#just let me watch that scene on loop for all eternity please | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thepixelelf · 2 years

Text

and the universe said,

02 "fuck you and your interview"

genres/tags: soulmate au, idol au, comedy, romance, dumbassery chapter warnings: language, mentions of a non-fatal car collision. reader is shirtless for most of a scene. if you wear bras and would like to, you can imagine reader in one. relationship(s): ot13 x reader

When soulmates are suddenly thrust upon the world, you are one in a million who wishes they weren't -- and that's before you meet the person (people?!) making your life much harder than it needs to be. And before someone asks you to sign an NDA.

series masterlist

prev ⭒ chapter two (1.7k) ⭒ next

It’s 300.15 Kelvin outside and you’re wearing a turtleneck and you want to die because the person on the other side of your soulmate phenomenon has never heard of shutting the fuck up.

“They liked you!” Heejun insists.

“Yeah, sure,” you groan, slumped over your kitchen table with your head resting atop your shut laptop. “Until someone started singing and my mark went all the way up to my freaking chin!”

“Okay but they didn’t dislike your mark—”

“No, they thought it was fascinating. So fascinating, in fact, that once they saw it, they forgot all about my dissertation!” You sit up, beyond frustrated, and tug off your turtleneck, throwing it onto the floor like it personally wronged you. The AC in your apartment just has to be broken, but it doesn’t matter anyway. The mark has returned to its home on the back of your hand.

Heejun doesn’t bother turning away or covering his eyes, having seen you in less.

“All they cared about was my stupid mark,” you whine, crossing your arms in front of you and making a sour face. “‘Oh, wow, I’ve never seen a mark like that before.’ ‘Are those music notes? Is your soulmate a singer?’ ‘Have you met them?’” Even though the words come out mockingly, you slump more and more as you repeat the questions you got berated with in your Zoom interview. “Fuck, I’m never getting a job.”

“Don’t say that. They might call you back.”

You sigh. “Please don’t get my hopes up.”

It’s been about two months since the soulmate phenomenon rocked the world, and that many days minus one since you found out your mark, which is already a proven miracle amongst the general population, is also special amongst other victims of the phenomenon.

“Oh, god.” Eyeing your arms, you groan. “Songbird’s at it again.”

Not only does your mark move whenever your supposed soulmate sings — it extends.

The bars, accompanied by notes and pianissimos and double fortes and symbols you’ve yet to bother googling, spread past the original mark and curl around your wrist, slithering up your arm like a snake through the grass. With your turtleneck strewn and abandoned somewhere on your floor, you and Heejun watch as the music climbs up to your shoulder and slips around your neck, circling twice before moving to your other arm. It’s like you’ve got two full sleeves of tattoos without the teeth-gritting pain that comes with actually getting it done in a parlour.

No, just a whole different kind of pain.

In the ass.

You can’t walk down the street without people gawking at you like you’re an alien — which, honestly, you can’t even blame them for. What the fuck kind of human has tattoos that snake along their arms as if they’re alive? Even Heejun can’t take his eyes off your mark, which has looped back up your left arm and started to wrap around your chest.

“Heejun!” You snap your fingers in his face, jolting him back into pay attention to me land. “I’m lamenting my current and probably eternal unemployment right now; at least pretend you hate this shit as much as I do.”

Shaking his head and frowning, Heejun tries again to console you. “C’mon, there’s no way they’d let the fact that you have a soulmate mark affect whether they hire you or not.”

“Tell that to my other two interviews.”

The staff branches off in some places, and you follow Heejun’s eyes as they trace the music reaching all the way up to your cheek. It does that a lot — the splitting up thing. You’re too sick of the mark overall to care to think about why.

“We should just find them,” Heejun posits.

You blink. “What?”

“I mean, the only way to get them to stop singing is to ask, right?”

Straightening up in your seat, you realize you never really thought about meeting the person on the other side of your mark. You’d been too caught up in the whole, what the fuck is happening why is there a random tattoo on me holy shit why is it moving what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck of it all. And besides, every case you’ve happened to hear from the news has ended up the same way — the soulmates met because their marks led them to each other.

You sort of just expected it to… happen. You never thought about going out to find the person inadvertently ruining your life yourself.

Heejun asks, sincerely, “You want to meet them, don’t you?”

“I… guess.” You shrug.

Do you?

The idea of asking them to stop singing — at least while you’re in a serious interview for a real-life, adulting job — is appealing, that’s for sure. The fact that they’re supposed to be the love of your life is also a factor, though.

You don’t know why, but that’s somehow less appealing to you.

And the weirdness that is the feeling of not wanting to meet the love of your life just yet (because who wouldn’t?) gives you pause.

Your soulmate stops singing, and the staff slinks back until it’s just five empty lines on the back of your hand. It’s a chilling feeling, when the notes disappear, and you shiver with your whole body every time. Another reason you’ve come to dislike your mark. Despite the annoyance the music sets off every time it spreads across your skin, you feel a dreadful sense of… emptiness when it leaves.

To feel that constant start and stop, start and stop—

It’s exhausting.

“Have you tried reading the music?”

“Are you kidding?” You scoff at Heejun. “I played percussion in junior high marching band, dude. I can’t even sightread; I’m hardly a music prodigy.” Scrutinizing your now-plain mark, you say, “Besides, how would that help?”

Heejun rolls his eyes. “You’re seriously dense sometimes. They’re always singing. Either it’s their job, or they’re trying to get your attention.”

“If they wanted to get my attention by annoying me, then they’re doing a bang-up job.”

“If they’re a singer,” Heejun continues, ignoring you. “—it’ll be even easier to find them. They’ll probably be singing all their own songs.”

You shake your head, doubtful. “I don’t think singers spend all day just singing their own stuff.”

“Idols practice all the time—”

“My soulmate is not an idol.”

“Why not?”

The look on Heejun’s face is serious, and you almost squirm under his gaze. Instead, you scrunch up your face and shake your head. “They’re just… not, okay? Idols aren’t my type.”

“Not your type?” Heejun regards you in such disbelief, you want to be annoyed again. “Bub, ‘idol’ isn’t a type of person, it’s a job description.”

“Yeah, and venture capitalists aren’t my type either.”

Heejun groans, but you can tell he won’t argue with that — he dated a business major in university. It didn’t go well.

Not that all business majors are bad, of course. That one just so happened to be a real bitch.

“Fine,” he relents. “Let’s assume they’re just trying to get your attention by singing nonstop— like now.”

Heejun points at your arm, and you look down to find your mark extending again to your infinite dismay. You let out a sigh.

“If they’re not a singer, maybe they’re singing songs with hints in them,” he suggests.

“That’s awfully elaborate, isn’t it?”

Shrugging, Heejun takes hold of your hand from across the table and studies the notes as they dance over your skin. “Your mark is elaborate. You don’t have it easy like all the others.”

“That girl almost hit her soulmate with her car.”

“Yeah, because the universe literally dragged them together,” he reasons. Then, “It’s weird…”

You pull your hand out of his just as the mark recedes, a shiver pulsing through you. “What’s weird?”

“Nothing.” He nods at your phone, which is sitting face up on the table, lit with a notification, “You got an email.”

Not wanting to pry into whatever is going on in Heejun’s head, you grab your phone. You expect some random email from a newsletter you never subscribed to in the first place, but when you read the subject line, your eyes widen.

“Second round of interviews?!”

Heejun smiles wide. “See? I told you they liked you!”

“Oh my god. Dude. It’s tomorrow. Oh my god.”

“Yeah, yeah, stress head. Let’s go over the practice questions again.”

“I love you.”

He snorts. “No shit.”

⭒

Sitting in small coffee shop near where your interview — second round! — will take place in twenty-five minutes, you mutter the answers you practised with Heejun late into last night under your breath. You scroll through your phone, reading up on the company for the third time.

You can almost hear Heejun nagging you in your head.

Relax.

Letting out a long breath, you put your phone away and take a sip of your drink, eyes drifting out the window.

It’s a nice day, unfortunately. If it weren’t for the white turtleneck you’re wearing, you might be happy about the warm weather. You pray to whatever is out there that your antiperspirant is doing its job, because this is the nicest turtleneck you own, and you seriously don’t trust your soulmate not to break into song during your interview. You can only hope they don’t sing a full song today— your shirt will cover partial tunes, but who knows if your soulmate is actually cast in a musical, or something.

Earlier, you set an alarm on your phone so you’ll know when you’ve got to get moving to be exactly seven minutes early, with three minutes of leeway in case you get lost inside the building. With that alarm in mind, you let yourself sink into the art of people-watching, zoned out and half-listening to the music playing in the shop. A song you know comes on, and you hum along.

Ice cold something splashes across your back.

You flinch so hard, your own drink goes flying, and on instinct, you stand up. Whipping around, you turn to see the masked face of a man with an empty plastic cup in his hold, the lid squeezed tight in the opposite hand.

His eyes are as wide as dinner plates, which is wild because you’re the one drenched in iced coffee.

You have nothing to say except, “What the fuck!”

prev ⭒ chapter two (1.7k) ⭒ next

updates for and the universe said, are not on a schedule. there is no taglist. thank you for reading!

582 notes · View notes

sillysadduck · 2 years

Note

hi love *does a lil twirl* hope you’re having a gay day. please share your duck thoughts and psychoanalyse it. if you want. if not you can just send me a lil kiss

૮ • ﻌ - ა

OMGNSBFH THIS IS WHY I LOVE YOU

congrats now yall have to read my duck thoughts bc my love gave me the chance [I'm on mobile so excuse any weirdness btw] as always this is a personal opinion etc etc and I like to connect the webseries with the TV series as a sequel ♡ + some fluffybird undertones bc im gay and they are too

OKAY SO!¡ HE'S A VERY COMPLEX CHARACTER, PEOPLE UNDERESTIMATE HIM AND LEAVE HIM TO BE "just a pet" OR "just a replaceable doll" BUT HES SO MUCH MORE THAN THAT.

I believe, just like Red and Yellow, he has free will about his thoughts, but not fully about his actions sometimes. He loves the other two (in different ways) but he can't show it, he doesn't know how to and he's too scared to do it. This eternal torment took his ability to show his emotions, and the same thing happened to Red. It didn't apply to Yellow, because his innocence protected his emotional intelligence.

The days go by and he's still trapped, but he's too scared to say anything about it. That's why he tries to stick to the world they know, he doesn't want to risk anything worse happening.

It's not that he's completely clueless, but he thinks (He knows from experience) saying something about the situation will make things worse. An example is episode 5 of the webseries, I believe he realized Red was missing but he didn't say anything because he could see Roy watching them behind the scenes, he tried to answer Red's calls and was trying to be subtle about alerting Yellow, this went on until he finally gave up and tried to leave...

And you know how that went for him, and for Yellow too. I wouldn't want to try again either.

I think that's when we see his first real "death", not an illusion like the Time episode where they see themselves dying on what appears to be just an illusion. That's why he was so scared when the giant cans took his organs, he looked terrified, they had to make him sleep at first and trap him so he would let it happen. He didn't know he would come back.

Yet, when his heart straight up falls out in the new series he's just like oh!! Haha oh well guess I'm dead see ya.

Because he knows he's gonna come back. He's aware "the journey always ends up back at home" and he can't die forever no matter what. He's super chill about getting his insides removed.

But the longer he's trapped, everything gets worse. He gets worse, his relationship with the other two gets worse, and he becomes more and more scared to leave or change anything [Ex: Yellow getting new batteries upsets him deeply because he has no way of knowing if that will make things worse or better]

He and Red used to reassure Yellow about how much they loved him and didn't want him to be sad, they tried to cheer him up when they got a chance and apologized when they made him feel bad.

Now, in the june 20th loop, his only response is yelling and hitting the other two. Because at the end of the day everything is pointless and they're all going crazy. He doesn't want to try anymore, we see he never makes the first move. Again, he's too scared to do that and he knows it's pointless. He lost all hope.

Even in the simplest things. When the computer gives too many results his first response is "Well let's give up." And that's his philosophy for everything.

But if someone else takes the first step, he will follow. He doesn't want change unless he feels like it's good change. Even then, he's hesitant about it.

But he will always have opportunities to show his real self through the denial and funny aggressive personality he made up to hide himself behind. He loves Red, he loves looking at him. And even when they were having privacy and a soft moment for themselves, he was asking "but what about Yellow?"

I know "they just hate each other and never want to see each other again" is a very common interpretation in the fandom now, but I feel like they still care.

Duck still cares, but he's scared. If he shows he cares, this world will gladly take Red and Yellow away from him. Staying in denial will always be easier. He's ok with dying a thousand times, at the end of the day he knows he will come back.

#don't hug me i'm scared #dhmis #duck dhmis #dhmis duck #red guy #yellow guy #fluffybird #fluffybird dhmis #dhmis headcanons #dhmis theory #yellow guy dhmis #red guy dhmis #long post #asks

249 notes · View notes

shipmistress9 · 11 months

Text

An Entertaining Inconvenience

Fandom: Fourth Wing - The Empyrean

Pairing: Xaden/Violet -- Riorgail

Rating: Explicit

Summary: When a leadership meeting interrupts Xaden and Violet in the middle of their fun, Violet comes up with a creative idea to make the best of the situation. And the best it is, insane, daring, and just... incredibly hot. Xaden learns a new thing or two. One, a few new tricks he can do with his shadows, and two, how much unresolved tension he can take before he cracks.

AN: You can't do shadow daddy kinktober without shadow tentacles. 😎 Writing this was a lot of fun again, and special thanks goes out to @istarbel for the soundboard and a few ideas which made this story even better. Enjoy 😁

Also sorry this comes so late. I was caught up in a super annoying family happening all day and couldn't get to my computer 😒

@kinktober2023

AO3

. o O o .

“Fuck, yes! Xaden! Xaden, please! Please don’t stop. Oh, fuck. Oh, FUCK! Yes! yesyesyesyesy—XAD-AAHHHHHH!”

Lightning cracks in front of my window as Violet comes, finally. Groaning, I keep sucking on her clit, flicking it with my tongue, my fingers busy thrusting into her. Fuck, she’s so beautiful when she comes, writhing within the restraints she let me put her in and screaming my name like it’s the only word she knows. I could do this all night, just devour her again and again, drinking her down and feeling her clench so hard around my fingers it nearly hurts. And maybe, I will. It’s not as if we have some specific scene planned for tonight. Or that she could get away, for that matter.

After sucking her to a second and a third orgasm, one more mesmerising to watch than the other, I eventually grant her a break. After a small eternity of teasing and then three orgasms in quick succession, she’s earned one. Licking my lips for every last trace of her taste, I step back, once again admiring the sight of her.

And what a sight she is!

There’s a corset around her lower torso, one that, in contrast to her usual armour, leaves her breasts free. With the metal loops worked into its sturdy leather and the ropes looped through them, it holds the majority of her weight where she’s dangling from the ceiling in my room, next to my bed. Her arms are tied behind her back, wrist to wrist and elbow to elbow, pushing out her already rather sizeable breasts even more, her nipples still swollen and sensitive from when I played with them earlier. There are cushioned cuffs around her thighs and ankles, broad enough that they won’t cut into her skin or restrict blood circulation, but sturdy enough to keep her exactly in the position I want her in. Which currently is in a half-reclined and half-sitting position in mid-air, her calves pressed against her thighs, heels against her ass, and her legs spread wide, giving me perfect access. There’s also a collar around her neck, not one of her own collars with the gems but a sturdier and more functional one, also cushioned, supporting her head in this suspension.

Fucking beautiful.

“I see your control of your signet still hasn’t improved,” I tease once her breathing calms down again.

Violet gasps a laugh, a grin on her face. “You’ll miss it once I do.”

I shrug. She’s damn right about that. I don’t care that half of the quadrant—half of all of Basgiath, probably—have a good idea of what these strange sudden lightning storms mean. Making her lose control over and over and over—it’s just too much fun.

“And how shall we illuminate the night sky now?” I ponder out loud as I walk over to where I have a variety of toys ready on my bedside table. “What do you think? More teasing until the tension grows too strong again? Or would you rather I make you come so many times you can’t tell up from down anymore?”

Violet moans and visibly shudders, and I smirk. I have a plan for tonight, of course I do, but that doesn’t mean I can’t change it if there’s something she wants. This is, after all, all about her.

However, before she can answer, a knock sounds from the door to my room. Frowning, we share a look. It’s not often that we get interrupted, but this certainly is the most inconvenient time ever.

“What?” I bark when whoever stands outside knocks again, more impatiently this time.

“Open up, man,” echoes Garrick’s muffled voice through the heavy wood. “Or have you forgotten our meeting tonight?”

My eyes grow wide and my jaw falls open.

Fuck…

“Did something slip your mind there, oh powerful Wingleader?” Violet teases, low but giggling. She’s fucking giggling.

“Yeah,” I hiss back. “Leadership meeting for the entire wing. Progress reports from the squad leaders, plans for improvement, discussing issues…” I run my hand over my face. “This always takes forever.”

“I’ll be right there,” I shout back toward the door. “Just a moment.”

I hurry to free Violet from the restraints, already trying to come up with a plan how to smuggle her out of my room when I feel something like a mental hand on my thoughts.

“Wait!” she says into my head. “I have an idea.”

Quick as lightning, she puts her thoughts into a form in my head, helped and edited by my own thoughts of what’s possible. Within seconds, the plan stands, and I can’t suppress a low groan at just how… how insane it is. How lewd. How hot.

“Are you sure about this? I mean, it can work but… You’d have to at least keep from screaming.”

“Oh, I’m more than up for this. The more important question is though… are you?” The excitement in her mental voice would almost be cute if this wasn’t so insanely thrilling.

Biting my lip, I take a moment to ponder. It would be hard. Literally. But also…

“Dain is out there, too, isn’t he?” Her thoughts are practically dripping with mischief. This level of teasing should be illegal.

But… fuck! She has me with mentioning Aetos. “Okay, let’s do this.”

I take another second to ponder, then rush to my armoire and grab one of the ball gags, a leather ball that’s comfortable enough for its size and that’ll muffle at least the loudest of her noises. My shadows will do the rest.

Garrick knocks again as I rush back to Violet, and she snorts as I fasten the gag at the back of her head. “He’s so impatient.”

“He probably has some ideas about why I’m not ready for the meeting. Now, try to stay quiet. My shadows will muffle and swallow most of the sounds, but still.” I throw her a last glance to make sure she’s okay, then walk over to the door when she nods. “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry. I’m coming,” I call out to the waiting crowd outside as I let my shadows swallow up a good portion of the room.

With my hand already on the lock, I throw a last glance around, just to be sure. The area around my bed and Violet is plunged into thick darkness, that entire half of the room, in fact. With a wave of my hand, I summon a couple of smaller mage lights and position them on the opposite wall near the large table then nod to myself. Nobody will think twice about why the more private part of my room isn’t illuminated, and even when there will be lightning strikes outside later, my shadows will conceal Violet from any prying eyes.

“About time, man,” Garrick grumbles as he pushes past me into my room, followed by the other two section leaders and the by now smaller group of squad leaders.

I try to ignore Aetos at the back, coming in last, as usual. He’s never enjoyed coming here, much like I never enjoying having him in here. After Threshing, it became even worse, when our mutual aversion wasn’t mainly about politics anymore but about Violet instead. But now… I actually have to fight to keep a grin off my face at his sight, all but trembling with his burning ambitions fighting against his suppressed hatred. Whatever spark of jealousy I once felt at his sight is gone by now. Because Violet chose me. And the wave of excitement I feel coming from her as he enters the room is not because she wants him but because, by now, she hates him just as much as I do. Maybe even more.

“Seems like someone is enjoying herself,” I tease.

Her response is something like a mental mewling, as if she’s beyond words. Sometimes, that happens when she’s too overwhelmed, and usually, it’s not much of an issue. Tonight, however…

Gently, I brush with my thoughts against the walls of her mind. “Will you let me in? So I can sense how you’re doing?” There’s a shiver along our bond, then any resistance falls away and I can step into her archive. “Thank you. I’ll just stay here at the edge, don’t worry.” I could pry into her mind now, read her every thought and memory, but I won’t.

As everyone is taking their seats, I take a moment to examine how far the control of my shadows reaches in a situation like this. Even though I can’t see through the thick darkness, either, I can still feel where exactly Violet it, would know her position even if I hadn’t put her in it myself. But to my surprise, I can also feel so much more. I feel everything. Every twitch of a muscle, every shiver along her skin. Every breath she takes and every time she blinks.

Combined with how I’m practically inside her mind, it’s a heady experience. It’s not that I can feel exactly what she feel, but.. I feel how she feels, feel that she’s aroused but not how the leather caresses her skin. Feel her anticipation, no trace of discomfort. Oh, this is going to be fun.

Satisfied, I join Garrick and the others at the large table, taking my seat at its head. “You’re all here, good.” I don’t acknowledge the wait or give any reason, I’m their Wingleader and they aren’t entitled to any information about my private life. However, that doesn’t keep Garrick from raising an eyebrow at me. He’s been here often enough to know the darkness covering half of my room isn’t natural. “I think Fourth Wing is doing well so far, but what do the reports say? Where can we improve?” I don’t care; the war games are stupid compared to what we face outside our borders. But it’s what’s expected of me.

As first the leader of my fire section and then her first squad leader start with their reports, I let my attention wander over to Violet. She might have enjoyed pulling this off so far, but… well, I wouldn’t want her to get bored with these progress reports now. With only the flick of a thought, some of the shadows around her become denser, thicker, more solid.

Let the fun begin.

. o O o .

Violet

My heart is beating in my throat, against the collar, as Xaden opens the door. A part of me expects they’ll all see me hanging here, naked and on full display, and even though I know Xaden would never let that happen, the thought is… weirdly thrilling. Knowing that there’s nothing but Xaden’s shadows keeping them all from seeing everything of me, and yet none of them know a thing, will notice what he’s going to do to me.

The feeling gets even more intense as Dain enters the room, a shockwave of emotions that I did not expect overwhelming me.

For so many years, I’d thought we’d end up together one day. It seemed inevitable, easy, perfect. And even during those first months here in the quadrant, I still thought that was where we were heading. But now, I know that we were never really on the same page. What he wanted was a sweet little scholarly doll to swoon over him, someone he could play protector for, someone who looked up to him and would never challenge him. He couldn’t accept that I might be strong enough to fend for myself, that I might not need him the way he wanted me to. And by now, I know he wasn’t what I wanted, either, even without considering Xaden as an alternative.

And then there’s the whole other thing with him knowingly and willingly choosing the wrong side of the war we’re in, but I can’t let my thoughts go into that direction. Not when we’re still supposed to be ignorant and have to play our parts to not give anything away.

Either way, having him here now in the same room while Xaden is surely going to drive me mindless with pleasure, and he won’t even know… Yep, there’s a certain kind of satisfaction to it I didn’t even consider.

“I’m okay,” I send in Xaden’s direction, belatedly. I vaguely remember him checking in on me and me lowering my mental walls to let him in, but it was only a blur to me amidst the overwhelming emotions.

His relief is tangible through our connection. “Good,” he sighs. “I wasn’t quite sure how to get rid of them all if you weren’t. Now, ready for some entertainment? But remember not to get too loud.”

I roll my eyesat the mischief in his voice, but directly suck in a breath when I feel movement against my legs. “What’s that?” I thought he would use his shadows to move his toys like he sometimes does when his hands are otherwise engaged, but this feels different. Almost as light as a breeze but more solid, more connected, like a snake winding its way across my skin yet with the clear sense of Xaden touching me.

My eyes widen as a the sensation appears at my shoulder as well, winding around my throat, then another curling around my waist. “Xaden?”

In my mind, I hear him chuckle. “Don’t worry, it’s just me. You suggested I use my shadows to play with you, so… that’ what I’m doing.” An image appears in my mind, one he clearly sent my way. One that makes my blood heat beneath my skin, my guts clenching. It’s me, just like I am now, caught in his restraints but without the darkness that makes it impossible for me to see myself, highlighting the thick tendrils of moving shadows curling around my body. Just like the tentacles of a hungry beast, ready to devour me.

“A fitting comparison,” Xaden muses in my mind. “They are indeed hungry, hungry for your pleasure.”

With every word, the shadows move further along my body. They curl around my arms and legs, further keeping me from moving while at the same time caressing over my skin like feathers, teasing me without ever giving me a break.

“Hungry to taste you.”

There are what feels like half a dozen mouths all over my body, suckling and licking along my neck, my collarbone, my breasts and between my legs.

“Hungry for all the noises you can’t suppress.”

I moan into the ball gag as one shadow suckles on my clit, two others on my nipples. The sensation is sublime, intense, and I lean into it, the dull murmur of voices from Xaden’s meeting a strange thrilling background noise. They’re all just over there, about three yards away from me, conferring about boring statistics and facts while I bask in the pleasure Xaden’s shadows pour into my body.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Xaden coos into my mind. “Just give in and enjoy the show.”

. o O o .

Xaden

“…and that’s why, in my opinion, what my squad needs most to improve is more time on the flying field,” flame section’s first squad leader, Sören Acreman, finishes his report.

I nod, having only listened with half an ear at best. “I’ll take that into consideration, depending on what the others need. But I agree, your cadets don’t need much more time on the gauntlet anymore.” My eyes wander to the redhead sitting next to him, Rowan, but I barely listen as they start their report, my attention firmly on Violet and my shadows around her instead.

It’s a strange experience, but one I definitely want to explore further in the future, using my shadows directly to please her. I’ve done it before, but only on a much smaller scale, mostly stimulating her clit to get her off just when I want her to. And of course I always knew that I can kind of feel what my shadows feel, hard surfaces and small cracks, the warmth of light. But this is still more intense than I thought, not quite like touching her with my hands but something close, heightened by the fact that I can touch her at so many different places and in so many different ways at the same time.

There’s the roughness of her pebbled nipples as I suck on them, the softness of her thighs where I hold her open, the thrumming of her blood beneath the skin at her neck. The slickness between her legs, dripping out of her and along my shadow...

Fuck!

I have to fake a cough to suppress a groan. It’s a good thing I’m sitting and the table hides my lower half, because—fuck!—I’m harder than I’ve been in ages.

And yet, I can’t stop teasing her more. Summoning more shadows, I let them wind all around her body, gliding along her warm skin. Some are nothing but small tendrils, teasing the sensitive spots just below her ears or her palms, while others are just long, like snakes, constantly winding around her to heighten her sensitivity. Still others are bigger with rounded tips, formed by my subconsciousness no doubt, prodding at her holes but not penetrating her yet. There’s even one at her mouth, teasing her tongue through the gag, and the sense of arousal and anticipation I get from her…

…it’s nearly more than I can manage. I wish I could break the meeting off and send them all away, go and fuck her until she’s screaming, until I can’t hold back anymore, until I fill her up with my come, until I watch it dripping out of her, until—

I wince as someone kicks me beneath the table and Garrick throws me a reproachful look. Right… I should at least somewhat listen to these reports, if not because they’re important than out of respect for those who deliver them.

“I’m sorry, Rowan. Could you repeat that last question?”

They give me a strange look. “I said, since my squad is by far the smallest in Fourth Wing, it would be good if we could spar with others. Kira already agreed that we could form a truce for sparring together. Would that be okay?”

I glance at Kira, squad leader of tail section’s first squad, and she nods. “We would benefit from such a truce as well since the members of my squad all have the same fighting style. It would be good for them to get used to other styles, too.”

I nod. “Agreed. I’ll see that your times in the sparring gym overlap more.” I tell Kira to continue with her report, skipping claw section for the moment, and put in more effort to listen to them.

It’s a good thing my shadows are capable of following simple commands without me paying direct attention. But I still get distracted by the sense of pleasure and arousal I get from Violet and I also want to pay attention to her. I want to observe how she mewls and writhes, unable to stay still with the constant teasing. I want to feel the softness of her skin beneath my shadow touch, her breasts, her thighs, her hair. I want to feel her warmth as I slowly penetrate her, first her pussy, then her mouth, then her ass. And even though I’m moving slowly to not overwhelm her, constantly checking in on her, and also have the distraction of tail section’s second squad leader lamenting about some issues… I have to bite the inside of my cheek, hard, to not groan out loud as the sensation of all three of her holes clenching around me at ones goes straight to my cock.

I’m so fucked.

. o O o .

Violet

This is madness. complete and utter madness.

And I love it.

The idea of getting fucked by three cocks—or toys—at once always intimidated me. I thought it would be impossible to bear, too much, my mind circuiting and scattering at the overload of stimulation. And to be fair, I was kind of right. But also… not.

Or maybe it’s just something about Xaden’s shadows that makes it so easy, the way they stretch me but not too much, how they give in when I need them to, especially how the one in my throat fills me without making it harder to breath. How they seem more attuned to what I need than I thought possible, though that might come from Xaden being in my head as well.

Ultimately though, I don’t care, can’t even thing about the whys and hows. All I can do is at least try not to cry out too loud as all three shadow tentacles fuck into me at their own pace, seemingly uncoordinated yet weirdly fitting. How one thrusts in, hard, as the other slides along my sensitive insides and the third teases some hidden spots inside me. How they move my body this way and that, all those other shadows curling around me. How I’m completely helpless to their every whim, how they give and take. One is around my neck, squeezing just so to heighten my attention as a couple more play with my breasts, curling, squeezing, suckling, pinching. Others just glide across my skin, touching me everywhere and making my skin prickle, my blood thrumming in my veins. My head is spinning, unable to focus, one action never lasting long enough to get me closer to the edge but all together aiming to push me higher, higher, higher.

And all the while, there’s the constant buzz of background noises, leadership talking and debating, unaware of my predicament. If I had a thought to spare I might think they were arguing, someone from another section slamming their fist onto the table. But what tiny sliver of attention I can spare is on Xaden, on the prominent tent in his leathers, visible only to me at this angle.

Fuck, this is so hot.

“Xaden,” I moan into his mind as lust and arousal once again coil into a tight knot in my guts and my muscles are trembling from the tension and anticipation reigning over my body. “Xaden, please. I… I need…”

But Xaden brushes a gentle hand across my thoughts, soothing me. “Have a little more patience, Violence. I have a plan and I know you can take it.”

I mewl, my eyes rolling back into my head as his shadows pick up a little more speed, writhing and curling all around me, inside me. I bite down on the leather ball between my teeth, hard, do keep myself from giving in, to keep as quiet as I can. But no matter how hard I try, there’s still an endless stream of muffled sounds escaping from my chest, my throat, as the tension in my body becomes unbearable, sizzling beneath my skin.

I can’t come until Xaden let’s me no matter how high he pushes me, but… FUCK!

“XADEN!”

Outside, a singe lightning illuminates the night sky.

. o O o .

Xaden

As light flashes outside my window, followed by roaring thunder, I can’t keep my lips from twitching. Almost time.

“That’s enough,” I interrupt Kel, squad lead of second squad, tail section. “I understand your problems, but that’s not something we can solve now. I’ll talk with the other Wingleaders and then we can hopefully find a solution.”

“But—”

I cut off his complaints. “No matter what else you have to say, it won’t change that we can’t do anything about it tonight, and we’ve sat here long enough as is it. Garrick? What about claw section, any issues?”

Outside, another lightning cracks, and Garrick just gives me a disbelieving look and shakes his head. “No issues I know of. Jeanne, your report?”

The striking blonde leader of Garrick’s first squad rattles down names, times, and scores of her team, efficient as ever, and I’ve never been more grateful leadership put her into my wing than I am at this moment. Violet’s control is hanging by a silken thread by now, her noises barely containable by my shadows anymore. “Just a tiny bit longer,” I murmur into her mind. “You’re holding out so good for me. We’re almost there.”

Her reply is nothing but a wave of desperate need that would make my knees buckle if I wasn’t sitting already. Thankfully, Jeanne is done now. I nod at her, then let my eyes wander over to Aetos. It clearly irks him that he’s last in line, and I don’t even pretend I didn’t twist it that way on purpose. With a sour face, he stands up, arms folded behind his back and eyes straight ahead, that pretentious little git. He’s the only one who always insists on all formalities, just like his overambitious dad taught him.

“Are you ready?” My voice is teasing as I mentally stoke Violet’s arousal even further, and the answering lightning is timed just right to interrupt Aetos the moment he opens his mouth.

He frowns and glances at the window as a second and a third flash illuminate the sky with only a few seconds break between them.

“Juuust a moment, hold on.” — “What is it, Aetos, scared of a thunderstorm?” I drawl, a smirk plain on my face as he throws me a hateful glare. I lean back in my seat, and from the corner of my eye, I see Garrick roll his eyes, even though he can’t keep his lips from twitching, too. “Come on, give your report so we can be done here.”

With a grimace, he recomposes himself.

“Now,” I command. The tendril nestled against Violet’s lower belly moves, curling around her clit and rubbing it just how she likes, and the moment Aetos opens his mouth, all hell breaks loose.

Lightning illuminates the sky as if it were the middle of the day, strike after strike after strike as Violet comes undone. The following thunder is deafening, thankfully covering her screams as pleasure wrecks her, body and mind, and I can’t keep from groaning either, can’t keep my eyes from fluttering shut at the onslaught of sensations flooding our bond. So much stronger even than when our dragons are at it with how there’s no filter between us right now. I feel what she feels, and it’s nearly enough to make me come untouched. Fuck, so intense… I’m just glad that nobody pays me any mind as everyone flinches and stares outside, so my grunt and the way I clutch at the edge of the table go unnoticed.

For what seems like forever, the strikes keep coming as one orgasm seamlessly rolls into the next and the next, as I keep stroking that fire within her. On and on, I let my shadows push into her, suck on her, fill her until her body is shaking within its restraints, never giving her a break, and the euphoria I sense from her is mind-blowing.

I’ll definitely have to slip into her mind more often, in case she allows it.

It feels like several whole minutes must have passed before the pain of overstimulation leaking into Violet’s pleasure becomes too muhc even for her, and my shadows stop moving immediately. Outside, the lightning strikes fizzle out, too, and I have to grit my teeth to keep them on top of the table, to not reach for my aching cock and stroke myself to completion.

“Alright, thanks, Aetos. That was the most informative report you ever gave,” I grunt.

“But I—”

I shut him up with a shadow clamping across his mouth, no patience left to deal with him now. “The meeting is over. Everybody, out!”

Nobody hesitates to follow my order, not even Aetos or Garrick. Within seconds, my room is empty, the door closed, and before my shadows have the chance to withdraw completely, I’m at Violet’s side, loosening the gag.

“Fuck,” Violet gasps, her eyes fluttering as she tries to look at me. “That was… was… amazing.”

I grunt in agreement, fiddling with the ropes around her arms, but then give up and simply cut them apart with the dagger sheathed at my forearm. When I do the same with the ropes holding her legs, Violet giggles.

“This impatience is a new look on you. I think I like it.”

I huff a short pressed laugh. “You have. No. Idea.” I grunt as I loosen the ropes from her corset—it would be a shame to cut apart a rope of this length—and pull her against me and into a harsh kiss once she’s free of her restraints. She’s grinning against my lips and purposefully grinding her naked body against me, against my cock still aching beneath my leathers.

“Please tell me you’re not too sore,” I groan. My eyes are pressed shut, my forehead resting against hers, my hands twitching against her waist. I shouldn’t be putting this burden on her. As her Dom, it is my job to care for her, not the other way around. But—fuck!—after this show we put on, I need her, need to come so badly I can’t remember when I last left like this.

“I have a better idea.”

There’s a gleam in Violet’s eyes, and if I were in my right mind, I might get worried. But as it is, I can only groan as she slips to the floor in front of me, her clever fingers working my leathers open in an instant. The moment my cock springs free and her hand closes around my shaft, a shiver runs down my spine and I give up any resistance. I’m hers, always, forever.

She starts with teasing kisses along the underside of my shaft, and I nearly whimper. “Violet!” I implore. I don’t need gentle coaxing, not now.

“Hush,” she breathes into my mind as her pretty lips close around the tip of my cock. “I’ve got this.”

She certainly does. I know her mouth is as amazing as every other part of her, and I know I let her suck me off far too rarely, but—fuck!—does this feel good. The heat of her wet mouth, the way her tongue strokes along my shaft, how she suckles at the tip, humming at the constant dribble of pre-come she coaxes out of me. So fucking good. Within only two or three minutes, she has me at the edge of spurting down her throat, my hands loosely around her head to guide her as she bobs up and down my shaft, her throat clenching so deliciously every time she takes me deep inside her.

“Fuck, Violence,” I growl through gritted teeth, my fingers twitching in her hair. “Not gonna last much longer.”

She hums approvingly and beams up at me as she takes me down her throat completely, swallowing around me, and the wave of pleasure I sense from where our minds are still so closely connected is nearly my undoing. It mixes with my own lust burning low in my pelvis, so ready to explode that my vision darkens, singling in on where her lips are wrapped around me, bobbing and sucking until I… until…

I howl, disbelievingly, as Violet pulls back right before I come, cruelly dragging me back from the edge. “Shit! What? Fuck, I… I was so… so…”

“So close?” Violet offers when my brain isn’t able to provide the right words for me anymore. “Yeah, I know that feeling.” She flicks her tongue in little kitten licks against my weeping tip, her hazel eyes innocently blinking up at me. I can only stare at her, though, my mind empty as she suckles on my tip, then takes me into her mouth again, starting the whole game anew. Maybe, she’s right. Maybe, I deserve this tonight. But… fuck, I didn’t not expect her to turn on me like this.

“Do you want to come?” she asks when I’m again nearing the edge, my balls tight with need.

“Fuck, yes,” I growl, my fingers tightening in her hair. I fucking need to come. “Don’t you d—”

“Say please.”

I blink, taken off guard. “What?”

She pushes me deeper down her throat, swallowing around me and making me go cross-eyed. “I want you to say ‘please’,” she hums into my mind, mischief dancing in her every word. “I want you to beg for it.”

Fuck…

My breathing goes ragged, her demand pushing me right to the edge in an instant. Maybe I’ll repay her for getting so cocky, but not today. Today, she earned herself the compensation. And I’m too fucking needy to keep playing anyway.

“Please, Violet,” I groan, not having to put in any effort to sound desperate. “Please, let me come. Violet! Please!”

Violet whimpers, her body trembling as she pulls herself closer against me, her nipples rasping against the leather over my thighs. She takes me even deeper, her nose pressed against my pelvis, her throat so tight around me, her tongue stroking along the underside of my cock, and I fucking shatter.

My shout is a mix between her name and a curse as I come down her throat, my hands twitching against her scalp as she swallows me down. Her muscles keep moving along my length, and my knees nearly buckle. Fuck, this feels so good. How she keeps coaxing more out of me, unending, her hands massaging my balls until I’m entirely spent, my vision going hazy.

She keeps swallowing around me until I hiss, the pain of overstimulation never to my taste, then lets me slide out of her mouth. I catch sight of the string of saliva connecting her lips and my cock, but it breaks quickly as I slump to my knees in front of her, trying hard to catch my breath.

“That… that was…”

“Fucking amazing?” Violet supplies with a grin. “Yeah, I think so, too.”

Laughing disbelievingly, I shake my head. “Fucking amazing, indeed,” I groan against her lips after pulling her into a hard kiss. “You are, that is.”

After a few more minutes of catching my breath and enjoying having her in my arms, we eventually get back up on our feet. With a small flicker of regret, I take the collar, cuffs, and corset off her, then put all my playing gear away back into my armoire while she gets ready for the night again.

“This idea was fucking insane, by the way,” I say as I slip beneath the covers next to her. “I’m pretty sure Garrick will give me an earful about it tomorrow, and he wouldn’t be wrong. I wasn’t quiet as… erm… observant as I should have been.”

Chuckling, Violet cuddles into my side. “Oh, were you a little distracted? How awful.” Her expression turns a bit more thoughtful. “I actually didn’t register anything at all from your meeting. You could have planned to usurp the king, and I’d be none the wiser.”

For the fraction of a second, we share a knowing look, but don’t dwell on that topic.

“So, you didn’t see Aetos’ reaction, either? What a shame.”

Violet grimaces. “No. But you can tell me about that another time.” She moves until she’s propped up on her elbow, looking down at me. “Now, I’d rather talk about those shadows of yours.”

I blink at the shift in the tone of her voice, then disbelievingly shake my head, snorting. “You mean these?” I let the tendrils of shadow spring back to life around us, let them glide along her naked skin, beneath the covers.

“Y-yeah,” she gasps as I let them wander between her thighs, and her eyes flutter shut. “I… I think I didn’t really get what you could do with them earlier with everything happening at once.”

I chuckle and make myself comfortable, relishing in how her breasts rise and fall with her ragged breaths. “So you think we should explore their abilities further?” I ask after teasing her for a couple of minutes and let one shadowy tentacle push into her needy body. Her moan sends a shiver down my spine. “Fine, you’ve convinced me.”

With my mouth on her neck, nibbling and suckling on her delicate skin, I summon more shadows to tease her, basking in her sweet noises as I tip her over the edge into one of many more orgasms this night.

Insatiable little vixen.

. o O o .

AN: I barely had time to edit this, so if it feels rougher or has more typos, that's why. 😅

Also, this is the last one I had written in advance. I'll try to get one or two more finished this month, but no promises. 😅

* - . - * - . o O o . - * - . - *

I am but a street artist, offering my art to those around me. If you enjoyed it, a tip in the form of a comment and a ❤️would be highly appreciated. 😊

If you want to leave a tip you can buy me a coffee. I love coffee 😊 (Ko-Fi)

#Riorgail #xaden riorson #violet sorrengail #fanfiction #fourth wing #rebecca yarros #the empyrean #kinktober #shadow tentacles

22 notes · View notes

separatist-apologist · 3 years

Note

Could you do one where Lucien finds out about what happened on solstice but he and Elian isn’t speaking to him yet? I’m curious to see your take!

Look. I absolutely CANNOT help myself. If I had written that scene (and I am free, SJM), it would have gone down a little like this.

She doesn’t want him.

Azriel’s words rang through Lucien’s head, over and over on a constant loop, one he didn’t think he’d ever get out. He hadn’t wantedto overhear that whole conversation and, in doing so, was reminded why he never came to this fucking city to start with. He scrubbed a hand down his face, slung his bag over his shoulder, and slipped from his room. Feyre would be disappointed he left without saying goodbye but no one else would miss him. He could always make his excuses in a letter when he was far from Velaris.

I’d defeat him easily.

Lucien flinched beneath the weight of such casual violence. Azriel would love Autumn Court, if that was his first thought when it came to a blood duel. Lucien had no intention of calling one, not for Elain. He barely knew her and yet Lucien didn’t think she’d find the whole, bloody mess endearing.

He certainly had no intention of dying over a female that seemed to loathe his existence. He closed his eyes for a moment, willing Azriel’s voice to remove itself.

He doesn’t deserve her.

What would Lucien know about that, he thought miserably, his feet touching the first-floor landing. It wasn’t like he’d asked for her. If he’d it his way, the cauldron would given Elain to Azriel and the spymaster could spend eternity bound to a female that wanted nothing to do with their kind. He might have found it funny, the notion that Azriel thought she’d fall into his arms when Elain had made it abundantly clear she hated the mating bond.

Maybe he’d have a shot, then. Lucien stepped past the drawing room they’d exchanged gifts in when he caught a flash of that honey-colored hair all the Archeron’s shared. Feyre was up. Well fuck. He’d never be forgiven if he snuck right past her. He sighed and turned.

“Knock, knock,” he said before looking in. “Feyre, I thought I’d…” His words died in his throat when Elain looked back, her hands wrapped around her throat. “Never mind.” He wasn’t touching the red eyes and blotchy skin of the softly crying Elain with a ten-foot pole. He turned on his heel when something physically stopped him.

The fucking mating bond snarled in his chest, a physical beast that demanded he care for his mate. Fuck me, he thought furiously, keeping himself exactly where he was. He turned again, wary of the female that had caused so much drama. He wondered if she knew. Elain’s hands were still wrapped around her neck as a set of fresh tears slid down her cheeks.

“Are you alright?” He asked, every inch of him rebelling at the thought of comforting her through the rejection of another male.

Elain’s whole body seemed to tremble while Lucien warred with the bond, demanding it let him leave.

She doesn’t want him.

Lucien sighed and offered her a mocking bow while even the mating bond conceded. He turned for the third time, reshouldering his bag, and stepped out of the drawing room. Ten steps and he’d be at the door.

“Wait!” She called. Lucien’s whole body went taut as he closed his eyes and tilted his head towards the sky.

Have I displeased you? He silently asked the mother, walking back to the drawing room. He knew she could tell he did not want to be there, that he’d been trying to make his escape judging by the expression on her face. Was she planning to torture him a little, on her way out?

“Can you help me?” She asked, removing her hands from her throat. A red rosebud hung from her pale throat on a silver chain, and it was clear she’d been trying to remove it when he walked in on her.

Lucien dropped his bag to the floor and walked to her, her scent a punch to the gut. Honey and jasmine and something warm, like a breeze over a sunlit sky. All of that was mingled with fear and the better part of him wanted to tell her no and demand she tell him why she was so scared. He didn’t. What good was upsetting an already crying female?

She swept thick, honey-colored curls over one shoulder and it was Lucien’s turn to tremble, his stomach bottoming out. Had he ever touched her? He couldn’t remember a time. He reached for the tiny clasp, his fingers brushing over the nape of her neck. He swallowed hard as the chain was freed, sliding away into her waiting hands.

“Thank you,” she murmured as Lucien immediately put distance between them. His entire body was too aware of her and though he was angry, he didn’t know that he could stop himself from touching her again if he remained close. He wanted to guard her, to put his body in front of hers and snap and snarl until every male in Prythian was aware that she was his mate.

He reached for his bag. “Are you leaving?” She asked again and it occurred to Lucien she had asked him two questions and he had said nothing in response. He flexed his jaw, his back turned to her, and slid the strap of the bag back over his shoulder.

“I am,” he replied carefully. Elain wiped her cheeks with the palm of her hand and Lucien thought she was still so heartbreakingly beautiful, despite her hurt. Elain nodded, looking down at her feet and he wondered if he ought to just say goodbye.

“Will you be back?” She asked, her words nearly a whisper.

“Would you like me to return?” He asked, emphasizing her part heavily. Their eyes met again and Elain hesitated.

No.

He turned then, his anger cascading over him, intending to leave her in the drawing room. She didn’t owe him anything but neither did he. At least he was trying. If she didn’t want him around, he didn’t need to come any more than was necessary and he certainly didn’t need to see her.

“Lucien!” Elain breathed from behind him. He stopped again, cursing himself and the tether that bound them. “Lucien I didn’t…I uh…”

“I get it,” he said, his words clipped, turning to face her again. He shoved down his instincts demanding he treat her with care. Maybe someone should tell her to get fucked, even once instead of the constant handholding she was subjected to. “I’m the wrong male. That’s fine, Elain. I don’t want to be in your way.”

His hand reached for the doorknob when she surged forward, her brown eyes still sparkling with tears. “What does that mean?” She demanded.

He laughed dryly. “I guess you didn’t hear the little reprimand the High Lord gave Azriel regarding you?”

Her face paled.

“Don’t let me get in the way of true love,” he commented sarcastically. “I wish you and the bat nothing but the best.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not in love with him,” she half-whispers.

“You understand that’s worse, right?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. She looked him up and down.

“I don’t belong to you,” she began but Lucien rolled his eyes.

“When did I ever say you did?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. “You’ve made a lot of assumptions about someone you don’t even know.”

“Would you even be here if it weren’t for this?” Elain asked in return, one finger gesturing between their bodies.

“Would Feyre?” He snapped back. Elain hesitated and Lucien could see she hadn’t considered that. Something sparked in her gaze and Lucien waited to see if she was going to soften.

“I don’t owe you anything.”

“Great,” Lucien replied, yanking on the door handle. “I don’t owe you shit, either.”

He stepped into the cold, strangely pleased when she followed him out.

“What does that mean?” She asked, the door snapping behind her. She immediately wrapped her arms around her body and, cursing himself, Lucien began unbuttoning his jacket.

“Why do you think I ought to stand here trying when you don’t believe you owe me anything?” He demanded even as he handed her the emerald-colored jacket. She snatched it out of his hands and threw it to the ground like a petulant child.

“You wanted this—”

“The hell I did!” He interrupted. “Do you imagine I am having a good time, watching you desperately try to avoid me? Because let me assure you, this is not my idea of fun.”

“Then why do you keep coming around?!”

“Because you haven’t rejected the bond!” He replied, letting some of his desperation leech into his words. “And until you do, I’ll keep coming to Solstice and waiting, my entire life hinging on a choice you seem duty bound to ignore. Have you ever considered, for even a moment of your now immortal life, that you do owe me something?”

“I don’t owe you shit,” she whispered in response, all rebellion. Lucien couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of his throat, causing her to jump. Of all the things he might have imagined, her repeating his own words back to him was not one of them. He shook his head, meaning to turn and winnow away but Elain was watching him and he thought her lips curved upwards just enough to seem as though she were suppressing a smile.

Lucien offered her the same mocking bow he’d once given her sister, bending deeply at the waist, arms thrown out, so she knew it was not courtly in the slightest.

“Enjoy your night, Elain.”

“Lucien!” She snapped, very clearly exasperated. He shivered and it had nothing to do with the cold, which he barely felt. He took a step between them, hooking the lip of his jacket on his boot and tossing it into the air where he caught it and draped it over his arm.

“What?”

Her eyes glanced back at his jacket, arms tightening around her body and for the second time that night, Lucien handed her the jacket. She didn’t budge and he sighed.

“Take the damn jacket, Elain.” “You’re rude,” she accused, snatching it out of his grip. And though Lucien was irritated with her, some of his anger washed away at the sight of her buttoning herself into his jacket.

“Yeah? Well you’re spoiled.”

Real mature.

She paused and then she smiled, as if he’d told her she was beautiful. “No one has ever said that to me before.”

“You’ll forgive me if I’m all out of sonnets.”

She laughed that time. “You’re so mean.”

Lucien hesitated. Did she like it? He took a step towards her and Elain, to her credit, held her ground. All traces of tears were gone, replaced by the open rebellion staring him in the face.

“You like it,” he accused. Elain didn’t deny it. Instead she took the tiniest step towards him, so close Lucien could touch her face. He reached between them, taking a fat curl between his fingers, knuckles brushing over her cheek.

“I’m not a doll,” she murmured, eyes wide as she held her ground. “I can handle it.”

Of that, Lucien didn’t doubt. He knew she felt his agreement, shimmering down their shared connection.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you wanted me to stick around.” “Good thing you know better,” she shot back, all teasing. Lucien, unable to resist testing his luck, dropped his hand and made to turn.

She grabbed his hand and his blood sang at the contact, the instinct to grab her and take her away from this place nearly overwhelming.

“Stay,” she breathed. “Get some sleep…you look terrible.”

He smiled, looking down at her hand clasping his own. “At least we share that commonality.”

Her mouth dropped open, eyes sparkling. “How very cruel of you. Will I see you in the morning?”

“If you’re lucky,” he replied, smirking. All his confidence died the moment she brought his hand to her mouth, pressing a kiss to his palm.

“If you’re lucky, you mean,” she replied, letting go. Elain turned, flouncing back into the house without so much as a glance backwards while Lucien stood beneath the fae lights flickering on Feyre’s porch, hand burning. He tried to figure out what had happened and how they’d gone from crying and yelling to…insults and a kiss.

Still, he did as she asked and came back into the house and walked back to his room…where Feyre waited, a smile playing on her lips.

“Good night?” She asked him, making it plain she’d heard at least part of what went down between him and Elain.

“Shut up,” he replied.

#elucien #elucien prompt #elucien fanfic #elain x lucien #lucien x elain #im not gonna add to luciens misery #its happy endings or NOTHING #also mean elain is my favorite thing #still no smut #i think maybe the next one is smutty?#dont be afraid to send me your smutty prompts #i will answer them in the order they are recieved

220 notes · View notes

ariaadagio · 3 years

Text

Thoughts about S6

This is gonna be a little all over the place. Just me rambling, really.

So, I went up to LA to watch the show with some fandom friends on Friday. We had an absolute blast. I loved the finale season of the show. LOVED. I had some quibbles, of course, but none worth lingering on at length. I know the ending was controversial for some, but not for me. It worked on all levels.

I didn’t have much love for the end of 5B (I know, y’all are probably shocked, given some of the things I’ve written re: Lucifer becoming God or godlike) which is why I never really chimed in on the post-5B discussion. I just couldn’t muster much enthusiasm about it, and I didn’t want to froth about or hate on it when other people were having fun and gushing.

But my main issues at the time involved: Lucifer suddenly wanting to become God felt poorly setup and unearned, and Chloe suddenly quitting the force to support Lucifer becoming God felt incredibly impulsive, perhaps almost out of character.

S6 not only was perfect for me in its own right, it actually went back and fixed my S5B issues retrospectively. Lucifer suddenly wanting to become God felt poorly setup because it WAS poorly set up. On purpose. He never actually wanted to be God. It wasn’t his calling. And Chloe dropping her Detective job so suddenly WAS impulsive. On purpose. She really didn’t think that one through and ended up being bored out of her fucking mind without that job to engage her problem-solving brain. So ... kudos to the writers for that. I am so pleasantly surprised by that backtracking and never expected it.

As far as season 6 goes ... oh my gosh, what a brilliant roller coaster. Like @tarysande, I also spent a large portion of the season wondering what the evil trick was with Rory. I didn’t trust ANYTHING she said for many episodes. I kept waiting for a shoe to drop that never did. I really appreciate that Deckerstar did not get married—I never felt like a marriage was necessary for them given where they were in their life (a divorcee and a Devil who isn’t beholden to human constructs of law). I actively did not want a Deckerstar baby, but the show did it in a way I found absolutely lovely. Rather than using Rory as a magical “happily ever after” button as so many shows do, she was a tool to create massive character growth in Lucifer, and I am so on board with that.

I cried during this season. Frequently. Which is something that rarely happens for me when watching or reading fiction. I am just ... so stupidly emotionally involved in these great characters.

Some people may fixate on the separation between Lucifer and Chloe until her death, but to me ... it worked. Lucifer found a higher purpose and chose to fulfill it, to keep his promise to his daughter—to be a better father for Rory than his father was for him—and he does still ultimately get a “happily ever after” with his family and friends and dearest loved ones. It just starts a little later than planned. Chloe, meanwhile, gets to live her life knowing without doubt the love of her life is not only okay & pursuing his calling, he’s waiting for her on the flip side. They’ll have eternity together—ETERNITY, in exchange for a few decades apart. Bittersweet? Yes. Tragic? No. So I am okay with this. This is a level of certainty no real human ever gets—and as someone with zero certainty about the future whatsoever, I can’t express enough how much this foreknowledge alone would be a comfort in difficult times. It really resonates with me as a meaningful gift.

I do agree that there’s plenty of room for Lucifer to see Chloe without Rory’s knowledge, though I’m on the fence about how realistic this is. I think Dan called it, honestly. Having to watch and not participate is more torturous than not participating at all. And, as I said, he gets to see everybody eventually. He knows his daughter will understand—actively consents, even—and he knows their reunion will come. He knows Chloe will come back to him, too, because he’s grown to trust and love her fully.

Along those lines, Lucifer showed amazing character development this year. Once this man figures out his feelings and commits, he is ALL IN. I was so proud of him, talking out his feelings, and saying I love you, and hugging people left and right. His goodbyes made me tear up, particularly the scene with Maze. Which. OMG. These two. That scene was a long time coming, and so heartfelt. i loved it. I also loved how comfortable in his own skin he finally seemed this season. He utilized his wings SO MUCH. And his devil face where appropriate. And there was zero angst about any of it.

Time travel is a trope that tends to break my brain, but ... I think Rory showing up is what enabled her own conception. Lucifer didn’t think he could have kids until he finds out he does in the future and then boom, suddenly he can conceive. He self-actualized working swimmers. I know this creates a chicken or the egg paradox—how could this loop ever even start if Rory hadn’t existed at least once on her own—buuut, I’ve definitely seen this trope used in other shows, such as Netflix’s Dark. So, imho, there was an added level to Lucifer’s sacrifice at the end—he wasn’t just trying to preserve his own epiphany via a promise to his daughter, he was actively choosing to save his daughter’s entire existence, and he was choosing to be different from his father.

People who think Lucifer was robbed of choice ... I beg to differ. For the reasons stated above, and also? He was the one who came up with the idea of returning to Hell. No one forced that on him. The only thing Rory did was speed up his time table. And I think there’s a beautiful kind of symmetry to the idea of him returning to Hell and choosing to reframe it as a place of healing, rather than eternal suffering. In a sense, he’s making his own Plan for himself. He’s defining his role in the universe: the Devil, not God. He’s defining his family: Chloe, Rory, Trixie, Dan, Maze, Eve, Linda, Amenadiel, Ella, and all the great friends he’s made. He’s defining his home: not a place, but where his heart is. For the first time in his life, the Devil decided who he is and what he wants to do with his life, instead of letting external forces do it for him.

And I fucking loved every minute of it.

A perfect ending for a long, thoughtful journey.

P.S. If you disagree with me, that’s fine. There’s no wrong way to interpret art and media. But please know I’m not really in the mindset for debate right now. I just want to live in my happy post-S6 bubble. I’d appreciate it if you let me :)

#lucifer meta #lucifer on netflix #lucifer s6 spoilers

149 notes · View notes

one-more-offbeat-anthem · 3 years

Text

after the credits

to thirteen years of cas and of the greatest love story ever told...an empty rescue fic for y’all :) 2.3k, read on ao3 here

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

After a while, Castiel gets tired of watching. He’s practically dreaming all the time, but he’s so tired.

Eternal sleep is not restful.

He can’t leave the Empty, but he manages to mold it, with his mind, into a theater. He went to one once, with Dean, and there are probably nicer theaters, like those for plays and operas, but this movie theater is right for him. If he concentrates, he can almost smell burnt, buttery popcorn and spilled soda and old carpet, and Dean right next to him, aftershave and car oil and whiskey.

Almost.

The scenes unfold in a memorable order, because they’re Cas’s own memories. At first, he tried to jump in, alter the scene, but he’s powerless. So, like clockwork, he watches. He’s saving Dean in hell. He’s being stabbed in the chest by the same man he raised. He’s asking Dean to get answers from Alastair and then almost getting the grace pressed out of him. He’s slamming his palm onto a bloody sigil. He’s--

Everything, all of his twelve years on earth, pass by, over and over and over again.

Right now, it’s an early scene, not far into the cycle. It’s not one of his favorites, because he can see the expression on his face, remembers exactly how he felt. Remembers that he he was feeling at all.

“That was a pretty awkward kiss, huh?”

Cas turns sharply at the sound of Dean’s voice. Of course, Dean does talk in this scene, before he kisses Anna. But this Dean is sitting next to him, frowning at the screen.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Cas says.

“I know.”

Chances are this is just the Empty trying to mess with him. Last week a random trashcan showed up in his theater. Or maybe it was last year, or a millenia ago, or five minutes from now. Time is weird.

They keep watching in silence. On the screen, in the memory, Cas’s head jerks away from the sight of Dean and Anna kissing. The scene flips then, to a park at night, Anna right in front of Cas, no Dean in sight.

“For the first time, I feel...” Memory-Cas says.

“It gets worse,” Anna warns.

“So your first feeling….” Dean starts.

“It was something.” Cas can’t look at him. The scene on-screen changes.

Dean, to his merit, doesn’t press.

The memories progress through the year they spent trying to stop the apocalypse, the year that ended with Sam diving into the pit and Dean going off to Lisa’s. Then through Cas starting to work with Crowley, a conversation that happened right behind Dean without his knowledge.

On-screen, Cas is watching Dean rake leaves. The expression on his face is nearly mournful. After a moment, Crowley steps into view.

“Ah, Castiel. Angel of Thursday. Just not your day, is it?” Crowley says.

“What are you doing here?” Memory-Cas asks.

“I want you to help me help ourselves.”

“Speak plain.”

Crowley smirks. “I want to discuss a simple business transaction. That’s all.”

“You want to make a deal? With me? I’m an Angel, you ass. ”

The scene flips again.

“Is there a way to pause this?” Dean asks.

Cas shakes his head. “It just does this, on a loop. I can’t sleep. The Empty won’t let me.” He puts a hand on the armrest between them. “I forced the theater up, to make it better.”

“It looks a lot like that theater we went to once.”

“I know.” Cas stares at Dean for a moment, looks away.

Many of these scenes are things Dean knows of. Cas works with Crowley, gets locked in a ring of fire, feels his chest seize up as Dean looks back for a moment. Watches the Leviathans lead him to a lake. They meet again on porch steps, Cas unable to remember who he is but still able to figure out that Dean is important. Cas gets his memories back, takes on Sam’s hell trauma. They go to Purgatory, Cas stays behind. It’s like clockwork.

Until.

“I don’t remember that,” Dean says slowly, watching himself die on the screen. “You never--you’ve never killed me.”

“Yes and no.” Cas knows what’s coming next--he’s going to kill Dean thousands of times. Each one is the same, with Cas in tears as these copies, mock-ups of Dean struggle, beg and plead, tell him not to. Each time, Naomi makes him do it again.

Until, finally, he doesn’t hesitate.

And she says he’s ready.

As they watch that scene in the crypt unfold, with the real Dean at Cas’s mercy, Dean leans forward, putting his elbows on his thighs and propping his chin in his hands. “You lied.”

“Hm?”

“You said you didn’t know what broke the connection.” Dean twists his head to look at Cas. “But you did.”

“I did,” Cas assents.

They watch Cas ride cross-country on a bus, pulling out his phone and almost calling Dean over and over again.

“Is there a way that we can see some of my memories?” Dean asks.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”.

Dean shrugs. “Well, I am here, and you figured out how to make a friggin movie theater, so I think I can do it.”

The image on the screen shudders, coalesces, breaks into a million pieces and then reforms. Dean is standing on the edge of a lake, picking up Cas’s coat, still covered in Leviathan goo. “You dumb son of a bitch,” Memory-Dean mutters, wrapping up the coat in his arms.

The scene flickers again--the coat in those same hands, moving from car to car to car, and then being passed to Cas. “I always knew you’d come back ,” Memory-Dean says. It’s a soft scene, almost, but then it flips to Dean seizing a monster’s collar in purgatory. He’s covered in blood and grime as he shoves the monster up against a tree, practically growling, “Where’s the angel?”

Even after the monster answers, Dean guts him.

It’s a cycle. The memory blurs through sleepless nights, through Dean stepping into streams to pray, prayers Cas knows well. It pushes past Cas letting go of Dean’s arm in the portal, and here’s something else new: Dean sees Cas on the side of the road, sees him outside the window while it pours down rain, sitting bolt upright at the phantom sight of Cas’s face.

“Why are you here?” Cas finally asks. This must really be Dean, after all. The Empty wouldn’t know these things, wouldn’t be able to dream them up. They’re too good, too honest.

“To bring you home.” Dean kicks the back of the seat in front of him, leans back in his own chair.

“I can’t go home.”

“You should.” The scene on screen rapidly changes--it’s Dean as he looks now, carrying a little boy on his back. The little boy is blonde, round-faced, holding onto Dean’s neck for dear life, laughing as Dean swings around.

“Is that--” No, it can’t be.

“Yep. He’s four, you know.” Dean clears his throat. “He misses you.”

“I wish I could have gotten to say good-bye.” Cas trails off.

“Come home. Then you never have to say it.”

Cas shakes his head. On the screen, Dean is reading to Jack, Jack following the words with a chubby finger. “It would be...awkward.”

“How?” Dean raises an eyebrow. “We’re family, dude. Jack misses you, Sam misses you, and Eileen’s been hanging around, and me…” Dean clamps his mouth shut.

That’s why.

“Things aren’t going to be the same. Not after…” Cas takes a deep breath. “What I said. We won’t be able to ignore it.”

“Then we won’t.”

“Dean--”

“You don’t know?” Dean’s eyebrows furrow. “You don’t know. Okay. I, uh…” The screen turns black.

“You what?” Cas is almost afraid to know.

“I didn’t want you to see this.”

The blackness unfurls into Billie’s library, Dean standing in front of her. They’re clearly in the middle of a conversation.

“What do you want me to say?” Memory-Dean asks. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t matter. ”

“Don’t you?” Billie replies.

“I couldn’t save Mom. I couldn’t save Cas. I can’t even save a scared little kid. Sam keeps trying to fix it, but I just keep dragging him down. So I’m not going to beg. Okay, if it’s my time, it’s my time.”

“Dean--” Cas starts, but Dean just looks at the floor, like he’s trying to avoid this.

“You really believe that,” Billie says. “You wanna die.”

“When was this?” Cas asks, speaking over the rest of Billie’s statement.

“It was...right before we, uh, got the call from you. That you were back.” Dean leans his head all the way up, looks at what would be the movie theater’s ceiling, if it wasn’t in the void. “I had a bad time. I…I would show it to you. But I don’t want you to see me like that. I held it together enough to wrap your body and burn it…”

“Hunter’s funeral.”

“Only kind I know how to do.” Dean swallows, audibly. “I’m doing what I can now. Having Jack to take care of, and Eileen around, too, helps. But it’s…” He finally looks at Cas again. “Please let me take you home. Please come home with me.”

Cas would do anything for Dean Winchester. He has done anything for him before. So he will grant him this, at least the illusion, because Cas knows he can’t leave the Empty. He’s trapped here for eternity.

He takes Dean’s hand.

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

There is a little boy crawling on him.

“Daddy,” the boy says, poking his face, “I know you’re awake.”

“Jack,” Dean says, from somewhere up above, “Cas is still sleeping.”

Cas blinks rapidly. “‘M not.”

“Shouldn’t’ve said that.” Dean releases Jack, and Jack fully clambers onto Cas.

“I missed you,” Jack says.

“I missed you too.” Cas holds onto him, tight. He’s so small, like he’s supposed to be. A kid. Safe.

Cas thinks he might be in Dean’s bed.

The bunker, he discovers, looks much the same. He was gone for four months, in which time Dean and Sam took care of Chuck, Jack became a kid, and Eileen became a permanent fixture. When Dean and Sam aren’t looking, she signs to Cas, “He already looks better.”

“Who, Dean?” Cas signs back.

Eileen nods. “He had a pretty bad time.”

Dean turns around then, and Eileen presses a finger to her lips.

There’s not a quiet moment for the rest of the day. Sam explains what happened--”You might be human now,” he says, and Cas replies, “I’m not tired yet.”--and Jack wants Cas to read to him and play Barbies and racecars and puppets (apparently Dean built Jack’s little puppet theater, which--).

After dinner (spaghetti and meatballs, and Dean has a Coke instead of beer, Cas notices), everyone goes off to bed, and Cas realizes he is tired, which is something to think about.

He starts to head to the room he typically stays in, but Dean seizes the top of his arm. “Nope, you’re coming with me.” Dean drags Cas down the hall towards his room.

Cas hadn’t gotten a good luck at it earlier, what with Jack climbing all over him, but he sees it now. Dean’s bed unmade, scraps of random paper littered across the dresser, a picture Cas recognizes because he and Dean are wearing cowboy hats, and now he knows how Dean was really doing right before that case in Dodge City--

There’s also a dent in the wall. That’s new.

Dean follows Cas’s gaze. “I chucked a whiskey bottle at it. Sam took the rest of my stash the next day.” Dean steps over, brushing the drywall’s cracks with his fingers. “I didn’t fix it up so I wouldn’t forget.”

I couldn’t save Cas. I can’t even save a scared little kid. Sam keeps trying to fix it, but I just keep dragging him down. So I’m not going to beg. Okay, if it’s my time, it’s my time.

“Dean,” Cas says, “Tell me in words.”

“What?” Dean turns away from the wall. “Tell you what?”

“You know.”

Dean swallows, licks his lips. “I’d say don’t ever do that again on the whole dying thing, but I said that to you once and you didn’t listen. And maybe if I say it the right way now, you’ll stay, but…” Dean slumps, sits on the bed. “You can’t leave again.”

Cas touches the wall himself before sitting next to Dean on the bed. “I’m not going to.” He isn’t sure if he’s allowed to touch Dean.

Dean touches him instead, leaning into Cas, finding one of Cas’s hands, holding it tight. He’s crying, Cas realizes. “I love you,” Dean says into their joined hands, then his chest wracks with a sob. “I was always so sure that if--” another sob, “If I said it, you’d leave. Get taken away from me.”

“I’m not going to leave,” Cas repeats.

He isn’t sure how long they sit like that, but Dean finally straightens up, lets go of Cas’s hand, wipes his eyes with the back of his own. “Pajamas,” Dean says, standing and crossing to the dresser. “We gotta get you some of your own, but…” He digs a pair of sweats out of the drawer and tosses them to Cas. “These’ll do for tonight.”

Cas doesn’t ask if he can stay. Dean doesn’t ask him to leave.

With the lights out, it’s pitch black, almost as inky as the Empty, but Cas can hear Dean breathing, so close to him. The bed is almost too small for both of them, so they’re nearly chest-to-chest. Hardly ever have they been this close. Never did Cas dare to dream it.

In the dark, under the covers, the world outside of this room, Dean kisses him. It’s flat, soft, a brush of lips, the barest ghost, but it’s enough. More than enough.

Cas is home.

#offbeatwrites #it's DEANCASAVERSARY #IT'S CAS DAY #IT'S CAS'S BIRTHDAY #it's also one of my best friend's birthdays she has the best birthday huh #anyways I don't really know where this fic came from I just went hey. what if cas hadmovie theater #and I LOVEEEEE the trope of them showing each other their memories. there was so much stuff that if they'd just TALKED about it..........#god.#anyways! enjoy :)#also yeah minor similarities to a drabble I wrote this summer #that was very much an accident but I think they're different enough

133 notes · View notes

jadedxrealityw · 4 years

Text

-Quiet- Oliver Wood x Female Reader

☼-☪-☼

Summary: You have been the chaser for the Gryffindor quidditch team for about a year now and were what everyone would call a ‘quiet brute’ you were fast and silent. For the past year both you and Oliver grew feelings for each other, but Oliver didn’t think you had felt the same. Until one day when Slytherin cheats during a match and you reveal why you have been quiet for so long

Kody: Let’s see if i can capture the Oliver Wood we know. i’m am also fully aware that the timing will not fit in well, but it’s fanfiction so like lmao. I watched every single quidditch scene for this bullshit lol and i still don’t get it so bare with me please.

House: Gryffindor

Possible Triggers / Warnings: cursing, Marcus Flint, Slytherin slander, (jkjkjk) a smidge of angst

☼-☪-☼

Tap!

you open your eyes and snap your head towards the sound. Eyes stopping your window. An owl was tapping its beak against the glass pane. It was so early, who would send a letter this early? Sitting up from the bed and throwing your legs off, you walk towards the feathery companion.

reaching for the latch, you unhook and push it open. The owl stepped off of your windowsill and onto the desk right under the ledge. You plop down onto the seat and reach for the letter in its mouth. The owl drops the letter in your hand. You rip off the wax seal and grab the folded piece of paper in the envelope.

unfolding it you see a familiar name written at the bottom ‘Oliver Wood’ the captain of your quidditch team. The wizard you had known for a year and had a small- well large infatuation with. You cracked a small smile before reading the contents of the letter.

‘Dear Y/n, since we are playing against Slytherin tomorrow and they are our biggest rivals i want add an early morning practice today, hence the letter now. This extra training will help, i promise. Once you receive this letter head to the Gryffindor common room. With l- Sincerely Oliver.’

you sigh deeply. Not being a morning person meant you hated getting up early in general, but you couldn’t do much about it. So you go over to your dresser and grabbed some clothes suitable to practice in. It’s been cold outside recently so you needed to cover up.

you slip on your quidditch sweater that had your number and name on the back, your black quidditch pants, and your gloves as well. As you lace up your boots you sit on your bed so you wouldn’t fall over. Once you were finished you stand up straight, reaching for your wand on your nightstand.

you slip it into your belt loop even though you plan on putting it in the locker that was in the changing rooms later anyway. Once your all set you open your dorm room door and make your way down the hall, passing a couple girls that unfortunately woke up as early as you.

as you reached the common room you saw your whole team sitting on the sofas or standing up. Angelina was the first to notice your presence “Y/n’s here. That’s all of us” she says, standing up from the couch. All eyes turn to look at you, making you advert your gaze to the fireplace.

lifting up your hand for a second, basically an introverted wave. “Not a morning person aye L/n?” Fred asks, pushing off the wall he was leaning on. You didn’t say anything and just shrug your shoulders in reply. “Alright, let’s head out” your captain, Oliver said, gesturing with his hand to the door.

the team replies with okays and such and you all begin to leave the common room. You let most of them walk out so you can be in the back, mostly so no one would try and talk to you. It was too early and you were too cranky for conversation right now- or ever really.

☼-☪-☼

as you all walked the halls, you didn’t notice the certain scottish boy slowly falling behind until he was standing next to you. You only noticed when he suddenly spoke “Sleep well?” he asked. You turn your head to look at him for a split second before back the other direction “Fine”

he nods once. You didn’t really give him much to go off of. Oliver made you more nervous than other people did, probably because of the crush you had on him. If only you knew he was exactly the same. “That’s good. Are you nervous about tomorrow's match? I sure know i am”

you shrug your shoulders once, not really knowing how to answer “A little.” you say, looking forward. You all were nearing the field now and everyone was going into the male and female locker rooms to get there brooms and such. Oliver was about to follow the other guys when you spoke again.

“I wouldn’t worry much, your a skilled keeper” you say, E/c eyes focused on your fingerless gloves on your hands. Before he could get a word in you follow Katie Bell into the locker rooms, leaving Oliver dumbfounded by your words. “Aw look at the young love. If only you weren’t a nervous wreck right?”

Oliver heard both twins snicker and laugh, causing him to become flustered “Both of you get your brooms” he snaps, before pushing pas the two of them.

☼-☪-☼

morning practice went well that day as well as afternoon practice. You were actually excited for the game tomorrow, which was a first. Maybe it’s because you wanted to see the look of despair as your team own the match. Either way, you couldn’t wait for the match to start

“Welcome back everyone to another exciting day of quidditch! Today Gryffindor is going against Slytherin for this seasons quidditch cup! Both teams are currently tied, so this game will for sure see who is the superior team! Now, let’s welcome our teams. First Slytherin!”

Lee Jordan’s voice boomed through the mic as the Slytherins roared for there team. You watched from the ground as the Slytherin team flew onto the field, throwing their hands in the air. You took a deep breath as they took positions “Alright we're up next guys. Mount your brooms!”

Oliver shouts before mounting his own broom, all of you doing the same. “Let’s welcome our Gryffindors!” Lee shouts and all of you took off into the air, making your way up. You stopped in front of the Slytherin team and assumed correct positions as Madam Hooch stands on the ground below us

“I want a clean match, ya hear me!? No magic and no wands, understood!?” she spoke, looking at both teams. Some of us nod while others just blink mindlessly. Madam Hooch kicks he box and the snitch and bludger are released. After a couple of seconds, she lifts up the quaffle from the box and holds it up.

you tighten your grip on your broom, ready to launch at the quaffle once she throws it. Hooch smiles before tossing the quaffle in the air, causing Lee to shout once more “And let the games begin!” you and Angelina dove in to grab the quaffle while Katie drew back, just in case it was tossed outside the ‘kill circle’ that was happening at the moment.

a Slytherin chaser managed to get ahold of it, so Katie flew after her. Katie catches up to her and pushes the quaffle from under her arm, causing her to drop it. You could see it fall a few feet in front of you and took that chance to attempt to catch it.

you hold out your hand and grab the quaffle “Yes!” you say excitedly to yourself before beginning to make your way to the hoops where the slytherin keeper awaited for you, Miles Bletchley. You throw the quaffle towards the hoop and it completely misses miles and went straight in.

“Y/n L/n scores ten points for Gryffindor!” Lee annonces, as the Gryffindors cheered your name while the Slytherin booed. Typical. You fly back as the quaffle lands in the middle again, this time Angelina goes after it.

☼-☪-☼

after about an eternity of playing, both teams were tied with 140 points each. Harry and Draco have been unable to catch snitch. It was exhausting, but you seemed to be going strong. That was until you saw Marcus Flint with the quaffle. He was heading towards your goal.

you see that Katie and Angelina are to busy being bombarded with bludger so you chased after Marcus. As you did so you watched as he uses his free hand to reach into his robe and grab his wand, he had most of it covered by his robe but you know what you saw.

Oliver, who was at the goal and ready to deflect Marcus’s throw was suddenly thrown back into the hoop and hit the metal bar. Marcus takes the opportunity to throw the quaffle into the hoop and scores “Another ten points for Slytherin and that’s 150 points. Slytherin wins!”

you feel your heart drop as Slytherin erupts in victorious cheers. It was almost as if you were on autopilot as you flew down to meet your team. All of you watched as the Slytherin team high hived each other. What a bunch of bloody cheaters.

“I swore i had that. This is all my fault” Oliver spoke, his face dropped into a sad expression. You feel as if you had been punched in the gut, your fists balling in anger. You drop your broom and shrug off your robe “Hey Flint!” you shout, catching his attention as well as his teammates.

“Well if it isn’t Gryffindor’s chaser. Came to congratulate us? How sweet” he holds his hand over his heart in mock sympathy and you swore you saw red. “Drop the act Flint. I know you cheated! I saw you pull out a wand! Which is against the rules!”

the shouting seemed to draw in Madam Hooch as well as a couple or Professors that were leaving the stands “What’s this shouting all about!” she says, placing her hands on her hips “Marcus Flint used a jinx on Oliver to win! I saw it! He has his wand in his robe!”

your teammates stood behind you, shocked by your outbursts. You only spoke about three words at a time and you were always so neutral. It was strange to say the least as you were fuming with anger. “I did not cheat! Your just being a sore loser and a bitch!” Marcus yelled back at you.

“What did he say!?”Oliver shouts, ready to knock Marcus out, but Fred and George hold him back. “Mr. Flint! There is no need for that language, now empty your pockets this instant!” Madam Hooch points to his robes as he turns a shade of white.

“B-But i didn’t do anything! She’s spewing nonsense just because her captain is incompetent!” Marcus blurts out as a last attempt. Oh he did not. “Listen here you sack of shit! Oliver is the best captain and just person in general that i’ve ever met. So much so that you had to cheat just to win!”

everyone is stunned into silence as you yelled, venom lacing each and everyone of your words. “Now Mr. Flint!” Madam Hooch repeats and you watch as Marcus pulls out his wand and hands it to her. She looks disappointed and shakes her head solemnly.

“What a disgrace to quidditch. Marcus Flint, you are hereby removed from the quidditch team and will serve two months in detention. Also, Gryffindor wins!” she shouts and all the Gryffindor students who remained shouted in happiness now they had gotten their rightful win.

Marcus crosses his arms and mutters another insult towards you. You walk up to him and punch him straight in the nose, causing him to fall back. With that, you walk off the field. You needed to calm down and couldn’t do it with all those people around shouting and yelling.

☼-☪-☼

you had avoided your team for the rest of the day, shameful of your outburst. You wondered if you would get in trouble for punching Marcus and the fact that you told half the school you thought Oliver Wood was the best person in the world, either way. You were fucked.

you were now making your way to your dorm so you could cram in some studying before bed. You wore a white t-shirt, a red and white flannel as well as baggy blue jeans. As you opened the door of your dorm a flash of light causes you to stumble abit as well as a bunch of colored paper? oh confetti.

“Thank you Y/n!” you hear multiple people yell. You quickly decipher each one as one of your teammates. As your vision cleared you saw Fred and George holding up a banner that said ‘Y/n is the best’ Angelina and Katie were holding baskets that were filled to the top with sweets.

Harry was holding a case of butterbeer with a kind smile on his face. Last. but not least Oliver stood in the middle with a bouquet of flowers. you felt your heart race a little more when your eyes met “Um- Hi” you spoke shyly and began to fiddle with the sleeve of your flannel.

“You didn’t tell us you had that fire in you Y/n!” George shouts out of nowhere, his twin nodding in agreement “Wicked” Fred says in agreement. You just shrugged your shoulders “Uh- Thanks?” you said, unsure of what the both of them meant.

“yeah, you definitely put Marcus Flint in his place. Even Draco Malfoy apologized to us. It was insane, you should of been there!” Angelina exclaims, placing her basket of sweets on the ground of your room “You avoided us yesterday, why?” Katie asked, everyone's heads perking up.

you sigh deeply and figured you owed them some sort of explanation “I’m just really socially awkward i guess. My uh- my parents died when i was like nine in some freak potions accident with Luna Lovegood’s mom. So Xenophilius Lovegood took me in. I was mute for awhile, so talking is just hard i suppose?”

the girls faces drop as well as Olivers. Who knew your silence came with such a dark reason. “Sorry- did i ruin the mood?” you ask and they all immediately shake their heads “No, of course not! Anyway, we wanted to thank you for calling Marcus out and basically handing us the win.” Oliver spoke, taking a step towards you.

“Also for sticking up for me. I appreciate it” He adds and you feel a familiar warmth invade your stomach harshly. Oliver hands you the bunch of poppies and you tilt your curiously “There fake?” you question and he nods once “I know your allergic to pollen” he says, which makes your heart skip a couple beats.

you remember mentioning that you were allergic to pollen when you first met. He remembered after all this time? A cough interrupted the both of you and you look to see Fred double fisting butterbeers “Enough of that love shit, lets just hang out”

your team burst out in laughter as both you and Oliver looked away from each other in embarrassment. Stupid Fred.

☼-☪-☼

a couple hours later Angelina was passed out on top of Katie on the floor, they had all brought sleeping bags apparently. This was very planned. Harry was laying on a beanbag chair with a blanket over him and marker on his face. George and Fred’s idea.

speaking of the twins they both were laying on the floor next to the trunk at the end of your bed, sweet wrappers surrounded them. You and Oliver had yet to fall asleep yet. You had actually opened up a bit and enjoyed talking to him. The more you talked, the more you fell for him really.

during the little ‘party’ your team had you all changed into different clothes (in their own dorms of course) so you were now wearing a black muggle t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Oliver was wearing his quidditch jersey and black sweatpants. He looked- well...hot.

“You know Y/n. I can stop thinking about how you said i was the best person you knew” you inhale sharply and lean back onto your pillows, since you were both sitting on your bed “Yeah?” you question, afraid to say anything more. Oliver sits up straight, eyes boring into you.

“I think your the best person i know” he says confidently, reaching for your hand. He grabs it and runs the pad of his thumb over your skin. “Yeah?” you repeated once more. He snorts and looks down at the bedsheets for a moment before looking back at you “I’m trying to say i like you Y/n, like a lot”

say what now? Oliver Wood. The guy who you thought barely noticed you just said he had feelings for you. Like earlier, your brain ran on autopilot “Yeah?...” you say a third time. Oliver rolls his eyes before leaning into kiss you gently, hands cupping your face and leaving room for you to push him away.

up close he smelt like fresh cut wood- like from a broomstick. That made sense actually. You snapped back to reality and hesitantly reach up to place your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him in for a deeper kiss. Oliver responds and places one hand on your waist.

he lays you back against the bed and hovers over you, breaking the kiss. You look at him with a flushed expression “I like you too- you said it earlier so i felt like i should say it now...before anything else happens” you spoke quickly and quietly.

Oliver raises a brow in amusement “Anything else? Who knew you could think so dirty Y/n” he says in a teasing tone. You shake your head “What- no that’s not what i meant” your sentence trails off into a mumble. He chuckles quietly “I know” he said, going into kiss you again.

“Can you guys not shag up, were right here” when did Fred wake up?

“Yeah, be respectful to others around you” and there goes George.

you watched as Oliver’s eye twitched in irritation “Both of shut up and go back to sleep. We are not shagging up” he says and they both mumble an okay. He lays back against the bed, turning on his side to face you “I think we should sleep as well, you don’t mind me sleeping here right?”

you shake your head, not minding him there. He smiles lightly before reaching down to the grab the sheet. He pulled it over both of you. You go to scooch away to the other side when he wraps an arm around and pulls your back against his chest “You can’t get away that easily, lass” he whispered.

you held back a small laugh before getting comfortable in the Captain's arms. “Night Y/n” he spoke quietly before placing a kiss to the back of your head. “Goodnight Oliver” you said back and used your wand to turn out the lights before closing your eyes.

and with that. You fell asleep.

☼-☪-☼

Kody: I call these group of idiots the chaotic Gryffindor quidditch team. Anyways, peace.

335 notes · View notes

persephoneyss · 3 years

Text

Bad Movie.

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x f! Reader. Ft. Jungkook.

Genre: Yandere, dark themes, angst, gore a little.

Summary: ❝Looking for the person you love, beautiful woman.❞

Warnings: Yandere behavior, obsession, harassment / stalking, humiliation, forced marriage, non-sexual intercourse, abuse of power, implicit murder, drug use naming, minor past master / pet relationships, secondary character abduction, ugly hallucinating hoseok , beatings, blood, photos depicting abuse, mistreatment and death, bribery, sexism and humiliation (directly aimed at female prostitutes), hoseok mistreats and humiliates jk, awkward marriage proposals, use namjoon as a secondary character because it hurts more:(, etc.

Number of words: 6000+

︙Author's Note: This is my longest fic so far, I think. It took a lot for me to do it, especially since I didn't have a clear idea about the whole plot that would take and the role that each character would develop. So if you see Jungkook in a kind of strange character, blame my mind for including him almost last. Also, I hate Hoseok in this fic. Namjoon angel and fallen soldier, by the way let me know if they cried with his death, it hurt me to write it. Thank you very much for the 200 notes in my previous fic, I'm crying.

Read the Warnings well and enjoy!

(Sorry for any mistakes, my first language is not English and I am not fluent either.)

Puedes leer este fic y más aquí en español.

Confidence, a beautiful and treacherous feeling at times.

Feeling superior is a constant whisper of the ego within you, calling to be released and make others feel as what they really are, despicable and useless trash. It was fun laughing at losers when you haven't had that sense of defeat yet.

Hoseok fervently watched his rivals fall at his feet, laughing at his incompetence and stomping even more pathetic defeated form even though they were already dead in tears of pain. He smiled, he always did when he felt invincible and He bit his lip gently to hold back an excited laugh.

No one could be compared to him, and in his high sense of power he could never be alert when he struck him with a blast of vengeance.

It was you.

His eyes stared at you in horror and anger, his ego inside him hated you from the first moment. Because while despicable, he loved you for much more than his pride and winning sense.

He fell at your feet but he never made you notice it, behaving as he normally would around you even though he was always behind you.

Luck was her greatest ally, he always smiled at her and she helped him. It was fun to play with your opponents pretending to be the victim, the cornered mouse and then smash everyone with a snap of your fingers.

His mother looked at him with love and his father with pride, he was the only and favorite son of the Jung family. His success was never derived from love, much less, it was blasphemy in his family to say something so false and impossible.

Hoseok admired his family when they met in the great message of his parents' house, his grandparents smiled and his relatives brought out their most exquisite stories to entertain. They were all crows pretending to show interest in a prestigious place in the will of the family's monarch, his grandfather.

It was at one of those dinners that he got to meet you, he used to get bored of hearing his cousins tell their anecdotes with prostitute women who mostly called, whores of a night. Mocking their shocked faces when they refused to pay them and threw them out of their big luxurious houses.

He rolled his eyes when a family friend, little Jungkook who was known to his father because of his prestige in his last name, chimed in trying to get into the conversation with a shy smile.

Lucky bastard, he thought bitterly. He didn't like the little idiot sticking his hands in boiling water, he wasn't even supposed to be there.

He hummed a goodbye as he walked out the front doors, walking aimlessly to his bored eyes. His feet stopped abruptly with a strangled sigh when he first saw you, you looked tired as you apparently searched for a key inside your bag. Could visualize the logo on your shirt from the grocery store where he assumed you were employed, He stood looking for what seemed like an eternity at you before you find the keys and rush through the back door. He snorted before lazily continuing on his way, however the next day he ended up following in your footsteps again and with even more confidence.

It took a few weeks for him to be able to enter the small commerce store and be able to look you face to face for the first time, it was expected that you would serve him with a smile asking if he was offered something. But he did not see you anywhere, he looked for you before another equally young woman approached him kindly, he sighed making a face of disgust surprising the she worker, his expensive shoes got dirty on the floors of the humble place with shame. His little investigation and search took him through many corridors of the establishment, he observed the shelves and each person who seemed to be wearing the uniform of the store thinking of finding you distracted with your work, maybe he thought of approaching you and asking for directions which he clearly didn't need. Knowing that she you couldn't refuse because that was your job. In a way, you were there to serve him.

He let out a bored sigh, tired of playing hide and seek, he turned around ready to leave that place that disgusted him so much in a certain way, but once again he stopped in an instant. It was a moan. He clenched his fists, walking hurriedly to the place where the noise came from, he was sure it was your voice and that made him even more angry thinking that he would find you in a compromising position with someone.

He did not think that his lover would be such a stupid and dirty person.

You were crouched on the floor, grimacing with pain and exhaustion. You seemed very annoyed trying to lift a box with your arms, the scene was tender and certainly pathetic, she smiled noticing that you were so distracted that you were never aware of how I was watching you with carnal desire and painfully bad adoration.

"I-can I help you." He was surprised at his little babble, justifying himself later. Nobody ever managed to make him nervous, his father used to despise weak people and certainly he always sought his approval by doing things that were not correct. "They seem heavy."

Your face pale before the scare, turning into a face of shame quickly, you shook your head with a gentle movement, smiling still pained. "I'm fine sir. Can I help you? Maybe he got lost, let me guide-..."

"Actually, I do need help but not with your services." I speak in disagreement, you seemed confused but she nodded at his request. The customer is always right, right? How convenient. "I need you to allow me to help you with that heavy box, not to be rude or calling you weak miss, but you can't seem to handle it."

Lie, under his politically correct excuse was a dialogue about how insufficient you are even with things as easy and common as carrying a box, obviously you needed his help and Hoseok could give you that and more, much more. You just had to say it, it was so simple and fun.

"I -... I can do it, but i will accept your help sir ..." He smiled making an emphasis for he to give him his name, he let out a small laugh finishing his sentence.

“Hoseok, you can call me Hoseok, darling..." He mock imitating his position, your name left your lips like a melody and he immediately felt the sweet taste of it slide down his tongue. Beautifully perfect, indeed. "Now that we can finish the introductions please allow me."

Her expensive outfit crumpled as she bent down to lift the box with ease, you were once again oblivious to her incoherent and certainly crazy fantasies, it was like a romance comedy movie in her eyes. The charming fellow always stays with the girl. And likewise, no one could go against the fictional plot.

He was immersed in the beautiful narrative that you would be hers at the end of the credits.

It was not the last time she saw you, she returned to her same routine of continuing to stalk you with obvious impudence. The only thing that really changed was her new setting and her character, he was hiding between the shelves waiting for the right moment to appear in front of you with a charming smile. Over and over, he was locked in an infinite loop.

He was starting to get tired of just having you in his arms and sheets just in his heavy and lustful dreams.

"A date? How funny Hoseok."

His face twisted in annoyance, but he put on a fake smile again when you looked at him again. "Hobi." He corrected in a high-pitched voice, insisting that you call him that. "And she spoke very seriously my dear, everything is ready."

"Eh ... I -..." A simple wave of her hands was enough to shut you up, you frown in confusion and secretly disgusted.

"On Saturday, I'll send you the address of the restaurant. Goodbye, dear!"

You watch it for a few seconds but he's already gone, you resign yourself to continuing with your work of ordering the products on the shelves. Thinking and trying to remember when you gave him your number. A very characteristic noise distracts you, a call makes you smile with love and adoration.

The plot is taking an interesting turn.

Hoseok was charming by nature, his economic position made him even more desirable to the opposite gender and even his own. It was not strange to see people flirting with him or being suggestive with his proposals, he was on a pedestal and he enjoyed it. His subconscious whispered a little bored. I couldn't deny that he became boring in a way, but you appeared in the story as an extra who soon became a main character. You changed the script of his life already established and narrated.

You were so funny.

He smiled in front of the mirror when he thought of you, since he met you that day he started chatting with you secretly from your supervisor. You had told him several anecdotes to make him laugh, you were also naturally charming pulling out various expressions of adoration that you did not even notice. Oblivious to that, you'd better get ready for the climax of the movie.

The wind was strong in the streets of Seoul, your hair was noticeably messy causing you to let out a tired sigh. You should be planning your wedding banquet right now, but you honestly didn't want to leave Hoseok alone at the dinner he had organized. You put the invitation in your bag, thinking of giving it to her when the time was right with a smile. He seemed like a good person and undoubtedly a good friend in the future.

"You're on time, I was just about to order our food. Honey." The last word slid down his tongue with malice and arrogance, Hoseok inwardly chuckling at your disengaged expression.

"Thanks, but don't stop you can order for both." You say arranging your chair correctly.

The restaurant looked relatively empty, there were only three other people including a couple who ate dinner while chatting enthusiastically.

You smile unconsciously, thinking about what would also make you feel the same way.

"I was looking forward to this dinner, my dear. I also hoped I could tell you how much you have captivated me for a long time, specifically since the first day I saw you." And the others too, he thought shifting your posture.

"Thank you, I'm very flattered to cause that feeling ... in, good in you." You whisper clearly uncomfortable forcing yourself to stay calm. You were sure that you had never given a hint or anything else in Hoseok to establish romantic feelings. "But I-... "

"I know, darling. That is why I have to offer you the opportunity to be my girlfriend and my future wife."

Wife?

For a moment, you feel a rush through your body. You refuse to make a scene in front of all the few people present out of respect, you calm down by counting to ten slowly in your head, but it becomes very difficult for you as you continue to observe his comfortable smile and how he behaves. He seemed very sure of the affirmative respect you would give him, you snort angrily at the thought.

"I am sorry to have been misunderstood Mr. Hoseok, but I am not seeking a relationship with you and very sorry I reject any relationship beyond friendship." Your body lifts up, making Hoseok laugh well in advance of your final sentences. "I am engaged and my future husband is waiting for me, good afternoon."

Trembling, you leave the invitation in silence, leaving the luxurious premises in the same way. The waiters watching you with surprise, being an audience of rejection and humiliation on your part. Hoseok sighs, sipping his wine glass patiently pretending not to hear what the couple behind him are saying.

What a bad luck.

Life wanted to want to return all his damn vanity to him, making fun of him with your almost imminent rejection, obviously he knew that you were engaged and that you loved the poor man who had the bad luck to be his competition, but love is not always the important thing in a relationship or at least not of both parties. The voices of the waiters and the couple distract him from his plans for his next step, he clenches his fists angrily dropping the silverware on the plate calling the attention of everyone in the place.

"Filthy vulgar and talkative people, she will be my wife even if her words have been heard by her prying ears." He raised his voice, causing everyone to shut up. "It's just part of the script."

Maybe if the character who wanted to be the main loses the role of him, he should be the villain. The bad guy in the movie.

He read the invitation with meticulous delicacy, laughing at the little message you put aside. He thought about attending for a second, wondering if it would be nice to walk in to go straight to the altar and shoot your husband willing to take his place by your side. But that would be risky.

"Where are we going, sir?" He asked his driver with a smile.

"Take me to the best brothel in Seoul." He whispered delicately, smiling just as happily as before your rejection. I'd make you pay double the bill for your indulgence.

And likewise, the world is a truly small place. Jungkook nodded clearly uncomfortable obeying someone other than Mr. Jung. Hoseok cornered him like a helpless rabbit in the claws of a cunning fox, flashing his jaw in warning. He felt confused about his little assigned task, watching the direction pointing the right way to his chauffeur who only followed orders.

A small feeling of remorse ran through him, making him want to vomit when he remembered how Hoseok's face was so close to his with arrogance, as his hands roamed his arms gently. He was disgusting how he used his power to such a useless and demanding gain, sometimes without any realism.

"Little Jungkook, you have a very lovely name. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, you were so insignificant that you seemed pathetic to me." He whispered making her wince. "My father told me that you are good at obeying, I would like to test his theory." His cold hands were constantly running down his arms, making a shiver run through his body. "Still remembering well, I already did it before."

Jungkook was weak under his cloak of power, where he could so easily hide it. Lose it. "Yes, h-hyung." An inappropriate moan came from his lips causing him to cover her mouth in shame, a little touch near his crotch was enough to tempt him. Hoseok smirked, narrowing his eyes before walking away slowly wiping his fingers on his expensive clothes in disgust.

"I want you to befriend someone, don't ask, just do it. I'll tell you your next step when you're done." He ordered bored.

"We are here, young Jeon." Notice Jimin with a smile, Jungkook sighed wearily thanking him before getting out of the car ready to fulfill his mission.

I observe him for a few seconds standing in the entrance without doing anything, he was cleaning the windows of the building with force. He seemed like a nice person, certainly a bit humble. He approached making the man bow respectfully, even though he was older. Money can buy everything, they say.

"I am young Jeon, a new investor. May I have a chat with you?"

The man was surprised, no one who was someone by name and a few numbers along with several zeros would be able to notice his presence and at least greet him. A coffee sounded more intimate and undoubtedly inconvenient for him, but again out of respect he accepted the offer with a smile adorning his features.

"My name is Jungkook informally, but I like you and you can call me that." He spoke kindly.

"Namjoon, Mr. Je -... I'm sorry, Jungkook." He corrected sheepishly, making her smile.

He still didn't understand that he planned to do Hoseok with a building cleaner, but he didn't feel in a position worth asking. Furthermore, he would still not receive an honest answer.

He passed by the same place every day, pretending to enter the building only so he could meet Mr. Kim and talk about unimportant subjects. He gained his trust almost immediately, promising that he would give her a better job soon at his own company. He felt like an idiot taking advantage of the man in front of him in such a way for a simple whim from Hoseok.

He was an idiot, but he didn't want to go back to what he was before. A pet.

"I'm very happy, I think she will make a good wife." He responded with encouragement, seeing how Namjoon nodded looking for a picture of his fiancée to show him. He seemed excited, Jungkook understood his happiness after he explained that he saved for a long time to achieve his dream of getting married in a church. They were both in it together, in looking for a future.

He got lost in his thoughts, maybe if he lied to Hoseok about gaining trust from him, saying that Namjoon was a very cold and quiet man, he could make him forget about it. He sighed squeezing the coffee cup in his hands, Namjoon caught his attention by showing a photo of you smiling at the camera with a background of the bridge and the sun behind making a beautiful background.

Jungkook became alert, having seen that face before.

Hoseok had you as the wallpaper on his phone, he knew it was you because of your characteristic features and the scarf you wore in both photos. You were the new fad of a rich fool.

"T-is ... She's so cute, you're very lucky."

Namjoon nodded with a smile, apologizing before returning to his work upon being called by his supervisor. Jungkook put aside his cup feeling the bitter taste of his thoughts, Hoseok was planning something, he knew he was a son of a bitch who liked to keep his plans under lock and key and in a deep grave. He walked away calling for Jimin quickly, before being accosted by Namjoon who came running over, seemingly forgetting something of the utmost importance.

"I apologized Mr. Jeon, but I wanted to give you this personally. It is an invitation, in addition to the proposal to be the best man at our wedding. My fiancee said that it would be appropriate for me to choose someone and I decided that you were perfect, you can decline if you prefer. . " He spoke kindly, as always. Namjoon seemed to have no hatred in his heart, making his own feel heavy on his chest.

Could he bear the blame?

"It's my pleasure to accept her proposal, thank you for considering me. Good afternoon, namjoon-hyung."

He said goodbye by getting into the car as fast as he could, making Jimin look at him with derision. Obviously noticing his nervousness, Jungkook sighed hiding the invitation as much as he could before reading Hoseok's message ordering him to go to his house to sort out his affairs.

It seemed like a joke as he always looked so flawless, ready to humiliate him again.

"Jungkookie, I'm glad to see you again. Now, we'd better come in for our talk." He smiled making anger grow inside him, Hoseok sat on one of his expensive furniture before pouring himself a glass of wine. "Well, I heard from a little bird that you accomplished your task. Good pet."

"Don't call me that, hyung." He grunted in annoyance, making him laugh. "I can't go through with this, I did what you wanted. Leave Namjoon-hyung alone."

"Oh, they're close now really cute. But you forget that I can't fulfill your wish, because "Namjoon-hyung " is an essential piece in my little game." I speak mocking him as always. "Then we will move on to the next step ..." He thinking for a moment, before snapping his fingers. "Invite him to a bachelor party night at the brothel in the center, I already made the reservation. When they are there, leave him alone. A whore will take care of him properly, and maybe you can go make him a oral another yourself." He sneered evilly, reminding her of his past, Jungkook bit his tongue resisting the urge to respond properly. "Since you're clearly good at it, little pet."

"Yes, hyung."

Hoseok nodded saying for him to leave asap, tired of seeing his stupid face. He got up ready to do so, but his arm was taken tightly before bringing his face closer to hers, Hoseok let out a sigh, doing he could smell his breath of mint and wine combined. His hand lowered him into his pockets dangerously close to his crotch, he bit his lower lip to resist a moan escaping him, this had happened before and he begged it to stop forever. From his pocket, she pulled the invitation out, making her gasp in horror.

"Godfather of wedding, new facet of you... kookie." Rolling he eyes pushing him away from him, he fell to the ground before being met by a blow to his cheek. "What a shitty pet, you idiot."

Two days was enough for you to tremble at the thought. Your dress was proud to be seen, it was the most comfortable dress you could find at a fair price. Namjoon tried to enter but he was stopped by your friend who said that he will wait until you keep the dress out of his sight avoiding bad luck. A smile wavered on your face, everything was perfect up to a point.

Namjoon looked at you, a blush covering his cheeks before asking his obvious question. You didn't expect him to want a bachelor party, but you couldn't refuse because you simply trusted him.

Maybe it was your mistake.

You wished him luck, feeling an inexplicable emptiness. Your friends didn't offer to make one for you, they just sat on the couch in their living room talking about movies and arguing about what color the cake would be. It was the calm before the storm.

Jungkook felt a giant headache, the lights of the place were making him dizzy. Jimin had insisted on going with him to such an 'unusual' place to keep him safe. Namjoon had brought a couple of friends who seemed to be always close to him preventing the woman who did the job Hoseok had him do from becoming difficult.

He smiled, thinking that he would have no choice but to let it go. But Hoseok was not a good loser, and neither was he a good winner.

Hoseok:

He distracts his friends, and be careful what you say, kookie.

Received at 11:30 p.m.

He bit his lip, glancing around the bar, thinking he'd find him sitting somewhere spying on everything but nothing looked suspicious. He sighed, sending Jimin out for drinks with one of Namjoon's friends who he gladly accepted. He got up having pushed one away, the other who introduced himself as Jackson seemed more reluctant to leave his friend alone but with a few excuses about feeling bad managed to get him out of sight.

Believed that he would find Namjoon sitting right where he was before but no, he was gone. He felt a burning feeling of guilt, maybe if you didn't find out, nothing would happen.

"You're still the same as before, boss." Jimin sat down next to him, making him uncomfortable.

"Same as before? I am no longer a child."

"But you continue to obey as one. The manipulation they use on you is your greatest weakness, you are afraid, you obey without hesitation thinking about how this will indirectly affect you. But you never do anything to avoid it, you feel bad about this but you still sit here without doing nothing."

"What can I do, Jimin? I don't know if he really left by his will, or if they forced him. I don't want to enter a room in this dirty place and see him sleeping with another woman, because he wanted to and is a fucking infidel . "

Jimin ignored his words, falling silent after several seconds.

Feeling unhappy is a horrible feeling without a doubt. The curious eyes looked at you as if they themselves could judge your story.

Namjoon disappeared as quickly as the wind, many sharp tongues said that he eloped with a lover so as not to marry you. Others believed it was a kidnapping, maybe a robbery gone wrong and he was taken away or he was killed somewhere far away. A sob escaped you just thinking about it, the detective in front of you watched you cautiously.

"We don't know anything about him yet, but we will continue with the investigations."

You nod, without saying a word. Jungkook came in minutes later with a handkerchief in hand, he observed you before gently hugging you. You had the pleasure of meeting him after Namjoon disappeared that night, he introduced himself as a close friend from work and quickly offered to help you with the search.

Maybe he felt guilt.

"Thanks, Jungkook." You smile wiping the tears that escape from your eyes.

"They are looking for the best they can, they even alerted the Japanese embassies in case they might take him there."

"Japan?" Puzzled questions. "Why would someone take him so far? He's just a man with little money, that's ridiculous."

"We don't know, but I promise I won't rest until I find it."

Hoseok sighs bored, witnessing the moment. He had been bribing the bloody police force to hide the information from you about the discovery of your fiancé's corpse floating in the middle of the waters of the river where they used to go together. The only thing that was removed intact from his clothes was a small photo of you smiling, sitting on the banks of the same river.

The police mourned the death, but his faces left grief when they saw the money in his hands. He made fun of Jungkook as usual, who passed by him ignoring him when he went to his house to talk to his father, he knew that the useless little one was very meddlesome in the search for your future husband and ex-fiance. He rolled her eyes remembering how she used to look at him with discontent in meetings, suspicious of him.

He was a good detective, he couldn't deny the obvious.

"You didn't have to do this, a I'm sorry was enough." You say admiring all the bouquets of flowers that came to your house from him. "And I'm sorry for your loss."

He wasn't sorry.

"My dear, losing a loved one is something without a name. I can give you more than this if you promise to smile again, I love your smiles."

Jungkook snorts approaching you from behind, Hoseok to growl at noticing him so close and see how he puts his hand on your shoulder, apparently like support.

"Hyung, he didn't think it's a good time for ... That."

"But little kook, when is not a good time to express how you feel about your loved one?"

"When that person you say you love is crying over the loss of someone special because of evil people who don't know what remorse is. Do you understand that, hyung?"

"No, not really." He laughs cynically making you lose your patience, your little body comes between the two men, with one already furious and the other inadvertently giving up, you make a face of annoyance before speaking.

"Sirs!" You yell at him immediately, Jungkook steps back adjusting his tie. A mania that he had and that you noticed when he presented himself in front of you with regret, he did it when he was uncomfortable or nervous. "This is not the time to argue, I think you'd better leave my house if you're just wasting your time. Thanks for the flowers Hoseok, and Jungkook ... I, I want to continue the investigation on my own."

"That?!"

"What you heard, don't feel responsible for Namj's disappearance -..." You tremble correcting your words, making Hoseok scoff. "My husband, he was just at the wrong time in the wrong place. Thanks for your help, I'll see how to pay you very soon." Jungkook denies trying to insist but fails when you are already closing the door and giving him an apologetic smile.

Your breath feels heavy, you sigh falling to the ground sobbing again. You wanted to find Namjoon, but a large part of you was afraid of how. Dead, with another woman, with serious injuries or simply ... Alive but with trauma for life. You did not want to see him suffer, it was your judgment in life to see the person you love cry in his pain.

You observe yourself, telling yourself that you would be fine when you find it.

Your email seems to explode with thousands of messages received from people claiming to have seen a man like Namjoon near their homes. You ignore them knowing that most of them were false, the first few days you read all of them giving the police false clues that they quickly denied and dismissed.

You dry your tears, closing all the windows and cooking a simple instant soup, eating in absolute silence. It was overwhelming feeling alone at home, where you were supposed to feel safe indoors.

The rain, thunder, and evil outside seemed to be invisible within that place.

A chill runs through you, the control of the television seemed tempting to calm that neat silence and avoid your boredom. You give up turning on the TV, you see the first channel, you keep changing looking for the unknown, you didn't know what you wanted to see. Maybe a newscast saying they found a tall man with dark brown hair and charming eyes unconscious, with a couple of blows to the face and a few scratches but okay, safe, alive and waiting to see your face waiting for him with a warm smile.

Swearing never ever to let go.

A couple of tears slide down your cheek, ruining your fast food. A few knocks on the door manage to scare you, causing you to bite your lip in anger.

"Who is?!" Questions in a shout.

Nothing.

"It better be good ..." You say in muttered, you open the door expecting to see a child running to his house laughing at his childish joke.

But no, there is no one at the door. Just a small envelope that easily slipped underneath, you take it hoping it's a letter from the police announcing good news. Maybe a simple identification of suspicious faces, or footprints at the club.

"I hate being the bad guy, it makes me feel good.

He's dead, I did it for you. For me. For us. I want to make you happy but it's so difficult when I don't know what you want, tell me what you want.

Love you. Love you. Love you.

My heart is so weak in your cold eyes, I feel that you look at me with ignorance of my feelings. Do you want to find it? Do you want to do it?! Okay. Good luck with it. "

It was everything, plus a picture of a golden ring with a large diamond shining brightly. You wrinkle the letter in anger, tossing it into the first bin you found nearby. It seems that in the end, someone did want to joke with you.

Your days remained the same, you went out to work and in the afternoons you called each of the investigators to ask for new news, it was almost always a solid wall, there was nothing really important to report and little by little, they gave up.

Jungkook knocked on the door, he heard some footsteps approaching making him have a little hope. But when the door opened he saw you with a worried face, he felt his heart squeeze in his chest when he tried to get closer but you avoid him by leaving in a hurry. You were dressed in a long black skirt and a white blouse, you were elegantly ready for something.

"Where are you going?" He ask stopping your hurried pace, taking your arm tightly.

"Yo, listen... He... Or her, I don't know who it is but ... You know, he or her know where, he's alive I know. I just don't have time, please."

Your mouth moves wiht fear, you were hiding something but not from him. You were willing to tell him but not now. Not at that time.

"Let me accompany you, I can take you and I will feel better if you are safe."

You nod, letting go of his grip and running down the stairs, outside there is a very elegant car, apparently waiting. The driver smiles at you as if he had known you before, you make an uncomfortable face trying to continue on your way but Jungkook introduces him saying that he works for him.

"Jimin, he's Jimin. He's a good person and a great friend, I've told him about you before."

"I see, sorry." You speak with a bow before climbing to the back, Jimin just smiles kindly, as always.

"Where are we going today?" He asks animatedly, Jungkook takes your hand for support making Jimin remove the smile from him. Your nervous state and your afflicted face are enough for him to understand the situation.

You give him an address, Jimin searches the map being unknown to the place. Your eyes sparkle when the lights of Seoul are reflected in them, Jungkook holds your hand tightly in fear of letting you go again. He felt sick when you stopped calling him, cutting connections with him totally to this day. He spend sleepless nights looking for more clues, the only thing I had until that moment was the identity of the woman, she was a prostitute without anything special, when he spoke with her he seemed indifferent saying that he did not know Namjoon and that the last time he saw him It was when he drugged him and left him in a room as ordered.

The whore made fun of him saying that he would give him this information if he did not tell the police anything, he obviously accepted. Now he repented, the woman disappeared after that and days later she was found in a garbage container. It seemed to be a suicide, the container was from her building, the window of her old apartment faced just where she was supposed to fall if she threw herself without thinking twice.

Right in the garbage.

The wheels of the car made a thud when it stopped, it was a cabin, the only one nearby. You came down quickly thanking Jimin who just made a flirty face. Your hands trembled with the cold, you look at the letter that tells you where and when you should be standing at the door.

"Wait for me here, if we don't go out or you hear noises, you know who to call."

"Yes sir!" Jimin obeys with a laugh at the boss's serious tone of him.

"Y-you should go, I can do this alone." Your voice rises in the echo of the silent place, Jungkook rolls his eyes before offering his arm to you, making his decision clear.

You laugh calming your nerves, the door opens just as you both step close to it. A man stops them, saying that only you can enter the next room. You stop Jungkook who was to protest, you calm him down by leaving your ring in his hands with a smile.

Your body disappears when another man closes the door silently, Jungkook sighs looking annoyed at the guards who ignore him.

A message coming to his phone distracts him for a few seconds.

Jimin:

Should I call the police, Mr. Jung, or the hospital?

Received at 9:35 p.m.

Smile ready to answer before hearing the door open again, he approaching you to ask everything and at the same time nothing. Your pale face is enough to make want to hit the person who was inside with you. Questions remain in the air, your arms surround him while you sob for forgiveness.

From the shadows Hoseok smiles, admiring the document in his hand, your signature shiny as gold is glued to it. He thought it would be more difficult to convince you to accept his marriage proposal, but the precious and expensive ring fit you perfectly. He raised his hand proudly admiring his own, the wedding would be planned as soon as possible making him jump like a happy child.

You had accepted, with the promise that he would bring you back to Namjoon.

But it was never specified in the contract that he would be alive.

The wedding was in a meadow, outdoors with distinguished guests and a few friends and family of yours. Hoseok greeted everyone, by taking your hand tightly introducing you as his wife immediately. It's as if he wants to show everyone that you now belong to him, as if you were a prize.

And maybe if you gave him the key to her success.

"You better smile my dear, nobody wants to know what will happen if you don't." Her lips brushed your hand before placing a chaste kiss on it. "I love you, my beautiful protagonist."

You sob, tears falling from your face as you melt into his disgusting caresses. The man in front of you, your un-predestined husband. The one who stole the position of your true love, he was kissing you delicately.

"Don't cry, decorate the room just the way you wanted. The photos were a special touch ..." His teeth bit into the sensitive skin of your neck, an involuntary groan of pain escaping. "Love you."

Your eyes move desperately to find a photo where the beaten, abused or dead body of Namjoon cannot be seen. You scream when you find one where you see blood everywhere, you are resigned to look down at the ground where Hoseok was crouching kissing the inside of your thighs.

Your mind tried to process the idea that Namjoon had been killed, mutilated and thrown into a river that washed away his body along with happy memories. Farewell to him was prolonged as your body faded in pain.

Hoseok enjoyed the sight of your eyes tightly closed, his cock throbbing inside you as she fucked you like his wife.

The head of the bed moved crashing into the wall, and unconsciously your walls tightened around it causing it to release a curse aloft to the sky.

We got to the end of the movie, smiled as he dazzled the credits by seeing Jungkook's lost name. His little bitch who was his toy for many years, laughed remembering how she did wonders with her mouth.

He pretended not to know him when her father introduced him, taunting her hurt face.

He held you in his arms tightly, you had been struggling to free yourself from his grip as he continued to abuse you over-stimulating your pussy. Your eyes closed falling asleep from crying so much.

He caressed your face, kissing your dry, chapped lips.

The end.

#bts #bts smut #bts yandere #yandere #kpop #yandere bts #yandere bts au #yandere kpop #yandere!bts #hoseok yandere #yandere hoseok #jhope #yandere! jhope #jhope smut #hoseok smut #bts fic #bts x reader #hoseok x reader #yandere hoseok x reader

167 notes · View notes

goddessofmadnessheiress · 4 years

Text

Barry Allen x Reader - Sleeping beauty's nightmare

Fandom: Flash

Request: @kurtbastianlover said:

Summary: You and Barry are best friends, but he gets up on a fight with a metahuman that put him in a deep sleep. Apparently, you are the only one that can save him. But how? You are only his best friends...

Warnings: Mention of smut

Words: 2607 (Sorry that it is shorter than most my fics)

Notes: Sorry for the late reply, I have this written for one year already. But last year was a hell for me... I only start writting fics at the end of the year. That was the only request I could post. Thanks for requesting and I hope this will one of the many fic I write for you as a thank you for all you done for me my friend.

(y/h/c): your hair color; (y/e/c):your eyes color

Sorry any grammar mistake, english isn’t my first language and I wrote that at the hospital when my aunt got hurt, so maybe the story is rushed...

You do not know which or how the metahuman done that. All you know is that Barry is unconscious and nothing that the team done were successful to wake him up.

When Cisco called you while you were on work you knew something bad had happened. You enter running on the Star Labs, not paying attention at all on your friends.

You almost knocked down your childhood friend Iris to the ground trying to reach the man you loved so much. But he did not know that and do not need to know.

Barry already have so many things to worry about and protecting his childhood friend as a romantic partner should not be on his list.

The thing that you do not know is that he feels the same way with you. He just did not find the right time to tell you and maybe now after the encounter with his metahuman he will never be able to talk to you about this.

Barry is lying down on the medical laboratory with Caitlyn checking his vital from minute to minute. His body have so many wires attached to him that you do not the function of more than a half of them.

Caitlyn smiles sadly to you. She figured it out how you two felt for each other a while ago. She is trying to get you two to start dating but without giving each other feeling, she thinks you need to say each to each other and not get another person pointing them out for you.

You sit across from her monitor and by Barry's side. You automatically put your hand over his. He looks like he is just sleeping.

And that relaxes you. He does not look like dead or physically injured. Cisco said something about him being in an eternal coma or something.

The thing that makes you worry more is the inconstant movements Barry's body is doing. It is not conscious and looks like he is having a nightmare.

And you could not be closer to truth than that. Barry is trapped in a nightmare. An eternal nightmare where his worst fear keeps repeating does not matter what he does.

It always begins different but the end it the same independent of what he does in the middle of it. And that is crushing him. Having to rewatch that over and over again.

This time it begins something heartwarming. The sun light bathing him and the constant light on his eyes makes him wake up even if he does not want that.

And he does not, if he stays sleeping maybe he did not need to watch the disaster all over again.

He turns into the bed and a moaning of his name from a warn body that is close to his makes a laugh escape his lips.

There you are. Hugging him, your form is small close to his. You are naked under the covers just like him.

He does not remember last night, because it did not actually happen but even this way, he feels his checks getting warmer with just the idea of finally making love to you just the way he wished since his teen years.

He cannot help but moan out load too when he feels your chest over his bare skin. A silent promise that you are his.

He does not want to wake you up. But the need to ask with you liked last night even though he knew dawn well that this is not real overtook him.

He kisses your libs repeatedly till your (e/c) eyes open and met his green ones. His hearts skip a beat seeing the lust missed with sleep clouding your shining eyes.

-Hi there. -His voice sounds so smooth that even him do not recognizes it.

-Hey baby. -You answer trying to be sexy, but the sleepiness is all over your tone. Even like this Barry thinks you are the prettiest thing he ever saw. -We need to be up so early?

-No. We do not. -Barry answers smiling. -But I want to be with you for a little longer.

In a blink of an eyes Barry's lips is on yours. Distracted by his kiss you do not feel when his arms snake your waist and pull you to him.

Your naked form over his is heaven. You feel how much he is liking all the make out. His smile when you part is the brightest it ever was.

-Round 2? -You ask malicious already looking for a condom on the nightstand. Knowing dawn hell, the answer is yes.

Because as Nickelback said, ‘Sex is never a question because the answer is always yes.’ You kiss the speedster again, savoring the moment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You feel Barry pulling your body against his while you are trying to do the breakfast. By the minute it passed he was closer to you.

Because every second he wasted he knew what would happen. And he wanted to save you, but he never could.

He lost the count of how many times he was into this loop. This cursed dream put him into heaven when he is with you as he always wished and then crash him into hell taking you again from him in the darkest ways.

He never knows when it will appear, but every loop was a different enemy. The first was Reverse Flash, then Zoom, Savitar, Cicada and a lot more.

Maybe the loop will begin all over again. His arms snakes harder around your waist when he hears the front door opening.

His heartbeat slows down when he sees Caitlyn getting closer. He smiles at her, not caring that you and he are still naked.

He was expecting a murderer. Seeing a friend is a blessing. Maybe this was real after all, maybe he was pulled out of this nightmare.

But his heart tightens when she does not answer his smile. Her expression is sadness and a white strain in her hair makes Barry holds his breath.

-I am so sorry. -She says before losing her conscious and that silver eyes shine with madness.

-Killer Frost please no! -Barry begs trying to put himself in front of you. But she is faster.

An ice dagger hits you on your heart. Blood all over the place and your numb body hits the floor.

Killer Frost disappears with a smile on her lips. Her translucid figure says before completely disappearing:

-It is all your fault. It always is.

Barry is over your screaming to you do not close your eyes. But it is already too late. You are cold. Rigid.

Dead.

His eyes are clouded with tears. In the next moment he is in front of your grave.

Buried with his parents. Cisco is by his side. But he is so serious that I do not look like him at all.

-I am sorry Barry. But I do not want to be the next one. -And then his best friend disappears leaving him all by himself.

No one by his side. Iris and Joe had not given up on him when they discovered you had died.

The trial tried to blame him. He almost went to jail. His father's story being repeat all over again.

Barry closes his eyes. And when he opens it again, he is in Joe's living room. Two kids came running and jumps on him.

-Daddy is back. -Barry look at the twins. The girl has your features and his eyes while the boy has his features and your (e/c) eyes.

-Oh, he is back? -You enter in the living room leaving the kitchen behind. Barry's heart almost leaves his chest when he is in your belly.

You are pregnant again. Oh no, please say that you will not die this time. Not with his child inside of your beautiful bellybutton.

Outside of the dreamland you feel his hands tanning around yours. You feel your heart thinning, you do not know what it is happening on his head.

But you know that must be something bad. And yours suspicious only are confirmed and he starts saying:

-No please. NO. Not her. -His body starts moving around and by instinct you left his hand. -(Y/n) please stay with me...

You have the impression of hearing your name coming out of his mouth, but you cannot confirm that because his body starts shaking.

He is convulsing on the bed and you feel your heart broking. Is he dying? You start crying and want to scream but your thongs are locked.

-(Y/n) leave! -Caitlyn starts screaming at you. -I need to save him.

You want to scream no. You want to say you also wants to save him. You want to hug him still everything passes.

But you cannot talk. You cannot move. You are frozen. Are you going to watch your love dying in front of you?

You feel Cisco pulling you out of the room. And you do not fight it. You let him pull you out of there.

Outside the room you instinctively hug him and buries your face on his chest. His smell helps you calm down.

The genius boy has an idea of entering Barry's nightmare to see what is happening so they could save him the right way.

Cisco passes your shaking body who is still crying but not as much as before to Iris. She hugs you properly.

You two leave the cortex and go to a more comfort place in Star Labs. Joe enters the room where you are in despair. He stops when seeing your puffy and red eyes.

He saw you growing up between his kids. He knew how you felt about Barry, him being your confident.

He also knew what Barry feels for you, after all is his son. Joe is Barry's confident too. So, his hearts tights at the vision of you crying.

You jump from the couch where you were siting by the side of Iris, who knows what is passing on the head of her father.

You two hug strongly and you start crying again. This is the same scene and situation of when Barry was hit by the lightning.

Cisco enters animatedly on the room. His smile is almost contagious. In his most serious tone, he announces:

-It is working. -He shows in his tablet a map of mind and a pair of googles that shined on the lights. -Let's save Barry!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You do not know exactly how this equipment works or how Cisco got this idea. And worst you were not sure if it will work.

The only thing that you know is that you need to need to lay in a bed side by side with Barry while using the googles and then you are into his mind.

With shaking hands, you put the glasses over your eyes and lays down. You cannot see anything because the equipment is not a see through.

A flashlight almost blinds you. And then you are in a church. You look around a like taken aback.

You see Joe and Iris on the Isle smiling. Cisco and Caitlin on the other side of it. Barry on the middle in a beautiful tux.

You run still him. And he is taken aback a little. Before you can register anything, you see yourself entering the church in a beautiful white outfit.

You walk at your own hands and you realize you are a little invisible. Barry is looking that you of his nightmare and the ghostly you are floating by his side.

This does not look like a nightmare. So, his nightmare is marrying you? But then yourself are on the island.

And a shadow emerges on the church's doors. A blade as fast as lighting hits the back of you and the blood stains the white material.

Barry falls to his knees and starts crying. So, his worst nightmare is losing you? You are a little taken aback by this.

You put a ghostly hand on his shoulder. He looks up at you and smiles. The dream restarts.

You two are alone in Star Labs. He explains to you the loop he is trapped in. How many times he saw you dying. How many different ways you died on his arms.

How everyone blames him in all the versions, and they leave him alone. He says that he is losing the love of his life and his family over and over and over again.

He said that the metahuman that put him into this hell recites something similar to a curse before he fainted into darkness and Barry fainting.

"You will fall into a sleep like death! But the speedster can be woken from his death sleep by only one true love's kiss."

Is that a Sleeping Beauty's reference?

But your brain is plain.

And you have frozen. The dream before the nightmare. The peace before chaos. The calm before the storm...

They all were a hint to whom should wake him up.

And it is you. You are the answer. You are Barry's true love.

You feel yourself disappearing. Your ghostly form plants a simple kiss on his lips. But before Barry could kiss you properly you have disappeared completely.

Your body wakes in a shock and you jump out of the bed. You feel Cisco's hand helping you gain your equilibrium back.

-I have the answer. -You announce removing the googles and smiling at them.

You briefly explain what happened when you were on Barry's mind. The dreams, the nightmare, everything.

-So, the metahuman shipped you two? -Cisco asks laughing at the idea.

-I more worried that the used Maleficent's lines. -Caitlyn says out loud and everyone looks at her in shock. -What? I used to like Disney...

-Which was your favorite movie then? -Iris asks playfully.

-Sky High. I always thought that Layla reminded of myself.

You shock your head in a negative gesture.

-Guys. Focus. We need to save Barry. -You say and Joe agrees with you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The gang left you after you finished your story. They have hopes that you are right. And they internally are happy that you two would finally be together.

You are looking at Barry numb body recalling his dream. You smile at the idea of marrying him someday.

And then the conversation comes back to your head. It is now or never it is as simples as:

A kiss.

A kiss would wake him up.

You laugh at the irony but with a fast heartbeat you plant your lips over his firmly.

He does not respond the act and you part from him. His green eyes shout open and they met with your (y/c) orbs.

You smile at him and he does the same.

-Hey there my sleeping beauty. -You say laughing at all this situation now that he is safe.

He kisses you again. Deeper, with so much passion and need. You two part needing air. You try to breath normal again.

-You are my warrior in shining armor, aren't you? -Barry says going for another kiss but you two get interrupted when the door busts open.

Cisco enters cheering and screaming. Happy that you two finally are together and that is best friend is safe.

You shake your head at his childish behavior but you happy seeing Barry fine and liking you just like you like him.

The Latino boy jumps over your now boyfriend and hugs him almost to death. But their laughs warm your heart.

This is the dream after the nightmare. The calm after the storm. And you are genuinely happy.

#Barry Allen #barry allen imagine #barry allen x reader #Flash #flash imagine #flash x reader #barry allen x you #The Flash #the flash imagine #the flash x reader #the flash x you

174 notes · View notes

icefire149 · 3 years

Note

You are good at angst so 28 bestie <3

I hope this was angsty enough for you Rubi! I spent yesterday and today's warm up on this one. I swear all the prompts I've done, they've all gone in directions I wasn't expecting. This definitely wasn't the scene I meant to write, but I quite like it. Please enjoy <3

#28 – When I am dead – Dean/Castiel

“I know I’ve screwed up more than any of us could have predicted, which is….impressive in it’s own way, but….I’m glad that you have Jack.”

With the tips of his fingers, Dean lightly twisted and turned the beer bottle on the bunker’s kitchen table. As he spoke, he was still hunched over and watching the last third of his drink splash and move against the glass. The silence stretched longer than he’d hoped. He glanced up to find Cas staring at him confused.

“Oh, come on,” he breathed. “We all know I haven’t done a bang up job.”

Cas’ eyebrows pinched together. “Jack idolizes you. You know that, right?”

A painful laugh tore from his throat. “You really need to introduce him to….honestly anyone would be a better role model.”

“It’s not your call. Dean, he loves you.”

“He’s a toddler. He doesn’t…..” Dean pushed the bottle aside and ran his hands roughly through his hair. Exhaling, he leaned back in his chair. “Cas, he didn’t even get to be a baby because I shot him not even an hour after he was born.”

Cas sighed exasperatedly, “Maybe you’re right.” He held Dean’s gaze for several heartbeats before letting his head slowly tilt. “What’s important is that Jack has all of us. He’ll always need you.”

“Even without the Michael situation….” Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s not the same. He’ll have you. You’ll have each other long after the rest of us are dust in the wind.”

“Dean.”

“What! It’s true.” He picked up his beer again. His eyes locked on the lip of the bottle. “I’m glad you’ll have each other. I don’t want you to spend the rest of existence alone.”

Cas sighed, but this time his stare softened. “Dean, I….” His voice was laced with pain.

“I know,” Dean cut in. “It’s heavy and I’m not aiming for any kind of big emotional moments here, but...with Michael trapped-” He tapped the side of his head with his left index finger. “I figure I don’t have a lot of time.”

“You have decades,” Cas said firmly. “We’re going to solve this problem just as we’ve always done and you’re going to be here to see Jack’s 5thbirthday.” He stood up and laid both hands on the kitchen table. “And then his 10th, 16th, 21st, 25th, 30th, 40th, and 50th!”

Coughing, Dean put his beer down and raised his hands, hoping that Cas would calm down. “Do you realize how old I’d be?”

“Yes,” Cas said with a deadly serious aura. “I’ve done the math, several times.”

“You might wanna run it again,” Dean joked. He wasn’t able to stop his tongue. “If you ask Claire she’d tell you that I’m already geriatric for a hunter.”

The corner of Cas’ lip twitched. “I don’t doubt her assessment. If you remove hunting from the equation, then there’s no reason why you couldn’t see any of those milestone birthdays for Jack. Claire’s milestone birthdays as well.”

“You’re asking an awful lot,” Dean shook his head. He could still vividly remember the days where he honest to God thought that living past 30 was a pipedream, and now, Cas was expecting him to see his 90s….

“It’s the bare minimum.” Cas sat back down in his seat. He still had the palms of his hands resting on the cool table.

“As long as you’re in the wheel chair next to me,” Dean grinned. The thought of living to a ripe old age was terrifying, but he could do it if Cas was there with him. His nervous heartbeat started to settle the moment he imagined the angel there at his side. His hair would be more than peppered with gray patches. He’d probably be wearing reading glasses so much they’d be glued to his nose. And he’d have a closet of colorful, chunky knit sweaters to replace his long worn out trench coat.

Cas’ warm smile quickly wobbled and wavered before some other emotion won in his eyes. Dean almost chased it, but then it too was replaced with something else: a more teasing glint. A hint of Cas’ teeth caught his eye now. “I’ll try my best, but I’d imagined I would be kicking your wheel chair to every event.”

“Oh right,” Dean mumbled, remembering the whole point of this conversation. “Angels are eternal.” He laughed. “People will eventually think you’re my grandson.”

“I was thinking…..more like nurse, or doctor.”

Dean swallowed sharply. He nodded, trying to ignore the way his ears burned.

The look dimmed in Cas’ eyes, and his shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I don’t want you to give up. I can’t imagine this world without you in it.”

“I get it,” Dean said, losing himself to his memories. There was something about that kind of pain that made any complication seem solvable. Like it wasn’t until he’d been cleaved open by death’s scythe that his truth was free.

Dean still remembered his father pulling Sammy free from his arms as their house burned down, and how even still his mouth couldn’t stop whispering to empty air the same promises: I love you. Dad will fix this. We’re safe.

What felt like a life time later, he remembered whispering almost the same words into his brother’s hair as he bled out in his arms. I love you. I’ll fix this. I’ll bring you home.

The worst was when his hands shook uncontrollably in the dirt and ash outside of Kelly’s cabin in North Cove. Dean waited from the moment the light extinguished from Cas’ eyes all the way until the final coals cooled for a miracle. He waited for Cas to rise. He waited for his world to start spinning again.

It wasn’t until he was down on his knees with his wrist buried in the pyre’s remains that he was torn in half. The sun was never gonna shine again. And now there was no warmth to hold, hair to comb, and skin to touch. Dean cried until he was too exhausted to keep spilling out the same words over, and over again: I love you. Come back to me. I’m so sorry. Please, don’t leave me.

His throat hurt like he was suffocating on the pyre’s smoke. Dean’s gaze slid back to Cas, and he was able to breathe deep again. Cas’ studied him like he was desperately trying to uncover what horrors he was reliving again, so Dean downed the last of his drink, but he couldn’t bear to break the eye contact. Like a part of him was still afraid that Cas would turn to ash dusting the meadow’s flowers once again.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Dean lied. How do you tell someone that you’re incapable of loving them until they’re dead? “I just….” Dean shook his head. “Can you promise me something?”

“Anything, of course.”

“When I die-”

“Dean.” Cas leaned back in his chair.

“Dude, just listen. When I die, I need you to promise me that you’ll come visit me. Break me out of whatever memory loop I’m in.”

Bewildered, Cas’ eyebrows furrowed. “Okay.”

“There’s something I’ll only be able to say then.”

Cas leaned forward in his chair. His stare pierced into Dean, unwavering, like he was certain that he could learn all he needed from his eyes alone. “Dean, you can tell me now. You can always tell me, anything at all.”

“I know, but just promise me this. It’ll be worth the wait.”

Ask me more writing prompts (I’m using these as warm ups so send a number and a ship)

Prompts I've done so far

#spn #my writing #and this takes place when Michael is trapped in Dean's head and Cas has already secretly made the deal with the Empty. sobbing

21 notes · View notes

greenteabtch · 3 years

Note

16 for the physical affection prompt?

hiii thank you so much for your ask!! ;_; Literally had SO much fun writing this.

Kissing Knuckles

pairing: sebastian vael x f!hawke

rating: g

word count: 1516

genre: fluff :)

“Do we all have to go in?”

“Yes,” Helena clipped.

A deep scoff sounded. “But we’re covered in blood. They’ll kick us out the minute we enter”

“Or they’ll just start screaming,” Aveline offered.

“Nothing new for you then, eh Junior?”

Carver sputtered, Helena sighing but choosing not to intervene as she climbed the steps to Kirkwall’s Chantry. Its spires reached towards eternity alongside the gilded statues of Andraste, like holy spokes against a gray fresco sky. Absently, she rubbed her fingers together, feeling dirt from the coast pill and disintegrate in the wind.

It took the entire weight of her body to pull open the doors, something she scowled at Varric for snickering at. Incense and cool air whispered through the opening, and very suddenly Helena found herself stepping back.

Hand fingering her combat vest, the mage looked towards her companions. “Go first. I’ll follow.”

Their puzzled expressions were obvious, but it only took a moment for them to shrug and continue on their way. Helena watched them start to disappear into the dark interior, breaking her vision away to dust off as much of the evidence of a fight as she could. The dirt was alright enough, but the bloodstains were another story. Regardless, once Carver’s black hair had been swallowed by the dark, it was her turn to enter.

Helena straightened her posture, taking a breath as she began her walk into the Chantry. Her chin lifted against ensuing whispers from the sisters that watched her entrance, nervous chills dropping down her spine. Whatever their opinions, she knew that her mission lied not with the red robed clergy today, but instead, a prince in white.

“Hawke!”

She had been found.

“Sebastian,” she acknowledged, nodding awkwardly in her approach.

As handsome as the last time she saw him, Sebastian Vael walked toward her through the scattered groups of faithful. He met her halfway, offering his hand with a charming smile.

Hesitation gripped her as she stared at his soft unmarred skin. Beautiful uninterrupted swaths of sepia shone like velvet in the red candlelight, his fingers well kept despite the few callouses she could identify. By the time she blinked she realized it would be more than rude to decline, so she submitted, taking his hand in hers for a shake…

Which never quite occurred, given that in one deft movement he had coaxed her fingers to lie neat inside his grip while he brought his lips to the surface of her hand.

A flush tore through her. Helena’s vision was glued to the sight, the heir to the throne of Starkhaven kissing her knuckles. Knuckles that were blistered with the efforts of her twirling her staff, nicked from stray slashes of mercenaries who pressed too close. Her surroundings spotted black.

“It’s good to see you again,” he said, releasing her hand, which she tucked to her chest. “I’m hoping that your arrival brings good news.”

“Y…” she mumbled, eyes frozen before she shook her head. “Yes. Right. The, uh, mercenaries—“

Sebastian’s eyebrows raised expectantly. “The Fl—“

“—Int company! The,” she cleared her throat. “Flint company. As you requested, we have eradicated their presence from Kirkwall.” Helena fumbled for her belt loop, finding the prepared bag of collected badges and offering it to Sebastian. “Your proof. Sixty five badges for sixty five mercenaries.”

He wasted no time opening the canvas pouch, fingers combing through the clacking metal.

“You did all of this…” he met her gaze, snapping her out of the dream like haze she had dipped into while her fingers caressed her still-warm hand. “Thank you. I can’t emphasize enough what this means for my family.” The starting lines of frustration were fading into his skin, eyes falling. “Lives for lives, and yet, these people will never know what they stole. All I can pray is that my family wasn’t made to suffer.” His voice wavered. “Still that doesn’t seem like enough.”

Helena’s brows furrowed, heartstrings pulling at the sight of the man before her. “It’s a beginning.” she eventually offered. “That’s more than many people get.”

He looked up, eyes glossy. “I suppose.” A small tilt pulled his smile. “Well, in any case. Your aid has eased my spirit, and hopefully my family’s. As promised.” He produced a coin purse, which Helena accepted.

The second she felt its weight her brows shot up.

“This is more than the listed reward.”

A hissed ‘just take the money’ came from behind her, to which she sent a bone-chilling glare over her shoulder.

Low chuckles drew her back, Sebastian’s picture perfect smile warming her skin like the sun. “Please. The Vael’s coiffeurs run deeper than I’ll ever have a use for. Besides, it reassures my troubled heart to know someone is making good use of it.”

Her eyes were wider than saucer plates. “Thank you. Really.” She swallowed, heart-thumping while she pocketed the gold. “You’re… going back to Starkhaven now?”

“For a time, at least. I have some affairs to sort out with the remaining councilmembers,” his speech slowed, a pause blanketing between them. “I do plan to return to Kirkwall after, though.”

Helena’s skin felt electric, her fingers curling around her lower face. “Oh. Well. If you… ever find yourself in need of services again…” she tried not to pinch her eyes closed at the snicker behind her. “Or, if you want to come along with us— you seem very handy—“ Wait. “With your bow.” Sigh.

She was ready to give up and break into a full sprint out of the chantry, her brother’s ‘what is happening right now’ and subsequent chuckles from Aveline detrimental to her situation. The archer, though, was forgiving, a smile crawling over his face as his brows raised.

“Thank you for the offer. I… it would be nice to have friends to return to once business has been settled. I have to admit, it’s been difficult to find comfort amongst the Chantry as of late.”

“No, please. We’d be lucky to work with you again.”

“Perhaps as partners next time?”

Rose covered her skin as she looked away, then back, letting a smile slip.

“It would be a fortunate match.”

Again, a light chuckle left him.

“I’ll send a letter when I return then, ah— Maker forgive me, I haven’t even asked your full name.”

“Oh, no it’s… it’s fine. Helena. Hawke.”

“Helena.” He smiled when he said it.

She thought she might melt in his stare, yet another blush creeping up her neck as she fiddled with her hair. To break the silence she attempted to ask about his skills, but was interrupted by her brother walking up and planting his feet beside her, arms crossed.

“Well, thanks for the job. Good luck in Starkhaven!” He waved to Sebastian, before whispering as an aside “let’s go sister.”

She all but shoved him away, casting a tight-lipped smile towards Sebastian.

“I’ll see you.”

And just like he did before, Sebastian took her hand in his and swept it to his lips for a kiss. Ears burned as she marveled at the sight again, her lips creeping up at the tingles that ran through her body.

When he parted from his kiss, he laid another hand over hers, clasping her palm in a firm embrace.

“Walk in the Maker’s light, Helena. I pray fate allows our paths to cross again.”

“... Thank you… and good luck.”

“To us both.”

It was disappointing to leave the Chantry after that, but there was hardly anything she could do to prolong her stay. Besides, she had made enough of a fool of herself for a lifetime. Carver made that clear after they crossed the threshold.

“So that was…”

“We don’t need to talk about it.”

Carver raised his brows beside her, “No, that was weird. I have never seen you smile like that before.”

“I wasn’t smiling!”

“Okay, now I’ve never heard you defend yourself like a thirteen year old boy.”

Helena let out an exasperated noise, increasing her speed to stride ahead of the group.

“And… now you’re running away.”

“Oh, let her go Carver. She’s clearly smitten by prince charming.”

“Who kisses hands these days? This kid’s got to update his literature.”

“Not everyone wants to have their bedroom broken into for a meet-cute, Dwarf.”

“So you HAVE read my books!”

The rest of their conversation tickled Helena’s ears as she walked, but their voices soon flowed into the musical hubub of Hightown, leaving her with her thoughts. In hazes of red and pink, her mind replayed the scene at the chantry. Clutching her hand close, she couldn’t help but blush.

Would she see him again? Would the prince remember the refugee mercenary who aided him through a difficult time? Would he kiss her hand just the same? And would they be different…

She didn’t know. She couldn’t.

But maybe… this moment would be enough until she did.

Till then, she held her hand close and decided to keep an ear out for her charming prince from Starkhaven, with the hopes that someday their paths might have the good fortune of crossing again.

#THANK YOU AGAIN this saved my creativity and cleared my skin #my writing #sebhawke #fanfic #asks #oxygenforthewicked #ship: wings sprout from broken backs #helena hawke #sebastian vael #da2

33 notes · View notes

ineloqueent · 4 years

Text

Starstruck: Part 17

Brian May x Fem!Reader

This is Part 17 of a multi-part fic. Click the links below to read the Masterpost, the previous part, or the next part of the fic :)

Masterpost / Part 16 / Part 18

Summary: When studying at Imperial College in the 1970s, your path is crossed by a beautiful boy as much in love with the stars as you.

Warnings: swearing, sentiments of sadness

Historical Inaccuracies:

SO. This is more of a disclaimer than an inaccuracy. But it’s very important...

I have written Mary’s character on basis of Lucy Boynton’s portrayal of her in Bohemian Rhapsody. I make no assumptions concerning the relationship between Freddie and Mary, and nor do I condone the things Mary has done in the wake of Freddie’s passing.

Please remember that this is but a fictionalisation. But anyway. I’m not here to talk about that; I’m here to write fanfic. Let’s go!

Word Count: 2.6k (can i get three cheers for the shortest chapter ever)

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

You found her soon enough. She hadn’t even made it fully up the stairs.

A pitiful sight, she was, sitting with her knees pulled up as she wept quietly into the velvet of her trousers.

“Mary,” you began gently, and she lifted her head.

Her eyes were puffy, and tears had drawn angry red lines down her round cheeks. Her hair, which had previously been up, fell about her face in blonde wisps as her lower lip trembled and her eyes filled anew with tears.

You made your way over to the corner where she sat and she watched you raptly, like a frightened animal. You knelt beside her.

“Hey, what was that all about?”

Mary only shook her head, blinking rapidly in an attempt to stem her tears.

You offered her a hand up, and after a few moments of contemplation, she took it and stood.

She stared at you a moment before rivulets came running down her face again.

“Come on,” you said. “Let’s get some air.”

You led her up the final stairs and pulled open the door at the landing, guiding her outside onto the rooftop terrace.

The night air was cool, and from the heated rush of emotions that still seemed to cloud your mind to the giddiness that still occupied your stomach, the breeze on the roof was one you welcomed.

Mary seemed to relish the sudden cold as well, going as far as to lean out over the railing and close her eyes in the onslaught of the wind.

Thinking that you should probably not allow her to do any leaning given the mental state she was presently in, you came to stand by her side.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

Anger flashed across her face, and she wiped her eyes with a frustrated air, only more infuriated by the fact that she was crying.

You were about to assure her that she needn’t say anything at all when she blurted,

“I found Freddie with another man.”

“Oh,” you said. You pressed your lips together, trying to gauge how it was you were to handle this.

“I just can’t believe that he’d lie to me.”

You were reminded of Deacy’s comment about Freddie being ‘nearly pathological’ with respect to lying, but that was hardly helpful right now, and you could only imagine the crushing betrayal Mary must have felt.

“I can believe that he would lie,” she elaborated, fingers curling around the railing, “but not to me. I just— oh, I suppose I thought I was different.” She gave a shudder. “I’d had the feeling that something wasn’t quite right, and I tried to talk to him, tried to tell him that he could tell me anything, and that even if I was mad about whatever it was when he told me, I wouldn’t stay that way.”

Mary turned to you, and the wind tossed her hair wildly, and with the way her eyes still ran with saltwater, she seemed a maiden from some sort of Greek tragedy.

“I love him,” she went on. “But I’ve always felt that I loved him more than he loved me. Now I understand why.”

She slumped to the ground again, her expression dark. “I’m not even angry that he didn’t come out to me. I understand that, because how the hell do you begin to tell your fiance that you want to break of the wedding because you’re gay?

“Freddie’s got this kindness, and sometimes, it’s like he’d lie to a court if it meant that he spared the feelings of those he loves. So I guess, in a way, he does love me. I only wish he’d have tried to break it off with me, instead of waiting until I walked in on him.”

She sighed, and you sat down across from her, folding your legs beneath you.

“So, what now?” you asked, because it seemed that Mary had thought a lot about this already.

But she dropped her head to her hands. “That’s the one thing I can’t work out. Where do I go from here?”

“Have you talked to Freddie, properly?”

She shook her head. “It’s going to take me a long time to forgive him. I just hope he knows why I’m angry, and that it’s not because he’s gay.”

There. That was it. That was where she had to go. “Maybe you should tell him that.”

Mary looked at you, her face wrought in scars of mascara and eyeliner. She lifted her chin and nodded. “You’re right.” She chewed her lip a moment. “But not tonight. I don’t think I can do that.”

You nodded in understanding, because with the way sobs had wracked her body, there would be no energy left for her to have a conversation with Freddie without it dissolving into a bitter argument, even with good intentions at heart.

“Y/N, would it be okay if I stayed in your room for the night?”

“So long as you promise me you’ll talk to Freddie tomorrow,” you said. “Don’t leave him wondering.”

“Yeah.”

You stood. “Let’s just go, then. It’s past midnight anyway.”

Later, when Mary was sound asleep on one of the beds, bundled in the various extra blankets you’d scavenged from cupboards, you lay with your eyes wide open. You’d been kept awake by the sounds of the dwindling party upstairs, which had carried on for long after the scene had been abandoned by its host.

You wondered where Freddie had got to.

And where Brian had.

You’d considered going to find him many times, and had even gone so far as to stick your feet out of bed and set them on the cold hardwood floor, but in the end, you’d made up your mind to do what you always did: nothing.

He’d left you standing in the dance hall, without so much as recognition in his eyes for evidence of having kissed you. And now he was going to tell you that he’d meant nothing of it, a rush of emotions in an exhilarated situation, and you couldn’t bear to hear that.

You’d rather be left wondering than have such a finality imposed upon your mind.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

It had been days, now. They’d been tiptoeing around each other for days.

It was ridiculous to the point where I began to feel the need to take matters into my own hands.

The situation was now ultimately worse than it had been before, because very obviously, something had changed. And I’d wager that something had happened on the first night of tour. They were different now, almost shyer, more fragile in their vulnerability to each other’s charms.

He had pined for her since the late sixties, she had been oblivious since day one, and I doubted that, despite their respectively vast vocabularies, either of them knew the meaning of the verb ‘to converse’. It was all longing looks and unuttered promises, a brush of a hand and staring pensively when the other was unawares.

I was almost offended that they couldn’t pull themselves together, when they were fortunate enough to have each other.

Veronica and Robert would get farther and farther from me as each day of tour escorted us more remotely from London. It hadn’t been an option to bring my wife and our tiny child with us on tour, so I could do nothing now but miss them.

But our two resident idiots, Y/N and Brian, did have each other. And they took it completely for granted.

The open road was quiet and dark, and seemed half-asleep, the trees that blurred past the window swaying to some secret song. A flock of birds streamlined the puffy clouds overhead as the moon greeted the sun in its eternal celestial shift, light yielding light to comfort the earthly beings who feared the darkness. Though I did not fear the dark as such, it was easy to imagine lurking figures between the lone houses by the roads, creeping souls amongst the woods by the road; there was something consuming about this early-morning quiet.

On a stop between Bristol and Cardiff, I left the loos to find Freddie smoking by a payphone, notably absent from the rest of our entourage.

The morning air was chilly, and I wound the scarf around my neck in its second loop, buttoning up my jacket with a shiver. No one was out here other than out of necessity, so I made my way over to Freddie and leaned against the wall beside him.

I turned to face him. “How are you?”

Freddie pursed his lips, tapping ash from his cigarette. “Not at my most fabulous, dear.”

I nodded understandingly, burying my face further into the scarf. “It’s okay, you know. You can’t always be.”

“But that’s why I became Freddie Mercury,” he said quietly, his words nearly carried away by the wind. “I became a legend so I wouldn’t feel like this.”

“Freddie,” I began, “I’m pretty sure being legendary means you have a lot more to feel than you would otherwise.”

He smiled a thin-lipped smile, tossing his spent cigarette into the ashtray mounted atop the rubbish bin. “You are of course right, darling, but right now I’d give anything to feel nothing at all.”

“You don’t mean that.”

Freddie sighed. “I don’t know what I want.”

It was despair in his voice; I recognised it. And I understood it. Because where do you start if you don’t know what you’re working toward?

I placed a hand on his shoulder and he turned his sad brown eyes on me.

“You’re a legend, Freddie,” I reminded him. “You’ve got forever to figure it out, okay?”

He nodded.

“And you can talk to me if you need to.”

“Thank you, Deacy,” he patted my hand. “I think I’ll keep a bit to myself for a while, though, at least until we reach the city.”

“Okay.”

“Now, let’s get out of this cold. I’m freezing my tits off!”

I laughed. “Okay, Freddie.”

And though the open road was quiet and dark and I missed my wife and son, I had my friends. The second half of my family.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

You ached to kiss Brian again. To wind your fingers through his hair. To hold him close, because with the worry that wove itself through his brow on behalf of Freddie, he looked so lost, so far away, as though he needed someone to bring his floating self to the ground where his thoughts could wander amongst the living, and not dwell up in the sky with that which he had lost.

Perhaps that was why he looked to the stars so often; he’d lost so much, and they were a constant.

He deserved to have something brought back to him. And if you could return to him some of the light in his eyes instead of stealing it away, then nothing in the world would make you happier.

The mornings on the bus were tense, to say the least.

Without discussion, it seemed that you and Brian had established an agreement to keep Mary and Freddie apart until they had the time and privacy in which to talk. But it was a difficult arrangement, given that the tour bus was not exactly spacious. And given that it meant you had to keep your distance from Brian.

Presently, though, you came second to the efforts of protecting Freddie and Mary from themselves, which meant that Brian did as well. So for now, all you could give to him were silent glances and small smiles.

But Brian seemed to have other ideas.

On the leg from Cardiff to Taunton, just as you were getting back on the bus, someone grabbed your hand and pulled you around the corner.

You tensed, whirling around with your other fist raised, your heart hammering.

But your defenses were instantly disarmed, because there was Brian with his mass of curls in disarray from the wind, his lips parted as though he had been about to say something.

“Are you trying to kill me?!” you cried, your heartbeat still in your throat.

“No,” Brian said, “I’m trying to kiss you.”

“You’re—”

He pulled you to him, melding himself against you, and kissed you soundly on the mouth, his arms winding around you. Your response was immediate, and you leaned so far into him that he stumbled. His laughter tickled your lips, a rush of breath over your skin as he clutched you to stop you from falling with him.

But you pushed him against the wall instead, and his hands rose to your cheeks to kiss you more deeply, devouring— senseless. Precisely as you had once wished for him to kiss you.

There were so many things you wanted to say, but it seemed the most of them were covered in how you moved with him, vulnerable and uninhibited, purely driven by the desire to hold him close, to make him understand with your proximity how much it was you cared for him. How much you would never be able to explain the gravity of your affections for him.

Brian reversed your positions and only the existence of the wall and his arms kept you on your feet; you were dizzy with the surge of excitement that withered you where he touched you.

And his touch was everywhere.

His lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, from your jaw to your cheek, to the shell of your ear, and then in a tender trail down your neck. His fingertips fluttered at your sides, warm on your skin, but you shivered, because no one had ever touched you with such a gentleness as this, such desire, such love.

Then abruptly, he pulled back, short of breath and flushed from head to toe, with swollen lips and loose curls sticking up where your fingers had interfered with their natural fall.

The world spun as his eyes flickered between yours.

“I’m sorry if I scared you,” he hummed.

“You did a bit,” you replied. “We’re on the open road. It is sort of scary out here.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I just missed you. I miss you. I feel like we’re apart, you know?”

You nodded mutely.

He asked softly, “We’re not keeping this a secret, are we?”

You couldn’t believe that he was asking, after everything. But you supposed that was how he was, considerate to the point where he doubted himself if the circumstances favoured you.

“Brian,” you said, “I don’t think I could hide the way I look at you if I wanted to.”

A smile flickered across his face.

Then the rain began to pour.

“Come on, back inside,” you said, taking him by the hand.

“Hang on,” he pulled you back. He lingered a moment, gazing at you aimlessly, and he looked at you the way he looked at the stars.

“What?”

Brian cradled your face in his hands. Then he pressed a gentle kiss to your nose, brushed the pad of his thumb over your skin. “I just wanted to look at you.”

You couldn’t help but smile.

“My evening star,” he murmured.

You shook your head, finding it very hard to believe that this man, who spoke so beautifully, was yours. “You’re a poet, Brian.”

His response would have been enough to flood the coldest land with a wealth of warmth, as absolutely as that which blossomed in your chest.

“And you’re my muse.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

A/N: two more parts and an epilogue m’dears :)

taglist: @melting-obelisks @retropetalss @hgmercury39 @topsecretdeacon @joemazzmatazz @perriwiinkle @brianmays-hair @im-an-adult-ish @ilikebigstucks @doing-albri @killer-queen-87 @n0-self-c0ntro1 @archaicmusings @cloudyyspace @annina-96 @themarchoftherainbowqueen @annajolras

Masterpost / Part 16 / Part 18

#tina's writing #starstruck #brian may x reader #fic

71 notes · View notes

journalofimprobablethings · 4 years

Text

take me back to the start

That idea about the Chalice and Lucretia would not leave me alone, so here's the full dang thing. Turns out Lucretia's temptation takes about 4k words.

Tags: Mentioned Lup, Mentioned Magnus Burnsides, Stolen Century Spoilers, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Manipulation

Summary: The Chalice makes Lucretia an offer, and she has to decide whether she's willing to pay the price for a second chance.

Full thing below but you can also read it on AO3 here

Lucretia wakes up in a white space.

She blinks, and as the room comes into focus, she can see it's not just an undefined void. There are shapes around her: furniture and plants, pillows and blankets and a coffee table, all so familiar—and she realizes with a pang that she's in the lounge of the Starblaster. But it's like she's in a ghost version of the room; everything is washed out, somehow insubstantial. She reaches out and touches a pillow, and even though she can feel it, there's something not quite there about it.

She looks around, torn between confusion at her surroundings and a sort of painful joy at the familiarity of it all. Then she jumps as a voice speaks behind her.

"Hey, Luce."

She turns and there, sitting on one of the couches, is Magnus.

Unlike the rest of the room, he's not washed out or ghostly. He's all there, solid, full-color. He's leaning back against the cushions, his arms spread over the top of the couch. He looks so relaxed, totally at home in a way she hasn't seen in a long time. Something about the whole scene bothers her, but she can't put a finger on what it is.

"Magnus? Where—what is this?"

"I thought we should talk. Since you finally found me and all."

"Finally found you? What are you—?" She looks at him more closely. There's something...off about him. The way he's sitting, the way he holds his head—it's like someone doing an impression of Magnus: the broad strokes are there, but the details are not quite right.

Then she realizes what it was that bothered her just now:

He'd called her Luce.

It's been years since anyone has called her that. Magnus always used to, before. But the Magnus she knows right now, at the Bureau, has never used that name for her. He's forgotten that he ever did.

She takes a step back.

"You're not Magnus."

He smiles, and there's a sharpness in it that sends a shiver down her spine. "No, I'm not."

"Who are you?"

Magnus—or the thing pretending to be Magnus—leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees.

"What were you doing just now? Before you came here?"

She thinks back. The boys had just gotten back from Refuge, had told her the story of the time-stuck town and all their loops—all their deaths. (And she'd wondered then whether it had felt familiar, all that dying. But she'd said nothing.) They'd told her, in broad terms, about the thrall of this most recent relic, how it was different from the others.

And then she'd gone back to her office, to channel the Light out of the relic into her staff.

She looks at not-Magnus again, a mix of fear and fascination roiling inside her.

"The Chalice," she says. "You're the Chalice."

He smiles, wider this time, and a smile that is distinctly un-Magnus-like.

"That's right," he says. "And I want to show you something."

Lucretia closes her eyes against that smile, takes a breath to steady herself.

The Chalice.

When she’s thought about what it would take to collect the relics, this is the one that has always worried and frightened her the most. The others have their thrall, but the things they offer—riches, power—are things that she has an easy enough time rejecting. She’s never wanted those things, not really.

But the Chalice holds something that she has always wanted desperately: the opportunity to fix your mistakes. The idea of second chances.

She’d worried about sending Magnus and Merle and Taako after it—even without all their memories, there are plenty of things they might wish were different. They didn’t go into detail about what the Chalice offered them, but she knows it can’t have been easy. She's proud of them for resisting it.

She's not sure she'd be as strong.

Lucretia opens her eyes, and summons every bit of the gravitas and distance she has cultivated in the last decade, pulling her professional mask back into place.

“Thank you, but I’m fine,” she says. “I know what I’ve done. And even if there are things I wish were different, I know you’re not the solution.”

His face twists into a wry smile. “Look at you, Luce. We used to think you were such a wallflower. And now here you are: Madam Director. You're so...sure. So certain that everything you've done is for the best."

She shouldn't let it hurt her, the hint of judgement in his voice. This isn't Magnus, after all. But she can't help feeling stung.

"I did what I had to do," she says.

"And it's worth it? Worth the price you made us pay?"

"Don't say us," she snaps. "You're not him."

"You're avoiding the question."

He stands, and she resists the urge to step away from him as he approaches her.

“Come on,” the Chalice says, with Magnus’s voice, Magnus’s earnestness. “There really isn't anything you'd change? You really don't want a second chance to get it right?”

She could almost laugh at the question. Of course she wants a second chance. Of course there are things she wants to change. Every day when she looks at Davenport, when she watches the boys train and notes the difference in how they treat each other, she longs for what used to be. She can’t say she hasn’t thought about what she could do with the Chalice’s power, wondered what it would be like if she--

Wait.

There’s something missing here, something she’s forgetting. It’s a terrifying feeling, like missing a step on the stairs, putting your foot down expecting solid ground and finding only empty air. (Is this what it felt like? a tiny part of her whispers. Is this what she did to them?)

She does back away from the Chalice now, just a few steps. Her heart is beating hard in her chest, and she closes her hands into fists to stop them shaking.

"Why am I here?" she asks. “You shouldn’t be able to do this.”

"Oh, Luce." He smiles again, that same, awful, sharp smile. “You know why. You picked me up.”

She—

Oh.

Oh, no.

She had been in her office, getting ready to channel this piece of the Light into her staff, to join it with the others. She didn’t need to take the relic out of the iron ball it had been placed in to do this. No need to touch it, to risk being thralled. That was the point.

But she had been so curious.

This relic, of all of them, has always held such fascination for her.

“You wanted to see what I can do," the Chalice says. “And here I am.”

And with that, the lounge around them disappears. The ghostly furniture vanishes, leaving only the white void behind—and the Chalice standing next to her, still wearing Magnus's face. He reaches for her hand, but she jerks away before he can take it.

"Let me show you," he says. "I promise I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do. Just let me show you."

Then he gestures, and the void around them bursts into life.

At first, there is so much at once the Lucretia can't parse through the chaos of colors and images. But as her eyes grow more accustomed, she realizes that they are surrounded by her memories. She sees snippets of herself over the last weeks, sitting in her office at the Bureau, talking to Avi in the cannon bay, visiting Johann and Fisher downstairs. She sees herself at the spa with Merle, trying Taako's macarons at the Candlenights party. The memories move farther and farther back in time, and as they do they begin to fly by faster and faster until the images blur together and the specifics are lost in a swirl of color. The flash and movement of it churns Lucretia's stomach, and she tries to turn away, to block it out, but the Chalice takes her by the arm and will not let her turn.

"Look," he says.

The blur of memories is slowing again, enough that she can once again pick out individual images—and as they resolve, the memories they show hit her like a knife in the gut.

Lucretia is surrounded, suddenly, but images of the day she broke their family apart.

She sees herself leaving Merle in the house she found for him on the beach

walking away from Magnus's carpentry shop in Raven's Roost

leaving Taako asleep in the back of his caravan

finding Barry's body in a field outside Neverwinter

collapsed on the floor beside Davenport's bed as he curls under the covers, clutching his temples.

Each image is clearer than the last, and each one twists the knife in her gut a little deeper. She wraps her arms tight around herself, trying to steady herself, to hold herself together, but she can't keep the tremor out of her voice.

"Please," she says. "I don't want to see this."

"Why not? I thought you did what you had to do." There is no pity in his voice. "I thought this price was worth paying."

The memories keep coming, and she sees herself finding each of her family after the redaction, reaching out to try and calm and comfort them. She sees Magnus walking into her room, the journal floating in Fisher's tank, a duck painted to look just like her dropping to the floor. She watches herself catch Magnus as he staggers, watches as her knees give out under his weight, as she catches his head before it can hit the floor and whispers assurances and love that he is too lost to hear.

The Magnus standing next to her watches too, expressionless.

It feels like they linger on that scene for an eternity before it, too, fades away.

Then, finally, the flashes of memories slow and stop, exactly where Lucretia knew they would.

They're standing in her quarters on the Starblaster, the glow from Fisher's tank casting the room into shades of grey and blue. Along one wall, the bookcase where she kept all her journals is half empty, each shelf pockmarked with holes. The desk is a mess of papers and journals and mugs of tea long gone cold. Lucretia looks to the corner where Fisher's tank sits, and even though she knows what to expect, the sight still takes her breath away.

She sees herself, wearing her red IPRE jacket, her hair longer than she's had it in years, stray curls escaping from the cord holding it in place. She's standing frozen in front of Fisher's tank, holding a blue journal bound in silver trim in both hands. Her grip on the journal is so tight that her knuckles are white.

The Chalice looks over at Lucretia. The whole time he was scanning through her memories, his face had been blank, dispassionate. But now, for the first time, he's looking at her with compassion and understanding in his eyes.

“This was the moment, right? The moment you changed everything.”

Lucretia nods. She remembers the feeling of this moment: like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, getting ready to jump. The terror of it, and the possibility.

She looks at her past self, standing at Fisher’s tank clutching the journal in her hands. Gods, she forgot how young she used to look. Her face is lit by the glow of the tank, her lips pressed tight together and eyes shining. There’s fear there, but there’s also hope—hope that this will be worth it, that she will be able to help her family be happy again. Hope that she will be able to fix everything.

She’s not sure when that hope transformed into a need; when the belief that her plan would work morphed from a quiet determination to a desperate desire, a story she told herself because to believe otherwise would break her.

Would she still have that hope, if she had made a different choice?

You can change it," the Chalice says. "Everything you just saw. All that pain you caused them. It doesn't have to go that way."

Lucretia looks at the frozen memory of herself, a version of her that thought she knew the cost of what she was doing. Who had no idea what loneliness and heartbreak she held in her hands.

What would it mean, if she had the chance to try again?

She could talk to the others about her plan, try to get them on board. She could still go through with the redaction, but she could make sure her family were inoculated first. The worst thing, the hardest thing, about what she’s done has been seeing what it did to the others. Seeing the sharp, cold person Taako’s become without Lup; the way that Davenport’s been left a shell of himself. Knowing that Barry is out there somewhere, alone and angry and afraid. The fact that the lives that she built for them fell apart one by one, and she could only watch.

She could save them that pain, if she changed this moment.

Everything she just had to watch, everything they've lost, everything they've suffered because of her.

She could fix it.

She could—

Could she?

The last time she tried to fix everything with one big decision, she ended up here.

If she did this, what new pains would come instead—what unintended consequences would such a choice unleash? If there’s anything she’s learned in the past decade, it’s that she can never fully predict the effects of her decisions, no matter how hard she tries. What if this decision only leads to new regrets?

Lucretia drops her head in her hands, all her desires and wishes and hopes warring inside her with a dreadful fear at what other hurts she might inadvertently cause.

The price of using any relic is so high; she's not even sure what exactly the price of this one would be. She has spent the last ten years working so hard to keep others from using them, to collect them so that she can cast her barrier and stop the Hunger once and for all. Would she really sacrifice all that to fix this one mistake?

She wants to say she would. She wants to say that if she knew she could spare her family pain, she would sacrifice everything else she’s done. But when she asks the question bluntly, the same answer that has gotten her through the last ten years comes up.

She did what she did for a reason. It cost them all so much more than she ever thought it would. But she’s not sure what else would be lost, if she tried to change this moment—and there is too much at stake for her to risk getting it wrong again.

No. She can't fix it. Not this way.

Lucretia lowers her hands, slowly, and shakes her head.

“I made my choice,” she says. “It hasn’t turned out exactly like I thought it would, but...I did what I had to do. I have to see it through.”

She lets her hands fall to her sides, staring at the still-frozen form of her past self. That's it, then. She should feel proud of herself, she supposes, for resisting the Chalice’s thrall. But instead she just feels empty.

She looks up at the Chalice, expecting him to be angry, or frustrated, or at least disappointed. This was his last big play, after all. The temptation of Lucretia.

But the Chalice only smiles, and she hates the way that smile looks on Magnus’s face, all condescension and smug knowing.

“I thought you might say that,” he says. “You’re nothing if not stubborn."

What?

She had thought she knew what was happening here: a temptation, an offer that the Chalice hoped she would take and that she would have to resist, and if she did, then she would win. If that's not what this was--reliving those memories was bad enough, but to do it for no purpose?

Lucretia does her best to hide her confusion, to let only anger show in her voice. "Why did you show this to me if you knew I wouldn't change it?"

He shrugs. "It was worth a try. You might have surprised me. And it's important that you saw this first."

"What do you mean?" She doesn't like the sound of first. "I thought we were done."

“Not quite," the Chalice says. "There’s one other moment I want to show you."

The images around them are already blurring again, the vision of her standing in front of Fisher’s tank disappearing into flashes of color and memory. Lucretia braces herself for another onslaught, but it's only a few seconds before the blur slows, and when it stops, they are once again standing in her quarters on the Starblaster. It’s nighttime, the room lit only by a candle on her desk, and the glow from Fisher’s tank.

The younger version of her sits at the desk, her head leaning on one hand, the other hand twirling and pulling at a loose curl. She's reading one of her journals. Two more journals sit to one side on the desk, and there is a pile of several more at her feet. The young Lucretia’s leg is jiggling, and her hand pulls on her hair hard enough to hurt. Her posture might seem relaxed, but present Lucretia can feel her anxiety.

Her heart sinks. She remembers this night. It was the night after Lup had told them about the gauntlet’s latest death toll in Cordelia—and one of the first nights she really thought about what it would take, to use Fisher to erase the relics. She remembers the weariness on Lup’s face, the despair at what these things they’d made were doing to the world. How much she wanted to wipe that weariness away, how she’d thought that there had to be a way to fix it. She had sat up late into the night, a growing pile of journals surrounding her as she read through her records of the last year, and then further and further back into the century. Eventually she had fallen asleep at her desk, her head pillowed on an open journal, her mind spinning with questions—whether such a plan would work; whether it was worth it.

The next morning, they had found Lup’s note on the kitchen table.

"You think about this night a lot," the Chalice says. "The last night you were all together."

He walks over to the desk, looking down at the memory of her, and Lucretia resists the urge to step between them, to protect her younger self from the future looming over her.

“You didn’t know it at the time, but you were awake, when Lup left,” he continues. “She waited until she thought everyone would be asleep, and then she left her note on the table, and she slipped away. She thought she would only be gone a few days.

“And while she did that you were sitting at your desk, reading, thinking it might be time to take a break soon, but not ready to put down your work just yet."

Past Lucretia turns a page and sighs. Even more than the last version of her, Lucretia thinks, she has no idea what's coming.

"You never did end up taking a break, that night. And by morning she was gone.”

The scene shifts, and suddenly it’s like they’re standing inside the wall between her old room and the corridor outside. She can still see herself, sitting at her desk. But she can also see a figure in a hooded red robe making her way along the hall, her footfalls carefully soft. The scene freezes just as Lup passes Lucretia's door.

“Right now, in this moment, she’s walking past your room on her way to the kitchen. If you get up now, you’ll run into her, and you’ll be able to talk.”

Lucretia stares, frozen, at her younger self, at the cloaked figure of Lup outside the door. She had been right there. She had been so close. She never even thought—

What would have happened, if she and Lup had talked before Lup left?

If she had told Lup what she was thinking, of her plan to use Fisher to stop the war?

If she had asked Lup for help, tried to get her to stay?

What would have happened to them all, if they hadn’t lost Lup?

Suddenly, all her earlier firm resolve dissipates like mist. Lucretia looks at the figure silhouetted in the dim light of the corridor, and her heart aches and her stomach clenches with longing.

Lup.

It shouldn't change anything. All her arguments from before still stand.

She doesn’t know what consequences such a change would have.

She’d be sacrificing everything she’s done, everything she’s worked for the past ten years.

The price of using a relic is still so very high.

But Lup.

There’s a sudden, gentle touch on the back of her wrist. She startles, but this time she does not pull away as the Chalice takes her hand in his. His fingers are rough and calloused, the exact feel of Magnus’s hands, and the sensation brings tears to her eyes. It’s been so long since she’s felt anything like this.

“You can save us, Luce,” the Chalice says—Magnus says. “You know we fell apart, after Lup left. You can stop it. You can persuade her to stay, and we can find some other way to stop the war. Together.”

"Don't say us," she says, but there is no fire in it. She can see it, the future he describes. She can see it so clearly.

"Please, Lucretia." His eyes meet hers with such an earnest look. "You can save her."

And despite herself, despite all her caution and well-honed arguments, Lucretia can feel herself faltering.

When he made his first offer, she had been able to push her own desires aside. However much she might want to change what has happened since the redaction, she knows she did what she did for a reason, and she is too practiced at setting aside her guilt to let it sway her.

But this. This is different.

Lup's disappearance had no reason behind it, no purpose. She might have left with an intention in mind, but Lucretia is certain her not coming back was not part of any plan.

And now, she's being given the chance to make it right.

If she can keep Lup from leaving, then Barry will never have to waste away on a fruitless search, Taako will never be reduced to moving through the ship like a ghost, half empty. If she can talk to her, maybe they can keep their family together, keep them from falling into that place where the redaction felt like the only option. With Lup still with them, maybe the Chalice is right—maybe they can find another way to save the world.

There will be a price to pay. She knows this. The stakes are just as high as before, the uncertainty in some ways even higher. But by now she is used to calculating the costs of her decisions, and the prices she has to pay herself are always the easiest to bear.

And to save Lup? To bring her back? She's willing to pay just about anything.

Lucretia looks up at the Chalice, and though she knows he is not Magnus, he is so like him that just for this moment, she can pretend that there is nothing else lurking behind his earnest expression. She takes both of the Chalice's callused hands in hers, and she looks him dead in the eye, and she makes her choice.

"What do I have to do?”

#taz balance #taz lucretia #taz fanfic #taz #taz au #temporal chalice #grand relics #there's more to explore here in terms of alternate timelines #and maybe i'll do it someday #but time manipulation is Complicated and makes my head hurt D:#scribblings #long post #taz balance spoilers

9 notes · View notes

fragmentwitch · 4 years

Text

Higurashi Gou Episode 16 transcribed scene is below. I have done my best to describe everything so you can have a gist of how the scene is unfolding, but minimal detail on the graphic imagery the best I could.

For normal viewing of the rest of the episode, skip to 15:10ish. Other than that, enjoy and read to craft interpretations as you wish.

The calendar shows Sunday June 12, 1983.

Rika seems asleep in her futon, looking sweaty with flushed red cheeks as she breaths shallowly. The sun is setting outside as the evening cicadas can be heard.

Satoko: Oh my, you're finally awake. It's almost sundown.

Satoko is crouched down close to Rika's face.

Rika: Satoko? I...

Satoko: You were tossing and turning so much. You must have had a terrible nightmare.

Rika seems out of breath and is struggling to speak. Smiling to an unsettling degree of tranquility, Satoko puts a hand on Rika's cheek and continues using a calm tone.

Satoko: My, you have quite the fever. I'll stay here by your side until you feel better, if that's alright.

Rika: Satoko... [tearing up] Why? Why is this happening to me? [The shot shifts to a side view of Rika, lying down still under her futon as she begins sobbing. Satoko's expression is unchanged.]

Satoko: Poor Rika. I don't know what you were dreaming about... [she moves to wipe the tears with a thumb, but her expression becomes serious as she sits up.] But surely you know your dreams are important.

Rika: Eh?

Satoko: your dreams are the way they are for a reason. A very important reason, Rika.

Rika: [Shocked] A reason? What kind of reasoning justifies being tortured by these horrible tragic realities?!

Satoko: You don't know why you suffer through terrible dreams night after night?

Rika: Satoko? What are you... [Rika cuts herself off and squeezes her eyes shut, seemingly in great pain] My body... everything hurts!

Satoko: these horrible dreams are torturing you and you still don't know the reason why?

[Rika doesn't seem to be listening, she throws her head back as if she wants to scream. Satoko keeps talking without batting an eye.]

Rika: what's going on?

Satoko: Rika, you've been cursed.

Rika: C-cursed? What do you mean? [She cries out in pain and begins to squirm under the futon] why?! I can't move! What's happening?!

Satoko: Oh, you mean this? [Grips the futon and lifts it up.

Rika gasps in horror before a moment of total silence. Her belly is cut open and she lets out a terrified scream. The coloring has changed from gentle orange to a bright red that increasingly saturates the color palette.

Satoko: Now, Rika... it's time for the Watanagashi ritual. [She finally smiles, and rakes her nails into the side of her neck once.]

Rika: th-the watanagashi ritual?

Satoko: you know why we perform it, yes? It's the only way to quell the wrath of Oyashiro-sama's curse.

Satoko does not move and remains seated. An odd thing to note here is that a single strand of hair on her head moves forward/downward by itself and is plainly visible.

Rika: you keep saying curse... why? [Winces in pain again]

Satoko: It seems the painkiller has completely worn off. [Stands up and presents a tray containing a vial of liquid, a syringe, 2 scalpels with different blade heads, and scissors. These are surgical-grade tools that are spotless and no blood is visible. There is blood on the underside of the white futon.] I'll give you the last of it then... wouldn't want you to be in pain.

Rika: Satoko...! [She lets out some noises upon being injected]

Satoko, smiling eerily again: Rest easy. Coach has ne injecting myself daily so I'm quite familiar with needles. [...] There, you're not in any pain now, yes?

Rika: Sa...toko... you said my nightmares are Oyashiro-sama's curse. What do you mean?

Satoko: I received a revelation from Oyashiro-sama, you see.

Rika: Revelation...?

Satoko stands up, but her face is obscured by a shadow and her mouth a flat line.

Satoko: He told me you're no longer fit to be His priestess. As such... [single scratch movement before walking off screen and returning with the ritual hoe.]

Rika looks up at her in terror.

Satoko: In Oyashiro-sama's grand revelation, He appointed me as His new priestess. [Scratch]

Rika: Satoko! [Tearing up] That Oyashiro is just a hallucination! The syndrome is making you hear things! It's all in your head!

Satoko: Rika... [raises the hoe over her head with an emotionless expression] Watch as I perform the offertory dance. You must come to terms with the truth, Rika. This nightmare was not foisted upon you on a whim.

Rika: Satoko... please stop...!

Satoko: You have sinned, Rika... and this is your eternal punishment! [Her face is still neutral here.]

With little hesitation after, Satoko brings down the hoe. Rika goes wide-eyed and cries out halfway, staring up at the ceiling and not Satoko directly as she pulls the tool back up.

Rika, whimpering as she begs: No more... please, stop... what curse? Why am I being punished? I didn't do anything to deserve this!

Satoko, frowning with her brows furrowed: No, Rika. Not only did you violate one of Oyashiro-sama's precepts, you did so as his priestess.

Rika: I did? When...?

Satoko, dropping the hoe onto the floor to crouch down again: Rika, for a long, long, long time... (her serious look shifts to an overtly angry one) you've sinfully wished to abandon Hinamizawa and get away, even while performing His sacred offertory dance!

Rika: eh?

A flashback in monochrome occurs to an unknown point in the future (or the past, for St. Lucia Rika). Rika and Satoko are wearing seifuku similar to what Rena wears, but identical in style and color. Satoko's back is turned to the camera so her face is now shown at all. Rika turns toward her with a smile on her face, holding a book as they stand in the middle of what looks to be a library or a bookstore.

Satoko: I cannot think of a more shameful act His priestess could commit!

Rika, in her deeper voice and off-screen as flashbacks to the original fragments play in monochrome, begins to speak.

Rika: Right. For the hundreds and hundreds of times I looped through 1983... I was no more than a bird trapped in a cage called Hinamizawa. I wanted to get out, fly away. That was my only wish. So when...

Another monochrome scene, except this is from the ending of Matsuribayashihen where Takano clings to Tomitake, crying as she calls to him. The club are all present, including Hanyuu in her corporeal form. We can't see their expressions as their backs are turned, but Rika is smiling here.

Takano: Jiro-san... Jiro-san...!

Tomitake: Sorry I'm late. I'm here to take you home.

Rika: when I finally broke out of that 100-year cycle of tragedy...

Rika, in her cute voice as the shot goes back to her in the bookshelves with Satoko: There's something I've secretly dreamed of doing for a long, long time. [Books on the shelf are Entrance Exam Study guides. Presumably these are high school entrance exams that determine where a student can solicit enrollment to a particular school. Rika's choice was most likely St. Lucia's. This means Rena, Shion/Mion, and K1 likely are upperclassmen in high school who have left the youngest behind in the village school.]

Older Rika: I chose to leave Hinamizawa.

The flashback ends. Rika begins crying and laughing. Satoko isn't visibly mad anymore but looks either disappointed or detached.

Rika: I've heard crazy things from people with Hinamizawa Syndrome before, but this one really hits home.

Satoko: [picks up the hoe] the oinly way to cleanse you of your sin is to perform the Watanagashi ritual.

Note: The camera pans out to show Rika laying on the floor. While the bloodstain on the futon is drawn in the usual style of liquid, the blood that splattered beyond it and onto the floor to the left side of the screen is of a more realistic detail, which we have seen before in previous scenes. Interestingly, no static flakes or vignette has been seen this entire time, and never shows up throughout. There isn't any realistic splatter on the right side even though the futon's stain exhibits a splatter pattern that would otherwise stain into the floor.

Satoko raises the hoe again, but she has her head down with her eyes shut.

S: I'm sorry... but this is the only way! I'll perform it in your stead! [Tears stream down her face. Rika stares up silently.] I'll cleanse Rika's sins by offering Him your entrails!

She swings down.

The cicadas keep singing. But the shot of their house is entirely saturated in red, with the linework in black. Satoko continues swinging down the hoe, teary-eyed and looking troubled.

Satoko: Rika, why? Why would you dream of something that would anger Oyashiro-sama? If your heart had stayed in Hinamizawa... [swing] then His curse would have never befallen you! [Swing]

Rika, still alive: My... heart...?

Satoko drops the hoe, looking heartbroken at her.

S: It's all your fault. Without you, I wouldn't have had to do this... i wouldn't have had to quell His wrath by finding everyone from club... [she scratches with both hands] and sacrificing them!

Rika: i see. This world that was to be my last, was over before it even began.

Satoko: This is all your fault Rika! You're Oyashiro reborn, aren't you?! Why would you do this?! Why?! [She scratches again, tears streaming down her face]

Rika doesn't reply, she just stares at the ceiling. Satoko finally collapses into a sobbing mess, but continues the ritual bare-handed. Rika doesn't scream but chokes out noises of evident agony.

Satoko: Why, why, why? Why would you violate his precepts? I've had to spill so much blood! [Continuing to pull while Rika's head is thrown back from the pain] What about Keiichi-san, Rena-san, Mion-san or Shion-san?

Rika starts to let out screams of agony while Satoko keeps talking.

Satoko: Didn't you enjoy your time with them here in Hinamizawa?! [She cries so much she has to choke back air.] And here I thought Rika would love it just as much as I did...

Satoko moves over Rika, before picking her upper body up into a hug.

Satoko, sobbing as she holds her: What about it wasn't to your liking?

Rika remembers many fun times here in monochrome of all her club activities with everyone, especially her smiling with Satoko and holding hands with her (there's even little circles surrounding them that you see in sparkly cute anime scenes.)

Rika, clinging to life, slowly looks over at Satoko before tearing up silently.

Satoko: What about everyone outside club? All of your classmates are friends you have fun with, too. And all the villagers are so kind to you. So why? Why? Why abandon Hinamizawa?! It's not just Oyashiro-sama who's sad about it! I'm sad too! The thought that the days in Hinamizawa I enjoyed and loved so much meant nothing to you, Rika...

The shot closes in on Rika's tearful eye that begins to close.

S: ... is so sad... too saddening to bear! (She full-on starts to wail.)

Young Rika voice: Why did I began to hate Hinamizawa in the first place?

Older Rika Voice: the answer is simple.

The shot fades to black before cutting to a young Rika standing in a black void with her hair swaying in the wind. Standing far away from her is her older self, with her St. Lucia's uniform.

Older Rika: I was trapped here for the longest time.

Younger R: Yes. That's why the moment I was released from this curse...

Older R: I wanted to get out of this hick town, enroll at a fancy wonderful school, and live a sophisticated life. Was it so wrong to dream of that?

Young Rika: 100 years. A century trapped here.

As if on cue, the void is replaced with bright colorful scenery of the Hinamizawa countryside, Rika letting out a small grunt of surprise.

Young Rika: what was it I disliked about Hinamizawa?

Older Rika: I didn't dislike it at all. The tragedies that tortured me, the series of mysterious murders, they were brought about by people plotting and clashing with each other.

Younger Rika: there were times I was having so much fun, I barely felt time passing. There were times I was lost in despair, sobbing on the floor. No matter what, Hinamizawa had me wrapped in its warm embrace.

Older Rika: Despite that, when peace returned after 100 years of grief, and Hinamizawa smiled, knowing I could finally stay here without worry...

Younger Rika wells up and cries into her hands. "I... I... I wished to be rid of this podunk village... I would I want something so stu--"

Suddenly we are cut back into the current time with a loud noise. Satoko has begun to pull out whatever is left in Rika's cavity.

Satoko: This is a curse. [Pull] Your curse.

The pulling continues until Rika is able to speak up.

Rika: I'm sorry. I was wrong.

Satoko stops in shock, and looks at her. "Rika?!"

Rika: if you'd go this far, Satoko... I finally realize...

Satoko: All I want is to live here in Hinamizawa with you, Rika. I don't need anything else.

Satoko's tone is emotive here but the camera doesn't show her expression, only Rika's as she stares off into space while crying.

Rika: Yeah. I'm sorry.

The camera finally shows Satoko crying just as much, smiling but looking sad herself.

Satoko: It's all right! I'm sure your words of repentance will grant you Oyashiro-sama's forgiveness!

Rika: I won't make that mistake again...

Her fingers press down until the last bloody finger, which closes into a fist. The scene cuts out with a snap that echoes off-screen. This is the 15:13 mark, and the rest of the episode may be viewed without concern of grotesque injury.

I hope this is of use to anyone wishing to revisit the episode for specific dialogue without having to rewatch this any further. Personally I have a strong stomach when need be but I always get queasy with such how much the gore here was drawn out... it's sort of a torture unto itself with the sound effects and voice acting.

#higurashi gou #higurashi no naku koro ni #rika furude #satoko houjou #credit is appreciated but not necessary!#higurashi 2020 #higurashi

12 notes · View notes