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bonemarrowrites · 3 months ago

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Bury My Broken Bones

Contents: M / M, Cis / Trans, Demonic humanoid x half-elf, slow burn, implied self-harm, gentle sex, bittersweet ending.

Short explicit fantasy story. A villain meets his wounded adversary. +4k words.

Scroll to this ╭ᑎ╮ mark to skip the story parts.

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The freezing winter wind hit my face immediately after I had cast my teleportation spell. The pale light of twilight painted the snowy scenery with cool-toned redness. The blizzard had ceded, leaving most of the bodies under a thick snow blanket, some had tried to escape their fate by climbing on top of each other, frozen in place like icy marble statues. The bloody wounds some of them had endured colored snow as I took in the crisp air.

The infernal blood within my veins helped me keep warm, but every time the cold winds lashed at me, I felt shivers. With the calling stone in my hand, I tried to find the one who had used it amongst the fallen bugbear army. Despite the coldness surrounding me, I was thrilled. I wanted to find him. Maybe I could witness his last breaths on this earth or I’ll find his already cold dead body, whatever would be the case, I’d have finally won and there was nothing to stop me from finding the rest of the artifacts we both were searching for.

As I walked forward, the snow around my armored boots melted from the heat. The frosty mist made it hard to see far, but part of me could feel him close by, the ritual we both had gone through made sure of it.

In the middle of all the weapons poking from the snow and barely visible bodies, there was a large dead tree. I could feel its magic and saw that there was no snow on the dark bark. Whatever curse lay within, had kept it clean. There, I saw him, lying against the tree and his name escaped my lips.

“Sangar,” I whispered to myself as I walked towards him. Sangar’s body was a little paler than usual, his dark hair had been wetted by the blood coming from a wound on his head, and a trail of blood had frozen against his already blue lips. The half-elf didn’t look like much now, had the people who adored him seen him now, they would have laughed. Yet, his left hand still gripped tightly the calling stone.

I knelt down and leaned forward, I wished I had been the one to take him down, but now he had met his end in battle with the northern bugbear army. I was sure even he didn’t see that one coming. Had I still had a heart, it would have been beating hard against my chest as I leaned even closer to inspect Sangar’s body.

When he slightly opened his eyes and began to breathe with a rattled sound, my heart would have certainly jumped from my chest as I backed off.

“P-please,” Sangar muttered as he took loud gasps, “… Kill me.”

“Wait, what?” I muttered confused, almost offended by his request. Sangar closed his eyes, losing whatever was left of his strength, and forced himself to muster in his last thoughts.

“Please,” He said again, “Just take my life, end this,” unable to add anything else, Sangar looked like all I needed to do to kill him was a simple poke with my pinky.

My thrill had soured. Him begging for his life had been part of my plans, but him pleading with me to end it had not. I scratched my stone-sharp beard and looked at him.

It had to be a trap, I thought to myself. Sangar always had a plan, managed to pull out some sort of miracle to escape near-death experiences. Where were his friends? Those who had almost killed me while protecting him? Why was he alone here? This all seemed to be too good to be true.

“No, you elven bastard, I’m not going to help you!” I growled, “I’m not falling into your trap!”

I put my claws over his wounds and began chanting a healing spell. Once I had been a great healer, but nowadays I leaned more toward entropy. My powers rushed from within me to my hands, and the light spread all over Sangar’s frail body, closing his wounds.

But he did not wake up.

I was forced to use more of my powers but no matter how much I strained myself, he wasn’t healing properly. His wounds were not only on his body but also somewhere deep within. I got up and kicked the fresh snow, dispersing it everywhere. I decided to quit and began to cast myself back to my lair.

My spell withered away as soon as I was done casting.

I looked at Sangar, then my claws, and back at him. The cursed tree was siphoning his life force and had drained my powers. Angrily whipping my tail I kicked the snow again, this time hitting my feet into an obsidian axe making me curse from the pain.

Fine, I said to myself. We’ll stay here.

I picked Sangar up and realized how small he truly was. I had always looked down on him, literally and metaphorically, but now he looked just pathetic, not the hero everyone thought he was, and not the girl I had known back in the day.

I wrapped him into my cloak and began to walk farther away from the tree. Not sure where I should head. The sight of me carrying my archnemesis must have looked funny if there had been anyone to see it. My body gave some heat, but it wasn’t nearly enough in this environment to keep him warm.

In the distance, I spotted one of the large tents the army had used as a shelter and took him there, as we got closer I saw the other tents buried in the snow, this one was tilted, but still standing. The thick fabric had kept the roaring fireplace safe during the blizzard and it was still somewhat warm. As we entered I laid Sangar down to the furs covering the floor and began to heat up the tent.

When it was warm enough, I hunkered over Sangar and removed his armor and clothes, ensuring he didn’t have any weapons with him. My blackened armored skin brushed hard against his vulnerable body, making him whimper softly in his slumber. My burning eyes trailed his nude scarred body. Sangar had gone through a lot and some of those scars were left by me. I pitied him, I had been in the same situation as him before I realized the truth.

There was a prophecy, as there always was, that one day soon someone would rise and stop the deadly Blooming Sea from spreading through the continent, saving everyone. At first, the blind seers had named me as their herald, but the quest they wanted me to embark on meant that I would have to sacrifice my life to save the world and I chose a different path. Sangar and I had been training together for years until that fateful day. Somewhere deep within me, there was still part of me that cared for him, I had never told him how I truly felt and it mattered little now. When I had declined to be their chosen one, they took Sangar and ever since then we have been enemies. We both needed the same magical items to achieve our goals.

Gently, I brushed his cheek and pulled my cloak over him again, covering his body. Sangar’s lips had begun to turn rosy again as the fireplace behind us crackled gently with heat. I was lost in my thoughts, thinking about things that had been and what could have been, nodding off slowly.

I dreamed about the Blooming Sea as I always did. I was standing in the middle of a beautiful flower field, filled with colorful flowers and vibrant scents. I was human again, my dark skin contrasted the flowers around me, and as I took one into my hands, the rot began to spread from the flower into my hand, my veins burning from the pain and I could feel the thick pollen in my lungs, choking me, my eyes watered as everything turned black.

I gasped awake as I heard a loud clang.

Sangar had woken up too and was now backed away against the tent wall, holding in his hand one of the daggers he had stolen from my belt. His hands trembled as he forced himself to hold it. My weapons were not made for mortals and holding it must’ve felt painful.

“Drop it,” I boomed as I got up, “You’re only hurting yourself!”

“No! What have you done to me?!” Sangar held my cloak over his body, there was fear in his eyes had only seen twice before. The day I chose my own fate and once when I almost slaughtered his friends.

“A lot I now regret,” I replied back, “I’ve healed your body and carried you to safety, I’ll leave you to whatever you were doing as soon as my powers return to me.” Revealing my weakened state might have been a mistake, but this was unknown territory for both of us. We had not been in the same room in years without trying to kill each other.

Sangar collapsed onto his knees and dropped my dagger. Weeping softly into his hands. The part of me that still cared for him wanted me to go to him, but I nipped that thought in the bud.

“Listen, whatever you were going through out there is none of my concern, but you will get cold if you stay far from the fire, look here,” I said before moving away from here, “Go beside the fire and I’ll stay farther away.”

Perpexled by my words, Sangar crawled next to the fire.

“Why did you help me?” he asked.

“I didn’t, I helped myself,” I scoffed, in all honesty, I wasn’t sure why I had spared his life.

“Okay… How did you find me?” his confusion matched mine.

“A couple of weeks ago you were in a tavern with your group, you met a tavern girl and laid with her, she put a sigil on your calling stone so I could track you, you tried to use it after your battle with the bugbears” I replied back.

“Hmm,” Sangar pondered for a moment, “I didn’t expect it to work so well.”

“What worked so well?” It was my turn to ask questions.

“We knew about the woman, it was actually her who told us about your plan, real sweet thing that one,” Sangar smirked. I knew this had been a trap, I took a step back and looked around me, but I could only hear the howling wind outside the tent.

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t that smart,” he chuckled, “I got separated from my group and they were too far to hear my calling, but I knew your little spell might actually give me enough range to reach somebody and by that somebody I mean you.”

I tilted my head from curiosity, “You wanted me to come here?” I asked.

“I was weak, I had no way out, I was dying. I thought…” Sangar paused, “I thought maybe if you came, and finished me off, the whatever power I have already collected inside might be released and turn the tide against the fight with the Blooming Sea.” Sangar’s gaze dropped to the ground as he said the last words.

“You were desperate,” I added, tasting his words. I knew the feeling too well. The constant fighting and the looming destruction of the world had not been easy weight to carry. Trying to think of another plan to destroy the Blooming Sea had been taxing as well.

“Well, as much as I’d like to kill you, I’m not going to do it until I regain my powers.” I was lying through my teeth. I could easily snap his thin neck or pummel my weapon into him, but it didn’t feel right, not when he was still so weak. I’d never been a man of strong principles, but some part of me wanted to meet him in a fair fight.

“So we’re stuck with each other, huh?” Sangar chuckled, he knew he was too weak to do anything to me. To my surprise, he patted the place next to him as an invitation to join him. I walked to him and sat down, my body easily towered over him as we sat side by side.

“It wasn’t just the thought of releasing the power,” Sangar said softly before adding, “I’m tired, everyone looks up to me and I need to watch what I say or do constantly, I need to set an example and not only that, I need to be strong when I want to fall apart and I need to lead a group of people who might die if I make the wrong decisions, some…” Sangar’s voice trembled, “… And some have already died.” Tears began to pour from his eyes.

Things had gotten awkward very quickly.

“Hey, listen… You know you don’t need to do this, you can always quit, just like I did,” I said, my raspy voice making me hardly sound like I was trying to comfort him.

“I can’t! I need to save the world,” he sniffled, unable to stop his tears now that he had finally given himself the permission to cry.

“You don’t even know if it’s going to work and what makes you really think the others deserve their lives more than you?” I growled. My choice had been straightforward, I knew my worth, I knew I was never going to sacrifice my life for someone else, no matter how many lives I could save. Maybe some of it had been cowardice, but I didn’t regret it and I knew there had to be another way.

“… But if it works, the world will be saved.” Sangar reasoned.

“Yet, you won’t be,” I answered quickly, “The seers have been wrong before, many times in fact, you don’t know if their prophecy even is true. I was the chosen one before you and when it didn’t work out, they were quite quick to make it all about you,” My words were harsh, but so was the truth to me. There was no prophecy and no sacrifice would save us from the spreading rot.

My words seemed to anger Sangar, he got up and turned to face me with tears still running down his cheeks, “THEN EXPLAIN THE DREAMS WERE BOTH HAVING, WHY DO WE HAVE NIGHTMARES ABOUT THE BLOOMING SEA!”

“Because we’re afraid of it. We were trained to think about it all the time,” I answered, finding surprising softness to my voice, my words had put doubt into his heart, turning Sangar’s tears into rivers. He collapsed back onto his knees and pressed his head against my empty chest.

I lifted my hand and put it gently behind his head.

The same questions had haunted me a long time ago when I still believed in the prophecy. I knew the loneliness he was feeling even now, my refusal had made me enemies, some seeing me as some grand villain determined to destroy the world. Some had seen through the seers lies and joined me, but I could hardly call them friends.

If he needed a shoulder to cry on, let it once be mine. I might be able to use his weakness later. Between his tears, he managed to mumble something.

“I can’t feel your heartbeat.”

“I know,” I acknowledged with a slight nod.

Together, we huddled near the fire as the wind outside began to pick up speed again. From the sounds of it, it was winding up to become another blizzard. There was still some food in the tent and I gave it to Sangar, my body did not need it anymore, but every now and then I tried some for the taste. Sangar stayed curled on my lap, sucking up the heat my body was giving. This whole thing felt unreal like I was finally dreaming about something else than those damn flower fields, I even tried to pinch myself a couple of times to see if I was actually awake.

I watched as Sangar slept somewhat peacefully, slowly regaining his strength.

I had traded my heart for more power and in had turned my skin almost as solid as diamonds, the darkened material was more like armor, but I could still feel Sangar’s deep breaths and the gentle heartbeat. My hardened skin was still soft enough to sleep against it seems. I had always been jealous of his ability to embrace others, to trust and feel sympathy even towards those who might not deserve it. Sangar certainly was a better chosen one than I’d ever been.

After a long nap, Sangar’s eyes fluttered and he almost jumped when he saw me, calming down quickly as he remembered what had led us into this bizarre situation. I wondered if I should leave, but finally having a peaceful moment for myself seemed more tempting. Here, in this forsaken white purgatory, I didn’t need to be anything else, I could just be and it looked like Sangar felt the same way.

The half-elf lifted himself up, pushing his nude body against mine, and looked directly into my eyes.

“You’ve changed,” he said casually.

“So have you,” I scoffed. Of course, I had changed, I had traded my heart for power and infused a demon lord into my soul, an idiot could have seen what the corruption had done to my body.

“If I recall correctly, there used to be a girl who cried every time she stubbed her toes or saw a dead bird,” I smirked, before adding “Yet, now there is a man in front of me.”

“I like myself more like this,” Sangar answered, pausing for a little bit before continuing, “It used to be a cover when my group was visiting a place where women were not allowed, I and one other chose disguises and I guess that’s was when my actual disguise dropped,” Sangar stated, “And yes, he still cries when he sees dead animals, only not so openly anymore,” he added. His eyes examined my face carefully, he didn’t recognize it as the same he had seen so many years ago, before the corruption, before all of this.

╭ᑎ╮

“I remember a boy who defended me from the others when they questioned my heritage. Is he still somewhere behind those glowy eyes of yours?” Sangar questioned.

“I don’t know…” I whispered, “He used to be there, questioning my every move, asking if we were doing the right thing, but he has been awfully quiet lately.”

“Is there any way I can reach him?” Sangar asked, there was a moment of silence between us before I pulled him in for a kiss, my lips meeting his, finally giving in to the urge I had held for so long and had even forgotten over the years. Sangar did not fight back or try to pull away, his soft lips caressed the hard surface covering mine. Years ago I had been too reserved to act, now I had learned to live in the moment, not hesitating about what I believed to be rightfully mine, but he had gone too far from me.

I wrapped my hands against his waist and he felt so small in my hands. We shared a wanting glance before I began to kiss his neck, slowly moving to his arms, kissing the scars he and his enemies had inflicted on his skin. Sangar whimpered softly against my shoulder as I kissed the burn marks he’d gotten from using the artifacts we both were after before muffling his weeps with kisses.

My demonic blood ordered me to kill him, but I quickly shut the voices away, feeling the heat building up between my loins. Sangar swayed his hips against my body and pulled himself as close as he could be and I could feel his small body trembling. I pulled him down and pushed him on his back, kissing his small breasts, and moving slowly toward his groin.

All of a sudden, Sangar pushed me further away and looked at me.

“Just… Don’t hurt me…” he pleaded.

I gave him a silent promise with a kiss we both knew I would break, we would hurt each other one way or another. No matter what was going to take place here, neither of us would or even could change the fates we were heading at. He would still try to save the world by sacrificing himself and I had my ambitions, but just for tonight I could give him something to forget all that, gift him a moment of respite.

I moved down to kiss his folds, gently circling his clit with my tongue. Sangar moaned with pleasure and grabbed my horns to hold onto something. His legs wrapped around me as my forked tongue found his wet hole. I pushed my tongue all the way in and licked his insides, my thumb gently kneading his clit with the same speed. With one hand I released my bulging cock from its bindings and began to pleasure myself.

Sangar’s back arched as he came, his inner walls pushed against my long tongue as I pulled it out and crawled on top of him. He glanced at the fat cock in my hand and his eyes widened.

Demonic corruption had its perks when it came to the size and shape of one’s member.

I pushed my shaft between his fold and thrusted against the already sore clit with my tip. Each thrust made my throbbing balls hit his cheeks. Sangar’s euphoric expression made me grin and I wrapped my hand over his throat, knowing all this was now mine to do as I pleased.

A revered hero whimpering like a bitch in heat below me.

My knotted member rubbed his slit, covering it with wetness coming from within. The hero’s eyes begged for me to enter, but I wanted to play with him, edging him towards another climax. I licked my lips and kissed him deeply, forcing my tongue into his mouth, fucking his throat with it. Sangar was squirming under my heavy body, trying to escape but at the same time wanting to stay. I began to open up his entrance with my flared tip, slowly pushing in, with each fingerbreadth gained, Sangar gasped, his eyes fluttering from the pleasure.

I moved my tail to meet his rear and began to push inside, his wetness had dripped between the cheeks, giving me enough lubrication to prod in. His hips dropped as he tried to adjust to my cock, only for my tail to enter deeper into him from behind, jolting him back up. Sangar’s involuntary movements forced me deeper and deeper. I marveled at the sight under me and rammed my member deep within. Sangar moaned loudly when I released his mouth from my tongue’s grasp. Even the howling wind outside could not cover his cries.

My tail impaled his guts from behind as I began rhythmically to ram into him, reaching his womb with my large tip. The hero’s body and mind were completely under my control and there was nothing more I loved than control. Like a savage beast, I hastened my movements, pistoning into him rapidly. It didn’t take long for him to reach his second orgasm, now more powerful than ever. Sangar’s toes curled as he locked me deep within with his thighs. Not letting the pressure he put against my member and tail slow my pace, I kept pommeling into him, his squeezing pussy milking my rod to no avail.

It wasn’t his convulsing body or the fact how good he felt that made my balls pulsate, it was the way he looked at me in a blissful daze. Without slowing down, I slammed into him with force two more times, before burying my member and tail deep into him, I snarled, grabbed the fur on his sides, and threw my head back as I released my plentiful seed into him. The hot fluid covered his walls and entered deep within when my massive balls twitched against his thighs.

A wave of burning sensation rippled through my body as my demonic seed filled him, Sangar’s legs keeping me inside, making sure he wouldn’t spill a drop.

I gave him a deep longing kiss before collapsing next to him and taking him into my arms. Sangar panted against my chest, still twitching from bliss. Even though some part of me wanted to mount him again and again, I resisted, the man had gone through enough for the night. As I withdrew, my seed began to gush out of him. Our moans had turned into soft huffs. I thought about what we had just done and what it could mean for the future when I heard a soft snoring coming from underneath my wrapped arms and I knew what I had to do.

I got up, covered his worn-down body with my cloak once again, put up a few protective glyphs, and gave him one last kiss. Sangar looked content, maybe this time he didn’t dream about the Blooming Sea and the end of the world. I gently brushed his dark hair with my hand and stepped away. For a moment I swore I could feel something beating beneath my chest, but the feeling quickly faded away. With few words, I cast my spell, teleporting me far away from here, because as much as I’d wanted to stay, I knew it was never meant to be. He had his destiny and I had mine, staying would hurt even more in the end.

For a moment, my spell lit the room with a gentle orange glow, before disappearing, taking me with it.

#my stuff #m/m fiction #monster kink

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irresistiibles · 1 year ago

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shi qingxuan self para

trigger warnings: this is basically a drowning self para wanna be one hundred percent real so read at your own risk. drowning tw, death tw

i don’t want to die.

it wasn’t the first thing to pass through qingxuan’s mind. the first thing they noticed was the temperature. at first frigid when they were first forcibly submerged, or maybe it was just the shock of the situation that made it seem that way, after all it was summer. it shouldn't have been that cold. qingxuan let out a yell as they hit the water, mouth filling up with water that they couldn't even properly cough up. had anyone heard? would anyone come to help? someone had always come to help qingxuan before. why wasn't there anyone around? things were quickly warming up as qingxuan thrashed, feeling the need for air starting to quickly push up. it was a searing uncomfortable heat, burning from in their chest as his lungs worked desperately to find oxygen that wasn’t available. it felt like she might burn to death before actually managing to drown, and only got worse as they hopelessly physically fought to try and get above water.

i don’t want to die.

it was almost a jarring thought as qingxuan’s body attempted to gasp for air, to push towards the surface, do anything to get a little oxygen in his lungs. as the physical fight continued the thought did come through. after everything that has happened at black water manor qingxuan had contemplated their death. he had wondered if it would make things better, or just, or at least give them a break. it hadn’t seemed like such a bad thing at the time, like maybe he should have gone with his brother and they both could have called that the end of their miserable story. qingxuan had been a fool, and now, on what felt like the bring of death they felt pathetic and ungrateful, wishing they could desperately grab just one more day of life. one more hour. five more minutes.

i don’t want to die.

maybe if qingxuan hadn’t been alone this wouldn’t have happened. she had tried to stay with company, really she had, but the small party had been drunk and wanted food, whereas qingxuan wanted air. it hadn't seemed like such a big deal to break off and go for a small walk alone before meeting back up with the group. would more caution have saved him? maybe if qingxuan had shown more caution as a child they wouldn’t have been found, he xuan could have ascended with qingxuan in the middle court and nothing would have happened. maybe she could have defended herself a little bit better today.

i don’t want to die.

i’m sorry ge. i wasn’t careful enough. i never learned my lesson as a little kid. there was no need with how well you looked after me. you fought my fate as long as you could. you did a really good job of keeping your stupid little sister along way longer than it should have been.

i’m sorry he-xiong. i didn’t get the chance to text you more. i wanted to fix things. i wanted to figure out how to be us again. i wanted to figure it out with you. i thought we had time. i would have rushed back if that wasn't the case. i wish if someone had to force me under like this it was you. you wouldn't like it, but i think you'd be gentle about it.

i’m going to die. i can’t stop it.

there was almost a comfort in accepting it, feeling the current start to pull him under and letting it, even as qingxuan had more apologies to give. to xie lian, he had died too and hadn’t deserved that. to the nice drunk qingxuan would go back and forth on drinks to. it was their time to buy next and he wouldn’t be able to do it. so many more. the world was starting to fade though, black spots dancing in qingxuan's vision, whether it was from the water or a steady loss of consciousness, and qingxuan’s dialogue was puttering out. the tide pushed them down and who was qingxuan to fight against nature? they could hardly handle a simple fight on their own. such a weak fool, but as qingxuan gave up and let the water take her where it wanted there wasn’t any anger there. the fire that burned at qingxuan’s lungs became a more settled warmth, and the water almost felt like a comfort wrapped around them. this was her brother’s domain, her lover’s as well. oxygen deprived and perhaps a little delirious qingxuan could almost feel like there was some presence of the two of them here to help, to be with him in a final moment. they had lived a good life, warm and loved. one of them would find him. if they had the strength left qingxuan would worry about the way that they would mourn, if they’d be okay, but in the moment she was just content to know someone she loved and trusted would probably still find her in the end, that she'd wind up home in one way or another. if he woke up after this someone would help her. there were always enough good people in the world willing to help. if she didn't wake up there had already been so many more years than what qingxuan was supposed to have. the tide pushed and qingxuan let themselves sink.

#this is just an outlet post for me alksdfjadf #drowning tw #death tw #( interactions && qingxuan )

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liskantope · 2 years ago

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I finally got to the end of Better Call Saul a couple of weeks ago, dragging it out so that I only watched one episode a day and inserted a one-episode-a-day rewatching the entirety of Breaking Bad in-between the 9th and 10th episodes of the last season of BCS. So I've arrived a little late to this party, but here are a few scattered thoughts.

[Major spoilers for the ending of the series under the cut.]

For the most part, people around me were pretty good about not spoiling much about the ending even though I didn't announce to anyone that I was drawing out my watching until months after the final episode actually came out (it helps that, while a very popular show, BCS isn't quite at the level of Game of Thrones about which everyone had to post some kind of vague reaction on Facebook after each episode.) I did see someone on Tumblr write "poor Jimmy" and saw a few YouTube videos pop up which were discussions of the BCS ending and which showed the main character standing behind bars, so I had an idea that things weren't going to go well for Jimmy/Saul/Gene, that he was about to get his comeuppance and almost certainly wind up in prison. This hadn't fully occurred to me as an ending for Jimmy but at the same time somehow didn't actually feel like a major spoiler or a huge shock. The Breaking Bad finale was widely praised (and occasionally criticized) for leaving each character exactly in the place it felt like they were meant to be, and I knew that if BCS reprised this trend, well, prison (as opposed to death, or further sunk into a life of crime) is pretty obviously exactly where Jimmy/Saul belongs.

There's something that felt a little underwhelming for me about the last four episodes of BCS, taking place in the post- Breaking Bad black-and-white timeline, a sort of new simplicity to the story and a restriction in the creative possibilities for how everything would be wrapped up. This is understandable given that Howard is now gone, and between S6E9 and S6E10 of BCS, most of the interesting characters (including Mike, Gus, and the remaining Salamancas) meet their fates, and we're left really with only Kim as a character in Gene's life (or actually, no longer in it until he eventually manages to draw her back). I'm not sure what more the writers could have done; I certainly don't have any better idea. But something about the final part of the story pales in comparison to the intricate and meticulously-crafted ending for Walter White and the complex array of characters around him.

The ending of Jimmy's character arc can be summarized as follows: anti-hero gets in major trouble one final time; anti-hero displays the amazing powers that made him so enjoyable to watch, enabling him to come out victorious (i.e. Saul uses his arguing power to get his sentence down to 7.5 years); anti-hero redeems himself by surrendering anyway. This is satisfying in terms of watching Jimmy wind up where we want him to end up, but less so in terms of keeping us at the edge of our seats watching a less trodden-on path unfold for our anti-hero. I'll just say that it feels like this type of path has been done quite a bit before, although the only example that comes to mind right now is Luke Skywalker, hardly even an anti-hero, showing us that he's attained enough skill with the Force to defeat Darth Vader in battle but then giving himself up to the mercy of Vader and the Emperor -- we get to have our cake and eat it too, by seeing Luke demonstrate being a total badass but then morally rising above it so that the good in him ultimately triumphs.

In the case of Jimmy, I found it slightly predictable (I knew something was up as soon as he declared that he had something much juicier to testify to about Howard Hamlin's death, and I guessed that maybe somehow he was setting things up to flip things around by redeeming himself), and I wish there had been some kind of bigger, cleverer, more elaborate set-up where we might have a concrete idea of Jimmy being up to something even more evil to get himself out of even the reduced sentence, only to find that we the audience were tricked. It also came across, in some aspects of the dialog, that Jimmy was confessing mainly just to impress Kim, or to get her back in his life and on his side, which doesn't feel quite like true redemption (although shouldn't having good people in our life and on our side be something each of us value highly as part of a virtuous life? One can still argue that).

My biggest criticism of the last season has to do with Jimmy's final transformation into Saul just before the old timeline breaks and the Breaking Bad timeline begins: in Episode 9, I just really didn't like how abruptly we switched from Jimmy/Saul pleading with Kim not to break up with him to full-on-Saul in full Saul mode. It felt like one moment he's protesting that Kim shouldn't break up with him and then next moment he's paying a hooker. I wanted to watch that final stage of the transformation happen -- Kim was the main thing tying Jimmy to humanity, the face of the best side of Jimmy's character, and it was more or less literally stated (in the Season 5 desert sequence) that she was the only thing he lived for. So we should have gotten to see how utterly broken Jimmy must have been with her gone and exactly how this led him slipping down a path to becoming completely heartless and soulless later on. Instead we cut straight from very-corrupted-but-still-basically-human-and-a-protagonist Jimmy to completely-empty-and-unlikable Saul with literally nothing given to us in between, leaving me to have to speculate on what Jimmy went through in the wake of the break-up and to infer what made him go from man to zombie.

This bothered me a lot after watching Episode 9 and, months later when I went back and watched the final four episodes, I was glad to see that this was very briefly addressed by Jimmy's confession in the final episode: "I'm the one who ran away", although I needed to see that scene a second time to understand in this line he was referring to his choice to sink blindly into his Saul persona at the end of Episode 9. Vince Gilligan also explained it very well at this point in this linked interview. But I think we should have gotten to see it for ourselves, to acutely feel his pain and emptiness. It's arguably the single most important, pivotal point in his transformation, even more significant than losing his brother, and I still hate that it was completely skipped over.

Another minor point: when a fictional character has a change of heart, I'm used to being able to directly see the moment when this change occurs; maybe I missed something and just need to re-watch, but in the finale of BCS I'm just not clear on when this happens (is it when Jimmy/Saul is on the plane, between the two conversations with his lawyer about Kim and Howard?).

But, while I can criticize as much as I like, it was still a great ending to a great show. I don't think I'll ever quite fall into the "Breaking Bad was the best TV show ever made, but Better Call Saul turned out to be even better!" camp, but BCS sure did manage to hold its own.

#better call saul #spoilers cw #breaking bad #star wars #redemption arc

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adrian---murphy · 1 year ago

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As the brunette proceeded to explain herself, Adrian found himself cringing at his own fate even harder. He had always had a tendency to make jokes to defuse situations, when he was uncomfortable, or to deal with pretty much anything that even hinting at being mildly confrontational. A history of being bullied as a child had left him with the famed coping mechanism of trying to make everyone around him laugh in hopes that being the class clown would gain friends or at least keep him from being shoved into a locker or trash can. He sadly hadn’t been smart enough to do kids homework in return for protection, and being somewhat of a late bloomer meant that well into high school, he’d held onto these habits. Hitting his growth spurt up and out around sixteen was far too late for him to not have it ingrained in him.

Because of his fallback plan of being funny becoming his go-to when meeting new people, the fact that his joke had gone right over the woman’s head made Adrian want to bash his face into the mirror. “Oh no – no, no, you don’t have to explain grammar to me; I got an English degree which is basically a piece of paper that I paid a lot of money for to say that I am really good at wording words and nothing else.” He nodded, a tight-lipped smile on his face as he slumped his shoulders. He wished he would stop with the jokes, as they were doing little to impress her, but the awkwardness was building.

“You’re not? I wouldn’t have ever guessed.” He muttered to himself with a soft sigh. “ Tamer than you? No…” Adrian said with a daring tone of sarcasm that was normal for him in most cases, but given how intimidating the woman was, he felt a bit surprised that he managed it. “You’ve been nothing but a sweetheart to me the moment you walked in here and found me in the wrong bathroom with my johnson half hanging out. You could go into hospitality with the way you’ve been putting me at ease.”

In spite of his sassy attempts at hiding his humiliation with humor, her advice was somewhat useful and more appreciated than she probably realized. Adrian nodded as he committed the information to memory. “So what you’re telling me is to walk in there with confidence? Because in the short time that you’ve known me, I’ve displayed so much of it, right?” He chuckled dryly. He might as well have laughed at his jokes since no one else would.

Shaking his head, Adrian took comfort that at least she got the reference. It meant that she was pretty and had good taste in TV shows, which was rare. “ Pretty sure if I had to, I'd sell it for something useful like a good pair of pants or the ability to read signs on doors or a healthy dose of self-confidence or your phone number…” Adrian paused. The last bit was word vomit that he didn’t really mean to flow, but often his rambling lowered the filter between his brain and his tongue, and the result was always that he was left stunned at his own foolishness for too long to be able to cover for himself after the fact. It left him staring in disbelief for a few moments too many before he found himself nodding. “Alrighty, well, I’m gonna go now. I’m sure any minute a bus or a construction truck or something will be speeding down the road for me to throw myself in front of, so gotta go…” He smiled weakly, heading for the door before he said anything else stupid.

Half a snort accompanied her laugh. “It’s a saying.” She tucked her hands to cross against her chest, tapping her thumb along her arm. “We is subjective, it’s..” She followed his eyes closely, blank and lost as she tried to explain herself, smile fading on one end of her mouth. “Past your time,” she waved her hand at him before tucking it back in her arms. He was still as worked up as he’d been before. She could probably reach out and touch him and still feel a tremble, like a leaf in the wind.

He seemed courteous enough with no inclination for misplaced anger which most might have in this moment of utter humiliation. “Everything’s real hard, huh?” She asked in the midst of mini-rant, deadpan with the trimmings of a sarcastic tone in her voice. She let him finish, withholding a smile for the sake of his self-esteem, nodding when he shared which higher up he has the misfortune of meeting with today.

“Well..” She sighed, moving from her place across from him to rest against the sink countertop, arms crossing themselves again as she leaned. “I am not Mr. Howard.” she sighed, looking down for a moment, kind of zoning out. “But if it’s any consolation, he’s much tamer than me and his receptionist sucks, she never writes anything down. Just,” she waved a hand at the air. “Go in there and act like you’re on time.” She looked over at him, probably the worst person in the world to provide comfort in a gaze. “Definitely go with pants, though.”

He filled the air with more words, a flowing rush of explanations. Maybe it had something to do with her face, but it was more likely that he felt the need to apologize for more than he had to be sorry for. Still, Tabitha carried an amused grin, pressing a limp hand to her chest. “Oh you’re so sweet,” she rested her hand, chuckling. “As much as I’d pay to watch that I’d rather you use that mouth for grubbing up to me.” She sized him up. “And I found you half naked in the bathroom, that’s almost prison dibs.” Another lofty sigh came from her chest. “Why not?” She shrugged, looking over at him with sympathy, breaking into another laugh. “No just the kind that lives on earth.” Her eyebrows pressed into a bunch, smile alleviating what seriousness she conveyed on her face. “What, you don’t wanna sell your soul for a pair of gap jeans?”

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ncitygirls · 3 years ago

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forgive - hyunjin x f reader

angst, fluff, smut, royal au, 4.1k

to die just as one graduates to motherhood is the tragic fate of countless women of your time. though there is no shame in falling victim to eve’s curse, one does feels a deserving sense of pride in their ability to look the devil in the eye and turn one’s cheek. to crawl through the forest of death and drag oneself towards the light. many are denied the privilege of survival. living is a sign from the heavens that perhaps there is a reason for such trials. that strife is a lesson in one’s journey, a meaning to life.

but to die before bearing your husband a son is a fate you would readily accept in place of the dark nothing you nearly surrendered to. the thought drifts into your mind the moment your greatest trial and grandest reward shifts in your arms, your daughter’s wails slowly rising in pitch and frequency as you smile loftily at her bundled form in your lap. she sings a song most would call unbearable. the screech so shrill, it pierces through even the most impenetrable guard. but never through you. you could continue to find peace in the deafening sound had it not been for your husband. your dear, sweet husband.

your king.

your king, whose presence thus far escaped you. that is until he asked, just a decibel louder than the wailing infant, “could you please settle her, sweet?”

“oh,” you glance at his rigid form, across your living quarters, to find his pretty scowl trained on his heir, only softening when his eyes meet the familiar orbs of his queen. “my apologies, hyunjin. is she distracting you?”

“no,” he breathes, allowing his head to fall back on the loveseat, his sculpted cheek puffs. “it’s just annoying.”

“it?” your eyes quickly return to him, only to be met by the back of his morning paper. “i do hope you are referring to the sound itself and not to your child, my love?”

“does it matter?” he sighs, realising moments too late that the room has stilled. “my dear, i did not mean to offend.’

“of course not, your highness,” ah, ‘your highness’. you call on the title in the times you wish to hurt him most. “she is but a child, of course you meant her no offense. i ask for your mercy, sire.”

“i sense hostility in you.”

“shall I call on a nurse for you, your grace?” he wonders for a second what the reason could be before you readily come to his aid. “it is most unlike you to use sense of any kind.”

“that was out of turn-”

“me? my king, you believe it is i who is out of turn?” hyunjin knows there is no answer to such a question. because yes would present grounds for annulment and no would mean he is wrong. and kings cannot be found in the wrong. “not the new father who refers to his daughter as ‘it’? of course it is not he who is speaking out of turn, not when he is a king.

“when he is a man.”

“ah, ‘men are the source of all the world’s ailments’, must we hear excerpts from your manifesto again, my love? it is only noon,” he assumes you hear only humour in his tone and decides to take it a step further. “is it in your plans to fill the house of hwang with women just to spite me?”

“oh,” you breathe, smiling softly as he watches, “is it a son you desire, hyunjin? is that what you want?” his eyes squint as he watches his love rise to place his only heir in the cot before you glide over to him, sweetness vanishing from your eyes as you succumb to your wrath. “you want a son, king hyunjin? then give me one.”

“leave us.” the servants standing by flee the room, quick to abandon a maid who halts as hyunjin blocks her path. “take the child.”

she takes a hurried step towards your child before she is stopped once more. “take my child and i will take your hand.” the poor girl is quick to abandon her king’s direct order before fleeing the scene, closing the door as she departs.

a biting silence takes the place of the bodies that once filled the chamber, thickening every corner of the room. minutes pass before hyunjin realises you have no further interest in him. “if it were not for the fact my heart beats for you, my beloved, i too would take my leave.”

“your heart? is that what beats in your chest, hyunjin? a heart?” he scoffs, unbothered by the deflection masked by your jab. “kings are meant to rule, not jest. do not humour me.”

“was your tea cup mistaken for a bedpan?”

“i almost died, jinnie!” he withers as you tremble, your eyes misting as you try to find someone resembling your beloved in the man sat across from you. “i almost lost my life bearing you the heir you prayed for, only for you to treat her with the same regard one does a child born in illegitimacy.” he wishes to deny it, and you see it too. but your eyes are alight and hyunjin swears he sees his end in them. “she is your child, hyunjin. and should she be your only, she will wear your crown with pride and rule as well as any boy ever could.”

“i know that.” your scoff stung like a strike to the cheek and winds him like a blow to the gut. “i do. y/n, i swear it to you.”

“then perhaps you should act like it.” he finally sees what fuels your rage and rests behind your eyes: disappointment. “you cannot love me and not my kin, jin. i won’t allow it.”

“my love,” he reaches for you but you repel, moving instead to the babbling baby. “you mistake my desire for a son as a lack of joy for my daughter.” pulling your hands from the sides of the cot, he dwarfs them with his own. “i love her with everything i have in me. i swear.”

“had my father received me as you did our child, i would not believe that to be the case.”

“forgive me, my love.” you’re quick to cast your gaze elsewhere, ignoring his puppy eyed plea. “i will pray the heavens take mercy on me, but i need you to first. please believe me when i say i love her. i do. she is half of the greatest woman to ever walk this kingdom, i worship her.”

“then why? why the cold shoulder? why treat her this way?” he suddenly finds himself unable to answer, opting instead to rock the baby, basking in her glow. with a soft sigh, you raise a hand to his cheek, offering him reprieve as he burrows into your palm. “what troubles you?”

“nothing, my love.” your disbelieving gaze sends his shoulders south, his whole frame sagging. “it’s just my dealings with the courts.” of course. the courts. “i spent every night bowed in ceaseless prayer. i prayed for your health, for your life, for our child. i prayed until bruises formed on my knees, my love. and still i prayed. but as i prayed for my family, they prayed only for my successor, for a boy.” though you find it impossible, he manages to lower himself further. folding himself into you, almost in two, hiding his long face from view. “once I caught wind of their talks with the lord, i condemned it. i condemned any prayer against my wishes but the court can do as they please in their solitude and i know we do not rule on fear but after her birth, for the first time in my life? i wished we did.” it was inexplicable, the difficulty you had beholding an enraged hyunjin, the skin curving around his knuckles and jaw as they tightened with every word he uttered, your heart tightening in kind. “i wanted to make heads roll, to end them for the disregard they paid my child, my family, my wife.” it starts to make sense now, his grinding teeth and red rimmed eyes. his late and sleepless nights. the nights hypnos granted him even a slither of reprieve were spent clinging to you, a cold sweat soaking the sheets, puzzling you beyond belief. it all makes sense. “the courts have filled me with doubt. they warned of foreign enemies who would hear of our heir, of our girl. that they would see her as a sign we are weak, that we are lesser.”

“but how can they speak in such a way? we are ahead of such things.”

“my love, you must see past the likes of lord kim and baron han. the rest of the men in my court are old, and stuck in old ways. our nation has not seen a queen on the throne since the likes of my widowed great, great grandmother.” his hands cup your face, bleary eyes blinking back the tears his heavy words summoned. “i love you, y/n. and i love her. all i want is for you both to be safe. but i live in constant fear that i cannot keep you safe with enemies outside our walls and evidently within.”

“hyunjin, my love,” he settles at the soft spoken call of his name, the loving address soothing his forlorn heart. “i will burn the court to the ground before they bring harm to my kin. or to you.” it is not unlike you to let your anger consume you. in fact, it is but a facet of what made him fall in love with you. what continues to bother him is the fact he was not the first to make such a bold promise. “my love?”

“fret not, my queen,” his nimble hands gather his daughter from her cot, his lips pulling in a soft grin as the child gargles, reaching up for him. “it is just, with my brains and your ferocity, i believe this hwang might be the greatest queen- no, ruler levanter has ever seen.”

“forgive me, my love,” the apology fills the space to his left, from where your temple rests on his shoulder, fingers toying with his undershirt. “but you do not suggest that this girl will be inheriting her brains from her father-”

“watch your mouth.”

“watch it for me.”

“careful,” he warns, dropping his lips to yours for a brief peck before withdrawing but an inch, “i might just give you that son you asked for.”

“careful, or i might just let you.” your rebuttal has him fanning your lips with a breathless chortle, urging you to rise to the tips of your toes and connect your lips to his once more. when you withdraw, he follows, resting his forehead on yours, smiling softly as your eyes meet. your voice is barely a whisper as you enquire, “what do we do now, my love?”

“now, i will handle the courts,” huffing, hyunjin places a kiss to the crown of his daughter’s head, smiling as he does. “i am afraid you will just have to handle everything else.” the regret in his words do not match the smirk on his lips, though he confesses, “i do not envy you, my love.” placing the baby in the cot once more, he pulls you into his chest, resting his cheek at the uppermost point on your head. “but i will keep you both safe. i put my life on it-”

“sire,” you warn, leaning up to kiss his neck. “your life is no longer yours to wager.”

“is that so?” hyunjin only grins at your assured affirmation. “my queen, is there anything that is mine in this kingdom?”

“me.” even after all these years, hyunjin is undone by you. from your matter of fact utterance, a breathless admission of submission to your glowy eyed gaze, eyes shining with pure adoration. “i belong to you.”

“you do?” he sighs when you nod, the small bounce of your head forcing his own head up and down. his eyes and hands slowly trail down your arms stilling at your fingers. slipping his digits between yours, he raises them to his pouted lips, slowly pressing each one with a kiss so soft and so sweet, you nearly jump as he speaks. “and these? do these belong to me?”

“yes, sire.”

“good,” he breathes, joy flashing behind his eyes. “and what about this?” he whispers against your lips, his plump lips tangling with your own. only after playing with your tongue, sucking on the muscle and swallowing your whines does he ask, “is this smart mouth of yours mine?”

“all yours.”

he nods in agreement, fingers gliding down the side of your neck, dusting over your chemise to cup you over your stay. only to find you bare. “were you that hastened to join me for tea?”

“no,” you laugh, hitting his chest as he pulls you closer, enjoying feeling your near bare chest on his. “i breastfeed.” you love your king. for as slow as he is, he is twice as loving. you watch realisation dawn on him not once but twice, a slight pout stealing his lips, exaggerated by their natural downturn. “what is it?”

“i just,” he stops, laughing to himself. “i just realised these-” he cups your tender breasts, thumb barely dusting the sore nubs. “-they’re no longer mine.”

“hyunjin!” his laughter picks up before it stills, the sleeping princess nearly awoken by the delight of her parents. “no, they’re on loan.”

“that’s fine.” he sighs, ducking his head to kiss the center of your chest. “i’ll wait.”

“i’m proud of you.”

“thank you,” your pride does not last long, as he lowers his hands to cup your ass and pull you flush against him. through your chemise and slip, you feel him. all of him. he deftly slips his tongue between your gasping lips, filling your mouth in ways that force your panties to dampen, the fabric soaking with every roll of his hardening cock to your aching slit. “but this is mine,” he reminds you, leaving no room for misunderstanding. “do you understand?”

“y-yes.”

“yes, who?”

“yes, your grace.”

“good. now, go get a nurse for the princess.” the king proclaims, emphasising his point with a firm slap to your ass as you almost sprint out of the room. as you return with the nanny, you feel your heart swell to almost double its size. you find hyunjin by your daughter’s basket, a soft lullaby floating in the air as he gathers her in his long, folded arms. you watch him pass her to the nanny, his fingers passing over her puffed up knuckle, in awe of her inherent daintiness. “sleep well, my dove.”

you fear he might have forgotten you as the two leave and he stares in quiet longing. you finally approach him as his sniffles begin. “hyunjin?”

“i have missed her.” he whines, wet eyes cast skyward, guilt staining his face. “i have been a terrible father-”

“no.” your scold has his gaze falling, his shining eyes searching your frowning face. “not terrible. never terrible. just a little distant.” you soften as he nods, understanding pouring into him as you craddle his face in your palms. “you know now.”

“yeah,” he agrees, leaning to press a wet kiss to your lips. “please forgive me, my love.”

“there’s nothing to forgive.” you hum against his pouting lips, moulding your mouth with his as you try and tear him from this spell of despair. “come sit,” you whisper, guiding him towards his original seat.

when he lowers into it and feels you lower in kind, though to the ground, he frowns deeply. “i-” he stalls as you palm him through his slack breeches, fingers gripping him through the fabric. he grinds up into your closing fist, eyes squeezing shut as you momentarily silence him. the peace is short lived as he moans, realising what you’ve done to him. “i wanted to pleasure you.”

“and you will,” you quickly assure him, smirking when his frown deepens. “once i pleasure you.”

“fine.” he concedes, crossing his arms as you unfasten his breeches. you glare at him through your lashes until he huffs, stiffly raising his hips to allow you room to lower his garments down his thighs. “is there anything else i can do for you, mrs hwang?”

“that is all.” you chortle, fanning the reddened, leaking head of his cock. the sound forces a smile on his face until your tongue glides against his glistening slit. he almost chokes when you gaze up at him suddenly, eyes full of too much love for one king to fathom. “you just relax, okay?”

he can barely make himself nod as he fills your sight with his lovesick smile. “i don’t deserve you.”

“i know.” you rise to your knees to swallow his retraction, enjoying the lurid way he melts under the touch of your lips and palm. you offer languid strokes up and down his length, thumbing at his slit as he practically dribbles down himself. “jinnie, you’re making a mess.”

“‘m sorry.” the whine isn’t worrisome, but rather his second admission of guilt. with a gentle shake of your head, you raise your unsoiled hand to his lips, smearing your mingled saliva across his chin.

“i like you messy,” you admit, watching his eyes glaze over at your confession. “you’re always so proper now. you were never like that.” you squeeze him tighter at his base as you speak, dragging up the length of his cock, forcing a mewl from his throat as he releases his bitten, spit slicked lip. “remember when you were still a prince, and i just a lady?” he nods dumbly, head rolled to the side as drool pools on the corner of his mouth. “you used to fuck me in the greenhouse as it rained on a starry night. and behind the guards’ stables. even in the old maid’s quarters-”

“tha-that’s because we couldn’t anywhere else.”

“true,” you tut, wiping his chin as he fucks up into your closed fist. “yet now the kingdom is yours, you only ever fuck me in the castle.”

“but i always fuck you well.” when you just smile his hips falter, brows knitting as you massage his tensed thigh. “say it.”

“say what?”

“that i always fuck you well.”

“you do fuck me well,” you knowingly half agree, pumping him in your tight fist before he grabs your wrist. only a few seconds pass but the small fire ignited by your defiance burns for an eternity. the warm embers blazed to a full village fire when you squeeze at his base, moving to restart your ministrations. hyunjin only scoffs, clicking his tongue with a soft shake of his head. “a king’s ego should not be so dependent on his queen-”

before you can finish, his fingers cling to the base of your neck, squeezing in a way that traps the words in your throat. he feels you swallow, his dark eyes watching how you struggle to breathe. it’s dizzying. the way he eyes you, flitting between your expanding chest and gasping mouth. he presses the back of his hand to your chin, tilting your lips toward his mouth as he leans in. “it seems my ego rests on the mocking words of my smart mouthed wife,” he whispers into your open mouth, sucking softly on your bottom lip. “so, my queen, mightn’t you humour me? tell me that which i desire to hear.”

“you-” he senses an unfitting retort on your tongue and tightens his grip, marvelling at the delicious way your eyes roll back. he only loosens when theu water, gleaming in pitiful surrender. “you always fuck me well.”

“like i will now.”

“li-like you will now.”

“good,” he grins, proud of your slow but gratifying progress. helping you stand, hyunjin gathers the hem of your chemise in his fists, hiking it up to your waist before placing the fabric in your waiting hands. he feels for your undergarments, fingers gliding along the soft skin of your belly, purposely missing the waistband of your panties. he watches your breathing change with every long second he teases you, missing your sex in obvious ways. when you whine he only tuts, watching a frown kiss your features. “it’s not nice to be kept waiting, is it?”

“no,” you mumble, jutting out a full blown pout. “please touch me, hyunjin.” you too can sense your lover’s utterances before they are ever fully realised. like now, when he smirks, knuckles dusting over your throbbing heat. ��properly.”

your emphasis has him chortling, the sound delighting you in ways you cannot explain. how long had it been since you had him like this? warm and open, delighted by the trivialities of foreplay. excited by your pending coitus. it brings a sudden joy to your heart, and, to your husband at least, an inexplicable grin to your bitten lips.

“what tickles you, my love?”

“i just missed you.” you confess, not too dissimilar to his earlier realisation. “i want you happy always.”

“oh,” he breathes, finally pinching your panties and sliding them down past your ankles. “one can feel nothing but joy when you are near.”

“is that so?” you hum as he pulls you to his lap, his thumb dipping into your soaking cunt before slow dragging it along your swollen clit.

“it is so,” he affirms, offering soft pecks to the taut skin of your neck. “it’s why i married you.”

“really- oh,” words stick in your throat as he dips a lone finger in you, his thumb still circling as he presses against your walls. your lips find his in your daze, somehow still embarrassed by the awe with which he regards you. your hips roll against his cramped hand, chasing the beginnings of a tightening coil in the base of your belly. “you’re still infatuated with me?”

“always.” he removes himself without leaving your lips, swallowing your taunt as he guides you onto his awaiting cock. time stills for a moment as you adjust, brain whirring as you both realise the time that has passed since you had him like this. your throbbing walls clamped around his pulsing cock. the subtle tremor of his thighs as you sink onto him, buttocks resting in his waiting palms. he offers a gentle squeeze, one of comfort and question. “can you move?” you nod against his skin, damp forehead pressed to his as he guides your motions with gentle tilts of his wrists. his tongue slips into your mouth, readily lapping at your own as you wrap your arms around his neck. his hands rise to your hips in time, guiding you with a firmer grip, enjoying the slow rock of your hips on his aching cock. he feels you squeeze around him as he sucks on your tongue, his thighs shaking with a looming orgasm. he pulls you in closer, lifting you inches in the air before leaving your slippery lips. before you can even think to protest, hyunjin snaps up into you at a steady pace, enjoying the mewls he conjures from you.

“jinnie, i’m- i-”

“it’s okay,” he groans, on his own verge of release. “it’s okay, my love. let go.”

and you do. moments later you let go, loudly soiling his lap and favourite loveseat as he fucks into your soaking cunt. seconds later he follows you, head thrown back as he releases in you, fearful of nothing but the stained upholstery as he thanks the lord above that you are his wife.

“you owe me a new chair.” he says suddenly, still panting as you pepper soft kiss along his shoulder blade. “and new breeches.”

“it is you who is to blame, sire.” he watches with a raised brow as you rest on his knees. “you always fuck me so well, how could i help myself?”

“ah, right.” he folds when you laugh, the sound forcing his hands upward, along with the corners of his lips. “forgive me, my love.”

“i love you.” you whisper instead, settling against his chest as you both ignore the compromising position you’re in. “so much.”

“and i you,” he swears. “always.”

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yostresswritinggirl · 4 years ago

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Genshin Boys would be Horrible as Disney Princes

Headcanon and Reader Perspective, Drabble

Sojourner Special (Followers Event)

Despite being the gentleman and sweethearts that they are, in the wrong hands, of badly aligned context and universal rules these boys can barely function as princes given their own ideals.

Diluc in Cinderella

Shortest one, oops.

Our Diluc would honestly be too busy for balls if we're doing this canonically, night time of all times. He's not your prince tonight, he's off somewhere doing Knight stuff...

If by chance you did catch him in the ball and he did indulge you with your dance until you escapaded at midnight, he's not gonna question it.

And since he didn't even REMEMBER your face, the next day just goes on as usual. No decree for searching the whole land for your foot or anything, it's just a normal day after a party.

"They left without a word, no name or promise, who am I to say no when they clearly don't want to stay?"

He's a gentleman. Too gentlemanly...

Childe in Sleeping Beauty

In this scenario, Childe embraces his knight-ness more than the princely aspect. I mean sure, he danced with you in the forest all so lovingly, sang along to your pretty lil voice. But when the prophecy came, his focus changed—

To the thrill of fighting a big ass green fire breathing dragon! Big woah, Childe had soooo much fun fighting it that he didn't even cheese it.

He lived for every hour of the fight and made it as slow as possible. Taunting, playing with his PREY- mid-fight the dragon would realize just how strong and horrifying Prince Childe is, but the entertainment had started, and the dance won't end until Childe wills it.

When he DID finally slay the damned thing, he'll come up to your quarters and stare at your sleeping body, and then think "Hey, if them being put under this spell gave me the fight of the century? What if ANOTHER dragon comes? That would be amazing!" No waking up for you, or the whole city for that matter.

Albedo in Frog Princess

You... You don't even get the chance to be the frog princess in here... simply because he himself REFUSES to change back to normal. You have never met a man so intelligent, much more a frog.

"I know of which you are not, I won't be fooled by cardboard crowns and secondhand dresses," you choke as he berates every fiber of your being, "It matters not, I still have much to learn about the life of an amphibian."

He disappears after that and you've never heard from him ever again, although at the back of your mind you're pretty sure he's a live and well, that bastard is too smart to end up as roadkill.

And well, you're right, he's out there in the world of frogs doing frog things. Triumphant over frog science and the other talking creatures he may meet.

He'll also find a way to revert himself back to normal, either making his own cure or just enlisting the help of a princess to bargain.

He might come to you upon the logic of marriage counting you as princess, but don't get too hyped, you won't be treated as his wife. He'd be too busy putting his frog research into paper...

Zhongli in Beauty and the Beast

A beast he may be, he's still dignified and elegant, upholding his end of the bargain so long as the other does the same.

Your father may have trespassed and have taken some flowers in his domain but well, really it's such a petty crime that can easily be solvable. And even if there needs to be punishment incured...

When you stumble to the mansion in search of your father, ready to take his place from his jail cell, you find him and the beast (ohh half-dragon Zhongles) by an elegant table drinking cups of tea with light conversation. Huh?

"There is no need to fret, your father and I are just discussing the terms of our contract. He spoke of his woodworks that I wish to commission in exchange, such good potential should not be wasted."

You can also, well, pay off things within contract? But either way, it would be hella awakward, he won't impose on your life and most certainly not about the curse when you had so much to live for.

Kaeya in Rapunzel

Little bitch, thru and thru. If Eugene is such a criminal, he's taking it TENFOLD.

He's not even gonna be the slightest bit trustworthy for you, little Rapunzel, because he raises so many red flags your frying pan wouldn't even be enough to threaten him. He probably has a really thick skull, and your resolve won't be able to smack that pretty face.

Bargaining won't work, he'd sleight of hand his way out and get the crown knowing you'd hid it in the pot immediately, and then just backflip outta there.

If you manage to get him to get you out, he's not gonna be of help either. Kaeya would be amused with toying with you, leaving you in the dark as you get scared shitless/dance around with some tavern criminals. Otherwise, ehh...

One way or another, he's gonna find a way to get you off his case. Either forcing you to travel with companions that's headed to the city anyways or forcefully knocking you out and heaving you back to your tower.

"You have a mother that never ages lock you up in this tower? Nu uh, sweetie, I'm not dealing with the dark forces of witchery when I'm already well off with the crown."

He got the crown.

Venti in Snow White

I'm sorry what? Free apples? Eternal sleep in a beautiful bed? He's gonna be glad to just take your place. (Spoilers, he would)

He'd be most definitely entertained with your dwarves, playing his tunes. You life would be filled with his lyre as he plays around, not even caring about the other implications of yours or his status in this woodland forest.

You ran away from home? Cool, freedom, man. Wish he could the same without jeopardizing the kingdom and his family. He'd probably take the apple too just for you~

During your rest, he'll come up with the most eloquent song to play for your seven dwarves as he watches your fate sadly. How peaceful you looked, away from the world and from the grips of death.

The dwarves would force him to please try and break the spell, and he'll shrug and indulge- except it didn't break the spell, as he expected it to be. And they are clueless on who else you had encountered in your life to even spare a true love's kiss.

"How saddening, the princess lays. Maddening to those around as they'd say, if only my kiss was enough for the curse to sway." You died, ouch.

Xiao in Mulan

Brutal. Brutal. Brutal. His voicelines would come in sooooo handy here, oh my goodness.

If you miraculously bypassed his analytical gaze enough to hide your sexuality, you're going to die in his training program. He's not gonna go easy on you, not when the fate of the nation lies upon your capability to keep up. You're gonna go through far worse than what true Mulan went through, and you may or may not just die in the process.

If by chance you survived, this would warrant enough respect to not kill you (oh, you lived) but you better not show up again.

He's never gonna be delighted to see your traitorous face again, he can save China on his own, thank you very much. And you know he can. Try and approach him, and a sword would be at your neck once again.

"Foolish gremlin, you think you had the right to present yourself after the treason you willfully committed? We won't crumble at the loss of one person, your job here is done." How sad.

Cyno in Little Mermaid

First of all, wack, mermaids exist! Sadly, that's nothing new for him. He knows a lot with that intelligent mind of his, so it would be no surprise that the existence of such mythical creatures doesn't make him bat an eyelash. He's been living near water, he's not that stupid.

With that in mind, your presence in your first meeting is going to be bad. Very bad. Cyno knows about sirens and he's not at all gonna fall for it, and if by chance he had known you before the ship was wrecked, he's probably gonna be veryyy keen in capturing you instead.

So if by chance you're stupid enough to interact with him and DESIRE to be on land with him, you're gonna deal with a lot of problems.

You're not getting that kiss easily. No, it's a huge challenge. He'd be repulsed in your naivety and will most likely be more concerned on your voice than ever. He'd be so kind to try and give a shot in helping with the cure but it's not the cure you needed.

He'll drown himself in every literature in full concentration just to see if there's any text he can find about curses and muteness. His curiousity would get the best of him, and you'll barely see him after you managed to explain your predicament without the need for words. Octopus woman doesn't even need to show up to intervene.

"A kiss? Surely not, such ailment won't be cured by fairytale methods." And then he goes back to his library once again. And you will be seafoam the next sunrise. Or was it sunset?

"So now that we've established these grounds," Exiled turns to the other two in the area, "Maybe, these boys would be better off as princesses."

And so the trio concocts a new type of fairytale, collaborated to masterpieces soon after.

@moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel @struggljng @ellitx @kookieyachi @dandelion-dreams

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #cyno x reader #albedo x reader #venti x reader #zhongli x reader #childe x reader #xiao x reader #kaeya x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagines #exile.flower #exile.circlet #disney genshin #ajajjajajaja #this was made on impulse #sojourner special

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182-ash · 2 years ago

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Karl jacobs sickfic. A little part 2 to this fic. Is it proofread? No. But it's cute and I needed something to fill our karl brainrot @pebblebrainlovejoy enjoy!

The days after the Mr beast recording were hellish and slow. It would appear that that day was only a taste of what this mystery illness would have to offer. Thankfully, there was a light in the darkness, karl jacobs. Ever since your fated meet on the Set he'd been messaging you whenever he could, constantly checking if you were doing ok and making an effort to lighten your mood. It was on day 3, when your sickness was at a peak, that he realised just how miserable you must be all alone so politely invited himself over to keep you company.

When the doorbell eventually rang you mustered up all your energy to stumble down the stairs and welcome your visitor. Nerves were building up inside of you so you decided to shake them off (literally). Bad idea! This made you extremely dizzy as you opened the door, dark spots danced in front of your eyes and the last thing you saw before falling forward was Karl's smile faltering as he reached his arms out. As you came to, you were met with chestnut hair and a worried expression. "Oh my god your awake, why didn't you say it was this bad, I would've come sooner" "I'm sorry karl, I didn't know, I didn't want to cause you this much trouble, I swear I-" you were panicking now, realisation having finally set in "Hey no don't worry darling it's ok but um, can you stand"

After the initial panic had worn off karl was able to check your temperature (definitely heigh enough for a fever but nothing too serious) and find some pills to help combat the symptoms. He then led you to the sofa where you now lay, head in his lap, a gentle hand combing through your hair. You had your favourite movie playing quietly in the background and were wrapped up under a fluffy blanket, despite the sickness, this felt like pure bliss. Maybe it was the fever talking but you wished this moment would last forever, you never wanted karl to leave. You looked up at him through glassy eyes and sniffled, trying to push through the brain fog and articulate how you felt. "Karl- leave" ah shit that's not how its supposed to go. Wide, panicked eyes stared down at you as he tried to form a response but you cut him off "sorry. no, don't leave, stay. Forever." ehh good enough He breathed a sigh of relief followed by a characteristic giggle that sent butterflies to your stomach. Placing a gentle hand on your forehead he said "as much as I'd love to, it feels like that fever of yours is getting worse and I think we should fix that"

A couple of minutes later he returned with a glass of ice water and some more pills. You shot him a greatful smile before proceeding to take the pills and down the water, not realising how thirsty you had been. Unfortunately it was at this moment karl decided to become a comedic genius and make you laugh suddenly, resulting in a soggy jumper and a harsh coughing fit. Its not all that bad though as karl is caring enough to gently rub your back. "I'm sorry darling, that sounded quite painful" It was. "I'm fine" You'd never tell him that. He's shifting you over, about to remove your jumper when you realise all that water combined with the strong coughs has lead to something worse. "Bathroom" was all you had time to mutter before dashing off. Karl wasn't far behind, having immediately understood what was wrong. Its possible he may have realised what was wrong before you did, he'd known too much water was a bad idea and had noticed your previous pink tinted cheeks turning ever so slightly green. That's why he'd been removing the jumper, just in case, and the water soaking it of course.

The next 10 minutes or so were an uncomfortable blur that you'd rather not remember. Karl had however, managed to push through the panic and hold back your hair, uttering words of comfort. When the ordeal was over you flopped back against him, now completely drained of energy. He began rubbing circles on your stomach, taking the utmost care not to hurt you, hoping to alleviate some of the pain. When he felt you shudder, he remembered the watery jumper you were still wearing, gently lifted it over you head and replaced it with his, cooing at how small you looked in it. You looked truly miserable, sat on your bathroom floor, a feverish flush back on your cheeks, eyes glassy and nose rubbed raw red. You gazed up at him fondly, unintentionally pulling on his heart strings a little. "when your feeling better I promise to take you somewhere nice, a proper first date if you'd like, does that sound good?" You pulled his hoodie closer and nestled into his chest. "It sounds perfect"

#dsmp x reader #karl jacobs #karl jacobs x reader #dsmp x reader sickfic #sickfic

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andtheydontstopwriting · 3 years ago

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𝘾𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙨 -【Rodrick Heffley x F!Reader】- One-Shot

rating: pg

word count: 6.2k

summary: [y/n], daughter from a wealthy family from New York City, has been keeping her relationship with rodrick heffley a secret from her parents, though what happens if it’s brought up and her parents want to meet the secret boyfriend?

author’s note: here it is! hope you guys all enjoy it!! though i did want to let you know that i wrote this originally as a piece of work for my original character, which is why it is in third person! if you want to request anything feel free to!! once again, thank you for reading it!

keys: [y/nn] - your nickname

“I didn’t mean to tell them, [Y/NN].” Caleb spoke in hushed tones, as he attempted to prevent any outburst that he doubted would come from his younger sister, but it was still something that he felt that needed to be stopped, “But I’m sure neither you or Rodrick would exactly be thrilled if you ended up going to homecoming with David or Chad, and you know how dad-.”

“Listens to you, yes, I do know that, Caleb,” [Y/N] began, though her train of thought was shooting off in a million different directions, “And I do appreciate you trying to stick up for my happiness, but now we have to deal with what comes with doing that.”

It did not take long for Caleb to know what [Y/N] meant, because their father did bring it up in the conversation that started this whole situation.

“Father and Mother want to meet him.”

“And I don’t know if I can teach Rodrick to have the manners and social know-how that we and whoever Father believes would be more acceptable.”

“Maybe it’s for the best that’s the case, [Y/NN],” Caleb pointed out, placing a gentle hand on his

sister’s shoulder, “Give yourself the chance to step out of the spotlight for once, your happiness is what’s important.”

[Y/N] merely just nodded, because she knew that the standards their father placed on both of them were vastly different. Caleb could afford some level of security in the notion of not being worried about what their father thinks, because he does not have to work so hard to make their father happy.

This was something the teenager always had to grapple with growing up. Eventually, coming to terms with since she was the youngest, her future compared to her older brother’s was uncertain, unclear, and too many factors were up in the air: where was she going to college? What would her major be? What would her future career be? What sort of family would she have? Who would she marry?

Whereas Caleb had his future planned from the moment he was born: attend an ivy league for business then take over the family company, marry a family friend/one of the daughters of their father’s business associates or a family that would be useful to merge with and have a family. It was always clear and never questioned, even when they were kids. It took little effort on his part to make their father happy, because the expectations were clear as day and never took a moment of thought to figure out.

It was her burden to bear, and never had the strength in her to expect anyone to understand the judging gaze always cast her way, as if waiting for her to mess up or make a mistake to remind her of her failures no matter how perfect she appeared to the public eye. To her own boyfriend, even.

And part of her subconscious wished it would remain that way forever. But life has a funny way of working out in the end.

Her parents at dinner the same night her and Caleb conferred, they brought up having this mystery boy their daughter had been seeing secret over for dinner so they could have a chance to finally meet. [Y/N] had little say in the matter and the Saturday before Homecoming was agreed upon.

As soon as she returned to her bedroom for the night, [Y/N] knew she had to bring it up to Rodrick as soon as she could if they were to have any chance of staying together after that Saturday. The week they just about had was not going to be enough, but [Y/N] still felt she had to put the effort into trying to teach Rodrick at least table manners her parents would expect. But perhaps even that was pushing it.

:~+~:

“Your parents want to meet me?”

“Well, they did say they want to meet you, but I don’t think it’s because they know it’s you, Rodrick.”

Perhaps on their near nightly phone call was not the ideal place to tell Rodrick about the dinner, but it was the first instance she could get it out without her anxiety getting the better of her about telling him in the first place. It saved her having to tell him in person and save herself from seeing how he reacted in real time.

“And dinner was the best place for that to happen?” Rodrick questioned after a brief moment of silence and a familiar squeak of some springs faintly resounded into the speaker on his end. He must have

“With my family, yes,” The blonde confirmed, “With all things considered, with the holidays too far away and Homecoming approaching sooner, and they specifically said they wanted to meet you before the dance, a dinner is the only way.”

“Okay…” Rodrick trailed off, going silent for a moment, “When is dinner anyway?”

“Next Saturday,” [Y/N] replied, though quickly added before her boyfriend could speak, “We’re gonna have to have etiquette lessons, Rod, so I can teach you everything that you’re gonna need if you’re gonna make it through the night.”

“What do you mean etiquette, babe?”

“Like how to sit at a table, which fork and spoon to use and when to use them, what you can and can’t say, that sort of stuff. The basics.”

“Do you think a week is enough time to teach me all that junk?”

“Luckily for you, you have a great teacher and someone who has been taught this stuff her whole life, I think something will stick.”

“Alright, whatever you say babe,”

“I’ll even help you get ready,” [Y/N] promised, though had to amend it with, “I’ll try to, anyway, I'll at least come over to make sure you have an appropriate outfit because t-shirts won’t cut it.”

There was a clear groan of annoyance on the other end of the line before the teenager spoke, “You know I hate wearing ties, [Y/N], and I’m already pushin’ wearing it for Homecoming and not to church.”

“I know, I know,” [Y/N] sighed as she brought a hand up to her face as she stood from her bed to start pacing her room, “But it’s just for one more night than normal, Rodrick, I promise.”

“And what do I get in return, huh?”

“A girlfriend?”

“Okay, yeah, that’s a pretty solid deal.”

“So lessons start tomorrow, okay?”

“After the band practice,”

“After the band practice then.” [Y/N] confirmed as she sat on her bed once more, “Good night, sweetheart.”

“Night, babe.”

:~+~:

Okay, so the lessons did not go great, but they went about as well as [Y/N] expected. Teaching Rodrick how to behave and act as closely to the way she and her brother had grown up being taught was like pulling teeth, and much like chemistry, it was looking like nothing was sticking. And if anything was sticking, it was gone by the next day and they had to start over.

Meaning, come that fateful Saturday, [Y/N] could only hope that her very quick rundown of the basics, the true basics of what Rodrick needed to know the night before when she went over the Heffley’s house the previous night to get possible outfit choices ready and wrinkle free knowing the state of his bedroom and how clothes could be just...existing on the floor and if it was a process for her to find clean t-shirts of his to steal, then she figured the dressier clothes he owned were living the same way.

“What’s troubling you, little bird?” Her mother asked her daughter, as she had noticed that [Y/N] had been a little distracted in chopping the vegetables up. Not only that, she had been on edge since had left her bedroom that morning.

“I’m worried about dinner tonight, Mother,” [Y/N] answered, shaking her head a bit to refocus her attention on chopping the vegetables.

“I’m sure your Father will be on his best behavior, there’s no reason to be worried.” Helena spoke softly, reassuring her daughter with the soothing tones and having set the spoon down beside the stove top to go over and gently brush [Y/N]’s hair back, “Everything will be fine, little bird.”

As much as [Y/N] wanted to believe her mother was right, that things would be fine and everything would go smoothly,she also had to remind herself of her father’s constant attempts to control her life, and everything in her life. That included who she dates and there had been plenty of failed attempts in the past because of this meddling, and [Y/N], for once, just wanted to be free of the constant puppet strings attached to her that her father controlled.

“Father’s best behavior is turbulent, Mother, you know this,” [Y/N] pointed out with a sigh, “Rodrick isn’t exactly what Father believes to be best for me, and I’m afraid if Rodrick says one thing he doesn’t like, that's it, we’re through.”

“Your father’s opinion does not always matter, remember that his say is not final-”

“It’s been final before.” [Y/N] interjected, “Remember he wouldn’t let me try out for the cheer team?”

“He’s just looking out for what's best for you, that’s all.”

After that, the kitchen was silent save for the sounds of cooking, because once more [Y/N]’s anxiety took over and Helena simply did not know how to comfort her daughter anymore. It was easiest to just finish dinner and then go get ready for it, adn say nothing else on the matter for fear of making things worse.

However, just as [Y/N] was finishing up getting ready when she heard the familiar sound of an engine rumbling up the driveway. And gazing out of one of her bedroom windows that overlooked the front of the house, she saw the familiar van park in front of the garage.

So that is a good thing, Rodrick managed to remember to get there early as she insisted numerous times upon. Not that much earlier than the time she said dinner would start, but it was something, at least.

Next came the issue of watching Rodrick getting out of the van. While he did dress the part, the part was also distracting her that she kept her eyes trained on him before he disappeared under the roof that covered the front porch. It was indeed a rare instance for [Y/N] to see her boyfriend dressed up, considering she never exactly went with the Heffley family to church on Sundays.

So it was easy to understand as to why she had zoned out, nearly daydreaming and ogling over what she saw from a distance what her boyfriend was wearing. Though before she could fully dive into the daydream, the echoing sound of the ring of the doorbell echoed across the house and it was enough to snap [Y/N] out of her head and she was quick to stand from her vanity, hoping to make it to the front door before her parents or brother could open the door.

However, her attempts were in vain because of the delay it took her to stand and began the mad dash to the front of the house and the size of the home itself, and by the time she had reached the top of the stairs, she saw her mother already at the front door and as [Y/N] made her descent down the staircase, she heard what was spoken.

“Ah, so you must Rodrick,” Helena spoke, though [Y/N] could get a hint of confusion from the tone used, which [Y/N] assumed was because her mother had recognized Rodrick from the couple times she had seen him before when she first started to tutor the boy, but that was not brought up when Helen added, “Come in, come in.”

“Uh, thank you, Mrs. Clemens.” [Y/N] heard Rodrick speak as she continued her descent down the staircase, smiling to herself because at least something else stuck: always use formalities, never call my parents by their actual names.

As soon as she reached the bottom of the stairs, she was met with a beat of silence and then Rodrick saying without much hesitation, “You look beautiful,”

A dust of pink appeared on her cheeks and she briefly looked towards her mother away from Rodrick, who looked between the teenagers before taking the steps towards the dining room, allowing the young couple a moment alone before the dinner began.

“I have to admit, I know you hate getting all dressed up,” [Y/N] spoke as she neared Rodrick, reaching up to gently adjust the tie around his neck, “But I wouldn’t be opposed to you dressing up more often.”

“There isn’t a chance of that happening, babe, you know that.” Rodrick pointed out, though a teasing smile graced his face, which [Y/N] mirrored.

“A girl can dream, can’t she?”

Just as Rodrick was about to lean down to give [Y/N] a quick peck on the lips, he froze in his movements as he both heard a voice from down the hall echo around them and the fact he felt [Y/N] slightly tense up.

“Ah, [Y/N], dinner is about to start, I expected you to be in the dining room already.”

[Y/N] took a deep breath as she began to speak as she stepped to stand beside Rodrick instead, “Father, we were just heading there n-”

“This must be the secret boyfriend, then, Rodrick, wasn’t it?” Charlie interrupted, which was something [Y/N] was used to by then, and held a hand out to Rodrick (another thing [Y/N] could see right through--the charm of a businessman), “Charles.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Rodrick said as he briefly glanced at his girlfriend to see what to do, before [Y/N] replied with a glance down to her father’s extended hand, which Rodrick took with a little too much fervor, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Clemens.”

The energy behind Rodrick’s hand shake with her father was something that would not be much of an issue, but [Y/N] never had a how to shake a hand lesson herself, so it was overlooked when she was teaching her boyfriend what he would need to know. She was a girl, and the only thing she ever got on the subject matter was to be light and certain in the handshake, and that was all. So one look at her father’s face said all that she needed to know.

It was already off to a bad start and they had not even sat down for dinner yet.

Luckily her mother had called them into the dinning room before much more could already add to the poor outcome [Y/N] could start to sense coming already, no matter the words that echoed to counter the notion, hoping that things would look up from there forward.

And for the first part of dinner, it was as her mind had hoped it would be, as everything went smoothly. Any questions her parents asked to Rodrick, it took a moment, but he was always to pull something out that also did not make him nor his family look bad. The looks shared between the Clemens siblings were a mix of relief and happiness as the dinner progressed, because the lessons and seemingly did in the end stick with Rodrick more than [Y/N] previously had suspected they did.

“So, what is it you want to do with your life after you finish up high school, Rodrick?”

That was the question she was dreading, and one she was hoping for once her father would overlook and just accept that fact, move on that the future did not matter as much as the happiness of his children.

And the question must have also thrown Rodrick off for some reason, as he glanced once more at [Y/N] and in turn [Y/N] glanced at Caleb, a look of panic settling on her face.

“I think the team has a good chance of winning the game next week.” Caleb brought up, “So Homecoming may be a celebration for that win, too.”

“The football team has won every year the past several years, Caleb,” Charles pointed out, sighing as he set his fork down on the plate before him, “But that is not what we are talking about now, my boy.”

“The marching band is probably the best we’ve had in years, Father,” [Y/N] quickly added, clearly buying Rodrick enough time to try and find an answer to Charles’ question, “It’ll be worth going to the game for more than just the football team this year.”

“[Y/N], I believed I asked Rodrick a question, so I would appreciate it if you would allow him to answer.” Charles said, his tone rising from calm coolness, to slight agitation as he took a deep breath to calm down once more, “Now, Rodrick, what do you want to do with your future?”

“To be a musician.”

“Oh, a musician,” Helena tried to express some happiness in the discovery, “Are you in the school orchestra with [Y/N]?”

“N-no, Mrs. Clemens,” Rodrick realized his mistake of bringing up the fact he wanted to be a musician, but at the same time, if he said he didn’t know, he was sure he and [Y/N] would be over then and there, “I’m in a band with some of my friends.”

“What type of music do you play then?” Charles asked and [Y/N] and Caleb once more exchanged looks before [Y/N] looked to Rodrick once again. A look that said there was no point in lying about it now.

“Heavy metal.”

“Oh…” Charles began, glancing between [Y/N] and Rodrick, before his eyes landed once again on Rodrick, “That’s an interesting choice, have you not considered going to college or another career path?”

“Charles,” Helena interjected, giving her husband a look from across the table, “Now is not the time.”

“What?” Charles asked, clearly confused as to what his wife could mean, “What’s so wrong about getting to know the boy who my little princess is dating?”

From there, Helena merely just shook her head and dinner continued in silence, The only sound was the clatter of utensils as they hit the plate. [Y/N] kept her gaze down at the plate in front of her, merely just pushing what food was left around on her plate. Though, at some point, under the table, she reached over to gently grab a hold of Rodrick’s hand. To which, Rodrick merely just briefly looked over to [Y/N] and the only thing he could really do in reaction to it, was to let go of the tension in his shoulders before attempting to finish the meal before him.

As expected, her mother announced that she would go and get dessert not too long after, but it would be a few minutes to warm it up once again. So as [Y/N] stood to start clearing the table, her father also stood.

“[Y/N], could I speak to you for a moment?” Was all he said before he started his way towards the office he had at home.

[Y/N] knew what would come from this conversation, and she had to try to be strong this time. She knew that this conversation would be her dad trying to get [Y/N] to break things off with Rodrick--something she knew was going to happen as soon as her father brought up the question of what Rodrick wanted to do with the future. His dream was not to be anything her father expected the man [Y/N] to be with. And it was time for her to take her own life into her own hands after so long of being looked down upon and controlled by the plan her father had for her.

“What is it you see in that boy, [Y/N]?” Charles questioned as soon as the door to the office was shut behind [Y/N].

“I can assure you that Rodrick is someone with more than meets the eye, Father.” [Y/N] answered clearly as she rose to stand up a little straighter.

“But you are aware that he is not ideal, don’t you?” Her father spoke as he folded his arms behind his back, taking the strides to stand in front of his daughter, “You should be with someone like Edward Vill or Chad Danford. Not someone who you met tutoring, and someone who believes his heavy metal band will take off.”

He waited a moment for [Y/N] to speak, but all she did instead was lower her head and folded her hands at her front, so Charles continued, “All you have to do is end things with Rodrick and your future already looks brighter, my princess.”

“That’s your plan for my life, though,” [Y/N] pointed out, her tone quieter than she wanted it to come out, but she soon found her confidence once more as she added, “For once I want to do things my way, so with all due respect father, I don’t think I will break things off with Rodrick no matter what your standards are for me.”

“The standards I hold for you are meant to ensure you have a future.” Charles began, using a variation of the same speech [Y/N] heard time and time again, “As you know, your brother will take over the company, so I just want to make sure your foundation is strong in whatever ways I can provide. You’re young, you know little of how the world works.”

“Have you not realized that in trying to live up to your expectations, I’m putting my own happiness at stake?”

“The real world knows nothing of individual happiness, [Y/N], success is the only thing that will cultivate any sense of the word.”

“I’m doing my best as I am right now, and then some, trying to gain the success you wish from me,” [Y/N] finally lifted her gaze up, though the tears starting to well in her eyes as soon as she did, looking at the man she called father, but had not felt like one in years, “But even with all that I have accomplished and juggled since we moved, you still think I’m a failure, and nothing I ever do is right.”

“There’s always more, you never have to stop working and aiming high.” Charles’s voice began to rise once again, “And being with that boy is going to prevent you from doing such.”

[Y/N] shook her head just as the tears started to fall from her eyes, “I’m done trying to be what you think I am, because I’ll never be good enough for you.”

“Young lady, you listen-” Charles began, but [Y/N] was quick to interrupt for once.

“No, I’m done listening and following whatever it is you say for me to do, I’m choosing my happiness for once, which means I am not breaking up with Rodrick just because you do not approve of him.”

And while Charles attempted to persuade [Y/N] otherwise, he did try to get her to understand why he does what he does, but [Y/N] was not having it. And despite his efforts to also get her to stay, [Y/N] was quick to make her leave, knowing if she stayed any longer it would turn out uglier than it had already become. And they did not need that to happen.

Instead, [Y/N] tried her best to compose herself, keep herself together, as she went back into the dining room to get Rodrick. She did not need her brother or her boyfriend doting on her immediately, and she had to stay strong as she left the family home because she could not afford any more signs of weakness.

Though the soft hand on Rodrick’s shoulder and her quiet yet slightly quivering voice as [Y/N] asked, “Can we leave now?” was all Rodrick needed to have to know things did not go well when she talked with her dad, but he didn’t know what was discussed.

“See you around, Caleb,” Rodrick said before he stood from the dining table and [Y/N] was quick to grab a hold of his hand to walk out of the house.

“Young lady, you stay in this house or you’ll be grounded for the rest of your life!” She heard her father call out as he was approaching the foyer, but Helena was quick to hold him back.

“Charles, let her go,” She tried to reason with her fuming husband, “You two need some space right now,”

[Y/N] shot a quick apologetic look to her mother as she grabbed her purse hanging by the front door before opening the large wooden door and stepped outside.

“Thanks for dinner, Mrs. Clemens, it was real good!” Rodrick felt like he needed to say something before he shut the door behind him, and that was what happened to come out. Perhaps it was nerves talking and not filtering his thoughts that were not filled with concern for his girlfriend. And when they cleared the steps of the front porch, the boy was quick to make the steps to walk side by side, gently squeezing [Y/N]’s hand as they got to the van.

As soon as everything was unlocked, and both were in their respective spots, Rodrick turned the noisy van on, backed up, and began the drive down the long driveway and back onto the street. [Y/N], meanwhile, just leaned her head against the window, staring mindlessly out the side view mirror and watched as the house she had started to call home grew smaller and smaller as they moved away from it, and she could see two figures standing on the porch but soon as they turned the corner onto the street, they were out of sight.

:~+~:

Rodrick did not know what [Y/N] wanted to do, and she had been silent since asking him to leave her house. So he assumed it best to play it safe and drive around town as she calmed down enough to tell him what she wanted to do, or at least, he felt like she could answer when asked what she wanted to do. He knew by then to not push [Y/N], let her do things at her own time, because of his experience during finals last year and how she got so stressed out she shut down for a few hours.

Though after an hour of driving, from the corner of his eye, Rodrick could see that [Y/N] made an effort to lift her head off of the window and that was the sign that she was calming down and he made the choice to ask a question.

“Wanna hit up the convenience store since we bailed on dessert?”

There was a moment of silence, then two, then three, before Rodrick heard the defeated voice of his girlfriend come from her mouth, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

And with that guidance and direction on what to do next, Rodrick complied and drove to the nearest convenience store.

The next thirty minutes or so of the evening for the young couple were spent attempting to rid themselves of the pain and sorrow of the evening that had happened earlier. Trying to be young once more without any burdens or cares. And with this attempt to change how the night progressed, came the night chill and while Rodrick was fine, [Y/N] was not. Luckily, or unluckily, Rodrick had left one of his sweatshirts in the back of the van--which was the unlucky part, because it was found in the back of the van and who knows when it was last washed. But it was better than nothing, so [Y/N] accepted it and was grateful it at least smelled of him--the cologne he started to wear more frequently, that is. Once inside the shop, they moved through the snack and candy aisles with careful thought and consideration of what they wanted, with [Y/N] clinging onto Rodrick’s arm, her head resting upon his upper arm as they moved through the aisles and made their decisions of what felt appropriate for the evening--for Rodrick, a bag of chips and for [Y/N] a bag of sour gummy candy, as well as a bag of chocolate to share between them, and went to check out.

They chose to just sit and eat in the back of the van, still parked in the parking lot of the convenience store, as it was easier than finding somewhere else to go. They also sat in considerable silence once again, the only sounds this time were the bags crinkling and the sound of the crunch of the chip whenever Rodrick ate one, side by side as close as they could be and eat with ease at the same time.

“I’m tired of trying to be good enough,” [Y/N] suddenly spoke, breaking the silence that fell over them once she had decided she had finished with her candy for now.

Rodrick, who had been in the middle of eating a chip when [Y/N] decided to speak up, was grateful that he had something in his mouth as it allowed him the time to process what his girlfriend just said and figure out what he was going to say in return. In the meantime, he set aside his bag of chips and shifted enough to reach out and grab a hold of [Y/N]’s hand.

“I’m tired of tryin’, too,” Was what he apparently settled with, having never exactly been good at the whole comforting thing, “So we can be tired of it together.”

There was no verbal response from [Y/N], but she responded to this statement by gently rolling her head onto his shoulder, her other hand also came up to start playing with his fingers after setting the bag of candy down. So Rodrick took this that she was listening to what he was saying, but wasn’t sure in what way.

“Buuuut, one of the smartest girls I know taught me once that having two negatives together ends up canceling out the other, so we can just be tired together, instead.”

With this addition, a breathy laugh was heard in his ears and a proud little half smile appeared on his face as he heard her voice once again not being plagued by anxiety, but simply by sleepiness.

“I don’t think you understood that full lesson, sweetheart, remember how you almost flopped that test because you didn’t?”

With her statement being made, Rodrick’s smile grew into a full one before he tilted his head to place a gentle but loving kiss to the top of her head, before he murmured against her hair, “But I would have totally failed without you, babe.”

“We can just be tired together, Rodrick,” [Y/N] confirmed after a moment of quiet enjoyment of the moment, “And deal with all the teenage bullshit together.”

“Wow, did you just swear, babe?” Rodrick said in joking disbelief as he leaned away to look at [Y/N] head on.

“It’s been a long night, sweetheart.”

“My place?”

“I don’t think either of our parents would appreciate us sleeping in the back of your van, so yes, your place.”

:~+~:

“Where have you two been?” Was what they were greeted with as soon as they arrived at the Heffley family home, “We’ve been worried sick!”

“Sorry, mom,” Rodrick began, stepping in front of [Y/N] as he added, “We just went on a drive and stopped to get snacks, that’s all.”

“Your mother called, [Y/N], and she was worried when I said you weren’t here, but I’ll go call her to come get you, okay?”

“N-no,” [Y/N] began, the stammer in her voice stopped Susan from going to the phone in the living room, and Frank just looked at her confused, “I, uh, don’t want to go back home tonight, can I please stay?”

“What happened at the dinner that made you not want to go home?” Frank questioned.

“Just some family stuff,” [Y/N] covered easily, though she took a step to stand closer to Rodrick as she continued, “...Didn’t leave on the best of terms.”

“Oh, then of course you can stay, and we can figure this all out tomorrow, but I am going to call your mom back and let her know you’re safe, okay?” Susan said with a gentle smile and [Y/N] reciprocated the smile with a quiet, thank you, before Mrs. Heffley added, “You can sleep on the couch, after I make the call I’ll go get you a blanket,”

“Can she actually sleep in my room?” Rodrick brought up, his tone rushed, to which both his parents gave him a stern look but before his mom could even get the answer of no out, he added, “I don’t want her to be alone after what happened, is all.”

Susan and Frank gave each other a look, before they looked at Rodrick and [Y/N], and they caught the young couple glancing at each other and they saw the softest expression on Rodrick’s face they have ever seen on their son and once more looked back at each other.

“On an air mattress.” Frank said, pointing a finger at the both of them, to which the pair nodded before Mr. Heffley turned to go get the air mattress from the basement.

:~+~:

So [Y/N] never ended up sleeping on the air mattress.

She started out there, trying to do right by Rodrick’s parents since they allowed her to sleep in their son’s bedroom, which she could not be in past 8:30 on a school night usually. But sleeping in some of Rodrick’s clothes and with him only feet away, she was crawling in right beside him not even five minutes in of trying to fall asleep.

When she awoke the next morning, [Y/N] felt a weight on her chest, and not the emotional kind. No, it was almost the entire dead weight of her sound asleep boyfriend sleeping over top of her, his head resting on her shoulder, his wild bed hair tickling her neck. She did not move him off or attempt anything, instead choosing to bask in this moment they rarely got to have and enjoy a quiet Rodrick for once, a version of him totally at peace. Gently, she started to run her fingers along his back through the t-shirt he was wearing, before the fingers of her other hand started to gently card through his hair, which only settled the sleeping teenager deeper into her.

When he settled a little deeper into rest, this was when she had a slight struggle with breathing, and [Y/N] knew that she had to do what was usually impossible: waking Rodrick up.

But luckily for her, she knew a solid weak point that often got him up if he ended up falling asleep before one of their tutoring sessions: tickling his sides.

The action did not shoot him straight awake, but it was enough to shock his brain into making him open his eyes, and groggily lift his head up.

At first, it was clear he was about to settle back into the sleep he just awoke from, but before his eyes fully shut, they opened once more as he processed he was not laying on his mattress, but instead his girlfriend and the sleepy grin that appeared as he lifted his head once more and gazed down at her with half-lidded eyes was a sight [Y/N] would never get used to no matter how much she saw it.

“Good mornin’ babe…” Rodrick mumbled as he began to lean down to give her a good morning kiss too, before he was promptly pushed away with a gentle hand.

“Your morning breath is atrocious, sweetheart,” [Y/N] pointed out with a quiet laugh, “It could kill.”

“C’mon, you know I would never kill you, babe.” Rodrick pouted, “Now c’mon and give me a good morning kiss.”

Rodrick instead kissed all over her face as [Y/N] kept moving her head to avoid Rodrick meeting her lips, but their playfulness was cut short as they heard Susan’s voice from down the staircase calling up to them:

“Rodrick! [Y/N]! It’s time for breakfast!”

And fearing that Susan would come in to check on things, the pair moved--Rodrick faster than he ever had in the morning--to get [Y/N] into the air mattress. It was a bit of a scramble and [Y/N] nearly tripped getting off the twin bed, but she had slipped under the throw blanket on the air mattress just as Susan began her descent up the staircase, and the teenagers pretended to be asleep.

Until they heard the sigh and Susan making her way back down the stairs, their eyes were shut but the moment she heard his mother’s voice away from the attic door, [Y/N] quietly slipped off the air mattress and made her way back to Rodrick’s bed, where she leaned down to give his a soft kiss on the lips.

“We should probably go down stairs soon, sweetheart.”

Rodrick opened his eyes at the feeling and smiled up at [Y/N], who smiled down at him in return.

“I hate it when you’re right, babe.”

It was this moment they both realized something very important, very pivotal.

They both loved the other, and it was a somewhat scary yet exciting thought.

#rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick x reader #rodrick heffley #diary of a wimpy kid

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uenodivision · 2 years ago

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ARB Birthday Special: Shisuta Heisha

~~ November 1st ~~

"When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, ‘I used everything You gave me'."

"Hello there! Welcome to 'Bloom and Grace'. How may I assist you? ...Oh, a present? I think the owner is currently busy, but... Oh. It's not for him, but for me?"

"For my... birthday?! Oh! Well... thank you! Thank you ever so much! May God continue to bless and keep you!"

Voice Lines:

"Is it truly a blessing to see so many people wishing me a happy birthday! Their congrats and thanks are worth more than any gift!"

"My mother called and wished me a 'happy birthday', which was nice of her. She also lectured me that I didn't visit her last month. I truly apologize! There was no excuse! I'll be sure to make up for it this month, I promise!"

"Yomi-chan wrote me a birthday card! It was very cute and nice of her! I truly do love her! Thank you very much!"

"Thank you, Aranai-chan! That means a lot to me. I still remember the day we met, as well. It may have started out well, but the end result was worth it. It was truly fate that we met one another and a blessing that we both are still here."

"What is this? A... necklace? And it reads... Oh! *Sniff* I'm sorry, Aranai-chan! I'm not crying because I hate it! It's just... this means a lot. I don't normally care for store-bought gifts, but... I'll make an exception in this case. Thank you so very much, my child."

"Thank you, Kisouna-san! I'm truly blessed to know you, as well! Although our first meeting could have been under better conditions, I'm glad to have been there that night to aid you. Our meeting was a very... peculiar one, but I'm thankful very much for it."

"Oh, what is this? Oh, incense? Thank you very much, Kisouna-san! I've been meaning to get more of these after I ran out, but it completely slipped my mind! And these are ones I've never seen before. I'm looking forward to trying them out very much. Thank you very much!"

Aranai Lines:

"Happy birthday, Shisuta! Man, hard to believe it's been so long since we met each other, and now it's already your birthday again. I still remember how we met. It... isn't my best memory, but... I'm glad out of everyone here in this city, it was you who found me first. So... thanks."

"Anyway, here's a gift I found for you. I know you don't care much for expensive gifts, especially if they are store-bought, but I saw this, and I... Shisuta?! What's wrong? You hate it?! I can take it back... Oh. Yeah, I... I just wanted to show how much I appreciate you, despite how much a pain I can be, so... you're welcome... mom."

Kisouna Lines:

"Happy birthday, Shisuta-san! I'm truly happy and glad to see you have made and prospered for another year. Like Aranai mentioned, I know that I am not an easy person to befriend or get to know, but you've managed to persevere and get me to be myself around you, which is hard for me to do around most people. Needless to say, I'm glad to have met you that night. It was truly a... blessing."

"I heard that you mentioned once that you ran out of incense that you use during your meditation time. I searched online and found some ones from Tibet. I hope that they serve you well. You are welcome, my friend. And again, a very happy birthday to you."

#hypnosis microphone #hypnosis mic #hypmic #hypmic oc #hypnosis mic oc #shisuta heisha #aranai norikoru #kisouna yuzairu #sakurai clan #ueno division #alternative rap battle #hypmic arb #happy birthday shisuta 2022

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wangshuus · 4 years ago

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love like you | xiao

pairing: xiao/gn!reader

genre: angst+fluff

wc: 4.1k

summary: you and xiao are polar opposites according to him and because of that, he deems himself unworthy.

note: this is my first time writing for genshin and i love xiao so much so this is essentially a bunch of word vomit i whipped together while listening to love like you from the su soundtrack :’)

(i’ll have to go in for another proof read after but pls take this for now)

fic under the cut

In the land of Liyue, the Adepti were acknowledged for being the protectors of the sacred land, guarding both it and its people. As most of the adepti resided in their abodes, there was but one that stayed within the vicinity of the Wangshu Inn. Xiao; the Vigilant Yaksha, Conqueror of Demons, Alatus. He went by many titles, many names all of which carried the story of the adeptus himself. Upon the years of history carried through Liyue in its passing generations, it’s known to many that despite having the looks of a young man, the adeptus was not someone you would want to take lightly. The Yaksha carried thousands of years worth of burden, shackles of guilt and terror binding him to unpleasant memories. With every passing day, he is harshly reminded of the way he and his polearm skillfully worked through the bloodied dance of weapons on the battlefield, crimson liquid painting the ground and his very hands. It stains so intensely that it was like an unseen tattoo that reminded him of eons of slaughter he partook in, the lives and dreams he so greedily took from people. It was something only he could see and something he would continue to see for many more years to come according to him.

He very rarely got close to anything or anyone, devoting his life to duty and the orders granted to him by Rex Lapis to protect the beloved land of Liyue. For this very reason, he never thought much about emotions or the overall concept of it, seeing it as a worthless matter, a weakness even, for it could not help in the slaying of those in battle. All he ever knew at that point was violence, having his purity harshly stolen from his grasp all those centuries ago and being left with not even a single grain of what it was like to feel anything pleasant. Whenever he did feel anything, pain, suffering and agony were the only things that filled his system therefore to him, it was better to feel nothing at all. Needless to say, he was somewhat unapproachable on several levels, but who could blame him?

There then came a day in which all of this would away as an estranged guest made your way merry when into the Inn. You, (Y/n) were a mere mortal traveler with a dendro vision chained upon your hip, specializing in the field of healing. You stumbled upon the inn, looking to take on commissions and requests in exchange for a room for the time being. Your fates clashed with each other during your first encounter when you were tasked to deliver almond tofu to the adeptus that was specially made by yourself. You could still remember stuttering over your words in embarrassment during your first meeting as he revealed himself to you, commending you for your culinary skills but telling you to leave immediately, saying something along the lines of it being ‘too dangerous for mere mortals to stay in the presence of adepti for too long’. It was accurate to say that you two took an interest in the oddity of the situation. Why did Xiao decide to reveal himself to the simple human, knowing very well his mere presence was already a threat to you. Why did you not turn away in fear just from the adeptus’ profound deathly gaze? There were several unspoken questions between you two at the time but that one fateful encounter had caused a shift.

You had decided to extend your stay at the inn a little longer than you intended to. You went about the daily tasks set out by Verr in exchange for your stay every day that you were there. The completion of your tasks leads to a delivery that had become habitual to you during your stay at the inn. Every day you’d made your way up to the highest terrace in the inn to drop off a plate of almond tofu to the adeptus. On some days, he’d reveal himself and on some others, he chose to remain unseen-- and to you, this was okay. As the days passed, it began to be more apparent how odd this whole shift was for the both of them.

You are an adventurer, someone who sought out to travel the lands, and yet, you remained grounded at the Inn, your fascination and curiosity driving your patience to learn about the distant Yaksha and fuelling your willingness to stay settled at the inn instead of seeking for the thrill of adventure. Xiao was an adeptus, a being that has lived for many years on end, a being that has slaughtered countless, a being that carried an indescribable amount of karmic debt for all the treacherous and ungodly amount of terror he has bestowed upon thousands in the past. He could not explain to himself why he even decided to associate with a simple mortal, thinking that there was something wrong with him at the time because he knew that if he were in his right mind, he would have never even bothered taking a glance at the human. But then again, not all things could be explained. From the days that you had stayed at the Inn for that time, you would find yourself visiting the lone adeptus every evening, delivering a plate of what became familiar to him as your almond tofu, the one that deemed to be the closest to that of the dreams he so greedily devoured all those years ago.

Months had passed since the first day you first set foot into the inn. You had managed other work and commissions throughout the time but often found herself coming back. you became well acquainted with everyone who worked there, practically making it her second home in fact. Even when you did have to part ways, you would pass by whenever you could, sparing your time and energy at least once a week to come reeling back like a moth drawn to a flame. The reason behind it was very evident to you, nothing that you would ever admit to hiding at this point. You did enjoy the company and atmosphere of the other humans at the inn but at the end of the day, everything came back down to the enigmatic adeptus that resided there.

Sensing your presence had become second nature to the adeptus, him knowing the very moment you set foot into the Inn. He would never admit it to himself, but he found himself looking forward to the mortal’s visits. He still thought about the first day he decided to reveal himself to you, feeling a little more content about it with every passing day. But something about the whole ordeal scared him to no end. He wished it wasn’t the case but he was well aware of all the changes and feelings that had bloomed since you waltzed into his life. The feeling of bubbling excitement inside of him every time you came back to him, the feeling of embarrassment of when you’d blurt out compliments towards him, feeling more comfortable and daring as the visits continued. The feeling of protectiveness washing over him when you told him stories in which you got even the slightest bit injured. One may view this just as someone showing emotion; but that was the problem for him. He wasn’t supposed to show emotion-- he wasn’t supposed to feel-- according to himself at least. Rather, he didn’t deem himself worthy to feel pleasant emotions.

“Xiao” A familiar voice called out to him, turning to face the direction from where he stood, which happened to be the spot where he viewed the familiar landscape of Liyue.

You made your way towards him, holding out a plate of almond tofu which he had come to admire. He took the plate from your grasp and greeted her with a light hum of acknowledgment before beginning to munch down on the tofu. You let out a soft chuckle before standing next to him and leaning on the railing, staring off into the starry skies you had become accustomed to seeing, though every time, it never failed to amaze you. Your eyes gazed at the twinkling stars in the sky as you began your usual routine of speaking about how your life has been since you last saw each other. You had become accustomed to Xiao’s aloof demeanor at times like this because you knew that despite him seemingly looking uncaring, he was secretly listening to your rambling. You stared off into the distance as you spoke, your attention being stolen by the stars. While at work on the plate of almond tofu in his hands, Xiao took these moments to look at you as he silently listened to your long-winded sentences.

In serene moments like these, it was hard for Xiao to keep his composure. Though the stars in the sky glimmered so beautifully, they paled in comparison to your eyes when they sparkled so passionately when you spoke of your adventures. In moments like these, Xiao was reminded of your courteous nature. He was reminded of how good you are, going about your time adventuring the lands, specializing in the art of healing with the assistance of the beloved vision clipped at your side. You lived for adventure; you lived to help those in need. It was in moments like these when he became painfully aware of how different you were from each other.

It had been so long since Xiao ever considered himself to be good in any way. He was all too aware of the disgusting red that painted his hands permanently, the hands which have slain countless beings in the past. The hands that he did not see worthy to touch anything so fragile in fear that it would break, feeling as if anything would die at even the slightest touch of his fingertips. You see, when he met you, he was so sure that he was far from anything good and you proved himself to be right in his mind; because you were what he deemed to be good in his eyes. And he was nothing like you.

Before he knew it, he was left with an empty plate and a bustling mind full of thoughts as he looked out into the distance along with your words flowing freely with the wind. You turned back to see Xiao in all his glory, taking in his presence, eyes lingering upon him like the first time you met him. There was never a day that passed where he didn’t look stunning in your eyes. The reserved yaksha was nothing short of a challenge for you to get close to. Even to this day, there are times where he was standoffish towards you. In moments like these, you’re reminded of how you’ve barely scratched the surface of his character, being well aware that he’s lived far longer than you and will quite possibly continue to live way beyond your time. Though he hasn’t explained every single detail of his past to you, there have been significant points in time where he has opened up about snippets of his past, to which you grasped and held onto as much detail as you could when he went on. You’ve picked up that Xiao isn’t the most well-articulated when it comes to explaining his feelings but you paid no mind to it, taking pride over the fact that he has yet to slit your throat open with his spear. There have been countless occasions in which you’ve praised Xiao but none of them have truly projected your feelings towards the adeptus.

Xiao was not truly aware of how deeply you felt for him. Sure, he thought that you were interested enough to stick around and pester him for who knows whatever reason. However, it went way beyond that. You admired him so dearly, his presence being one in which you ironically found an indescribable amount of comfort in. You’ve listened intently to his wise words of wisdom, his tales of his bloodstained past that he was willing to share, as well as his little remarks about how peculiar humans are. You saw beyond the seemingly frigid, cold, and distant demeanor of Xiao and instead saw a boy with such a yearning to be tender, gentleness being beyond his reach according to him but to you, he was gentle.

You noticed the way he would handle the little things involving you. You notice the way his tone has changed in the slightest when talking to you whenever he does, softer than the first time you had initially met. You notice the way he acts when it comes to physical touch, preferring to make little to no contact to you but his touches were soft and fleeting whenever touch was necessary. He’s told you several times in the past that he has a brute touch preferring a distance to keep himself from hurting you. From that alone, you knew he’s gentle, reluctant to admit it though due to the events of the past but nonetheless, his gentleness was hard to grasp but must be cherished greatly and that is something that you have done.

“Xiao” You called out to him. He turned to face you, noticing how you were staring right back at him, your arms resting upon the railing as you gazed at him.

“Is something wrong? You seem a little more spaced out today.” You spoke out again.

He sighed before clicking his tongue. “It's nothing that should be of any concern to mo--”

“--mortals like you, I know yada yada yada. You’ve said that far too many times in the past. Now tell me, what’s truly wrong Xiao. I did make you listen to my rambling so it’s only fair that you shoot something my way.” You cut him off.

Annoyance laced his features as he let out his nth sigh of the day. He turned to look at you, giving you a serious, almost cold look.

“I am already greatly aware of how odd some human tendencies are, knowing you mortals do some strange actions that even I question to this day. But you, you are the most peculiar of ones that I have encountered. You wish to stay with someone as myself, someone who could take your life in a single heartbeat. So tell me, why does someone like you continue to linger?”

Lo and behold, a question that you were surprised to hear from him, though you knew the day would eventually come when he would ask. Why did you continue to come to him time and time around? You let out an exasperated sigh as you turned to him with a lighthearted smile in an attempt to lighten the tension that filled the air.

“I enjoy your company, that’s all. Is it so wrong to spend time with someone when you enjoy them being around?” You stated. His eyes narrowed at your response.

“I do not believe it is normal to risk your life simply for mere company, it is not worth it. I refuse to believe that your motives are as light-hearted as that. Is there something that you desire that is beyond that of human capabilities?” He stated.

Your eyebrows furrowed and your smile faltered at his aloof response. What was with the sudden cold demeanor he decided to put up front? You held eye contact with his warm amber orbs that held a stare ironically as cold as the mountains of Dragonspine.

“It’s because you’re you, Xiao. I come back and spend my time here because you are you. I enjoy the little things about you and the time we spend together, y’know? I enjoy the way your eyes light up at the sight of almond tofu, I enjoy your little declarations of how odd us mortals are, I enjoy hearing you open up about even the littlest of things. You’re special in my eyes, Xiao. You’re strong in so many different aspects, you’re wise in the words of advice you speak and last but not least, you’re gentle. Those are just a few of many aspects of yourself that make you so special to me.”

Xiao’s face contorted to one of bewilderment for a brief moment before morphing to one of disbelief, scoffing at the statement. ‘Gentle’ he thought. When you mentioned him being gentle, he thought to himself that it was a load of pure nonsense.

“Calling me gentle is simply blasphemous. I have told you countless times that I am far anything related to that of a tender nature. I leave nothing but a trail of anguish and regret. You’re foolish to see me in anything of a good kind of special, even more so if you see me as gentle.” He firmly stated as his arms crossed tightly across his torso.

Archon’s Xiao’s mind was a mess. He was in a stubborn state of denial as he refused to believe the words that slipped past your lips, writing them off as lies. He covered the creeping insecurity that arose in him with a stone cold demeanor like he always did. He couldn’t accept it, he couldn't even fathom to believe what makes you think he’s so special.

“Listen Xiao, you’re being awfully stubborn right now.” You said dejectedly. Despite his current manner, you wouldn’t back down, seeing this as one of the only opportunities where you could truly and openly speak about how you felt towards him. You turned so that you were fully facing him, standing your ground as you spoke to him.

“You think so lowly of yourself sometimes y’know? It saddens me to know that you only ever see yourself like that.” You stated.

“I am stating nothing but the tru--” Xiao spoke.

“Listen to me, Xiao.” You cut him off, him being surprised by your snapback.

“You’re far more than your own past. I’m aware of everything you’ve gone through from what you’ve told me. Forgive me for I’m unable to fully sympathize with you but I can’t let you continue to do this to yourself. I’ve only known you for mere months out of the thousands of years you’ve lived but I’ve been around you long enough to know that you’re not as bad as you claim yourself to be.” You paused for a moment to gather yourself before you continued on, looking that Xiao was very much paying attention, an unreadable look on his face.

“You’ve told me yourself that you’ve been around long enough to capture the knowledge of the world to an extent. You’ve told me that you’re aware of how barbaric and lethal your own strength is but you’ve never told me that you hold tenderness inside you, even after all you’ve been through. You hold such valuable knowledge in the field of strength but you’ve failed to notice that the gentleness in you is not completely gone.” Your own hands stretched out and firmly held onto his gloved ones as you continued speaking.

“You speak about yourself as if you’re not worthy of feeling anything but the anguish and pain as a price to pay for your actions. You’re allowed to feel vulnerable, you’re allowed to feel curious, you’re allowed to feel happiness. I want you to be more honest with yourself so that you can see that you’re worthy enough to feel good emotions. You can extend yourself out to others and the human world and allow yourself to be free. Still after all this time, I sense you feel that it’s necessary to keep me at an arm's length but that’s not true nor is it something that I want. Though this fact alone proves my statement. The fact you wish to keep me away is a sign that you hold that gentleness within but you can still learn to be gentle without having to lock everyone out. Your loneliness isn’t an inevitable conclusion, and I’ll prove to you that it isn't. I wish to stay with you not only because I enjoy your company but because I found something in you worth cherishing. I want to see you grow from whatever anguish you hold, even if it’s just a little bit. I know my life might be merely a second in yours but please, let me do what I can in my lifetime to make you feel worthy and feel loved, because I truly do love and care for you, Xiao.” Your grip tightened around his hands, fearing that he’d yank them away from you with every passing second. Although you firmly stand your ground, you were internally malfunctioning at the whole-hearted confession to the adeptus in front of you.

Xiao felt as if the wind was knocked out of his lungs, face contorted into that of even more disbelief as he found himself still trying to process this whole ordeal. He took the time in processing the words that came directly from your heart as it went straight into his, a warm feeling erupting inside of him, something that felt to foreign to him that it scared him a little. Though your words held a weight to them, it was much more pleasant compared to that of his past memories, but it wasn’t enough to distract him from the way you desperately held onto him.

He was well aware that he could pull away from you at any moment, knowing that your strength could in no way match his but he couldn’t do it. The moment your hands touched his, even through his gloves he felt the firm gentleness of your grasp. You were no hydro user but in that very moment, he felt as if you washed away the bloody sins that stained his hands for years on end. For once he felt clean; for once he felt pure, rid of all the unpleasantries of the world for these very moments that he spent with you.

You noticed how Xiao stood still. You feared that you might’ve severely angered him from the way you snapped at him, but the look on his face told you otherwise.

The usually serious and stern face of the adeptus held such a soft, perhaps vulnerable look. His eyes were wide and in the moonlight, you could tell that they were glossed over from the way they shone with emotion, mouth slightly ajar, possibly trying to find the right words to respond to you. He didn’t need to say anything though because from that look alone, you got all the answers that you needed.

You slowly let go of his hands as one arm moved to wrap around his waist and the other going towards the back of his head, reeling him in closely for a foreign yet mellow embrace. His hands awkwardly stayed at his sides before they slowly and hesitantly moved to hug you back, leaning in gently to your touch as your hand led his head to the crook of your neck, allowing him to bask in the warmth you so generously offered him. For the first time in archons knows how long, Xiao felt a warm liquid spill from his eyes, staining your shirt. Your hands ruffled through his hair in an attempt to soothe him in his time of vulnerability. His hold on you was still so light, almost as if he was afraid he’d break you if he held on even tighter. The hand that ghosted over his back made its way to one of his arms and tugged at it, encouraging him to hold on as much as he needed.

“It’s okay Xiao, you can hold on tighter. I’m not as fragile as you may think. You don’t have to be scared of breaking me.” You chuckled lightheartedly.

His grip did tighten, as he began to mumble words with his face still buried at your side. Something along the lines of apologizing for snapping at you earlier. Your smile widened as you held onto him even tighter if that was possible.

Xiao knew he wasn’t perfect, he was far from it in fact. He had so many flaws and rough edges but that was okay--that’s what made him Xiao. He never understood until now why you thought he was so special and to be quite frank, he still didn’t understand, but he was determined to understand it one day. He wasn’t good like you but he wanted to start believing that he was good in his own way, wishing to truly do something that he felt was right by you in the future. Though it wouldn’t be the easiest of journeys, he was determined to do something that feared him to no end--for you. He wanted to learn how to love, how to love you even more and openly express it to you but also, learn how to love himself, just as you loved him.

“Thank you, (Y/n).”

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact x reader #genshin xiao #xiao #xiao x reader #love like you #fanfic #fanfiction

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no--envies · 3 years ago

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I think Jin Guangyao’s backstory makes him a really compelling antagonist. The first few times his name appears in the novel, he’s presented as the current leader of the Jin Sect, “the only illegitimate son whom Jin GuangShan approved of” (chapter 11) and whose merits allowed him to become Chief Cultivator, the highest position of power in the cultivation world. The more we learn about him, the more we realize the situation wasn’t that simple.

As we’re repeatedly shown through Empathy, Meng Yao’s life wasn’t easy at all. When he was young, he was scorned by everyone for his lowly background no matter what he did. Even the other prostitutes in the brothel where he grew up made fun of his mother's delusion that one day Jin Guangshan would give her and her son a better life. Even Mo Xuanyu, another illegitimate son, was treated better than him by Jin Guangshan, because his mother came from a good family. “At least Jin GuangShan still remembered that he had such a son and brought him back to Koi Tower” (chapter 48), while Meng Yao and his mother were completely abandoned.

After his mother died, Meng Yao went to find his father, but of course he wasn’t received. Instead, he was kicked down the stairs of Koi Tower and rolled down the steps from top to bottom. How did he react to this affront?

Allegedly, he didn’t say anything after he got up. Wiping away the blood on his forehead, then dusting off the dirt that got onto his clothes, he picked up his belongings and walked away.

(Chapter 48)

We always see him react like this against adversity. He never gets angry, never yells, never vents his frustration in any way. We don’t know what kind of feelings he harbors in his heart. This is much more terrifying than Nie Mingjue’s volatile temper.

After this, Meng Yao didn’t give up at all. If anything, this experience gave him more determination to see his and his mother’s dream fulfilled. He didn’t have strong spiritual powers because he had started cultivating too late, but he was gifted with a keen mind and a lot of resourcefulness. He was refused by the Jin Sect, so he went to the Nie. He managed to attract Nie Mingjue’s attention by doing the things he knew Nie Mingjue would approve of, like helping civilians during the war. We don’t know how much of it was due to his own concern for the well-being of the common people. On one hand, Jin Guangyao built the watchtowers to help people in the most remote areas, despite meeting a lot of opposition for it, both from his father and the other sects. On the other hand, he used innocent prostitutes to murder his father and then killed them, so he doesn’t seem to actually care about the common people. I think most of his actions while he was in the Nie Sect were calculated to make the sect leader notice him.

Nie Mingjue’s righteousness made him stand up for Meng Yao when he heard people bad-mouthing him. Nie Mingjue had his flaws and a black-and-white morality, but he was fair to his subordinates and gave credit where it was due. He showed his appreciation for Meng Yao’s hard work and attitude by appointing him as his deputy. Meng Yao’s situation in the Nie Sect of course wasn’t ideal and he struggled to be accepted (the scene with the cultivators refusing to drink from the teacups served by the “son of a prostitute” was telling), but being the sect leader’s deputy was the highest position he could have achieved only through his merits. I believe that if he had decided to stop there and be satisfied with what he already had - a good position, two sect leaders who supported him - his life would have been much happier.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. Meng Yao’s past, coupled with his habit of bottling up his emotions and remembering every affront he received, had made him accumulate years of pent-up resentment. Nie Mingjue offered him the opportunity to go where he wanted instead of using Meng Yao’s debt of gratitude to keep him by his side. He even wrote him a letter of recommendation to give to Jin Guangshan so that he could be appointed to a good position in the Jin Sect. However, Jin Guangshan didn’t even meet Meng Yao. He completely ignored his presence and even feigned ignorance when Nie Mingjue went to inquire about him. In that kind of environment, even Meng Yao’s superiors could get away with taking credit for Meng Yao’s achievements. When Nie Mingjue went to look for him, he caught him precisely while he was taking revenge.

What Meng Yao did that time was definitely questionable. Even in a world like MDZS where revenge is completely justified, Meng Yao went too far by murdering his superior for stealing his credit. The problem is that in the Jin Sect, Meng Yao didn’t have anyone he could complain to for his superior’s wrongdoings. His father couldn’t care less about him and everyone else secretly rejoiced to see him struggling: in a society where birthright was everything, the son of a prostitute was lower than them even though his father was a sect leader. Nie Mingjue told him to confess his crime and accept the punishment the Jin Sect would give him, but that was like sealing his fate. There was no way Jin Guangshan would judge him fairly. The mere son of a prostitute daring to murder a respected member of the Jin Sect? Meng Yao would have been lucky if they didn’t execute him on the spot. Nie Mingjue didn’t consider all of this because his rigid mentality prevented him from seeing the nuance in Meng Yao’s situation. He thought that if Meng Yao truly had his reasons for killing his superior, the Jin Sect would acknowledge it. He didn’t take classism into consideration because he couldn’t see past his own privilege.

Nie Mingjue’s mentality was too black-and-white, but he wasn’t completely wrong, either. In that moment he caught a glimpse of Meng Yao’s true nature: that of a schemer and a manipulator. From that moment on, Nie Mingjue could never trust Meng Yao again like he had done in the past. He didn’t completely give up on him, though: after the end of the Sunshot Campaign, when Meng Yao was finally recognized by his father and became Jin Guangyao, Nie Mingjue accepted to become sworn brothers with him because he wanted to bring him back to the right path.

At the time Meng Yao had apparently achieved his goal: his father had recognized him and given him a place in Koi Tower, finally acknowledging his merits. However, that was far from the truth. Jin Guangshan had no intention whatsoever of making Jin Guangyao his heir; he gave him the tasks of a servant and made him do the things he wouldn’t dirty his precious heir’s hands with. He ordered Jin Guangyao to get rid of all the obstacles that prevented him from reaching the position of Chief Cultivator, and Jin Guangyao did. Despite this, his father never cared for him and never really accepted him. On top of that, Madam Jin didn’t show an ounce of compassion for the illegitimate son of her husband: she kept venting her frustrations on him as if Jin Guangyao was at fault for her husband’s vices.

Jin Guangyao was mostly isolated in Koi Tower, but somehow he kept believing that someday his father would actually recognize him. What made him lose faith completely was what Jin Guangshan said about his mother:

“Why was a sect leader who spent money like water unwilling to do the smallest favor and buy my mother’s freedom? Simple—it was too much trouble. My mother waited for so many years, weaving together so many difficult circumstances when she talked to me, imagining for his sake so many hardships. And the real reason was only a single word: trouble.

“This is what he said, ‘It’s especially women who’ve read some books who think they’re a level higher than other women. They’re the most troublesome, with so many demands and unrealistic thoughts. If I bought her freedom and took her back to Lanling, who knows how much fuss she’d make. It was best that I let her stay where she was just like that. With her conditions, she’d probably be popular for a few more years. She wouldn’t have to worry about her spendings for the rest of her life.’

“‘Son? Oh, forget it.’”

(Chapter 106)

Jin Guangyao did a lot of despicable things in his life. He had the chance to stop and be happy with what he had so many times, but he never did. He kept obeying his horrible father’s wishes and sacrificing innocent people for the sake of his own ambition. He had a lot of talents and skills he could have used to do good, but he wasn’t a good person.

His backstory does an excellent job at explaining his behavior and motivations. It makes him a complex character, far from one-dimensional, and I think it’s great that the ultimate villain of the story is a character like him. Jin Guangyao’s evil deeds weren’t justified in the least, but spoke of a resentment born from real struggles and the desire to climb the social ladder to prove that even someone like him - the son of a prostitute, scorned and ridiculed by everyone - could reach the top of the cultivation world.

#mdzs #mdzs meta #jin guangyao #meng yao #nie mingjue #jin guangshan #jgy #nmj #jgs #character analysis

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galadhremmin · 3 years ago

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We have derived Caranthir liking the Dwarves (and vice versa) because apparently, Finrod succeeds in every field Caranthir fails, and at this point it's clear this derives from the in-universe writer of the Silm and his own biases. Think about it: "Dark Finwë" , a grumpy, prejudiced lordling, and "Hair Champion", most handsome, noble king, have met with the same people!! Yet the king of the first secret kingdom is everyone's friend, but the prince that trades with them regularly is not... seems sus.

Hence, Caranthir is friends with the Dwarves. (But that is just an interpretation, so you're free to think what you wish, I just have several opinions on in-universe prejudice and the almighty narrative.)

I think that 'we' might actually have been Dawn Felagund years ago. Maybe this reading existed even before that, but I doubt that-- she's been very influential in silm fandom and was long before tumblr was much of a thing. https://dawnfelagund.com/caranthir-the-slandered

I wouldn't say it's 'clear' that what amounts to Caranthir's entire documented personality derives from the bias of the in-universe narrator, though as you can see from Dawn's writing it's a reading you can argue for. There are a number of different approaches you can take to the Silm and its biases anyway. One of the few times when it's absolutely clear the text isn't telling the entire story is when it talks about the Easterlings. I've posted about this before but the recorded names are, uhh.... the ones to betray the elves are unlikely to actually have been named things like 'ugly lord' and 'ugly beard.' 'Dark Finwe' on the other hand is a documented reference to his haircolour being dark like Finwe's own; hardly a negative judgement!

I personally think Caranthir can be exactly as ill-tempered and prejudiced as the Silm paints him without becoming an unsympathetic character. If a writer cannot make a moody, deeply prejudiced man an interesting character that is a failure as a writer; there are after all enough books who manage exactly that. That is not to say choosing not to write him that way is a failure (obviously not), but it's not necessary in order to make a reader feel for him at all.

Just going by the text, I think it actually might make for a more interesting narrative to explore in fic to me. Because he does change his mind about something, and at a very specific moment; when he meets the Haladin. That is much less dramatic if he secretly been as nice and popular as Finrod, and got along with everyone all the time already. He's been raised by Fëanor, who said things like 'No other race shall oust us!' and rallied the Noldor not motivated enough by vengeance for Finwë alone by playing on their deep-seated fear of being replaced by the Secondborn. Very unlikely that had no impact. At best it has made him uninterested in humans in his area (while they're not much of a threat to ruling instead of the elves anyway). The text says they paid them no heed.

And yet! Caranthir sees how brave Haleth and her people are. He 'does her great honour.' He changes his mind and offers them lands. His tragedy to me is not that of a slandered figure, but of this deeply, deeply prejudiced person raised to distrust the motivations of human beings -- who overcomes those beliefs, offers friendship, is rejected! then extends that same trust to the Easterlings anyway... and it's those specific Easterlings, not the ones who ally with his brothers-- who betray them all. And cause the disastrous ending of the Nirnaeth. It's the 'to evil end shall all things turn that they begin well' part of the curse hitting him in the least fair way possible. Someone finally changes for the better, and the outcome is treason and destruction.

That is a very good character arc to me, actually. His aesthetics-based scorn for the Dwarves is reprehensible but strikes me as deeply Elvish, and part of his prejudices. Naugrim is too unflattering a name for them for it not to be common. His temper-- well why can't he have one? Sure there's only one recorded instance -- but that's imo because there are hardly any conversations in the Silm! Anyway I like some people with tempers well enough. Personally I think people are missing out on opiniated grouches.

Obviously the biased anti-Feanorian Pengolodh reading is a nice one, and I have enjoyed a lot of stories written based it. But it's not at all a reading that is necessary for me to read Caranthir as a flawed but sympathetic character. He can have serious faults and still, ultimately, be someone I feel for.

What I was asking though was if I overlooked any canon evidence of Caranthir being particularly, personally fond of the Dwarves; and it seems I did not. Also; there is room for Caranthir growing to like the Dwarves over centuries without an anti-Feanorian bias reading this strong, there is simply no evidence for friendship in the rather barebones narrative (I'm not interested atm because it's wildly overdone to me & I like variety).

That said, in my opinion making Caranthir the hidden, slandered Feanorian Finrod equivalent with a dash of Curufin's Dwarf affection is not as enjoyable as simply working with what little canon character is actually there. Because there is one (and it's not the greedy tax collector of some fanon depictions either imo)

1. To start with, wrt Caranthir as the anti-Finrod, I don't think it works that well. Sure sure dark/light, open/prejudiced, repressed/shouty, but different motivations, different locations, plus they meet very different peoples even if both are Edain-- besides, Caranthir's own older brothers do successfully ally with the Easterlings without betrayal, while Curufin (much more so than Finrod! no Khuzdul for Finrod!) is the Dwarves' Friend(tm). Also, a flawed Finrod already exists. That's just the regular edition. He has his own faults and (very different) tragic arc.

If Finrod never seems to have strong prejudices to overcome, and if he's not confrontational (which... look he's a diplomat. Make of that what you will. Pretty awkward there in Doriath, buddy!) he does have trouble facing his own complicity (he wanted to sail those ships despite the murders) until Sauron beats him to death with it. He leaves Valinor with the idea of ruling but he has to give up the crown. He's ambitious, he seems emotionally repressed, he's.. possibly paying the greater Dwarves to drive the Petty Dwarves out of their ancestral home to build a city? Oops. Depending on the version you go with in that case, of course; there's also ones where he's free of the blame of that one. Not of wanting to sail those ships and being uneasy with the guilt wrt wanting to do so despite their being stolen and murdered for though. No he doesn't kill; but he wants to use the result of it anyway, and to make it worse he is actually half Telerin.

There's also (to be fair, only for sure after the disaster of the Sudden Flame because that's the recorded instance) his guards killing random innocent trespassers to keep his kingdom hidden -- yes, that's right there in Silm, yes he's still King at the time. Beren has to wave that ring. People just seem to miss that he'd be killed without it somehow.

I think it's just too easy to reduce him to the golden perfect opposite of Caranthir. Yes he's described more positively; he's also just mentioned more because unlike Caranthir he rules an actual kingdom, the greatest and richest in Beleriand in fact; and does things that have a lot of very longterm effects, like helping B&L steal a Silmaril. They don't 'meet the same people' anyway -- the Haladin have a different culture from the Beorians which contributes to their reaction to Caranthir (and iirc their later fate).

Sidenote: Dawn's essay attributes the Green Elves helping the Feanorians at Amon Ereb to Caranthir's diplomatic skills; but why not to those of Amras or Amrod? This is the quote; 'Caranthir fled and joined the remnant of his people to the scattered folk of the hunters, Amrod and Amras, and they retreated and passed Ramdal in the south. Upon Amon Ereb they maintained a watch and some strength of war, and they had aid of the Green-elves' -- nothing here indicates it was Caranthir who got them that aid. In fact A&A are the hunters, i.e. more likely to have roamed in various forests where they would have encountered Green Elves, imo.

There's also the very desperate times to consider in which this aid takes place. This is just post Sudden Flame, and even if the Green Elves didn't like Caranthir they probably liked him better than Morgoth. Also, speaking of cosmopolitans, Maedhros allies with, yes, Dwarves (Azaghal), Grey elves, Easterlings (and you might say: Fingolfinians); even part of the remaining people of Dorthonion rally to Himring post sudden flame (that means Edain and Arafinwean followers in Himring, at least for a time), and he manages to be friendly with Felagund despite calling him a badger. ;)

Finrod is not the only other leader to forge diverse alliances, and though B&L ends happily his people mostly do not. Caranthir's not much like Finrod in any way. Not in motivations, temperament, tragic arc. That's fine. No hidden kingdom for a dragon to eat either. Finrod could probably do with being a little less like Finrod sometimes, though he's well-intentioned and likable. Caranthir loves to shout and isn't sneaky. Good for him.

2. Curufin also already exists. His love for Dwarves is one of his defining and redeeming characteristics and boy does he need them. He's daddy's favourite, a sneaky overambitious bitchy bastard who is also a talented smith and linguist, and truly considered a Dwarf friend, which is apparently exceptional. He's quite flawed; tries to help Celegorm force a political marriage, laughs with a bruised mouth, seeming to lose his mind while attempting and failing murder after first losing his own stronghold and then the city he tried to take from his cousin. He's just... a personality. Mostly a bad one! You can feel for him though, because he seems like an utter mess. Many 'i would love to study you' feelings on my part. Would hate for him to be real but also I'd pay to be his therapist.

3. And then finally there's Canon Caranthir. A difficult, prejudiced person who despite that (which doesn't at all have to mean there is no despite, the despite is what makes it juicy)

- seems to be responsible for re-establishing (large scale?) trade with the Dwarves, whatever he might think of them (and they of him) to their mutual benefit. I don't think he's greedy either. It seems like a mutually profitable situation. Access to Dwarvish goods seems pretty vital to Beleriand, and facilitating trade is a real service.

As someone pointed out in the replies, the Silm does mention Dwarvish companies travelling east to Nan Elmoth and menegroth various times, but quote wrt Caranthir says 'Caranthir’s people came upon the Dwarves, who after the onslaught of Morgoth and the coming of the Noldor had ceased their traffic into Beleriand' and 'when the Dwarves began again to journey into Beleriand.'

They stopped at some point and Caranthir's people made it happen again.

- which means he's practical. He seems like he's good at organising, and setting his own feelings aside if necessary despite his prejudice and temper (which is an achievement it wouldn't be without his, hm, everything). Also he and his people as well as the Dwarves work together well because ''either people loved skill and were eager to learn,' despite their (initial?) mutual dislike. Those aren't bad characteristics; seems like it was an exchange of skill as well as goods and possibly providing safe travel opportunities.

I don't like the 'greedy Caranthir' fanon and don't think it is even that easy support entirely with canon. 'They had of it great profit,' the text says-- both Caranthir and the Dwarves. They exchanged skills and knowledge and Caranthir seems to have helped them start trading in Beleriand again. That's hardly Scrooge Mcduck.

- Another thing we can say about canonthir (lol) is that he apparently attaches a lot of value to aesthetics (was he a visual artist? is a he a sculptor like Nerdanel? WORSE: AN ART CRITIC?! Feanorian art critic is truly nightmare fuel) and that's why he dislikes Dwarves (of all things...). Either way points to 'aesthetics' as something apparently important to Caranthir. Which makes sense given who his parents are. What is interesting to me is that this apparently DOESN'T matter to Curufin, who is a lot like Feanor in most things. That's interesting!

I've never, never seen this but I think it would be very funny to attribute his aesthetic prejudices to Nerdanel. I love her; but why should her opinions be perfect? I know she wasn't considered beautiful herself, but she's an artist. She's got to have had some strong opinions on aesthetics anyway. I doubt it's the beards; Mahtan had one as well. And 'stunted'...at least some of this comes down to the Elvish obsession with height yet again. Hm.

- eventually Caranthir overcomes what have to be some very deeply held beliefs about human beings and their place in the world, and offers what for all intents and purposes looks like real friendship, not the ruling over Men Feanor seems to have had in mind at best. He's capable of real change!

Anyway his character works just fine to me from canon, and what he achieves and the ways in which he fails are more interesting that way rather-- neither slandered Feanorian Finrod 2.0 nor Curufin 'Dwarf Fan' Feanorion without the sneakiness and murder attempts pack the same punch as a stupidly prejudiced grouchy man doing his best anyway for centuries in this stupid ugly cursed land, eventually changing for the better, opening up-- and being brutally punished for it by the Doom.

Dammit. I hope there's therapy in the Everlasting Darkness.

hm a bit long but that's what I get for trying to gather my thoughts wrt why after considering it a bit transferring Curufin's love for Dwarves to Caranthir is a bit boring to me personally. Though there are still stories that still do it very well.

#no one asked including me but there you go anyway #that's what you get when i wake up at nearly 3 in the morning and thnk. FUCK i can't sleep #caranthir

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samstree · 3 years ago

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and the wolf was nowhere to be found (2/3)

Jaskier pays the price of his lies. With blood and tears and a few broken hearts.

(4.3k, lying spell/potion, cursed jaskier, blood and injury, miscommunication, mutual pining)

Previous | Read on AO3

The reverse trope series: [1] [2] [3] [4].

Jaskier wakes with a crick in his neck and an aching heart.

He goes through the motion of packing, their morning routine too familiar to distract him from the heavy guilt in his chest. Jaskier wonders if Geralt is actively avoiding him—the way his back is turned at every chance can’t be a coincidence.

The only time he so much as spares a glance is when Jaskier puts the lemon cake in their rations bag, wrapped perfectly and untouched. Geralt stills for a split second, his jaw clenched.

Jaskier wants to brush it off.

Finding an excuse is the first instinct he has, thinking of a lie as to why he didn’t eat something he’s been drooling over for ages, and erase that crestfallen look on Geralt’s face, the one that is breaking his heart.

Because he can’t exactly tell the truth, which is that he’s more likely to be sick if he ate it. Another lie, however, would turn his stomach even more.

Jaskier remains silent.

Even Roach is judging him as they walk out of the stable. Jaskier bears her side eyes and annoyed headbutt without putting up a fight. The mare is too perceptive to miss the tension in the air, and her protectiveness is more than justified. She’s a smart girl. Of course, she knows Jaskier is one making her broody witcher brood even harder.

She tries to bite his doublet again, and it’s Geralt who stops her with a soothing hand down his mane, murmuring confused questions into her ear. Sweet, kind Geralt, who has been rejected by Jaskier so many times for no reason in the past few days, is still trying to defend him.

Jaskier needs to make it right.

“Geralt, look—”

“Master Jaskier!”

Someone in the distance rudely interrupts Jaskier’s nervous attempt. He turns by instinct and watches a boy in lilac doublet jog up to them. He’s so young, no older than twenty, still with that joviality and naïvety in his features. The way his matching doublet and trousers could catch the eyes of any crowd reminds Jaskier of himself in his early years.

“Sweet Melitele, I’m your biggest fan! Oh my…” the boy proclaims, awestruck. “I’ve been following your ballads for years, and now I get to meet you in person!”

Jaskier looks to Geralt and then back at the man.

“Ah, I’m flattered. It’s always nice to meet a fan, but you see—” Jaskier gestures to the horse and the man behind him. “—I’m in a hurry to leave town.”

Besides, he’s in no mood to converse right now. The quicker he can get Geralt alone, the better. With this weight on his chest, Jaskier feels so drained just talking to anyone but his witcher, let alone dealing with an enthusiastic fan.

“Oh but you must listen to my set first!” The boy looks at him expectantly. “I dream of writing a hit song just like Toss a Coin. I could be just as big—”

“I’d love to, but the circumstances won’t allow it.” With the biggest smile plastered on his face, Jaskier dismisses the guy. “I’m sure there’s promise in you, especially now you’ve chosen the correct role model—”

“You can go, Jaskier.”

Jaskier snaps his head to Geralt, confused as to what he just heard.

“We need to leave this morning, my dear. That’s the plan.” Jaskier frowns. “Remember?”

He excuses himself to the young man and drags Geralt away too quickly, too rudely—on another day he’d feel contrite ignoring a fan like this, but today he’s mind is occupied by something much more important.

Once out on the street and alone, Geralt’s befuddled frown deepens. “Why did you—”

“I need to tell you something,” Jaskier interrupts. “Before I say it, I know you will get mad at me, but you have to understand that the past year has been hard on me, Geralt. When you showed up in Oxenfurt out of the blue, I didn’t have enough time to process everything or what it would mean for us to travel together again. That’s why everything is so wrong now and I need to make it right.”

“I know what you want to say.”

The world stops.

All he can see is that pained look on Geralt’s face, the one that’s breaking his heart and making his blood run cold. Of course, he knows, witcher senses and all. As if Jaskier has ever gotten away with lying to Geralt’s face in the past.

“You do?” he breathes, the crack in his voice unmistakable.

Geralt lets out a sigh. He’s not mad. At least, he doesn’t look like he’s angry with Jaskier. “It’s been obvious in the past few days, and I… I do understand.”

“Oh.”

There’s still hope then. Jaskier just needs to come clean and apologize, and, definitely, throw whatever game he’s been playing out the window. They will be fine. The two of them, the bard and the witcher on the path, just like the old days—

“I can leave now,” Geralt starts. “With me gone, you’d be free to stay here for longer. You have so many things to see and so many people to meet. You can go back and talk to the boy. Finally, there’s someone who can wax lyrical with you. It’ll be for the best.”

“What?”

“You don’t need to say it, Jaskier. I can see now that it’s better if we part ways. Let’s not make things more difficult.”

Jaskier stares, gaping like a fish out of water. He can’t believe what he’s hearing, after all this time, after the mountain. Geralt wouldn’t do it.

He wouldn’t.

“You are leaving me here?”

Geralt looks as if he’s stricken. His shoulders tense like every time he wants to appear smaller.

“It’s for the best,” he repeats.

Jaskier shakes his head. “Wait, I thought you understood. I’m sorry, Geralt, for the past few days. I didn’t mean to… I wanted to apologize, so you know I didn’t mean it.”

The smile at the corners of Geralt’s lips is too sad.

“You don’t need to apologize. It wasn’t fair of me to ask it of you to begin with—”

“Ask me what?”

“—Us traveling together again… It was only wishful thinking. There was never a second chance and I never should have gone to find you.”

Jaskier takes a step back, swallowing the lump in his throat. Suddenly the collar of his doublet is too tight and the lute on his back is too heavy. He has to look away from Geralt’s resolute face just to stop the stinging in his eyes.

“You promised…” he mumbles. “You promised not to leave again.”

Geralt falters for a second, his hand resting on Roach’s saddle as if to steady himself. When he answers, his tone is cold, colder than Jaskier can take.

“How can I keep you when everything catches your eye, Jask? You are not made to stay... Not with me. Not after everything that happened.”

Disbelievingly, Jaskier retreats. His hand fists around the strap of his lute case, digging into his palm. “Not made to stay? Seriously?”

“It’s for the—”

“If you tell me it’s for the best one more time, I swear, Geralt…”

“Jaskier.”

Geralt calls out his name without heat like he’s placating an unreasonable child. Jaskier exhales in exasperation.

“Maybe you are right that it was only wishful thinking.” he forces the words out, his heart sinking. “For once it was actually my fault, and you can’t wait to ask for life’s one blessing again.”

“I—”

“Fine. Have at it,” Jaskier hisses. “I don’t care.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

Jaskier lands the biggest lie he’s ever told in this mess. He drags his feet to cooperate, to take him away and put some distance between him and the worst disaster that’s ever descended upon his life.

Roach neighs, but the sound is far-away. Jaskier grabs at the doublet at his chest and wonders if the witcher-shaped hole within can ever be filled.

Jaskier doesn’t stop.

He walks into the bustling crowd of the market, heedless of cheery townspeople going about their day, and he keeps walking until the noise dies down.

Jaskier stops at the riverbank with nowhere to go, so he sits down on the ground and finally lets the dam break.

Crying does very little to ease the ache, and yet when the tears bring a release for the pent-up pressure in his chest. It’s hard to feel justified in letting the pain be cried away when he’s so aware of his own faults in the once-again ending of their companionship.

After all, Geralt couldn’t wait to throw him aside on top of that mountain when he’d done nothing wrong. What makes him think Geralt will tolerate him when he intentionally fucks things up.

Jaskier gasps for air, but only a whimper chokes out. How pathetic, to regret the most precious second chance destiny has ever granted him.

Now he knows for sure that he doesn’t deserve to cry, to let himself feel even just slightly better in the wake of his destruction.

Jaskier tries to stifle the tears with a hand at his mouth, and breathes. In and out, one breath after another. It’s like trying to contain a storm threatening to wreck through his entire being.

But he manages, after an eternity.

Jaskier sniffles one last time and wipes away the tear tracks. There’s a tremor in his hands but he pays no mind. The lute case is laying carelessly in the grass where he dropped it. He slings it onto his back and realizes that in a frenzy, he’s left everything else he owns in Roach’s saddlebags.

He could laugh at the idea of going back there, tail between his legs, as if being kicked out of Geralt’s life—for good this time—isn’t humiliating enough. His only hope hangs on the possibility that Geralt may have left his packs at the inn so they don’t have to face each other. Why would Geralt want to see him anyway? The witcher should be long gone.

Jaskier doesn’t make it too far when a streak of lilac pops out of nowhere.

“Oh! Here you are, Master Jaskier. You are a hard man to track down.”

The boy still looks too chirpy for Jaskier’s liking, too bright and too carefree. His mood is soured even further.

“Look, I’m not fit for company today.” Jaskier walks right past the young man, heedless of his insistence. “Mister—what is your name? Maybe you’ll catch me at the next festival if fate allows.”

The boy ignores his deflection and stops right in front of Jaskier’s face, which successfully draws his full attention and pisses him off completely. “I said—”

“Why are you in such a hurry?” The kid doesn’t relent. “I thought the witcher is determined to abandon you for the second time. Don’t you think he’ll stick to it this time?”

Strangely, the other man doesn’t look nearly as young up close. His face is youthful for sure, smooth and unblemished, and yet there’s an inexplicable weariness in his blue eyes. Now that Jaskier notices, these blue eyes look eerily similar to his own. With just the eyes, he could be looking into a mirror.

Jaskier wants to squirm.

“Did no one teach you that eavesdropping is rude?” He pauses, startled. “Wait, a second time… You knew—”

“Oh.” The man looks sheepish. “Can’t blame a fan for keeping tabs on you, can we?”

An overly zealous fan is nothing new, but somehow, this one sends a shiver down Jaskier’s spine.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Jaskier says, trying to back away. “I need to get back to town. You know, where the inspirations are, so I’ll find it in me to… um, compose more of those pieces you love so much.”

“Oh, don’t kid yourself! You are not going back to him, are you? Twenty years! All the sweat and blood and singing his praises and this is what you get after all this time!”

The guy grabs at Jaskier’s arm, which he shakes off in horror.

“You know nothing about me. Or Geralt.”

“That witcher will never see you!” he exclaims. “I was there when your first ballad swept the continent off its feet, Jaskier. From that moment on, I knew you were special. What appreciation has that mutant shown you? Only insults and scorn.”

“Geralt is not like that, he—”

Jaskier freezes to the spot.

He forces his attention back to the boy’s face. His eyes are still startlingly blue, even more so in anger. There’s not a single trace of age at his temples, and yet…

“My first song was twenty-two years ago,” Jaskier states, something akin to fear creeping into his voice. “What did you say your name was again?”

At those words, the man’s face shifts. It’s like watching someone shed a layer of skin, a façade, and another being emerges. A much more powerful one.

“Does it matter?” When he answers, there's magic in the air, sizzling with power. The blue of his eyes shimmers under the surface, ever so slightly. Jaskier’s heart clenches.

Not human.

Definitely not human.

“We never got to know each other, well,” Jaskier stalls. “I think now it’s not too late.”

He has an inkling that getting away will not be an easy feat. He can hope to distract this… this creature long enough for a chance to run. His hand tightens around the strap nervously, and the man’s eyes follow the movement without a beat.

Shit.

Jaskier turns to run, to take the lute case in his hands as a weapon, but it’s too late. The next thing he knows, the case is thrown against the ground and he’s backed against a tree. The other man’s grip around Jaskier’s wrists is like a vice, securing his hands right above him.

Jaskier wants to scream, but no sound escapes his throat. His body shakes all over, out of control.

“The fae never reveal our name easily,” the creature hisses.

Those blue eyes are too sharp and there’s a scent growing overwhelmingly strong. Fae, as it turns out, smell like newly cut grass and wildflowers, like the forest.

If only Jaskier can live long enough to share the trivia.

And then, with both their hands occupied, the fae presses his forehead to Jaskier. He struggles but to no avail.

The touch is cold and something is slipping into Jaskier’s mind like an icy stream in the spring. It trickles probs at every corner of his memories.

“Oh, even now you are loyal to the witcher. You still believe he’ll save you, little songbird.”

Jaskier’s vision turns fuzzy. His soundless whimpering breaks into breathless gasps, like a wounded animal waiting for a mercy kill. At the back of his mind, he’s achingly aware of Geralt’s absence. His witcher in shining armor won’t come this time, not after all the—

“All the pretty little lies. Every single one of them, born out of love, misguided.”

However true that statement is, Jaskier doesn’t want to hear it. His love for Geralt shouldn’t be spoken with malice. He fights against the fae’s iron hold with everything he can muster.

There’s a crack of bones before the pain hits him, exploding from his wrists all the way down his arms. Jaskier sobs, the edges of his vision darkening, the shock threatening to pull him under. He still can’t make a sound.

“What can we do?” The fae’s voice comes from a distant realm. “How can we have your loyalty as the witcher does? Oh, how fierce you are, songbird. To have your voice at our court… Perhaps, more lies will do. Yes, it was your choice, what your heart desired. A gift from us.”

Jaskier can’t process anything he’s hearing. He’s too tired from the searing pain in his wrists.

“Just a few lies. They’ll be easy to roll off the tongue, and yet, such powerful weapons.” The fae retreats. “A gift of lies. Thank you for the inspiration, Jaskier the bard. We hope you enjoy it as much as we will.”

Without the brute force holding up his body, Jaskier sagas against the tree, his legs unable to support his weight. His lungs burn and his mind turns fuzzy, bereft of the fae’s presence.

Jaskier needs to move, needs to scramble away from this place. But before the sweet relief of freedom even hits him, magic seizes him again and, finally, finally, a world-ending scream explodes from his lungs.

The world goes to black soon after.

Jaskier wakes to someone shaking his shoulder, someone gentle.

His body pulses like a bruised nerve. The back of his head feels like it’s been trampled by a whole army and his neck creaks at the barest move. Jaskier’s nose is buried in damp grass and he chokes, which jostles his neck even more.

He groans miserably and tries to touch, only to be stopped by the burning in his wrists. He lets out a hiss.

Right, broken bones. Blue eyes that look the same as his. Fae.

“Careful… Fuck, Jaskier, what happened?”

A gravelly voice comes through the fog.

Geralt.

Oh, Jaskier can sob with relief. He arches his back, slowly propping himself up on his elbows. His eyes are so sore from lying on the ground face down, but the sight of his witcher is unmistakable.

Jaskier wants to call out for his witcher, but a sob is the only thing that gets out. He cradles his hands and finds his right wrist is swollen red and sensitive to the touch, but the left looks more or less the same. Only a throbbing pain tugging at his fingertips.

He reaches to the back of his head with his left hand, where the crick is prickling at his nerves, only to find a gash at his nape and hair caked with blood. He doesn’t remember hitting his head while falling. He doesn’t remember falling at all.

So, one wrist sprained, the other broken, plus a gaping hole in his head. Jaskier can cope.

If he doesn’t die from the embarrassment, that is. He whines pathetically, already exhausted.

“I told you not to move.” Geralt catches Jaskier’s tilting body. Amber gold flows with concern. “What happened to you, Jask?”

The question comes out soft, more of a whisper to the witcher himself than demanding answers. Jaskier’s lips wobble at the endearment. He needs to tell Geralt everything. Fuck his injured pride. Geralt came for him. This wonderful, beautiful, sweet man came to him after the disaster that is this morning and he’s still trying to help Jaskier.

All because Geralt is safety. He’s safety and home, and Jaskier needs to tell him—

“None of your business, witcher.”

It takes a moment for Jaskier to register what left his lips, the venom that drips from these words so foreign. He’s never aimed at Geralt before. From the looks of it, Geralt is equally startled if the tiny crease by his lips is any indication.

“You hit your head,” Geralt says patiently, hovering close to Jaskier’s face in an attempt to check the wound on his neck. “It’s bad. Here, let me see—”

“Get your filthy hands away from me!”

The words fly out on their own volition. Jaskier flinches, the same time as Geralt takes back his hand as if burned. He closes his mouth with a pop and the feeling of something severely wrong weighs down on his stomach. That’s not what he meant, not at all. The only thing he wants to do is lean into Geralt’s touch and melt into a puddle. Whyever did his mouth betray his heart? Why did he…

Why did he…

…Lie?

His mind focuses on a sing-songy voice.

A gift from us.

A gift of lies.

It’s like a bucket of ice water thrown over Jaskier’s head. He sobers up immediately. The inspiration they took from him. The fae’s gift.

The fae’s curse.

Geralt’s brows are knitted together, amber eyes imbued with hurt. He is still crouched in front of Jaskier, hands fisted at his side and shoulders taut. He’s got the look now, that lost look that only appears when a mob drives him out of town with pitchforks and stones. Jaskier has seen that look one too many times.

And now he's the one causing it.

“Jaskier?” Geralt asks, shocked, unsure.

Jaskier breathes hard and tastes the bile rising in his throat. Geralt doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve to have that hopeless look on his face or to be shunned by the world, by anyone, and least of all, by someone he’s let stay beside him for so many years. By the Gods, Jaskier needs to let Geralt know he’s the kindest person on earth and more human than any human. He’s Jaskier’s friend and protector, his dream, his heart—

“You are a mutant, a freak,” Jaskier feels the words slip out, too late to realize the mistake of opening his mouth. “No better than the monsters you slay.” The magic compels his tongue. He bites down on it but it’s only futile. “You feel nothing and give nothing but death to those around you.”

Jaskier recoils, tasting blood. In front of him, Geralt mirrors his movement. The entire time, the wolf medallion rests against his chest plate, Jaskier’s last hope, sitting still and unresponsive.

And Geralt…

He doesn’t defend himself.

Of course not. Geralt never defends himself against the stoning even when he can easily defeat most humans with his bare hands. There’s a faded scar near his hairline, a solid proof of men’s capacity for prejudice and violence.

Now Jaskier has joined their ranks.

Geralt looks like he’s been suck-punched in the gut, his eyes wide and crestfallen. And yet, wide amber eyes gaze upon Jaskier without accusation, only quiet acceptance. Jaskier shudders with disgust and fear, which must be the reason Geralt is backing away further.

“I’ll leave… If you—” he pauses, before standing up. “I see. This is goodbye, Jaskier.”

Don’t go!

“Get away then!”

Jaskier shakes his head, putting all the force he can muster into biting into his lips, scared of what may come out. His wrists burn but he has to force his mouth shut by pressing his palms over it.

Why can’t Geralt see that something’s wrong? Why can’t he see Jaskier?

See me! Jaskier pleads silently through the tears.

Geralt’s face falters as he spares one last glance at Jaskier.

Look what you’ve done to him, the sing-songy voice returns. This is your choice. You chose to lie, little poet. Be careful what you wish for.

Jaskier crumbles like a puppet with his strings cut. He barely contains the choked-out whimpers. The burning in his lungs is nothing compared to the anguish. He could die at this moment and it would be a sweet release. Hurting Geralt like this, it’s worse than a thousand broken bones and a million cuts on his skin. In the darkest corners of his mind, he wants Geralt to walk away from him. If Jaskier has to spew any more venom towards the man he’s loved for more than half of his life, he’d surely want to walk into the ocean and never come out.

He presses his ears to the grass and remembers the cold wind on the mountain. He was a fool to hope Geralt could come to him then. He is a fool now.

The witcher drags his feet away, one step after another, trampling the soft flora under him, and then—

And then, by some miracle, he stops.

Jaskier watches as his witcher turns around and rushes back to his side, his jaw clenched and eyes determined. His heart bursts with hope, but his fists press against his mouth harder. There’s more blood coating his tongue.

“I can’t,” Geralt states as he kneels next to Jaskier’s curled body. The betrayal in his eyes ebbs away and in its place is something…tortured.

Jaskier shakes his head, or is he trembling again? His vision swims with blood loss. He won’t be able to stay awake for long.

“I can’t leave you here, Jaskier,” he muses to himself, frowning deep. “Shit. You are bleeding again.”

Jaskier scoffs into his fist, almost hysterical.

“You are in shock, and you are about to pass out. I don’t know what happened, but your wrists are a mess. Jaskier…” The name comes out like a prayer. “I heard your wishes. Loud and clear, this time. I know you loathe my presence in your life, but… I have to make sure you’ll get better. Please, forgive me.”

Geralt tries to gently pry Jaskeir’s hands away, but he struggles blindly. Through the haze of his mind, Jaskier’s last thought reminds him to keep his mouth closed.

“Forgive me,” Geralt mutters in anguish, “I can’t let you hurt yourself because of me. Forgive me, just one more time.”

His hand makes the familiar sign of Axii, and everything turns…soft.

The pain is gone, the magical hold on his tongue too. Jaskier loses himself in the mellow sensation of giving up control. The ground disappears under his body and his head lolls against Geralt’s chest.

“I was wrong.” Regret rumbles deep in Geralt’s chest. “I was the curse that befell you. After all the hurt you’ve received by my side, Gods, and I still can’t keep myself away from you. I will not make the mistake of forcing myself into your life again, Jask. Allow me a few days to see you safe, and then... Never again.”

The vow is so wrong, but Jaskeir is powerless to protest. He catches a broken whisper before darkness claims him for the second time on the same day.

“I’m sorry, Jaskier. For my heart.”

Jaskier welcomes the oblivion that drags him under, as well as the nightmares that follow.

I'm...sorry.

One more chapter to go. Hopefully this time I won't have to up the chapter count. Some real communication and comfort are on the way! <3

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @a-kind-of-merry-war @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @kitcatkim3 @endless-whump @rey-a-nonbinary-bisexual @llamasdumpsterfire @dapandapod

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

#geraskier #geraskier fic #lying spell #cursed jaskier #miscommunication #mutual pining #jaskier fucks up real good in this one #and bears the consequences #geralt x jaskier #again i'm sorry #i meant to end it with geralt walking away #and thought #in this economy?#but somehow this is... worse?#hurt jaskier #jaskier whump #hurt geralt #everytime i hurt geralt's heart i go 🥺🥺

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years ago

Text

Exodus. Yan Chrollo x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol mention, implied trauma, and panic attacks. Word count: 1.6k.

Tonight commemorates an important milestone.

You don’t know if you’d call this outing a “celebration”, the somberness of your mood presenting a stark contrast to the festive label. Reclaiming authority over your own life shouldn’t have been a necessity in the first place. To take pleasure in having autonomy again feels surreal, invoking a bitterness within you that can never be sated. Nothing serves as a permanent solution in making you feel better. Distractions, all of them, fleeting as the wind that carries you from one city to the next.

The glass in front of you is empty, your throat burning from finishing it off. It’s late -- around midnight, last time you checked -- you should be heading out by now. Staying in one location longer than necessary is unwise. This prepaid card should have just enough to cover your tab for the night, if you’ve been keeping track properly. The man who’s been chatting you up for the past thirty minutes pauses when he sees you reaching for your wallet.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” he chuckles, cheeks flushed from the alcohol. “My treat?”

It’s a welcome enough invitation. “Ah... if it’s not too much a bother.”

He shakes his head, and waves the bartender over. “It’s the least I could do. You make for a good conversation partner.”

Good conversation partner, you think, repeating his words in your mind. Well, it beats some lecherous guy trying to feel me up. I’ll take it.

“Though, I’ve got to say, are you feeling alright? You look like you’ve been spaced out for a bit. Did you drink too much?” He asks with a frown. It’s true that your head feels hazy, but it’s not debilitating.

“I’ll be fine,” you respond, stretching your sore muscles. “Thank you for caring.”

As more people from nearby clubs pour in for a drink, the bar feels more claustrophobic. Various people walk by you at every moment. You and your friendly companion have to move out of the way to make room for the influx of people, even though you’re sitting on barstools. Can’t people bother giving a bit more space? Geez...

“Alright, just making sure,” he’s been feeling around his pocket for a few seconds now, eyebrows furrowing. “Huh, that’s strange, I could’ve sworn I left my wallet right here...”

You look at the pocket he’s referring to, recalling how he put his wallet in there after ordering drinks for himself earlier. Before you get the opportunity to offer to help him search, there’s an additional voice behind you. One that instantly submerges your body into a state of unrivaled panic.

“I’ll pay for them.”

There’s a hand placed on your shoulder. For such a light touch, it carries a heavy weight, your body all but crumbling underneath of it. Your breath catches in the back of your tightening throat. This... this can’t be happening. It’s been months. How is this possible, I took every precaution--

“Isn’t that right, [First]?” Chrollo comes into your view, a content smile on his face. The same smile that tells you he knows he’s won. The same smile that seals your fate, closing every door to the future you fought tooth and nail to open up. You don’t trust your voice, not in this petrified state, opting to nod your head once. Wrapping up some unsuspecting stranger in this is the last thing you want to do. Especially as courteous as this person has been to you.

“Ah, thanks man, I must’ve dropped it somewhere,” he lets out an awkward laugh. From how Chrollo is referring to you with familiarity, he assume he’s your boyfriend. “I’ll head out for now then. It was nice meeting you.”

“Y-yeah. Nice meeting you too.” You swallow bile that rises in your throat, every muscle in your body going taut. Chrollo takes the seat the stranger had once occupied and eyes you with acute interest. He’s wearing far more casual clothes than usual, bandages covering the peculiar mark on his head. Neither of you make a move. Had it been anyone else, any other person threatening you without so much as uttering a word, you’d be making a scene.

It isn’t anyone else. You know Chrollo, you know the lengths he’d go to. One wrong move and everyone in here would be reduced to nothing less than a bloodstain on the floor. Playing your cards right is the only option, stalling until a better solution comes into your paralyzed mind. His dark grey eyes are unreadable, piercing straight through you, bringing a sense of dread like no other.

Your hands tighten on your lap, fingernails digging into the skin of your thighs. “How... how long...?”

Chrollo raises an eyebrow at your quivering voice. “How long what? How long ago I knew the body wasn’t yours, that you’ve been using various forms of false identification, or since I entered this bar?”

He returns your poorly executed question with a barrage of his own, delivered in an even timbre. Chrollo takes a sip from his own glass at your silence. What is there to say? What is there to do? You’ve been caught, trapped in the spider’s web, any forms of struggle fastening you further into his clutches. Squirming underneath his unrelenting stare feels even worse, but you can’t will yourself to remain calm. You know this is what he wants. To make you feel powerless, taking some form of twisted pleasure in your misery. There’d be a tiniest touch of satisfaction in denying him that, yet you can’t even manage that much.

“I wanted to observe what you’d do, what lengths you’d go to,” Chrollo explains as he taps the rim of his glass, “Now that you’ve had your fun, I believe it’s time to come home.”

Fun...? Is that what he’d call it? Having to look over your shoulder whenever you went out for basic supplies, the insomnia that haunted you as you feared you might wake to the sight of him watching over you, cutting off contact with everyone you cared for as you feared the repercussions if he found out? There was no fun in the last few miserable months of your life, only anxiety and lament. It took everything you had to escape from Chrollo once. Seeing the light of that victory extinguished is agonizing.

Chrollo places a smothering hand atop your shaking one. “Though, I do have to admit that I’m quite... disappointed, with you. There’ll be time to discuss that elsewhere.”

“What makes you think I’ll come with you?” you snap before you can stop yourself, pulling your hand to your chest in disgust. Chrollo doesn’t bother moving his hand. You both know your lack of power in this situation, how every act like that is nothing but an attempt to make you appear stronger than you are. Never before has his surname felt more fitting than now.

“The same reason why you haven’t tried doing anything since I showed up,” Chrollo closes his eyes, reflecting. His voice drops to a sinister whisper. “You know what’d happen if you did.”

There are no hidden strategies up your sleeve. No escape route, counter argument, or clever tricks. Your eyes dart around. There are people from every walk of life gathered here, none the wiser to the threat that looms over like a shadow in the night. College students, long time friends reconnecting, workers relaxing after a long week at the job. To Chrollo, they aren’t meaningful people with lives and ambitions, they’re puppets. His Nen is capable of horrors that you wish you could unsee.

“In that case... what do I do?” Your body is heavy with the burden of defeat. Shoulders slumping, eyelids drooping, and eyes threatening to overflow with tears.

Chrollo places some bills onto the countertop, money no doubt gained through the pain of others. “I’m glad you asked. There’s a car outside waiting for us.”

Of course. This wasn’t a chance encounter, or fate spitting at you in disgust. It was meticulously planned and executed by a man who specializes in the art of thievery. You’d expect no less. Sighing, you reach for Chrollo’s drink, that he had sit down in favor of inspecting you. He watches wordlessly as you take it for yourself, chugging the remnants in its entirety. The flush on your face worsens at your actions, but you can’t bother yourself to care.

It’s only when you place it down with a clink that he comments. “I leave you to your own devices for this short a time and you end up like this? Surely, being with me was better than jumping motel to motel for months on end. You’ve proven you’re incapable of taking care of yourself without my intervention.”

“It’s because of you that I’m like this,” you wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand, venom dripping from your every word. “Don’t get the wrong idea.”

Chrollo simply smiles, standing and motioning for you to join him by his side. For something that’s posed as a choice, it’s lacking the options to truly be one, a single path set ahead of you. Chrollo helps you to your feet, your legs too unstable to function properly. In the moment, you can’t settle on how you feel. Angry with yourself? The rest of the world for not being able to see what’s happening? Exhausted from months of being on the run? You don’t know. You don’t know anything anymore for certain, the room around you steadily becoming a blur. All you know is that it’s all his fault.

“Whatever helps you feel better about yourself, [First].”

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