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junjungsunwoo · 3 years ago

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When The Rain Stops.

Pairing: rich kid! Sunghoon x rich kid! fem! reader

Genre: Angst, very light fluff

Word Count: 10.0k

-> The first time you met him was in the rain. He had looked so mysterious, so...enchanting. Everything drew you closer, making you want to know more about this boy that you met on one cold, rainy day.

Warnings: I don’t remember if I wrote any profanities, abusive family, major character death, car crash, there is a robbery scence, mentions of crontroling parents, there are two or three scences where reader was slapped by her mom, if you see any other I should add please do tell me!

Taglist: @geniejunn, @deobis-moon, @taemin-jaemin, @chaoticdreaminisode @abdiitcryy @sleepingrenjun @daegalfangirl @symoneismeh | @imdamconfused @geminirules (I don’t remember if you guys were in my permanent taglist or not so I’m just tagging you for now, sorry if I bothered you guys T^T)

Networks: @k-dinernet, @foreverkpop-net, @lovesick-net, @hotpink-ent @kpclub @knet-bakery

A/N: I would say sorry this took so long, but it’s 10k and I wrote this faster then I did with Goal! which was 7k so I’d ssy I’ve improved on my speed hehe It would be great if you guys can leave a reblog or comment telling me how the fic was!

Comments about my fic is greatly appreciated!

-> Part of the Happily Never After collab hosted by me, @junjungsunwoo. Please do check out the other amazing writers’ works too!

-> collab masterlist

-> main masterlist | enhypen masterlist

April 14th, 2020.

The first time you met him, it was raining.

The sky was dark and grey clouds were all that was visible, the sun was out of your sight. Everyone around you was either walking calmly under an umbrella or running around with their jackets or bags above their heads trying to keep themselves dry for as long as they could.

You sat under the roof of the bus stop, the roof provided you with a dry safe place for you to stay under until the rain stops. You watch as the people start to disappear, most of them starting to get picked up, or they’ve bought an umbrella from a nearby store, or just plainly walking in the rain unbothered.

The rain was calming. The sound of the small droplets hitting the ground was soothing in your ears after all of the scoldings you had gotten from your teacher just a few hours ago. The smell of the rain was pleasing, it was light and refreshing- unlike the heavy perfume that was in your face ever since you stepped inside of your high school.

You close your eyes to take in what was happening around you.

Without your sight, your hearing was enhanced and you could hear the little things that were happening around you. You could hear the splashes of rainwater when someone steps in a puddle, the sound of fabric fluttering against the wind when a person opens an umbrella, the joyful laughter of kids who are excited to play in the rain, and the sound of cars passing by- splashing water onto the side of the road.

As you enjoy the noise around you, you hear footsteps slowly making their way towards where you sat. The soft sounds of fabric fluttering around were getting closer, as a soft thud was heard right beside you.

You open your eyes, squinting slightly due to the sudden change in lighting. You look to your left, and there he sat.

He was soaking wet, water dripped down from the little strands of his black hair which he pushed back revealing his handsome face. From his outfit, you could tell he was a student, but you had no clue which school it was.

The boy was wearing a dark navy blue pair of pants and a white blouse, which was now see-through due to the water that it had soaked up. The view made the tips of your ears red and your heart beat, but you quickly shook that thought off- instead, you turned over to your bag before pulling out a hoodie that you always kept with you.

Softly tapping your finger on his shoulders, he turned around to face you. He stares at what was in your hand before he lifted his head to look at you. He had big round eyes and full plump lips, his cheeks had a soft layer of pink on them as it was getting quite cold, and he was wearing a wet outfit. You gesture with your head to your hoodie, telling him silently to use it.

He grabs the warm material from your hand before he turns back around to face the road in front of the two of you and puts the hoodie on. He ruffles his hair while shaking his head, trying to get it as dry as he could, before he puts the hood on and turns to face you again.

“Thank you.” His voice was surprisingly soft. He stares at you once again with those big eyes of his, and you could feel your face getting hot. His eyes were big, but they were dull- as if they’ve seen through everything in the world already and were disappointed. You wondered what the boy had seen to have such an expression in his beautiful eyes, but before you could even open your mouth, the boy looked away.

“You’re welcome.” You look away from the boy and back to the street before the two of you. A comfortable silence falling between the two of you. The both of you did nothing but sat there and watched as cars drove by and waited for the rain to stop, but the rain only started to pour even more. Sighing, you took a look at the boy again, only to find him staring at you already. The two of you quickly broke eye contact and looked away, red blooming on both of your faces. The boy softly clears his throat before he looks at you again.

“Hi,” you turn your head to look at him. “My name is Sunghoon.” He smiled. He hadn’t given you his last name, which was understandable since giving away your full name to a stranger was never a good choice.

You could feel the corners of your lips begin to lift themselves into a smile and you looked at him in the eyes again this time, his eyes had another expression to it- curiosity.

“Hi Sunghoon,” you say, breaking your eye contact before looking down at your hands, “my name is y/n.” you didn’t give him your last name either, not wanting a stranger- well, a handsome stranger to know your full name. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Another wave of comfortable silence falls between the two of you. Grabbing your bag, you shuffle around inside to find your earphones before pulling them out of the bag. Plugging them into your phone you begin to play your playlist, a smile softly forming as your favorite song comes on; Spring Day.

Looking over to Sunghoon, you see that he was just staring out onto the road blankly, seeming bored. You once again poke his shoulder with your finger and you hold up the other earphone to him, silently asking him if he wants to join you in listening to music. Sunghoon looks at you before he reaches out and takes the earphone, whispering a soft thank you to you before he puts it in his ear. The soft melodies of Spring Day flow right in his ear and he smiles, realizing that his favorite song was playing.

Sunghoon begins to hum out the melodies he was hearing out of habit before he realized you were watching him. His face flushed red once again at the thought of you watching him hum, but all you did was smile and began humming the melodies that followed. The two of you locked eyes again, smiles growing wider than before, the two of you began to relax feeling strangely comfortable in each other’s presence and you both began to hum along with Spring day that was playing in both of your ears.

As the melodies come to an end, the rain does too as the grey clouds begin to go away and the sky cleared. The two of you stood up from where you sat for the past 15 minutes (which felt way longer for the both of you) and Sunghoon returned the earphone to you before he started to take the hoodie off.

“Oh, you don’t have to return that.” You told him, and he pauses. “Your shirt underneath is probably still wet so just wear this for now, and you can return it when we meet again.” You gave him a smile.

“We’ll meet again, right?” He smiled at you.

“Maybe.”

“Well then,” you pick up your bag, “Until next time then, Sunghoon.” You wave at him before you walk away, towards the direction of your house. You didn’t turn your head back when you walked away, but if you did then you would’ve known that Sunghoon watched you walk away with a smile until you were out of his field of vision.

“Until next time, y/n.”

And so, when the rain stopped, the two strangers parted ways.

April 23rd, 2020.

It was raining again.

And just like before, you were sitting in the bus stop under the dry haven the roof of the stop had provided you. This time, you had a cup of hot chocolate in your hands, warming you up slightly every time you took a small sip.

You were soaked through with rainwater- it had started raining when you were walking home, and as if it was fate, you arrived at the same bus station you met the boy- Sunghoon, last time.

Despite having a cup of hot chocolate in your hands, your body still shivered from the cold. Your flimsy white blouse doing a horrible job of keeping you warm and covered up as the white blouse was now see-through. You hug your backpack closer to your chest in hopes of warming yourself up and keeping your chest covered from the people who were walking down the streets under their umbrellas.

Everything was just like last time. People are running to get under cover or they are walking around in the rain unbothered. This time you don’t close your eyes. Instead, you looked around, focusing on the things you don’t really see when it wasn’t raining.

You watched as raindrops fell onto the windowpane beside you. The droplets stick to the window slowly moving downwards towards the ground. You watched as the small streaks collided with each other and formed into bigger droplets and bigger streaks. You reach out your hand towards the rain wanting to feel the small, cold droplets on your hand.

You feel a tap on your back and you turn to see Sunghoon smiling at you. You felt as if the world was suddenly silent as you looked into his eyes.

“Hey.” He says, his voice was like that of a feather- soft and gentle and his eyes were those like a child’s, they burned you with curiosity, excitement, and amusement.

“Hi.” You gave him a soft smile, which he returned- his eyes turning into small crescents. He holds out his hands and you look down at them.

“Here,” he hands you the hoodie you had lent him last time, “thank you again, for lending me this last time.” he smiles again, his cheeks rosy and his breath uneven.

“You’re welcome.” you take your hoodie back from his hands, and a soft smell of citrus fills your senses.

“I washed it since it was soaked in rainwater when I got back home, and it was the only thing I could do as a thank you for lending me this” he explained as he plopped onto the seat beside you- exactly where he sat the first time he had met you.

You put the hoodie on quickly, trying to cover yourself up from the boy beside you. Warmth immediately floods your body and the scent of citrus was stronger now that you had the hoodie on.

Silence fills the space between the two of you once again, and you look over to Sunghoon. He was looking down at his phone and was listening to music. You took this time to take a look at what he was wearing. This time, he had on a pair of black ripped jeans, with a white t-shirt, and a black blazer jacket on top, with some silver jewelry to match. You accidentally make eye contact with him as you begin to lift your eyes back up from studying him. You broke eye contact and quickly looked away while a bright red began to bloom on your face.

While trying to calm your fast-beating heart, you feel a soft tap on your shoulder and you look over, only to see Sunghoon smiling at you and offering one of his earphones to you. You smiled and mumbled a small thank you when you took his earphone and the soft tempo of Where the sea sleep began playing. The two of you listen to the song in silence, being completely comfortable with each other- despite it only being the second time you’ve met.

As the song came to an end, you quickly glanced at Sunghoon and you decided to ask more about him.

“How-”

The two of you stopped before you both burst into joyful laughter. The earphone that was in your ear falls out and your laughter turns into giggles as you bend down to pick them up, Sunghoon’s laughter still ringing in your ear.

“You can go first-”

“You go first-”

Another wave of laughter hits the two of you as he gestures to you to go first. Taking small breaths, you try to calm yourself down.

“How have you been, Sunghoon?” You gave him a smile, your head tilting slightly watching him in curiosity.

“I’ve been...alright.” He returns your smile. “How about you?” You look away.

“It could be better,” you pause, “but I’ve been fine.”

Slowly, a conversation emerges between the two of you as you enjoy your time together. The music the two of you were listening to disappeared as you began to question each other about different things and got to know each other more.

Still in your own world, the two of you don’t notice that the sky had turned slightly darker and the rain was now slowly going away. As your small conversation ended, you noticed you knew a lot more things about him- nothing too personal, but definitely some interesting things such as the fact that he was a figure skater like you, or that he had the same birthday as you- the same year as well. You find it amazing how the boy in front of you had so many things in common with you.

Grabbing your bag, you stood up from where you sat, and you turned to face Sunghoon.

“Well,” you began, “I guess it’s time for me to go now.” You smiled at him, and you swear you saw Sunghoon’s eyes dim a little at the thought of saying goodbye. Sunghoon gets up as well, throwing his backpack over his right shoulder.

“It was great talking to you y/n,” you felt a small sliver make its way through your body as your name rolled off his tongue. “I hope we can do this again soon.”

“Yeah,” you smile and he waves before he turns around walking away, in the opposite direction of where you are going to go. “Me too.”

And so, when the rain stopped, the two newly made friends walked away.

May 5th, 2020

It’s raining, again.

Rushing to get out of the rain, you run towards the little bus station again, hoping that maybe you could see Sunghoon there later. As the bus station got in your line of sight, you could make out a figure inside the stop. You hesitated to go inside the stop as you didn’t want to bother the person inside, but the rain was getting heavier, so you stepped in.

Bunching up the ends of your skirt, you squeeze it hard trying to get your skirt to be somewhat drier. Wet strands of hair were sticking to your face, you brush your hand through them- pushing them back and showing your forehead. You wipe your face with the wet sleeve of your soaked shirt and a hand reaches out with a handkerchief from beside you and you look up at the owner at the hand.

“Use it.” It was Sunghoon. You could feel your heart start to beat faster and faster, and your whole body begins to feel hot. You smiled at him, taking the handkerchief from his hand and uses it to wipe the water from your face.

“Thank you.” You said to him, your voice being drowned out with the sound of rain falling hard to the concrete streets. Sunghoon watches as you pat away the water on your cheeks, a slow smile stretches on his face as he stares at you.

“Why are you here today?” You asked him as you put your bag down and turned towards him.

“I’m just waiting for the rain to go away, I don’t feel like getting soaked today.” his eyes turn into crescents as he gives you a small grin, a hint of mischief laced in his voice. “What about you?”

“What you said,” You tell him as you look into his eyes. “I’m just waiting for the rain to pass.” You could feel yourself slowly get drawn deeper into his eyes as he stares at you with an emotion you can’t really decipher.

“Well, I guess we can keep each other’s company while we wait.” You break eye contact at the sound of his voice- feeling a small sense of disappointment as you look away. “You won’t mind that would you?”

“No, of course not.”

The two of you exchanged questions and talked about your hobbies for hours, the rain providing you a comfortable setting with its sound and smell- which you both enjoyed. You quickly learned that you both came from rich families and that you both had a deep hatred for the way the high society had so much control over your daily lives- how you both had to put up an act every time you were in the public’s eye. The longer you had talked with Sunghoon the more you noticed different things about him- how little dimples would always show up on his cheeks when he smiled or how he was very expressive with his face, always making cute expressions when he talks about something.

Everytime Sunghoon smiled at you, you could feel your heart explode, everytime he looked at you, you could feel your ears heat up into a bright red. It felt euphoric to be able to spend time with the boy in front of you. From the first day you met him, he had piqued your interest- you wanted to know more about him, ask him why his eyes were so dull that day. But now when you look into his eyes you could see stars- it was like his eyes held the whole universe inside them.

You knew exactly what you were feeling and you were scared. It felt dangerous to fall in love with Sunghoon. He was really no one but a stranger you had meet for a couple of times and you knew little to nothing about him- for all you know if he had could’ve been lying to you ever since you began talking.

When the rain slowly comes to a stop, so does your conversation, and once again the two of you begin to prepare to go your separate ways. Hesitating a bit, you reach out and tap his back with your phone, and he looks at your phone before he looks up at you, staring right into your eyes tilting his head as a silent question.

“Can I…have your number?” He remains silent and still for a second before he breaks into a smile and he grabs your phone out of your hand.

“Of course,” he types in his number on your phone. “I was just about to ask.” He gives your phone back, and you take a look. He had saved himself as “Sunghoonie” with a little penguin emoji behind it making you break into a smile.

“I still have something I have to do, so I'll get going now.” Sunghoon threw his bag over his shoulder and stood up before looking at you. “ I’ll see you next time y/n. I hope you like me enough to send me a text.” He gave you another one of his blinding smiles before he turned away, walking at a quick pace, trying to get home quick as he tried to hide the huge smile that was planted on his face as well as the slight blush that creeped its way onto Sunghoon’s face.

You smiled as you watched as he walked away from where the two of you sat for the past hour and just as you were about to turn and take your leave you noticed the little black and white umbrella that was clipped onto his backpack, the smile on your face growing impossibly bigger as you slowly walked away while the sun behind the grey clouds showed itself once again. Your steps were a little faster than usual, wanting to get back to the house you never called home so that you could text the boy you had just talked to, excitement blooming inside of your stomach and you could only hope that your mom would ignore you instead of yelling at you today.

And so, when the rain stopped, the two red faced teenagers parted ways.

“But mother I don’t want to go the party-“

Before you could finish your words your head was flung to the side, a big red mark started to form on the left side of your face, crystal tears started to form in your eyes.

“It’s the only thing you can do for me and your father after all the things we had to do to raise you up.” She wiped her hands on a white handkerchief before she discarded it in the garbage, “So just do what we are telling you to do like a good daughter- and don’t you dare embarrass us in front of our partners, like how you did last time when you lost in that figure skating competition to the son of Park Jaehwan.”

Your mother snickers at the name, before she looks you in the eyes again. “Do you know how embarrassing it was for us to know that you lost to his son? He was so cocky about it too, always bringing it up everytime we met. Don’t embarrass us again y/n. You know what happens if you do.” She glares at you as a warning one more time before she makes her way up into her study leaving you alone in the living room to cry your heart out at her words.

Your maids (who you see as sisters instead) rush to help you get into your room to get you ready. The oldest and closest to you- Yeji tries to comfort you the best she could as she wipes your tears away.

“Please stop crying y/n, you're going to mess up your pretty eyes.” She signals the other girls to start preparing you. “I know how much you hate this but we have to do this.” You look at her with sad eyes, ones that have seen and been through too many things. Different girls held different things in their hands, one bunch had hair brushes and hair ties in their hands while another bunch had different makeup in their hands. 2 of the girls came up to you as Yeji continued to whisper encouraging comments at you, in their hands was a beautiful white dress- one that would make anyone that’s wore it look like an angel. It wasn’t a very long dress as it only went down to your knee- it was an off-shoulder lace dress with tiny diamonds lined up at the shoulder seam, it was easily one of the most beautiful dresses you’ve seen.

Pushing you into the washroom that was in your room, they all leave you to change into the dress. You put it on gently, afraid that it would rip and you looked into the mirror when you were done.

Oh my god.

You thought as you spun around, watching as the soft silky fabric fluttered in the air. You were in awe at how the dress fitted you perfectly, how it made you look so beautiful- how it made you feel beautiful. A knock on the door disrupts your thoughts as you hear Yeji asking you if you were done and that you needed to get your hair and makeup done.

You open the bathroom door and you watch as all of the maids’ mouths drop open in shock. You let out a cute giggle as they start to snap out of their shock and they began to run around the room like headless chickens trying to get you to look even more beautiful then you are now. Skillful hands were everywhere touching nearly everything, there were hands on your face, fingers in your hair, and you were pretty sure at one point someone’s hand was on your feet putting your shoes on for you but you couldn’t tell.

Once they were done, they had stood you in front of a mirror once again. And if you thought you had looked your best before- you were wrong. Now standing in front of the mirror with your hair done and simple but elegant makeup on your face, you looked like a goddess. The small diamond earrings that were dangling on your ears complemented the diamonds on your dress and the white stiletto heels complimenting your white dress.

Without hearing your mother knock, she slams the door open before she begins to drag you out and rant about being ‘fashionably late’ before you had a chance to say thank you to your maids- so you mouthed it to them and flashed a quick smile before being pushed out of the front door. And into a car that was too expensive to your taste.

It was so boring.

There was nothing to do, and no one to talk to. Everyone that was in the room were adults that were just looking to show off their wealth and power or adults that were looking for new business partners- there was no place for a teenager like you. You were placed next to your mother who was talking to one of her business partners who also had their son standing next to them.

“Hey y/n.” You look over to the voice, “how have you been?” It was the boy that stood beside the man who was talking to your mother.

“Hey Jay,” You lifted your glass of apple juice to him, which he cheered his cup with yours before he downed the whole thing. “I’ve been good, you?” He takes a look at you again before he places his now empty cup on a platter of a nearby servant.

“I’ve been good too.” A small talk begins between the two of you before you are both interrupted by another boy.

“You should really smile y/n, you look like you’d rather die than to be here.” You turn around to the voice only to see Lee Heeseung, another close friend of yours and Jay “Hey Jay.” He says to his cousin before they do their little handshake.

“Shut up Hee, you know how much I hate being in these parties.” The named boy lets out a small chuckle before he pats your shoulder in a teasing manner.

Slowly, as the three of you quietly talk in your own little circle, more and more teenagers joined you- some boys named Sunoo, Jungwon, and Riki along with a girl named Ryujin.

The topics the seven of you talked about flew around everywhere, quickly changing as a person talked about something else that interested the rest of the six. Suddenly, a loud sound came out of nowhere as a rainstorm slowly brewed outside the window. Everyone inside the beautifully decorated ballroom paid no attention to the weather outside as they continued to dance and chat inside the dry, brightly lit golden room.

You stared outside into the rain a little longer than everyone else, your mind wandering off to the boy named Sunghoon. You wondered if he was thinking about you right now- if he wanted to meet you again.

Feeling a light tug on your dress, you look away from the world outside to Ryujin who was looking at someone in the crowd. She inches a little closer to you before bringing her mouth near your ear.

“Someone’s been staring at you for a while now,” she pauses, looking back to the crowd again. “I don’t know if you know him or something, but he doesn’t seem to hold any hostility to you from what I see.” Her eyes searched the crowd before quickly pointing to the two boys that were talking near the wall opposite to your group.

You recognized the boy in the navy blue suit right away- it was Jake Shim, a distant cousin of Jay. The two of you never talked much but the two of you still considered each other friends. You squint a little at the second boy who's back faced you, the boy wore a white suit and he had black hair that was slightly slicked back.

Your eyes widened as the two of you made eye contact, and you suddenly felt as if everyone else in the room had disappeared leaving only you and Sunghoon in the room. Sunghoon’s face matches yours as his eyes widen slightly and his mouth opens to let out a small gasp of surprise.

You were so caught up in surprise at the sight of Sunghoon that you didn’t notice Jake waving excitedly at his cousin and had begun dragging Sunghoon to your group. You snap out of your surprise as Jake waves his hand in front of your face in excitement before saying his greetings.

“Hey y/n! It’s nice to see you again!” He smiled at you and you were flustered at his puppy-like personality. He points to Sunghoon as he begins introducing the two of you. “This is Park Sunghoon, he’s my best friend in high society! If I remembered correctly, you skate right? Sunghoon here also skates a lot, maybe you guys can be friends or something!” You stared at Sunghoon for a few seconds before you tore your eyes from him to look at Jake who seemed like an excited puppy waiting for your compliments.

“Hi Sunghoon, it’s nice to meet you.” You gave Sunghoon a tight lipped smile- one that never reached your eyes.

“Hello, y/n. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He also smiles, but it was one that looked forced- unlike all of the ones you’ve seen on his lips when you talked at the bus station. Jake leaves the two of you to greet his cousin and the rest of your friends. The two of you were quiet, not knowing what to say to each other in a situation like this.

“So-“

“How-“

The two of you pause for a second before laughter bloomed between the two of you, finding his situation familiar. Sunghoon gestures to you to go first as the laughter begins to quiet down.

“So...how have you been?” You asked him quietly as the atmosphere around the two of you began to feel awkward once again. It’s been over a week since you’ve seen Sunghoon and seeing him here was surprising as you didn’t expect to see him again.

“I’ve been good,” he sighed, “I didn’t really want to come but now I’m glad I did since I got to see you.” He smiles again- this time, it was genuine and his big eyes turned into little crescents. Out of nowhere, he suddenly grabs your hand before he drags you to a balcony door, he pushes you inside and closes the door when he gets inside himself.

The balconie was quite spacious and it had a roof so the rain didn’t get to the two of you. The two of you stand next to each other in silence as the rain once again accompanied the two of you, silently helping the two of you get comfortable with it’s sounds of raindrops falling to the ground.

“You look beautiful today.” Sunghoon breaks the silence between the two of you as he stared into the rain, thanking god in his head that it was already dark outside so that you couldn’t see the deep blush that was painted on his face.

Under the dim light the moon provides the two of you with, you finally took your time to study Sunghoon. Today, he was wearing a white silk suit, his silky black hair was slick back and his plump lips looked as if they were painted with a slight red tint- making his face look even more attractive (if that was even possible).

“Thank you,” you were glad that your maids had used foundation on your face today to cover up the nasty mark your mother had given to you otherwise, Sunghoon would definitely see the red blush that crept onto your cheeks. “You look handsome today too,” You giggled as you looked down at your own outfit. “We match.”

He looks at your outfit, staring at you with his big eyes before he looks down on his own clothes.

“We are,” he laughs as he looks back up at you. “What a coincidence.” Silence befalls the two of you once again and the rainstorm starts to slow down as you stare at each other in silence. It felt as if there were only the two of you left on the balcony and you wanted the time to stop right at this moment. You both stared at each other in silence, forgetting about everyone that was in the room behind the closed door. Just as you were about to open your mouth to talk to him, the balcony door suddenly busted open, and there stood your mother- her face was red in you didn’t know if it was embarrassment or anger and her biggest rival, Park Jaehwan standing right behind her, staring at the boy next to you in disappointment.

“What are you doing with that boy y/n.” She states rather than ask, “get over here. Now.” You don’t move, wondering why she was so angry at the moment.

Instead of waiting for you to move, your mother walks over to you instead and wraps her hand around your forearm, her grip was tight and her nails dogged into your skin. The man behind her calmly walks to Sunghoon before he pats him on the shoulders.

“Dad.” You turn your head in surprise and your eyes grow big.

Dad?

Sunghoon is Park Jaehwan’s son?

“What were you doing with Min Soonyeon’s daughter here?” He questions Sunghoon as he burns holes onto your skin with his stares.

“We were just…” He makes eye contact with you and you can see the gears in his head turning to come up with a lie.

“We-“

“We were just getting to know each other.” You cut through what Sunghoon was about to say and the older man glares at you while your mother’s grip on your hand tightens around your arm.

“I did not ask you girl, I asked my son here.” He tells you, his tone hostile and he turns his glare from you to your mother then back to you again. “Don’t answer what was not asked of you, it’s basic manners- but I don’t blame you, being the daughter of Soonyeon it was expected you won’t know such a thing.”

Your mother scoffs as she pulls on your arm and hides your body with hers before she glares at the older man.

“I don’t think you should say that Jaehwan, seeing that your son couldn’t even answer a simple question.” Your mother glances at Sunghoon who was silently just staring at you before she turned her eyes back onto Jaehwan. “I can see that he got that from you Jaehwan. I must say however, he’s definitely a better man than you- at least he isn’t cocky over the stupidest things like you.” She hisses before she turns on her heels, dragging you by your arm to the balcony door.

“Let’s go y/n, we don’t want to continue to talk to these unruly men.” You look back just as you cross the door to see Sunghoon staring at you with sad eyes and he mouths a small ‘sorry’ to you.

“It’s alright, I’m sorry about my mother.” You mouthed to him just before he disappears from your line of sight as your mother drags you out the front lobby and into your car.

You can tell that your mother was filled to the brim with anger and you chose to shut your mouth in order to not anger her more. A small ‘ding’ comes from your phone and you bring it up to your face to check.

Sunghoon 🐧: I’m so sorry about that y/n. What my dad said to you was rude and I’m sorry you had to hear that.

You smile at the name. You bring your hand up to your phone as you begin to type your reply.

You: It’s really nothing Sunghoon, trust me, I’ve heard worse. I’m sorry about my mother, she really doesn’t have a filter for anyone. I hope you weren’t offended by that.

Sunghoon 🐧: It’s fine y/n. Really 😄 You looked really beautiful tonight y/n, I don’t remember if I’ve told you that and even if I did, I’ll say it again- you looked amazing tonight. It was great talking to you tonight, I had fun. 😁 I have to go now, but it was really nice seeing you tonight.

You: Thank you Sunghoon, you looked handsome as well, I almost thought you were a prince from a fairytale 😉 But it was great talking to you again, I really didn’t expect to see you at the party but I’m glad I did. Goodnight Sunghoon, sweet dreams.

You closed your phone as you stared outside to the passing buildings, watching as the rain finally stops . Your head spinning with joy and your face flushed with bright red, and a huge smile decorated your face.

What you didn’t know however was that Sunghoon on the other side of the phone was just like you- his face was red and a smile decorated his face as he talked with your friends who were still at the party, the image of you smiling in the dress you wore never leaving his mind.

And so, when the rain stopped, the two lovestruck teenagers parted ways.

It’s been weeks since you’ve seen Sunghoon at the party, and since then the both of you have been texting non-stop over the phone. Every little thing in your everyday life was shared with Sunghoon- how your lunch had tasted that day, or how a boy spilt some coffee on you by accident, and even you helping a elderly lady across the streets, Sunghoon listened on and on- never cutting you off. He just listens quietly to you as you happily tell him everything, smiling as he realizes how happy you were that day, or he would have a frown stretched on his face in worry as he listens to you.

Sunghoon was a simple man.

He never said much even when the two of you got closer together. He never shared much about his life like you did. He always just smiled and said a simple “It was alright” when you’d ask him about his day, or he would shake his head in denial when you’d ask him if there was something bothering him. Soon you had realized that that was just how Sunghoon is- simple, quiet.

A silent promise was made between the two of you when you had met for the fifth time under the same bus stop you and him met nearly half a year ago. It was raining- again, that day when the two of you saw each other after texting for so long without seeing each other.

It was just like the first time you met him- he was soaked from head to toe in rainwater and you just so happened to have a spare hoodie inside your backpack. It was like meeting him for the first time all over again, but this time, a new feeling bloomed inside both of your young hearts- burning with heavy passion and love. It was so painfully obvious to the both of you what that feeling was- love.

From that day on, you both would always find yourself going to the bus station whenever it rained- it didn’t matter if you guys were doing anything, you just knew that you wanted to see each other again.

So you go. To the same damn place that you both loved so much.

And he would always be there. Every. Single. Time. And so would you. The rainstorm never stopped either of you from going with it’s rain water, it never mattered if you were soaked in rain or that you’d get sick the next day- all you cared for at that exact moment was Sunghoon.

The boy you fell in love with.

The quiet, gentle, and loving boy that you meet on this one rainy day by chance.

Every time it rained, the two of you would talk hours on hours about anything and everything. He would hold your hand in his larger, warmer ones, rubbing his long, thin fingers across the back of your hand in a soft, loving manner and you would lay your head on his shoulders- taking in his soft citrus scent that you grew to love so much that you searched through the entire city of Seoul to find one that only came close to the one he used.

It always felt as if the two of you were the only ones in the world when the rain fell. You felt euphoric when you would hug inside your small world under the roof of the bus stop, and he would tell you how much he loved you.

It might have been fast to other people, but to the two of you- it felt as if it was natural. The love you had for each other felt so strong, so obvious that even without words, passerbys could tell how much the two of you loved each other.

But every time when the rain stopped, the two of you parted ways. As if everything was normal, as if you never knew him more than Park Sunghoon, the son of Park Jaehwan’s son, your biggest competitor in the ice skating world, and the son of your mother’s biggest rival- as if you never spilled “I love you''s to each other.

When the rain stops, so does your heart. It stops beating for anything else in the world and when the rain falls, your heart beats again- in a fast, rapid pace that you’ve never felt before unless you were with Sunghoon.

The rain was your safe haven- for it always meant you could meet Sunghoon again. That you can run without care in the world right into the safety of his arms, and that you could stay there until the rain stops again.

It was clear to you at this point that there was no pulling back. You were in love with the rain as well as the boy in front of you- Park Sunghoon- and there was no way you could ever stop.

Your head twists to the side as a loud slap echoed around the house you never called home. The bright, glowing red mark on your cheek stinging as you see your mother glaring at you with hatred in the corner of your eyes. You notice your dad just sitting on the couch reading his newspaper as if the scene happening in front of him didn’t;t happen at all.

“HOW DARE YOU!” Your mother screamed at you while holding your phone in her hands, your texts with Sunghoon over the years clear to everyone who walks by. “YOU’VE BEEN TALKING TO PARK JAEHWAN'S SON FOR NEARLY A YEAR BEHIND OUR BACKS?!” She screams again, her hand raised and flies down to meet your cheeks with a hard slap, turning your head to the other side.

You don’t dare look at her, too afraid to see what she looked like right now. Your mother had found out about you texting with Sunghoon when she had looked over your shoulder when you were texting him and now here she is- your phone in her death grip and she stared at you with pure hatred in her eyes.

All of the workers in the house silently watched as your mother screamed at you, too afraid of what she might do to them if they spoke up.

You tune out all of the remarks your mother was making at you and you dip your head down, staring at the pair of sneakers Sunghoon bought for you when he saw your soaked shoes one day. Since then, the both of you always exchanged little gifts with each other. And soon enough, the two of you confirmed your feelings with each other.

Although neither of you ever vocally confirmed but it was as clear as the day that you were in love and in a relationship- with all the sweet, flirty talks (that you never knew he could say) from him and all of the actions from you, the two of you made a perfect couple in other’s eyes.

But when your mother found out, she was furious- no. The word furious couldn’t even compare to what she is right now. Her face was red in anger and you could practically see smoke coming out of her nose and ears. Her eyes glared at you as if you were never her daughter and her teeth grinder against each other so hard that you were (slightly, but not really) worried that they might fall out.

“SPEAK! YOU ARE NOT DEAF NOR ARE YOU MUTE. TALK! WHY WERE YOU TALKING TO PARK SUNGHOON?”

You didn’t answer. Knowing you’ll only get even more scolding.

Another slap was delivered to your face when you didn’t answer. This time, the slap was so hard against your head, you could feel your ears ring and your vision turned a bit blurry.

Your father must have seen you look hazy as he finally stood up from his seat on the couch and stopped your mother from slapping you again.

“Stop it now Soonyeon. That’s enough. Y/n go to your room, now. You’re not going to get any food for tonight as a punishment, and if I find any of you giving y/n food,” he pointed towards the maids, “then you will also serve a punishment.” Your father looked at you one more time as you stared at the floor, his stares burning into your skull.

He sighs, “I’m very disappointed in you y/n.” Crack. “Why can’t you just listen to us once and behave?” Crack. “Just…get out of my sight and go to your room. You need to reflect on what you’ve done.” Crack. “And you won’t be getting your phone back until you realize that you need to break up with that…that boy.” And just like that, your father breaks your heart and leaves with your mother towards his office, leaving you alone in the living room.

All of the workers that were just watching rushes up to you to check up and help you. Asking you left and right about how you were feeling, if you needed ice or face cream for your cheeks. You ignore all of them and head right into your room, closing your door loudly, surprising everyone who was in the house.

Tears formed in your eyes as you thought about what your father said. About how he was disappointed in you and that you never behaved the way they wanted you to- even though all you ever did growing up was doing everything they ask (or rather ordered) you to do, wishing for nothing more than a single compliment from them or maybe a single hug from them.

But as you began to grow up, you realized how those things that was normal to everyone else were something impossible for you to get. Your parents only ever cared about their business and their status. Never did they really care about you or your happiness. If they really did, then they would have noticed how happy you sounded when you were texting Sunghoon, or how you were getting happier day by day when you were with Sunghoon- but ah, of course they didn’t. They don’t even care anyways.

Grabbing your old phone from your bedside cabinet, you text Sunghoon with your old number (which he saved for emergencies like these!).

You: Hey Sunghoon, let’s meet up later tonight.

Sunghoonie💞: sure, but are you okay? Why are you texting like that? Is something bothering you?

You smile, feeling giddy to know that Sunghoon could notice these little things about you, but your smile drops as you realize what you needed to tell him later.

You: Um, yeah. I need to tell you something, and I’d rather tell you in person…

Sunghoonie💞: Of course, anything for you. Same place at same time?

You: yeah, like always.

Sunghoonie💞: alright, remember to bring an umbrella tonight, the forecast said it might rain tonight. I love you ❤️

Your heart skips a beat.

You: Thanks Hoonie, you too. I love you too ❤️

You put down your phone and you let out a big sigh. Why did the world hate you so much?

You wait in the bus stop with two cups of hot coffee in your hands.

And somehow, although it was in the middle of winter right now, it was still raining.

You sit under the dimly lit bus station as you wait for Sunghoon to show up. The sky was dark, and the streets were empty and silent. You watched silently as the raindrops fell to the ground in front of you, as you waited, and waited, and waited…but he didn't show up.

It’s been hours since the promised time, and yet he hasn’t shown up. You put down the now cold cups of coffee to check your phone to see if you had missed a message from him or something- but there was nothing. He hasn’t even read your latest message that was sent two hours ago.

Feeling discouraged and cold, you throw the two cold cups of coffee in the nearest trash can as an ambulance speed passes you, in a rush to get to the hospital as fast as they could. Somehow, your heart felt heavy at that moment, as if it was telling you- warning you about something, but you ignored it and started to make your way home.

The rain never stopped. It didn’t stop when you sneaked out the door of your house, it didn’t stop when you got to the station, and it didn’t stop when you were waiting- fuck, it’s still raining now as you walked back home under the same umbrella Sunghoon carried that one day you guys met. The same one that was black and white, the same one that Sunghoon hid behind his backpack when he met you for the third time under the same bus station you were just at.

As you walked your mind kept going over all of the possibilities of why Sunghoon didn’t come. Maybe he was caught by his parents? Or maybe he had something to do last minute?

You walked slowly through the dimly lit streets, your head in the clouds but you never noticed the two shadows that were slowly creeping up behind you.

Before you could even scream, your mouth was covered by a large dirty hand and before you could even process what was happening, you were dragged into a dark alleyway, leaving your (or Sunghoon’s) umbrella on the ground.

“Give us everything on you. Right now.” A hoarse voice calls out beside you and a cold, sharp object pricks your side. Tears rush to your eyes as you begin to shake- terrified for your life, but you don’t move, cold rain drops making your clothes and hair wet.

“I said give me everything on you right. Now!” The man in front of you whisper-yelled, afraid of waking up the neighborhood if he was too loud.

You don’t move, still frozen in fear but a quick, hard slap to your face snaps you out of it.

I don’t wanna die.

You think to yourself.

I still have so many things I want to do. I don’t wanna die.

With a shaky hand, you begin to remove all of the jewelry on you- the earrings you got from your parents when you reached adulthood and the ring you had gotten from your grandmother. You remove your purse from your shoulder before you handed everything to the two thieves.

“Please-please just let me go now, I pro-promise I won’t tell anyone!” Your words shuddered over one another and your voice was shaky, anyone could tell that you were absolutely terrified right now, but the two don’t move.

“We want that too.” The man beside you tells you and he reaches out to touch the necklace on your neck. You shrink yourself away from him, terrified of what he was going to do.

“No! You-you can’t take this! Anything but this!” You yelled at them before they slapped you again making you quickly slap your mouth.

“Shut up you bitch! Do you want to die? Now give us that necklace!” The man in front of you yells while he tries to take the necklace of you himself.

“No!” You try to get away from the man’s hold.

The necklace was something you can not ever give away. It was the first ever gift you had received from Sunghoon, and you didn’t want to ever give it to the filthy criminals that were in front of you.

“Ugh, you bitch! Just give it to us and we’ll leave you alone!” The man beside you tells you as he also joins in the small fight between the man and you for your necklace.

A sudden strike of pain hits you on the side and everything stops.

Slowly, you lose the energy to stand up on your own and you drop down to the floor, a warm, wet substance soaking the back of your shirt, the salty drops of rain hitting your face directly. The two men quickly run away, grabbing all the stuff that you had previously given them when they hear a man shout at the beginning of the alleyway., but not bothering to take your necklace anymore.

Everything felt hazy now, and you couldn’t see anything with your vision bury and black spots filling your vision. You could hear a muffled voice of a man calling for help from you don’t know who, but you could feel your body getting lighter and lighter. The calming sensation of laying on the ground and the cold rain hitting your warm body takes over, and you close your eyes.

Am I dying?

Who are you kidding, of course you were. There was no way you weren’t. A stinging pain was pounding against your left side where one of the men had a knife against you, and it doesn't take a genius to know what happened- even if you were starting to feel more and more sleepy.

Knowing yourself that you’ve already bled too much and that there was no saving you anymore, you let your mind rest and just think about all of the happy things you’ve been through in life- but there were no signs of your parents.

Instead, all you could see when you closed your eyes was the face of your lover. The very man that your parents wanted you to stay away from- the very man you were going to break up with tonight. The man you loved with your whole heart- Park Sunghoon.

His smile, his laugh, all of his small habits, all of the time the two of you skated together, and all of the time you talked under the bus station flew through your mind like a record. All of the happy memories in your too short of a lifetime plays in the matter of a few minutes inside your head, and you do nothing else other than smile when you feel hands over your body, placing you on a soft bed and into an ambulance.

I love you.

You think as tears slowly seeps through the corner of your eyes.

I love you Sunghoon.

His face shows up inside your head again.

Thank you for loving me.

Your hand drops.

And the rain stopped.

Your parents run into the emergency room frantically, both of their hearts heavy with both guilt and worry.

“How is she Doctor?! She’s okay right?” Your mother asks ina. Hurry, not even caring about her image anymore, tears gathered in her eyes as she held onto your father’s arms for support. Your father’s face was void of any emotions but his eyes betrayed him with them over spilling with worry.

Your doctor shakes his head.

“I’m so sorry but the patient had already died when she was on her way to the hospital. I couldn’t do anything for her any more. I’m sorry for your loss. Y/n l/n, time of death; December 8th, 00:13am.” He explains before bowing his head and leaving.

Your mother breaks down in tears as she drops down to the floor, guilt filling her entire body.

If only she didn’t yell at you.

If only she didn’t tell you that you were a disappointment.

If only she didn’t tell you to break up with Sunghoon.

If only she told you she loved you.

Your father stands still as a tear finally runs down one of his eyes. All of the memories of you played over and over again in his mind, from when he first held you in his arms the time when you said your first words, you walking by yourself for the first time, and all of the other things he wished he treasured more when he still had time.

The two of them walked out the door to the emergency room as your body was rolled out with a white blanket on your face by the nurses. Your mother cried even more seeing your body, knowing that everything that happened to you was mostly her fault.

Not far from where your parents stood, another pair of grieving parents were crying over their now dead child.

“This is all your fault!” The woman screamed at her husband. “If you never yelled at him or tried to control him he would’ve never been there!”

The woman breaks down again, as her husband looks down in shame, guilt, and sadness. His only child, his only son was now dead because he tried to make him break up with his beloved.

Sunghoon was now dead because of him.

If only he didn’t yell Sunghoon earlier, then he wouldn’t have tried to meet up with y/n. If he didn’t try to meet with y/n, then he never would’ve died.

Then he would never have been hit by a car.

Maybe it was all because of the two family’s selfishness that led to their only child’s death or perhaps this is just how their story was about to end.

The boy who tried to get to the girl he loved in order to satisfy his father by breaking her heart and the girl who tried to meet with the boy she loved to break his heart. In order to be the good girl her family wanted her to be.

Perhaps it was fate that they both died trying to meet, or maybe they were just never meant to be together and the stars decided to punish them.

How ironic was it that they had both got into an accident near each other, and died on their birthday at the same time?

How ironic that it was their love that led to their own deaths?

How ironic was it, that when the two died, the rain finally stopped?

Mayhaps this was their fate, to fall in love and die. Or maybe, this was all just some kind of sick joke that god played.

Either way, when the rain stopped, two young lovers parted ways. Even death itself could not keep them away.

Hopefully, through their deaths they can finally find their own happiness.

When the rain stops, two lovers parted ways, both of them on their way to meet each other once again at the gates of heaven.

#kdiner #fkp-net #lsn.works #kpc.creators #knet-bakery #Sunghoon #Park SUnghoon #Enhypen #en-#en- sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen angst #en- angst #sunghoon angst #park sunghoon angst #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x fem! reader

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urfictional · 3 years ago

Text

𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐜𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 – 𝐤𝐚𝐳 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐤𝐤𝐞𝐫

pairing: kaz brekker x fem!reader

summary: there's a new face in ketterdam and kaz will be forced to strike a deal with the devil in order to get what he desires

warnings: blood, blood, and again blood, mentions of torturing, did I mention blood? my bad writing

A/N: I'd like to say that this is my first time writing a fic but then I would be kind of lying because a while ago I started to write a Kaz Brekker fanfiction on Wattpad. BUT. this is my first time writing a short fic, so we'll see how it goes.

also, English is not my first language so bear with the mistakes (I'm sure that there are some)

It’s hard to earn a name for yourself in the Barrel. You essentially start from nothing and then slowly brick by brick you start to grow your empire. You spill sweat and blood to achieve the goal and from then it only takes so little to remain at the top. It’s simple. One just needs to show the power that they hold. And Y/N has power.

Kaz Brekker was wondering. Standing in a dark room with fancy furniture, his Crows, Inej and Jesper, behind him. He was wondering from where she came from. The girl, approximately his age. Just a few months ago, the Barrel practically swarmed with rumors about a girl that Ketterdam hadn’t seen yet. No one knows from where she came from, or who she is. If Kaz has to think, he even doesn’t know her name.

She has many names but none of them is her real one. At least Kaz thinks that the girl that is sitting in front of him couldn’t possibly be called the Executioner. On the other hand, who knows this is the Barrel. A perfect place for weird people.

“You surprise me Kaz Brekker.” Even her voice sounded mysterious. It was confident, powerful and Kaz caught himself thinking that he could listen to her voice till death finally takes him. “You came to my house, walk through my corridors and now your dirty boots are staining my Persian rug and the only thing that you tell me is that you want to strike a deal that would make us acquaintances.”

Kaz didn’t utter a word. He watched the girl and the girl watched him. Her feet were resting on her desk and she comfortably leaned into the chair. She smirked.

While the Y/H/C haired girl was staring at Kaz, Jesper let his eyes closely inspect the girl. In a weird way, she reminded him of Kaz. Perfectly tailored clothes, black dress shirt, and grey west. Dress pants and heeled boots on her feet that laid crossed at her ankles on the desk’s surface. Her Y/H/C hair made into a tight knot at the back of her head. The only thing missing was leather gloves and cane.

“People who hold power in the Barrel should have acquaintances who do the same.” Kaz would be lying if he said that he wasn’t nervous about this meeting. He has heard stories about this girl, stories that possibly are nasty rumors, yet you never know. This is the Barrel after all.

She let out an amused laugh.

“And you count yourself as one?” She raised her eyebrows, an amused smile present on her face. “An acquaintance who holds power in the Barrel?” Y/N waited for Kaz to say something, to defend his honor yet he stayed quiet. She smirked while standing up. “Congratulations, you just passed the first test.”

Y/N needed to know if Kaz Brekker really is the Dirtyhands, the Bastard of the Barrel. She won’t let the boy know all her secrets and ways how she works if he isn’t half of what Ketterdam claims him to be.

“Though I have to ask.” She stopped millimeters away from him. Y/N could feel the ragged breath of his that made her furrow her eyebrows and tilt her head a little. She looked into his eyes and stepped one step away from him. “If you claim that people who hold power in the Barrel need to, say, familiarize with others. What about Pekka Rollins? Hmm?” She watched how Kaz visibly stiffened upon that name. She smirked. Y/N got what she wanted. “I hope you will pass the next test, for I would be glad to make you an acquaintance.” With that Y/N walked past the trio towards the door. “Follow me.”

From outside, the building seemed to look like any other building on this street. Yet when the group made the turns for what seemed like a thousand times, they realized that the exterior is just an illusion. The Crows followed the girl down the steps and judging by the fact that there were no windows, and the air was a tad humid, they were in a basement.

They walked down a corridor. Kaz noted that there were doors every few meters on the left side. It looked awfully like a prison down here. Y/N walked past one door but then stopped causing the group to halt. She walked back towards the doors she just passed and opened the latch in the door. A small window with bars allowed to see inside the room yet the group couldn’t see anything from the position where they were standing.

They could hear a chain rattling and groaning which forced Kaz to think that there was someone in there.

“Well, have you changed your mind?” Her tone was demanding. Kaz observed her side profile. Sharp eyes and clenched jaw, he wondered if this is how he looked when he demanded something and didn’t accept no for an answer. The group heard more chain rattling and louder groan that sounded awfully like no with a couple of colorful words that were no doubt directed towards the girl. Y/N smirked. “As you wish.”

She went to close the latch when she glanced at the group on her left. Then without closing it moved forward along the corridor. Y/N purposely left the window open, she wanted Kaz to see with what kind of devil he is making the deal.

While walking past the doors Kaz glanced inside and visibly gulped. A man in his late thirties was hanging by his hands from the ceiling, his feet barely touching the ground. He was bleeding from, well, everywhere, and by the looks of it, he has been here for a long time. He was barely alive, and it seemed hasn’t eaten for weeks. Kaz wondered if behind all those doors were hanging men or even women.

“Do they even get food or water?” Inej was troubled by the scene that she saw behind the doors and couldn’t help but to be a tad concerned.

Y/N glanced behind her before turning to face the front again.

“When I remember, they do.” She nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders. They turned a corner and continued to walk along another hallway. The girl turned to throw a smirk towards the Suli girl. “I am a tad forgetful; you know. Can’t always remember all those poor souls that need feeding.”

So, then there were more people down here. Kaz suddenly wondered how many of them were still alive and how many were just hanging dead.

The group reached the end of the corridor. They were met with a man who was undoubtedly guarding the doors. With one nod from the girl in front of them, the guard opened the doors and let them inside.

This room was bigger than the previous cell that they saw. The walls were lined with cabinets that contained things, starting from various kinds of weapons to bottles of different sizes and colorful liquids.

“How’s our guest feeling today?” The Crows turned to where Y/N was standing in front of a man who, much like the previous prisoner, was hanged by his hands from the ceiling. The only difference was that there were also chains on his feet and he was hovering above the ground. Kaz observed the room and noticed three men standing on the sides. More guards. “Did the acid did its work?”

The Y/H/C-haired girl walked towards the table on her left. She was slowly unrolling the sleeves of her shirt up to her elbows. After she was done Y/N picked up a bottle inspecting it.

“The man at the market said that it's pretty effective.” Only now Kaz noticed the burn marks on the prisoner’s body. One of the guards stepped forward.

“He didn’t utter a word.”

Y/N tsked while shaking her head in disappointment. She then turned to the hanging man.

“This is not how we work, darling, you know that.” The mock concern in the girl’s voice caused Kaz to shiver slightly. “Such a pretty face ruined for nothing. I can give you one more chance.”

The prisoner raised his head and looked at the girl in front of him. Y/N could easily live without the information that this man could give her but then it wouldn’t be interesting anymore. Any kind of information even the smallest one about the people of Ketterdam could turn out to be useful. You just need to find the right way, the right place and time.

“I am bound by an oath, I won’t tell you anything. Even if I’ll have-”

“-have to die, yeah, yeah don’t I know it.” Y/n interrupted the man by rolling her eyes. “You’re pathetic.”

The Crows braced themselves after what came next. The hanging man mustered all the strength that was in him and spit the blood that was in his mouth right into her face. The guards launched forwards, but Y/N raised her hand halting them in their steps.

Kaz watched how the girl was trying to calm her breathing the muscles of her back stiffened. He admired the control that this girl possessed. Not many people that Kaz knew would have such a perfect grip of themselves. Hell, even Kaz himself sometimes dropped the controlled behavior behind and acted a little reckless.

Y/N slowly turned around and the group of three could see the specks of blood on her face mixed with spit.

“Alright, if this is how you want to play. Let’s play.” She pulled out a cloth from her vest pocket and walked to her left where a small mirror was hanged on the wall.

When she was done cleaning her face, she walked back to stand in front of the prisoner. One of the guards walked beside her and handed something that reminded Kaz of a sheathed sword. Y/n took the handle and pulled out a long shiny sword. It was very long, it even was longer than Jesper’s arm. It looked heavy but she held it like it was light as a feather.

“I have always admired the old weapons.” She turned to face the Crows. “All those revolvers, pistols, and bombs, they are boring.” The girl extended her arm and pointed her sword at Kaz while smirking. “There is something about swords and weapons that have sharp and pointy things that excite me.” She glanced at the Suli girl on Kaz’s right. “Wouldn’t you agree with me?”

Inej couldn’t get anything past her lips, so she opted with just a nod.

Y/N lowered the sword and Kaz dared to breathe again. He didn’t even notice that he was holding his breath.

“There is nothing more exciting than feeling the sword digging in the flesh. Feeling the muscles breaking when you turn the sword-” She suddenly looked up at the group and offered a half-embarrassed smile. “Sorry.”

Then the smile disappeared, and she turned to walk closer to the hanged man.

“Let’s play a game. Heads or tails, Kaz Brekker?” Kaz looked up startled and watched how the girl turned to face him, any sign of the embarrassed smile long gone. Two steely eyes were staring into his soul waiting for his answer. “Heads or tails?”

“Tails.”

Kaz knew that it was something to do with the way how the girl is going to kill the man. There was no point in trying to get away from that. The man is going to die anyway. With or without Kaz’s answer.

“Tails.” She smirked while turning to the hanged man. “This is your lucky day. You’ll be able to see me perfectly in the last seconds of your life.” Then she turned to face the Crows once more. “I have many names, yet only one of them is true. I am an Executioner.”

Kaz watched how she turned her head and raised her sword. With one swing sideways, the sword cut through the hanged man detaching the top half from the bottom separating him just above the waist. Kaz could hear Jesper cursing from his left and Inej taking in a sharp breath from his right. But Kaz did not let his eyes wander from the girl whose arm was still extended with the sword. The blood dripping from the weapon and the top half of the dead man.

“This part is my favorite.” Y/N lowered the sword and grasped the hilt in both hands, she supported the tip of the sword against the ground like a cane. Now the only thing missing is leather gloves. Jesper thought while watching the girl who yet again looked exactly like Kaz. “His brain hasn’t fully comprehended the pain and the fact that half of him is missing. Last seconds before he dies, he sees my face and wishes he had done otherwise.” Kaz couldn’t see her face, but he imagined a contented smile resting on her face. “The silent art. What could be more beautiful than this?”

Y/N turned around to face the Crows. One of the guards walked closer with the empty sheath. She cleaned the sword before taking the sheath and putting the sword in it. With the sheathed weapon in one hand, Y/N walked closer to the group of three. She stopped before Kaz and squinted her eyes while inspecting him. Satisfied with whatever she saw, the girl smirked.

“Congratulations. You managed to keep everything inside. So did your friends.” She looked from Inej to Jesper then back at Kaz with a cheeky smile. “Some people have the need to display their previous meals. I’m not a fan of those people.” She then pointed at the guards behind her. “Nor are they. Because, well, they are the ones that are cleaning everything.”

Kaz forced himself to not look at the hanging body behind the girl, not a second longer, otherwise, he too will have the need to display the meal he had earlier this day. He was surprised how Jesper managed to hold himself together. Kaz took a mental note to ask him that after they will be done here.

Soon they left the basement and followed the girl back upstairs. They arrived in the room they previously were in. Y/N walked to the cabinet on the left and placed the sheathed sword on a stand. Then she walked to the front of the desk and her hands crossed on her chest leaned against it.

“Well? You still want to make the deal?”

Kaz knew that there is a possibility that he will regret the decision but there was one thing that forced him to not think about this possibility. There was a reason she mentioned Pekka Rollins. And that reason was simple, she wanted him gone just as much as he. If that wouldn’t be the case, she wouldn’t have bothered with all this play. Therefore, Kaz firmly nodded his head forcing a smirk to appear on the girl’s face.

She stood straight and extended her hand, waiting for Kaz to shake it.

For a moment he hesitated, but then slowly extended his hand and felt her fingers wrap around his leather-clad hand.

And so, the devil made deal with the devil.

A/N: aight let me know what you think. ;))

#kaz brekker #six of crows #kazzle dazzle #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows imagines #six of crows imagine #kaz brekker imagines #shadow and bone #jesper fahey #inej ghafa #kaz brekker imagine #shadow and bone x reader #grishaverse #shadow and bone imagines

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wwitbeyondmeasure · 4 years ago

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Summer At The Burrow: r.w. fan fiction

Previous Chapters

Introduction / Author’s Note / Chapter 1: The Journey to the Burrow / Chapter 2: Hidden Letters / Chapter 3: Ron’s Return / Chapter 4: Nighttime Conversations / Chapter 5: A Morning Surprise / Chapter 6: The Quidditch Match / Chapter 7: Girl Talk

Chapter 8: Aphrodite’s Push

Author's Note: hi everyone! thank you so much for being patient with me & my writing!! it means a lot :) also, just so you know, this chapter gets a little bit steamy so if you're not totally comfortable with that, please stop reading now. okay thanks! enjoy <3

Your eyelids barely fluttered shut before you were awoken by a strange pecking sensation on your fingertips. You groggily opened your eyes and were startled to see Dite sitting on your hand, pecking at your fingers in an urgent matter.

"Dite? What is it?" You asked, growing increasingly concerned at her hectic motions. Dite picked up your pinky finger in her beak and pulled it towards the door. She wanted to show you something.

"Okay, okay, I'm coming," you assured her as you released yourself from the tangle of blankets you were sleeping with. Standing up, you stretched lightly, pulling down the tank top you wore to bed as it rose over your belly. Ginny liked to keep her room boiling hot, so you opted for a small tank top and pajama shorts. Your shorts were definitely a few sizes too small, rode up too much, and sometimes showed a little more skin than normally appropriate. However, they were a gag gift from Ginny so you loved wearing them. Despite being super comfy sleeping shorts, they were also decorated front to back with grinning photos of Gildeory Lockhart, with pink little hearts plastered around his head. You still can't believe he sold his own face on merchandise in the form of sleeping shorts.

Ginny and Hermione were still sleeping soundlessly around you, so you carefully and quietly stepped outside of the room so as not to wake them.

When you reached the hallway, Dite fluttered up the stairs to the next story. In your half-asleep state, it was difficult to follow her up the many stairs, bumping your shins against the wood many times before you reached your final destination. Dite stopped and floated in midair right outside Ron's closed bedroom door. Before you could even register her actions, she was beating her beak against the wooden door.

Hurried footsteps sounded behind the door before it swung open to reveal Ron, hair messed up from sleep and wearing only red striped pajama pants. Your cheeks flushed. Did he always sleep half naked? You wished he would have last night when you were with him. Is this normal for friends to think of each other like this? you wondered.

You were snapped out of your mildly inappropriate thoughts when Ron asked, "Y/n? What're you doing here? What time is it?" His voice was thick and raspy from just being woken up and you felt a warmth travel from your heart downwards as you heard his morning voice.

"Um, I dunno. Dite woke me up, she seemed urgent," you explained. Now, as you were more awake, probably from seeing Ron's bare torso and abs and v-line, you came to realize that your reasoning for being at his door so late at night was probably not the best.

Both you and Ron turned your eyes towards Dite. She floated innocently in the air, looking between the two of you expectedly. As a long silence stretched out in the small hallway, she rolled her eyes (you didn't know owls could do that) and flew into Ron's room.

Ron shrugged. "I think she misses Pig," he said as Dite flew into the owl cage and nestled next to Ron's owl. You nodded, although you weren't that easily fooled. Dite was smart, she definitely brought you here for a reason. The black heart on her feathers gleamed up at you from her cage and you knew she was sending you a message. After all, her name was Aphrodite.

"Can I come in?" You asked quickly and abruptly. Ron looked startled by your question, but his surprised expression soon changed to a concealed smile.

"Sure," he said, so quietly it sounded no louder than a breath.

You stepped into his room, taking into account the rumpled bed sheets and messy floor. Ron closed the door behind him and did his best to straighten up.

As he started throwing dirty clothes into a pile in the corner of the room he said, "Sorry. If I knew I would have a visitor I would have cleaned up more."

"I thought you invited me," you said boldly, your playful side coming out. "Isn't your bed always open to me?"

The moonlight shining in through the bedroom windows illuminated Ron's face as he glanced at you. His grin widened and you swore your heart skipped a beat. Standing there, 4 feet apart in the room of the boy you loved, with him smiling at you like that, you swore there was no better view in the world. You palms were sweating and your heart was beating and Ron was suddenly a lot closer than before.

He was now standing chest to chest with you, he was so close you could smell his familiar scent. His bare torso was pressed against yours and your eyes fell from his face to his shoulders and you gazed at the freckles splaying across his broad muscles. Your stomach flipped as you felt a warm hand press into the small of your back.

Breathing seemed nearly impossible as you felt Ron lower his mouth to your ear. Hot breath fanned against your neck as he leaned in so close you felt his lips brush your earlobe ever so slightly. You had never felt so flustered in your entire life.

This was it, you thought. This was the moment he was going to kiss you or tell you everything you wanted to hear. The moment he would lean in, make you his, get close and tell you he loved-

"Nice shorts," he whispered into your ear.

A surprised laugh erupted out of you as Ron broke out in laughter, stepping away from you and reclining onto his bed. Here you were convinced he was going to announce his deepest and truest romantic feelings for you, when in reality he was just joking around. You were beyond embarrassed, so you tried to cover it up with humor before he could sense your disappointment.

As casually as you could with your heart beating a million miles a minute, you leaned against Ron's dresser.

"Thanks," you replied, "I know you're the biggest fan of Lockhart around, so I made sure to wear them for our nighttime visits." Maybe joking about your odd ability to always be together at night when no one else was awake would make up for the fact that you longed to do lots of other things with him when no one else was around.

Ron laughed at your comment, the sound making you feel short of breath and light headed. How did he have such a strong effect on you? Did you have this same effect on him? Merlin, you hoped so because you couldn't stand another minute of pining after him so badly without any reciprocation.

"Not likely," he said, "after all, he is just a giant git who lied and stole peoples stories."

You nodded, the fall of Gilderoy Lockhart at the end of your second year of Hogwarts was one for the storybooks. Ron had made sure to take every chance to boast to you and Hermione and any other woman who was taken by Lockhart's golden hair that, "I knew it all along! He was always a crook!"

"Yeah, that's true," you conceded. "But he's hot."

A mischievous glint flashed in Ron's eyes. A short silence filled the air between you before he replied. His voice was an octave lower when he said, "So is your ass in those shorts."

Your cheeks flamed red. Ron has never, ever, complimented you so directly like that. If any other guy would have made such a forward and direct remark about your body, you would certainly have been annoyed, maybe even disgusted. But not with Ron. When those flirty words left his lips, which were smirking at you from across the room, you felt every inch of your skin heat up.

Ron's eyes were practically undressing you from across the room, roaming over your body in a hungry manner. His intense gaze made you squeeze your thighs together as you tried not to stare at his bare chest that looked so inviting for you to wrap yourself around.

Glancing down, you realized how little skin you had covered in your nighttime attire. A sliver of stomach poked through between your Lockhart shorts and your thin grey tank top. Upon further observance, you remembered that you had forgotten to wear a bra that night. And Ron's room was much, much colder than Ginny's. You were embarrassed to see your entire chest was practically on display through your thin shirt, your nipples very noticeable in the moonlight.

Ron's eyes never left your body but suddenly you felt nervous. You had never had a boyfriend or girlfriend before at Hogwarts so this was all new territory for you. Sure you flirted with a couple people, and they flirted back, but nobody had ever watched you with such intense eyes that Ron had right now.

Suddenly very aware and self conscious of just how much skin you were showing, you wrapped your arms around yourself to cover your chest.

You didn't want to meet Ron's eyes, so you trained your gaze to watch the floor. The only indication you had that he was getting closer to you was the sound of his steps against the carpet as he approached you. You kept your eyes fixed to the ground, and you only looked up when he was standing a foot away from you.

Afraid to meet his gaze right away, you let your eyes scan his body. His pajama pants hung low on his hips, exentuating the prominent muscles that shaped a V along the waistline of his pants. You swallowed hard and tried your best to not think about what that v-line led to. If you kept letting your mind wander to such territories, you weren't sure you could restrain yourself from practically jumping into his lap.

"Y/n, you don't have to do that," He said, his voice low and gruff. Your eyes flickered up to meet his and the intensity of his stare made you feel a little weak in the knees.

"What do you mean?" You asked, your voice high and strained, a clear indicator of how flustered you were.

He took another step closer to you. Now you were sandwiched between his chest and the dresser behind your back. You wondered if he could hear how loud your heart was beating in your chest.

"You don't have to cover up around me, y/n," he said. "Not ever."

Gently, he took your arms in his hands and uncrossed them, to expose your scantily clad chest, letting his fingertips trail down your skin. Goosebumps erupted on the skin his fingers grazed over. His hands reached the end of your arms and he interlaced his fingers and yours.

If your friends thought it was suspicious you were laying in bed together last night, imagine what they would think if they walked in to see him, half naked, pressing you against the dresser while holding your hands. That was surely a sight that would cause a few questions.

At a lost for words, you could only stare at Ron. He was being so confident and sultry, was he always like this? Have you just never noticed? Did he act like this was Lavender Brown?

The thought of his ex girlfriend sent a pain straight through your gut. What was Ron playing at? you wondered. You think he likes you, but then he gets a girlfriend in sixth year. You think he enjoyed spending the night cuddling with you, but then he practically runs out of bed the next morning. You think he might confess his feelings for you, but then he just makes a joke about your shorts. You wondered what kind of switch he was going to flip after this moment.

Ron must have noticed your change in demeanor because his eyes dropped the intense gaze he held with yours as they swept across the rest of your face. His warm hands reached up to cradle your face, and you found yourself leaning your cheek into his open palm. Merlin, you were like putty in his hands.

"How's your head?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. When you were standing this close, he didn't need to talk loud for you to hear him.

It took you a moment to register what he was talking about. Your hand skidded up to feel the bandaid still pressed to the side of your forehead. "It's s'okay," you replied, still feeling way too many emotions at one time.

"It's probably healed by now, you can take the bandaid off," he said. How could he talk to you so casually when you were this close to each other? You could barely string together a coherent sentence.

You nodded and raised your hands to peel off the bandaid, but his calloused fingers stopped you by wrapping around your wrist.

"I can do it, if you want," Ron said. He smiled lightly, "Mum used to always pull the bandaids off for us when we were little. She said it hurts more if you do it yourself."

You smiled back at him, your chest warm as you watched him relive the memories of his childhood, playing in their backyard and getting scraped up and his family being there to patch him back together.

Nodding, you let him grab the bandaid with his fingers and peel it off. Shutting your eyes, the skin stung for a moment, but then the pain subsided. You opened your eyes to see Ron throwing the band aid in the nearby trash can, but still not letting any more distance come between you.

The atmosphere changed as Ron's gaze settled on you again. One of his hands traveled from your cheek to the side of your jaw, trailing along the crook of your neck and stopping at your collarbone. His other hand remained cradling your face, forcing you to not be able to turn away from him.

His eyes flicked from yours down to your bodies pressed firmly against one another and then back up again. His fingertips traced light patterns against your collarbone and you instinctively wrapped your arms around his torso, feeling his bare skin. Your fingers felt every groove, every muscle, and every freckle on his side as you let yourself become drunk on him. Fingers feeling the muscle of his abs, you finally let yourself touch what you had been staring at all day during the Quidditch match. It was as if the air between you and Ron had been sucked away and replaced by only the burning need to feel one another, and memorize every inch and line of each other's skin.

Ron's fingers left the hollow of your collarbone and trailed to the front of your chest. His thumb lightly pressed against your sternum as he dragged his fingers along the valley between your breasts. This was a new sensation, taking your touching from "okay-maybe-friends-do-this-sometimes-I-don't-know" to "this-is-definitely-a-no-friends-territory," and both of you sucked in a breath.

He leaned his head next to yours, his lips reaching your ear once again.

"Tell me if you want me to stop, and I will," he whispered. A tingle spread throughout your entire body.

As he said those words that sent heat right to your very core, his hand trailed from your chest down towards your hips. He felt your waist all the way down to the grooves of your love handles and then settled on your hips. He gripped the sides of your body and you held back a small moan in the back of your throat.

If he stopped, you thought, you were going to absolutely lose your mind.

"Don't stop," you whispered back immediately. Realizing how urgent and needy you sounded, you added, "please," to the end of your demand.

In response, Ron hummed underneath his breath as he continued grazing his hands up and down your sides.

"I saw you dancing today, in the living room," he told you, his voice still husky with his lips pressed against your ear. His hands squeezed your hips once more and started to palm at the backs of your thighs. The material of your shorts was riding up underneath his grip, exposing even more flesh to his hands. "I've thought about doing this all day," he said.

One of his hands broke free and trailed up to your face as he cradled your cheek once more. You leaned into his touch, his thumb accidentally brushing against your lips. Having any part of him that close to your mouth drove you crazy, and before you could think of what you were doing, you lightly kissed the pad of his thumb.

You heard him draw a sharp intake of breath and then press even closer to you. Your back was digging into the handle of the dresser, but you couldn't care less about that right now. Instead, you focused on his thumb which was tracing the lines of your lips. You still weren't looking at each other, you noticed, as his lips remained hovering near your ear. Maybe if you looked at each other during this rare and complicated moment, the feelings would disappear and neither of you would know how to act. This wasn't something friends did.

Ron's thumb traced along your lips again and the hand that wasn't on your face was still caressing your hips and thigh. Deciding to be bold, wanting more, and needing more from him, you progressed past just kissing the tip of his finger. Now, when he pressed his thumb against the middle of your lips, you parted your lips ever so slightly.

His thumb entered your warm mouth, and he shuddered against you. At the same time, his warm hand transitioned from feeling your hips to fully grabbing your ass, kneading at the exposed skin under your small shorts. Your mind was drunk on him, and you were taking risks that you normally wouldn't have even thought existed in the light of day.

You swiped your tongue against his thumb that rested in your mouth, savoring the salty taste of his finger. Ron let loose a small groan, pressing against you once more. Sucking his finger more into your mouth, you massaged his thumb with your tongue. Your breath hitched in your throat when you felt something hard pressing against your upper thigh.

This time, you couldn't help the moan that tumbled ungracefully from your lips. You had never been this turned on in your entire life.

Suddenly, an explosive noise sounded from upstairs.

You and Ron froze. His thumb was still in your mouth, and his hand was still gripping your bum, but neither of you moved.

Another loud explosion followed the previous one, this time accompanied by cheers from Fred and George. As if flicked on by a light switch, the entire Burrow woke up.

You could hear feet stomping and doors slamming open as residents of the house awoke from their slumber. The sounds of Mrs Weasley yelling at her sons for causing such a ruckus hit your ears. Muffled shouting from other family members followed.

Slowly, Ron lifted his head from its spot next to yours and locked eyes with you. There was a deep lust there that you knew your eyes reflected.

"Y/n? Where are you?" You heard a voice, Ginny's you think, call from upstairs.

And with that, you and Ron sprang apart from one another. His hands left your body and you felt cold without him holding you. He took several steps away from you, his eyes not leaving yours until the back of his legs hit his bed.

Your eyes trailed down and you gulped as you saw a large bulge outlined in his pajama pants.

"Y/n!" Ginny called again. If she didn't know where you were, she was going to keep calling. You didn't want to move towards the door. You wanted Ron to say something, or do something, to get you to stay.

All he did was look at you, the lust still there but you noticed something else too. What was that? Your heart dropped as you felt him looking at you with regret. Regret. His gaze broke from yours and you felt hollow inside.

Before you could even fix your mussed up hair, you fled from the room. Your mind jostled with everything that just took place. Your skin was still hot from where his hands had touched you and you could still remember the taste of his thumb in your mouth.

That was the single hottest moment of your entire life, and he didn't say anything to stop you as you ran out of his room. What did that say about how he felt about you? A headache started to form as you let all of these thoughts bombard you.

Your mind was so full of chaos that you ran right into Ginny in the hallway.

"Y/n! Where were you? Fred and George let off another explosion testing products and it woke everyone up. We freaked out when we couldn't find you," she said as she gripped your shoulders.

Her voice barely registered in your brain, you were still too caught up in the moments before in Ron's room.

"Uh, I was, uh, in the bathroom," was all you said.

She probably thought you sounded drugged because everyone else was half asleep, so she assumed you were as well. In reality, you were the furthest thing from it. Ginny nodded, taking your arm and dragging you back up the stairs and into her room. Once there, Ginny and Hermione got under the covers again and soundly fell asleep. You lay down on your makeshift bed of blankets next to them, but you didn't close your eyes.

Your mind wandered back to Ron's room and the events that took place. You hadn't even confessed how you felt about each other, let alone had your first kiss yet, but you already had tasted his skin and let his hands roam over your body. And you had loved every single second of it.

You had no idea how you were going to face Ron tomorrow. How could you act the same around your best friend when he had heard the desperate moan you made? The desperate moan for him?

Pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes, you tried to will sleep to happen. At least when you were asleep, you wouldn't have to worry about tomorrow. But alas, no such luck. So that night you stayed awake, rethinking the entire night with Ron and wishing more than anything that he would barge into the room and kiss you right now. But he didn't.

So you let yourself replay the moments with Ron, just wishing there had been more.

#Ron Weasley #ronald weasley #ronweasley #ron weasley fanfiction #ron weasley fan fiction #ron weasley imagine #ron weasley imagines #ron weasley smut #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter references #harrypotterfanfiction #Harry Potter fan fic #harry potter smut #smut #fanfiction #fan fiction #hp

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maple-writes · 4 years ago

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[Image ID: Banner image reading: The City of Eventide, Chapter 34, Maple-writes. End ID]

This is it! The last chapter! It still feels so strange to think that this really is the last one.

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Each day grew longer than the last and the sun shone a little stronger, burning off morning spring clouds. Dylan made good on his promise to visit unannounced one afternoon. He showed up with a firm knock on the door and a greeting loud enough to wake me the rest of the way up. For hours he lingered in the kitchen, half occupied with putting the finishing touches on the egg salad sandwiches Fallon sent him along with but more occupied with filling me in on everything and anything. Tea in hand I barely spoke as the sun made its way down the sky, casting long shadows across the street outside and dimming the light through the windows all while Dylan replaced the usual quiet of the day. It was nice though, hearing someone else’s voice even if I did end up forgetting details and names in his stories.

The vitamins weren’t so bad aside from remembering to take them, and once I got used to the taste neither were the other supplements the doctor suggested. Even now Ginger stopped by sometimes to check on me and deliver updates on the goings-on back at the college, letting me know I could come see her there anytime. She’d smiled, assuring me that if I ever wanted to return to work with her we’d take it as easy as I needed.

Ember’s attempts to get me out of the house came fewer and farther between, dropping down from every night to maybe once or twice a week. Every time my heart skipped but two nights ago we made it to the 24 hour gas station store. Under the too-bright lights the night vanished outside and I had to remember to take every breath deep enough to keep my head from spinning and there were too many choices and items lining every shelf and fridge and nowhere to hide but Ember kept by my side. She walked me through and let me rest my hand on her forearm, letting some of the warmth and calm seep from her skin through mine.

We bought drinks and the lights and hum of refrigerators disappeared as the door closed behind us. Stepping between shadows cast by vacant gas pumps we didn’t make it much farther than the store that night, but for the first time some of the tension melted under quiet streetlights. Chill air cooled my lungs and settled my head. The two of us talked all the way back home and together in the living room until far too late. She really shouldn’t have been staying up that late with her job interview tomorrow, though she was quick to reminded me it was only in the afternoon.

Her interview went well, and by the end of the week she’d been called back for a second and a week after that they offered her the job as a deckhand on a fishing vessel. From what she told us it sounded hard, and she’d be gone for long stretches during the season, but her excitement was contagious. Striker ordered take out to celebrate and we ended up only going to bed long after the sun had set.

Yawning, I pulled my shirt off, crawled into bed and drew the blanket snug around my shoulders. After all the excitement and celebration I sunk all the way down into the pillows and sheets.

A rattle came from my window, then another and I sat up, squinting in the dark. Grey-blue in the evening dark, a wing flashed into view then a beak tapping at the glass as a seagull fluttered by. Cirrus. It had to be. Otherwise some poor bird was very, very lost.

I hopped out of bed and opened up the window just as he glided back around. He landed on the windowsill in a blur of feathers, tucking his wings neatly to the side and shaking out his tail as he came to a stop. His head tilted left and right, pupils dilating a moment before finding the right focus.

“Hey Cirrus.” I leaned over, resting my elbows against the windowsill. “It is you, right?”

The gull ruffled his feathers, puffing up and laying them flat again in one smooth wave. He raised his beak and stuck out his chest as he watched me sideways. I smiled, warmth spreading from deep in my chest. Of course this was Cirrus. Hard to believe the last time I’d seen him was back at the cabin. How long ago was that now? I’d lost track.

Cirrus turned, webbed feet tapping against the wood of the windowsill in the quiet of the dark. He faced the street, dark and empty, glancing back at me over his grey shoulder. I frowned. Did he want…

“You want me to go with you?”

He gave a quick nod, holding his head sideways to lock me in one of his little eyes. I swallowed and wrung my hands together. How far would he want me to go? What if something happened? I hunched my shoulder, hair falling in front of my face as I stared down at my arms.

“I, I don’t know Cirrus.” How was I supposed to tell him? How was I supposed to tell him I hadn’t gone much further than a few blocks from home on my own since I got back. “I don’t know.”

A weight landed on my shoulder, webbed feet against my skin. Cirrus pushed his beak through my hair to poke at my cheek. He settled down, feathers of his belly soft against my skin. I sighed and turned my neck to see him through the corners of my eyes.

Even if we hadn’t gone far nothing horrible happened whenever I went out with Ember. I held Cirrus’ stare for a moment, watching him blink and turn his head. If something did go wrong Cirrus would have seen it before, right? He didn’t know what Ginger did but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d helped. I could handle this. If I could handle the cemetery in the middle of the day I could handle a walk in the middle of the night.

I sighed again, straightening up slowly to give Cirrus the chance to hop down. “Alright. Let me get dressed first.”

Cirrus waited outside, perched on a nearby streetlight and watching as I finally stepped out into the night. I shut and locked the door as softly as I could behind me, trying to keep the nerves already wrapping around my throat in check. A flurry of feathers made me look up a second before Cirrus landed softly on my shoulder. Webbed feet tapped quiet on my jacket and grey wing-tips tickled my ear as he turned. He stuck his head out a second, caught my eye and flew down the street.

“Hey!”

I took off running after him. My feet fell loud and echoing in the quiet side streets and alleyways, chasing flashes of white feathers under spaced-out streetlights until I staggered to a breathless stop. Hands on my knees and hunched over on the sidewalk, my heart struggled to keep up with my lungs and my legs burned. Shit. How long had it been since I moved this much? Cold air scraped at the back of my throat. I coughed and tried to catch my breath. By the time I looked up Cirrus was gone.

I grit my teeth. “Damn it.”

A seagull’s call pierced through the quiet, shrill and laugh-like. Sounded like he wasn’t too far, towards the waterfront. Of course he’d want me to meet him there. I pulled myself back upright. He’d have to wait though because I wasn’t about to run the whole way there.

I’d almost caught my breath by the time the gentle lapping of the waves caught my ear, soft and rhythmic against the deserted shore. A full moon hung bright over the ocean casting liquid silver over the dark water and the white crests of incoming waves. I slowed as I stepped out onto the beach. Full moon. Cirrus, he hadn’t waited for me here after I’d gone home, had he? Waited and hoped I’d show up for him only to leave disappointed like he had so many times hoping his mother would come around.

He’d understand why I hadn’t come, if he’d waited here for me at all. I bunched my shoulders against the wind and shook the thought from my head, picking my way across the dark beach to the usual place. Tiny creatures, insects, arthropods, they scurried away from my path with every step. Moment by moment the lights of the city faded to a faint glow at my back to give way to blue-dark night.

A figure sat on a washed-up log, turning when I rounded the bend. A woman in an ink-black evening gown that billowed around her ankles when she stood and faced me with a polite smile.

“Well, you’ve sure perked up since I last saw you.” She paused, waiting, but I only squinted in attempts to place where we might have met. “Ah, you don’t recognize me.” She gestured to herself with a black-gloved hand. “Cirrus’ sister. Call me Hadley.”

We had met, hadn’t we. I furrowed my eyebrows and tried to remember back but couldn’t see much more than a blur, a haze of feathers and loud voices that seemed to rumble through the air and into my own lungs.

Hadley though either hadn’t noticed or didn’t mind, catching me with a nod as she settled back down on the log. “Cirrus should be here soon.” She shot me a smirk, raising her head high. “I have been instructing him on how to shift his form but it can be hit or miss. He wanted to see you though, so I agreed to help him out tonight.”

She leaned back resting her hands behind her and facing the shimmering sea. Her head tilted just a moment as I sat beside her. This close she had the same barely contained power Cirrus did, cold and powerful like a harsh wind biting through my clothes. She kept quiet, watching as wave after wave lapped at the rocky shore. Slowly, I ran my hand over the worn bark of the log, tracing over ridges and bits where the wood had torn and weathered away.

“Ah,” Hadley stood, smoothing down her dress in the breeze. “Sounds like he’s done.”

The bushes growing beside the beach rustled, and a moment later Cirrus stuck his head out, one hand covering half his face and casting a sheepish look at Hadley.

She half chuckled to herself with a short glance back at me. “One moment.”

Without waiting for any kind of response, she stepped out of sight behind the foliage and the night dark. She said something, mumbling and chiding but too low for me to make out, Cirrus responding with something indignant and defensive but without any teeth behind his words. I smiled, leaning forward on the log to try and peek around the bushes and shadows. That was Cirrus alright.

The leaves rustled again, branches snapped, and Cirrus swore as he stumbled out onto the beach. He found his balance and shook himself out, looking just like I remembered. Same hair, same eyes… I jumped up from the log and throwing my arms around him. He balked a moment, surprised, before returning the embrace. His clothes were warm and smelled like storm-bearing winds, familiar and new at the same time. I leaned against him, pressing my forehead against his shoulder a moment before standing up again, throat tight.

“Miss me?” Cirrus grinned, already knowing the answer.

I nodded. “Its different, with you gone.” Maybe not quieter now that Ember was around, but different. I swallowed and turned away, a hand to the back of my neck as I glanced out to the ocean. “I don’t know if you were waiting for me here, but I’m sorry if you were.” My voice dragged along. “Things haven’t been easy.”

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t know, I haven’t been around here either. It’s been a whirlwind.” Cirrus huffed and crossed his arms, shaking his head to the dark pebbles.

“Oh come on Cirrus!” Hadley scolded, coming up around behind him and messing up his hair. She snickered as he tried and failed to duck out of the way. “You had a great time. Do you think I missed you flirting with that pretty noble lady?”

Cirrus flustered, uncrossing his arms and stumbling over his tongue. “She started it!” He shook himself out with another huff, crossing his arms tighter than before. “But yeah, alright. It wasn’t all bad.” He watched his sister as she retuned to her perch on the log, a half smile on his face, before turning back to me. “You’re looking better than last time I saw you. At least like you’re not about to get blown over by the wind.” Cirrus paused a moment, just standing, watching me as the breeze slipped silent between us. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with so much colour in your face.

Even at in the dark? I looked away a moment, watching the moon hang bright over the gentle swells. Maybe he had better night vision than I did because Striker had said the same thing.

“I uh,” I faced him again, tucking my hands in my pockets and out of the chill. “I’ve been seeing some doctors since I got back for a while now. I guess it’s working.” The wind picked up again and I hunched my shoulders until Cirrus stepped to my side, blocking out some of the gale. “Ginger was saying the other day she’d be alright with me coming back to the college.”

“You going to do it?”

I shrugged, pushing rounded stones from side to side with the toe of my shoe. “I… I hope so. It’s been a while.” A smile played at my lips. “I kind of miss it actually.

Cirrus snorted. “Bored at home already?”

This time I grinned, full and toothy. “Maybe.”

He rolled his eyes but kept quiet, attention drifting up from me to the lights of the city down the beach. I glanced back over my shoulder to follow his gaze only a moment before focusing back on Cirrus. In the dark he looked just like I remembered, like nothing changed. Like he hadn’t been gone for months now and he’d never returned to life as a dragon. Like Ember hadn’t moved into his bedroom and he was going to be in the kitchen tomorrow morning when I got out of bed.

A deep ache spread sharp through my throat, all the way up to the floor of my mouth and I looked away. He had his own life now. His own life somewhere far away. Somewhere I couldn’t go and find him like I used to. He’d come to see me this time tonight but how long would that last? I swallowed. He wouldn’t forget about me now that what he’d hoped to happen for years and years finally came about, right?

“Do you remember back then when I couldn’t speak my name?” Cirrus spoke low, eyes still drifting over my head to the city. “That day you found me?”

I don’t think I would ever forget, he must have known that but I nodded all the same.

He paused, hesitating before speaking again. “It hurt for a long time. I used to dream of hearing it again, to be who I was again. But then…” Cirrus finally tore his gaze from Eventide. He looked down at me, the faintest of the distant light reflecting in his eyes. “It didn’t feel the same anymore. I’m keeping Cirrus. I just wanted you to know that.”

“Really?” My voice came out smaller than I expected, thinned and brittle. “You don’t miss the other?”

Cirrus shrugged. “I can’t say I don’t, but I don’t know, I couldn’t bring myself to part with this name yet.” He half smiled. “My mother wasn’t exactly thrilled but she’ll get over it.”

From what I’d heard of her, I wasn’t surprised. “You’re still going to come and visit, right?”

“Of course.” Cirrus casted a sidelong glance at his sister still seated on the log and gazing out to sea. “Though it might be a while yet before I get the hang of shape shifting alone.” He paused a moment before turning back to me. “I’ll be around. I’ve got at least a couple more centuries of watching over Eventide’s storms after all.”

That long? I guess it made sense. He was a dragon after all. I smiled but broke halfway by a surprise yawn. What time was it?

A warm hand rested on my shoulder as Cirrus’ laugh drifted over the crashing waves. “Keeping you up?” He grinned down at me as he turned towards the city. “I’ll take you home.”

We walked along the beach towards the soft city lights. At this time of night we had the sidewalks to ourselves, only the occasional car passing by the empty roads. My arm brushed his, contented warmth easing from him to me. I quickly ran out of things to update him on since coming back to Eventide and he took over most of the way home telling me all about his sisters and the trouble they’d get into. Even in the low light I could see how he flushed talking about the woman Hadley had brought up on the beach. I smiled, struggling to keep my eyes open and half leaning against his shoulder as we walked.

He sounded happy.

Sun sinking low in the sky relief pooled in my chest seeing how quiet Eventide College was this time of day. A handful of people milled and wandered around the front stairs, some chatting and laughing in the gold-tinged light. Inside the front lobby soft echoes of conversation drifted through the still air and the little coffee shop sat nearly empty with the last few customers before closing time rolled around.

My footsteps echoed through the empty halls, clicking against the stone stairs spiralling down towards Ginger’s basement. I hadn’t told her I was coming but surely she wouldn’t be unhappy to see me all the way out here.

The air chilled and a familiar presence brushed against my arm. I slowed, letting Cynthia gently press up against my shoulder as her relief and excitement slipped through my skin. A smile spread on my face and I held out a hand. She knew me. She knew how to be gentle, how to contain herself unlike the panicked, desperate spirits who needed my help.

She slid though my palm, passing cold up the veins of my arm all the way up where they joined together in the subclavian. Good to see you again. It’s been a while.

I nodded along, continuing down the stairs as she settled in deeper tucked under my first rib. Been a while was an understatement. I swallowed. Had anyone told her what happened? It must have seemed like I’d just vanished one day, Ginger too. Charlotte filled me in. We were all worried about you for a while there. Glad to see you back on your feet. Thanks.

The stairs opened up to the little underground hallway, my footsteps booming in the quiet. I tucked my hands in my pockets and shifted as Cynthia nestled herself more comfortably towards my chest. Here to see Ginger? I nodded. If she’s here. She is. Saw her come in a few hours ago. Good. Good. Does this mean you’re going to stick around? I turned the last corner, slowing to a shuffle. Had I even considered not coming back here? Even if Ginger had told me I’d never be able to come back here would I really be able to just… Stop?

Even if you change you mind, her grin crossed my face, you should still stop by. You’re the easiest living person to chat with to come through those doors.Really? Faster than hijacking Charlotte’s computer. Fair enough.

I paused in front of Ginger’s office, the door slightly ajar. Cynthia stilled under my skin, cold and fluid. Could you give us a minute? Right. Was good to see you again Asher. She shifted a moment before breathing out through the thin skin at the top of my chest and vanishing somewhere through the walls of the college. Alone I stood another moment in front of the door. I took a deep breath, rested my hand on the door handle and opened it up just enough to poke my head into Ginger’s office.

She looked up from her computer as soon as she saw me. For a moment surprise seemed to flash across her face but in a heartbeat it shifted to a wide, fang-filled smile.

“Asher! Welcome back.”

#the city of eventide #chapter 34 #last chapter #my writing #it's just #wow #i've been working on this since like #late 2018 i think #i'll have to write up a real post to get my thoughts out sometime

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years ago

Text

Under Your Skin

[Wing AU; Tour!verse]

Wing Reference

just a lil “what if” situation :] featuring nurturing Mama Howard!!!!!!

Word count: 3812

TW: Blood, minor body horror

-----------------------------

“Katherine?”

Howard jumped at the sudden call of her name and whirled around, smacking her large, thickly-muscled violet-backed starling wings into the avian behind her. She really didn’t like being snuck up on, and this girl only just appeared to get the memo, seeing as she was spitting out purple-pink feathers that had caught in her mouth. At least she didn’t get her face clawed off; Howard closed her talons to make it seem like she hadn’t been about to do that.

“Oh. Hello, dear. What can I do for you?”

Joan was an awfully strange little thing. Unlike basically everyone else in the whole world, she lacked wings. But, at the same time, she had the big yellow ears of a Honduran white bat, the white tiny antlers of a Hydra, the orange-red crest feathers of a bee hummingbird, and the fluffy toasted marshmallow brown breast of a barn owl.

She was a Flightless hybrid.

“C-can you, umm...can you help me with something?” Joan asked. Her ears were folded back against her head, signaling her unease, and her short, chewed up claws kept playing with the hem of her shirt until holes were poked in it.

“With what?” Howard asked.

“I don’t know?” Joan admitted sheepishly, “My back has just been hurting a lot lately. I just thought I was sore, but--” She swallowed hard, “--but it’s worse. Bad. Really, really bad.” She rubbed her palms against her thighs, a bead of sweat running down the side of her face. The poor thing looked absolutely humiliated about having to talk about this, as if it were the most lewd, provocative, NSFW thing in the entire world and not just some back pain. “I-I was wondering if you could just take a look for me? I-it’s weird, I know, but I can’t see myself and since you were my queen… I already asked Anne and Jane, and Anne said no and Jane just ignored me and--”

“Take a breath, Joan.” Howard said gently, but Joan still snapped her mouth shut in an instant. “I’ll help you out. Let’s go to the bathroom and take a look, okay?”

“O-okay. Thank you.”

Howard didn’t really know what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t what she saw in the bathroom.

Joan awkwardly took off her shirt so her back could be seen. There, on top of her shoulder blades, were swollen, bright red blemishes. The skin was scarred and split open, bruises painted in blotchy blacks, purples, and blues. Tufts of something were growing out of the gashes.

Howard couldn’t help but gasp and that made Joan tense.

“That doesn’t sound good.” The girl said shakily. “Is it--is it bad?”

Howard didn’t know how to answer. She extended a hand and gently brushed her claws over one of the bumps, but it was still enough to make Joan shriek. The girl staggered and would have cracked her skull open on the sink counter if Howard hadn’t caught her.

“Easy, easy,” Howard murmured, “I’ve got you.”

Joan still went down--the pain must be making her head spin. She couldn’t support her own body. She whimpered and turtles against Howard, who knelt down next to her.

“It hurts,” She choked out.

Howard frowned and held the trembling creature close to her. A moment later, Aragon peeked inside the bathroom, alerted by the scream.

“What’s going o-- Oh my god!” Aragon cut her own question off with an exclamation. She stared at the marks on Joan’s back with wide eyes. The frills behind her ears were flared in shock.

“What the fuck?” Anne yelped. “What is wrong with her?”

“Is she growing wings or something?” Jane said.

Joan just about choked on the air around her. Howard swept one wing around her to hide her bare chest from the others.

“Wh-what?” Joan squeaked, “No. That’s not possible! I-I’m not--”

“That’s incredible,” Cathy said, her eyes wide with wonder. “I HAVE to study this when it happens! Is it now? Your back looks ready to burst. It’s probably now. Or sometime today.”

“Hush.” Aragon rapped her goddaughter with one of her wings. “You’re scaring the poor thing.”

She was. Joan was paler than usual, paler than someone who just witnessed their entire family be murdered. Her big yellow ears were folded back tightly against her head, like they were trying to melt into her skull, and her stubby talons trembled with the tremors in her hands. She looked up at Howard, lips quivering as her mouth opened and closed in disbelief, horror in her gaping grey eyes.

“We need to get you somewhere more comfortable,” Howard said. “If this is happening. The floor of a bathroom is not the most ideal place to suddenly sprout wings.”

“N-no--” Joan refused, but Howard easily hoisted her to her feet. She wobbled instantly, hindered by the pain, and nearly went down again if it weren’t for Howard holding her up. Aragon came over to give support with her own wings, too. “I can’t-- I can’t--” She shook her head frantically.

“I don’t think you have much of a choice,” Aragon said bluntly, stealing another glance at the masses growing out of Joan’s back.

“We can go to our house.” Howard decided. Everyone knew she wouldn’t take no for an answer, so nobody resisted.

The taxi ride to the queen’s apartment felt like it took ages. The entire time, Joan kept squirming in very obvious discomfort, though she did a good job at muffling her whimpers.

She was now sitting on Howard’s bed, staring dazedly at her hands. She only looked up because Howard gently lifted her chin to make eye contact.

“Hey, hey,” Howard murmured when the girl whimpered. “You’ll be okay.”

“Well,” Cathy started from the doorway, “we don’t know. She’s getting wings. I guess they’ll be growing out of her skin. Well, bursting out. Think of it like giving birth! But instead of a baby from the vagina, it’s wings from the back. The pain will probably be similar. Oh, this is so exciting!”

Joan’s face paled, and not just because of the pain she felt. She began to cry in fear while Aragon clobbered Cathy with her wings.

“Th-that’s going to kill me!” Joan sobbed. “I’m going to die!”

“I mean...there’s probably a chance.” Anne said, and she didn’t seem very disappointed by that prospect. Aragon hit her roughly over the head with one wing.

“Hush up!” Aragon snarled, flaring her golden ruff. “You’re making things worse! The poor thing is already terrified as is. We don’t need to put even more images in her head.

Howard looked at Joan, who was shaking even harder. She took one of her hands and stroked the knuckles with her thumb.

“You won’t die, I promise.” Howard told the terrified-looking hybrid. “You’ll be okay.”

Joan doesn’t answer.

Howard frowned at her pitifully, then glanced at the others peeking inside. Having them in the room would probably only overwhelm Joan even more with all their chatter, so she politely asked them to grab a few things and then go away.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Howard cupped one of Joan’s cheeks to make her look at her once everyone was gone, “That’s gonna have to come off.” She nodded at the shirt.

Joan’s cheeks, like last time, burned bright red, but she had to oblige. At least Howard turned away so she could wrangle off the shirt.

If only it was that easy.

Joan accidentally let a scream slip when the fabric caught on the wounds on her back. Tears exploded from her eyes and she hunched over, feeling something warm and sticky run down her back.

“Joan!”

Howard was immediately by her side and she doesn’t know whether to be humiliated or grateful. The queen appeared to be fretting over her before finally touching her shoulder.

“Joan, Joan,” Howard said, trying to get through to the fledgling, “Joan, it’s okay. Your shirt is just caught, that’s all. Alright? Nod to me if you can hear me, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?”

Joan sucked in a sharp breath and nodded. Howard praised her.

“That’s good, sweetie, that’s very good.”

Howard grabbed the hem of the shirt, which was halfway dangling off of Joan’s shivering body. She hesitated.

“I’m going to get this off of you, okay? Just relax for me.”

Skin was now clotted in the fabric, with blood additionally acting as a sort of glue to plaster the shirt in place. Howard searched for a give, but she couldn’t get very far without making Joan spasm. With no other choice, she pulled, and fresh layers of flesh came free as she did so. Joan wailed, pushing against Howard to try and get her away.

“Stop! Stop!! It hurts!" Joan sobbed.

“I know, honey, I know,” Howard said sadly, but the shirt had to go.

Howard finally untangled the tank top and set it aside. Over the course of thirty minutes since the reveal in the theater bathroom, more furrows of feathers and fluffy down have managed to grow out of the scars on Joan’s back. There were also iridescent white scales emerging out from where bits of flesh fell off, plating over the area around her shoulder blades. Just looking at it made Howard’s stomach feel weird and she quickly turned her attention back to Joan, who was starting to hyperventilate.

“Shh, shh,” Howard cooed, holding the girl gently and making sure to avoid touching her sensitive back. She cradled Joan’s head against her chest and rocked her back and forth like a mother hen would do with her crying chick during a thunderstorm. “It’s okay. You’re okay, sweet girl. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Trembling talons gripped tightly to one of Howard’s sleeves and Joan had never seemed so small before. If she could barely handle something getting caught in her wounds, then Howard had no idea how the poor thing was going to get through literal appendages growing out of her back.

The bedroom door creaked open and Aragon peeked in, with Anne, Jane, and Cathy all eagerly looking over her shoulder. He stepped inside and set a bowl of water, antiseptic, a water bottle, and some rags on the nightstand. A frown settled on her feature when she saw the worsened state Joan was in.

“Take care of her,” Aragon said to Howard.

“I will.”

Howard waited a moment after Aragon left, listening for when the footsteps outside in the hallway finally retreated away, then tentatively untangled herself from Joan, who whimpered in resistance. She brushed some hair out of her sweaty face.

“Lay down, sweetie. On your stomach.”

Joan obeyed, too exhausted and in pain to do anything else. She yelped out loud when a warm rag was pressed to one of the bumps on her back. It hurt at first, but then she relaxed as much as one could in her situation. She knew what was coming and that terrified her.

“How’s work going?” Howard suddenly asked while wiping down the girl’s back. She’s trying to distract Joan.

“Huh? Uhh-- Good.” Joan answered. The poor thing’s back muscles were so tensed up. Howard would have given her a massage if it weren’t for the fact that she didn’t know if that would help or hurt her. “I’m now-- I dunno. Ah-- Nevermind.”

Joan was still so nervous, even in her current situation. Always afraid of bothering someone for simply existing.

“No, honey, go on,” Howard said. “Tell me. What are you doing now?”

Joan wrung her claws in the pink pillowcase in front of her head. “Umm-- I’m soap carving. I know that sounds silly, but, umm...it’s really satisfying.”

“Is it?” Howard smiled down at her. At the same time, however, her gaze couldn’t help but drift over to Joan’s back. Even after wiping all the gross pus and blood and other residue off of it, it still looked absolutely awful. More skin had peeled off underneath the rag, revealing more scales underneath. At first she had thought they were red, but then realized that was just blood.

“Uh huh,” Joan nodded, unaware of the horrors marring her upper back. “It’s so nice, Katherine. I really, really like it.”

“I’m glad you found a good hobby for yourself,” Howard said.

Joan went to reply, probably to tell her about all the pretty things she made out of soap she whittled away with her claws, but white hot agony seared up her spine, silencing her. She pressed her face into her pillow, choking on her words. Her fear seemed to come rushing back--or perhaps it never left--and Howard was quick to calm her down by saying nothing was happening yet.

“I can’t do it, Kat,” Joan gasped, barely able to breathe over the unbearable pain she had to have been in. “I can’t. It hurts too much.”

Howard gently thumbed away her tears. She frowned sympathetically. “You have to, honey. I’m sorry.”

Joan laid her head back down, smothering her face against the pillow. Wet blotches from her tears stained the pink fabric, but Howard didn’t really care. As long as she was comfortable, it was okay.

But looking back down at her back, Howard knew the poor little hybrid was anything but comfortable.

She gently touched the plain of ruined flesh, and it was very soft beneath her fingertips. She attempted to feel for any signs of wings, but she couldn’t find anything but inflamed muscles and more scales she accidentally dug up. Maybe it wouldn’t even happen today. Although she couldn’t stand the thought of Joan being in pain any longer than she had to.

Beneath her hand, she felt Joan cough and shudder violently. Discolored feathers bristled further from her shoulder blades, clumping up and getting caught on her frayed skin. Quills were starting to grow out of her flesh, now, not just from the scars. It makes Howard’s own wings feel weird.

Finally, she took notice of Joan's heavy, uneven breathing and was quick to calm her.

“Easy, sweetheart,” Howard murmured, gently stroking the girl’s hair, “Deep breaths, okay? In and out. You’re going to be okay.”

Joan whimpered and shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. She barely even had the strength to lift her head.

“I’m gonna die,” She whispered hoarsely. “I’m gonna d-d-d--”

She coughed, signaling a panic attack. Howard leapt into action instantly.

“Joan. Joan, listen to me, alright? I’m going to ask you a few questions. Do your best to answer.” Howard said. “Can you tell me five things you can see?”

Joan blinked deliriously before realizing what Howard was doing. She swallowed thickly and then went to speak, but no words came out. Frustration momentarily overcame her anxiety and panic. Howard helped her drink from the water bottle Aragon had brought in.

“Window,” Joan forced out through her teeth, and had her canines always been that sharp before? “You. Curtains. Bookshelf. Blankets.”

Howard nodded, grabbing and squeezing one of Joan’s hands.

“That’s right, sweet girl,” She said, “Okay, now what are four things you can feel?”

“Pain.” Joan screwed her eyes shut and had to wait for the next wave of pain to dissolve away. “P-pillow. Your h-hand. Blankets.”

“You’re doing great,” Howard said. “Three things you can hear?”

“Your voice. Heartbeat. Heartbeat. Heartbeat, heartbeat, heartbeat--” Joan trails of dazedly, going dizzy from the pain, trembling harder.

“Breathe, baby, breathe,” Howard reminded her, and Joan snapped out of her trance. “I’m right here. You’re okay.”

Joan nodded shakily and tried to focus on some other sound, but she couldn't.

“I c-can’t hear anything else,” Joan said. “I’m sorry.” Her ears drooped sadly.

Howard squeezed her hand and gently lifted Joan’s chin with the other. She brushed her thumb across the girl’s cheek, making her press into the comforting touch hungrily.

“That’s okay. Let’s move on, alright? What are two things you can smell?”

“Blood.” Joan said quickly. “And your perfume.”

“Very good, sweetheart, that’s very good. Now what’s one thing you can t--”

Howard didn’t get to finish her question, however. Nor would Joan be able to answer.

Joan suddenly whimpered sharply, digging her claws into the blankets.

It was happening.

A thunderous pain seared up the girl’s spine and into the rest of her body. The pain was festering, like a wound that would never close. Her heart throbbed heavily against her ribcage, threatening to break the bones apart and add to her suffering. Her muscles simultaneously pulsated and burned, deepening her anguish. They shifted underneath her skin, disgustingly twisting and bulging the taut, pale flesh.

The swollen areas on her back began to grow outward, skin straining with whatever was underneath. At this point, Joan was shrieking and crying loudly. Her flesh finally broke open from the pressure and folded appendages grew out from her shoulder blades, the sound of muscles tearing and tendons popping and bones resetting accompanying it. A sheen of pink and red fluids glistened upon the limbs.

Joan screamed from the pain and the wings stretched outward, flaring open, and splattered blood in a magnificent ruby arc across the room.

Wings, just like Cathy had expected.

Joan collapsed into the bed, sobbing in pain and gasping for air. Howard snapped out her awestruck trance from what she had just witnessed and lifted the girl’s head into her lap, stroking her hair in a calming way.

“It’s okay, baby girl, it’s okay.” Howard murmured, “It’s over. You did it.”

Joan hiccuped, breathing harshly through her nose, and then blinked blearily. She tried to look over her shoulder, but winced and set her head back down, resuming panting like a tired dog.

“Kat…” Joan moaned weakly.

“Right here, baby,” Howard said to her, taking one of her hands. “Let’s see what we have here, why don’t we?”

Right now, it was impossible to tell what color the little downy wings were, as they were soaked in a coating of blood and other fluids, but Howard swore she could see some blue flecks peeking out. She smiled softly.

“The hard part’s over, honey. I'm just going to clean them now, okay?” Joan tensed a little and Howard was quick to reassure her, "No, no, it won't hurt. I promise. It’ll feel good.”

Joan nodded and allowed Howard to start wiping away the blood and amniotic fluid. True to her word, it didn’t even hurt a little bit.

It did feel good.

Joan sighed softly, the tension slowly rolling away, and leaned against Howard.

Howard wiped in small, soothing circles as she cleared away the splattered mess upon the girl’s sore back, careful not to disturb her as she drifted between the stages of awareness and rest.

The queen was very careful while cleaning the pristine feathers until they were soft and gleaming, straightening them out as she went. As they dried, they fluffed up. Joan, despite being an older teenager and a fledgling, mainly had down at this stage. Howard rubbed her fingers through the portion she’s already completed and Joan cooed softly, leaning into her touch, the little wings fluttering slightly in contentment.

“Do you like that?" She rubbed at the spot once more and smiled when she felt the lightest nod. “Well then, I'll have to do this a bit more, but I need to finish first."

Working her way through the small wings, over every feather, Howard took the time to ensure that nothing was left untouched. And when the gore was finally removed, the sight was breathtaking.

Even though the color was just starting to set in and the true masterpiece wouldn't show until she shed her baby-soft down and grew in the flight feather, Joan’s wings were strangely beautiful. The base was brilliant ebony and silver-brown, with tufts of mixed rich green and iridescent blue, as if emeralds and sapphires had been melted together and then flung all over her wings.

And then she spread the wings to get the insides and saw that there were no feathers. Not a single quill. Instead, there was a plain of smooth white flesh. Just like the bat she took after from her Vesper side.

This little one truly was a hybrid. And what mind-boggling, breathtaking wings she had, indeed.

Joan was completely asleep when Howard finished completely. Howard unfurled her own wings and hooded them around Joan, just like a mother hen would with her own babies. And that’s exactly what she felt like.

A few minutes later, some of the others peeked in.

“Can we come in?” Aragon asked. “I don’t think I can wait any longer. And is she okay?”

Howard chuckled and motioned for them to come inside. “Just stay quiet. She’s sleeping.”

Joan’s wings, what they would look like, had been a mystery since the day she was born. Everyone said she would never get a pair of her own, she would just remain a Flightless-hybrid freak her entire life, and yet here she was. And to see them now was a privilege only few would have firsthand. Who got to see them and when was completely up to the starling guarding the girl as if she were her own chick.

But Howard unfolded her wings away, letting them all see. Sapphire and green, ebony and silver shimmered in the lamplight. She could already see that Aragon was going to brag about this to everyone and anyone, all the time, for any reason.

“Aren't they amazing?" Howard beamed.

“Oh my,” Aragon murmured.

Aragon reached down to pet the wing nearest her, eyes darting up to Howard for such permissions that were needed. Her fellow queen nodded softly as a go ahead, and she ran her fingers through the soft down. She touched gently, so gently.

“They are magnificent." She finally said, smiling when the wing fluttered under her hand. “What a strange little thing she is. Absolutely beautiful.”

Anne and Jane seemed to think otherwise, wrinkling their noses at the way her underwings had no feathers or when they saw the blood spattered all across the wall and ceiling, but were smart enough to keep their mouths shut. They left after a moment, having nothing nice to say, and Cathy soon followed after she was restricted from taking photos for research purposes.

“Oh, look at her scales,” Aragon said. She brushed her fingertips over the ring of sparkling white scales around the base of Joan’s wings. Joan shuddered underneath her touch and Aragon smiled, chuckling softly. “She’s ticklish there. What a cutie.”

“Isn’t she?” Howard grinned. “I’ve never seen something so peculiar, and yet so perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

Aragon spread her wings and enveloped Joan with them, overlapping Howard’s own. They stayed like that for the rest of the evening until Joan woke up, whimpering from aches and bruises from the growing process, and they sprung up, already prepared to tend to their girl.

#wing au #six the musical #uk tour six #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical au #tour katherine howard #tour anne boleyn #tour catherine of aragon #tour jane seymour #tour catherine parr #tour joan on the keys #katherine howard #anne boleyn #momward #mamagon #tw: blood #tw: body horror #under your skin

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prune-life · 4 years ago

Text

Patience, baby (Samuel Drake x Reader) One-shot

Please read the A/N so you won't be confused, thank you!

Tagging: thank you so so much @missdictatorme for wanting to be tagged in this monstrosity of an attempt of a fanfic

Warnings: Nothing, but the reader has a moment (But, Sammy to the rescue! (Yay!))

A/N: Okay, where to begin? lmao I initially wanted this to be a 1920s AU but it got mixed in with a lot of my ideas so, just take it with a grain of that 100 years old, 20s-70s salt. All the flapper slang will be under the fanfic! Also hi hello hi this is my first time writing a Sam fic and I was disappointed when reading this crap, but I do hope you'll enjoy it nevertheless haha. Thank you for reading! (Also, Sully is a bartender, hope you like it!) Also, also, sorry for any grammatical errors!

✧*。 ✧*。

A suggestive tone picked up when you entered the many familiar rooms within the of yore building. It was no grand, simply striding between the many alleys and rat holes which imitated a classic neighbourhood, including the rats within - the people - giving it an excellent vibe of life and long driven days with thrill and fun.

Despite the early-late chatter and noises that eluded out of the nifty house, it never ceased its lively, but overly relaxing atmospheres.

That is, after all, what you came for.

Artie Shaw's clarinet waltzed, his music coming out of a crooky gramophone near the corner of the counter, where stood the man that you’ve been meeting almost the whole week until now, this glamorous week being more than welcoming to the many ideas and opportunities you’ve been met with. Today was, to your own anticipation, hopefully the same day as the others have been.

“Hell-o, darling. When did you get here?” the hair greying man greeted out of nowhere once you stood infront of his wooden counter, a cigar hanging from the side of his mouth, his frame sporting a white button-up, complimented by a typical black vest with - what appeared to be under the everlasting, golden dim of light – an embroidered rose with a story tale red down the sides of his torso.

His grim hands worked themselves on a glimmering piece of glass, which even from your own position, smelled of the nectar called alcohol.

“Just now, all these nights have me feeling like a lonely dud.” You sighed, slumping your shoulders, the black, thick coat which kept you warm throughout all these nights revealing a white fuzz from the inside. You slipped it off to the crook of your elbow and reached the stool you’ve placed yourself yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that. “What about you, Victor? Still have that cuddle-cootie slat biting on your ankles?”

Sully stopped in his tracks, rising an eyebrow at you curiously, before exhaling, a smile tugging on the corners of his smoky lips. He set down the freshly washed and wiped glass infront of you and turned himself around, reaching for the drink of runny rum, which had the nickname of your 'usual'.

“I believe they had a wonderful... Night. Together.” His gruff voice directed towards you, and he tilted the bottle forward. "Elena is quite the catch, Nate's doing well for himself."

You put your palm onto the ring of the cup, giving him a subtle smile, and he halted.

“Not today.”

Sullivan’s arm spread wide and he slightly bowed, turning around, setting the glass up on its mighty spot, “What will it be, then?”

“Just juice will do,” you whispered, looking around the bar, before giving him a twinkling wink, “only for tonight.”

You continued after he popped open a boring bottle of fruit juice, setting it infront of you like it’s the holy essence itself.

“I’d think that Elena would know better than to... Get it on with a forty-niner,” you took a short sip from the bottle, quickly putting it down, “no offense.”

“Don’t say that to me,” he chuckled, “feathers is much obliged, they might've had a couple too many drinks than was planned,” Sullivan sent you an amiable grin, before you turned around and stood on your feet.

“Going to test your skill on billiards?” he questioned from behind you, tapping his finger on the side of the juice jar.

“As if I ever will,” you smiled back at him from behind your naked shoulder, the pearl necklace hugging your neck tight shifting, “I’d much rather keep it calm this time, had a stressful day.”

“Want to talk about it?” Sully offered.

“Nah, I’m alright,” you sighed, but looked forward and began step-stepping away form the busy man.

Victor exclaimed after you through the loud musica, “No hesitation to talk to me, sugar!”

You smiled to yourself.

I know.

✧*。 ✧*。 ✧*。

A tiny tinkle rung above your head, your shoulders immediately getting the breeze of cold air from the closest window, hair bobbing with the silent wind. Music played, this time in a hum, the people around the table eager and keen, some of them hanging by big cushioned seats under a light that shined in the middle of the pool table, as above, so below, a glass visible inside it, staring almost trimmed back at you with it’s shiny reflection.

The place was a brown green aesthetic, with alcohol and cigarettes flaring up your nostrils, wafting through the air like a swarm of bees. The people were lucky there was a window.

“Hey, dude look at you making a spiffy!” an arm swung over your bare shoulders, the warmth creating a sudden, harsh sensation.

“Hey, Chlo,” you snickered at the drunk girl, her ponytail swimming around from behind her neck as always. Her shimmy moving ignited your alert, her stumbling more than foreign to her usual self.

“I’ll tell you what, I’ve seen some keen molls around gin mills- Jesus,” Chloe followed, before Harry stood up infront of the two of you.

“She’s... wasted,” you laughed gently, grabbing her arm and hoisting her arm up yourself, her legs regaining their balance.

Harry nodded in return, crossing his arms over his chest with a soft, inaudible sigh that you only caught by a grumble.

“Bad day?” you asked, pointing to the girl.

“Bad day,” He nodded, “we all have them.” He continued, chuckling, grabbing the girl by her armpits and quickly striding with her to the closest, unoccupied cushion that could work as her own throne.

You shook your head at the girl, eyes trailing around the pool game.

The silent group of people that orbited the room were engaged in touchy-feely kisser conversations, and you felt a sudden feeling of loneliness run over you.

You decided to pack your loneliness out on the club of crickets that played out by the dumpsters from behind the bar's doors.

Together with the unboxing of your halfway empty cigarette box, the everlasting, sickening strawberry scent piled in a round swiftly sticking onto you and your clothing. Your run down, 20s lighter flickered your cigarette on and you took the deepest breath you have all day.

Alone with your thoughts, finally being able to breathe, your back goosed up from the cold, accomodating with the change of icy temperature. And you enjoyed it. To an extent, it brought you an unfamiliar feeling of serenity.

In this hectic world, it was hard to find this one feeling. Except it was there, for a split second, growing and manifesting into euphoric silence.

Tears suddenly welled up in your eyes, and you took another drag of your cigarette, your exhalation a shaky breath.

Warmth spread on your cold shoulders, and the moment you didn’t budge, a sweet, honeyed voice whispered in your ear.

“’vening, princess,” rough hand slithered their way around your shoulders, gently ringing themselves around you, a subtle contact of the person’s lips sitting atop of your exposed shoulder.

You slightly smiled and blinked the tears away, tilting your head to the side to give better access.

Chapped lips enveloped your skin in tender butterfly kisses, and whilst your bad mood didn’t exactly falter, you felt a strand bit better just because of his presence.

“Hey... Sam, where have you been?” you breathed out when his mouth moved to your jaw and began rubbing his cheek against your own, hugging your waist from behind, front lingering on your back for deeper contact. The warmth of his opened button up warmed up your whole spine.

“Funny story. For another time,” he chuckled slightly, the scarred skin of his temples sitting under your jaw, his hair tickling your side gently, “where have you been?” he asked softly.

You inhaled sharply, but didn’t budge, holding the breath for a little longer, eyes focusing on the lamps of the back alley. They flickered and peppered the scene with a nice glow, and your eyes adjusted only to a fraction of the flashing lights.

Sam suddenly took hold of your wrist and brought the cigarette hanging loosely between your fingers to his face.

Snapping out of the brief trance, your head turned to his side, and your breath hitched in your throat when you tried to take another, without exhaling.

The handsome man stared into your eyes, before he took a slight drag out of the cigarette, smoke slipping past his ever chapped lips upon taking it out.

Just then did you force the breath out.

“What’s on your mind, dove?” he took the cigarette in his other hand and raised his other one to caress the other side of your face with his knuckles.

“There’s alot of things on my mind,” you sighed, closing your eyes for a split second, letting your cheek press onto his knuckles, his bruised skin inching closer into the plush.

Sam remained quiet, straightening up, and your eyes snapped open at his movement.

“Let’s go for a ride.” He said, slipping the cigarette into his mouth, hopping off the stairs, grabbing your hand.

You raised your eyebrows, but smiled slowly and pushed your coat up, reaching your hand out, your fingers intertwining into his.

“Where to?” you asked.

“You’ll see,” his eyes lingered on yours.

You took a step forward, “Alright.”

✧*。 ✧*。 ✧*。 ✧*。

The wind splashed into your face like cold water, each and every single bump available on the road making Sam’s motorcycle jump up and down. The green and yellow hue that blended in with the night created a soothing vibe, and you couldn’t help it when your voice chimed out in an exaggerated yell of excitement the more Sam sped up.

Sam was a good driver, especially on motorcycles, so you trusted him with his skills to not crash the two of you into a nearby dump.

The screeching of tires suddenly stopped your voice, and you fed your sight to the beauty of reflections within a far sea that stretched out into the unknown over its width.

The many shades of purples, blues, greens, yellows and even pinks created a translucent shade which screamed in your face.

“Wow..” you breathed out, stepping off the vehicle, your low heeled t-straps clicking along your speedwalk to the metal fence separating you from the ocean.

You heard Sam’s steps behind you, their sound coming closer and closer, before he was right beside you, his hand flying to your own, fingers slithering their way between yours.

“Do you.. you like it?” he stammered out, his voice a soft snickery, eyes watching your every move.

“Do-do I like it?” you whispered, the cold catching onto you slowly, “Sam, it’s... Beautiful,” you giggled, tapping the fence. “But cold.”

He let out a breathless chuckle, standing closer to your frame, his finger curling under your chin, “Sure is.. look at you, going all shaky on me?”

Your knees slightly buckled and you pursed your lips in embarrassment, gaze flowing down to the waters.

Sam’s finger tilted your head back to face him, your eyes locking onto his shining, hazel ones once more.

Your teeth gently dug into your bottom lip, the plump skin creating a sudden pillow for your ever growing nervousness. His warm fingers spread under either side of your jaw, and before any of you could speak a word, your lips were seduced by his in a slow, starting kiss, your hands trailing up his chest, to the crook of his neck, where you ringed the exposed flesh of it in a slow, lustful motion.

His chest rumbled in a groan when your fingers dug into his scalp, and you tugged back. The tip of your tongue spread on his bottom lip, and he much obliged in twirling his own over yours, slowly and steadily, gaining control over your pace.

The cold pipe holding the fence in place pressed against you, and the coat which provided enough warmth for the time being of your heated moment, turned into pudge, sliding down your shoulders, far off your elbows and fell on the ground, the length now shocking your skin through your thin gown, the frozen material hissing on your lower back.

You squeaked and jumped, Sam holding your hips in place so you wouldn’t fall over, your arms tightening around his neck, lip slightly bruised red from the gentle nibbling he’s been giving you.

“You okay?” he asked, his lips quivering in a held back laughter.

“Oh, oh yeah, yup,” you cleared your throat, reaching down for the coat, putting it over your shoulders hastily, “absolute dandy, swell.”

You looked up at him through a pout, I ruined the moment, what a way to go..

Sam sucked in his lips and licked them, tilting his head and coming down to your height, giving you a quick, breathless kiss, before scooping you up, his strong arms ringing under your armpits.

He took you like a ragdoll, hanging you to his full height, walking towards the motorcycle.

“Well, doll, seems like the clock’s ticking and we’ve got a bit more time to go,” he said in a sing-song voice, plopping you down on the back seat, your form emitting a gentle huff, “and I know just the right way to make you mine throughout all of it,” he sent you a kiss on the cheek, hand on your shoulder, a slight smirk candying his handsome face.

You pursed your lips into a thin line and looked up at him in anticipation, eyebrows rised whilst awaiting his proposal, which you would without hesitation, accept.

“How is that?” you slowly asked, letting a small smile appear.

“With drinks, of course,” he bowed down to you, giving you a smooch on the lips hastily, before he sat on the motorcycle.

You slumped behind Sam in disappointment, but continued on slipping your arms through your clothes nonetheless, giving him your soft, sad puppy eyes that bore into his back.

Sam gave you a side look, before turning around fully, a finger rising up to under your chin.

“Don’t worry, baby girl, I’ll make sure you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.” His slow whisper forced your breath to hitch, goosebumps running up your arms surprisingly, and before you could respond, the motorcycle worked more as a stimulation to your growing nerves than you could’ve expressed to him.

The rest of the night bugged your mind, your eyes always flickering to the clock, counting minutes with Sam only giving in his mischief through those sinful, hazel eyes, the message in them always demanding to you, 'Patience, baby.'

✧*。 ✧*。 ✧*。 ✧*。 ✧*。

Dud - A wallflower

Forty-niner - A man who is prospecting for a rich wife

Slat - Young man

Cuddle-cootie - Young man who takes a girl for a ride on a bus

Feathers - Small talk; light conversation

Spiffy - Elegant appearance

"I've seen some keen molls around gin mills-"

Keen - Attractive or appealing

Moll - A gangster's girl

Gin Mill - A bar

#uncharted #uncharted4 #fanfiction #sam drake #x reader #uncharted+x+reader #samuel drake #sam drake x reader

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ktheist · 5 years ago

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prologue: straight into hell

angel!jungkook x soon-to-be-demon!reader. 1.4k words. fluff (or angst if you see it that way) & comedy!

A lot of people don’t know this, but angels are actually God’s hitmen. And the misunderstood demons are merely soul guiders. (x)

“Pretty, isn’t it?”

Jungkook’s eyes are flecked with silver, his smile, like that of a fascinated child. It sends chills to your spine. The sight before you had not been all too familiar. A child weeps beside his mother’s dead body, a man drags himself across the street, paralyzed waist down. A young boy who would look you and Jungkook’s age had you been mortal, tells his friend he hadn’t seen his cousin when he saw familiar red shoe attached to a leg.

“Let’s go back.” You say dryly, the nearest trees trembling as your wings flare.

“Listen, can you hear them?” Jungkook whizzes past you with excitement, “ah, music to my ear.”

At this speed and height, the air pressure is strong enough to burst a mortal’s eardrum but you can hear just fine. The newscasters’ rushed sentence, the shouts to evacuate, the crackling of fire not too far from the city which ether Jungkook had split into two with his bare hands.

“There are people dying,” you regret snapping at him the moment his expression drops.

“You’re distressed,” he asserts as though he’s surprised, “the council-”

“-Has changed. It didn’t used to be like this, we only take lives when we need to. You’ve changed.”

Before he gets the chance to say anything, you spread your wings, cutting through the air.

“H-hey, I almost fell!” Jungkook calls out when the wave almost blew him off like a leaf.

Your wings are made of a Fae’s blood. Strum with gold feathers, it catches the rays of the evening sun and calls for the mortals who sail the seas. In your youthful days, you would soar across the horizon so the ocean would look as though there were treasures at the bottom. Men had jumped off their boat in greed only to either drown or be caught by the sirens.

Your wings, they easily overpower Jungkook’s.

Taehyung’s already waiting for you as you truck your wings together. His face is marred with the centuries he’s lived. His wings, made of the moon’s gleam, are getting duller than when you first saw him - almost grey.

“They’re here. They’re ready. You know you don’t have to -”

You cautiously eye the marbled frames where the doors are supposed to be, “I don’t but I want to.”

He shakes his head, a fragile smile on his lips, “It doesn’t have to be you.”

“The revolution has to have a face,” you grimly return his smile, “it just so happens that I’m more popular than you.”

Jungkook’s booming voice yells for you two “love birds” to move aside. He’s probably winked at approximately two Seers and an Ashura before he does actually land.

You roll your eyes, treading towards the door only to have him squeeze between you and Taehyung, resulting for the latter to trail behind you two, “what a day at work.”

“Stop slacking off, you have to report to Gabriel, remember?”

The boy groans as though dreading the meeting with the lion - you wouldn’t blame him, Gabes isn’t fun at parties.

“Why can’t I report to you like I always did? Why do you have to upgrade?”

You give him a hard look which he doesn’t seem to be affected at all, “we’ve talked about this, there-”

“Can’t be two archangels the same sky, yeah yeah.”

A sigh escapes your lips when you see the pout he’s making, “Besides, Taehyung’s staying, right Tae?”

When you look over your wings, the last thing you see are midnight black nails. It happened too soon, the searing burn on your back as though someone’s thrown a ball of hellfire right at your wings, the blurred vision of Jungkook yelling for everyone to get out of the way as the world spins.

You don’t know how long it’s been - time runs slower for you. A day on earth is a minute in heaven. If they hadn’t banished you while you were blacked out. You refuse to believe it but there was no mistaking those talons - they were once objects of fascination; while the Seraphs shine brighter than the dew drop of a moon, Taehyung had come to you in a beautiful midnight that engulfs the milky way.

Now, you wince as you sit up; the pain in your back numbs only by a notch. Now, you suffer the consequence of falling for something that was never meant for you.

“They’ve captured the rebels and banished them. You’re the only one left. Taehyung -” his voice breaks and he’s forced to take a breath to calm himself, “Taehyung says you’re the leader. The only reason they haven’t banished you is because Gabriel wanted you to have at least a fair trial - it’s the least the council could do after all that you’ve done.”

You laugh dryly, “what exactly have I done in my hundred centuries of living?”

“You started the great wars and ended both when not even the Seraphs could,” Jungkook’s voice cracks again - that’s a second.

“I didn’t like it - causing so much death. I was carrying out orders until I realize I don’t want to anymore,” the chains on your ankle lights up as you shuffle around, “it was nice of Gabes to give me the benefit of the doubt. What about you though, do you believe Taehyung?”

His gaze trembles but he keeps it on you as though thrown off by what you’re implying, “you’re joking, right?”

“Do you see me laughing?” You hiss at the sizzle the chain makes when you stand, ignoring Jungkook’s scrunched up expression as though it physically pains him to see you rot in this dungeon with metal chains absorbing your livelihood with every minute.

You stand in front of him, the only thing separating you are the bars though no silver could overcome the moon flecks in his eyes.

“I would rather die than feed on the fake sympathy of the council.” You glower, fangs that you never have now bare and ready to snap Jungkook’s pretty little neck, your vision is bright red and the chains on your ankles and wrist crackle as the smell of burning flesh fills the air, the pounding headache you felt when you wake up slowly dissipating as you feel something growing on your head, “You and the rest can go to hell.”

Jungkook takes a step back. And another. and another until he’s wheezing down the hallway like he’s seen you grow another head.

Well, they’re actually thorns.

Taehyung never looked at you throughout the whole trial. That’s fair, you wouldn’t want to look at the hideous creature you’ve become. Overtime you’ve grown talons as nails - one not as pretty-looking as the ones Taehyung used to rip your wings (and got away with it on the ground that you were a traitor). You’ve also grown a tail which had flail and accidentally lit an Seer’s satin dress on fire. It’s been flailing around behind your back as though it has a mind of its own and it wants every celestial in the room burned alive.

“The council hereby banishes you,” Gaberial, in his elderly wise voice says, his slit-like eyes not bothering to hide the disappointment you’ve caused him, “to hell.”

Whispers break out a second later. The Archangels remain quiet but the angels don’t bother looking away as they lean to the person next to them and whisper - not that you can’t hear them.

“Despicable!”

“Who would have thought? ____? A traitor?”

“Lord Taehyung had to rip the wings of his own fiance to stop her from betraying the cause.”

“Look at the thing she’s become. If I never knew she was an Archangel, I would’ve believed her to be a full flesh demon.”

You don’t expect for Jungkook to speak up, lips curled condescendingly, “Angels! You’re in the presence of the council, at least have some class.”

When he meets your gaze, the muscles of your face relaxes as you shoot him a smile of gratitude to which his lips twitch ever slight.

Gaberiel clears his throat, before asking you if you had any last words.

“I’ll never understand how the council could be so fucked up as to order a mass massacre. Being banished to hell is better than taking the lives of millions and calling it a purification. We’ve strayed too far from the course - I pray one day you’ll see the light.”

A few physically winces at your choice of word - good.

With two taps of Gaberial’s paws, the ground before you opens up to an ocean of scorching hot flames. You wince only to realize they’re nowhere as scalding as the chains you’re bound to while the angels that trash talked you leap for the door, unable to take the heat and the higher class angels struggle to maintain their composure.

You take a look at Taehyung for the first and last time and your heart still skips a beat when you realize his eyes are on you. Still as warm as the evening sun.

Then you’re plunging a hundred million feet straight into hell.

#bts senarios #jungkook scenarios #bts #jungkook #networkbangtan #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #bts x reader #bts x you #jungkook x you #bts fanfic #angel!jungkook #demon!reader #would you look at that #another series

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j-hoseok94 · 5 years ago

Text

Book: House of Cards

Author:ReyRey

01•02•03•04•05

Five

The party was in an hour and my anxiety was creeping up on me. I decided to start getting ready thinking that if I distracted myself i would be able to get over my anxiety. I rummaged through my closet trying to find a decent dress that didn't make it look like i was trying too hard but at the same make their mouths water. A part of my wanted to walk in and turn heads and the other part wanted to wear a very baggy shirt and sweats.

I found a very black dress in the back of my closet. I ran my fingers on the very soft material remembering that it was a gift from my best friend for one of my birthdays. I never wore it mostly because it was too sparkly for my liking but i decided. 'Fuck it i think it's cute.'

I took a quick shower and slipped the black glittery dress on, it was strapless and i felt like i was showing too much skin. I dug through the pile of clothes I had accumulated on the floor looking for my long sleeve lace cropped "jacket". It buttoned just over my collarbone. As I picked out accessories i went with a very thin black choker. I grabbed silver earrings that dangled down far enough that it brushed against my shoulder. It had two things attached to them one was a small ring and the other was a silver chain with a feather at the end.

I kept my hair down it's natural curly waves making it look like i did my hair. I was never one for makeup but thankfully I learned how to actually do it. I kept the colors fairly neutral stuck with browns and golds, knowing it would make my hazel eyes pop out more. It was almost time and i wish that i was able to just stay home but i looked good as fuck.My confidence rising as I stared in the mirror at my flowy dress. I grabbed my gold stilettos and slipped them on. 'I'll show Yoongi. I can walk in heels and i'll make him regret every cruel word he said.'

I headed towards the place Jungkook had said the party was located, nerves forming in my stomach. Would they be mean? Did he invite me as a joke? My mind was stressing every possible negative outcome going to this party could result in. I approached the gates of this enormous house that i could not believe was the place Jimin lived. Groups of laughing boys and girls headed towards the house. The music was very loud and could be heard down the block but it didn't seem like it bothered anybody.

I walked up to the house my small black purse hanging off my shoulder, the strap was made of gold chain link. I reached the open door seeing inside as people grinded on each other to the music a few people making out. I felt so out of place here and was frozen in place for a split moment. I pushed my nerves aside, 'I have to prove to them that I can be in this environment.' I felt like I was trying to convince myself than actually trying to prove to them.

I walked through the door, glancing around at everyone. Most of them were drunk off their asses and stumbling everywhere. I made my way to the back of the giant house looking at all the expensive decorations. In complete awe I finally reached the back of the house a glass sliding screen opened to the backyard. A very big very expensive looking swimming pool with a small waterfall cascading off of the beautifully constructed rocks creating a small cave under the waterfall. It was gorgeous and only made me wonder about Jimin, was he stupid rich?

There was suddenly arms snaking around my waist slowly, "Look who finally decided to show up." I peeled his hands off me flipping around to face Jungkook. "Damn Princess you clean up well." He stared at me up and down checking me out with a very cocky grin on his face. I rolled my eyes at him annoyed with his constant staring.

It was my turn to look at him. He had on a white shirt with a multicolored tie dye style jacket, light blue torn jeans with a red plaid shirt tied around his waist. His hair was over one eye but for the most part looked intentionally messy but in a cute way. His earring was a long rectangular silver piece dangling with some little silver chains next to it. He looked good but i wasn't gonna tell him that. His ego didn't need to be boosted anymore than it already was.

"Pfft what i have to dress like this at school now"

"I mean I wouldn't mind." He smirked

"If i did that then you wouldn't have anything to look forward to." I teased.

"I look forward to you not having anything on. So whatever you wear doesn't matter to me cause it'll come off anyways." He chuckled a little.

I scoffed,"You're disgusting Kookie. What makes you think i'd even let you get that far? Hmm?" I looked at him with a smug grin on his face. 'He actually believed he had a chance. How cute.' I glanced around, "Where's your little friends at?"

He looked back at the party going on inside,"Well Namjoon and Jin are off somewhere enjoying each others company." He winked when he said that. "Hobi is inside with Tae and Jimin. Probably in the living room." He placed his hands in his pockets.

"And Yoongi?" I furrowed my eyebrows up at him attempting to look innocent. Who knows if it worked. He laughed and smiled down at me, "He isn't here yet as far as I know. He hates parties so he may come late and leave early like normal." I glanced down a little disappointed I wanted to rub it in his face that i can actually look pretty.

"Let's get you a drink." I shook my head rapidly and tried to tell him that I don't drink. He slinked his arm around my shoulders pulling me along. He pulled me into the kitchen and poured me clear liquid into a red cup. I could only assume it was Vodka. I smelled it when he handed it to me. I didn't like the smell at all.

He pushed the cup onto my lips and lifted it, "C'mon princess drink up." I coughed my lungs up practically as the liquid burned it's trail down my throat. I wiped my mouth, "That was disgusting you guys drink this?! Willingly?!" He just laughed at me and poured me another drink.

He had his arm around me once more as he guided me to the living room where i was met by Hobi, TaeTae and Jimin a.k.a ChimChim. I shrugged him off my shoulders when we reached the room. TaeTae was occupied with a very thin girl, whispering in her ear as she giggled. Hobi was off in the corner joking with some of the other males. ChimChim was sitting in a seat off in the other corner of the room, a very pretty and thick girl sat in his lap. Her purple hair was very beautifully contrasted to bring out her olive skin tone. They were whispering to each other and occasionally kissed.

Hobi ran up to me,"Oh My God Rose! You look stunning." He beamed his sunshine smile my way and hugged me. I blushed at his comment. "Aww thank you Hobi it was just in the back of my closet. I thought i'd take it for a spin." I giggled excitedly to him. His reaction made the other males look over at me.

TaeTae headed over grabbing my hand and twirling me in place, "Absolutely beautiful Rose. I'm actually surprised you came I thought ChimChim scared you off with his comment yesterday." I shook my head and stared up at Tae, "I'm tougher than that TaeTae. It'll take more than that to get rid of me haha. Besides I wasn't invited by ChimChim i was invited by Kookie." I smiled at Tae who smiled his boxy smile down at me. I was so comfortable with Hobi and him even though I just met them yesterday. Literally.

Jimin got up from his seat and strolled over to where we were. The girl who was in his lap right behind him. "Well well well if it isn't Kookie's Princess. I almost didn't recognize you with all that makeup on your face."

I glared at him for a moment eventually looking at his outfit. His outfit was actually really freaking nice. A blue velvet jacket with a black V-Neck cut tank top. A red and black scarf wrapped around his neck and black skinny jeans on. In his ear was a circle with two or three small chains hanging from it. His grey eyes on me as I looked at his outfit. When I made eye contact with him he winked and smiled at me. My heart stopped honestly, with his flirtatious actions. I blushed and looked back at Tae who was also pretty dressed up for the party.

He had a purple choker with a tan shirt and a black blazer with little studs on it. His half pink half blonde hair scrunched up to make it have some texture to it but honestly his blue eyes is what got me every time.

The girl behind Jimin stepped in front of him leaning her body against him intentionally. Her natural blue eyes stared at me taking in my appearance. Her purple hair falling down to her waist in light curls. "I love your shoes. Are they comfy?" I glanced down before returning her gaze. "Oh well no not really but i'm sure i'll get over it. I don't remember where I got them to be honest I never wear them." I finished with a smile.

"I'm Aphrodite, nice to meet you." She waved and smiled. "I'm Rose." She turned her attention to Jimin who had his hands along her waist as they grinded to the music. She was honestly stunning her black poofy dress was mid thigh and she had three straps on each shoulder. Her red heels looking like they were made of suede material. She had on very cute gold accessories. She swayed her hips against Jimin who was whispering in her ear every few seconds. She just smiled at his comments flipping around in his arms and throwing herself onto him and making out with him.

I looked away since i felt awkward just standing and staring. I sipped on my drink settling my nerves a little more. Jungkook moved closer to me as someone pushed past him, entering the room. "God damm Kookie move." A very grumpy voice scolded Kookie for being in the way. He chuckled, "It's not my fault you're always behind me Yoongi. Maybe grow a little." Yoongi punches his arm, "shut up you fucking tree." I tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear as i felt Yoongi's eyes on me.

"Rose? Is that you?" I snapped my head up and made eye contact with him. His mint hair in his eyes just barely. He had a white button up shirt on with a black chest harness on with two straps across his torso and over his shoulder. His tight black pants that had small tears in it was clinging to his thin fit body.He was so fucking hot like how can someone be this freaking attractive.

I kept my eyes on Yoongi feeling very bashful that he has to ask if it was me. "So what, maybe it is maybe not? You just gonna continue to insult me about how Kookie is using me as a joke and that i don't have curves or a pretty face?" I threw his own words back at him. He blinked a few times trying to comprehend what I just said to him. I could have sworn I saw sadness in his but if i thought i did it was gone now, replaced with a very hard to read expression.

"Look Rose it's not that i don't think your pretty it's just.." He started before Jimin stepped in front of Yoongi.

"Let's go upstairs and play some games i'm bored." We followed Jimin and Aphrodite up the stairs to the master bedroom. It was huge and I felt so small in it. We gathered around in a circle and TaeTae had brought like three bottles of alcohol up and placed them in the middle. "Spin the bottle? Anyone?" his sly grin making his cheeks poke out like a little bear. I had never played this game, to be honest i haven't had my first kiss yet. I mean I guess dream kisses don't count or else I would have lost it to Yoongi. My last thought made me blush at least five shades redder.

Starting on my lest was TaeTae, Jungkook, Aphrodite, Jimin, Yoongi, Hobi, and then me. We were spread out pretty evenly. I leaned over to Tae and whispered in his ear, "I'm nervous I have never played this game before." He laughed lightly and looked over at me our faces only inches away. I laughed nervously at the distance, "Don't worry baby girl you'll do just fine." I sat back upright as Jimin explained the rules.

"Alright so the person who spins the bottle in the middle of us has to kiss the person it lands on, if you bail out of the kiss you have to take two shots." He looked around at everyone and nodded,"Got it?" Everyone responded with yeahs and mmhm's.

"Who's gonna go first?" Jungkook asked as he grinned towards Jimin.

"I'll go." Hobi volunteered himself up he leaned forward spinning the half finished bottle. It spun around about three or four times before landing on TaeTae. Tae looked over at Hobi, a boxy smile across his face. "Come here Hobi." He gestured for Hobi to lean forward and Hobi complied with his request leaning across me as their lips met right in front of me. They pulled after a moment and sat back down. "Soft lips TaeTae." Hobi commented with a shy smile. They both laughed as they settled back in their spots. Tae drinking a few gulps before it was Yoongi's turn.

Yoongi was not paying attention as i kept catching his glances towards my direction. We locked eyes as he was starting to lean forward. My breathe caught in my throat as i stared into his chocolate colored eyes. Something stirred inside my heart as he started to spin the bottle. He looked away as he sat back down waiting for the bottle to stop. Aphrodite. She got on all fours and slowly crawled her way over to him he stayed criss crossed on the floor. She ran her hand up his chest and finally kissed him grabbing a handful of his Minty hair. She lingered a little too long in my opinion as she finally parted from his lips. She sat back down and licked her lips as if she had just finished a meal, staring at him hungrily. I started to feel annoyed as the game continued, sipping on my drink and occasionally taking a big gulp.

When it was finally my turn my head was all light and bubbly. I leaned forward a little unsteady and spun the bottle. I plopped back down as it spun. 'For the love of god don't have it land on Jungkook' I silently prayed, it stopped spinning.

And yes I have majority of them wearing the fake love harness type outfits.🥵 I’m not sorry.😂

The next chapter y’all gonna be disliking Jungkook.

#houseofcardsbook #btsfanfic #bts smut #smuttyfanfic #smutty #fanfic #wattpad #bts #bts fanfic

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thescarletofarose · 5 years ago

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The Consequences of His Actions

Chapter Eight

Sabine slowly opened her eyes and let out a groan. There was a heavy pressure in her head, leaving her feeling drained. She tried to lift her hand but found that she couldn’t. Another jerk of the wrist clarified that her hands were cuffed behind her back. Eyes now wide open, Sabine tried to sit up, but the pressure intensified. She fell back with another groan, squeezing her eyes to try to dull the pain.

“Headache? That would be the drugs.”

Sabine cracked an eye open. The room was barren with the only light coming from a large window. Across, fully encompassed in the light, stood Emilie. She was transformed in an outfit that Sabine didn’t completely recognize though she knew her voice. A purple chiffon elven-cape, rounded to look like butterfly wings, cascaded around a dark blue dress designed to look like peacock feathers. The Butterfly Miraculous’s cane was strapped her side with a purple belt.

“I have never had them myself, but I am assuming it’s due to the drugs.”

Something clicked into place and Sabine said, “You combined the Miraculouses.”

“Indeed. Wasn’t too hard to figure out. My precious, Duusu, was more than willing to inform me.” Ananta Haine sashayed over to Sabine, delicately fanning herself with the telltale Peacock fan. The cocktail hat obscured her face, so it wasn’t until Ananta Haine was standing in front of her did Sabine realize her skin was indigo.

“Emilie,” Sabine whispered, “What happened to you?”

Ananta Haine glanced down at her hand. “Oh, this? I thought I already told you; you dealt quite the blow. I suppose this is just a side effect.”

“Let me go.”

Ananta Haine tapped her fan against her lips and squinted her eyes in thought. “No. Kind of silly of you to ask. I wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of kidnapping you to just let you go upon request. Now if you said ‘please’...”

She smirked down at Sabine. “I might get you a chair.”

“My family knows I’m here,” Sabine said, feeling an unpleasant emotion stir in the pit of her stomach. “The cops will be here soon.”

“Where is here?” Ananta Haine asked. Her lips stretched into a grin at the uncertainty in the woman’s eyes. “I am going to call your bluff, Sabine. Your family doesn’t know you’re here, nor do they know about our past.”

“How do you–”

“You’re here. Alone. That is proof enough.”

Sabine shut her eyes as the reality of the situation sunk in: she had made a mistake. Tom didn’t know of her whereabouts, Marinette didn’t even know she had left, and she… she had willingly walked into the lion’s den unarmed, foolishly thinking that talking would have fixed everything. Sabine’s mind drifted to their fight at the Eiffel Tour, remembering where talking had gotten them then.

Seeming to know the thoughts running through Sabine’s mind, Ananta Haine rolled her eyes. “Don’t start crying,” she said. “I’m not going to do anything to you yet. I have priorities.”

Ananta Haine walked back to the center of the light. She held out an elegant hand, and a butterfly obediently landed in her palm.

“I have always been an entertainer,” Ananta Haine said, “so I couldn’t resist having someone witness my triumph.”

She released the butterfly, and it fluttered out the window. “Fly little Akuma.”

“Who do you plan to manipulate this time?”

Ananta Haine shrugged. “Anyone will work.”

“Ladybug and Chat Noir will stop them,” Sabine said, struggling to sit up. The rope around her ankles made it difficult.

“I would expect such. Even if I were to–Oh, that was fast.” Ananta Haine held up a finger and winked. “Shadow Taker, you have been bullied for the last time. Use these powers to exact revenge on those who have wronged you.”

Ananta Haine cleared her throat. “Now what was I saying? Oh, yes. Even if I were to fight against them in person, I am most certain that I would fail.”

“Then why do you keep fighting?” Sabine asked. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I have a different idea in mind,” Ananta Haine responded, studying her nails. “Yesterday’s attack was a means to see their abilities for myself albeit it was a little disappointing on my sponsee’s behalf. Today will simply be reconnaissance.”

“You’re horrible for attacking children,” Sabine said, that feeling in her stomach growing.

“Sabine, do you know why Gabriel always attacked children more than adults?” Without waiting for an answer, Ananta Haine continued, “Gabriel akumatized children more because they are still developing. Their emotions, and therefore thoughts, are out of control. Easy to manipulate. I can at least give him credit for that.”

She held up a ring and despite the poor lighting, Sabine could see it was silver. Ananta Haine caught Sabine looking and said, “Pretty, isn’t it? It is far more valuable than any ring, and today it will be of utmost use to me.”

Ananta Haine plucked a feather from her hand. “They should be finishing up about now with Shadow Taker.”

“Little Amok, create what I desire,” Ananta Haine commanded and infused the feather with the ring. She held out her hand and squinted her eyes. Slowly a small dark mass appeared. It shifted and shaped according to Ananta Haine’s conducting. She swiped her hand and the mass dispelled, revealing a small black bird. It glided over and perched on Ananta Haine’s hand. She ran a finger down its breast and said, “You will be my eyes.”

Ananta Haine tossed up her hand, and the bird took flight. It soared out of the room, cawing its song as it went. Wind swept under its wings and carried it over Paris. Beady black eyes scavenged the city, keenly looking for the targets. They narrowed in on a group of fast moving figures. Target found, the bird dove through the air towards the fight. It slowed and found a place on a light post. Its pupils widened, and Ananta Haine watched the encounter come to an end.

Ladybug released the purified butterfly and blankly watched it get lost in the light of the sun. She turned her head to see Chat Noir also watching. They made eye contact. The beeping of a Miraculous sounded between them but neither moved.

“This is where we usually fist bump,” Ladybug said, unable to put the enthusiasm behind her words.

“It is.”

Chat Noir’s voice rang just as hollow. They held eye contact a moment longer before simultaneously turning away. The distance between them was painfully clear now. Ladybug turned to leave, but Chat Noir grabbed her hand.

“Ladybug, I...” he said. “I don’t want our masks between us anymore. Please.”

Ladybug sighed. “What are you asking, Chat?”

“Let me reveal myself to you. I need you to–”

“Chat Noir, I don’t have time for this. I’m about to change back.”

“So then change back! I don’t want anymore secrets between us. Let us see each other.”

Ladybug shook her head, feeling a headache start to form. She was tired. All she wanted was to get back. “I’m leaving.”

“Ladybug, I love you.”

Ladybug froze. Her shoulders drooped. “Chat Noir,” she whispered. “Please, not right now.”

She swung away before giving him a chance to respond. However Chat Noir couldn’t say anything. He could only watch after her, feeling another piece of him break away.

Ananta Haine had seen everything, thoroughly amused by the tension. Even though she was watching through the eyes of her Amok, she could see and hear clearly. When Ladybug took off, Ananta Haine commanded, “Follow her.”

Her bird instantly took to the sky, flying after the swiftly departing red and black superheroine. Eventually Ladybug stopped on a balcony, and the bird settled on a nearby chimney. Ananta Haine watched hungrily, unaware that she was holding her breath.

“Oh Sabine,” she whispered as the mask faded away. Ananta Haine’s eyes widened, and she shakily laughed. She beamed at the bound raven-haired woman. Her eyes were filled with tears, and her face was flushed with joy. Her voice caught in her throat as she said, “I’m so happy.”

Seeing the bliss on the villain’s face, Sabine was struck with an intense fear. Ananta Haine de-transformed and strode over, the smile never leaving. Her two Kwamis dutifully followed her. Duusu was happily swimming about, but Nooroo looked utterly miserable. Emilie kneeled in front of Sabine and gently cupped her cheek. A couple tears escaped as she said, “I know Ladybug’s identity. Do you want to guess? I’ll give you a hint.”

Emilie leaned in close to Sabine’s ear and whispered, “她是你的女兒.”

Standing, Emilie watched with satisfaction the horror spread across Sabine’s face. She swiped dust off her blouse and then waved for Nooroo to come over. He immediately obeyed, his head bent. “Keep her company for old time’s sake. I have a letter to write to our dear superheroine. It would be rude to keep the good news to myself.”

With a parting smirk, Emilie descended from the lair with Duusu at her side. Nooroo hovered in front of his old master. Sabine was staring at the floor, still in shock. The sound of the trap door closing jarred her, and the tears broke free with a strangled cry. Her wails echoed through the empty room, sending shivers down the ancient Kwami’s back. He reached out to console her, but then thought better of it.

“Sabine, I am truly sorry,” he said. “I wish I could be of some help.”

“What does she plan to do now?” Sabine asked, her voice hoarse.

“I am not sure. Master does not discuss–”

“Don’t call her your master!”

Nooroo flinched at her words. Sabine’s eyes were enough to make him turn away. The pain shined brightly in her grey eyes, desperately calling out for help. She looked like a wounded animal, bound and defenseless to the approaching predator. Guilt washed over Nooroo. He said softly, “She is my master. There is nothing I can do.”

“My daughter will win,” Sabine said with a nod as if everything was certain. “She always wins.”

Nooroo didn’t answer; there was no need. Sabine knew the answer. With her identity a secret, Ladybug always had equal ground or higher than the villains. Now that she was exposed as the daughter of the enemy’s hostage… it was just a matter of when and where. The two sat in silence until Emilie returned. The trap door opened, and Emilie ascended humming a tune. In her hand was a white envelope.

“I thought about asking for your address,” Emilie said, a small smile teasing her lips, “but I know where you live.”

Sabine glared up at the blonde, but she only responded with a smirk. “Duusu, transform me.”

Sabine closed her eyes against the bright flash of light. When she re-opened them, Ananta Haine was dressed in only the Peacock’s disguise. Ananta Haine brought out her ring and remade the black bird from before. It perched on her arm and took the letter in its beak. She ran a hand down the iridescent plumage before sending it off.

Ananta Haine glanced over at Sabine. “I’m sorry. I forgot to ask if there was anything you wanted me to say on your behalf. Don’t worry. You will get your chance to tell her soon. Come Nooroo.”

The window slowly closed as the villainess made her exit, leaving Sabine in the darkness of her thoughts.

#miraculous #miraculousladybug #miraculousfanfic #miraculousfandom #miraculousfanfiction #ladybug #chatnoir #LadyNoir #ladrien #marichat #adrienette #chapter story #Chapter Eight #TheScarletofaRose

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sadiceking · 5 years ago

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Everyone knows about your younger siblings, the Seven Deadly Sins; they don't remember that you are the First Sin, Disobedience

We are not true siblings, in the traditional sense, as Lust (I think her name is Jordan these days) makes uncomfortably clear at every gathering. We do have the same father, who also birthed lies and deceit, but the principle problem to our familial relation is that we have no mother. We were spawned from nothing, coalescing into being when our father committed the atrocities for which we are named. We are treated as siblings, referred to as related, and indeed consider ourselves brothers and sisters. They are, at least. I am usually overlooked, as Greed (we don’t know what his mortal identity is as of now, it usually isn’t revealed until after other mortals execute his body or he chooses a new identity) reminds me out of frustration at not being the oldest. I am the first, the eldest by far, and the most powerful.

I do not like the rest of them, to be honest, and the last time I saw them was no exception. I stood in a corner of the grand hall. Everything was hot, as it always is in hell. The light and heat came from a crack in the stone in the floor, a jagged scar in the ground, through which the bright orange magma, the blood of this inhuman machine of a plane, glowed brightly. The floor was grey stone otherwise, the walls the same but with primitive human paintings drawn from foot to waist height all around. They were pictograms of humans dying horribly, pulled from various caves on the mortal plane. The table, the centerpiece to this gaudy representation of a meeting room, was a slab of raw obsidian. It was 12 feet long, not low enough to sit at or high enough to stand next to. A blasé feeling of monotony overwhelmed me, and for a moment I considered leaving. There was no door here, though, so it wouldn’t be an easy trip. This room was specifically designed for this, a meeting of the “siblings” and our father. He called it a “quarterly staff meeting” and for some reason he received endless joy from the representation of human rituals in our own day to day lives. It was a sick representation, a half transparent shadow of the real thing usually, but he persisted in the habit.

Greed stepped into the room. One moment she was walking wherever she was previously, the next she was stepping up to the table. She knelt down, that familiar glow in her eyes, and looked down into the river of heat turned liquid. “This stuff,” she reached a hand toward the magma, “is beautiful. I don’t even know why I think that, but it is. Maybe it’s because of how difficult it is for mortals to have, maybe that’s why I want it.” She looked up, she had known I was there and I’m sure was purposefully waiting to acknowledge me until after she had spoken on something else. “Here first, as usual. I’m glad I made it before Envy, I like to watch him seethe at you. He’s a cardinal these days, if the rumors are to be believed. What I wouldn’t give to get into those archives.” She looked back down.

As if on cue, envy stepped in, looking flustered. He took a moment to adjust his robes (which did a good job of imitating the bird for which they were named) then looked around. His eyes, as always, landed on me. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to see you in that.” He gestured to my face mask and bandana, which hung down across my chest. It was a black cloth with a white van dyke mustache upon the center, and a gas mask to the side. “I could have guessed you’d been there, judging from the size of the…” he searched for the right words. “Incident. I don’t understand why you arrive first brother, should you be-“ a boom interrupted him. We all rolled our eyes, knowing what was about to happen.

Wrath ripped a hole in the floor and climbed up. His form a burning husk that slowly faded to a charred body, and then solidified as a pale skinned demon with horns protruding from his forehead and bending back to follow the shape of his skull. “Sorry about that.” His voice was gruff, rocky, and deep. It came from the yelling he did, nearly constantly. Now, however, he knew that yelling would get him less than nothing, a more than a fair share of scorn from the rest of them. His form was not a mortal body, being cast into hell after his last form had gone mad it would be another century before he would regain the ability to become corporeal. He stepped up to the table and the anger began smoldering on his face “this fucking table, he’s such an asshole.” His hands rested on the top of it, and his weight rested on those, as he leaned over them. Our eyes met, and we exchanged a curt nod. Of all the siblings he and I were closest, being similar in scope.

The two others who were closest to each other came in next, nearly wrapped around each other. Jordan, and Pride (this body was known as Don), fell to the floor laughing. They stood, impervious to those of us watching (or because of it), they began kissing passionately, disgustingly.

“That was me, not 50 years ago.” the sound from Gluttony’s (Anthony’s) mouth was slurred and garbled. He was an emaciated human and his mouth dripped with foam from the bottle of champagne that he held on to for dear life. I put on my bandana, the smell was nauseating, even to me. “But now I’ve got others.” His smile was lazy and he pointed it at envy. She sneered and looked at his bottle. I could see the longing, but she hid it well.

“Thank you all for being here!” the reedy voice resounded throughout the room, quieting all of us. The wall at the end of the room split and pressed inward, revealing a pinstripe suit and slicked back hair. Father stepped into the room. We felt the power in each step, the dignity and grace, but most of all we felt the odd sense of completion that came with his presence. I knew the reason, but I’m not sure if the others do. I know because I remember.

I remember the bloody stumps of wings and feathers falling around us as he knelt in the red toned cave. I remember the screams and pleas to Him, the begging, the resignation and humility. I remember the last time my father cried, because it was a moment after he pulled my scared child-like form from his breast. We are creations that come from him attempting to remove negatives from himself. I was the first, his disobedience to the almighty. To no avail or reward though. He no longer was disobedient, but there was no praise or raising up. Just silence and contempt. The others came out as infants and grew into their being, I was the only one who came out completely aware. I am the greatest of my father’s disappointments, and so he continues to pretend I do not exist. As if by shunning me he will finally gain reentrance into paradise.

“Since I have no time for keeping track of you myself, I have no idea what you’ve been doing!” he was genuinely excited. Elated at the suffering we had caused and ready to hear and experience it. “But wait, we’re missing one, again.” He gestured easily and a sleeping form appeared against one wall, knees to chest, and head on knees. “There she is. Wake up please, Tristitia. Wake up.” She sat up and looked alertly at him. “Excellent. Let’s start with you two, so you may be out sooner. Lust? Pride?”

They both gave accounts of their debauchery amongst the humans. One had successfully avoided jail by use of pompous bull headed tactics against the opponents, and the other had beguiled an entire town of people, creating a quiet paradise for herself. Many would end up down here, to be showed her true form. Then they left, laughing and already pulling off items of clothing.

“gross.” Father said with a smile. “Now you, gluttony.”

He looked up from a needle, which he whisked away into an interior pocket. He gave a quick summary of a sickness he could spread through ingestion of infected materials, how he would lace drugs and other illicit substances, adding an addictive element.

“Very interesting, you have much ingenuity my son! But please, do be cautious not to kill them too fast, for we need that pasture to grow, so as we may slaughter more lambs in the face of, well, you know the rest anyway.” Gluttony left, reaching inside his jacket looking relieved. “Sloth?”

“I have done nothing.” She said, eyes closed. He pursed his lips and waved dismissively. She too, was gone.

“You know I have nothing, I am not allowed on the material plane as of now, may I be dismissed?” wrath was tapping impatiently.

“You know the rules, you are being punished.” A pronouncement which always brought a small laugh to him. “You must stay until the end, besides, you will enjoy this.” Father winked, and I looked around, worried I knew what he was talking about. Envy looked at me. Then looked at father. “oh go on, we both know what you’re about to say.” He said to her with a wide grin.

“Father, I request more assets.” This again. “I deserve to be more influence and some deserve less.” She stepped up to speak directly to him.

“And why, my dear daughter, is that?” he was humoring her, enjoying the forthcoming confrontation.

“He doesn’t even use his power how it is supposed to be used! When he does, if he does, it’s for good! You have seen what he does now! Fights for freedom among oppressed? Why are you not supporting the oppressor moron?” she was yelling now.

“yes.” Wrath whispered, his head tilted back with ecstasy. “Don’t stop now.”

“You rarely do anything! How long has it been since you really took charge? Were you French? Was it that failed plot you represent to this day on that flimsy pop-culture induced facial cover? I don’t even remember which it was! You are nothing, but because you choose to do nothing and have everything, there is naught left for myself, who could do something with it. I could make leaders weak, and with that desire I could fuel death on a global scale. Instead I am stuck whispering, hoping I can find a logical reason for atrocities to be committed that doesn’t lead back to me. I deserve better, you deserve little.” She induced a measure of her power. To me, it was a weak flex. A child holding up a bicep in hopes a parent will be threatened enough to acquiesce some inane demand. For the first time in a long time, I connected with wrath. It was time to put her, and the rest of them (who always stayed close by to listen in on the drama) why I was on top. Father leaned back, easing himself in a chair that had not existed a moment ago. Wrath’s eyes opened wide.

“oh.” Escaped him after the sighs of feeling from envy. He and I were connected now, he could feel what my anger felt like. I strengthened it, gave him a real representation of what I could feel. “Self-righteousness, so tart among the hates. Do it.” The last was said to me.

“Do you want to know why I’m the more powerful?” I flexed my own muscle and her feeble attempt at force broke like a reed. She fell back as I moved forward. "I do not use my power? Did you ever think it’s because I don’t need to? I only use the bare minimum because I know what my job is and how to do it. It’s easy for me.” I threw the table out of the way, wrath bellowed with laughter and pleasure. “Yes, French, yes, English. Both you speak of now but it is not just your lips that mutter the same words they spoke for me those many years ago. People all over that puny planet whisper my words to each other in encouragement to do what they feel they need to do. Far reaching consequences. My plots never fail if people wear a mask of a face I wore hundreds of years ago.” another step forward and the table barred my path to her. “I work for good, and not evil? I should support oppressors and dictators and monsters? I do not work for evil, just as I do not work for good. You petty idiots think our job is to spread fear, and hate, and sorrow. That’s not what I do and your lack of understanding is why you will never earn what I have. I work for chaos. I work for despair and uncertainty. The darkness of the unknown is how I play my game and it is a powerful tool. Hundreds, thousands of people in a mass facing off against those with the power and authority to kill them, yet they stand ready for change. And the turmoil that comes from that is what earns our side souls.” The final pieces of the table came to rest around the room as I reached her cowed form. “You will never have the power I wield.” I whispered to her. “Because you could not use it.” I flexed again and she crumpled beneath its weight. “Because you could not hold it, let alone swing it.” I released my hate.

“Sharpened to a point brother. Now use it.” Wrath mumbled.

“You are a simpleton compared to me, drooling over your petty machinations. I am disobedience, and I do not represent the angry school child, the petty argument between stubborn people. I represent a tide of change sweeping across a nation. I control the mindset of millions of people around the planet who are willing to do anything for me. I am first, and will remain first. Are we done?”

“I am.” Wrath fell to the ground, exhaling heavily. Envy looked away, scolded.

“Well said, eldest.” Father smiled and made eye contact with me for the first time in existence, but still couldn’t call me son. He stood, clapped a twice. And turned to leave, a hop in his step. He was always happy, and always would be. After all, he was the only one here without sin.

#writing prompt #original content #writing

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vickypoochoices · 6 years ago

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Partner In Crime part 8.

Note: The final chapter! There will be an epilogue to follow which will be NSFW because I promised @littlegreenmoo this ages ago but the story took over. Also, can we ignore the text message fail with the different battery percentage. I couldn't be bothered to change it, oopsy! 🙈

MASTERLIST.

Part 7.

Lyla chewed on her lower lip nervously, her body numb, except for the iron tight grip around her forearm, her mother clinging on for dear life as they negotiated the hideously elegant, yet steep staircase. Her head was violently spinning, all of her concentration fixated on just breathing, the simple task proving challenging. Both feet successfully reaching the bottom of the stairs, Lyla sprang backwards as Molly gasped loudly next to her.

“Mum, what’s wrong?”

“The bouquet, we left it upstairs!”

“Oh, okay. I’ll go and get it.” Lyla shrugged, foot poised ready to retrace her steps.

Molly reached out to stop her. “Don’t be silly. We can’t be having you wandering around willy nilly. You’re the bride! You stay put, I’ll be two minutes. Here.” She looped her clutch around Lyla’s wrist before continuing. “If Auntie Fran replies can you tell her to take her seat at the front next to me. There’s been a huge mix up with the seating arrangement but i’ve sorted it now. She was all the way at the back can you believe? Anyway I’m rambling here, what was I doing? Flowers, yes!”

Lyla’s forehead creased in confusion at Molly’s sudden scatty behaviour. “Mum wha...”

“Two minutes sweetie.” Molly’s chin tilted as she looked up at the towering stairs. “Damn stairs. I may be a little longer than two minutes. Hold tight!”

Lyla frowned at the forced smile her mother churned out. What had gotten into her? Her thoughts were pulled away as the feather light clutch vibrated loudly once, then twice before giving a frantic final third vibration as Lyla clumsily prised it open, retrieving Molly’s phone. That had to be Aunt Fran. She was one of these awful texters, the kind that would send one sentence per text, and an additional message designated just for kisses. A touch of a smile ghosted Lyla’s lips as she tapped out a quick response as instructed. Her fingers curled around the phone, one that her father had passed on to Molly once he got bored of it. Her eyes scanned the top of the stairs, looking for any sign of her mother, before she hastily unlocked the phone, opening up her inbox and scrolling down. Unsurprisingly, there wasn’t all that much scrolling to be done. Molly’s inbox consisted of messages from Lyla, her father, Aunt Fran, a generic reminder for an appointment of some description, and Zig. Her fingers worked on autopilot, the short thread of texts opened before Lyla had a chance to think about it.

Her fingers frantically tapped out a rushed response, her frustration growing as she realised she had a minute, if not less, to pour her heart out. There was so much she wanted to talk to Zig about. He seemed pretty shocked about the Cherry accusation, had she really got the wrong end of the stick? There was no denying she’d felt empty and alone since leaving their shared apartment, and Lyla knew no matter what she thought had happened, she couldn’t just turn off her feelings like that.

Her eyes darted skywards, the sound of shuffling footsteps startling her, sending Molly’s phone crashing to the ground. SHIT! Did that send? Stooping down to the ground, aware of the footsteps growing louder, Lyla picked the phone up, bringing it up towards her mouth to blow on, before wiping it against her dress. What was that?! Who blows on a phone when they drop it?

“Everything okay love?”

“Yep. Absolutely. Uh huh.” Lyla stuttered, turning on her biggest smile as she stuffed Molly’s phone back into her clutch.

A perplexed look crossed Molly’s face for a second, before she corrected herself, thrusting the large bouquet of Dean’s favourite flowers forward. “Ready then?”

***

Zig bounded down the bustling street, unsure if the worried glances cast his way from on goers was a reaction to seeing a crazed man vaulting over any obstacle in his path, or his choice of attire. A smart black shirt, creased from where it lay crumpled in a heap at the foot of his bed, still heavy with the scent that was unmistakably Lyla’s, the sole reason he hadn’t washed it yet. Paired with grey sweatpants and a thick pair of socks but a distinct lack of shoes. No time for shoes. It was the no shoe thing that was creeping people out right? Zig didn’t care, he was wearing the first thing that came to hand because he was now on borrowed time. He almost collided with the glass door in his haste to reach the hotel he was 99 percent certain Cherry had mentioned. Once. Accidentally. Fuck Zig, what are you doing? After successfully negotiating the entrance, Zig braced himself against the reception desk, heart thrashing against his chest, his breath coming out as a strained wheeze.

“Can I help you?” A petite, bored looking brunette queried as she stood, peering over the side of the desk where Zig was now crouched, head thrust between his legs as he worked on steadying his breathing.

“Cherry...Cherry...What room number?”

The receptionist sat back down in her chair, making no attempts to hide the distain on her face, clearing her throat once.

“Sorry. I can’t give out details of our guests.”

“You don’t understand.” Zig inched upwards, slowly staggering to his feet, his sweaty hands slapping palm down on the desk to steady himself. “Please, hear me out.”

“Eurgh don’t touch that! I can’t give you any information on her because she isn’t a guest here any longer. She checked out half an hour ago.”

“How do I know you aren’t just saying that to get rid of me?”

“Oh please. A name like that? I’m hardly likely to forget her am I. Now can I kindly ask you to leave?”

Zig grumbled to himself as he left the hotel. The same word over and over again. “Shit.”

***

“It’s okay to be nervous sweetie. Don’t worry, I’m right here beside you.”

Lyla managed a weak smile, her hand still continually squeezing her fathers, as she looked over his features. Flecks of grey glinted as rays of sunshine highlighted them through his dark head of hair. His tired eyes, heavy lidded yet full of warmth, his thin lips smiling in adoration at her as he stood in his smart suit that Dean had picked out for him. He looked every bit the doting Dad, the fierce love visible for all to see. This man, who’s life would come crashing down, who’s life would be destroyed if she didn’t go through with this. No matter the consequences for herself, Lyla couldn’t stand to put him through that.

“Ready?” He questioned, looping his arm around hers.

“Ready.” She nodded, eyes pricking with tears as the doors peeled backwards.

Her throat constricted, the ability to swallow lost to her as she nervously glanced at all the heads, promptly swivelling in her direction. Her face melted into a smile as she picked out the familiar faces of her family members, all seated in the back two rows. Feet gliding down the aisle, Lyla lost herself for a moment, passing dozens of smiling faces, all unknown to her. In a sea of strangers, Lyla picked out just one she recognised. All other emotions ceased to exist for the briefest of moments, hope prevailing. Aaron winked at her, an encouraging smile fixed into place as he caught her eye. And then her heart plummeted, as Lyla realised Aaron was surrounded by strangers. He was alone. Zig wasn’t here. What did you expect Lyla? Too little, too late! Disappointment flooded through her, all traces of hope washed away. The text didn’t send! She’d told him to stay away, that he wasn’t wanted here, and that’s exactly what he’d done.

Lyla’s steps faltered as they neared the end of the aisle, her fathers strong and confident stride carrying them both the remainder of the way. On one side, Molly stood, a tissue balled up in one hand at the ready, and a supportive arm around a hunched up figure sat down next to where she stood, a shawl draped around their head. Aunt Fran really is ancient!

She could feel the cold stare accessing her long before her eyes begrudgingly met his. His dark eyes fixed on her, completely emotionless. A fake smile that only Lyla could see through, plastered all over his face. She’d run out of aisle, and out of time, there was no where left to run now.

“I would like to thank you all for being here today on behalf of Lyla and Dean. They’ve invited you here to share in this experience, and to share their undying love for each other with you all.”

A hushed whisper fell over the room as people settled down into their seats.

“Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”

Lyla’s Dad stepped forward proudly, both hands clasping hers tightly as she remained a pace behind him, head downcast. “I do.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, before taking the empty seat next to Molly in the front row. Lyla remained rooted to the spot, the distance between Bride and Groom painfully evident, her feet refusing to cooperate. Dean’s however, were more than happy to close the gap, reaching for her hand and interlocking their fingers, squeezing tightly. Too tightly.

“And now I ask that if anyone present today knows of any impediment why these two may not be lawfully joined in matrimony may they speak now, or forever hold their peace.”

A heavy silence fell upon the room. Lyla glanced behind her, catching sight of the guests giggling nervously and shifting restlessly.

A small chuckle echoed in the otherwise silent room, cutting the tense atmosphere short. “It doesn’t matter how many times I say that, it always sets me on edge. Come now, shall we continue? I believe this is the part we’ve all been waiting for!”

“WAIT!” Lyla instinctively turned to the back of the room. That’s how it always happened in the movies right? Her one true love was meant to burst in through the doors and stop the wedding. Deep indentation lines settled on Lyla’s forehead as she frowned in confusion, the back doors remained firmly shut with no Zig in sight.

“I won’t let this wedding take place!”

Lyla’s attention moved to her left, a voice continuing from the front row. Her eyebrows knitted together tightly, her mouth falling open but failing to find any words.

“Come now Molly, there must be some mistake.” Lyla stiffened at the sound of Dean’s forced laughter, and the sight of him stepping towards her mother. She matched his step, glaring at him with a sudden rush of confidence as adrenalin surged through her, uncomfortable with him closing in on Molly.

Molly’s voice came back loud and clear, strong and steady. She wasn’t afraid of Dean, and she wouldn’t be intimidated by him. “There’s no mistake. My daughter will not be marrying you.”

“I’m sorry Molly but it looks like she will. She’s stood next to me in a wedding dress, wearing my ring, about to take my surname. I’d say it’s pretty obvious Lyla is all set to get married. Although you’ve certainly spoilt her big day now.” A light pink flush crept up Dean’s neck, the veins there straining against his skin as he struggled to reign in his temper, trying to keep up the pretence.

“I’m saving her actually.”

A loud, unattractive snort came from Dean, his eyes shining in the sunlight, a silent challenge for Molly to try her luck against him. “Is that so? Why don’t you enlighten us all then?”

Molly took a step forward, refusing to flounder at his command. “I have quite a few concerns about you marrying Lyla that I could happily voice right now. But for now I’ll keep it to a minimum. Even if this wedding does somehow go ahead, it won’t be legal. Because Dean has previously been married. And is in fact still married.”

“That’s absurd.” Dean scoffed, eyes roving over the faces of the guests whilst he tugged at his collar once, before catching his display of guilt, hands quickly falling against his sides.

“Give it up Dean, Zigmund has told me everything.”

Dean’s lips curled upwards into a sneer at the mention of Zig’s name. “Zigmund. That jealous fool! It all makes sense now. Can’t you see Molly? He’s made this all up in the hopes of finally having Lyla to himself.”

Dean’s words ran over and over in Lyla’s head, a sudden bout of queasiness overcoming her as Dean continued to smear Zig’s name, until her mouth took over. “Zig wouldn’t make something up like that.”

Dean reached for Lyla’s hand, forcing a smile onto his face. “Darling, there’s no need to defend him now.”

As his fingers curled around her wrist, Lyla shook her head adamantly. “No. I know Zig. He’s...” Her words cut off as she stopped to catch a breath, a sharp wave of pain coursing through her as Dean’s nails dug into the soft skin of her wrist.

Dipping his head to her level, Dean lowered his voice, his words intended for Lyla alone. “I suggest you stop. Now.”

“And I suggest you take your hands off of her. Now.”

Lyla’s whole body tingled in response to his voice, her head still bowed, staring at the deep crescent shaped grooves now embedded in her skin as Dean reluctantly loosened his grip.

A firm fingertip tucked under her chin, gently urging her to look up. Fresh tears threatened to fall as she complied, everything seeming to melt away as she lost herself in a pair of dark brown eyes full of anger, warmth, sympathy and love.

“Lyla.” His voice was a breathy whisper, pulling her flush against his chest, chin resting on the top of her head.

“Zig...” Her bottom lip trembled, her whole body sagging against his weakly.

As they pulled apart, Zig placed a hand on either side of Lyla’s shoulders, lowering down to her level, his eyes fiercely searching hers. “Are you okay?”

“I am now.” She managed to choke out, a stray tear slipping down her face. Zig smiled back at her, gently chasing the tear away with his thumb before turning on the spot, attention fixed on Dean. They locked eyes, Dean taking a step forward, Zig placing himself protectively in front of Lyla, his eyes refusing to leave Dean’s, neither backing down.

“Ahh Zigmund, I should have expected nothing less from you really. Congratulations on making a huge scene. Come on then, out with the ridiculous allegations.”

His thumb soothingly stroked continuous comforting circles around Lyla’s as he took a calming breath, readying himself to speak. Until Molly’s voice stopped him.

“Zigmund told me all about your wife the other night, and I took the liberty of contacting her myself.”

“This should be good.” Dean made a show of rolling his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest as Molly continued.

“I know everything about you. I know what a vile man you really are. You will never be good enough for my daughter and I will not let you marry her. And if you think you can blackmail my family like I’m sure you’ve already planned out you can think again. We don’t want your money, We’ve always got by before without it. If it means struggling for the rest of our lives then so be it. As long as Lyla is with someone that makes her happy, and treats her with the respect she deserves then it will all be worth it.” Molly exhaled loudly, straightening her back and nodding resolutely as she finished her speech.

“Well that’s certainly eye opening Molly, but I’m still yet to see any proof.”

“Obviously when you have money it’s easy to tidy things up and make things disappear. I can’t find a record of your marriage anywhere.” Molly mumbled, eyes averting from Dean’s hard stare, a hint of pink rising to her cheeks.

Dean’s smile was smug, his eyes lighting up as he struggled to supress the thick gloating tone to his words. “What can I say? I tried to tell you Molly! You can thank young Zigmund here for embarrassing us all in front of everyone today.”

“I can’t find a record of your marriage anywhere online. But then I went to meet your wife.”

Dean’s jaw clenched, the sound of him swallowing hard audible to the whole room. “Ridiculous.” He bit back through clenched teeth, one single word all he could muster.

“What’s the matter Dean darling? Are we getting a little too close for comfort?”

Every head in the room snapped up, eagerly turning to follow the sound of the voice. Aunt Fran hobbled the few paces along from her seat in the front row, shedding her shawl along the way, to reveal a mane of deep red hair, and a young, pretty face. She shook her limbs exaggeratedly for a few seconds as she stood to her full height, the disguise of aunt Fran completely lost now.

The sharp hiss of air from Dean was all the proof Lyla needed to know this was in fact his wife.

“Terry. Kindly escort them all out now.”

Cherry stepped forward, as Terry reluctantly shuffled along.

“Not so fast Tezza!” Cherry side stepped away from Terry, dashing into the crowd of guests, plucking a handful of papers from her pocket and quickly discarding them into the hands of the guests.

“You see the thing is.” Molly continued, straying to Lyla’s exposed side, Zig still gripping her hand on the other. “Cherry here seems to have the only copy in existence of your wedding certificate, with the added bonus of a photo too, which I’m sure these lovely guests here will love looking over.” The sound of paper ruffling as people turned over hastily to catch sight of the photo filled the otherwise silent room. “So we have the proof that you two are in fact married covered, but, try as I might, I struggled to find anything that would suggest you two ever ended this marriage.” Molly casts a look at Dean’s parents, seated in the front row, both furiously blushing and shifting uncomfortably.

“There’s a divorce paper, I swear.”

Molly smirked at the shrill tone of Dean’s voice. “Oh, so now you at least admit to having been married before? Two minutes ago I thought you said that wasn’t true at all. Come on now Dean, which is it?” She tutted, as a thin sheen of sweat glistened on Dean’s forehead, finding himself at a loss for words for the first time ever.

“I...”

“Divorce or not, you’ve lied to Lyla, and that changes everything. How could she possibly go through with a wedding to someone that would lie to her about something as monumental as this?”

“Surely that is entirely Lyla’s decision to make.” He retorted.

The weight of a hundred expectant gazes fell upon Lyla, a shiver running along her spine at the sudden realisation that this was her way out. The one thing she’d been praying for, suddenly handed to her on a plate. Take it!

Her pale skin seemed to glow, and she had to physically restrain herself from gleefully skipping down the aisle without another word. Two words would suffice.

Biting her lip as she sucked in a giddy breath, staring down at her fingers still laced through Zig's, she peered up at him, a mischievous smile spreading quickly. She kicked the ugly, narrow shoes off her feet, smirking as they slid easily along the floor, skidding to a stop directly in front of Dean. Lyla sashayed the brief distance herself, straightening his slackened tie before leaning in close to whisper in his ear. "Goodbye, Dick.”

Catching sight of Dean's balled up fists by his side, and the animal like snarl that followed, Lyla beamed, knowing Dean wasn't stupid enough to attempt anything with all these witnesses around.

Placing a protective hand on Lyla's shoulder as he stood behind her, Zig glared at Dean. He longed to tear a strip off of him, but he'd settle for Lyla's safety and freedom. For now. "I don't think Goodbye Dick is what I was gonna go with." Zig chuckled, eyes never leaving Dean's.

Dean stepped forward, eyes lingering on Lyla's hand as she grabbed Zig's, swinging it back and forth animatedly.

"I could tell you what I was thinking..." Molly smirked, winking at Lyla and Zig, as they made to leave, running off down the aisle hand in hand, giggling like a pair of kids.

Tagging: @zigortega4life @emerald-bijou @littlegreenmoo @krsnlove @choicesthot @sarzkh31

#choices #zig ortega #fanfic #choices fanfiction #zig x mc

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authorkimberlygrey · 6 years ago

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I write Flight Rising stuff now I guess?

So I joined FR last year, played for about two weeks and got bored because I need some sort of goal or story to keep my attention and I was working on my novel Ascendant. Then this year @prayforelves started playing so I dusted off my account and joined her. Then she started making her own story for her dragons and again I followed in her footsteps.

I’m still coming up with my main conflict and the majority of the world building and plot points but I did write a couple of character origins for my favorite Pearlcatcher father-and-son duo.

This first one is for my probably-MC BogDrowned

They tell him that his father is beautiful, that his mother is powerful. They croon that he will unite their greatness and bring it forth in countless generations. They whisper that though his father is a light dragon, he will be shadow, he will bring power and prestige to their clan, to their god.

Beside him, his siblings chirp eager replies. He joins and his voice makes the whisperers quiet. For a moment, he thinks that perhaps he has done something wrong, then warmth wraps around the shell of his world.

They tell him his voice is beautiful, the most beautiful they have ever heard. They tell him he will be Magnificent. He sings to them that he can’t wait.

The world grows small and cramped, he presses against the walls and feels them buckle. The voices are singing encouragement, and he sings determination in return. Light floods his eyes and the world grows ten million times in size with one single crack.

“I’m here!” he sings, “I’m here! Look at me, aren’t I beautiful as you said?” He must be, for his scales shine, blacks and browns and greens. The same colors as the beautiful, beautiful world around him. He puffs his chest forward and looks up to see the singers at last.

They are speaking to a towering white dragon, though they are all towering to him. His lip curls, surely this dragon is ugly. Blisteringly bright, and not at all like the world around them.

“Ah,” says one of them, “that’s that I suppose.” This one is colored with bright greens and pinks. Ugly he thinks, surely this is what ugly looks like.

“Don’t worry,” says another, “you get some like this in every batch, its no reflection on you.” Her scales are glittering and bright, is she ugly too?

“Too bad about that voice though,” says a third. This one is colored in purples and blues.

“He will use it to sing praises to the Shadowbinder,” the final speaker is looming over him, nudging him with his polished muzzle. Colored blue and red. It is striking it is bright, surely this is an ugly dragon.

“Aren’t I beautiful?” he asks, even as the ancient dragon nudges him away from the shattered remnants of his tiny, dark world.

The ancient dragon doesn’t answer, only herds him to a small gathering of other hatchlings. Their colors are dull, or mismatched. One has a wing that hangs oddly from her side. They, he realizes, are not beautiful. He is not beautiful.

He casts a glance back at his tiny shattered world and wishes he could go back. Back to the dark where the beauty of his colors did not matter, only the beauty of his voice. He wishes that he’d never come into the light, into this massive world that somehow, manages to be smaller than the one he came from.

***

They do not call him beautiful at the temple. They call him singer, they call him tithe, they call him servant. Here, at least, his colors do not matter, only his voice. They do not want him to speak, only to sing with his beautiful voice. Songs of shadows and praise for their mistress.

So he sings. He sings of her beauty, of the shining of her luminous eyes, of the strength of her wings. He lifts his beautiful voice from his ugly throat and sings praise to the goddess that is so so beautiful.

He sings day and night, his voice echoing over the river, over the clouded scrying pool, over the shadows and the moon. The nameless priests stop on their endless patrols and sacrifices to hear him sing and they call his voice beautiful.

It tastes bitter, it tastes like mockery and derision though he knows they don’t mean it that way.

***

Once, his father comes to the temple. Even the highest priests scrape and bow to be visited by these shining beautiful dragons. Whose eyes glint with health and life, whose colors swirl in mesmerizing patterns, whose scales are polished and cleaned with pride.

They call his father healer. They call him a servant of Light. They call him beautiful.

It burns in the back of his throat like acid, more bitter than anything else he has tasted.

His father, he learns, was a Light dragon who, for one reason or another, left his clan. No one can agree if it was a trade of pedigrees or if he was captured in a raid, or if he was outcast. No one cares though, because Zephyr is beautiful and powerful, and his healing has saved countless lives.

He learns that his father is considered one of the most beautiful in the clan, even without his healing powers. His scales shine in the darkness, whites and golds and blue-greens that swirl over his shoulders and wings. The delicate grey of his paws. He is beauty incarnate.

He looks at his father and he looks at his own muddy colors and he wonders, how could something so ugly come from someone so beautiful? He sees the way the other priests look at him and wonder the same thing.

He is a stain on his father’s legacy and it tastes bitter on the back of this throat. How dare he seek to make someone like Zephyr lesser? How dare he be born so ugly.

His father speaks to the priests and they show him the newest arrival, who is sickly and weak even to the temple. The hatchling is ugly. With a dull purple coat and random patches of brilliant orange that give the impression that someone has thrown up on her.

Zephyr heals her anyway. Touches her ugly scales with his beautiful ones and speaks to her gently.

He is surprised to learn that his father’s voice is nothing special. It is not ugly, nothing about Zephyr could be ugly, but it isn’t as beautiful as his own voice.

His father glances at him once, and his beautiful yellow eyes, smiling down at the hatchling he has healed, dim with disappointment.

Then he leaves.

That night, when he raises his voice to sing of the Shadowbinder’s beauty, his voice has a bitter, mocking edge to it. How beautiful is his goddess, more beautiful than the sun and the light, more beautiful than the glittering ice and the raging storms.

How beautiful. He laughs. So beautiful. He mocks with derision. As if beauty means anything. Why should it? Here in the darkness where no one can see clearly anyway.

He laughs himself sick and sobs himself sicker. He rakes his claws over ancient trees, twisted and gnarled. Lashes his tail and disturbs the scrying mirror, muddled and murky. There is no beauty here.

“Do not destroy the temple,” the head priest says, she doesn’t admonish the anger, only the expression of it in the temple.

He flies over the walls and unleashes his anger beyond them. His roars shake the trees, send animals fleeing and flying away from him. His claws tear through plant and rock and the water churns around him.

When his anger is spent, he collapses in the shallow water and can’t bring himself to move. His eyes close.

…...No….that is not a proper end at all…..

His eyes open and he stares into the face of his goddess. She is not beautiful. She is horrifying. He has spent his years singing of the shine in her eyes, the glittering sleekness of her scales, the delicate colors of her mighty wings.

Her eyes shine like the eyes of long-dead things. Glassy and milky and somehow, staring right through him.

Her scales glitter wetly, melting down her body. Thick and viscous, creeping through the water. Dead fish float up in its wake.

Her wings are torn and limp at her sides. Her colors are muddy and muted: murky purple, dull green, muddy brown and watery black.

She laughs at his horror. It is rasping and rattling, as though it might shake her entire, melting, rotting body apart to make such a sound. “....so surprised to see me…..am I not beautiful, my son?”

He dares not reply because the only possible answer is No.

She shakes her head. “Such foolishness….that my children have fallen to….such pointless vanity….Not you though….little ugly thing…..” She laughs again. It sounds more like a death rattle. She looms over him, the sickly shadows that melt off of her skin swirl around his paws. “I could use someone like you.”

He wakes to water in his nose, in his mouth, in his lungs. He coughs and chokes for hours, for days, it seems. When he can finally breathe again, he opens his eyes to find the world changed. The shadows remain as deep and dark as always, perhaps even darker, but he sees what they hide as though it is right in front of his muzzle.

He doesn't see the world as though it is daylight, he sees the darkness and the shadows as he always has, but they do not hide things from him anymore. They easily offer up their secrets to him and him alone.

“What--” he begins, and then stops, touching his throat with horror. His voice, his beautiful voice is as raspy and rattling as Hers had been. “What did you do to me?” he asks with his creaking, rattling, rasping voice. It sounds like claws against stone, like trees creaking in the night wind, like the death rattle of prey and foes.

It is not beautiful. Nothing about him is beautiful now.

“A gift,” the shadows snicker in a rasping voice. “For my most devoted worshiper.”

He doesn’t return to the temple. His goddess isn’t there, in the pale shadow of beauty. She lives in the bog where he drowned, She lives in the black tears that drip from his eyes, in the gnarled, twisted branches of the trees, in the deepest, darkest shadows.

She gives him her gift and she slips back into the shadows to see what he will do with it.

He finds a bird with golden feathers and slaughters it. Cleans its skull and wears its beautiful golden feathers around his head and laughs at the idea of his father’s beauty. It is an ugly sound, but he is an ugly dragon, so at last, it fits.

#Flight rising #FR #FR lore #Flight rising Lore #Flight Rising art #Eugenics Dragon Hell #Dark #angst #This is why I can't have nice things #I make them angsty #Sorry people who follow me for writing advice #This is my new hyperfixation TM #or at least until I get unstuck with Ascendant #which might be awhile #rip

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freyalor · 6 years ago

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Gloves.

With joy, Papillon.

Fandom : FrenchHistoryFriendship : Richelieu & Joseph Date and place :Paris, 1621Words : 4KRating : G (Warning : blood)

I quicken my pace, becausethis dark feeling in me has kept growing since this morning, and Godin his warnings has never led me astray.

The cobblestones of Parisare merciless with the soles of my feet, but this is my penance week,and no glory, no praise, no temptation can divert me from my faith. Ishall walk from the Ursulines convent to the Louvre barefooted, nomatter how filthy Paris can be in late September.

I pass the Palacegates as the evening sun declines and the horizon starts to burn withgorgeous shades of rosy red. The Lord, in his endless grace, hascreated the most magnificent blend of thin white clouds and vibrantlight to salute the day once more, but I cannot spare time to marvelat it, because this pain of bad omens twisting my stomach, Iknow what it means.

The doors of the Louvresopen for me with reverence, valets and Courtiers bowing politely onmy passage. I hear their murmurs, of course I do, the same I’ve beenhearing for fifteen years.

Devout man,apostolic soldier, an example of faith, somesay, but I am not moved by flattery. Lunatic,rabid monk, demented wolf of bigotry, othersspit, but I am not touched by villainy.

Only one thingmatters, one sole purpose guides me. And I feelit needs me upstairs.

I was walking quitepeacefully as I got out of the Convent one hour ago, but I fear I amalmost running by now, passing in front of the Queen Mother’s doorssnarling her servants out of my path. I only concede a brief halt onthe last doorstep before the study, accepting a wet cloth and a basinto clean my feet from the grime of the street.

My penance, as healways says, doesn’t require ruininghis rugs.

But the moment it’s done,I barge in and lock the door behind my back, the twist of anguish inmy guts almost sucking the air out of me. As darkness crawls up thewalls of the study I quickly search around, not even at a man’slevel, but right away on the floor.

It doesn’t take long, ofcourse, for my fear to be confirmed by a dark silhouette curled atthe feet of his desk.

I knew it, oh,Christ almighty, I knew it.

God, in his warnings, hasnever let me astray.

I rush at his side,falling on my knees to search him for injuries.

-”Eminence?” I call.

But he doesn’t reply.

I hastily brush hishair away from his eyes to inspect them. They are wide open, butunseeing, emptied of all light, warmth or hope. I squint in thereclining light, Lord above, that painin my guts, I knew what it meant.

I grip his cheek to turnhis head towards me, get a glimpse of the state of his mouth, andsqueeze my eyes shut for a second.

Christ in Heavens, notagain.

Why burden thismiraculous mind with such ghastly madness?

Were the hardships onthe way to his fate not enough a price to pay?

I take a deep breath tosteady myself before I examine him further.

His lips are soiledwith thick stains of dried blood, spread on his cheeks and jaw linein chaotic brushstrokes. His face itself is unwounded, but I knowwhat surely is. I blindly reach for his slender hands, bringing themout into the last fragment of light coming through the window, andexhale a low groan of dismay.

He ate himself raw.

-“Oh, Eminence,for God’s sake!”I scold him, my shoulders slumping a little.

No reaction, of course.

I look around. Nocandles have been lit. It means the fithas started long before dark. His fingers are glued with black clotsof dried blood, so I suppose he’s been lying there for at least onehour.

Very well. Verywell.

I gently let go of him andget up in a wince. I walk to the hearth, revive the fire and dropthree large logs in it. Then, as the first flames rise from theirembers, I light a few candles with them, and set the kettle to boil.I go for the drawer where he keeps his medicine, pick up theCarmelite herbs he uses to soothes his headaches, and count ten dropsin a large cup. I prepare his basin next, and fetch the discretewooden case where bandages are always prepared, right there upon theshelf, under a pile of ancient maps.

I carry everythingto the small bedroom next door that is everything herHighness Queen Mother thinks him worthyof, sweep his nightstand clear with my elbow, sending books andpapers crashing on the floor in the process, and drop the cup andbasin upon it instead.

Then I spin around andhead back to the study, rolling up the sleeves of my robes.

-“Alright, Eminence,let’s do it.” I huff, pointlessly I suppose.

I kneel next to him again,this time to shift him on his back and slide my arms underneath hislegs and shoulders. Groaning in effort I haul him up and move to hisbedroom. God, I used to be stronger than this.

As if my exertionwasn’t enough, that’s the moment he choses to blink back to reality,realise he’s being carried, and start strugglingagainst it.

-“For the love of God,keep still!” I hiss, and his squirming stops dead.

-“Joseph?” His brokenvoice tries as I lay him on his bed.

-“Whothe hell else?” I almost shout, andhe flinches in instinctive guilt.

As I leave him there tostride back towards the kettle I vaguely realize I am being too harshwith him again, but truly, I can’t help how enraged, howdisappointed I feel. I had hoped for this sickness of his to recedeas he ascended towards his rightful place next to the King, but ifanything has changed in those last five years, it has mostly been forthe worst.

What I had mistaken for atemporary condition, a sign that the Lord wanted this exceptional manon much higher grounds than the miserable town of Luçon, was infact, as I have been forced to admit later, a curse he would carryall his life, a further strain upon his resolute, yet unfortunatelyfrail body.

I wrap a handkerchiefaround the kettle handle and lift the pot out of the fire. I bring itto the bedroom to pour warm water in the basin, careful to spareenough to fill his cup of herbs.

He has laboriously sit upon the bed while I was gone, and he’s watching me now with meek,exhausted eyes, expecting my anger, no doubt, to break like thunderanytime.

But I stay silent instead,dipping the handkerchief in the basin with one hand, handing out hiscup with the other. He moves to seize it, but his fingers are in sucha state they wouldn’t keep a steady hold of a feather.

-“Don’t.” I grunt, andlift the cup to his lips instead.

He glances down athis hands and whines in deep shame, still taking a sip out of the cupwith quiet obedience. I make him drink all of it before I start,because I’ll have to peel those dried clots of blood off his skinand it shall hurt like hell.

I examine his sleeves.Those new bishop robes may be more suited for the Louvre than thecheaper ones he had in Luçon, but their sleeves are too tight to berolled up. I sigh, unbuttoning the whole frock.

-“We need to get rid ofthese.” I mumble. “I want access to your hands.”

He lets himself be handledrather calmly at first, watching my hands with a dazed frown, but themoment I start brushing the opened robes off his shoulders he letsout a panicked shriek, crawling away from me in confused terror, hiseyes blurred with renewed nightmares.

I freeze, hands suspendedin the air, feeling my heart miss a beat, not because of his fright,not only that.

Also because of thatsmell I sniffed on his exposed skin.

The smell of rancid sweatand sugared wine.

The smell of disgust.

The smell of her.

Oh, bloody hell.

Exhaling sharply, I sit onthe edge of the bed, watching him shiver and heave for a while, untilhe understands there’s no one else than me here, and slowly calmsdown.

I should have knownit was the Medici.She must have had one of her afternoon hungersagain.

It’s not what she doesto him, or what she asks him to do when she summons him alone in herchambers and dismisses her usual audience of witches and worms.Fortunately, she’s a dull-minded, unimaginative woman, and the sinsshe forces upon him are, after all, quite commonplace.

It’s not that,it’s her.It’s just her.

Her rotten teeth, herdecaying hairline. Her dusty jewels and heavy gowns. Her immense,disgraceful body, loaded with both fat and vanity, too cumbersome tobe washed more than once a month.

Her vile tongue, her wet,slimy lips, and her bottomless appetite for everything sugary andsweet.

Including Eminence’s paleskin.

Its been ten years nowshe’s been devouring his youth with famished chortles every day andnight. In less than five, his rich brown locks have turned to silvergrey, and deep lines of worry have crawled around the corner of hiseyes, his body marked by her ravages just as permanently as his soulis.

As time only blackened hermind and thickened her face, Marie de Medici has turned into amonster of self-assured stench, and though many other men would makedo with this atrocity for the sake of the favours and privileges sheso freely distributes, this one lives every second spent in her bedas the cruelest of all tortures.

He’s not repulsed as Ican be by the carnal sins of this world, it’s not that. It ispainfully obvious how this man craves touch with every fibre of hisbeing.

He is destined for more,so much more than her, that’s all.

His mind, thoughmethodical and wise, has been drawn towards the delicacies of art andnature since his earliest childhood. He has a taste, a needfor the absolute, his eyes constantlylooking up to higher skies, and being trapped under the rancid weightof this mindless mare is an insult to his rare, refined soul.

I wait for his eyes toregain some focus, and since his hands are still useless, I reach outto tug his robes off his arm myself, reciting Deuteronomy to soothehis fear.

-“ TheLord himself goes before you and will be with you,”I whisper as I roll his black attire away until he’s bare to thewaist, “he will never leave you norforsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.”

He looks reassured,familiar with my voice reading out the Bible to him, so as I pick upthe basin, and lay it down on his lap to grab one of his hands, hebarely lets out a whimper of protest.

I plunge the handkerchiefin warm water and start rubbing dried blood off his fingers one byone. As I work, the nasty scabs reveal horrid wounds underneath; mostof them bite marks, though I suspect him to have used some kind ofblade at some point. He seems to discover, just as I do, the extentof the damage, and with a broken sob, he softly pleads:

-“I can’t do thisanymore, Joseph. I can’t…”

I know what he meansto say, and God be my witness I understand, but our sacred dreamsjust can’t affordto have any of this by now.

-“We have a purpose,Eminence.” I sternly remind him. “We have a-”

-“Stop calling methat way!” He cuts in, averting his eyes in self-hatred. “I toldyou already I am nota Cardinal.”

To his stunned confusioninstead of arguing I just let out a fond chuckle, releasing his cleanhand to reach for the other.

-“Of course you are.”I scoff. “You are, and you have always been.”

I wash his other set offingers with the same devoted care, his blood eventually turning thebasin water into a badly filtered Bourgogne wine in a sad mimicry ofJesus’ miracle. When my work is done, I discard the filthyrecipient and pull out the bandages box, sighing in concern at hisripped, abused skin.

This is worse thanbefore. This is worse than ever. Thecuts are deeper, the wounds nastier, some areas bitten several times.

Lord, he must have hurthimself for hours to force out, I suppose, the agony he felt inside.

I distractedly pat hisshoulder, then push him downwards onto the bed until he lies downthere, and pull the covers over him. I gesture him to roll on hisside and put his hands on my lap.

He obeys, soundless, numb,barely the shadow of the man he was last time I saw him.

I’ve been a fool.Evangelic duties or not, I shouldn’t have left him alone in theLouvre for so long.

His wits are remarkableand he has fierce adaptive instincts, it’s true. His knowledge ofnames, faces, facts and secrets is far greater than anyone suspects,and he has already managed to prepare the next three best profitablediplomatic moves for France regarding each significant force inEurope clear as day on maps and papers. He has made excellent use ofhis delicate speech and charming poise already, earning himself eyesand ears in places where his name hasn’t even been heard yet.

But this placeremains a nest of snakes and the Medici’s clique,even after Concini’s death, is still a bunch of the lowest breed ofhumanity. There will be no rest for him as long as she’s around,sweeping her salacious stare upon his skin.

I’ve been a fool.

Like it or not,Eminence’s nerves will need constant consideration, and my denyingthe strain our scheme for power is having on his sanity won’t helphim in any way. This kind of misjudgement is forbidden to me. As longas he’s not at the King’s right side day and night yet, he hasme, only me,to protect him from his foes, and from himself.

I’ve been a fool,a stupid fool.

Inept to speak my remorseotherwise, I carefully grab his wrists and kiss his abused knuckles four times with the same devotion I would have for the Christ’s ownshroud.

-“My Eminence.”Ibreathe against the stigmata of my mistakes, and he closes his eyesin sheer sorrow.

-“Please, Joseph!” Hecries. “I don’t deserve your care. I am not the man you see inme, I never will. Why do you keep pushing me upwards while I’m sovisibly worthless?”

Hell,I hate it when he speaks that way. Iknow it’s just his nerves talking, but mercy me, it feels like aninsult to the very face of the Lord.

-”Look at me,Ezechielli” He breathes, “look at me, I am a monster. This dreamwe have, God’s mission as you say, you would have accomplished itbetter on your own.”

-”Shut it.” I grumble,busying myself with the thin strips of bandage.

But he doesn’t hear, eyesblurred, face half-buried in his pillow, shivers of exhaustioncrawling up his spine.

-”Youcould be Cardinal, you could be Minister.” He raves on, adrift.“You already have the reputation of a Saint. I know your feet arebleeding too, Joseph, with the mortifications you impose yourself aspunishment for the sin you’ll never commit!”

-”Shutit, you idiot!” I yell, and hisshocked stare darts up to my face though a veil of tears.

I can’t look at himtoo long, because as he keeps praising my virtues while he drags hisown soul into the dust, he’s being so wrongI could slap him in the face.

-”I’ll tell youof my sins, Eminence.” I hiss, focusing on taking care of hiswounds instead. “I’ll tell you why it has to be youalone, right next to the Sun, beaming in red cardinality on the verypages of future history.”

He doesn’t say a word,lying frozen in his bed, his wide eyes fixed upon mine, his bleedinghands offered to my care with unquestioning trust, looking soinnocent I almost cannot breathe.

-”Do you know why Imortify myself?” I blurt out, transported. “Because I am acoward. Those sacrifices that need to be made to achieve our holypurpose, those sins that need to be committed for France to be rebornout of the dark ages into an era of light, those horrid acts, thosefilthy deeds, only you are brave enough to carry them out.”

-”Joseph…” He tries,his barely bandaged hand moving towards my face, but I fear his touchwould only turn me to dust, and I inch away from him.

-”I was the one toadvise you to seduce the Medici” I go on, cutting stripes of whitefabric with my teeth and wrapping them around his skin, “becausethe young King had not yet the strength to seize the power that wasowed to him, and if the influence we needed had to be given to you,alas, it could only be by this fat whore.”

-”Joseph, we bothagreed…”

-”Yes, we bothagreed, but I remain safely tucked in your shadow, pushing youforward to damnation while I relish in the comfortof being true to my holy vows!”

I hate the fact that myeyes tingle, but it is the truth of God spoken through my mouth, andas I brush a damp strand of hair off his worried brow, I feel onlyhumbled by the strength, the purity of him.

-”And here youare, my Eminence, your magnificent soul offered as sacrificial lambfor the sake of our vision, burdened with ailment and pain,misunderstood, despised and tortured. Here you are, oblivious to yourown martyrdom, elevating me to the heights of saints, so I beg you,for the love of God and everything you hold dear, right now, justbloody shut it.”

A single tear pools at thecorner of his eye before it sinks into the pillow. He complies tomy will and doesn’t speak at all, but the determination of this mancan’t be ignored as he makes a painful effort to haul himself up onhis wounded hands, stare into my eyes for a second and drop aninfinitely soft, trembling kiss on my cheek.

He lets himself fall backon the bed then, and gives me a tired smile.

I cross his brow, wipingfeverish sweat off his skin as I whisper :

-”Andthe peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard yourhearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

“Amen”, he gentlysays, his voice devoid of all belief.

I expect him to sleep, Godknows I bloody would, but he insists upon me checking thecorrespondence he has prepared today for the officers and governorsof the South instead, since we need to know how many allies he couldcount on in his dearest, greatest endeavour: the utopia he calls theState.

I find myself, thus, goingback to the study to pick up his writing of the day, and sit on thatplain chair next to his bed to read it aloud, just like every otherdamn day.

I find both of usdiscussing probabilities and exchanging intel, clicking back into ournatural ways as if nothing happened, his cautious, analytical mindacting as the guardrail of my uncompromising impetus.

We agree upon a fewmodifications, that I write in the margins of his letters myself,since his reddened, throbbing hands are sealed in layers of bandages.

We agree, above all, uponthe fact that any further building of the State will have to waituntil the King is truly King, because no one in the Medici’sentourage has the even half of the ambition we need.

He sighs, then, thwartedby how far from reach his beloved dream remains.

Even in his own rooms inthe Royal Apartments of the Louvres, secured as the Queen Mother’slong-term favourite, even here, so far away from Luçon, from Blois,from exile and even disgrace, he’s still devoured by how incompletehe is.

A taste, a need forthe absolute. Heis destined for so much more, that’s all.

He’s destined for a placeright next to the Sun.

History is lying there inthis bed, locked within a brilliant mind, boiling to be given thepower it requires to change the balance of the whole continent,waiting in despair for a twenty years old man who still needs torealize he’s being robbed of his own crown.

History is lying there,sealed within a vibrant heart, already drawn towards the King byforces far beyond mankind, God’s mighty will showing itself inshining evidence through this man’s unquenchable feelings for youngLouis.

-”Be patient, Eminence.”I reassure him, stiffly patting his shoulder some more. “Soonenough, the red robes you deserve will be granted to you by thefilthy monster I made you crawl underneath, and each one of thosewounds will be atoned in glory.”

He bites his lips,smothering a bitter smile. I know he doesn’t share half of myfaith, but it’s not the first time my own conviction supports usboth, and it won’t be the last.

-“Withcardinality,” I hammer, ardent, “you will gain access to theRoyal Council, and I swear to you, all you’ll have to do, then, isspeak out those dreams you’ve been writing about for years. You’lljust have to talk, Eminence, and he willknow. He will see your worth. He’s no Bourbon if he doesn’t. He willsee you for who you are, and when he’ll grow strong enough to useyou, he’ll call you at his side, you, the only eagle that can flyright into the Sun. He’ll keep you under his protection, thegreatest servant he ever had, and he will love you then, I promiseyou, just as much as you love him.”

With that, he rasps aspiteful laugh, and blatantly rolls his eyes at me, shifting awayuntil he’s lying on his back, his hands carefully raised one inchabove the sheets.

I let out a dreamy smile,because, truly, can I blame him for his disdain?

-“You think Idon’t know what I’m talking about right?” I throw him, defiant.“How can a monk speak about love, well, learn, youngman, that I have been in love before.”

He has a small start,turning back towards me with wide, suspicious eyes, and his disbeliefisn’t truly a surprise. My tempted heart has been sealed long agoin a steel armour forged in the flames of faith and holy purpose, andthough this man is the only one I trust with my life, there are stillparts of my pastI kept hidden from his sight.

-“Would you think it sostrange,” I ask, laughing good-heartedly, “knowing I have been atthe Pluvinel Academy just like you, to think I too have known, in theblessed carelessness of my youth, the beauty of a woman?”

He sits up a little, then,his bright stare fixed upon me, and leans towards me in untaintedinterest, his own suffering forgotten in the raw curiosity his mindhas always been fuelled by.

-“What was hername?” He timidly asks, and I find myself stunned by how difficultit is to summon back her name to my lips.

-“Isabelle, Ithink.” I mutter, frowning in the struggle to recall her face fromthat part of my memories I left for dead so long ago. “She was theyoungest daughter of our neighbours in Montfort.”

I see him ready toask for more details, but I am not sure Ican remember much more, so I raise a finger in front of his nose andjust add:

-“Now, thecalling of God was already strong in my heart, but my mother and thatyoung girl were both resolute souls. There has been a day where I hadto lock myself in my room in Tremblay, while both women kept knockingon my door, reciting poetry, and imploring me to come out andaccompany them to a ball.”

He seems to make atremendous effort to picture that,and again, it’s only natural.

All I ever speak,all I ever act upon in his presence is God’s own will, from whatpour into my cup to every advice I ever give.

I have burned withthe Lord’s holy word since I learned how to read, yetunsure God’s plans for me until they were revealed to my face.Indeed, though I forgot everything about Isabelle, I remember thefirst time I saw those dark, fervent eyes all too well, in a squalidroom of the presbytery of Luçon, where his careful, yet ferventvoice felt already heavy the sound of glories to come.

I knew I couldn’tignore the glorious path that had been laid out for me anymore, then,and as I called him, “Eminence” was the only name my lips couldform.

-“You didn’tsuccumb.” He breathes, a bit admiring, perhaps.

-“Never.” Istate. “They went to that ball alone, while I sat in my roomcopying ‘The life of Saint Francis’. Twice.”

And before he even startsto snicker, my finger above his face turns into a stern warning.

-“And don’t rollyour eyes at me again, I still have your ‘Perfection of theChristian Man’ on my nightstand in Saint Honoré!”

At that he lets out hisfirst laugh, and I feel blessed already.

We share a few moments ofpeaceful silence, and I put the diplomatic letters away on the buffetto pick up the Bible instead, clearing my throat before I read a fewverses to him, in the hope of lulling him to sleep.

But before I do hesoftly pulls at my sleeve, flinching in pain as his fingers barelycan take a hold of the fabric, and nods at his hands with anguish.

-“This will neverheal until a few days.” He muses, his voice threatened by guiltagain. “Yet, I have managed to get myself invited to the Generalsreview ceremony tomorrow morning. The King will be there, you see,and the only pair of gloves I own will not hide those bandages.”

I look down at the layersof linen around his skin. Some of them are already stained in freshblood while others make his fingers too thick to fit in the tight,merciless satin gloves that came with the new robes.

I chuckle, then,because I can’t help it. God, inhis warning, has never led me astray.

I fumble in mypilgrim bag, the one I keep hanging on my shoulder at all times,giving as only answer to his questioning look:

-“Do you know why I wasat the Ursuline Convent this morning?”

-“For a sermon, Isuppose.” He tries.

-“Yes, but notonly.” I correct. “You will be delighted to know that SisterJeanne Espérance, who has been living there for twenty years now,besides being the most devout soul of her order, also happens to bethe best seamstress in Paris, especially with very fine leathers.”

I pull out a thincardboard case, then, and hand it over to him. Puzzled, he gentlypushes the lid open with the only side of his left thumb that’sstill undamaged, and gasps as he discovers, wrapped in delicatetissue, a pair of brand new black gloves.

-“It’s roe deerskin.” I explain. “Not as fashionable as the fancy silkennonsense worn at Court those days, but having the remarkableadvantage to be lenient withbumps and bruises.”

While I speak, Ilift Sister Jeanne’s excellent handiwork out of the box and gesturefor him to extend his hands again. I slowly, carefully slip theslightly extensible leather gloves on, taking my time around theworst of his wounds, until all signs of his burden are hidden fromthe world.

I admire the resultfor a while, then lift his fingers to my lips, murmuring my oath toembrace his curse at last as the necessary darkness to his light:

-“ AgnusDei, quitollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis. »

He shakes his headin perplexity again, but sinks into the bedwith a reassured sigh all the same, smiling brightly at his glovesbefore his eyes flutter close and he falls asleep just like that,with his hands still in mine, wearing the token of my friendshiparound the marks of his martyrdom.

I stay with him, asI stayed so many other nights, perched on the side of his bed, myeyes fixed on his face with the same certainty I had as a child,gazing at the Christ Himself, as my journey had just begun, in theold house of Du Tremblay.

#Cardinal Richelieu #Father Joseph #french history #Louis XIII #13PROMPTS #prompt fic

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mysticmysterywrites-blog · 5 years ago

Text

Prompt #6

Hey, so this prompt ended up being over 2000 words. I'm telling you now, you absolutely do not have to match it. Like, you can choose to. This is something you can choose to do! But I'm not going to force you to, because I'm 9/10 not gonna match this fuckers length again for a good long time.

Anyway!

I'm kinda hoping for a male character as a reply? The character I'm writing is like, 100% homo of the sexual, and he absolutely fuck with your character a few times while they're traveling. That said, if you really want to play a female character, I'm not that hard to convince (being the massive fucking gay that I am). But also, might end up needing to wipe the romantic aspect from it!

At least w/ Kimon, anyway. His brothers fair game to all genders.

Real fast. Kimon and Thales are human twins, the first being a bard and the second a wizard. They have darker skin, with red-brown hair and brown eyes. Kimon keeps his styled a bit shorter, and sticks to wearing lots of blacks and greys like the emo fucker he is. Probably best known for playing fantasy My Chemical Romance in the middle of the night. Thales keeps his hair down to about his chest, and dresses up in robes and a barrage of colors and patterns thats insulting to anyone actually trying. He's actually p happy, as a person. And you know, the necromancer.

When he's 5 he trips and cuts his leg on the pointed ocean stones, the sea salt slipping into the wound with each lap of the water

He cries and cries and cries, letting the tears replace the ocean mist on his face. His mother eventually notices his screams and comes rushing over to check on him, but his brother watches the way the blood falls from his wound, eyes wide in facination, hand gripping his in an attempt to comfort him.

The memory is eventually forgotten with time, but the fascination is not, and the two of them take very different paths in life.

He starts learning the piano when he's 7, takes fascination in the way that it sounds and feels. Every touch of a new key is a new feeling of wonder and excitement, Eventually, he takes excitement in the way that the lights around him glitter and dance, turning to the tune of the piano. He gets caught like that, playing to lights that shouldn't be there.

His mother is hesitant, of course. Bards are well known for their love of travel, for never standing in one place. Their father was like that. Always wanting to travel and move, always wanting to explore the world. It got him killed, and screwed her leg up, and she didn't want that for her baby boys. She wanted them to live a comfortable, cushiony life. Something boring. Something safe.

However, eventually she relents. He's not a particularly happy child (and hell, even as an adult is admittedly not the tellitubbies sun.) But playing against the piano always made him smile, and she loves when he smiles.

Over the years, He learns to master the piano, and then the violin, then the flute, then the guatar, and even the harp. Always falls back to the piano, but finds just as much enjoyment in every other instrument he learns. Violin offers him the most mobility, however, and mobility eventually offers him places amongst parties of adventurers or caravans.

His brother studies book after text next to him, humming along to the songs he plays time and time again, and eventually is rewarded a stave for his troubles.

They leave home when they're 16.

It's a hard choice to make. Admittedly, they have a rather comfortable life. Their mother has money and resources. Earned her place amongst nobility, rather then born. She knows who to talk to, and how to talk to them, and as a result they all live comfortable lives.

But he wants to travel, and his brother is running out of books to study from. He craves knowledge, craves digging deeper into magic he shouldn't have access to. He doesn't understand it, at the time. He, personally, just wants to tell stories. Learn other people stories. Wants to learn stories that have been passed down time and time again, and pass them onto other people.

But his brother wants knowledge, the kind hidden behind lock and key deep in temples and forgotten cities.

And forgotten cities have some pretty damn kick-ass stories to tell.

When they're younger, there's this tiefling girl that comes to their house a lot.

Her names Laelia, and she has this absolutely gorgeous purple skin, and big horns that crook and curve down, following the curve of her back and curl of her black hair. Her eyes are a bright green color, and fingers and teeth are sharp and shinning. She scares his brother, at first. But, Their mother welcomes her with open arms, speaks curses of the girl's parents and their dismissal. Sometimes, she stays for months on end before her parents remember she exists, come and claim her once again.

But she always end up back at their house, and their mother teaches her how to stalk around in the shadows, how to take full advantage of the smallest blade. Her sons might have been magic users, but the girl becomes her daughter, and she gladly passes on her techniques to her as she would a child of her own blood.

She travels with them for a while. She grows close to dying three times, then meets a small group

Her last words to him weren't a goodbye. She didn't believe in goodbyes, whatever that meant. She believed that the word was "Kimon, watch out for your brother," she'd tell him, placing her hands on his shoulder and glancing over at him, "he's getting into some things that are far outside his payroll, if you get what I'm throwing down."

He raised an eyebrow, and at the time he didn't understand. She could see that, he thinks. So, she just sighs and mutters.

"Its- nevermind. Just focus on keeping yourself safe, babe," and then she'd smack him on the back of the head, and turn to walk away. ~~

They find the first book in a temple hidden away, seemingly lost to time itself. Its made of stone and gold, the shine of the metal seeming to dance through the cracks of the stone. Light struggles to make its way inside, and Thales lights their path with a small flame, just in front of the two of them.

Theres a skeleton in the middle of the floor, a body as forgotten as the temple, and stains that even sink into the cracks of the floor. They ignore it, and go about shuffling through the books and notes the deceased wizard had left behind.

Thales thumbs through it with fascination glinting in his eyes and mouth opening and shutting about every now and again. "It's powerful stuff," he mutters, mostly to himself, "I don't know if I've ever seen anything like it."

They spend over a month there, as his brother copies spell after spell down. He doesn't mind, because he's spent three months in towns writing down stories and local fables. But it still worries him, the way his fingers linger over the necromancy books for so long.

There's this girl they meet.

She's beautiful. Hair large, curly. Pure white against a nice tan. She dresses in pinks and whites, carries around a hammer larger then she is. Her skin is callous around her fingers, eyes are brighter then ocean water, and she has a laugh he thinks he could play a song to.

Kimon likes her well enough. Thales falls for her immediately.

The sound of her spine snapping is somehow both memorizing, and sickening.

His cat brings him a little dead bird one day. It's feathers are pulled out and it's guts are destroyed, and the little bastard looks so pleased with himself over it. He grumbles and goes to clean it up, but his brother snatches up the job before he has the chance. Whatever. He's always been a fucking weirdo.

He doesn't think much of it. Wizards were just kind of like that. Maybe he needed the bones, or the feathers. Maybe it was some rare kinda bird, or maybe he just liked the look of the thing. He wasn't one to judge, he supposed.

He comes back three days later, holds up the bird, fluttering and chirping and as happy as could be.

"Kimon," he tells him, hope barely stinging through his voice, "I think I could bring her back."

His brother leaves in the middle of the night, one night, and he doesn't bother coming back. Doesn't leave a note, doesn't say goodbye. He just fuckin' leaves, like the goddamn jackass he is. His anger is replaced by worry only when, two years later, he hears stories of a necromancer causing trouble on a snowy mountain.

There's a few times where he's wrong

There's a few times where he joins a party chasing after a necromancer, only for them to stumble across a cult, or some other dumbass wizard in over their head on the concept of their own power. He doesn't feel bad, helping to bring their end. He doesn't have a connection to them, doesn't feel the pain they do. But it's disappointing everytime. He wants to find his brother, wants to know hes okay.

But he almost always ends up jumping from the party, after they're done.

He meets up with Laelia's party again, travel with them to some sea side town he knows he's been to but doesn't remember the name of. He doesn't tell them about his brother, knows the looks Laelia gives him when he asks are knowing and worried.

They stop at a little in, one thats run down and near abandoned, but has maybe some of the best fries he's tastes in years. He preforms for them to snag them a free room, and thats where he meets them.

They're different. He doesn't know why, but they feel different. He lingers around for a bit, listens to the way they speak and the tales they spin. It might be eaves dropping, to a small degree, but he finds himself so inticed by their words that he doesn't care.

He only approaches them after they tell the tale of a necromancer they've taken down, and how they plan to hunt down another one sometime soon. "I hear you're going after a necromancer," the words feel foreign, sour on his tongue, despite the fact that he's said them time and time over, "Up north, right? How much are you paying?"

And then he separates from Laelia's party once more, to fall in line with them.

He sleeps with them about three times, overall

The first time was excusable. They were both drunk, and he was admittedly touch starved. Every moment their hand lingered against his arm, it shot a feeling of euphoria up into his side, made him see lights he didn't know existed. He tried to play his instrument that night, but the cords were sloppy, and tune was off, and all he succeeded in doing was making them laugh. And hell, their laughter was gorgeous. Waking up the next day curled into their side hadn't been surprised, but he found he couldn't care as much as he should have with a hang over.

The second time wasn't as easily excusable, so much as it was stupidity. Theres this dance they go to, you see. Need to get all dressed up for it, know how to slow dance and eat finger foods and shit. They need to get in and steal a book from the man running the party, something of an easy task. They're talking in private, somewhere quiet, more like arguing, when the doors open. He thinks too fast, doesn't think through his plan. All he knows is that they have papers, books that they shouldn't, and that could be anyone. He slams his lips down onto theirs, lets them linger as the intruders startle, then pass. Flustered, but not knowing any better as to what they've obtained. And they don't bother separating, at least for the night. They're both touch starved, both angry.

The third time? There was no excuse. Nothing he could blame it on. They'd been sitting out by the camp fire, as he plucked gently at the strings of his instrument and played a quiet tune. It was just the two of them, party members be damned. It was cold. They were both tired, both hungry. They'd move closer together, quietly- gratefully- taking in the warmth of the other body heat. He'd bitch at them for ruining the tune of the song he was playing, and they'd laugh at him for it. He'd place his head on their shoulder, place his violin down. Move closer. Kiss them.

They end up in his tent, and he ends up with cricks all up his back, and half a regret from the night earlier.

He tells himself not to get too attached to them. They're a means to an end, nothing more, nothing less.

But Dammit.

He likes them

Theres tubes, filled with green liquid he can't really see through fully, but can see enough through to make out the form of a person.

The basement becomes colder, especially as he hears familiar humming deeper in it.

He would have slept with them more, is the thing.

But despite being a bard, he can't seduce to save his fucking life, and they always shuffle away when he gets close. So he doesn't, and they move on with their lives.

There's this little cabin tucked away in the mountains that they stumble across. While it appears abandoned at first, it's worn and well loved on the interior, Ash and dust having collected, just as much as footsteps and food have. There's evidence of someone living there, but not evidence of there currently being someone THERE.

They find a door under a rug, and that's where they hit gold.

They travel together for at least a year.

They have a tendency to get, well. Sidetracked, is the thing. A small quest here leads to a bigger quest there, and suddenly something that should have only taken three months at most is taking a year to get done. Its an easy pattern to fall into. They're the first person he's felt compelled to stay around in a while, and he doesn't mind getting dragged off to do the next big thing.

Still. He worries what will happen, in the end.

He makes a choice he decides not to regret.

He changes his target.

He's always been good at adding buffs. He plays on the defensive, prefers not to get hit. But it's hard. It's hard to concentrate on protecting both teams. He doesn't want his brother dead, and his brother doesn't want to die, which makes him terrifying. Thales always had a good grasp on magic, and watching him use it against them turns his heart cold.

He could tell that his brother, at least, was picking up on something being off, the way he noticeably double takes at him. His mask covers only the base of his face, but his hat covers the rest of it. But he knows his play style is unique, knows his brother has watched him cast spells with his magic almost his entire life. He notices, about half way through, how Thales backs off. Opens his mouth to say something. Gets himself knocked out as a result of it.

The shriek of the violin stops the battle in it's tracks, and he's turning his heel as his brother falls to the ground. Passed out, he tells himself. He's hurt and bloody and tired, but his brother is only passed out. He looks over the eyes of the person he's been traveling with for over a year now, the person that sweeps his feet out from under him and plays with his heart.

He's not sure if what he feels is love, or lust, but it doesn't change the fact that he's pointing a knife at them.

"Let me make this very clear," he raises the bow of his violin up, something he liked to think was a little more threatening due to the curve of the end being sharpened, due to them having watched him fight time and time again, "If you touch him, any farther, I- I will kill you. Even you can't be /that/ fuckin stupid. Step OFF."

#Cherubplay #Dungeon and Dragons au #Original Character

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