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hexlenx · 21 days ago

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TANGERINE — hp, bt [ crossover ]

Introduction.

In which the newly graduated lovable troublemaker of Hogwarts is not what everyone seemed. Apparently, he got a little secret.

Sirius and Remus didn't think that their friend was hiding something from them until a few months after graduation.

note: I do not own Harry Potter nor Bullet train, this is made purely for entertainment purposes. English is also not my language so apologies for typos as well as wrong grammar.

warnings!!: violence, vulgar language, r-rated content, lethal weapons and gore.

__________________

This wasn't what James Potter was thinking of to tell his friends about his job. You see ever since he attended Hogwarts, in holidays or summer breaks he always said he had a job in the muggle world. Why did he need a job? Well one is for money, and another is for the satisfaction of...well killing someone. Though he only kills the one in his job and not innocent people. Most of his targets were bastards anyways.

He became an orphan when he turned eight due to his parents dying in a tragic accident when an Azkaban prisoner who was an unregistered animagi escaped and conducted a mass murder. After that he was sent into an orphanage in the muggle world by Albus Dumbledore, saying it was to keep him safe. Which made him hate the man.

It was not that safe.

He knew he had magic but he had no way of controlling it, so as months passed by in the orphanage he was treated as a freak when his magic accidentally went out one day due to his emotions getting the best of him.

But it was due to a very valid reason.

James was in the playground just behind the orphanage when he heard a yelp. It seemed like the person was in pain, so he went towards the source of that sound and saw kids older than him bullying and beating up a dark skinned boy who looked to be the same age as him. It made him see red because how could they bully someone who was defenseless against them as well as the skin color discrimination that he heard when he got closer.

That was when his magic went out.

One of the older kids got flung a few meters behind towards the trees, harshly. This made the others freaked out as well as scared because it wasn't normal and normal scares them.

The victim on the other hand was looking in awe, the power displayed was fascinating for him and he tried to search for the source of that power which wasn't that hard because James was standing behind the older kids shaking in anger. Seeing this the boys scrambled away screaming.

"FREAK!"

"Ye' well I ain't the one bullying people, now am I!" James retorted before looking towards the dark skinned boy.

"You alright?" James asked the boy who only nodded, speechless from the display.

"How 'bout we get you patched up, ye'?" James held out his hand towards the boy who hesitatingly accepted, not wanting to anger him because of his display of magic.

"C'mon, I ain't gon' hurt ya'"

And that was when the two brothers in all but blood came to be. During those years of friendship they decided to escape the orphanage and tend to themselves independently. Getting jobs were the hardest since they were too young but they found errands here and there like house cleaning, babysitting (which did not work out for James due to his temper.) and cleaning out the gardens of some houses. The pay wasn't that high but it was alright.

They stayed in an alleyway with left over wood as their cover and some blankets for the night. It wasn't as good as the rooms in the orphanage but it was better than staying in that abusive building.

A year had passed and their little home became a little larger as they grew. It was hard living in the streets but both of them had fun and as long as they're with each other, everything else doesn't matter.

Footsteps sounded in the small alleyway, the figure of a man was walking towards the small home the boy have built over the year. Grinning maliciously, he grabbed the dark skinned boy who yelped and tried to struggle free the moment he got awoken from his sleep. This lead the other boy to wake up as well.

The boy growled as he ran towards the man, a small pocket knife in hand. The boy stabbed the man once on his thigh making said man to let go of his brother in pain. This made the boy grab his brother to drag him behind him to protect him.

"You little brat!" The man yelled out before punching the boy with the knife in the face making the boy stagger from his place. The man grabbed the boy by the neck, suffocating him as he grinned maliciously. "You're going to pay for that, with your life!" He said while continuing to choke the life out of the boy.

The boy not letting go of the knife then threw the object to the man's eye. Letting him go as he staggered on his steps as he raised a hand to his face. His hands coating blood as his eyes rolled over to the back of his head before faceplanting. The knife that was in his eye going deeper after the fall, without a doubt the man was dead.

The boy breathed heavily as he looked at the dead man, his body shaking in horror. It was his first kill and somehow it felt good. It was sickening but he knew it only felt good because his brother was in danger. Being able to save his brother brought satisfaction in his heart.

"James?" The dark skinned boy softly called out to his brother who stood still with blood coating his face.

"..ye'?"

"You okay?" James paused, no he did not feel okay. He just killed someone and didn't feel bad about it, in fact he felt very satisfied that he killed the man so no he is not okay.

"..ye'"

After that situation a group of men arrived at their location. It seemed that the man was their target for their contractor, the dead man was one of the men who raped and kidnapped the wife of the man who hired them. The man who hired them didn't want to get blood in his own hands so he hired assassin's to finish the job. The dead man was drunk and wanted to take a piss in the alleyway when he saw the small home the boys live in and decided to have fun with one of them. Suddenly James felt relief flow through him as he felt that his actions are valid.

Seeing the potential of the boy, one of the men decided to offer them a job. An assassin, a contractor.

And that's how James ended up being one of the best of the best, the most sought after assassin in the underworld of the muggle world alongside his brother who didn't want him to take on the burden alone. And with that, they both became the most feared twins.

James never regretted his decision or he and his brother would've continued to live off the streets. Now, they have an apartment complex that was luxurious. This was bliss for him. Living a comfortable life outside his job with his brother and finally being able to sleep properly without fending for themselves in the dangerous streets. He was contented.

That was until his Hogwarts letter arrived. He almost forgot he was magic since he was living the best of his life now. This made James remember that he was a freak well in the muggle's eyes anyways. His brother William, who he now calls Lemon, because it's his codename, convinced him to take it. It wouldn't hurt to know where you originated from and if Lemon had the same opportunity, he would take it.

Looking at the platform filled with students and future students of Hogwarts, he breathed in deeply before stepping into the train. His brother couldn't join as the wards don't allow muggles inside the platform so he was alone for now. Walking down the long hall of the train he opened a random compartment close to the edge of the train because he had a feeling fewer people would be in there.

Opening the compartment, he was greeted by a girl his age. She had platinum blonde hair and familiar doe-like starry blue eyes that drew him in like a moth. He gaped at the girl in front of him who did the same before the female pulled him in harshly while closing the door and grabbed his face before slamming it on the compartment's window.

James groaned in pain before harshly pulling the back of her hair and kicked her on the side of her waist making her yelp in pain before he pinned her on the seat behind her.

"What in the fuck are you doing here?!" James growled out, keeping his grip tight on the girl who only groaned as she couldn't move before giving up with a huff.

"I'm assuming same reason as you?" The girl innocently smiled but James knew she was taunting him so he glared even harder before his grip softened when he realized what that meant.

"You're magical too?" Making the girl nod. Sensing no lie when he looked into her eyes, he sighed letting go of the girl beneath him. Great, the Doll, who is a fellow contractor from a different company, how did he know? Well they fought each other before in one of the contracts they coincidentally both have. Now she is going to a magical school with him. Just fucking great!

After that, he didn't want his real identity being revealed so he and the girl made a deal. He stays out of her business and she stays out of his. But it seemed to be harder than it looks when as years passed by, they become closer since they're the only ones who can understand each other in the Wizarding World. They've become close to the point of letting each other know each other's secrets and let themselves be vulnerable to each other, something James doesn't even show to his brother.

They even started going on dates in secret as they both have different roles. James being the troublemaking boy with his group of Marauders and Sophia who is Doll, being the quiet and intelligent Ravenclaw who is always the top of her classes. No one ever caught them as expected of an assassin.

This one thing lead to another and now they're dating. Even going as far as moving in together in James' and Lemon's complex which Lemon was very happy about due to being best friends with the girl since they met. They both bonded over Thomas the Tank Engine. With Lemon ranting about it and Sophia encouraging him by listening and commenting about it. As you can see, it made James very annoyed but inside his filled with fondness as he was looking at both of them as they bonded. Happy that his two favorite people were getting along well.

Years in Hogwarts passed by fast and now they just finished graduating. James graduated and now he was Tangerine once more, just thinking about doing more missions excites him as it has been so long since he went on a mission which was a few months ago on Christmas break.

This time he and his brother Lemon left the company to become independent contractors along with his now wife, Sophia. They stuck with their codenames and built a reputation in the assassin industry. Being famous for the Bolivia massacre without knowing it would lead them getting involved in something they never expected.

"Oh fuck me."

Tangerine stared at the two men in front of him in shock and disbelief as he stood in the middle of the economy car of the bullet train in Japan driving towards Kyoto.

"Prongs?"

#tangerine x reader #tangerine #aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson x reader #bullet train #lemon #james potter x reader #james potter #harry potter #ladybug #x yn #marauders

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theskeletonprior · 3 months ago

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I left my awful soul-sucking job so my writing commissions are now open! Looking for a brainrot cure? Got a story that won't write itself? There's a way. Drop me a line! I'm especially good at nailing character voices, hurt/comfort, polyamory, and subtle moments of intimacy. While I don’t mind writing intimate scenes, I don’t accept graphic NSFW requests, non-con, or underage. When in doubt, just check in with me first! You can message me here on Tumblr, or email me at [email protected]. The hellsite, as I'm sure you know, does eat asks and such sometimes, so if you don't hear back, don't be afraid to reach out again!

Price List (CAD)

1000 words for $20 1500 words for $35 2000 words for $45 Pro rate for writers these days is $0.08 per word, so my commission rates are an absolute steal. Our dollar is also a little bit trash here in the land of maple syrup and poutine or whatever, so if you happen to trade in eagle bux, even better for you! My commissions help me pay for things like sertraline, funding for my ongoing effort to be reunited with my beloved husband, the occasional good meal, and resources for my work as a professional Dungeon Master (I can't believe that one either). So hire a dead guy, and help support a queer creative. I also donate any tips to Gaza Funds.

If you’re looking for a longer work, feel free shoot me an email at [email protected] and we’ll chat. Words are what I do.

Work Samples

You can read all my Tav Tales to date here on AO3, but here are some of the highlights.

To Live in Infamy (2k Durgetash)

The morning, Enver is lucky enough to have pants on. The Slayer snaps his chains as it comes screaming into the daylight, barrelling out of the bed. The force of Infamy’s awakening sends Enver rolling onto the floor, narrowly missing being crushed by the bedframe. He’s tangled in their sheets, and already lamenting that they’ll need to be replaced. This silk had come all the way from Waterdeep. That’s his first thought, even with his heart pounding in his ears. He struggles to free himself, but the Slayer isn’t coming for him. There’s the acrid smell of half-cast sorcery, and then the screaming starts. When something warm and wet splashes onto him, soaking through the sheets, Enver hopes it’s blood. The crunching of bones and the smell of bright copper gives him a little hope that it’s not something worse. It wouldn’t be the first time a would be assassin emptied their stomach or their bowels in terror before the Slayer. Enver unrolls himself at last, leaning back on his elbows to enjoy the show, even as the blood—and thank goodness it is blood—soaks through his nice sheets. The mess quite nearly defies description.

Callus (2k Tav/Astarion/Halsin)

“Oh, my dear, what a miserable turn of events.” Astarion kisses Lukan’s hair gently. “I could probably catch up with him, you know. Plenty of good alleyways in this end of town to drag him into, get him acquainted with my nice new boots. Sturdy enough to kick a man entirely to death.” “You got new boots?” Lukan can’t help a watery smile, desperate to redirect the conversation. He doesn’t want Thindulion killed. It had been bad enough to bury his mother, and as much as he wants to hate his father for abandoning them, he hates the thought of being orphaned even more. And now he knows he has a sister, and he couldn’t put her through that. “That’s beside the point,” Astarion says. “I’m asking if a little spot of patricide might cheer you up.” Lukan shakes his head. “It’s not like that,” he says. He wants to try to make light, to play along with Astarion’s flippant turn of phrase, but it’s just too heavy. It doesn’t go unnoticed. “I might have another idea, in that case,” Astarion tells him. “Why don’t you have a sit on the bed, get those boots off, and I’ll be back, having done precisely no murders, I promise.”

In the Spider’s Parlor (3.5k Tav/Kar'niss)

She peers over her shoulder at him and then rolls her head, exposing more of her neck. Suddenly his need, that wretched appetite, is not as hideous as it has been, he feels no disgust for what he wants, for the curse that makes him want it. There’s only this moment. He nips lightly, slipping his arms around her, embracing the warmth. He reaches out with his forelegs, feeling her, holding her securely as he had done that first time. He’s heard the sound she makes when letting blood, and now he knows it for what it is. Pleasure. His purr rumbles low in his chest, but he never bites, lapping softly at the thin rivulet of blood that wells from where he’s nipped her, one delectable drop at a time. Solinore reaches up, one hand tangling in his hair, relaxing in his grip. “What you ask of me, is yours,” Kar’niss says, applying pressure to the nick he’d made to stop what little bleeding he’d caused. “You sure?” she asks, playfully. “I could ask for another ride on your back. Or…” He knows what that smirk implies. “What you ask of me,” he says again, “is yours.”

#The Prior's Commissions #writing commissions #commission info #commissions open #bg3 fanfiction #dnd fanfiction #dnd characters

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idylls-of-the-divine-romance · 2 months ago

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Your thoughts on demons?

Thank you for the ask <3

Absolutely real. Demons and The Adversary are absolutely real and absolutely have an affect on our lives. We see this 2 ways in particular in the Gospels and the Letters. In the gospel accounts we see demonic possession, which is something I do believe happens (my friend's mother, tho she doesn't like that word). In the letters however, this is not what is discussed. Rather in both the gospels and the letters there is another demonic influence: oppressive political powers.

Paul speaks of "powers and authorities" behind political entities (because "flesh and blood" are not our enemies). Jesus says the the hour of his arrest belongs to "you (the religio-political leaders) and the powers of darkness (the demonic forces behind them)". This revelation has completely changed the way I think of demons and politics, because I am not firmly convinced that spirituality and politics cannot be separated. But that when we see a nation that worships sex and money and (military/national) power, we are seeing a nation that is being energized by dark spiritual powers. Not that the demons conquered the government or something, that's not what I'm saying. Rather that those in power (and, sometimes, us as citizens) have unknowingly allied themselves with a dark spiritual reality, whether or not they even believe in one.

The list I've arrived at for recognizing a nation allied with demons (which I and the Bible term "Babylon") is: slavery; nationalism; oneness at the cost of diversity; the murder of the innocent; oppression of the immigrant, women, children (esp orphans), and the poor; extreme opulence for a select group of people; idolatry of money, sex, and power.

So, yeah, I unfortunately live in Babylon. We all do. This is why we "exiles scattered across the world" must pray for our nations.

I've talked before about the "horror of abandonment" and how it's not that God abandoned us, but that we abandoned God. Demons are a good example of this. Nations and individuals come under the influence of dark spiritual powers when they separate themselves from God's love and light. When the people built Babylon and elevated themselves to the roll of gods, Yahweh scattered them and handed them over to the rebel spiritual beings. When Saul continuously and arrogantly and cowardly (I really don't like Saul lol) disobeyed and disregarded Yahweh's instruction, Yahweh allowed him to be afflicted by an injurious spirit (whether this is a demon, rebel spirit, or not is actually complicated and I'm on the fence but the point stands). When the nation of Israel left Yahweh, their God, to marry foreign women, worship the gods of other nations, and enter into alliance with them, they were conquered by Babylon, the archetype of the city aligned with dark spiritual powers.

I am not sure if the Family of God cannot be possessed or not (I've seen people say that but I've yet to come to a thought on it) but I am positive that the longer you stay away from Jesus, the more you open yourself to that influence.

That said I also agree with C.S. Lewis that one can go too far in the recognition of dark spiritual powers. Yes demons are real; no we should not be terrified of them, nor should we be speculating about their names and whatnot (yes, people do this T-T). But we should be aware of their influence in the world, and firmly stand against it.

This was a lot so summary:

Demons and The Enemy are real and have power.

They are rebel spiritual beings and have rebelled quite often in Scripture, usually alongside a human rebellion (Gen 3; Gen 6; Gen 11; Ps 82).

The only power and influence they have is that which 1) God allows them and 2) we allow them. And thus we should not fear them. Rather we should "resist the accuser and he will flee".

Basically all of our countries have given themselves over to the worship of demons, though in the subtle forms of sex, money, and power. Thus it is our job to "seek the shalom (peace; wholeness; well-being) of Babylon" but also to call out the nations for their crimes against God and humanity.

One day all the nations will come to worship King Jesus and all spiritual powers will be destroyed and those humans who, in the end, chose to align themselves with them will be cast into Outer Darkness.

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 2 years ago

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Dragon Pt.2

Pairing(s): Daenerys Targaryen x Assassin!Reader, implied Daario x Daenerys Targaryen

Warnings: gore, blood, rampage, slight fluff, killing

Words:5535

Summary: Daenerys is good on her promise to make you more than a bloodthirsty assassin. She truly molds you into a dragon.

Part 1

Requested by many of you but in particular @alexkolax since they gave me the prompt 😊😊

In a short amount of time, your life had changed considerably. You were now considered one of Daenerys Targaryen’s most trusted member of her small court. Drogon may have been considered Daenerys’ ‘winged shadow’ but you were her actual shadow personified. She made sure to keep you close to her at all times not just for protection but also her genuine fondness of your company.

Growing to know the Silver Queen who was once your bounty, you’d admit you felt the same fondness.

No one would deny the utter beauty of Daenerys, but it was her authentic warmth that initially broke through your mountain high walls you built around yourself. They’d been a necessary growing up with four brothers. You built those walls so that nothing may break them down. Reinforced with your blood and nightmares.

As a child you had never known such kindness in a person. The people you saw on a daily basis were always less than kind and had ulterior motives up their sleeves.

Your own father murdered your mother after your birth. She was seen as defected since she gave birth to a girl. Up until then, she’d gifted your father with strong, healthy boys that were more than willing to carry on their father’s brutality.

He should have killed you right then and there. Despite all of your father’s flaws, he never killed children. Orphan them, yes, but he wouldn’t outright murder them like he had so many others. So he was stuck with you and subjected you to the same training all your other brothers had undergone prior to your existence.

Under their strict tutelage, you learned how to walk before crawling; such was the fury of their instructions that you aimed to do everything perfectly the first time to not receive their retribution. You couldn’t afford to mess up. Throughout your childhood, you aimed to prove to your family that you were just as good as them. And in all honesty, you were. You were the one to receive the best jobs; customers asked for you specifically.

Rage often fueled their actions, ultimately making them blind to reason. Such was the folly of men. You however were level headed. Anger was an inherited trait in you that you were always able to keep at bay until you needed it. You had full control of it and coexisted with it.

Happily you used the violence that festered in your soul to protect her, any means necessary.

You yourself had located the heart of the Sons of the Harpy swarm that was like a plague in Meereen. You’d earned the respect of the older men in her service that day when you slew the handful that had been surrounding you, Daenerys and Missandei. There had been doubt in you whether or not you could hold them off. They were coming from all sides and angles, relentless attempts to try and harm either of them resulted in a loss of a life or limbs.

Drogon was the true savior of the day. Dany took her rightful place atop of Drogon’s back, but not before she pulled you up with her.

Due to your occupation, you didn’t tend to feel the sensation of fear. It was trained out of you by your eldest brother Nakillos.

Being on top of an actual dragon?

You had never known a fear of heights until Drogon took off into the sky

Dany. . . Well you had Dany to thank for saving you. She revealed that she wasn’t just tenderness and warmth, but a force to be reckoned with. When the Dothraki horde accosted the two of you, you knew that you couldn’t slay all of them and get you and Dany to safety. She held your hand though and reassured you that everything would be alright.

She took things under control from then on. And what could you say? You admired the authority that shadowed her sweet features and she truly spoke like someone who had royal blood coarsing through them.

Not once did you regret leaving your old life behind to vow your fealty to Daenerys.

For the first time in your life you actually felt worthy of something. The deadly skills you had in your itinerary could be used for a proper cause instead of mindless hunger for more victims and gold. A monster that would never be satisfied. You cared not for your own happiness or that of anyone else.

Dare you even entertain the prospect that Dany brought so much light and meaning into your life. She had you feeling sorry for your past self that she didn’t know true joy until Daenerys Targaryen offered you her bloody hand.

When thee slave masters threatened to take Meereen from her control, you were right next to Grey Worm in a prompt execution.

First you happily forced them to watch their fleets be burned by her three children. Then you retrieve the specially made dagger Dany had gifted you and dragged it across Yezzan zo Qaggaz's throat. You may have been a little too happy about eliminating her enemies. The hot blood that splashed from their necks and onto your skin livened your own blood. Never had a kill been so delicious.

This was in tribute to your Silver Goddess.

Out of habit you presented the heads of the Slave Masters to her. Her face beamed with approval and delight at your morbid gifts. Even Grey Worm had turned his face away when you started severing head from necks. It was dirty work and not a pretty sight, but something inside of you made you do it. After presenting her with the head of the man who had hired you to kill her, you unconsciously made it a habit of giving her the heads of her enemies.

You promise her to do the same of her enemies in Westeros which had her cupping your cheek in the greatest show of adoration that had you weak kneed. You could tell she wanted to do more than just hold your face, but this was all she allowed herself. Other times when she was proud of you, Daenerys would toy with the Targaryen sigil that was chained around your neck. You never took it off.

The time for Westeros was coming. All she needed was a proper fleet of ships to carry her and the rest of her loyalists. It would be the first time her Dothraki horde had ever been on the water. They remained outside of the city for now along with Daario Naharis and his band of Second Sons.

The relationship between Dany and Daario was an unspoken one but you understood the truth of Daario's longing looks as you had taken his place by Dany's side. While he may have pleasure to offer her, she still preferred you as her personal sworn sword. Maybe it helped that you were also a woman. Either way it made you feel smug that you were superior to both Daario and Jorah in that manner. She didn't even trust Tyrion Lannister as much as she trusted your opinions.

Her council was in the middle of discussing how to build up their fleet and the options that lay in front of her.

You stand by her cushioned seat. Her council room was one of comfortable familiarity with plush chairs and couches. Wine was offered by those who willingly serve her.

Next to her sat Missandei who may as well have been the Westerosi version of a lady in waiting. You liked the former slave girl. She was kind like her queen and incredibly intuitive. Possessing great knowledge of diplomacy and the workings of Essos, Missandei was a great asset to Daenerys.

Across from the three of you were the men: Daario, Grey Worm, Tyrion, and Westeros' own master of whispers: Varys.

When first encountering the dwarf and eunuch, you had nearly killed both on the spot once you learned of their origins. To you, their presence was a threat to your queen and one you would quickly eliminate. They proved themselves to Daenerys and that was enough for you.

Talk of politics always bored you to tears as you stood there, form rigid and still as you took your job very seriously.

The way Tyrion and Varys droned on though about funds and potential allies made your mind drift and your eyes fell on the large window that looked out to the city. Such boredom brought you back to when you and your brothers were called upon your father to report your monthly body count and profit.

Garros, your father and the head of your clan of assassins, hated to give you praise and would spend the rest of the conference scolding your brothers. Why was a woman doing better than them?

Outside you watch the flight of her dragons as they lazily drift through the sky above the great city of Meereen. Since being released from their prison, Rhaegal and Viserion had grown in size but didn't make the mistake like their brother Drogon of eating the flock that belonged to the city. They took their hunting party far away from the city, following their large brother as he showed them better hunting grounds.

Drogon, while still unpredictable, became more docile toward Daenerys. A new bond had been established since she had officially ridden him .

A touch to your arm jolts you back into attention.

Dany only laughs at your abrupt alertness. They men were standing to leave, giving pleasantries to one another and a nod toward you. You stiffly nod back to them and watch them leave.

"Seems like I wasn't the only one bored from their talk." Missandei chuckles and pours a glass of wine for you, your signal that it was okay to relax with them now.

Gratefully you take it from her tan hands and take a sip while sitting between them. That's where they liked you. Since saving Missandei, you had gained her absolute trust. She would even call you 'my friend' when addressing you now. You'd never had a friend before. It was nice.

"I've never been able to follow political discussions." you sigh and let both of them lean against your shoulders. When the men were gone, all three of you were able to be yourselves. You knew it was hard being a woman with immense power. You couldn't let your guard down as any sign of weakness would be taken as an opportunity for those of the opposite gender. Daenerys constantly had to put up a strong front in order to maintain her power.

Dany nods in agreement, the side of her temple presses against your shoulder as she really gets comfortable next to you. Your stomach always flutters when she does such things like that. "Yes, it's not making me look forward to ruling the Seven Kingdoms."

"Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown." You say, a phrase you'd once heard your father say to Nakillos.

Her hand finds your's and gives it a squeeze. She looks up at you from under her long, dark eyelashes. "The crown is not so much a burden, not with the two of you with me."

You and Missandei smile for the both of you were all to happy to serve her.

Missandei gets up and puts her glass on the table. "Well, I must get going."

"Yes, can't keep Grey Worm waiting." Dany teases her causing the poor girl to duck her head in a blush. You giggle, actually giggle, at the obviousness of her affection for the Unsullied commander.

Flustered, she leaves without confirming Daenerys' words to be true.

Still gazing from where Missandei had fled, you smile and shake your head. "I'm happy for her."

Dany's hand hadn't left your's. Instead, her small fingers weave between your own and you feel your own blush creeping up your neck. Every touch from her was scalding. In a good way. "Me too."

Defenses lowering, you close your eyes and concentrate on the gentle rhythm of Dany’s breathing. Everything she did was mesmerizing to you and damnit if you were intoxicated on the way she makes you feel.

These moments were rare where it was just the two of you. Only once when everyone left could you allow yourself to be vulnerable. You allowed yourself these small, insignificant little moments.

At least you tried telling yourself they were insignificant. Always coming up with realistic excuses to avoid the truth that you struggled to face head on.

You like how her hands fit perfectly into your own.

You like the soft, content sighs she lets out every now and then.

You even like how drowsy you got as comfort warms you.

How had you lived for so long without this feeling? It was downright nourishing to every cell in your body.

“Will you stay with me tonight?”

Her question has your eyes popping open immediately and a quiet sort of panic seizes you. It wasn’t the first time she’d asked you to stay in her room for the night. Whether it was for comfort or. . . Something else. . . You always ran. You were a coward in that respect. Unable to face what you really desired and fighting the truth of your situation.

Again she looks up at you with those heartbreakingly beautiful eyes of hers. How could anyone be as gorgeous as she was? You didn’t even envy her beauty. Your own beauty had never mattered. You didn’t care what you looked like.

“Your Grace-“

She lifts her head from your shoulder with a scowl that knits her brows together. You hate when that expression is aimed toward you.. The last thing you wished was to displease her. “I told you, you don’t have to do that when it’s just the two of us.” Her hand leaves your’s and it goes up to the three-headed dragon pendant that had its home on your collarbone.

Since she released you, you’re on your feet and taking a step away from the couch. Pressing your lips in a straight line, you take her in. A storm of emotions plays out on her round face. “Dany,” you say softly and watch her become a puddle from you using her nickname “I don’t think that would be proper. I can go get Daari-“

You don’t finish as she stands. “Never mind. You’re dismissed.” She hastily says while turning her back to you. Her meticulous braids having held up all through her tenuous day. You’d spotted the red tips of her ears when she’d turned away from you. You hate yourself for doing that to her.

But her affections were misplaced, you were unworthy of her love.

For that’s how you both felt. You knew. You knew you were hopelessly in love with her. And Daenerys, for some odd reason, returned it tenfold. She showed you in every way possible. Daario was an infrequent guest in her bed now, had been for weeks now. Only on the nights when you turned down her offer did you spy Daario the following morning leaving her room.

Being the ever obedient servant, bow and practically leap at the opportunity to run to the door.

What a coward you were.

You stay on the other side for a while, back pressed against the council room.

You hated yourself as your cheeks burn along with your eyes. You wanted to cry, how pathetic was that? You hadn’t cried since you were a baby.

Highly sensitive ears pickup the approaching echo of footsteps. Hastily, you rub your eyes with your arm and look up to find Daario offering you a sympathetic gaze.

He inclines his head toward where he came from. “Let’s grab a drink, you and I. Yeah?”

Arrogant prick he may be, but you had to admit that you actually liked the Tyroshi. He had a charm to him, you’d give him that.

You nod. “Okay.”

“Oh just give into it already!” Daario slaps you on thee back enthusiastically once you were three drinks down. “You’re a pretty girl, she’s gorgeous, the two of you would have plenty of fun! And of course you can add me into the mix every so often.”

You snort out a laugh and shake your head. “You make it sound so easy. I’m a creature that is not used to things like love and sex. I’m not even used to physical contact but with her, she can do whatever she wants to me.”

He rolls his eyes. “Except fuck you apparently.”

Your face burns again and you know it’s not just from the drinks he poured down your throat. “I’m. . . I’m not pretty.”

“Yes you are. In a scary way. It’s sexy!”

The anxious feeling that was growing in your burst when he said that. You laugh exuberantly and Daario follows suit.

Then came back his more compassionate side that humbled him. “I only know a fraction of your past and what you’ve suffered.” When you shoot him a dubious look, Daario explains “Oh come now, even I know of you and your family. I’ve even met one of your brothers. Real twat he was.”

“You’ll have to be more specific. They’re all twats.” You comment making him chuckle in agreement.

“Comparing you from how you were when you first came here. . . I know you’re capable of love. I would have called you a monster back then. Before I got to see a peek of the real you.” You wouldn’t have considered Daario as astute as he was.

Maybe you could even consider him a friend like Missandei.

You ignore the smile that wanted freedom to be expressed on your lips. Instead you bring another drink to your lips.

“You sell yourself short. Enjoy in the pleasure our queen can give you. If it’s me you’re really worried about, don’t worry; what you and Dany have is more than lust.”

Now you were the one to roll your eyes at his ridiculousness. It was an endearing ridiculousness though. But if he could see the devotion you and Dany showed for one another, then everyone else could too. Tyrion, Varys, Missandei and maybe even Grey Worm.

“Love is the death of duty.” You murmur, eyes going dark from your turmoil. “She is my weakness. I can’t have weaknesses. You understand, right?”

Daario sighs not out of exasperation but out of melancholy. “Oh (y/n). They really did a number on you, didn’t they? No, love is what makes you stronger. It’s the fuel you reach for when you have nothing else left in the world. It’s a powerful weapon if you know how to wield it.”

You thought about what he told you long into the night until you went to bed. Your sleep was always dreamless. Preferred over having to endure more grief during unconsciousness.

Due to drinking so much the previous night, you slept far longer than you normally did. You woke up to Missandei shaking you.

Her eyes are wild, desperate even with tears unshed in her brown eyes. “She’s missing. Dany is missing.”

Your mind went blank for a moment. Her words float around in your brain before fully understanding what was going on.

Then you merely saw red. “Show me.” You knew there had to be a last known location. Security for Daenerys was of utmost importance to all of her council. It was impossible for her to go missing out of the blue.

You didn’t bother to change out of the clothes you wore the previous day. Missandei led you to her private chambers where the rest of her small council was congregated.

On her pillows was the bloody head of a lamb. Poor thing’s tongue was sticking out from the corner of its mouth. Dark eyes still open and staring blindly.

Your blood ran cold.

This was not a random abduction. It was deliberate. You knew exactly who did this.

The head of a lamb was your eldest brother’s signature. What a narcissistic dick.

You couldn’t breathe, merely staring wide eyed at it. No one had ever seen your face in such a state. It confirmed Tyrion’s worry. Powerful enemies had their queen.

Only Daario caught your gaze and really understood. He nods as you slip out the door. Missandei moves to go after you but Daario holds her back and whispers in her ear.

Furrowing her brows, Missandei watches helplessly as you make the long way ought of the pyramid and into the city. To get the answers you want, you had to go to the harbor. That’s where all rumors blossomed. Where you would get the most information.

A demon had overcome you and was now in control of your body. The only thing on your mind was finding the culprits that took your queen from under your nose. You blame yourself for not taking up her offer. Your brother would have never been able to take her if you were present.

It had to be Nakillos. If he wasn’t still in the city then he was close. You had to be quick and follow his scent.

The harbor master, while initially denying anyone with the description you gave, gave in once you showed him the savagery of your interrogation process. He only had two fingers left on his right hand before he finally caved in and told you all of what he knew. Nakillos and two other men had indeed been through the harbor.

You followed all hints. Anyone who refused to give you the information you craved was tortured until they submit to your will. You didn’t know what the members of Dany’s small council was doing, but you didn’t waste anytime in your rampage. You knew how the unsavory underworld of Essos worked. Knew all the ins and outs of even Meereen. How else could you possibly have found the nest that belonged to Sons of the Harpy.

A blood lust like this hadn’t risen in you since slaying the slave masters.

You went on a rampage as you scoured Meereen for Dany. Driven by pure rage.

By the end of the day, you’d found where your brother was staying as well several of his lackeys. You’d learned that your father had died a few months ago leaving Nakillos as sole heir to his empire which he took great advantage of.

He’d always resented you as he had been the one to bear the brunt of your father’s resentment since he was the eldest. Your father was not easy on him when you brought back better reports than him. And when you step into his makeshift lair, you see that he hasn’t changed one bit.

His face was the spitting image of your father, if not a bit younger than you last remember.

Gagged and in chains was Daenerys he glared daggers at him, unaware of the affiliation you had with this scum of the earth. They had taken over an entire building for this confrontation.

When she spots you, her lavender eyes glimmer with hope.

Nakillos leans forward with a terrible smirk. “Happy for you to finally join us.” His eyes scanned your body, drinking in the red stains on not just your clothes but also the skin of your arms. You hadn’t bothered to clean yourself up.

“I believe you have something of mine, brother.” Your words are clipped revealing the level of your patience which was none.

Dany’s eyes widen, shooting toward Nakillos whose grin only broadens.

He stands up, towering at almost seven feet. Anyone else would be scared, intimidated even. Never you though. Each step he takes toward you is a heavy thud.

“You’ve grown soft, (y/n).” He comments with a tilt of his chin. “It was quite easy to find news about you and your whereabouts. Not to mention that you’re now in league with the Targaryen cunt.”

You internally bristle at that snide remark but keep your features a void canvas. It pissed your brothers off the most when you didn’t react to their taunts.

That hadn’t changed either. His lip pulls up in a snarl.

His weapons are strung to not just his back but his hips as well. All assassins had a great arsenal of weapons no matter what the occasion.

His men seemed to close in on you so you were now stuck in a circle with your brother. Daenerys muffles words that were covered by the strip of fabric that wrapped around her head and blocked her mouth.

“You’re a fool to come here all by yourself.” Nakillos spits out while reaching behind his back to retrieve a blade from the sheath across his shoulder blades. “I’ll do what our father could never do: end you.”

In a monotone voice, you reply “You can try. Like you have so many times before.” Your own blade easily slipped from your sleeve to your hand. You too had quite the instruments hung off of your belt; some already stained with a crimson substance.

He’d been a bastard to you all your life. You would not mourn killing him.

On light feet, you sped forward; catching him off guard. Nakillos raises his arm, sword coming up to his defense. But your other hand though also wield a blade that he hadn’t seen until the last second.

You were able to slice a large chunk of his thigh and side before he slides away and begins his own onslaught.

Nakillos always favored in throwing his weight around. He did it with your three other brothers and yourself.

All of them lacked the speed and dexterity you had.

You lean way too back in an attempt to avoid the tip of his blade. Forced to complete a flip to guarantee your survival, you’re quick to block another blow from his sword. While you were confident in your own skills, Nakillos wasn’t your father’s heir for no reason.

Each of his offensive moves screamed of Garros. Like you were fighting your father instead of your brother.

He sliced at your shins then tried to slice your belly open in an upward strike with his right hand. Garros had trained all his children to use both hands with equal efficiency. It was one of the best ways to fight.

Even though it meant getting your ankle cut, you swiftly kick him in the face. Ignoring the searing pain that shot through your system. You clench your back molars to the point that they may crack under the pressure.

Nakillos is sent spiraling to the ground but he doesn’t so much as flinch. Blood trickles from his nose that he ignores to dodge you.

It was clear the both of you were equal in hand to hand combat.

You knew you had the upper hand though. Because you were fighting for her. For your Silver Goddess.

You let that quiet anger in you out of it’s cage. It stretched it’s legs before making your vision and thoughts go black.

You fed it with the blood of your brother.

Remembering every single time he was cruel to you. How he smashed your head into the ground and broke your arm when you were ten and one. Nakillos reveled in smacking you around. He even went so far as to have you train an entire day with glass in your boots.

Not realizing you were screaming until the fog in your brain cleared, you saw the damage you did already. His arms were cut up and there was a deep gash to his side that he held onto. The hand around his wound was already dripping with red.

Your own knuckles were covered in cuts varying from deep to superficial. That was the only area on your body he’d been able to scratch.

It made him furious. He let out a roar and charged. You wait until the last minute to fall off to the side and trip him with your foot.

When he fell face first into the floor, you leapt atop of his back and tried to stab deep into his spine. Nakillos however had enough strength and speed to flip himself over from underneath you.

He headbutts you right in the face.

Stars fill your vision as you tumble back. Your head was warm as you force yourself to regain your composure. In that time, Nakillos takes a swing at you that makes a large gash from shoulder to shoulder.

You feel the back of your head bounce off of the ground. At least your vision cleared for you to watch Nakillos sinks one knee on either side of your body.

He’s laughing a bit hysterically at your dazed eyes. “Did you really think it would end with me?” Nakillos smacks you across the face with the back of his hand as you struggle under him. “Even if you kill me, the others will come after you and your silver haired bitch.”

“Then I will do to them what I will do to you: I’ll kill them and present their heads to my queen on a gold platter.” You spit blood right into his eye and stab your blade into his cheek.

He howls, a horrible noise as he flings himself from you. His hands trembling to his face. The handle of your knife stuck straight out.

You didn’t waste time. Ripping a metal wire garrote from your belt, you swiftly loop it around his neck as you dance behind him. He gags before a horrible wet noise rakes from his throat. You tighten your grip and pull.

Nakillos kicks and fights against the sharp wire that was cutting into his neck. His fingers desperately dug at his muscular neck.

The others didn’t move, only watched in horror. They weren’t allowed to move due to Garros’ stupid code. One did not interrupt a fight. No matter who was winning or losing.

You grit your teeth as you viciously jerk back. It cut into arteries and veins alike producing a spray of blood to spring forth. His body is still jerking until you give the garrote one last twist.

Then all movement stopped.

Letting his body fall to the ground, you take a moment to finally get a proper breath. When you open your eyes back up they find Dany’s. Her face surprised you.

Instead of being in horror like everyone else, her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks were flushed. Daenerys was breathing laboriously. Her pupils were blown out from the scene.

You take up your blade once more and get to the messy task of cutting into Nakillos’ neck; severing skin, muscle, bone and tendon. They left you to your macabre work although you didn’t miss the low murmurs.

Forced to switch out blades three times, you finally were able to lodge his head free. His skin was slippery from the red loss of his life.

You go to Dany who is smiling at you.

“Sorry I don’t have a gold plate for this one, but I hope you’ll accept it.” you get down on your knees and offer it up to her.

Her eyes were starting to fill with tears as she smiles happily down at you. Dany’s fingers brush against your stick ones when she moves to take the head from you. She tosses it aside and with both of her bloody hands on either side of your face, she kisses you.

You don’t fight back. Not this time. Daario was right. Why were you fighting? Because of fear? That was stupid.

Her lips were deliciously soft despite their hungry claim on your mouth.

Someone off in the distance clears their throat and you turn around in annoyance.

“You’ve killed your brother.”

“Clearly.” You scoff.

“Do you know what that means?” Another intervenes.

The first man takes back the conversation. “By right you are now leader of Garros’ clan. You defeated the eldest fair and square. All his money and land belong to you as well as his men.”

You wave them all off. “Split it amongst yourselves and my other brothers. I don’t care.” Quick hands already had Dany’s gag off and her bounds cut. “Just as long as none of you step foot in Meereen again.” Flicking up deadly eyes, they nod and don’t fight you as you leave to go back home.

There was arguing in the council room when you and Daenerys returned. Both of you had been quite the sight walking through the streets.

Daario was off to the side, watching them all with a bored expression before he noticed you and Dany. His eyes widen at the both of you drenched in blood but he smiled.

“We’re wasting time-“

“Where is (y/)?!”

“Are the Harpies resurfacing again?!”

Daenerys clears her throat loudly and everyone turns around. “Hello, sorry for the trouble but as you can see I am fine.”

Tyrion gawks. “The. . . The blood. . .”

“Not mine.” She’s all smiles as she brings you to her side. “But (y/n) and I will be requiring a bath. Together.” Daenerys looks at you with hopeful eyes.

This time you don’t say no.

#daenerys targaryen x reader #daenerys targaryen fanfic #daenerys targaryen fanfiction #daenerys targaryen #game of thrones reader insert #game of thrones fanfic #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones #reader insert fanfiction #reader insert #a song of ice and fire fanfic #a song of ice and fire fanfiction #asoiaf fic #asoiaf reader insert #asoiaf fanfic #asoiaf fanfiction #asoiaf fandom

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idle-daydreams · 1 year ago

Text

The Gilded Cage

Tw: Yandere themes, stalking, obsession, mentions of murder, horror

[A.N: I feel like I made Poe mildly OC in this? Idk, the original Poe said that a woman's death was the most poetic topic in the world; I wanted to channel a bit of that... uniqueness into this Poe]

Poe had never thought he would fall in love. Love was for other people; it had never quite seemed the right genre for him.

But then he'd met you. Perusing the books in the mystery section in the local library, with an intent look on your face that had enraptured him. His heart had skipped a beat; he’d let out a strangled yelp that drew your attention. He would have melted into the shadows, too nervous to speak, but you’d spoken to him first, asking him about an obscure volume by Daphne du Maurier. And he had fallen hard.

For days, he’d thought about you. Dreamed of you in various scenarios, placing you as characters in his novels. Sometimes you’d be a rich heiress, other times a penniless orphan. Sometimes you’d be the detective, other times, the victim, lying serenely on a pale bed, eyes closed as though asleep. The words flowed from his pen, blossoming flowery descriptions of the memory etched into his mind - your melancholic beauty, your subdued grace, the softness of your voice, the kindness of your demeanour.

But then, his thoughts had started to wander. Who were you, really? You weren’t a figment of his imagination, a phantom conjured up in his mind. You were a real person, with a real name and a real life. What was your job? What did you like to do in your spare time? Did you think of Poe, did you even remember him? Or did you have a lover who occupied your thoughts?

The thought refused to leave his mind. He had to know you, know all about you, so that he could immortalize you in his writing. What was the point of a writer, except to exalt his muse upon the highest pedestal possible? That was only what Poe was doing... or so he justified it to himself.

He began to visit the library daily, lingering around all day in the hopes of catching sight of you. After a week, his efforts were rewarded: you came back to return the book you’d borrowed.

Poe watched from behind a shelf as you lingered through the aisle, tracing your fingers across the books’ spines. How delicate your fingers were, how soft your touch! How lucky were those pages which had the good fortune of being caressed by you! And you had good taste - the books you picked were by solid mystery writers with a firm grasp on their craft.

He followed you from the library to your home, his heart pounding so loudly in his ears that he was sure you could hear it from the distance. You lived in a small apartment building not far from the library itself. Poe did not dare follow you inside, but watched as the lights on the topmost floor went on, your silhouette dancing across the curtains. Excitement flushed across his skin as he imagined himself with you, sequestered from the world in your cozy little apartment.

From there it was all too easy to find out everything else about you. Your name, age, phone number, your place of work. You didn’t have much social media, a fact that both pleased and annoyed him, because while it meant that you were more likely to be a wallflower, it also meant fewer pictures for him to gaze upon. He resorted to secretly taking pictures of you while you were out about your day. You were a homebody with few friends; you liked animals and mystery books. You would visit a cafe two streets from your home every Friday evening and order the same drink; you had a few chosen places for take-out, your favourite items on each menu memorized by Poe.

But his obsession refused to abate. These were just things about you; they were not who you were. You remained as ethereal, as untouchable as you had the first day he’d seen you. He would gaze feverishly, obsessively at the pictures of you, the ones he’d save on his phone, or printed out and pinned to the walls of his home. Taking in the light in your eyes, the pout of your lips, the flush in your cheeks, wondering what thoughts lay behind them, what mystery and wonderment. His writings began to annoy him. What was the point of the caricatures he’d wrought on the pages, mere shadows in the brilliance of your image? He needed you.

“Poe,” Ranpo stopped by his house one day. “Poe, you should stop.”

Poe blinked uncomprehendingly at his friend. “What do you mean?” he said.

“I know that you’re in love. Don’t do something you’ll regret.”

Rage flared in Poe’s heart. For a minute he was tempted to strike Ranpo for daring to dash his hopes. But then the sensibility of his friend’s words struck him. Ranpo was right; he was on the path of doing something foolish. He’d neglected to approach you, to make his feelings for you clear, thereby leaving your heart wide open for another. Just because you weren’t a social butterfly didn’t mean you didn’t want to be in a relationship. That you weren’t looking for someone to share your life with.

That person could well be Poe.

The thought frightened and excited him. Sure, he had imagined being with you countless times; he’d filled entire notebooks with every detail of your imaginary lives together. But at the same time, the thought of approaching you filled him with dread. Poe was socially awkward in the best of circumstances, and could barely strike up a conversation with ordinary people. Talking to you? Getting you to fall in love with him? The idea was ridiculous, laughable! Why would you even look at him, a shy, graceless little mouse of a man? Karl was more charming and suave than Poe.

But if he didn’t make a move soon, you would be someone else’s. There was already a co-worker of yours that he felt was getting too close, laughing and talking to you as you made your way to your car every day after work. Poe seethed silently as he observed the two of you, wishing death and destruction upon the man even as he begged you to turn away, to look at Poe instead. Couldn’t you feel him? Couldn’t you feel his love, his yearning, even from the distance? Why couldn’t you laugh and smile at him, instead of wasting your time on some brainless twat that didn’t deserve even the ground you walked on?

Poe drew himself up with a deep breath. As usual, Ranpo was right. If Poe continued on the way he was doing right now, he would end up regretting it. He had to do something, even if it was... unconventional.

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

It had been a long day. You exhaled as reached your landing, eager to be home. That was when the small parcel sitting by your front door caught your eye.

You frowned as you picked it up. It was addressed to you, your name and address typewritten neatly on the side, though there was no postmark. Through the packaging, it felt like a book - a slim one, with a hard cover. Your frown deepened. You didn’t remember ordering any books recently.

Turning it over in your hands, you entered your apartment. In your preoccupation, you didn’t notice the faint glint from the roof of the building on the other side of the street, a glint that quickly disappeared and could have been attributed to the gleam of the setting sun. Your eyes were fixed upon the parcel as you unwrapped it, trying to remember if it was a late delivery or a mistaken one. A faint warning popped into your mind of something more sinister was pushed aside by a sense of surprise as the object inside finally came into view.

It was a book. Its cover was simple, a subdued navy blue with the title inlaid in gold. “ ‘The Gilded Cage’,” you read out, running your fingers over the words.

There was nothing else. No author, no name of the printing press, no printing date. You looked at the back cover (blank), then again at the front, a vague uneasiness creeping into your mind. Wondering if it was a very new release, you opened the book to the first page, the first chapter, the first few words:

This is all for you, my love.

There was a brilliant flash of golden light.

You screamed. The book fell from your nerveless fingers as you backed away, blinded for an instant. As the light faded, you realized with a start that you were no longer in your apartment.

Instead, you stood in a large, colonial style drawing-room. It was night, and the crescent moon was visible through the massive bay windows at the far end of the room. Cream-coloured sofas stood around a mahogany coffee-table, a beautifully woven carpet covering the polished hardwood floor. The embers of a dying fire lay in the fire-place, an ormolu clock ticking away on the mantelpiece above.

“Er, hello?” you squeaked into the silence. “What happened? What’s going on?”

You looked around, heart pounding. You didn’t recognize this place, nor could you explain the loss of time. The only explanation that made sense was that you’d slipped and hit your head, and were currently experiencing a concussion.

But a concussion didn’t explain just how real everything felt. The chill in the air, the red-gold gleam of the embers, the faint rustle of the trees outside moving in the breeze. You pinched yourself hard, wincing at the pain.

That was when the book caught your eye. The one which you hadn’t ordered, yet had been sitting oh-so-innocently outside your apartment. It lay open at your feet, and the pages inside were clearly empty. With trembling hands you picked it up. The cover was now blank.

An awful apprehension began to bubble in the pit of your stomach.

“Hello?” You tried again, looking around. “Is anyone there?”

Was it just your imagination, or was there a faint voice? You looked around, noticing the open door behind you for the first time. The space beyond lay dark, a gaping maw that gave no hint of what lay beyond. Fighting the scream that crawled up your throat, you backed away towards the windows.

But as you drew closer, you realized that this offered little protection. For the house appeared to stand in them middle of nowhere, the trees the only shield between it and the vast nothingness of the outside.

A whimper escaped your lips. You retreated instead to the fireplace, eyes darting all around in an attempt to find an escape. It had to be a nightmare, some kind of hallucination. Your gaze was drawn to the book yet again. It had to be the source of the problem. Someone had to have put some poison inside, some kind of a hallucinogenic powder that worked by being absorbed through the skin. You opened it again - and that was when the writing caught your eye. It was on the very first page, a few lines in a spidery scrawl.

‘This is all for you, my love,’ the writing said. ‘I have been waiting for you for so long, I simply couldn’t wait any more. I know that you must be frightened, but rest assured that this is only a temporary measure while I prepare our new home.’

You frowned. That was... unexpected.

‘I do so wish that things had been different,’ the writing continued. ‘But I find myself quite tongue-tied in your presence. At the moment I can only sing odes to your beauty in my heart, and wax eloquent about your grace and loveliness only in the written word. But I promise you, I love you. I love you with all my heart and soul.

‘But driven as I am by my own passions, I am also bound by the limits of my ability, and so I must tell you this: there are several murderers loose in the world that you currently inhabit. You are safe from them so long as you stay in this house. Leave, and you would be at their mercy (as they not only outnumber you, but are also exceptional in cruelty and cunning).’

Dread curdled in your stomach. An ability. You had heard of them, of course, the supernatural powers that some people were born with. Ability-users were said to be dangerous, more so because one could never tell them apart from ordinary people. You’d certainly never met one in your life.

And yet, unless there had been a colossal mix-up, one such user was professing his love for you.

There was a soft thud. Your eyes darted once again to the windows. Was it your imagination, or was there a pair of eyes faintly visible in the darkness? A shudder passed through your frame, and you quickly turned back to the book.

‘But you must understand, my dear, that I do not wish to hurt you. I could never live with myself if something were to happen to you, which is why you must do as I tell you. You must love me. I promise you, I will make you happy. I will give you what you want, make every dream of yours come true, be whatever you want me to be - but you must love me. Please. I cannot live without you. Your presence haunts my dreams and my waking hours; scarcely a minute passes that I can keep myself of thinking of you. Your name graces my lips as though it were a prayer, a mantra chanted by a fanatic at the altar of your being. Please, please, I am begging you, love me. If you will not, I will have no choice but to keep you trapped in this book. Not because I desire your distress (quite the opposite), but because as long as you are in there, I can make things so that you are ultimately safe. I can make it so that you will never leave me. For I cannot bear to have you taken from me. I will not have you taken from me. Please, my love, you must understand, no one will love you as much as I. So please, learn to love me.

‘Or else you will stay in this cage forever.’

#yandere poe #yandere bsd #yandere bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd imagines #yandere imagines #apologies to those followers who thought i only wrote about chuuya #no no no #ALL the bsd men are welcome here

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rjthirsty · 3 months ago

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Major IkePri Spoilers!!

.CW: fictional child abuse and reference to SA

I wish I could draw just so I can share how utterly ridiculous I see the previous king. (By the way, my phone auto'd "penis" for previous, and I thought that was suitting).

Here you have this dude who was supposedly so awesome that Corline (sp? Jin's mother) not only thought he was the best candidate for king but fell so in love with him that she still loved him even after she was exiled by nobility. But there is nothing at all to like about him. Not a single person has something nice to say except Sariel.

So I just see the king standing next to this murderous orphan that he sort of kidnapped, brought to the palace, groomed, decided killing was not a job he should be doing and instead told him to take care of his 7 other kids he never spoke to while he's out there kidnapping women and raping others...

So, they're standing there, yeah?

And behind him is all the fucked up things his real kids he abandoned had to live through, like good twin (not going into all that abuse), or having your mother throwing things at you calling you a monster, or literally being forced to replace her dying son or be killed, or being the child of rape, or being the child of rape, or nearly dying from poverty, or nearly dying from poverty. Yes, I said each of those twice because it applies twice.

And the king looks at this black haired kid and says, "Am I a good person?" And young Sariel, who thinks having something to eat each day is just the best thing ever! Not realizing he is now fulfilling the role of a father to 7 boys only slightly younger than him, his eyes glittery and wide with wonder at how kind this shit stain can be eagerly agrees.

Anyways, I just finished the current event stories and always hate how Sariel idolizes the former king. And this time, they got Jin in on it with him wondering if he was nicer to his asshole father if he would not have ended up so terrible. THAT FUCKING GUILT, YO.

Jin, dude, the man was already a rapist and worse by then. You should know that at your 32 years of age, child you did no wrong by avoiding him.

#ikepri #rant post #ikemen prince #the former king is a raging hemorrhoid that won't heal #change my mind #but really don't #because there is no excuse for that piece of shit

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maybeitsalivescribbles · 8 months ago

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TTD - True Evil 2/4

part1 part2 part3 part 4

Hero considered themself as a simple person: when there was a mystery, answers had to be found. For answers to be found, you had to ask those who were hiding something. It was clear that Villain would not talk to them, but there was one obvious solution left. Sighing, they pulled out their phone and sent a text to Superhero.

The next morning, they entered the elite training room, forcing their lips to smile. They hated this place. Superhero, under the pretext that Hero couldn’t be hurt by his laser beams, never stopped training when they were there. It was true that Hero’s powers technically protected them, but being so close to something so deadly was nothing pleasant, and if they were immune to lasers, they weren’t to wreckage.

Superhero was already in here. He was kicking a brick construction in a corner. After two or three tries, it all crumbled. Superhero shook his head.

“Too slow. Too weak,” he mumbled for himself.

Hero cleared their throat. Superhero turned his head and beamed at them.

“Ah, it’s you! I’m happy to see you.”

“You are?”

Superhero chuckled and took them by the shoulder:

“I want to apologize for the last time. I was a little too direct. A leader-”

His gaze became unfocused:

“A good leader has to give positive vibes. You have to forgive me. As you know, my week has been complicated. In a life of battles, sometimes you forget yourself.”

It was true that Superhero made the news nearly every day. He rarely rested and took down Supervillains once a week. He wasn’t at the top of the agency for nothing. Hero, who maybe had to fight five or six times since they’d begun the job, nodded:

“I understand.”

Superhero looked at them from top to toe and made a wan smile in answer.

“I wanted to ask about Villain,” said Hero.

Their boss shook his head with a slight frown, grasping their shoulder with a little more strength:

“Can’t you make an investigation by yourself? See, this is what worries me. You can’t cry for help every time you meet an obstacle. Do the work yourself. Now, forgive me, I have to train.”

“I made it, sir. To begin with, Villain is an orphan, left at birth. No one knows about their family.”

“Now, it that an excuse for villainy? You of all people should know-”

“The thing is, sir, I have a rather clear idea about Villain’s background. What I don’t know is what they have done, except for some petty robberies. Their file mentions murders, but I can’t find concrete proof anywhere.”

“Seek harder.”

“With all due respect sir, that’s what I’m doing. I’ve looked into the history, and you helped writing this… file.”

The last word was pronounced through clenched teeth. The pressure on their shoulder had just become painful. It didn’t last long, though. Superhero let them go, their gaze unfocused. Hero stepped back hastily, massaging their shoulder.

“Sir?”

“You-”

He stopped. Hero glanced at the door behind them. It wasn’t far, but they couldn’t dream of getting out without being caught. They couldn’t compete with someone with super speed. Hero pushed back that thought – come on, it was their boss – and tried to keep their professional-looking face when Superhero smiled at them again, with a grin as small and forced as theirs.

“You were right to come to me. Maybe I should have told you first. We could have avoided all of this. Let’s go in my office.”

Hero followed him to the stairs. They had never gone up there. It was usually a place reserved for important people, superheroes or at least top-ranked heroes. They always imagined a really fancy place. It was…a bit of a disappointment, to tell the truth. The corridor itself was empty and cold, without tables or chairs. Superhero’s place was a small, cramped room, with an old office that occupied most of the space and an old, closed cupboard. There was no decoration, nothing on the gray, thick walls. Two stools were the only sitting accommodations. Hero stayed up, looking at the place with confusion, while their chief went to the cupboard (not without difficulty) to pick up a little box. He pulled out of it what looked like a pair of earbuds, and put one of them on.

“Do you know what it is?”

“No, sir.”

“They are from a friend I saved once from – no matter. They allow reliving the memories of the one who wears it. It’s very useful for interrogations.”

“I don’t understand-”

“I know you don’t. Villain is a cold-blooded killer, Hero, since they were a child. And I know more than anyone since I’ve seen them do it.”

Hero recoiled. Their boss noticed and had a grim smile.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to relive that, but then, you’re right. I shouldn’t spare myself if it hides the truth.”

Then his voice dropped into a growl:

“Take it. Take it and read my mind if it takes that to convince you.”

Hero looked into the pale red eyes that stared at him.

I’m immune to lasers. I’m immune to lasers. I’m not immune if he crushes my spine if he fires me if- no. Stop it.

They put the Not-Earbuds on.

Next part here

Check the These Two Dorks Masterlist or Tag for more snippets with this Hero and Villain. This is how they met and now they’re roommates.

Or back to Hero x Villain Masterlist.

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allzelemonz · 1 year ago

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The O’Driscoll Golden Boy: Colm O’Driscoll X Male Reader

Pronouns: he/him, Reader is referred to as ‘feller’ and ‘boy’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut, murder, implied mutilation, references to castration Warnings: Power dynamics, power imbalance, oral sex, face fucking, deep throating, praise, abuse/unhealthy relationship, marking, possessive behavior, outdoor sex, semi-public sex, facial, humiliation, slight aftercare, hints of fluff if you really squint, homophobia, period-typical heavy homophobia Summary: Colm’s golden boy made a little mistake. The boss doesn’t like that.

Every job always goes smoothly. Every job. Not once have you ever messed up. Not like this. Riding with the O’Driscolls has always been fun so long as Colm is pleased, and Colm is always pleased with you. Pleased enough to drag you into his bed and show you what being the golden boy really means. But tonight… tonight you won’t even be making it back to camp, let alone your boss’s cabin and that big warm bed he’s had these past few weeks.

No, tonight you got caught.

Frankly you should consider yourself very lucky to be breathing.

Sheriff nearly broke your arm hog tying you though, probably shouldn’t be happy about that. He acts like he’s some god when he and his deputies get you in a cell. Something about a bounty having just been raised. Your head’s too fogged from getting hit and your arm hurts far too much to care anyway. Last poster you saw had upwards of a thousand, but that was about a big job further out West. Who knows which state you’re even in at this rate.

Then one of them says it. “Colm O’Driscoll’s golden boy!”

It’s a sneer, mocking and provoking, as they all turn to look at you. You’ve sat down on the floor of the cell, nowhere else to sit and your feet and legs are tired from running. You almost want to stand just so they’re not looking down on you, but in the end you find yourself much too tired to care.

“Should hang ‘em ourselves.” One of the deputies says. “Heard he’s done some sick shit.”

Of course you have. Colm asked you to after all. That’s your job. Whatever Colm wants.

Another deputy pulls a paper from the wall, tossing it on the table and letting it glide and spin. Your bounty poster, you assume. Terrible drawings really, they always are. It frankly surprises you anyone ever gets found.

“Wanted for murder, horse theft…”

You tune out the list of crimes, knowing all of them won’t even be listed on the little space. If they actually wrote everything out there wouldn’t be much room left to put your name and bounty, let alone a picture. It does leave out a lot of details though, important details in your opinion.

“He the one what did those robberies up along the forest, killed those families?”

Yes. You are. They had money, more than they needed. At first you asked nicely, then you didn’t. Business is business and it got you a nice reward from your boss.

“Couple damn orphans came outta that string.”

They’re fine. You even took them into town and gave them some bread and cheese. Boys wanted to shoot them too, you’re a saint in comparison.

“An’ he’s runnin’ with Colm O’Driscoll.” One of them glares at you. “Bet some a’ his charges could trickle down.”

Sure they could. You’ve helped Colm with plenty of things you’ve never seen yourself charged with. Not that you want to recall any of that or have it formally charged. You only kept your mouth shut about it all because you’re smart enough to be deadly loyal when it comes to Colm. You’d never say no to his orders or his requests. That would be stupid.

“I heard he got sodomy in the next state over too.”

Oh, that was a fun clash with the law. Colm fucking you in a back alley in some big city only for a lawman to find you, add charges for you but not Colm. Bullshit really, but it was such a good time that you recall it with fondness. You got rewarded for getting away when you got back to camp after all.

“Love ta see ‘em hang.”

If it would get them to shut up, you might opt for it. You’re starting to get a headache from all the hitting and incessant discussion of your crimes. Your guns aren’t that far away. If they just happened to drink a little more of that whiskey they pulled out to celebrate, got nice and distracted, you might be able to swipe them.

“It’s a three-thousand dollar bounty.” The sheriff snaps. “We’re takin’ ‘em ta the city.”

A trip to the city, a poorly guarded jail car, easy target. If not that, then easy lock picking. But you know the boys that got away will run back to camp with their tails between their legs, tell Colm all that happened, and seeing as Colm had said plenty of dirty things in your ear before you left, he will be a little upset that you didn’t come back like you always do. Cash in hand, happy to take the reward Colm is so desperate to give you. You used to think that’s all it was, the boss giving his best, his golden boy, a reward for doing well on a job. But Colm slips up in his facade sometimes, enough to see he doesn’t just want to fuck his golden boy.

There have been times where you’ve woken up, pretended to sleep, while Colm presses very uncharacteristically sweet kisses all over your face. There’s the occasional exchange before a shootout where he steps in front of you as if you need protecting. Little things a cruel outlaw might do when in love with his dear golden boy. Not that Colm would ever admit anything like that. No, he’ll hide it and let out his frustrations about not being able to act sweet by fucking you senseless under the guise of rewards.

And you have been well aware of this for years now. Not that you’d ever bring it up.

“Could at least let some widows an’ orphans rest a little easy…” One of the deputies says with a slur to his voice. “Hard ta shoot folk without no hands.”

A few of them laugh and you find yourself looking at your hands. You are quite attached to your hands, both in the literal and figurative sense. Though you can think of a few ways to pull a trigger without them, you’d still rather keep them.

“I’d rather castrate ‘em.”

That gets more laughter. It’s an idiotic joke in itself. Once again, you’re quite attached to your dick and would like to keep it and its friends. But, just like the shooting, there are other ways you can think of to get around the loss of an appendage. Colm hardly touches it half the time anyway. Still would rather keep it though.

“Who’s ta say he ain’t cause us some problems.” Another laughs. “Could give ‘em a good beatin’.”

At the rate they’ve gotten themselves drunk, you would like to see them try. One of the deputies stumbles past the others. They watch as he takes out the keys, snickering and giving light cheers as he glares down at you. The second that door opens it will become very easy to take his gun and shoot the drunken fools. Though it is tempting to only disarm a few, maybe pay them their own threats before finishing them off.

But then the large front door to the sheriff’s office opens and several men flood inside. All thankfully featuring green somewhere on their bodies. The drunk lawmen drop to the ground as the boys shoot out their legs. They cry and whimper until blows land on their heads and the boys tell them to shut up. The man by your cell sputters as he tries for his gun, the same one that recommended hanging you. A hole forms in his head and he falls, keys dropping to the floor. Of course it’s Colm that stands with his gun raised, an irritated look across his features.

One of the boys scrambles for the keys, unlocking the door as you stand. You walk out and stop yourself in front of Colm like the obedient dog you have become in his presence. Very slowly, he runs his hand over your chest until his fingers curl tightly into your shirt. He tugs you closer, glaring and angry in having to rescue his dear golden boy.

“Anythin’ ya wanna say, boy?”

You shake your head, knowing better than to say what needs to be said in front of the boys. Not that they don’t know, but that you’d rather hang than look as pathetic as you let yourself become in Colm’s hands.

“They treat ya nice?” He asks, his grip on your shirt loosening ever so slightly.

Your eyes trace over the men, finding the familiar faces that laughed about torture. “Sheriff’s fine, not those two.”

Colm follows your gaze. “Any recommendations?” He releases you, turning to look at the men cowing on the ground. “Boys deserve a little fun since we came all this way.”

And those men very much taste their own words. Colm doesn’t think you deserve to see such a fun little party, so he drags you outside by the collar. But the screams, they sound much better than the laughs.

“Ya wanna explain yerself, boy?” Colm seethes, throwing you roughly against the stone wall that makes up the side of the sheriff’s office.

It’s too dark to see his face. Too late for people to be out and about, even with the screaming. This town is small, surrounded by gangs, no one would be so stupid to leave their home right now.

You stumble a bit, settling yourself against the wall, knowing very well Colm wants you where he puts you. “Can’t explain it, boss. The detonator should have worked.”

His hand winds into your hair, pulling you towards him. The pain shoots through your scalp, a good half of it running down to your dick knowing Colm’s habits. In the dim light of a lantern you can now see his face with the proximity. Perhaps his habits won’t be holding up, he looks rather displeased.

“And why is that?” He asks and you can practically feel the mocking in his voice.

He knows. He must know you messed up. His golden boy made a mistake, something that’s never happened before. You’re not entirely sure how he’ll react to it. But maybe you can talk your way out.

“Seamus probably.” You say as smoothly as you can with the grimace on your face Colm’s rough tugging brings on. “He’s the one that wired things.”

Faster than you can blink, Colm shoves your head back into the wall. The impact with the stone does nothing for your headache, even makes you see stars a little. Your vision is double and shaky as Colm grips harshly onto your cheek to make you look at him, his other hand still gripping at your hair. For a few seconds you see two of his angry face, but as he speaks it settles into one.

“I ain’t a fool, boy.” He hisses. “Ya messed up, lost me a lotta money.”

You groan as his hand tightens in your hair, the stinging not bringing any more pleasure and solely burning through your scalp.

“Here I thought you was perfect.”

That almost stings more than your head. Colm’s praises always keep you going and disappointing him is not something you ever want to do again.

“‘m sorry, boss.” You rasp. “I-I…”

Colm presses his nails into your skin, deep enough to leave marks across your face. “Shut yer damn mouth, pretty boy.”

You nod slightly in his grip, only unable to keep yourself from whimpering at the fresh pain. You can feel something trickle, something wet. By the momentary smirk on Colm’s face, you guess he’s drawn blood, perhaps even done enough to leave scars. Scars embedded into your cheek, Colm’s nails forever digging into your skin.

“Get on yer knees now, boy.”

His grip releases, pain no longer focusing where his hands were and now spreading back to your head as you drop to your knees. You land rough, not wanting to make Colm any more upset, not wanting to disappoint him again. With somewhat hungry eyes, you watch as he unfastens his pants. He pushes his gunbelt up, situating things around as he pulls out his dick. Long and thin, achingly hard, everything you remember. But you’ve never been on your knees before, never had your face so close.

“Fuckin’s a reward, pretty boy.” He grunts, pressing his dick to your lips. “Ya haven’t been very good.”

You don’t dare move without his order. There have been times where he’s thrown you out of his bed for being too eager, made you sit on the floor while he dealt with himself. But that was when he was happy with you, when his dear golden boy hadn’t made any mistakes. You fear what he might do if you make even a single move of your own. So you sit on your knees, taking in the musky scent of the thing you’re supposed to put in your mouth. You wouldn’t particularly describe Colm as a clean man.

He drags his tip along your chin and up to your cheek. You’d give anything for a bit more light to see his face but you’d likely die on the spot if anyone saw you like this. For a moment it stings and you know it’s rubbing over one of Colm’s marks on your cheek, the one his thumb made by your eye. You make a note to clean yourself thoroughly after this. As much as you want to please Colm, to hear his praises, you don’t want some infection from his unwashed dick rubbing into a cut on your face. He seems to enjoy doing though, and for a moment you shutter at the thought of what he would be doing if you had something as large as a stab wound instead.

Then his hand returns to your hair, tugging roughly enough to snap you out of any thought and make your focus turn entirely on him. He tilts your head back and you provide no resistance. Every step of the way, he guides your head. Pressing softly to your lips and urging you down onto him, you open your mouth without question. As he slides through your mouth you taste every inch on him. He certainly hasn’t bathed in a while and you could guess that from his hair, but this really sells it. He tastes like sweat and dirt and dried pomade. And as he forces himself all the way in, hitting the back of your throat as tears form in your eyes, your nose is pressed against an even more foul bunch of pubic hair. It smells like the rest of him, but it’s not nearly as pleasurable as a normal musk might be with the unkempt hairs tickling your nose. For a few seconds he simply sits in your mouth, his dick fully enveloped. You struggle not to panic. You’ve always known he was long, loved it when it hits you so well deep inside where most men could never imagine fucking, but now that he’s shoved himself down your throat you’re not quite as keen.

You can hardly hear his words with how much your head pounds. “Be a good boy an’ sit still.”

Then he moves. You have air for all of a second before he rams himself back in and your throat closes slightly around his tip. It chokes you but it must be the feeling he’s chasing because he does it again and again. At this rate you feel much more like a simple dark, wet hole than a golden boy. But Colm keeps you eager with praises.

“Look at chu, pretty boy.” He mutters. “Such a good boy, always makin’ the boss feel good.”

Of course you do. Colm ordered you to after all. That’s your job. Whatever Colm wants.

“Shit, yer such a pretty thing.”

His hand still grips your hair as he forces your movements, fucking your mouth roughly. But his praises come with another hand, soft as he combs through your hair. Two sides of a coin, just like always, reward or punishment.

“Feel so damn good, boy.” He huffs, his hips starting to become erratic. “Always so good fer me, my golden boy.”

With that you can feel the tightness of your pants, but you don’t dare do a thing about it. Not without the boss’s permission, not without Colm’s smile and hungry eyes.

“Sit pretty fer me now.” He orders, pulling back.

His hands leave your hair, his dick slipping from your mouth. It takes a lot of control to stay upright, to not keel over and gasp for breath. Instead you stay as he left you, sputtering coughs and little gasps as your eyes fix on him. He works himself fast, his hand moving roughly against sensitive skin slicked by its time fucking into your throat. You close your eyes when he grunts, feeling warm streaks across your face a second later. As Colm hums to himself, you keep still. You feel the air around you shift as he kneels down in front of you. His lips press against yours, kiss slicked by his cum on your lips. He holds you still, his hand gripping that same spot in your hair with the same roughness as he kisses you deeply. Faintly, you feel something else against your skin. It rubs over your eyes and over your cheek. When Colm pulls back from his kissing you open your eyes.

He holds a rag in hand, running it over the cuts he made to keep them somewhat clean for the moment. His face holds a focus, but nothing else. No anger, no gentleness, simply focus as he wipes his cum off of some of your face. Not all, just what’s necessary, just your eyes and injuries. Then he tosses the rag to the ground, his other hand still tightly holding you in place by the hair. His eyes look over you, tracing along where you can feel the now cooling bits of him still on your skin. You take a sharp inhale as his free hand grips roughly onto your straining dick. His eyes bore into yours, anger now clear on his face.

“No more mistakes, pretty boy.” He warns. “I much prefer fuckin’ ya normal.”

You give him a small nod. “Yes, sir.”

He squeezes your dick. “My golden boy don’t make mistakes, do he?”

“No, sir.” You gasp out.

“An’ he’s gonna make that money back so I can fuck ‘em senseless, ain’t he?” His hand kneads down into your dick, giving it much needed friction.

“Fuck…” You groan. “Y-Yes, sir.”

He removes his hand, the other tugging tightly at your hair to make you focus on his face again. “Take them boys ‘n get me my money, pretty boy.”

You hold back a whimper from the lack of contact. “Yes, sir.”

He tugs again. “No cleanin’ up either, ya deserve what ya got.”

Then he releases you, standing as you fall on your hands and knees to the ground. You breathe heavily as he walks away, catching your breath and gaining your senses. You have blood drying along cuts from Colm’s nails, cum drying on your skin and likely your hair as well, no fit state to face a bunch of the boys. But of course you do. Colm told you to after all. That’s your job. Whatever Colm wants.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption x reader #colm o'driscoll #colm o'driscoll x reader #colm o'driscoll x male reader #red dead redemption x male reader #x reader #x male reader

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digenerate-trash · 9 months ago

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(I keep thinking about yandere Bailey vs the teachers. Probably OOC because neither yan Bailey nor yan Sirris would be this straightforward, but I won’t get better at writing subterfuge if I don’t try writing subterfuge.)

Sirris opened the door to the science classroom and waved Bailey inside. “Good evening, Bailey. Would you remind me which of the orphans in your care you called this conference about?” He sat down at his desk and offered the opposite chair to Bailey.

Bailey sat down on the opposite side of Sirris’s desk. “You have a kid of your own. An initiate at the temple, right?”

To his credit, Sirris didn’t flinch, “I thought we were here to talk about one of your charges, not mine. What are you implying?”

“It would be a shame if the little one learned the truth about you. You covered your tracks well, but not well enough. People who are willing to talk,” Bailey placed a sheet of paper with names and photos on the desk.

Sirris looked at it and smiled, “I’m not sure what you’re talking about. But it certainly would be easy to pay someone to say whatever nonsense you want with all of the money you take each week.”

Bailey knew that Sirris was bluffing. He saw Sirris’s shoulder tense when Sirris looked at that paper. But Bailey didn’t want to put time into this when he had a much easier way to break Sirris. He’d been polite and Sirris hadn’t yielded. It was time to go for the jugular. “From Danube Street to Wolf Street. Stays at the temple from 6 am to 7 am. Then Wolf Street to Oxford Street. School from 7 am to 4:40 pm. Oxford Street back to the temple on Wolf Street. Stays there from 4:40 pm to 11 pm, except on Fridays, then it’s Oxford Street to Elk Street from 4 pm to 8 pm and Elk Street to the temple on Wolf Street from 8 pm to 11 pm.”

”What?” Oh, Bailey loved how Sirris’s face blanched further with every word out of Bailey’s mouth.

“Why, I would have thought that you could recognize your own child’s schedule. Especially since it’s shockingly consistent,” Bailey said with fake politeness. Truly it had been ridiculously easy for his henchmen to learn Sydney’s schedule. The temple initiate even took the same route each day. “Why, it would be so easy for someone to memorize the routine and just take ‘em off the street. Maybe someone wouldn’t even need to take. That idiot would probably walk right into a van if asked. Did you never teach your only child about stranger danger? Honestly you’re incredibly lucky that nothing has happened. Robbery. Kidnapping. Assault. Murder. I’ve heard that those chastity devices the temple hands out-”

“Enough!” Sirris cut Bailey off, “What the hell do you want?”

“I want you keep your filthy hands off of what’s mine. They don’t even need to transfer to another class. Just never lay a finger on them again. You don’t touch mine and I won’t touch yours.”

“Deal, Sirris spat out.

“I’m glad we could come to an agreement,” Bailey stood back up and walked to the door. Before closing the door, he added one last threat, “And Sirris, if go back on your word, I will know.”

(Much thanks to the dol wiki on miraheze for Sydney’s schedule. Sydney didn’t fall asleep at the temple at all while being monitored by Bailey’s goons. Good job, Sydney.)

I'm bursting with love over this???? You liked my yan series so much your writing your own stuff for it?????

I love this I'm absoloutly cryin

Please God. I love this stuff so much. Still feel free to give me yan suggestions and all that kinda stuff. I love you anon!!

#asks #others writing #amazing stuff #🩷🩷🩷#sirris the science teacher #bailey the caretaker #yan dol #tw yandere #tw stalking #tw threats #yandere

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slashthrashandcrash · 7 months ago

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Ok so girl dad Danny idea, what if his daughter instead of following in his bloody footsteps, she wanted to become a photographer or a reporter? Like she took an interest in it at a young age and it might have been something they might have even bonded over?

I have so many thoughts about girl dad Danny okay I was on a 22hr car ride I had a lot of free time--

Part of the fun of him being a girl dad is making his daughter the exact opposite of him; just a little bubbly ray of sunshine, probably cries when she sees a dead worm, zero bloodlust in her tiny soul, if she wasn't the spitting image of Danny then you'd never be able to convince him that she was directly related to him. Besides, that's his baby girl, sure he's going to teach her how to stand up for herself but why let her bloody her sweet little hands when she has a daddy she can sic on whoever she wants? Good parenting is turning your child's bullies into orphans.

Getting into photography is definitely the most likely hobby she would spring for I feel, but more so being the model/subject than doing the actual picture taking. Danny only makes an effort to see her, like, twice a year at best for maybe a month, but when he does you better believe he's taking dozens of photos of her at any given moment. His excuse is that she's his gorgeous girl! She's getting so big! He has to keep as many memories of her as he can since he hardly gets to see her!! (Despite the fact he's the one that decides to fuck off for 6+ months at a time to commit a string of grisly murders in a new small town). And she eats that shit up every time, thinking her daddy is so loving and devoted as best he can be with his suuuuper busy and important job.

She'll be one of those naturally photogenetic models in no time. Every time she's out with Danny and she sees a good spot, she'll tell him to take a picture of her, and he'll always oblige. Teaches her different poses and expressions, which way to face in natural lighting for a better look, how to match a camera's angle to avoid any facial distortion. To her, they're bonding because he just adores her so much, her self confidence is always through the roof with how much he compliments her and takes pictures of the moment. To him...well, she like a little mini-me. He loves her, he's proud of her, he's obsessed with her because she's a literal extension of him. These photos are a good way to commemorate his "personal achievements" that his daughter clearly earns on her own, but he feels the need to take credit for since she wouldn't exist without his (accidental) help.

#ask #dorykitcat24

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p0isonyouth · 1 year ago

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Mastermind | Spencer Reid

Spencer Reid didn't want to love again.

After the passing of his late girlfriend, Maeve Donovan, the young genius believed that everyone in his life would eventually leave him.

So he chose not to get attached.

Valeria Bela had no time for love.

Though the young woman grew up in a home full of love and care, she refused to have her feelings get in the way of her work once again.

So she chose to be closed off.

Both Spencer and Valeria had come to terms with their resentment of love, more so what had happened to get them to feel so negatively about it. But, when young Supervisory Special Agent Bela joins the BAU, both soon forget about their rule with strong rivalry and stolen kisses.

A/N - Unfortunately, I do not own Criminal Minds, nor their characters or plots. I do not own dialogue, cases, or episodes, those go to the beautiful minds of the writers (MGG EPISODES !!!!). I also do not own any of the gifs presented in this story. These were picked at random via Pinterest. I do, however, own Valeria Bela as well as any other characters that are not created by the Criminal Minds enterprise. I also own plotlines that are designed by me. Without further ado, welcome to Mastermind!

P.S. - Valeria's face claim is Shay Mitchell. Timothy's is Pedro Pascal. Antonio's is Avan Jogia. And it's up to interpretation whom her mother's is.

Warnings:

Since you are reading a Criminal Minds Fanfic, I'm sure you expect what is to happen in episodes, but just in case you like jumping into a fandom by fanfic, here's some trigger warnings: assault, depression/depressive episodes, gore, kidnapping, murder, sexual assault, sexual innuendos, swearing, torture, violence, etc... ( there are way more, but i'm sure you get the point)

NOTICE ~ CHAPTER ONE

"YOU COMING, ROSSI?" Timothy Bela questioned his partner as he started the engine of a government-owned black SUV.

They were chasing an unsub that they had been after for weeks, a serial killer who targeted normal families. With all the information gathered, they had determined their suspect to be Stephen Jenkins, a 28-year-old man. The boy was an orphan, always by himself until he went to college, found a job, and married the so-called love of his life. That was until she passed away a couple months later. The man kept to himself, only venturing out of his house every so often. To kill.

Timothy Bela and David Rossi had no doubts that the sadistic man was not working alone due to his elaborate work, but they had to catch him first.

Timothy lived for the thrill of the chase. He loved the adrenaline that spiked in his veins as he was catching an unsub, however, he knew he had to be more careful with his life. Timothy had a wife now, Meredith Bela, and two children, nine-year-old Valeria, and one-year-old Antonio. He was expected to be a role model, a parent, and most importantly, a hero.

The red and blue lights flashed from the top of the black SUV as the duo raced through the streets to catch their unsub. David Rossi's eyes focused on the streets ahead but moved over to his partner and longtime best friend for a brief second. "So, how are the kids, Timothy? Is Valeria still up to her usual trouble?"

"She sees her Uncle Rossi a little too much for her own good." The man said with a small chuckle, turning the wheel to make a hard left turn. "Wants to be just like us when she's older."

"You say that like it's a bad thing, Bela."

The black vehicle stopped in front of an abandoned house, the wooden planks that once blocked the door from being entered were littered on the broken-down porch. "What an idiot," Timothy commented as he took his gun out of his holster, approaching the opened door. Rossi came behind him, making sure that the coast was clear.

The two stepped into the house, the floorboards creaking beneath their feet. Timothy winced as the sound pierced his ears, venturing deeper into the house with a careful foot. "Don't you come any closer!" A voice said as Rossi and Bela entered into a hallway. The voice was weak, tired, and out of breath. "I said don't you come any closer to me!"

"FBI! Stephen Jenkins, come out slowly, hands up." Rossi yelled gun brandished in front of him.

"I don't want any trouble. Just go away, don't come any closer!" Stephen called out again, his back against the wall. If he peered to the right a little, he could see the eyes of the men in a mirror that hung against the wall. "I have a gun, I'll use it."

"Yeah, so do we, kid." Timothy was confused. This man didn't seem like who they were looking for at all, he didn't seem like he'd hurt a fly. He was done playing the boy's game, hoping to hurry up the delay so he could get home to his family. "You have one last chance to get out here or I'm coming inside."

"I-i can't."

"Why not?" Rossi asked, getting no reply in return. He motioned for Timothy quietly to go into the room at the looming silence, when suddenly a loud thud hit their ears. The two men raced into the room as the sounds of their team members slamming their car doors echoed outside.

Timothy entered the dusty, dark room first, desperately trying to find a source of light. He walked further into the room, pulling a cord that led to a light bulb in the middle of the room. Slightly turning, he rested his eyes on the body of Stephen Jenkins lying on the floor, shriveled in pain and frankly red as wine. The blonde boy, barely a man, struggled to breathe, his face turning pale as if he had been suddenly drained of all that was keeping him alive. Timothy's stomach dropped, and Rossi made his way to his partner's side to investigate. "Dear god," Rossi sighed, crouching to examine the pale body.

Stephen's body had bloody gashes all over him, carved into his chest like some satanic ritual. The young man looked up at the two men, fear written all over his face. His blue eyes were slightly dilated, his hands trembled, and his body squirmed.

"Stephen, who did this to you?" Timothy said, staring the young man in the eyes.

"He..." Stephen started before choking on the blood that wound up in his throat. "He just wanted you to notice."

"Wanted who to notice what?" Rossi asked, holding pressure on Stephen's wounds, knowing it was no use.

"He wanted Timothy Bela... to notice." He said, finally succumbing to his injuries. The rest of the department entered the room, examining the scene as Rossi looked up at Timothy with confusion. Timothy's eyes never left the young man, his mind focused on what he was to notice.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✧ ★ ✧꒱ ˎˊ˗

Valeria watched her mother pull out the freshly baked chocolate chip cookies from the oven, the delicious smell immediately hitting her nostrils. Her mouth watered for the sweet treat, getting up from her spot across from her baby brother to her mother who was standing at the counter. "How much longer until we can eat the cookies, mama?"

Meredith laughed, taking the oven mitts off of her hands. "In a few minutes, mi amor. They must cool down first."

Valeria nodded happily, going back to sit across from her little brother, Antonio. "I can't wait until you are able to eat cookies, Antonio. I think you'll like them!" Baby Antonio gurgled in response to his older sister, slamming his tiny hands on the baby seat tray. The girl grinned, going back to drawing on a piece of paper with her crayons.

Meredith watched her children from afar with a sad smile, disappointed that her husband was missing out on all the little moments of their children's lives. She didn't regret moving to Quantico, it was a good environment for their family. She just wished that Timothy wasn't so occupied with solving crimes. The sound of loud knocking had taken the woman out of her thoughts, as she made her way to the front door.

As she opened the door, a tall man stood in front of her, a gun pointed at her forehead. Her eyes widened with fear, as she took three steps backward into the living room. It was a rare occasion for Meredith to let her nerves get the best of her, but her mind was blank as her eyes locked on the barrel of the gun. The man followed her inside, a sinister smile appearing on his face. "Meredith Bela, as beautiful as I remember. It's been a long time, don't you remember me?"

Meredith swallowed a sob, remembering that her children were in the next room. A faux smile appeared on her face as she smiled. "I do remember, of course, I do."

The man's smile dropped, a scowl taking its place. "Don't lie to me, darling."

"I-i'm not lying. I do remember you." Her voice waivered, the gun practically resting on her forehead.

"No need to get defensive, Meredith. I'm just playing." He sneered. "I want to say hello to the kids, let's go to the kitchen." The woman planted her feet, shaking her head frantically.

"Please don't hurt them, take me. Don't hurt them."

"Let's remember who has the gun and who is begging for their children's lives to be saved. The kitchen. Go!" He yelled, aggressively pulling her into the kitchen. Valeria looked up to see her mother in pain, tears flowing down her cheeks. She tilted her head in confusion, watching as the man bent down to her level. "Hello, Valeria."

"Hello. Do I know you?" She asked, staring into the man's cold, blue eyes.

"I'm a friend of your father's."

"Daddy's not home, so maybe you should come back later." Valeria shrugged the man off, going back to coloring on her paper. "And you can't have any cookies because they aren't cooled off yet."

The man stood shocked at her manners, gritting his teeth with a fake smile. The girl's face didn't show an ounce of emotion like she didn't question his intentions at all. He was intrigued by the young girl, albeit amused.

"That's enough, now leave our house." Meredith spat, wrestling her wrist out of the man's grip, grabbing a kitchen knife that lay on the counter. "Get out, now!"

Valeria turned to look at her mother, realizing that the man wasn't a friendly visitor. A chill ran down her spine as the man began to laugh, shaking his head at her mother. "And I thought you were always up for a challenge, Meredith. Truly a shame that we had to do this so quickly." He took out his gun with a sad sigh, resting his finger on the trigger.

And shooting her quickly between the eyes.

The young girl wasn't sure if there was a sound. Valeria felt so lightheaded that she knew it wasn't long before she would pass out. She blinked but couldn't see anything except her mother's cold, dead eyes on the floor.

The man smirked at his work, turning to face the two children. Antonio was bawling at the loud noise, not realizing what had happened, and Valeria stood still with shock and fear. The man approached the crying baby, attempting to coo him. "There, there. She wasn't that special anyways."

"What are you gonna do?" Valeria croaked out, her mouth dry from tears.

"Excuse me?"

"What are you gonna do with us?" She questioned.

"You see, I hadn't planned that far ahead." He spoke slowly, walking over to the counter and grabbing a cookie from the rack. He took a bite, chewing with his mouth open. "Cookie?" He offered, sitting back down at the table after getting no reply. "You see, I have to get rid of the evidence that I was here... which means you two have to go. And he'll finally notice me."

Valeria stood, staring at the table, not daring to look into the man's murderous eyes. "Go? Notice you?"

"Go. Die. Exterminate. Croak. There's a lot of ways to say it." He dismissed by waving his hands, grabbing a cigarette and lighter out of his pocket. He put the cigarette to his mouth, lighting the end of it. "It's a shame really, I was starting to like you guys."

"You can't cause a fire with just one cigarette." The girl said, crossing her arms. "You need a reactant of some sort to cause the fire. Which you didn't do."

"Which I did do, actually, little girl. Do you really think that I haven't planned this through? Watch and-" He said, coughing as his cigarette smoke hit his lungs. Valeria raised an eyebrow at the man, rolling her eyes in disbelief. Amid his coughing fit, he dropped the lit cigarette on the table. The tablecloth immediately burst into flames, catching on the man. He screamed out in pain as the flames engulfed him, Valeria rushing to unbuckle her younger brother from his seat.

The man fell backward as the flames got wider, soon covering half of the kitchen. Valeria ran out into the living room with her brother in her grasp, looking for a way to escape. "This is why you don't smoke, Antonio." She said out of nervousness, as the fire captured the wall of the house.

They were trapped inside.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✧ ★ ✧꒱ ˎˊ˗

Timothy Bela bid Rossi goodbye as he finally finished his paperwork for the case. Though it hadn't gone the way that he wanted it to go, they were closer to solving the murders. As he headed out the door, an agent ran to him, calling his name. "Bela! Bela! Bela!"

The man turned, eyes finding the panicked state of the agent. "Bernhards? What's going on?"

"Your house! It's all over the news!"

"My house? The man questioned his eyes widening in worry. "Bernhards, what's wrong with my house? Finish your sentence, goddammit!"

"It's on fire...!" The man said, exasperated and out of breath. "Your house is on fire!"

Bela didn't hear the man any longer as he ran to his car, racing down the streets to get to his house. Fear ran in his veins as he thought about his family, wondering if they had made it outside yet. Little did he know, they were still inside.

By the time Timothy got to his house, news anchors surrounded the lawn. The house was up in flames, immediately consuming everything from the inside. He spotted his neighbors, running over to them and asking multitudes of questions. "Did Meredith and the kids make it out? Has anyone called the fire department? Has anyone gone in yet to check?" The neighbors shook their heads in worry, watching the flames blaze.

Everyone outside had no idea what to do while they waited for the fire department to get there. Nobody dared to run inside and start saving the family themselves.

Worry struck the man's features as he started to strip himself of his jacket and tie. One neighbor, Eugenia Miller, a kind lady from across the street, grabbed his arm. "You are not going in there, Timothy."

"I'm not letting my family burn alive. Every second that fire is getting worse and worse and my children are in there." He broke himself free from her grip, hogging into the house. The flames flew behind him as he kicked down the door, entering the house.

"Dear god, that man is a maniac," Eugenia muttered, joining the rest of the neighbors.

Timothy ran into the kitchen, stumbling upon the burnt body of the man, his gun still in his hands. The agent furrowed his eyebrows, looking at where the table once was, before seeing the body of his wife. He choked back a sob, covering his mouth with his hands, pressing the white sleeve of his uniform to his mouth to breathe. "Meredith, amore mio." He whispered, exiting the kitchen after not bearing to see the sight any longer. "Valeria? Valeria, where are you?" He called out, his hope leaving him every second.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✧ ★ ✧꒱ ˎˊ˗

The only thing that Valeria could process during the smoke was the pain she was in. Her broken heart, her ears ringing, and a burn on her right thigh. She held her brother close to her, putting her thin sleeve over his mouth so he could breathe filtered air. She placed a kiss on his forehead, closing her eyes. "We're going to be okay, little brother. I promise. They're coming for us." As she calmed herself down, she visualized firefighters calling out her name, hoping they would reach her on time.

She was exhausted; her throat burned with every swallow, her muscles ached, and her lungs were starting to sting from the gathering smoke that slowly leaked into the enclosed space that they were trapped in. It didn't help that Antonio started crying once again. With nothing to calm him down with, she closed her eyes tight, praying that someone would save them soon.

"Valeria!" She heard a voice shout from somewhere. "Valeria?"

"In here!" She cried out with all that was left in her. "Help! Please help!" A sob ripped from her throat, joining the cries of her younger brother.

Timothy appeared, moving rubble out of the doorway as he entered the room. He gazed at the sight of his two children, rushing to hold them in his arms as they cried. "Valeria, Antonio. You're okay, I got you."

"Daddy, mama's dead." Valeria cried into her father's shoulder. "She's gone!"

"I know, baby. I know." He soothed, rubbing her hair. He pulled away from his daughter, noticing the large burn on her leg. "Your leg, Valeria. Can you walk on it?"

"I don't think I can."

He looked behind him at the doorway, watching as small flames began to form at the bottom of it. Cradling Antonio in his left arm, he picked up the young girl with his right. "Hold your breath, Valeria, close your eyes for me." She did what she was told as the agent made his way through the fire, making sure his children were not harmed any further. He met the fire department halfway, sobbing in relief as they made it completely out of the house.

Valeria and Antonio were taken out of his arms as he collapsed to his knees on the front lawn. A paramedic ran to his side, grasping his shoulders. "Sir, you have to calm down. Let us check you out." He cried out, his head touching the cool, wet grass.

Rossi arrived at the scene, racing toward his best friend. "Timothy, it's okay. Everything's going to be okay."

"Meredith is dead." Timothy gasped out, looking up at the man. Rossi helped him up, leading him to the back of an ambulance to get checked out. "Valeria and Antonio-"

"They'll be okay," Rossi reassured, nodding to the paramedic as she finished checking on him. "They're together, on their way to the hospital. You're going too."

"I'm done with this, Rossi." Timothy looked back at his friend as he was put into an ambulance to join his children. "I can't do this anymore. This happened because of me. I quit."

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luverofralts · 4 months ago

Text

Arkhelios Adventures

"We really need to bring this cottage into the new era. We don't need pictures of war criminals on our walls for 'history's' sake. Respect the past, but focus on the future. Yes. Yes, I like that. When I get a free moment, I'll mention it to the palace art team."

Maura murmured to herself as her eyes took in everything in the cottage that she wanted to change. It was her reign, and the cottage should reflect that. While she did love the historical photos and would probably face an intense battle to move them with her relatives, times had changed. Photos of King Ben, the national hero who had saved the islands from Pleasantview, but had murdered several of his children as well as some of their spouses, the Red Queen, who had no business being on any wall because of her crimes, and Queen Celeste, who tried to overthrow the grim reaper while enslaving her zombified mother, disgraced the warm feeling Maura wanted the Siew family cottage to have. Maybe if she put all their pictures upstairs in what had once been King Ben's office, she could balance honouring the past while still creating a better future.

"I can shove that picture in my attic if you'd like. You're glaring at it like it kicked a puppy."

Maura turned to see her cousin Claudia walking up to her, her usual confident smirk on full display.

"You're welcome to it," Maura offered, smiling despite her frustration. Claudia often had that effect on her. "I'm making a list of photos that may need to be retired."

Claudia scoffed.

"Just imagine living with the portraits of terrible people whose blood runs in my veins every single day. Pleasantview would fall before it gave up worshipping the ghosts of its past."

"Well, I guess you don't have to worry about being lost to history someday," Maura teased. "Give it a century or two and you'll probably be promoted to a demi god."

"I would make an excellent demi god," Claudia agreed. "But you can't be inventorying every picture here. Some of our relatives were good people. Not many, but some. Besides, don't you have a royal archivist? I just email mine and the pictures are rotated within a day. They deal with all the safety procedures needed to store the pictures for the next hundred years and I get something new to look at. I know this cottage is for all Siews, but the monarch of Twikkii Island owns it, so it should fall within your archivist's obligations."

"I'd prefer to deal with them myself. They can store them for me, but I'll be making the choices of which picture to display. It's probably the thing I like most about this job. If my mother had lived, I'd imagine that I might have been a royal curator for her. There'd be more pictures of Trent and Callista than I'd like, but no job is perfect."

"Very noble of you," Claudia remarked dryly. "They are your half-siblings, I'd imagine your mother would want pictures of them around. Honestly, with your complexion, jealousy's not flattering. You're the queen, and Trent is an orphan. Have some compassion for your little brother or are you getting rid of those pictures because the people in them are starting to look just like you?"

"Not all of us come from the two happiest dead people in existence. I'm an orphan too. My father was murdered by my grandmother. Mom shouldn't have remarried. She just forgot about him, like he didn't even exist."

Claudia raised a skeptical eyebrow, baffled at her cousin's behavior.

"Are you okay? Usually your daddy issues aren't this obvious. Added to a pregnancy that is obviously not your wife's, you're starting to look a little unhinged. Is something happening? I can help, unless you've got some insane grudge against me too."

"It's nothing," Maura snapped, turning away from her cousin. "It's just pregnancy hormones. Everything is great. I love my life. Everyone is jealous of my good fortune, so I should love my life. And I do."

"You could always step down if you hate your life," Claudia teased. "I'd be happy to claim my inheritance from my mother and add Twikkii Island to my realm."

Maura shot Claudia a nasty look, but after a moment to think, the nastiness faded into a weak smile.

"Do you have days like this? Days when you just want to fake your death and flee somewhere you've never been? That makes me a bad person, right? I feel like a bad person."

Claudia wrapped her cousin in bone crushing hug.

"All the time. I think about what my life would have been if Dad had never found out his true parentage. Would I be happier? What job would I have? It's only natural when you're in a position like ours. It doesn't make you a bad person to have doubts about your life. It makes you human. Look, why don't you come visit me more? Or I can stop by your place and we can go to that wonderful spa we went to before your wedding. You need someone to talk to, and I'm probably the only one who understands what you're feeling. Unless you want to ask the old, boring kings of Strangetown or Crystal Cove."

Maura laughed, despite her mood. Claudia always had been good at getting under her skin.

"Okay. I promise to spend more time with you to stop from being a complete bitch all the time. Ulyssa would probably love to have me out of the palace for an afternoon anyway. For now, help me log which paintings I should store. You know our history probably better than even I do."

Claudia craned her neck, looking for a certain portrait that had always creeped her out.

"I'd vote for that one," she said, pointing across the room. "Every time I'm here, one of the dogs is always barking at it. It has to be cursed or something. Something is off about it."

"Ah. You have a good eye. It creeps me out too. It's King Ben, after all. The man was a monster. No wonder the dogs can sense his evil."

"Oh, there's a million pictures of him all around this place," Claudia scoffed. "He was a fine king. He saved your country from becoming a part of mine under my psychotic grandfather. The heroism and the murders kinda cancel each other out, I think. No, he's not the problem. She is."

"Who? Is that his cousin or something? The names aren't engraved on the frame."

"His sister, Winter," Claudia replied. "She was a hell of a witch. I have some of her books in my library. Talented, but like you, a little unhinged."

"Ha, ha. I'll add it to the list."

"Are we supposed to be doing something? I feel like we should be doing something."

Adam looked nervously around the cottage, looking for guidance. It wasn't often that they were invited to the Siew cottage and just standing in it made Adam paranoid that he might accidentally break something expensive. He'd been there before, of course, but he never truly felt welcome.

The Siew family was gathered for a family barbecue, and even those at the far ends of the family tree were invited to celebrate. Adam and Remy got their invitation because their half-siblings were Siews. Elowen and Bronwen weren't just going to leave Adam and Remy out of a royal feast just because only their mother had married into the Siew family.

"Don't start cleaning something just because we don't have titles," Remy groaned. "We're invited guests, not the help. We're not doing anything to set up. Period. Our earned coven titles are more than good enough."

"Apprentice is a better title than princess or Duke?"

Remy punched her twin on the arm.

"Yes. Yes, it is. Now let's go find our sisters. They probably know where the booze is."

"Dad! You made it! I thought you, Dad, and Vrai were going away this weekend."

Ewan Traver embraced his father, Travis Traver, surprised at his presence. Ewan had inherited the title Travis had never wanted, and took care of the Goldman estate and all the responsibilities that went with it. His father, despite being born in Twikkii Island to two of its citizens, disliked spending any time on the island. He had been raised in Pleasantview and Crystal Cove. However tropical the island was, it held no allure for Travis, so his presence there was somewhat surprising.

"Your father and Vrai went ahead. I might join them later, but I wanted to be here. The anniversary is coming up and it's good to be with family. This was where she grew up. I wanted to see it the way she once did."

Ewan paused, unsure of what to say. His Aunt Celeste, better known as Queen Celeste of Crystal Cove, had practically raised his father after their father died giving birth to their half-brother, Ewan, and their mothers were murdered. The two siblings had been unsettlingly close until Celeste's death, due to the stranglehold she had on Travis' life. She blocked his mother's family from contacting him and insisted that he name his oldest son after their father. Aside from eloping with Ewan's father, Leonid, Travis' entire life had been carefully planned by his controlling sister. But Celeste had been gone for over a decade now and Travis was free to chart his own path forward. He hadn't recognized Celeste in the year or so proceeding her death, and he couldn't forgive her for telling his biological family that he didn't want anything to do with them. Or co-running a cult obsessed with killing the Grim Reaper. Or naming the child she created to sacrifice after him. Or murdering their half-brother, Ewan, as a child.

There were many things Travis hated about his sister, but every year near the anniversary of her death, he spent time in Twikkii Island, trying to understand the little girl who had been born there and where she had gone so wrong. He hadn't had any insight on how to forgive her yet, but every year, he was hopeful.

"So, are you going to help plan the memorial ball this year? Edana has been pretty busy and I've got some of the vendors lined up, but I could use some help."

Travis smiled tightly. The queen had provided a grant to the Goldman estate to celebrate Travis' parents after it had been revealed that their deaths were caused both directly and indirectly by the crown. Unhappily, the deaths of his parents and the death of his sister fell within the same month, so every time he left to grieve for his sister, he was expected to also celebrate the lives of the parents he'd never known. The anniversary of the day that his daughter, Tristianne, had been taken from him was only a few months later. It seemed fitting that he was in a polycule with the Grim Reaper; death seemed to follow him wherever he went.

"We'll see," he said at last. "The hospital still might call me in for a few consults. A retired doctor still has his obligations to old colleagues."

Ewan mirrored his father's tight smile. That was a no. It would hurt less if his father would just tell him upfront that he wanted nothing to do with whatever Ewan or the queen planned. It would be far more honest.

"Sure, just let me know your schedule when you can. No worries if you're busy."

"Isn't there supposed to be food at a barbecue? I'm starving."

Elowen set up the pool table while Victoriana waited.

"The food won't be ready for another hour at least. Mom said we have to wait for Grandma and Grandpa to come and they're at work. Grandpa refuses to let someone else touch the barbecue when it's his 'passion'. They'll be here soon enough though."

"Very soon," Adrienne agreed. She was too young to play pool, but she enjoyed watching the game. It was the closest she got to socializing with her extended family.

"Fine, I guess I can wait. There were chips in the kitchen though, right? We could steal some of those."

"Do you like my dress? I got it last weekend in the Pleasantview mall. It was on sale and I couldn't possibly say no to it."

Bronwen spun around dramatically to show off her dress to Fiolett. The younger girl clapped enthusiastically, wishing that she had a dress that pretty. She had a lot of dresses, sure, but they were all picked out by her dads. Fiolett couldn't wait until she was a teen and could pick out dresses for herself. That was a long way off though, so she admired other people's dresses for now.

"Be sure to congratulate Roman and Abe for me. That's wonderful that they renewed their vows. If I could find it in myself to forgive Trent if he cheated on me, I'd want to renew our vows too. It's a fresh start. Good for them."

"It's not entirely like that, it's...." Adrian trailed off, trying to find the words to explain a demon wedding. Truthfully, he wasn't entirely sure himself what Abe and Roman had volunteered for, but he didn't want Cindra to know that. "Well, maybe it is a bit of a vow renewal. Theo officiated it, so I guess it's like a magical, demonic vow renewal. You couldn't talk me into one."

"That would mean walking down the aisle again," Cindra teased. "We all know you're terrified of weddings. Otherwise, Evren would have a ring on his finger by now. Are you ever going to make an honest man out of him?"

Adrian frowned, not liking the direction their conversation had turned.

"Maybe. Not that it's any of your or Trent's business. It would make the legal process of passing my title to my legitimate daughter from another marriage harder. It's just easier this way."

"It does not," Cindra laughed. "Everyone knows that Luciana is going to become a duchess one day, the queen more than anyone. She'd have the legalities all sorted out in an afternoon. You're just chicken."

"I am not! Evren doesn't want to get married either."

"That's not what Trent said after he went bowling with Evren last week. Evren told him that he's just waiting for you to make a move. You'd say no if he proposed, so he's waiting for you to do it."

"He would never say something like that to my cousin," Adrian insisted. "You're just hoping to plan another wedding, no matter who it's for."

"Who can blame me for wanting to celebrate love? Planning my own wedding went amazingly and I want to plan another one!"

"Wasn't your little sister, Lauren, around here somewhere? Plan her wedding!"

Travis Maricourt was as far as he could get from the noisy group of people as he could be. His parents weren't coming until later, so most of the afternoon was his to sneak off and enjoy. Claudia wouldn't force him to socialize and Oliver hadn't bothered to leave college for a family event since their mother's birthday. Their father's birthday was coming up, and that was probably the last Travis would see of Oliver until the next family birthday. Travis couldn't wait to start college and finally get some time to himself without his parents "encouraging" him to talk to people he had no interest in talking to.

He didn't trust his annoying relatives not to read his journal if he brought it with him, so instead, Travis brought his magical theory workbook. Theory didn't feel like homework to him, like it did to his classmates. It was fascinating to map out the bones that held up the living world, to see how the pieces of an existential puzzle clicked together. His parents talked a lot about how the worlds of life and death overlapped, and Travis simply had to know how it all worked. Not that he would change existence or anything if he learned how. He just had so many questions.

"You were right."

"I usually am. Today, I wish I wasn't, though. I don't know what this means. There's definitely a current running through here, but why?"

Izanami bowed his head, contemplating the situation.

"I don't like this," he finally decided. "This feeling...it feels old. Demonic, probably."

"It feels like it did over a decade ago," Lukas insisted. "Like when Leo was attacked...but also different. There's this sense of...nothingness. Can you feel it too?"

Izanami nodded his agreement.

"I'll contact Gee and let him know how he should do my job. You can't intervene here."

"I know that. I'll go to the school and make sure that the children are safe. I'm not taking any chances with their safety. But this will probably blow over and be fine, right? Oh! Arterius! Call him and tell him to meet me at the school. Just because he's an adult doesn't mean he's exempt from family meetings."

"Of course, dearest. I'll join you in a moment."

Lukas vanished into a shower of sparkling light. As soon as they were out of sight, Izanami closed his eyes and tried to listen to the hum of existence. Screams echoed over loud waves crashing against jagged rocks. A hurricane roared as it churned into existence. A royal ship cracked in two as it sank beneath the wild waves.

Lukas lifelessly lying encased in a glass tomb. A howl of wind that swept away the souls of the dead. The cold truth that sometimes even the dead could die.

It had all happened before, and now it was happening again despite Izanami's best efforts. A shiver ran down his spine as he felt several names engrave themselves on the list in his son's office. The deaths had been finalized. There was no hope of changing them now. It was beginning.

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brb-on-a-quest · 6 months ago

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Well im back now and I have found my history notebook (debating whether I should throw it away but I did a good job decorating it)

so. @igotthisaccountunderduress let me tell you about Aaron Burr.

Aaron burr was an orphan raised by an uncle, went to lawschool, stopped lawschool to fight under benedict arnold (ha. ha. ha. this really shouldn't be that funny but it is -> benedict arnold was a traitor from US to British ppl). He got appointed to George Washingtons personal military cabinet before both men realized they got a long like stray cats (not very well at all) and Burr was transferred to some other not-as-important dude.

Then him and hamilton got Beef (very famously) but this kind of all started when Burr beat out Hamiltons Father In Law in political stuff and then FIL beat out Burr during the next thing so things are all dandy.

And then he got in as vice president under jefferson. How this worked back then (doesn't now) is that whoever got the Most Votes is now in charge and whoever got second most votes is now VP.

As you can imagine this doesn't lead to really great coworker dynamics especially if you and ur boss/vp are like so opposite. Like when Thomas Jefferson was VP to president John Adams, Adams hated Jefferson so much that he didn't let Jeffy have a say in anything. Like thomas Jefferson did one thing once in all the two terms John Adams was in charge I think, idk, it was something rediculous.

But anyway, all this to say, Aaron Burr is now vp under jefferson. And as you can imagine, they do not get along well (Jefferson accused burr of 'secret dealings'). but their differences are mainly due to opposing beliefs on whether we should support or rewrite the constitution fo the united states.

Anyway, time for reelection, Burr doesn't get enough votes for either presidency or VP and he decides to try and get governership of New York where he was actually really popular.

Remember how hamilton didn't really like him becus of burr's political campaign against his FIL? Hammy decides to send a rediculous amount of irl subtweets (derogatory letters) against Burr to get him to lose.

Burr takes this very personal and challenges Hamilton to a duel, stepping from across New York to New Jersey. This is because, although duels were outlawed in both places, penalties were less severe over the border.

Now take this next part with a grain of salt bc it comes direct from the history prof.

Duels were common; but they were never usually fatal. Essentially it was like lukewarm Christians going through the motions on a sunday in church. A lot of the stereotypes still apply. Two people back to back, walked a x amount of feet, turned around and would usually shoot upward or otherwise shoot to miss the target.

Burr was not one of those people. Alledgedly, he told Hamilton he meant to kill him and he didn't care wether hamilton would try to shoot him or not. No one's sure whether hamilton was like "haha bet" and tried to kill him or whether he was like shooting up in the air as the practice usually went. Either way sum of that was Burr: 1 (unharmed), Hamilton: 0 (very much shot due to Burr's word, and died the following day).

Aaron Burr... idk if he didn't think this through but he's now considered a murderer for challenging Hamilton to an agreed-upon duel. So he runs to join his new BFF who is secretly in the pay of pain and wants to take over the US napoleonic style. Burr gets *to into it* to the point BFF turns him into Jefferson. He gets cleared.

he then gets involved with the Essex Junto, an organization in New England, tries to help the secede from the entire country (New England hated US before it was cool to) and then he did the same thing again somewhere in the middle west (I forgot where, sorry Dr. W). He gets away both times because even though Jefferson hates Burr's stupid guts, John Marshall is head of the supreme court (John Marshall also hates Jefferson sees this as a very innocent way to undermine him) and Marshall creates the definition of reason that we still have today that basically says Burr gets off scot free twice because we're not at war so there's no enemy for Burr to be helping.

Burr finally accepts that he is now a persona non grata and fucks back off to NY where he marries a second widow for money (again) and she divorces him on the grounds of adultery. This divorce finally is finalized on the day Aaron Burr dies.

#he's a charater #brb and iggy talk about history #i should probably add that tag to the other history posts huh #aaron burr #this is questionably accurate: source is my prof and my notebook and my foggy memory #but it funny!

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ga-yuu · 1 year ago

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WARNING! The story contains violence and child abuse

-----Part 1-----

Sueharu: "After I broke up with Morinaga and left town, I just couldn't help but feel miserable."

Sueharu: "Without money, you can't even be equal with a friend. I had to learn that the hard way."

Sueharu: "So I took the chance getting into a get-rich-quick scheme that just happened to come along."

Yoshino: "Get-rich-quick scheme?"

Sueharu: "I joined a group of thugs who's job was to attack rich people and rob from them."

(Eh....)

Sueharu: "They ambush passing oxcarts on deserted and unsightly roads and rob them of their money and goods."

Sueharu: "That's what they hired me for."

Yoshino: "That's...!"

(Of course it is wrong to be complicit in wrongdoings, but)

I couldn't even blame the young orphan who was trapped with no other choice.

Yoshino: "...Did you succeed?"

Sueharu: "At first, yes."

Sueharu: "But then one night, we attacked a big merchant's oxcart, and got our asses kicked."

Sueharu: "While most of the thugs were killed by the bodyguards of the merchant, I, a child was kept alive as a slave."

Yoshino: "...! Slave!?"

Sueharu: "Or to be exactly, a 'chicken'."

(Ah.....)

Blood drained from my face, as I realised he was referring to the cruel bet called cockfighting.

Yoshino: "That big merchant forced Sueharu-san to take part in a cockfight?"

Sueharu: "Yeah. And----"

Sueharu-san's eyes became dark and cloudy as if he was sinking into the memories of his past.

-----FLASHBACK-----

----The enslaved young Sueharu was taken to a 'gambling den' with other children.

In that place, killing and entertainment mean the same thing and life is far lighter than money.

Orphan 1: "Ngh. No. I don't want to..."

Orphan 2: "Please...please let me go..I'm scared..."

Kidnapper: "These brats are crying again. If it wasn't for tonight's show, I would have beaten them up."

The kidnapper who dragged the orphans out of the cell, clicked his tongue in annoyance.

Then the child who was sitting in the back of the cell with his head down reacted to the voice and looked up.

Sueharu: "....What are you going to make us do?"

Kidnapper: "Huh? What's up with that one?"

The child Sueharu, was the smallest and thinnest child out of all the kidnapped orphans.

However, his eyes were shining strangely in the darkness.

Kidnapper: "Whatever. Can't you guess by looking? These people are going to put their money on you."

Sueharu: ".........."

Beyond the kidnapper, there was a huge stage surrounded by a fence.

Two large men face each other with weapons in their hands.

Commentator: "Come on, come on everyone. All of these men you see here are thugs who have caused quite a stir in the city."

Commentator: "Only one person will survive tonight. It's up to you which one you want to bet on!"

Outside the fence, the audience on the couches shouted enthusiastically.

Sueharu: "...That's."

Kidnapper: "Those men were supposed to be executed of murdering people, but they were secretly enslaved and made to fight."

Kidnapper: "The nobles have bad taste, don't they? This is the only way we can make money."

Sueharu: "....So are we going to kill each other too?"

Sueharu held his breathe and glared at the kidnapper, who simply shrugged.

Kidnapper: "You're out of luck. This cockfighting is supposed to be a spectacle of one-sided slaughter."

Kidnapper: "Tonight, you will be fighting prisoners who have won previous fights."

Sueharu: "Ngh...."

----Part 2-----

Kidnapper: "Tonight, you will be fighting prisoners who have won previous fights."

Sueharu: "Ngh...."

Kidnapper: "Well, it's not something a kid a can win anyways. I'm here waiting for the time you brats die."

The orphans' faces gradually turn pale.

Commentator: "First game begins!"

The men's angry shouts and the sound of deadly blades striking each other echoed in the night.

The orphans clenched their eyes shut and cried out in horror.

Sueharu: "I don't..."

Sueharu: "I don't wanna die. I don't wanna die. I don't wanna die. I don't wanna die..."

Only one person...Sueharu, trembling at the sight of cruel wager without blinking.

-----FLASHBACK ENDS-----

Sueharu: "....That was the start of my nightmare."

(How cruel....)

I let out a long breath that I have been holding in.

My nails dug into my clenched fists, causing a dull pain.

-----Options------

Why did Sueharu-san have to go through all that...

I still can't forgive them.

Normally, I'd be scared....

-------

Yoshino: "Why did Sueharu-san have to go through all of that?"

Sueharu: "Fate is often like that. Those who are not born with luck, will never taste it anyways."

Sueharu: "I still remember the ugly faces of the rich people who reveled in the death of others."

Sueharu: "I knew then, from the bottom of my heart."

Sueharu: "The true terrible darkness is within us, humans."

Yoshino: "Sueharu-san...."

Unable to find words to say, I bit my lip and fall silent for a while.

Sueharu: "Don't look like that, Yoshino."

Sueharu: "Look. I survived the cockfighting---except I had to sacrifice my eye."

Yoshino: "How did it...?"

Sueharu: "It was because of my selfishness. I didn't want to die, even though I knew I would be living a shitty life..."

Sueharu: "So while the other children closed their eyes....I kept mine open."

Yoshino: "Open?"

Sueharu: "To examine how the prisoners fought, what weapons they use, their movements...."

Sueharu: "It was the only thing a helpless kid could do, at that time."

(Even adults cannot think calmly in that situation)

(How scary it must have been and yet, the young Sueharu-san was...)

Sueharu: "Then, when my turn came to fight the chickens...."

----FLASHBACK----

Kidnapper: "Hey kid! It's time to go. Right....let's get that cheeky brat to die first."

Sueharu: "....!"

The kidnapper forces Sueharu to stand on his feet and take the stage.

Kidnapper: "I'll let you have whatever you want, just in case. You can resist at your own leisure and entertain our customers."

Sueharu gripped the rusty little sword that was pressed against his chest tightly in his trembling hands.

Prisoner: "Hehehe....Come on now, I just have to kill this kid? That's easy."

Kidnapper: "Don't kill him so easily otherwise it won't be exciting."

Audience: "Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!"

The voices of the audience filled with ferocious excitement surrounded Sueharu and the prisoner.

Kidnapper: "Poor thing. There is no one here taking your side."

Sueharu: "............."

Gritting his teeth, Sueharu murmurs softly.

Sueharu: "Ever since I was born, I was alone."

Kidnapper: "Huh? Did you say something?"

Without saying anything, Sueharu slowly walked towards the centre of the stage.

His thin legs were trembling with the fear of death.

Commentator: "Betting starts now!"

One after another, the biggest sums of money Sueharu had ever seen were deposited into the box.

Sueharu: ".....Tch."

-----Part 3-----

Sueharu: ".....Tch."

Soon after, he swears.

Commentator: "Let the show begin!"

The vicious-looking prisoner brandishes his sword.

Prisoner: "Well, I'm going to kill you, you fucking brat."

Sueharu: "Ngh.."

Barely avoiding a slash, Sueharu rolled over and ran.

Prisoner: "Tsk! You little!"

Sueharu: "...I'll live no matter what!"

He pushes himself breathlessly into the prisoner's bosom and raises his small sword.

Prisoner: "Gahh!? Ngh.."

It was difficult for a skinny child to stab deep enough....

The prisoner punches Sueharu away.

Prisoner: "Die!"

Sueharu did not avoid the sword as it slashed at him again this time.

Sueharu: "AAAAAHHHHH...!!"

He screams in intense pain and one side of his vision is clouded with red.

Sueharu's small sword pierced the prisoner's chest this time without stopping.

Prisoner: "Ah!? ARGHH...!"

With a thud, the prisoner's body falls to the ground.

Sueharu: "Haa....Haa...."

Covered in blood, Sueharu was standing on his two legs unsteadily, trying not to fall.

Commentator: "Y-You..."

Sueharu: "Did you see that....you shits?"

The audience which should have been noisy, fell silent.

Sueharu's consciousness stopped there,

-----FLASHBACK ENDS-----

Yoshino: "The injuries sustained during the incident left Sueharu-san with one eye injury..."

Sueharu: "Well, yeah. I was treated minimally, but my left eye never saw the light again."

(....I didn't know. I didn't realise that Sueharu-san's past was this violent...)

In the twilight-tinted room, Sueharu-san's lips twisted into a shape of smile.

Sueharu: "Yoshino. Don't get me wrong. They didn't take my eyes from me."

Sueharu: "I won the bet of a lifetime. I gave up my left eye myself so that I could win."

Yoshino: "Sueharu-san..."

The intensity of the light emitted from one eye pierced my heart.

Sueharu-san playfully brushed my hair as I lost my voice.

Sueharu: "Do you want to continue?"

Yoshino: "....Please."

Sueharu: "The big merchant who enslaved me, liked me so much that he took me under his wing after I had caused a frenzy at the cockfight stadium."

Yoshino: "You mean, as his subordinate?"

Sueharu: "I was forced to do all sorts of dirty work, from spying on people to killing them."

Sueharu: "And of course, I had no right to refuse."

(From such a young age)

Yoshino: "...Did you ever thought of running away?"

Sueharu: "If I did, there still wasn't a place for me to go. I will end up dying of hunger."

Sueharu: "On the other hand, working for a big merchant means I can steal his knowledge of trade."

Sueharu: "So I decided to learn how to make money, even if I had to hang on to him."

(That takes a lot of determination...)

Yoshino: "But he was a merchant who was complicit in dangerous betting involving children, right?"

Yoshino: "It must have been tough working under him."

Sueharu: "Yeah. He wasn't a good person to begin with."

Sueharu: "I wasn't allowed to fail at work, and there were plenty of times when I was punished until morning that I couldn't sleep."

(....Mm)

Sueharu-san talked about it as if it was nothing, which made it even more painful.

Sueharu: "But I persevered nonetheless and in a few years I had grown to the point where I was known as the right-hand man of a great merchant."

(Sueharu-san's natural ability must have been so high, but it was also the fruit of his blood-soaked effort)

Sueharu: "So one day, when I turned fifteen..."

Sueharu: "I brought him down and gutted him of his business."

----Part 4----

Sueharu: "So one day, when I turned fifteen..."

Sueharu: "I brought him down and gutted him of his business."

Yoshino: "Eh...."

Sueharu: "Now that I think about it, that was long time ago."

Sueharu: "And that's how I won my second bet and won a lot of money, I'd never....won before."

The darkness hidden in Sueharu-san narrow-eyed smile sends shivers down my spine.

Yoshino: "And....after that?"

Sueharu: "With that money, I was able to expand my business in all sorts of direction."

Sueharu: "The more money I have, the better. So that I would never be trampled on by anyone ever again."

(That's why Sueharu is)

The night we met again in Kamakura.

I recall the conversation we had that time.

-----FLASHBACK-----

Yoshino: "Now Sueharu-san is going to run a trafficking business on behalf of those people?"

Sueharu: "What if I am?"

Yoshino: "....I can't allow it. No one deserves to be bought unreasonably by money."

Sueharu: "Is that so? But the reality is different."

Sueharu: "Everything in this world depends on money. If you don't want to be miserable, money is the most powerful weapon you can have."

----FLASHBACK ENDS-----

(I wonder how Sueharu-san felt when I said those words)

I am now touching the contours of Sueharu-san's heart in the darkness, which I could not understand at the time.

Sueharu: "To tell you the truth, Yoshino."

Sueharu: "As I endured my days as a slave....I often thought about Morinaga."

Yoshino: "....! Morinaga-san...!?"

Sueharu: "To keep myself from going insane in the darkest places..."

Sueharu: "I clung to the presence of Morinaga, who glowed annoyingly in my memory."

(That's how much Sueharu-san's time with Morinaga-san meant to him)

Sueharu: "That's why I hate him."

Sueharu: "Even as an adult, every time I see that intense glare, I think back to those miserable days."

Yoshino: "That's how you think...."

Sueharu: "I can't help it. Memories always haunt you. No matter how much you think you've thrown it away."

Sueharu-san changed his sitting posture and leaned to one-side.

Sueharu: "So, as soon as I'm in a new place, I get restless."

Sueharu: "I do business, sell, play etc etc ....and finally when I empty myself, I come back to this mansion."

(How can I....make Sueharu-san feel at ease?)

Questions I can't answer stick in my mind like thorns and I can't get rid of them.

Sueharu: "All I believe in is myself and money. That's not compatible with your way of life, right?"

Sueharu: "For you, who became a pharmacist to help others, and believed in love and lived your life..."

Sueharu: "You don't really know how I feel..."

Yoshino: "....Nn."

(Even so, I)

The image of Sueharu-san surrounded by orphans he had protected came to mind.

(I want to think that the face smiling under the light is also Sueharu-san's real face)

Yoshino: "Can't we just believe that, even if we're not compatible we can still be together....?"

Sueharu: "...Yoshino?"

-----Part 5-----

Sueharu: "...Yoshino?"

----I was so moved by emotions that words just fell out of my mouth.

(But)

(I don't want to trample on Sueharu-san's heart unkindly)

Yoshino: "This thought is my selfishness."

Yoshino: "So if it's uncomfortable for Sueharu-san to be approached by me, who doesn't know how you feel, then...."

Yoshino: "I'm giving up on getting to know you any further."

Sueharu: ".........."

Sueharu: "You've jumped over all the lines I've drawn so far without any difficulty. How do you do that?"

Yoshino: "What?"

(At first, I wanted to understand him because he was my enemy. That wasn't a lie, but...)

(Since when did I want to know Sueharu-san's true nature, regardless of whether he was friend or a foe?)

Sueharu: "Your unwitting tactics."

Yoshino: "Hm?"

Sueharu: "It's not fair when you suddenly try to walk away with a lonely look on your face. It makes me want to hold you back even more."

(....Are you teasing me again?)

But unexpectedly, the eyes that looked at me were serious.

Sueharu: "When I get close to you-----"

Sueharu: "Sometimes, I feel like I'm being slowly traced over by an old scar."

Sueharu: "I feel uncomfortable, but somehow I can't shake it off."

(Why?)

Sueharu-san extended his hands towards me...

Yoshino: "Ah."

He grabs my wrist and pulls me closer.

The distance between our breath and our eyes were so short that it made my heart pound.

Sueharu: "I'm confused. I don't know what to do with you now."

Sueharu: "Hey, Yoshino, you tell me."

Sueharu: "What do you want me to do?"

(I..)

I took a deep breathe and decided.

I made a wish with an unknown impulse that was rising in my heart and opened my mouth.

Yoshino: "Can I take off your eye patch?"

Sueharu: "........."

Sueharu: "Of course. If you want to."

Yoshino: "...Thank you."

I gently put my hand on Sueharu-san's eyepatch and untied it.

I was exposed to his torn scars.

Sueharu: "It's ugly, isn't it? I don't know why you want to look at it all the time."

(Don't say it like that)

The suppressed sadness overflowed in an uncontrollable gush.

I bit my lip to force it down and swallowed again.

Yoshino: "....There's nothing ugly about it."

Sueharu: "Yoshino?"

My body is hot with a jumble of frustration and sadness at my inability to communicate well.

I kissed the scar over his left eye, wishing my warmth would be transferred onto him.

Sueharu: "...Mm."

I could feel Sueharu-san's shoulders shaking just slightly.

The back of my eyes became heavy and my vision blurs.

Sueharu: "...Why?"

In a somewhat sad voice, Sueharu-san muttered.

Yoshino: "This is a proof of Sueharu-san's strength to survive."

Yoshino: "It's the most beautiful scar in the whole world. That's how I see it."

I reply with a poor answer in a voice that is almost snuffed out by emotion.

(Please, don't deny yourself of this)

Yoshino: "No one can take away Sueharu-san's pride."

Sueharu: "............"

Sueharu-san slowly cupped my cheeks in his hands.

Sueharu: "What have you done to me?"

Sueharu: "The past can never be changed. Even you, a pharmacist, can't erase these scars. And yet...."

Sueharu: "I wonder why, seeing your tears right now, feels like something is being forgiven?"

Chapter 20

#ikemen series #ikemen genjiden #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #otome #cybird #ikemen mc #ikegen #main story translations #ikemen genjiden sueharu

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