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sunfyresrider · 2 years

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Love & Ruin

Synopsis: After being hidden away for most of your life your mother decided to stop being protective. However, there is one rule you cannot break, DO NOT associate with your uncle Aegon. Of course, it's the first thing you do, and you both quickly realize you will be each other's inevitable downfalls.

Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x You (daughter of Rhaenyra) Warnings: drinking, cursing, smut, dubcon, more smut, manipulation, possible murder, obsessive tendencies, idk if this is dark!aeg or yandere but he's not okay, mentally. Word count: 7k Note: Part one of two:) I really hope yall like this. Reader is Helaena's age. I did not proofread; fuck it we ball. Tags: @lovelykhaleesiii @annikin-im-panicin @its-actually-minicika (Hi girls ily)

‘It wasn’t meant to happen like this’

Aegon paced back and forth inside the throne room waiting for the return of his brother. The storm that had rolled in was heavy, the sounds of hail beating the glass window echoed throughout the room. The sudden crash of thunder and jolt of lighting sent a shiver down his spine. The candles that lined the room were not enough to fully bring light into the dark. It was almost poetic; the storm echoed his inner feelings perfectly.

‘How could you do this?!’

‘Have you gone mad!’

‘Think about your wife! Your children! How will this look?’

‘She won’t show us mercy now, you fool!”

It had been hours since he sent Aemond to Storm’s End. The mission couldn’t have been that hard, go ask for a Baratheon bitches' hand and bring back a person. His mother had taken to chewing at her nail beds until they bled. His grandsire sat with his face in his hands contemplating how to fix this.

Once a crown was placed on his head Aegon found a new sense of confidence, one that could no longer be stolen away by those around him. His family could no longer control him nor tell him what to do. He was king and kings did not ask permission. They took what they wanted. From now on his word was law and this mission was the only reason he didn’t flee to Yiti. It was promised to him then taken away and he fully intended to take it back. And what he wanted was traveling to beg for Lord Borros to side with the pretender…

Five hours, it took five hours for the roar of Vhagar to be heard over the red keep. The storm had subsided to a light rain, yet the sky remained dark. Finally, he rose from his seat, his heart pounding in anticipation. A giddy smile creeping onto his face that his mother couldn’t help but scoff at. It didn’t matter anymore; he had won his first prize in war.

Murmurs from the council filled the once silent room but Aegon could only hear the pounding of his heart. His eyes locked onto the door waiting for them to walk inside. His imagination swirled with possibilities and all of them were better than his current situation. Alicent and Otto stared from a distance, both realizing their potential mistake. They let the dog off the leash and now they were about to suffer the consequences.

Guards rusting outside the doors caught everyone’s attention. The room went eerily silent as the doors began to creak open. Aegon nearly jumped out of his skin as he walked forward to meet who was coming.

Aemond, drenched in water, stalked inside slowly. His face was a mix of regret and… fear? The world stopped and as if on cue a flash of lightning followed by a crack of thunder that lit up the room. Aegon’s heart ceased to beat, his smile melted into nothing, and his feet threatened to give out on him. His mother’s eyes widened, and her hands fled to cover her mouth. Aemond struggled to lift the wet, bruised and unconscious body in his arms. He let out a shaky breath,

“There’s been an… incident.”

From a young age Aegon knew he had no love from anyone besides himself. His mother simply tolerated him, his father forgot him, and everyone else loathed him. The first-born son who should inherit everything but instead was given nothing. The son born to be loved but destined to be hated.

It was no surprise he was the way he was. He drank more than he should, fucked more than allowed and was cruel to those who may or may not deserve it. No one was born evil; they were raised to be that way. At least, that’s what he told himself to feel better at night.

And he wasn’t truly evil in the eyes of most anyway, just terribly pathetic. A lonely fourteen-year-old who may never feel loved. A boy who would never fully feel the warmth of someone’s gentle touch, the excitement when they approached, the soft reassurances and sweet nothings they would whisper, the true connection when intimate with someone you loved. It was all out of his reach… Until you started coming around.

For the better half of your life your mother, Rhaenyra kept you decently hidden from most of the court. It was not at all because you shared your features with Harwin Strong but because you were simply too precious for the world. You were her only daughter, her first born and you were too beautiful for the men in this city to gawk at and prey upon.

She would protect you from everything her father couldn’t protect her from. So, yes you didn’t get out much and when you did Harwin, and your brothers followed close suit. Rhaenyra did become more lenient as you grew. It was better to let you live as you wanted under watchful eyes than be locked away because of her own fears. At least that’s what Harwin told to calm her.

You were strictly prohibited from a handful of things though. Absolutely no leaving the keep unless it was daytime, and a handful of guards were there to follow. Absolutely no wandering around after dark, anywhere, no matter the circumstance. And finally, absolutely no involvement with your uncle Aegon.

Sadly, you were born with the same rebellion in your heart as she once had. The very first thing that needed to be handled was Aegon. It excited you to no end thinking about why he was banned from speaking to you. You needed to know why it was prohibited and see if it was as exciting as you thought.

Dusk had fallen on the keep and the light from the windows was beginning to fill the corridors orange. It was one of the rare moments you were able to be completely alone. You were supposed to return to your chambers immediately after your septa lesson but had time to stroll. Right now, your brothers would still be in the dragon pit, your mother in a council meeting and Ser Harwin getting ready for his nightly patrol. It was price time to make an escape and seek him out.

You found him in a compromising position. He was curled up in the corner of the library and reeked of wine. There was a subtle shine on his face from tears that were shed earlier. He looked pathetic, not in a bad way, in an abused puppy way that made your heart melt. How could you be banned from talking to him? When asleep he looked like a poor Angel. You crawled next to him and gently placed a hand on his shoulder to shake him awake. “Uncle?” You whispered into his ears.

“Aegon?” Your soft voice began to rouse him from his slumber. His eyebrows began to furrow slightly. “Aegon, wake up.” He jumped away and snatched your wrist, startling you. “Brother?!” His eyes scanned the room and you before settling with the most confused expression plastered on his face.

“N-no Aemond isn’t here. I-it’s just me.” Aegon paused in his drunken haze. Who was me? You were too pretty to be a maid, your clothes too fancy. His eyes danced up and down your form as his brain slowly started putting it together. “Your niece. It’s __ ”

His hands released you slowly as his mouth slightly hung agape. Why in the seven hells was Rhaenyra hiding a creature as beautiful as you? Yeah, he had seen you in passing maybe once or twice but never really got a good look.

You had the perfect plush lips coated in a shade of pink. Your eyes were large and glistened with his reflection inside your pupils. Your hair fell elegantly, highlighting your pretty face. And from what he could see from your neckline you had a nice chest too, for your age.

He felt two small warm hands cup his cheeks, pulling him from his thoughts. Aegon stared at you confused, his lips puffed out. “Oh Aeg, are you alright? Did someone hurt you?” Oh gods, you were too precious. He was too dumbfounded to say anything, maybe too drunk still to fully grasp the situation.

You weren’t wrong though; someone did hurt him. His mother barged into his room and slapped him clean across the face without warning. Ranting and raving about his behavior and how he was disappointing the family. He nodded slowly, not exactly sure how he was supposed to react. You let out a deep sigh and your lips formed a frown.

You knew exactly what to do. Your mother had done the same every time you or your siblings got hurt. You rubbed the tear stains on his cheeks and kissed his forehead gently. A soft smile appearing on your lips, “don’t cry please or you’ll make me cry. You’re a prince and a good son. You ride the prettiest dragon in the world and so many people think you’re amazing. You have so much to offer and they’re just too blind to see it. So many love you, I love you and-”

You were cut off by the sounds of your mother calling out your name searching for you. You let go of his cheeks and quickly embraced him. “You’re perfect, okay? Don’t cry.” You jumped to your feet and brushed your skirts down. “I gotta go… feel better!” Aegon sat and watched your little feet scurry off into the direction of your mother's voice.

His eyes were wide, and he was frozen in the same spot. Seven hells, seriously where the fuck have you been his entire life? There was a pool of emotions swirling inside him he couldn’t fully grasp. Your little hands and soft voice saying the sweetest things to a complete stranger. The way your lips softly pressed against his forehead radiating warmth throughout his body. You were so innocent, so blindly loving… You were his.

It was an odd thing for him to think. He never really desired someone for just himself, Aegon didn’t really care until this point. But right now all he could think about was stealing you away and keeping you tucked away in his room forever. Corrupting you slowly but only for him, no one else could see it or experience it. He needed more, desperately and as soon as possible.

He forced himself into wobbly legs and sucked in a deep breath. It was time to talk to his parents.

The plan failed so horrifically he could swear the gods were pissing on him. He went and asked for your hand, said he was ready to be a good son, bring the families together finally. Aegon was shot down so fucking fast he got whiplash. His mother was okay with it, seeing potential benefits. But his father was adamantly against it as was his bitch sister.

“You think I’ll let him drag my daughter into his depravity? Not until I am cold in my grave.”

That could definitely be arranged. It made complete sense; he was the eldest son, and you were the eldest daughter. You were heir and he was the second son of the king. There was absolutely no reason for rejection besides their own selfish, impossible to understand reasons.

It didn’t really fucking matter. When he wanted something, he got it one way or another. Thus, he came up with a plan to steal you away and woo his way into your heart permanently.

Aegon had stayed painstakingly sober the entire day and avoided any of the whores he usually wasted his time with. He waited til long after the sun had set to sneak through Maegor’s hidden tunnels to try and find your chambers. It was a hassle, he stumbled into Jacaerys’s room once and immediately backed out. Then he walked past what he assumed was a hidden entrance to your mother’s room only to hear lewd noises coming from inside.

He didn’t realize it at the time but that was when Joffrey was made.

The deeper he walked the more aggravated he became. Why was it so fucking hard to find you? It took him several failed attempts until he finally lightly pushed open the door to a room seeping with light. He peered in and saw you sleeping soundly on the bed, clutching a stuffed bear tightly to your chest. How cute, you were scared of the dark and slept with a bear, he thought to himself.

Aegon wasted no time welcoming himself inside and waltzing over to the side of the bed where you slept. He brushed a loc of your hair out of your face and admired how beautiful you looked, even while asleep. If he was totally honest, he could stay here and watch you sleep all night, but he had things he needed to do.

“Hey princess,” he spoke softly as he nudged your shoulder. Unlike him, you were an extremely light sleeper. You opened your eyes and they immediately shot wide open. You attempted to let out a scream at the intruder, but he swiftly shoved his hand onto your mouth. “Shhh! Shhh, it’s just me. It’s Aegon.”

Your face relaxed and you blinked your eyes a few times trying to decipher if this was a dream or reality. “Aegon,” you murmured into the palm of his hand. “I’ll let go if you swear to be quiet. Promise?” You nodded your head and he slowly pulled back; a wide grin plastered over his face showcasing his perfectly even teeth. “Good morning, princess.”

You rubbed your eyes and peered over to the window. “It’s still nighttime…” you drawled into a yawn. “I know, it’s the only time you’re alone.” You sat up on your bed, “I’m sorry it’s just-” your words were stuck in your throat as he reached up and brushed the hair out of your face again. His eyes were completely memorizing, and he touched you with the gentleness only your mother did. “No need to be sorry, princess. I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“Y-yeah.” Aegon stood up off the floor and handed you a cloak he had balled up in his lap. You raised an eyebrow at him and pulled it towards. “You don’t ever get to leave right? Well, I leave all the time so I thought I could take you into the city for some fun.”

Your face lit up, you could finally leave and see what’s outside these dull walls. But there was an aching sensation at the back of your head. The sound of your mother's voice telling you what not to do. The fear of disappointing her was strong and the fear of potential punishment even stronger. “I- I can’t. My mother would be furious.”

“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t. Besides, you wouldn’t want to make me cry, would you? I- I just thought you would want to spend time with me.” His blue eyes peered up at you with the same heart wrenching expression as the other day. It was manipulative, he knew but it worked every time. “I won’t tell anyone, " you said in a nervous whisper.

His frown quickly grew into a wide smile, flashing wolf life teeth. Aegon’s eyes had a mischievous glint behind him when he spoke, “good girl, put this on.” The nickname sent a shiver down your spine. A very subtle, almost unnoticeable feeling of butterflies filled your stomach. You blushed and nodded your head in agreement.

It didn’t take long for Aegon to grab your hand and whisk you far away from where you were meant to be. You clung to his arm as you both scurried through the dark corridors. The farther you went the smell of dust and cow dung intensified as did the conversation of city folk outside the walls.

The streets of King’s Landing were dirty but so much more alive than you ever thought they could be. It was the hour of the bat and yet the streets were bright with fires lit at every corner. The streets were crammed with people from all walks of life, travelers, merchants, witches, performers, whores, musicians, and knights. It was quite the spectacle for a young girl who had been confined to a castle.

Aegon was reveling in your excitement and awe, still blissfully unaware of the depravity that shrouded these streets. Your voice carried the joy only of someone as innocent to the world as you could possess. It was fucking magical how you gazed up at him like he was your savior.

To his surprise, you babbled about more than any girl he’d ever met. It should be annoying, but he was drowning in the presence of your voice and the way your fingers would squeeze his own when the topic turned to something that moved you. You had completely captured him with your accidental charm.

But as the night went on his original scheme drifted into the back of his like a distant memory. Aegon couldn’t take you where he wanted, you were too good for it. The prying eyes of others would probably send him into a blind rage anyway. It was already beginning to build as random passersby simply looked at you.

To avoid a possible murder or maiming he whisked you away to a final destination. Aegon told you people here eat, drink and play music here until the dawn rises. There were musicians and poets singing while people danced around them. Men and women were laughing and drowning themselves in what you presumed could only be wine. There were several dragon shaped lanterns that occasionally spewed fire lighting the corner of the world you reside in.

It was pretty spectacular in the eyes of a girl. But it was also the place where your inevitable downfall began. It started with a glass of ale, not wine, that Aegon offered you. It burned your throat as you swallowed it, whatever you had made him chuckle and use that nickname again. It inspired you to drink more and keep receiving soft praises from your uncle.

You could feel it flow through your body slowly warming your insides and sending a slight tingly sensation in your limbs. That’s when the music started to sound good enough to dance. You bounced around Aegon in possibly the worst showing of dance moves he’d ever seen. It was cute though, to him at least.

That’s when you decided to drink more and fully let go of whatever expectations of a princess rested in the back of your mind. One, two, three, you lost count after the first. Aeggy refused to dance but he occasionally twirled you around and let you hang onto his shoulders.

As time passed on so did any semblance of sobriety you had left. Your words were slurring together, and your movements became sloppy, the ability to stand was nearly completely lost. That’s when Aegon declared it was time to bring you home. At first, you tried to reject the idea and fight back, but your muscles were just as weak as your mind.

He lifted you and wrapped your legs around his waist so he could carry your little self-home. It was okay, at first being carried by Aegon. But then you began to feel his breath on your neck sending goosebumps through your body. The low whisper of his voice telling you sweet things echoing in the walls of your mind. Then came a new feeling between your legs when his lips brushed against your ears ever so slightly. Every sensation was heightened to a point it had never reached before.

It was a warm ache between your legs that kept getting worse the longer you were wrapped around him. You were worried, what if the wetness between your legs was your moonblood. How insanely embarrassing would that be if you bled on your uncle? You tried to untangle yourself, but he put two firm hands onto your waist and pulled you back in.

The sudden friction between your legs caused you to yelp, a quiet yelp that did not go unnoticed. He paused his steps, glancing at you avoiding his eyes then back at the street to the keep. His lips slowly curled into a smirk only he could wear so well. Aegon didn’t say anything the entire way back home, though a million things were racing through his mind.

The walk home was agonizing, every once in a while, he would move in a way that sent electricity from your core to the depths of your stomach. You didn’t even notice the tiny few whimpers that came from your throat, but he did. Oh, Aegon was noticing it all, every sound, every movement, every look, the warm feeling between your legs that was growing damp across his waist, and it was driving him mad.

He should have been a good little prince and placed you on your bed and left but he had never been a good prince. Aegon wanted to know how far he could take it before you melted beneath him. Obviously, like a good uncle he helped you undress into your night clothes since you were too drunk to do anything.

“Come on, princess. Time to lay down.” You begrudgingly threw yourself onto the bed and rolled onto your back. You couldn’t sleep, your undergarments were uncomfortably wet, and the ache continued to get worse. You obviously couldn’t tell him any of this, so you laid there, suffering.

Unexpectedly Aegon climbed into bed he was on top of you, his knee moved to press in between your legs and your eyes widened from their half-lidded state. “Are you okay, niece? You look… frustrated.” His face was plastered in fake concern, though you couldn’t tell. You clenched your legs together trying to prevent him from moving. “I-I’m fine,” Aegon moved his knee to rub against your core just once, your legs unconsciously tightened around him. “U-uncle,” you stuttered out in a near whimper.

“If there’s something wrong, I can help you…” He moved his knee into your core, and you bit down onto your lip trying to stifle the sound threatening to come out. Aegon, though a good actor could not hide the glint behind his eyes. He leaned into you, pulling your lip out from your teeth with thumb. “I can show you what helps me feel better.”

He whispered lowly, you didn’t have time to think, or reply before his lips were connecting to yours. The taste of sweet mead filling your mouth. You attempted to push him back, tell him no, this was wrong, and you could get in so much trouble. But the feeling of his legs between yours was easing whatever plagued you.

He slipped his tongue down your throat and entangled it with your own. The feeling of need was becoming too much so you moved your hips, finally. A soft moan forced itself out of your throat as you desperately tried to move against, aching for something you didn’t understand. A few tears slipped from your eye wetting his cheek.

Aegon chuckled into your mouth before pulling back, you whined at the loss of both his lips and his knee. The throbbing feeling between your legs became increasingly worse every second he wasn’t there. “It aches, doesn’t it?” Your face flushed red as your eyes bore into him, the true image of innocence laid out beneath him.

His hand traveled from your cheek to the hem of your dress bunched up at the ends of your thighs. Aegon slipped his hand underneath the fabric and hovered over your cunt. You grabbed his hand and stopped his movements, “N-no we can’t.” He cocked an eyebrow, “why not? You hurt and I’m the only one who can fix it.” Your grip on his hand slowly relented, “but i-it’s inappropriate.”

Aegon forced his hand forward so he could cup your cunt. It was completely soaked and so needy for release, how could he stop? “No, it’s not. I’m your uncle and it’s my job to take care of my sweet niece.” You bit your lip in contemplation, the feeling of his palm on your clit made you want to cry. It was too much, the feeling in your core was too much. “Please, Aeg.”

He crushed his lips into yours forcing all the breath out of your lungs. His fingers slid up and down your slit collecting your wetness on his finger. His other hand moved to palm your dress and pinch your nipples beneath your gown. Your moans threatened to echo throughout the keep but he swallowed each one with his lips.

Aegon forced one finger inside your cunt and immediately you clenched around him. Gods, you were so fucking tight he would have to force in the second. Your back arched as he moved his fingers to hit the spongy spot inside. The feeling of your core tightening was overwhelming, tears began to stream from your face and your nails dug into his shoulder.

Your hips moved unconsciously into his hand, pleading for release. His thumb moved to rubbed circles around your clit and all thoughts you had were dumbed down. “A-aeg!” You whimpered into his mouth; the coil tightening was overwhelming all of your senses. The sounds of his fingers pulling in and out of your dripping cunt were filling the room.

“Be a good girl and cum for me, princess.” His movements were faster, harsher and more desperate than before. “P-p-please,” you stuttered out in a loud moan as your legs began to clench around his hand. He growled, dropping his head to the crook of your neck. “Cum on my fingers, baby. That’s right, be a good fucking girl for your uncle.” His fingers curled up and pressed deep into the spongy spot inside you. You felt your cunt clench around him, your core tightening harder than before until the coil broke. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your body began to shake and the feeling of ecstasy washed over you.

You crashed, your legs twitching as he continued to move circles around your sensitive clit. Aegon pulled his fingers out and your body mourned the loss of him. He wiped his hand on his clothes and bent his head down to place kisses all over your face. “You did so good, princess.” He spoke in between the pecks he placed on your face.

“Aeg… I’m tired.” Your body was limp, and your eyes began to close on their own. “Shh, go to sleep, princess. I’ll clean you up.” And he did exactly what he said, surprisingly. He took the time out of his night to carefully clean up the mess he made on your body and clothes. It was pathetic to admit but at some point, he came in his trousers, and it was leaking out onto your clothes.

So, he had to change you. Aegon didn’t mind, watching you sleep so peacefully and taking care of his little angel was nice. Especially after what you had given him. He stayed the night, watching you sleep peacefully until the sun rose over the horizon and he scurried into his own room.

It became a horrible routine between the two of you. Aegon convinced you only he could make you feel that way, so you had to come to him if you wanted it. He would always visit at night, though most times you simply stayed inside. He touched you in places that were meant to be forbidden and you came undone beneath him… repeatedly.

You enjoyed him for more than that though. Unlike your brothers or other family, he was always there. Always teaching and showing you exciting new things, making you laugh constantly, showering you with affection you received from no one else. He worshiped you in his own way.

Aegon was completely addicted, and it was going to kill him eventually. If you weren’t awake when he came, he would just sit and watch you sleep, occasionally taking his place besides you. If you were awake, he craved your attention and your body… and he always got it. You were so kind and loving towards him, completely unaware of how others viewed him. You told him you loved him, were proud of him and he was a good man.

No one had ever said those words to him before. It’s why the addiction started and why it had no chance of ending soon. When he was upset you kissed him and whispered words of encouragement. You went out of your way to make him feel happy and deserving of the life he had. And it’s why, for a short time, his behavior started to improve drastically.

It shocked essentially everyone around him, especially his mother. For a moment she was almost proud, maybe her speeches finally got to him, and he was taking being a king seriously. That was before Aegon told her he was only behaving this way so he could prove to Rhaenyra, he deserved you. The situation caused a whole different type of stress for Alicent.

Things were looking up anyway. Especially since your mother had officially started letting you out on your own. You were now a teenager and had to learn some type of independence. The dragon pit was your favorite place even though your mount was a lazy bum.

Plus, you got to spend lots of time in the pit with your uncle and you got to watch him train with the other boys. Of course, a few people noticed the way you watched him and how he watched you. It was kept quiet, as far as anyone knew you had no relationship.

Aegon, thankfully, found enough self-control to not fuck you. To do enough to keep you attached to him but not enough to ruin your innocence completely. It was hard to explain how exactly he felt. It was like he needed you to breathe or eat or do anything. It was bordering on a very unhealthy obsession combined with genuine fondness.

It was new and it was perfect. He was no longer lost in this world with nothing to live for.

Until the day you abandoned him for Dragonstone. He cried, a pathetic and desperate display to his mother asking for her to keep you here. He pleaded for them to just allow you to be wed, he begged to let you stay as her ward. He made promises he probably couldn’t keep but tried, nonetheless.

All he got was sympathy, it was out of her hands completely. The king and his whore sister made the decision to forbid a marriage. They made the decision to let you be sent away to that desolate, rain filled, and droll island. To make it worse the gods decided to spite him and have him betrothed to his own sister.

He almost immediately got worse the second you boarded the ship. Aegon fell right back into his old habits of whoring, drinking and being a massive cunt. The shift was bound to happen so no one was surprised but it was becoming increasingly impossible to keep him under control. Everyone else fell back into their old habits of beating and berating him any chance they got…

Aegon only ever really felt happy again when he drifted off in his sleep. He could feel, touch, hear and smell you again in his dreams. For a few hours every night he was back in your room making stupid jests only you would laugh at. It was like heaven every time he closed his eyes… Then he woke up.

To ease his suffering, he fisted his cock while smelling the clothes you had left behind pretending it was you. If not that he would get drunk and imagine all the ways he could kill your mother and his so, he could steal you away. One day, he would take something from them that they truly loved so they could understand exactly how he felt. For now, he tormented Aemond and did everything in his power to piss his parents off.

Luckily for Aegon and those close to him, Laena Velaryon died in childbirth and his chance to be reunited came sooner than expected. The ride on Sunfyre was one of the best he’s had in ages. It was as if he could sense who they were seeing and was absorbing his rider's excitement. It seems important to mention Sunfyre has a fondness of your she-dragon who he may or may not have tried to breed on several occasions.

The funeral was fucking boring. He didn’t know anyone there and didn’t really care either. Aegon spent most of the time ignoring the speech and scanning the crowd for your little form. He didn’t find you, so he fled into a corner with his wine and brother close on his tail.

Your mother was stalking about staring at Daemon, Helaena was mumbling riddles to herself while playing with a bug, the bastards were comforting the Velaryons, and Aemond was on his left half asleep. Where in the seven hells was his little princess? As the sky began to cover itself in a shade of gray, he spotted you.

For a sliver of a second he was overjoyed, he dropped his wine and stood up straight preparing to walk over. The crowd began to dissipate and on your right was a young Velaryon boy with his arm wrapped around you showing off whatever was in his hands. His eye twitched and his firsts unconsciously bawled up til his knuckles turned white. Aemond peeked over and scoffed, “it’s a waste of time.”

“I’m gonna kill him.” Aemond rolled his eyes and slumped back into the wall. His obsession with the bastard was beyond him but everything his brother does is beyond him. Aegon spent the rest of his funeral staring daggers into the boys next to you. He was making you laugh and touching you far too much for his liking. Jealousy, rage, hate, hurt, Aegon couldn’t put a name to everything that was boiling inside his stomach, but it was too much. You hadn’t even fucking glanced in his direction the entire night.

It is rumored by the maesters later that night King Aegon took his first life by feeding an unsuspecting boy to his dragon. Others claim the boy simply drowned in the high tide that night and was washed away to sea. The body was never found so no one truly knows… Aemond, personally and wholeheartedly believed his brother pushed the boy into the water and let him sink. Driftmark no matter how you looked at it was a terrible night for all involved.

The hour of the bat, a time of night you learned to love dearly was now a time of loneliness. Dragonstone was incredibly terrible especially since your uncle was nowhere in those walls. You were severely depressed to say the very least. You knew he was coming today and wanted to seek him out but failed to find him.

It didn’t stop you from sneaking out at night in a very desperate search for him. It took around twenty minutes for you to weasel your way through Driftmark to his supposed chambers. You ran full force into Aemond on the way which made you both fall to the ground. He was going to try and claim that damned dragon you saw him watching her all day and you were going to reunite with your uncle-lover. Both of you would be in the deepest shit known to man if anyone found out.

So, a silent pact was made to tell no one where either was going. You knew it was a real deal because he helped you off the floor and nodded his head in the direction of the room you were trying to find. ‘Good luck,’ you whispered quietly as you both scurried off in opposite directions.

Much to your dismay he was passed out drunk. You had to literally shake him awake. “Aeg… Aegon!” You climbed on top of him and shook his shoulders. He moaned, groaned, tried to push you away but you were determined. “Wake up! We don’t have all night.” You swore you saw his ears perk up like a dog. His eyes opened and he shot up in bed nearly knocking you off.

“You!” He grabbed ahold of your face, squishing your cheeks in his hands. “Yes, it’s me! Where the hell have you been all day?” Aegon looked offended and almost betrayed, “where have I been? Watching you swoon over some Velaryon cunt.” You scoffed, “watching me? I looked for you all day! I had to give up and talk to a cousin I barely knew.”

His eyebrows furrowed together, “if you barely knew him then why was he all over you?” You grabbed his face, “if you paid any attention, I was trying to escape him the entire time.” Hm, he could have been blinded by jealousy and didn’t notice you politely backing away and avoiding the kid’s eyes completely. He thought you were acting shy and coy, but this made sense.

“You still love me?” He did this more often while drunk. If he ever felt insecure his blue eyes would turn pale and start to water. His lips puffed out slightly and he bore into your soul begging for consolation. You knew the quickest way to make his fears go away.

You pressed a kiss on his lips, trying to drink away all of his fears. Aegon pulled your face as close as possible, sucking all the air from your lungs. Your lips danced around each other passionately trying to make up for the time apart.

“I still love you, Aeggy.” You murmured into his lips; a faint grin formed on his mouth. With his eyes half lidded he whispered, “prove it to everyone then.” You chuckled softly; a soft look of confusion plastered on your features. “How do we do that?” His hands slipped down to your waist, then to your thighs rubbing them slightly. “Give me all of you before they take you away.”

There was a deafening pause in both of your movements. The amount of trouble you would both get into would be life altering. Losing your maidenhood to someone who you weren’t wed to was a sin, a crime even. “So, you don’t really love me. You don’t even trust me enough with yourself.”

It felt like a sword was plunged through your heart. Of course, you loved him. Of course, you wanted to give him everything. “T-that’s not-” he released his hold on your thighs and ripped his face away from yours. “Get out.” You grabbed his hands and tried to pull them back to you, “Aegon please this isn’t-” His eyes turned dark, his hands were ripped out of your grasp. “Don’t lie to me. You used me and now you’re discarding me just like everyone else.”

Tears began to prickle at the corner of your eyes. You never ever used him; you loved him with all your heart. There was never another person who made you feel the same way he did. “Please, I love you,” your lips trembled while you spoke. “I don’t love you.”

You shook your head no, no, no, no, no, your entire world came crashing down at once. The sword in your heart ripped it in half. Your breath quickened and your arms began to shake. The tears that threatened to fall came pouring out of your eyes. “Please- pleas- I love you- please- you can have it- anything you want please don’t leave me.” Your cries were near incoherent.

He was evil, this was the absolute proof of it. Aegon knew he was lying to have you; he knew exactly what hold he had over you and did it anyway. You just couldn’t understand, if he took your maidenhead, you could be together forever. He wasn’t just doing this for himself, it was for both of your sakes. It was blisteringly obvious he would never stop loving you.

“Shh, don’t cry, I’m sorry.” He pulled you into his chest and combed his slender fingers through your hair. “We’re going to be together forever, okay? I'm never leaving you.” He lifted your chin up so you were looking at him. Even when you cried you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. “Let me show you how much I love you.” You nodded your head desperately.

It took minutes before you were laid out flat on the bed. He lifted your legs over his shoulders and buried his tongue inside your core. It was new and the pleasure was radiating throughout your body faster than before. Aegon swirled his tongue in circle around your clit as he brutally fucked you with his fingers.

Your hips bucked up to meet his face and he growled a response. The vibrations sent waves of heat through your veins. Your thighs clenched around his head as your orgasm began to wash over you, far quicker than ever before. You cried out at the feeling of the coil coming undone in your stomach. You could feel his lips form into a smile, he placed kisses onto your sensitive clit causing you to whimper. It wasn’t over, he had just started.

Aegon pulled away and you whined at the loss of his heat on top of you. Then you heard the sound of his trousers being pulled off, you looked away out of politeness. “Don’t be shy, baby. It’s all yours.” You pulled your head off of the pillow and your eyes widened. Aegon was thick, incredibly thick and you couldn’t imagine how that was going to fit inside you.

His tip was a bruising pink, and you could see his seed already beginning to leak out. It looked painfully hard as his veins popped out. He climbed on top of you without a moment's notice and rubbed himself against your dripping slit. “Aegon,” you whined as he teased your entrance.

Aegon leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. He prodded your entrance, “just be a good girl for me. It will only hurt for a second, I promise.” You tried to open your mouth to reply but an incredibly loud scream escaped your lips as he slowly began forcing himself inside. “Gods, you’re so fucking tight,” he groaned under his breath.

The sensation of being filled to the brim made your eyes roll into the back of your head. Aegon moved painfully slowly, thrusting himself in and out of you. You moaned incoherently as his tip pushed into that spot inside of you. What started out as pain was quickly turning into pleasure.

You wanted him deeper inside you, you needed him to fill you completely. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you pulled him into you. He moaned as your cunt swallowed his length entirely. “So needy for my cock, princess.” You whimpered breathlessly underneath him, “please Aegon.” He moved his hand to cup your face, so you were staring at him. Your eyes were blown out in desire and your face was flushed a deep shade of red.

It was as if Aphrodite was underneath him begging for him to fuck her. “That’s a good girl begging for me.” His thrusts started to become faster, and your mind began going numb. Your cunt clenched around him as your eyes welled with tears. “Yes! uncle, please. Please!” You stuttered between moans and whimpers.

His lips crashed into yours stifling your moans as he forced himself deeper inside you at a bruising pace. His cock pounded against your cervix and not even his lips could fully swallow your moans. You wrapped your arms around his neck and dug your fingers into his shoulders. “Fuck baby, you’re so perfect for me.” Aegon’s praise made you whimper for more.

His cock was throbbing inside you, his seed threatening to spill at any moment. “My good girl,” he moaned into your ear, putting emphasis on ‘my’. Your entire body was going limp beneath him. The friction of his skin rubbing against your clit caused you to start coming undone.

“Aeg- aegon- please cum for me.” He never expected those words to pour from your mouth like a carefully constructed melody. Aegon dipped his head into the crook of your neck and began to whine as you clenched around him. As your core began to tighten you moaned a symphony, “I love you, I love you, I love you-”

Aegon picked up his pace, brutally fucking you with every ounce of energy he had. You felt the heat in your core turn into a fire as ecstasy started to wash over you. Your cunt clenching hard trying to drain every ounce of him.

The door slammed open “My Prince! It’s urgent-” Both of your heads shot to the entrance, staring at the mortified king’s guard whose eyes were boring into you. Oh, you were completely fucked.

Silence, the walk to the grand hall of Driftmark was completely silent. The guard behind you refusing to make eye contact with either of you. You could barely walk straight; your body was sore, and wetness was dripping down your legs.

All you could do right now was pray to the gods he didn’t snitch. Your hair was a mess, sweat was glistening on your faces, your night clothes were a mess, Aegon probably had your juices still on him, your cheeks were flushed a bright red and your lips were bruised… you were done for.

Although, as you entered the hall you noticed everyone else looked far worse than you. You noticed your brother’s bloody faces first and rushed over to them. Aegon immediately wanted to die the second you left his side. He wasn’t concerned at all; this was meant to be found out about.

Except, why now of all fucking nights. His brother had been maimed by your bastard brothers and his mother was in a frenzy. All he could do was stare at him in shock, the feeling of guilt washing over him. Aegon should have been there for Aemond, he should have saved him.

He glanced at you and your brothers were looking at you in disgust. Even when you reached out to comfort them, they pushed you away. Bastards, vile disgusting bastards.

It only got worse from there. Your mother came rushing in, obviously after fucking her uncle. He wanted to laugh, like mother like daughter. His mother was frantic demanding for justice, Rhaenyra screeching bullshit and you tucking yourself behind everyone.

Then the question was asked. “Aegon! Where were you?!” He didn’t even get a chance to reply before the king’s guard swooped in to make matters worse. “He was in his room, your grace… with the princess.” His head nodded towards you, and you looked absolutely mortified.

He should have waited to take it, he should have never made you do anything. Everyone in the room stared at you, just you. It took mere seconds for Rhaenyra to see exactly what had happened, only fueling her fury. Alicent, on the other hand, looked even more upset. The slap she so harshly laid across his face echoed throughout the room, completely silencing it.

There would be no justice since he had chosen the perfect day to defile the king’s favorite grandchild and his sister’s favorite child. You should hate him; you should want him dead. “Who told you these lies boy?” His father’s voice was filled with venom. “Aegon.” His father’s eyes turned dark as he tried to limp his way over to him.

“That’s not true! I told him… both of them.” A soft, quiet voice from the other side of the room caught everyone’s attention. You were defending him against the wrath of your family when he had just quite possibly ruined your reputation. If his obsession was bad, then it definitely got a thousand times worse at that moment.

Everything that happened after that was a complete blur. Insults were thrown, threats were laid out, his mother pulled a knife on his sister, and you fled the scene with your head down. It was like a fucking fever dream that didn’t seem to end.

It got worse the next day. The verbal assault he received from his mother was one for the history books. As was the slap that turned into a giant bruise on his cheek. Aegon was absolutely banished from ever talking, touching, or breathing near you. Any attempt at reaching out would immediately be cut down. His father said nothing of it, probably realizing his mistake in not wedding you sooner. Even Aemond, who should have despised him, forgave him.

It didn’t matter what they thought, he loved you, he wanted you, he needed you, and he was going to fucking have you. Aegon realized several things that night. You needed to be saved from your family as quickly as possible. The bastards and his whore sister needed to die sooner than late. Lastly, he was going to become king no matter what he did.

You were forbidden from ever speaking to Aegon again. It was awkward to say the least when you had to tell your mother everything. She should have been mad, hit you, yelled at you but she only hugged you when you cried. Your mother knew you didn’t tell anyone you were bastards. She knew you wouldn’t lose your maidenhead unless you truly believe they loved you. However, it was a secret that you could never ever tell anyone else.

You can never repeat what you said that night, but it was okay, you only wanted to protect who you loved. She explained how Aegon was taking advantage of you and men lie to get what they want. They prey on innocent girls, pretend to love them to get what they want, then discard them. Your mother repeatedly told you it wasn't your fault for your kind heart. She stated it was her own failure for not protecting you from it.

You didn’t truly believe it was all lies, at least, not all of it. It didn’t really matter now, he was gone forever, and you were alone on Driftmark.

Until you and your family would have to return to King’s Landing, five years later.

#aegon targaryen #dark aegon targaryen #yandere aegon targaryen #aegon the elder #aegon x reader #aegon x you #aegon angst #aegon fluff #aegon smut #aegon fic #aegon ii #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon ii smut #aegon ii fluff #aegon ii fic #hotd fic #aegon ii angst

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starcurtain · 1 month

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I guess it's because his Warp is called 'gilded imprisonment', and the phonecall with Jade where he says 'I don't wanna bet anything just to escape your clutches'.

Kinda makes him a foil to Robin and warped parallel to Sunday in a way I think if you see him as thinking of his job as a gilded cage. It may not really be true, maybe he can walk away anytime he wants I'm sure he has the power and ability to even if hed be up for silencing if he left the Stonehearts, but he has nowhere else to go so he may just be trapping himself there with his own apathy. Hope that made sense lol

Always enjoy reading your thoughts ty for the food 🙏

(Will answer the part about the character foils in a different post because that is a whole long thing of its own!!)

See, I definitely think this is the issue, because I have had people say that exact thing to me "Well his warp is called gilded imprisonment so that has to be referring to the IPC!" Like... Do people think the IPC has a monopoly on the word "gilded" or something? Or that "gilded" can only refer to literal gold coins and not any of the many, many metaphors for being a prisoner to destiny that are swirling around Aventurine?

"To gild" means to "cover thinly with gold." It doesn't mean to create wealth, to imply actual money, or even to relate at all to the concept of "golden handcuffs" (which is what people seem to be mistaking it for). Gilding could more accurately be described as a process of taking something cheap--like low-quality nickel--and plating it over with the thinnest layer of gold, to try to make the item seem much better than it is. Gilding something is often like dressing up a pig--you can make it look pretty on the outside, but on the inside, it's still a pig.

Just the thinnest layer of gold over a darker interior...

There's nothing about "gilded imprisonment" that automatically has anything to do with the IPC, unless you're already coming in with the impression that Aventurine is a prisoner of the IPC. If you start with a preconceived notion of what "imprisonment" means for Aventurine, then and only then do we make the jump to "Oh, this must be in reference to the IPC." Take that preconception out and there's zero connection lol.

Even the Chinese name of the warp, "囚石铸金" (lit. "Prison stones cast [in] gold") and other languages' translation of the banner name (like German's "Stein zu Gold," lit. "Stone to gold") imply that the most important element of the banner is "coating over something bad with something good"--i.e., turning prison walls into gold, turning the "stone" of his dark past into something shining. (This actually makes a nice irony in several languages, because he turned the rocky desert of his homeland and the stone walls of a prison into gold by... earning a Cornerstone and becoming a "Stoneheart"--or, that is, he himself is a "worthless" stone that has been thinly coated over in shiny wealth.)

But personally, if we really want to go by the English name of the banner, I would argue that it is much more likely Aventurine's banner name is a reference to his own troubled relationship with the concept of "blessings" and "destiny" than anything to do with the IPC.

From the beginning of his life, Kakavasha was told he was "blessed" and that he was the "chosen one." He was favored by a goddess, born on the day of her rebirth, and told that he will be the savior of his people. So, we can literally say he's the Avgin "golden child," which is further supported by the constant connection between Aventurine and gold colors (his golden-haired appearance, his mother's gold accessories with him since his birth, the word "Avgin" itself even meaning [golden] honey). So as the "golden child," we have this perception that his power of incredible luck, gifted to him by a goddess, must be a blessing, a good thing.

And yet that's not how it plays out for him. What his family tells him is a blessing ends up functioning more like a curse for Aventurine, when it becomes clear he can't use that luck of his to protect those who mean the most to him. He might be the goddess's golden child, the chosen one--but no one else is chosen with him. He's a failed savior, an incapable hero, and there is no escape from the destiny which has been decided for him.

There's a reason his lightcone is called "Inherently Unjust Destiny." His own destiny, decided when he was born favored of an aeon, makes him a prisoner of the suffering that he can survive but never avoid.

We see how much this haunts him constantly throughout his experiences in 2.1...

To me, I would interpret the English banner name "Gilded Imprisonment" as much more related to how Aventurine's blessing, which is supposed to make him the favored, lucky, golden child, is actually nothing more than a thin veneer over the terrible destiny that binds him, continually costing him everything and everyone he loves.

On to the other point entirely, I think people might also really be misinterpreting that sentence about "escaping Jade's clutches." Again, I think this relates a lot to the fact that people are coming into Aventurine's character with this preconception of him as a prisoner to the IPC, so they're interpreting this sentence in the most literal way possible ("I want to get away from you"), but that is actually not what Aventurine is saying at all there.

Jade's rank in the IPC is P46. If Aventurine is promoted to P46, he would no longer be her subordinate. Therefore, when he says "I don't want to bet anything just to escape your clutches," this is actually a (vaguely snarky, to be sure) compliment. Aventurine is saying "I don't want you to think I'm engaging in a bet [that I know I'll win] because I dislike working for you."

It's supposed to be flattery. He's saying "Don't think I'm trying to get away from you, oh great Madam Jade. I wouldn't try to make any bets just to get out of being your underling."

I think it's got a healthy dose of sarcasm to be sure, because Jade herself would have trained Aventurine to snatch every chance to get ahead. So now he's in the hilarious situation of having to balance the expected respect to his mentor ("Of course I would never want to leave you! You're the best boss!") with the fact that his own mentor wants him to be cut-throat at all costs lolol.

It's irony-laced flattery for sure.

That's why his next line is "Well, if it's just a friendly bet though, then sure, I'll engage." He's saying "So long as you know I'm not betting because I dislike working for you, sure, I'll play along." Because he knows that's what he's supposed to do--as a Stoneheart, he should be seizing every opportunity to advance. He virtually has to make this bet that he'll be promoted just to demonstrate the desirous personality that Jade would be expecting.

And honestly, it's supposed to be a callback to their first scene together too. They literally add that to text so people can't miss it. Kakavasha came to Jade as a person "hungry" to rise up the chain, to change his circumstances. He's making the same bet again to suggest to her that he hasn't changed in the slightest even after his experiences in Penacony.

(Now, why he's trying to act like he hasn't changed in front of Jade is another story, and "Aventurine is out to destroy the IPC" conspiracy theorists can run wild with this one for sure.)

But yeah. That line... really does not mean what people think it means, apparently.

Anddddd I'll get to the character foils in another post; this was already long enough as-is! 😂

#honkai star rail #aventurine #character analysis #gilded imprisonment #and it's just bro's whole life he's trying to escape #but I do agree with your last note about Aventurine being a prisoner of his own apathy #when you have nowhere else to go #why bother trying to leave?#it's not like leaving the IPC would make his life any better #since nothing can bring his family or people back #or free him from the curse of his own “blessing”#I don't think Aventurine has any real reason to be *loyal* to the IPC #I just think he doesn't see the point of going anywhere else #other than maybe to the grave!!!

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oliversrarebooks · 1 month

Text

The Rare Bookseller Part 65: Alexander's Lesson

Previous > Masterlist > Next

tw: kidnapping, branding, body control, blood drinking

December 1815

Lex was glad that he'd made it out the door early, especially since Anders wouldn't stop badgering him about where he was heading on such a cold night. He'd made up some excuse about an errand, but he seriously doubted his ability to keep this secret from Anders for long. Maybe once he'd had a lesson or two with this teacher and made up his mind about whether he was going to stick with his instruction, he'd tell his friend. Master Laurent wouldn't approve, but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

It was somehow even more bitterly cold than it was the previous night, and Lex dearly wished that he were back home by a fire. He wasn't fond of the idea of spending the next several hours in the company of the frigid and imposing man who'd glared at him for his entire practice. Still, if he was such a fine and exclusive vocal teacher, beyond even Master Laurent's skill, this would be worth his while.

He arrived at a manor as icy as its occupant. It was surrounded by a wrought iron gate, and inside was a stone courtyard covered in snow, with no living plant in sight. The windows were all shuttered and there was no sign of any light. Anxiety sat like a stone at the bottom of his gut, urging him to turn back -- but he could hardly tell Master Laurent that he was like a child, spooked by the thought of a haunted house.

He picked up the brass door knocker and rapped on the door.

The door opened right away. A stiff and pale looking man in a well-kept suit beckoned him inside. "You must be Alexander. My master is expecting you. Please enter."

"Good evening," said Lex as he stepped in, trying not to flinch as the door shut behind him. There were a few gas lamps flickering on the walls, barely enough to penetrate the gloom. In the dim light, he could see that the entrance had oppressively patterned wallpaper and objets d'art in every nook and cranny. It looked more like a museum than a home anyone actually lived in.

"This way," said the servant, leading Lex down a foreboding hallway. The servant's manner of walking was odd and unnatural, almost like a puppet on strings. He thought he saw a pair of eyes peer out at him from one of the darkened rooms, but it disappeared as soon as he turned.

Just a music lesson, Lex reminded himself to soothe his heart. He's an old and eccentric music teacher, nothing more.

At the end of the hallway, the servant opened the door to a room far better lit than the rest of the home, the most extravagant music room Lex had ever seen. His fear was forgotten for a moment as he admired the wide variety of perfectly kept and cleaned instruments lining the floors and walls. Polished horns glistened on their stands, stringed instruments were hung perfectly straight in brackets on the walls, and one corner was occupied by a beautiful gilded harp. The center of the room was dominated by a grand piano. It was a much older sort than Lex was used to, but in ideal condition, and his fingers ached to play it.

To do that, though, he'd have to get past the man who stood from the piano bench to receive him. He was dressed all in black, as he was the previous day, and his piercing gaze was all the more impossible to ignore when Lex was the only other person in the room. There was something oppressive about his presence that gave Lex a senseless urge to turn and run.

Oh, how he wished he were already by the fire with Anders, laughing about this whole thing!

Lex bowed, and he felt almost as stiff as the servant (who had already fled the room). "Good evening…" He realized that somehow he'd completely neglected to get his new teacher's name.

"When you are here, I am your Maestro. You may call me that, or sir," he said.

"Yes, sir," said Lex. No greeting, apparently.

"Come. I wish to hear your talent." He gestured to a stand with sheet music arranged on it.

Lex stepped forward and took a look. The music was handwritten but impeccably neat; the piece was complex and the lyrics were in a language he was not familiar with. "What language is this, sir?"

"Irrelevant."

"I'm going to need to know how to pronounce it."

"You will learn."

Lex scowled. This Maestro's style couldn't be more different than Master Laurent's. Master Laurent was stern and critical, but not harsh like this man, and the things he asked of Lex were always reasonable. He could already tell they would be butting heads.

Well, if he didn't like the instruction, he could always turn down future lessons and give his apologies to Master Laurent.

"I'm going to need to warm up first, sir."

"Very well. I will observe how you go about it."

Lex sang a few notes, loud and soft, up and down the scales, all the while conscious of the Maestro's gaze upon him. Lex couldn't help but think if he was going to be so nakedly judgmental of Lex's warm-ups, he could offer instruction on how to improve them. Wasn't that what he was here for? Instruction?

As he warmed up, he scanned the music to get a sense of it. The difficulty must be to test him. He wasn't about to shy away from a challenge, especially where music was concerned. No doubt the Maestro wished to see if he was actually a prodigy in vocal skills, or yet another mediocrity propped up by his family's wealth.

He finished his preparations, and he sang.

The acoustics of the room were excellent, and Lex's voice rang out clear and pure. He stumbled over a few of the unfamiliar words, but the notes he sang were true.

It was objectively an excellent performance, given the circumstances, and yet his new teacher sat there stony-faced without a glimmer of a reaction.

"Again," he said, a moment after Lex finished.

"Sir, before I sing again, I'd like to know how to properly pronounce some of these words."

"Again."

"You said I would learn how to pronounce them. I can't learn that if you don't teach me."

"I will teach you much before we are through. But now I am ordering you to sing again."

Frustrated, Lex was even more determined to put everything he had into it. Surely there must be some level of effort and talent that could budge this man. Now that he'd sung the song once and had a feel for it, he was able to sing without hesitation, not caring how he pronounced the unfamiliar words as long as the sound fit the melody.

The Maestro may as well have been a statue throughout Lex's virtuoso performance. "Again."

So he sang it again. And again. By the fifth time, he'd lost his patience.

"With all due respect, sir," Lex said, "I came here for instruction, and so far, you haven't offered any."

"You are mistaken. You came here to see if you are worthy of instruction. Most men, even those who imagine themselves to be musicians, can produce sounds little better than the barks of dogs. I don't wish to waste any more time than necessary in the company of such men."

"Surely my voice is better than the barks of dogs."

"Again."

Lex was burning with irritation now. He knew very well he was in possession of a temper, one which he preferred to keep under check, so that his classmates and teachers found him patient and easy-going. This man, however, was determined to fray his patience to the breaking point.

He certainly wouldn't be coming back. He'd have to tell Master Laurent that the so-called instruction wasn't worth the frustration, and hope his teacher would be forgiving.

This time, he sang the song with the passion that was boiling over in his heart, determined to either provoke a reaction from the Maestro or at the very least know for certain that he had done his best.

The Maestro stood from his place on the piano bench at the end of this rendition, walking over to Lex, who couldn't help his defiant glare. Let him find fault with that, if he could.

"One hundred and sixty."

"Excuse me?"

"One hundred and sixty mistakes."

He was certainly just trying to get a rise out of Lex. "There aren't even that many notes in the song."

"I'm well aware," he said with that insufferable glare. "The mistakes begin even before you open your mouth, with your breathing and posture." His eyes swept over Lex, analyzing. "Stand up straighter. Eyes forward. Chest full. Deep breath from your chest. Allow your lungs to inflate fully."

To Lex's surprise, he felt himself following the instructions automatically, his back and neck straightening to the point of stiffness, taking in a deep breath. He felt strangely out of control, almost as if the Maestro had some sort of unnatural hold on him.

It must be his imagination. He complied with the instruction so quickly because he was intimidated by that icy glare, nothing more.

"Now, sing a scale."

Lex did so, and it sounded improved from his usual, and he hated that it did.

"A passable result, for an untrained voice."

"I've trained with Master Laurent for years, sir."

The Maestro scoffed. "You would never achieve perfection with him."

"While music is my passion, I don't think it's reasonable to aim for perfection. That's an impossible goal."

"So you aspire to mediocrity, then, as does the rest of humanity," he said. "Very well. The choice has been taken from your hands. I have made my decision. I will train you."

At this point, Lex hardly cared if he was the finest music teacher on the green Earth, he didn't want to spend another moment with this man's constant insults and sour look. "I've made my decision as well, sir. I appreciate your time, but I'm afraid I have to turn your offer down. I will not be training with you."

The fleeting ghost of a twisted smile appeared on his face. "Is that so?"

"Yes, sir," said Lex, backing towards the door. "Now, if you'll allow me to take my leave, it's getting late and it's very cold outside tonight, so I'd like to return to my dorm as soon as possible."

The Maestro gave no response as Lex turned and started towards the door.

And froze.

His eyes went wide with terror even as every other muscle in his body tensed, caught mid-step. He tried to take another step, to move his arms, to even make the smallest movement of his fingers. No part of his body would respond to his most desperate entreaties, completely paralyzed except for his pounding heart and ragged breathing. He couldn't blink, couldn't shout.

"I did tell you that the choice had been taken from your hands," said the Maestro.

Slowly, methodically, Lex's body was turned around against his wishes, even as every instinct was calling on him to flee. He began to walk forward to where the Maestro was sitting on the piano bench, helpless as a sleepwalker as he drew closer.

It must be a nightmare. He'd been anxious about this lesson and the strange man who had been at practice yesterday, and he'd fallen asleep by the fire, his mind turning a man into a monster. He would wake soon and tell Anders of his nightmare to make him laugh.

Lex was stopped just before the Maestro, and was dropped into a kneel, his knees hitting the wooden floor with uncomfortable force. His head was forced into a bow as his arms were arranged behind his back, the very picture of a submissive servant.

"How are you doing this?" said Lex, as soon as he realized that control of his mouth had returned to him.

"All humans must obey me, just as the ocean must obey the moon," said the Maestro in an incongruously melodic voice. "It's a simple, unchangeable fact."

"What are you? Are you a demon?"

"Some might consider me a demon, but no." He reached down and tilted Lex's head upward by his chin, and Lex was looking into his eyes, as cold and hard as stone. "I'm a far more miserable creature, a lonely thing that must rely on the blood of inferior beings in order to survive. In short, a vampire."

A vampire! Lex had never believed in such things, thinking that they were superstitions of the uneducated. But if this wasn't a nightmare or a fit of madness, then he had been very much mistaken. There was little doubt in Lex's mind that this man was exactly what he claimed to be.

And that meant that he was going to die, wasn't he? An undignified whimper emerged from his throat. He was only just a man, with many winters and summers yet ahead of him. He hadn't even finished his education or courted anyone. To die here, in this dreadful place, to feed a monster…

Icy fingers traced over his jaw. "It's exceedingly rare to find such exquisite blood, especially paired with musical talent of even meager promise. Perhaps I have the unwise hope that your company will please me."

Lex's throat felt as though it'd been coated in sand. "Are -- are you going to drink my blood and kill me?"

The placid, unreadable look did not leave the Maestro's face as he slapped Lex lightly across the cheek. "Idiotic child," he said. "Did I not already tell you that I will be training you? In exchange for instruction, you will provide me with your blood and your service."

So he wasn't to be killed, but would be a slave instead. It might well be a worse fate -- but one with some possibility of rescue. "My classmates and teachers will notice I'm missing," he said, hoping to sway the vampire into freeing him.

"Yes, so they will."

"My parents will be informed," he tried. "They're going to search for me. They'll surely get the police involved, as well."

The Maestro gripped his chin, leaning further into his face. "They will not find you," he said with stern finality.

"But what --"

"And if they did find you, how do you suppose mere humans will deliver you from a being that can control their bodies with the slightest effort?" He dropped Lex's chin. "Instead, you should wish for them to forget you, rather than perish by my hand."

He could picture it all too vividly, his parents coming to his aid, become frozen in place as he was, and swiftly cut down. Lex didn't doubt for a moment that this monster would do it, either. There wasn't a trace of fear in his eyes. He seemed used to this, almost bored with the business of kidnapping -- of course, if he lived off human blood, he would have to be used to it, wouldn't he?

As Lex trembled in fear, turning over his desperate position in his head, the Maestro stood up. He pulled a small metal object from his pocket, and began to heat it in the flame of one of the lamps. As Lex watched in horror, his arms were released from his back, and he felt himself unbuttoning his shirt, removing it…

He tried to scream, but he had been silenced once more, a prisoner in his own body.

The vampire's power held him completely rigid as the dreadful brand neared his chest, pressing into his skin with a sickening noise and smell. Lex would have wailed if he were able, or vomited, or fainted dead away, but he was held fast in the vampire's spell. His vision blurred, his reason leaving him, as all he could think about was the intense pain and fright.

"It has been a very long time since I've had truly satisfying blood," said the Maestro, sitting down in front of Lex once more. "I'm loathe to indulge myself in the pleasures of consumption, but even I cannot ignore my earthly needs forever."

Perhaps it was a mercy that Lex was already driven from his mind as the Maestro dug his fangs into the place where his neck met his shoulder. With his rational thoughts gone, he was left to the primal parts of his mind, screaming within him to remove the predator from his flesh. Yet none of this inner turmoil was allowed to surface, as he was kept perfectly still for the vampire to drink his blood at leisure.

As his blood was drained and his head further fogged, foreign and unwelcome emotions invaded his consciousness. He was drowning in it, pitch-black waters closing in above him as he sank into the depths. It was a quiet, lonely, empty place, numb and freezing, a vast expanse of despair.

Lex was barely aware as he collapsed into the Maestro's waiting arms, the spell over his body finally lifted now that he was too weak to move. He shivered violently and gasped for air, wanting to push the vampire away but unable to lift his arms to do so.

"I will take you to your chambers now," said the Maestro, picking him up as though he were a doll. Lex tried to summon up the will to fight as he was lifted, but as soon as he began to stir, he felt his limbs unnaturally shackled once more.

Defeated, he fled into the recesses of his mind, where a chair by the fireplace and a stack of books waited for him. Anders would notice his absence when the hour grew late, and Lex fervently wished that he would not investigate, lest he find himself in this same hell.

If he were fortunate, his dear friend would never find this place, even if it meant Lex would never see him again.

Lex was carried into an austere chamber and placed upon a cold, firm bed. The Maestro removed his shoes and placed them by the bedside, then placed several rough, wool blankets over him.

"You will sleep," the Maestro said.

Lex couldn't imagine being able to sleep through the agony and terror racking his body, but then the vampire placed a hand on his forehead, and his eyes began to drift shut against his will. The sleeping spell did nothing for the pain, and so he sank into an unnatural, agitated sleep full of nightmares that he could not wake from.

Previous > Masterlist > Next

Lex would rate this experience one star.

Next week, Fitz is doing extremely okay.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin

@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist

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@sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

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@typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia

@a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

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@cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme

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#whump #whump writing #vampires #mind control #vampire whumper #blood drinking #branding #rare bookseller #alexander #maestro

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queenshelby · 6 months

Text

The Client (Rewritten)

Part Two: New Relationships

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (37) & Reader (35)

Note: In this fic Cillian is a lawyer, helping the reader after she becomes a victim of domestic abuse.

The following morning, at Cillian's offices, he had expected to see you at around 8 o'clock but, when only his friend Dermont arrived, he became worried.

"She said that she doesn't need your help," Dermont told him with concern. "She said that she can just go to Legal Aid," he added.

But Cillian knew better. He understood that, when it came to matters of domestic violence, Legal Aid was often underfunded and inexperienced.

"Legal Aid?" he thus asked and, seeing that your husband James was a seasoned and experienced solicitor himself, Cillian experienced a knot in his stomach. He knew the odds you were facing. "Fuck she is stubborn!" Cillian muttered, raking his hands through his tousled brown hair before reaching for his coat.

"Where are you going?" Janette, who had been sitting in the meeting, queried Cillian with a raised eyebrow. "You have a meeting with John O'Shea at 10," she reminded him, but Cillian was on a mission.

"Cancel it. I need to see Y/N," Cillian brushed Janette's warnings aside, not in the mood for corporatespeak as he was determined to make his way to the women's shelter on York in order to confront you. He knew that you needed his help and he would not take no for an answer.

"I will come with you, man," Dermont solidified solidarity, standing up from his chair and grabbing his leather jacket.

"There is no point, Dermont. They won't let you in," Cillian told his friend, knowing that visitors, other than legal counsel and attending psychologists, were not allowed on premises due to safety concerns.

"Do you think she will actually talk to you?" Dermont asked as they walked towards the elevator.

"She bloody well will when I tell her what's going to happen if she doesn't take this seriously," Cillian replied, his jaw set with determination. "When you told me who she is married to, my alarm bells went off and I am not surprised that she did not leave this bastard yet. He is a piece of work, and he is most certainly is good at what he does," Cillian explaining after having worked with James in the past and having an inside perspective on the man's ruthless behavior.

The elevator chimed and the doors opened, and the two men entered. Cillian pressed the button for the parking garage, and the elevator began its descent in silence.

"Will she be safe?" Dermont queried Cillian with concern in his voice.

"I will make sure that she is," Cillian reassured Dermont, his tone firm.

The elevator doors opened, revealing the dimly lit parking garage. Cillian and Dermont walked towards Cillian's shiny black BMW. As Cillian unlocked the car, Dermont hesitated.

"You will need to wait in the car when we get there, okay?" Cillian told Dermont as they got in and fastened their seatbelts.

Dermont nodded silently and Cillian peeled out of the parking garage. About thirty minutes later , pulled up outside the women's shelter. He switched off the engine and took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever lay ahead. He knew that you were unlikely to receive him well after how things had ended between you many years ago, but he was not prepared to back down.

He got out of the car, entered the shelter's front door, and approached the front desk. The receptionist looked up at him, her face a mask of polite indifference.

"I'm looking for Y/N Y/LN," Cillian maintained eye contact.

"And you are?" she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Cillian Murphy. I am her solicitor," he told the woman while showing her his bar membership card and drivers license, knowing that she would have to keep his details on file. The woman's eyes glanced over his documents before she nodded, clearly authorized to allow him through.

"Miss Y/LN is in apartment 302, on the third floor," she told him, pointing up the nearby staircase. "But let me warn you that she might not be in the mood for company. Her husband tried to make contact this morning and was advised to leave," she added, her tone laced with disapproval.

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," Cillian mumbled, turning towards the staircase. His heart was hammering in his chest as he climbed the stairs, suddenly feeling like a schoolboy again. It had been years since he had last seen you, and the memories still haunted him to this day.

He reached the third floor and found your apartment on the left-hand side. He paused for a moment, taking another deep breath before knocking on the door.

To his surprise, you answered almost immediately, your face painted with shock upon seeing him.

"Cillian? What the hell are you doing here?" you demanded, your voice trembling as you crossed your arms over your chest. You were wearing an oversized t-shirt that hung loosely over your body, and your hair was a mess of tangled curls. He could see the dark circles under your eyes and the bruise on your cheek, and his heart clenched in his chest.

"Dermont saw me this morning and I came to talk to you," Cillian told you, forcing himself to maintain eye contact.

"I don't want your help," you muttered, turning your head away. But Cillian could see the uncertainty in your eyes, and he knew that you were just as confused by your feelings as he was. "I told Dermont that I will go to Legal Aid," you told him, trying to assert yourself, but Cillian could hear the hesitance in your voice.

"Listen to me, Y/N," Cillian said, placing his hands on your shoulders and gently turning you to face him. "Legal Aid won't be able to take your husband on and you know that," he said, his voice soft yet firm. "You need someone who knows how to handle his type of mentality," he added, his gaze holding yours.

You could feel yourself being drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. It was as if the years had melted away and you were once again that young girl who had fallen in love with him. You wanted to believe him, to trust him with your life. But you were also scared, terrified that history would repeat itself and you would be left with nothing but a broken heart and a shattered life.

You tried to push him away, but Cillian was not so easily swayed.

"Look at me, Y/N," Cillian whispered and your eyes met, and you could see the fire burning within them. "Let's just talk and then, if you still want to go to Legal Aid, I will even drive you there," he offered and you hesitated, your eyes searching his face for any sign of deception.

But all you could see was compassion and concern, and you felt yourself being drawn to him like a magnet. "Alright," you sighed, your shoulders slumping as you stepped aside and allowed him to enter.

The apartment was small and cramped, with only a single bedroom and a living room that doubled as a kitchen. The walls were bare and the furniture sparse, a testament to how quickly you had left your old life behind.

Cillian looked around, his gaze taking in the small space.

He could see the weight of your situation reflected in the empty walls and the sparse furniture, and his heart clenched in his chest.

"I'm sorry," you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I am a mess. Dermont took me here after I was discharged from hospital and James froze all of my accounts," you explained, and Cillian could see the hurt and shame etched on your face and he wanted to take it all away.

"Don't worry about all that now," Cillian murmured as he gestured to the small kitchen table, and you took a seat across from him.

Cillian then sat there in silence for a moment, looking at you as if he didn’t know what to say and, he probably didn’t. Perhaps he just wanted to be the person to tell you that everything will be okay. Perhaps he just wanted to be the person to comfort you. Or, perhaps, he just wanted to be the person to help you through your darkest times.

Eventually though, he began to talk and took you through the legal process slowly. He told you what the steps were, including obtaining an AVO, gaining financial support for you and requesting your husband to return your property to you, including your identification documents and mobile phone. He then reassured you that getting custody for your son would not be an issue given his age. He explained that, at 16, your son would decide who he wants to live with and this was a relief for you.

Then, finally, he mentioned divorce. Of course, with all of this, you needed to apply for divorce. It was inevitable and you couldn’t wait until you were free from this monster.

“First, let’s talk about the AVO and getting you some financial support from him. This seems to be the most urgent matter and I have already obtained and looked through the discharge report from the hospital. You lied to the nurses, and I am not going to ask you why. I am sure you had your reasons. But I am telling you that, the fact that you did, will make it more difficult for us to prove that you need protection,” Cillian then explained quite suddenly before giving you a reassuring look.

“So, I cannot get an AVO against him?” you asked a little confused.

“We will get you an AVO Y/N but, if he challenges it, we will need to get some more evidence together to prove that you do, in fact, need it,” Cillian explained before handing you a box of tissues as he could see that you were becoming emotional already.

“The bruises seem quite bad. How are you coping with them?” Cillian then asked and, whilst you knew that it wasn’t relevant to the case, you appreciated his gesture.

“I am okay," you confirmed reluctantly while trying to mask your true emotions and the pain you were still feeling.

"What about the baby you lost? The hospital report said that your miscarriage was caused by physical trauma," Cillian's voice cracked with emotion.

Tears filled your eyes at the mention of your loss. "It's my fault," you whispered, your voice shaking. "I should have left him a long time ago." Your thoughts trailed off to the brutal night that had left you traumatized and alone, your unborn child taken from you before you had even gotten the chance to hold them in your arms.

"Hey," Cillian's voice softened as he reached across the table to take your hand in his. "This isn't your fault, Y/N. You know that, right?"

You shook your head, your eyes filling with tears. "I can't help thinking that, if I had just been stronger, maybe he wouldn't have...," you stammered, leaving your sentence unfinished.

Cillian's heart broke at the sight of you in pain. "I am sorry," he murmured, his voice filled with regret. He reached over to wipe away your tears, his touch gentle and soothing. He longed to take away your pain and shield you from harm, but he knew that he couldn't. Not yet, at least.

“I need to ask you some more questions about the harm he caused,” Cillian eventually said after taking a deep sigh and you nodded your head, accepting the inevitable nature of the situation, although part of you desperately wished to avoid revisiting the most painful memories.

“Can you describe what happened that night? How did he cause you to lose the baby?” he asked, his voice giving away the slight grimace that crossed his features.

“We had an argument about the state of the house. He made me clean and clean and clean all over again and still wasn't satisfied. He then became aggressive. He wanted sex I think. I don't know. I can't remember. All I remember was the blows to my stomach when he hit me repeatedly until I blacked out," you choked out, your voice low and trembling. "I woke up in the hospital a few hours later. I was weak from the pain and exhausted through the trauma. The doctors told me that I had lost my baby."

A wave of sadness and anger washed over Cillian as you told him the harrowing details of that night.

“Has he ever hurt you like this before or was this the first time?” Cillian asked carefully, knowing that this may trigger you to become even more upset and emotional.

“Yes” you cried before getting into more detail for him.

“He has hurt me many times. He even raped me before and said that it wasn't rape because we are married. When I tried to leave him, he threatened me. He told me that if I dared to speak of what he did to me, he would kill me and no-one would ever find out," you choked out, your voice filled with pain and betrayal.

Cillian listened quietly, holding your hands firmly in his as you spoke. He could feel the rage building up inside of him as you told him about the horrors that you had endured at the hands of your husband.

"Y/N, I promise you that I will make sure that he pays for every single thing that he has done to you," he promised, his voice filled with conviction.

He knew that his words were not enough, but he wanted you to know that you were not alone in this. That he would be there for you every step of the way, no matter how difficult things got.

His anger towards James was palpable and it was clear that he was not going to let him get away with what he had done.

“I need to know, are there any records of prior injuries with other hospitals or medical centers?” he then asked carefully once you were able to calm back down and you nodded again.

“A year ago, I had severe burns and I saw my general practitioner to get some cream for them” you told Cillian with teary eyes, causing his chin to drop.

“Burns? Did he inflict them?” Cillian asked a little surprised.

“Yes, he did! When James found out that…uhm…I…I had an abortion about a year ago he…” you started to cry again, your resolve crumbling down slowly.

“Take your time Y/N” Cillian told you while reaching across the table and holding onto your hand, unbothered by the fact that you still held on to the wet tear-soaked tissue.

“He burned me,” you sobbed and Cillian’s grip on your hands tightened involuntarily at hearing about the harrowing pain that you went through. He wanted to strangle James for making you suffer like that but, instead, he took a moment to compose himself.

“How did he burn you?” Cillian asked and what he heard next made him sick to the stomach.

“He used the iron on me,” you choked out, your eyes glazing over as you were thrown right back into that dreadful moment in time.

Visions of that scalding hot iron being dragged down the length of your arm seared through your mind like it was happening all over again. You could smell the burning flesh and hear your own screams echoing through the house.

Cillian inhaled sharply, trying to contain the crossed wires running riot through his brain.rage, sympathy, passion, disgust.

He couldn't decide which emotion to settle for, so he let out a low growl of frustration instead.

"Fuck," Cillian swore loudly, dragging a hand through his thick shock of hair before leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table, cradling his head in his hands.

"Can you show me the burns?" Cillian asked softly, dropping his hands as he looked at you with eyes filled with concern.

You bit your bottom lip nervously, unsure of whether you should expose yourself to him. Nevertheless, you stood up and peeled back the sleeve of your shirt, revealing the pale white scars that marred your skin.

Cillian sucked in his breath, feeling a mix of anger and sadness wash over him. You flinched slightly, feeling self-conscious under his gaze.

Cillian, sensing your discomfort, quickly looked away, but not before he took a mental image of the faint lines that marked your skin.

"I am so sorry for everything that you've gone through," he murmured, his voice laced with anguish and fury. "No person deserves to be treated like this," he told you before asking you whether you would be willing to undergo a medical examination for evidence.

The thought of allowing someone else to examine your battered body repulsed you, but you gave Cillian your consent, knowing full well that it was necessary for your case.

"I will arrange an appointment for you with one of the centers on Callum Street. They specialize in these types of cases and the medical examiner there is an old colleague of mine," Cillian told you, his voice steady and reassuring.

As you agreed to the appointment, Cillian checked his watch and realized that it was already almost noon.

"Have you eaten anything today?" he asked you, noticing your thin frame and the dark shadows under your eyes.

You shook your head no, causing Cillian to frown.

"Let's grab a bite then and have a break. Your brother has been sitting in my car for a few hours now and is probably bored," Cillian suggested as he rose from his chair.

You nodded, appreciating his understanding. "I can't really afford to go out for lunch Cillian," you said, feeling embarrassed to admit that you had no money to spend on luxuries like that.

Cillian's eyebrows pulled together with concern. "That's not a problem, Y/N, I'm happy to buy," he said. "Come on, let's take a break and this afternoon we will work on getting your statements ready for the AVO and the claims against James," he reassured you before guiding you out of the apartment.

You walked down the hallway and descended the stairs. Cillian led you to his car where your brother was waiting.

Dermont's face lit up as soon as he saw you. "How are you holding up?" he asked, genuine concern in his voice.

"I'm alright," you replied, giving him a weak smile.

"Shall we go and grab some lunch then?" Cillian interrupted, eager to allow you to distract yourself.

"I know this great little cafe just down the road. They have the best paninis in Dublin, trust me, I practically live there," he joked, attempting to lighten the atmosphere and Dermont chuckled politely and opened the car door, allowing you to slide in shotgun.

As they drove down the busy streets of Dublin, your nerves subsided and the three of you engaged in lighthearted banter, speaking about everything apart from James. For the first time in months, you laughed wholeheartedly and felt your worries melt away, if only for a short while.

You glanced over at Cillian and caught him staring at you, his piercing blue eyes softening as they met yours. Your breath hitched in your throat and you quickly turned away, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. Cillian's gaze lingered on you for a moment before he too turned away, clearing his throat awkwardly.

The car ride was short, and before you knew it, they arrived at the cafe. Cillian parked the car and the three of you made your way inside.

Despite the bustling lunchtime crowd, Cillian somehow managed to secure a cozy corner booth for the three of you, complete with plush cushions and a view of the bustling Dublin Street outside.

You settled into the booth, letting out a sigh of relief as your body relaxed into the comfortable seat. You couldn't remember the last time you had felt this safe, this protected. It was as if Cillian and Dermont were your personal bodyguards, shielding you from the dangers of the outside world.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude towards them both, their presence a comforting balm to your troubled soul.

After finishing your lunch, the three of you decided to head back to Cillian's office to continue working on your case which pretty much took all afternoon, following which Cillian sent an application to both, the police and the courts, to get your matter started.

Once this was done, Cillian drove you back to the shelter and dropped you off, promising to pick you up early the following morning to begin preparations for the next few days to get the interim orders drawn up, but just as you stepped out of the car, you noticed something strange.

There was a black sedan parked in front of the shelter with two men sitting inside. As you watched, one of the men pulled out a cell phone, while the other kept a watchful eye on the entrance.

Thinking nothing much of it, you turned back to Cillian, who was still seated in the driver's seat. "See you tomorrow, Cillian," you said with a slight smile before calling it a night.

"See you tomorrow Y/N," he told you before, finally, driving off.

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#cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy

130 notes · View notes

dancingtotuyo · 3 months

Text

Scathed 10 (Javier Peña)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: anxiety, trauma, self worth, smoking, references to the drug war and colombia, Narcos season 3 spoilers

Notes: Thank you @janaispunk for always beta reading for me. I love you!

Words: 3956

Series Master List | Author Master List

Journal Entry September 4th, 1994 Dear Javi,

So it’s been a month since you left. I’m trying not to be hurt by the lack of communication. Dad said you’re alive. The reports out of Colombia sound like you’re doing well even. I know you called your dad. He mentioned it at Ale’s riding lesson.

School is kicking my ass. Passing the GED and actually going to class is a huge fucking difference. For the most part, I’ve managed the social situations fine. Classes are small, I can sit in the back. People don’t notice the old lady in the back. I’m pretty sure I’m only retaining a quarter of what I need to. I’m on too high of alert. I knew it would be hard, but it feels like my anxiety has gotten worse again. I feel like I’m moving backward.

Standing outside the Embassy, Javier lit a cigarette. The habit had returned in full as he fought to manage the stress of the day and ghosts of the night. He’d managed to keep his bed empty and his ashtray full. It felt like the better option of the two.

He still hadn’t called home. His voicemail still held last week’s message from Alejandra. He fought with himself every night. The push and the pull to talk to Emily, but every night ended the same, drowning in smoke and whiskey. He wasn’t clean enough to have her or the kids. It was better this way.

He felt useless down here. What good was the DEA if they weren’t going to actually do any enforcing. He and the whole agency were just expensive window dressing here to make it look like everything was above board, to get the DEA stamp of approval on this surrender deal. Javier hated it all.

“Can I get one of those?” A woman appeared next to him, her dirty blond curls threaded with the soft grays and white of aging. Javier offered one up in a silence. “I quit four months ago.” She smiled before bringing it to her lips.

Javier cocked his head to the side, still assessing her motives. He hadn’t seen her around before. She wanted something, Javier just couldn’t decide what. He lit the cigarette for her as they both took a drag, sizing one another up as they did.

He briefly wondered if her hair style was what Emily had in mind when she mentioned cutting it shorter. He still preferred the idea of her long curls. His chest tightened. Not that he had any right to a say in that.

The woman squared up to him. “Carolina Alvarez, El Tiempo.” She held out her hand.

Just what he needed, the press. He let her hand hang in the air just long enough to make her feel uneasy before taking it with an admittedly poor handshake. As he suspected, it didn’t take long for her to launch into whatever introduction she had planned, pulling up his history with Los Pepes and the current politics happening with Cali’s plea deal.

It was a power play. Javier refused to let her win. “You can call the press office if you want a comment, Miss Alvarez.”

“Carolina, please,” she said.

In another life, Javier wouldn’t give her the time of day. Of course, he didn’t have to deal with the press last time. That had been above his pay grade. He tossed the cigarette butt to the ground, stomping it out with his foot. Of course, he didn’t have to deal with her now. That was what the press office was for. “Have a nice day.” He turned, started to walk away.

“Have you heard much about the Cali accident?” she asked. His steps slowed down. He turned back around. “Four more people dead. Children. Dozens more sick.” She stepped toward him. “An empty chlorine gas canister was found nearby.”

Javier kept his face straight. His shoulders tensed. He’d seen the initial report, but hadn’t thought too much about it.

Caroline continued, taking his silence for permission. “There’s a rumor its manufacturer is linked to a front company operated by the Cali Cartel.”

“It’s like you said, it was an accident,” Javier said, expression etched in stone, not giving anything away.

Carolina let out a humorless chuckle. “By the end of the day it will be. No matter what the truth is.” She met his eye, giving it a second for emphasis before lapsing into Spanish. “Thank you for the cigarette.”

She walked away, leaving Javier in the same place, same expression on his face. He fought against his surging emotions. He wasn’t going to let some journalist use him to do her research. Even so, it nagged on him throughout the day. He found himself taking extra smoke breaks.

When he found himself watching the evening news, the investigator calling it an accident, caused by a natural gas leak, Javier felt anger surge through him. How many families had to be torn apart to protect these men? Innocent children had died. Mothers had children to bury. That wasn’t right. That wasn’t justice.

Pictures flashed across the screen, the children killed by the exposure. He’d seen children die before. He’d watched a man he respected shoot a teenager in the head as a warning. He’d held a gun to a kid. Those incidents had messed with his head enough, but these kids were in their homes, tucked into their beds. They were supposed to be safe. How many times had Javier watched as Emily ushered her children to bed, kissed their heads, and trusted that they'd be safe in their bed. That they would wake up.

Javier was never good at guessing the ages of kids, but each face that flashes across the screen seems to remind him of them. Miguelito. Alejandra. Mateo. Children he’d grown to know, to love even…

This wasn’t right. Cali didn’t get to get away with it. Not this time. He shut the TV off, walking over to Chris Feistl’s desk. He leaned against the wall. “You got a partner, right?”

Chris looked up at him, confused and a little shocked. “Uh, yeah. Kinda.”

Maybe it could be different this time. Maybe he could still bring justice.

“Good, you’re going to Cali.” He walked away before Feistl could respond.

This time would be different.

Journal Entry September 18th, 1994 Dear Javi,

It hurts not to hear from you. Dad said all reports from Colombia have been good. I’m sure you’re getting restless.

I had a panic attack in class this week. I had to leave ten minutes into the class. I hadn’t had one since Escobar was killed. That’s the longest I’d been without one since I came home. I was starting to think maybe I’d never have one again.

I feel… disappointed.

Javier met Carolina at a cafe. She gave him information about Cali's money launderer, Franklin Jurado. She pushed him in a way he needed just as she had in their first meeting. It seemed weird that perhaps his moral compass would come in the form of a nosy journalist.

“Are you going to take these men on or what?” she asked.

Javier let out a quick breath, formulating his answer very carefully. “I’m going to do my job.”

“And your bosses?” Her gaze was piercing, like she was trying to see his soul or haunt his dreams until the job was done. “Do they know what you’re doing?”

His eyes drifted to his coffee. “No comment,” he said, putting the cup to his lips, pinning her with a soft glare he was sure she saw right through.

She called him with the address an hour after he left.

Javier didn’t have to sit long before Franklin appeared on the steps, bags in tow. He was going somewhere, but where was the question. A driver appeared, helping the man with his bags and once they were packed, a woman walked toward him. Javier watched from his SUV as Franklin took her hand. She didn’t look happy to be saying goodbye, and then he held her tight.

A pang shot through Javier’s chest as the blonde woman folded into her husband’s arms. She didn’t want him to go, but she was there to say goodbye anyway. An image of Emily flashed through his mind. The night before he left, she hadn’t cried, but he saw it in her eyes, felt it in the way she hugged him. He wondered if his coldness had made her cry since that night. This was better for her. She would be better off without him. He let out a sigh as he turned the ignition to follow Franklin’s, cutting off the thought before it wracked his body with guilt.

After following Jurado to the airport, Javier headed for his own flight to follow him. Stechner blocked it, pulling him into the jungle with a couple of senators to rub elbows, to take him out like a show pony, the man who brought down Escobar, except he wasn’t even in the country when that happened. Everyone seems to ignore that part.

He seethed on the helicopter ride in, feigning a broken headset to avoid talking. There were plenty of other places Javier would rather be, anywhere else really. He was supposed to be taking down Cali, despite what his orders were. Hell, he’d rather run for his life through the communas again than take a couple of stuffy senators on a stroll through the jungle.

Humidity hung heavy in the air as sweat soaked his shirt. He was used to the weather, but in dress shoes and slacks it was hell. To make it all worse, it was apparent from the get go that it was a set up, a fancy, high tailed lie to raise support for whatever the CIA was gunning for, fighting communists or whatever. Javier found the whole pursuit to be a gigantic waste of time. He’d smuggled a communist out of the country once, he’d do it again without a second thought, but one thing became abundantly clear. Cali’s surrender had nothing to do with the war on drugs and everything to do with fundraising.

Javier’s blood boiled the entire ride home, replaying his conversation with Stechner. The way the CIA agent had laughed about the drug war as if it was a joke. Maybe it was, but Javier wasn’t ready to let this one go.

“The drug war? We lost it. You were there!”

It echoed on a fucking loop, driving him crazy as he made his way back home. There weren’t enough cigarettes in the world to numb the blows and they kept coming.

“Did you ever stop to think that someone who takes this as personally as you do, is doing it wrong?”

He stubbed out the bud against his truck door as he got out, marching up the steps as he knocked on the door.

This was personal. He couldn’t go home empty handed. He couldn’t face her without knowing he’d made an impact on this fight, brought down men like the one who’d inflicted such scars on her.

Colonel Martinez opened the door, breaking Javier from his thoughts. He looked surprised to see him.

Javier cut to the chase. “Want to go after Gilberto Rodriguez?”

Journal Entry October 2nd, 1994 Javi,

Where the fuck are you? It feels like my best friend abandoned me. You abandoned me.

The day they arrested Gilberto Rodriguez, Javier went through the wringer, the emotional ups and downs. The DEA was excited. The bullpen had given him a round of applause, wanted to toast him. He didn’t like that. The ambassador had torn him a new one. Javier wasn’t a fan of that either. A meeting of high ranking Colombian officials with the American representatives showed the scope. Some felt this gave them more leverage while others feared it would make things worse, but the president ordered that Gilberto go through the same process as any other citizen. Javier considered that a win. He didn’t take pleasure in the press conference.

By the time he made it back to the office, he had a killer headache, but it was thankfully empty by then. Javier pulled out the whiskey and the cigarettes. He didn’t necessarily feel happy, but he felt as if he’d done something finally.

Javier didn’t stop to celebrate or rest. He turned focus right back to Franklin Jurado, refocusing his attention on the launderer, but not before stopping to put a big, red X through Gilberto’s picture. That brought him a moment of happiness, but he paused to wonder.

He wondered if she had heard the news, seen the press conference. Did Emily know how much of a driving force she was to him? How much he wanted to clear the earth of every single cartel and drug boss, to make her feel safe again. For a second, he contemplated calling her. Could he know? Had he atoned enough? He shook his head at the thought, gripping the marker tightly in his hand. He would never atone enough.

“This is Peña. Leave a message.” BEEP

“Mr. Javi. It’s me. Alejandrina.”

“I’m here too!” Mateo’s voice called out, sounding more distant than his sister’s.

“Miguelito is here too. Mom is working in the yard.”

“You shouldn’t be doing this!” Miguelito said. “Grandpa is going to see it on the phone bill.”

“You never called me back.” Alejandra continued. “I saw you on the news in grandpa’s office. He didn’t know I saw. It sounded like you caught the bad guys. Can you come home now?”

“There’s more than one bad guy.” Miguelito reminded her.

Alejandra sighed frustratedly as she went off in Spanish at her older brother. There was static on the receiver and then Mateo started talking as his older siblings fought in the background.

“Mr. Javi. Stay safe. We love you. Bye.” The machine clicked off.

Javier spent the next week in meetings getting berated or praised for the DEA’s actions, but mostly the berated. The doubt crept in at times. Maybe he should have left well enough alone, but it never stayed for long. He’d done the right thing. He was certain of that.

Neil spent most of his time listening to the Jurado tapes in search of a location of Franklin. Nothing was turning up yet, but he still held out hope. Each conversation Franklin and his wife had tugged on something in Javier’s heart. Maybe it was the way she begged him to turn himself in, her worry, the anxiety.

Even as he sat at the end of the bar, eyes pinned to Christina Jurado, Javier felt the guilt ebbing at him. Last year, he wouldn’t have thought twice about using Christina’s situation to get the information. It was easy enough, buy her a drink, pull out the charm, trick her into telling him where Franklin was. So why did he feel so damn bad about it? Why could he only picture Emily in the same position?

Her situation had been nothing like this. They were two separate people in two separate realities. So why was he struggling with this? Why couldn’t he separate the two women? He should call her.

Javier shook his head, waving the bartender over. He ordered a drink for Christina, clearing his head and dusting off the charm as he waited for the drink to be delivered.

She looked annoyed at first, but the moment his English caught her ears, he watched her entire demeanor change. Javier knew he had it in the bag, but it didn’t feel as good as it used to. And then the words slipped out, almost like his mouth had a mind of its own.

“You reminded me of someone. Someone from home.”

She liked that line, but he wanted to shower the moment he said it. What right did he have to utter even her existence in this place? None, but he’d done it anyway. Further evidence that he’d done the right thing by not calling her.

Even through the guilt gnawing at him, Javier played the dutiful flirt. Almost lost himself in it, almost dared to enjoy it.

“So what could pull him away from-” He looked her up and down. “From all this.”

The words repeated in his mind. What could pull him away from her? In both cases the answer was the same. The Drug War. This all powerful thing that had left him battered and bruised yet kept drawing him back in.

Christina paused, gave him another once over and then slid from her seat. “Say hi to Texas for me.”

Javi gave her credit, she was committed to her husband, or maybe his flirting skills weren’t as good as they used to be, either way, it was plan B. He called out the name she’d never told him, told her who he was, and she all but spit in his face.

When Javier showed up at her front door later that day, she didn’t turn him away. He may not have learned where Franklin was, but she gave him the time of day. She listened. She all but told him she would try to convince her husband to turn himself in. She couldn’t look at him, didn’t look at him as he set his card on the coffee table, a far away look in her eyes, no doubt replaying the past, just like Emily when- Javier cut the thought off. This wasn’t her. This was different.

He reasoned that he was doing this to help Christina, to keep her safe, but he knew that wasn’t true, his own selfish motives landing in the forefront of his mind. It was for the greater good, but how many people had he harmed for the greater good?

Before he left, Javier vowed to keep Christina out of harm’s way. It was the least he could do. This time would be different.

It worked. Christina called Franklin almost as soon as he left. By the grace of god, the tap caught the man thanking someone in the language, specific enough to track him down to Curaçao.

Before the night was over, Javier sat at the airport bar tapping his fingers against the smooth surface. He still couldn’t shake the feeling, the deceit of it all. He was caught off guard when his SAT phone rang. He answered, keeping an eye out at the bar around him.

“Peña,” He answered, taking a sip of his whiskey.

“Uh, it’s me… Christina Jurado.”

“I’m glad you called… You okay?”

“Please don’t lie to me,” Christina said. She sounded nervous, worried. “If I do this- if I get my husband to- you can protect us? We can go home?”

Javier’s chest tightened. He finished off his drink. “You have my word.” But he didn’t know how much his word carried these days.

She hesitated before answering. “I talked to him.”

“You did? That’s good.”

“He’s gonna cooperate.”

“He said that?” Javier picked up his duffel bag.

“No, not yet- but he will. I just… I need a little time.”

“That’s fine.” Javier walked down the terminal. “You take all the time you need.”

He hung up without another exchange, just before his flight was announced over the intercom. Internally, he repeated his early promise. He’d keep her safe.

Journal Entry October 15th, 1994

I dropped my classes today. I haven’t been able to make it to class. I thought I could do it. You thought I could do it…

Javier had almost forgotten the adrenaline rush of chasing down the bad guys. The hunt for Gilberto had been one thing, but the thrill of actually chasing someone down, weaving through the crowds, finally getting him. It felt good. It felt like a win when even his wins felt like losses these days.

In all of Javier’s days in law enforcement, he’d never had someone ask about their wife. Never had anyone worried for anyone’s safety but their own, and he assured Franklin that she would meet them in Miami.

Javier couldn’t help but admire the Jurado’s commitment to one another. For one, it made it a lot easier to get his witness, yet there was something about them. Tangled up in this mess, but still committed, still loving each other.

As they landed, his phone rang again. Christina called him, freaking out about the men at her apartment. He had to tell her they’d arrested him. She reacted as he expected, upset and anxious, and surprisingly, his guilt had subsided. Maybe it was because they had Franklin. Maybe it was because he knew if she could get herself to the embassy, she would be safe. He’d done it. He’d brought Franklin in, and he hadn’t destroyed a family in the process. She just needed to get herself a couple miles before they found out Franklin was in custody.

“Christina, you want it, this is it.” He cut off her rambling firmly. “As soon as we hang up the phone, you get yourself to the American embassy. You don’t talk to anyone. You don’t call anyone. You get yourself there.”

He caught the whispers of her agreement before the line went dead.

He paused a second after the call ended, staring at the keypad. Maybe it was the American soil. Maybe it was the fact that he was actually starting to feel good about this. He thought about calling for real, so close to punching the numbers he had memorized. Then he was reminded that he was on the tarmac. The job wasn’t done, but afterward, maybe he would call her. Except, Christina never made it to the embassy.

An envelope with Emily’s handwriting greeted Javier when he got back to his apartment in Colombia. The return address confirmed it as he stared at it in the dim light of his apartment, rereading the address like he might catch a clue to its contents in the ink strokes. He debated opening it. The kids’ secret phone call to him from a couple weeks ago, the only message that accompanied Emily’s on his answering machine, ran through his mind.

It was too late for this. It had been a long couple of days. The guilt that had returned tenfold since he left Miami without calling Emily, with Christina’s whereabouts unknown, but he ripped the seal open anyway.

It was likely Emily ripping him apart, angry with him for abandoning her. Even the kids’ voicemail hadn’t been enough to make him call. He didn’t deserve them. Any of them. He was better off out of their lives.

He rubbed his forehead as he unfolded the paper, but it wasn’t words that greeted him, but bright colors and advanced stick figures drawn in crayon, five people. He furrowed his brow, looking back at the envelope. In the corner was Alejandra’s name atop the return address. In the picture, two adults, three kids, and a couple of horses all smiled back at him. He couldn’t help his own smile that ghosted his lips. Paz and Hurricane. His heart clenched. He hoped that Ale was still taking lessons at the ranch, and the boys practicing with the lasso. Alejandra had written their names above each person.

He’d been a dick. Hadn’t returned calls like he said he would, promised he would, but Ale still wanted him to have this, Emily still sent it. She didn’t have to. She could have lied and thrown it in the trash instead.

Javier cleared his throat as the page began to blur a little bit. He needed to go to sleep. He grabbed the maintenance magnet, using it to pin the drawing to his fridge.

This time would be different.

...........................................................

Taglist: @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @burntheedges @southernbe @fanyyoouu @greengirlwurld

@mysterious-moonstruck-musings @weho2kcmo

#scathed (javier peña)#javier peña x ofc #javier peña #javier peña fanfiction #narcos #pedro pascal fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #pedrostories #pedro stories

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secretwhumplair · 1 month

Text

Solstice, p.1

1,494 words | No Warrior (sequel to Solstice, p.0)

Content | Idk what to put. Dealing with past trauma, perceived betrayal?

Notes | Well that went well! Until it didn't.

Excited to get back to this story and give it its long-awaited finish! We're not there yet. But I am full of optimism.

Taglist | @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @whump-me-all-night-long @whumpadump1939 @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight

@whumpzone @angel-stars @kixngiggles @whumpsy-daisies @briars7

@yet-another-heathen @rosesareviolentlyread @cupcakes-and-pain @hollowtreesinhollowwoods @much-ado-about-whumping

@nine-tailed-whump @whump-em @itsleighlove @newbornwhumperfly @tears-and-lilies

@deluxewhump @whump-cravings @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning @neverthelass

@whumpsday @silent-orchid-lady

Runar felt bad for not offering Yves the option to stay at home with him. But it was the solstice festival, and—no matter how callous and selfish it felt in the moment—he couldn’t put every part of his life on hold for him.

It was, therefore, doubly relieving that Yves seemed to be okay. He kept close to Runar’s side as they made their way to the hilltop where wood had been stacked up twice as tall as Runar was, the yet unlit pile silhouetted against the dusky sky, but that might have been due to how narrow the paths through the snow were—more had fallen just this morning.

It was about time for winter to begin its slow retreat, and Yves seemed to welcome it as much as anyone. There was a shadow of a smile on his face, even.

Runar was irrationally proud of how brave he was being. »I’ll go say hi to my family, and then we can check out the food, yes?«

Yves nodded timidly. They hadn’t had lunch yet; after all, the potluck feast would begin as soon as the bonfire was lit once dark had fallen, which would be soon, and last as long as anyone could still eat. Runar had offered Yves to snack with him, of course, knowing how starved he had been when he first found him, and not wanting to stir up dark memories. But Yves, after hearing his explanation, had declined, had wanted to wait for the feast with him. That, too, Runar was proud of for him.

They trudged their way up the hill, and Runar could feel his mood rise along with their path.

It was going to be good.

* The stars were coming out, and Yves felt nervous to the bone.

Nervous enough to trail closely after Runar, no matter how pathetic it felt, no matter how much it stirred the bitter, helpless anger seething inside him all the time now. It ebbed and flowed—his sword practice, as silly as it was, seemed to help, but then there were moments like this, when his anxiety peaked for no real reason and there was nothing he could do, and it felt so deeply unfair. He wasn’t even properly scared—he knew nothing bad would happen to him, and somehow that made it worse. If his nerves could at least save themselves for actual threats—they should have enough experience with them to know the difference.

Still, Runar’s company comforted him, and the joy he and his family shared rubbed off. When Ingunn smiled at him, he found it easy to smile back.

»Yves! Glad you came too, it’s a big day!«

»Yes… I’m glad too.« And it was true. The air was filled with cheer and excited chattering, even among the cloudy wisps spewed forth by every breath. Soon, the warmth would come—first from the fire, and then, eventually, from the sun.

It was an important event.

Watching the crowd made him feel better as they gathered around long tables set up around the fire, some already taking their seats, but most standing and occupied in various tasks, or simply commenting on the stake and the food the tables were laden with, even as families were still carrying up more filled pots and plates.

No one would go hungry tonight, that much was certain.

Even actually spotting Brandr, who stood with two other warriors near the stake and seemed to be engrossed in discussing the quality of the wood or some such thing by the way he gestured aggressively at one log or another, couldn’t fully dispel the warmth of the occasion.

If Brandr confronted him again, this time, Yves would stand his ground. Or so he told himself, even as his heart beat faster at the thought.

He balled a gloved hand. No, he would. He wouldn’t let anyone take this from him, not when Runar’s family was so welcoming. They wanted him to enjoy the night, and he did too.

Dusk crept by slowly, the rising darkness dispelled only by their cheerful voices, but they became quieter and quieter, until darkness and silence were complete.

That was when the eldest lit a torch, its brightness momentarily burning in Yves’ eyes. Everyone watched, rapt, as she approached the wood and with one decisive strike pushed the torch into it.

The center, carefully constructed from dried leaves and twigs, caught fire at once, and cheers erupted from the crowd. Runar joined in, and Yves, too, though his voice was still drowned out.

The flames licked at the larger wood pieces, climbing up and up, until the bonfire reached high into the night sky. The light and the warmth lifted Yves’ heart. Maybe it was all going to be alright. Maybe the darkest days were truly gone now.

Once the cheering was done, the feasting began. After that, it wasn’t long before musicians picked up their instruments, and many voices joined in songs that must be long familiar to the community. Even Yves had heard some of them before by now, though his voice stayed quieter than the rest. Soon people were dancing, and Runar, after checking in with Yves once more, like he always did, like he never abandoned him without notice, jumped into it too.

Yves was undecided, and even that seemed big. He hadn’t danced in—a long time. It seemed fun. He didn’t know the local dances yet, though, and in truth, he felt a little out of place. So he simply sat and watched.

After a while, Signy fell into the now vacated stool opposite Yves, laughing, one of her spouses on each arm. Her wife let go of her and chattered something about getting some of the fish that was being roasted over the other side of the bonfire before she disappeared. Signy noticed Yves sitting opposite her, and gave him a wide grin. Her face was heated, not just from dancing, but her demeanour was, if anything, more jolly than usual. »Yves! How’re you holding up? Having a good time?«

Yves nodded, smiling without effort. He was having a good time. He was having something close to fun, just like he had wanted. He was still a little nervous, yes, but the all-around cheer of the event was rubbing off on him, and he wasn’t feeling unsafe.

»That’s good! That’s good.« Signy’s grin turned into a warmer, deeper smile for a moment, then she focused on her husband again, so intensely Yves looked away, heat creeping into his own face.

Signy’s wife returned to release him from the awkwardness of the moment—or make it worse, who knew—carrying a plate of freshly grilled fish, which she sat down before Signy, in the middle of the three of them.

»Thanks, s͏w̧e҉e͟t̸ḩe̵àr̀t͢« Signy said and kissed her wife’s mouth. When, turning back to the table, she noticed Yves staring at her, she just gave an enthusiastic little wave with her knife before she tucked into the fish.

Yves, though, sat frozen with realization, unable to avert his eyes from her and her—her wife. Her lover.

Her sweetheart.

Each breath caught in his throat. Was that how Runar saw him—what he expected of him?

Since when had he been calling Yves that? He couldn’t be sure, not with the way his mind raced, but it seemed to him it had been since ever. Since the very start?

Was that the reason he had rescued Yves?

Had all his kindness been a ploy to get Yves to-? The thought was terrifying. But why bother? He could easily overpower Yves.

What did he really want? And why hadn’t he been honest about it?

Yves’ head was reeling, and he dug his nails into the stool he was sitting on, desperate to find a grasp on reality.

»Yves?« Runar.

Yves couldn’t answer, or even look at him. He just stared down at the plate in front of him, trying to figure out what this was, even what feeling it was that was rushing through his heart, fear with flashes of fury.

»Are you okay?«

»No.« The word plopped out of his mouth before he could stop himself, and a spike of panic shot through him. He pushed himself up forcefully, still without looking at Runar. »I’m. Going home.«

»Yves… ?« But Runar didn’t move to stop him, and a word was not enough to, not anymore. There was a bitter triumph in it.

As he walked off into the night, he could hear Runar ask Signy and her companions what had happened, heard Signy’s full-mouthed, »No idea.«

It angered him more. How could they be so oblivious?

It was unfair—how would they know?—but everything was unfair, anyway; why should it only be unfair to him? The darkness swallowed him, the light of the bonfire only faint reflections on the snow as he escaped.

Home, he had said, and he almost regretted it.

#whump #whump writing #yves #runar #signy #we're back!#no warrior #my writing

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forestkniight · 5 months

Text

I'll Be Seeing You

✯ Chapter 1 ✯

Okay, it's been a while since I've written a fic that wasn't a one-shot, so I'm really hoping that it's something I can keep up with. I currently have about four chapters planned, but they are still developing. Even in this chapter, I changed a few things to make the story flow better!

Pairing: Fizzarolli x reader (still debating if I want to make it a polyamorous relationship eventually)

Warning: Swearing

Word Count: 3K

When you’re a kid, the sky's the limit regarding your dreams. No one expects you to have it all figured out, and for the most part, a little voice in your head tells you that you’ll make it out of your situation. Little did you know, it would come at a cost.

Clutching your chest, you quickly sit up as you try to calm your frantic heartbeat. Several weeks have passed, and you keep having dreams of your past and all the choices that got you where you are today. You take a breath as you look at the slivers of red that pass through the opening of your curtain.

How long has it been since you fell asleep?

You sigh as you reach for your phone to catch up on anything you might have missed while sleeping, which wasn’t much. Nothing new there. You lay back in bed and stare at the ceiling. These days seem to be going by slower, and you blame it on the lack of sleep due to the dreams.

Flashes of red and white.

Of horses.

Of black and white horns.

You shake your head as you check the time. It was still early, and you wouldn’t have to check into work until later on. You currently work as a singer at a live music club in the Pride Ring. You didn’t live an expensive life, but you were content for the most part, especially when you got to sing. When you were a child, all you ever wanted to do was perform in front of people and make them feel something. You never got that opportunity as a child, though. You wince as a memory enters your mind.

“Blitzo! I have to clean that up,” you pouted as you picked up the garbage your friend tossed everywhere on the floor.

“It’s not my fault you got me a gift and made it impossible to open,” Blitzo says while trying to untape the gift box that was previously in another taped-up gift box.

You couldn’t help but smile widely as you waited for Blitzo to finally get to the actual gift. You glanced at Fizz, who was just as excited about the gift as your other friend. As if sensing your gaze, he looked up at you and stuck his tongue out at you.

“This is low, even for you! You know Blitzo can’t resist a gift,” Fizz teased.

You giggled as you saw Blitzo’s frustration at opening the gift box and finding yet another gift box inside.

“Well, I couldn’t make it easy for him,” you said, reaching out to grab the discarded tape Blitzo had thrown to the side. " Besides, his gift is in the next box.”

Fizz smiled and shook his head at you. He looked back at Blitzo's hand, and he was close to opening the final gift box. Once he managed it, he removed its contents.

“No way,” Blitzo’s eyes lit up as he took out a little gold figurine of a horse and a heart-shaped locket.

“I was walking around some shops in my free time and saw it in the window. I knew right away that it was meant for you,” you said as Blitzo launched himself at you, nearly tackling you.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou,” he said as he hugged you before releasing you to admire his new figurine some more.

“It’s no problem, Blitzo! You deserve it and more. Now,” you turn and take another gift box from close by, “I couldn’t forget a gift for my second favorite clown!”

Blitzo giggles as Fizz slightly frowns.

“Not funny.”

“Awww, come on Fizz. I’m just joking. You know you’re my favorite,” you giggled as Blitzo’s jaw dropped.

Fizz instantly beams at the use of the word favorite.

“Anyways, I saw this in the window, and I-”

“What’s going on here?”

The three of you turn towards the voice belonging to Blitzo’s dad, Cash.

“Look, Dad! It’s a gold-”

“Shouldn’t you be cleaning the bleachers,” Cash turns to look at you, “They’re not cleaning themselves, girl!”

You felt your face flush in embarrassment at being talked down to in front of your friends, especially when they had acts in the circus. You were just a janitor for all intents and purposes.

“Sir, I was just taking a little break with my friends,” you said with a tiny voice.

You hated feeling so small—not in a childlike way, but in a way that made you feel like your life was worth less because you were there to clean everybody else’s mess.

“If you want a break, how about I fire you now, and you get all the breaks you want, huh? And what did I tell you about distracting my star,” Cash snapped at you.

You felt your eyes tear up as you looked at Blitzo, whose head hung low. You felt bad for him. His own father preferred another boy as his son. You remembered the time his father had sold him for such a low cost and made him steal. That felt like so long ago now.

“I know, sir, but we’re kids too…We just want-”

“I don’t care! Fizzarolli, do you think that big clowns get to where they are because they spend their time talking to the help,” Cash said cruelly.

You turned to look at Fizz. He looked down at the unopened gift box in his hands before setting it slightly off to the side.

“Fizzy?”

Your voice cracked as you realized he wasn’t going to respond. You looked up at Cash and saw the shit-eating grin he had on his face. You couldn’t help the tears beginning to pool in your eyes.

“I’ll get started right away, sir. I hope you enjoy your gift, Blitzo. Sorry for distracting you from your work, Fizzarolli,” you said bitterly.

Cash watched as you picked up the last remnants of trash from Blitzo’s gift. You stood up and were getting ready to leave, but not before quickly snatching the letter attached to Fizz’s gift. You could see Fizz’s distress at your action, and you watched him throw a random piece of trash he had been playing with in front of him. Still, you walked forward. You wanted to walk away with some dignity.

“Aren’t you going to pick that up,” Cash barked at you, looking at the scrap in front of Fizz.

Blitzo and Fizz looked at you as you slowly walked before him and picked up the scrap of trash, a tear running down your face. You couldn’t even bear looking at either of them at this point. You sprinted out of the small tent to head to the main tent and begin your work.

Your heart tugs as you push the memory out of your head. It was bad enough living through it. You don't need to be reminded of it anymore, considering you’ve seen commercials of Blitzø and Fizzarolli as adults. It hurt seeing their faces, especially after the way you left. Still, you wouldn’t allow yourself to dwell on it for longer than a few minutes. There was no point. Thinking about it wouldn’t change what happened.

After lazing around all day, you finally begin walking to work. You could take a car there, but it was so close, and you enjoy the time it gives you to mentally prepare. While performing was always your dream, it still got you nervous, especially if the crowd in the club was bigger than usual. Some days, the line would stretch outside the club door’s entrance.

As you walk down the street, looking at the sights, you catch sight of a locket in one of the shop windows. You stop as you instinctively reach up to your locket tucked away under your shirt. You feel a ghost of a smile as you remember the gift you had given Blitzo and Fizzarolli. Your locket had pictures of a young Blitzo and Fizzarolli, Blitzo’s had a picture of you and Fizzarolli, and Fizzarolli’s had a picture of you and Blitzo. You sigh as you wish you could have seen Fizz’s reaction to the locket (and the letter, but that was neither here nor there).

You see the club fast approaching and notice people already arriving for the night. So much for practicing on stage when you arrive. It must have been one of those nights when they would open the club a bit earlier.

You quickly step to the side entrance and are let in by one of the bartenders on break. You shoot them a quick smile before finding your way to your dressing room. You always need a moment to take a breath and warm up. You begin humming as you apply minimal makeup. You just required enough so that the spotlight wouldn’t wash you out. You hear faint music in the background as you look at the door of your room through the mirror’s reflection, another memory sneaking back up.

After cleaning the main tent, you decided to retire to the secret location you went to when you felt sad. You would typically watch your friends perform, but you didn’t want to talk to anyone about what happened earlier. You figured you could stay there until late at night before sneaking back into your tent.

You finally made it to the location, which consisted of a lot of open space and a giant tree you liked to sit under. You softly threw yourself under the tree as you looked up at the sky, which always seemed to be the same shade of red despite the time. You closed your eyes as you tried to find a way to pass the time. However, your eyes shot open when you heard a tree branch rustling. Before you knew it, something, or more like someone, swung down from the tree branch to sit next to you.

“Heya,” Blitzo said, throwing his hands out and laying beside you.

You rolled your eyes at how he seemed to have forgotten what had transpired earlier.

“Blitzo, I told you to stop coming here! This is my secret place,” you whined.

Blitzo turned to look at you, and it was his turn to roll his eyes.

“It’s not exactly a secret if people can easily walk to it from the circus.”

“Still…”

You wanted to be alone, but Blitzo always had a way of showing up when that was the case. Some part of you was glad. Even though you wanted to be alone, it didn’t mean that was what you needed, and being around Blitzo always made you feel better. You were content to stay silent, but that wasn’t what Blitzo had in mind.

“Oh! Fizz wants to see you after the show. He wants to talk to you and get the complete gift,” Blitzo said as he sat up, looking down at you.

You quirked your eyebrow as you sat up as well. The complete gift? He must be on about the letter.

“I wouldn’t want to distract Fizzarolli from all the important stuff he has to do,” your words are filled with sarcasm.

“He’s coming here whether you like it or not. My dad can’t be the reason your friendship goes down the drain,” he plays with his hands, “he can’t ruin anything else.”

You feel your attitude drop at that last part. You make eye contact with him and nod to confirm that you will give Fizz the complete gift. He smiles slightly, and your eyes catch the locket around his neck. You feel a smile start to spread. He follows your gaze and rolls your eyes.

“Yea, yea. It’s not a big deal,” he stands. " Anyway, I've got to get ready for the show, but I’ll see you after, okay?”

“Alright,” you respond hesitantly as you watch him start the walk back to the main circus tent. Eventually, he walks into the tent, leaving you alone again.

You reach down to your pocket where you had folded up the letter you would give to Fizz. You had spent so much time ensuring everything was perfect, only for the moment to be ruined. You sigh and throw yourself back again, allowing the tears to reappear. This was a safe place to do so.

The wind was blowing slightly, and you couldn’t help but reflect on your life at the circus. You had joined after you were left alone due to…circumstances. Luckily for you, Fizz and Blitzo found you on the street and asked if you were alright. If only little you could see where you were now. Would you have taken their outstretched hands?

You didn’t know how much time had passed, but you did know it wasn’t long until people started flooding out of the tents. You felt your stomach do flips. Were you ready to tell Fizz what the letter said, especially after his silence today? Your love for him was unconditional. You only ever saw Fizz, your best friend, not Fizzarolli, the performer. You cared so deeply for him and Blitzo. They saved you and made a home in your heart that would never disappear, but you were dreaming if you thought they would ever forget your place at the circus.

But what did that mean for you? Would you be willing to stay in a place that would lead to you yearning for something that would never happen? Were you willing to stand by and watch your friends move on in life without you? Fall in love without you? Watch Fizz fall in love with someone?

You sat up as tears began flowing faster down your face. Your heart was in your throat as years of self-hate and pain started pouring out. Your sobs become audible.

No, you wouldn’t become the pathetic friend who fell in love with someone they couldn’t have, the pathetic friend who thought that what they did didn’t matter as much as who they were.

You looked up at the circus, a decision being made in your mind. You stood up and quickly ran back to your tent. You tried to listen to the performance and realized it was two acts from the end. You quickly grabbed your backpack and packed only the most valuable things you owned. The rest could be replaced, but things like gifts from your friends, items from your past before the circus, and even a hoodie from the circus were something you couldn’t part with.

The final act was beginning—Blitzo and Fizz’s duo act. Your heart pounded as you thought about what you were doing. It wouldn’t hurt to try to see just the beginning, so you left your backpack hidden by the circus’ entrance. You snuck into the main tent and climbed to a location where only Blitzo and Fizz could see you. They still hadn’t dropped down, and you saw them messing around from across the space. Blitzo saw you first, and he beamed at you as he waved. You couldn’t help the smile that automatically appeared as you waved back. Fizz turned to see what he was waving at and saw you. He gave you a soft smile with a hesitant wave, and you felt your smile falter.

Your first love. That’s what it was. Boy, was it frightening. But you wouldn’t fuck up his life. You knew he would make it far without you. You gave him a sad smile and noticed both of their concerned expressions.

‘Why?’ You see Blitzo mouth, and your eyebrows raise. He mimes tears, and you reach up and feel them.

You quickly wiped them away and chuckled to yourself. You’re terrible at leaving, but you had to, and their entrance was fast approaching.

‘It’s fine, I’m okay,’ you mouth back with gestures to match.

They look at each other before turning to look at you worriedly. They can’t do anything, though. They won’t. They have their jobs to do. You watched Fizz grab the rope nearby that he would swing down on, but not before turning to look at you again.

‘See you after,’ he mouths before raising his voice to ask Blitzo if he is ready. You begin making your descent, and you walk out of the tent. You quickly grab your backpack and take off at full speed towards the tree.

FIzz was the one who showed you this tree. You liked pretending it was a secret space just for you, but it was all of yours. You stared up at it, and you felt the tears come back. You were okay, though. This was for the best. You pull out the letter you wrote to Fizz and place it at the tree's base. You didn’t bother weighing it down. If it flew away, it’d probably be a sign. Part of you hoped it would blow away, just like you. You turn towards the main tent and notice the early leavers are already spilling out.

“There’s the rest of the gift, Fizzy. I hope you enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed getting to know you—the both of you. You saved my life in more ways than you know. I know you’ll do great things,” you whisper as you turn to leave. You hear the sound of people getting louder, and you run—for the second time in your life.

Your eyes focus on your figure in the mirror, and your mascara was running a bit.

“Damn it,” you move to get tissue papers, “I need to stop thinking back. We’re all better off now.”

You look unconvinced in the mirror and try on a smile to trick your body into believing it is okay.

“It’s fine, you’re okay,” you whisper.

You hear a knock on your door, followed by the stage manager’s minute warning. You take a deep breath and look at yourself in the mirror again.

You looked like a proper singer. You smile gently and head out to the club's backstage area. The curtains are closed, and you can hear the hum of music and people having fun. You hear the emcee announcing your act next, and you can’t help but think about how far you have come.

You did it. You made it out.

The curtains open, and the spotlight lands on you.

I hope you all enjoyed this first chapter! I'm really pumped to get the rest of these chapters written and published. I don't have a set timeline since I'm currently in college, working a job, and performing in a theater production, but I will try to work on this whenever I can!

Also, just a little spoiler: in the next chapter, we will see someone from our main narrator's past (outside of flashbacks)!

Edit: The original name of this fic was "Dream a Little Dream of Me," but I have decided to change it to "I'll Be Seeing You" since this song fits the story a bit more!

#fizzarolli #fizzaroli helluva boss #helluva boss fizzarolli #fizz helluva boss #blitzo #blitzø #blitz helluva boss #helluva boss blitz #blitzo helluva boss #helluva boss blitzo #fizzarolli x reader #fizz x reader

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0blobthefish0 · 9 months

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Lucky Part 2

kate bishop masterlist | main masterlist

Part 1

Kate Bishop x Female Reader 1126 words

You stood, giddy, outside of the coffee shop; your breath visible in plumes of white as you tried to hide your face in your scarf to warm your face. It was near 8AM and the sky looked as if it were the middle of the night, slush squelched underneath your shoes as you stepped from side-to-side and snow fell lightly in small clumps. It had snowed more than you had expected last night and, to your surprise, it was still snowing.

Your eyes searched the many faces walking past for the one you were meeting. This morning Kate had sent you a text reading: 'Morning! Are you still up for coffee?' You still couldn't believe it, it all felt so surreal - last night you had bumped into her, well her dog had knocked you over, but it was all the same in retrospect, and she had asked you out. For coffee that was. Was it a date? No. You couldn't do that to yourself, not when your small (big) crush on her was still.. lingering.

A familiar face poked up through the crowd and waved at you. You couldn't help the smile that forced its way upon your lips at seeing her.

Kate watched as your face lit up when your eyes had landed on her and she felt her heart stutter. Nervousness suddenly invaded every sense as she awkwardly made her way to you. If you could tell that she was nervous, you didn't do anything to let her know that you knew, and quickly embraced in a welcoming hug.

"Let's get inside, it's chilly out here," you grinned as you let her go. Kate instantly felt herself relax as she followed your lead.

The café was warm. So warm you instantly began to shed the layers once you had found a place to sit.

----

You didn't know where all the time had gone. The sun was now higher in the bright, winter sky and the snow had partly melted in the face of the glowing sun.

The two of you had long finished your pastries and hot drinks, passing the time with perpetual chatter; the two of you had a lot to catch up on. You stared at the brunette, a warm smile on your face, as she animatedly told you about Lucky and what he had done last night. You couldn't help but laugh once she had told you that she thought you had passed out from the fall.

"I was down for quite a while, wasn't I?" You grinned and she nodded her head, amusement sparkling in her blue eyes. "How's your archery?" You asked, a playful smirk on your face, which told Kate that you hadn't forgotten about a small archery related incident.

"It's a lot better now," she started, jabbing at your question, "I actually have a teacher now. He's really cool."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It actually took him a while to warm up to me, he did not want to teach me at all in the first place. I'd say we're actually really good friends now," she grinned celebratorily and you breathed out a light laugh.

"Are you still reading?" She questioned. Nearly every time she saw you around school, you had a book in your hand. You felt your face warm at the question.

"Yeah.." you smiled abashedly. You were always slightly embarrassed to admit that you read, always having been teased about it - although most of it lighthearted.

"Wh-" Kate began, but was interrupted.

"I'm so sorry, but I've just been told to ask you to leave as we're really busy and could use the table." The two of you looked at each other with wide eyes before quickly getting up from your seats and collecting all of your things.

"No, no, of course, it's no problem at all," you smiled at the poor waitress who had to kick you out. "We had a lovely time."

"Again, I'm really sorry about this," the waitress apologised nervously, lip between her teeth.

"It's no problem, thank you," you smiled and left the café.

Kate stood beside you, pulling her hat over her ears before turning to you with a smile, "Are you free? Cause if you are we could go to the new museum?"

"Yeah, I'd love to," and then you feel her link her arm with yours and guide you towards the museum. The first few steps were out of sync and a bubble of laughter escaped you and Kate looked at you from the side with a grin on her face before the two of you eventually found your rhythm.

----

You're still linked to her, as you walk around the art museum, and you can feel her warmth radiating you.

"Tell me about your book," Kate says softly and you turn your head, quickly to look at her; her eyes are still on the sculpture, but yours are on her and you swear you're staring at her with heart-eyes. When you don't reply, Kate turns to you and sees you swiftly turn to look at the sculpture. You can feel your cheeks warm before you start to talk.

You tell her all about the book, all of her questions answered, as the two of you wander around the museum. Pausing at every piece, some brief and others maybe a minute or even more. It's a silly romance - your book - it always is, but Kate is hanging onto your every word and it somehow makes you feel more alive than you have been.

You're both stood in front of a large painting when you feel Kate move to walk on, but then she stops - tugging you back to where you stood. You look at her and she's staring, enthralled. You turn to look back at the painting; it's scenic, a large willow tree takes up most of the frame and the beginning of a pond or lake down in the corner and there's two girls under it. One has a book in hand as she leans against the trunk and the other is laying down, her head in the other's lap as she reads. It's calming, the painting, soft colours are blended only lightly. You can still see the streaks of the paintbrush and the colours are not entirely mixed.

"She looks like you," Kate whispers and you find yourself smiling. And she does - it's uncanny, really.

"She's got a bow," you whisper back and you watch as Kate's eyes dart around the painting before landing on the mediaeval-looking bow propped up against the side of the tree. The arrows just below it.

"Strange," She mumbles and you nod your head in reply. A small moment but, in just a split second, you felt as if everything had changed.

#female reader #x reader #reader #reader insert #wlw #fluff #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #marvel mcu #Blob's fics

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qin-qin16 · 28 days

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cw.: Bad guys x Qin (me), can be viewed as the reader too, comedy, crack fic (?), ooc (because they would kill me on the spot), I swear like, a lot, this is just for fun and giggles!

note: It's really weird to write in first person and I think I revealed a bit of myself here? Anyway, I had fun writing this, thanks for the prompt @unamzi maybe I'll do a part two with the other guys? Who knows...

What the hell is happening? What the hell is happening? What the hell is happening?

Before me stretched a long, dark corridor, dimly lit by a few lamps scattered along the way —some were on, most were off. It looked like something straight out of an '80s movie set in a medieval mansion.

If there's a god, please let this be just a space trip and not a time trip. I can’t be burned at the stake in these clothes! As much as I thought that, it felt like I had fallen here rather than just being teleported. Soon, a thought crossed my mind.

“No way I am in the fucking Backrooms…” It wasn’t like me to voice such a thought, but if this is a lucid dream, I might as well take the chance to say whatever I want.

Mentally, I crossed my fingers. Physically, I started walking toward one of the corridor’s exits, searching for any clue about my location or someone who could explain to me where I am.

At least my glasses hadn’t fallen off during the fall. If the darkness wasn’t challenging enough, I’d still need to feel my way along the walls to avoid getting lost — though given my terrible sense of direction, that might not help much.

“I knew I shouldn’t have watched so many horror movies. Look at this place — I’m clearly going to get killed here.” I whispered, realizing it wasn’t wise to speak too loudly.

Speaking of awareness, I glanced down at my clothes: an old shirt, faded sweatpants, and a pair of thick socks that masked the floor’s temperature. Incredible, I managed to wear the worst possible outfit for a place like this. Just incredible.

Creaaaaak.

In the distance, a door slowly creaked open, and I couldn’t suppress a hiss at the dragging, unsettling sound of it opening by itself. By. Itself.

What does this place take me for? An idiot? There’s no way I’m going near that door — no way! Nuh-uh!

I spun around and tried to walk in the other direction. Or, at least, I would have if I hadn’t bumped into something mid-turn. I managed to catch my balance and avoid falling backward, but whatever was in front of me didn’t have the same lucky.

“Ouch, what...?” Oh my God, I ran into a person!

“I’m so sorry—” My words falter when I finally take in what’s in front of me, or rather, who.

It’s a cartoonish skeleton dressed in white-black clothes, with a cross-sash across its chest. I blink a few times, trying to make sure I’m not hallucinating.

“What the hell is this?” I mutter, nervously biting my lip as I slowly back away from the strangely familiar skeleton.

“Who—” The little lights inside those black eye sockets finally seem to notice me, scanning me up and down.

Before I can take another step back, Cross quickly regains his composure, standing up and summoning one of his swords, pointing it directly at me. “Who are you? And what are you doing here?”

I'd almost rather be burned at the stake right now actually.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! You don’t need to point that at me!” I raise my hands in surrender, my eyes locked on the sword as it menacingly moves closer to my neck.

“You’d better start answering me then: who are you?” His voice is oddly higher-pitched than I expected, but it’s no less intimidating — especially since he practically growled at me! Growled!

I’m beginning to feel more anger than fear.

“Well, my name is…” Don’t say your real name, don’t say your real name. “Qin.” But don’t use your ridiculous Tumblr name either! Dumb bitch!

Cross huffs at my answer but keeps his sword aimed at me. “Qin? What a strange name.”

It’s a lot better than “Cross,” if you ask me. What a ridiculous name.

“I wasn’t aware we had visitors. How rude of Cross to treat guests like this.” No fucking way, there’s another one? “So, Qin, what brings you here, huh?”

For a brief moment, I diverted my gaze from the sword, glancing out of the corner of my eye at the other figure who joined the conversation. Dark blue coat, white shorts, and a red target floating in front of his chest. Yep, I’m officially screwed.

"You won’t believe me if I tell you the truth," I say with an awkward laugh, turning my attention back to Cross, who hasn’t stopped glaring at me.

Has he always looked this furious? Jeez, it seems like he might start foaming at the mouth.

“Hm? Really?” Killer chuckles, strolling over to Cross and gently lowering the sword with his fingertips. “There’s no need for that. Just look at her. Does she look like she’s about to attack you?”

With the immediate threat lessening, I finally noticed something that had been bothering me since Cross stood up: the clear height difference between us. Both of them are significantly shorter than I expected, reaching about mid-chest on me (maybe this was their canonic height?).

I can’t help but snort, finding the scene at least a bit comical now: two skeletons half my size who could easily slice me into pieces. Amazing.

Why couldn’t I have ended up in the Doodle Sphere? Why did I have to be in this hellish chaos?

“What? Are you going to call her a harmless kitten?” I snap out of my daydream when Cross finally sheaths his sword, crossing his arms and talking to Killer, completely ignoring me.

“Nah…” Killer turns to me, and — oh my God, he’s terrifying.

He’s definitely weirder in person than any fanart or fanfic I’ve ever seen of him. Those empty eye sockets are unsettling to look at, and the black tears streaming from them don’t help. The static smile gives him an uncanny valley vibe - in the most deep sense of the term.

“She looks more like a deer — just look at her shaking with us here.” He laughs, clearly enjoying my reactions.

Only then do I notice that my hands and knees are trembling like branches in a strong wind.

“I don’t even feel anything, and even I can sense the fear coming from her.” Killer continues, approaching me nonchalantly. He casually places a hand on my back, as if he's sure I won't lash out at his approach. “Nightmare will like this one; it's quite a meal for him.”

What have I gotten myself into?

#selfshipping #i guess?#to be cringe is to be free #Cross sans #Killer sans #utmv #utmv au #bag guys #half of them #this is really a selfshipping?#they just threatened me #sans x you #idk #qinqin stuff 💖

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daemon-in-my-head · 4 months

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As requested by @theannoyingurge let's take a detour from our regular schedule and talk food preservation in medival settings / before everybody had a refrigerator so you can write the bg3 fic of ur dreams and be realistic even with details that keep getting in ur way:

Underground cellars/basements. No rly. They can be incredible cool even in summer or even if they're not too deep, and they've been used to ripen and store food such as wine or cheese or meat since ages. Cooling and freezing has been no new invention, we've been refrigerating food (where possible aka northern regions and those with real winters) since forever. The only difference is that it's more convenient nowadays.

Your food can't spoil if you let it rot deliberately aka fermenting. Whether it's fruits and vegetables, honey and grape wines, beer, cheese, or soy sauce. People have been using fermentation since ancient times to preserve foods. Remember Surströmming? The canned fish that smells incredibly bad? Yeah that's just fermented fish.

My personal fav: The burial method. Foods would be burried in dry soil (the deeper u go the cooler it gets) to protect from, well, the sun, but also and very importantly, pests and that stuff. Sometimes the food would also be tightly packed in salts or some marinades to infuse some flavour and to dry it out even better, it's a method still used today for food such as Graved Lachs (lit. buried salmon) a 'delicacy' and yeah shit tastes awesome actually I highly recommend trying it.

Can't have fermenting without pickling. Even ancient Romans loved pickles. Everyone knows that wine can turn into vinegar, and guess what they took advantage of. Also you can pickle pretty much everything. Fish, meat, fruits, veggies. It's edible? You can pickle it. And apparently people will.

Boiling stuff with sugar or honey, aka, making jams and jellies. Sugar can preserve food, and while they didn't have those cute lil glasses we do, they still very much enjoyed their jam. Ofc this was used primarily for sweeter foods. Strawberry jam has been used as a treat for God knows how long. You wouldn't believe how old some cake recipes really are.

Curing and smoking: a method we still very much use to this day to make sausages and prepare other sorts of meat and fish. People have ever since loved the smoke flavour and dangerous amounts of salt. Jerky is certainly no new invention.

Drying: yep. Grain, nuts, fruits, veggies. Lots of shit lasts nearly forever if its purposefully dried. Just make sure you don't screw it up and treat the not yet so dry produces carefully. Garlic ropes may keep out vampires but the biggest advantage is that it'll keep it from spoiling so fast.

And most importantly; the take only what you need approach. You need only 2 tomatoes? Only pluck 2 off the vine. You need meat 3 days from now? Well, only get it on the day you'll need it. You need bread today? Bake it today. People we're very conscious about their foods and what they needed. Doesn't hurt to leave the apple on the tree for one more day if it's not close to overripe already.

Now for the fun part, the random trivia regarding food;

Originally it was a woman's job to brew the beer

Beer can be used as food and it often was used as a cheap tavern food or in times of need

Island nations and coastal regions love to eat fresh, raw fish. A lot of culture from this region somehow includes raw fish in their cuisine for a plethora of reasons. Coastal people love their raw fish. Also algae. They do love algae too

Not a single hair on an animal was wasted. Hair = brushes, fat = soaps and cosmetics, blood = can be cooked and eaten. Blood sausages and all that stuff. Lamb's intestines were famously used as condoms. I meant it when I said everything.

The 'trash' meat aka scraps and very non tasty looking stuff was mixed with grain and fried in times where food was rare. Great source of protein and very filling.

Meat was expensive, so it was rare to come by and very much valued.

Normal middle/lower class people would often only eat the "good stuff" once a week or on special occasions.

During outbreaks of the pest and other illnesses even kids drank beer. Water was too dirty and contaminated.

In fact the primary drinks were wines, beers, ales all that stuff. Water had to be boiled first.

Pretty much everything that wasn't poisonous would be eaten by people. Wasting food really didn't happen a lot outside of the upper class.

Religion was heavily influenced by food. Meat will spoil very quickly in the deserts heat, a sober soldier fights better than a drunk one, fish is rare outside of coastal towns so it's expensive and rare, cows are much more useful if they're alive rather than dead, you took a life to feed yourself so be responsible about it, that kinda shit. Food influences religion. Has always done that.

Hope this helps or this is what u were looking for. I somehow crave Graved Lachs now so I shall hunt some in the supermarket or smth.

#idk what to tag this #writers resources #daemons abstract knowledge #though i suppose these are things that may even come in handy yet?#food storage #ig #idk #let me know if i should do more posts like this/make it a series/what to tag it

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fidgets-dismay · 2 years

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Argos casually showing Mr Plant his shrine of him

“Theres the bathroom on the left and oh! On the other side is my shrine of you!”

Mr Plant stops dead in his tracks. He turns around and pokes Argos, a sign for him to repeat it again.

“Oh. I’ve never mentioned the shrine?”

Mr Plant shook his head. Mr Plant never really questioned why Argos was always coming out of that room when he visited. He just assumed it was his bedroom… He’s not exactly an expert on the layout of Argos’ void since Argos prefers to be at his more often.

“Here! I’ll show you it.” Argos grabs his hand, gently pulling Mr Plant along. If this were anybody else, Mr Plant probably would’ve knocked them out by now. But then again, Argos isn’t just another void member. Besides Argos seems excited, whats the worse that could happen?

A lot honestly. But Mr Plant being Mr Plant couldn’t deny an opportunity to make his boyfriend happy.

When Argos opens the door, the room is dimly lit. Theres two candles burning, making the room smell like oranges. It isn’t that strange considering that its Mr Plants favorite smell and favorite food. He does admire how accurate it is. Argos seems oddly proud of it, his smiling growing as he watches Mr Plant explore the room. When Mr Plant actually observes the shrine, its a bit…considering. Mr Plant jumps a bit in shock when he sees just how many photos their are of him. They cover the walls, some being him eating, some being him sleeping and others being him cleaning up crime scenes. Each date is labeled…correctly. The date, the time and the place. Theres a desk underneath the largest photo of him. The heart right next to it. Speaking of hearts, theres a large one on that big photo of him and it smells faintly of blood. Theres also a doll of him, along with matches and an oddly cute knife. Their pet rock, Tack is happily sleeping on the desk. They look well fed, which is the least unsurprising thing in the room.

On the right of the desk, theres a book. A large one in fact, it looks big enough to be a dictionary. Under that book, theres several more. He opens a few and too his surprise its affirmations. Argos was manifesting him?? Mr Plant shakes his head, he looks at the most recent book, confused as to why Argos wrote this. Mr Plant has never understood manifestation. (It seems to have worked for Argos because Mr Plant loves him a lot…) Most importantly, how often did Argos write in this? He looks back at Argos and points to the book.

“Oh! Thats where I do my daily ritual!”

Mr Plant knows better not to ask about it. He does it anyways. Pointing to the book again.

“Do you want me to show you Mr Plant?”

Mr Plant nods.

“Alright!”

Mr Plant immediately regrets it once he sees Argos pick up the knife. He cuts a small wound in the middle of his hand, using the blood to retrace the heart on the large photo of him. He does it shamelessly, humming to myself as if Mr Plant wasn’t there. Argos pulls out a bandaid from his pocket and places it gently on the wound. Next, he picks up a pen and begins writing in the book. To Mr Plants surprise, Argos writes incredibly fast, within 30 minutes, hes got three pages filled.

Mr Plant taps Argos’ shoulder.

“Normally I write about ten pages a day!”

Mr Plant slowly grabs Argos’ bandaged hand, taking the pen out of the other one. He gives his boyfriend a hug before pointing to the door.

“Do you want to watch Tv Mr Plant?”

He shakes his head and points once more.

“Ohhh…You want us to go for a walk outside.”

Mr Plant nods and squeezes Argos’ hand gently. Argos closes the book, gives Tack (their pet) a pat before he happily skips out of the room. After he leaves, Mr Plant pockets the knife, he doesn’t like that part of the ritual. Mr Plant sighs, he’ll talk to Argos about it later.

Mr Plant pulls out his phone, getting a few photos of the shrine before leaving the shrine. Argos is happily waiting at the door for him and Mr Plant smiles. He grabs Argos’ hand once again and they leave his void as Argos rambles about how Tack keeps racing around his room at night.

annnnnnnnddd thats the end! Hope you liked it mewtual!

Heres just a few closeups of the shrine. Jdjfbfndmksksjdbsb

#Mr Plant #twomrp #twomp #I PUT MY HEART AND SOUL INTO THIS #no beta we die like Argos’ therapist #the world of mr plant #mr plant #mr plant x argos #real #ashurgharavi #argos my beloved #fidget writes stuff #new Mr Plant post yall wake up

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consistentsquash · 8 months

Text

SEXPOSITION!!!! :D @danpuff-ao3!!!!

Sorry not sorry about the capitals screaming because this stuff is lit. It's 630 pages single bookbinding!!!! OMG. Danni really said go big or go home!!

Original rec list on Tumblr - The goal of this list was to rec Snarry fics great about using sex for exposition with a huge dick to word count ratio. The Big Dick Energy of these fics are totally 110% matched by the Big Dick Energy of the bookbinding Danni did :D Also I probably am the luckiest reccer and maybe one of the top 1% (suck on that Bernie!!!) because Danni bound my rec list and whoa total honor :D :D Better than getting into Library of Congress :D

lots and lots after the cut :D :D it took me forever because my roof was like 50% roof and needed to fix that but pic time now :D :D

Ok, this book is from Busy Bee Book Bindery! It's got the coolest seal ever :D :D Also look at the special guy on the right :D we are flying :D

Also from the side

Also check out The Table of Contents!!!

1. Entwined by rexluscus

Danni picked the perfect symbol for this fic. It's dirtyhotbadwrong and its really really codependency :D

2. Pink Slip by Cluegirl

To be honest the corset is the One Image which just stays in my brain forever about the fic. I mean Voldemort one and the Order folks are now "fosterlings" and things are really dirtybadhotwrong but the corset imagery lives in my head rentfree :D Danni really got that one right :D :D

3. made to be broken by @theshopislocal

Really love the feather/light/vulnerability vibes of the symbol. It totally matches the beautiful fic with vulnerable Snape written in classic Snarry slash vibes.

4. Warm by @perverse-idyll

Warm :D Total vibe match for the PWP established relationship comfort read vibes of the fic. Because this is the Snarry PWP and established relationship fic as far as I am concerned :D

5. Green Grow the Rushes, O by eldritcher

I mean this one really is the perfect symbol again :D Harry has a jackal's head like Anubis because he is that good bad at Animagus stuff. The Snarry bestiality fic/creature fic as far as I am concerned :D

6. The Unforgivables by Dementor Delta and Cruise Director

I love love love the super direct symbolism of the wand in this fic :D It's just like Harry :D Kind of Slytherin and sneaky, kind of Gryffindor and risktaking :D Also lots of dumb luck and it works out :D

7. No Sex, No Galleons by Ziasudra

I mean literally nobody is paying Snape a ton of Galleons for his services :D Bad joke but I really love the symbolism of that for the fic which has a ton of characterization and dynamics around the concept of worth <3

8. Contempt by @danpuff-ao3

The most Snarry fic of 2020s for me <3 I am pretty much totally burned on Snarry because I feel satisfied and a big reason for that is Contempt. It was so brilliant, perfect and I don't really feel like reading new Snarry at the moment :D Also a perfect image for the fic. Innocence, guilt, beauty, ugliness, imperfection, flaws, penetration lots and lots of symbolism in that <3

9. Mostly Harmless by EmilyWaters1976

The imagery of the manacle is super on point for this fic which is dark, dubcon bittersweet with a happy ending :D

10. Death and the Open Mind by Loup Garou.

The final fic is super long at like 43000 words. I mean!!! That's like 150 pages!! 150 pages!! Danni is insane and brilliant. I really love the skull rose imagery which is perfect for the fic which is dark, dirtybadhotwrong and really really beautiful.

Also the intro :D

Also one of my fav parts from Contempt

Going to bed with Severus — to actually sleep — is Harry's favorite part. It's a bit awkward because they haven't discussed it, but Severus doesn't dissuade Harry from following him. The bed is lumpy and creaky and small. Severus is too bony to be a comfortable bedmate. Harry latches onto him all the same.

Also one of my fav parts from Warm

It was everything Harry wanted. It was the sort of sex he'd thought he could never have, and it made him so giddy he almost laughed out loud.

Also one of my fav parts from Green Grow the Rushes, O.

He has done his best to ward the boy in. He has done his best to follow the boy. But the boy is no longer a boy. With Minerva's voice, with a jackal's head, with skulls on his torso dying off one-by-one, he is godly and bestial, of no father's seed, of no mother's make.

Also of course back of the book

Also This got here by OWL POST

#snarry #hp slash fics #hp slash recs #danpuff fic #snarry snarry snarry #sexposition #book binding #hp bookbinding #hp slash bookbinding #omg danni you literally bound 630 pages #you are unreal #also incredible #also omg #hp #pics pics pics

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wherethefireliliesgrow · 1 year

Text

Among the Wildflowers (Part 1)

Kang Haerin x Reader

GENRE: fluff, angst

TYPE: Two-part series (Part 2)

Haerin is older than her actual age in this story

The ceiling fan let out a creak as the shutters turned slowly, offering zero relief from the scorching summer heat. You wiped the sweat from your brow with your forearm, still adjusting to the city's humidity. Under your parents' insistence, you had recently moved to Seoul due to its reputation for having the most heart donors. They promptly secured you a spot in one of the city's esteemed hospitals.

That's why you found yourself at your aunt’s flower shop on a Wednesday morning, instead of being in your final year of college. The heart transplant waitlist was lengthy, leaving you with little to do but undergo treatment and wait. The presence of flowers and plants offered some solace from your worries.

You were so immersed in your work that you failed to notice the presence of someone entering through the open door. The stranger tried to catch your attention several times, but you were bent over the pots in front of you, carefully measuring the amount of fertilizer.

A tap on your shoulder made you jump in surprise, accidentally knocking over a pot. Clutching your chest, you tried to calm the racing of your already weakened heart. Glancing up, you saw a girl, around your height, with long light brown hair and big feline eyes. She sported silver-framed glasses and a long white doctor's robe.

"I'm so sorry," she bit her lip, swiftly bending down to help pick up the broken pieces of the pot. "I can pay."

"No, no. It's fine, I'll take care of it later," you assured her. "How can I help you?"

The girl straightened up, adjusting her glasses. "I'd like to buy some flowers." Her gaze shifted to her scuffed white shoes, hands tucked shyly into her coat pockets.

"Sure, what kind of flowers are you looking for?" you inquired.

A cute frown creased her forehead as she thought for a moment. "What do your customers usually get?"

"It varies," you replied, "each flower holds its own special meaning."

"Ah." Her gaze remained on her shoes.

She was the shyest person you ever met, and you could tell this conversation was not going to go anywhere without a little push.

“What occasion are the flowers for?” You pressed, hoping that this mystery girl can give you some insight on what she wanted, or you think both of you would die from awkwardness.

“I want to buy flowers for some kids.”

“For their birthday?”

“No.”

“Graduation?”

“No.”

You sighed, exasperated. This was going nowhere.

“You have to give me some context in order for me to figure out what flowers you need.”

Finally, after what felt like hours, the girl gathered her thoughts and stammered out, “Th-they’re my patients. I want flowers to make them feel better.”

Despite her communication struggles, you couldn't help but feel a fondness for her. Not every day did you encounter a doctor so genuinely caring for their patients. You had your fair share of doctors, and they were never like this.

“I think sunflowers would work.” You said, passing her a fresh sunflower, “They symbolize happiness and strength. And also they are very cute to look at.”

As she held the sunflower, her eyes lit up with a radiant glow. Even without a smile, she possessed a certain prettiness, but when her eyes squinted and her mouth transformed into a toothy grin, her beauty was elevated to a new level.

"I think the kids would love this," she said, her eyes meeting yours, brimming with excitement.

Her newfound happiness was infectious, lifting your spirits as well. With another shy smile, she left the shop, clutching a bouquet of sunflowers. You watched her through the window, a skip in her step as she headed toward the hospital.

From that first encounter, you saw her every Wednesday like clockwork. The familiar cat-like eyes would shyly enter the shop, and your warm greeting would turn her into a stuttering mess. It took her a moment to explain the purpose of each bouquet – sometimes for new parents, for sick children, or for recovering patients leaving the hospital. After each visit, she would leave with a variety of flowers, from Blossoms to Lilies, accompanied by her endearing shy smile.

On her fourth visit, you learned her name – Haerin. She was a medical resident at a nearby hospital, the same one where you received your treatments. She was working towards becoming a surgeon. With each visit, the shifts became more apparent – a glimmer of excitement dancing in her eyes whenever she talked about her work. Gone was the evasiveness; instead, her gaze now lingered upon yours, a testament to her newfound openness. Her feline-like eyes held yours longer, as if whispering secrets between blinks, mirroring the candid exchange of thoughts that flowed seamlessly between you both. She was opening up to you, as you were with her.

You didn't realize how much you enjoyed her presence and how much you looked forward to her visits until she didn't come on the tenth week.

9 o'clock, 10 o'clock, 11 o'clock... You continued to glance at the clock behind the counter, waiting for Haerin's arrival. You were worried; Haerin was never late. You wanted to call her to make sure everything was okay, but then it hit you that you were never that close to her. You didn't even have her phone number, you didn't know her last name. She was just a customer, and you were just the florist who would listen to her thoughts as she bought flowers for the people she cared for. You had begun to think of her as your friend. Trying not to be disappointed, you started to clear the shop, getting ready to head home for the day.

"Shit, shit, shit," Haerin muttered as she hurried down the block, doing her best to navigate through the streets without spilling the two cups of coffee in her hands.

She had always been a consistent person and hated any changes in her schedule. Today was Wednesday, and Wednesdays were special. Wednesdays were what she eagerly looked forward to every week– a chance to spend a few minutes chatting with you. However, a late-night surgery had thrown off her schedule. She had fallen asleep on her couch after returning home, only waking up at four in the afternoon. Despite the setback, seeing you was non-negotiable for her.

Her heart sank when she arrived at your shop's front doors, finding them already locked with a "Closed" sign displayed. Frustrated with herself for forgetting to set an alarm, she kicked the ground in disappointment. As she started to turn away, she caught the sound of shuffling from behind the shop. Quietly following the path leading to the garden and greenhouse, she discovered you tending to the garden bed.

Seeing you filled her heart with an inexplicable feeling, as if her emotions were in a jumbled mess. She pretended it was because you were a great listener, but deep now, she knew it was something more.

"Y/N," she called out, startling you just as she had the first time you met.

You jumped, clutching your chest in response to the sudden sound. Lately, your heart had been acting up, and the surprise didn't help matters.

Turning around, you met Haerin's gaze, your heart fluttering despite the momentary pain.The light of the setting sun reflected on her face, scattering a golden glow that highlighted her almond-shaped eyes and made her gentle expression even more inviting.

"Hey, Haerin," you quickly composed yourself, brushing dirt off your pants as you approached her.

Although still embraced by the gloden hues of dusk, you could see how tired Haerin was, her dark circles contrasting against her windblown hair. “Are you okay?”

"Y-yeah," she stammered under your scrutinizing look. "I'm sorry I couldn't make it today."

"It's okay. I understand you must have been busy," you reassured her. "There are more important things than buying flowers."

"No, no!" Haerin hurriedly explained, stumbling over her words. "I was part of a surgery that lasted eleven hours. I got home late and overslept. I didn't wake up until now, and I realized I had no way to reach you since I don't have your number, and..."

"It's alright, Rinnie," you chuckled, taking one of the coffee cups from her and sipping. "Mmm, that's good. Thanks."

Rinnie. You gave her a nickname. Haerin squealed internally at the thought of getting her first nickname ever, and it was by you.

“Do you have to go back to work?”

She shook her head, relief washing over her. "No, I have the day off."

"Want to help me water the flowers?"

Haerin had never been particularly attentive to plants since her childhood. Somehow, every plant that ended up under her care seemed doomed, meeting an untimely demise due to her neglect. She often ended up giving them away before she could forget to water them and seal their fate. However, being around you was a different story.

"Come, let me show you the greenhouse," you invited, leading her toward a massive three-story glass structure that stood behind the shop.

Your aunt had dedicated half her life to constructing this impressive greenhouse. Rising three stories high, it boasted intricate glass designs that permitted the sun's rays to illuminate every corner. The structure also featured a variety of shutters, each designed to cater to the specific life cycles of the flowers it housed. Your aunt was meticulous in her approach, taking personal charge of planting the majority of the flowers. Only occasionally did she import more delicate varieties that required special care.

Entering the greenhouse, Haerin was awestruck. She was amazed that such a place could exist in the busy streets of Seoul, hidden behind skyscrapers and neon lights. The sweet scent of flowers enveloped her, reminiscent of the fragrance she associated with you.

At the back, there was a small decorative pond. As a child, you used to spend hours watching the frogs and fish glide through the water, mesmerized by their graceful movements. Surprisingly, the young doctor shared your excitement. She stared at the frogs intently, even taking photos of them with her phone. You let her enjoy the sight while you finished taking care of the plants, occasionally checking in on her with a smile.

"You know, the longest-lived frog reached 40 years," she suddenly shared after observing the frogs for a while.

You laughed at her unexpected fact as you continued to tend the rose bushes. "Really? That's over a hundred in frog years, right?"

“Yeah, like 180 in human years.”

"I can't imagine myself living that long," you mused.

"Why?" Haerin furrowed her brows and tilted her head, looking like an adorable confused kitten. "Most people I see in the hospital wish to live forever."

"When you're that old, all the people you love have left the world already. I think it would be quite lonely," you scratched your chin, thinking. "And besides, I don't need to live forever. I just want to be remembered by somebody, and that's enough."

Haerin's gaze met yours, and in that moment, she vowed to remember you forever. She hoped you would remember her too. Or perhaps, she'd make sure you wouldn't forget her. She decided the first step was to charm you with frog trivia.

“Some frogs weigh more than 3 kilograms.”

"Okay, that's pretty scary. Thank God I don't have those here," you laughed again, standing up from the bushes and grabbing your tools.

"Let's go, Dr. Doolittle," you teased, gently bumping her shoulder with yours.

"I just really like frogs," Haerin turned a bright pink at your teasing and reached over to carry the tools for you.

And I really like you, she thought.

After that day, Haerin would talk to you every day. You would stay up texting her, keeping her company during her night shifts, or she would drop by for a quick lunch with you when she had the time. She continued to buy flowers from you every Wednesday, paying full attention to you as you entertained her with a new species of flower every time, going through all the facts and symbolization. Haerin was enamored by you, and you felt the same about her. Her quirky jokes and random animal knowledge were endearing, and you found yourself constantly thinking about her and missing her when she wasn't there.

You were falling, and you were falling fast.

As weeks slipped by like a fleeting dream, the summer's swelter surrendered to brisk mornings and gusty afternoons. Time marched on, relentless, yet the same could not be said for the sluggish progress of the heart donor list.

The wait remained as long as ever, and the pains in your chest had become more frequent. Sometimes you would wake up in the middle of the night, feeling as though your heart might leap out of your chest or stop at any moment.

After procrastinating for far too long, you finally found yourself in the office of one of the nation's most esteemed cardiologists. Yet, within the depths of your awareness lay the unwavering truth – no cardiologist could save you, only a new heart could.

"Have you been taking your medicine?" Doctor Kang asked sternly, pushing back his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

"I forget sometimes," you muttered, guiltily.

"Y/N, you have to take the medicine four times a day," he said. "It helps with the chest pains."

"Yeah, but it won't help with the heart failure."

Doctor Kang sighed, scratching his greying beard. He was worried; your test results weren't good. But he was an insistent man, and he would do everything he could to keep you alive and healthy until you could get a new heart.

"Don't give up yet, Y/N," he gave you a soft smile that made his almond-shaped eyes crinkle around the edges, reminding you of the girl you adored. "Please take your medicine and come back the same time next month."

"Thanks, doc," you nodded, getting up from the chair. "I like the flowers."

Doctor Kang's gaze drifted fondly to the pink daisies adorning his table. You knew without a doubt that Haerin had delivered them – a bouquet of pink daisies, just like the ones she purchased from your shop the day before. You had spotted a similar arrangement at the front desk as well.

"I like them too," he grinned, his face lighting up. "They're from my daughter."

You walked back home in a daze. Doctor Kang was Haerin's father. You slapped your forehead, berating yourself for not realizing it sooner. Her last name was Kang, and she had mentioned that she came from a family of doctors. How had you missed such an obvious connection? As you replayed your conversations with Haerin in your mind, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of emotions. You hoped that Doctor Kang wouldn't mention you in front of Haerin. You were afraid of how she would react if she knew about your health condition. The thought of her worrying about you weighed heavily on your mind as you continued walking, lost in your thoughts.

Abruptly turning a corner, you collided headfirst with another person. "Sorry, I didn't see—" you began apologetically.

"Y/N? Hey," a familiar voice chimed in. Haerin's face lit up with joy as she greeted you, her eyes shimmering with excitement.

"Y/N?" Another voice, this one also donning a white doctor's coat, inquired. She shifted her gaze between you and Haerin. Jealousy pricked at you as you noticed the way the girl's arms were linked with Haerin's. "The famous Y/N?"

Sensing your gaze, Haerin pulled her arms away from the other girls, and sheepishly smoothed her hair. “Cut it out.” she muttered, slightly pushing the girl.

"Hello, Y/N. I'm Hanni," the girl introduced herself with infectious enthusiasm, standing on her tiptoes to pull you into a hug. "I've been dying to meet you. Oh My God. This one here has been talking about you nonstop.”

Raising an eyebrow, you shot Haerin a playful look, prompting her to blush even deeper.

"Stop it, Hanni," she said, pulling the exuberant girl away from you. "You're smoldering her."

As it turned out, Hanni was not only Haerin's childhood best friend but also her fellow doctor-in-training. Despite their shared background, they were complete opposites in terms of demeanor – Hanni was boisterous and lively, whereas Haerin remained shy and reserved. However, their shared kindness and compassion were what had drawn you to the cat-like girl.

After what seemed like a drawn-out exchange for Haerin, Hanni finally departed for her shift, but not before playfully whispering to Haerin, "You better confess before I do."

The taunt turned Haerin into a flustered mess.

Haerin walked you back home, her white coat gently draped over your shoulders to keep you warm. The two of you walked toward the shop, side-by-side, in comfortable silence. Although every fiber of her being longed to reach down and intertwine her fingers with yours, Haerin couldn't muster the courage to make that gesture. Instead, her fingers twitched nervously by her side, a silent indication of the unspoken feelings that lingered between you.

"I'm sorry about Hanni," Haerin began, her voice laced with apology. "She can be a bit overwhelming at times."

“I like her.” You assured. “She’s funny.”

A vulnerable smile crossed Haerin’s lips.

“And I like you.” she blurted out. It was now or never. She had spent so many sleepless nights thinking about how to convey her feelings, but nothing seemed to be the perfect solution. So here she was, on a crisp autumn night, revealing her emotions without any scripted lines.

You halted your steps, turning to gaze at the blushing girl before you. Her feline eyes radiated adoration and hope.

"I like you, too," you chuckled, playfully teasing. "But you'll have to try harder than that."

Haerin's relief transformed into a radiant grin. She tenderly reached down and enveloped your hands in her own.

Lifting them to her lips, she whispered, "Don’t worry. I’ll plant you a sea of blossoms if I have to, just to have you remember me.”

We all need a bit of sweetness to balance out the pain.

More angst to come 👀

Part 2

#haerin #haerin x reader #newjeans x reader #kang haerin #kang haerin x reader #kpop fanfic #gxg #kpop imagines #wlw #kpop fic #newjeans #newjeans imagines #haerin imagines #fluff #angst fic #kpop #hanni pham #wherethefireliliesgrow

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