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glassrowboat · 2 months

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I Grew Up. Jing Yuan.

Summary: Before Jing Yuan was the general of the Luofu, he was just another kid who would play with wooden swords and bugs; a menace who was always ready to prove himself as a Cloud Knight. And besides him? An apprentice from the Alchemy Commission who was always ready to annoy him in his endeavors.

Warnings: Mentions of war, gore, death, there is an NSFW part (when both characters are adults), so fingering, smut, oral

Word count: 11,300+

A loud, cheery voice called out “one, seventeen, five hundred and seventy two,” as a blade swung in the air. The rustle of clothes coming with each move, every practiced hit to a non-existent enemy having a random number sang out into the air to match it. No chirping bird nestled in the trees to be had as the source of the voice had long since scared them all away. “Nine hundred and ninety nine, fifty six!”

And with each shout Jing Yuan was repeating the number he was actually on in his head, trying not to let a certain annoyance distract him as she has done so many times before. (Y/n)’s antics just as familiar as the spot he found himself training in. Cracked stones with bits of moss growing between the once upon a time smooth concrete, a red tree providing shade from the blaring sun, and a bench only five feet away currently supporting a girl with her hands to her mouth, trying to echo out each word.

“Sixty nine! Two thousand one hundred and five!”

Her green dress was tell enough that this girl was from the alchemy commission, but they both already knew that, the details of swirling clouds so unlike the ones above the two providing shade. A shadow cast out over the courtyard helping keep the air just cool enough that a light breeze would have anyone considering fetching a sweater. Well, anyone not in the middle of a training session.

“You are being a nuisance.”

Per usual.

Bringing his sword back up to practice another swing Jing Yuan tried his best to ignore the taunting words just begging him to chase her around the small space, again. “Oh, big word for a little guy. Jingliu teach you that one recently?”

“What if she did? Master is-”

“Three hundred eighty six.”

“Master is-”

“Seventy nine.”

With a clamor Jing Yuan drops his sword in a way one could compare it to a knight getting his weapon knocked out of his hand in the heat of battle. A daunting enemy above him threatening to end his life with their own blade as he scurried to fetch it back in time before that looming presence, a terrifying face about to become the last thing his ten year old self sees. So like a prince charming in a fairy tale, his fingers would grasp the worn down hilt from the shape of his hand just in the knick of time, blocking the enemy’s strike. A triumphant hero. Except it was the complete opposite. The sword just fell to the ground from a slip of Jing Yuan’s fingers.

“Smooth moves, Yuan.”

“If you hadn't distracted me.”

“And what Cloud Knight is supposed to lose his weapon because a chicka said a few words?”

Jing Yuan had to stop himself from biting on the inside of his cheek or maybe even a scoff just so he could get out: “any knight should know that sometimes you will lose your weapon in combat and what really matters is what I do next.”

Like he could grab a hidden dagger! Or….”I could just take the blade of a defeated foe.”

“Like what? Those giant ones the mara use?” (Y/n) held a hand up above her head, waving it in the air to call extra attention to it, a habit from waiting to be called on in class after listening to someone drone on for hours at a time about the medicinal properties of lily of the valley or something of the like. “I've seen those before, and they're taller than both you and I, so good luck! You'd have to spin around in circles just to give the blade any force behind it.”

A small giggle fell from her lips as she pretended to swing a giant blade, mocking the same way she would see Jing Yuan use his own.

‘Just what in the world is she imagining?’

“Just admit it, evolution didn't choose you, short stuff. So you'll just be a knight in training even when you're five hundred years old.”

‘As if!’

Picking his blade back up Jing Yuan slid it away in its designated sheathe with a satisfying click, the glare from the metal no longer reflecting on the ground beneath him as the sun peaked out from behind the clouds. “I told you that I'm going to be taller than you one day. Besides, you're only four inches taller than me, that isn't a lot.”

“I feel like I can make a joke here but it might go over your head.”

“Nope! Nope!” Not wanting to hear it, Jing Yuan smacked his hands to his ears. Maybe it would be enough to block out her shrill voice even as (Y/n) got closer to try and pull them off and out of place. “Just because you had to earn about that stuff for your studies doesn't mean I want to hear it. Not again. Mom already gave me the talk and it was awful!”

“You're such a kid.”

“She was talking about things with things and wouldn't let me leave until I repeated it back to her.” Right after he had run to go try and wash his ears out by dunking his head in the water can outside his home in hopes of the water knocking the words loose.

“You're not helping your case here.”

“It doesn't matter! That stuff like kissing other people the way mom and dad do is so not on my agenda. That can be saved for your princess stories and other girly stuff.”

“Oh yeah?” A little grin curled at the corners of her lips, most likely due to having another retort right on the tip of her tongue. (Y/n) even got out the words “then why are you so huffy over this stuff” before being cut off with little to no mercy by a loud call of her name. A man’s voice shouting for the girl again and again, only drawing nearer with each passing second. “Shit! I-I mean shoot. Shoot.”

Dropping his hands he stood there watching the panic come to her face. Only slightly smug. “Sure you did.”

“You're not helping!”

Quickly her form ran over to the courtyard's many walls, green dress fluttering behind as those little legs scurried around in a panic. Her voice only picked up in speed as (Y/n) tried to get the situation out, and understood, as fast as possible. “Yuan, I have to go right now. I left without permission again.”

‘Of course she did. Probably to get out of those talks about being switched out to advanced classes.’

“Hoist me up!”

“And why should I? You've been doing nothing but trying to get under my skin this entire time.”

Again, another call of her name sounded. Haize’s voice becoming clearer and clearer. A man Jing Yuan had only come across in passing when trying to drag a certain nuisance into playing with him. Or, a better way to put it, (Y/n)’s master.

“You motherf- I'll owe you!” Her hands were scrambling at the bricks on the wall, trying to find just the right ones to use for purchase. As if that's how scaling a flat wall would work, like rock climbing. Sure. “Just help me up or for the Reignbow Arbiter sake!”

He couldn't help the chuckle he was trying, and failing, to fight back from escaping, not with how quickly she did a 180. From teasing the life out of him (per usual) to now looking like she would plead like her life is on the line. Though with master Haize it was hard to tell, he could very well deal out writing the same sentence a thousand times over worse. At least that's one of the lighter one's Jing Yuan has heard about.

‘One shall not leave the alchemy commission without permission’ with each ‘I’ dotted with one of her hastily drawn hearts.

“Why should I? I think this is simply karma.” Despite his words Jing Yuan was already coming over to help, eyes going up and down the wall to figure out the best way to go about it.

“You little- I'll owe you, okay?”

“I know you will.”

And just like those five years ago, when they were both kids running amok trying to help one of them escape from an unjust punishment, (Y/n)’s shoe fell between his interlocked hands to his shoulder as she managed to swing a leg over gray tiles of the walls roofing. Admittedly it was a bit of a blessing that at least this time she didn't have to step on his head to get that proper step up. Last time that left a good mark of dirt in what was otherwise Jing Yuan's pure white hair as she scrambled away with a wide eyes scanning over the courtyard like she was expecting her master to pop out of thin air and a quick “see ya!”

Now though? (Y/n) was looking down at him from up high, her hand held out to help him up to follow her.

“And why are we sneaking into one of the alchemy commissions gardens when you have full access to go here?” This entire thing didn't really make sense to him, but here he was playing along even as the scent of flowers hit Jing Yuan in a way that was comparable to a woman accidently spraying her perfume in your face.

“Because, esteemed Jing Yuan, you're not allowed back here. And we have to do something to celebrate you officially becoming a cloud knight.”

Grabbing her hand the very same ‘esteemed knight’ pulled himself up and along beside her with very little help besides a tug or two to his blue sleeves. The uniform he now gets the privilege to wear with a red ribbon Jing Yuan ties around his waist every morning with pride after years of work and swinging that same blade over and over again. He swears that if he took a moment to just sit there and close his eyes while this menace of a woman jumps down into the garden below that he could feel the grip in his palm.

That is until his eyes shoot open as he hears a grunt and sees her figure kneeling on the ground, one of her hands brushing dirt off her face. Failing at that too, but for now she doesn't need to know that.

“Smooth moves.”

“Shut it.”

Jumping down after her, in a proper landing, Jing Yuan helps her up as (Y/n) huffs.

“But my point still stands, cloud knight.” Knocking a hand against his chest she turned back to the garden before them. An array of colors. Each petal is like a brush stroke on a canvas. “You got to your big goal, so we should celebrate.”

“Many of the other trainees after getting accepted were shooting the breeze with shaoxing glasses in their hands, and you choose a flower field you know like the back of your hand to take me to?”

“Fine, don't appreciate it. But I at least thought it would be nice. It's been a while since you've been allowed back here after you ruined a flower bed.”

“And last I recall you're the one that pushed me into said flower bed.”

“Anyway-” trying and failing to hide her laughter at what was most likely the memory of tripping Jing Yuan straight into a pile of dirt and seeds before her fellow classmates (Y/n) bent down so she could properly look at the blossoms before her. She probably knew every little detail about that flower, but Jing Yuan couldn't place it as anything more than just another pink one.

‘Anyway, she says.’

“Since when did it hurt to stop and smell the roses? Besides, if anyone catches us I'm just here….getting a few herbs I need to dry out for a project I have planned out. The number in my dorm has been dwindling.”

Moving besides her he sat down on the wooden walk set up to make sure no one would repeat his mistake so many years ago of mistaking where the path ended and patch started. At least that's the lie this one who thinks proper decor is bottles full of potions ultimately decided on before their scolding began. Jing Yaun’s boots making a hefty clunk as he settled down.

“And not even a drink to be had?”

“Yuan, wait until you're older. I shouldn't have to go over the repercussions of drinking before your prefrontal lobe has fully matured with you. I'll do it too.” Another huff. “It's very important for you not to touch a drop before your behavioral patterns-”

“Is this you talking or the lessons you've learned, prodigy?”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.”

Plucking one of the flower's petals off she held the fragile thing up, studying the veins as she held it up to the full moon. The only source of proper lighting to be had when neither of you could afford to turn on the ones for the garden without being caught. Who knows what trouble could be had for you two from this even with her supposed foolproof excuse for being here.

“Carnations. You've probably seen a few as decorations at those fancy tea houses, the ones we've seen those Foxian ladies favoring so much. These can be used for their anti-inflammatory properties if you're in short supply of the normal pain meds the commission makes. A poor substitution in my book, but it's best to always have something extra on hand just in case.”

Raising his hands up Jing Yuan brings them together a few times in a short round of applause. She always did look so intense when bent over work tables with mixtures of all sorts at her fingertips, eyebrows knit together just as they are now. “You really do sound like a proper healer when you go off about this. Shame I know you for mainly cussing when you stub your toe.”

“A lady is allowed to express herself!”

“‘Lady.’”

“‘Cloud knight.’”

“You can't use that on me anymore now that it's true.”

It takes a moment, her eyes on him in silence before finally relenting and muttering a short “touche” he almost missed.

Taking the petal from those hands lacking the calloused his have Jing Yuan pinched it softly, trying to view the one little piece of life the same way she seemed to. A well of endless possibilities that could be made into something more than just a woman's perfume. “Say, I think it's time I cash in one of the many favors you owe me.”

“And what favor do I owe you, big guy?”

“Ah, someone's still petty I grew taller than them.” Chuckling Jing Yuan looked up from the petal to a face that still had the slightest smear of dirt on its cheek, barely seen in this lowlight. “What happened to those precious three inches you had on me?”

“It was four.”

“Three inches.”

“Well, it's perfectly normal for a young man to be tall. If anything it's just a sign you were able to grow up strong and healthy despite all the times you slid your fried cabbage on my plate.”

Something she had let him do on multiple occasions as they shared a table at either the alchemy commission when everything was stuffed full of nutrients and seemingly without a sprinkle of sugar or at his family home as Jing Yuan’s mom always slipped them an extra dessert whenever (Y/n) was over.

“Well, uh…”

‘Okay, it seems we're getting off track here.’

“You owe me for helping you escape Haize when you were thirteen.”

“No, I gave you my desserts for a week in recompense. It's been paid off already, Yuan. Try again.”

Huh. Tilting his head at that his eyes rolled up to the star covered sky. The Luofu was on its night cycle meaning they could properly see the galaxy beyond the blue hue and clouds that would be overcast during the day time.

“It's pretty, isn't it?” A hand pushed his shoulder, not nearly enough to knock Jing Yuan down to the wooden path but it had him rocking in place for a moment. Tall but lanky as a certain healer had described him, right after saying he needs to eat more, then he'd properly fill out once he ages up and grows out of the awkward teenage phase. “Just say what you want. I'm fine with you owing me for once.”

“Of course you are.”

And of course he shoved her shoulder right back.

“Can you tell me what it's like to see a mara-struck up close? If I'm to meet one in combat I should know what I'm going into, and master Jingliu can only help so much.”

‘Master has only one perspective.’

“Good to know you're not so over confident that you're rushing into battle with your sword raised for a charge. I didn't know you had a brain in there.”

“Seriously? You- Just back to my question.” Jing Yuan snapped.

“Okay. Fine. Impatient much. The thing is with your question…It's simply not a fair comparison.” She took a moment, eyes going from between him to the flowers that surrounded them. Lavender, marigolds, chrysanthemums, and so so many more. A field. And if he asked Jing Yuan was sure (Y/n) could tell him the scientific names of each one without issue. “The one's I deal with are primed for dissection, not for a fight.”

A sigh.

“But, it's not pleasant. Master had me- let me try again. You know those gingko leaves that tree in the courtyard you used to always train in? How would they slowly turn from green to yellow only to fall off soon after?”

“I would always be tasked with cleaning them up. Part of my ‘due diligence’ and training in patience. I'm pretty sure though it was just master Jingliu not wanting to clean it up herself.”

“Well,” a small giggle came from her at that, “someone needed to do it. And if I caught you sweeping I'd always fetch a broom and spend the afternoon helping you catch up on chores.”

‘And she would always hold it over my head after.’

“I loved gingko leaves when we were younger, because they made me think of you and those moments where we were threatening to hit each other over the head with those old brooms that probably couldn't even handle a single strike. I would pick one out from the dustpan and keep it stored away in one of the many pots in my room. Like they were precious.”

“Is rambling included at this time to stop and smell the roses?” He couldn't help the little grin that came to him, lips quirked up at the edges with absolutely no effort to stop it.

“Don't interrupt me if you're the one who wants an answer. No lecturer wants a student that can't shut their fucking trap.”

“Okay, okay.” Raising his hands in surrender was automatic at this point after hearing just that pissed off voice alone. “Go on, teacher.”

“Thank you. For the Reignbow Arbiter’s sake. So,” (Y/n) clapped her hands together, calling attention to herself despite the fact Jing Yuan was already paying more than enough to her, “back to my point.”

“The thing is…After my first dissection, even with master Haize watching over the entire procedure, I couldn't look at the mara-struck all at once. I was supposed to dissect it like a frog, something I've done dozens of times before, but I couldn't even just take a step back to look at the thing properly. It was a task to be objective.”

‘Couldn't look at them? Was it someone she once knew?’

“When I finally did it was at the end of the process when the master said I could wash off, and there I stood by the sink with those stupid blue rubber gloves covered in the coagulated blood of a dead body and gingko leaves.”

“I couldn't think about them the same way anymore.” Her head dropped. Eyes downcast on the very hands that had cut and opened up what was essentially, or at least should be, a corpse. “The abominations are so different from us, Yuan.”

“I know.”

Even the thought of those creatures could ruin a night like this it seems, one full of their usual antics and trouble seeking habits. The mara-struck, an inevitable fate for all Xianzhou natives if death doesn't take them first.

“Maybe you were right, maybe a drink to go with this night of celebration would have been better. Then we could be cheering about something stupid and-”

His hand was raised, reaching out to her, only stopping midway when (Y/n) glanced up at him with a disapproving stare; most likely for interrupting her or getting caught off track despite all the times she's done so to him. “And you were just getting on my case about it earlier too. Frontal lobe..something or another.” And he wiped the dirt he had been letting stick to her without a word off. The grainy texture is a sharp contrast to her own smooth skin.

“You- how long has that been there without you telling me?”

“Since you fell off the wall.”

“I didn't fall, I jumped.”

“Are you sure about that, prodigy?”

She swatted his hand away, much like she was dealing with a pesky bug flying around near her ear.

“I hope you know that when you get hurt on the field, and you inevitably will because all you knights do at one point, they will bring you back to me. When that happens, I will make sure that whatever injury you acquired will somehow end in my fellow healers being convinced they need to chop one of your limbs off due to risk of infection. You will be at my mercy, Jing Yuan.”

‘Great, another threat.’

She's made hundreds of threats since the moment they met varying from some that had Jing Yuan stumbling over himself in shock to wondering if the best she could do was smack him over the head. Especially when he's still getting taller. Who knows, maybe one of those days she'll have to ask him to lean down for her just to be met with a solid hit to the head. The thought alone had him laughing.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Hey! What's so funny you two bit bitch?”

“You don't need to worry about it.”

Taking one of those pink carnations Jing Yuan plucked the stem from the ground, not bothering to mind the dirt when his fingers were already dusted with it. Fragile petals and a soft hue. It truly was just a flower in his eyes, but somehow it looked like more than that as he tucked it behind (Y/n)’s ear as she scolded him for picking something without permission.

It was two years later Jing Yuan found himself holding a bouquet of the very same flowers after toiling over the best way to do this for hours, but they seemed only fitting. The shop owner he bought them from was nice enough to wrap them in those sheets of paper used for…well, decoration? And a red ribbon much like the very one in his hair.

The only difference being from when he bought them ten minutes ago to now is how the long stems had been wrangled as he clutched them tight in his sweating hand.

And her, staring up at them.

“Happy Luofu alliance day to you too.”

“You're all the way out here instead of joining in on the festivities?”

Papers were scattered all around her like a blanket on the grass, some clearly torn out from their notebooks as pages were frayed at the ends and others were slightly yellowed from years of use and spills of what is most likely more than just coffee stains. Scribbled notes that had Jing Yuan careful not to step on one and leave a footprint behind (for fear of being scolded, again) as he caught glimpses of diagrams, highlighted margins, and sketches of organs as he walked closer to her.

“There will be countless more years to spend in the Dragonvista Rain Hall. For now, I want to spend my one free day organizing my notes.” As she spoke (Y/n) lifted up the notebook that had been on her lap in the air.

“Your ‘one free day’ being a holiday you're required to take off.”

‘Yet here she is working.’

Glancing up Jing Yuan’s eyes fell on the tree she was sitting under. Foliage far from dense enough to keep the occasional sun beam peaking through the leaves as they cast golden rays on her green dress; still wearing her alchemy commission uniform, even now.

“Did you not have to be dragged to classes once kicking and screaming?”

She would even cling onto his arm, shouting for the future cloud knight to protect the poor damsel in distress from the fearsome bad guy. That being Haize as he plucked her up from the ground and carried her out of the courtyard like a disgruntled cat. Jing Yuan’s ear would be ringing for the rest of the day, but it was always worth it seeing her so pissed off after purposefully being a frustrating little brat. Teasing him like no tomorrow.

“Times change, Yuan.” She said, her words full of laughter. “Though, I did see this poster earlier about some foxian theater troupe putting on a performance. Epic of the Old Verdant House, if I remember it right.”

“That explains why we can hear drum chanting all the way out here.”

A melodic beat full of energy that matched the chatter of the crowds down below. From here he could see the lanterns hanging off of every pillar they could and tops of tents full of wares with people being waved in to 'come and see what we're selling, benefactors.’

“Sure does….say, I'm surprised you have the day off. Shouldn't an esteemed cloud knight be going around patrolling the streets to help keep the peace? I thought you'd jump at the chance to try and show your dedication, yet here you are not even in uniform.”

Standing there in everyday wear without a single piece of armor Jing Yuan shifted his hanfu sleeve, the fabric stretching only to fall back as he let go. It wouldn't hinder him, but it certainly wasn't his usual garb.

“I switched out my shift with that kid you helped last week.” Though she had many patients. It wouldn't surprise him if (Y/n) had forgotten about the event entirely. Things do tend to start blurring together when it's the same day after day, or at least that's what she says. “The one who got all bruised up in training, Aiguo?”

She hummed at that, seemingly to take a moment to recall. “The blond? For a cloud knight he sure does bruise easily.”

“He does…” The flowers in his hand were only wrangled up further as this conversation continued. This was besides the point. “So, rewriting your old notes then instead of going to that performance? I might have to grab a rose so you're forced to stop and smell them.”

Her eyes flicked up to him and he had to grip onto those already wrangled stems even harder to keep himself from simply choking the words out in his haste. A few white knuckles were easy enough to stand in favor of making this right.

“It's a better use of my time then watching you try and catch a goldfish at one of those scooping games again. I'm pretty sure by the time you were out of credits to waste away the vendor and I had become dear friends.”

He couldn't help but raise a brow at that. The only reason he was trying so hard in the first place was because only a week before she was forced to get rid of her pet scorpion. Ingredients had been found in her dorm by a supervisor, and after an apparently long meeting, it was determined the thing had to go despite her begging to just let him stay in the alchemy commission.

“It was rigged.” He said, slightly shrugging as he did so.

“All carnival games are rigged. That's the point.”

‘True, but at least it got her laughing. Even if it was at my expense.’

“Or, and hear me out on this, Yuan. It could also be that you just suck.”

“Thank you, so much.”

“Oh you're so very welcome.” Picking some of the sheets of paper up she tucked them between the pages of her notebook. Brand new but it was already covered in dirty fingerprints. No doubt from her collecting samples to tie into the pages as he could already see some of her old notes with a dried out jimson weed (if he recalled the name correctly) pinned down with thin metal wire keeping it in place. “I just don't have the time to do this any other day.”

“So.” stepping in closer to her spot under the tree Jing Yuan kneeled before her, making sure they were eye to eye even if she wasn't paying him the same amount of attention he was her. “If I asked you to come down and watch me struggle to catch you another fish?”

“And do you have the credits to spend on something so lavish?”

“I can spare a few.”

“I…I'm busy. I want to get this done.”

“And I can get you some osmanthus jelly.” Lifting the bouquet up, Jing Yuan held it up to her, the end of the red ribbon softly swaying from the movement. “You preach to me the importance of taking a break but you can't take one yourself?”

“You know I hate when you use my words against-”

And her words were drowned out by the loud sound of an engine, of a starskiff racing on by as fast as it could go. A familiar sound that would normally have Jing Yuan nodding to himself at the sight, taking in the beauty of such skilled piloting, but right now it only had him spitting out hair from his mouth as it whipped right into his face. White filled his vision as papers flew before his very eyes. A specimen of belladonna seen for only a moment before it trailed off, caught in the strong breeze the ship kicked up.

“No! No, no, no!”

Like confetti the notes she had spent years on flew away. Not even her hands snatching to grab anything proved fruitful as she scrambled up to pluck anything from the blue sky. Her fingertips barely grazed a sheet completely covered in yellow marker over the written margins before it fell to the crowd below.

Multiple people down below dressed in their finest attire, the festival masks, and waving their fans to keep cool in the generated heat of the Luofu's system were caught looking up and around them as the notes fell all around them. Ranging from the rooftops to the streets as those years she spent were tread over with little to no care, like they were nothing more than posters advertising something or another, as (Y/n) whined at the sight.

“Fuck!”

As Jing Yuan pulled the last bits of hair from his mouth he could see her flipping off the direction the pilot flew off in, even as it was long gone.

“Fuck you you punk ass bitch! Come back here before I shove a catheter up your dick!”

“Interesting insult.”

Grabbing a sheet of parchment from the branches of the tree, only a few of them stuck in there, Jing Yuan held it out to her.

“I hate this fucking household.”

Sighing Jing Yuan looked back at the paper in his hand as she just pouted at the sight of it. There goes his chance to confess it seems. Another day then.

“Come on prodigy, I'll help you find everything we can. It doesn't matter if it means spending the entire Alliance day peaking into alleyways or climbing over crates.”

“Just another favor I'll owe you.” She grabbed the paper from him as she spoke, fingers going over that messy handwriting that was no doubt scrawled down in a rush to get everything in her mind to a proper record. “Years of work.”

“No, there's no….”

‘No need for a favor.’

“Actually.” The flowers were over by the tree now, forgotten in the midst of what just happened, but did he really need them right now? Sure, this wasn't how Jing Yuan had been wanting this to go down, but what did those hours before the mirror practicing what to say as his friend, a fellow Cloud Knight, mean in retrospect when she was pouting like this? “I'd like to cash in that favor now. I’m going to ask you something and I don't want you to immediately say no. Take your time to think about it.”

“Now that's a big ask.” She said, grip tightening a little bit more to the point the paper started to crinkle under her touch. Maybe she was worried it would grow wings and fly away on her too.

“I know.”

Grabbing her hand, careful to make sure his actions did not tear anything, Jing Yuan squeezed it softly. She had no calluses made from the efforts of swinging a blade, of wielding a weapon. No, they were soft from the amount of lotion she used from always applying some after washing her hands again and again once she was done making some new medication or concoction or another thing of the like. Somehow that made it all the easier to hold her just like this.

“The next Alliance festival, I want to go together not as friends, or two people trying to find your notes, but as eachothers date.”

“No.”

“Now that's not taking your time-”

“Ask me again later, when I'm in a better mood; and pick an event that will happen sooner than a once a year festival.”

‘Oh…. Oh!’

Squeezing her hand a bit tighter Jing Yuan asked: “will you go on a date with me sometime this month? We will have to figure something out between your busy schedule, prodigy.”

“I said, ask me later.”

“Technically it was ‘later,’ just by a few seconds.”

“This is the worst confession I have ever heard and I've seen people proposing on the medical beds when one of them is so drugged they can't even understand what is being said to them.”

After a moment she added in, “you still have to help me find my notes though, then I'll say yes. And I want a better confession too, like in those romance books. Give me a whole speech.”

“Are you seriously asking me to study those girly novels of yours?”

“Yes. Or no dice.”

“I- fine.”

‘To believe that years ago I'd cringe at the thought, but here I am agreeing to it just to satisfy this bossy woman.’

“You're always a headache.”

Later that day, after spending hours combing the city to find every last sheet they could manage, Jing Yuan tied the red ribbon around her pinky, admiring how it showed she was his as (Y/n) told him she'd find the time in her busy schedule to squeeze in one little outing.

And it was that very same hand he tied a ribbon to, that he grasped that day, the very same day he played in his head again and again with a smile that could never leave him at the memory, that is now threaded through Jing Yuan’s hair.

Tugging. Pulling. Unapologetically leaving knots he'd have to comb out later.

“Patience.”

“You've been saying that for the past ten minutes, Yuan.”

The way her voice came out slightly strained had his lips tugging up. Soft little pants he was drawing out of her from those pretty lips he yearned to kiss right now even as his own were sliding along her naked thigh. Tongue just barely lolling out to leave a small lick before retreating once again.

She'd call him a tease. Has been, actually. But Jing Yuan couldn't barely help himself when seeing her like this.

Blankets pushed off to the side and barely hanging off the edge of the bed that was cast in only the low glow of a lamp on a desk nearby. One covered in glass bottles full of things he's been warned not to touch, and he knew well enough to listen. It was enough to have his fingers gleaming as he pulled them away again.

Much to someone's dismay.

“Stop being mean to me. Please.”

Jing Yuan only hummed in response, not minding her begging much as his teeth just barely dug into her skin; the idea of leaving a mark was so, very, tempting. To know that under her skirts in the days to come would be proof of this moment in the dark.

Her thigh tensed in response, muscles flexing before falling back to a relaxed state as his lips ran over the imprints of her underwear he had been pulling and tugging at earlier left. A garment discarded as soon as his head dipped between her thighs, yet here she was urging him to give her more.

‘How greedy.’

But he is too as Jing Yuan’s cock strains against its confines. Fabric he'd usually consider loose, breathable, and easy to move in suddenly betraying him with every shift of his hips against this old mattress. Barely providing anything friction as he breathes in the scent of sex. Of slick. Of her need for him.

Just that alone had his hips bucking forward.

His gaze moved from the way she sucked his fingers in as they slid back inside her with a wet squelch up to those half lidded eyes that flicked between him and the ceiling.

“Yua-”

A chuckle fell from him as she chased after him, her breath hitching and eyes falling closed as his tongue slid between those lips he's never had a proper chance to taste before, and oh what he would do to let those legs wrap around his fluffy white head and eat a meal he's never had before for hours just to find what would make her unravel beneath him.

Would she call his name in those final moments with her toes curled the way they are now? Would she be clinging onto the sheets with a knuckle white grip? Would her chest heave as he watches those breasts still red from being tugged and teased at fall with every breath?

Yes, they were both greedy.

“I know you're doing that on purpose.” She finally managed to say between her whines and attempt to stifle them away under her free hand.

“Am I now?”

That accusatory glance had Jing Yuan curling his fingers over a soft spot that felt different from the rest, spongy even, as he tried his best to act innocent. Not very convincing when his words are muffled by her pussy, but it was a try nonetheless.

“F-fuck…”

“I can't help but think you liked that.”

It was a wonder she wasn't trying to kick him in some way, but maybe that's just because with every movement of his fingers her head was being thrown back into the white covers.

“Where do you…how do you even know where that is?”

“This?” Jing Yuan asked, fingers crooking even more by just the slightest amount to brush over that spot inside of her again.

(Y/n) didn't need to know the real answer to that, not when she wouldn't let him live it down if she ever found out. She'd get on him until his ears turned pink and she'd only make it worse by pinching them and saying something like “oh sweetie, you're looking sick. Maybe we should take your temperature, yeah?”

So no, he'd keep the fact that one of her fellow students in the alchemy commission went around to all the guys he knew were in a relationship during the mess hall. Lunch hour as silverware clattered against those metal food service plates while some young lad with a diagram of all things pointed out…well...where to touch a woman in exchange for a hundred credits in turn.

Money well spent in his opinion if it had her looking at him like that. Glazed over eyes enough to have Jing Yuan wanting to press a kiss to those soft lips. To let her know just how she tastes.

“Maybe I'm just a natural; a prodigy just like you.”

Wouldn't that be nice? To know just where to touch her to have his name cried out like a prayer. The Reignbow Arbiter an afterthought to his fingers, but he was willing to give her the rest of their lives together to figure this out. To have her melt in his embrace on all the nights they will have, just like this one where she sneaked him into her dorms.

The door didn't even creak on their way in.

He didn't even stop to do anything more than lock the door before Jing Yuan had pulled (Y/n) into his arms. Hands playing with the fabric of that green dress as it traced over the

gold accents on her chest all the way up to the clasp keeping it shut as their lips met in hurried kisses. One after another as she tugged him along through the bedroom to help keep those heavy boots of his from accidently kicking and knocking over anything of importance as they found their way between boxes of files to the bed.

Designs of swirling mist made Jing Yuan feel like he was on cloud nine as they slid up her thighs.

She rolled her eyes as he asked about her underwear, wanting to know if it was just for him. If she anticipated this happening and wanted to look her best for him.

The thought was a sweet one.

But right now that pair was tossed off somewhere long forgotten as his face was covered in her slick, and hands forcing her legs apart as she writhed beneath him.

How long could he take without breathing in some more air? The thought only came to Jing Yuan as his ears buzzed the same way they would after staying too long underwater. (Y/n) his lake he would willingly jump in even if it drowned him.

“Pr-prodigy my ass.”

A kiss to her trembling thigh, eyes locking with hers.

“Are you saying I'm not doing a good job?”

“Not at all.”

‘Sure. She's so snarky even like this.’

A whine, a plea for more met him as Jing Yuan pulled his fingers out. The curve of her plush ass he wanted to squeeze and grope at again covered in spittle and arousal just like his mouth.

Maybe if she was in a sane enough mind she'd be saying something like it's been twelve minutes now. That is if she ever got the chance as he kissed her again. Body hovering over hers, taking note of just how small she looked under him.

How easy it was to grab her wrist and pull her flush against him.

Cock brushed against her through those damnable layers of clothes Jing Yuan wore that had his head burying away in her neck to take in the scent of herbs that clung to every piece of clothing she had. Trying to bite back a groan as he did his best not to rock against her in a frenzy, but it was (Y/n) who ran a hand along his bare back and whispered in their small sanctuary of sheets and pillows “we can stop if you're nervous.”

And like an over eager fool he rushed out a no.

“No, I promise I'm fine.”

‘Worried I'll cum in under a minute, but fine.’

“Besides, you made me wait for a full year so I'm not going to pass on this now.”

“Patience,” She teased back. Hand brushing along his cheek that he couldn't help but to press a kiss to. “Besides, it seemed only right to wait until we were both adults.”

“Is this where you lord over the fact you're three years older than me again?”

Though she hasn't done that since he passed her in height, much to a certain someone's annoyance.

“Maybe.”

Tightening his grip on her waist Jing Yuan pulled her impossibly closer. Her warmth, her laugh, her hands tracing the muscles on his back she could surely name off the top of her head like it was nothing, it was all a reminder of how much he held her dear.

“Can we….”

“Start now?” That laugh again, the curl of her lips as she looked up at him through those long lashes she has cursed everytime they ‘betrayed her’ by letting something in her eyes.

“Yes.”

It was as Jing Yuan had tugged those pants down and out of the way that she grabbed his chin to lead him into a kiss. The taste of her still there, still lingering as her lips parted into a moan as for the first time it was his cock that filled her. That they were intertwined in a way that would make the Aeons themselves blush.

And it was in that moment as his hips moved to meet hers with a wet squelch that had him biting his lip not to moan too loudly and give away what they were doing to any of her neighbors in the dorms did the words I love you fill the air.

Her hands in Jing Yuan’s hair as she whispered them right back.

I love you.

That's what she said to him as the wind whipped around from an awaiting ship. Luggage in her hand as she looked back between the people on board who were walking back and forth from the dock to a place Jing Yuan couldn't see with wooden crates full of provisions. Old nails clearly being the only things keeping the boxes together as he watched the cloud knights assigned to this mission just like she was.

Blue armor much like his own, but he wasn't one of the few that were chosen for this. No, (Y/n) was. A healer is always needed.

“I shouldn't even be gone long. At most maybe a year. Maybe two.”

Far from long in the eyes of a Xianzhou native, that's for sure. The denizens of the Luofu had their lives tick by as the humans who came to the ship for trade and sightseeing grew old and suddenly stopped showing up. All due to a very obvious conclusion. But two years without her?

“Why wasn't it someone else assigned? There's always Aihan.”

“That girl? She still gets squirmish during autopsies.”

Meaning no can do.

The stomping of boots continued as men tread back and forth. Some of the knights even stopped to give Jing Yuan a respectful nod or even a wave before continuing on with their task. His brothers in arms despite the fact he wasn't going to be besides them on the field this time.

“Besides, it's only Yaguoret. This should all be wrapped up quickly. At least compared to the thirty year missions some people are assigned to.”

A shrug, like this, wasn't a big deal at all despite the fact they both have been on a battlefield now. They both knew what it was like.

“Look Yuan, I'll be back in two years at max and when I arrive in your awaiting arms,” her hand slid along the blue fabric of his uniform, playing with the material she had sewed back together for his time and time again, “you can keep me all to yourself for a week. Just you, I, cute dates or… other things.”

“Two weeks.”

“One and a half.”

“Two weeks, prodigy.”

The two stared at each other for a moment before she finally sighed, shoulders dropping for only a moment.

“Fine, two weeks. I'll be all yours.”

Grabbing her hand, Jing Yuan locks their pinkies together. Silly, childish really, but it always worked when they were younger. Though it was mainly her wrangling him into compliance.

“Promise me.”

“I-I…..promise.”

So why was he now sitting in her room staring up at Jingliu listening to his master say something he never thought would be uttered?

The file boxes had been taken away, the bottles that had once reflected his own golden eyes back to him as Jing Yuan asked about the contents now missing, even the terrarium for Ingredients (Y/n) never bothered to get rid of was gone like it never existed in the first place. The dorm room is bare, hollow of the personality it had accrued over years of use.

Photos of them ripped from the walls leaving dark squares from the sun aging the wallpaper that once framed those cherished memories.

“What do you mean she's been exiled?”

“I mean exactly what I say, Jing Yuan. Miss (Y/n) of the alchemy commission, student to cauldron master Haize, has been exiled from the Luofu.”

Jingliu's hand moved to rest on the empty desk, brushing over the dust that had accumulated during the past three months that no one had properly cleaned this room. It was always something he intended to do, to keep up with making sure this place was as spotless as he could make it so she wouldn't come back to dust bunnies and a fit of sneezes, but work had been suddenly thrown onto him like something was amiss. Something massive had obviously happened, but he knew better than to ask when every time those who talked about it would shut their mouths the second even a wisp of his hair was seen.

“The fact she wasn't sentenced to death is a surprise.”

Because of course no one would want to talk to him about his own partner being….

“This is a mistake!”

Getting up from bed that creaked under him from the sudden movement Jing Yuan stood before his master, eyebrows pinched together to keep himself from outwardly scowling at the woman he owes so much to after years of training with the sword.

“You know her just as well as I do! She never would have hurt anyone like this.”

“When I knew (Y/n) best was when she was a fledgling. A kid, just as you are now. Letting your emotions blind your view of the truth will do nothing to help you.”

“I've known her for fifteen years. There's no way the same woman I know who takes spiders outside after finding them would be capable of murdering a hundred knights.”

(Y/n) can't even hold a sword properly. She is a healer, a woman who makes mixtures and applies bandages. Who presses kisses to his wounds as Jing Yuan tries to brush them off like they're nothing to avoid the bitter sting of hydrogen peroxide she would mercilessly apply to him with a smile like nothing was wrong. A woman like that holds no contest to men trained for combat. Some of those men that were sent out even had hundreds of years under their belt.

“Even if she poisoned them?”

Jing Yuan hissed out a breath at that, jaw tensed just the same way it would when the antiseptic met his braised skin.

“She's…she may be capable but that doesn't mean-”

“After the soldiers died the effects started to show in the village people that lived on Yaguoret. Even cauldron master Haize said it was the same symptoms the corpses of the cloud knights seemed to have gone through.”

Jingliu pulled her hand back from the desk, a small coating of dust on her fingers she brushed off.

“Haize has done everything he can with what he has, but the people native to that planet keep dropping faster than he can try and make new remedies.”

The two stared at each other for a moment, like Jingliu was waiting for Jing Yuan to finish what she was trying to say himself, but he bit his tongue. Refused to use it. He wouldn't say the words aloud.

“Only your partner would know the best way to go about making a poison that her own master could not find an antidote, or whatever those alchemy commission bunch need, to stop this issue in time.”

“The elders have decided this will be written off as a plague. That will be what is documented as to keep Haize from having his position looked at with suspicion, but he will be on thin ice from here on.”

What Jingliu wasn't saying is: it's a wonder the man is keeping his job at all.

“This isn't possible.”

‘She wouldn't do anything to risk her…and the promise.’

As it felt like his chest was being clawed at by an invisible hand winding its way through his mouth, past Jing Yuan throat, and ripping his lungs apart to grasp at his heart Jingliu placed a letter in his lap. The envelope it was in clearly had been torn open, but it was his name on the white parchment with the ‘I’ dotted with a heart.

Somehow the sight of it made it even harder to breathe.

“She left this behind for you, clearly. When they were cleaning out her room trying to find evidence that was stumbled upon.”

That would explain why her room is so empty.

The words why is it open then we're right on the tip of his tongue, but they both already knew the answer to that.

“Do you know its contents?”

Jingliu nodded at that, not saying a word as her red eyes flicked down to the torn apart packaging of something that was supposed to be meant for only him.

“Does it mention…”

‘Does it mention why?’

“It's best you read it yourself if you want to know.”

It was the force of habit alone that had Jing Yuan nodding as he was given one last glance by his master before she left him alone. Most likely he can process this thing on his own, but just the sight of it, the idea of what's inside, made him feel sick. Hell, he was half tempted to burn it and throw the ashes of what's left out the window so he can watch them dance on the wind the same way those specimens of belladonna and jimson weed got carried away.

Swallowing down the taste of bile licking at his tongue, Jing Yuan folded up the envelope and tucked it away in his uniform.

That… can be saved for another day.

A day for centuries later.

A day for when he was stopped short as a bird flew down and nestled upon the crook between his shoulder and golden armor piece strapped down to Jing Yuan's arm. Little chirps filled his ears as he walked through the streets of the Luofu. Sing song, a perfect background to his afternoon stroll as the few people he passed by on this path he's memorized after years of use bowed their heads.

Surely, if it wasn't for the upkeep on the potholes or cracks in the sidewalk he would have worn the shape of his boots into the white concrete long ago.

Another chirp and Jing Yuan looked down at the red beaked creature with a lazy smile. These things were always so comfortable with him, to the point he's even gotten a few comments from Fu Xuan about being a Disney princess. Something he just nods along with without complaint.

It was amusing how much his acceptance seemed to annoy her.

“Now, now, if you're too loud you might make this old man lose even more of his heari….”

His hearing.

But there he was stopped short, one foot in the air waiting to follow along the path only he knows the exact details of even as people try to record the goings and happenings of the Dozing General. Frozen in space, in time, like it was ice that kept him stock still and not a single image that came onto one of those many blue screens depicting today's news.

The words wanted written right under the white and red pictures of Blade, Kafka, and a woman Jing Yuan never thought he'd see again.

That old ache blooming in his chest again like a flower in a patch of dirt just waiting to be watered as her eyes were revealed to him. Even in a drawing meant to capture her image they never changed.

Teasin, inquisitive, and seemingly filled with thoughts he never had the neverending years to dig into like he was planting his own garden.

Wanted Stellaron Hunters.

Turning on his heel the bird that was nestled against him flew off, its wings flapping away as it took flight, and he was left to stride out of Starskiff Haven with his boots thudding their way back to the Seat of Divine Foresight as Jing Yuan tried with all his restraint not to break out into a full out run.

“You're dismissed,” is all he said as he entered those old walls, loud and clear for everyone inside to hear.

Heads turned his way, some immediately moved to leave, and the blond rascal of a kid he was so fond of came up to him only to hold his tongue as he saw the look on Jing Yuan’s face. A “very well, general,” threw his way as Yanqing followed everyone else out.

Jing Yuan didn't even notice the glance back to him as the doors shut.

Now it was just him standing there on the giant board surrounded by blue holograms, banners hanging from the beams up above, scrolls stored away in their exact places, and the lion statues he himself commissioned to be built in this place.

All alone.

Just like he was with a letter he never wanted to read as his feet carried him to that desk he hovers over day after day. Fingers moving along the smooth bottom to press a button that forced a drawer open. Thin, barely able to contain anything at all. When he first got this piece and requested such an addition the odd looks didn't bother him much, not when the carpenter didn't need to know what it was for. As far as he cared the simple phrase ‘official documents’ would have held enough weight.

But it wasn't some folder filled with the Xianzhou Luofu's darkest secrets, well, not fully anyway. Rather, it was a torn open envelope and the messy scrawl of his name.

‘Jing Yuan’ staring back at him.

Even after all these years later and his memories fade in favor of a blanket of mist keeping all those years locked away, he knew well enough she didn't like to refer to him that way.

It was Yuan.

It was her Yuan.

The paper felt odd in his hands, despite the amount of times he's pulled it out and debated opening the thing before it fades away to dust, like it was brand new. A clean sheet of paper despite it no doubt having passed through multiple hands before something that was rightfully his possession fell into his grasp for the first time. Fingers teasing over the ripped envelope as he pushed it aside and pulled out a folded note.

It wouldn't be too late to back out now, just how he has done a hundred times before as he failed to bite the bullet even his old master was able to, but then the image of her flashed in his mind again. The wanted poster was an accurate portrait, but it still felt like a character compared to the memories that were like a migraine that never ceased to ache.

‘Evolution didn't choose you, short stuff.’

‘Since when did it hurt to stop and smell the roses?’

‘I don't care if I'm busy, I'll find the time to go on that date with you. I promise.’

‘I love you.’

‘I'll be back in two years.’

A whirlwind of moments together, of her words, that had him just barely creasing the note.

The thought that she promised to come back quickly buried away as he, for the first time, unfolded the note he's kept all these years without her by his side.

‘Dear Yuan,

I have drafted this letter over ten times now and I can't quite seem to get the beginning of this right, so I think it's best just to get into the thick of things. You agree, yes? I hope you do.

I'm sure the news of what has happened (or is about to happen, if you're looking from my point of view) has reached you now. Is this a shock beyond words or did a part of you know this was going to happen? We do tend to let our unconscious selves be quieted and hushed away by emotions. Such is the way of any sentient creature whose instincts do not drive them. But you cannot look me in the eyes and tell me this was not something you would fully deny being something I am capable of if you weren't driven right now by what I can only guess is…betrayal.

I didn't mean to be your first heartbreak, my Yuan. No, I never wanted that at all. I wanted things to stay just the way they were when you'd take that wooden sword of yours when Jingliu hadn't yet given you permission to wield a real one and chase me around with it because I teased you too much. Or maybe back when we would turn rocks over a day after it rained so we can try and find bugs together.

Oh Yuan, I could list countless moments I wish time had chosen to freeze us both in so this outcome never had to come to pass.

But it did.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not sorry for my actions.’

The words ‘I can't afford to be’ were crossed out.

‘Do you remember that night when we snuck into the gardens? I do. Very well at that. I hope you do too, just for different reasons. That night to me was being with you, of enjoying our time, until you brought up the mara-struck. Those creatures that plague us all at the end of our lives like a withering flower bound to end up as nothing more than a husk of itself as its body is preserved much like that one I keep with a red ribbon tied around it (the one you gave me when you tried to ask me out like a bumbling mess) pressed between pages as it's currently being used as a bookmark. The abominations, they have made me realize something you might not have yet.

Maybe those three years I have on you really do mean more than I would care to admit. Maybe in three years time when you are at the age I am now you'll realize this for yourself too. This war is never going to end. This war will taint what is beautiful in the world. We were blessed to have a loll in the time we were growing up, but that is only because of the sacrifices of many given for such peace.

But still, many died when our eyes were blinded by youth.

And when the battles did come you were a guard on some street in the Luofu as I was called out of my dorm to treat the few men who came back from their efforts in the middle of the night. Blearly, I was lacking sleep, but I did my job just as I always have. That is what I told myself when I had to dissect my first body at the age of fifteen. ‘Do your job, girly’ despite the fact I was surrounded by those older than me and even they cringed as Haize yanked some pubic hair from a corpse to store into a plastic bottle for proper collection.

It took a while for them to forget this thing before them, this hunk of meat, was dead and therefore couldn't feel pain. It took me a while too.

Back to the men…They would come in covered in blood, scratches that were left by creatures I never would have dreamed of existing before until they told me about them as I figured out all on my own how to detach a chewed up limb from a man without making it too painful.

They still passed out in the end.

One day you will know war, you will know what it's like to be on the battlefield for more than a skirmish, you will know the smell of the dead as all their bowels release and the smell of shit fills the air, just as I do now after having been called to be a medic in those poorly put up tents behind the fighting men.

Yet I don't want people to have to know about war. I don't want you to know about war despite you jumping at every chance to prove yourself as a Cloud Knight. I don't want those people of Yaguoret to know about war as we descended on their planet. But it is inevitable. They are a poor people who know little of what to do with the land they possess, and we are a civilization that sees their planet for the resources it has.

It was already discussed after the first talks with the people there after they turned away our offers of trade that they needed to be…wiped out.

Children, mothers, fathers who can't even put up a proper fight, let alone to a Cloud Knight.

So if you are wondering if I killed our men, the very people we talked with in the mess hall, or annoyed on the training grounds, or that I bandaged in the past, then I have to tell you I will.

They won't survive, of course they won't. What kind of prodigy would I be if I couldn't make a simple poison that would properly kill a man? Or a good hundred.

Sorry, I shouldn't be making jokes now. Force of habit.

There will be no war if the people trying to make a war are dead.

There is no way to enact change without sacrifices. That is how medicine is made. First someone must come to you with an issue, a sickness, and it is their loss of life that allows you to test the boundaries of this illness.

But that doesn't change the fact that I will soon become a murderer.

Somehow I am calm, at ease, yet the most scared I have ever been in my life.

But I have cast aside my alchemy commission uniform. Green never was my color.

I am no longer a healer. A murderer cannot claim that title.

So, as I said before, I won't apologize for my actions, but I'm sorry I had to face this world before you did, to come to my own conclusions. I can't help but wonder if I was younger, if I didn't have those three years on you, if we could find our own conclusions together. Ones that we could support side by side that wouldn't result in this.

I suppose what I'm trying to say is-’

And the last words, with a dried teardrop smearing the letters so they were barely legible as Jing Yuan had to narrow his eyes to read.

‘I am sorry I grew up without you.’

#jing yuan x reader #jing yuan #hoyoverse #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #fem reader #x reader #steamy #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #honkai sr x you #smut #banner by cafekitsune

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0bticeo · 3 months

Text

lurk | feyd rautha

part two of five. (part one.) (part three.) (part four.)

summary:

the edge of the blade is sharp. a pinprick of pain blossoms above your carotid. but…

“it’s not sharp enough.”

he blinks. slowly, his lips curl in a smile. your gaze flits to them. to the plush lower lip, to the arch of his cupid’s bow. to their predatory edge. you’ll cut yourself if you get too close. maybe you need to take a step forward.

“what will you have me do?”

“pardon?”

“to sharpen it. should i fetch the incapable wretch who forged them?” his grin sharpens. you feel his blade cut through skin. “or should i use you?”

wc. 3k

tw. blood, death, manipulation, knife kink, blood kind (both heavily hinted at), possessive feyd, political machinations, little canon divergent because the atreides actually attend feyd's bday fight (canon dune part 1 one starts a little after that), please read part one first it will all make sense i promise. shoutout to @kpopnstarwars my most beloved you're going to enjoy this. same goes for you @jaiuneamesolitaiire . also please ask questions about reader/the plot i beg of u i need to get this out of my system

you’re falling.

you see white sands engulf you in their sickly warmth, greedy little grains sinking you in.

you’re falling, and there’s a distant roar ringing in your ears. you’re falling, lifeblood escaping you.

you’ve fallen.

black.

you peel your eyelids open. they feel like sandpaper against your eyes, coarse and rough in all ways wrong.

you dream. again.

the past shifts and twists in front of you, ever changing, desert sand falling through your fingers. the more you cling to it, the less you grasp it.

you let yourself fall in the abyss of memory.

you blink.

you stand by your father’s side, gait proud and regal in a dark dress - a convoluted affair of veils and silver. on your breast, the crest of your family - crimson falcon spreading, spreading. you think of blood blooming on your chest and shift, ever so slightly. the cool press of your blade against your forearm soothes you.

you are in troubled waters, after all.

geidi prime, home to your house’s sworn enemy, the harkonnen. geidi prime, its black sun sucking life out of its inhabitants, monochrome nightmare.

the flight from caladan was costly enough - you can almost hear hawat’s teeth grinding in discontent. a fortune, wasted on harkonen festivities held in honor of the na-baron’s birthday. yet, you must attend. you, betrothed-to-be to a harkonnen.

you’ve heard whispers. hushed conversations between your mother and father, an assessing gaze from the reverend mother herself. it won’t be the baron himself - too old, too sick to produce the desired offspring.

just any other member of that wretched house won’t do either - you are a duke’s daughter, your bloodline mingling with that of the emperor himself.

in the end, it all comes down to the baron’s nephews.

rabban - brutal. all furious brawns, minimal intellectual capacity, proficient for slaughter if used well.

na-baron feyd-rautha. utterly psychotic. deadly. precise. cunning. watching.

from his position at the baron’s right flank, he assesses you. you, back impossibly straight, hands folded before you, feet spread wide enough to spring to action should the situation go awry.

you, bowing before them, liquid smooth, a hair short of being disgracious.

you’ve only bowed low enough to respect the intricate harkonnen protocol, not to show deference. not to them.

the baron raises his head from his seat, barely.

“welcome to geidi prime, duke.”

you suppress a twitch. how utterly informal.

“thank you, baron.”

a shift in the baron’s entourage.

outrage, barely concealed. rabban looks ready to slit your father’s throat. how dare the atreides scum fail to recognize the honor paid to him and his suite?

they’re being left alive, have the privilege of witnessing their beloved na-baron’s coming of age, and still fail to show the due respect?

you let out a slow, drawn out breath. the ceremony will be held in two days. more than enough time for you and your father to be disposed of.

your lips quirk up. you speak.

“it is always an honor to be invited to festivities in which the emperor partakes.”

feyd-rautha’s eyes are on you. under geidi prime’s soulless sun, they’re white, depthless. a milky way of depraved harkonnen savagery. he bares his teeth with unbrided hunger. you know it to be a threat - you’ve heard of his harpies.

you think he’ll consume you whole, with the way his gaze scorches your very soul.

how delightful.

a pulse. the suspensors. slowly, the baron rises from his seat, gargantuan mass towering above you, shadow stretching and stretching until it encompasses all of you.

“the flight to geidi prime must have been quite draining.”

a tenth of your wealth. he who controls the spice controls the universe. the harkonnen have had arrakis in an iron hold for eight decades. your jaw ticks. bastard.

“escort them to the guest wing.”

servants surge forward.

feyd-rautha’s gaze burns, sinks in the exposed skin of your back.

your dream shifts. twists, turns, has you seated at a banquet table.

a feast.

one day left until feyd-rautha’s coming of age.

the guards don’t know how to hold their tongue. they expect a fight - the grandest thing under the sun.

the emperor’s here, sitting at your table. from the corner of the eye, you observe. he’s been put at the head of the table, the baron at his right, your father at his left. an attempt at appeasing eons old enemy. a failure. yet...

there’s an air of satisfaction to the emperor. haden’t you be trained in the bene gesserit way, you would have missed it, the way his eyes glimmer like arrakean spice.

finality sinks in as he takes the first bite, knife slicing open the tender flesh of an unknown poultry.

it looks like a falcon.

you take a bite of your own meat. medium rare, the proper way to consume meat. especially venison. princess irulan watches you, gaze assessing. she, too, has been trained in the way.

you smile at her, finger tracing the rim of your glass, spider-pleasantries networking endlessly. you ask her if she enjoyed your gift - a vocal recorder of the highest quality.

her smile is sincere. in the brutal white lighting of the banquet hall, you find yourself wishing things were different.

“how is your brother?”

you grin. you’re being watched.

“he’s grown. still has his back facing the door.”

she scoffs, amused.

“he’ll learn.”

under the artificial light, your wine looks like freshly spilled blood.

you take a sip and hum. the alcohol burns, sweet little fire settling low in your chest.

“is the wine to your liking, my lady?"

to your credit, you don’t startle. your shoulders tense, your hand freezes in its motion to lower the glass.

na-baron feyd-rautha is at your side, close enough for his breath to tickle your ear.

“it is, my lord na-baron.”

mine. mine. glacier eyes have you riveted in your seat, needle-like against your throat. mine, mine.

his lady. his to claim, his to wed, his to breed.

you watch lithe fingers curl around his knife and wish you could see him in action. watch the deadly precision he’s so praised for.

soon.

twist and shift, until you’re lost in a maze of hallways.

the ceremony is about to start - you can feel the low thrum of thousands of harkonnen roaring their na-baron’s name. shadows pass over you.

it’s cold, this architecture. metal wings stretching, stretching. should you crane your neck, maybe, you’ll watch them disappear in the ceiling. maybe. darkness is a looming cloud - these very walls soak up the light.

you, yourself, are a shadow. puppet dancing to the whims of whoever holds your strings. bene gesserit. baron vladimir harkonnen. the emperor.

you feel a storm coming.

you stop. light. an open door. a lone silhouette, porcelain white etched against black.

feyd-rautha.

he raises his head. sees you. tilts it to the side, lips stretched in a slow grin.

“are you lost, my lady?”

“so it would appear, na-baron.”

a twitch. flicker of annoyance in his eyelid, in the clenching of his jaw, sculpted edge caressed by shadows.

his blade is at your throat before you can make a move.

time holds its breath. it will snap and bleed raw at your feet, thick rivulets of it.

you will bleed, too.

your lips part, a muted gasp. the edge is sharp. a pinprick of pain blossoms above your carotid. but…

“it’s not sharp enough.”

“what will you have me do?”

“pardon?”

“to sharpen it. should i fetch the incapable wretch who forged them?” his grin sharpens. you feel his blade cut through skin. “or should i use you?”

your heart skips a beat. a droplet of blood trails down your neck, down to your collarbone, down to your breasts. his gaze follows. hungry.

“you’d make quite a mess, na-baron.”

he steps closer. circles you, free hand grazing your hip bone, left bare by your dress. you feel the heat of him. suddenly, you’re acutely aware of his bare chest pressed against you. you suppress a shiver.

“address me properly, my lady.”

he shifts his blade. it presses against your jaw.

“very well, my lord na-baron.”

a pleased hum, like a purr. you tilt your head to the side.

“what will you do, feyd-rautha?”

he turns by a fraction. his lips graze your cheek, a breath away from your mouth. your throat feels dry. they graze there, too, over your carotid, trailing up and up until he’s pressing his cheek to yours, guiding you, helping you see-

carnage.

servants, dressed in white, lying limp on the ground, throat slit with deadly perfection. blood pools on the ground. stretches. oozes from gaping wounds, until it reaches the hem of your dress.

concubines, three of them - sisters of fate, harpies with broken limbs, lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling. they’re smiling, teeth like fangs in the dim lighting of the room.

“help me,” he mutters, voice like a plea. “i will guide you.”

“and if i refuse?"

a low chuckle. deep, raspy. you melt a little inside.

“you’re brave, my little atreides.”

“you wouldn’t be the first to try to kill me and fail, miserably.”

his arm wraps around your middle, pressing you to him. oh, mother, why did you have to wear a backless dress? you feel each ridge of him, the perfection of a trained warrior, muscles taut from countless hours of training - he’d make sculptors weep with the lethal perfection of him.

“ah, the fabled tale. show me, little atreides.”

“say please.”

his fingers dig in your hip, thumb tracing small circles under the silver threads holding the fabric together.

“please.”

slowly, you raise your arm. the fabric of your dress, a convoluted affair of veils and velvet, slides down your skin. inch by inch, until the treacherous, ragged scar stretches along your forearm. he tenses, feyd-rautha.

“who did this to you?”

“a fool who underestimated me.”

an assassin.

sent to kill you and your brother as you were running around on the beaches of caladan. who took you first, had you pressed against him, blade at your throat - until you sweetly asked him to

unhand you.

he did. your mastery of the voice wasn’t perfect. you faltered. he struck. you bled.

killed.

words are the weapons of the weak.

that, you aren’t.

“how may i help you, feyd-rautha?”

twist, turn, until you’re facing him, holding a bowl of paint. thick, petrol black, it clings to your fingers like a lifeline. feyd-rautha’s hand covers yours. guiding you, dipping your fingers in the paint, raising your hand to his torso.

you flush a little.

he’s warm. so very warm under your touch. the paint is cool on his skin - you watch him shiver, abdominals contracting, and you trail down, down his pectorals, stopping just short of his navel, lingering over the fabric of his tunic. at his side, his fingers twitch, eager.

“more.”

“where?”

his hand reaches for yours. presses it on his chest. you can feel his heart, steady, strong - fluttering, hummingbird flailing in a cage made of ribs.

you want him, you realize. you want to consume him whole, sink your teeth in him until you can finally taste.

“where?”

you have to crane your neck to get a look at his face. something like amusement glimmers in his eyes.

he brings your fingers to his lips.

you blink.

spread the paint, thumb pressing down the plush of his lips. his lips part, suck you in and bite.

feyd-rautha watches you, tongue darting out to gather the sweet blood trailing down your hand. he presses a kiss to your palm, lips lingering against the callouses of your skin.

you let out something like a whine. the bowl falls. you never hear it reach the ground.

“you’re making quite a mess.”

bastard.

“you’ll make a bigger one if you’re late, my na-baron.”

twist and turn, again, and again, and again. dreams have meanings, and you won’t let this one escape your grasp.

you’re standing above the ground, in the gaping mouth of a harkonnen arena. on and on it stretches, cold metal sparring against the sky, gnawing at its decimated horizon. ink blots the sky. you think of blood pooling in the water. fireworks.

you step inside the lodge. the guards recognise you - duncan idaho flashes a smile, a sharp quirk of his lips. you nod. they part ways. let you join your father, sit by his side and watch.

the fight hasn’t begun yet.

“you look thoughtful, daughter.”

you look away from the immaculate sand and the thousands of harkonnen roaring their na-baron’s name. feyd-rautha.

your father is watching you, gaze austere. you will not conceal, not from him.

“an alliance with the harkonnen would be beneficial, father.”

silence. you watch the subtle twitch of his eyelid, the flexing of his hand. the guards do not hear. you’ve willed it so on your way in. to them, this is only pleasant chatter between father and daughter. harkonnen slander.

“you will not speak of such matters again.”

“the emperor-”

“enough!”

you keep your mouth shut. your father is a stubborn man, blinded by hatred passed down from generation to generation of atreides. as you should be.

horns blow. doors part, slide up. in comes feyd-rautha harkonnen, prowling on the wretched grounds of his playing ground. your binoculars zoom in on him. on the ease with which he carries himself, on the perfect arch of his neck as he kneels before the baron.

on harkonnen prisoners making their way towards him. undrugged.

you straighten in your seat.

the guards murmur. they too, have noticed the prisoners walking straight, carrying themselves with entirely too much ease.

“a bold move. what is the baron planning?”

your father. he’s watching too. all of you are, thousands of gazes riveted on the focal point that is the lone silhouette of feyd-rautha harkonnen.

you rip your gaze away from him and focus on the baron, a few meters above.

his lips part.

show me who you are, my dear nephew.

he’s fast. too fast for them. you relish in it, the fluidity of his movements, the way his hands tenses with each strike of his blades, bare forearms rippling with tension. one body falls. two. it’s barely been a minute since the fight started.

you cross your legs and watch, enthralled.

by god, does he fight well.

a reptile, slithering around his opponent, assessing him with the cruel knowledge of his supremacy. shadows loom over them, horned beasts ready to pry his opponent away from him should he prove to be in danger.

you feel more than you hear his outraged snarl.

“back off!”

that poor soul is his to kill. his gaze flickers upwards. up to the guest lodge, up to you. he bares his teeth in a smile, a flash of black against pure white, and strikes. blood splatters on the ground. a gash opens in the side of the prisoner. he stumbles but doesn’t fall.

no, he’s a fighter that one. lunches forward to pin the na-baron to the ground, wrestling with him, clawing at his arms, hitting every nerve until the baron drops his blades. he’s laughing. he’s getting the life choked out of him and he’s laughing, shifting until his feet find enough leverage to pull him up.

there’s a blade at his throat. the prisoner pushes and pushes, unstoppable force against immovable object. on he laughs, feyd. your eyes drops to his lips, where you see droplets of drool drip down his chin. you bite your lip.

feyd seizes the blade with his bare hand and twists. you hear the prisoner’s wrist break before you hear him choke on his own scream, coughing out blood. the dagger’s deep in his throat. it’s the only thing keeping him together - one fluid motion and feyd rautha wrenches it out of torn flesh and raises it above.

his gaze finds yours.

the dream shifts.

a veil unfolds, parts, until you’re walking the burning sands of arrakis. paul atreides, blood of your blood, flesh of your flesh, stands before you.

his eyes are blue.

you freeze.

a litany rises. lisan al gaib. your mother’s handicraft and eons of propaganda from the missionaria protectiva did its job well. here stands the one, scalding wind screaming around the looming silhouette of him.

bodies. bodies, laying on the ground, thousands and thousands of bodies, hands clutching at scorched earth, parched mouths opened in damnation. hunger. they’re dying in paul’s wake. fate will set the galaxy ablaze. fate will make monsters out of you.

“you know what must be done, sister.”

you do. there’s something a little broken in the way you smile at him, palm cradling his face.

“do you, little mouse?”

he’s tired, paul atreides, usul, muad’ib, lisan al gaib. sanctity doesn’t suit him well. he sees, but his eyes are sunken, his cheeks have hollowed out. there’s an edge to him, too. the bene gesserit were right to fear him.

“don’t lose yourself more than you already have, brother.”

it’s too late.

a jolt.

your eyes wrench open.

“welcome back, atreides.”

the baron.

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x y/n #feyd rautha x you #dune x reader #dune x you #dune x y/n #obticeo writes #bald freak supremacy

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imshymorph · 5 months

Text

So, new story! Death!Ghost x Life!reader. It’s a longer one, there’s much more to their story if everyone likes it an wants to see more. Update: Here's Part 2 and Part 3

You’re sitting by the edge of the water, fingers lightly dipping in the creek and moving around. The ripples that form from your movement making tadpoles, small fish and spurts of water plants come to be.

It felt natural, with the longer hours of sunlight and the rising of temperature, to start using your abilities once again. To take your side of the mantle once Death had taken the grunt of the work in the colder months. Spring was only nearing closer, and that meant you’d have to start adding spirits back to the Earth, it was your time to keep balance.

- - - - -

You looked up from the stream, from the trail of tiny creatures that gladly followed the movement of their creator’s hand, when you felt the breeze cool a little. It could only mean one thing.

Your lips pull up into a soft smile, your lively eyes crinkling lightly at the edges as you see him stand on the other side of the creek. His own eyes shift under the skull mask, and you know he’s smiling back even if his eyes are covered by the shadow of the bone. It doesn’t surprise you that within barely a few seconds he’s instead sitting beside you, the wavy reflection of the water in front of you confirming his presence.

It always felt like that, peaceful and comfortable in each other's presence. You had gotten used to Death long ago, or Ghost, a name that had come from a joke once made aeons ago. You couldn’t help yourself, lightly teasing him when you had seen how pale his skin really was the one time he had taken a glove off. And somehow, it just stuck.

The both of you stay in silence for a bit, admiring the landscape around you, how slowly your power took over the terrain to give him some rest. You worked in harmony, the switching in seasons never feeling like a competition or betrayal, but like an acknowledgment of the other’s importance and significance.

“Haven’t seen you in a while. How have you been?” He’s the first one to talk, giving you a short look before his attention was pulled to the birds that filled the sky. Most of them nesting, feeling in some way that your power would welcome them soon before giving them tiny ones to look after.

“Good, busy with the new blooms that come with spring.” you reply with a small smile, your hands running through the grass below, making new blades appear, greener and more luscious. “You must’ve been busy.” You tack on, your eyes following the trail of growing plants until your eyes find him.

“Hmm, you have some work ahead of you.” he concedes, tilting his head back, feeling what sunrays managed to filter through the holes in his mask. He let out a soft sigh before giving a light nod, “Been taking care of my duties, but it’s been good.”

“You’ll be able to rest a bit more. Now that the warm months are coming in.” You say, that smile still on your face. It definitely was what fascinated him most about you. He knew the amount of power you beheld, all the things you could make appear out of thin air. Yet there was something about that smile, that soft and kind smile that you always seemed to gift him with.

Or at least that’s how he wanted to see it, like your sweet smile was specially directed at him, for him. If there was one thing that he pictured on his mind whenever he thought about you, it was the upturn of your lips. Not even your mightier creations could ever compare to the one of your smile.

“I suppose I did, yes.” He says with a light nod, his tone low and gravely but really calm as well, like deep calm water. His head then turned, your view of his mask turning from the profile to a full fronted one. His cold and cloudy almost-grey eyes finding yours. “Are you enjoying your creations?”

The corner of your eyes crinkled a bit more as they landed on his, your smile brightening, reminding him of the golden hues the sun gets when it starts to set behind the horizon. Your hand moves, fingers trailing through the dirt beneath you. Tips passing just enough power to the small buds that were starting to grow to make them fully bloom. “Always do.” Your tone sounding sweet and golden like honey.

A smile took over his lips and he mentally thanked the skull covering them, although the amused glint your eyes got told him that you had definitely noticed. “I’m glad to hear it.” He says, tone as cordial and gravely as ever, hiding the small embarrassment of the knowing tilt your smile gets.

The both of you seeped into comfortable silence once again, you looking at the vast forest around you, the light hints of it filling with your creations again after a cold winter. Meanwhile he busied himself as he looked over his scythe, his gloved finger lightly trailing the sharp edge.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” He murmurs, almost making you wonder if he had actually spoken as his eyes stay trained on his tool.

“You know I never do.” You reassure, your eyes only staying on him for a moment before going back to the light ripples on the water source in front of you.

“I was wondering…” he starts before cutting himself off. You don’t say anything, don’t pressure him as he leaves the scythe back on the floor beside him. Nor as he tilts his head back to look up at the sky once more. And he doesn’t think he could ever find the words to express how thankful he is about it.

He clears his throat, daring to give it another chance. His head tilts a bit to the side, only enough to see you from the corner of his eye. “I was just wondering, we’ve worked together for so long…” he fully turns his head now, his eyes meeting yours. “And yet… you’ve never asked to see me? See what’s under my mask.”

For someone who was the personification of Death, Ghost couldn’t understand how his heart could beat so fast. How it felt like it could leap out of his chest at any moment, how fast his blood pumped through him.

And it feels like it instantly stops when he sees you lightly shaking your head, “It’s not my place to ask, I'm sure it’s there for a reason.” your soft voice explains. And he lets out a shaky breath that he didn’t know he was holding, his heartbeat slowing a bit but the tension still in his body as he gives a light nod back.

The both of you go back to the silence, but this time your eyes stay on each other's. His hand slowly reaches up, his fingers feeling the edge of the worn out bone. His voice is barely perceptible when he talks next, “What if I wanted to show you?”

#cod x reader #x reader #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x oc #x oc #cod x you #ghost x you #death!ghost #oc: Life #death x reader #death x life

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azrielsdove · 6 months

Text

Only You: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Smut, Knife-play, Blood, 18+

***

You stumbled down the halls, the bottle of alcohol in your hand sloshing around. You hummed to yourself as you took another deep drink. “Stupid,” you cursed, chiding yourself. You pushed further down the hallway, aiming for the stairs to the training ring. You slowly made your way up them, sticking the bottle into the sand after taking a final swig. “Idiot,” you muttered, tripping over your feet on the way to the weapons. You picked up two daggers, relishing in the feel of the smooth hilts against your hands. These will do.

You moved over to the throwing board, imagining your own face on it. “He will never want you,” you sneered, a taunt to yourself. You threw the first knife, landing it in the perfect middle despite your drunken state. “Ridiculous,” you said as the next blade embedded itself into the wood. You walked up to it, pulling the daggers out with a little more force than required. You were seething with embarrassment and anger at yourself, the sobering feelings ruining the perfectly drunken state you had created.

You continued throwing and retrieving the daggers for a while, letting the cool night air clear your head. Your anger leaked out with every “thunk” in the wood, the blades allowing you to channel your emotions. You plucked them out of the board once more, walking back to your spot as your mind replayed the events of the night.

You had made a fool of yourself at dinner. You knew it had pissed him off, the point of your game. You smiled at the thought, throwing a dagger again. You were fed up with his little act about Elain. While nothing had ever happened between the two of you, he was yours. Or at least, he used to be.

You had hit your tipping point tonight, watching him so delicately help her. Delicate, as if. That was not a word you typically used to describe him. The second dagger flew from your hand, landing perfectly with its sister. You paced over to them again, the repetitive act soothing your hurt. You spun the blade in your hand, feeling the cool metal against your skin. It took all of your self control to not squeeze your fingers around it.

Truth be told, it was his own fault you acted like you did. If he had just pulled his head out of his ass, (or Elain’s ass, whichever you prefer), he would have seen the frustration he was causing you. You wouldn’t have had to make a scene just to get his attention. A smile ghosted on your lips as recalled the red in his face at your words. You raised your hand to throw the dagger again, heart stopping when a cold fist wrapped around your wrist.

“Playing with yourself, are we?”

You knew he intended the double meaning in his words, that he wanted your cheeks to flush. You turned your head towards him, a sickly sweet smile on your face.

“Azriel. What a pleasure.”

He scoffed, the hold he had on you tightening. “What kind of game are you playing, hmm?” He leaned down, his breath ghosting over your ear. “If you wanted me to fuck you that bad, you could’ve just asked.”

Your blood ran cold at his words, at his tone. You had never heard that deep rasp of his voice before. You hated the fire it ignited in you. “You think rather highly of yourself.”

His nose traced along your neck, inhaling deeply. “Do I? Your scent tells me otherwise.”

You ignored the heat pooling in your core, his hard body pressed against your back. “I know how to appreciate an attractive male. It’s unfortunate that body is attached to you.” You shot back, twisting to face him. He held strong to your wrist, a darkness in his eyes you’d never seen.

“What was it you said at dinner? To ‘just screw her already and get over it?’.” He stepped closer to you, chest pressed against yours. “Did you mean her, or were you talking about yourself?”

Your breath hitched at his words, at the way he was looking at you. His gaze was roaming over your body, like you were a dessert he was barely holding himself back from. “Don’t be stupid. Why would I want you?” You knew your words were a lie, and by the look on his face he knew it too.

His other hand slid down to grab your other wrist, slipping both of the daggers out of your grasp. He pressed the flat of one of them under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “I’m tired of this attitude.” He snarled, the cool metal sending a chill through you.

In a flash of silver he had sliced the other dagger down the front of your dinner dress, the fabric falling away from your body. He traced the blade down your chest, your stomach, catching on the waistband of your underwear. Your body was burning under the cold daggers, mind clouded by desire.

“Not so snarky now, are we?” He teased, dragging the blade under your chin down to cut the center of your bra. His shadows swirled up, sliding the destroyed garment off of your shoulders. He hummed in appreciation, using the dagger to circle just outside of your nipples. Your breathing was heavy, an incessant need tugging in your mind.

The dagger on your underwear moved to the sides of the lace, a quick slice happening on both of your hips. You gasped as you felt the blade dig ever so slightly on your left side, drawing blood. The lace fell to the ground, leaving you fully exposed to the Shadowsinger. He ran a thumb over your hip, slowly bringing it up to his mouth. You could’ve finished then, watching him suck your blood off his finger, eyes locked onto yours. “Az,” you murmured, transfixed on his actions.

“I like you like this. Letting me do whatever I want to you.” He brought one of the blades up to your lips, nicking the skin on your bottom one. You felt the blood trickle down your chin, eyes wide with desire. He leaned closer to you, dropping one dagger on the ground to cup your chin with his hand. “So obedient.” He hummed, tongue darting out to lick over your bleeding lip. You couldn’t help the light moan at the feeling of him licking up the blood that had fallen, an act that shouldn’t be as sexy as it was.

Your eyes fluttered closed as he sucked on your bottom lip, tongue running over the wound he had made. You felt his shadows wrap around your thighs, your arms, your stomach. You felt them nudge your legs apart, pressing you closer to him. You needed him to touch you, to kiss you. You tried to move your mouth down just enough so he could, a sharp bite on your lip stopping your actions. “Don’t be greedy now. Not when i’ve waited so long to have you like this.”

His words were accompanied with a harsh slap in between your legs from the flat of the blade. He held the cold metal against your heat, enjoying the desperate moan that fell from you. He trailed the dagger down, circling the soft skin on your inner thigh. You hissed when he dug the tip into you, the pain and pleasure overwhelming. He dropped the dagger with the other when he was done, pushing your head down to force you to look.

You took in the crude “A” on your thigh, inches away from your center. He had marked you. His fingers were tracing the initial now, spreading the blood around like it was paint. He trailed those fingers up your body, bringing your face back up to his. “Beautiful.” He sighed, looking at you like he could see what no one else could.

“Azriel,” you said, “please.” He smiled, one arm wrapping around your waist and holding you close.

“Please what?”

“Touch me.”

You had hardly finished speaking the words when one of his shadows swirled up, vibrating and circling against your clit. You gave a shout, knees buckling. You dug your nails into the shirt he wore, holding yourself up as his shadow worked you. He watched you as you gave into the pleasure it was giving you, observing the way your eyes rolled back in your head at the sensation. “Az,” you breathed, wanting him to touch you.

“Not yet, pet. Let my shadow undo you for me.” He stroked his hand down the side of your face gently, almost lovingly. The shadow working you increased the vibrating and circling, your back arching into him. Your legs were shaking and you were already embarrassingly close to falling over the edge. Azriel held your head up so he could watch the pleasure take over your features, reveling in the sight he finally got to take in.

You gave a loud, gasping moan as his shadow pushed you over the edge, working you harshly through your orgasm. Your nails dug into his shirt so hard it tore, not that you noticed. The shadow didn’t let up as it pushed you through, a silent scream on your lips. “Az, Az, Az” You gasped out, his name a beg.

“It wants you to go again. Can you do that for me?” He asked, lips close to your ear. You shook against him, the pleasure too much. “Let it take care of you.” He whispered, pressing a kiss just under your ear. Your mind was blank with pleasure as the shadow worked you towards another orgasm, not giving you a break after the first one.

“Az, I cant, I cant-“ You breathed out, words cut off by a scream as your second orgasm washed over you. He let out an approving hum, calling his shadows away from you. You collapsed against him, gasping for air. He pulled you into his arms, carrying you to the edge of the training ring. He propped you up on one of the low stone walls lining the edge, one arm tight around you. You looked behind you just a hair, dizzy from how far away the bottom of the mountain was.

“I’m going to fuck you here, and you’re going to scream for me. I want my name to echo around the mountains around us. Do you understand?” His words brought your attention back up to him, breath catching at the hardness he ground against you. “Answer me,” he growled out, kissing and sucking down your neck.

“Y-yes. I understand,” you moaned out, lost in the bliss from his lips.

“Good,” he said, finally pressing his mouth to yours. The kiss was harsh, punishing. He pushed his tongue into your mouth, licking and sucking every inch of it. His hand fell down to circle your abused clit, a whimper coming out of you. “Be a good girl for me, give us another one, yea?” He asked, kissing you between each word. You nodded against his touch, words failing you. He dragged one finger down to your opening, thumb moving to continue the assault on your clit. He pushed ever so gently into you, exploring the area.

“Az,” you moaned out, “please don’t tease.” He laughed but obliged, pushing his finger deep inside of you. Your head rolled back at the feeling, how good just one of his fingers felt inside you. Azriel groaned at how wet you were for him, how welcoming you felt. He slid another finger in, curling them perfectly inside. You moaned his name, encouraging his actions. He kissed you again, swallowing the moans coming from you. His fingers sped up, hitting you in a way that made you know you were seconds from another orgasm.

His thumb gave another circle, his fingers thrusting and curling inside you, his lips working yours to the point of bruising. You cried out against him, body tensing as your third orgasm washed over you. This one was even more intense than the first two, breathing stopping as the pleasure took control. He continued his movements through it, only stopping once your body relaxed back into his. “Such a perfect girl for me, aren’t you?” He said appreciatively, undoing the lacing on his pants.

Your jaw dropped as he pulled himself out, the length and girth like nothing you’ve seen before. He pumped himself a few times, thumb spreading the bead of precum on his tip. Your mouth watered, imagining how he would taste. He caught your thoughts, a low chuckle rumbling through his chest. “Next time,” he promised, lining himself up with you. “I need to be inside you now.”

You brought your eyes back up to him, tangling your arms around his neck. The arm around your waist tightened, pressing your body against his. He slid himself through your slick one, two, three times before slowly pushing in. The first inch of him had your eyes rolling back in your head, the pleasure already more than you had ever experienced. He pushed in inch by inch, stretching you in ways you didn’t know were possible. You arched against him, breath catching when he bottomed out. The two of you sat still for a moment, letting you adjust to his size.

“Azriel,” you breathed, “Move.”

He pulled nearly all the way out before thrusting fully back into you, your head falling back with a scream. He kissed and sucked the exposed skin of your throat, hand gripping onto your hair. He groaned against your skin, the sound adding another layer of pleasure to you. You weren’t going to last long after three orgasms, body screaming for him to give you another.

You forced the feeling down, wanting to finish with him. You brought your head down to his, pulling him close for a kiss. You relished in the way he moaned your name against your lips, lost in the pleasure of you. “That’s it,” you hummed, reaching a hand out to stroke his wing lightly. He growled at the feeling, thrusts coming harder and sloppier.

“I won’t last long if you keep that up,” he warned, soft moans interrupting his words as you ran your fingers over the most sensitive parts of his wings.

“Good,” you breathed out, arching your hips up to meet his. “I want you to cum in me.”

He let out a delicious groan at your words, his lips capturing yours again. The hand on your waist was digging into your skin so hard you hoped there’d be bruises tomorrow, a reminder of his desire. You felt that familiar tightening in your abdomen again, preparing for your fourth orgasm to take you. You pushed into each thrust he grave, fingers working his wings until he shook against you.

He roared into your mouth, thrusting as deep as possible inside you when he came. You allowed your own release as he pulsed inside of you, screaming his name just how he wanted. He rode you through the end of your orgasm, never wanting those screams to stop.

He slowed as the pleasure ebbed away, standing still against you. He kissed your swollen lips sweetly, a hand coming up to brush the tears of pleasure away. “It’s always been you,” he whispered, a new vulnerability in his eyes. “I never wanted anyone else. I’ve only ever dreamed of this with you.”

You were overwhelmed with emotion at his words, unable to believe the male you had wanted for so long felt the same way. “I just assumed…” you trailed off, leaving the implication of your words in the air. He nodded, pulling out of you slowly. You whined at the loss of him as he tucked himself back in his pants, pulling his torn shirt off to wrap around your bare body. He cradled you into his arms, carrying you back inside.

“I know. I did too good a job at hiding it.” He said, pushing the door open to his room. He laid you on his bed, moving to draw a warm bath for your sore body. He came back, pulling you into his arms again. “I thought you didn’t feel the same, until you yelled at me tonight. I saw the look in your eye, the same jealousy I had felt every time you laughed too hard with Cass or blushed at Rhys’ words.” He placed you into the warm water, an appreciative moan coming from you as it soothed your body. He pulled his clothes off, sliding into the warmth behind you. He wrapped an arm around your waist, the other wetting your hair so he could wash it. “I realized you felt the same, and that I was a fool for letting this go on so long.” He massaged a sweet smelling shampoo into your hair, your eyes falling closed at the sensation.

“I saw you up there, throwing those daggers in that tight little dress. Any restraint I had snapped.” He explained, soothing fingers running through your hair. “I wasn’t too harsh, was I?” He asked, the hand on your waist falling to brush the “A” he carved onto your thigh.

“No,” you shook your head, “never too harsh.” You had enjoyed every second of his control over you, mind already beginning to dream of the next time. Azriel sensed the thought on you, laughing lowly as he rinsed your hair.

“My insatiable girl.” He mused, massaging the conditioner a little too sensually into your hair. You rolled your eyes at him, but couldn’t help the smile that clung to your lips. “You’re mine now, yea?” He asked, his breath tickling the back of your neck. You nodded, leaning further into his touch. He leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear.

“If you ever allude to me wanting someone else, i’ll fuck you right in front of them.”

***

pleaseee let me know your thoughts on this one!!!! <3

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel smut #acotar x reader #acotar x you #only you

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fanwarriorfictions · 3 months

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Not Again - Part Nine

Summary: Y/n is desperate to try and get home, willing to face near death again to try if she must. Azriel is not willing to let her risk herself, and fortunately neither is the rest of his family.

Warnings: she’s a little angsty

Series Masterlist

-Part Nine-

“You’re not trying it again,” Azriel snarls, arms crossed over his chest, “We don’t even know what went wrong in the first place, you could’ve died.”

Y/n sighs, rubbing her temples, they’d been at this for hours now, surrounded by the inner court. So far, no one seemed to be on her side, least of all Azriel. As soon as the words had left her mouth he’d been seething, that quiet calm mask replaced by burning rage.

“Give me the book of breathings and I’ll figure it out,” Y/n snaps back, bearing all of her teeth at him, “I must have misread something. Maybe the ancient busy body will have answers for me.”

“You’re not going anywhere near that book!”

“Az, chill out,” Cassian says, gripping his brother’s arm, “Let’s all calm down and think for a damn moment.”

Y/n slumps into her seat, glaring at Azriel as he paces on the other side of the table, the only thing keeping them from lunging at each other and tearing out each other’s throat. He glares right back, shadows whipping around him like they might grab her and strap her to the very seat she sits on to keep her from trying the spell again.

“Azriel’s right,” Feyre sighs, “That book was holding you hostage, and the book of breathings has done the same to me, I don’t want to risk you getting hurt again, or worse.”

“I’m not a child in need of your protection,” Y/n says, ice cold and guarded.

“No,” Amren says then, “But you are stranded and in need of our help. We will not risk ourselves because you want to foolishly run head first to your death.”

“Y/n, it’s in your best interest to take it slow, and let us help you,” Rhys chimes in, “I felt something when you opened that portal, something dark, powerful. There’s something out there, and whatever it is took an interest in out dear Y/n here.”

Y/n’s shoulder lock up, and Azriel’s glare turns to ice, “You already knew that didn’t you?”

“What was it?” Nesta leans on the table, steely eyes staring directly into Y/n’s soul.

“I don’t know,” she says, holding that piercing gaze, not backing down an inch, “I heard something, when I was trapped. Something cold and wicked.”

“What did it say?” Azriel demands, stepping closer to the table that separates them, multiple times in the last hour she’d been half tempted to leap across that table and fight it out with teeth, fists, and daggers, “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

“Oh please.” She rolls her eyes, and she can see the exact moment it crawls beneath his skin, he looks half tempted to strangle her, “It’s kind of hard to talk when you’re to busy shoving your tongue down my throat.”

“I’m sorry,” Mor says, looking at Az with wide eyes, “What?”

“Listen, princess.” Azriel leans on the table, ignoring Mor, ignoring the rest of his family who look between the two with varying degrees of alarm, “I don’t give a shit about this whole, I’m tougher than the world act, you’re scared and I know it, I can fucking see it, so go ahead and tell me what the fuck it said.”

She practically hisses at him, leaning forward in her seat, arm in casual reach of the blade at her thigh, “You don’t fucking know me, shadowsinger.”

“That’s enough,” Feyre snaps, “if you two can’t be civil together one of you can get out.”

Azriel looks ready to argue but one sharp glare from his high lady has him backing down. He turns on his heal, taking three long strides away from the table, putting distance between them like it would cool the raging flames in their eyes.

“What did you hear?” Feyre asks calmly, that air of dominance in her voice, High Lady, a queen in her own right.

Y/n holds her head high, meeting Feyre’s eyes, she may not be a queen but one day she would be, and she would bow to no one, “It told me to pay the price, gods killer’s kin.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Cassian asks, “Why can’t these things just say what they mean?”

“When my mother banished the gods to that hell realm to die,” Y/n says, “It would seem not all of them did. And whoever survived is demanding the price my mother was supposed to give.”

“And what price is that?” Azriel’s voice is deadly soft.

She could feel the anger radiating off of him, not necessarily at her, not necessarily not at her. He was angry that she’d nearly died, that she was willing to do it again if it meant going home. He was angry at her for being so damn stubborn that she wouldn’t listen, that she wouldn’t let him play protective fae male. She was angry to, so gods damned angry at the Wyrd for handing her this fate. For bringing her here in the first place, for putting her in their lives, in his, only to take her away again.

“My life.”

Azriel felt the words echo through him, bouncing around in his skull, each syllable cracking another piece of him until he was on the verge of shattering. My life, my life, my life, her life, her life, her life, her, her, her. Sharp stabbing pain in his chest like each word was a ash arrow through his sternum and directly into the heart beneath.

“No.”

“You don’t-“

“No,” he growls again, gaze matching Y/n’s, fire and ice pushing and pushing against each other to create a storm.

“We don’t know what this thing is,” Rhys interjects, “If it’s an actual god like thing, one of Quinlann’s Asteri, or something else entirely. Amren will search that dreadful book for answers about the gate. You two, will sit and calm the fuck down, and the rest of us will get back to work.”

The High Lord’s voice held an air of finality, no room to argue, even Y/n slumped in her seat, letting some of the cold fire go out. Amren is up and out the door as soon as Rhys stands, grumbling something beneath her breath about ungrateful little girls that has Y/n glaring between her shoulders like she was imagining that dagger strapped to her thigh buried between them.

“It will be alright, Y/n” Feyre lays a gentle hand on the female’s shoulder, “We will get you home, and if this god wants a fight, we will give it one.”

Azriel notes the shattered and broken look in Y/n’s eyes as she nods at his High Lady. He is so busy examining each of her motions that he doesn’t notice his family file out, doesn’t notice the concerned eyes and subtle glances between him and the female before him. She won’t look at him, he can tell she is actively trying not to meet his gaze. Fine, if she wanted to play the silent game, he’d play it and he’d win. They were going to have this out one way or another.

He sits across from her, arms crossed over his chest, eyes searching her face for any motion, but she sits still, that absolute fae stillness that looks like she isn’t even breathing. If it wasn’t for the steady beat of her heart in his ears he would think she wasn’t.

They sat there in silence, neither willing to be the one to break first. She stares at the wall beyond him, he stares at her face.

The tension in the room is suffocating, Azriel’s shadows are the only movement, the only sound, whispering in his ears, she’s upset, help her, comfort her. He wants to scream, to tell them to mind their own business.

He knows she’s upset, he knows and there’s a part of him that wants to take her into his arms and hold her, to tell her it’s alright and that he’d help her figure it out, but there’s an even bigger part of him that wants to keep yelling, to grab her and shake her till she stops and actually listens to him. He wishes he was like Rhys, that he could go into her mind and show her what she had looked like, trapped in that spell, he wishes he could show her the terror in his heart. How could she be so gods damned stubborn that she would even think to try it again, to put herself through that again, to put him through it again. Because if she did it, he would be right there beside her, and he would burn all over again to keep her safe.

Both of them were to stubborn to break first, they sat there for nearly an hour before Azriel stood, that far away look in his eyes that meant Rhys was talking to him in his head. He didn’t say anything to Y/n, only sending her a warning look before stalking out the doors and jumping from the balcony. She was half tempted to follow, to take her talons directly into his back, to get the fight she’d been itching to have with him. Instead she sat there, staring at that same blank space on the wall, mind spiraling down and down into that dark portal that ate up the Walking Dead book.

She wishes she still had it, that she could figure out how it all went wrong. She was so sure she’d copied those marks perfectly, spelling out the name of her home meticulously. Orynth, Terrasen, she’d learned how to write out the name in the Wyrd marks as a child, she knew it like the back of her hand. It should’ve worked, the gate should’ve worked.

When it had opened, she swore she could feel home on the other side, lands of pine and snow, the smell of the kings flame blooming across the mountains. It was right there, just beyond her reach, and that was when she’d felt it, when there had been something else, something dark that took her mind and whispered those words. Which god had survived, which one now demanded her death, she wasn’t sure. Quite frankly she didn’t want to know.

Whoever it was, they were angry, angry at her mother for what she had done, for the deaths of the other gods, and for that, they would take the one thing her mother cherished beyond anything else, Y/n. They would take her, using the power in her blood to make the lock that would bring them home, squeezing every last drop of life from her till there was nothing left.

Azriel knew he was going to walk into the River house and be bombarded, the question was, who would get to him first.

“Who needs a babysitter now?”

He glares at his brother, “Shut up, Cassian.”

“No, no, I’m going to enjoy this,” Cass grins at him, “I’m surprised you actually came down here, with way you two were staring each other down I was sure there would be some rough-“

Azriel sends him a warning snarl, “Watch it.”

Cassian only grins wider, holding his hands up in mock surrender, “I’ve never seen someone get under you skin like that. I’m surprised it took this long for, how’d did she put it? For your tongue to end up down her throat.”

Azriel was seconds away from sending his fist into his brothers face when Rhys opens his office door, “I’m surprised you’re not in a bed right now.”

Cassian’s roaring laughter fills the hall way and Azriel doesn’t hold back the fist he sends straight into Cassian’s stomach. His brother breathlessly laughs, even as he doubles over. Rhys’s eyes sparkle in amusement and Azriel sends him a look that dares him to say anything else.

“Why did you call me down?”

The High Lords humor vanishes just like that, it’s enough to even sober up Cassian, “Amren found something.”

No, no, no, no, “What is it?”

“The book of breathings was very talkative, it kept telling her that the storyteller should have heeded its warnings,” Rhys sighs, leaning against the door way, “With enough snarling Amren was able to wring a solid answer out of it.”

Azriel felt like throwing up as he asked, “What did it say?”

Rhys gives him a look, one that seems pleading, “That the Wyrd brought her here for a reason, as a gift to her, and it was angry at her for not accepting it.”

Cassian sighs, “What does that mean. What gift?”

There’s a moment where Azriel thinks Rhys won’t answer. Whatever it was, Az isn’t completely sure he wants to know. Whatever that wretched book had to say, it couldn’t be good.

“Fate brought Y/n here as a gift to her,” Rhys says again, taking a deep steadying breath, “Brought her here as a gift to her and her mate.”

Everything went quiet, the air, the best of his heart, quiet. No sound, no breaths, nothing. Just that word, mate, her mate.

“Az.”

He didn’t know who said it, Rhys, Cassian, his shadows, he didn’t know, he couldn’t hear beyond the echo of the word, mate, mate, mate, mate.

“Who?” He chokes on it, drowns in it, mate, mate, mate, “Who is it?”

He could feel it, like a tendril of shadow that reaches far far above the city, to the red cliffs, to the house carved into it’s side.

Rhys gives him a pitying look, “Brother, who do you thi-“

A soft tug, on that shadow, so faint it feels like it slips between his fingers.

“Who?” He pleads, breaking beneath it, mate, mate, mate, “Please.”

He collapses beneath the weight, knees digging into the soft plush rug beneath him. His brothers don’t move, they let him get crushed beneath the word.

“The book said it was a gift,” his brother whispers, “a gift to the storyteller and the shadowsinger.”

Mate, mate, mate, mate. That tendril of shadow firmly in his grasp, and on the other side, sits a storm of ice and fire. His mate, sits on the other side, high above him in the House of Wind, mate, mate, mate, mate, mate.

She is his mate.

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#acotar #azriel x reader #acotar x reader #azriel #rowaelin daughter #rowaelin #not again #a court of thorns and roses

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inkdrinkerworld · 6 months

Text

Dealer!remus and autistic!reader’s relationship starts off so rocky guys let me tell you!!! Angst to fluff

Remus doesn’t fully get that he can’t just say things- like he’s got to be deliberate and conscious of the words he uses and his tone.

He’s never had to do that before so it’s weird and it’s hard to learn and he slips up sometimes.

One of your biggest arguments happens when he’s frustrated and you’re just trying to help.

You’d seen him so sullen and moody on James’ story so you decided to do for him, what you do for yourself.

You baked.

But then you realized you’re not at the stage where you know his absolute favourite type of cookie so you go a little all out.

You bake chocolate chip biscoff cookies. Chocolate chip toffee cookies, regular chocolate chip and brown butter chocolate chip.

You set them in a cute box and you text Remus that you’re coming to see him. You’re thinking everything’s going to go well, you’re gonna drop the cookies off for him, maybe he’s going to tell you what’s bugging him- maybe not; either way he won’t be alone.

Except you get there and immediately you feel like you’re inconveniencing him.

Try as you might not to take it personally, it’s really hard because he seems particularly peeved at you.

“Why are you here?” His tone is sharp and jagged and it winds you a little.

“I brought you cookies to cheer you up. Saw that you weren’t yourself on James’ story,” you keep your tone even, light- a practiced thing from your days of dealing with people that didn’t quite get you.

“Why would that cheer me up?” At this point everything’s going downhill fast and you try to salvage what little is left of your deflated cheeriness and open up the box to display the array of cookies.

Remus at the same time waves his hand and the box goes pitching across his living room floor and he explodes.

You can’t remember the last time someone had yelled at you like that and honestly, it hurt more coming from Remus who was so normally relaxed and chilled.

You don’t even tell him goodbye, you just clean up all the mess while he’s cursing and yelling and then leave.

What’s twists the bloodied blade in the wound is that he doesn’t even try to stop you or reach out to you for three days.

By which point you’ve already gone mostly nonverbal and you’re in no mood to entertain or fake a personality for the sake of your friends when you do see them.

Remus stops at your house after you ignore three invitations to his place.

“Dove, I know you’re at home. Can you open the door please?” His voice is muffled through the hard wood of the door and you have half a kind to leave it shut- he’d been mean, he’d said things that were very hurtful now that you’ve actually processed what he’s said fully.

You don’t know if you can stand to see him. Then he knocks again, “I want to look at you when I apologise, sweet girl. Please open the door.” And the wholesale remorse in his tone shakes your core and you cave.

He steps inside with a box and three tulips. “I figured I’d have had to do it face to face for it to really mean anything and because I realized I was an absolute prick to you when you just came over to help.”

You don’t even hum. Usually, when he was nice Remus- as you’ve differentiated in your head - you’d be able to look him in the eyes every couple of words, but right now you just look over his shoulder.

“I shouldn’t have yelled or sworn at you like that. It wasn’t cool and I never want to speak to you like that- ever. I was an idiot and I just want to make up for it.”

There’s about a minute where Remus thinks he’s just fucked every single bit of progress you’ve both made with each other and then you let out a big breath.

“You can’t say things that you don’t mean just because you’re upset. What you said really hurt my feelings and I don’t like feeling the way you made me feel when you were that angry. If we continue to be friends you can’t do that because it makes it hard for me to trust you and find what you’re saying believable.”

Your voice is hoarse and crackly from lack of use and Remus feels even worse. “I’ll do better, I swear. It wasn’t my intention to hurt you- it’ll never be, but I am sorry that I did.”

You nod once, succinct and definitive. Remus holds out the box to you, showing a puzzle you’d been eyeing for a while.

“Can we build it together?” He asks softly, an ebb of vulnerability given away as you catch his eyes.

“Okay, but we have to do corners first, then work our way in.” Remus nods, his other hand holding the flowers for you. The tulips are a pristine white.

“The lady at the shop said they’re good for conveying apologies.”

You smile a little, “These ones are also for condolences.” Remus shakes his head,

“Not this time,” he watches you put them in a vase of water. “Also, ‘if we continue to be friends’, thought we were a little closer than friends, sweet girl?”

He relishes in the way you bite your lip to hide your grin as you take the puzzle box from him and set it up on your coffee table.

“Well I wasn’t sure if you wanted to acknowledge it or not.”

Remus says very seriously as he sits opposite you at the coffee table, ducking down so he can catch your eyes as you take out the numbered bags. “I’m always acknowledging it, we’re more than friends dove. When everything’s not so fucked, I’ll take you out and do it with pink and red lilies.”

#remuslupin #remus lupin #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fic #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x yn #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x black!reader #remus lupin angst #dealer!remus lupin #dealer!remus #tism🤝

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redstarwriting · 1 year

Text

his girl | iii. all the riches

earth 42!miles morales x fem!reader | miles morales x fem!reader

word count: 2.5k

genre: angst to fluff

warnings: language, insults, spoilers, probably bad spanish, mentions of guns, bullet wounds, knife wounds, stabbing, shooting, violence, 42 Miles kills people, descriptions of bad injuries, a mild panic attack

a/n: someone take action sequences away from me i write them too damn much LMAO, i hope you all enjoy this chapter! these sequences are fun to write, so i hope it’s just as fun to read 🖤

his girl masterlist

previous chapter: ii. envy me

now reading: iii. all the riches

next chapter: iv. what can make me feel this way?

───────────────────────────────

The Prowler mask is immediately back on Miles’ face as he runs out of Uncle Aaron’s window and hops down the fire escape. There’s a loud zapping noise, and the chains are completely off of Miles. Aaron looks at him, a little surprise on his face. “What the hell was that?” Miles hears him say, but Miles rushes past him, following other him on the same route he ran a year ago to get away from his uncle. Weird déjà vu moment. That’s not necessarily important in this moment, though.

Miles catches up to Miles in record time, which pisses 42 Miles off, but again, not necessarily important in this moment. What’s important is you, being held by a strange man with a gun to your head. “I recommend you let her go before I make you,” Miles’ distorted voice says, and the asshole holding the gun up to your head laughs. “You owe Kingpin something. You’re supposed to be getting it right now,” he says, twisting your arm behind your back more, causing you to wince and make a pained noise. This makes both Miles’ angry. “Man, you work with Kingpin, too?! What is up with your universe?” Miles mumbles, and Miles hisses. “Cállate! I don’t do it because I want to, I do it because I have to!”

“Who’s the new guy?” one of the other men asks, motioning to Miles. “Name’s Spider-Man, and I’m not a new guy, just visiting. Gotta say, though, if I could leave a Yelp review here, it would not be high. You guys ever consider, oh I don’t know, let’s see–not terrorizing citizens of the city?” Miles says, and one of the goons asks, “What’s a yelp?”

“So y’all have somethin’ called ‘comics con’ but not Yelp? This place is fucking weird.”

“Spider-Man? Tonto,” Miles mutters before addressing the man again. “It doesn’t matter who he is, she has no business in this,” he says. Other Miles scoffs. “Spider-Man is not a silly name. Spider-Man is a cool name,” he mutters as the man laughs. “Seein’ as she walked out of your accomplice's apartment, I’m assuming she means somethin’ to you,” the cartel member says, and the panicked look in your eyes makes Miles want to die. You shouldn’t have gotten involved in any of this, he shouldn’t have let you come to Aaron’s like this, he shouldn’t have let you walk out. Now you’re in danger because of him. He growls, muttering out a “Que te jodan, cabrón.”

“I’ll take that as she means something, then,” the guy chuckles, motioning for his fellow members to come forward. One brandishes a very large, very sharp knife, approaching you. Your eyes widen as one of the others covers your mouth with his hand. You make a muffled noise as the guy with the knife holds it to your throat. You make eye contact with 1610 Miles before looking at your Miles. The two of them, already on edge, are about to jump in at any second. “Maybe we should make an example of her, then. So you know to never try to cheat us again,” the man says, twisting your arm until a loud crack is heard, and you let out a muffled scream, squeezing your eyes shut as tears roll down your cheeks. Miles and Miles hear him cock his gun as the other gets ready to drag his blade across your throat.

Now there are a couple of things you should never do in any universe. One of those things is threatening the love interest of a superhero or a supervillain. Both will end in a bad result for you, and probably end up costing your life in one instance. And another one of those things is piss off Spider-Man to the point where he doesn’t say his corny ass jokes.

And seeing this guy break a (Y/n)’s arm to ‘set an example’ is a way to piss off Spider-Man enough to where he isn’t telling his corny ass jokes.

“I got the guy with the gun and the guy covering her mouth,” Miles 1610 says, low enough for Miles to hear and no one else. “Entendido. I got the guy with the knife,” Miles responds, swallowing his pride and deciding to work with Miles. If it meant saving you, he would do anything.

A silent agreement between them causes Miles to become the Prowler and other Miles to become Spider-Man. Something this world has never seen.

The Prowler leaps at his guy, using one hand to clamp down on his holding the knife, keeping it steady as he uses his claws to do what he was attempting to do to you. At the same time, Miles webs the gun and the man covering your mouth’s hand, yanking both towards him and causing the men to stumble forwards. 42 Miles grabs the knife from the guy he just took down and uses all his force to cut the man who was covering your mouth’s hand completely off. He screams as he falls to the ground, and 42 Miles pulls you out of the way. 1610 Miles promptly delivers a punch to the man with the gun’s face, knocking him down. He breaks the gun in half, throwing it behind him. Then the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He leaps out of the way as one of the other men fires his gun at him, dodging the bullet just in time. Unfortunately, it hits the man he just knocked down straight in the head. He webs that gun, too, swinging it around him and nailing the guy in the head with it. Hard. Miles essentially pistol-whips the man but has no time to rest as more people join the fight.

While 1610 Miles is doing all this, 42 Miles, grabs you, pushing you behind him. “Amor you need to run,” he says, pointing to the fire escape that leads back up to Aaron’s apartment. “If they follow you, you got Aaron to help you. Fuera de aquí. Ahora, We’ll get rid of these assholes, just go!” he explains, frantically, as he powers up his gauntlet, punching one of the men running towards the two of you and sending him painfully flying against the wall of the alleyway. You nod, turning to run, but one of the men was able to get behind you. He grabs you, stabbing the shoulder of your now broken arm with a knife as you dodge out of the way from his attempt at stabbing you in the chest. You yelp. Miles turns around, dodging the man’s attempt to stab him as he pulls out a second knife, before catching his wrist. He digs his claws into him, causing the man to drop the knife and scream out in pain before Miles forcefully pulls his head down to his knee. He crumples to the ground, and Miles immediately assesses the damage of the knife. “Mierda. Amor, change of plans. Stay behind me, Imma keep you safe,” he says, shielding you from the rest of the people.

His eyes widen as he realizes Miles has taken out over half of them, leaving only two people left. Maybe he’s not too bad, after all. “Hey, man, little help here?” Miles yells, and 42 Miles runs forward, keeping tabs on you, as he slices up the second to last guy. The two of them turn their attention to the last person, who has her gun pointed at them, switching between the two before realizing that you were also in range. She quickly turns her attention firing at you, but luckily, she’s a terrible shot. The bullet only grazes the side of your thigh, but both boys flinch, knowing how much that hurts. She then runs towards you after realizing she’s out of bullets, raising her arm to strike you. Both Miles and Miles dart over, but you’ve had enough of this. You were already made beforehand, and now you have a stab wound, multiple cuts, a broken arm, and a bullet wound? These motherfuckers need to know they can’t mess with you just to get to your boyfriend. So, you punch her first. Across the face. Hard. Luckily your dominant arm was the one left unharmed in all of this, even if you felt one of your fingers break on the impact. You still knock out the woman. You look up at the two boys, who are both staring at you with wide eyes.

“Damn, ma.”

“That was actually kinda hot,” both of them speak over each other, and 42 Miles snaps his head towards himself. “Ay, idiota! Don’t call my girl hot.”

“Bro, I am you! I know you thought it was hot, too, because we are the same person!” Miles exclaims, and you huff, grabbing the attention of the boys again. “They were pissing me off, so don’t piss me off even more with this stupid arguing,” you mutter suddenly feeling a rush of panic overtake you from the feeling of a knife in your arm. And intense pain spread through your leg at the sight of the bullet graze wound. “Okay… think I’m gonna faint, now.”

1610 Miles catches you before you even begin to slightly waver, beginning to run up the side of the building to Aaron’s apartment. “How the hell you doing that, man?!” he hears other him yell as he scales the fire escape. “Dude, I told you! I’m Spider-Man! Spiders can do this typa shit,” Miles says, hopping onto Aaron’s fire escape and running through the open window. Aaron points a gun at him before seeing that he’s carrying a very injured you in his arms, quickly ushering him over to his couch.

Miles lays you down as your Miles runs through the open window and right over to your side. “Ay, bendito,” he mutters, assessing the damage. Luckily, the knife you were stabbed with was just a pocket knife. Unluckily, you were stabbed with a pocket knife. You wrap your hand around the handle of the knife, getting ready to yank it out before 1610 Miles stops you. “No, (Y/n), you cannot pull it out yet,” he says, and you gulp. “But–”

“Nah, mi vida, Miles tiene razón. You could bleed out. It has to stay in,” your Miles says as Aaron nods, grabbing a hefty first aid kit. “Yeah, kid. You’ll feel much worse when it’s out, trust me,” he says, handing your Miles a splint for your finger. “Now anyone care to tell the adult in the room just what the hell happened down there?”

“Why didn’t the adult in the room come out to help?” 42 Miles fires back, and Aaron frowns. I was up here with a gun ready to shoot one of them in case they tried to come in here and stael your shit, Miles. Besides, I know you can hold your own, man. And apparently, so can he,” Aaron says, motioning to 1610 Miles. It makes him feel good. He wishes his Uncle Aaron could see him kicking ass like this. But as 42 Miles starts to treat you, other Miles puts those thougts out of his head, grabbing some bandages and disinfectant. He begins treating some of the cuts you received. You wince, and he frowns. “I know it hurts, (Y/n/n), but I gotta do this,” he mumbles, placing bandages over them before moving to the bullet graze wound.

He apologizes before ripping the pants you’re wearing further to get better access to the wound. He gently clears it out, making sure there’s no more fabric left in it. Your Miles holds your hand after aligning your finger, and you squeeze it as other Miles cleans thee bullet graze. He muttered comforting words to you in Spanish, alternating between wiping the tears off your face and kissing them away. 42 Miles watches as 1610 Miles expertly bandages the wound and raises his eyebrows. “You do this a lot?”

“More than I’d care to admit,” he says, shrugging. He looks up at him. “We need to get her to the hospital for the stab wound and the arm.”

“Eres estúpido o qué?! The hospital is run by the cartel,” Miles says, and Aaron solemnly nods. “Look, Miles, I don’t know what type of world you come from, but here it’s dangerous. All the time,” he says, and Miles frowns. “You have no one in this city looking out for people?”

“We did, but… he’s gone now,” Miles says, softer than other Miles has ever heard him speak. You bring his hand you’re holding up to your mouth, kissing it. Aaron’s face turns somber. Miles doesn’t say anything, but he starts getting an idea he doesn’t like very much. “Well… what about mamá? She’s a nurse, just say (Y/n) got jumped or something. She can fix this,” Miles mentions, and 42 Miles slowly nods. “Yeah… yeah that could work. Are you okay with that, mi luna?” he asks you in a soft tone, and you gulp. “How much longer til she’s home?”

“She’ll come home the minute I call her and tell her what happened to you. She’ll think of a good excuse,” Miles insists, and you nod. “Okay. Just… please tell her to make it stop hurting,” you mumble, and he frowns. “Lo siento, mi vida,” he mumbles, and 1610 Miles sighs. “Yeah… me too.” You shake your head. “You literally saved my life, Miles. Both of you. Neither of you have anything to apologize for,” you say, squeezing his hand again. “Miles. I hate to bring this up, but… before you call Rio, we needa be somewhere. Or else the cartel will be after her, you, Rio, and me all over again,” Aaron says, and Miles frowns. He doesn’t want to leave you. Not for anything. Especially not to steal shit for a corrupt asshole like Kingpin. He wants to stay with you. You’re more important tan anything he could possibly steal. But, Uncle Aaron is right. He knows he has to go. “Ay, dios mío. That’s why they came after us in the first place. I’ll be back, amor,” he glances at other Miles with a frown, “Look after her, aight?”

“Does this mean you trust me? Where are you going?”

“I have no choice but to trust you right now. Besides, you helped out down there to save her. Guess you’re cool. But you don’t need to know where I’m going. Just know I’m not going by choice, but out of necessity,” Miles says, his Prowler mask coming back over his face. Miles shrugs. That’s a start in gaining his own trust, he guesses. “I got her. Just don’t die, please. Would be weird trying to explain to ma that I’m her alive son from another universe,” Miles says, and Miles mutters something in Spanish before nodding at Aaron. “Let’s go,” Aaron says, and they make their way out of the apartment.

After they leave, you and Miles sit in a comfortable silence as he looks over all of the bandages, making sure they’re okay. “Care to tell me what happened between us on your world to get my mind off of this?” you ask, motioning to the knife sticking out of your body. Miles sighs.

This is gonna be rough.

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『 his girl tag list 』

@agustdeeyaa @akemiixx01 @angeli-fucking-cat@dani111* @eitaababe @fiannee @hana-1235 @imaginarydreams @inluvwithneteyam @kdbsr-h* @kezibear @kikookii @korehiiime @laylasbunbunny @lazyotakuofficial @mama-2001 @mividaasi @nightshxdex @notplutos* @papichulo120627 @po55um @ptsmplekaramele @realityshifter111 @rksses @silly-norman @shoyofroyoyoyo @snixx2088 @soy-garbage @sp1derm4nluver @staravity @storm-enika* @tanchosanke @tenaciousduckpoetry @unforgettble420 @whoisgami @yasfrommiles @yourfavstalker25789* @zenxvii

『 itsv/atsv tag list 』

@autismnation @briannaxox* @februarybluues @hearts4hobie @kitsunna4@smuuchies* @soseoulol @stoic0utlaws @tes-conscience*

*if you are italicized - i am unable to tag you for whatever reason, feel free to reach out and see if we can fix the issue

if you wish to be on either tag list, reach out and let me know! thank you to everyone for the support!🖤

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#miles morales x reader #miles morales x you #earth 42 miles morales x reader #prowler miles x reader #spiderman x reader #spider-man x reader #spiderverse x reader #atsv x reader #miles morales #earth 42 miles morales #spiderverse #atsv

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rememberwren · 1 month

Text

A Dichotomy of Thought || 1

Warnings and details: disabled!Johnny; established Ghoap future Ghoap/reader; domestic abuse (not Ghoap); heavy themes of suicide, violence, abuse, poor coping mechanisms, prescription drugs. I’m not sure if I have anything here, let me know if anyone is interested in this series.

A helicopter goes down in the mountains of Kazakhstan and it takes a piece of Soap with it. They never recovered the arm—nor the three service members who lost more than their arms in the crash. The thought is one that Johnny’s mind cycles back to often, in moments of quiet or while he lies awake at night feeling tremors in an arm that’s no longer attached. Suddenly he’ll wonder: what are those bones up to, buried in snow and ice so deep the sun will never touch them again? Do they miss me?

Fuck, he misses them.

After the accident, the world is very black and white. Mostly it’s black. Blackness at the edge of his vision threatens to creep in when he stands too long, when he stands on his own, when he turns his head too fast. Anytime his blood pressure rises over that Goldilocks number of 120/80, it threatens to drop him faster than Simon used to during their first weeks of training together in the 141.

The doctors say that he’s a miracle. The traumatic brain injury had his brain swelling and pushing at the confines of his skull like water freezing in a bottle. Give him a little longer in the cold and maybe his cap would blow off. Except it hadn’t; he was still dealing with swelling all over: in his thalamus, his hypothalamus, in his cerebrum, all the words he’d never bothered to learn in school and couldn’t fucking remember now no matter how hard he tries. He gets the point. Simon does too. Johnny should be dead.

Instead he just wishes he were.

Even now, when he can remember his name and Simon’s and even (more often than not) the name of the waitress who serves them chicken and waffles at the local diner every Saturday, there are still more bad days than good. Still more darkness than light. Still more nights waking up to the sound of helicopter blades slowing, the relentless hum becoming a deafening chop chop chop like the thrum of his heartbeat. There’s that moment of weightlessness when the helicopter goes down and he has yet to go with it that makes him wake in a cold sweat, nauseous and looking for something to be sick in.

Through it all, Simon is there. Simon is the light. He’d laugh if he heard Johnny say that—though a laugh is probably too generous. Simon doesn’t laugh much these days. Not when he spends three fourths of his time taking care of Johnny and the other fourth thinking about how better to take care of Johnny. If it weren’t for Simon, Johnny would have done himself in by now. There’s a thousand ways to do it; plenty of arms and munitions in the apartment they share together. Or there are the pain pills, if he wanted it to look like an accident. A few too many of those and he could crawl right through that darkness in his vision and find out what’s on the other side. As soon as the thought crosses his mind (and it crosses his mind more often than that fucking chicken crosses the road), the guilt comes, like anyone and everyone can read it on his mind: his mama rest her soul, Simon, Jesus on the cross. After all of the work that has gone into him, into saving his broken body and mind, into rehabilitating him, how can he even think of throwing in the towel?

Turns out it’s pretty fucking easy to think about it.

As a matter of fact, he’s thinking about it the first time he meets you, when you nearly do the job for him.

It’s spring, cool, and he’s working up a goddamn sweat anyway. Simon stands in the alleyway, smoking and pretending not to watch as Johnny hobbles up and down the length of the parking lot with his forearm crutch. His armpit throbs. His knee throbs. His head throbs as he continues along, beating out a strange little rhythm on the concrete—thum-thump, thum-thump, thum-thump. He says all the curse words he knows and dreams up a few new ones too. It’s supposed to be getting easier, but Simon just pushes him harder to make up for the ground he covers. That’s one of the shitty parts about loving an ex-military man; he never goes easy on you.

Johnny’s thinking about the tub upstairs, just big enough for him if he curls in on himself. Sometimes a hot bath helps the knots in his muscles, but sometimes when Simon leaves the room to get a washcloth Johnny will slip beneath the surface of the water and see how long he can hold his—

Then you come out of absolutely nowhere in your shitty little four-door and nearly hit him. As a matter of fact, you do hit his crutch, sending it sprawling out of his hand and sending him clattering to the ground on his bad side. For a moment, he thinks: this is it. This is how I die. Not in a helicopter in Kazahkstan but here, now, today, and he can’t tell if it’s relief in his belly or regret. Then your tires squeal like pigs on the pavement, the smell of burnt rubber thick in the air, and he is face to face with you and your horror, close enough that the air from your hasty turn brushes along his body and sends his heart pounding.

“What the steaming bloody fucking Jesus do you think you’re doing?” he finds himself shouting, pain lancing all along his side from his fake knee to the stump of his arm. Simon is there all at once, cigarette abandoned to smolder to ash in the alleyway, putting his hands under Johnny’s armpits and lifting him like a child even when he yelps in pain like a kicked dog. Johnny leans against him heavily. The edges of his vision are turning black. He bangs his fist against the hood of your car. “Did Jesus send ye? Did He tell ye to finish the fucking job and do me in? ‘That’s the cunt right there, beam him with your car’? Did he tell you that?”

You reluctantly get out of the car, not even wearing a goddamn seatbelt. The car’s soft, insistent alarm begins to remind you with unending politeness that the door is open and your seatbelt is off while you stand there, pallid, eyes huge and watering in the face of Johnny’s shouts.

He sees then that one of your eyes is swollen almost completely shut, blood turning the white sclera pink like the fine mist of blood over the snow when they finally pulled Johnny free from the helicopter. No wonder you didn’t see him coming, with a single functioning eye. He’s opened his mouth to tell you so (and to tell you a dozen other fucking things) when he nearly swoons, the rug of the world being tugged under his feet by the hand of God.

Simon slips a firmer arm around Johnny’s waist.

A man gets out of the passenger side. He begins to berate you for not paying attention, for nearly killing Johnny. Johnny agrees, but is annoyed all the same. He’s the one who almost died; leave the shouting to him.

“I’m so sorry,” you choke out, tears dripping near-constant from your eyes. “I’m an idiot. I’m so sorry. Let me get your—”

“Done enough, haven’t you?” Simon asks cooly. It sends you reeling back into the car where you sit with both hands over your mouth, chest hitching with your panicked sobs.

“Hey, is he, like, okay?” your partner asks.

“Fuck off,” Simon says, deftly ushering Johnny over one shoulder and holding the crutch in the other. He carries them back to the elevators without breaking a sweat, and Johnny cries on his shoulder from the pain of it, the sheer embarrassment of it the whole way home. The day before Kazahkstan he couldn’t have been able to tell you the last time he cried; now he cries every fucking day from one reason or another.

“I’m fine,” Johnny says when they make it back to the apartment and Simon eases him down into a chair. They arrange his knee in the one position that has it throbbing less, but then Johnny bats Simon’s hands away. “Go. I’m fine. I don’t need you hoverin’ over me.”

“Alright.”

“Fuck off with yer alright.”

Simon doesn’t say anything. Johnny hears his footsteps leading toward the bedroom they share—hardly a bedroom, how long has it been since they slept there together peacefully? Since they fucked? Johnny can tell you how long it’s been. Since before things went black and white. The footsteps stop then.

“You stepped in front of her, Johnny,” Simon says, his voice low but not quiet enough to count as a whisper. “I watched you do it. Don’t think you’re so fucking slick.”

He shuts the bedroom door behind him.

#ghoap x reader #dichotomy of thought

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cozage · 1 year

Note

Hi! I really like your writing , each of them makes me feel all the emotions.🥺💞 I have an idea for a request, maybe someone has already suggested this (sorry if that's the case) I think it will be interesting, cute and sad🌱

Monster trio, Ace, Low with fem S/O, whose body was under the control by the enemy, she did not want to harm her nakama, but could not prevent it because of a uncontrolled body. Thereby hurting someone, but not of their own free will

Sorry for the mistakes, English is not my first language :(

A/N: I’ve been sitting on this one for a long time because I knew how painful it would be to write. I only did three of them, but if you want Luffy and Sanji’s, definitely send me a request when I reopen them!

Characters: female reader x Zoro, Ace, Law

Cw: angsttttt

Total word count: 2.2k

Enemy Control

Zoro

“What the hell are you doing?!” Zoro yelled, jumping away from your swinging blade.

“I don’t know!” you cried out. “Just get away from me, I can’t control it!”

Your body suddenly changed direction, jerking you to the side. Your arms raised your sword and swing, aiming directly for Nami.

“Nami!” you screamed, but there wasn’t enough time for her to jump out of your way. Your blade made contact with her flesh, causing her to scream out in pain. Blood dripped down her arm; the wound was deep but thankfully not fatal.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed. “I can’t stop it.”

You raised your blade again, ready to strike Nami again. She cowered in fear, and you swung as if you had the intent to kill.

Metal hit metal, and Zoro stood in front of you, blades raised to defend. His good eye was scowling at you, full of confusion.

“The enemy must’ve gotten ahold of your blood. He’s forcing you to fight us to keep us occupied.”

“Just run!” You jumped back, aiming to strike Zoro.

“You are faster than all of us and you know that!” He yelled at you. “We just have to keep you occupied until Luffy knocks the guy out. It’s not that hard.” Your swords clanged together again, Zoro easily deflecting your blows.

You kicked him, using him as a springboard to push him backwards and propel you towards Chopper. You hated that your body knew who to target, and Chopper ducked as you swung, screaming in terror.

“Please, Zoro. Knock me out or something!” You sword jabbed towards Chopped again, but your boyfriend was back in front of you, defending his crew mates.

“The ability still works if you’re knocked out,” Zoro said, keeping his sword against yours.

Tears were streaming down your face. You had already hurt Nami pretty badly. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you hurt anyone else. Or worse.

You pulled away and swung again. You changed your trajectory at the last second, almost catching him off guard.

“Kill me then!”

Zoro gritted his teeth at your request. “Not an option,” he growled.

He swung his blade around to make contact with your sword, sending a shockwave through your body. He used your brief disorientation to flip his blade around yours, causing it to fly out of your hand. Once you were disarmed, he tackled you to the ground and pinned your arms down.

You thrashed against his body, and he struggled to keep you still. You were still sobbing under him.

“Nami,” you said. “How is she?”

“She’s fine.” Zoro tightened his grip on your wrists. He was trying to be gentle with you, but it was difficult when you had such strong bloodlust. “Chopper’s helping her now. Just relax.”

After what felt like an eternity, he finally felt your body go slack. He looked down at you, waiting for you to fight back against him, but you seemed to be free from the curse.

“Can I let you go?” He asked, watching you carefully.

You flexed your fingers and toes, checking to see if you had control back again. They responded to your desire, and you breathed out a sigh of relief.

“I think so, just be ready in case something goes wrong.”

He nodded and released your wrists, still sitting on your core to make sure you kept your cool.

“Nami?” you asked, propping yourself to look around for the orange-haired navigator.

“She’s fine.” He got up and offered you his hands to take. You accepted, and he pulled you to your feet. He dropped one of your hands as you stood, but interlaced his fingers with yours, holding your hand tightly.

He squeezed your hand tight, trying to comfort you. “Let's go see her. Everything’s okay now.”

Ace

“Ace!” you screamed, your fist infusing with haki as it aimed for the back of his head.

“Huh?” he turned just in time for your hand to connect with his cheekbone. The force was so intense it sent him staggering a few steps backwards.

“What the hell!?!” Ace yelled at you. “Why did you do that? That actually-”

You pursued after him, readying your fist again. “Ace, get back!” you screamed.

You punched at him again, but this time he was ready, and he grabbed your fist as you swung. “Stop it!” he cried out in frustration. “Just tell me what I did!”

“Something’s wrong,” you said, swinging your other hand. You connected with his freckled face, and he grunted out in pain.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, jumping back a few paces. He rubbed his cheek, trying to soothe the pain.

You continued towards him again, and you could feel yourself winding you for another punch.

“Can’t we talk about this?” he said, backing away from you.

“I’m not doing it!” you cried, increasing your pace to him against your will.

Ace created a wall of fire between you two, trying to give himself time to think. “Please, Y/N! What’s-”

Your screams cut off his question, and he watched in horror as you stepped through his flames to get to him. “Ace,” you sobbed. “Help me.”

Your fist drew back, ready to hit him again, and he leapt backwards as you aimed for him. He was fast, but you were faster, and you closed the gap yet again and punched, making contact with his face again.

He groaned in pain and pushed you away. He instinctively lit his fist on fire to attack, but quickly diminished it when he realized it was you he was fighting. He couldn't harm you, even when he knew it wasn't you attacking him.

“Shit,” he hissed, dodging another one of your relentless attacks.

“Knock me out!” You screamed, punching at him again.

“I’m not going to hurt you!” He could see the fear in your eyes as he continued to evade your attacks.

“You have to do something!” You cried back. You could see him debating the idea. “You won’t hurt me! Just do it! Please!”

He dodged your next attack, slipping behind you. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, smacking his hand against a pressure point in your neck, and everything went dark.

You woke up in the infirmary of the Moby Dick, the soft beeping and whirring of machines around you. Your eyes found Ace, slumped in a chair across the room, and you sat up to look around.

Marco must’ve been alerted to your consciousness somehow, because he quietly slipped into the room and smiled at you.

“You’re okay,” he assured you, seeing your panicked eyes. Marco’s voice caused Ace to stir, but he didn’t pay the fire user any mind. “You were under the influence of an enemy, but it appears that it was temporary. Whether it was time related or range related, we’re not really sure.”

“Can it happen again?” You asked, scared for the danger you could put your crew in.

“Unlikely,” Marco said, looking at your chart. “When you first came in, there was an unknown toxin in your system - likely whatever was causing your body to act on its own. But that’s disappeared now. I’ll keep testing you for a few days, but I’m not concerned about it.”

You nodded, and Marco left the room to give you and Ace some time alone. As soon as he was gone, Ace got up and walked over to your bed. He stroked your hair affectionately and planted a kiss on your forehead.

“You scared me,” he whispered.

“I scared me,” you said. “I didn’t know what was wrong with me.”

“I’m sorry I burned you.” You could see the pain and regret in his eyes from a simple mistake.

“That wasn’t your fault.” You gave him a pained smile. “It was just a bad situation.”

You shuffled to one side of the bed, and patted it for him. “Come join me.”

You’re not sure who benefited more from cuddling together, but you were thankful for his warm embrace.

Law

“Something’s wrong,” you whispered, your heart in your throat. Your feet moved without you telling them to, your hand reaching for a knife.

“Hm?” Law hummed. He still had his back to you, chopping vegetables. He was completely vulnerable and unexpecting of what you were about to do.

“Law,” you said, more urgently now. You hands grasped the hilt of the knife, and you turned to face him, raising it above your head. But he still didn’t turn around.

“Law!” you shrieked, full panic now. He only had a few seconds before you...

You swung, Law turning around just in time to see the flash of silver. Just before your knife made contact with his shoulder, something shoved you hard in the side, and you heard a groan.

“What the hell are you doing?” Shachi yelled. He grabbed your shoulders, shaking you. You could feel the knife wedged in his shoulder blade, a warm, sticky liquid flowing out from the wound.

Your knife was removed from his back and stabbed into him again, and Shachi gritted his teeth from the pain. He switched his position to hold your arms down by your sides.

“Captain, get your girlfriend,” Shachi shouted, and your eyes looked over to the captain. When you looked at him, you knew that Law was your target, but it was best to get rid of the weaker enemies first.

Why were you thinking like that? What was happening to your brain? You were scared, and you could see your own fear mirrored in Law’s eyes. This ability - your body moving separately from your thoughts - reminded you of Dressrosa, and the man you defeated there.

“It can’t be…” Law whispered, backing away from you. “That’s impossible.”

You kicked Shachi in the groin, causing him to loosen his grip on you and fall to his knees. You looked down at him, just as terrified as he was.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, tears in your eyes, as your foot whipped back and you kicked him in the jaw. Shachi slumped to the ground, unconscious, and your eyes turned back to Law again.

“Please run,” you begged him. But Law only stared at you, horrified. Even as you picked up the knife and aimed it at his skull, he just stared at you.

“Law! Do something!” You screamed again. You threw the knife at him and he finally moved into action.

“Room. Shambles.”

Suddenly, you were behind a locked gate, Law standing in front of you, safely out of your reach. Your body instinctively lunged for him, and he stepped back out of surprise, but you still couldn’t reach him.

“I’m sorry about this, Y/N-ya.” He sat on a barrel and watched you for a few moments, you desperately clawing at where he stood. Your vision was getting blurry from the tears in your eyes, but you could see that his eyes were still filled with fear.

“Go help Shachi,” you sobbed. “Please.”

Law shambled a med kit to the room you all were in, and pulled out a tranquilizer. “Stay still,” he muttered, flicking the syringe and walking up to the bars you stood behind.

“Law-” When you reached out to grab him, he quickly took hold of your wrist and flipped it over, injecting the sedative into your veins. The last thing you saw was his face, looking down at you as you crumpled to the ground.

You weren’t sure how much time passed when you woke again, but your mouth was dry and there was a blanket over you now. The events came rushing back to you - the lack of control you had over your body, the prison, Shachi.

You were too tired to move, so you balled up as small as you could on the cold metal floor and you let out a sob of despair.

You heard movement from outside of the prison, and then the soft creak of the cell door opening. Your entire body tensed, afraid of what might happen, and you squeezed your eyes shut in fear. Maybe if you didn’t see the person, you wouldn’t hurt them.

Calloused fingers rubbed your arm, and you leaned into Law’s touch. You would know his touch anywhere, and it made you feel a little bit better knowing he was so close.

“Shachi’s okay,” he whispered.

You could feel hot tears slipping past your closed eyelids and down your cheeks at the mention of the news. Relief flooded through your veins.

“You can open your eyes,” Law said, still running his fingers up and down your arm.

“What if I-” you choked on your words, unable to finish.

“You’re okay now. It was a devil fruit power that could control the person through some kind of virus. But I removed it while you were sleeping.”

Law wouldn’t lie to you, and your eyes opened to see his golden irises. There were dark circles under his brilliant eyes, a sign that he hadn’t slept in a very long time. But you could see relief flood through them now, and you knew everything would be okay, just like he said.

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