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rebrandedbard · 3 years ago

Note

Good morning, I had an idea and I wanted to share (could be a prompt if you want): So, Jaskier definitely, absolutely wants to learn Geralts potions and which to give when. But they aren't labelled at all and you've got to discern by shapes and colours. I firmly believe Jaskier writes a little ditty for that and maybe it spreads or maybe Geralt wakes up after a hunt with vague memories of that song after Jaskier saved him...

Jessi you know exactly what to say to get a fic out of me. Invoke my musicality! Just for you, not one, but two songs Jaskier uses for Geralt's potions!

Witcher's Brew

wc - 2476

Geralt wakes up after a hunt gone wrong and finds himself patched up in bed. He waits for Jaskier to arrive and overhears him singing a strange song to himself as he fusses with Geralt's potion supplies.

Rabbit stew, warm and fresh from the pot. It was the first thing Geralt could remember upon waking. They’d had rabbit stew at midday, just before the hunt. He almost imagined he could taste it on his dry, cut lip, but the lingering bitter taste of White Raffard’s Decoction chased the last of the memory away. He could not recall taking any potions. In fact, he had trouble remembering what it was he’d been fighting. His head was vague, all the details swirling at the edges in a haze. Someone had been speaking to him, he thought. Was it the chanting of a kitchen maid, timing her baking with a prayer? Or was it a song?

A song.

Geralt sat up with a grunt. “Jaskier,” he called, voice rough and catching in his throat. He looked around the darkness of the room, but he was alone. He scented the air. Jaskier had been near in the last hour or so, his smell not yet faded. It tasted bitter on his tongue, like the decoction: bitter like the musk of fear. The tang of salt hung in the air as well. Tears. But there was more. From the table at his side came an earthy scent and he discovered a bowl of mushrooms upon it. Sewant mushrooms.

That’s right. They’d been in the caves. The vision of the beast rose to the forefront of his mind and he remembered that they’d been fighting not a wyvern as hired, but a slyzard. It had been a deadly miscalculation, for the beast could breathe fire over a great distance. Geralt felt the fresh burns on the back of his neck, smelled the poultice pasted there. He remembered pulling Jaskier behind cover. He’d not had the chance to see whether he’d been burned as well. There had been too much to distract him; he did not even know if he’d slain the beast.

There had been mushrooms in the cave. Someone had to have brought them. Jaskier would be foolish enough to return to the caves, even if the beast still lived. But for mushrooms? Geralt could not imagine why.

“Sewant from the sewer caves, crows’ eyes, fang of beasts; blood from all the nasty things, and myrtle pure as priests.”

Geralt turned to the sound of Jaskier’s singing beyond the door. It cracked open and there the bard stood, arms hidden beneath a mass of white flowers. He had, too, a leather pouch dangling from around his wrist. Unloading his burden upon the table, he flipped through the open bestiary, still singing under his breath. It was not his usual kind of song; it was lifeless, simple rhyme and meter without passion. He did not even glance Geralt’s way as he set to work, grinding ingredients together in a mortar.

“Mistletoe and mutagen, aloe leaf of wolf; green mold, han, and celandine, then in the flame engulf.”

Jaskier poured the concoction into a potion bottle and hurried to the fire. He bent to light it, cursing as the matches failed beneath his shaking hand. He cursed louder, his hand slipping again. His voice began to shake as he continued his chant.

“Remember Raffard’s recipe and count it by this rhyme; be ye neither quick nor slow to measure out the time. Once the brew has bubbled and its color turns to red, let cool and cork then brew again to raise him from—”

Jaskier’s voice caught in his throat as he failed to light the match once more. He gripped the potion bottle in his hand and wiped at his eyes, unable to finish the line. “To raise him—”

“From the dead,” Geralt concluded.

Jaskier whirled around, dropping the bottle upon the floor. It shattered, spilling its contents into the hearth and over his boots. But he didn’t pay it any mind. He ran to Geralt’s side and knelt before the bed. His hands were everywhere at once, prodding gently, examining him.

“Geralt,” he breathed. Then everything came out in one great rush, each new thought interrupting the last. “Oh fuck, I was—! You weren’t moving. You just dropped to the ground the minute your sword—! I had to carry you back, and you only had one vial left. I was so worried I wouldn’t be able to make more before …”

“One vial is enough,” Geralt said. He nodded toward the supplies on the table. “Is that White Raffard’s?” he asked, knowing it could be nothing else.

Jaskier nodded, silent.

“What was that song just now?”

Jaskier bit his lip, looking guilty. “I … didn’t meant to pry,” he murmured. “I promise never to share trade secrets but … I had to know how it was made. It’s one of your most important potions. If you couldn’t make one, and if we were ever in a situation where we couldn’t find a healer, I needed to know that I could save you. So I watched, and I wrote it to remember.”

“You wrote a song to remember how to brew a potion?” Geralt asked. He looked at the ingredients. They were all correct, and well-measured from the look of it. Jaskier had prepared three bottles, two still sat empty on the table. Before them, their ingredients lay in even piles, waiting to be ground in the mortar.

Jaskier took Geralt’s hand in his, pressing his forehead to it. “I can brew Raffard’s, White Honey, and Swallow. I know you need Swallow with Raffard’s, for the toxicity. And … if I ever brewed a faulty potion, I would have the Honey.”

“You know what potions to take,” Geralt said. It was less of a question, more an expression of awe. He’d never taught Jaskier about the potions, merely asking for them as needed if Jaskier were in reach to fetch them. And from that, Jaskier had learned what was needed when.

“I wrote a song for that, too. All of them: what they’re for, the ones to take before a battle, and the ones to take after.”

Geralt blinked.

“All of them?” he asked.

Jaskier looked up. He once more turned his head away in shame. Witchers’ potions were not for men to know, let alone theirs to brew. But he nodded. There was no denying it now.

“Sing it to me.”

The look on Jaskier’s face was nothing short of complete and total astonishment. Geralt never requested songs. “You … right now? You want me to sing the song?” Jaskier faltered.

When Geralt gestured toward the lute, Jaskier smiled.

“It hasn’t got music,” Jaskier said. “It isn’t meant to be sung, really. Not in that way at least.”

“But you could put it to music, I bet.”

Jaskier flushed. There was a bit of praise in there somewhere—an admission of skill. At Geralt’s request, he stood and fetched the lute. “You seem to be doing much better,” he said, sitting at his side on the bed.

“Raffard,” Geralt replied. “Are you in tune?”

Jaskier strummed the lute slowly, emphasizing each open note with pride. “Always am.”

“Sing, then.”

It only took a minute of experimental plucking before Jaskier had a set of chords prepared. He strummed them twice in succession, then began his song:

Before one fights vampiric beasts

Drink Black Blood down to spoil their feasts

And if there’s acid on the rise

First taking Bindweed would be wise

When fighting something swift and cruel

Down Blizzard quick before the duel

And if the brawl takes place at night

Take Cat to see in dimmest light

Geralt watched with open admiration as he listened. Jaskier had learned it all on his own. He’d made a careful study of the potions without any help, and what Geralt heard was thus far correct. There were trainees who’d not kept such simple things in order, even with proper instruction.

When fighting wraiths one cannot spy

De Vries’ Extract evolves the eye

And wolves will howl in perfect tune

When given life by the Full Moon

At the play on wolves, Geralt rolled his eyes. Even so, he was impressed. He’d only encountered two wraiths with Jaskier at his side. He would’ve had to pay very close attention to remember De Vries’ Extract’s purpose.

The bit about the wolves did not escape his notice either. There was a little crook in the corner of Jaskier’s mouth as he sang the words. Of course the potion made for jokes among the witchers of the school of the wolf, but they weren’t the only ones who used them.

But if one’s poisoned first, let’s say

Oriole takes the sting away

And when one bleeds, to stop the aches

A simple Kiss is all it takes

If long the task you must endure

Then take a dose of Maribor

And if one’s signs aren’t up to snuff

Then Petri’s Philter is the stuff

If one cannot avoid a hit

The vengeful Shrike takes care of it

And if you’ve time while under cover

Swallow aids a slow recover

If the battle leaves you tired

Tawny Owl may be required

And while weak one cannot parry

Thunderbolt will make foes wary

When hope is lost and at its end

White Raffard’s revives your friend

And if while brawling stunned you be

Then Willow is the remedy

For power in your every blow

Take Wolf to strike against your foe

And though it makes one wobble blind

With Wolverine their fate is signed

Remember this what else you do

White Gull is base for every brew

And when the potions start to strain

White Honey lets you start again

“You ended with White Honey,” Geralt remarked.

Jaskier lay a hand over the strings of his lute, quieting them. “It lets you start again, does it not? Once you swallow a dose of White Honey, it nullifies the effects of all potions,” he said in his most academic voice. “I thought it would be fitting to end the song there; it certainly helps to remember the purpose.”

“And you know how to brew it.”

“I find it ironic that there’s not a trace of honey in it whatsoever. In fact, far too many of your potions involve the use of vinegar, the very opposite of honey. Would it ruin the potions beyond use if I were to add a bit? A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down, they say.”

Geralt smiled. He waved his hand, gesturing for Jaskier to come closer. He put a hand on his shoulder, whispering in his ear. “I think whatever potions you brew for me in the future will be made sweet enough by that sentiment,” he said. “So don’t fuck up my recipes, bard.”

Jaskier stammered, then laughed and batted Geralt’s face. “You cheeky thing! For a moment, I thought you actually intended to compliment me.”

“Didn’t you hear me the first time?” Geralt asked. “I did.”

“Not a compliment if you insult my cooking right after. Or—well, eh—brewing, as it were.”

“Alchemy.”

“Oh, yes, that’s much more flattering. Assistant Alchemist! I do like the sound of it.”

Geralt chuckled. “You’re my assistant now, are you?”

“But of course,” Jaskier replied, waving a dramatic arm in the air. “Always have been. I only needed a proper title.

“Then tell me, assistant: what became of the slyzard?”

Jaskier grinned and leaned over to grab the leather pouch from the table. He tossed it for show and caught it with one hand before emptying its contents. A collection of sharp, bloody teeth fell onto the sheets, some with bits of pink gum still attached to the yellow base.

“I believe Raffard’s called for fang of beasts in the list of ingredients,” he said. “And there was no other beast nearby to take from. Your sword was still lodged in its back; all I had to do was give it one last thrust through the heart.”

Jaskier winked and produced another bag from his doublet, heavy with coin. “Needed proof anyway,” he said, setting it alongside the teeth. “I needed some distraction while you were out, so I checked off the list: put you on the mend, finish the hunt, get the pay, replenish supplies.”

For a moment, his cocky expression faltered. “I was just finishing up when I got a little …” he trailed, bundling up the teeth once more. “Well, it’s easier to get lost in worrisome thoughts when doing quiet tasks like foraging. But you woke up, and now there’s nothing left to fear. I’ll have a new set of potions ready for you by the time you’re well enough to get out of bed.”

“… You … killed the slyzard?” Geralt said.

“You did most of it. I just gave it the last push. It barely twitched. Honestly, its innards made more of a fuss when I went to bottle them. I think you’ll be well stocked for some time.”

Jaskier killed the slyzard. He stooped to rummaging in its bleeding corpse for the most vile and disgusting of ingredients. For his potions. Which Jaskier brewed. Which he knew how to brew by merely observing, putting it all together in simple songs to remember. And still he’d found time to collect his pay.

“Fuck me,” Geralt said in wonder.

“Maybe once you’re healed,” Jaskier laughed, ears a touch pink.

“Then kiss me,” Geralt amended. He lay his hand over Jaskier’s arm, leaning forward, enraptured. It was a simple revelation and he wondered just how long the idea had been bubbling in the back of his brain. “Kiss me,” he said. “I think I’m in love with you.”

Jaskier blinked twice, his cheeks flushing as he took in the seriousness of Geralt’s tone. “Did … you put too much White Gull in that last batch of Raffard’s?”

Geralt shook his head, his eyes never leaving Jaskier’s. “Will you kiss me?” he asked again.

“I …”

“You killed a slyzard for me.”

“Yes.”

“And you memorized my potions. In case I needed them.”

Jaskier nodded.

“You love me,” Geralt concluded. His heart gave a leap at the notion. Yes. Yes, this was something he never knew he wanted. No, not wanted—this was something he needed. If all that didn’t add up to love, he didn’t know what would. It was such a simple thing, and he was a very simple man in every meaning of the word.

“Love me, Jaskier,” he said. “Love me and kiss me, please.”

But Jaskier already did. And before the final plea could escape Geralt’s lips, Jaskier did.

I’m going to take care of you, Geralt thought. He would take care of Jaskier just as Jaskier had always taken care of him. Good care.

“I do love you,” Geralt corrected.

Jaskier chuckled. “Don’t need to think about it?”

“I don’t think I ever really did.”

#asks #my fic #drabbles #witcher #the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #you know i wish that i had jessi's tag #actually let's tag this as a ficlet too it's a bit longer than usual #ficlet

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averytiredfanfictionwriter · 3 years ago

Text

Clan (Technoblade x demon!reader, Philza x demon!reader)

Word count- 2,210 Content Warnings- none that I can think of Ao3 link- right here.

My first post back in a while. I’m sorry about the absence to whoever might care- a lot of things popped up in my personal life that stressed me out, on top of my graduation fast approaching. But I’m back now, and this might not be the Karl or Ranboo fic that was promised, it is at least something. Those will both be coming within a week or two, I just need to finish up some stuff and then edit them. So follow if you want to see when I post those, or just reply on this post saying that you want to be tagged when I do post them. Enjoy! Reblogs are appreciated, as well as likes. So if you could just do both, that would mean the world to me!

Techno’s used to being alone. He lived the first hundred years of his life that way- until he met Phil. And then Phil left. And he was alone again.

But when he met Y/n, that all changed. He never had to worry about being alone again. Immortals are rare, and meeting another one is even rarer, but the two were inseparable. She never disclosed where she was from, or what the tattoos of strange runes on her body meant, and Techno knew better than to pry into matters that didn’t concern him, but he couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking about as she stared out the window with her eyes clouded over and memories of a past time playing in her mind.

When Phil came back, it was easy for the pair to fit him back into their lives. Even though Y/n had never met him before it was as if they’d known each other for centuries before then. The three easily settled into a calm daily routine and when they returned to their own houses in the little community they’d created for just them at night, they fell asleep having forgotten what life was like before they’d met.

The three gods never worried about what would happen when they were found. After all, they’re immortal. They’ve lived to see the rise and fall of countries, rulers, and everything else. Them of all people know that nothing is permanent. But none ever stopped to consider that what they had wasn’t permanent.

It started when Techno woke up in the morning. The arctic always lent itself to freezing mornings but this one felt colder than the others. It could be because he had expected to wake up with Y/n and Phil next to him on the couch, and was surprised that they would go back to their own houses. But it was much more than that- even if Techno couldn’t have known.

Phil and Techno looked in silence for any trace of Y/n around their community when the sun hit the middle of the sky and she still hadn’t shown her face. Any places she might have gone off to in search of quiet or a place to nap. But that didn’t appear to be the case and their search turned up empty and in vain.

Techno retreated into himself. He found the note she’d left when he and Phil returned from their search and he didn’t say anything, instead heading down to the basement in his small house and shutting himself in to work on ‘very important stuff’ as he told Phil. Phil didn’t believe him- Techno wasn’t exactly quiet in expressing the emotions he felt about Y/n leaving.

Phil wasn’t quite as emotional as Techno. He was more than two hundred years older than the pink-haired man. He was used to the constant ebbing and flowing of life, of the appearance and then disappearance of people. That’s not to say it didn’t hurt, but he knew that it’s the way of life. People come, and then they go. To stop it would be to disregard the nature of humans as a whole.

He was a little surprised when Techno came back up at the end of the night and, while silent, had refused to acknowledge that she’d even existed there in the first place. He ignored the building next to his where she’d slept and kept her belongings. Whenever Phil tried to bring her up, Techno would shut out the conversation and pretend he hadn’t heard him. It wasn’t healthy, and Phil couldn’t blame him because he was still young but he just wished he wouldn’t be so heartbroken to the point of refusing to acknowledge that she ever existed in the first place.

This went on for months. Almost a whole year had passed and the building that contained Y/n’s belongings went untouched. All the delicate keepsakes from past adventures, photos of strangers that neither of the men dared ask about, and the bookshelves lining almost every wall and so full of books from all over the world- it all gathered dust. Until finally she came back.

Phil almost didn’t recognize her at first. The tired weariness evident in the dark circles under her eyes and the dragging of her footsteps, but everything else was the same. The dark hair on her head now long enough to braid- much to his excitement- and the multitudes of runes covering her body, with the additions of quite a few now. One of the newest things though is the several piercings and jewelry that she’s wearing. The most prominent of which is the chain hanging around her neck, a medium-sized precious stone of unknown origin hanging off of it.

“Y/n…” Phil said, dropping the wood he held in her arms in favor of running over and embracing her.

She hugs him back, the feeling almost foreign to her now. But now that she’s back, she doesn’t intend on forgetting it again.

“Where’s Techno? I need to talk to you both.” Y/n mumbles into Phils' shoulder, and for a minute he feels the cold flush of fear at the thought of her leaving again.

“He’s inside his house. Here, I’ll take you there.” Phil can’t help but feel like he’s showing around a visitor. The community has changed quite a bit since she’d last been there but the dread-filled feeling that he gets at the thought of her leaving again, coming back to say that she’s leaving and never returning, is more than he could take.

“Techno. Where are you?” Phil calls out as he enters the house and the chill of the room makes him shiver.

“Downstairs.” A gruff voice calls back, followed by a grunt of frustration.

“Well, can you come upstairs real quick? We have a visitor.” The word is bitter on his tongue and the look that flashes quickly across Y/n’s face makes him wish he’d chosen a better wording.

“Fine.” The ladder creaks and then Techno is peeking his head through the hole that leads down the basement.

“Y/n. What are you doing here?” It’s not entirely a question, and Y/n winces at Techno’s harsh tone. “Why are you back now? What, was living out there not as good as you thought it was? Well, you can leave. We don’t want you back here. We’re doing just fine on our own.”

Y/n feels destroyed. She didn’t expect Techno to react positively to her return, but she didn’t expect this.

“Can I just tell you why I left?” She asks, and Techno snorts.

“Sure. Go ahead. Lay on us this wonderful reason.” Techno’s voice drips with sarcasm.

“There were some people I needed to find- had to find.” She says and Techno laughs.

“Really. That’s your reason. You had to go find some people so you left for ten months. You didn’t even think to tell us in person, instead, you just left a note. Hell, you could have taken us with you. We would have happily gone with you. I would have happily gone with you. I’d have done anything for you. But it appears that the feeling wasn’t mutual, since you barely bothered to leave a half-assed note telling us.” Techno shouts, having climbed fully into the room and stood towering over the girl.

“You don’t understand. This was not a trip you could have made. Neither of you would have been able to!” Y/n shouts back.

Phil backs away, settling into the couch on the other side of the room.

“What do you mean, I don’t understand. I understand perfectly. You abandoned us. You abandoned me. Well, you know what, I don’t want you back here. You need to leave. Get your things and leave. Right now.” Techno says and it feels like Y/n was just punched in the gut.

“What? Techno you’re not serious?” Phil’s astonished. Of everything he thought Techno would say to Y/n, this wasn’t one of them.

“Yeah, I am. Now get out.” Philza protests and Techno starts yelling at him as he tries to shove her out of the house.

“My clan was killed! I had to find their bodies!” She shouts out over the two men and Techno stops pushing her.

“Clan?” He asks and Phil stares at her blankly.

“You’re a demon?” He asks and Techno looks back and forth between the two.

“Part demon, yes. My clan was killed and I had to find them. I needed to know who was left. And… I’m now the leader of a clan that doesn’t exist anymore. They were all dead.” Her voice breaks at the end of her sentence, and the sorrow overwhelms her. She’d done a good job on the trip there and back of not crying, of ignoring what happened. But saying it out loud makes it real, and something inside her snaps with those words.

Suddenly the runes tattooed on her and the amount of gold jewelry she’s wearing makes sense to Phil.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Techno pulls her into his arms protectively.

Phil stands from the couch and joins them. The combined warmth of the other two hybrids is almost too much to bear, but Philza hugs them anyways. Y/n’s sobbing continues for a little longer, but soon it turns into muffled sniffles and the shaking of her body calms a little bit.

“It’s up to me now to find a new clan. Custom is that I have to either join one or find others to form one with. I don’t think I’ll be able to stay here. Most of them require you to live with the group.” Y/n whispers as she pulls away from the hug.

“No. I won’t let you leave. Not for a second time.” Techno says stubbornly, and Y/n shakes her head.

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, you do. We’ll be your new clan. Even if you can’t give us the jewelry of your brothers and sisters like tradition dictates, we can still be your clan. Technically your clan doesn’t have to be other demons.” Phil smiles at her. Techno doesn’t know why Phil would know that, but he doesn’t question his knowledge either way. Phil’s lived a long life before he and Y/n came into the picture.

“You guys would do that?” She asks and he nods his head eagerly.

“Of course. We were already really close before- nothing’s going to be changing.”

“Yeah. What do we have to do to join your clan?” Techno asks.

“Well, we basically have to get married to each other. It’s really just an unbreakable promise to stay with each other and protect each other until we die. Soooo… forever. Are you guys sure this is what you want? Because once we do this we can’t go back.” Y/n looks at them in worry.

“Yes. We both want this. You belong here with us. Life was horrible without you here. I had to deal with Phil all alone. The full force of his attention was on me. It was a never-ending nightmare.” Technos voice is dry as he delivers the joke and Y/n laughs as Phil protests.

“Hey. You forget that I was equally as stuck with you. It’s not easy when you live with a piglin who never gets cold and forgets that not everyone is as lucky as him.” Phil says and Techno mimics his words.

“Whatever you say, old man. But Y/n, I’m a hundred percent serious about joining your clan. I never want to let you go again.” Techno says into Y/n’s shoulder.

“Yeah, it was so quiet without you here mate. And cold. So, so cold.” Phil wraps his wings around the two human furnaces and holds them close.

Even though he’s more than two hundred years older than the pair and knows the reality of life- that eventually they’ll get bored of each other or tired and leave- he finds himself wanting to never let go.

“Here, hold out your hands,” Y/n tells them as she pulls out of the hug.

The two men do so without hesitation, and Y/n places a ring in each of their hands. They’re heavy, made of an unknown metal to most who walk the earth and they’re burning hot to the touch as if they were just forged and taken out of the fire.

“But… you’re not supposed to?” Phil says and the woman shakes her head.

“It doesn’t matter if my clan is made of demons or not. I’m still going to give you guys the rings signifying our bonds.” She says and Phil nods.

“Now… who wants to go and slaughter some orphans?” Techno asks, clapping his hands together.

Y/n shouts yes and drops her bag on the ground, running out the door. Techno hangs back a moment, pausing only to look at his reflection in the mirror- at the heavy ring on his tusk. It’s stopped burning and has turned into a comfortable warmth.

“Hey, you good mate?” Phil asks and Techno smiles.

“Never better.” He eyes the half-demon waiting outside in the snow, her tail swishing on the ground behind her.

“Good. Because now there’s no getting rid of her.” Phil smiles and they join the girl waiting outside, ready for whatever adventures lie ahead.

#dsmp x reader #dsmp techno #technoblade x reader #technoblade x platonic!reader #philza x reader #philza x platonic!reader #hybrid reader #technoblade x hybrid!reader #philza x hybrid!reader #technoblade x y/n #philza x y/n #lizzy writes

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samdeancass · 4 years ago

Text

Friends with Benefits

Requested on Wattpad

Pairing: Scott x OC, Derek x OC, Isaac x OC (brief)

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

Characters: Scott, Stiles, Derek, Isaac (briefly), Erica (briefly), Allison (mentioned), Kate (mentioned), Braeden (mentioned), Liam (mentioned), Kira (mentioned), Max (OC)

Words: 2,742

A/N: Max (OC) is Stiles' twin sister.

Description: After being unlucky in love with Derek and Isaac, Max falls into the arms of Scott.

Being Stiles’ twin sister was hard work. Max had to live with his incessant need to be annoying all day, every day, and to be honest he was beginning to drive her up the wall. Stiles always felt the need to be nitpick at everything that she did, which he knew annoyed her to no end. Sometimes, your dad, the Sherriff, had to pull you off Stiles because of how much he had angered her.

“Seriously Stiles, can you not go one day without annoying me?! You’re like one of those tiny bugs that you can’t see but is buzzing around everybody.”

Stiles pressed his hand to his chest mockingly. “Max, you cut so deep. How could you say that to me? I’m your brother!” A smile played on his lips when their father stopped Max from pouncing on him.

Although, if it wasn’t for Stiles, Max would never have met Scott. The three of them have been inseparable ever since they met. Scott had been there through everything Max and Stiles went through, especially the passing of their mother. After that, a solid friendship was cemented between the three of them. That’s why Scott trusted Max wholly with the fact that he was a werewolf. At first, she was a little hesitant but after some coaxing from both Scott and Stiles, Max grew more comfortable with it which made her trust in Scott grow stronger.

However, when Max met the mysterious new friend of Scott’s, her whole world changed.

“Err, Scott. Who’s that?” Scott and Stiles both turned in the direction you were looking. “That’s Derek. Derek Hale. He’s a werewolf, like me.”

Max couldn’t take her eyes off Derek ,who was leaning against his Camaro. There was something about him that drew her towards him. Before she knew what was happening, Max’s feet began to carry her towards Derek, a fire in her chest.

When Derek seen Max making her way towards him, he stood up straight and kept his eyes on her, as if he was entranced. “Hey, I’m Max. Stiles’ twin sister.” He took your outstretched hand and gave Max a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry about that.” “HEY! I’m right here!”Both of them erupted into giggles at Stiles’ reaction and stared at each other for a while before Derek broke the silence. “So, do you know about everything that happens in Beacon Hills?”

Max nodded. “I’ve known for a while. I’m not gonna lie, it scares the shit out of me, but there is no way I’m going to let my town come under attack.” Derek nodded appreciatively before opening the passenger door of his Camaro. “Want to go somewhere else and get to know each other?”

Max turned back and looked at the two boys who were flirting, very badly, with girls two years older than them. A wide smile crossed her face before nodding. “Hell yeah!” Derek laughed at her enthusiasm before closing her door and making his way around to the drivers side.

Max’s feelings for Derek blossomed over the next few months but she wanted to keep them secret, so their friendship wouldn’t be ruined. However, during a fight with Derek, this secret was let slip.

“You need to stop fighting with Scott, Derek. Please. All he’s trying to do is keep this town safe!” Derek slammed his fists down on the table and turned to Max, his red eyes shining bright. “And what the hell do you think i’m trying to do, eh?” Anger was beginning to bubble in the pit of Max’s stomach.

“You really think that killing people is helping this town? Because it’s not! By doing this, you are pushing everybody away, including me. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to lose you!”

Derek’s eyes shone brighter as he walked over to Max and grabbed her shoulders. “I’m only killing the bad people, Max! Why can’t you understand that?! I’m doing this town a favour!”

A tear was threatening to slip down Max’s cheek as his words sunk in. “How can you think that killing people is the right thing to do? I thought you were better than that, Derek! I need you to be better, I need you to change!”

“Why? Why do you need me to change?! I’m perfectly fine the way I am!” The anger was beginning to bubble more; to the point that Max blurted out the one thing that she wanted to keep secret.

“Because I love you!” Max slammed her hands over her mouth as the last word was said. Loud cackling came from behind and Max turned around to see Erica walking towards them. She turned back around to Derek, who was staring at her in shock, before running out of the Hale House and into the forest.

For the next week, Max avoided anything to do with Derek. That was, until he decided to break into her house one night.

Max’s eyes shot open when she heard the sound of her bedroom window being opened. Carefully, she grabbed her lamp off her bedside table and hid at the side of the window, ready to attack the intruder. As soon as she seen two feet on the floor, Max swung the lamp towards the person.

“Ow! What the hell was that for!” Max walked closer and seen that the intruder was indeed, Derek Hale. “Derek?! What the hell are you doing sneaking into my room at 1o’clock in the morning?!”

“Well, I was hoping to talk to you about something, if you wouldn’t mind.” Derek nursed the back of his head whilst he took a seat at the bottom of Max’s bed. “What makes it so important that it couldn’t wait until morning?” Max took a seat next to Derek and examined the back of his head.

“I wanted to tell you before I lost my nerve.” Max quirked an eyebrow at him, clearly interested in what has made Derek so nervous. He took a deep breath and turned to Max.

“I know I should have told you this straight away, and I’m sorry that I didn’t. I just wanted to make sure that what I am feeling for you is genuine because.... I care about you too much to hurt you. I guess, what I’m trying to say is that I love you to. But we have to wait until you’ve graduated. It won’t look very good if a grown man is dating a high school student.”

Max stared at Derek with watery eyes and a large, beaming smile. She placed both of her hands on his cheeks and leaned in to plant a passionate kiss on his lips. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

A playful glint was evident in the corners of Derek’s eyes. “Yes, yes I do.”

Around a month after confessing her feelings to Derek, Max started to date Isaac. It was going so well at first. Max was beginning to develop feelings for Isaac as well as Derek. She loved being in Isaacs presence and he made her feel safe. However, all of that fell apart when Max found out that Isaac had cheated on her with Allison on their 6 month anniversary. After, Max had a fling with Aiden. This relationship wasn’t serious and it quickly ended when Aiden was killed by the Oni.

Max has been single ever since and she only had a year and a half left until she could graduate high school and finally be with the one man that she has always wanted. However, she didn’t know that the plans that she and Derek made all those nights ago was going to come crashing down around her.

Max had heard through the grapevine that Derek was dating Braeden, which she was absolutely fine with, until he left with Braeden after the pack had saved Scott from Kate and the Berserkers.

She was left heartbroken and through herself into her school work and the pack to keep her mind off Derek. Max became more focused on helping Liam hone his new werewolf abilities as well as helping him study for school. Stiles was, well Stiles. Scott was determined more than ever to keep the rest of the pack in Beacon Hills which is why he was broken when Kira left to gain control of her kitsune powers.

One night, Max and Scott were ‘studying’ for a huge maths final that was coming up. Laughing and giddiness filled the room as the two of them messed around on Scott’s bed. “This is the most fun I’ve had in a while. Thanks, Scott, I really needed this.”

Scott turned to Max with a beaming smile. “Anything for my best friend.” Max cocked an eyebrow at him. “I thought my brother was your best friend.” Scott placed a a finger to his lips. “Shh, it can be our little secret.”

They both lay down on the pillows and stared at the ceiling, content with each others company. “I’ve missed being with somebody like this, just having fun.” Scott turned to Max, his head resting on his arm and a warm smile on his face.

“I forgot to ask, how have you been since Derek left with Braeden? I know how much you cared for him.” At this question, Max’s whole demeanour changed and she stiffened up, still bitter about everything that had happened to her.

Scott sensed this change and immediately sat upright, concern written all over his features. “I’m sorry, Max. If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s Ok.” Max shook her head and sat up. “It’ll do me some good talking about it. I’ve kept it bottled up for so long, I’ve grown to resent what me and Derek had.”

Scott scooted closer and wrapped a comforting arm around Max’s shoulders as she began to talk about how the events had affected her. “I just feel as though I’m not good enough for anybody. First, Isaac cheats on me and then Derek leaves me when he promised that we’d be together when I graduated, which isn’t to long away now.”

Her head hung low at the thought of graduation. What once was a happy thing to look forward to was now something that she resented as it would remind her of something that was never going to happen. “I’m never going to be good enough for anybody. I’m better off away from everybody, where nobody can get bored of me. I’m just something that people can have before they find something better.”

A low growl left Scott’s mouth as the last few words came out of Max’s mouth. Out of the blue, Scott grabbed Max’s face with both of his hands and kissed her. Max immediately melted into the kiss, running her fingers through his chestnut brown locks. Tongues began fighting for dominance as the kiss became more heated. Scott placed his hands on Max’s waist and heaved her onto his lap so she was straddling him. Max’s hands left Scott’s hair and travelled down the back of his neck and around to his chest.

She began to tug at the bottom of his shirt, indicating that it needed to come off. Taking the hint, Scott broke away and took his shirt off, throwing it onto the floor. One by one, more clothes came off as the kiss developed further. A pile of them were at the foot of Scott’s bed, and both him and Max were naked in front of each other.

Max lay down on the bed as Scott manoeuvred himself on top of her, his eyes travelling the whole of her body. “So beautiful.” He leaned down and placed a loving kiss on her lips. One of his hands began to massage one of Max’s breasts, which made her groan into the kiss. Scott chuckled at her response and began to kiss down her body, leaving small hickeys in places that nobody could see, all while his fingers were flicking her ever growing nipple.

He stopped kissing just before her pussy which caused Max to whine. “Please, Scott. Don’t stop now.” He flashed her a devilish smile before disappearing inside her, his tongue lapping circles on her clit. Max felt the familiar sensation brewing in the pit of her stomach and she was desperate to get her release. “Scott...more....please.”

As if her knew, Scott ceased his actions and wagged his finger at Max. “Did you really think it was going to be that easy?” Max gulped as his eyes flashed a deep red. He chuckled at her silence and he slid two fingers into her, her juices acting as lube. Max’s face was in bliss as Scott’s fingers moved faster and faster inside her. He slid in a third and a fourth finger and a smile crossed his face as he felt her walls beginning to pulsate around his fingers.

Scott slid his fingers out and crawled onto her once again, sliding his long length inside of her. Max’s walls stretched to the maximum as she adjusted to his size. He was the biggest that she had ever taken and she was looking forward to the fun they were going to have.

Max gave Scott a nod before he began moving inside her. His movements were slow at first, careful not to hurt you, but soon after his alpha side took over. Scott fucked her into the bed, screams of delight and pleasure leaving his lips. His hands wrapped around her hips so tight that he was sure it was going to leave bruises.

Max could feel herself coming close to her release, so she grabbed Scott’s shoulders and squeezed as her walls clenched around Scott’s length. He released after a few more pumps and came, loud profanities leaving his lips.

Scott pulled out and lay down next to Max, pulling her into him. A thick sheen of sweat covered both of their bodies as they both lay there, heavily breathing. A loud vibration sounded from the nightstand and Max reached over to answer it. She talked for a while before hanging up and gathering her stuff to leave. Stiles was on his way home and he had offered to pick her up from Scott’s as she had left her car at home.

“I’ll see you later, Scott. Stiles is coming to pick me up.” Max left the room without looking at Scott and walked down the stairs, out of the front door. Stiles was already waiting for her by the time she had got out. Max opened the passenger door to the jeep and threw her stuff in the back before hopping inside.

“How did it go?” Max shrugged. “You know, same old boring school work. Nothing new.” Stiles nodded in agreement before starting up the jeep and driving the journey home.

The next day, Max was stood at her locker at school when Scott approached her. She kept focused on the stuff in her locker and kept packing her bag, completely ignoring him. Scott let out a small sigh. “Please talk to me.”

Max took a deep breath and closed her locker before turning to him. She tried her best to keep a straight face but the puppy dog look Scott was currently wearing was too much to handle and Max smiled at how adorable he looked. This made Scott smile, small dimples revealing themselves in his cheeks. However, that smile soon faded and concern grew on Max’s face.

“What’s wrong?” Her head cocked to the side as Scott shuffled his feet. “Do- do you regret what happened between us?” Max blushed at the question and shook her head. “Nope, do you?” He also shook his head. “Of course not, but I am a little scared that Stiles will hit me with his bat when he finds out.”

Max laughed. “Do you really think that I’m going to tell my overprotective twin brother that I had sex with out best friend?” Scott then laughed and shook his head. “I guess not.”

Scott and Max carried on their conversation and came to a realisation that, since they are such good friends and they don’t want to ruin that relationship, they should be friends with benefits.

Both of them were extremely happy with this arrangement. They kept it a secret from the pack and Stiles, of course, but when Max was alone she had lots of fun with the Alpha.

Tags: @stellastyless

#scott x oc #scott mccall #scott mccall imagine #scott mccall fanfiction #derek x oc #derek hale #isaac x oc #isaac lahey #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf smut #scott mccall smut

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valberryy · 4 years ago

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oh, eurydice (it's an awful sound). — venti

de l'autre côté de l'eau, comme un écho. / tu dis que c'est la fin du monde, c'est ton silence mon eau profonde.

um,, idk what to say cause i dont want this to b my venti summoning post but. anyways. also tagging @starfell-traveler look i finished it!!!! b proud of me /hj

pairing: venti x gn!reader

content warnings: mentions/descriptions of alcohol & blood/injuries, major character death, it's just heavy angst i'm sorry

one.

Venti still remembers the first time he heard you laugh, warm and clear and bright, like the chiming of cathedral-bells.

In those golden days when he was getting used to his new face, he often found himself wandering—much to the chagrin of his friends. If he wasn't in one of the many taverns of the newly-built Mondstadt, he was wandering these new, free lands.

And that was how he met you, the spritely scion of house Gunnhildr, who had strayed away from your envoy with a bottle of wine and leaves in your hair. He noted the mischief dancing in your eyes, the sunlight dappling on your skin, the way your mouth formed a small "o" when you saw you were not alone.

Your eyes had lit up when you caught sight of him. "Oh, my lord!" you called, "Fancy a cup and a chat, perhaps?"

Venti stood still for a moment to ponder your request, but at the sound of you popping the cork off the bottle and pouring it into a cup you had brought, he found his resolve weakening. He took a seat next to you as you pulled a stray leaf from your hair, taking a sip from your cup before passing it to him.

How brazen of you, he mused.

While cherry wine, in his opinion, could never hold a candle to the dandelion wine he had grown fond of, it tasted all the sweeter coming from you.

You had laughed at this sentiment of his, clear as the water from the lake nearby. "Is that so?" you asked. "Perhaps I'll bring some more of this kind especially for you, dearest bard."

Venti responded with a playful pluck at his lyre-strings. "I'd prefer if you called me by my name, young master Gunnhildr."

"And what would that be?"

Just as he was about to respond, the two of you caught wind of voices yelling out your name, and you flinched. "That must be for me," you said. "I shouldn't have expected to be able to hide forever."

He helped you stand, stretching out his arm to pull you up—your hand was soft and warm against his own, and the "thank you," that rolled from your lips made his heart flutter in a way he wasn't used to.

"I'd love to see you again," you said, and he smiled.

"You talk as if this is goodbye forever!" Venti joked. "We can meet here again, if you so wish."

"Then it is done," you said, and squeezed his hand as if in confirmation of your new arrangement.

And with the lightest press of your wine-stained lips to his cheek, you had run off without another word—only the sound of your distant laughter and, "Sorry, sorry! I'm back now, mother!" left in your wake.

two.

That promise had soon become habit, and habit a new way of life—one wherein you would sneak away from the rest of your family to rendezvous with Venti in the forest, to share wine and song and sweet, honeyed words alike.

(And as time wore on, you pressed your wine-stained lips to more places than just his cheek, and the cheeky bastard would have you do it again, and again, and again.)

"What d'you reckon your family would say if they figured out you were sneaking away for this?" Venti mused, "Like a hero in a romance novel."

With a laugh, you lay your head over his lap and smiled when his hand came to rest in your hair, his fingers gently playing with the strands. "Scold me, I suppose," you said. "There are worse fates than not being allowed outside for a month, my love."

You plucked a stray dandelion out of his hair, blowing the seeds to the wind.

"Hmm? And what would those be, I wonder?"

"...You're so infuriating, Venti," you grumbled, and he simply laughed and took another sip of wine—elderflower this time, tasting like spring upon his tongue. "I can't even dare imply that I want to be with you forever without you teasing me for it—what kind of lover are you? Hmph."

He paused, a teasing grin growing on his lips despite your previous words. "Are you asking me to marry you?"

An odd noise left your throat. "I mean," you said, "unless you want me to take your surname instead? ...Now that I think about it, Venti Gunnhildr doesn't quite sound the best."

A laugh, first from him, soon followed by one of your own. "Your family won't allow it, would they? But if the fates allow…there's nothing I'd love more than to be with you," he said. Gently he untangled his fingers from your hair, weaving his fingers between your own instead. "That is, if you want it too?"

A world of just you and him, a life where he would never have to stray far from your side—perhaps this was what Amos so desperately craved for, in those days. Venti watched as you removed the signet ring from your pointer finger and fit it snugly on his own, admiring your handiwork and smiling up at him.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

three.

Somehow it felt odd to see you in clothes other than the casual attire he had always seen you in. When you were seated upon your horse like this, dressed in richly-dyed leathers and embroidered silks with your family crest hanging proudly from your breast pocket, you seemed much less like the cheeky [Name] that would pluck his lyre from his hands to play your own tune, and more like the young scion of house Gunnhildr that the rest of the world saw you as.

"I'm sorry, dearest," you said, your voice thick with regret. "They only told me about this last night, so I've had no time to tell you… And father wouldn't let me refuse, so—"

Venti laughed, "When did you become such a worrywart? It's only one round of hunting, right? I'll be waiting for you back here."

You huffed, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of his lips. "Then I'll be sure to hurry on back to you."

He pulled you back down for another kiss, square on the lips this time, before letting you go. "Don't miss!" he said, calling after your horse, to which you turned and yelled back at him,

"If I do, it's your fault!"

He laughed, settling down beneath a tree and closing his eyes. You'd be there to wake him when you returned.

When Venti awoke, it was not to your hand shaking his shoulder but to a thud and the worried whinnying of a horse. His eyes snapped open as you groaned, one hand clutching your stomach and the other propping you up. When you caught his gaze you smiled weakly, too much blood in your teeth and not enough light in your eyes.

"I'm back, dearest," you said, and he had stumbled over to catch you before your arm gave out.

He pressed down on your torso, where three large gashes ran down from your chest down to your stomach, large and jagged as if from the claws of a bear. You groaned in pain and he pressed a kiss to your hand in apology, your skin pale and clammy in a way that reminded him too much of harsh, cold winds and a boy with his lyre.

"You should've seen me, Venti," you breathed, "I shot it right in the throat…are you proud of me?"

"Very," he said. "I'll always be proud of you."

You laughed, broken and pained and sad. "Good," you said, "good." Then you looked up at him, the tears welling in his eyes, the reality of his fate—your fate—finally looming upon him. "Don't look at me like that, love," you cooed. "Please, smile for me, okay? Sing for me…can you spare me at least that much?"

His grip on your hand tightened. "All of that and so much more, dandelion," he said. "Please…"

"So much more, huh…" you mused. "Then, how about one last kiss before I go?"

"...You talk as if this is goodbye," he says, but doesn't protest when you pull him down by the collar, your red-stained lips pressing weakly against his—

—But instead of the sweetness of wine, there was only the sharp bitterness of your blood in his mouth.

four.

"How far would you go for me?" was something Venti had thrown around a lot, never expecting you to give him a straight answer—not with how you shoved his shoulder and said, "Just because there wasn't a ceremony doesn't mean I'm not your spouse, Venti. Wouldn't the answer be obvious?"

But he still recalled the first time he had asked you and the first time you answered, your fingers tangled with his and your head buried in the crook of his neck. Your voice had been softer, gentler, lacking the playful edge but just as genuine as always, "From the deepest depths of the ocean to the highest to the highest peaks in the sky," you said, "Until my hands wither away into dust."

"Maybe you're the bard instead of me, love," he had said, then.

In this new world without you he found himself clinging to whatever remnants of you he could—the dappled sunlight in the forest, the slightest sting of alcohol going down, the glint of your family crest on the ring that adorned his finger.

One of his many laments was how he could never mourn you in the way he felt you deserved—he had not the power to turn back time, lacked the dominion over anything static and permanent to immortalise you with. He only had his lyre and his voice and his winds, and all he could do was paint the skies grey in his grief, have the gales sing requiems that you would never hear.

From the deepest depths of the ocean to the highest peaks in the sky he would go for you and back—and if the darkest depths of this world contained the secret to getting you back, perhaps even a mere spirit on the wind could bear the trek through the dark.

(After all, Venti knew in his heart of hearts that you would have done the same for him.)

The heart of the Abyss wasn't a land of mindless bloodshed and fire—it was cold and calculating, like a predator lying in wait. It was this place, in the depths of Teyvat and in the winding depths of their palace, that he knew could somehow bring you back to him.

"Are you the one for whom the skies wept, bard?"

Venti swallowed down the lump in his throat. "I am," he said. "I want a deal."

The person before him raised an eyebrow, canting their head to the side.

"One life," they said, "and no second chances."

Cold, and calculating, and inevitable—but still he would try. Venti owed you at least that much, no?

five.

He squeezed your hand as you trailed behind him, muttering to himself: don't look back, don't look back, don't look back. No matter how much he longed to hold you, to see your face and feel your skin beneath his, he kept his gaze to his feet as you both moved onwards into the dark.

(When he saw you again, just as beautiful as the day he lost you, he dropped his lyre to run into your arms, burying his face in the crook of your neck and surrounding himself with only you, you, you.

"Venti," you said, and he nearly wept at the way his name rolled from your tongue. "Let's go home.")

You squeezed his hand back, so gently that he almost couldn't believe you were really there. "Why don't you sing me a song, dearest?" you quipped. "Anything you like."

In spite of himself, in spite of the cold around him and behind him and in his own hand, he smiled. "Have I ever sung you the one with the mist flower and the sparrow?"

He heard you huff behind him. "That one again? You know how bad I am at hitting the notes in that!"

"Hmm, sure, sounds like an excuse to me…"

"Venti!"

He laughed and squeezed your hand again, as if to remind himself—you were here, and he was taking you home, and you would be able to feel the sun on your skin and taste wine from his cup in the way you had always loved. He would be able to write you songs and guide your hands across his lyre, and he need never stray far from your side.

You need never go somewhere where he couldn't follow.

"We're almost there," he said, resisting the urge to turn around to smile at you. "There's a bottle of wine waiting for us. It wouldn't do us any good to leave it for too long, you know?"

He squeezed your hand again, but you didn't respond.

He swallowed down the lump in his throat. His footsteps hastened, quicker and quicker until he was near-running towards where he knew the surface lay. Had he been tricked? Were you never there all along? Had you gotten lost, or fallen, or left, and left some other person in your stead?

Anxiety clutched at his heart like brambles, and Venti found his mind wandering back to those days with the wintery winds and the friends he had lost to the storms. Not again, he prayed, please, never again.

He ran until his legs ached, ran until the first drop of sunlight finally kissed his skin, and he let go of your hand to turn around—

—to see your face still shrouded in darkness, your eyes wide, your hand still reaching out for him.

"What?" he breathed, "No, please, I can't lose you again—"

You smiled, and though your teeth weren't coated in blood and your body was free from any wounds, Venti's heart had sunk even further than when he had caught you that day.

"No, love, please, I'm sorry—"

"Venti," you said, "I'll see you again soon, okay?"

"Please—"

"I love you."

With whatever time you had left, you reached out further to brush the tips of your fingers against his cheek. "Smile for me, okay? Sing me one last song…"

And before he could reach out to you again, you had once again gone somewhere he couldn't reach.

(Yours was a song he sang without end, even when all of Mondstadt had forgotten your name—and even when he felt like he didn't deserve to bear your memory.

On days when he uncorked a bottle of cherry wine or caught the Acting Grandmaster's eye, Venti found himself staring down at the ring you had placed on his finger in those golden days—and if he closed his eyes and pressed his lips to it the way you had done to him, he swears he can still hear your laugh, warm and clear and bright.)

#pls ignore how messy it gets towards the end im sorry i couldnt brain n e more #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact x reader #venti x reader #bee writes

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tipsydipsydo · 4 years ago

Text

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Gender of the Reader: female

Word Count: 3.5k

Rating: 18+

Genre: Angst; Fluff; Smut

AU: Historical/Middle Age! AU

Warnings: arranged + forced marriage; gender roles according to the period; sexual themes + sexual language; Praising; Body-Worship; Nipple Play; Fingering; First experience of an orgasm; Loss of virginity (unprotected Sex)

Summary: You're getting married tomorrow and you want to say goodbye to your mare. There you met the stable boy Taehyung for the last time, who's your best friend and childhood crush at the same time. You will experience a stormy night full of love and passion and you'll give the biggest proof of love to him...

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This following story is my intellectual property and belongs only to my blog tipsydipsydo.tumblr.com!

I’ll not accept any kind of reposting, stealing or using/editing my work!

That includes reposting my content on other social media platforms too, even when you link me as the original author.

Thank you.

With a thumping heart you peep around the corner, but the cold hallway with high stone walls lies quietly in front of you, only a few candles in their stands lit up the long corridor. The servants must have finally retired to their own rooms and even the last noises in the courtyard has fallen silent. It must be close to midnight, but you couldn't sneak away earlier. The danger of being caught has been too big. But now you grab the thin skirt of your white night gown and lift it a little bit up, so that you could walk as silently as possible along the corridor, across the courtyard to the horse stable. Light-footed you quickly put one foot in front of the other, the bright Full Moon guides you with its light the way to the stable. Quietly you open the small side door and slip in, where you’re greeted the familiar smell of horse, hay and leather.

Here, too, the torches were extinguished late. Just thinking about what a momentous day tomorrow will be will make you sick and silent tears run down your cheeks. Tomorrow you will be your wedding with a man who was already over thirty years old when you were born and whom you didn't even really know. He was here once two months ago so that you two could „get acquainted" with each other. Theobald, as he is called, has a bald head, an ugly potbelly and with every, almost frightening smirk you could get a glimpse of yellow teeth. At your first meeting, he had already patterned you with such a disgustingly lustful look that a cold shudder ran down your back and still makes you nauseous at the thought of it.

Your eyes are slowly getting used to the darkness, fortunately some Moonlight falls through the small ventilation hatches, so you can reach the last Box without tripping over something. Securely you open the door and gently push the butt of my beloved Grey Mare Estrilda to the side. Curiously, she lifts her big, noble head and turns a little to you. As if she knows what will happen to you tomorrow, she tenderly presses her head against your chest. Until now you had only cried quietly for yourself, but now, you bury your face in her soft, long mane and let your feelings run free. Why didn't your mother, when you were born, take action against being promised to such an old man?

But every time you asked her, she just shrugged with her shoulders helplessly and murmured softly,"that's just how it is, Y/N. I wanted to talk to your father, but he only saw the opportunity in finally reconciling two hostile Empires. With this marriage. You have to believe me, dear. I was hoping for something different for you. That you will be happier than I am. That you can live your life more in more freedom."

You have always been different, your curiosity, your stubbornness and your self-confidence do not correspond to the expectations one has of a daughter of the noble family. You love horses and riding, you can't do anything with jewelry, dresses out of expensive silk and velvet or perfumes. You loved to ride in the big hunt at least once a year and go hunting with your falcon Alan. You are not interested in the easy, comfortable life as the wife of a nobleman. You would much rather have helped once in the kitchen and learned how to cook a meal. But this was strictly forbidden to you, after all you are not a maid! Your wish is simply to be allowed to be as you want it to be. You do not care whether it is appropriate for a woman of your rank or not.

Your body slowly calms down from the convulsion and one last time you take the smell of your beloved mare deep into your lungs. Because she will stay here while you return to his estate with your new husband. That would become your new home. Although the wedding party will be celebrated here... but you will spend our wedding night with him on his castle. Then you will be trapped in the clutches of a sadistic, cruel and heartless ruler. You have heard some whisperings and rumors from the other Kingdom. The thought lies like a bitter, putrid taste on your tongue and your stomach twists at the thought that you have to show yourself naked to this disgusting man. You would rather burn at the stake as a wicked whore than surrender your virginity to him.

Suddenly, you hear the clatter of a fallen bucket and a dull cursing behind you, which is why you‘re startled and push yourself out of instinct into the darkest corner of the horse box. In vain, because the shadowy figure steps closer and opens the box door. Your heart beats fast, who is that and would he betray you for wandering around in the stable at night? But your anxious heart romptly calms down as you look into the soft and gentle face of Taehyung, the stable boy.

"Y/N? What are you doing here, wouldn't you have to sleep since a long time? After all, tomorrow is your wedding.", the last sentence spit Taehyung literally out. A relieved smile comes to your lips when you see your only and best friend. "Taehyung...", you murmur and fall into his arms, trying your best to suppress a sob. His muscular arms are wrapping themself around you, holding you and run tenderly his fingers through your hair.

The first time you met was on your eleventh birthday when you received Estrilda as a birthday present and he was assigned to look after the welfare of your horse. At that time he had already been fifteen, and now, nine years later, he has matured into a handsome twenty-Four year old man. He is the only one who ever understood you and even offered to run away with him when you found out about your marriage. But you would be looked for all over the country and everything would be more like a deadly skewer, which is why you sadly but thankfully refused. Above all, you do not want to expose your beloved mother to the cruel anger of your father, he would blame her if one morning you could no longer be found. It is inevitable that you must marry this disgusting, sadistic devil, whether you like it or not. But one thing you will decide for yourself...

Taehyung's masculine smell of sweat and horse calms you down more than ever and you snuggle up sobbing at his chest, steeled muscles from the daily hard work. You let your feelings run free and enjoys the gentle caresses he gives you. He is even more against the wedding than you and you have already guessed the reason for a long time. He develops feelings for you, which would go beyond your normal friendship-relationship. This assumption triggers a gentle flutter in your stomach and you wish you could be even closer to him than you already are. You both knew it, but you have never really said it out loud. For this fact requires no words. You’re in love with each other.

It was clear from the beginning that this fragile love has no future, and yet it feels so right, even though it is completely wrong. But he gives you the affection and attention that even your own mother could never give to you. Tonight, you want to give something to Taehyung that would belong to himcompletely alone. Nobody could ever steal it from him, this gift is irreplaceable.

It would be your virginity. If you have to marry such a cruel man, you want to give your innocence to someone who has proved to be worthy enough. Taehyung is worthy for it.

You detach yourself a little from his chest and look up into those beautiful dark brown eyes in which you‘re threaten to drown every time. Your fingers glide up to his strong neck, through his soft, black curls and tug on them gently until he moans softly.

“Tae... From tomorrow we will not see each other again. We only have this night left. I have already given you my heart, it will remain yours forever. But tonight I want to give you something else... My virginity shall be yours.”, you breathe softly against his lips.

Taehyung startles and looks down at you in disbelief. "B-But Y/N...I-I could never accept something like this! Such a thing like your virginity belongs to Theo-", he rambles overwhelmed and want to turn your opinion against that idea,but you just press your lips almost violently onto his.

"No. It should never belong to Theobald. If I already have to make the marriage covenant with him, then I want to be able to decide by whom my virginity will be token!", you reply to your lover and bite him hard into the lower lip.

He is still visibly surprised, but now your passion reaches him too and he respond with the same desire to your kiss. Your tongues find each other and starts a wild catching game. Heat rises in your bodies, reaches every pore of your body and makes this unknown feeling of pleasure pulsate through your veins. You long for Taehyung's love, one last time you want to feel his affection before you go to hell tomorrow. At least once you want to see heaven before you are banished to hell for the Rest of your life. The breath of your loved one becomes faster, he is panting, this kiss alone pushes you both in such a tremendous passion, which you have kept so forcibly hidden from each other otherwise.

"L-Let‘s go to the hayloft...", Taehyung murmurs at your neck in a deep, hoarse voice. You nod breathlessly, you are completely overwhelmed by the feelings that a simple kiss can trigger in you if you just love someone with your whole heart. Securely, you climb one by one the narrow wooden ladder up to the hayloft and you two throw tightly wrapped up into the hay. Your lips can hardly keep away from each other. The desire and longing for Taehyung increases every moment.

"Please...", you whisper in a whimpering voice, your body feels like it's on fire and this unknown longing for union drags you into a swirl. But Taehyung wants to get to know you and your breathtaking body, trying to memorize as much as possible. He never wants to forget how you look, feel, smell and taste. The cords of your nightgown are opened unnoticed by him, suddenly you just feel the scratchy hay under you and his loving hands on your skin.

"Beautiful.... So beautiful...", he mutters again and again under his breath. His eyes wanders over your exposed body, blown out eyes lingering on your breasts. Taehyung admired you silently since you’ve met for the first time, you always took his breath with your beauty away. Especially the last few years he realized what kind of effect you have on him, how you’ve grown up from the little wild princess to a confident young Lady. How his own and your Body has changed of the years and with it, how his maybe not so innocent desires awakened in him.

You are gorgeous, he can’t even describe your majestic body in words properly, you leave him speechless. You look better than in his sinfully fantasies he has at night, tossing his sweaty and needy Self around in Bed, trying to prevent those indecent thoughts about his own best friend. Well, his love of his life. He shouldn’t think that way about the princess, is he insane or something?! Still, he couldn’t reject his feelings for you, neither you could.

You both will end up in hell, you’re doing so sinful things right now but why they’re feeling so good? Why is it a sin to have such desires, to have the need to feel so close to each other, why are you sinning when you feel so much love, desire and pleasure that you couldn’t bear it anymore? You couldn’t understand and you would never.

„My royal highness, m-may I ask if you allow me to touch your Breasts?”, stutter Taehyung out, gulping hard and biting his lower lip in desperation. He knows he would hurt you somehow through fusion of your bodies but alone the thought of it hurts him right in his heart. Taehyung doesn’t wants to be the one who’s hurting you, he wants that you’ll keep this night as good as possible in your memory.

„O-Oh my god, Taehyung... d-don’t call me that, please just call me by my Name. ...and please, oh please touch me, I want to feel your Hands all over my Body!”, you pant out whimpering, arching your spine to encourage Taehyung in his actions.

A deep, longing moans leaves his lips, finally touching and kissing every conceivable part of your body. For the first time and probably also for the last time in your life, you will learn what this true love is. Something of which so many Minnesingers always sing about. It feels so indescribably good that the tears are just running down your cheeks, you can’t hold them anymore, you feel too good, too loved. Only this night you want to see heaven before you have to burn in hell as a deflowered whore until the end of your life. But this one time is worthy for you to sin. A lustful moan escapes your lips as his lips enclose one of your nipples and caress them tenderly with his tongue.

Countless whispers and pleads are falling from your slightly parted lips, you’re chanting his name like a mantra. Every noise that comes from your tongue let Taehyung‘s need to pleasure you even more grow. Almost helpless, as if you’re drowning, you grab Tae‘s strong Biceps and look up to him. Your eyes are sparkling from the tears which ran down your cheeks, the unconditional love in them is crushing Taehyung‘s Soul.

"Oh Y/N, I love you so much... I don’t know how to express them so they would portray the pure feelings I have for you in my chest, in my soul. Please let me show you something else...", he wispers into your ear, nibbling tenderly on your earlobe.

His other hand glides through the valley of your breasts, over your stomach down your sweet and hot center. You whine softly, you’re a little flustered, nobody touched you down there in such a way before. Almost automatically your thighs want to close again, just Taehyung’s gentle and caressing hand keep you from doing so.

"Shhh, my precious Angel, don’t be ashamed... you’re gorgeous and so beautiful, you can’t imagine how bad I want you. You smell so delicious, you’re driving me insane! Would you like to continue or should I stop? I will do whatever you want, just tell me..", murmurs Taehyung’s low voice, you can clearly hear the tremble of arousal in it. After you took a few deep breaths to calm your oversensitive nerves, you’re spreading slowly your thighs for him.

Taehyung‘s eyes are fixated on your face, watching patiently your facial reactions for any discomfort. Now, his hand is coming to life again and moves forward until it disappeared between your legs. His fingertips moves incredibly gentle over your soft pussy lips, slowly parting them and let his fingers soak in your lust juice. They run up and down, teasing your clit and preparing your entrance for his length.

Waves of Lust electrify your whole Body, every fiber and nerve is pumped full of sexual desire and you’re gasping for air. You’ve never felt that way before, you have no clue what kind of sweet spot that is but you want Taehyung to touch it over and over again.

Why does sinning feels so incredible good? You’re fallen for the devils work, you love sinning when it feels that amazing.

"Please, please, please... Taehyung, do that again, it feels so good-", you sob out, holding on his broad shoulders as if your life depends on him. Honestly, it does.

"Yeah? Does that feel good, my Princess? Do you want more?", rasps your beloved Taehyung. His fingers speeds up, flicking your cute little pearl with his thumb in a rapid pace now. His middle and ringfinger is pounding into your tight, pulsating channel and is stretching you open. His movement creates lewd squelching noises which makes you a little blush. The coil of lust in your abdomen grows unstoppable, you don’t know to handle this unfamiliar feeling. Your Body is shaking, whimpers and choked out whines filling the hay loft. You don’t understand what is happening, just pure unfiltered need and desire clouded your mind and you can’t think straight anymore.

"Oh my- Oh my god, Tae... I-I am... I don’t know what is happening-"

"I know Baby, everything is okay, just let yourself go... I‘m here, I will catch you when you’re falling apart..."

It just needs a few more strokes of his thumb on your oversensitive clit until the ball of pleasure bursts open and fills every pore of your body with pure ecstasy. You can’t hold your tears of pleasure back anymore, the small and so precious diamonds are rolling out of the corner of your eye until Taehyung’s Lips are catching them.

"Baby... are you alright? Did it felt good?", he asks quietly and rubs soothingly over the top of your thighs. Avoiding your center on purpose, he doesn’t want to overstimulate you even further.

"T-Tae... that- that felt so good... h-how did you do that? I-I can’t hold my tears back, I am sorry!" A weak sob leaves your lips and you bury your face into Taehyung’s chest. He caress you gently, whispering sweet nothings and praises into your ear, worshipping you to the fullest. Promising you to show you how you can make yourself feeling that good, teaching you how you can make love to yourself.

After you came down from your high, you gently grab the soft baby hair in his nape and move his face towards you.

"Taehyung, I want to feel you as close as possible, I want to merge with you, I want to make love to you- ...I want you.", you whisper and hold his face in your hands, looking him deep into his eyes.

"Oh, I will... I will serve you with everything you wants,my Dear. Please lay down and spread those beautiful legs for me again...", he answers and smile softly at you. The sweet love names he picked for you makes your stomach flutter und the blush on your cheeks is darkening. Taehyung gives you a last sweet smile full of love before your lips meet again and he pushes into you.

A short, stabbing pain flares through your body, but that was all. He holds still into you until you give him the permission to move. At first, it was a slow and gentle rhythm but your sweet moans and whimpers encourage him to go faster and in the end he looses all his control over his suppressed sexual needs. Making love to you in the most passionate way possible.

He shows you the heaven on earth and love takes on a whole new meaning for you. You trust him unconditionally and he shows you that you are equal. You are an equal woman, an equal person for him. He loves and respects you. All this is the most beautiful thing you have ever experienced in your life. You have given him your virginity and he has given you a son with these wonderful brown eyes and dark curls.

"Mother, why do you always cry when you see me? I didn't do anything today... ", asks your little six-year-old son and looked at you questioningly with those chocolate brown eyes that bring you to tears every time.

"You look so much like your father. Your real father."you say quietly.

"Did he hurt you, Mommy?", he asks with big fearfully eyes and you quickly shake your head.

"No, not at all! H-He had been the only man who had ever really loved me...“

„...the only one to whom my heart will forever belong."will you bring barely audible over your lips.

#btswritersguild #bangtanhq #bts smut #taehyung middle age au #bts x reader #bangtanarmynet #taehyung smut #bts medieval au #thehouseofbangtan #taehyung x reader #purplearmynet #bts x reader smut #bts angst #deflowered #bts fluff #bts x reader medieval

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toomanyrobins · 4 years ago

Text

a little bird told me pt. 5

Summary: Y/N “Birdie” Parker left New York and her family three years ago in the middle of the night. Now, a call for help to her best friend brings her back into the fold of the Three Families and their “business”

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Parker!Reader

Content warning: physical abuse, miscarriage, allusions to fertility issues, cursing, mentions of forced marriage

Word Count: 2k

Notes: Surprise! It’s a boy!

Series masterlist // next part

The first day Y/N felt like herself and the injuries had mostly healed, Pepper insisted on them going into the city and shopping. With the holidays coming up, they had a lot of events they would be required to attend and Y/n didn’t think that her old style suited her very well. Before going to meet her mom, she stopped by the Ivory to drop off a coffee to Tony and Peter. The former had tried to convince her to bring some guards with her, but she rolled her eyes at his overprotectiveness. She was outside the office texting Pepper, when she heard squeaking. When she looked up there was nothing there. She heard the noises again and followed it into the hallway. Y/N knelt down and stared into the blue eyes of a diapered baby. “Well, hello. Who do you belong to?” she lifted him out and settled him on her hip. As she shook the toy, he babbled at her.

“Jamie? Jamie!” Frantic male voices were heard calling through halls.

“If Jamie is a baby, you’ll find him in here with me!” Steve came flying around the corner, a wild look in his eyes. He lifted Jamie from her arms and hugged him to his chest, kissing his forehead.

Y/n was surprised to see so much open affection from the blond. She tilted her head and stared, “So… who’s is he?”

“Mine,” his eyes never left the baby.

“You have a kid?” Y/N felt a twinge in her heart. Another thing she had missed because of her selfishness.

“You’d know about all of this if you had stuck around.” she winced at the harsh comment and before Steve could apologize, Bucky and Sam came running around the corner, “JAMIE!” They both ran over and quickly checked on the baby as well. The diapered infant just babbled at the three men and shook his toy, basking in the attention.

“If you don’t mind my asking, how did he end up in the hallway in just a diaper?”

Steve glared at his two friends, “I made the mistake of leaving him in the care of these idiots. I have meetings for George all day.”

“He just got away from us while we were having a discussion about what outfit to put him in,” Bucky at least had the decency to look ashamed about losing his nephew.

Sam turned to him and pointed a finger, “You know the whales are much more stylish, Barnes.”

Y/N looked at the men and shook her head, “I can help watch him. We could call it part of my amends.”

“Birdie, you don’t---” She gave him a don’t mess with me look and Steve sighed, “Would you, really? That would be a huge help. He just started crawling and it’s been an adjustment. Obviously.”

“I was going to go shopping with Pepper. I’ll just bring him along.”

“You’re bringing some men with you, right?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, “No, I hadn’t planned on it. Tony tried the same thing.” A mischievous grin spread across her face, “But, since they already had their day cleared to watch Jamie, I’m sure Bucky and Sam will be up to the task.”

“I thought if you would take the kid, I could get some other stuff done.”

“You thought wrong, Buckaroo. Boys, pack your bags. We leave in an hour.” Steve and Y/N walked away, talking about Jamie’s routine. The other two men were left glaring at each other, still bitter about their argument earlier. The duo walked into Steve’s office and were greeted with a baby explosion.

The blond cursed under his breath, “I swear this room was organized when I left an hour ago.”

“I believe you, big guy.” She patted his arm, before turning to Jamie and picking him up, “Okay, little man, let’s get you dressed.” Y/N made quick work and blew a raspberry on his stomach when she was done. A huge smile grew across her face when she heard the baby giggles. She looked up and saw a strange look on Steve’s face, “What? Is there something on my face?”

“It’s just so strange to see you again.”

“Stevie…”

“I’m not saying this to make you feel bad. I’m glad you’re back. I’d forgotten what life was like with you around.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean let’s face it, Birdie, you have the nickname for a reason. You never stayed in one place long enough and it was exhausting the amount of energy you had.”

“Am I still that same person in your eyes?”

“Some of it is the same. It was always hard to imagine you settling down. But, the minute you are around kids, it’s an entirely different story. If you ever decide to settle down, you will be an amazing parent.”

Y/N’s heart clenched at the thought of her secret. She felt herself starting to get emotional and busied herself by going through the diaper bag. Once she had herself back under control, she smiled up at him, “Well, you made a damn cute kid, Stevie.”

“Don’t I know it,” he smiled down at his son. Y/N couldn’t help but laugh to herself at the imagery of the large man holding such a small child. “Okay, Jamie, be good for Birdie. I’ll see you later. Oh, and here’s a key to my truck and the apartment in case you’re done before I am.”

“I’ll text you plenty of photos.”

“Thank you for this,” Steve leaned down to kiss her cheek and whispered in her ear, “I missed you more than you know.” He had left her breathless with that last comment and she moved robotically as she put Jamie into the car and headed to meet Pepper. Her mother had raised her eyebrow at her showing up with the baby, Sam, and Bucky, but laughed when she heard the whole story.

While her mother enjoyed shopping, the activity was the bane of Y/N’s existence. They moved quickly through the stores, grabbing what she needed and trying things on. Jamie was on his best behavior, even clapping a few times when Y/N had come out of the dressing room. Despite the fact that they all knew it didn’t mean anything, anything the baby reacted to was purchased. By the time they had finished, everyone was dead on their feet and the baby was knocked out in his stroller.

Y/N decided to let Pepper take all of the clothes back to the house and she went back to Steve’s apartment to put Jamie down for a proper nap. Walking through the door was like entering a time capsule. The only difference was the addition of baby things. She walked through the hallway and looked at the pictures and framed sketches on the wall. Y/N stopped in front of a picture of them from Tony’s infamous Christmas party four years ago. Steve had been her guard for over a year at that point and the two of them had spent practically every day together. It was hard to believe how much the two people in that photo had changed. As she moved further down, the sketches she had stolen and framed for him still had pride of place. Her musings were interrupted by her phone chirping:

Steve: I’m sorry, but meetings are running longer than planned. Are you okay with Jamie? You can bring him to Becca if you have plans.

Y/N: No plans. I’m happy to stay. You focus on work. Little man and I got this.

She walked into the kitchen and found a drawer of takeaway menus and the cabinets only filled with food for Jamie. When he woke up from his nap, she pulled her shoes on, “This won’t do, little man. We are going to the grocery store." Y/N strapped Jamie to her chest and walked to the nearest store. They made quick work at the shop, filling the cart with essentials. Once she got back to the apartment, she put the baby in his high chair with a snack. Music filled the kitchen as she danced around.

Steve came home and followed the delicious smells and music playing. He found Y/N in the kitchen, dancing with Jamie in her arms. He leaned on the door frame, watching her hips sway as she switched her focus between what was on the pan in front of her and his son. Birdie Stark was definitely not a teenager anymore. He walked into the kitchen and put his hand on her waist, making her jump. “Jesus!”

He chuckled and took Jamie from her, “Nope, just me, sweetheart.”

“You scared the crap out of me.”

He apologized, but didn’t sound that sorry. He stared down at her, thinking how the flush on her cheeks from the heat suited her. “Are you making dinner?”

Y/N suddenly looked nervous. “I’m not overstepping, am I? You said you’d be working late and I thought I’d help out,” she looked up at him and smirked, "Plus, I saw the takeaway drawer.”

“It’ll be a cold day in hell when I’m mad at a home cooked meal. But from what I remember, you once set fire to a pot of water.”

She threw her head back and laughed, “That was almost five years ago, I will have you know. My skills have vastly improved. Y/N realized how close she and Steve were standing. She pulled away and felt his hand slip away from where it had been resting comfortably on her waist. He cleared his throat and turned his attention to Jamie who was babbling at him.

Y/N dished up two plates and got Jamie’s bottle ready. “Birdie, you don’t have to do that. I can feed him and eat after.”

“You’ve been at work all day, Steve, and I know for a fact you forget to eat. I don’t mind, really.” She settled herself on the couch with Jamie in her arms and her plate on the arm. . He held his own bottle and she ate a few bites while staring at the baby in her arms. She was entirely unaware of Steve watching her,

He rubbed his eyes and took a pull from his beer, “I can’t believe it’s only 7. I feel like today will never end.”

“Did you say 7? Shit!” Y/N looked worried, “I need to go.” She had forgotten that she had made an appointment with a doctor to make sure that she wasn’t pregnant. Her paranoia had taken over and she had to be sure.

“Why? Where are you going?”

“Birdie, you’ve been going all day. Just reschedule.”

“I can’t, Steve.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t tell you.” They sat in awkward silence, the only noise coming from Jamie and he hungrily sucked at the bottle. She kept her eyes on the baby and whispered, “Are you mad at me?”

Steve sighed and came to kneel down in front of her, “Why would I be mad at you, sweetheart?”

She ran a finger over Jamie’s cheek, biding her time, “Because I’m keeping secrets. That tends to make others angry.”

“God, Birdie, no. I’m not angry. I’m disappointed that you think you aren’t safe to share, but i never want you to be scared of me.” Y/N nodded sadly. Steve wanted herto tell him everything, “Want to help me put Jamie to bed?

She shook her head and passed the baby to him, “I should go. It’s late.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll just call for a driver. You haven’t seen Jamie all day, you should spend some time together.” Y/N grabbed her bag and jacket, and leaned over to kiss the wiggling child.

“I have tomorrow afternoon off, want to go for lunch?” Steve tilted her head up to meet her eyes, “We can go to Galletti’s.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Y/N got on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek, “Night, Stevie.”

He grinned, “What have I told you about calling me that?”

“Follow through on your threat and I might actually take you seriously.”

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starlocked01 · 3 years ago

Text

The Black Coffee Widower

AO3 Link

Dukexiety Week Day 3- Coffee Shop

WC: 4.2K

Summary: Virgil works the late-night shift at the local coffee shop. That's where he poisons and picks up his victims. He wasn't ready for the one who didn't fight back.

Content Warnings (there's a lot today): Serial Killer/Coffee Shop AU Unsympathetic Virgil, Poisoning, Kidnapping, Swearing, Gun Violence, Negative Self-talk, Self Hatred, Murder and Attempted Murder, Implied Sexual content. Sexual innuendo, referenced rape, referenced mutilation, Strangulation, Hospitals, Police

@dukexietyweek

The simple fact was that they glowed. Virgil had long ago given up on trying to explain it to himself; they just glowed when he saw them. It was like a premonition- a beautiful soft light that needed to be contained lest it sullied the rest of the world by leaving it dim and grungy in comparison.

Virgil was grungy. He knew very well he didn't and would never glow as they did. Maybe that was the reason why. Maybe if he ever had to tell someone why he did it, he'd tell them that.

He killed them because they glowed and no one should be able to glow.

However, he'd never cared all that much about the whys. The hows were so much more fun. How did he pick his victims? Easy. They glowed and walked in at the wrong time. How did a weak, little, pathetic loser subdue the perfect glowing people? Bitter coffee was a perfect cover for bitter poisons. How did he end their lives? Any way he pleased.

How did he avoid detection? A healthy dose of anxiety kept him careful. Too many of the brightest glowing people escaped because they'd be missed. He never went by his legal name anywhere. He stayed patient and alert. He was the nobody that no one could ever remember. Playing barista sucked but it was the perfect cover. No one ever suspected the sulky, little, dimwitted worker stuck on the insomniacs shift at the quiet little 24-hour cafe. And no one ever really noticed if the store's hours were a bit unpredictable between 2 am and 4 am. That was the best time for hunting; it worked and Virgil wasn't going to stop anytime soon.

---

Virgil knelt, his latest catch already unconscious and tied up behind the counter when the doorbell chimed. Cursing at himself for forgetting to lock the door, Virgil grabbed a refill pack of napkins and stood cautiously. He gasped, finding the man who had entered shone twice as brightly as the woman he already had tied up. Certain that Miss Double-Soy-Latte-with-Hazelnut-Syrup-and-Whipped-Cream-you-got-that-Sugar? wasn't about to wake up and cause a scene, Virgil watched the man as he studied the menu.

The first thing he would do is take the man’s studded wrist gauntlet and fishnet fingerless gloves. Those things couldn't belong to someone who glows. Virgil squinted and could just make out a loosely looped studded belt to match, hanging off the man’s hip and exposing his lack of undergarments. Virgil hungrily followed the curve of that hip with his eyes up to the man's stomach peeking out underneath the ragged edge of a homemade cropped band t-shirt. He wanted to punch that stomach, to feel what it was like when the man tensed and when he stayed soft in compliance.

Next, he stared at shapely arms crossed in front of the man's chest. Those arms looked strong as a vice and he wondered how much effort it would take to break those delicate bones to render the muscles useless. Would he break first?

The man wore a sleeveless leather vest, displaying a museum's worth of inkwork, tentacles and snakes, and other writhing forms accented periodically with teeth and eyes and fangs and beaks. A rendition of the Harry Potter Death Eater mark set into the shoulder and tattooed thorns circled his neck. Virgil found himself getting hot under the collar and decided two in one night would be a fun challenge.

It was hard to see the man’s face until he flashed Virgil a brilliantly blinding smile as if on cue. The smile was all the sign Virgil needed to know this man would die tonight. He was practically begging Virgil to save him from the light radiating from his face. His gorgeous, handsome, wild-eyed face.

Virgil wanted so badly to touch the messy, overdue 5 o'clock shadow, to feel the scars left by razor nicks and frequent skin irritation. He wanted to wipe away the heavy eyeliner and mascara, run dirty fingers through greasy, dyed hair. He wanted those eyes to see him for who he is so he could spare them the pain of hoping there had been another ending once he'd entered the shop.

If the stranger was uncomfortable with his intense gaze, he certainly didn't show it as he approached the counter. Virgil squirmed as a cacophony of overlapping mismatched beats of a second hand overwhelmed his entire sense of hearing. Looking down, he quickly spotted a wristwatch on the unconscious woman's wrist and stepped on it to deaden the maddening sound. Soon all he could hear was the new customer's watch ticking erratically as though it needed to be wound up.

"Heya, kitten! Like what you see, baby?" the man smirked at Virgil as he leaned down on the counter and made sultry suggestive eyes at him.

"Excuse me?" Virgil hissed, recoiling from the familiarity.

"Woah, kitty's got claws huh?" the man giggled. Virgil stiffened, well aware how close the man could come to looking down and spotting the woman. And if he attempted to turn him in it wouldn't end pretty. He didn't want to have to clean up the shop after a struggle before having his fun.

"What are you ordering?" Virgil asked tersely.

"Me-ow. Guess you don't swing my way- darn. I bet you've got a totally bodacious booty too," the man batted his eyelashes at Virgil.

"That isn't on the menu. Order or get lost, yeah?" Virgil growled, trying to seem as disinterested in the enticing man as he could manage.

"Right. Seven shots of espresso, a shot of creamer, and a shot of the pineapple ginger concentrate, s'il vous plait," the man listed off as though he'd ordered the same thing a hundred times.

Virgil froze, unsure how to ring up the disgusting concoction, "what the hell? What kind of drink is that?"

"It's like me. One of a kind," the man beamed, brushing bleached silver hair out of his eyes, "can you handle that, kitty kat?"

"Stop with the pet names," Virgil rolled his eyes and finished inputting the drink, "um.. that will be… $6.69."

"Eyo! Sixty niiiiiiine," the man giggled emphatically while pulling out his money to pay.

Virgil rolled his eyes, "childish. Name for the order?"

"Uh, your phone number."

"What?"

"Damn you don't take hints!" the man placed one hand on his chest and bowed with a flourish, "my name is Remus, and I think you're very cute, kitty kat."

"You are maddening! Just call me Virgil!" he snapped, getting a cup ready to prepare the last drink Remus would ever have, "it's gonna take a minute to pull all those shots. Gosh… that much caffeine could kill you…" Virgil smirked at his own joke.

Remus took the smirk for a friendly smile and grinned, "I got all night for you, Virgil."

"That's cute. I'll let you know when it's ready," Virgil smiled, making direct eye contact as he added his favorite blend of sedatives to Remus’s cup.

It only took 30 seconds before Remus hit the floor with a confused grunt. Virgil was almost impressed the man had downed half the drink in one gulp. Moving quickly, Virgil locked the shop and dragged Remus back behind the counter, binding and gagging the flirtatious idiot. Tonight was going to be so special.

---

It hadn’t been easy, moving both bodies- cursing his weak, pathetic self the entire time. He made sure to dose both of them again after stashing them in the trunk so he could go back and finish out his shift.

He smiled pleasantly at the officers who stopped by just before the morning shift, careful to not give them any reason to be suspicious as he packed up day-old donuts and prepared two drinks nearly as caffeinated as Remus’s drink had been but significantly less poisoned. But still a little poisoned because fuck the police.

It took every muscle in Virgil’s body to not run gleefully to the car when the morning shift came to relieve him from work. He hid his excitement behind his usual persona of snarky disinterest and exhaustion until he was safely in the car and blasting his favorite CD on the drive home.

Pulling directly into the garage, Virgil shut down the car and giggled as the door shut slowly on his prisoners' last hope for rescue. Working at a leisurely pace, Virgil dragged first Remus then the woman down into his basement, both drowsy and barely able to make a complaint. It only seemed fair they die in the order they'd been caught so Virgil laid Remus out on the couch while he tied the woman down to his workbench.

The woman began to moan pathetically just as Virgil was tying down the last limb. It was not a moment too soon. He chuckled to himself and smacked her face a few times to help her wake up.

"Look alive, sunshine! You won't be much longer, I'm afraid," Virgil quipped as she blinked awake and started to panic at the restraints holding her down.

God, he hated when they screamed almost as much as he hated the watches. Virgil waited as long as he could stand the high-pitched whining pleas for freedom and help before loudly shushing until she quieted.

"Shh! Stop yelling or I will restrict your breathing," Virgil hissed, laying a prohibitive finger to her lips, "I promise you'll live longer if you stay quiet."

"You'll let me go?"

"No. I'll just take my time," Virgil smirked as the color drained from her face and her lip began to quiver, "ohh. Ohh, don't be so dramatic, sweetheart. It's time to grow up and realize death is inevitable."

Virgil laughed as she started screaming again, only turning away when Remus stirred from his sleep.

"Oh, dear. You've woken up my other guest. Now you know, he's special. You're going to have the life choked out of you, slowly but surely, but he gets to lose a lot more than his life. Count yourself lucky, sweetheart." Virgil turned to examine the man on the couch again as he blearily blinked up at him.

"You coulda'sked, kitkat," Remus mumbled nearly incomprehensibly. Virgil tilted his head in confusion as he watched Remus. The man slowly regained awareness, and even as Virgil stood above him with a hard frown, he smiled back up at his captor.

"What the hell are you getting on about?" Virgil asked with a growl, hoping to startle that unsettling grin off Remus’ face.

Remus laughed, "you coulda just asked if you wanted to do a scene, cutie! Although I love the attention to realism. Like you actually drugged me to bring me home!"

Virgil stared, completely in shock at what he was hearing, "wait.. you think…"

"That you were too shy to ask me out so you drugged me and dragged me back home? Yes," Remus nodded enthusiastically, "if you have some whips and an electric hand mixer we can have some real fun, you sexy little kitten!" Remus bumped his eyebrows suggestively, leaving Virgil absolutely stunned.

"What is going on here?!?" the woman on the table cried out.

"Shut the hell up!" Virgil barked back at her, too confused to do much more than stare at Remus. Why did he like this? Why did Virgil like that Remus liked this? He felt hot and confused but also certain about one thing he absolutely wanted.

Experimentally he reached down and laid his hand on Remus’ exposed stomach. Watching Remus for his reaction, Virgil slowly slid his hand along the skin and up to Remus’s chest. Remus shut his eyes with a smile and shivered at the touch, "oh yeah, baby. I can purr for you, kitty. Anything you want."

Virgil inhaled sharply, pulling back his hand and looking back at the other prisoner as she lay whimpering on the table.

Well shit, what was he supposed to do with a captive audience?

---

Virgil didn't know what he'd been thinking, letting Remus go after all was said and done. Remus had been fun and so down for all of his sickest fantasies, supplying quite a few of his own. He'd stolen Remus’ watch and put it on the woman's body before shooting both timepieces on her wrist. The ticking had probably driven him to let Remus go. That had to explain it

He dumped the woman as far as he possibly could and hoped beyond reason that Remus wouldn't recognize her in the news and realized what he'd done. For a week he lived in fear of the cops showing up at work or worse his house, armed with search warrants and one hell of a witness. For a week, nothing happened.

It turned out he'd worried for nothing. Just when Virgil began to itch again to get rid of another glowing being, despite the police pressure pushing him to lay low, Remus came back in during his shift.

"Hello, my little purrrfect kitten!" Remus beamed as he walked into the shop.

Virgil froze and slowly turned back to face him, "you- you came back?"

"Mhm. Never got your number but I wanted to see you again, Virgie. Figured we could have some more fun this time," Remus smirked as he leaned casually against the counter, "one usual with the special sauce please!"

"Special sauce?" Virgil asked, still amazed Remus had even come back to the cafe.

"You know," Remus leaned in close and whispered, "the stuff that knocks me out so you can take me home and we can get it on freakier than my last BDSM club"

"Wow, you- you liked it that much?" Virgil let out a low whistle. He studied Remus again, stricken by the fact he didn't glow so much this time. Even though Virgil wanted to take care of another glowing bastard, he was so much more interested in this willing abductee.

"Yeah, I did! That shit's hot as fuck!" Remus beamed. Virgil checked the time on his terminal display and realized it was nearly the time his least favorite police patrons would be making their morning run.

"Look, uh… why don't we save the tranqs for my place?" Virgil smirked as he started to prepare Remus’ strange order, "I'm amazed this drink doesn't put you in a coma already."

Remus giggled, "sometimes it takes a little something extra to get the heart pumping, yeah?"

"Hm. Well, I get off in two hours-"

"I'll be sitting right here in the corner then. I wanna get to know you, Virgie."

"A horrible mistake for you, really," Virgil laughed, heart fluttering far too much.

"Plus I think I left my watch at your place…"

"I haven't seen it this week. We can look though," Virgil lied smoothly, knowing very well the police had the timepiece in evidence.

Remus kept flirting as Virgil cleaned the store and served the early morning crowd, true to his word about waiting to leave with Virgil. They walked out to his car and Remus held out his arm expectantly when they sat down.

"What?" Virgil asked suspiciously.

"You're off the clock, let's get this party started. Surely you have the special stuff in here- you injected me last time."

Virgil flushed, "um.. really? You don't want to wait to know where we're going first?"

"How am I supposed to pretend I'm getting kidnapped if you don't knock me out? At least tie my hands?" Remus bat his eyes at Virgil who rolled his eyes and leaned over to grab a scarf out of the glove box.

"You're ridiculous."

"Yeah but you like it, kitten."

---

Logan stared at the evidence bored, absolutely baffled. In 5 months there had been 18 victims, a consistent signature, and every promise that someone would turn up with a connection to this perp. Or someone should know where these folks had been headed when they fell into the unsub's trap.

And then after Lydia with the two watches- nothing. No bodies were found for weeks. No whisperings of the media-named Black Widower who aggressively mutilated his male victims almost beyond recognition after raping them and humiliated the women after strangling them with silk scarves.

"I just don’t understand. Guys like this don’t go dormant! It's against every drive they have. What are we missing, Patton?"

Patton looked up from his third cup of coffee, "I don't know, Lo. What about the two-unsub theory? Maybe they met up and are keeping each other occupied?"

Logan rolled his eyes, "oh sure. Two serial killers, one who's gay and one who hates women meet and start playing house. Real cute."

"It could happen…" Patton replied defensively, already reaching for a second donut as his partner glared disapprovingly.

"No. I think it's the same unsub. The watches are always shot while the victim wears them. It's consistent. It's a single, unique signature that the media still hasn't published. If it's two different killers, they knew about each other and were purposefully copying each other long before they went dormant."

"Well, I'm not going to complain that we aren't finding more victims. I'd rather people not be mysteriously killed and maimed by the Black Widower...s," Patton lifted his chin defiantly. He stood and walked over to the evidence board, studying the geographic profile again, the map showing a confusing cluster of dumpsites, victim's homes, and last sightings, and puzzled over the strangeness of the case.

"If this case goes cold, we may never find the unsub. He lives his life, free to decide to start again while all of his victims lay rotting in the ground. Their families don't deserve to live with that fear," Logan sighed heavily in near defeat, "of course I don’t want more victims. I want this man caught. Why did he suddenly stop?"

---

For a month, Remus had come in once or twice a week, asking Virgil for the secret sauce and flirting with him until the end of his shift. The randomness of his timing and anticipation of his visits made it impossible for Virgil to hunt. He didn't quite mind because seeing Remus was always better than the thrill of the kill.

Virgil finally relented and watched with quiet admiration as Remus celebrated over getting his number, and their relationship only moved faster after that. Pretty soon Remus was able to convince him to go on an actual date after work, grabbing breakfast at a nearby diner and hitting up his apartment afterward. Virgil had rarely spent so long away from his own home, but being out with Remus made him feel almost normal.

Media slowly stopped covering the Black Widower and Virgil smiled to himself just imagining how frustrated the police must be that they couldn't find him.

Virgil was happy, laying next to his boyfriend who loved him despite almost every eccentricity. He almost believed nothing could go wrong with Remus there.

"Uh, kit kat? I have a bit of a confession to make," Virgil winced, cursing himself for being so naive to believe that foolish sentiment.

"What’s up, dukey?" Virgil rolled to his side to face his boyfriend, "you can tell me anything."

"I don't- promise you won't get mad or like.. react badly?" Remus asked quietly, alarming Virgil even more.

He gently laid a hand on Remus’ neck and rubbed that roughened cheek with his thumb, "what's going on, Rem? You're scaring me."

Remus visibly gulped and whispered, "I know what happened to my watch. Virgil, I've always known.."

Virgil pulled back slowly. So this is what it actually felt like to be caught. His heart hammered in his throat, making a verbal reply impossible. He strained to not start crushing Remus’ throat and his own heart in his panic. This was love and this was a threat and god the way Remus looked at him right now only complicated everything else so much more.

He wasn't scared. He wasn't wriggling away from Virgil’s touch. Remus stared death in the eye unflinchingly.

He'd always figured his boyfriend must be brave or stupid, but Virgil hadn't counted on both.

"I know… what you are… and I still fell in love with you, Virgil. If you're gonna… could you at least drug me first and let me kiss you with my last breath?"

Very quickly several pieces fell into place as Virgil stared at the man who loved him despite every flaw and couldn't even beg for his own safety or life.

Remus knew what happened the night they met.

Remus had made the connections to the other murders and the subsequent drought of victims.

Remus could have turned him in- directly to the officers at the shop a half dozen times and a hundred other times when they weren’t spending time together.

Remus loved him.

Remus loved him and was scared of this confrontation.

Remus was not scared of dying.

Killing his boyfriend would be the exact link the cops would need to capture him.

Not killing his boyfriend for knowing his secret would be the largest risk imaginable.

Virgil couldn’t live without Remus

His hand was slowly choking Remus out despite his reluctance to take action.

Virgil gasped and pushed Remus away roughly, darting out of the bed and down the hall. He didn't stop until he heard Remus calling out for him.

Shit.

"Virgil!" his voice came out hoarse and painfully weak sounding. Virgil knew he should run.

But Remus was calling for him. And this was his fault.

"Virgil?" it was a question, asked in a voice that couldn't get enough air to support itself. He could leave and Remus would probably die a very painful death, all alone, with his fingers and palm emblazoned in the bruising that would provide the cause of death.

Remus loved him. He couldn't let this be the end.

Virgil flew back into the bedroom, grabbed the landline, and made the call.

"Remus, I am so sorry. Just keep breathing, baby. I am so so sorry!" Virgil apologized profusely, waiting for the emergency operator to pick up.

---

Hospital staff had to pry Virgil from Remus’ side as they moved him quickly into the O.R. Virgil paced and wondered how exactly to explain Remus’s injuries without getting arrested to distract himself from the fear that Remus would die in surgery.

He should have never let himself get so close to someone so smart and funny and perfect and… glowing. Virgil sat and waited for the doctor's verdict, pulling his hood over his eyes to block out the throngs of injured, sick, frantically glowing people around him.

Ages passed until Virgil heard his name and looked up suddenly for the source. A doctor and a police officer stood before him and all of the adrenaline in his body screamed that he needed to run.

"Uh.. how is he, doc?" Virgil asked, fighting himself to not scream or make a scene.

"Remus Crowne is currently in recovery and you may visit him. Due to the nature of his injuries, we have contacted the police to speak with him first," the doctor intoned, voice dripping with suspicion.

The officer took the pause to speak up, "would you like to make a statement, Mr. Kier?"

"I just want to see him," Virgil replied in a raspy voice, shaking his head in denial as he stood.

"Very well. This way, sir," the doctor led Virgil and the officer back towards the recovery rooms. When they arrived, Virgil nearly choked seeing Remus talking with the same two officers who came into his shop each morning. The shorter one knelt beside the bed to hold Remus’ hand. He spoke softly and asked all the questions while his partner stood tall and took notes, looking incredulously at the injured man. Virgil instinctively wanted to barge in and protect Remus from these pigs but the third held him back with a firm hand on his shoulder.

Before long the two officers left the room, eyeing Virgil disdainfully. He waited for the words that would send his world crashing around him even more than it already had.

"You- you can go in now, hon," Virgil's head tilted in confusion as the third officer let him go, "just be more careful in the future."

"I- what? No charges?" Virgil barely whispered, glancing towards the bed where Remus laid watching the tv.

"Believe me, if it had been me, I don’t care how consensual- I would have pressed charges for sending me to the E.R. have a good day, sir. Come along, Patton." The stricter-looking cop turned, gesturing to the kinder one and all three left quickly. Virgil beamed and ran to Remus’ side.

"You're welcome, kitten," Remus coughed and reached for Virgil’s hand.

"I'm so sorry- I didn't want to, Rem-"

"Shhhh. I told them it was a sex fantasy gone a bit too far. If I'd known you liked strangling dudes too-"

"Now you shush!" Virgil leaned in close, "you get better fast now, okay?"

"I always wanted to date a serial killer.. promise you won't leave me over this?" Remus grinned weakly up at Virgil, "I could help you, ya know."

"Shhhh this is just the pain meds talking. You don’t know a serial killer," Virgil laughed as tears of relief streamed down his cheeks. He gave Remus a dramatic stage wink and held his hand securely.

"Aww, you're right. I'm just stuck with a pretty boy who doesn't know his own strength," Remus grinned and watched Virgil rather than the tv until a nurse came to shoo his boyfriend away for the night.

Remus couldn't wait for their first hunt together.

#dukexietyweek2021 #dukexiety #virgil sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #serial killer au #coffee shop au #please please please mind the content warning #please remember that reblogs help more than likes ^ ^#shit i'm like 10 minutes late nooooo

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bang-fantansies · 4 years ago

Text

Sasaeng BTS Profiles: Yoongi Edition

Warning: Heavy mentions/implications of suicide, mentions/implications of overdosing on medication, insomnia, unhealthy behaviour, obsessive behaviour, poor mental health, self-denefse killing, homelessness, nightmares, mention/implications of side-character being drunk, death, blood, gore, destruction of evidence, crime, profanity.

I did my best to include any triggering topics mentioned in this post, but if you see any more potentially sensitive topics I may have missed, please let me know!

This does not represent Bangtan as people or a business, nor does it represent anyone/anything associated with them. This is purely fictional and was made for entertainment purposes only; not to slander anyone or any company.

Mental Stability: 3/10

2:50 AM.

As was the same battle every night, Yoongi lay in bed, the whole world sleeping apart from him. He couldn’t help it, of course - believe me, he would if he could - and this was what made the thoughts in his head run wild.

Each thought had a voice, all unique to their varying degrees of uselessness, yet the message they chanted was identical.

“Sleep! Sleep!” they cried. They’d grown louder over the years as Yoongi’s insomnia worsened, and in spite of their efforts to help their master, they did the complete opposite.

That dream - red and monstrous - drowned out any measure of volume the voices could hope to muster.

The sound of a man gargling with his own blood made Yoongi feel as if he was suffocating, and more often than not he’d jolt up in bed, forced to replay the events of his early adult years.

Before finding his current residence, Yoongi had been forced onto the streets by unjust circumstances, leading to a great deal of situations he’d rather keep buried beneath the layers of his memory.

One such situation involved another homeless man - drunk, Yoongi had assumed - competing with Yoongi for a bottle of liquor he had scored.

Yoongi’s only use for such a thing was to sell it off and use the money to find a cheap room and a meal. But his opponent had refused to accept such nonsense.

“Such fine wine shouldn’t go to waste!” Yoongi could still hear him say, voice ringing in his ears.

“And it won’t if you just let me pass, you stupid old prick.”

In short, the drunkard had taken Yoongi’s tone very personally and caused his own demise by making a haphazard attempt on the younger’s life, resulting in having the bottle of wine he oh-so desired slammed into the side of his head, shattering and giving Yoongi a sharp enough tool to puncture his throat with.

Yoongi fled the scene not long after, keeping the remains of the bottle to hand until he could destroy the evidence later on.

Nowadays, while he was far from sleeping rough, he hardly slept at all for fear of his actions whispering cruel and dark remarks into his ear.

As it would for most, this took its toll on Yoongi’s health; physical, emotional, and mental.

The pressure had proven to be too much for him to handle, and on this night, he had decided he’d had enough.

On his computer desk stood a bottle, a proud shade of orange with its contents revealed in a cluster of black ink, made to resemble actual handwriting, written across a label stuck to its front - the only semblance of privacy Yoongi was allowed. Its white cap was ajar, and though no scent came from within, Yoongi could practically smell the prescription enticing him to a snack.

And under normal circumstances, he would have declined as he had many a time before.

But these were no longer normal circumstances.

Yoongi rose from beneath the bed sheets, any semblance of humanity he’s once held having burnt out alongside his will to continue.

He knew what it meant to live - to love the act of being human - but he was no longer human. He most similarly resembled a shell; cold, hollow, and filled with the shadows of his own mind.

And so he had made his decision. Despite his lethargy shackling him to the bed, he made a reach for the bottle, popping off the cap and peering inside.

A glass of water sat on his bedside table, bubbles sticking to the water-covered walls as a result of disuse.

Yoongi counted the pills, assuming that the amount he was left with would be enough.

At this point, he figured that if he was to find no rest in life, he would surely find it in whatever lay beyond his broken, mortal body.

In these last moments, Yoongi granted himself his last comfort.

He brought his laptop beside him and searched his favourite artist on YouTube.

He only had a few artists in his arsenal that he could dispense at family dinners or reunions he’d been invited to.

he never was an adept conversationalist: even at friends’ parties where a guest he didn’t know would be obligated to talk to him on account of appeasing the birthday girl or boy.

For a second, Yoongi faltered.

His mind backtracked to the joy he’d felt with his friends, and in turn the joy he had granted them.

Was he really going through with this...?

A stab of doubt was all it would take to make Yoongi withdraw from his initial intentions, and he cut the tie with said doubt immediately, pushing his friends to the back of his mind.

He was exhausted - tired of helping and appealing to others; now it was time to take care of himself.

From the tiny speaker in his laptop came the sound of solace: his favourite track from his idol.

He lay back, pill bottle and water placed on his bedside table as he basked in his last melody.

Through the duration of the song, Yoongi’s unease had worn away - eroded by the tides of his own resolution.

The song eventually clambered to a fading finish. Yoongi knew what came next.

He sat up and tipped the contents of the bottle onto the table, a hill of oddly-coloured tablets forming.

He threw the bottle somewhere behind him, hearing it land in a hidden corner of the room.

Pale hands scooped the pills up like candy, bringing them to Yoongi’s lips.

And like a saving grace emerging through a storm, a miracle unfolded.

A soft sound played beside him; the sound of angel wings and promises of a better future.

Yoongi didn’t so much as falter as he did pause, lending his ear to the tune.

It played notes from an instrument Yoongi didn’t even think existed - a soft twinkling stalked by a voice he had yet to have heard on his musical voyages through Soundcloud and YouTube.

For a second - just a second - the doubt that had made such a ruckus to enter had now slithered through the back door of Yoongi’s mind.

What was this music?

Reluctant, he lowered his hand to his side, though held tightly on to the pills.

Turning the screen to face him, he came face-to-face with someone other than his idol.

Her eyes looked a soft shade of (e/c) in the no-doubt filtered lighting of the video, though the sincerity she held within them was far from fabricated.

The background was crystalline - faux crystal props - oversized and oversaturated. They were littered around the studio in which the woman sang, and beneath a purple hue she sat on a stool, an air of comfort radiating from her.

As to what she was singing, Yoongi had no idea.

He let the music play for a moment, considering his options.

What harm would it do him to listen to something new? It wasn’t as if he’d be able to after he was gone, anyway.

Lying back down, Yoongi stared at the ceiling, the lack of light or patterns making it easier for him to focus solely on the music.

His fatigue embraced him like a long-lost mother, shrouding him in a warmth unmatched by that of any real person.

The singer’s soft humming filled the desolate room. And if Yoongi wasn’t mistaken, he could feel his eyelids growing heavy.

He forced a bitter smile, doubtful that his mind would actually allow him any such solace as sleep.

To humour his weary self one last time, Yoongi shut his eyes, sighing deeply and sinking into the mattress.

The next time Yoongi opened his eyes, his room was still dark. And as if it had never left to begin with, his bitter smile returned.

I knew it, he thought. Though the victory of beating his already hell-level expectations filled his overflowing spirit with grief, disguised and diluted by the anger that had slipped into the mix so long ago.

Sitting up, Yoongi lent his ear to the room once more.

He could hear the soft hum of the woman’s song no longer, and it was in this second that he realised he didn’t remember actually hearing the song end.

It was on one minute, and off the next.

Suspicious, Yoongi glanced at his half-lidded laptop, faced with a blackened screen as the device had switched itself off.

With a push of the power button, the power returned, and in a blast of light the screen sprung to life.

Through the tips of his fringe, Yoongi checked the time.

11:15 AM.

He recoiled.

That couldn’t be right - surely.

Logging in, he noted how his battery was running low, despite having been fully charged before he lay down.

The screen gave way to the last application he’s been using, and clear as day the same starry-eyed woman with the voice of velvet was on-screen, though the video she was in had long since ended.

Yoongi checked the time again, pulling his fringe back so as not to trick himself a second time.

11:16 stared back at him, steadfast and unwavering in its absolution.

Yoongi’s eyebrows raised in a sense of alarm.

He rose from the bed, tearing his curtains open.

A cityscape greeted him, and the sun waved from its fixture in the sky. It was daytime.

Yoongi stumbled back, carding a hand through his hair.

There was absolutely no way he’d-

...Had he actually managed to get to sleep?

Yoongi checked his phone, watch, and alarm clock; no-one dared deceive him of date nor time.

He was willing (and already considering) to accept the idea that he’d time-traveled; the concept of having a decent night’s sleep was as foreign as a language to him.

Nevertheless, he hadn’t the time to dawdle in such a concept, though he made absolute certain to when he was at work.

His colleagues seemed to notice a change in Yoongi’s behaviour.

Though he was often dazed into bouts of silence by his exhaustion, this quietude was new. Different.

A few co-workers commented on how he looked much livelier. And more alive, he felt.

In spite of this, the constant what-ifs of the morning had followed him - clung to him like a cologne.

What if...what if he was actually dead?

He considered this, deciding against his theory.

If he was dead and this was indeed Heaven, he should be receiving a lot more good fortune for all the shit he had to deal with in his life.

No, this was neither Hesven nor Hell. Or Purgatory.

Yoongi also considered that he was in a coma, but that didn’t add up, either.

He tested to see if he was comatose. Nothing.

He was still trapped in his same-old reality. But at least he could think clearly now.

By the time he got home, his body yearned for the sweet release of music, and he sought the comfort of his favourite artist - as he usually did on days as long as this.

Shoving his bedroom door open, he grumbled at the brightness the room held for a change.

He’d forgotten to shut his curtains before he left.

In the dwindling light of the afternoon sun, he saw the pills scattered across his duvet, the sole remnants of his almost-actions.

He cringed, forcing them to the back of his mind.

He could acknowledge the gravity of his decision later. Right now, his head was filled with the phantom melodies longing for a vessel.

Yoongi has attained the good sense to charge his laptop, and as he switched it on, he was greeted with the same lady who had pulled him to sleep the night before.

Or, Yoongi supposed, who had just happened to be playing on the night he was finally able to sleep without the nightmare scaring him awake.

Such wonderment remained at the back of his mind as he went about his business.

Through his own music, the whisper of the lady’s tune plagued him. So much so that, after a good three hours of composing, Yoongi found himself eyeing the tab he’d left open from before.

Having returned home from work later, his body was weighted with the day’s contrivances and stresses, as well as its successes and joys.

Emotionally, Yoongi had given all he had to offer, which, if he was to admit it to himself, was far more than he usually did.

He considered that it was more than likely it wasn’t just the song that had sent him to sleep.

On the contrary, he believed that a multitude of factors had to have been at play in such a miracle.

He wished to replicate the conditions of the night before: he kept his room dark and a glass of water on his bedside. He packed his pills away and placed them on his bedside, too, taking care not to lose any in case their service was required again.

He set the woman’s song up, lying in bed and playing it.

The creeping horror of the notion of never obtaining such a quality of sleep again was the only odd variable in this equation, and though it quietly consumed Yoongi’s thoughts, the hum of the song muffled it.

The song was no longer than 4 minutes, though the eternity that stretched between Yoongi and his voyage to the fabled land of dreams made it impossible to tell how long it had been.

He was not yet familiar enough with the song to place a time on the segment he was experiencing.

His concerns faded as he simply let himself be.

If it works, it works, he told himself.

The next thing Yoongi remembered was hearing a bird chirping nearby his window.

He cracked an eye open.

Much like the night before, his room remained in a state of quiet disarray, though only noticeable to the trained eye.

His laptop lay near his side, screen dark and lifeless.

Yoongi checked through a crack in the curtains. And sure as anything, the sun had risen once again.

Over the next couple of weeks, Yoongi researched the song, its creator, and whether it was really the secret to staving off his insomnia.

He had discovered that the creator’s name was (Y/N) - a popular artist who had fans far and wide, as well as domestically.

He found more of her particular songs - the ones that she hummed.

He tested both the original and these humming bird songs (as he called them), and to his delight, the humming birds worked.

Yoongi would go to sleep and wake up at reasonable times, rather than the odd dips in and out of consciousness he would try to induce on his own terms.

It was just your music that soothed him so, and from the day he uncovered this, he vowed to be your loyal follower.

Though, with any influential fan can blossom obsession, and as Yoongi became ever more eneamoured with your gossamer vocals, he feared the day that your songs would no longer support his sleep.

Or, God forbid, you stopped singing.

He often fretted over such a premature worry, though he couldn’t deny how it had all but devoured his thoughts.

Months into his expedition into your music, he decided to finally take action to ensure that your voice would never die - never fade with age, accident or abuse.

No, he would preserve it like the fine wine he had failed to so many years ago - to be sipped and savoured for eternities to come.

Sasaeng Masterlist

#yandere bts #bts #yandere bts x reader #bts x reader #Yoongi #min yoongi #suga #yandere yoongi #yandere yoongi x reader

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random-mha-thoughts · 5 years ago

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Flock Together (LoV x Reader)

Pairing: League of Villains x Reader, platonic relationship

Appearances by Dabi, Shigaraki, and Mr. Compress

@dastfast678 requested: “Could you make a another LOV X child!reader, one where the hero's try to "recused" Y/N but they just tells them off?”

Genre: Slight angst

Word Count: 1,442

Tags: @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog

a/n: Thanks for the request! I’m sorry it took so long to do...

Yes, the title is akin to the "birds of a feather" saying. I will also tell you guys that in this universe, if the League ever got caught before things blew up to as big as they've gotten in the manga, the villains would have pulled a Gentle Criminal for the reader. You’ll see why I say that later.

This is still in the same continuity as my other LoV posts, but it can also be a different one as well. Not that I’m planning anything for it, but I think it’s just nice to keep a similar timeline between some of my posts I guess.

Funny how I always end up running when I'm faced with important milestones. I ran when I realized my parents were gone right into the hands of people I thought were going to kill me. And they turned out to be much better than I expected, I have to say.

My former classmate at UA had found me while I was out to get food for the League. They were really craving pizza today and now I have to run. I'm gonna get an earful from them later for coming back late.

They were gonna find me eventually, I should've been prepared. I never even thought of the excuse I was going to use when they inevitably did.

A hand catches my shoulder and I almost scream, only to turn around and see Kaminari. Damnit, I thought he hadn't seen me. When I caught him walking the opposite way as me, I'd hoped I could get away before he realized it was me.

He smiles naturally. "Hey, (Y/n)! I thought I saw you walking around here!" Before I can say anything he grips me into a tight hug. "Gosh, we were all worried about you! Where have you been all this time?"

I pry his grip off of me gently. "I've just...been here, you know, living my life."

For a moment, Kaminari hesitates before he whines out an exhale. "Agh, I can't do this. (Y/n), they kinda sent me to...rescue you, because we had the best relationship."

I furrow my eyebrows "Rescue me?" Should've known. At least they didn't send Midoriya.

"Yeah, sorry about this."

Kaminari suddenly drags me by the arm into the nearest alley. "What the hell-!?" Soon I'm faced with two other figures, both of of them I know very well also. Damnit, they did send Midoriya.

"Before you say anything, no one else knows we're here, it's just us," Midoriya blurts out.

"I'm surprised Todoroki isn't here," I respond lamely, sighing at the mini intervention. "It's usually the two of you acting on whims together."

"It was my idea this time," Kaminari admits as he rubs the back of his neck. "The school's officially taking you off the roster and we at least wanted to look for you one last time."

My fist clenches and I look down. "I didn't know I'd be so missed."

"We were very worried about you! It's not becoming of a young hero-in-training to miss class!" Iida chops at the air. It's nice to know he hasn't changed much.

"How did you guys even know I was here?"

"That's not important," Midoriya answers quickly and takes a step towards me. Concern fills his face. "(Y/n), please come back. We don't know why you left, but we can sort it out."

I'm silent, holding his pleading gaze with my own icy stare. "You guys said no one else knows you're here. Keep it that way and leave. No one else needs to know where I am or what I'm doing." I turn to walk away.

"Are you with the League?" Kaminari's voice sounds broken, a stark contrast from his usual upbeat, dorky tone.

I'm taken aback by how he could've known that, but I brush it off. "That's none of your business."

He forces out a nervous laugh. "I think I get it, you want to stay and gather intell-"

"No, I'm staying because I want to stay." My conviction is firm. There's no point in denying it.

Iida pushes up his glasses. "It looks like they've brainwashed you, (Y/n)-san, this isn't like you. You were always so quiet-"

"Yeah, but you had no idea why!" I close my eyes and breath. It's not worth it to blow up and tell them everything that's happened, it's in the past and I'm working on resolving it myself. "I don't need to be a hero anymore, it won't solve my problems like I thought before."

"So you'd rather be a villain?! Taking innocent lives?!"

"I don't do any of that!" I snarl back at him.

"But you will eventually!"

"And I'll figure it out when the time comes!" Their faces fall. "They may be villains, but they've helped me so much more than when I was in UA! I feel safe with them. They're my new family, and I'm staying with them."

"Well, that's touching."

The boys in front of me stiffen at the voice behind me. I turn to see Shigaraki, Dabi, and Mr. Compress approaching in the darkness of the alleyway.

"We were wondering what was taking you so long, so we had to come check," the masked man haughtily explains, dropping a hand on top of my head. My former classmates go pale at the sight. They probably think he was going to hurt me.

"We meet again, Midoriya Izuku." Shigaraki's cracked lips turn up into a crazed smirk and Midoriya gulps.

"UA kids all alone, huh," Dabi comments. "What was their big plan? To come kidnap you back to them? They would have to do through us first." His palm lights up with blue flames. "I'm sure Toga would've liked to see this boy again."

"I've been dying to try my new trick on someone!" Compress waves his hands dramatically, a few marbles appearing between his fingers. "I've got the props all ready right here!"

"Don't hurt them," I say blankly. I don't have much power over them, but I can at least give my opinion. "It's not worth getting into a struggle with them now."

"(Y/n)'s right," Shigaraki sighs and buries his hands in his pockets. "Besides, my stomach's eating itself I'm so hungry. We can settle this another day."

The three of them start exiting and I want to follow behind them, but Kaminari catches my shoulder. "Are you really going with them? You chose them over us?" His crestfallen expression tugs at a soft spot in my chest, but I've already reached a point where it doesn't sway me.

I shrug him off. "You're lucky you're getting out of here without struggle because of me." My voice and my glare are icy toward each of them before I turn and follow the rest out of the alley. "The next time we see each other, we'll be on different sides. I hope you'll be prepared to see me again when it happens."

There's a bitter taste in my mouth as we leave the alleyway. It's not like I feel nothing for them, they were my former classmates after all. The regret I sometimes feel is something more akin to curiosity than anything. If I hadn't run into the League, where would I be? Would I be content the same way as I am now? Am I content? Is this the best I could be doing?

Did I make the right choice?

"Listen kid." Dabi hangs back a little since I'm falling behind from the rest of them. "I don't have the right to tell you what decision you should've made in your life or ask why you decided to live with a bunch of raggedy good-for-nothings like us," he looks up at the other two and leans over, "But if you wanted to walk away from all of this, you still can."

My eyes widen, and for a moment, all the memories of my time in the League come rushing back. All the laughs we shared, the late nights they helped me get through, playing games with them, the take out nights like these. They aren't my family, but it's the closest thing I have to something like that. Even the thought of leaving them leaves a devastating sinking feeling in my chest. "Never," I gasp, breath taken from me at the suggestion.

The man scans me, cocking an eyebrow. "You'd really rather be associated with lawbreakers just because we took you in?"

My face falls. "Is that a bad thing?"

He pauses, not having anything to say to that, and there's a trace of shock in his features. His face relaxes and he clasps his hands behind his neck casually. "I guess you really do fit with us, you've got issues."

I can't help but smile at his words; it's the closest I'll get to him explicitly admitting his appreciation for me. "I don't think it's the issues, it's the broken-ness."

"No kid, you're just weird." His large, burnt hand plops on top of my head as he sighs. "Ah, we're gonna have to move hideouts again. I was actually liking this place."

"The pizza here is most delicious!" Compress pipes up in agreement.

"Ugh, this is why we can't have nice things, you guys always ruin it," Shiguraki groans. "Goodbye, delicious and crunchy thin crust pizza..."

"Oh, don't be a drama queen," Dabi rolls his eyes.

Well, regardless of if this was a correct decision, I might as well enjoy it while it lasts. All this might be worth all the trouble I'll get into in the future.

#league of villians x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #dabi #shigaraki tomura #mr compress #request #slight angst #platonic #gender neutral reader #league of villains imagine #league of villains scenario #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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egcdeath · 4 years ago

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secret santa

pairing: ransom drysdale x f!reader

a/n: this is so self indulgent. SO SELF INDULGENT. more self indulgent than anyone will ever be able to comprehend. before u all read this, i want u to know it was originally supposed to be about training ransom at a job, but then i realized that i nothing about 1. working at a coffee shop and 2. training an employee. also, i am the worst at writing dialogue. so i didn’t write a lot of dialogue LMAO enjoy :)

also, half of this was written at 1 am. just a warning

warnings: coffee shop au, enemies (kinda) to lovers, a lil fluff, not really angst but bitter feelings, kinda slow burn and then all the sudden a fast burn i’m sorry 😭

word count: 2.6k

You woke up to the sound of your alarm rumbling your bedside table sometime around the asscrack of dawn, and rubbed your eyes with a groan. Sometimes, you really couldn’t stand your job, but bills didn’t really pay themselves, did they? You rolled out of bed, and began your dreaded morning routine before heading out to start your opening shift at your local café.

Somewhere between warming up the espresso machine and taking out last night’s trash (which you shouldn’t have had to do in the first place), an older, yet expensive looking car pulled up to the front of the parking lot. You were a bit confused, as you’d never seen this vehicle, and it was quite clear that you weren’t exactly open yet. You watched as a tall man hopped out of the car, wearing a large peacoat and very unnecessary sunglasses. He approached the door, gave it a knock, then waited for you to come open it for him. Reluctantly, you made your way over, and in order to keep yourself safe, began to speak through the glass.

“Can I help you?” You asked in an annoyed tone, then gestured towards the piece of paper that labeled your hours on the door. There was no reason for any customer to be here this early. You looked up at the mystery man and made a rather intense eye contact with him. If this was any indicator of your crowd today, work was going to be far from pleasant.

“Yeah, I was told that I’m starting today?” He had a wicked smirk on his face, like he knew he was getting under your skin already. You hated people like him, and couldn’t believe that he could possibly be your coworker. On the bright side, he probably wouldn’t last long in the first place.

“Well, are you sure you’re here on time? I can’t see any situation where Melissa would schedule to open for your very first shift.” You commented with a furrowed brow.

“Eh, I kinda just figured I’d come in whenever. The girl in my bed was an early riser, so I thought to myself ‘Why not just come in now?’” He said casually.

“Your name?” You inquired, trying to keep your annoyance to yourself, and put on a customer service smile.

“Hugh, or Ransom,” he responded. You turned around, allowed yourself a huff and eye roll, then walked through the kitchen, and into the break room to check if he truly was a new employee, or just some random creep. Sure enough, a bright pink post-it note in very neat handwriting confirmed this man’s existence. You made your way back to the door, unlocked it, and let him in.

“Since you’re here, you should… set down the chairs,” you told him, less than entertained by his presence. You could just tell he was bad news. This Ransom guy was like the textbook definition of a red flag. He talked your ear off while you tried to get through your opening routine, some casual remarks about his last hookup, complaints about how he only got this job because his mother was a regular and good friends with your manager, and how he was threatened to get cut out of his grandfather’s will if he didn’t get employed soon, and what better way to spite your family than to mess up their daily coffees.

Eventually, a few more of your coworkers, along with your manager, Melissa, made it to the café before the morning rush began. You were sitting down at your typical barstool spot, and sipping an iced Americano when Melissa broke the news to you that you would be training the new employee. Upon hearing the news, you audibly groaned, and rubbed your forehead. There was no way that you could handle this man.

-------

During his first week, Ransom not only managed to offer (and successfully give) six customers his phone number, break two mugs, mess up more orders than even Euclid could comprehend, and spill straws a multitude of times all over the floor, but he began to flirt with you relentlessly. You had no idea why you’d become his new target of choice, when it was clear that he could have literally anyone he wanted. Maybe he liked that you were playing hard to get.

If you were being honest, you had to accept that he was handsome. And rich. And the definition of a fuckboy. And since you were being frank with yourself, you had to acknowledge that you were attracted to that ‘toxic and will treat you like shit’ kind of guy. You had a roster of ex boyfriends to prove that for you.

---

It was a pretty slow Tuesday afternoon, which meant you were sitting on your phone until a customer placed an order. Eventually, the little bell above the door chimed, and an older man came through, ordering a dark and bitter drink, then standing by the counter to wait. You began to restock lids while Ransom took care of making the drink, and once it was ready, you passed it over to the man. The man in question took a rather large sip, then promptly spat it out.

“What the fuck is this!” He roared, barely giving you time to react before he proceeded to toss the drink at you, spilling most of the hot content on your apron.

You gasped, gawking down at your scorched and ruined clothing, then up at the customer, who’d turned around with a huff and left, leaving a stream of strong language on his way out. You bit back tears at the whole fiasco, and cringed as both the steamy drink, and your salty tears stung different parts of your body. You turned to look at the barista, who had passed you along the drink, and were met with no other than the white devil himself. It seemed that all the blood had drained from his already otherwise pale face.

“Oh my god, this is all my fault,” he began remorsefully. “Let me make it up to you somehow.”

“Whatever,” you huffed, running a hand through your hair, and shoving Ransom angrily while you more or less stomped into the staff bathroom.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and frowned before bringing up your bundled apron to your face and screaming into it. Stupid fucking customers. Stupid fucking job. Stupid fucking Ransom. It’s like he came to your job just to make it hell. You were tired of cleaning up all these messes for him, and honestly, you wish he’d just quit already. The longer you worked with him, the more tempted you were to pour sugar in his gas tank, then take a club and break all the windows in the Beemer.

------

For the next month, your brain was completely elsewhere at work. Your brain was constantly going back and forth with you between finding Ransom hot and horrendous. While the pair of you finished up closing one night, you heard your coworker begin to speak to you as you placed your hand on the keys in your pocket.

“I know you hate me, Y/N. I get it. What that guy did to you was awful, and yes it was my fault, but what else have I done to hurt you?” He asked, seemingly out of the blue. You weren’t even sure how to respond. Ignoring the man and demonizing him in your head had become almost a second nature. “I mean, I think we could’ve been good friends. Even though you seem to think I’m devil incarnate, I think you’re a pretty cool chick-“ he continued before being cut off by you.

“Why do you even care?” you burst out, “Ransom, you just don’t get it do you? You’re just.. a douchebag. I get it, you have your moments where you’re candid and open with people, but half of the time you’re talking, you’re objectifying someone. Or bragging about something you own. Don’t get me wrong, I could get past what you did to me on accident, but you seriously have to work on yourself,” the words just seemed to pour out without your control. “Goodnight, Ransom,” you said simply before leaving the café for the night.

——

Since that day, the tension between you and Ransom had evidently become more thick. Since he was finally finished training with you, you made sure to only speak to him if you absolutely needed to, and even then, you only communicated with him in brief and straightforward answers. Sure, it seemed like a small thing to be upset about, and sure, he’d apologized, but something told you that any excuse to stay away from Ransom was a good excuse.

Though he appeared to be an immoral and selfish man, he seemed genuinely sorry for all that he’d put you through. Occasionally, you’d be sitting in the break room and look up from your phone to see him watching you. When you’d make eye contact, he would look like he wanted to say something to you, but your petty ass would leave, or look back at your phone. He was bad news anyway.

Your boss quickly caught onto what was going on between the two of you, and usually, Melissa didn’t like to participate in petty drama, but your new sour mood was such a stark contrast from before, and it seemed to shift the whole mood of the café.

That afternoon, Melissa called for a team meeting a bit before closing, and suggested a family dinner along with a Secret Santa. She’d said something along the lines of ‘It’s been way too long since we’ve done a team bonding activity, and a gift exchange is perfectly fitting for the Holiday season.’ This did make you perk up, as Melissa had a great taste in restaurants, and you were always down for a good gift exchange.

Melissa then told everyone to write their names down, then put them in a decorative Santa hat. You and your coworkers obliged, then began to pass around the hat once again in order to draw a name. You really hoped to get Xavier. You had the perfect idea of something he’d love. As you drew a piece of paper from the hat, you imagined the matching pair of fluffy socks for a human and dog that you’d passed by during your last trip to Target. You began to unfold it, thinking of what color he might like the most, when you looked down and saw ‘Ransom’ drawn out in chicken scratch.

You tried your best to mask your annoyance at who you received, but on the inside, you were seething. You mentally cursed the universe out while you pulled on your coat, and grimaced to yourself once you got out to your car. How were you supposed to get this asshole a gift?

—-

The week leading up to the exchange went fairly well for you, although it was getting a bit exhausting to be so mad at Ransom all the time. You tried to be less harsh with him, considering you needed to learn more about him in order to get him a somewhat decent gift for your exchange.

He’d seem to have taken your conversation with him to heart, and began to talk less and less about other girls when he was working with you. He didn’t comment on how well your jeans fit you, and you noticed that he’d often overextend himself in order to help you with (pretty basic) daily aspects of the job. Ransom would ask you questions about yourself, and your family, and speak less about himself. If you were honest with yourself, he was becoming a better man. And the best part was, he seemed to be doing it just for you. The thought of which brought heat to your face.

—

On the night of the exchange, you threw on a hideous and scratchy Christmas sweater before picking up your neatly wrapped gift for Ransom. You truly hoped that he’d like it, even though it certainly wasn’t the most expensive item. You bid farewell to your cat, then went on your way to the restaurant. You had to admit, you were a bit late. So it should’ve been no surprise when you arrived, and found that the only seat left at the table was next to Ransom. You gave him a cordial smile before sitting down and ordering yourself a glass of Merlot.

Something about being so close to him was kind of riling you up. The strong timbre sent coming off of him was making your whole body feel slightly warmer than normal, and you tried to ignore this strange sensation while you talked and joked with your coworkers. At one point, Ransom leaned in nice and close to you, and began to speak to you.

“Jesus Christ, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as hideous as Karmen’s sweatshirt,” he whispered right into the shell of your ear. Maybe it was the wine talking, but that simple action sent a whole chill through your body, and made you flush even harder than you’d flushed before. You let out a little giggle and nodded in agreement, looking across the table at her very ugly sweater.

“To be fair, the whole point of this was to wear something really ugly,” you turned your head back to where it was before, only to find that Ransom had somehow moved even closer to you.

“I just don’t know where you find something like that,” he commented, gazing much too deep into your eyes. You swore you felt the room shift after he began looking at you like that. There was about a 20% chance that you’d be able to keep your panties on after this kind of exchange. Luckily for you, a waitress broke the tension for you, setting down a few plates for everyone, then bidding them farewell. Damn.

The food was amazing, and didn’t last very long, meaning that it was time to pass gifts around sooner than later. You watched as Amy received a gift card from Sophie, Emily opened a plethora of chocolates gifted to her by Melissa, and Xander whiffed a candle given to him by Kennedy, then, it was your turn. You glanced around the table before you felt the arm next to you reach down, then hand you an oversized gift bag.

“I hope you like it,” Ransom said with a shy smile. You casually felt your cheeks on your way to pull out the very large item. You found it was a very large, and soft, hand knit blanket. It looked like it could’ve cost a small fortune, and you immediately found yourself embarrassed.

“Oh wow. This is perfect! Thank you so much,” you grinned over at your coworker, who seemed to be blushing himself. “Well, I guess I should probably give you this then,” you chuckled awkwardly before passing him your wrapped package. He tore it open barbarically, then began to laugh. Of all the gifts in the world, you two had gotten each other somewhat similar items. Sure, it wasn’t hand knit with the love of some grandma who ran a small business on Etsy, but it was the thought that counts.

“I love it, Y/N,” he exclaimed, looking deep into your eyes once again. He ran his fingers through the soft fabric, then set a hand on your arm. In that moment, it felt like time stopped. It was just you two, sitting in a quiet room, enjoying the presence of each other. You don’t even know what had gotten into you, but before you knew it, you felt a nose pressed up against yours, and a billion butterflies erupt out of your stomach. You heard a few grimaces from your coworkers at the sappy, Hallmark-like moment but what could you say.

Maybe Ransom was not that bad after all.

#ransom thrombey x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom drysdale x you #knives out fanfic #hey i wrote that lol

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flowercrown-bard · 3 years ago

Text

A new us will begin (8/ 12)

word count: 5k

AO3

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 9

content warning: blood, injuries, referenced character death, animal death (a monster and kind of implied a horse)

All too soon, the day that had been looming over them like a storm cloud that seemed far away at first until you realised you were already caught in the storm, was there. The day of the troupe’s last performance before they would move on.

This time, Geralt felt more than ever as if Dandy was speaking to him when he was speaking his lines in the dungeon scene. Maybe that was just wishful thinking, but while Dandy was reciting his big monologue, for a moment there, Geralt was so sure that it wasn’t the pirate asking the knight to come with him, but Dandy asking Geralt.

Clearing the stage after the performance felt strange that day. Geralt wasn’t the only one who worked noticeably slower than usually to delay the inevitable departure of the troupe and more than once he heard one of the actors sniffle.

“It’s always like that after the last performance,” Dandy explained quietly from his place perched on the box. “It always feels a bit like saying goodbye.”

“You’re going to perform that play again,” Geralt said, not sure whether that was at all a comforting thing to say. “In another city. Maybe with an even bigger audience.”

Dandy’s lips twisted into a crooked smile, but it felt more like a mask than an expression of joy.

“Maybe. But I really liked the audience here.” His voice was void of the mirth that so often tinged his words.

Geralt had no reply to that. He settled on an unsatisfying hum that could have meant anything and turned back to his task of dismantling the stage.

Dandy was unusually quiet, only drumming a slow rhythm on the box, while Geralt worked until at long last, Geralt was done with his work.

“Are we going to the tavern again?” Geralt asked hesitatingly, not sure if he would still be welcome on this day that made all the actors more emotional. Welcoming as they might be otherwise, Geralt wouldn’t be able to fault them, if they didn’t want him in their midst today.

That didn’t soften the ache in his chest, when Dandy said, “No. We are not.” He fiddled with his cane and shuffled on his feet.

Geralt nodded, more for his own benefit, as if the simple motion could dull the pang of disappointment.

“Right. Of course.”

“That is,” Dandy said, something tentative and endlessly hopeful making his pitch a little higher. “I was thinking the two of us could take a walk? Maybe you could show me your favourite places in town? Unless you’d rather go to the tavern with the others.”

Geralt didn’t answer. The last time, that he knew of, that Dandy had gone for a walk with just one other person, hadn’t ended too well for him. Geralt couldn’t put into words how much it meant to him that Dandy trusted him enough to go somewhere alone.

Gently, he took Dandy’s hand, giving it a little squeeze. Dandy didn’t flinch at the unexpected contact, but his brows shot up in surprise and his whole face lit up.

“Alright, then,” Dandy said, his voice trembling with barely concealed excitement. “Lead the way.”

The other actors barely paid them any mind as they walked past. Geralt only stopped to tell Nadine where they were going and promised her that he would take Dandy back safely.

“You better,” she said and narrowed her eyes at him, but her tone wasn’t even hinting at being intimidating. With a twinkle in her eye, that Geralt chose to ignore, she added, “But don’t rush. We won’t leave until morning, so you have plenty of time to make the best of the night.”

Neither Geralt nor Dandy commented on that last part and when Geralt looked at Dandy out of the corner of his eyes, there was a pretty blush colouring the actor’s cheeks.

Walking with Dandy’s hand in his was a strange experience. After having seen how he moved when he was on stage or surrounded by his friends, it was hard not to notice how differently he acted when it was just the two of them. He was still loud, talking nearly as much as Jaskier had, about the first play he had ever starred in, about the one time he had succeeded in making every other player break character while on stage and how Nadine was already debating which play they were going to rehearse next. Yet, despite the gush of words tumbling from Dandy’s lips, it was clear that part of his attention was constantly focussed on his cane.

It took Geralt more will power than he would have liked to admit not to warn Dandy of every little bump in the road or pull him closer when they turned into another street. Dandy had his own way of knowing where he was going and Geralt still remembered vividly how pissed Dandy had been one time when someone at a tavern had tried to flirt with him by insisting to do every single thing for him as if Dandy wasn’t fully capable of doing things for himself and having his own autonomy.

“So, where exactly are we going?” Dandy asked, before the comfortable conversation could fade into silence. “You never told me what your favourite spot here is.”

Geralt gave an amused hum. “Would you believe me if I said it was the market place?”

Dandy let out a bark of laughter. “Absolutely not. I know I am a delight to be around, but don’t think I didn’t notice how uncomfortable you are with the crowds.”

“Your friends are nice, though.”

Dandy’s grip on his hand tightened a little. “I’d say they are your friends too.”

Geralt’s jaw worked and his free hand twitched. “I’ve never been good at making friends. Or keeping them.”

Dandy let out a snort. “Oh please. You can’t honestly expect me to believe that.” When Geralt gave no reply, Dandy came to a stop. “Wait, really? You’re not joking? I-Geralt. I’ve known since the moment that you came backstage for the first time that I wanted to be your friend. You are…I don’t think you realise how good you are. There aren’t many people who would have helped me like you did without expecting anything in return.”

“Nadine let me watch your plays for free and she gave me a job.”

“None of which you asked for,” Dandy said gently. “I know Kara likes to exaggerate, but she said you were very adamant about paying to see the play on that first day.” Something in his posture shifted and he stepped a little closer to Geralt. “I might not have known you for that long, but you are the most amazing friend I could ask for.” His thumb caressed Geralt’s knuckles. “And if the friend you mentioned were here with us, I’m sure he would say the same thing.”

He would. Jaskier would say exactly the same thing. For once, the though didn’t pierce Geralt’s chest, but soothed the ache in it.

Geralt returned the soft caress and cleared his throat. “There is one friend I’ve had for a long time. I…would like for you to meet her, if you wanted to.”

Dandy’s expression softened. “I would love to.”

“I don’t know what I expected, but somehow I feel like I shouldn’t be surprised that your best friend is a horse.”

Dandy’s hand, which Geralt held gently towards Roach, didn’t tremble, but Dandy did suck in a sharp breath that ended in startled laughter when Roach bumped her muzzle against it eagerly.

Slowly, Geralt let go, while he watched Dandy get more comfortable stroking Roach. Almost immediately, Dandy found Roach’s favourite spot to get scratched between her ears. His voice went up in pitch as he started showering Roach in compliments and rhymes of praise – some of which were words Jaskier had spoken to Roach a hundred times before - which Roach rewarded by bumping her head against Dandy’s chest affectionately and nibbling at his clothes, making Dandy giggle.

It was such a soft moment, that Geralt’s heart swelled with unbearable fondness. This was how it was supposed to be. He could almost imagine how the future could be: Dandy leaning against him while they sat next to a campfire, just the two of them. Dandy bickering with Roach, once he realised that the mare liked to nibble on doublets. Dandy practicing his monologues while walking beside Geralt.

That dream was as beautiful as it was impossible.

Had the Path been dangerous for Jaskier, a bard who had a talent and experience in running away from danger, it would be a death sentence for Dandy. As much as he could orient himself in a city where the streets were at least somewhat even, his cane wouldn’t be much use when tracking through underbrush or climbing over rocks in the wilderness. Not to mention the monsters and bandits that would see Dandy as an easy target.

Even if Geralt would be able to somehow keep Dandy safe and only take roads that Dandy would be able to orient himself on, he knew that he could never convince Dandy to abandon his troupe, just to come with him. He didn’t want to convince him. If there was one thing Geralt had learned these past weeks, it was that the troupe was a family. He could never expect Dandy to leave them for him.

So he stayed quiet, doing his best to hold Roach in place while Dandy petted her neck.

He nearly startled, when Dandy broke the silence again.

“It’s going to be just the two of you then, when you leave?”

A pang shot through Geralt’s chest, but he forced the bitterness out of his voice when he replied, “It’s been like that most of the time. Roach is a good companion. Doesn’t let herself get hurt by monsters or bandits.”

Dandy gave a thoughtful hum. “She’s not easy to spook then? Is she good with other horses?” Almost like an afterthought, he added, “And loud people?”

Geralt scratched the space between Roach’s ears, keeping his eyes trained on her, even though he knew Dandy wouldn’t be able to tell if he was staring at him either way. He just couldn’t look at him when he spoke his next words.

“There was an incident during Belleteyn a couple of decades ago.” A hollow smile thinned his lips. “Got me into a lot of trouble. Not only me. But…she did get used to my bard. And he was as loud as one could get.”

Dandy started fidgeting with his cane, twirling it and then gripping it tightly again. “So…say, if she were to travel with a group of actors, she wouldn’t be bothered by the noise?”

Geralt’s heart jumped to his throat. “What are you saying?”

He couldn’t mean what Geralt so desperately wished he meant.

“I’m asking you to come with me. Us. The troupe.” Dandy’s hand stilled on Roach’s neck and he lifted his head. His sightless eyes were boring into Geralt, the seriousness of the moment making it hard to breathe.

“Dandy,” his voice was tight and the name burned on his tongue. “You don’t know what you’re asking. Witchers are…most people don’t like us.” Not anymore. Not since Jaskier was gone and his songs got lost to time. “If I came with you, I would only bring you trouble.”

“No you wouldn’t,” Dandy said hotly. “If there’s a place that’s bigoted enough to chase away witchers then I can guarantee they wouldn’t welcome travelling actors either. Not that we’d want to perform for such people anyway.”

“This isn’t just something you can ask in the spur of the moment-“

“You’re absolutely right, it’s not. Which is why I spent a lot of time thinking this through. Do you want a list for why we would be happy to have you come with us? Because I have a list. Mika helped me with it.”

Geralt let out a long sigh, but before he could protest further, Dandy had already straightened his spine and taken on the posture he had used when he had played the pirate in his most self-assured moments.

“You don’t have to stay with us forever, of course. Just for the winter. To see if you like it. It’s always dangerous for us to travel in the snow. You could keep us safe from bandits or monsters while we travelled and help out with setting up the stage when we get to towns?” This was his acting voice. By now, Geralt could recognised the intonation of it in his sleep. Dandy hadn’t exaggerated when he had said he’d thought about this. Clearly, he had taken the time to learn the list by heart. “Or take contracts there. Or you could sell tickets with Kara and make sure no one’s causing trouble over the price. Or you-“

“Dandy,” Geralt interjected softly, but Dandy pointedly ignored him.

“-could help us backstage during performances. That fire thingy and that blast magic of yours could be brilliant light or wind effects.”

Geralt let out a snort. “I don’t think having an open flame on stage is a good idea. And Aard isn’t that easy to control. My brother could maybe do it, but I’d probably blast you right off the stage if I tried.”

Dandy’s brows pinched together, then he shrugged. “That one was Mika’s idea. I told them it was ridiculous.”

“As opposed to the idea that anyone would want a witcher to travel with them in the first place.”

“Exactly.” A grin spread across Dandy’s face. “That is completely rational and there’s not a single argument that could convince me that it’s a bad idea.”

Geralt couldn’t stop himself from returning the smile. Good thing Dandy couldn’t see it, or he’d know that he had already won.

Though years of experience of being chased away and spat at, told Geralt that this wouldn’t end well for anyone, he also knew that winters were a rough time for a witcher out on the Path. Contracts were sparse and the few monsters one would come across, were more vicious than ever, made thirsty for blood from the lack of prey.

There were good arguments for why Geralt should come with the troupe. Deep in his heart, he already knew that he didn’t need those arguments. A part of him had been ready to follow Dandy to the end of the world from the moment that he had first seen him.

Still… “What about Nadine? She’s the one who’d have the last say.”

Dandy snorted, lacking any sort of grace. “Do you have a point? Because I don’t see it.”

Geralt spluttered, “Did- did you just-“

“Maybe,” Dandy said with a cheeky grin. “But you see, I already talked to Nadine about this. And she said, and I quote: ‘If he thinks he’d not be welcome here, tell him I think he’s an idiot and that I will personally kick his arse.’” Dandy left a dramatic pause, before he concluded, “And I would help her with that.”

“Dandy,” Geralt began, but Dandy interrupted him.

“Oh no. I will not hear another word of self-doubt from you. If you don’t want to come with us, that’s fine. But don’t you think for even a second that I would let it stand that you think we wouldn’t want you with us.”

“Dandy,” Geralt repeated softly but with more emphasis. He reached for Dandy’s hand, that was still resting on Roach’s neck and tangled their fingers together. “I will stay with you. For the winter.”

For as long as you’ll have me.

Travelling with the troupe was different than anything Geralt had ever experienced. For one, he didn’t have to sleep outside or pray to find an inn that would let him stay. Granted, sleeping in one of the spare wagons, a horrid green thing, in-between props, costumes and parts of the set design wasn’t the most comfortable Geralt had ever been, but it was so much better than sleeping on the freezing ground or having to worry about running out of coin.

But the most notable difference was the feeling of being part of a group. Geralt had his family back at Kaer Morhen, but it was different with them. They all had shared experiences and grief that had brought them closer together. Sure, there were memories of laughing together and just being happy were they were, but the reason the wolves were a pack was because of all the bad things that had been done to them and the need to fight against the bad memories.

For the players, it was the exact opposite. They had become a family out of their shared love for the theatre and it showed. Every once in a while, one of them would just start speaking strangely and it never took long for others to join in. Dandy had to explain to Geralt that they were making a game of only speaking in quotes of past plays and see who would remember the most lines. When Geralt asked why Dandy never joined in these games, Dandy laughed.

“Because I would win and leave them all looking stupid, obviously. You don’t want to watch them sulk over that, believe me.”

Geralt didn’t voice his doubts, but he was almost certain that the real reason for Dandy’s silence was that he didn’t want Geralt to feel left out.

The thing was, Geralt had watched the play about the pirate so many times that by now he felt he should know the entirety of it by heart.

The first time Geralt joined in the game by speaking the beginning of Dandy’s big monologue, he earned himself round-eyed looks and proud claps on the shoulder. Most importantly, he got to hear Dandy’s delighted laughter, that warmed Geralt from the inside, chasing away even the coldest winter wind.

Word travelled fast, especially when spread by actors, who made a point of mentioning that they were travelling with the elusive White Wolf to lure in bigger crowds whenever they settled down for a couple of weeks.

Soon, there was barely anyone left in the area, that didn’t know that Geralt was with them. Contrary to what he had feared, no one took that as an invitation to attack the actors. In fact, not a single bandit or thief dared to even look at them in a wrong way.

The protection that came with Geralt made the troupe much more relaxed than they had been in the first days of travel and even Geralt found himself less tense and alert than he would have been, had he been travelling on his own, not even wearing his armour most days during travel and keeping his weapons attached to Roach’s saddle.

He should have known better than to be so negligent.

Because while bandits might see Geralt and realise that attacking wouldn’t be a good idea, monsters only saw the colourful wagons, the tired horses and travellers and found themselves with a feasts on a silver platter.

Geralt should have been the first to notice that something was wrong. He should have heard the slow footsteps of a beast stalking its prey. He should have paid attention to the low humming of his medallion. He should have looked out for things that could take Dandy away from him instead of getting lost looking at him.

As it was, the horses were the first to notice. They started stomping their hooves and throwing their heads back nervously.

Then came the howl. It was dangerously close.

“What was that?” Nadine’s voice was tight with worry and she left her place at the front of their little caravan to make sure no one had separated from the group.

“A wolf?” Dandy suggested tentatively from where he was perched on one of the wagons.

Geralt’s face twisted into a scowl and his hand shot up to grip his medallion. Its low vibration made Geralt’s head snap around, searching for the threat.

“That’s no wolf.” His eyes darted over the treeline not far from them and the obvious tracks their wagons had left in the snow, making them far too easy to follow. “That’s something much worse.”

Dandy sucked in a sharp breath and Geralt wished, he’d be able to say something more comforting, but this was no time for lies.

“You have to go.” Geralt grabbed Nadine by the arm and gave her an imploring look. “Take the horses and run.”

Something fierce flickered through her eyes. “I will not leave a single member of this group behind. That includes you, witcher.”

Another howl, this one even closer than before. Geralt opened his mouth to snarl at Nadine that he was here to protect them, when the first horse fell into a panic.

It reared up, tried to dash away. The wagon it was pulling toppled and fell, taking the horse down with it with a panicked neigh.

Geralt whirled back to Nadine, whose eyes were now wide and full of fear.

“Go,” he pressed on. “Make sure the others are safe.”

For a long second, Geralt though she was going to protest, but then she raised her voice.

“You heard what he said. Get the horses free of the wagons and run!”

Immediately, the actors followed her command. Their movements were hectic and clumsy with panic. Geralt ran over to Roach, grabbing his silver sword and facing the treeline from where the howl had come. His muscles were tense as a bow string while he listened to the actors do their best to get on the horses before they fled. They weren’t fast enough.

With measures steps and a growl that Geralt felt in his bones, the beast left the shadows of the trees. From the distance, it almost looked like a wolf, but it was as big as a bear and instead of a pelt, it showed wiry muscles and claws sharper than any normal animal could have. Its neck was protected by a mattered mane that almost resembled a lion’s. It was a skullwarg, a beast evolved from a monster that should have died out ages ago.

Geralt gripped his sword tighter and ran to stand between the beast and the wagons.

“Geralt!”

Geralt jerked back violently at Dandy’s call. His blood ran cold. Dandy couldn’t run. He couldn’t ride. Not on his own.

“Geralt, you have to come with us!”

Geralt didn’t reply. He tried as best he could to shut Dandy’s cries out, but he continued to call for him, to beg him to flee with them, while the skullwarg stalked closer, baring its teeth.

It took all of Geralt’s strength not to turn around, as Dandy’s shouts became louder and more urgent. From the sounds of it, someone tried to pull him off the wagon and Dandy fought them tooth and nail.

Unbidden, images of Jaskier flooded Geralt’s mind. Jaskier lying on the ground, bleeding because Geralt hadn’t been able to get to him before a griffin did. Jaskier looking up at Geralt while blood dripped out of his mouth and his throat swelled from a djinn attack. Jaskier, lying in his arms, cold and unmoving.

Then the images shifted to Geralt clutching Dandy in his arms, trying to stop him from bleeding out, unable to do anything to stop the inevitable.

He blinked against those images, forced them away. He couldn’t let them become reality. Not yet. Not as long as he could stand between Dandy and death.

“Mika!” Geralt shouted without turning away, trusting that the actor was still close enough to hear and listen to him. “Get Dandy on Roach. Ride with him as far away as you can!”

“Geralt, no!” Geralt had to squeeze his eyes shut to drown out Dandy’s pleas. “No, Mika, don’t- We can’t just leave him. Geralt!”

Geralt opened his eyes just in time to see the skullwarg break into a sprint. Geralt widened his stance and faced the beast head-on.

The skullwarg jumped. Its claws grazed Geralt’s shoulder, just as he swung his sword, missing the opportunity to roll beneath it as he had learned. Staying in one place put Geralt at a clear disadvantage, but he couldn’t risk letting the beast get closer to the others.

He swung his sword mercilessly, evaded bites and claws, silently begging the others to hurry.

Fire erupted in his shoulder. Teeth like daggers buried into his flesh, dragging him down. The unexpected force flung his sword out of his grip. One of the beast’s paws pinned his arm to the ground.

The shouts behind him grew louder, more worried.

The beast’s breath above him smelled like decay and death. He needed to use igni, if he wanted to make it out alive.

But the horses were still near enough to become more agitated by the flames. Dandy was on one of those horses. If he fell because of Geralt and got left behind, there was little chance of him surviving.

Blazing agony shot through Geralt’s shoulder, as the skullwarg tore its teeth out of it again. Geralt panted and ground his teeth against the pain. He had to focus. He had to stay alive so he could protect the others!

He brazed himself for another attack. The beast’s maul snapped at him again. In the last second, Geralt threw his free hand up just enough to form Aard. The movement burned in his shoulder and left him gasping for air, but the shock of the blast that flung the beast to the side, bought Geralt a few precious moments. He pushed himself back up and darted to his sword.

Behind him, he could hear the clapping of hooves, as the horses sped away. Hopefully, the actors knew better than to return anytime soon.

If Geralt didn’t make it, he hoped that at least he would be able to buy them enough time to get themselves to safety.

Geralt watched with a tight jaw, how the beast shook its head and stood back up with a low growl. Without warning, the skullwarg charged again.

Geralt ducked behind one of the wagons, but the beast didn’t crush against it, as he had hoped, but rounded it in two quick jumps.

It was too fast.

Geralt wouldn’t be able to fight it with just his silver. Still, he slashed at it again in blind desperation. The blade came away bloody, but Geralt’s shoulder screamed with every swing, the edged of his vision going black with every time the pain flared up. He wouldn’t be able to last long like this.

Another hit. Another. Claws grazing his forehead as he tried to duck under the attack.

Blood dripped into Geralt’s eyes, dying the world red. Red. Red.

Like Jaskier’s blood. Like Dandy’s.

Geralt staggered forwards, sword lifted high above his head. His foot caught on something lying on the ground. It was Dandy’s cane.

His heart splintered like wood beneath an axe. He had lost his cane. He needed it. Geralt had to bring it back to him…

He shook his head, trying to get his mind to stay with him. He couldn’t risk getting distracted.

The skullwarg leaped towards him and rammed its head against Geralt’s chest. All air was pressed out of Geralt’s lungs, leaving him gasping.

He threw his arm up and a burst of flames burst out of his palm. The beast whined as his mane became bright red with flames. The fire flickered in its black eyes. Geralt panted and fell to his knees as he watched the best howl in pain and fury, running in circles to get the flames to stop devouring him. With a crash, the skullwarg collided with the wagon that had toppled before.

A roar, as the wood caught fire. Dandy’s living going up in flames.

“No.” Geralt’s eyes widened. The beast didn’t stop. Mindless in its fear, it bit at its own body, twisting and jumping, uncaring of where it went.

Geralt couldn’t let it set fire to any more of the wagons.

He ran, before he could think about what he was doing and jumped, barrelling into the beast and bringing it down with him, crashing against the wheels of another wagon. A crack went through the wood. Somewhere at the back of his mind, Geralt recognised the green paint as the wagon he used to sleep in.

Sharp agony tore him out of his thoughts. Claws dug into Geralt’s flesh and teeth tore into him, but Geralt couldn’t think, couldn’t stop to fight off the pain or the relentless attacks. He pressed the skullwarg to the ground with his own body, clenching his teeth against the pain of the flames licking at him. He dropped his sword, using his hands to shovel snow onto the flames. He had to quench them. Dandy couldn’t return to find his life burned down to ash.

He couldn’t waste a single moment.

Fire. The other wagon was still burning. The flames could easily devour the other wagons if Geralt didn’t do something. The smoke stung in his eyes, making it impossible to see.

Without thinking, Geralt threw another blast of Aard at the burning wagon, bringing a wave of snow with it and pushing the wagon away from the others.

The force of the blast pushed Geralt unexpectedly against the wagon he had crashed into before.

Another crack came from right behind him.

The skullwarg whined beneath him, thrust its ugly head to the side, desperate to get free. A shadow descended over them.

Geralt turned just in time to see another wheel of the wagon break from the force of the Aard.

He had no time to think, no time to get himself to safety. Still, Geralt threw himself forwards, trying to get away before the wagon came crashing down on him.

The wagon met the ground with an ear-splitting crash. The whining of the beast cut off abruptly.

Geralt was pressed to the ground, all air escaping him. He felt splinters tear his skin open, felt his own blood dripping to the snow below. The pain hit Geralt a second later.

It felt as if his whole body was crushed. He couldn’t breathe.

He tried to move, tried to push the wagon off him, tried to crawl out from beneath it.

He didn’t make it more than a few feet, just enough that his fingers met the cane that lay abandoned in the snow.

His fingers closed around the cool wood, holding it like a lifeline.

Geralt’s breathing was shallow, every intake of breath felt like swallowing shards of glass. He could do nothing but welcome the numb darkness that welcomed him in its arms.

#reincarnation au #geraskier #geralt #jaskier #fic #witcher #witcher fic #fanfic #my writing

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definitelyseven · 4 years ago

Text

deal | five

summary: when your step-mom unexpectedly offers you a deal you can’t resist, you decide to give her a taste of her own medicine by seducing her potential suitor, Im Jaebum.

The wind was especially strong today. It seemed like on the days you decided to go out, the nights were extra cold. You and your best friend, Minju, were standing in line to get inside the new club that just opened.

“Why is it so cold?” you whined.

“Hoes don’t get cold,” Minju smirked, smacking your butt. You cursed yourself for wearing a deep v, mini dress that barely covered your ass. Your outfit garnered a lot of attention, catching people stare at you in every direction.

“How is there so many people at this club already?” you asked her.

“The club owner is one of Korea’s top producer. A lot of celebrities will be here tonight,” she squealed. The both of you waited for what seemed like forever before the line started to move and people started going inside. Everyone turned to look at the car that pulled up next to the entrance, hoping it was some kind of celebrity, but it wasn’t. It was Jaebum’s car.

He steps out of the car, looking handsome as ever, alongside with two other men. “Jaebum!” you called for his attention. You told Minju to wait in line for you as you walked up to greet him.

“How did you know I was here?” he asked crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“You’re not the only one that’s allowed to go out,” you said raising your eyebrow. “You have your fun, and I have mine.” Jaebum chuckled, nodding. “Help me get in.” He glances over at the long line before looking at you. “You don’t want me to catch a cold, do you?” you pouted. He stares at you; up and down, before running his finger over his lip.

“It’s like you’re begging to get a cold with that outfit,” he teased.

“Please...” you begged again, tugging on his blazer. Jaebum waves down security and tells him to let you in. “Thanks baby,” you smiled before grabbing Minju out of line. You followed Jaebum and his friends in the club.

“Have your fun, but be safe,” he warned looking down at you as he pulled your body close to his before giving your ass a squeeze. You jumped at the sudden affection, hitting his chest in response.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be safe daddy,” you whispered in his ear before walking away with Minju.

“Who was that?” she asked. “He’s hot.”

“I’ll explain later, but drinks now,” you said pulling her towards the bar. By your 5th shot, your cheeks were burning and you started to feel the alcohol kick in. You pulled Minju to the middle of the dance floor with you.

You glanced over to the man who had slip his hands around your waist. He wasn’t bad looking, but you didn’t want to dance with him. You grabbed the stranger’s hand and pushed it away, hoping it was a good enough signal for him to back off.

But it wasn’t.

“Come on baby, don’t play hard to get,” the man whispered in your ear. You moved your head away from him and stepped back.

“Don’t touch me,” you said disgusted.

“You’re begging to be touch with your ass moving like that,” he said reaching for you again.

“Fuck off,” you said walking back to the bar. Minju quickly followed behind.

“What’s wrong? He was good looking,” she said waving the bartender down.

“I’m going solo tonight.”

“Could it be because of that guy that helped us in?” she asked elbowing you. You bit your lip, non-responsive. “I knew it!” she jumped happily.

“Relax,” you tell her while handing her a shot of tequila. The both of you chugged it and slammed the glass on the table.

“Y/N...” she whined.

“No...” you looked at her in disbelief. “Don’t tell me you invited your boyfriend!”

“Don’t be mad,” she pleaded. “He’s here! I’m going to find him. Be careful!” she said before walking off. You scoffed, brushing off how your friend just ditched you for her boyfriend.

You looked around the club and see Jaebum in the VIP area. He had his arm wrapped around a very pretty woman. Her hands stroking his thigh, her body pressed close to his, laughing at everything he said. You rolled your eyes annoyed - every women in this club wanted a piece of him.

“Can I buy you a drink?” You turned around and saw the man that was groping you on the dance floor.

“No, thank you. I was just leaving,” you smiled subtly before walking away.

He grabbed your hand, “I’m sorry, I just want to buy you a drink. Please...” he begged. “One drink.”

“Okay, one drink,” you don’t know why you agreed to drinking with him - maybe because you wanted him to stop bugging you. You walked with him towards the bar and patiently waited for him to grab you a drink. Your eyes kept wandering over to Jaebum’s table. He was certainly having his own fun. He didn’t even bother to look for you.

“Here you go,” the man said handing you a drink. “I’m sorry again.” You took a sip out of the drink, before setting it down on the table. It tasted weird, kind of bitter. “What’s a pretty lady doing by herself at the club?”

“I’m not by myself. I’m with a friend. She just stepped away,” you said taking another sip of your drink. You bit your inner cheek, soothing your tongue on the roof of your mouth from the bitterness.

“That dress looks so good on you, baby. It makes me want to do things to you,” he said leaning in. You put your hand out in front of him, stopping him from moving closer.

"Do you want me to pour this drink on you?”

“Okay okay,” he said clinking his glass with yours. You took another sip of your drink again. The more you drank, the thirster you felt.

“I don’t feel so good,” you groaned, rubbing the temples of your head.

“What’s wrong baby?” he said holding you up.

“I think I feel sick...” you said trying to leave to get some fresh air. You felt his arms wrap around your waist, but you were too weak to push him away. Your legs went limp and your body started to feel numb, shivering at the breeze outside. “I need to get a taxi,” you whimpered.

“It’s okay, baby. I got you,” he said in your ear. You felt him nibble on your ear, his hand reaching under your dress.

“No...” you whimpered. “Stop,” you said trying to push his hand off your leg.

“Shh baby...” he said, sucking on your neck. You tried to push him away, but you couldn’t. It was like all the strength in your body was being sucked away. “I’ll take good care of you.”

You couldn’t do anything, but beg for him to stop. You hear your dress tear as you start to whimper, pleading for him to stop. You collapse onto the floor as you felt his hand rip off you. Your vision was blurred, but from a distance, you see two men fighting.

The feeling of something coming up your throat woke you up. You sat up too quickly, feeling thick contents rush up into your mouth.

“Here,” you hear someone say running towards you with an ice bucket. You released the contents in your mouth to the bucket before groaning. Your throat felt hoarse from the acidity of the vomit, tears falling from the side of your eyes. You looked up to see Jaebum.

“What happened?” you said laying on the headboard of the bed.

“I told you to be careful,” he said handing you a glass of water. “That dick spiked your drink and you had no idea. You could’ve -” he stopped himself from speaking. “You’re okay now.”

“I-I didn’t know,” you said with tears in your eyes. He sighs moving closer to you. Jaebum strokes your head, gently wiping the tears that were collected in your eyes.

“The doctor said you’ll be fine after throwing it up. Drink more water,” he tells you, bringing the glass towards your lips. Your stomach churned, not taking in the water. “Drink more,” he whispered.

“Where am I?”

“Hotel. I didn’t want to bring you home in this state.” You looked down at your ripped dress, pulling it down to cover your exposed thigh. “Please don’t tell me you were going to hook up with that guy.”

“I wasn’t!” you explained. “I don’t even know why I agreed to drink with him. I was stupid!”

Jaebum sighs, “Don’t get with just any guy because of me. I’m not worth it.”

That was never your intention. You weren’t going to sleep around because of him, because he wasn’t paying attention to you. You weren’t that type of girl and he didn’t know that.

“I would never.”

“Good, let’s get you cleaned up,” he said helping you out of the bed. He walked you towards the bathroom and sits you down on the toilet before handing you a makeup wipe to take off your makeup. You watched Jaebum draw you a bath, putting in rose pedals, and soap to create bubbles. “I think the waters good.”

You nodded, standing up in front of him. He watched you carefully as you removed your dress in front of him. “Join me?” you asked, standing in front of him in only your panties.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Jaebum said clearing his throat.

“I just want some company,” you said holding onto his hand. “It’s just a bath,” you said helping him out of his shirt. He didn’t refuse. You tossed his shirt across the bathroom floor before reaching for his sweatpants.

a little note from jennie: hi lovely readers! sorry for not posting during my usual days last week. i’ve been feeling unmotivated, and spent more time on this chapter than i should’ve. hope you enjoyed this one. :)

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echo-three-one · 4 years ago

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The strongest lead toward Shepherd that will lead them to Nero. (honestly I can't think of better summaries lately. I hope you're still enjoying THE ROAD SO FAR (CUE carry on my wayward son)

Table of Contents

Previous Chapter : If I Remember Correctly

Chapter 22 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️ Look how far we've come!

Going Dark - Part 1

"Alex"

Safe House 110197, Brazil

Alex woke up to the smell of Samantha's shampoo. God, she smelled so beautiful. He thought as he shifted his position carefully, trying not to disturb his sleeping girl.

Samantha caught wind of his actions and turned back to him.

"Good Morning." Alex greeted with the most wholesome and lovable smile he could ever conjure. He could see Samantha actually blush at his smile, meaning that his charm still worked toward her even after all those times.

"Good Morning… you-" She greeted back but Alex immediately met her lips with his, turning a simple morning greeting into a hot make out session. Samantha ran her hand across his arm down to his chest, pushing the tough muscle as her eyes slowly closed, enjoying the way Alex's mouth moved inside hers.

"I wish I could just sit out this mission and stay here with you…" he mused, tapping her nose and smiling.

"You go out there and fix the world, hero. I'll be here when you get back." She winked as Alex slowly got up and left the room, his eyes never leaving hers until he was out of sight.

Alex stepped out of the stairs to the view of Price complaining about the water. Roach was already shuffling to the kitchen to satisfy their Captain's needs. This gave Alex the chance to check on Maxine.

"How are you holding up, Maxine." He asked.

"What's wrong, lass?" Price inserted sipping his morning coffee.

"Hey Alex, Captain Price…" She greeted, her voice was shaky but she looked like she had the courage to respond.

"I had a strange dream last night… I believe it was one of my memories." She spoke softly. Price and Alex's face lit up.

"That's good news!" Alex cheered, shaking her shoulders and quickly withdrawing his hands as soon as it felt awkward.

"Good on ya, lass. Cheers to that!" He raised his mug and nodded.

"Captain Price." Another familiar voice interrupted behind them.

"I have intel on Shadow Company." Ghost announced, everyone fell silent and they immediately gathered around the command center. Soap and France followed as they walked down the stairs together.

"Three addresses in three separate London Apartments." he informed while typing furiously across the keyboard. The map had three yellow blinking dots, two of them were close to each other while one was far away.

"Intel says they're not sure which of these had a Shadow Company residing in it. They're most probably on leave and might be armed." Ghost added, showing three faces of men which were presumed targets for intel.

"Where'd you get these? They look like very classified information." Price asked, crossing his arms and looking at Ghost.

"Let's just say I know someone." he replies smugly.

"And why would we follow such a lead?" Jack added, making the situation very awkward for the rest of the team.

"Is this…" Soap tried to insert.

"Yes, Soap. It's interpol." he finished. The rest of the team looked at each other.

"They wanted to investigate more on the Shadow Company. But since they aren't authorized to act on it, all they do is gather information. Which is frustrating-" Ghost complained but got cut off by Price.

"They're asking for our help because we're rogue. No rules, no anything…" He stated the bitter tone in his voice was too clear.

"We can't just casually fly to London, right? Who's helping us?" Alex stated the larger problem at hand. If this lead is solid enough, they have to act on it.

"Nikolai could fly us in. I could pull a few favors from S.A.S. but they're going to have to be sneaky to let us land there. We can't forget the fact that we're fugitives. I mean, Shepherd only put Me, Alex, Soap, Ghost and Roach on his list." Price said.

"My dream of being wanted came true in the worst way possible." Soap cracked a joke to lighten up the mood. It obviously worked except for Jack, who always never gets the humor.

They continued briefing, planning the route that they would take saving the most time. Which weapons to use and other protocols to follow.

"Saving the world once again, my hero?" Samantha leaned on him as he continuously flicked Soap's lighter.

"Stop calling me that. I'm no hero. I'm just trying to set things back the way they were."

"Like what heroes do." Samantha chuckled sitting next to him and rested her head on his lap.

"My Dad probably misses me so much." She sighed, looking at Alex as he looked down on her, his fingers played with her hair.

"If we could find the perfect time, we could tell him you're safe. It's unfair how the whole world thinks we took you as a hostage." he complained.

"Well, when you think of it I really am a prisoner here." she mused as Alex's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Then once his brain cells finally agreed, he smiled and laughed.

"Oh I get it." he reached for her hand and put it close in his heart.

"You're trapped in here aren't you." they both laughed.

"That's so corny, right?" Samantha giggled.

"Yeah. It is." Alex replied as they continued to spend the rest of the few hours they had together before flying to the Majesty's domain.

LONDON

UNITED KINGDOM

Price wasn't able to land on the S.A.S. base, but they did assist the rogue team to land on an open area not too far from the base and Nikolai seemed to be fine with it. The team borrowed MacMillan's jeep and took the road less traveled to the city.

Everyone looked alert and worried, this was a risky move but it was all they had to get to Shepherd, to get to Nero.

They drove as fast as they legally could, knowing that their faces wouldn't be recognized by anyone until Ghost distributed his extra skull masks, which allowed them to move freely across the streets of the nearest target location.

The first apartment room was located on the third floor, that meant they had to ascent two flights of stairs without raising suspicion. Ghost immediately worked his way to the basement and disabled the lights.

A quick flicker and the building's lights immediately shut off, making some of the tenants scream in surprise. It was time to move.

The team slowly crept the stairs, their steps were light enough that they could only hear faint creaking. Price led the line as they cleared the hallway all the way up to the third.

Alex was behind Price as he saw the target room's door was slightly ajar. It's either they're lucky he forgot to lock it or they were too late. Proceeding with extreme caution, Price swung the door open and continued to scour the room for the guy.

"Right door, clear." Price announced as everyone scattered around to look for intel. Jack searched the closets hoping that clues were left behind inside pockets. Roach looked for the drawers while Price and Alex looked for clues of possible escape.

"Someone's going up to this floor." Soap whispered as he signaled the team to remain quiet. He was by the door on lookout for the team.

Complete silence. Alex could only hear his breathing and his heartbeat as the person walked past the hall, not minding the open room he just passed through.

They took a few more minutes of intel gathering until they ultimately decided to call it off. It was a dead lead.

"Two more houses." Ghost announced as the team silently regrouped by the car where Nikolai was waiting. The lights immediately returned as soon as they set foot on the vehicle.

"I sure hope we get something from the next house." Roach wished as they drove to the next location.

The second location almost had the same layout. They did the same plan but this time Alex and Soap switched roles. Guard duty was significantly harder when it's dark and Alex did his best to heighten his senses.

Signs of struggle were heard from the inside and Alex assumed they finally identified one of the targets. He could hear the person's groans and struggles as well as his team working hard to constrain the person.

"Ghost. It looks like they got him." Alex reported as he could hear Ghost working on something. Then in just a flash, the lights turned back on along with a loud booming sound of Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up". Alex entered the room and looked at the poor guy being surrounded by his squad. He was trying to scream for help but Rick Astley begged to differ.

"We're just here for one simple question…

WHERE. IS. SHEPHERD?" Price roared. The guy didn't easily give in. He just shook his head and continued to struggle free. Jack immediately pulled his hand and placed some pliers in between the hostage's fingers.

"Isn't that a little bit too harsh?" Soap whispered to Roach, who just shrugged.

"What's harsh is that they used an innocent daughter as bait." Jack slowly squeezed the pliers making the hostage scream.

"AAAAAAAAAH." He squirmed making the rest of the team hold him tight. Alex had his eyes set on the door as neighbors started to complain about the booming music.

He squirmed enough that it activated something in his pocket, a smartphone whose light shone through the fabric of his pants. Then in a flash, a small scale EMP blast rendered the whole building quiet. All electrical devices were disabled and Alex and the team found themselves kneeling as the loud ringing triggered their ears.

None of them were too quick to react as their hostage looked like he wasn't affected by the blast. He bolted toward the exit and Alex attempted to grab him by the foot, only for him to effortlessly shrug him off and stomp on him, causing him to roll in pain.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Soap follow along with Roach, who were still holding their ears and wincing from the pain of the ringing.

Next Chapter : Going Dark - Part 2

Notification Squad my Beloved

@samatedeansbroccoli @smokeywhalee @enderio @whimsywispsblog @beemybee @ricinbach

#horrayfic #john soap mactavish #john price #simon ghost riley #alex echo 3 1 #gary roach sanderson #whateverittakes #codmw

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scrawnytreedemon · 3 years ago

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Glory, glory, glory, call the Bells of Hyrule Castle Town, And how sweetly they ring, Under the screams of a populace Sent into a blind fervour, Victory is mine, and it's so Sour it's sweet,

The halls are long and winding, Matroned by suits of armour and Moth-eaten carpets, flattened by the Work of many feet, their rotting threads Worth the endeavours of my people A thousandfold, So I relieve them of their paintings, Strip the stands of their armour to give to My troops, set new candles in these Chandeliers, bejewelled, It's a Thursday when they're lit the first Time in my honour, for all my work, Hyrule Castle is mine, and it's a bitch To keep, always moaning, groaning, For wash, for care, for repair, And care I give, in droves,

It's almost easy to forget there's, by some Technicality, a war going on outside, a war against One, maybe two senseless renegades, It's easy to forget, even after we lift the forged-Twilit barrier, glistening like carved gold, Nothing really happens here, and that, dear Companion, is bliss. Honestly, my boy, have some Cake, our foes are small and a ways off yet, There's no good in rushing, not unless you wish To throw yourself on the blade of his sword, Then be my guest, I'd say, if I were cruel and unyielding, But I love you so, little prodigy, little usurper of mine Nestled b'neath my wing, and I know I did good In choosing you,

But you don't wait, you don't eat cake, All you think is war, and how to win it, and I wonder then if you'll ever learn to enjoy its spoils, But that is your endeavour, and not mine, And a good teacher always lets his students Trip, as long as there's soft ground to fall on, And there is, in abundance, I can rest knowing you'll be fine,

So I tend to my garden, and recline in the Fruit of their beds, when my work pays off And the weather is nice, But I suppose my idea of nice weather differs From yours, and I can't help laughing when You rush to get me out of my wet robes, Yammering on about sickness and disease, Of my poor, poor heart, and how it's Constantly straining under the sheer bulk Of my form, My love, of this, we have not to worry, Do you remember not the pact we made, Swearing that we'd never die? We'll never die, my dear, Not in any way that matters,

I clean the windows, and leaf through the Endless pages of the castle library, It's been centuries, since I could read like This, with such leisure, with no urgency, And it bores me, I'm restless, My hands twitch and fiddle, and I rise Constantly, hoping foolishly in doing so I'd find something new, eventually, I think incorporeality has weakened me, Dear friend, its taste souring every Sweetness of the flesh, And nothing deigns to ease its note,

But I'm insistent, insistent on Living life, daily, wholly, or close, I didn't conquer for conquering's sake, My boy, I conquered to live, to build Anew a life for me and my kind, And though their voices are now mere Hums in the desert wind, they live on Through me, through you, my boy, You know the insignia on your robes Has meaning, don't you?

The people cower and quiver, though Soon enough I hope they'll realise They're to be treated with respect, I shudder to think what horrors I could've Wrought, had I come to such a height In days younger, the burns of Hyrule's Great sins a many still fresh on my Sun-kissed skin,

Oh, boy, dear boy, though you smother it The ardour of youth lives on in you yet! And it is wonderful as it is dangerous, Temper it with my counsel, so that it may Grow into a resolve firm and straight by your Old age, Hah! You don't like the thought of that, do you, Your lithe, nymph-like form with its smooth Skin and feline grace withering? Oh stop it, I know you meant it not a slight against me, A slight not it was taken. You worry so, It ought to be your heart of concern, not mine, Because if there's one thing I know, it's that Fear eats, student steadfast, fear gnaws The threads of ones psyche, Are you sure you don't want tea?

But you're off again before I can come Once more, off to twist the path of the hero With your own hands, and I'm left in the Dark of the tearoom, the rain lashing in Torrents outside, wondering someday if Children, yours or mine, will race down these Palace halls. You're young still, my prodigy, My progeny via this legacy of deceit, Find a nice girl, build a dynasty while you can, I get the feeling my cousin would've endeared you,

It's late into the night, when you return, Sopping wet, not looking even half as Triumphant as you claim to be, Oh, pity, come sit by me, if either of us Were so inclined, I might even suggest You lay your head on my lap,

Hah! You don't like the thought of that, either, I wonder, what things do they teach young Men like you about intimacy, over there? All touch is sacred, my boy, and none of it Is to be soiled by careless caresses, do you Hear me?

But come now, sit by the fire, as ease yourself as Close or as distant as your heart desires, Let me make fellowship with you, friend, We can even pretend to pray, I curry Din's favour, how about you? Ah, none. Bitter yet, I take it? Not to worry, I am, too,

We spend a few days like this, a few weeks, Maybe even a month or two, It's hard to tell, when you're my age, Everything blurs together like smudged ink, Whatever the length, it was too short, As soon as you caught wind of further Moving from that wretched pair, you set off For your palace,

I wish you'd taken the time to say goodbye, I wish I'd made you.

Everything came crumbling down after that, You should've stayed, stayed by my side, There isn't enough time, isn't enough time For you to knit yourself back together, If only these damn brats would slow, then I'd have time! Time, time, time, so little time, Where did it all go? It seemed more than content To linger when all was well, Maybe all was well because it lingered, Perhaps I'm being abandoned, hah, Hold on tight, I beg of you,

All of this, all we made, all we wrought, all We founded, the carpets set down, the armour Given to warriors mighty, the chandeliers Polished and lit anew, the garden I grew, Waiting for a time I could spend at ease with you, All of it's falling apart, Recipes written, never to be cooked, Robes set to be woven for balls never thrown, The piano, the mahogany piano I set in the Room we'd have had them, knowing how much You loved to play, How on one, sunny afternoon I urged you to Sing, despite your mumbles and your Protests of 'really, my Lord, I'm not very good,' How wrong you were, Oh, how wrong you were, How wrong I was, thinking we could bide our Time, and forge memories sweeter a Thousandfold,

The door creaks open with a screech, Didn't I have that oiled? They walk in without a second glance, There's mud on the floor, I just had that washed, I wonder, what did they do to the Carpets?

It's not to him I look, but her, He is but a tool, a ploy, and I Wonder what on earth about him Ever struck you as Breathtaking? As worthy of Your efforts,

She ruins the castle in her wrath, She's crushed with ease, her Power dead and gone, Dead and gone, dead and gone, None of it makes up for even A fraction of the pain of losing you, All that's left are these two whelps, And my resolve to crush them,

It rains in our battle, the ground Slippery and sodden, I've seen More water this autumn than I ever Did in all my years back home, We began this last year in the summer, Didn't we? Or was it the year before That, I can't tell, I can't tell, not when Everything blurs together like smudged Ink on a thickly-margined parchment, His sword clangs sharply against mine, And I wonder if he even had the decency To let you die against it, Let you die a Noble death, But I shan't be owed mine, I shan't, I have the power of the gods at my Behest, my patron Din, Goddess of Might and Forger of Worlds, And what is he, what is he but a Farmhand with old clothes and A fancy sword?

A hero, apparently.

I watch your neck snap, in the Fading light.

We die standing.

—What We Made in Hyrule Castle

#tloz #twilight princess #ganondorf #zant #writing #poem #scrawny writes #posting this anyway becausehdhjfjkhfjf my friend liked it :)#and also a *certain* someone just followed who i think would like this #while isn't intended as ship per se i have no qualms about it being tagged as such #the intimacy is what matters #hghjkfgjhkfdhkj and oh BOY is there boatloads #tp

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