remus' brow furrowed, a shine in his eyes akin to sympathy as he regarded Sirius.

“Perhaps it's you that needs to clear your vision, friend.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 1974 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sirius sat on the stone ledge on the window of his dorm room, looking out towards the Black Lake. He could see the push and pull of the wind as the thin branches of the ash trees bowed gently with the rhythm. In the reflection of the glass he could see James and Peter behind him experimenting with an altered set of wizard's chess, complete with fire-breathing knights and bishops that threw daggers, while one of Remus' records spun in the background.

Despite everything he could have been thinking about at the moment, his thoughts, irritatingly enough, drifted to you. He frowned slightly as he leaned his shoulder against the window, annoyed that you occupied even a portion of his mind. He just couldn't understand you. Somehow you had turned James, who had once openly proclaimed you his sworn enemy, into something close to a friend in the span of a year. You had no qualms with pranks pulled on you, yet you were fiercely protective when they were directed at others. You were always smiling, yet your temper took no prisoners. If you weren't a Slytherin you might even be attractive.

The thought made him bolt upright. Where the hell did that come from? He almost laughed. No. Absolutely not. He was Sirius Black, he could get anyone he wanted in this bloody school, and he certainly wasn't going to busy his mind with you. What the hell was wrong with him? It's not like he noticed the way you smiled to yourself when you were reading, or the fact that the sound of your laugh got stuck in his head like a song—

No. Stop it. Get your head straight, they're evil.

Sirius exhaled deeply, rubbing his tired eyes with his hands. For some reason that thought didn't sit right in his brain, and the longer he sat with it he came to a horrifying conclusion:

Maybe Remus was right.

The only time you'd really been nasty to them was when they'd instigated it first, or whenever they had a go at Snivelus, which had become less and less frequent; Sirius suspected because of your tentative friendship with James. He'd always just assumed you were like the other Slytherins he'd come to know. There's been hearsay circulating around you, especially given your family's reputation, but you yourself hadn't really done anything to prove the rumors. Maybe you really weren't like your family at all. Maybe you were like him. . .

Suddenly, he caught movement in the corner of his eye, not from his friend's reflections but from outside the window itself. A figure emerged from the lamplight of the castle gate, making their way towards the edge of the forest. If the green lining of your school robes and (h/c) hair didn't peak his interest, the flash that he saw of your face as you shot a quick glance over your shoulder confirmed it was you.

Sirius' mind began racing as he watched you disappear into the foliage, and suddenly every thought that had given you the benefit of the doubt vanished. He'd heard the rumors about the gatherings in the forest, everyone had. He'd even caught Snape practicing dark magic there himself one of the first nights they'd used the Shrieking Shack passageway.

He jumped off his perch by the window and grabbed a sheet of parchment and a quill, drawing a rough outline of the perimeter of the forest. He labeled the Black Lake so his spell would have a going off point and pressed his wand to the still drying ink.

“Revelare Popularis,”

The enchantment was a work in progress— a technique he'd learned from a seventh year. It wasn't exact, but it was enough to tell him if anyone else was in the forest right now. His eyes darted across the paper as he scanned his makeshift map, and the color drained from his face as he saw names suddenly appear in a cluster by the lake: Mulciber, Wilkes, Avery, and Malfoy.

Was this it? Were you really one of them?

James looked up from his game as he saw Sirius grab his leather jacket off where it hung from his bedpost.

“Going somewhere?”

“(L/n) just went into the forest,” Sirius said, “I'm following them.”

“Why, Sirius?” Remus said sardonically, having had enough of his unusual grudge against you, “We're not really ones to talk when it comes to sneaking around the forest at night, now are we?”

“He's got a point,” James said, “I mean, what do you think you're going to see?”

“What do I think?” Sirius scoffed, pushing the paper into Jame's hands, “what does it look like?”

James looked down at the parchment blankly.

“What am I looking at?”

“A variation on Revelio,” Sirius explained quickly, “if you have a location in mind it shows you who's there, but only at the time the charm is cast.”

“Are you kidding me?” James' jaw nearly dropped, “You're just now showing this to us? We could have been taking advantage of this spell to dodge Filch this whole time!”

“I'm serious.”

James had to fight hard not to make a joke out of that one.

“If (L/n)'s meeting up with those guys it can't be for anything good,” Sirius continued, “and I'm gonna find out exactly why.”

Before any of the boys could get another word in, Sirius took off running down the corridor. James groaned, rebelling against the urge to slam his head into the wall.

“I've got to stop him before he does something stupid,” he said, pulling a coat on over his shoulders, “You with me, Remus?”

“Probably not the best idea,” Lupin reminded him, “the moon's full tomorrow. I won't turn, but in the direct moonlight I may get a bit. . . well, you know.”

“Right,” James sighed, running a hand through his hair in distress, “Peter?”

The boy jolted as he was addressed, his eyes quickly cast down to his twiddling fingers.

“I. . . w-well. . .”

“Fine,” James said, waving them off in annoyance, “I'll go at him alone.”

___________________________________________________

You took a grateful breath of the crisp night air, letting the wind whistle through your hair and clothes. You loved your common room, but it could feel constricting at times, especially when there were nights as beautiful as this taking place.

Your eyes drifted up to the moon, smiling at the sight of it. It was nearly full, only a sliver of white missing from the very edge of the sphere. The sight alone was enough to make you feel more at home in your own skin, an inexplicable sense of comfort washing over you. You hadn't been able to really let loose and just run in so long. You'd made doubly sure no one had followed you into the forest, but you still gave your surroundings a quick once over. You jumped as the sound of leaves crunching suddenly asserted itself behind you and you lit your wand quickly, turning to see who it was.

“. . . Black?”

“Sorry, were you expecting someone else? One of your pureblood friends, maybe?”

The confused look on your face only made his anger flare.

“Don't act coy,” he asked harshly, “just what are you playing at?”

Your back straightened in surprise, taken aback by his words.

“Excuse me?”

“I've seen you talking to my brother, Rosier, Snivelus, and all those other Slytherins. Don't think I don't know what you're doing,” the words flew out of his mouth before they had time to pass through his brain, every irrational irritation he had regarding you spewing out of him at once, “I've had to sit through it, you know. All those dinners where my parents talk blood politics with all the fanatics who think just like them. I've listened to your mother brag all about your pure blood line and how her child is 'so eager to carry on the family traditions'. So whatever you're planning by getting close to James, I'm not going to let it happen.”

You felt like you were frozen in place, staring at him as your throat tightened into knots.

“My mom?” you said, voice suddenly small, “Sirius. . . my mom passed away when I was little.”

Your words hit the Gryffindor like a truck.

“. . . what?” he asked dumbly, his brain delaying slightly in processing what you'd just said.

“She got sick. . . an experimental spell gone wrong. If you met someone with my family's name that spoke like that, it was probably my aunt. My cousin goes to Ilvermorny. That's the child she's talking about, not me. The divide between purebloods and muggleborns is even more severe in America, if you can believe it. . . ”

Sirius faltered, this new information going against everything he'd heard and thought he knew about you and your family.

“But,” he hesitated, “your father—”

“Put up the image he had to in order to keep me safe,” you said. You knew he was documented as being very open about his pureblood pride and distaste towards muggles, but it was a cover more than anything, “Since he stopped speaking with my aunt and moved us both away from the estate, she's acted as the new head of the (L/n) House, and that was years ago. . .”

You trailed off awkwardly, not feeling very self-righteous in your explanation.

“I know my family doesn't have the best reputation. . . that's probably why you hate me, huh?” you chuckled humorlessly, wincing at how harsh the words came out. But if you were honest, you were hurt that out of everyone in their group, Sirius was the one that didn't even seem to want to give you a chance. You were the one who had extended the olive branch in the first place on the condition that they ease up on Severus.

“Hate you?” Sirius echoed hollowly, feeling guilt creep up on him like a shadow, “that's. . . shit, no, that's not—”

“Everte Statum!”

You gasped as Sirius was suddenly shot backwards, his body flipping wildly through the air from the force before being slammed against the trunk of a nearby tree. His head spun, heavily disoriented as his vision shifted in shades.

You had drawn your wand on instinct, looking around for your attackers when you saw a black-clad figure lift their hood, revealing a long mane of white hair that stood out starkly in the night.

Malfoy.

“Well, looky here,” Mulciber taunted, revealing himself behind you, “we've caught the two biggest blood traitors of the last century having a touching little moment together.”

Laughter echoed from the trees, Wilkes emerging from the shadows. You took up a defensive position as their group surrounded you.

“Now, let's not be hasty, Mulciber,” Lucius said, “their father may have disgraced their house, yes, but they didn't have a choice. It's not too late for them to make the right one now.” His lips turned up into a snarl as he regarded Sirius, “get away from that blood traitor, (L/n), he'll rub off on you.”

You grit your teeth hard, preparing to cast a spell when Malfoy put his hand up in a silencing gesture, the pretentious little prat.

“Ah, you don't want to make any rash moves either, (L/n),” he said, looking to your left. You followed his gaze to see Avery coming out of the foliage, grappling with someone under his arm.

“Potter?!”

James smiled weakly as Avery held him in a choke hold, a bit of blood dripping down the side of his head.

“Hey,” he said, humor still light in his voice, “So, this didn't exactly work out as planned.” He groaned as Avery's elbow was driven into his stomach, effectively silencing him.

As soon as you tried to move towards him, Lucius had his wand pointed at you.

“Let him go and get lost, Malfoy,” you said lowly, “you've taken this far enough.”

“You've been avoiding us, (L/n),” Lucius said, ignoring you entirely, “Snape may have come up with some rubbish excuses for you earlier, but you can't keep running from this.”

“If practicing curses on first years and terrorizing other people is how you plan on using magic, then I don't want any part of your little cult,” you spat, “face it, Malfoy— you lot need me, but I don't need you.”

Lucius exhaled sharply, his genuine surprise at your resistance replaced quickly with anger.

“Think about what you're doing, (L/n),” he said, his eyes narrowing dangerously, “don't be a fool like your father.”

That did it.

With a growl you unleashed an orange bolt of energy from your wand, your Stupefy hitting Lucius square in the chest. Mulciber was quick to retaliate with a jinx of his own, which you quickly nullified with a shield charm. Shock flashed across his expression at your casual use of nonverbal magic, and he recovered one second too late.

Sirius was back on his feet, petrifying Mulciber and swatting Wilkes away like a fly with the knockback jinx before either could cast a spell at you. You and Sirius found yourselves back to back, fending off Lucius as he continued to direct a steady stream of curses in your direction. Sirius managed to create an opening for you and you turned to where James was being held.

“Evanossa!”

A flash of blue hit Avery, who shrieked in horror when he saw that the arm he was using to hold Potter had turned gelatinous, fingers drooping down like melting ice cream. James wasted no time paying him back in kind for roughing him up earlier, sending him flying into the oak tree and using the water from the Black Lake to freeze him there before joining you in the fray.

“Expelliarmus!” he called out, sending Wilke's wand spinning out of his reach and leaving only Malfoy against the three of you.

Lucius faltered for a moment as he stared down your group of three, but held fast.

“Leave it, Malfoy,” you said, “it's over.”

He growled under his breath, taking up an obvious offensive stance, but you were too quick.

“Ebublio!”

Lucius gasped as he suddenly found himself encased in a giant bubble, his knockback jinx ricocheting off the inside and hitting him in the back of the head. He pounded against the bubble in frustration but found it to be thick as Plexiglas and just as strong, unable to pop it. Suddenly, he was hoisted into the air as you raised your wand higher, directing him farther and farther away until he was hovering directly over the Black Lake.

“Let me go this instant!” he growled.

A devilish smile graced your features.

“You got it.”

“No, wait, don't you dar—AHH!!”

You turned your back on him, your breaking eye contact promptly bursting the bubble and sending him flailing into the water a few feet below.

You chuckled as you sent a few quick counter-jinxes out from your wand, restoring Mulciber's range of motion and liquefying the ice that trapped Avery.

As soon as Mulciber was unpetrified he took off running towards the Lake where Lucius was furiously treading water, tripping over his feet as he dragged Wilkes along with him. Avery limped after them, defrosted but still chilled to his bones (which you had been so kind to also restore).

“I'd fish him out quickly if I were you,” you called after them, “the giant squid is more active at night.”

“You're out of your mind, (L/n)!” Avery turned around and yelled, but with fear evident in his eyes, “You'll live to regret this, mark my words. The Headmaster—”

“Would love to know who cast the first spell, I'm sure,” you said darkly.

Avery stammered out some lame response under his breath before turning around and running after the rest of group, retreating.

Sirius turned to look at you, awestruck and chocked full of adrenaline. Maybe you really weren't so bad after all.

“That was. . .” James trailed off, grasping for the words and blurting them out as soon as he found them, “Brilliant, (Y/n). You're bloody brilliant.”

You felt your face heat up, not expecting that. You and James had stopped trading insults and threats (serious ones, anyways) and your teasing had become well meant, but neither of you had crossed the threshold of actually paying the other a compliment before.

“Thanks, Potter,” you said, unable to fight the smile on your face. You turned to Sirius briefly. “I hope this cleared some things up for us,” you said, “I'd really like to try and be friends, so. . .”

“Yeah,” Sirius said, wanting to kick himself at the way you turned him into a monosyllabic neanderthal with just a look. You gave him a small smile before turning back to James who was trying desperately to hide his limp and aching rib cage.

“Alright, let's get you to the hospital wing, Potter,” you sighed, “you look like a cheap action star in a muggle movie.”

“Uh,” James said nervously, “better we not. If I go to Madame Pomfrey three times in one day she'll never let me hear the end of it.”

“And who's fault is that?” You huffed, slinging an arm over his shoulder and helping him walk, “at least let me patch you up, then.”

Sirius followed some distance behind you, watching as you walked James back towards the castle and laughed at his occasional jokes. This one night had just turned everything upside down for Sirius. This whole time he was sure that he didn't like you because you were a blood-purist Slytherin and he was jealous that you were taking his best friend away from him; but the way you had stood up to Lucius and his goons made your position on blood politics very clear, and the tight feeling that struck Sirius' chest as he watched you cozy up with James made him reevaluate just which one of you he was jealous of.

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

“Sirius?”

The man blinked, slowly coming back to reality. You were looking up at him in concern, your head resting lightly on his shoulder. It took an embarrassing amount of his willpower to keep from leaning forward just a few inches and kissing you.

Could you pick a worse time, you numbskull? He thought, mentally smacking himself for even thinking about it.

“Are you okay?” you asked hesitantly after he stayed silent.

“I'm alright,” he insisted, giving you a reassuring smile, “just. . . thinking about how far we've come.”

His answer surprised you, though not in a bad way.

“I suppose we have,” you smiled back, “this is a far cry from you scowling at me from across the Great Hall over your breakfast.”

“I did not scowl,” Sirius scoffed playfully, nudging you away with his shoulder.

“Right,” you grinned, “scowling, glaring, glowering, whichever you prefer.”

“I said I was sorry,” he said, putting his hands up in mock surrender, although you both knew you weren't really upset about it. You'd long since forgiven him for his initial misjudgment.

When your light laughter died down, your head found itself lulling to the side again, tiredness taking over your mind as you rested against Sirius once more. When you tilted your head up to look at him he had a surprisingly pensive look on his face. Your eyes traveled across his expression, his gray eyes almost taking on a deep shade of blue in the shadows of his room. You noticed how much younger he looked when he was smiling; it was in moments like these when it really set in how long you had known each other, because you could see the years in his eyes.

Your own flickered down to his lips in spite of yourself and Sirius' heart skipped a beat, fearing you could feel it racing in his rib cage. When had you turned him so soft? He chuckled inwardly. Long before he had fully come to terms with how he felt about you was the answer. Even when he was in Azkaban, with two of his closest friends dead and the world convinced he was at fault, even if he had to live with the fact that he would never see you again, he still thought of you, and that kept him alive, sane— himself. But now you were here in front of him, and he was terrified that at any moment you would vanish into thin air and he would find himself back in that horrible cinder block cell, face to face with a dementor as it took his last memories of you away from him.

Your hand squeezed his, almost as if you had read his thoughts— as if you were assuring him that you were real, and you weren't going anywhere. You noticed him leaning in closer, even if he didn't, possessed by some invisible force. You were nearly about to meet him halfway when you were suddenly startled apart by the sound of quick, heavy-footed steps bounding down the stairs.

You both looked at each other as if you had just awoken from some sort of trance, instinctively putting some distance between yourselves as you shifted away awkwardly.

“I. . . I should probably get to bed,” you said, your face warm.

“Right,” Sirius said, reluctantly getting up from his seat at the edge of his bed, “I've kept you up long enough, I'm sure you're tired. . .”

Before you left his room you turned over your shoulder, a small smile on your face.

“It's really good to see you again, Sirius,” you said earnestly, “we should catch up for real later.”

“Definitely,” he said, a bit of his old self reflected in that smirk of his, albeit forced.

You steeled yourself, turning the doorknob and closing the door behind you gently before you did something to ruin the friendship you had just gotten back after over a decade. You shook the thought aside, your head hurting. You really did need to sleep after today.

You were about to head into your room, but something in you didn't feel quite right. You'd definitely heard someone go down the stairs, but you hadn't heard the front door open or close. Dread pooled in your stomach at your gut feeling, and you found yourself inexplicably making your way back down the stairs.

The house was eerily silent now that its residents had either gone off to bed or disapparated until the next meeting in a few days time. You'd left Sirius upstairs, and you knew Harry was staying here for the time being until school began, but everyone else had gone home. So then why did you still feel someone else's presence so acutely?

You stared at the empty hallway leading to the front door, taking a cautious step forward; the image in front of you didn't feel real. The colors were too saturated, the edges too sharp, and the surfaces too smooth. And that's when it hit you. The smell of rain. Leather-bound books. Lavender.

You froze, staring at the seemingly empty space in front of you.

“Severus?”

The potions master didn't dare make a sound, thinly veiled behind his invisibility charm but clearly not well enough. He was standing not three feet in front of you, taking in the sight of you as if it were the last thing he would ever see.

He panicked slightly as he felt you reach out to him with your mind, shutting himself off expertly. Your hurt expression as you were unable to detect anything pained him, but he wouldn't dare think that he deserved to say anything to you. What was there to say after everything he'd done?

Your gaze roamed the empty hall, and for a moment he could have sworn you stared him right in the eyes.

You knew he was there.

The moment lasted no longer than a second before you looked away, turning to go back up the stairs. As soon as your back was facing the front door you heard it open then close gently, and the tears you had been fighting to hold back finally spilled over.

Read chapter 4 here !

Taglist: @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

Prompt for "Close" or "Reforged": NMJ & Baxia goes to the Nie tombs to accompany someone. The spirits sensed a saberspeak translator FINALLY exists and traps them. Everyone thought the place hostile, but the sabers just want NMJ listen to their ramblings/demands/complaints/lectures... and also to do something about that "basketcase" saber spirit sealed further in. They're sick of listening to it! Do something, Nie descendant!

ao3

“Tell me something about yourself,” Lan Xichen said one day when he was a teenager, lying on his back in a field in the Cloud Recesses with his best friend in the whole world, excluding family. “Something secret.”

Nie Mingjue, lying beside him, hummed for a moment, thinking about it. “When I was a kid – about Wangji’s age now – I got stabbed in the stomach during a fight,” he said eventually. “Everyone thought I was going to die, and I mean they really thought it, but then I didn’t.”

“Wow,” Lan Xichen said, having meant something more along the lines of ‘a girl let me touch her chest behind the garden shed once’. “Everyone must have been very glad you were all right.”

“Mostly,” Nie Mingjue said, his voice and gaze distant. “Once they let me out.”

“Of your sickbed?”

Nie Mingjue blinked and shook his head as if to wake up. “Enough about me,” he said. “What about you? What’s your secret? Is it about that He sect girl and the shed again?”

“It was not,” Lan Xichen insisted, even though it totally had been. He was very proud of it. “I wasn’t thinking of anything in particular!”

When Nie Mingjue told Lan Xichen about his family’s curse, he didn’t actually tell him directly.

He brought him to a room, with tea and food set out, had him sit, and then vanished, sending Nie Zonghui to tell him instead. It was horrifying, of course, but in the same manner as the whole war they’d just endured had been horrifying – nothing that would make Nie Mingjue blush.

“Why didn’t he just tell me himself?” Lan Xichen asked, mostly because he couldn’t really be upset at Nie Mingjue for being in the process of slowly dying, even if that’s what he really wanted. “Did he think I wouldn’t be able to stand it or something?”

“Or something,” Nie Zonghui said. “It’s not about you, Zewu-jun. It’s about him.”

Lan Xichen frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a sensitive subject for him,” Nie Zonghui said. “Especially the saber tombs – and after what happened when he was younger, I can’t really blame him.”

“When he was younger? What happened?”

“Did he never say? He said that he’d already told you: when he was young – eight or nine, I think – he was in a fight, and got stabbed…”

“Oh, yes, that,” Lan Xichen said. “I know about that…what does that have to do with cultivation?”

“It was his first fight carrying Baxia,” Nie Zonghui explained. “She wasn’t even fully forged, but he grabbed her out of the smithy and wielded her against those invaders.”

Nie Mingjue had not said anything about invaders.

“He saved the lives of several other children,” Nie Zonghui continued, and Nie Mingjue hadn’t said anything about that, either. “Shed his first blood on his blade – even took his first life, all the things that function as a marker of adulthood. Defeat evil, rescue the innocent, all that. So when they thought he was going to die, they decided to give him the honors of an adult.”

For some reason, that made something sink in Lan Xichen’s stomach.

“When you say honors…” he started.

“He was taken to the saber tombs,” Nie Zonghui said. “To die as his honored ancestors had.”

They must have been very sure that he would not live.

“But he didn’t die,” Lan Xichen said, and Nie Zonghui hesitated. “What are you not telling me?”

“Sect Leader Nie was left there to die alone, as is customary,” Nie Zonghui said. “When they returned after three days to collect his body for cremation, they found him still breathing, much to everyone’s surprise…after, there were rumors that he had died.”

“What? How? He’s walking around even now.”

“They thought he had been possessed,” Nie Zonghui explained. “By one of the saber spirits. It caused some trouble, later. Anyway, ever since then, he doesn’t talk about it directly – and nor should you.”

“But –”

“I think that’s enough of an explanation for now,” Nie Zonghui said firmly, and no matter how Lan Xichen entreated him, he said no more.

“Oh, sure, we have plenty of stories about saber spirit possession,” Nie Huaisang said when Lan Xichen asked in a roundabout fashion. “All sorts! I grew up on them, naturally. Temporary, permanent, through birth or misadventure – that one story about the generation of Nie women where everyone was female, whether born or misaligned –”

That did sound somewhat interesting, actually, but not exactly what Lan Xichen was looking for at the moment.

“What happens in cases of possession?” he asked, pretending to be casual. “You know, if someone thinks someone else is possessed – speaking generally, of course?”

“Generally?” Nie Huaisang frowned and tapped his fan against his lips. “I mean, in the case of temporary possession, you usually try to exorcise the spirit – usually through traditional means, like arrays or talismans or incantations, but sometimes if you think they’re trying to steal a human life permanently, through discomfort.”

“Discomfort?”

“Oh, you know. Excess exercise, denying food, hurting them. Show them that they’d rather not be human after all, that sort of thing.”

“…what if they’re wrong about the possession?” Lan Xichen asked, a cold chill going down his spine.

Nie Huaisang shrugged. “It’s supposed to be pretty obvious? Someone who has the strength of a guai instead of a human, who refuses to die when a normal person would, someone rigid and unyielding with barely any flexibility – more metal than human – unusually angry, full of bloodlust and an unquenchable desire to destroy evil –”

“That could describe your whole family tree, Huaisang,” Lan Xichen said. That could describe your brother.

“Sabers reflect their masters,” Nie Huaisang said cheerfully. “So it makes sense that it would, doesn’t it?”

“But –”

“Oh, don’t fuss, er-ge! I’m sure the elders wouldn’t just go around assuming someone’s secretly a saber for no reason,” Nie Huaisang said. “Now, let me tell you about the generation of women story – it’s one of my favorites –”

“Da-ge refused to let me play for him again,” Jin Guangyao commented, and Lan Xichen frowned.

He wasn’t an idiot – he knew how bad the relationship between his two sworn brothers was – but although he’d hoped that this would help repair some aspects of that, his primary goal with the Song of Clarity was to improve Nie Mingjue’s health.

(Sabers could suffer from qi deviations, too. Not that Nie Mingjue was possessed by a saber or anything.)

“Did he say why?” Lan Xichen asked.

“He was busy this week,” Jin Guangyao said mournfully. “Visiting his family tombs, apparently.”

Lan Xichen blinked. “The – Nie family tombs?”

Jin Guangyao had been speaking casually, clearly thinking of it as some excuse meant to fob him off, but perhaps there was something about Lan Xichen’s face that caught his interest. “Yes, he said there was some issue there that he had to deal with personally. Is there something the matter with that?”

“No,” Lan Xichen said, and then frowned. “At least, I don’t think so? I’ll speak with him about not skipping more sessions, A-Yao; don’t worry.”

He excused himself shortly thereafter and went to Qinghe on the first possible excuse.

“Where’s your sect leader?” he asked one of the guards.

Their frozen expression said everything he needed to know.

“Xichen?” Nie Mingjue said, blinking at him. “Is that you?”

“No, it’s Wangji,” Lan Xichen said. “Of course it’s me!”

“I meant that more in the ‘what are you doing in my family tombs’ sense,” Nie Mingjue said.

Lan Xichen allowed that that was a fair question. A better one, however…

“What are you doing in your family’s tombs?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “If the Song of Clarity isn’t working, we can try something else!”

“Xichen –”

“It is far, far too early for you to even think of coming down here –”

“Xichen –”

“And may I say, that’s a barbaric tradition anyway, I don’t care if your ancestors did it, locking up a child is just –”

“Xichen.”

Lan Xichen stopped.

Nie Mingjue was rubbing the back of his head, and his cheeks were red. “I heard a rumor that one of the old masterless sabers got loose,” he said. “I was just checking it out. I wasn’t coming here to – to reside.”

“…oh,” Lan Xichen said, and felt rather stupid. And then, trying to change the subject, he said, “How’d you hear about the saber getting loose? I thought no one came here unless there was a death.”

“Oh, the sabers told me,” Nie Mingjue said.

“Oh, I guess…wait. What?”

“So you…hear them,” Lan Xichen said. They were seated on the foot of one of the statues guarding the tombs, which was a bit rude but Nie Mingjue didn’t seem to mind and they were, after all, his ancestors. “The saber spirits.”

“Since I was child, yes,” Nie Mingjue confirmed.

“And you don’t think this is – odd?”

Nie Mingjue shrugged. “They gave me spiritual energy so that I could survive. It left a mark, I think.”

Lan Xichen nodded.

He tried to figure out how to phrase his next question.

“I’m fairly certain I am not a saber spirit possessing a human corpse.”

“Oh, good,” Lan Xichen sighed. “I had no idea how to ask.”

Nie Mingjue knocked their shoulders together. “You can always just ask. I’m your friend. Corpse or not.”

“Please don’t make jokes about that,” Lan Xichen said mournfully, even if it was a little funny. “I’d miss you if you were a corpse.”

“Well, depending on the state of the corpse…”

Lan Xichen snickered, even though he really didn’t mean to. It wasn’t actually funny.

“So is it just sabers?”

“Not always. Why? You want to know what Shuoyue thinks of you?”

Lan Xichen stared at him. “Can you?”

“Either directly or indirectly,” Nie Mingjue said. “Even if the weapon doesn’t want to talk to me directly, they usually don’t have a choice when Baxia is pushing them.”

“…do swords have a lot to say?”

“Not as much as saber spirits. But more than you might think.”

“What does she think of me, then?”

“She likes you. You’re good to her. Except when you wield her overhead because you keep tensing a muscle in your back that makes the strike a little wonky, so she’d prefer you stick with forward thrusts or low cuts until you get that fixed.”

Lan Xichen started laughing.

“If I die outside, make sure I’m brought here,” Nie Mingjue said. “I think I’d enjoy the company.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Lan Xichen promised, and he meant it, too. “I promise.”

#mdzs #lan xichen #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #my fic #my fics #something secret #bittersweet #tkpartisan #I have not seen Fatal Journey so I couldn't include the bit about the crazy one #sorry

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aubreyprc · 3 years

Text

four hands bloody

summary - entropy but, its hotch and emily. and they’re in love. that’s it.

part seven of my sour series

‘all the things I did,

just so I could call you mine,

all the things you did,

well i hope i was your favourite crime’

Ten Years Ago

One year, five months and four days. That's how long they had been together when she announced she had been offered a job in Europe. Interpol, to be exact, and that she was leaving for Brussels in less than two months. There was no argument, nor was there a discussion, he simply takes her out for dinner, a celebration on her success so fresh out of college and they spend their last two months preparing for their separation. They pack up her apartment, they place certain things in storage and other things in her Mother's house in D.C, one that was empty for most of the year anyway and they enjoy their last few weeks together. Confessing love under the sheets, whispers of promises they know neither are going to be able to keep and they pretend as though there's a chance they'll meet again, even though in reality, they know its unlikely. Her love for Europe one he's very well aware of, and he knows once she's there she will never leave and he wouldn't want her to, and she's aware that he would never move, too fond of the city, his heart set on a job in the FBI, and she wouldn't ask him to give that up, just like he'd never ask her.

He takes her to the airport, cupping her face, wiping her tears with a sad smile as he holds back his own when they stand at her gate, parting way's for the first and final time.

"I love you." he whispers to her, and the happy laugh she lets out as she sniffles has his own small laugh escaping his chest. She hooks her hands to the back of his neck as she kisses him softly, the cold of her tears latching onto his skin as he pulls her closer.

"I love you, too." she whispers as she pulls away, gently resting her forehead on his, closing her eyes while she takes a small breath. "I—" she says but she stops herself, opening her eyes as she pulls away from him, her eyes on his as they stand there, feeling as though they were the only two people in the area.

"You're going to miss your flight." he tells her gently as the last calling for her plane echo's through the airport.

"I can't say goodbye to you." she whispers sadly, lacing her fingers through his as they rest in the middle of them.

"Then don't." He says, squeezing her hand as he entwines it with his, wiping her tears with the other, and she leans her face into it with a sad smile. "Think of it more as an... I'll see you later." he smiles to her and she laughs.

"Okay." she nods, "I'll see you later." she smirks.

"Go," he tells her, nodding as she slowly backs away, "I'm a phone call away."

"I love you." she tells him again as she steps back.

"I know," he says, "I love you too."

And just like that, with one last smile, she turns, her dark hair moving further out of focus until she is just a memory he can look back on, a woman he loved once.

Had he known just who that woman who turn into, he would have never let her get on the plane. Would have kept her in his arms, and then maybe none of this would have happened.

JJ runs into the briefing room, relief running through her veins as she finally has an ID on the killer they had been chasing for four months, a woman, who had a signature that matches one of an International terrorist, Ian Doyle, their first suspect as soon as the first two body's dropped, two Interpol agents, Clyde Easter and Sean McAllister, until he was found dead, and had been dead, a week longer than the two Agents, as well as his entire inner circle. His son still a missing person.

"I have an ID on her," JJ says as she rushes in, dropping the files on the table as she grabs the attention of the team. "All the Agent's who worked The Valhalla case last year have all been killed, apart from three who have been placed into witsec, using the the same signature Ian Doyle used," she tells them as she clicks on the screen. "Which made me think that it had to be someone Ian knew, right? Someone he trusted."

"What are you getting at?"

"Ian had a fiancé," JJ says, "Which we already knew, I know, however this is where it got interesting." she tells them as she clicks on the screen, "Ian, had a son, Declan, and everyone in Interpol had come to the conclusion that he and his inner circle were killed by another terrorist group and that his Fiancée would have taken Declan at his orders. But," she stops, “His Fiancée was a CIA agent, deep undercover, the Agents on the case just assumed he had killed her the moment she was made, her cover blown just the day before he was killed but there has been no record of her death anywhere."

"Who was she?" Morgan asks, looking through the files.

"Her cover name was Lauren Reynolds, and all files, pictures… everything was completely wiped when the case agents were found dead so its been impossible to find her real identify, to know if she had been found, dead or alive. So, I had Garcia work her magic..."

"Yes," The blonde says, standing up, clicking a few buttons on her computer as she pulls up the files she had recovered. "Lauren Reynolds, arms dealer, you know, everything that would be needed in a fake identify to get into the big leagues, but after searching around and doing several face recognitions, the same woman appeared, and its her. There is no doubt." Penelope tells the team.

"Who?"

"CIA Agent, Emily Prentiss." JJ says and the room goes silent as they stare at her picture on the right of Lauren Reynolds, the similarity leaving no questions, the only difference being in hair colour.

"She's the killer?" Reid asks.

"She's the only one from JTF-12 who's still alive, has the training, knows how to vanish, would have intimate knowledge of Ian, which is why the kills are exactly the same as his were."

"Do we think she's killed other people apart from the Agents?" Morgan questions

"She's vendetta driven, she'd kill anyone who came under that vendetta." JJ answers, "She fits the profile."

"Prentiss..." Rossi mumbles, "Why does that sound familiar?"

The room is silent, neither noticing Aaron pale as he stares at the picture in front of him. His mind running wild with questions.

"You worked for Ambassador Prentiss, right?" Dave asks Hotch, "Before you worked here?"

Hotch just nods, unable to trust his voice as his eye's move from the picture of her to the descriptions of her crime.

"Did you ever meet her?" Morgan asks, but Aaron doesn't answer, just simply stands.

"Excuse me." he says, before basically rushing from the briefing room and to his office, the sound of his door shutting echoing into the room.

"I'll take that as a yes." Morgan says, looking back at the picture on the screen. "That's her, huh."

"That's her."

"Now what?" Reid asks, and Rossi stands.

"I guess that all depends on what Aaron knows about her."

Slamming his office door shut behind him, he closes his eyes, taking deep breathes as his stomach turns to the point where he thinks he might be sick, the image of her on their board making his head spin with reasons, questions, but mostly, it just shows him flashes of the woman he knew, all those years ago, the woman who would smile at him from under his covers when he brought them back breakfast from his morning run, the woman who would kiss him so gently he theorised right there that she could never hurt anyone, the young woman he loved so much and who he knew loved him back just as equally now painted as a murderer, profiled, as a murderer, probably a murderer and he can't wrap his head around it, how someone so innocent and full of joy and happiness could switch so drastically and become of the most notorious and well known killers the BAU had looked for, how someone so light and full of life could become someone who took it from others, killing higher commanding agents from all sorts of government positions, leaving no trace except an M.O that leads back to a man he realises she knew well, probably even loved and he can't understand it.

"Aaron." Dave says as he opens the door, "I gather you knew her, back when you worked security?" he asks almost gently. He closes the door behind him, heading further into the office while Aaron stood at the window, staring out of it while he caught his breath, forcing the sick feeling to vanish.

"Something like that..." he mumbles, looking down to the floor as his heart rate lowers, his breaths evening out.

"How well did you know her?" Dave asks, taking a seat; Aaron turns, looking at his oldest friend with a face that tells him all he needs to know and the older man just looks at him with shock, before nodding his head. "Very well, it seems."

"Dave—" he begins but the older man shakes his head.

"This was years ago, the woman she is now wouldn't have been the woman you knew, there's no reason for explanations, not to me."

Aaron just nods, "So, what now?"

"Now, we come up with a plan of how to get her out of hiding, she hasn't been seen by anyone, that were aware of but she has to be somewhere, right?"

"She's CIA. She could be anywhere, she knows how to work the system better than anyone."

"Then we use something personal, give her a reason to show up, let her play her game."

"She never got on well with her mother I doubt anything like that would bring her out—" he stops when the older man looks at him, "What? Me?"

"Do you think it would work? Were you involved enough to have you be someone she'd want to see?"

"Dave, it was ten years ago."

"Yes," he tells him, "Which is why I'm asking how involved you were..."

"We were— It was..." Aaron says, before sighing, "Using me as bait might not work, she could be—"

"Did she love you?"

"What?"

"Emily, back then, did she love you?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then using you as bait will work." Dave says, standing up, "Trust me."

"You have a plan?"

"Sort of, but we have to tell the rest. All of it."

Aaron rolls his eyes, turning again to look out of the window.

"She needs catching, Aaron, she will find the last three, and she will kill them. We need to know why."

"I know," Hotch tells him, "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

He explains it to them, how he and Emily had dated ten years ago, before she got offered a job at Interpol, he explains that he hasn't heard from her in years and that he isn't even sure the plan will work, but they have to try. Said plan, being putting out their first press conference since they got the case, with Aaron, who will explain they have an ID on the killer and that they are close to catching them, their hope being that Emily will see it and reach out to him, knowing that with her ties to the CIA, she would have no issue finding his number.

"And if she reaches out?" Morgan asks, "Then what?"

"We let her set the terms, but we'll get her. If she calls, if this works, we'll get her. We would have found a weak spot." Reid tells them, "Love."

It does work, it take's a few days, but it works.

He's in his office, running through some reports when his phone rings.

"Hotchner."

"You have my attention," The voice on the other line says and he tenses, before he stands, clicking to the team as they follow him to the briefing room. "If I knew you were the Agent on the case I would have called sooner. I always did love it when I was the centre of your attention." she tells him just before he puts the phone on speaker.

"So you know we've figured it out? That it's you who's killing these agents?"

"I'm not worried." she says easily, they can hear her walking around somewhere, as though they were having a causal conversation, as though she wasn't an international killer, an assassin.

"Why's that?"

"Because, if I hadn't have called now, you would never have found me. I'm still two steps ahead." she says with a smirk. "That was the plan, right? For me to call?"

"It was." he says, looking at Garcia as she tries to trace the call.

"How about dinner?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Dinner, you know? Two people at a restauran—"

"I know what dinner is." he grumbles, hates that he can envision the smirk on her face, hates that it gives him butterflies. “What's your game?"

"No game," she tells him, "but, I figured if I'm going to be interrogated it might as well be over a nice three course meal."

"How do you know you won't be arrested on the scene?"

"Because if there was any evidence against me at all, I'd already be in your interrogation room." she tells him, "All you have is Ian's M.O, the death of my old team, and the fact that I was undercover... I'm CIA, Aaron, I know everything."

"So, you want to get dinner?"

"Sure," she says, as though she was accepting an invitation. "How does Saturday fit in with your schedule?"

The team nod at him, so he accepts.

"I have one condition." she tells him, "It's just you. No wire. No team."

"You know we can't do that.”

"Not even if were just two old friends catching up?" she teases, "Where's your sense of adventure, Aaron?"

"It's a wire or my team."

"Dealers choice," she teases, “if I get away don't feel too bad about it, I just don't think orange is my colour." she tells him, before the line goes dead.

"Anything?" Morgan asks Garcia, who shakes her head.

"Somewhere in Italy, no pin point location."

His phone beeps on the table then, and Rossi gently turns the screen to him.

"The name of the Restaurant and a time."

"Do you think this will work?"

"I think it's the best chance we've got."

His phone beeps again.

"Your team or a wire, not both, and if I find out you lied, someone will die, Aaron. I don't play games." Morgan reads aloud.

"You have to have both."

"You read the message—"

"No wire and there's no recorded confession, and we lose her, no back up and she could do anything." JJ tells him.

"We'll figure something out." Dave says, clasping the man on the back. "We're this close."

Aaron nods, but something tells him this wont be as easy as they predict.

Despite his protests, he's told he has to wear a wire, explanations of needing both eyes and ears on him (them) at at times. He steps into the restaurant, noticing JJ and Morgan sat at the table three away from his, sending them a nod as he sits down, he then notices Reid sat at the bar, then Dave sat at the table on the other side.

"You ready sir?" Penelope says down his ear piece from the unmarked van out front, "She's on her way in."

His heart hammers in his chest as he prepares himself, nerves racing through his body as he see's her for the first time in ten years and its nothing like he thought he would. He always imagined they'd get called to a case in Europe and she'd be there, or she would move back to the US and they'd bump into each other in the supermarket. But this? Meeting her in a restaurant because she's killed more than ten people in the span of a year? This he never imagined, because who would?

She's smirking as she walks over, the slit of her dress showing of her left leg and it almost leaves him breathless. She reaches the table in what feels like slow motion, every head in the place turned to face her as her heels clack on the hard floor, each one entranced by her. Even members of the team. Even him.

He stands once she's a few inches from him and soon she's right there, it’s then he realises he's just as enthralled by her as he was ten years ago, it has his stomach tightening. He nods at her as she smiles at him with the tilt of her head and a twinkle in her eye that he's seen before and suddenly it's ten years ago and there's no FBI, no dead Interpol and CIA agents, just them.

"No hug?" she teases, but he just stares, watching as her eyes move around the restaurant before back at him. "I see you went for team. Good choice." she says, taking a seat in the booth. "That mean's no wire, correct?"

"Correct." he lies, taking a seat across from her, watching as she grabs the wine menu.

"Good." she says casually as her eyes cast over the menu. "The one at the bar looks ten, are you sure he's qualified?"

It takes all of him not to laugh, her humour unchanged, the one thing that caught his attention in the first place all those years ago.

"I'm sure." he nods, looking down at his own menu as he rolls his lips.

"You can laugh, you know." Penelope tells him, "She's funny."

He simply clears his throat.

The waiter come over, she orders them a bottle of wine, before looking right back at him.

"It's been awhile." she tells him, "It seems we have a lot to catch up on."

He raises an eyebrow at her, "Yeah, I'd say so."

"Tell me about your life, Aaron." she smirks, knowing full well it's a game he isn't interested in playing.

"You want to have small talk?"

She just smiles, thanking the waiter as he places the wine on the table.

"Like you said, we have a lot to catch up on."

"That's not why were here."

"Then why are we?"

"Emily—" he says and her eyes catch his, her name coming off his tongue catching her off guard; she clears her throat as she picks up the glass.

"You have a tan line on your ring finger," she points out while bringing the glass to her lips, "either you took it off for my benefit, or you're recently divorced." she smirks, raising an eyebrow as he clenches his fist at the table, running his thumb over where his ring used to be, "Does it make me a bad person to hope its the latter?" she whispers to him, leaning over the table to trance her finger across his arms, laughing when he slowly pulls away, bringing her hand back to rest around the glass. "Divorced or game playing, Agent Hotchner?"

"Why?" he asks, "Does it make a difference."

"Yes." she tells him, "Either you're divorced, or you thought you could flirt your way into getting me into the back of a SWAT van, which just insults both our intelligence at this point." she says, before looking at him, "I'm not a toy, Aaron, you cant play with me till I give you want you want."

"I never planned to." he tells her, "Divorced."

"Kids?"

"Yes."

She nods, leaning back on the chair as she throws her eyes over to the blonde woman, an agent, she knows, and waves, raising an eyebrow in her direction.

"Your team aren't very good at blending in, Agent Hotchner." she mumbles, looking back at him, "Aren't you supposed to be profilers?"

"You already knew they were coming, why hide them?"

"Hm," she shrugs, "A challenge, maybe."

"Is that why you killed your old team? A challenge?"

"Really keen on getting down to business aren't we..." she chuckles, leaning her chin in her hand as she rests her elbow on the table. "No small talk?"

"Isn't that what we've been doing for the last half an hour?"

"Here I thought we were just reacquainting."

"Why did you do it?"

"I have my reasons."

"Then share them." he says, "You called me, Emily. You came here, why?"

"Maybe I just missed you." she muses, "Would that be so bad?"

"Not if it was the truth, but it's not."

"How do you know?"

"Because I don't think you're capable of those feelings anymore." he tells her, watches as her face falls for a moment before she smirks, her mask back in place, "You were, but something happened and it changed you. You've killed eleven people, five of which you considered friends... I don't think anyone is capable of feeling anything after that, how could they be?"

"Maybe I can compartmentalise." she offers with a smirk.

"Not this well." Aaron sighs, "Why come out of hiding? Why come here knowing there's a chance you could go to jail, why risk it.. If it wasn't to talk?"

Emily looks at her glass, rolling her lips as she sits straighter and clears her throat.

"Like I said," she tells him, "Maybe I just missed you." her voice is more soft as she says it this time, a voice that brings back memories from ten years ago, when she was the woman he loved, when they were happy.

"What happened to you?" he asks gently, looking at her as she catches his eyes, her mask falling and a look of pain staring back at him. She lifts up her glass, brining it to her lips.

"They got me in too deep and left me to die," she tells him, "Karma's a bitch."

"Undercover? As Lauren?"

She sighs, dropping her glass, looking around the restaurant at the other Agents slyly looking in her direction.

"I said no wire," she mutters under her breath and he tenses, "I said you could have your team but no wire. Those were my conditions."

"I'm not—"

"Don't lie to me, Aaron." she tells him, watching as the Agents in the room start to move, another hint that he is in fact wearing one. She looks at him with a head tilt, "I said no wire."

"Rules are rules—" he starts, and she nods, dragging her tongue across her front teeth before she looks him dead in the eye, yet this time it isn't pain that looks back at him, it's something else entirely, something he has never seen from her before and it has terror climbing through him.

"They sure are," she agrees, "Do you remember mine?"

And he does, they all do, if i find out you lied, tricked me in anyway, someone will die, Aaron. I don't play games. Her words running wild in everyone's head as she looks around the restaurant.

"Emily—" he tries but she's already standing as is the rest of his team, their guns aimed at her and she laughs almost viciously once she's on her feet, the team surrounding her at all angles.

"No one shoot." Aaron tells them as they stand, gun's aimed at her.

"You should listen to your boss." she smirks, pulling her own gun from her inner thigh from a slit in her dress, clicking it as she grabs a man from the table behind her, gun to his head as she smiles.

"Now," Emily sighs, "Are you going to let an innocent man die because you couldn't follow my simple instructions?"

"Emily, just, everyone out their guns down." he says, "Now." he orders and the team lower their weapons cautiously. "You want the wire gone the wire can be gone."

"Too little too late for that I'm afraid."

“You wanted to talk, right? You came all this way. You risked a lot.” he tries, “I’ll remove the wire and we can talk. Just us.”

Emily stares at him, catching her eyes on his before she pushes the man down, placing the gun back on the strap on her tigh before she takes small steps towards him, smirking as she the others agents watch her carefully.

She places her hand on his chest, feels the wire and before he knows it she’s yanking it from him, the device falling to the floor and everyone in the room jumps as she slams her heel into it.

“You broke my trust.” she tells him, their eyes meeting. “You want to talk?”

“Yes.” he nods.

“Then come with me,” she smiles, “No team. No wire. And I’ll tell you whatever you want.”

“Emily. You know I can’t do that.”

“Why?” she asks with the tilt of her head, “You're going to act like there wasn't a plan B? I'm sure there's a voice recorder...” she stops, raising an eyebrow as if to challenge him, before she rolls her eyes, pulling the voice recorder from the back of the booth and throws it at him.

"Shall we?" she smirks.

He’s silent for a moment, before he accepts and she smiles, holding her hand out for him to take and he sighs before placing his own in it.

They walk out of the restaurant, as they pass Morgan and Reid she smiles.

“Don’t wait up.” she winks, and they’re out of the building.

“I’ll drive,” she smiles, pulling his car keys from his back pocket with a wink.

He doesn’t dare look back as they get into his car, and as they speed down the road, something tells him this won’t end well. He doesn’t see how it could.

She parks the car on the streets, turning the engine off before she looks at him.

"Do you know where we are?"

He turns to face her, his expression soft as he nods.

"Of course." he tells her, "We're a few blocks from-"

"The car has a tracker," she smirks, "Come on."

She jumps out of the car, all but slamming the door before she ventures down the street, a carefree stride as her heels click against the floor, he follows suite.

As they reach the old building she stops, turns to face him.

"Its a shame they closed it down." she muses, "We used to hide out here all the time."

"It was out of town."

She laughs, before she heads towards the ladder to the roof, ignoring his clear detest to the idea.

Once she's on the floor she inhales, looking up, listening as Aaron came up next to her.

"How long do you think we have?"

"Half an hour, tops."

"That'll do." she smiles, walking aimlessly. "Ask away, I know you want to."

"I want to understand..." he tells her, "Why you did it?"

"I told you."

"Tell me again."

"They— All of them," she starts, "They left me to get killed."

"What do you mean?"

She turns, facing him as she sighs.

"I'd been under for...just over two years and Ian started...asking questions. Normal ones, about kids, and marriage." she explains, "And when I couldn't answer he got suspicious, starting asking around if they knew me, and he was... I don't know but I knew I needed to be pulled out before he found out anything."

"They wouldn't pull you out?"

"Worse," she laughs, "Clyde refused to pull me out, Sean was planning on having the whole organisation Ian was running killed, me along with them."

"Thats—" he stops, "They can't do that."

"They can if they lie to higher ups, claim I've started working against them."

"Why would they do that?"

"I don't know. I don't care." she tells him, "Tsia, who I thought was my friend was the one who came up with it, the whole plan to have them all taken down, Jeremy helped her."

"So you... Killed them?"

She smiles as she looks at him, "Yes."

"And the higher up's who let it happen?"

"Everyone." she tells him, "Apart from three, who by the way, I was on my way to when I heard your press release."

"You—" he says but stops, shaking his head. "And you... Don't feel any guilt?"

"Why should I? They were going to kill me." she answers, sitting on the edge of the roof, her legs dangling as she lays back, looking at him with a head tilt as it lays on the floor. "Join me."

He sighs, before dropping next to her, the both of them staring at the stars.

"I heard you got stabbed." she says softy, turning to face him as he turns to face her with a frown.

"How?" he asks but she raises an eyebrow and she just chuckles. "I did." he answers.

"The reaper, right? George?"

"You know him?" he asks with wide eyes and she laughs, looking back up at the sky.

"No." she tells him, "I'm sorry about your family."

"Me too." he sighs, and before he can say anything else the surrounding area is lit with blue flashing lights, sounds of sirens echoing in their ears.

"That was quick." she laughs, sitting up. "What's it going to be, Aaron?"

"What?" he asks as they both stand, "You're going to jail."

"No," she says, slowly moving towards him and he want's to move, he should move, but he can't. She reaches out to cup his face, before kissing him, grabbing a needle from her pocket before jabbing him in the shoulder and he goes instantly, falling into a hump in her arms. She lowers him, resting his head gently on the ground before grabbing the voice recording and stroking his cheek.

"I'll come back for you." she whispers, before quickly standing, rushing off the roof and down the streets before the FBI even figure out where she and Aaron were.

Once they find him, once he's given the all clear by the medics, he's asked questions about what happened and he says only that he can't remember, that she'd said something about her team leaving her to be killed and the rest is a blur. It isn't true, and he refuses to think about whether or not they believe him.

His lips feel hot with the pressure of her own lingers on them, the ghost of her hand on his cheek feeing like a burn. He lays awake that night and wonders if he’d never see her again, and he hates that he hopes he does.

Over the course of the next three weeks, she remains on his mind constantly, a mixture of what they used to be, the time they spent together feeling like a life time ago and yesterday all at the same time, but what she became, who she became, reminds him that meeting her again, being reminded how much he had loved her, means nothing. There is no more them, no more hopes for a future with her, no more wonders about her life, just the facts. And the facts are that she’s a murderer, an international serial killer and makes him hate himself more than he is ever thought he could when he realises that he doesn’t even blame her, that he understands why she became who she did, why she did what she did, and it has him unable to look at himself in the mirror, leaves him wondering that maybe he’s just as bad as she is, that if he was given the opportunity to kill the person who had ruined his life, taken his family, he wouldn’t even hesitate to put a bullet through his head makes him her equal, rather than someone who had the right to arrest her.

He doesn’t expect to hear her, when he’s on the phone begging for Foyet to spare his family, racing back to his family home with prayers that he makes it, in fact it’s the first time she’s been off his mind since their reunion, so when the gun shot echos down his ears, the silence on the other end defending as he hits his fists against the dash, it takes a new moments for her voice to even process, to even hit his ears, but when it does his broken heart hammers in his chest.

“Hello George.” she says, and he can see the smirk on her face, can imagine the startled look on his.

“who are you—“ he starts, before there’s a crash, and he’s left with the dial tone, the incessant ringing sounding like a siren as he speeds down the road.

He arrives at the house not twenty minutes later, not even turning the engine off as he rushes into his old home, the home where he ex wife, the mother of his child, lays dead, murdered by a man he brought into her life. He expects there to be shouts, screams, raised voices from the two of them but the house is silent as he walks through it, the only thing he can hear is the sound of his heartbeat as it races in his chest, his whole body on edge, his hand on his gun.

"It's over." her voice say's from across the living room and he turns quickly, his eyes meeting hers from across the room and it takes a few seconds for him to notice the blood on her hands and her shirt, the knife more red than silver as she twists around in her hand, her eyes staring right back at him, a twinkle of something in them that he just can’t describe.

“Where’s my son?” he asks, “what did you do?”

“I didn’t touch your son, Aaron. I have no idea where he is.” she tells him, sitting up, “I did however get into a little bit of a brawl with the man who—” she stops, “I was about three seconds too late. She was dead when I got here…” she says, an almost sadness to her tone that catches him off guard. He's stood in shock, trying to work out his next move, looking around the living room in a sort of haze as he tries to piece together what the hell he's supposed to do now, when she stands, the sound of her heeled boot on the hard floor making his head snap towards her, the sight of her covered in someone else's blood one he never thought he would have imprinted in his brain, and he wants to yell, he wants to scream at her, but he can't because he's grateful. Grateful that she got here in time to stop him from killing his son, grateful that she put an end to his torment, killing the man he would have spent the rest of his life hunting for if he got away, grateful that she took it upon herself, to end the man's life, leaving him free of the burden of taking one, no matter how much he would have been justified, no matter how much it would have been deserved. But then she's walking towards the front door and even though he is grateful, even though he wants to let her go, whisper a small thank you to her as she leaves, he can't because he has a duty, a duty he has sacrificed too much for to let her slip away now, and he find's himself grabbing her wrist as she sips passed him, and is taken aback when she freezes, her eyes snapping up to his.

"I can't let you leave." he tells her, his eyes burning into hers, regret filling them because this is the last thing he wants to do. "I'm sorry."

"Me too," she whispers, and her words have him tensing, unsure of what exactly she could do, knowing far too well what she was capable of, knowing she does not deal well with betrayal, he starts to think that she never really has, even then. He feels her go to pull from his grip and before he knows it, he has her pinned to the door, a gasp leaving her lips as her back knocks into it harshly, his side pf his arm resting on her chest, keeping her pinned as he looks at her. "Ouch." she tells him, smirking as he meets her eye, his face inches from hers.

"Why are you doing this?" he asks her softly, "How did you even know?"

"I was in the area." she tells him, a lie, he knows, and he simply just stares at her. "I was... doing you a favour." she whispers, hating that her mask was slipping, that he still had this hold on her.

"A favour?"

"You've been worried about your family, I thought if I could give you some... If I could insure you that they were okay that you'd, I don't know, stop beating yourself up about it."

"You were with them?"

"Haley didn't hate you, Aaron." she whispers, "If anything she was grateful that they had the option of witsec at all."

"Stop." he growls at her, pinning her to the door more harshly, letting his anger take over. "How did you—"

"I saw him talking to them and I knew... every single one of us are the same, Aaron. I knew. I was just too late." she whispers, lifting a hand to his cheek to wipe the tears she's sure he isn't even aware has fallen. "Go and get your son." she tells him gently, smiling sadly at him as he looks at her.

"You saved his life," he whispers to her, "getting here when you did." he says, "you weren't too late."

Emily smiles softly, running her thumb across his cheek, "Go and find your son, your team will be here soon."

"I—" he says, conflicted between his duty and his love. "If I let you go... you have to promise me that you're done. That you will settle down in a small country and that you will be done." he tells her, "the anger that you're holding, the killing... it won't do what you think it will. If I let you go you have to promise me you will stop, and let yourself be happy."

"I don't think happy is in the cards for me," she whispers, "But I promise." she tells him.

He looks at her, seeing the woman he loved all those years ago, the woman he knows he does and never will stop loving and he tells himself that if this is the last time he ever see's her this will not be how it ends, and he kisses her, his arm moving from across her chest to around her waist, pulling her into him gently as her arm hooks around the back of his neck.

"Go," he whispers against her lips when she pulls away slowly. She meets his lips once again for a chaste kiss, before she drips out of the door, the sound of another one slamming a few yards away making him jump before he heads for his son, the sound of the team arriving outside echoing through the walls.

She walks right passed the team, watching as they rush into the house and she wonder's what he will tell them. She sits in the empty house across the street, looking out of the window as she sips on a glass of whatever wine she had found in their pantry and she watches. Watches him leaving the house with his son in his arms, watches him pass the little boy to the blonde agent, watches as he speaks to officers, lets her mind ponder about just what story he's spinning to them and she's caught completely off guard when he looks up at the window of the house across the street, like he knew if he looked she would be there, and as their eyes meet, he just nods slightly, and looks away, following the older agent into the back of an SUV, he son reaching out for him, and then they're gone.

He tells the team how she slipped right passed him when he went to get his son, that he has no idea what her game is or where she went. He lies because he has to, he lies because he can, he lies because he can not find it in himself to care anymore, and he thinks maybe if he sees her again, he might just run off with her.

Two months and eight days, that how long she waits until she calls him, hidden away in a small city in Paris, her heart hammering in her chest every time she remembers that fateful day. Every time she remembers that kiss.

"Hotchner," he says, half distracted by the paperwork he's filling out on his desk, she remains silent for a few moments, wondering what to say, wondering if he'd even want to speak to her.

"Hey," she says simply, and the silence that follows makes her stomach turn.

He leans back on his chair, the sound of her voice through the phone filling him with something like comfort and he cant' help but smile, even now.

"Hi," he says, "It's been awhile."

"I had a few things to sort out." she teases, smiling to herself. "How have you been?"

"It's been hard but, I think we're through the worst of it." he tells her, "it seems as though you kept your promise."

"Only for you." she jokes, "I needed a break anyway."

"Hm, sure. " he plays, the sound of her easy laughter on the other end making his heart flutter, "where are you?"

"That depends," she says.

"On what?"

"On who's side your on." she whispers, he can hear the pain in her voice, the hurt, and it makes him want to throw up that someone who used to be so free, and kind, has been made into this, forced into this, and he speaks before he even realises he wants to.

"Yours," he tells her, "always" he adds quietly, and the small breath she takes on the other end makes him smile.

"I'll call you again when I can," she whispers, "There's one more part of the promise I need to keep."

"I look forward to it." he smiles, and the line goes dead.

He knows he should feel guilty, dirty, for feeling like this for her, for hiding her like this but he just can't. He loves her, and why shouldn't he?

He hears of Emily Prentiss' death through JJ as she closes the file, and it has his heart snapping in his chest for a moment, until he finds himself thinking that maybe she just created the best get out of jail free card he'd ever seen.

"I heard you died." he tells her over the phone when she calls a few days later, a small smile on his lips. Her laugh sends waves through him.

She calls again two weeks later, it's a short conversation as he sits in a hotel room, whispering soft words of how he’s growing to hate the job he works, missing his son, wishing for a new life, one where his failure doesn't follow him around and she listens, soft words of advice falling from her lips that make his heart warm.

They talk for hours, days, weeks, months and soon enough he breaks.

“I can’t stay here anymore." he confesses as he watches his son play in the living room.

“Then move,” she tells him.

“Where?”

“Where do you want to go?"

“Where are you?" he asks softly, and he can feel the smile on her lips.

"A small town... somewhere in France." she whispers.

"Maybe I'll move there." he offers, a smile on his lips as he listens to her try and hold down her nerves.

“I...suppose that’s always an option,” she agrees after a few moments of silence.

“Are you an option?” he whispers, his true connotation not lost on her, and the question has her heart thudding against her ribs.

“Yes.” she tells him softly, and he knows its the right decision when his heart flutters.

He and Jack move three weeks later, a soft apology to Jessica, who promises to visit once they are settled, a conversation with the team on his last case, a simple explanation that he's moving for Jack, for a better life, and everyone stands in shock when they realise he never did tell them where he was going.

He follows the directions on his phone to a small little town outside of Nice, the sound of Jack's laughter as he steps out of the car and into the sun a sound he'd been wishing to hear for months. He reaches up as they're walking and he scoops the boy into his arms. They're just at the gate of her home when she steps out, leaving agasint the door. He walks, unable to hold back his smile as he heads towards her.

"Hey," she smiles when he reaches her.

"Hi," he smiles back, "Jack, this is Emily." he tells his son, who looks at the new woman with wide eyes, "can you say hello"?

"Hi." the boy smiles, his hand coming out in a small wave and she laughs.

"Hi." she says back, "Come on." she says, opening the door further to let them through. He stops at the side of her, before kissing her softly, the feel of her smile making his heart jump. He smile when he pulls away, before heading into the house, whispering to Jack as the boy points to things around the new surroundings.

Emily walks beside him as they reach the overly large garden and he looks at her.

"Nice place," he smirks and she shrugs.

"I killed the owners." she says nonchalantly, before heading off towards the large garden furniture in the middle of it, the feel of his eyes on her back making her laugh. "Are you coming?" she says, holding out her hand and he takes three steps, grabbing her hand in hers as they walk.

"You didn't really.." he whispers and she holds back a smirk as she looks at him.

"A lady never tells." she answers, and the sound of Jacks happy laughter as he jumps into the pool has the questions dying on his tongue.

She lets him ponder about her words for two weeks before she whispers in the dark that it was her mothers home, one she visited frequently when they were in France, and that after her mother passed it was sold, to her, but the name she put it under is one she'll never share.

fin

#hotchniss sour series #hotchniss fic #hotchniss #the thought of hotch and emily being cat and reid would ? not leave me alone #and so here this is <3 #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #this will be on ao3 when i finish work lololololololol

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elysianslove · 4 years

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could i req a hc for kita & akaashi where their crush is secretly a jujutsu sorcerer who goes to their school to undercover and to kill the curse but they didn’t know and what if one day, she saves them from the curse? what’s their reaction towards reader? thanks!

JBBSHJDJ JJK X HQ????? GOD BLESS. thank u so much for requesting this hope you like it!! <3

kita shinsuke

kita’s not a nosy person. he always keeps to himself and stays out of people’s business, and he’s never been the type to encourage rumors or to dwell long on what if’s and theories and conspiracies

but even he had to admit your situation was weird

you enroll into inarizaki mid-year, and you’re a third year like him. at first he’d just assumed you’d moved from a neighboring high school last minute, but you never attempted to participate, as if you were only here for show. next, he’d assumed it had been familial issues, but he heard nothing of that, never saw you with a sibling or a parent or a guardian. it was all too. vague for his liking

of course, this amount of interest is unbecoming of kita. it’s just. there were so many questions to you and no answers. you really, really intrigued him, and okay, maybe he thought you were really pretty, and yeah maybe he did have a small crush on you, but that was besides the point!

the main thing is that you were just. sus.

he realized you weren’t really causing harm though, just quietly minding your business, so he did the same, and chose to ignore any nagging at the back of his mind

until he picks up on another weird habit of yours: staying at school until the latest hours. as involved as he was with school activities, he hadn’t heard you being a part of any club, considering how late you’d enrolled in school. but here you were, without fail, every day, by the school gates as the sun sets

the only reason so much attention was given to you from kita was because of how peculiar your case was. it frustrated him how he knew nothing, just your name after your brief introduction to the class, and the fact that there seemed so much to you. it’s not that you were simply a private, boring person. it couldn’t be, not with how secretive everything was

one day, on accident, he lags behind in the boys’ gymnasium, cleaning every volleyball with extra care and without noticing, the sun had set. under the assumption he was the only one in the gymnasium, after ensuring every and all equipment was in its place and clean, he grabbed the keys and started to head out. the gymnasium was quiet and dark, save for the gentle stream of moonlight and —

whatever that thing was, it did not belong in the gymnasium

okay let’s assume kita can see curses because what is there that kita can’t do

i don’t think he’d panic outwardly, but he definitely would freeze up and just not know what to do

it didn’t look too friendly either. or sound friendly. or smell friendly

your appearance comes all of a sudden for him, but honestly, when you come barging in through the doors and you start battling the curse, he’s? not surprised?

like he figured you had a secret, just — who knew it would be this?

he’s honestly a little mesmerized with how you manage to fight it off and keep him out of harm’s way simultaneously, until you finally exorcise it

you’re breathing heavily after you’re done, since the curse had put up quite the fight against you, so kita, with his captain instincts, and with mobile feet again thankfully, comes up to you and asks if you’re okay

you look at him bewildered like??? am i okay??? are you okay???/

you’re a little concerned how unfazed he is by the curse tbh

after the adrenaline fades away, and you’re left standing in this dark, empty gymnasium with this really handsome guy, you finally find it within yourself to introduce yourself, telling him your name, before lifting up your hand to shake it with his, continuing, “and i’m a jujutsu sorcerer.”

kita smiles, there’s a part of him, an itch that’s been dying to get scratched, that’s finally relieved, and he takes your hand in his, shaking it firmly and saying, “kita shinsuke; pleasure to meet you.”

“pleasure’s all mine.”

he walks you home, and the entire time he realizes how you’re really the furthest thing from quiet, you’re just serious when you need to be, given your occupation. you explain the whole ordeal, about the manifestation of curses spiking in this area, how you’d been assigned this mission, everything.

it is so satisfying to him finally understanding everything. it’s like finishing a puzzle that’s taken months to complete

you admit that that had been the last curse, since you’d eliminated the source, and you’d have to leave soon

not without his number you’re not <3

kita’s not the type to want to show off his s/o, but once you inevitably become that, he takes every opportunity he can to watch everyone’s eyes as they see you kick ass. it’s his guilty pleasure :)

akaashi keiji

okay this one’s a little different because your arrival at fukurodani wasn’t so sudden. yeah you’d joined later than most students, but you’ve been here since the start of the year, so akaashi wasn’t suspicious of you, since you’d never given him a reason to be

he doesn’t see you outside of school often. honestly, he doesn’t even see you in school. you don’t share classes with him, so he doesn’t know if you skip classes or not, but he’s heard that you do. you’re also never like. anywhere. it’s most that he knows of you

he just assumed you were one of those careless kids that didn’t really give a shit about school, until he started seeing you. except, it was at the weirdest times, and the weirdest locations: sometimes it’d be behind the gymnasium where he practices volleyball, or it’d be in those sketchy alleyways where he was 90% sure people sold drugs there, sometimes he’d spot you on the roof of the school. it was so

odd?

akaashi’s a very curious person. he’s not nosy, he just has a very overactive imagination (i mean, literature department akaashi keiji? obviously)

so all this just made him unconsciously pay more attention to you. like, he didn’t want to, he just subconsciously did. any time he’d pick you out from the crowd, he’d find his eyes following you narrowly, or anytime he heard your name, his ears would perk up. he really didn’t mean it. you just kinda fascinated him, to the point of, maybe a crush? he wouldn’t really call it that, but yeah, he guesses the symptoms are of a crush

but anyways, this school was really boring! that’s why!

not a crush >:(

so! he’d been walking home one night, let’s say bokuto was with his family and there was no training for that day. it was winter, so the sun had set pretty early, leaving him in the paleness of the moonlight and the occasional streetlight illuminating the pathway for him. there wasn’t really anybody around, and he figured at a time like this people were either already home or still at work

until he heard a low growling noise

he didn’t really think much of it, only stiffening up a bit

but he told himself it was his mind playing tricks on him, or something he mistook for a growl, or maybe it was a growl and it was just some dog nearby. just tried to stick to rational thinking because what else would it be?? was there option for anything else?

until, out of nowhere, you appeared from an alley he just crossed past, and curled up against him, one arm hugging him tight, before you raised a hand to your lips and silently asked him to stay quiet

he was

very confused

like what the fuck

but then you shifted, spinning around him. curiously, he twisted around with you, and

damn

what the actual fuck

so it wasn’t a dog

the curse lunged at you, or maybe it lunged at akaashi, but you quickly kicked it away, sending it spinning, before you raised your hands up above you, ready to exorcise it, until it twisted unexpectedly and aimed at akaashi

it made you panic, and instead of focusing on exterminating the curse, you turned your focus on protecting akaashi, who was in momentary shock. or maybe it was awe. you weren’t sure. somehow, you fought with the curse, maneuvering your way around it and moving akaashi along with you. somehow, his hand was in yours, and he was letting you shift him right and left as you attempted to fight off the curse. god, what the fuck is going on

eventually, finally, akaashi ducked behind you, and you raised your hands above you again, quickly exorcising it. he watched from under his shielding arms as the curse — exploded? vanished? evaporated?

and without even missing a beat, you were kneeling before him, hands on his shoulders, shaking him wildly, asking is he’s okay

it kinda made him want to laugh at how panicked you seemed in comparison to how serious and scary you’d been a second before

akaashi finally answers that yes, he’s okay, but he demands an explanation, please, because he’s never been more confused

you continue to walk him home, with the lame excuse of “i’m your personal bodyguard now,” and explain everything to him. he’s. kinda. really amazed? like you thought he’d get thrown off at the reality of the world you and him live in but he’s actually really fascinated, and he listens to you talk the entire time, only speaking when he has a question

when you come to school the next day, you smile at him knowingly, waving at him and when bokuto sees him wave back with a small smile on his face, he combusts.

akaashi sorta really likes the idea of being the only one to know your little secret. something about it is so satisfyingly intimate, and the trust it conveys? he’s really honored, you know?

as your s/o, he gets really worried whenever you’re sent out on missions, but you always remind him that what brought you two together was you saving his ass <3

and then he’s reminded of just how proud of you and amazed he is hehe

end note; i want to write a book. :D

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x jujutsu kaisen #hq x jjk #haikyuu crossover #jujutsu kaisen crossover #kita x reader #kita shinsuke x reader #kita headcanons #kita shinsuke headcanons #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi headcanons

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panlight · 3 years

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something just occurred to me concerning Jacob and Bella. so we know from the mess that is the Leah/Sam/Emily situation that imprinting on someone does not immediately make your feelings for someone else go away - Sam still loved Leah after he imprinted on Emily. so how come the second Ratatouille is born, Jacob's feelings for Bella are not only pushed to the side, not even just gone, but literally wiped from the face of existence as if they were never there to begin with? I haven't read the book in a while but in the movie he says Bella and Edward make an attractive couple and I- what??? How does he just not have any feelings for Bella anymore??? aaaaah!

Truly, none of this makes any sense based on what else she wrote about imprinting.

The out-of-universe explanation is, IMO, that Bella/Jacob got away from SM in the middle books and she tried to shove that genie back in the bottle by “it was Nessie all along!”

The in-universe explanation is that Bella and Jacob are latching on to imprinting as an excuse and aren’t dealing with their unresolved feelings and it will come back to bite them later.

But yeah, it’s pretty clearly stated that Sam still loved Leah, it just couldn’t compare to the supernatural love and devotion he suddenly felt for Emily. His love for Leah didn’t vanish (and certainly her feelings for HIM didn’t vanish, either). And likewise this idea that Jacob’s pull to Bella was only ever about the future imprint with her daughter also makes no sense based on what we see about imprinting in other characters. Imprinting canonically only happens after a wolf phases for the first time; Jacob’s attraction to and interest in Bella pre-dates that. He was already devoted to her before he phased! And Sam and Jared both knew their future imprints pre-phase (Emily was Sam’s girlfriend’s cousin/best friend and Kim sat next to Jared in school) and felt nothing for them, so even if Jacob’s interest in Bella was only about future!Renesmee (which . . . how?) it wouldn’t have come into effect until after he phased.

What’s really, truly mind-boggling to me is that Jacob (who was only a minor character at the time) imprinted on Nessie in “Forever Dawn.” SM had already planned that when she started writing New Moon and Eclipse, so why on earth would you make a creepy concept even more creepy by having him want to be with her mother first?! If you knew you wanted him with Renesmee (which, for the 2342103423 time, “ugh!”) then why complicate things with the Bella/Jacob stuff? Why go there at all?

She talks about imprinting in BD being like the fairy magic in A Midsummer Night’s Dream where in a glittery moment of fairy dust, people come to love the “right” people. But like, first of all, the fairies messed it all up in the first place and only “fix” it at the end; secondly, fairy dust doesn’t feel like real, actual love to me, it feels fake; and thirdly, why am I supposed to think imprinting is a good, magical thing when the only other previous example explored with any depth at all is Leah/Sam/Emily, which left Leah heartbroken, Sam guilt-ridden, Emily physically scarred, and Harry Clearwater dead. It does not seem like a good thing that makes everything right at all, It seems like a cruel, random thing that upsets everyone’s lives.

It only ‘fixes’ things for Bella; she gets to keep Jacob around without guilt now.

#asks #anti-imprinting

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cienie-isengardu · 3 years

Text

axelzp replied to “The Bad Batch”:

I think most people take issue with Omega and TBB due to concerns over whitewashing. Also, what do you have against the explanation of the biochips? Personally, I always thought it fit Palpatine's controlling nature better than the idea of clones just getting a command from some random guy in a hood, telling them to kill the Jedi.

First off, I apologize it took me so long to answer. I tried to explain my reasoning in a short and coherent way as possible, but apparently the years of frustration about this issue needed more space to be properly addressed. So, in advance, sorry for text length.

From all TCW changes done to star wars, the chip-in-brain is one of my top 3 reasons to dislike the whole TV show, despite many of its good moments. I understand why authors chose this sub-plot that allows them to separate the visibly individual "good" clones (thus making them more likeable for the audience / marketing) from the “bad” that kill the Jedi but frankly, I find it a cheap and kinda problematic excuse. Clones were victims regardless of which version people will accept but I really despite the idea that Jedi were their beloved generals and commanders - so beloved that clones actually had nightmares about killing them waaay before Palpatine ultimately won which undermines the whole point of Order 66.

Jedi could never expect clones to shoot them in the back because they were used to their unquestioned obedience from the start of war. It was common knowledge, repeatedly mentioned in sources like “Jedi Trial” that clones were “bred to war, bred to discipline, bred to obey without question the orders of the powers that paid for their services”. Clones were made that way by genetic manipulations and years of intensive training; an indoctrination that makes clone troopers believe they have obey, no matter what cost.

Some sources, like Clone Wars Adventures’ “Orders” outright show us the mindset of clones:

and We’ve got nothing but each other ad our orders.

Because of that worldbuilding, I prefer Legends take on clone obedience and the Jedi approach to the problem than what TCW created. I talked about it more here, but the general sense is that I feel cheated by the idea of chips that turn people into some “programmed” machines because in such way, TCW erased the Jedi & Republic part in abuse & enslavement of clone troopers, while at the same time giving an unrealistic idea that Jedi were so liked / respected when most of clones did not have any special bond with them. And this is less about if Jedi were good military leaders or not and more that as generals/commanders they didn’t interact that much with common troopers. Because the chain of command doesn’t work like that. I’m willing to buy the close(r) bond between Anakin & 501st because frankly Darth Vader himself from the start was built as someone with better relationships with common troopers / “normal” officers than with most of the high ranking officers presented on screen. I’m pretty sure some other Jedi were caring and liking clones (and vice versa) but it is impossible for generals to know and be so close to all of their troopers.

Above everything else, Legends created an interesting situation in which the Jedi Council / Order knew clones would follow orders no matter if those were right or not and were aware how dangerous it could be yet they still didn’t do anything about it, because the obedience of clones were beneficial for them. Jedi not only took for granted their obedience, they mistook it for respect.

Which really speaks a lot about Jedi's own moral failing and/or lack of understanding the difference between those two terms.

In the Legends sources, there was no need for chips, really, when from the start Kaminoans tinkered with clone genome, created the effective system of “proper” education to mold clones into obedient soldiers and Republic wasn’t really interested to undo the damage done by such indoctrination.

Before TCW brought the chips and “nightmares haunting clones” there were officially established Contingency Orders for the Grand Army of the Republic: Order Initiation, Orders 1 Through 150. A guideline for unexpected and/or critical situations, so the Great Army of Republic [GAR] would know how to proceed - especially when troopers were given contradictory orders. The orders (also known as Clone Protocols) weren’t secret and there is a big chance that Jedi knew it, if someone bothered to learn the manual. The whole formula of Order 66 was described as:

"In the event of Jedi officers acting against the interests of the Republic, and after receiving specific orders verified as coming directly from the Supreme Commander (Chancellor), GAR commanders will remove those officers by lethal force, and command of the GAR will revert to the Supreme Commander (Chancellor) until a new command structure is established."

And here how the scene played in the RotS novelisation:

That concealed compartment held a secure comlink, which was frequency-locked to a channel reserved for the commander in chief.

Kenobi nodded and spoke to his mount, and the great beast overleapt the clone commander on its way down into the battle.

Cody withdrew the comlink from his armor and triggered it.

A holoscan appeared on the palm of his gauntlet: a hooded man.

"It is time," the holoscan said. "Execute Order Sixty-Six."

Cody responded as he had been trained since before he'd even awakened in his creche-school. "It will be done, my lord."

The holoscan vanished. Cody stuck the comlink back into its concealed recess and frowned down toward where Kenobi rode his dragonmount into selflessly heroic battle.

Cody was a clone. He would execute the order faithfully, without hesitation or regret. But he was also human enough to mutter glumly, "Would it have been too much to ask for the order to have come through before I gave him back the bloody lightsaber. . . ?"

The order is given once. Its wave-front spreads to clone commanders on Kashyyyk and Felucia, Mygeeto and Tellanroaeg and every battlefront, every military installation, every hospital and rehab center and spaceport cantina in the galaxy.

So there is really no “random hooded guy” calling clones to kill Jedi but Chancellor himself using an appropriately secured military channel with confirmation of his identity to issue a legal order in a critical situation (an opportunity created by the Jedi Council themselves who went into the Senate building to kill Palpatine). So why the clones shouldn’t listen, when the order came directly from the Supreme Commander of the Great Army of the Republic?

Of course, the movie (and novel based on it) alone has this weird addition like “yes my Lord'', what I personally consider as the cinematic way to show the switch from Chancellor Palpatine to Emperor Darth Sidious. Still, I’m willing to give some benefit of doubt about the modification made by Kaminoans and if Order 66 could trigger anything hidden in clone subconscious. But even if there was something, it didn’t erase their personalities or changed the way clones behaved like it happened in The Clone Wars and The Bad Batch.

One way or another, the Order 66 worked out because clones “have no malice, no hatred, not the slightest ill intent that might give warning. They are only following orders”. Which I guess comes down to how clone troopers were presented - or maybe rather how they were seen by other characters in the Legends. As more detached, combat pragmatic, toned down, to some degree isolated from the outside world, less individual. Regardless of what Jedi or Republic citizens thought about clones, it did not make them any less human beings.

And here comes the paradox of The Clone Wars. The TV show made great effort to humanize clones by presenting them as very individual, outstanding people which in itself is a great thing. The names, the tattos, the different paintings of armours, visible variety of behaviour. All great to make the audience see clones as human beings, to get emotionally invested into them, because the more likeable clones were the better for marketing the story (and the cynical part of me thinks it really comes down to making money, isn’t it?)

But this effort became also the trap and the inhibitor chips is the excuse to make such loved, caring and brave characters into the detached clones gunning down the Jedi in Revenge of the Sith.

The things that irks me a lot about this situation is the feeling like fans started care for clones because they were made into different type of characters than what they were (similar like Anakin’s movie characterization was thrown out of the window, to make him more suitable for fans who wanted the badass typical male hero instead of introverted, conflicted and traumatized young man). The clones get the visible individuality to make them the heroes we should root for, but then there is the “magical” switch that will cut down their heroic deeds because now they are “bad” and stormtroopers can’t have any personality. Which is just… frustrating.

Don’t get me wrong, I adore how clone troopers get more visible individuality (even if sometimes if felt too exaggerated), but the “not standing out from the group” was something that kept clones alive on Kamino and I can see why it was used as coping mechanism (the safe option) during the war. I regret that The Clone Wars didn’t show the transition from AotC nameless troopers into such individuals and how much it happened thanks to Jedi, what may help to build the feeling of supposed strong bond between Jedi and troopers. Because frankly, when we met TCW!clones, they already have names, different colors and marks on armor plates and helmets and for all we know, they could create their own “culture” without Jedi influence.

The final part of why I hate the chip-in-brain sub-plot is how it changed clones. Because even if that was a means to force clones into killing Jedi & ensure that Order 66 will be carried on no matter what, it shouldn’t change them into bullies toward their own brothers. But now in The Bad Batch, the clones don’t speak between themselves, are aggressive toward others and generally act like assholes for no real reason. And yeah, I get this may be a cinematic metaphor for a change from “good” republic soldiers into “bad” imperial stormtroopers and most likely something along the way “Republic/Jedi gave you individuality, Empire takes that away” but frankly, Republic did not give anything to clones. It did not acknowledge their human right, didn’t have any plan for their future, didn’t pay for their service or more expensive medical treatment for that matter, did not teach them they could - should - make their own choices.

Now clones are cheering for the Empire because inhibitor chips! They are assholes, because inhibitor chips! They shoot their *beloved* Jedi generals because of the chips!

And in a way, I get this resolution, the chips make it clear clones were victims. But even without them, they were victims from the start. Except now clones are “programmed” while in Legends the senate (a power paying for their life) officially and legally renamed Republic into Empire and clones were glad for still having a purpose in life. The war ended (thus their usefulness), but they were still needed - still wanted - instead of being put down or closed at Kamino or whatever. I can see why the uncertainty of the future made clones cheering up for the Empire. And frankly, I personally prefer them not caring for the political change (because why should they? It never was their job to *judge* the rightness of their superiors) instead of being “programmed” like some droids and playing the role of fodder to kill for the “good guys”.

Dunno, if I explained properly my issue with inhibitor chips, it just feels to me as not really convincing and a too risky concept in the bigger picture of the things and the fact that Jedi just like that ignored this suspicion matter of Tup and Fives and biochips doesn’t help either. Like I said, I understand why the chips were introduced to the story, as the excuse in the change of clone troopers’ behaviour but at the end of day, Legends worldbuilding will always make more sense to me. I don’t need overly done differentiation of clones to care for them as an individual human beings (and it kinda seems to me like that, clones suddenly became fan favorite when every looks or act differently but not when the AotC literally presented them as an army created to blindly obey Jedi/Republic) and I don’t blame them for sticking with Empire because what better option they had, considering their upbringing and the pathological system in which they lived all their life?

Dunno, I’m biased and may just have allergy to TCW in general.

As for Omega, I’m not really surprised about this concern, especially after seeing TBB’s version of padawan Kanan (that if not for A) some basic knowledge about his backstory and B) Depa Billaba calling him by name, I would probably never have figured out who he was supposed to be). But for Omega alone, I don’t mind her look, because I’m used to Legends!Jango’s biological family in which his mother and sister were both blond haired women and frankly, some “defective” clones (including Rex?) apparently could be blond too, so it seems like Jango’s genome has a recessive gene somewhere for that color of hair. I try to hold my judgment about Omega and her appearance until the full backstory will be revealed because there is still a chance that Fett’s DNA was mixed with someone else's (still I hope Omega is not force sensitive…). I mean, Hunter has heightened senses while Wrecker has almost supernatural strength and both traits seem to be not really human, so who knows what Kaminoans really did with them.

I understand people’s emotional response to Disney’s approach to characters and their visual look, especially since it isn’t the first screw up in New Canon (the models for characters in general and New Mandalorians especially). I’m totally okay with people’s criticism of that matter and demanding from Disney more diversity and respecting the already established ethnicity of certain groups. I’m aware I may not be sensitive enough to that matter as some other people (even more with barely watching TV shows to have any current and up-to-date comparison to trends in cartoons) and I’m pretty sure more qualified / invested fans already wrote or will be writing soon great metas about that. But the thing that irks me is hearing people saying that Omega *can’t* be Jango’s clone - I don’t like this sort of exclusion based on someone’s look alone. She may not look like Fett or other (male) clones but it is not something Omega chose for herself and does not erase her connection to the rest of the Bad Batch. Being angry at Disney/creators for her look is a different matter I don’t have any problem with.

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st-just · 3 years

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Now I’m curious what the “one work of pop philosophy and one literary essay thing” you’d recommend are

Well good news, on reflection I've thought up a couple more pieces of non-history nonfiction I'd recommend! (also for @drawnkad ) 1. Strangers Drowning, by Larissa Macfarquhar: A sort of examination of selfless/altruism/taking the idea of universal moral obligation seriously - that is, of people who actually act like they believe that strangers have something approaching the same moral worth as they and theirs do. Specifically interested in why normal people’s reaction to such an idea is often one of deep discomfort, at best. Chapters alternate between a sort of intellectual history of the western tradition of such (which doubles as an intellectual history of utilitarianism for a decent portion of it) and case studies of different people who more or less fit the model, including biographies and interviews. Absolutely lovely book, though likely to leave you feeling like a terrible person as you finish it (you probably are, relatively).

Also has some quotes that have been burned into my skull for years now. To steal a few.

The need of the world was like death, Julia thought. Everyone knew about it, but the thought was so annihilating they had to push it out of their mind or it would crush them.

This position was pure, consistent, and invigoratingly radical, but proved so universally repellent that utilitarianism quickly retreated to the safety of moderation.

Some say they're only dong their duty, they're only doing what everyone ought to, and if most people think their sense of duty is extreme or warped, then most people are wrong. They reject the idea that what they do is saintly or heroic, because to them, that's another way of saying other people needn't even try to do such things. Praise is a disguised excuse.

2-3. The Sixth Extinction and Under A White Sky, by Elizabeth Kolbert. Two books that basically form an accidental set, written seven years apart. The Sixth Extinction is more or less what it sounds like, a brief tour of the current mass extinction event and examination of some of the more notable collapsing ecosystems and rapidly vanishing species, along with some interesting (pre-) historical context of what previous mass extinction events looked like. The section on ocean acidification is honestly what stuck in my head most, though I should really reread the whole thing at some point.

Under A White Sky is something like the sequel. You might call it an introduction to the Anthropocene. The title’s obviously a reference to solar geoengineering, but that only takes up a small amount of the book - the rest is devoted to carbon sequestration, to invasive species, to gene drives, to rerouted and electrified rivers, to vanishing coastlines, to the creation of artificial habitats as part of conservation efforts, to coral breeding programs, and to a half-dozen other things I’m forgetting. The basic thesis is that Nature as popularly conceived is a dead letter - buried under the weight of all of our previous interventions spiraling out of control. The world is only going to get more artificial and synthetic and driven by the consequences of human actions, and it’s just a matter of whether further intervention will make things better or worse.

4. The Uninhabitable Earth, by David Wallace-Wells. In case the other suggestions were too light and upbeat. Essentially this New York magazine article expanded into a full book. Or, more helpfully, a pessimist’s look at climate change - if things keep going on like they are, looking at the far end of the bell curve, just how bad could things get? The answer isn’t actually humanity dying off or anything like that (except through a nuclear war breaking out as a second-order effect, I guess), but they are in fact very, very bad. There’s so many ways the biosphere can start breaking down and make everyone’s life so much worse! At the same time it also kind of gives a history/explanation of what we’re doing right now, and how inadequate it is. Though, like, it’s not as entirely bleak as that. Like, to take a couple quotes a find somewhere between depressing and oddly inspiring.

That we know global warming is our doing should be a comfort, not a cause for despair, however incomprehensibly large and complicated we find the processes which we have brought into being; that we know that we are, ourselves, responsible for all its punishing effects should be empowering, and not just perversely. Global warming is, after all, a human invention. And the flip-side of our real-time guilt is that we remain in command. No matter how out of control the climate system seems- with its roiling typhoons, unprecedented heat waves and famines, refugee crises and climate conflicts-we are still its authors. And still writing.

The fight is, definitively, not yet lost- in fact will never be lost, so long as we avoid extinction, however warm the planet grows, it will always be the case that the decade that follows could contain more suffering or less.

5. Bad Blood by John Carreyrou. To provide something that’s actually, like, fun. This is the definitive book on the whole Theranos scandal, written by the journalist who broke the story and basically taking it from start to finish The main takeaway is honestly that if you want to be trusted with billions of dollars, get good at making rich old guys see you like a protege/surrogate non-disappointing-child. Also the highest ranks of American public life are just absolutely full of corrupt idiots, but that’s not really a surprise.

#reply #drawnkad #anon #book recommendations #bad blood #John Carreyrou #the uninhabitable earth #david wallace-wells #the sixth extinction #under a white sky #elizabeth kolbert #strangers drowning #Larissa Macfarquhar

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i-am-ironic · 4 years

Text

So I'm dead then. Interesting.

Sorry this took so long to get out a lot of stuff has been happening and I've been super busy. Anyway i saw this idea a LONG time ago and it just seemed perfect for daminette.

**************************

As Damian opened his eyes he looked around. This room was not familiar. He was not at the manner then, so where was he? The room was far too pink for his tastes, and was that a dress in the corner? No this definitely wasn't the manner.

"Marinette!! Get up you are going to be late for the first day of school!!"

Damian jumped, wiping his head around. Next to him was a girl who was just starting to wake up. She had black hair that fell just around her shoulders. She sat up in bed and stretched. wait a minute, WHY WAS HE IN THE SAME BED AS HER???!!!! This was bad this was very bad!!! He was only 13!!! what happened!!

Damian tried to push himself away from her only to fall through the rail on the side of her bed. The girl, Marinette, didn't seem to notice him she simply climbed down the ladder and, grabbing some clothes, headed to the bathroom. He could hear the shower turn on so he decided to look around.

She had a sewing machine on a desk with a sckech book open next to it. The sckech book held elegant dresses and tuxedos with embroidery so perfectly placed you would have to wonder if it was part of the fabric.

There were pictures on the wall of the girl's friends, one boy seemed to take up most of the space, perhaps her boyfriend? Damian also found a skylight that appeared to open onto a balcony.

When Marinette reappeared she was wearing a nice outfit, still drying her hair off from the shower.

Damian decided now was as good a time as any to ask her what the heck he was doing here, "Excuse me miss," no response, "I was wondering where I am and who you are." Still nothing, "im trying to talk to you!" Damien said reaching out his hand to grab her by the shoulder. His hand passed right through her. He stared at the girl who was still packing her backpack, and then at his hand which was becoming more solid every second he wasn't touching her.

He grabbed his own hand and could feel the scars on it from the league. But when he tried to touch Marinette again his hand passed through her, this time she shivered a bit. Odd he could touch himself but not her, could he touch other things? He reached out to the wall, his hand rested on it until he pushed more and he began to slip through the wall. Very interesting.

As Marinette walked down the stairs to the voice that had called her before Damian followed testing things as her went. Marinette sat down to eat breakfast with who he asumed to be her parents before rushing off to her first day of school.

As Damian followed her throughout the day he discovered several things: he didn't have legs anymore. Where his legs had once been was now replaced with a flowy tail (like the genie in Alddin). He also couldn't be seen or heard by anyone, he had tried to speak but nothing happened. And to top it all off he was in France!! He probably should have figured that out by all the people speaking French but it hit him when marinette had gone to the Eiffel tower after school. Well not exactly marinette, ladybug had gone to the Eiffel tower when fighting a monster called stone heart.

After Stone Heart was defeated marinette went back home and detransformed, Damian hadn't seen her receive the earrings so seeing a giant floating ladybug was strange, but to be fair he was flying right now too.

"Oh marinette that was great! I knew you would make the perfect Ladybug!" Said the.... thing.

"Thank you Tikki!" Oh so that was the things name.

"It was your first day and......" Tikki paused, "oh marinette im so sorry, I didn't know."

"Whats wrong Tikki? What didn't you know?"

"your soulmate...... he's here." As if that explains everything! How was that supposed to help him.

"What do you mean my soulmate is here?" Marinette asked.

"If your soulmate dies before you meet them then they come to watch over you, most humans have soulmates they just don't know about it until its too late...... I can sense yours. I'm so sorry marinette."

so he was dead, that made a lot of sense actually. The last thing he remembered was fighting his clone and then darkness. He should be angry he knew that, but he really didn't care. He liked this girl, he felt safer with her in one day then he did with his father after a whole month. Still he wanted to try to tell his family he was alright..... ok maybe he wasn't alright but he was happy.

Marinette's voice brought him out of his thoughts. "What happened to him?"

Tikki closed her eyes trying to concentrate, "im not sure, he died bravely, in battle. Other then that i don't know."

Well she was correct, he did die in battle with his clone. He wondered what had happened in that battle after his death. Had his family succeeded in defeating his mother, or were they all dead too now? He had no answer but what he did know was that he should try to find them.

That night he began flying away in the direction he believed America was, he reached the sea faster then he had expected. One advantage about being dead was that he didn't get tired, he just kept flying.

Then suddenly he was back in marinette's room as she stretched on her bed. Sunlight was streaming through the skylight. Every time he tried to leave he reappeared at the exact time Marinette woke up every day. The day repeated much the same as the day before, one of the girl's in marinette's class called her names and didn't get in trouble, a monster was beaten by Ladybug and her partner Chat Noir, and he floated around.

Eventually he discovered he could leave massages for marinette on her phone, in the steam on her mirror, or if she left a notebook out overnight. He left small things like, "don't forget about you math test!" Or "Alya said you could go to her house for cookies after school" or "talk to chat noir before he becomes a problem." You know important stuff.

Damian discovered he had grown quite fond of his 'Soulmate' as Tikki had called her. She would talk to him sometimes, about school, ladybug stuff, everything. He would answer back when he could with a note or send a sign, she always seemed to understand.

One day after hearing Marinette talk about how hard it would be to find HawkMoth Damian decided to do something about it. That night he Searched evry house on the east side of Paris. When marinette woke up he was at her side.

He wasn't sure how long he looked, every day was spent with marinette and every night trying to find her enemy. He really wasn't sure how long he had been dead, it felt like he had always been like this, but at the same time like everything was brand new.

After what must have been weeks of searching he found Hawkmoth. The man was nun other then Gabriel Agreste. As damian raced back to marinette's house he got the familier feeling of being pulled away from his spot to Marinette.

Except he wasn't at Marinette's house, he wasn't even in Paris, he was in the batcave looking up at his father.

"Damien! It worked!" Cried Batman still holding his disoriented son.

Damien had no idea what was going on, one minute he was going to tell marinette who her worst enemy was and now he was half way across the world and appeared to be alive, again.

"Father? What am I doing here? Where is marinette?"

Bruce frowned at his son, "Who's marinette?"

Just as Damian was going to answer a loud crash came from behind them. He just got back and already had to fight someone. Great. The fight didn't take long once Damian discovered he had super powers given to him by the same crystal that brought him back to life.

After his family explained how they had brought him back using magic and that his grandfather was also alive again, he had his own explanation to give.

"Everything is all fuzzy."

"Thats alright Damian, you have been dead for months." Tim said.

"But i wasn't really dead," everyone glanced around confused as Damian continued, "I woke up in Paris, and she was waking up and I didn't know what to do, she is a Hero. She knew I was there. She knew I was dead. She is my soulmate."

"Damien are you okay?" Bruce said, this wasn't like Damien at all, he should be mad he let himself die not concerned for someone who didn't exist.

"I have to get to Paris! I HAVE TO TELL HER ABOUT HAWKMOTH! She has... to....know........" the end of his sentence drifted off as Dick pulled the needle out of Damian's arm.

"When he gets up, we will have to tell him that he was hallucinating, we don't need him running off to France to find someone who doesn't exist."

Soon the memorys of Marinette and his time being dead grew distant. He was unaware of the confusion he had caused in Paris.

Tikki could always feel marinette's soulmate as he traveled around Paris. Until he vanished. She immediately got Marinette out to the bathroom to talk.

"Marinette he's gone."

"Who is gone, Tikki?" Marinette asked.

Tikki frowned trying to feel him, "your soulmate he isn't here. I can't sense him anymore."

"There must be a reasonable explanation, maybe he just went out of Paris?"

"No, he isn't anywhere it's almost like he isn't dead anymore."

"But that's not possible, right?" Marinette asked almost hopefully.

"I've seen it before, but don't get your hopes up."

*********************

This isn't the best but I did my best. The ending definitely needs some work. I'm still learning to write so this is the best I could do, I think I'm going to do a list of ideas and have people request whichever one they want. If you like that idea let me know.

Tagging:

@ivymala07

@iloveitwhen

@chocoleteicecreamlover

@crystalangelluna

@clumsy-owl-4178

@pawsitivelymiraculous

#batfam #damian wayne #damien #maridami #marinette cheng #marinette x damian #miraculous marinette #maribat #marinette x damian happy #daminette #daminette oneshot

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amintyworld · 4 years

Text

Once Upon a Time - Twisted Fairytales AU

A/N: Here’s another prologue/introduction to another one of @dreamsmp-au-ideas’s AUs - Twisted Fairytale AU. There’s a more detailed explanation of the AU on their blog, which you guys should definitely check out! Anyway, I hope you enjoy! - Minty

TW: Mind control(?)/taking over someone’s body, manipulation, vomiting, panic attack, implied major character death(?), arguing, cursing, insanity(?). (Tell me if I need to tag anything else!)

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Once upon a time, long ago, there was a land of opportunity and friendship, a place meant to be a sanctuary for all those who needed it, a place where people could be happy and live in peace. In this land were three fearsome warriors whom no one dared cross, as such they were loved and respected by all who knew them. For a while, the three warriors lived together in harmony and friendship, and it was said in legend that apart they were strong, but together they were practically unstoppable. Two of these warriors, seeing the land around them grow and flourish looked toward the future, toward a growing power that threatened their kingdom and grew prepared to face it. The other warrior’s heart darkened at this growing power and feared the destruction it would bring. While the three warriors swore to stay together, the pained warrior swore to himself to see the power’s complete demise at whatever cost it would take.

Desperate, the darkened warrior sought a greater power from an older god whose name was lost to time itself. Asking for a wish in trade for anything the god wanted, the warrior pleaded to the god for help. The god agreed to grant his wish in return for the warrior’s greatest treasure. As a symbol of their agreement, the god gave the warrior a white clay mask that would bind them together for all time. Before the god vanished, however, they gave the warrior a warning: “Careful of the birds that feed from your hand, for they will be the first to bite.”

Years passed as the warrior’s heart broke and crushed into burning coal, became even too dark for the brightest light to touch. First, it was the Crooked King. Then it was the God of Blood, then the Dangerous Spark, and finally even one of his old warrior friends, the Soldier of Light. The proud warrior, ever the confident and cocky, never heeded the god’s warning, and as such, was unaware of the wisdom it held.

Thus the once honorable warrior fell, trapped and tricked by those he once called his friends. As for what the god took? It was safe to say the dark-hearted warrior lost the one thing he fought for - his family. He waits now, with books filled with stories he once knew, even his own, as he tries to find a different ending. He writes and rewinds and thinks and wonders where it all went wrong. His chest feels empty yet his mind is full, thinking.

One day, ever so slowly, he smiles.

The story isn’t over.

He still remembers the old god’s promise.

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Dream huffed in the effort as he slammed his cuffs down against the rock in front of him, snapping the chains in two. He turned to sit, grabbing his sword to pry the ankle monitor off his right foot, tossing it angrily into the river below. Fizzles and smoke filled the air as the light on the monitor faded to darkness. Dream sighed in relief as he finally took a moment to breathe.

George’s eyes studied him from across the way, silent and thinking. He gently gripped the white mask in his hands, moving to sit on the ground next to his friend.

“Thank you for getting me out, no one would believe me-”

“Dream, please, there’s no need,” George answered honestly, his hand running over the mask’s detail. “But before we go anywhere, you need to give me answers. Real answers.” Brown eyes met Dream’s green, full of concern. “Please, just… tell me what’s going on - last I heard, Eret was King again, and now you’re in prison?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.” Green eyes lit up interest.

“Well, I was trying to keep an eye out for Tommy in exile, you know - staying out of trouble, making sure he wasn’t trying to escape, and just keeping him company. He’s just a kid, you know?”

“Yeah.”

“One day he just… snapped. He attacked me for no reason and ran off into the woods. I tried to follow him, I was so concerned but it was too late. Tommy spread rumors about me and said I was doing horrible things to him in exile. I tried and tried to get them to believe me but they didn’t. I even tried to use the discs to my favor but nothing worked, they cornered me, and… and…” Tears filled Dream’s eyes as George’s heart broke seeing his best friend like this. He moved to hug him tightly.

“Oh Dream, I’m so so sorry that happened.”

“Every-” Dream sniffled as he pulled away, trying to wipe away the tears. “Everyone turned against me - Punz, Bad… even Sapnap!”

“Sapnap?” George asked. “Sapnap believed Tommy over you?”

“I tried to get away, I tried to talk to him, I begged him to stop but he wouldn’t. He… he cornered me and made sure I wouldn’t get away, not until Tommy took away two of my lives.”

“Good gods.” George breathed. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve intervened sooner. But don’t worry, okay? We’ll talk to them, and-”

Dream shook his head as he took George’s hands in his. “George, no. I won’t have you suffer as I did.”

“But… but I’m sure if we talk to them together, they’ll listen.”

“George, no.” Dream moved to show off deep scarring across his chest, scarring that looked so fresh and so deep that George couldn’t help but gasp at the sight. His hand ghosted over the scarring as Dream winced in pain. With the number of strikes and injury on his friend’s body, George didn’t know how Dream was still standing, let alone alive. “This is what happened when I reasoned with them.”

“No, no they couldn’t have-!” Sure, L’manburg was a thorn on their side but even George knew they weren’t this brutal. They couldn’t be. None of this made sense, and yet the evidence was right in front of him.

“George.” Dream’s eyes turned saddened as he cupped his best friend’s cheek, making George freeze. “Please. I don’t want you to get hurt or chased or go through what I did. I know that they used to be our friends, but they’re not anymore. They’ve changed, and I don’t think they’re going to change back. We need to stick together, okay? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

George remembered how weird Sapnap had been acting when he’d brought up Dream last week - he called him a traitor and almost threw his mask in the fire to burn before George managed to snatch it away. Sapnap was on the verge of tears as he argued with him for hours, yelling and even screaming at him. George defended his friend who wasn’t even there to defend himself, which only seemed to stroke the flames. The last thing his best friend said to him before they weren’t on speaking terms was said in front of the old Community House, their old home that they shared, Sapnap pointing an accusing finger at him.

“When are you going to wake up and realize that everything Dream said was a lie, that he doesn’t care about any of us, that he was never our friend, huh?! Because I’m tired of you excusing what he’s done to everyone just because you think you know who he is! You’re more than just colorblind, George - You’re delusional!” Regret flashed across Sapnap’s face as he realized what he said. “...George, wait, I-”

George angrily brushed past him with enough force to knock his friend to the floor, tears running down his cheeks that he tried to hide. “Save it.”

“You do trust me, don’t you George?” Dream’s eyebrows were furrowed in worry as he looked to his friend in concern. George looked up to his best friend with a smile, his heart feeling warm and content. He knew he was right. Sapnap was the one who didn’t care, who betrayed, who let this happen to his best friend, who let Tommy kill him. He was the real traitor. Not Dream.

“Of course I trust you. Why wouldn’t I?”

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As the crown was placed upon his head, George couldn’t help but feel happy. The crowd quickly applauded as George moved to stand in front of his throne in the castle, facing his people. Not a great turnout but still a turnout at that - Slimecicle and Foolish sat in front, Hbomb and Hannah sat behind them. Ranboo stood near the back, his expression blank and his body unmoving from where it stood near the doorway. Purpled looked over the scene in interest as he leaned against the stone wall in the back, arms crossed.

“Now, may I present the newest King of the Dream SMP, George!”

As the applause quieted down, he began to speak. “Thanks to all of you for coming. I know the past few weeks have been tough and confusing on everyone, but I want to assure you that I will do my best to keep all of you safe and sound. As you may have heard, traitors are among us in our peaceful server. Traitors who mask as allies and attack unprovoked and unpredictably.” Murmurs of interest picked up from the small crowd. “Now, no need to cause a panic. My knights and I will round them up and-“

“Actually, my King, there’s no need to worry. I’ve already taken care of the problem.” Dream reassured his friend with a smile. “I banned them all late last night and double-checked this morning. They’re gone for good.”

George looked over to his friend at his side. “I thought I told you I’d handle this, you’ve been through enough.”

“You’ve done so much for me, George. You’re my best friend. I’m just repaying the favor.” Dream got down on one knee in a bow, speaking humbly. George tilted his head up as he looked down fondly.

“It’s what friends do, Dream.” He held out his hand as Dream took it and he pulled him to his feet. “Thank you for doing that, just please tell me next time you’re doing something big, okay?”

“I will, George.” Dream smiled as George turned back to the crowd.

“In recent news, the traitor problem has been dealt with-“

“So that’s just it then, they’re gone?” Purpled piped up from the back. “No trial, no justice?”

George’s gaze turned fierce. “They’ve provided enough evidence to put them away for life.”

“One of the ‘traitors’ you’re talking about, Punz? I know him. He’s my friend. He’s loyal, he was loyal to you, Dream. I know he would never do something like that.”

Dream scoffed. “Loyal. He sure seemed plenty loyal when he held that ax up to my throat-!”

“You liar-!” Purpled snapped before George’s voice boomed throughout the room.

“Enough!” George shouted. “No more arguing. Purpled, Dream was the one and only key witness we have for any of the events that transpired, and the markings on his chest are evidenced enough for his claims. It’s all we have to go on, and as far as I’m aware, it’s the truth. Punz was one of the people who nearly took Dream’s final life.” George’s hand found its way into Dream’s, squeezing it for strength. “So as far as I’m concerned, the ban won’t be lifted. Understood?”

Purpled scoffed, taking a breath. “Fine.”

“I know it can be hard to believe, but people change.” George closed his eyes briefly, taking a breath, his mind still struggling to wrap his head around it all. “Sometimes… sometimes it’s just not for the better.”

“But,” Dream began. “We have each other now.” He smiled warmly as he looked down across the crowd. “That’s all that matters. Finally, the server can be at peace. Finally, we can be one big happy family.”

“...no…” Heads turned toward the back of the room towards Ranboo, sizzling filling the air as a tear slid down his cheek. Dream tilted his head in interest as George just looked over, confused. “No… no no no no…” Ranboo fell to his knees as his breathing quickened.

“Ranboo..?” Hbomb looked over toward the teen, concerned at the sudden change. He slowly moved over as Ranboo’s body shook violently with sobs. “Ranboo, it’s okay.”

“No no no it’s all my fault, it’s all my fault-“ Ranboo whimpered, before moving to snatch Hbomb’s arm quickly as if he just realized he could move freely. “I’m a traitor, aren’t I? I’m the real traitor, I betrayed everyone, it’s all my fault!“

HBomb, startled, pulled away from his grip as he backed up, and Foolish helped him stand, noticing the red irritated marks on H’s forearm. Charlie and Foolish exchanged glances as he approached. “Ranboo, I think you need to calm down, man.”

Ranboo rushed to his feet, launching himself toward Charlie as he stumbled and fell, the glasses-wearing slime boy catching him. “We’re all trapped, everyone’s trapped, oh gods we’re all gonna die-” Ranboo’s eyes looked a mixture of panicked and scared, and Charlie gently lowered both of them to the floor.

“Okay, let’s just sit down and take a deep breath-“

Tears streamed down Ranboo’s face, trailing burn marks he didn’t seem to even notice. “No no no no no no no it’s all my fault, it’s all my fault, it’s all my fault-”

“He really must’ve been messed up from yesterday - I don’t blame him, breaking me out of that hell wasn’t easy. Poor thing must be hysterical.” Dream’s voice cut through the crowd as he slowly approached, George following close behind.

“No no no no no no…” Ranboo practically whimpered, shaking violently on the floor, unaware of Dream’s presence before Dream silently knelt next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He went completely silent as his shoulders tensed.

“I think you should get some sleep. You need to relax, it’s okay Ranboo.” Ranboo slowly turned to face Dream in silent terror as Dream moved to gently hold his hand in his own. “It’s all okay now. We won.” Dream smiled warmly, moving to hug Ranboo tightly, his body beginning to relax once more under his touch.

“No…” The enderman whispered so quietly it could barely be heard.

“Come on, let me help you upstairs, you can rest up there for now and later I can help you get back to your base.”

“Yes.” His voice was dull as it had been mere minutes prior to his breakdown. Hannah looked on the scene, concerned and confused - the prison did this? To Ranboo?

As they passed, Purpled caught how emotionless Ranboo’s expression became, which only confirmed what he already feared - something was definitely wrong here. Whatever it was, he was going to figure it out, one way or another.

-------------------------------------------------

Dream pressed in the six-digit key code from memory quickly, the metal door opening at his command as he stepped through, grabbing a torch to light his way. He pressed on past the signs that read ‘DANGER: CONSTRUCTION ZONE’ or ‘CAUTION: DEATH AHEAD’. He had it all planned out perfectly. They’d never figure it out, he’d make sure of it. Finally, he was in control again - just the way it was meant to be. No more stupid countries or annoying kids ruining everything.

The compact hallway opened up to a dimly lit obsidian room. Beds lined either wall with medical equipment, machines. Dream passed by his old friends, his old companions, his traitors, all hooked up to drips to make sure they didn’t starve, he didn’t want them to die, of course - he wasn’t a monster. They all slept peacefully next to each other, surrounded by an aura of white light. A barrier even he couldn’t cross.

A voice erupted in his head, one he hadn’t heard in quite a while. “Do you regret any of this? At all?” Dream stopped for a moment, looking around until he noticed the proclaimed god sitting on top of the enderchest at the end of the room. XD looked around at the beds, distanced.

“No, why should I?”

“Hm, well…” XD began, hopping off the chest to look over at a sound asleep Captain Puffy, reaching through the barrier to fondly brush a bit of hair out of her face. “You’re going insane, for one.” Dream glanced over at the god who paid him no mind. “You messed up last time, your perfect plan didn’t work, and yet… you’re doing it again. Throwing away people, friendships-”

“HA!” Dream laughed dryly. “You really think all of that was real?”

“We both know it was.”

“...” Dream paused, looking over at XD coldly. “Then you’re just as stupid as they are.”

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Once upon a time there was an enderman prince named Ranboo. He escaped the terrible fate that befell his own kingdom for a hefty price - a memory curse. The enderboy woke up in the promised land of opportunity with no one and no place to call home. He was welcomed with open arms and given friendship and a place to call his own. Along the way, he met a boy with his heart on his sleeve, a soldier fallen from grace, a fox who searched for the truth in others instead of himself, an old war-ridden tyrant with a taste for power, and two protectors of the people - one who witnessed millions of deaths, and one who caused them. Slowly, with each new passing day, Ranboo built a house, and then a home.

Seeing the boy’s power, the corrupted warrior sought to control and use it for himself. The prince heard gods speak to him through walls he could not escape from if he tried, and, as many before him, slowly went mad as he fell into the dark warrior’s whims. He lied to himself to grant him peace of mind and restore his sanity, yet it only prolonged the inevitable. He should have known how uncomfortably easy the pieces fell into place. He should have told someone. He should have tried to stop it, before it was too late.

He shouldn’t have ignored what was right in front of him.

Maybe then, just maybe, the story could’ve had a different ending.

Ranboo knew the story of it all. He knew it was supposed to be the end, it was all supposed to end. They were all supposed to live happily ever after. Everyone was finally happy - Tommy had his hotel, Tubbo was looking over Snowchester, Wilbur and Schlatt were back, Sam was working on the prison, and they were finally beginning to break through and help those under that stupid Egg’s influence.

He remembered what happened too well - how Dream looked at him and trapped him with his trident when he tried to run away on the roof of the prison. He looked down and noticed the TNT in his hands, he remembered dropping it in shock as Dream just laughed. ‘Looks like somebody finally figured it out.’ He was so scared he couldn’t move, he could barely muster the energy to scream as Dream simply tilted his head like so and it was all over. He remembered trying to scream for Tubbo, Phil, Technoblade - someone, anyone at all.

But no one came.

Dream’s laughter still doesn’t leave his head as he sits in his own body, almost watching a movie, his eyes always forced wide open. Each hour of each day he spent practically glued to Dream’s side. He told him he would act as his guard - protecting both Dream and his little secret. On the fifth day he couldn’t stomach the panic much anymore and ended up making himself vomit, which Dream quickly fixed by shoving a potion bottle in his mouth, a potion to forcibly keep him from vomiting, and going about his day. More potions. More drugs. More to numb the pain.

But the pain didn’t stop. He wanted it to stop.

Ranboo wanted to scream, he wanted to tell Purpled and Foolish what happened to him with that man standing right there, what really happened to the others, but all he could say was ‘yes’ and ‘no’. He felt like a traitor, and in a way he was - he helped Dream escape, he helped that monster escape and hurt so many people, it was all his fault. He wanted to fix this. He needed to fix this. Why couldn’t he just wake up?! Now, walking down the rows of beds lining the walls, he focused on trying to remember the stories. He had to, so if he ever escaped this hell of a prison he could be of some use to the others, they needed to know. His own voice echoed in his mind.

‘Once upon a time there were two orphans who cared for and loved each other…a king obsessed with gold…a woman surrounded by death…two friends known throughout the kingdom as famous thieves…a man left with no memories of his past or his lover…a boy with no mother or father, working under his stepfather and two horrible stepbrothers… a kid who owned a cow and dreamed of adventure…’

Once upon a time, the end was only the beginning.

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