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clanwarrior-tumbly · 3 years ago

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Knight in Shining Red Armor | Dante + Child!Reader (DMC 4)

A/N: Hey so this is a rewrite of one of my first (and only) DMC fic from like...2016. This takes place post-DMC 4

You can read the og one on my DeviantArt! But if you're here for the new one then I hope ya'll enjoy!

Summary: Child!Reader was taken under Dante's wing after being saved from a demon invasion, but even years later he hesitates to tell them what he truly is, fearing they'll resent him for his demonic heritage.

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

"Hey, um..Dante?"

"What's up, kiddo?" The red-clad devil hunter asked, though he wasn't completely paying attention to you. Rather he was sitting at his desk, feet kicked up as he was flipping through a magazine.

Meanwhile you were roaming around the shop, stopping only to gaze at the massive curved sword with glowing gems hanging on the wall behind him. He mentioned claiming many weapons--"Devil Arms" as they were called--from defeated demons, but you were curious about their names.

"Just wondering..what's that sword behind you called?"

"The Sparda. It sealed the barrier between the Underworld and human world. Nero went through hell and back, quite literally, to return it to me, so don't even think about touching......it?"

Dante put the magazine down as he turned to see you holding the Sparda in your small hands. You smiled triumphantly, but stumbled a bit before the blade accidentally slammed into the wooden floor, making you wince.

"Oops."

Yet your little act amused him, as he chuckled and shook his head. "You're a little too young to go devil-hunting, I'm afraid. But maybe one day you will."

"And maybe you can help pay off Dante's debt, too." Trish lightly joked as she entered the room, taking the giant sword from you and putting it back on the wall.

Her words were responded by a groan from the male, who went back to reading.

"Whatcha reading?"

Dante slowly lowered the magazine to see you sitting on his desk, but he just snapped it shut and tossed it into the trash, out of your line of sight. "Nothing that eyes like yours gotta see."

"Okay....ooooooh, what's this briefcase?" Hopping off the desk, you ran over to Pandora and crouched down to poke the skull emblem.

"Pandora. That baby can turn into six hundred and sixty six different weapons, but...right now we only have access to seven." Now he was feeling like an exhausted teacher on a museum trip, trying to explain each exhibit to his hyper first graders--the exhibits being his Devil Arms.

Yet as you ran around asking him about more of them, he couldn't help but see his childhood-self reflected in you. Just full of energy and never-ending curiosity and optimism.

Yeah..he definitely saw the resemblance.

Eventually you decided to leave him be and dash off to your room.

And only then did Dante drop his smile, sighing as he put both feet back on the ground. He ran a hand through his hair before dragging it down the side of his face tiredly.

"You know..you'll have to tell them eventually." Trish reminded.

"How, though? That kid's afraid of all demons..hybrids or not. I'm pretty sure saying "oh by the way the guy who rescued you is actually half-demon" is gonna send 'em running, and...I can't risk that." He shook his head, gazing at the jukebox in the corner.

"But I think [y/n]'s old enough to comprehend the concept of not all demons being evil," Lady chimed in after overhearing the conversation. "Just give it to them straight and I'm sure they'll understand."

As much as Dante wanted to argue, he saw that she had a valid point. But he still worried...

How would you react?

It's been a few years since he saved you from a Mega Scarecrow, though it turned out that more demons invaded your neighborhood, slaughtering everyone you knew and loved. And as he took you back to the shop to patch you up, he could see the terror in your eyes, any traces of innocence long gone.

No child should have gone through such a tragedy.

A tragedy that he was all-too familiar with.

After the defeat of the Savior, things have been looking up. You've regained your happiness as you lived in Devil May Cry and learned of Dante's tales of devil hunting, though the memories of that horrible night never truly left you alone.

Along with that, just seeing a demon is enough to make you run and hide, and you were terrified when you first met Nero and saw his demonic arm.

From that incident alone, Dante became extremely reluctant to tell you of his own demonic heritage.

He just didn't know if he's only hurting you more by keeping it hidden..

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

Later that night, you were plagued by yet another nightmare. Different demons, same neighborhood...same deaths of your loved ones.

But in this one Dante got hurt, too. And you tried so hard to be brave for him, even shouting in the demon's face...but in the end you failed as it snatched you away, dragging you into the darkness of the Underworld before he could reach you.

Although you calmed down since awakening, you wanted to be sure he was alright.

So with what little moonlight shone in the shop's darkness, you located the worn sofa where Dante laid. He was engrossed in some TV program, though after sensing your presence his eyes flickered to you.

No words had to be exchanged in order for him to see what was wrong, as he sat up and patted the spot beside him. You smiled in relief and climbed onto the sofa, snuggling into his side as he wrapped an arm around you. "Th-Thanks, Dante."

"No prob. So uh..another nightmare, I guess?"

"Yeah, but..they hurt you, too and...I-I tried staying brave. I shouted at them to leave you alone and..they didn't listen. But...I think one of them looked scared of me."

"Wow." He raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Gotta say I'm impressed."

"Really?"

"Absolutely. Y'know demons are used to seeing kids scream and cry, not take a stand against them. Plus that's pretty epic of you to defend me, so thanks." With a smile, he ruffled your hair.

"You're welcome," you giggled a bit. "But..I really just wanna be as brave as you. I mean...Nero says you laugh at giant demons and tease them all the time. How do you do that without being scared?"

"Well..it comes with the business. Getting them riled up just makes the fight more fun. At least for me. You might think I'm crazy but if ya decide to hunt demons one day...you'll see what I mean."

"But until then, could I watch you fight one? Like a big bad one?"

"......."

"Dante?"

"..kid, there's a reason I never took you on any missions." Dante sighed, swallowing back the growing lump in his throat as he carefully planned his next words. "And how I always...bounce back from getting smacked by a demon tail. No human would be able to withstand that without some broken bones."

"Oh?" You tilted your head. "Then..how can you if you're human?"

"....because I'm not fully human."

As much as he wanted to shut up, he decided to tell you the truth once and for all, not sugarcoating anything:

He explained how his parents were a demon and human--a forbidden romance which resulted in himself and Virgil being born. His bloodline allowed them to blend in with humans, exercise their demonic abilities in battle, and even tap into their true demon forms.

All the while you listened silently, with not much emotion on your face. So it was hard for him to tell what you were probably thinking in this moment.

It scared him.

"...and that's it." He sighed, closing his eyes and looking away from you. "So go ahead and hate me if you want. I won't blame you for-"

"Can you show me?"

Dante blinked stupidly as he swung his head back towards you, wondering if he heard you right.

"I...wish you told me before, but I don't wanna be scared of demons anymore." You smiled a tiny bit as you elaborated. "Especially not one who helped me. So...can I see your other form?"

"...a-alright. Just...if you get scared I can turn back instantly, so don't freak."

"I won't."

He had doubts you'll keep your word, but he got up and activated his Devil Trigger form. As he opened his eyes, you gasped upon seeing how much they were glowing--being orange rather than blue. Red electric sparks danced around his metallic body as he observed you close, anticipating your reaction. He expected you to scream or cry.

Yet..there was only curiosity and wonder in your eyes.

"Scared yet?" He asked in his distorted voice, crouching down in front of you.

Not even the way he spoke startled you, as you just shook your head. "I was wrong all along..not all demons are bad."

"Not even this one?"

"Nope. You look awesome..like a knight in shiny red armor."

"...wow..I um...." For once, the talkative devil hunter was at loss for words. But when you learned forward to hug him around the neck, he was completely shocked.

Earlier in the day he thought of countless worse-case scenarios, and yet...the best-case was happening right now.

You were accepting him, hugging him even.

He couldn't believe it.

Dante smiled as he wrapped his arms around you, making sure his armor spikes didn't hurt you. "Thanks, kid. It really means a lot that you're not terrified anymore........[y/n]?" He was concerned about your lack of response, before realizing you were dozing off.

'Damn..I might make a pretty good dad, after all..' He mused, standing up and making the trek back to your bedroom. Then he set you down and tucked you in, relief and warmth in his heart.

He had a feeling that your nightmares won't be so bad anymore. Now he felt like he could truly protect you.

Why?

Because he was gonna be your knight in shining red armor.

"Jeez, man. Quit clanking around shit and---AH!!! WHAT THE FUCK?!!"

"Shhhh! Chill out, Nero. You'll wake 'em." Dante was quick to shift back to his human form once he was outside your room, glaring at his nephew. "Why are you so freaked out? This ain't the first time you've seen my devil form."

"But still..why in the middle of the night?! Thought we had company."

"...just go back to bed, kid."

"Don't call me kid!"

#devil may cry x reader #dmc x reader #dmc 4 x reader #child reader #dante x reader #dmc dante x reader

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fandomvariousness · 4 years ago

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Finally

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of violence & death, nsfw content

Summary: reader finally sees her lover Eren after the team retrieves him to the airship, yet he’s not the same. Will she bring him back?

Word count: 3.2k

A/N: Forgive me if some details are inaccurate, this is my rendering of the situation, so some things may not add up!

Finally.

Finally, the day you’re going to see Eren again.

You shivered with anticipation, thinking about the letters that were going sparse, until there were none. You’ve been inseparable, supporting each other every step of the way, but Eren had to deal with unthinkable, horrible things along the same steps too, and you couldn’t take all of it away – the burning hatred seeped into his brain, numbing his senses and compassion.

He offered no explanation in letters as to why he’d stopped writing so often, and you didn’t ask for one – he’s in enemy’s land, surely he has his reasons, but deep down you knew he was pushing you away.

What were you going to say to him? Will you hug him? Will he hug you? You had no idea, and it was killing you.

Your adrenaline was over the roof. Everything around you was destroyed, splintered, ground to pieces – Eren did that.

It seemed that you lost it when you realized that Eren had transformed without the care of hurting innocent civilians – his sense of revenge was stronger than anything else. You haven’t been able to approach him yet, to look into his mesmerizing jade eyes. You suspected Captain Levi has positioned you away from him on purpose – who knows how you and Eren would’ve reacted to each other’s presence after so long.

You felt the insides of your stomach turn as you hooked your cables on the airship and zipped-lined towards it. Just a minute ago you saw how Mikasa made it inside, dragging Eren along. You heard a commotion above you – Captain Levi was cussing Eren out. The casual.

You felt how everyone stopped whatever they were doing as you were climbing on board – secretly, they all wanted to know what will happen once you two meet again. That’s how powerful you two are. Were.

Out of breath, you stood up, regaining your posture, your rifle still in hands as you finally looked at him: if not for the emerald sheen of his eyes, you wouldn’t have recognized this ragged, miserable man with a chestnut resembling that of a lion.

You stared into each other, the unbearable grief that consumed you rendering you immobile. Quickly, your vision worsened, tears blurring your eyes as you realized there’s nothing behind those of Eren. He looks at you, yet doesn’t say anything, doesn’t feel anything.

“Move,” Captain Levi muttered and lightly pushed you aside.

You tore your gaze away from Eren, breathing shallow breaths as you stumbled towards the wall, leaning on it.

And then you heard the shot.

It was unbearable. One fleeting moment, one slightest miscalculation, and she’s gone. Sasha is gone.

You kneeled beside her tomb with your head hanging down, hot teardrops sinking into the pale stone. Everything was always shit, but now… now it’s pure hell. You sobbed and raised your head to look at the cloudy sky, cutting off the air flow, trying to pull yourself together.

“Hey,” Jean approached you, Connie not far behind. “Come here.”

He crouched down to your level and placed his palms on your shoulders reassuringly, helping you stand up.

Eren was nowhere to be seen. He kept to himself in his quarters, but Captain Levi forbid anyone to properly visit him anyway. He thought Eren’s unstable.

But you thought the opposite. Eren’s perfectly stable – the deadly precision, calculation and determination fueled his conscious, revenge-fueled decisions, and frankly, you were afraid. He wasn’t thrashing around like he would years ago, screaming and tearing everything apart, consumed by fury – he knew what he was doing now.

The last time you laid eyes on him was during Sasha’s funeral, but it seemed that he wasn’t even there. His body was, of course, but his mind was fleeting somewhere else, somewhere where he could continue plotting the utter extermination of every last one of his enemies.

It’s going to be hard, bringing him back. Hell, you didn’t even know if it’s possible – he truly looked like a goner. But you were going to try, because there isn’t any other living being in the world you love more than Eren Jaeger.

You sat on your bed, facing the one that belonged to Sasha. She would tell you to stand up and go straight to Eren and whoop his ass for ignoring you.

You sank your teeth in your lower lip as you stood up and made your way towards Captain Levi’s office.

“Come in,” his low voice muttered after you knocked. He rolled his eyes when he saw it’s you.

“What is it?” he asked, his desk already stuffed with a bunch of paperwork.

“I need to visit Eren.” you realized how selfish your request sounds in the midst of everything, but you couldn’t help it.

“No.” he answered after a few seconds of regarding you, without any care in the world. “You’ll just wind him up.”

Your heart skipped a beat – if Captain Levi thought that Eren still feels something for you, then maybe it’s true.

“Please, Captain, I –”

“Stop whining, brat.” he hissed, silencing you.

There was a wall of miscommunication between the two of you as you stared at each other, trying to convince one another silently.

He put down his pen after a few moments and leaned back in his chair as he sighed slowly. “You’re gonna do it anyway, aren’t you?”

You shrugged ever so slightly as you stared at nothing in particular.

Some more silence passed. “I’ve not yet decided on giving you week’s-worth punishment for insubordination, but go. Get out.”

“Thank you, Captain.” you bowed your head to him quickly, suppressing your smile as you basically ran away.

Levi rubbed his forehead. “Stupid brats.”

As you approached the door of Eren’s room, your heart pounded against your ribs so hard, you truly thought they’re going to crack. Yet here you were, standing within a step from the door, eyeing the little crack of light that emits from within – it’s not completely closed.

You lifted your trembling arm and knocked softly, then once again, harder this time, thinking he may not have heard it.

“Eren?” you whispered weakly after you got no reply once again.

You gulped and pushed the door further, stepping in – empty. He’s not here.

You released a breath you didn’t realize you were holding as you stepped further, looking around. The whole room looked almost untouched if not for the sack of a few items he brought from his old room. Your eyes flicked towards a stack of letters on the desk – your letters.

Your lower lip quivered as you approached them, picking one up – not even opened.

Pain and anger spun like a vortex inside you, bringing hot tears to your eyes. How important must’ve been the reason that he denied you the slightest explanation?

The letter dropped back to the desk as you flinched, hearing the door shut behind you.

Gasping quietly, you turned around, seeing him clearly for the first time since a couple of days ago. He stood there in all his cool, newfound glory: hair long enough to be messily gathered in a bun, naked torso adorned with chiseled abs, V line protruding from his waistline, and pants that hugged his muscular legs.

He had a toweled hanging over his shoulder – that’s where he’s been, in the showers.

You didn’t know what was the exact reason for the hot blush that crept to your face in a second – the fact that Eren is even more attractive than you remember, or that you stood there like a mute, with your jaw basically on the floor.

His own gaze was unreadable – he watched you like a hawk as he approached the chair and draped the towel over its back, stuffing his hands in his pockets afterwards.

You snapped awake, glancing at the letters behind you, and then back at him. “You never opened them.”

“You need to forget me,” he spoke, staring directly in your eyes. “I’ve only have a few years left anyway, if I’m lucky.”

It hurt you how assured of his words he was as you turned your body from him, desperately trying to calm down. He stood there just the same when you dared to look at him again.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, failing to conceal the tremble that laced your voice. “I’ve told you countless times, I’m with you until the end, and even then.”

“That’s exactly why.” he raised his voice just a bit, reminding of the old Eren you used to know. “I can’t bear the fact that you’re okay with… all this.”

You covered your face with your palms momentarily before stepping a couple of steps closer to him. “Did you honestly think I’ll go down with this scheme of yours?”

“I’m determined to make it happen.”

“Eren, don’t be stupid!” you couldn’t control yourself anymore. “I’m not some… weak maiden in need of constant attention! I’m your partner!”

“You want to be partner of the monster that I am?” he asked, a faint hint of disappointment in his voice.

You sighed, closing your eyes. “Eren…”

“I’m a murderer.” he said as he lessened the space between you a little more, trying to impose his truth on you – you could almost feel his breath on your skin, what made another shiver run down your spine.

You opened your eyes abruptly, because you knew he expected that you won’t be able to even look at him after what he’s done. His jade eyes were the same as before as you drowned in them.

You couldn’t help as you placed your dainty palms on his ripped upper arms, the tips of your fingers jolting with electricity. Eren felt that too, for you heard him draw in a sharp breath.

You were going to say something, but right now you couldn’t focus on anything other than your skins touching again, after all this time. You gulped as you gathered courage to lightly stroke down to his forearms.

“You’re not a monster.” you spoke again. “You’re just a hurt boy who can’t help but hurt others.”

He stayed silent, because he knew it’s true. You always did this to him – always had one last argument that made him shut up. His eyes became glassy as he looked down in shame, gripping your own forearms in his calloused palms.

“Come here,” you mumbled as you wound your arms around his neck, cradling him, as his own arms snaked around your waist, head buried in the crook of your neck.

You were only hugging, but it felt ecstatic. You gripped him tightly, swearing to yourself never to let go again. You felt a few wet drops run down your shoulder, yet Eren didn’t release a sound – you knew he was holding back.

“I’m sorry for everything.” he whispered. “You don’t deserve this.”

“Eren, you’re never getting rid of me.” you whispered into his hair before planting a tender kiss on his head.

He released a breathy laugh, tickling your neck. You nuzzled into each other more, and then you felt his lips on your neck, pecking it lightly, immediately blazing flames in your lower region.

You arched your neck back, providing him with an easier access to your skin. You couldn’t suppress a small gasp as his hot breath trailed up to your jaw, along with his longing-filled kisses.

“I missed you.” he whispered against your jaw, before pecking just below the corner of your lips.

Your mind was already in shambles. “Believe me, I missed you more.”

Your lips finally collided: desperate, needy, hungry. His fingers dug into your hips, aligning your centers as your palms slid down to the either side of his neck. You moaned into his lips between the famished, open-mouthed kisses as he gripped your behind, trying to savor it all.

Your palms were running down his chest on their own, exploring every crevice and scar, some old and some new, still unexplored. You felt his hand slide under the hem of your shirt up to your ribs, leaving a scalding-hot trail in its wake.

You rutted your hips against his automatically, getting needier with every passing second, your hands hooked around his neck again, holding on for dear life.

Your jaw slacked as he sneaked his hand under your bra, his fingers coming in contact with your hardened nipple. He drew back a little so that he could see your flushed face and hazy eyes, a light sheen of saliva reflecting from your slightly lolled out tongue.

“More, you say? Just how much?” he teased, his eyes darting from your eyes to your lips repeatedly, the corners of his lips upturned ever so slightly.

“Really, really much,” you whimpered before he discarded you of your shirt and bra, his hands roaming down your sides as he sucked on your jugular, your hands buried in his hair, ruining his bun.

“Jump.” he said between the wet kisses as you felt his hands under your thighs.

He made his way towards the bed before gently dropping you down on it, feeling the tent in his pants become unbearable, almost painful. How could it not, when you lay sprawled out under him, hair messy around your head like a halo, all the while needy breaths escaping your lips?

You knew exactly what you were doing to him, but you wanted to drive him crazy, to make up for all the painful time you’ve spent apart. You started wriggling out of your leggings, your gaze never leaving his eyes. He unbuttoned his own pants before they slid to the ground, revealing a formed tent under his boxers.

Suddenly, he grabbed you by your calves and yanked you closer, forcing a yelp from you. Second after his lips crashed on yours again, making their way down, passing your neck, collarbones, stomach, until they reached their destination.

You found it hard to breathe as he kissed your inner tight, getting closer and closer to where you needed him most.

“Eren,” you whimpered, your eyes closed, hands gripping the sheets. “Please…”

You felt him smile against your thigh before his tongue flicked against your clothed clit lightly, coaxing another high-pitched moan from you.

You put the back of your hand against your mouth quickly, embarrassed at the sudden reaction. You felt the bed shift before you opened your eyes and saw him parallel with your own body again.

“Don’t,” he asked as he removed your arm from your face. “I want to hear every little sound you make.”

He kissed you once before making his way back, hooking his fingers on your panties and sliding them down painfully slowly. The cold air on your skin peppered it with goosebumps, yet when you felt Eren’s face lower to your center, your body ignited once again.

A moan got stuck in your throat as you felt Eren’s slick tongue go all the way from your entrance to your clit, circling it, literally driving you crazy.

“Eren,” you moaned, the back of your head buried into the mattress as you wound your hands through his hair, completely ruining the bun, his chestnut hair falling to the sides and framing his face.

His fingers dug into your thighs as he pleasured you with his tongue, awakening the passion in you that was dormant during his absence.

Eren loved the taste of you on his tongue as he sucked on you, holding down your squirming hips. He knew you were close; he remembers everything your body language tells him.

“E-Eren, I’m gonna—” you choked out, confirming his observations.

You felt cold air hit your slick folds as Eren drew back, quickly discarding himself of his last piece of clothing before he leaned down, planting a sloppy kiss on your lips.

“Ready?” he breathed into your lips, receiving a nod.

The burning sensation followed his dick breaching your entrance, stretching it out after so long.

“Fuck,” he groaned against your mouth, having forgotten just how good your pussy feels.

You choked out a groan as you wound your legs around his waist, urging him to plunge deeper, despite the slight pain that strains you.

“This good?” he asks between his heavy breathing as he makes his way deeper into you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you nod quickly, your voice out of tune.

He finally hits your cervix, staying like that for a few moments, allowing you to adjust, peppering your neck with kisses as your chest rises and falls heavily.

You kiss his lips as you place a hand against his buttocks, urging him to go on. He goes back to the point of pulling out before hitting you deep again, building up his pace as he does so.

Your mind is getting hazier with each thrust – it seemed that the room turned into a sauna as you could almost see the huffs of air that escaped both of your mouths.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he groaned against your ear as he pinned your hand above to your head, intertwining his fingers with yours.

He was barely controlling himself as your pussy clenched around him – he probably never had to restrain himself with you as he does now, regarding the absence of your touch for such a long amount of time. You’ve never been apart that long, and he hoped you’ll never be again.

“Eren!” you screamed, sensing your release fast approaching as you wound your hands around his neck.

He pounded into you hard, bringing some steamy memories of your times before for a moment.

Finally, you fell, arching your back, your stomach gliding against his, as every nerve of your brain exploded. Eren continued thrusting into you until a few moments after you felt his own release spilling inside you.

He moaned against the crook of your neck, planting a few kisses. He rolled to your side and faced the ceiling with his eyes closed, until they snapped open again, hearing you sniffle.

Guilt washed over him like a tempest as he leaned on his side, gently gripping your waist as you covered your eyes with the back of your forearm. “Did I hurt you??”

“No!” you yelped and removed your arm from your face, placing your palm on his cheek instead. For a moment you were so frightened he would blame himself for something he didn’t even do.

“No,” you repeated, more softly. “I’m just really happy you’re here.”

He leaned his forehead to yours, worry leaving his body almost visibly. He sighed as he brought you closer.

You tucked a few of his locks behind his ear, making him look a couple years younger. “I love your hair.”

Eren chuckled, his eyes still closed in the afterglow bliss. “Captain hates it. He said –”

Then it dawned on him. “Wait, how did you get here?” he leaned on his forearm as he looked at you, genuinely interested, amusement threatening to widen his smile any moment.

“I simply asked Captain.”

Eren raised an eyebrow. “And he let you?? Just like that?”

“Well,” you trailed off. “He did mention something about a punishment for insubordination…”

“Unbelievable,” Eren whispered, as he sunk back into the mattress, quiet laughs emanating from his chest, as you drew shapes on it with a stupid smile on your face. “And you still came.”

“I’ll be fine if you visit me at least twice while I’m behind bars?”

You two laughed even harder, and this moment, this tiny moment in the vast space surrounding everything, was perfect.

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kneipho · 4 years ago

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Hope Springs Eternal Part Two.

One should be cognizant of tread marks of a different kind that await all of us.

But attitude is key. A timeless trait.

More fodder this for that colourful cryptic creation I’m churning about in my brain.

One could not help but notice the dwellings in this compact charming but claustrophobic town.

They were spreadeagled to a fault with scant regard for privacy or personal space.

Neighbours like nodding polders wave from their aluminum polycarbonate verandas.

The sort with integrated guttering and moulded frames.

All packed together like crates in a warehouse.

A carbon copy of some construction company’s catalogue.

The trailing shrubs, wilting flowers in mosaic porcelain propagators, superimposed trellises and overstocked pools to name but a few.

They only served to reinforce their stylish if somewhat stifling similarity.

I was mindful of today’s appointment thanks to my tarnished gold watch and the sonorous chiming of the nearby chapel clock.

Of course one must not overlook Mr and Mrs Ispy as they were nicknamed locally.

The naughty snoops who were minding everybody’s business bar their own.

Adam and alma ahern were their names.

Aunt Virginia had some scathing words about their type.

“Some people base their whole world around tittle tattle.

They are grounded in matters that smart folk view with Olympian disdain.”

One can just imagine the cocked ears and protruding noses feasting on every scrap of scandal real or contrived.

Theirs was an in-built antennae always aligned for mischief of the murkiest kind.

They had an ubiquitous presence.

You never knew what hedge or door they might pop out of.

They sniffer dogged their way around every trail, route, and byway in pursuit of some scurrilous rumour.

Encylopaedic were they on shenanigans of all kinds.

A satellite dish for backstabbing and intrigue.

Some were even so unkind as to suggest that they spied on each other.

They knew everybody and wormed their way into everyone’s confidence when they could!

Gossips at the cutting edge of trivia.

“Oops ….oh no! I’m about to crash.”

I said with my voice trembling.

Lost concentration for a minute.

My notepad and pen skating on a footpath that resembled a small scale ice rink.

Aunt virginia’s word’s about focus were never more valid.

“There goes my poem on …a mudpatch.”

Despite this sudden intrusion I kept my balance but maybe lost something valuable.

A tumult of events on the ground and overhead took place.

Shrill birds chirping and circulating in the sky, swooning and swooping like a scene from an Alfred Hitchcock movie.

As I slowly regained my balance I walked wearily and warily towards the diary with said verse.

The lines were smeared with mud.

Uncannily like a lady’s mudpack.

The heartfelt lines were still legible.

Well, just about.

My heart was beating for various reasons now.

I had a 4pm deadline to meet with forty or so minutes to spare.

Yet there were so many distractions.

An embarrassment of diversion sometimes towered above that stultifying uniformity which threatens even the most imaginative town architecture.

Or was my mind playing tricks on me with all the soundscapes and stimulation of the senses?

The downside of being a poet and writer perhaps?

Virginia’s words of wisdom coming back to haunt me but would I listen ?

The real world and fantasy can segue into one another with distinctions blurred and the usual proneness to exaggeration.

Were the exotic whiffs of Bombay mix recipes emanating from a market place bazaar or some nearby dwelling?

Were they just an illusion with factual elements mixed in?

Either way a favourite haunt of both the Ispy’s and the teen couple I had spoken to earlier was a marketplace.

Both had their own agenda with the aherns being the

more devious!

“Pumpkin seed baps on spits reeking of sesame oil with the most aromatic seasonings wafting everywhere or so I thought.

Incense and Moroccan spices taunting the nose of this stroller on a mission. But also setting off rumblings in the tummy that couldn’t be sated immediately.”

A very vivid image of Virginia with her Mona Lisaesque demeanor appeared.

I was juggling her insights on punctuality and other matters and trying to act on them.

Was I clutching at an ebbing twilight zeal or a burgeoning young at heart momentum?

Distractions make inroads into time but I felt I was being drawn to them.

Did I hear the raucous sound of docker’s voices barely audible but imaginable above the booming traffic?

Were they coming from somewhere close?

Maybe the ships trademark foghorn was setting off an overactive mind or had I supernatural powers at this point in my life?

Whatever the truth, there’s been many a threadbare naval yarn I’ve overheard.

The type that has been twisted, embroidered, embellished even marinated on seas high and low.

Gag induced guffaws billowing upwards as smoke from a chimney stack.

Uproarious bonhomie drowning out the offloading of fetid fish catch.

The vortex of a spiraling timeline giddy with impulse and image drove me on in defiance of their colour and charisma.

But before I knew it a wafer thin voice called out from the corner shop, the location of my rendezvous.

“Hello. Hope spring. I’m your date.

Bang on time both of us.”

A spritely lady in her late sixties with profuse greying hair.

Her eyes were so expressive and sparkled with life.

“Don’t know if I shared my last name when we first met.”

“You did.” I replied.

Virginia, would be proud of my recollection.

“Did you get my call earlier this morning reminding you of the date?”

Hope Spring queried.

“I must have missed it.” Said I archly.

“I also wanted to ask how the poem was going?

We started talking casually as you were writing it.

You were having trouble naming it.”

She said.

“I couldn’t think … how about?”

We both spoke at the same time and laughed.

“Hope ….hope springs eternal!”

The good of it all had us in stitches. I doubt my aunt Virginia would have approved with her dislike of such humour.

“Have you got the poem with you?” Hope enquired.

“No. Sorry, hope some of the lines are a bit muddied.” A reply that made me blush.

Virginia would have scowled.

“Maybe the next time we meet you’ll have it done.” Hope again.

That sounds promising I muttered to myself.

“Yahoo…..you two love birds.

Have fun. See you at the local coffee house.”

Sonia and Winifred’s message as they passed by on their bicycles jolting us out of our conversation.

“Lovely people. Maybe we should take their advice and head off that way.”

Hope placing her right hand on mine.

I nodded in agreement.

“I’ve had this strange feeling all day that I’m being watched… another presence.

Ever had that feeling?” Miss Spring enquired

innocently.

“As I haven’t been in this town for long

it seems more intense than the usual curiosity.”

She continued.

“Shortly after I arrived in this

area I met a charming couple called the aherns.

They warned me of gossips who fed on eavesdropping and misfortune.

Maybe that’s it. I’m certainly grateful for their warning.” Said Hope.

I could barely restrain myself at this bizarre twist that Virginia would definitely

have found amusing.

At that I walked towards the cafe with Hope while craning my neck, taking in all all my surroundings and noticing everything!!

–

Sunday Submission: @mantrabay

Photograph and short story part two by mantrabay copyright protected

#mantrabay #submission sunday #submission #other #written word #photography #photographers on tumblr #original photography #creative writing #short story #Hope Springs Eternal Part Two

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himikiyo · 3 years ago

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kerosene lemonade // himikiyo week day 4

Himikiyo Week Day 4: Soulmates + Enemies

“Oh my, I suppose you’ve caught me, haven’t you?” Shinguuji asks languidly, gazing up at her. “But what will you do now with me at your mercy?”

The group decides that Korekiyo, a known murderer, can't be allowed to move freely around the academy. Himiko ends up as their guard.

Read on AO3, DRA, or under the cut.

“We aren’t trying to be cruel,” Himiko says weakly, head pounding from the frustration of having had this same conversation several times already. “It’s not like that. It’s just for everyone’s safety.”

“Hmm, is that so?” Shinguuji responds, just as she expected. Just as they had all the previous times. “Or is it just what you’re attempting to convince yourselves of? From an outsider’s perspective, I wouldn’t call your actions anything resembling merciful. Particularly not Momota-kun and Iruma-san’s.” They shift slightly and wince at the movement. Himiko can’t say for certain whether it’s staged.

“I...I don’t agree with the way they did things, but...” She trails off, hands subconsciously bunching into fists at her sides. The tension is unbearable, and she can’t entirely figure out why yet.

Shinguuji breaks the pattern. In their earlier conversations, they goaded her further, trying to coax out a slip of the tongue or contradiction in her views. Now, they don’t respond verbally at all, bringing a hand to their side. They look at her, eyes cold and calculating. Trying to guess at her reaction? They must be satisfied with what they find, because they tear their gaze away from her. A bandaged hand hitches up their jacket and shirt just enough to inspect a truly nasty bruise blooming along their side.

It’s more of a contusion, really, already a sickly, mottled pattern of black and blue despite being less than a day old. It’s hard to be sure without getting closer, but she can almost make out a bootprint. She must make a sound without meaning to, a gasp or similar, because their eyes immediately shoot over to her again and they rearrange their clothes to hide the injury.

“Am I restricted from whatever passes for medical care in this place?” they ask, voice deadly sharp.

“Wh— Of course not,” she insists. “I keep telling you, it’s not like that. Not for me anyway. The only reason I volunteered to be the one watching you in the first place was—” She cuts herself off, looking away.

“Was what?”

She didn’t (still doesn’t) want something like that to happen again. Iruma kicking them, Momota getting in a good punch. No matter what Shinguuji did, that kind of thing isn’t warranted. Not if they have any desire to keep the moral high ground. She doesn’t say that though, reticent to admit to anything that could be interpreted as fondness for them.

“No one’s stopping you from taking care of it,” she mutters instead. “Do you want ice?”

“You aren’t afraid I might find a way to escape while you’re gone?” They bat their eyelashes in mocking innocence, seemingly exchanging the spitefulness for that. Ever since the trial, their behavior is far more unpredictable than before. Whether they are unable or simply unwilling to rein themselves in again, it’s hard for her to say.

“You know what’ll happen if you do.” She doesn’t take pleasure in threatening them, but it’s the truth. The rest of their surviving classmates would gladly heap more intense forms of punishment on them if given half a chance, save perhaps Gonta.

“Only if I’m found.”

“You think you’ll be able to hide forever? I doubt it.” She doesn’t realize exactly what she said until they point it out.

“Forever, hm? Does that mean you’ve given up on any hope of us escaping this place?”

“I...I don’t know. That’s not the point.”

“Then would you be so kind as to clarify what the point is, if not that?” Their hand cups their cheek in a familiar gesture, though something about it seems to be done more gingerly than usual. That would make sense. Momota punched them pretty hard.

“The point is you aren’t going to figure out a way to sneak out when I’m not looking. Right?”

The way they slump against their desk slightly is, she figures, the closest to agreement she’s going to get.

She nods despite the lack of response, double checking her pocket for the key before stepping out. Iruma had been the one to modify their door to be lockable from the outside, allowing them to be imprisoned in their own dorm room. As the one on watch, so to speak, Himiko has custody of the key, control over their ability to participate in the miniature society the rest of the academy has become.

She doesn’t like having that much control over them, she realizes. Something about it is tantalizing and sickening all at once.

By the time she gets back with an ice pack, painkillers, and a nighttime snack, Shinguuji has moved from the desk to the bed and no farther. They barely look up when she enters, displaying no desire to pull any tricks like forcing their way through while the door is open. Her stomach twists.

“I brought the ice,” she says uselessly, setting everything down on the edge of the desk before backing away. She doesn’t dare get too close to the bed, like there’s a force field keeping her away.

“More than that, it seems.” Their eyes track her movement, stopping on the plate of food. It isn’t much, just what she could grab in the last moments before the dining hall closed for the night. Hardly anyone had dinner after the trial — no appetite.

“It’s nothing,” she mumbles. “I thought you might be hungry.”

Shinguuji’s hand drifts up in the direction of their face, then pauses.

“Your hospitality is appreciated. However, I think it’s time for you to go get some sleep, yes? Surely our friends,” and she thinks they put a special emphasis on that word just to get under her skin, “don’t expect you to watch over me all night.”

They expect exactly that, actually, but Himiko can tell what they’re trying to say. She can see the way their fingers hover near the edge of their mask. They weren’t executed, but they killed Chabashira all the same. They bragged about all the other girls they killed before, the ones they hope to kill in the future. They included her. There’s no reason to show them mercy.

“You’re right,” she says. “I’m feeling kind of tired.”

“Good night, Yumeno-san.”

---

She volunteers to supervise them again the next day, acquiescing to only a few hours off in the morning before going right back to guard duty in the afternoon. The others assume that her desire to take on this work is to avenge Chabashira. She doesn’t correct them.

A night’s rest has done nothing positive for Shinguuji’s demeanor. If anything, they seem even more unhinged in the daylight, every bit the part of someone who committed murder barely 24 hours ago.

“Hey,” she says as she lets herself in, hoping the lackluster greeting does a little to mitigate the surprise. Maybe she should have knocked first even though they can’t actually let her in.

“Back so soon?” They chuckle. It takes half a second of observing the twisted smile that accompanies it for her to process the fact that their mask is pulled down around their neck. Have they forgotten, or are they newly okay with exposing their face around her so casually?

“Are you disappointed?”

“On the contrary, I’m quite pleased. It’s good to know my cherished classmates haven’t yet decided to just let me rot. I wonder who would be considered the blackened if I starved to death in my room...” Getting up from where they’ve been lounging on their bed, they make their way closer to her, backing her up toward the wall. “Perhaps it would be you, as the last one who locked me in.”

“Wait, nobody gave you breakfast? Or lunch?” She’ll deny it later, but maybe she does feel their hand brushing along her side, slipping into her pocket.

“No, no one came,” they say, almost mournful. Then they back off and twirl the key between their fingers, letting the light glint off the metal just for show. “It’s quite alright. I can get it myself.”

“Wh— No! Give that back!” Himiko closes the distance between them, grabbing for the key, but misses. Shinguuji just raises their hand straight up, lifting the key out of her reach comically easily. She jumps, misses, and then grabs at their arm, trying to wrench it downward.

She’s terribly weak. They resist easily, moving in the direction of the door all the while.

“Mm, I don’t believe I will. Maybe next time you’ll be more careful.”

“You can’t just leave,” she insists. “I won’t let you.” She can’t allow it, both for everyone’s safety and for her own reputation. Protecting them in private is one thing. Bungling the one major responsibility she’s been entrusted with would be quite another. Shinguuji won’t be swayed by that argument though, that much is obvious. So she does the next best thing. She tries to tackle them.

Despite being at a major disadvantage in both strength and size, the suddenness of her throwing herself at them (and perhaps the fact that they’ve hardly eaten anything in over a day) is enough to make them stumble, scrambling to regain their balance. With an unceremonious crash, they both go down in a tangle of limbs, toppling the desk chair as well.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” they ask, sounding calmer than she might have expected.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m stopping you from escaping.” Once again, she makes a grab for the key before they can get up. To her surprise, they don’t put up much of a fight, letting her snatch it from their hand. Clenching it tight in her hand for fear they’ll just try to take it back again, she finally has a chance to catch her breath.

“Oh my, I suppose you’ve caught me, haven’t you?” Shinguuji asks languidly, gazing up at her. “But what will you do now with me at your mercy?” She’s close enough to see the smudged mascara under their eyes, like they didn’t bother taking off last night’s makeup before putting on more. Their lipstick is a bit smudged too, right at the corner, but the bruise at their jaw is more dramatically eye-catching. It’s that odd moment of calm that allows her to finally realize how the situation looks.

Shinguuji is sprawled out on the floor, hair in their face and fanned out around them. The bandages are coming loose around the hand she took the key from, and the way they’re looking at her is somehow lazy and dangerous all at once. She’s still half on top of them, straddling them from her ill-advised attempt at a tackle. One hand still clutching the key and the other braced against the floor, she isn’t technically sitting on their lap, but only barely.

As she looks down, she tells herself she’s inspecting the bruise on their face, but really, her gaze is lingering on their lips, reveling in how soft and kissable they look. Even the act of allowing her to look feels so intimate.

It would be so easy to lean in, and she starts to do so, compelled by forces beyond her control. She doesn’t think about their contentious relationship or about the fact that Shinguuji is technically her prisoner. All she thinks about is the crackling tension between them, the way their hand has moved up to rest at her waist, and how wonderful it would feel to kiss them.

Before she can get far though, their voice cuts through the daze.

“You have no answer then?” The question doesn’t make sense to her at first, but with a moment’s thought, she’s able to remember that she didn’t answer them before. They asked what she was going to do now. Despite forgetting to reply verbally, she thinks her actions must have been answer enough. Based on the look they give her, she thinks they agree and merely want to force a response anyway. Just to embarrass her, or for some other reason? She doesn’t know.

“You were never at my mercy,” she says eventually. “I just wanted the key.” She really is sitting on their lap now — when that happened, she isn’t entirely sure. Their faces are still so close too, and yet she can’t bring herself to pull away.

“A compelling answer. I can’t say I agree, but it wouldn’t be half as interesting if I did.” There’s still a slight smile on their face, and the hand against her side makes no attempt to push her off.

They both feel it at the same moment, the entire atmosphere shifting slightly. Himiko nods, unsteadily getting up.

“I’ll make sure someone brings you dinner.”

When she leaves, they’re still on the floor.

---

As she promised, she brings up the issue of Shinguuji’s meals with the rest of the group. It doesn’t matter that a couple of missed meals here and there aren’t enough to kill them — denying them food is inhumane.

Momota is the one to bring them dinner; she watches until he opens the door, just to make sure he really delivers it.

She isn’t assigned another shift with them today, technically, but she drops by late at night anyway, after everyone else should be in their rooms. It’s a moment of weakness, a guilty sort of indulgence. She lets herself in expecting the same sort of behavior as earlier, perhaps with a bit of awkwardness about the intimate moment they shared. She doesn’t expect to see them handcuffed.

“What’s this about?” she asks aloud, brow furrowing in concern. Unless someone else snuck in, this could only have been Momota’s doing. But why?

Shinguuji sneers at her from behind their mask.

“Momota-kun seems to be under the impression that I’m misbehaving. Filling your head with all the wrong ideas and trying to turn you against the rest of the group. How these,” and they lift their hands to indicate the cuffs, “are meant to have anything to do with me talking, I’m unsure, but he never does much critical thinking, does he? I do wonder what you said to him to give that impression though.”

“Huh? I didn’t say anything to him like that.”

“Then are you suggesting he merely came up with the idea on his own?”

“I don’t know! He must have, because I...the only thing I said was that it was wrong of them not to feed you.”

“And there it is. I wasn’t supposed to complain about that, it seems.”

Himiko’s head hurts. All of this is so incomprehensible and unfair. No matter what she does, she ends up disappointing everyone. If Momota really thinks Shinguuji is corrupting her somehow, it’s only a matter of time before no one trusts her, and now Shinguuji themself is upset with her too.

“But you weren’t complaining, I asked you.”

“The others don’t see it that way,” they answer simply. “You must have realized by now that they hardly even see me as human. They will do everything in their power to demonize me, even if it doesn’t make sense. That’s how they preserve their worldview. It’s now impossible for me to have any motivation other than killing. Foolish. If I intended to strike again while trapped here, they haven’t done nearly enough to prevent it. Nobody even bothered to search this room for weapons.” Shinguuji laughs then, turning her blood to ice water. “Even handcuffed like this, I could still kill you if I wanted to.”

Just like that, with no warning at all, they lunge at her. Startled (and yes, maybe a little afraid for just a moment that they really intend to hurt her), a shriek escapes her throat, but it’s only half a second before their hand is covering her mouth, silencing her.

“No, no, none of that,” they croon, pulling their hands away again. “Wouldn’t want anyone else to interfere, would we? I’m still uncertain just how strong the soundproofing is.”

Boneless and shaky from the sudden fright, she can’t help but sag against them, trying to regain her bearings. The fabric of their mask brushes her neck, betraying just how close they really are.

“Right,” she mumbles absently, though none of this makes any sense at all.

“What do you think?” they ask softly. “Shall I try it?”

“Uh, no, I’d rather you didn’t.” Her voice is weak, tremulous. She doesn’t really think they will, and yet...

They laugh again, supporting her body against their own.

“Luckily, I wasn’t planning on it. How about I teach you to pick the lock on these cuffs instead?”

---

Completely (mostly) unintentionally, a routine is established over the next few days. They still tease and taunt — if anything, they’re getting more overt about that — but there’s an intimate, almost seductive undertone to it that wasn’t there before. It isn’t enough to needle her about the others’ behaviors and how unfair they consider their imprisonment to be. They have to fluster her in other ways too as they do it.

One of the most noticeable changes is that they no longer stray away from physical contact. They don’t go out of their way to initiate necessarily, but if she gets too close, they jump on the opportunity without hesitation.

“Why is it exactly that you like coming here so much?” they ask her, arms coiling around her waist to pull her closer until she tips onto their lap. “And after I’ve made it abundantly clear how easy it would be for me to kill you too.” It would be even easier now than the first time they taunted her about it, since the handcuffs thankfully hadn’t made a reappearance yet.

“Does it matter why?” she replies, not even pretending to struggle against their grip. “I’d think you’d just be happy that I do.”

“Perhaps it’s that you enjoy watching me.” The tone in which they say that makes her blush, even without getting a look at their expression. “You all look down on me for what I do in the name of my mission, but you take pleasure in keeping me locked up in this room, controlling every part of my day. If anything, I would think that would make me the merciful one. I don’t cause my victims to suffer any longer than necessary.”

“Me coming here has nothing to do with liking the fact that you’re locked up,” she argues, trying to ignore how closely they’re cuddling her, uncovered lips brushing against her neck. She already knows she’ll have to be careful when she leaves — Saihara almost saw the lipstick marks the day before. “This isn’t some kind of power fantasy.”

“No?” Shinguuji nuzzles against her, somehow managing to weave aggression into such a sappy, affectionate gesture.

“No. What you did was bad, obviously, but I don’t see what this is supposed to accomplish. If you...if you killed someone again, you’d get caught and executed for sure, so there’s no reason for you to want to hurt anyone. Right?”

“If I agree with you on that, will you be persuaded to let me out?” They kiss her neck again. Now that she knows the reality is even better than her imagination, it’s hard to resist the urge to turn and kiss them properly.

“I can’t. What do you even think would happen? I let you out and then what, everyone else suddenly decides it’s okay?”

“Not okay, exactly, but not worth the bother of apprehending me again. I certainly wouldn’t go quietly.”

She hates it when they sound so reasonable. It makes it so much more difficult not to give in to their cajoling. Cajoling that often turns to something on the verge of outright begging, as they seem to be gearing up for now. As recently as a week ago, Himiko never would have pictured Shinguuji Korekiyo as someone willing to stoop to begging for any reason. Amazing how quickly things could change.

“I think it’s better if I just keep trying to convince everyone to lighten up.” She finally gives in to the kisses. threading her fingers through their silky hair. The bruise on their jaw (as well as the one on their side) is finally beginning to heal, but is still plenty visible for the time being, a reminder of exactly what they’re up against.

“Everything would be far more entertaining if I was free,” they urge softly, drawing back just enough to speak. “We could have much more fun together. We can work on escaping this academy together. That’s what you want, yes?”

“I...” She falters.

“We could make it happen, the two of us. All you have to do is let me out.”

“How do I even know any of this is genuine?” she asks, finally putting voice to one of the things that’s been troubling her most since this began. “I mean, you’ve basically said yourself plenty of times that you’re toying with me. Once there’s nothing you want from me, how do I know you’ll care at all about escaping together or anything else?”

Shinguuji is quiet for a long while. At first she thinks that she hit the nail on the head and they simply can’t deny the truth. But they haven’t made any move to nudge her off their lap, nor anything else that would indicate an end to the intimacy that had gradually become routine. Finally, they speak.

“I suppose there’s no way to know that for certain. That’s part of the beauty of human relationships. No matter what assurances you receive or how much trust you possess, it’s impossible to ever know with complete certainty that someone will not betray you. Sometimes your trust is misplaced, and that ugliness and sorrow is part of what makes life worth experiencing.”

“That’s unexpectedly deep,” she quips, trying to buy time while she considers how she actually feels about all that. “It’s been a while since you’ve gone on one of your anthropology lectures.”

“I didn’t realize you were interested in them. That’s another thing we could do more of if you decide to let me out, my dear?”

She stifles a gasp at the unexpected term of endearment, face reddening when she realizes that shocked reaction is exactly what they were trying to get out of her.

“Ugh, you’re so persistent. It really is a pain.”

They shrug. “I have little else to occupy my time, so continuing to wear down your defenses is a worthwhile effort. At the very least, you could bring me some documents from my research lab to make my time away from you less tedious.”

“I can do that,” she agrees, offering a small smile when she meets their eyes. “And it’s not that I want you to stay stuck in here. I just...need to think about the best way to do things. Because I want to get out of here together too.”

“Perhaps Momota-kun was right all along. Maybe I did corrupt you.”

She laughs, already leaning in for another kiss. “Or maybe you just didn’t realize how interested I already was.”

#danganronpa #himikiyo #himikiyoweek2021 #himiko yumeno #korekiyo shinguji #drv3 #shinguji korekiyo #yumeno himiko

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psychemeanscure · 4 years ago

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PART 20 {After two consecutive parts with full Jang Taeyoung, yeah I do need a Sung Eunyoung indeed. Enjoy y’all}

That was the last thing she can remember before she went blackout. Approached by a couple of men after a newly ended meeting. She tried. Tossing her leader bag sling from own shoulder, running after their chase over her, pulling out the only pepper spray weapon she had. Yet, none of that paid way other than her being smelled by a chloroform in handkerchief, then history happened. They successfully taken her.

Regaining consciousness, she learned that her head was actually cloth with garbage bag. Peeking a possible person, she can see but failed as the bag was pure black for her to take chances. Hands tied tightly from behind, both ankles wrapped by metal ropes. Much the duct tape plastered on her lips isn’t helping, useless screaming as only muffled sound is heard. She gave up, as only heavy breaths left.

Until someone finally take it off the bag on her. Meeting the eyes of the person she expected it to be. ‘Veeros Alcaziar.’ Her raging mention in mind. It innocently looks at her surprised as if no idea as well. “It was you?” its disbelieving words even.

‘Cut the act, old hag’ a retort from her mind once again. She may can’t blurt it out yet her blazing glare says it so. “I never thought you’ll be the co-partner of that industrial company director who wasted my money. You see señorita, I invested a sum from that Xi industry knowing that it could profit my business carefully. They promised, I trusted them, and they just flee. I had no choice but to look for the other proprietor hoping to bring back mine. If only I knew you were the other person, I could have just settle to you properly. I’m sorry.”

Sensing another of her muffling sound, the latter takes away the duct tape without care for she need to whimper in no time. “F*ck you.” Her convicting reply as the old Alcaziar only awed in snigger, revealing its true colors. Sighing as if disappointed on its own action. “Is my acting really that bad to notice easily?” it even snaps his own forehead as if remembering where he slips a word. “Ah! Right. Flee. Tsk, how can I say that when you just met him with your last meeting? What a bad actor I am.”

“Shut the crap out, Señor Alcaziar.”

Her cold stone response, as its evil grimace slowly showed up. “So you knew.” Does, the retaliating laugh resonate the illuminating room. The only hanged fluorescent bulb swaying from the ceiling makes it more irritating. “I thought I have to work too much threat with you but damn my dear Amilia--- oh scratch that, my little Sung Eunyoung-ie… You wholeheartedly offer yourself instead. So proud of you. So like your mother, just as wise as her.”

And it stilled her. For she admits she starts to get nervous by his presence. Given the mere mention of her mother, she knew a glimpse of Pandora’s box will reopen. “W-what do you mean?” her urging eccentricity. Responded by the clicking of its shoes, arms crossed with ascendency, fully welcoming her awaiting answer. “Hm. Alright, let us put it this way.” Removing its usual cowboy hat he’s wearing by a near table, lighting up own tobacco while pulling out something on its shirt pocket, she acknowledged it. Strands of hair tailed neatly as she can only think of one person. ‘Eomma.’

She never expected the extent of obsession the geezer has, until today. Possessing a part from a deceased is too much considering years had passed already. Inhaling like he has been familiar for such a long time, he reminisces. “God, your mom’s smell lingers my senses over the years still. Such my favorite scent.” Its interleaved remark before turning back at her with the original answer she needed.

“Have you ever wonder of your mom’s death was actually?”

Blowing the smoke of its tobacco close to her while she remained unwavering, he continued. “Cancer?” his questioning stance after proceeding with another as he shakes his head and takes her chin, up to level his gape.

“She was killed.”

Firm and self-assertive statement before letting go of its hold, opposite to how she’s already clenching her fist tightly from behind. Observant stares from the latter but just a stern look she does. Hot fire ready to explode into her, a little more and she won’t be surprised if she blasts out any time soon.

With a tilting of its head, the old Alcaziar continues. “Brave.” A compliment she did not bother. “You being jeopardize and all, I must say you applaud me with your calmness.” Him, leaning its face closely to her, “Now listen, my sweet little pea…” he speaks. And just like that, she spits him while it’s also too fast for his countered slap.

It was a hard one. Hard enough to leave a reddened mark on her face. It hurts her, yes but she holds it in. Letting herself satisfy with her work instead. Her contoured saliva which successfully spread all over the latter’s face gives her pride for she thought it was her chance to fight back just to shiver by his touch after fiercely wiping its own face, cupping her face tracing every part of it like his own.

“You only had me realize a while ago that you resemble so much of your mother that I keep stopping myself on hitting you, but just looking by your behavior right now you left me with no choice. The next time you will then I, your father won’t let it slide anymore.”

“You aren’t one to begin with, geezer!”

Dodging her cheeks from his hold, she retorted. “Father! Call me father!” as his domineering affirmation came after an irate throwing of its own tobacco. Eyes of obsession starts to ponder, jaws clenching with delusion. “Your mother died… Isn’t because of the unexplainable rapid of her cancer but rather she stopped it on purpose.”

A series of sham speech begins to create. “All of it. Each reason, is always because of that Sung Chanhyung! The f*cking coño stole the love of my life from me! You understand that?”

“You have no right!” she countered.

“I met your mother first! And that alone, gives me a right. That crazy s*cker killed her!”

“No, it’s not for you are the crazy one who killed them!!!”

She can’t attain anymore. That with the mere mention of his father being accused, she exploded. Finally, as it’s too fast for another heavy slap to earn a cut on her lips this time. Yet, none of it matters for she’s occupied with one thought and only. As her brows furrows, connecting its illusive stories to reality. Half-truths or not, she can only sum up the emotions her parents felt back then.

Threatened, deceived, betrayed. Just three things but left a large impact for their blissful family to fall apart. “Is that how the bastardo taught you?! That puto! Why am I surprised, even? He had brainwashed my wife what more with you.”

“She had never been yours!”

“She loved me! And that you should put in mind. We were in love until he came she became unwise, giving her all as sacrifice from that foolish man!”

“Wake up with your f*cking illusion now Señor Alcaziar!”

He’s insane! A very factual word that best describes the man in front of her. That’s for sure. How can she believe him even when she herself was the witness of the unconditional love her parents had for each other? She, who begged for the both of them to share their love story during bedtimes. She, who always wonder about how lovesick they are just by staring gazes. She maybe still a little kid then but for a young age she had once known what true love is. Her parents, was undeniably each other’s first love.

“Eh. You, stubborn child. You’re being hard to persuade still, huh?” Hair being clutched by the senseless old man, she yelps. By its menacing impatience, she’s cornered. “You better kill me instead, Señor Alcaziar. You will never hear anything from me. Besides, I’m all that you need anyway. What stopping you?”

Her spoken counter finally. But yet until a deafening laughing mockery from the latter. “Oh! No, no, no. You can’t always be exact my kid. I guess I did, at first. I had only asked for you alone, but learning about you further I got to think twice after. Then at second, I thought. Why not a little gratification, right?”

Seconds later, the once darkened room she’s in, becomes brighter. It relieved her somehow, little not knowing that it would fade away too fast as her eyes begins to go round in shock. She was frightened.

The sight of her foster parents, seen from the monitors of the LCD TV, tied up on a chair unconscious. And to the person whom she never expected to get harmed. Being kneeled helplessly across her, appearance being tormented from its usual dominancy. A bleeding cut from the eyes streaming on its face, swollen lips that had break its original luscious form, but most specially… the part which worried her too much.

Its wounded stomach.

“No…”

“No, no, no.”

‘This can’t be real.’ Her disbelieving pushing of her own thoughts as she shakes her head hoping that is was all a dream. But it’s not. Her shuddered eyes never left the figure in front of her. Twisting herself trying to get away from her own situation even if it means failing. “There you are, Mi niña.”

Not even the voice of the crazy Spaniard bothered her for all she could think of is him.

And like a sinking lioness, she bawled.

Into what just the hell happened?!

“Jang Taeyoung!”

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thespianbooks · 4 years ago

Text

A Court of Nightmares and Starlight //Chapter 9//

(Chapter one) (Chapter two) (Chapter three) (Chapter four) (Chapter five) (Chapter six) (Chapter seven) (Chapter eight) (Chapter nine) (Chapter ten)

(tags: @thron3ofbooks, @df3ndyr, @courtofjurdan, @art-e-mis, @herondamnn, @the-third-me, @im-still-trying-here, @emikadreams, @paytin77, @mis-lil-red, @sleeping-and-books, @lucieisabooknerd. Let me know if you would like to be added!)

A week was all Azriel needed to gather the information we hoped wasn’t true. However, after the first few days, the spymaster realized he would have to gather intel on those closest to Keir without arousing suspicion. When low-level sentries turned up without any knowledge, Azriel moved onto interrogating the stewards' personal army of Darkbringers. Together, he, Cassian and Rhys were able to interrogate the captain of Keir’s army—Rhys wiping his memory clean after every session. He hated to do it, but after gathering details of Keir’s plan and his alliance with Kallon, he knew it was necessary.

There was indeed a coup rising against the Court of Dreams.

We filled Mor and Amren in immediately after Azriel broke the news to us, but decided it was best to leave my sisters unaware—for now. Nesta was finally in a good, albeit still cold, place after the war that took place a decade ago and Elain was also finally returning to her normal self; who she used to be before being forcefully made. My sisters were healing, and the last thing I wanted was to reopen their old wounds by revealing that their lives were once again at risk. Nesta, as observant as ever, knew something was amiss but thankfully didn’t press for any information. For now, and until we had a set plan, we could leave them in the dark.

I did my best to hide my worries in front of them, instead allowing Elain to fuss over me and the baby while Rhys and his brothers gathered intel. With all the anxiety of the coup keeping me on edge, I hardly noticed that my previous symptoms weren’t affecting me as they had before. Granted, I was still so fatigued that I slept in until noon and my nausea still plagued me from time to time; at least I was finally starting to feel some relief, which reassured everyone—especially Elain. Now that I was feeling better, she began begging to help plan the nursery. Years ago, before the completion of the construction on the estate, she asked what we should do for the room attached to mine and Rhys’s suite. I originally wanted that room to be our nursery, but at the time I decided to make it into a sitting room. Knowing that an empty nursery sat just beyond the double-doors in my suite was too painful at the time. So, in the meantime, I wanted to make some kind of use for it; despite Rhys and I hardly ever even using it anyway.

After telling Elain where I wanted the nursery, she focused all of her energy into creating the perfect space for the baby. While the Illyrians focused on gathering the information from the Court of Nightmares, I did my best to shift my attention back onto my pregnancy. At first, I went with Rhys to Hewn City to be present for the interrogations with the captain of the Darkbringers, but we hadn’t taken into account the effect winnowing would have on me during my condition. With my powers being so drained, I couldn’t do it myself, so Rhys had winnowed us in. Upon arrival, I had nearly fainted in my mates’ arms. Alarmed, he winnowed us back to Velaris, causing me to actually faint. Once I regained consciousness, a guilt-ridden Madja was there and informed us of that unfortunate side-effect she forgot to mention at our previous appointments. In her defense, said side-effect didn’t usually develop until later in pregnancy, but thanks to my tendency towards extreme fatigue, it developed sooner. There was no explanation as to why winnowing was so taxing on a pregnant female, but Madja theorized that whatever magic it originated from was the culprit.

We decided then that he would go with Cassian to Azriel’s interrogations of the Captain, and once they had the information we needed, we would schedule our official visit to Hewn City. Fortunately, Madja explained that as long as I gave myself at least an hour rest between winnowing—including some recovery time after the initial trip, that it would be safe. A part of me was grateful that I didn’t have to be there for the interrogations, because after every session Rhys returned physically and mentally drained. Even as he recounted every detail to me, I couldn’t imagine the burden and the guilt weighing on his shoulders. The Night Court was his home for centuries; he made many painful sacrifices for the sake of his people. While he did his best to separate himself from the Hewn City, they were still his people; still his court and his ancestors' court. As High Lady for over a decade, it hurt deeply to imagine the threat of a civil war, especially for the innocents here in Velaris. As High Lord for as long as Rhysand was, I knew the pain was worse for him.

“You don’t have to do this every night you know,” Rhys drawled quietly from his place in the tub, summoning me back from my thoughts.

He was leaning on the edge with his chin resting over his crossed arms while I gently scrubbed at his delicately powerful wings. I smiled at his comment, continuing to clean the dirt and debris off his wings. After the first few days of seeing how drained my mate was, I took it upon myself to spoil him with a hot bath—together, to unwind while I cleaned him.

“You won’t let me do anything else since I got pregnant, the least I can do is take care of you,” I replied, dabbing at the other wing with a soft washcloth.

“That’s precisely why. You’re pregnant, and it should be me cleaning you,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at me.

I rolled my eyes, “I’m not the one doing all the heavy lifting.”

“I beg to differ,” he said as he glanced at my belly, still a small swollen mound.

I tried not to smile. “Your son isn’t that heavy, yet. I’m growing a baby, but you’re,” I paused, not wanting to bring up the ugly business of the day during the time I dedicated just for us. “Doing everything else…”

He was quiet until I finished cleaning his wing and turned to face me before cupping my face in his. “You’re working just as hard as I am Feyre, on top of being pregnant,” he said.

I gripped his wrist lightly, “I know that, but just like you’re taking care of me, I want to take care of you too. This time is for me just as much as it is for you.”

His smile was crooked as he responded, “Fair enough.”

I returned his smile and leaned in to give him a quick kiss. We stayed silent for the duration for our bath, not wanting to disturb our peace, but as soon as we were back in our bedroom, I couldn’t resist bringing up our upcoming plans for our visit to the Court of Nightmares.

“What time are we leaving tomorrow?” I asked as I pulled out a light nightgown from my dresser.

Rhys sighed, “After lunch. Cassian and Az want to go over the reports and statements from Keir’s general. We’re trying to piece together a timeline, and Azriel will go alone to finalize details with him while we’re at court.”

I nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed after slipping on my nightgown. Now that we had most of the information we needed, tomorrow we would travel to the Hewn City and announce my pregnancy. This would be our way of reminding Keir who he served and would continue to serve. We’d solidify our reign by furthering Rhys’s lineage.

I watched as he dried himself off and changed into his own night clothes, a simple pair of black shorts, and smiled as I imagined what our son might look like at his father’s age. Would the image the Bone Carver gave me continue to evolve to resemble Rhys? Would he have some semblance of me as well? Regardless, I dreamed of him growing to look and act like his father. But the thought of my son one day being High Lord, of having to put on the same cruel façade as the rest of us, made my heart clench and Rhys noticed it in my face. He perched on the space in front of me and gingerly placed both hands on my ever-swelling stomach.

“We’ll teach him well. After all, you had a pretty good teacher, if I do say so myself,” he said with a smug grin.

I rolled my eyes, “Maybe he’ll inherit my humility, because you’re hopeless.”

Rhys threw his head back with a bark of laughter before taking hold of my face to capture my lips in a deep kiss. He held me there for a few seconds, resting his forehead against mine.

“We won’t expose him to the Court of Nightmares until he’s ready and comfortable with it. I won’t put any pressure on him, I promise,” Rhys reassured.

“I know you won’t,” I sighed. “I just...can’t picture that yet. I think.”

“Well we haven’t officially met him,” Rhys said with a smirk. “We’ll take it one day at a time.”

I nodded and looked down at my stomach. “For now, I guess you have no choice but to be part of the act, but daddy will make it up to you,” I said with a smile and looked back up at Rhys, who had visibly stiffened at the new word I referred to him as.

He mouthed the word silently as I grinned and brought his hands back to my stomach, “That’s what he’s going to call you, you know.”

He nodded, matching my grin with a wicked one and wiggled his eyebrow, “I wouldn’t be opposed to you calling me that once in a while either.”

I laughed as I shoved him away, his laughter matching my own as he tackled me onto the bed.

Rhys and I stood alone at the gates outside the throne room in the Hewn City; Mor, Cassian, and Azriel already inside waiting for us at the base of the dais. They had gathered all the citizens of the city inside, on the order that their Lord and Lady were making a notable appearance today. I stared at the dark, cruel, scaled beasts carved on either pillar and ran my hands over the gentle swell of my belly. While getting ready this morning, Rhys pulled out a delicately midnight blue, floor-length, long sleeved gown fashioned of tiny sparkling crystals made to resemble lace. I nearly sobbed when my mate revealed that it was a maternity gown his mother made for me.

The impossibly soft fabric hugged my every curve, the patterned lace forming a deep ‘V’ shape over my breasts and opened in the back, allowing my tattoos to be on display. The sleeves capped at my wrists, the lace blending perfectly with the tattoos on both arms. More importantly, the gown hung over the prominence of my stomach; accentuating it enough to send our message without words. The High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court were expecting.

A dangerous announcement to make so early in my pregnancy, but a necessary one thanks to the current looming threat. While we initially feared it would enable Keir to push his and Kallon’s plans into motion sooner than we hoped, now we had our timeline and knew what to expect.

“Ready to be wicked?” Rhys purred as he rested a hand on the small of my back, jolting me from my thoughts.

Glancing again at the beautifully dark and brutal carved beasts on the gates, I nodded with a smirk and turned to him. “Let’s go.”

Both straightening to our full height, Rhys moved his hand to hold mine up as he escorted me into the throne room as the gates groaned open to reveal us to our court. The gathering crowd grew eerily quiet as Rhys and I ascended across the dark marble floor. Then the gasps came as they slowly, one by one, took notice of my stomach.

Though my shoulders were already squared, I tilted my chin up a little higher as the new weight of their observations fell over me. Over the decade I had gotten used to their stares, their murmurings, every time Rhys and I visited. This time was different. A pregnant female was rare and seeing as it had been centuries since a child was born into the ruling family of the Night Court, their gaze almost felt...scandalous. My façade remained as solid as ever as Rhys escorted me to our twin thrones, the crowd ceasing any whispers of my condition as we turned to face them. I sat first, but Rhys remained standing as his eyes met with Keir’s. The male stiffened the second he saw my belly and by the murderous look on Mor’s face, standing at the foot of the dais with the two Illyrians flanking her sides, he must have revealed his immediate disgust.

I could feel Rhys’s front cracking a bit, his dark powers slowly filling the room with shadows as he stared down the steward—who, thankfully, wasn’t sneering this time as he stared back.

“Bow,” was all Rhys said, struggling with the effort to reign in his overprotective instincts from misting Keir on the spot.

While the crowd moved immediately at his order, Keir did so reluctantly, Mor’s mother at his side and following his lead. I sent a gentle wave of my power down the bond in an effort to calm my mate. Don’t let him get to you.

He didn’t respond, instead tightening up his veneer, shadows dissipating, and sat in his throne before waving an idle hand to the court. “Rise,” he commanded.

The crowd moved together as one, and he waved a hand nonchalantly in dismissal; allowing them to return to their business. Keir dismissed his wife and remained across from us before clearing his throat. “I see congratulations are in order,” he commented, his sneer returning as his eyes shifted from our faces to my stomach.

I couldn’t help the protective hand I placed over it, wanting desperately to shield my child, but I instead moved my hand to the top—just below my bust line, emphasizing it more.

“Indeed, though you don’t actually mean it, do you?” Mor drawled, her voice and face fiercely calm.

Keir ignored his daughter and returned his gaze to Rhys, apparently choosing to outright ignore my presence as well, “I take it this means your lineage will pass onto the child?”

“Did you not expect my mate and I to produce any offspring? That I would simply pass my crown onto someone who wasn’t of my blood?” Rhys replied, keeping his stare dark.

Keir shifted on his feet, “I was always under the impression that a powerful High Lord such as yourself would choose not to procreate, why create any direct competition to your rule? Just take a look at the Autumn Court; so many sons all vying for the same throne by any means necessary, including murder.”

His words dripped with disdain, his insinuations mocking. “And yet you chose to try and secure an alliance with the court you warn us of now. From the look of it, you rather idolize the idea of a son overthrowing his father, or vice versa.” I replied, my tone as icy as my mask.

Keir’s shoulders stiffened at my words, his formidable gaze meeting mine. Through the bond, I could feel Rhys’s dark shadows creeping in the corners of the room. Mor and Cassian watched us, their stares deadly and ready to intervene. Azriel was already gone to attend to his mission while we remained.

The steward tilted his head forward in a slight bow, finally acknowledging me. “I would never presume such a thing, milady. As always, I am at your service,” he said, his voice tight.

It took all of my strength not to scoff at his words or snap his neck. Instead, I slowly stood from my throne, leaving my hand on the curved apex of my belly. “My son will inherit this very throne. And if neither I nor my mate grow weary of your existence by then, you will serve him as well.”

“I’m sure your son will rule just as sufficiently, my lady.” He bit back.

The aura in the room shifted as Rhys’s dark shadows were overpowered by my own. I blasted out dark talons of my power and sank them into Keir’s mind, painfully seizing him in place as I took a slow step onto the foot of the dais just a few feet away from Mor and Cassian, who now held their breaths as they watched me. Rhys remained in his throne, his own dark power emanating with mine as I felt a silent nod of approval down the bond.

My heart pounded in my chest from the effort of my display of power, and I felt my knees shake a bit as I continued staring at Keir with an icy smile. “My son will be more than sufficient; I promise you that. As you said, he's the son of a very powerful High Lord. I should also remind you of the power of your High Lady. With the combined powers of all the High Lords in Prythian, including your High Lord, just imagine what his powers would be like? Won’t that be a magnificent sight to behold?”

I tightened my grip on him, and he did his best not to cringe in pain as he managed to hiss, “Yes, milady.”

My power slipped from him immediately as I was unable to hold on, my forehead gleaming with sweat, and it took me a few silent deep breaths before I smiled cruelly. “That’s good to hear.”

Rhys was at my side in a second as my knees trembled again. The exertion it took to intimidate Keir was draining, much more than I had anticipated. I was grateful for my floor length gown hiding my trembling legs as Rhys perched his hand on the small of my back.

Are you okay?

Yes, I just need to sit down. I reassured.

We’re leaving now, don’t worry

Keir was catching his own breath as he stared us down. As much as I didn’t want to reveal any weakness, neither did he. After a minute, he straightened again and tilted his head towards Rhys in a bow. “Is that all you needed milord? Your visit was last minute, and I was in the midst of gathering your reports.”

Azriel had showed up only seconds prior to Keir speaking, giving a silent nod to me and Rhys, indicating he gathered the last of the intel we needed. Rhys waved an idle hand at Keir, “The High Lady and I wanted to share our news and be on our way. Go. Continue to serve me as you have,” he said as he began escorting me back towards the gated doors, Mor, Cassian, and Azriel trailing behind us.

We stopped before stepping into the frame, looking back over his shoulder at Keir--who remained at his same spot before our thrones. “Unless, of course, we grow tired of your existence,” he drawled before we continued out the doors.

The minute we were out of view of him, and the rest of the court patrons, he scooped me up into his arms and flew us into the palace above the mountains, the others right behind us. Amren was waiting in the open hall, seated on a settee, but popped up immediately when she took in my pale features.

“What happened?” She asked, but Rhys ignored her, sitting me gingerly on the settee and kneeling before me to check over my condition.

“I’m fine,” I reassured him and the others as they gathered around me, the jasmine scented breeze already doing wonders to soothe my tired body as I breathed deeply. “That took a lot more effort than it used to, that’s all.”

Mor sighed in relief before grinning smugly, “You did a damn fine job though, the look on his face was priceless.” she boasted.

Cassian crossed his arms over his chest, “I have to admit, you even intimidated me a little bit.”

I smiled tiredly as Rhys stood, facing them. “It intimidated him for now. Maybe that’ll be enough to stumble his plans with Kallon for a while. That alliance explains why he’s been more and more arrogant these past years, but our news of the baby today threw a wrench in their plans. A temporary one at least.”

“Did you get everything you needed?” I asked Azriel.

Everyone turned to the shadowsinger, who nodded. “I went over our timeline with the general, he confirmed the details, but revealed one more possible player.”

We all paused, and Rhys frowned, “Another alliance?”

Azriel nodded, causing Cassian and Mor to curse. Amren crossed her arms, “Let me guess. Beron?”

He nodded again, and Rhys cursed as I sighed. “He really wants that damn alliance with Beron, doesn’t he?” I asked.

“Did the general know what Beron’s role in all this is?” Rhys asked.

Azriel shook his head, “He only knew that they’ve been exchanging letters. No one seems to know what the letters say, or any other context, but it's rumored that it has to do with the coup.”

“We need to keep interrogating the general,” Cassian said. “He’ll find out eventually, and we need him to keep relaying information.”

Rhys nodded in agreement. “I’ll keep my grip on his mind, making sure he forgets but also start leading him to inquire about the letters.”

“I can get one of my spies to keep tabs on Keir,” Azriel insisted, but Rhys shook his head.

“This is a better way in. We can’t let Keir know we’re onto him. We already have your spies trailing Kallon and monitoring the camps in the mountains. Kallon thinks it’s part of our normal rotation. If Keir notices the same presence, he’ll connect the dots.” He explained.

Azriel and Cassian nodded in agreement. “So, what do we do now?” I asked, and one by one everyone took notice of my hand idly caressing my stomach.

Now that the Court of Nightmares knew of my pregnancy, word would spread quickly over the entire Night Court, including the Illyrians. Those behind this rising coup would find a way to regroup and create some new plan of action, that was guaranteed. The news of a potential new alliance with another court meant that their numbers were even greater now. My eyes met with Rhys’s as we both realized at the same time what our next move was.

“We need to call on our friends for an early summit meeting.”

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veinsandknuckles · 4 years ago

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Long hard road, pt 4

Vimes/f!Reader Slow burn AU where Vimes isn’t married. Rated R as of this chapter Content warnings: masturbation, consensual voyeurism, rough sex, piv, cunnilingus (referenced), BETA-free (for now) Read part 3 here There were a lot of things that threatened to drive Vimes back to drink. The state of the world, most of his own memories, the way Colon pronounced the word “impasse”. But lately one in particular tempted him so sorely to get off the wagon and reclaim his former home in the gutter that he could only barely withstand the impulse and that was you.

As hard as he tried not to look, he did have eyes and they would fix on you, despite all his good intentions. The way you walked, the way you moved. The softness of your skin, where ever it was bare. Your playful, mean smile when you teased him.

It started out perfectly innocently every time and Vimes told himself that people looked at each other all the time, he’d spent a lifetime watching people, it was part of his job. It was in the name of his job. And then, as quickly as you could say ‘pathetic letch’, he found himself practically hypnotised with his mind straying back to the dark places he usually guarded so carefully.

He’d held out for as long as he could. No matter what you said or how you looked at him, he’d been determined not to understand you or at least not to let himself believe it, or enjoy it. The attention of such a beautiful young woman was always dangerous, even when it was nothing more than a joke.

And you didn’t let up. There was always a touch on his arm as you slipped past him on the stairs, a meaningful look to drive home a double entendre. You’d even had the gall to lick spilled cream off of your fingers once in an absentminded way that might almost have been unintentional, and that had nearly been enough to make him angry. He knew he’d failed spectacularly at keeping you at a safe distance or else he wouldn’t have met you in conversation, hung around the bar until your shift ended or tried to make you laugh. It didn’t happen often, but it happened often enough.

When ignoring you had proved to be impossible, Vimes had told himself he’d be allowed to keep the joke going as long as he showed he was in on it. By being an unremitting realist, he could at least force you to settle for laughing with him, rather than at him. Haha, very funny, draw in the lonely, middle-aged man with sweet smiles and filthy jokes and watch him struggle not to make an absolute tit of himself. ‘We sure do both know what men are like and it’s lucky for me I’m a safe target, because I already know that nothing good ever comes my way’. ‘Wouldn’t it be hilarious if someone like you would go for someone like me’.

That, too, had gone about as well as could be expected because it may have helped him save face, but it sure hadn’t saved him from wishing, and (when especially weak-minded) hoping, you meant more.

Vimes couldn’t help it. Gods damn it, he was lonely. Wasn’t everyone? It was only human nature to go on wanting, even after a lifetime of wanting in vain. He was just a man and you were beautiful and funny and relentless.

Sometimes he stalked up the stairs to a freshly made bed and buried his face in the pillows, hoping to find a trace of your perfume, and wondering whether (if he somehow let slip that he’d leave his door unlocked) you might ever be desperate enough to come to him. He could just about slap himself when his thoughts went there.

And the dreams. He couldn’t count how many times he’d woken up in the small hours, stiff as a poker, sheets tangled around his legs and soaked with sweat, with your name on his lips. He refused to do anything about that problem but wait it out, with some help from the snow on his windowsill if necessary, no matter how he ached. It was no less than he deserved.

Because the truth was that he was as sad an old fool as any of the marks he’d ever taken statements from, with their pockets empty or their safes cleaned out and still somehow with hope in their hearts, expecting every moment that their temptresses would walk back into their waiting arms and explain it all away as a misunderstanding. There was the dreaded, long-ignored voice of hope inside his mind that kept on asking if you could really lie that well and for that long, and why.

As if there couldn’t be a thousand reasons why. Vimes could think of plenty.

There must be a sob story coming, some former lover you wanted him to do away with or some great reason he should spill his guts to you so you could string him up by them and collect payment from his enemies. (Were it not for the perfect hiding spot he’d found for his purse, he knew he’d be dead already - whoever it was that kept searching his belongings wasn’t subtle about it.)

If he ever betrayed how you affected him, he’d be lucky only to pay for it with his dignity - you were too clever not to have something up your sleeve. Lately he’d begun to think he should get it over with, take the hit and pick himself back up afterward. You may very well laugh at him, but in the end it still meant you’d move on and he could regain some peace of mind.

It was all a painful cliché, but at least it made sense because he was sure he’d got you more or less figured. Or he had been sure, right up until tonight.

Vimes had withdrawn to his own room almost immediately after you’d left and now he sat on the edge of his bed, trying to piece together what had just happened.

He’d thought he’d managed to back you into a corner when he’d asked you, upfront, why you kept on toying with him. He’d expected you to laugh it off like usual as a harmless way to kill some time. Instead...

“We all have needs.” Ye gods.

He prided himself on being able to spot a liar, and even if you were good enough to fool him, why on Disc would you push it even further when he’d just given you an out? You’d looked up at him with such vulnerability and told him, once again and more explicitly than ever, that you wanted him. Your voice had been uncertain and you’d looked as if you were barely able to hold his gaze... as if it mattered to you whether or not he turned you down.

And he had turned you down, and then he’d had to watch you leave, with a little twerp who, predictably, embodied everything Vimes was not. Young, strapping, forward, handsome and (it had to be said) not terribly clever, even compared to him.

Could it have gone any other way?

With a sigh and a determination to be brutally honest with himself, he took the shard of shaving mirror lying on his bedside table and regarded his distorted reflection in the moonlight. He rubbed his chin, making a noise like sandpaper against stone. The familiar inner voice of self loathing supplied all sorts of helpful remarks about his receding scalp and grey hair, his broken nose, his lined brow and all the other little marks on his stupid face that showed just how far he was past his prime. But he’d promised himself he’d be honest, even if he wasn’t comfortable with what he saw.

The thing was that (even though he’d never been what you could call lucky in love) in the spirit of fairness, Vimes had to admit that his looks had never really been an issue. In fact, he dimly recalled being told he was handsome back in his heyday on many occasions, and by women who knew very well that he had nothing to offer of value.

This was uncomfortable, because if the fault hadn’t lain in his appearance, it had lain in his behaviour and he couldn’t lie to himself about that part.

At first he’d been too shy even to talk to girls, whether kind or cold, pretty or plain. When the worst of that post-pubescent awkwardness was got over, he’d already gotten started on his lifelong downwards spiral and was too broke, and broken, to be much of a catch for anyone.

With few exceptions, his past with women could be more accurately described as a series of encounters than anything resembling relationships. Sure, there’d been some repeat offenders, but they’d returned to him the way you’d return to your local all night greasy take away - he’d been reliable enough when you had a craving for something quick, cheap and slightly disgusting. Those had been the glory days, before he’d poured himself into his work and poured the rest of his life into a bar glass. Past that point Vimes hadn’t even been reliable anymore.

So, where did that leave him now? He was as close now as he’d ever be to a good man and for all he knew, maybe something remained of his decent looks, albeit in a gaunt and grizzled way... He tried to put himself in the mind frame of a bored, easy young woman with self admitted, and now proven, low standards. His hand trembled slightly as he put the mirror down.

Stranger things happened. Worse matches were made. Hadn’t he seen countless men linking arms with women who should by rights have been as far out of their reach as you should be out of his? He’d never envied men like that. He’d been too busy pitying their wives and girlfriends. But this wasn’t even really relevant, because you’d never asked him to court you, had you? He knew what you’d been asking for. The very thought of it made his mouth dry and his treacherous member stiffen.

A sound in the hall made him start. Vimes groaned. Just when he’d thought the evening couldn’t get worse... it was you; he recognised your voice even if he couldn’t pick out a word you said. You and the twerp. You were right outside his room, stepped nearer to it as you laughed, then withdrew again.

A door opened. A door shut. Not just any door, either, but the door right beside his own. He heard the deeper voice, cut off mid sentence. You were actually about to... in the very next room to him. Vimes felt something inside him almost break.

Did you know? Or were you too drunk or distracted to remember where Vimes was staying? What would be worse, if you were doing this intentionally to finally send him over the edge, or if he was somehow violating your privacy just by sitting perfectly still on his own bed?

Could he leave? But the floorboards outside complained even under his light steps. And if you were to slip out yourself, and spotted him standing there... besides, there was nowhere for him to go! The hall downstairs would be closed by now, at least officially if not physically, the torches and candles out and the fire burned down to embers.

He wasn’t about to freeze to death over this when it wasn’t even a guarantee he could avoid detection. And he had a right to be here. That was the only reason he decided to stay.

There was a scrape of wood against wood as someone landed on the bed next door and shoved it up against the wall. Another laugh. Vimes swallowed and stared fixedly into the darkness. And then, so softly that he could barely hear it, you moaned. If he’d been the type to, he might very well have cried.

Moving as if in a dream, he got up (a little awkwardly now) and closed the window half way. He pulled off his shirt. He unlaced his boots and stuffed his socks into them. He averted his gaze as he undid his trousers. Another moan, louder this time, and a string of words, muffled through the wall but he still understood the tone of them, heard how they pitched a little higher... urging.

You knew. Of course you knew. Vimes had never been so sure of anything in his life. You’d looked him right in the eye and told him you were trying to make him jealous.

Well, he caved. You won. You wanted him to hear you and by gods, Vimes was too tired, and honestly too angry, to resist.

He pulled the blanket aside and lay down, shut his eyes and edged close to the wall that separated him from you. He hadn’t even touched himself yet and he was already so hard that the weight of the covers pressing against his erection felt almost painful. The next time he heard you speak, you sounded impatient, and Vimes wasn’t surprised. If it’d been him in there with you, he would’ve torn every scrap of clothing from you by now and given you everything you could take.

All the images of you that his subconscious had forced on him, whether asleep or awake... he’d shut them out as quickly as they’d appeared but now, despite knowing better, he welcomed them back and built on them. It wasn’t difficult to picture you dishevelled, smiling and eager. Vimes frowned and felt the heavy, sickly heat of guilt and shame shifting and growing in his stomach.

He shouldn’t do this, he’d regret it. He was already regretting it. Because, and this was the worst part of all of this, he was pretty sure he knew exactly what to do with a woman like you.

He heard your voice in another moan and he gasped in response. The noises and the shifting of the furniture painted a perfect picture - that idiot was down with his back on the bed making you do the work, and by the sound of it, you had just lowered yourself down onto him and called out as he entered you. Vimes couldn’t deny the sting of jealousy, but it was softened when he waited for you to continue and realised how little he had to compete with.

If it was him in there, you might well start out sounding equally impatient but he would meet you soon enough. He would know how to touch you - he could read you so well already and every little sigh and movement from you would tell him how you wanted to be treated. Vimes reached down to grip the base of his cock, squeezed hard and waited - and yes, you were already settling into a quick pace. He cursed under his breath. You would want him to be rough.

If it was him in there, you would be on your back, spread for him. As much as he loved the safety of darkness, he’d keep the candles burning so he could see every inch of you. Whatever of shyness or reserve you might still have, it would melt away when he kissed you, ran his thumb across the lips of your filthy mouth and knelt between your legs.

He pictured your hands - would they reach for him? Undress him? Would you be wanton enough to run them along your form to show him where you wanted him? Would you touch yourself, wet your fingers in your own slick and please yourself if he tarried?

Had you ever brought yourself to the finish while thinking of him? But that was difficult to imagine, even now.

If he had the self-command, he might tease you; it was the least you deserved after everything you’d put him through. Vimes pictured putting his weight on one knee, pressing it up against your cunt and forcing your thighs apart wider, pictured your wetness slick against his skin, pictured you pushing up, grinding against him. He pictured your eyes opened wide, looking up at him desperately with a pretty little frown, he pictured your hands trembling on the blankets, pictured your voice asking him to touch you, to fill you.

He kept a firm grip on himself, stroked up slowly and let the precum trickling from the head wet his calloused palm. Then he decided that if he was going to do this, he may as well do it right and so he spat into his hand before continuing at an agonisingly slow pace. It had been so long since he’d done this and he had been so thoroughly tortured these last few weeks that his cock was already jumping at his own touch, but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t outlast you.

You were crying out now while riding that... boy and Vimes just knew he could make you keen like that before he’d even touched you. Vimes was filthy enough to give you a run for your money and, not that this should matter, but he knew it did, he was big enough, could last long enough to leave you weak-kneed for days. If you let him take you as hard as he wanted, he could stretch you like you’d never been stretched and fuck you to within an inch of your life. That was the problem - he was pretty sure that if you did want him, he could give you what you needed and the hunger he felt wouldn’t be sated after just claiming you once. It never was. And he would use every trick in the book, all his years of experience to leave you wanting more.

Teasing wouldn’t last long. Soon enough, knowing you, you would sigh out a “please” and he wouldn’t be able to hold back. He’d hike your pretty legs onto his shoulders and make you look up at him, grab your jaw and twist your head if he had to to make you meet his gaze, and he’d hold it and watch every subtle shift in your expression as he buried himself in you.

Vimes groaned, felt his dick twitch and he squeezed, hard, around the base and pressed the back of his other hand against his mouth to shut himself up. He had never let himself think about this before, at least not long enough to imagine how soft, how tight, how dripping wet your cunt might be around his cock. Wet enough for it to smear across your thighs, stick to his skin, trickle down to his balls... Good gods.

And still, he couldn’t be blamed for picturing it. There you were right this moment, inches from him, moaning and whimpering and sending the bed thumping over and over against the wall. You were enjoying it and that was fine by Vimes because he knew he could do better.

If it were him, he’d take you deeper, harder. You would be begging him by now. He could almost hear those words in your sweet, breaking voice, calling out his name with a whimper and pleading with him to fuck you so roughly it hurt. Even as the head of his cock reached the deepest part of your cunt, you’d be crying out for more.

Maybe he’d flip you over onto your hands and knees and hold himself back to watch as you curved your back, bared your pretty little arse for him, left yourself open and dripping for him like an animal in heat... squirming on the sheets, turning your head to look back at him with lust darkening your eyes. In that position you’d be as exposed as you’d ever made him feel, you’d be at his mercy and he could hold your head down with one hand and tease your cunt with the other while he fucked you.

His ears strained to hear you now, your gorgeous voice calling to him. It was for his sake you were so loud, he just knew it. How much sweeter wouldn’t it sound when you finished?

If you were half as desperate as you seemed to be, it wouldn’t take him long to make you gasp and plead, wouldn’t take him long to find just the right rhythm and pressure to tease your clit and make your cunt clench around him. No matter how tight you squeezed, he’d force himself back inside, over and over until it was all too much for you and he finally pushed you over the edge.

Vimes stroked himself faster, his cock almost burning hot to the touch, balls already tensing. Every few seconds pleasure, blended with shame and longing, threatened to overwhelm him and he had to stop for a moment to hold himself back.

It should be him there with you. You’d wanted it to be him, he was sure of it. It could have been...

For a second, it was almost impossible for Vimes to resist the urge to get up, wrap the blanket around his waist, kick down the door and throw your boy-toy out the window before taking his place.

He wondered what would happen if he did. Would you treat him the same? Hold him down and take what you needed?

He would buck under you, meet every rolling motion of your hips, he’d give you everything he had. Gods. All he wanted was to bury his face between your breasts, hold you, have his hands guided by yours so he could please you as he took you.

Vimes had almost pressed himself against the wall by now and he knew he wasn’t fooling himself - there was no rhythm anymore, he could hear that little shit stammer out something and your voice, as thick as it was with pleasure, was nowhere near high or breathless enough for you to be close to your peak. He had to listen as somebody else fucked you and the idiot wasn’t even doing it right.

He didn’t want his pleasure to last much longer than yours did. If you weren’t here with him, there’d be no reason for him to continue. Vimes heard you pick up the pace as you raced to the finish and he matched it, tried to picture your touch in place of his own, mind jumping from image to image as he let himself unravel... your filthy mouth made filthier than ever as you took his cock down your throat, his face buried in your cunt with his tongue and jaw working against your core, lapping up your desire... your voice crying out his name, over and over...

Vimes bit down hard on his own wrist and felt his whole body tense up from the mattress until his weight felt divided between his shoulders and his heels. For one moment, endless and fleeting all at once, his mind was almost a complete and blissful blank, with no guilt weighing on it, no cares, no nothing. What little of his higher functions remained informed him that if he’d come any harder, he probably would’ve pulled something... It was a miracle that he could silence himself enough to make so little noise, just one long, quiet growl of half pain, half pleasure. It really had been a long time, because through the haze he could feel his seed landing in strings across his chest.

He had no idea how long he lay there, staring blindly at the ceiling. If you’d had any spectacular finale of your own, he was sure he would have heard it but all he could make out now was gentle murmurs back and forth between you and your companion. All the effort you’d put in, and between you and him, Vimes, he wasn’t sure he hadn’t gotten more out of the bargain.

It was hard to think, now. Vimes was dimly aware of a thousand new reasons he could and should kick himself, but he couldn’t quite distinguish one from the other at the moment. And if he was really such a wretch, he hadn’t really done anything worse than was to be expected, had he?

It was late and he was tired. You weren’t here. He’d spent the entire evening willing you to appear beside him and it was time to admit defeat. Sleep could claim him - hopefully now he could at least go one night without being tormented by awful visions.

With the last bit of strength he could muster, Vimes grabbed his shirt from the floor and mopped up the worst of the mess he’d made, then balled it up and threw it into the corner with contempt. He rolled over into the middle of the bed and couldn’t help thinking that it was much too wide for only one person...

Well, what else was new. He’d wake up tomorrow and hate himself, and that wouldn’t exactly break the mould either. As he fell backwards into unconsciousness, the last thing he heard was the door next to his own once again open, then close.

He smiled grimly. You might not be here to fall asleep beside him, but at least you’d join him in sleeping alone... in this life, that was about as fair as things ever got.

Seconds later, he was snoring.

#sam vimes #sam vimes x you #sam vimes x reader #sam vimes imagine #vimes #nsft #my fics

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jokertrap-ran · 4 years ago

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(未定事件簿) 莫弈 SSR [—咫尺遠近] [Tears of Themis] Mo Yi SSR [Far and Close] Card Story Translations (Part 1)

*Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *In which Ran attempts awakening her Chinese brain after 5 years of disuse... * (y/n) is your name when in direct referral; otherwise referred to as MC.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Video Call

Location: Woods

The stark and harsh sunlight filtered down. I could feel the warmth it brought, despite closing my eyes to its brightness.

MC: How do you feel now, Zhu Man?

Zhu Man: ...I’ve not had such freedom in such a long time. Thank you for bringing me out for a walk, Miss Lawyer.

She stretched before turning around to apologise to me.

Zhu Man: The other me...must have had scared you earlier on today, right? I’m sorry…

She hung her head, hands moving to grip the hem of her hospital robes, not daring to meet my eyes.

MC: Don’t worry. I know that wasn’t you back there.

The girl in front of me was quiet and meek, almost as if the crazed countenance I saw back in the Trial Recording was of a completely different person.

Maybe they were two different people…?

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

MC: I’ve finished reading the novel documenting the crimes committed by people who suffer from Multiple Personality Disorder.

MC: Who would’ve thought that mental damage was capable of shattering a person’s mentality, once whole, into countless individual fragments…

Mo Yi: These individual fragments of the soul, or personalities, so to speak, are all trapped within the same material body.

MC: So that’s how such horrible incidents came to be.

Mo Yi: If one of the personalities were to commit a crime; does that mean that the rest of the personalities will also have to pay penance despite being innocent?

MC: In the novel’s ending, this question…

Mo Yi shook his head, cutting me off before I could finish my sentence.

Mo Yi: You don’t have to answer me. You’ll come to see the answer with your own eyes one day and ascertain for yourself.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ──��────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Zhu Man: Miss Lawyer? Will you chat with me?

MC: Of course; anything.

I watched Zhu Man in front of me. She, who should have been leading a happy life, had gone crazy during the Military Ball and stabbed the man who had proposed to her with a knife.

There was evidence against her in the case which declared her guilty, but she was exempted from prosecution due to Lawyer Zuo’s defence. What made the defence pass was because of what she had been diagnosed with. Zhu Man was diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder. The violent personality of hers that had shown up during the day of the attack had claimed to be “her father”.

She may have escaped prosecution, but there might not be a future out there waiting for her anymore. Zhu Man may have to stay in this Mental Health Hospital for her entire life, never being able to leave the place.

Zhu Man: I...I have an older sister, but she left home together with my mother back when I was still small.

She appeared to be lost within her memories, for a vacant expression appeared on her face.

Zhu Man: My sister’s different from me. She doesn’t get beaten or yelled at by dad. She’s free, independent and also very warm.

Zhu Man: We’d always meet each other in secret and she’d take the time to patiently read to me, depicting sceneries that I’ve never seen before in my life.

Zhu Man: You resemble my sister a lot right now, Miss Lawyer.

MC: Me?

Zhu Man: You’re just like my sister. You’re both warm and independent. And you’re both willing to accompany me on walks like this…

Zhu Man: Could I call you Sister Sheng, if you don’t mind, Miss Lawyer?

MC: Uh…

Zhu Man: Oh...Sorry. This must be such a sudden thing to spring on you; please pretend that I didn’t say anything.

Zhu Man looked up at the sky, a lonely expression crossing her features once more.

Zhu Man: My sister loved roses...And that guy...he also had a big bouquet of roses when he proposed to me.

MC: And then?

Zhu Man: Red roses…

Zhu Man didn’t seem to catch my query, only ducking her head and muttering on and on by her lonesome.

MC: ...Zhu Man?

Zhu Man: Roses…

MC: Are you alright? Zhu Man??

I could only edge closer to Zhu Man, but she still didn’t respond. She finally raised her head after a long silence.

Zhu Man: Stay away from my Zhu Man!

Zhu Man whipped out a knife, having hidden it somewhere within her sleeves; its gleaming blade reflecting that of my panicked expression. The other party wielded a knife, whilst I only had my bare hands to my name.

Any reckless action was not going to be a good course for me.

I tried to reign in my panic, trying to appear calmer than I was inside. I didn’t want to tick off the Zhu Man in front of me right now.

MC: Who are you?

Zhu Man: Haven’t you already met me before?

MC: No, you’re not that personality. “He” will never be able to talk to me this calmly. Who exactly are you!?

Zhu Man: You don’t seem the least bit frightened at all...How interesting.

Zhu Man: Don’t you think it odd that THAT Mo Yi would allow you to go out for a walk with me without any supervision whatsoever?

MC: ……

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Two hours ago.

Location: Hospital Corridor

Mo Yi: Won’t making such an impromptu visit here put a hitch in your schedule?

MC: Not at all. I can’t miss this chance to meet the person who’s involved in this famous case. I’m grateful enough that you brought me here.

Mo Yi: You want to meet Zhu Man, but is it really Zuo Ran’s case you’re interested in? Or is it Zhu Man, herself?

MC: Both.

MC: That novel cannot fully represent the actual reality. Perhaps Zhu Man herself might have the answer to the question you asked me before.

Mo Yi: You’re really optimistic, and bold, might I add.

MC: Optimistic? Bold? Why do you say so?

Mo Yi: Because even if you take her other personalities out of the equation; Zhu Man is also a very dangerous individual herself.

Mo Yi narrowed his eyes, as if he saw through me and grasped my intentions.

MC: But...

I was just about to voice a retort when the alarm in the corridor flared to life.

MC: What’s happening?

Mo Yi: Come with me.

The emergency light of the ward right next to us lit up as I followed closely behind Mo Yi.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Location: Hospital Room

Zhu Man: Why have you come?

Unlike the meek, quiet appearance she had in the photos, she was speaking to Mo Yi in a masculine tone of voice.

Mo Yi: She’s a lawyer; a colleague of Zuo Ran, who was your defendant back then. She’s here today for a review visit.

Zhu Man: A review visit? I know what you’re doing here! You’re the person my daughter, that swindling bitch, hired! Right!?

MC: Isn’t it a little too much to be referring to your daughter as a “Swindling bitch”...?

Zhu Man: I painstakingly raised her up and what did she do when it was time to return the favour? She upped and eloped away with a stinking bastard! So tell me, what is she, if not a swindling bitch!?

Mo Yi: That’s why you took things into your own hands and attacked Zhu Man’s boyfriend?

Mo Yi’s tone was level, almost as if he was talking about any ordinary topic out there.

Zhu Man: Like hell I did! Did you see me doing it?

Shu Man: Do you think I’d let myself be caged up here in this farce of a hospital after I killed her boyfriend? This is all because that stinking bastard went around telling everyone that I’d gone stark, raving mad!

MC: ……!?

MC: Didn’t you plead guilty? If so, then why are you denying it…?

He suddenly turned to me with a vehement glare.

Zhu Man: Who said I pleaded guilty? That’s all false accusations that the bastard called Zuo Ran cooked up! You’re his colleague, aren’t you? Get over here; I dare you!

Zhu Man suddenly rushed towards me.

Mo Yi: Watch out!

Mo Yi had suddenly raised his voice, an unusual act for someone like him. He rushed towards Zhu Man, deftly catching her wrist in his hand. There was no hint of the usual smile on his face, but the warmth he had in his soft golden eyes had significantly cooled as he faced Zhu Man.

Mo Yi: It’s very dangerous to be hiding a Fruit Knife in a place like this.

A thin, slender knife slid out of Zhu Man’s sleeve like a poisonous snake, clattering uselessly to the floor.

MC: A Fruit Knife…? How can this be!?

Zhu Man: Damnnit, this bastard has sharp eyes!

We probably held her up long enough, for the medical staff soon rushed in to subdue Zhu Man by injecting her with sedatives.

Mo Yi brought me out of the Hospital Room before Zhu Man had the chance to regain consciousness.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Location: Hospital Corridor

MC: ……

“Zhu Man” wasn’t willing to admit that she was the killer, and it didn’t seem like she was acting either…

Mo Yi: Are you suspecting that that out-of-control personality of hers isn’t the real culprit?

MC: !?

Mo Yi angled his body sideways as he stood by me, seemingly interested in my answer.

⊳ Choice: Admit it.

MC: I just think that it’s a little strange. Why would “He” deny the crime? All evidence had pointed to him; he was clearly the culprit.

MC: Based on the verdict that had been made that year, Zhu Man herself was innocent...But “He” had caused irreparable damage to the victims.

MC: But that rage “He” had shown earlier didn’t seem to be anything resembling an act...Is there something else that’s being hidden from us?

Mo Yi: Your heart is one that’s pure and innocent. You see the best in people and paint the best pictures of them, especially so for people who are in a vulnerable position or state.

MC: ...Sorry. Lawyer Zuo also says that I often act impulsively on emotion.

Which may, perhaps be considered a shortcoming, for someone who’s a Lawyer. Haa…

Mo Yi: Naive, yet so very sharp.

MC: Sharp? You mean…!?

Mo Yi only nodded, having caught on to my train of thoughts.

Mo Yi: Indeed.

⊳ Choice: …… (Hide it)

If the personality that had snapped earlier wasn’t the true culprit, that means that there was an error in Zuo Ran and Mo Yi’s judgement.

MC: ……

No, that’s not possible. Even if Zhu Man was able to talk Zuo Ran over, that doesn’t mean that she’ll also be able to pull the wool over Mo Yi’s eyes.

MC: I just thought that the attitude of Zhu Man’s other personality was strange. Maybe I’m just overthinking things…

MC: Doctor Mo, did you come to this conclusion because Zhu Man’s showing signs of having other personalities present within her?

Mo Yi: There are doubts surrounding Zhu Man’s person.

Mo Yi: My diagnosis of Zhu Man was that she has Split Personality Disorder; but that’s not quite accurate. I cannot deny the possibility that there might be a 3rd, or even more personalities within her.

Mo Yi: In the face of hard evidence, Zuo Ran could only conclude that the culprit was none other than the other personality residing within Zhu Man.

MC: Will Zhu Man return her normal self after she awakens?

Mo Yi: Yes.

MC: Then...Will you allow me to meet with her again afterwards for a little chat?

Mo Yi: And you’re not afraid that Zhu Man might lose control and assault you again?

MC: Of course I am. Not to mention that “He” seems to have something against women...

MC: However, she was injected with a sedative so she wouldn’t be able to hurt me for the time being, right? It’s a good opportunity.

Mo Yi: Seems like I won’t be able to convince you otherwise.

Mo Yi: You can see Zhu Man alone, but you have to make sure to keep a safe distance away.

Mo Yi hesitated for a moment before he pointed a finger in the opposing direction.

Mo Yi: I’m going to head over there and check out all of Zhu Man’s recent Medical Reports. Make sure to call for me, if you feel like you’re in any danger at all.

MC: Yes! I will.

I managed to meet Zhu Man again, just as I wished. And the real Zhu Man had then asked for me to bring her out on a walk in a small, timid voice. I shot a message to Mo Yi, asking him for his opinion about it before taking her out to the small woods behind the hospital. Everything was fine;

Until――

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Location: Woods

Zhu Man: Don’t you think it odd that THAT Mo Yi would allow you to go out for a walk with me without any supervision whatsoever?

MC: ……

MC: I was the one who brought up the idea of being alone together with you. Are you trying to mess with my feelings; trying to make me afraid of you!?

Zhu Man: Heh, you’re not too stupid. But whatever of it? There’ll be no one coming to save you.

Zhu Man: (y/n), you’re not even worthy of the title, yet you dare make Xiao Man call you sister…?

“Zhu Man” spoke with a light tone, so subtle that it was almost akin to the hiss of a venemous snake. Grasping the knife, she advanced closer to me; step-by-step.

MC: What do you intend to do!?

Zhu Man: What do I intend to do? Haha...Warm, independent...those are terms used only to describe me. What right do you have to steal them away from me?

Zhu Man: How about you stay a little quieter, now that we’ve come to an understanding? I’ll wrap it up much better than the last one…

MC: ...Last time?

MC: ...You’re the real killer who killed Zhu Man’s boyfriend!

Zhu Man: Silence! What’s so great about that man!? He’s only going to hurt my Xiao Man in the end. I only wish for her happiness.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Location: Woods

Zhu Man: I helped rid her of that drunkard! The drunkard she called father! She finally got a new beginning that she went through thick and thin for…

Zhu Man: That man...He was in contact with other women when he was with Xiao Man. Even when he proposed...He’s not worthy to be together with her!

Zhu Man: Xiao Man had originally forgotten all of these; she could spend a life of peace here, where there wouldn’t be anyone around to hurt her…

Zhu Man: Why did you make her remember? Even more so, you wish to steal my position of being her sister!?

MC: I’ve never thought of stealing your position.

Zhu Man: Shut up!

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

A gleaming blade speeded towards me as Zhu Man gave a frenzied cry. All I could see before my eyes was the gleaming silver of the blade as it made contact and the crimson red that appeared out of the blue. I watched as thin thread and droplets of blood fell.

The alarming panic I felt made the moment feel like an infinity, and I could feel my blood freeze at the scene before me.

MC: Mo Yi!!

Mo Yi’s sudden appearance was like a single ray of warmth cutting through the ice; and I could feel life return back to my frozen self.

I had relaxed a little at his presence, only until his injured arm came into my field of vision.

MC: Your arm…!

There was a terrible gash the arm he had raised in defence against Zhu Man’s attack. Bright crimson blood gushed from the wound and fell to the ground.

Mo Yi: Don’t worry.

He stood in front of me, separating me from the now crazed Zhu Man.

Mo Yi: Rather than this…

Mo Yi’s gaze landed on Zhu Man.

Zhu Man: I’m the only one in this world who best understands Xiao Man. Why do all of you wish to separate us so!?

Zhu Man: Everyone out there wishes to harm her...I’m the only one who’ll protect her! I want to be together with Xiao Man, forever; for eternity!!

MC: She’s the real culprit...She’s Zhu Man’s third personality!

Mo Yi: Let’s talk about this later. Just make sure to protect yourself now.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Mo Yi caught onto Zhu Man’s knife-wielding hand, his actions far more agile than I’d imagined him capable of.

The moment he had managed to seize the knife from her, he aimed for the back of her neck, jabbing her with the thin needle he had concealed in his right hand. Zhu Man struggled to open her eyelids twice as the transparent reagent was being injected into her body, before eventually falling limply to the ground.

MC: …………

Mo Yi: Zhu Man thought you resembled her older sister, which in turn, severely triggered the third personality within her.

Mo Yi: Zhu Man’s third personality is monopolizing; She was not willing to let anyone else be the apple of Zhu Man’s eye. Hence, she turned against you with killing intent.

Mo Yi: There would have been a repeat of the incident three years ago, had she managed to succeed.

Mo Yi: The third personality will return to slumber, making the second personality, in other words, the violent personality, bear all charges.

Mo Yi: No matter what the outcome may be, neither her nor Zhu Man will be able to be convicted by law.

Mo Yi calmly explained it all to me, seemingly having concluded the truth behind this entire incident in a short amount of time.

MC: Does Zhu Man know anything about what her other personalities have done?

Mo Yi: The personality change itself is similar to a switch; the main person and their sub-personalities do not share the same memories.

MC: So that’s how it is…

MC: Oh, yes. What are you doing here, Doctor Mo?

Mo Yi: I was a little uneasy so I rushed here as soon as I finished going through Zhu Man’s Medical Reports.

MC: ……

MC: Wait a minute! The wound on your hand’s still bleeding; we should treat it immediately!

Mo Yi: Wound?

He lifted his hand and blinked at his open wound.

Mo Yi: No matter; it only looks bad.

Mo Yi: I know quite a bit about surgery too since I’ve learnt about it. You don’t have to worry; she didn’t get me in any vital areas.

Mo Yi: This works out just fine. We have to wait for a while before the nurse comes to fetch Zhu Man back inside so there’s enough time for the bleeding to stop itself.

MC: ...You should hurry and tend to that wound of yours. One person’s enough to stand watch around here.

Mo Yi: You’ve faced danger precisely because I wasn’t with you. Therefore, I won’t let you be anywhere near Zhu Man alone again.

MC: I…

It was my decision that had caused all of this. All of this, just because I wanted to talk to Zhu Man…

I couldn’t help but to feel uncomfortable, the more I looked at Mo Yi’s blood-stained sleeve.

MC: Doctor Mo, will you let me help bandage it at least?

───⋅𝕿𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖓𝖊𝖝𝖙 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊…⋆⋅☆

#Tears of Themis #Mo Yi #Translations #Otome #Mihoyo #未定事件簿 #莫弈 #—咫尺遠近 #Far and Close #Tears of a Psychiatrist

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pandoraborn · 4 years ago

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DAY ELEVEN PSYCH 101 || defiance. ||

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“Again!”

It’s Alphie who’s giving the orders this time. They’re trying to buzz harder than before, pushing themselves as hard as they can. They can stick limbs out of the carriage without much comment other than ‘don’t do that’, so they’re wanting to see how far they can actually push. They don’t trust the beings outside the carriage, there’s something far too inhuman about them, and this forest is winding on a little too long.

Erin and Neb both push against the wall, with Erin straining to use his powers. It’s obvious it’s starting to take a toll on him, he’s panting and out of breath. Alphie almost wants to stop to give Erin a break, but they’re all starting to sweat. The three of them haven’t used their powers this much before, and escaping really is proving to be more trouble than it’s worth, almost.

“Come on!” Neb encourages. She pats Erin on the back before going back to pushing against the wall. The carriage wobbles on two wheels before righting itself again, and the horse whinnies in pain again. When the carriage stops, and the driver starts yelling, the trio scramble back to their places, trying to appear innocent. The driver peeks back through the small window, glaring furiously at them.

“You lot are more trouble than you’re worth. I’ve half a mind to kill you all right here and right now, but I wouldn’t want to disappoint my client. Stop trying to hurt my horse!”

“Maybe you hit a pothole,” Neb suggests, pushing her hair out of her face. “This is a dirt road, filled with holes.”

“I’m watching you in particular, witch. If you hurt my horse again, I’m going to make your friends watch as I squeeze the life out of you.” The driver slams the window shut, and the carriage starts moving forward again.

“Oh no, not the hug of death,” Alphie quips before they can stop themself. It starts a chain reaction, with Neb snorting, followed by Erin, before the three of them are giggling uncontrollably. It’s such a stupid scenario, where the three of them are imprisoned in a carriage going god knows where, but some things can’t help but be ridiculously funny.

The laughter dies almost immediately after when a voice from one of the travelers pipes up. “We’re there. Cian should be waiting for us ahead, he said he has the perfect place to store them.”

Erin blinks in confusion. That name doesn’t sound familiar at all, he doesn’t recall ever meeting a Cian before. Before he can say anything, Alphie’s poking an arm out of the carriage and waving. At least, Erin can see the up-and-down movement of Alphie’s shoulder.

“Sorry to be a bother,” Alphie starts, pulling their arm back in. “Who is Cian?”

“Little human, Cian is our lord. You’ll get to know him soon enough.” There’s a fondness in the woman’s voice as she speaks. It sounds too much like reverence for any of this to be comfortable. “He is the one who arranged for all of this, and for what reasons, we don’t know. We just obey.”

“So, you’re a cult, then.” Neb mutters.

“Watch your tongue, witch!” There’s a sound that sounds like a smack against the outside of the carriage. “Show respect for your betters!”

“He’s not my ‘better’ if I don’t know who he is.” Neb lets out a growl before sliding back against the wall. She’d attempt escape again, but she’s exhausted, as are the other two.

They travel in silence for a little longer, trying to regain their strength. When Erin raises a hand to signal he’s ready to try again, the carriage comes to a stop. There’s distant conversation, before the back end of the carriage disappears completely. Instead of a locked hatch, there’s a man in a modern suit standing there. He...looks vaguely like Jacksepticeye.

“Hello,” he says. That single word drips with contempt. “You three are exactly like I thought you’d be: the comic relief, and therefore, useless. I trust I will have no more trouble from you three from here on out.”

“Are you Cian?” Alphie asks. “We wanted-”

Cian slaps them across the face, hard. Following that, he grabs them by the collar of their shirt and pulls them forward. “I am not these idiots carting you around. You will not speak to me, you will not use your powers against me, and do not think for a second I won’t apply my own brand of torture. Are we clear?”

Cian lets Alphie go when he sees three equally terrified looks. “Good. Now, follow me. I have more suitable arrangements for you.” He turns and walks away from the carriage, hearing the three scramble out and rushing to follow him. He leads them inside a building. The building resembles a weird mix of medieval and modern aesthetics, in some weird blend of a timeless look. There are candle lit chandeliers, filing cabinets, and other various oddities.

It’s not until Cian leads them to a cell, complete with an iron door, that they realize they’re probably somewhere else entirely. It’s also at this point they notice Cian is wearing gloves.

“You’re not hu-” Erin starts to shout, but Cian shoves them all inside, slamming the door shut. The sound of a deadbolt clicks into place, followed by the sound of footsteps leading away.

“Guys, I don’t think we’re on Earth anymore.” Erin whispers.

TAG LIST:

@caori-azarath @inspiredrawaw @shadowtigress2 @burnt-toast-life @lilsprout-exe @randowaffle @oasisofgalaxies @sibling-ursidae @reboosh @scarletender @alphaqwerty7 @imma-gummibear @writingandwhump @dmnfox @thebluejaysworld @immcgill @scubacatwoman @zel-lk @definitely-asexual-volcano @kami-theawkwardmess @n-anon @sleightofsight @imabinerd @elycia1805 @gutter-sun-fun @spiccykels

#whumptober2020 #no.11 #defiance #jse fandom #darksepticeye #oc centric #fic whump #miishae writes

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jellybelly-may · 4 years ago

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Midoriya Izuku x Older Sister!Reader

MIDORIYA IZUKU

Precious cinnamon roll, broccoli head, freckles.

Sibling: Older Sister

Looks: You look like a fem!Midoriya

Age: 20

Quirk: Pyro-telekinesis

Warning/Spoiler(s): This happens when Class 1-A live in the U.A compound.

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It was another boring day for the students of Class 1-A.

They had just finished their classes and was currently relaxing in the dorm's living room. With the holidays coming around the corner, the girls were chattering their heads off about it. They talked about where they would go, visiting foreign places Yaoyorozu ,and yada yada. Girl talks ya know?

Meanwhile with the boys...

Most of them, sat on the couch and flipped through the TV, trying to find something interesting to watch. Midoriya, however was the last person to shower as he had to discuss something with All Might. Some were suspicious about his closeness with the No. 1 Hero but brushed it away.

Currently, the boys were tired hearing the girls chattering loudly about the upcoming holidays,except Mineta who was too focused on hearing things others didn't want to hear. The others cringed while some scowled at his perverted behaviour. Bakugo sent a death glare to him which made his spine shivered. Mineta slowly turned around and was faced with Bakugo's rage, who sat on the couch between Kirishima and Todoroki. He gulped and nervously made his way to Kaminari as soon as he saw explosion emitting from Bakugo's hand. Bakugo huffed and returned to watch the channels that they were flipping through. Sero held the remote control and flipped through the channels too quickly.

"Breaking News!! A new Hero--"

The sentence announced by the news reporter caught their attention.

A new Hero?

However, Sero did not realised the somehow important news and continued to changed the channels. Bakugo yelled at the ravenette to quickly change back the channel. Sero jolted at his loud shouts and stumbled to switched the channels back to the one they wanted. They were impatient to see who the new Hero was. They didn't want to missed the news, just for the sake of a new Hero. Sero finally found the correct channel and they watched the news intently.

"--debut today near Tatooin Station by accident!"

"Isn't Tatooin Station nearby the school?"

"Shut up Flat-face!!"

With that, the boys were all silent and continued to watch the news. The girls' chatters ceased and they joined the boys who were too absorbed in the news. The room was silent and no one dared to say a thing as they were all too engrossed in the news. The only noise that filled the silence was the excited voice of the news reporter, who seemed fascinated by the new Hero. What they saw was that everyone who was in the TV, showed signs of how excited to see the Hero and they pulled out their phones to record the Hero,who fought against the Villain. The crowd cheered when they spotted the young Hero arrived at the scene with the Villain in hand. The reporter gasped at the sight of the new Hero and rushed over to interview the Hero. The camera zoomed in to show the Hero's appearance.

The Hero turns out to be a female. She appeared to be in her early 20's, which the bunch of teenagers noted. Her long green fluffy hair gently swayed in the breeze and her hair was tied up with a red ribbon.(just the hair mkay). She had her backpack on with her that tightly secured behind her. She wore something rather casual and gothic for a Hero. Then again, she had to fight the villain and accidentally revealed herself to the public in order to save the citizens around her. She wore what looks to be a low-cut white tank top that was tucked into her purple shorts that showed her fit but smooth legs. Attached to her shorts were silver chains that had tiny fire symbol on them. She wore black leggings that reached her mid thighs along with a pair of matching black shoes. Her black layered trench coat was appealing to some of the students who preferred a more gothic styled clothing. Lastly, her black choker with a star necklace sat on her neck and two bracelets on each wrist complimented her outfit.

Bakugo narrowed his eyes at the somehow familiar woman that stood in the TV. He felt as if he knew her from somewhere but couldn't recall where he had seen her. He wasn't the only one as Iida and Todoroki thought of the same thing too. They brushed it aside and continued to watch the news.

The now bashful Hero scratched the back of her head as she handed the unconscious Villain to the police when they arrived at the scene. The police gratefully took him and quickly cuffed him up before he could regain consciousness and attack the innocent passerby. They chucked him into the backseat of the police car, with each policemen seated beside him. Hurriedly, they drove off leaving the young Hero alone surrounded by the news crew. Multiple microphones were shoved into her face while their loud voices questioned her about who she was, what her Quirk was and more.

She put her hands in front of her and opened her mouth to speak. "If you would please move back to give me some space, I would certainly give you the answers you need." Immediately, everyone shuffled back, leaving some space for the young adult to speak. She sighed in relief and clasped her hands to her chest. The students realised her hourglass figure and blushed. Most of them looked away from the screen until the cameraman switched places. Mineta, unlike the others, shamelessly watched her curvy figure. Blood dripped down from his nose until Jiro's earphone jack stabbed him in the head. He screamed in pain and writhed on the floor.

'Serves him right...' Everybody thought.

Tsuyu was to first to comment. "She oddly resembles Midoriya in a way."

Placing their attention back to the screen, they were right in time to hear what she had to say.

"I am just another normal person and I just happened to see the Villain in my way. So I think you are able to know the rest." She gave them a sweet smile before picking up her red luggage that fell to the floor. As she was about to leave, the persistent reporters crowded her once again, wanting to know her Quirk and real name. "Umm, please move back." Her pleas fell onto deaf ears and their constant question got louder and louder. She clenched her fist and was ready to take serious action but froze when she saw a black limousine approaching them. The luxurious car stopped and everybody stopped to see who it was. Only the young female knew who it was and gulped nervously. The chauffeur made his way out and opened the passenger seat.

Inside, many people thought the car was engulfed with fire until a person stepped out and the passersby recognize the person and shouted out in glee. "It's Endeavour!!" The attention was now put onto Endeavour, who looked well pleased with the attention he got. But his main concern was that his apprentice was not home yet. Striding forward with confidence, peole made way for him to walk until he reached the young woman who was embaressed about the current situation. He snorted and pulled her arm. With the snap of his fingers two men came and took her belongings to the car. They swiftly got into the car that sped off. With that, the news reporter became bitchy about not getting any information about the new Hero.

Class 1-A -minus Midoriya- gaped at the TV. First a new Hero that did not bother to tell who she was and then Endeavour came by and took her away like some shojo manga. Bakugo was the first to react. He grabbed Todoroki's collar and practically screamed in his face. "Half and half... YOU BETTER EXPLAIN WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT!!" Todoroki cringed as he felt the explosive blond's saliva fell onto his face. He pushed Bakugo back and wiped off the germs that contaminated his face. He faced Bakugo, looking annoyed at the blond.

"To be honest, I don't know what he was doing and also I didn't know he had a female sidekick. He usually has male sidekicks but...she somehow looks familiar to me."

Iida seemed surprised by this. "You too? I vaguely remember her somehow."

"Maybe we should ask Midoriya about this. Maybe he has an older sister?" Tsuyu implied,putting a finger on her chin and letting out her usual 'kero' sound. They agreed and got up to find Midoriya in his bedroom. That is until Midoriya appeared from the doorway and greeted them. "Hey guys! Sorry I'm..." He stopped dead in his tracks when he realized they were staring at him. Not just a normal stare, more like a -what are you hiding from us- stare. Midoriya shifted from one foot to another. "G-guys...Are y-you all okay?" He felt unnerved from their stares until Iida spoke up.

"Midoriya-kun! Do you happen to have an older sister?! Or perhaps a relative, besides your mother of course." Iida announced. He couldn't help but to do his weird hand gestures. Midoriya looked confused. That's until the light bulb light up.

"I do have an older sister. She currently works as a sidekick for a Hero but I don't recall who. That was a year back. I mean she could have changed to another Hero. Why do you ask?"

Ashido squealed loudly,almost deafening some of the people near her. She raised her hand. "Does she tie her hair with a red ribbon?! And wears clothes like a cool person?" Ashido's non-stop questions made Midoriya confused. All of his classmates confused him at this moment. Why would they ask about his older sister? Most importantly, how did they know he had an older sister?

Just then, there was a knock on the door. The door opened,revealing Aizawa who stood annoyed at something. Next, to him was no other than Endeavor who scowled at the sight of the youngsters. Aizawa's eyes darted from one student to another until he reached the specific student he wanted.

"Midoriya." The said boy stood straight up and greeted his teacher. He only got a sigh from his teacher who announced that he had a visitor. Midoriya was now losing his mind. Visitor? Who would visit him now? His mother would have called him first and his father was in America. Who else would want to visit him right now? Aizawa moved aside to unveil a small woman who smiled brightly. She was around Iida's height and her long green fluffy hair reached her hips. As soon as she locked eyes with Midoriya, her smile seemed to brighten and she ran over to him and hugged him tightly. Her breast suffocated the young male who seemed flustered at the affection by this woman. He pushed her away which shocked her. He stared at her and then a look of recognition appeared on his face.

"(Y-Y/N)?" Midoriya trembled at the young woman who smiled in relief. She opened her arms, indicating she wanted a hug from him. He didn't hesitate and ran to her. He felt the warmth that he missed over from the years. They stood in that stance until Iida broke the awkward silence. "Excuse me for interupting this bond between the two of you. If I may ask, who are you and what is your business here?" He stared at the duo that looked flustered when they realized that others were staring at them. Midoriya looked more flustered than the girl and apologized to his friends. The girl,however, recognised Iida and two other boys within the group. Excitedly,she pulled the three boys towards her and hugged them tightly. The said boys were blushing madly when they came in contact with her soft body.

"I'm surprised you three don't remember me! It's me, Midoriya (Y/N)! A.k.a Flyrian. Tenya, Shoto I don't blame you but Katsuki! You should have remembered me!" She rambled on,still holding the three boys to her. That is until Bakugo wriggled out from her death hug and tried to punch her but fail to do so as she merely dodged his attacks. Letting go of the two other boys, she faced her adorable younger brother. Placing her hand on her hip, she smirked at him.

"Now Izu, shouldn't you introduce me to your friends? Or maybe even your girlfriend?" She laughed when she saw Midoriya stumbled on his words,trying to stop his sister from embarrassing him infront of his friends. She wiped away a tear and once again smiled softly at him.

"I'm home, Izuku."

Midoriya quickly wiped away his tears.

"Welcome home, Onee-san."

#bnha #bnha x reader #boku no hero #boku no hero x reader #midoriya #midoriya izuku #deku #bnha fanfic #bakugo #bakugo katsuki #iida tenya #todoroki #todoroki shouto #watermaylon-writes

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mantrabay · 3 years ago

Text

Hope Springs Eternal Part 2.9

One should be cognizant of tread marks of a different kind that await all of us.

But attitude is key. A timeless trait.

More fodder this for that colourful cryptic creation I’m churning about in my brain.

One could not help but notice the dwellings in this compact charming but claustrophobic town.

They were spreadeagled to a fault with scant regard for privacy or personal space.

Neighbours like nodding polders wave from their aluminum polycarbonate verandas.

The sort with integrated guttering and moulded frames.

All packed together like crates in a warehouse.

A carbon copy of some construction company’s catalogue.

The trailing shrubs, wilting flowers in mosaic porcelain propagators, superimposed trellises and overstocked pools to name but a few.

They only served to reinforce their stylish if somewhat stifling similarity.

I was mindful of today’s appointment thanks to my tarnished gold watch and the sonorous chiming of the nearby chapel clock.

Of course one must not overlook Mr and Mrs Ispy as they were nicknamed locally.

The naughty snoops who were minding everybody's business bar their own.

Adam and alma ahern were their names.

Aunt Virginia had some scathing words about their type.

“Some people base their whole world around tittle tattle.

They are grounded in matters that smart folk view with Olympian disdain.”

One can just imagine the cocked ears and protruding noses feasting on every scrap of scandal real or contrived.

Theirs was an in-built antennae always aligned for mischief of the murkiest kind.

They had an ubiquitous presence.

You never knew what hedge or door they might pop out of.

They sniffer dogged their way around every trail, route, and byway in pursuit of some scurrilous rumour.

Encylopaedic were they on shenanigans of all kinds.

A satellite dish for backstabbing and intrigue.

Some were even so unkind as to suggest that they spied on each other.

They knew everybody and wormed their way into everyone’s confidence when they could!

Gossips at the cutting edge of trivia.

“Oops ….oh no! I’m about to crash.”

I said with my voice trembling.

Lost concentration for a minute.

My notepad and pen skating on a footpath that resembled a small scale ice rink.

Aunt virginia's word’s about focus were never more valid.

“ There goes my poem on ...a mudpatch.”

Despite this sudden intrusion I kept my balance but maybe lost something valuable.

A tumult of events on the ground and overhead took place.

Shrill birds chirping and circulating in the sky, swooning and swooping like a scene from an Alfred Hitchcock movie.

As I slowly regained my balance I walked wearily and warily towards the diary with said verse.

The lines were smeared with mud.

Uncannily like a lady’s mudpack.

The heartfelt lines were still legible.

Well, just about.

My heart was beating for various reasons now.

I had a 4 pmdeadline to meet with forty or so minutes to spare.

Yet there were so many distractions.

An embarrassment of diversion sometimes towered above that stultifying uniformity which threatens even the most imaginative town architecture.

Or was my mind playing tricks on me with all the soundscapes and stimulation of the senses?

The downside of being a poet and writer perhaps?

Virginia’s words of wisdom coming back to haunt me but would I listen ?

The real world and fantasy can segue into one another with distinctions blurred and the usual proneness to exaggeration.

Were the exotic whiffs of Bombay mix recipes emanating from a market place bazaar or some nearby dwelling?

Were they just an illusion with factual elements mixed in?

Either way a favourite haunt of both the Ispy’s and the teen couple I had spoken to earlier was a marketplace.

Both had their own agenda with the aherns being the

more devious!

Pumpkin seed baps on spits reeking of sesame oil with the most aromatic seasonings wafting everywhere or so I thought.

Incense and Moroccan spices taunting the nose of this stroller on a mission. But also setting off rumblings in the tummy that couldn’t be sated immediately.

A very vivid image of Virginia with her Mona Lisaesque demeanor appeared.

I was juggling her insights on punctuality and other matters and trying to act on them.

Was I clutching at an ebbing twilight zeal or a burgeoning young at heart momentum?

Distractions make inroads into time but I felt I was being drawn to them.

Did I hear the raucous sound of docker’s voices barely audible but imaginable above the booming traffic?

Were they coming from somewhere close?

Maybe the ships trademark foghorn was setting off an overactive mind or had I supernatural powers at this point in my life?

Whatever the truth, there’s been many a threadbare naval yarn I’ve overheard.

The type that has been twisted, embroidered, embellished even marinated on seas high and low.

Gag induced guffaws billowing upwards as smoke from a chimney stack.

Uproarious bonhomie drowning out the offloading of fetid fish catch.

The vortex of a spiraling timeline giddy with impulse and image drove me on in defiance of their colour and charisma.

But before I knew it a wafer thin voice called out from the corner shop, the location of my rendezvous.

“Hello. Hope spring. I’m your date.

Bang on time both of us.”

A Spritely lady in her late sixties with profuse greying hair.

Her eyes were so expressive and sparkled with life.

“Don’t know if I shared my last name when we first met.”

“You did.” I replied.

Virginia, would be proud of my recollection.

“Did you get my call earlier this morning reminding you of the date?”

Hope Spring queried.

“I must have missed it.” Said I archly.

“I also wanted to ask how the poem was going?

We started talking casually as you were writing it.

You were having trouble naming it.”

She said.

“I couldn’t think … how about ?”

We both spoke at the same time and laughed.

“Hope ….hope springs eternal!”

The good of it all had us in stitches. I doubt my aunt Virginia would have approved with her dislike of such humour.

“Have you got the poem with you?” Hope enquired.

“No. Sorry, hope some of the lines are a bit muddied.” A reply that made me blush.

Virginia would have scowled.

“Maybe the next time we meet you’ll have it done.” Hope again.

That sounds promising I muttered to myself.

“Yahoo…..you two love birds.

Have fun. See you at the local coffee house.”

Sonia and Winifred's message as they passed by on their bicycles jolting us out of our conversation.

“Lovely people. Maybe we should take their advice and head off that way.”

Hope placing her right hand on mine.

I nodded in agreement.

“I’ve had this strange feeling all day that I’m being watched… another presence.

Ever had that feeling ?” Miss Spring enquired

innocently.

“As I haven’t been in this town for long

it seems more intense than the usual curiosity.” She continued.

“Shortly after I arrived in this

area I met a charming couple called the aherns.

They warned me of gossips who fed on eavesdropping and misfortune.

Maybe that’s it. I’m certainly grateful for their warning.” Said Hope.

I could barely restrain myself at this bizarre twist that Virginia would definitely

have found amusing.

At that I walked towards the cafe with Hope while craning my neck, taking in all all my surroundings and noticing everything!!

Photographs and short story extract mantrabay copyright protected.

Thanks as always for reading and viewing my posts.

I appreciate that.

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queencarolinemikaelson · 5 years ago

Photo

After a solid number of years: Chapter Nine of care-bear-forbes and the-lonely-hybrid. You can read chapters 1-8 HERE on ff.

Caroline woke from her fitful sleep only a few short hours after falling into bed.

She honestly couldn't believe the night she had.

Surreal.

It was the only word for it.

Caroline knew she would have to go in to work at some point, but in that moment, she decided on some self-care. She rose briefly to make some breakfast and a cup of tea, before snuggling back bed to process what she was feeling.

Firstly, there was the opening party of her very own club! It was happening! All those years of planning and dreaming, coming to spectacular fruition. The next goal to focus on was the official first official day of regular trade, which was just four nights away, and there was still plenty to do to make sure they were ready.

Secondly, she met Klaus Mikaelson. Klaus Mikaelson; of all the people to attend a party she threw. That was a thing all to itself! Add the completely insane revelation that Klaus was actually her old friend Nik made it all the wilder.

Nik.

Nik, who she had loved and hated in equal measures, who both saved and damned her. She could hardly wrap her mind around the fact that he had been standing as close as two feet from her, mere hours ago.

She never thought her life could share so many plot points with a romantic comedy, but here she was.

Also, how the hell had she not noticed the similarities between Klaus and Nik? Surely she wasn't that dull. She had been blogging him like a maniac for years? Was she just blind, or just stupid?

Though, if the feeling she was experiencing right now was anything to go by, it was just too bizarre to reconcile the two as the same person. She always kept them so specifically apart from each other in her mind, so the connection was never obvious. Add the physical changes one goes through during their 20s, and maybe she was neither blind, nor stupid.

She took a sip of her tea, and let her head fall back onto her bed's headboard.

What on earth could she do with all this new found information?

If she was deeply honest with herself, Caroline knew her instinct was to run. Run away from the big city, back to her country town life. Where she could live away from this dread,and all the emotion being trudged back into her life.

But even as she considered it, Caroline knew she would never be happy if she did – as tempting as it was. She spent too long coming to terms with Nik's disappearance to let to control her life again. She also spent far too long working toward her dream business to walk away, for that matter.

As Caroline took another sip of tea, she realised that was what she kept coming back to.

Her life, her dream; that's what was important now.

She spent too long sifting through grief, too many hours crying, too many days of numbness to just forgive and forget. No matter how long Klaus promised.

The prize of his love may have been sweet, but to be swept up in grand romance… That wasn't who she was anymore.

A deep understanding settled over her, and it was terrifying to finally know what she wanted. To relinquish something she held so tightly, for so long.

But it nestled into her heart resolutely.

xxx

Klaus woke with a splitting headache. His metabolism was good, but it wasn't that good.

He was wrapped in a blanket on a semi-comfortable couch, far from his hotel bed, and Klaus groaned as he remembered his somewhat-drunken, extremely early visit to his sister. He also remembered drinking a little bit more after Rebekah went back to bed, to try and wipe Caroline completely from his memory

Fat lot of good it did him, though. Not only was his hangover worse, but he could still remember every detail of every moment of their conversation.

"Morning!" the cheery voice of his sister sang. "You look like absolute death, Niklaus. What sweet comeuppance."

"Thank you sister," he grumbled, immediately regretting it, as a wave of nausea hit him. "I'm going back to sleep."

"Uh huh, you do that," she smirked, in uncanny resemblance to her brother. "I'll make you something greasy when you wake next time."

Klaus fell back asleep almost immediately.

Why he'd insisted on stirring in the first place, he didn't know.

A few more hours passed before Klaus regained consciousness again. While he felt a damn side better this time, he was still feeling pretty rotten.

"He lives!" Bekah said, who was sitting next to him on the couch watching some trashy show on the television. "How about bacon?"

Klaus just nodded as he sat up, but didn't say anything.

Though, again, why he bothered trying to be awake was beyond him, because now, instead of waves of nausea hitting him, it was waves of utter mortification.

He would never admit it to anyone, but Klaus had imagined a reunion with Caroline many times. But none of them had involved him being slovenly drunk at 3am. How had that happened?

And to tell her he loved her and still did? What was he thinking!

Klaus sat in his humiliation silently, hoping it would relent somehow, until Bekah placed a steaming pile of bacon and eggs in front of him, as well as a very strong black coffee and a glass of water.

"So," she started, and Klaus just knew he wasn't going to be able to dodge these questions. "You met the love of your life."

"I did," Klaus said, forfeiting all pretext. It was Rebekah after all.

"And you told her you loved her."

"Yes."

"And you that you wanted to be her last love."

"I did," he said again.

"Very smooth," Rebekah said sardonically, inspecting her nails for non-existent imperfections. "Though, given the state you were in when you got here, I guess there's more to it than instant happily ever after?"

"I suppose," Klaus said, taking a big bite of bacon to save him having to respond more substantively.

"Oh, Nik," Bekah sighed. "Who even is this woman?"

"She's someone I knew a long time ago," Klaus said carefully, thinking it would be safe to answer that, given that Klaus barely told anyone about Caroline back when he knew her.

"Do you mean that online friend of yours?" Rebekah asked.

"How did you…?"

Rebekah just shrugged, innocently.

"You told me once about her, then told me another time you had a crush on someone who could never know the real you. Plus, you spent so much time on that website when you were a teenager," she replied. "Two and two."

"That's some pretty thin reasoning, Bekah," Klaus said, a bit defensive.

"Perhaps," she replied, coolly. "But your reaction confirmed it."

"It could have been anyone. It could have been Tatia!"

"Oh pish," Rebekah said, dismissively. "Tatia was a witch, and we both know it. All the women you've ever dated are not last love material, Nik."

Klaus shrugged, she was right of course. His track record with woman was visually stellar, but none of them were an epic love.

"Do you actually love her?" Rebekah asked, blunt as ever.

Klaus' cautious silence answered her question better than he could with words. Because the truth was, of course, how could he know he loved her?

Marshalling his thoughts into something resembling coherent, Klaus knew the major takeaway was of course he'd jumped the gun on telling her he loved her. He hadn't spoken to her in a decade. That kind of lack of communication wasn't a basis for love.

But he knew he wanted to try. Needed to try. Needed to see if she was what he remembered, needed to discover if his selfishness had ruined them completely, needed to understand the part of him that really was convinced he was still in love.

"I need to find out I do," Klaus said, for once, incredibly vulnerable.

But, Klaus realised he was always vulnerable when it came to Caroline. She was perhaps the only person beyond his blood that he volunteered his vulnerability to.

Perhaps that was why he cut her out so completely, because his reinvented Klaus Mikaelson was never vulnerable. A weakness like Caroline wasn't something he wanted the luxury of back when. He wanted the luxury of power.

"I best be on my way, little sister," Klaus said, as he pulled himself up from the couch, unable to sit still any longer. "Things to do. I suppose I have to make my way to the airport at some point. Thank you for breakfast, and the place to stay."

"Any time, Nik," Rebekah said, softly. "Good luck with everything."

He pressed a quick kiss to his sister's forehead, and slipped out the door before deciding where to go.

xxx

Two weeks later

Caroline sat in her office, staring at her paperwork.

She had been staring at it for days, really, and the more time separating her from her first encounter with Nik, the less she was able to push him from her mind.

It was now two weeks after the opening party. And nearly two weeks since they begun official trade.

Opening night, much like the party, had been a wild success. They had been at capacity for a few hours, and even had a queue for a while there, on a Wednesday.

And the days since had been exceeding what she had hoped for her first couple of weeks open. While there were some obvious kinks and stumbling blocks, as there was with any new business, Caroline let herself consider the idea that maybe this wasn't the completely crazy, doomed-to-fail venture others thought it was.

They were due to open for in a few hours, and she was excited. It really was exhilarating, running her own business. But, despite the success and excitement, Caroline was really struggling to the find motivation to do the pencil pushing part of her chosen business.

Because all she could think about was him.

In the two weeks since their encounter, Caroline had felt a myriad of things.

While she started off with whole-hearted conviction in what she wanted to say to him, after a few days, and some more lonely nights, she let herself imagine, wonder on all the what-ifs of life with Klaus. The life they could explore and discover together, what being his last love would be like…

Then she got mad. Filled with fury at the gall of him, after a decade to blind sight her with wild declarations of love, and empty promises of forever.

Then she was back to swayed by the romance of it all.

The underlying link connecting all her conflicting emotions was that it took a miracle for her not be consumed by thoughts of him, with work as the only thing that seemed to take her mind away.

But, now with opening day behind her, and a couple of weeks under her belt, apparently even that wasn't enough.

And so, she was back to being frustrated and upset with him.

Who the hell goes around saying I intend to be your last love and then vanishes.

Who the hell has the audacity to show up, after ten years, confessing an unending love, then doesn't even have the decency to provide contact details.

His complete lack of contact since he showed up out of the blue, solidified in Caroline's mind, that she was right. That her resolution to be frank and honest with him was exactly what she needed to do, even as much as she wanted to fall into him and never look back.

So imagine the storm of emotions she felt as someone tapped on the shoulder – hours after giving up on pretending to do paperwork, while gazing upon the second night of her dream – and she looked straight into the eyes of a man who never seemed to be too far from her mind.

"Klaus."

This has been such a long time in the making. Review HERE if you feel inclined. I’d love the feedback O:) and I love you all. Watch this space for part ten, which is written! So will not be another three years from now. Woohoo!!

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #cheesecake's chook scratchings #what a TIME to be alive lol #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline fanfic

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tsarisfanfiction · 5 years ago

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Allergy

Fandom: One Piece Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Family Characters: Law, Shachi, Penguin, Bepo

The Ope Ope no Mi is only as powerful as its user's knowledge, and Law was a surgeon, not a geneticist. Or: White Lead Poisoning isn't as extinct as everyone thinks.

Tired as he was – of life, of grieving, of dying – it's perhaps no surprise that thirteen-year-old Trafalgar Law's attempts to cure himself did not quite go to plan. He'd barely worked out how to use the fruit, death was coming knocking far too quickly, and no-one had established what exactly made White Lead Poisoning tick in the first place. His breath was no longer laboured, his movements were no longer sluggish and his skin was no longer patched with white, so the exhausted child had considered the operation a success. He'd even double-checked later, after he learnt Scan, and found nothing. For all intents and purposes, it seemed the poisoning had gone.

There were a few signs he dismissed as long-lasting effects. His immune system wasn't as strong as most; if there was a sniffle in the area he would catch it without fail. His growth, too, was jerky. His height eventually found its way to the six foot mark, so the stunt wasn't immediately apparent, but he never did fill out the way other teenage boys did after their growth spurt. Aged 26 he still felt like a gangly beanpole and no amount of training or eating could convince his body to bulk out, even if he had the strength of a man twice his size (or maybe Kikoku didn't weigh as much as it seemed it should).

The first sign manifested shortly after he formed his own crew, currently a group of four.

The day had been like any other. They'd been sailing together for two weeks, having stolen a prototype submarine shortly after leaving Swallow Island, and Bepo had directed their attention towards an island, both for restocking and resting purposes. Cooped up in the ship, no-one had had any complaints; Shachi even launched himself off the deck onto land before they'd even docked. Law had not joined him, although he shared the sentiment.

It was a quiet island. No Marines in sight, and a welcome lack of ships flying a black flag promised for an uneventful trip. The island delivered. The crew had scattered to the winds as soon as they'd hit the town, and Law had checked the apothecary and book store for supplies relevant to his interests before locating the inn he'd declared to be their rendezvous before his crew had fled. Bepo was already there, and attracting the attention of many for obvious reasons. Once the whole crew was reassembled (Bepo having been sent to retrieve Penguin after Law deemed the wait too long) they descended on the restaurant for food.

Bread. Law thought nothing of the slice innocently served with the meal. Cora-san had hated the stuff, so it hadn't been a part of his diet since Flevance (Law assumed its lack of presence with the Donquixote Family was also due to Cora-san), and keeping bread on-board was more hassle than it was worth. Perishables were a nightmare to store. Still, Law had nothing against the food itself, and was content to nibble on it once the rest of the food was consumed.

That was when everything went wrong. The nausea wasn't instantaneous, which Law was thankful for because as a pirate captain he was averse to showing weakness anywhere outside his ship, and they managed to get back to the Polar Tang before he hurled. His crew couldn't seem to decide whether they were concerned for Law, or furious at the restaurant for giving him food poisoning: the natural assumption. Law had no intention of doing anything to the restaurant staff until the wave passed, and instead dragged himself down to the infirmary to deal with the nuisance.

At least, that was the plan, but his vision swam and blinked out of existence sporadically as he tried to move, and it was mere seconds before he found himself in the warm, furry arms of his navigator as he was carried the rest of the way.

"You really don't look too good, captain," Penguin commented as they arrived, Shachi already there and hunting through their supplies. "Your skin's gone all blotchy." Absently, Law lifted an arm to inspect it, and froze. While not as stark as when he was younger, there was no way he could mistake the white splotches on his skin for anything other than White Lead Poisoning. His crew picked up on the silent distress immediately and crowded around him with remedies in hand. It took several minutes of silent panic before Law regained the presence of mind to Scan himself. The results were not pretty.

While all his Scans before had shown no sign of the disease, it now picked up anomalies that had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. It was nowhere near the scale it had been before he'd used the Ope Ope no Mi, but it was still there and that was all that mattered to Law's suddenly panicked mind. Heedless of the crew watching him with unconcealed concern, he began to dismantle his own body, tearing it apart with a desperation he hadn't felt in months, trying to tear out these new signs of his childhood hell.

"Captain!" someone cried, or maybe multiple someones. He wasn't really paying attention to them, far more concerned with getting the poison out, out, out. "Captain!" Arms locked around him; more than two – four? Other hands grasped his splintered body and he felt them fighting his power, trying to piece him back together. No! It was too soon, he wasn't done!

"Captain! Captain, stop!" He didn't stop. If he had to fight his entire crew, he would. They didn't understand what was wrong, they didn't understand he had to do this.

The only warning he got was a clink of metal before everything shut off and he collapsed back on the bed, still in pieces.

"Sorry, Captain," Shachi's miserable voice rasped. Law turned his head to see it was the ginger's hands on the cuff around his wrist. His hat and shades hid his eyes, but not the tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Get it off," he ordered, his mind still too full of it's back no no no I need to get rid of it to register his crew mate's shaking hands and trembling voice. "I need to-"

He was interrupted by the sensation of his body slotting back together, his crew working in silence. A large paw knocked his hat off his head before resting where it had been.

"Captain," Bepo's forlorn voice broke through. "What's wrong, Captain?"

"What's so bad you're tearing yourself apart, with no regard for medical procedure or even basic anatomy?" he heard Penguin scold. "Ope Ope no Mi or not you can't just break the rules like that." Dimly, Law wondered when the bully had become enough of an expert in medicine to be able to lecture him.

"Here." A glass of water was pressed to his lips as his head was raised. Shachi looked back at him sternly, but the effect was somewhat ruined by his damp cheeks and pale skin. "Drink," he ordered. "Then calm. Then talk." Restrained by the kairoseki as he was – where the hell had his crew got their hands on that, and why – he had little choice but to comply.

The water was cold, and cut through his fogged mind cleaner than a scalpel. He blinked once, twice, noticing his drowsiness extended beyond the sea stone's effects, and sighed.

"Sorry," he managed after a minute, trying to sit up. The efforts of his crew and the kairoseki thwarted him and he was forced to be content slumped against Bepo. All three were watching him, Shachi's hand back on the cuff. They were all pale, and there were more wet cheeks than dry. He'd scared them. They were scared for him. The realisation knotted in his chest; he wasn't alone.

"How serious is it?" Penguin asked. His eyes were covered as per usual, but Law could see him chewing his lip and fidgeting his hands. Law forced himself to think through the Scan he'd performed logically, trying to ignore the terror that washed over him when he recalled how White Lead Poisoning had been there.

The bread. The bread had triggered it.

That meant…

"It seems like I've developed an allergy to bread," Law admitted, wearily closing his eyes and fighting back the panic that still wanted to envelop him if given half a chance. "Most likely gluten; I'll have to run tests."

"Without tearing yourself apart in a frenzy," Shachi muttered. Law forced himself to acknowledge the point, before taking a deep breath and opening his eyes.

What good was a captain that couldn't trust his crew?

"I… used to be sick," he admitted. "Very sick. If I hadn't got my fruit when I did, it would have killed me." Someone let out a horrified gasp, he wasn't sure who, but otherwise there was silence. "My skin…" He weakly lifted one arm as best he could to show the blemishes. Penguin caught it and supported it for him. "I thought it was gone." He closed his eyes then opened them again as images flashed in his mind. Everyone that had died because of it. He didn't want to face that while his crew were watching. "But it seems like it's back."

"Captain won't die," Bepo rumbled at his back, his voice gentle but firm. The Mink truly believed it, and Law smiled weakly.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Even if I didn't get rid of it completely, I can do what I did before again." His crew sighed and exchanged a look. He missed the meaning of their silent conversation, but they descended on him as one, tugging his clothes off to replace them with the infirmary gown, bundling him into bed properly and wrapping the covers firmly around him. It hadn't escaped his notice that the gown they'd used had long sleeves, completely covering his blemished skin.

"Not now, you're not," Shachi told him, his stern face holding more weight now that he didn't resemble a ghost.

"You are going to stay right there while we treat this allergy," Penguin declared, to a unanimous sea of nodding heads.

"Doesn't this count as mutiny?" Law wondered with a small smirk on his face. "Especially with this cuff." Shachi's hand had gone but the cuff was still there. Their faces fell for just a second, and Law thought that maybe he'd managed to guilt them into taking the kairoseki off.

"It's not mutiny if it's for Captain's own good," Bepo declared, and at the resulting rally of nods Law knew he had lost. There was a brief pause, as if the crew were making sure they really weren't going to be done in for mutiny later, before they leapt into action again.

Law missed most of it, however, as he finally crashed into unconsciousness.

The next time he was aware of his surroundings, it was to a prick in his arm. He shifted it in protest, and hands stilled him with a touch.

"Easy, Captain," he heard before drifting off again.

Following that, his next moment of semi-awareness was to hushed voices talking too quietly for him to make out. His surroundings were pleasantly warm and sleep coaxed him back almost before he'd begun to surface.

Other such instances peppered his rest several times before he finally gained enough consciousness to comprehend what was going on.

Low hums generated from the machinery surrounding him told him that he was still in the infirmary. The scent of antiseptics confirmed it, alongside the familiar texture of the sheets beneath him. Familiar, but not his bed. He was still in a light gown, although the sleeves were shorter now. The needle sitting in his arm told him why. A drip, he assumed, which meant it had been sufficiently long enough since he'd last been conscious that his crew had seen fit to give him nutrition by other means. The kairoseki was gone.

His eyes peeled open reluctantly, and he looked around. A bobble hat betrayed Penguin's presence at the desk. He was slumped over as if asleep, but when Law shifted he immediately bolted upright.

"Captain!" He was at Law's side in seconds. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better." And he was. He'd expected to feel the heaviness of the White Lead Poisoning, but there was nothing. "Why are we moving?" The low hum hadn't just been the machinery surrounding him, but the Polar Tang's engines themselves. The room was warmer than usual, so they were submerged.

"Another pirate crew showed up and caused enough fuss that the village called the Marines," Penguin explained. "Shachi decided we should leave before they arrived."

Law nodded in understanding.

"That was yesterday," Penguin continued. "We've been staying submerged as much as possible so we don't draw attention to ourselves while Bepo finds us another island." Law nodded again, relieved to know that his crew could make decisions without him if the need arose. It was another weight off his chest.

"Am I allowed to treat myself yet?" he asked. "Or will you cuff me if I try?" He made sure to keep a more friendly smirk on his face, and a lighter tone. In hindsight, his crew had made the right decision when they'd restrained him, even if he was going to need to find those cuffs and confiscate them later, alongside a lecture to his crew on proper uses of the things. He did not plan on being cuffed every time they thought it was for his own good. Penguin fidgeted at the mention, but was unrepentant.

"You can Scan," he told him. "But no treatment. The allergy's effects haven't been totally kicked yet, and after that we need to finish sorting out the mess you made of your own insides. In that order." Law hid a wince, remembering his frenzied actions. "But if you'd look at your arm," Penguin continued, unexpectedly, "you'd see that you probably don't have anything to worry about."

Puzzled, Law lifted his arm – the one without the drip – to see what Penguin was talking about.

It looked normal. If Law looked closely, he could see paler blemishes, but it was nothing compared to when he'd last looked. He frowned, confused.

"You're the expert," Penguin shrugged. "But to us it looks like your old illness only flares up for as long as you're sick. It's been fading since we put you on the antibiotics."

That was interesting. Law performed the Scan, just to check what was going on beneath the surface, and found that it was receding. Odd, and more than a little puzzling.

"Satisfied?" Penguin asked him after a moment, offering him a mug of water. Law was willing to bet there was a sleep aid dissolved in it, but accepted it anyway. He was certain 'drugging your captain without telling him' ranked alongside 'restraining your Devil Fruit user captain with kairoseki', but didn't comment as he drank it obediently, Penguin helping him sit up enough not to choke.

He was unsurprised when drowsiness began to set in, and willingly settled back down in the bed. Penguin looked sheepish for a moment, before he realised that Law had been well aware what he'd been given before he'd taken it and set the now-empty mug aside for the moment.

The infirmary door opened and Law flicked his gaze over to see who had entered. Noticing, Shachi practically threw himself across the room.

"You're awake!" he grinned, openly relieved.

Law recalled the realisation that his crew actually cared.

"Not for much longer," he yawned, his eyes sliding half-closed. He allowed himself a smile as he listened to Shachi scold Penguin for 'putting Captain back to sleep before anyone else could see him'.

"He needs the sleep." Penguin stubbornly held his ground. "He isn't fully recovered yet."

Shachi's retort blurred into nothing.

The next time Law stirred, the background hum was quieter and the infirmary cooler. They were docked, then. This time there was no-one in the room with him, so he performed his own Scan to check his condition before deeming himself arguably well enough to move. His insides were still in a shambles, but they were operational, and he couldn't deny that the silence was disconcerting. Where were his crew?

He eased himself out of bed, removing the needle in his arm as he did so, and looked around for something to wear. He was not wandering around in an infirmary gown.

His crew, wherever they had gone, seemed to have anticipated this; in the corner he saw clothes that were very definitely his. He'd talk to them about going into his room without permission some other time. He had to find them first.

The clothes were ones he'd bought in anticipation of his next growth spurt, leaving them looser than his preference, but they fit well enough to wander around his ship. Now dressed, he left the infirmary to investigate the silence.

The crew weren't inside the submarine. He checked the mess hall first, alongside the kitchen, then the recreation room and even the library. No-one. Now thoroughly spooked, although he would never admit it, he headed to the deck. At least one of them had to be there on watch, right?

As it turned out, when he opened the heavy door, all three had decided to commune on the deck for some unknown reason. Bepo spotted him first.

"Captain!" he called, standing up and ambling over to him, wrapping him in a warm bear hug. "You're awake!"

"I'm awake," he agreed with a fond smile as the rest of the crew surrounded them. Hands touched him, ranging from checking his vitals to just a simple brush against his arm, and he couldn't help but close his eyes for a moment, accepting the comfort his crew offered.

"While it's good to see you out of bed," Penguin piped up, "have you put yourself back together yet?"

Law didn't deign to answer, and found himself being dragged back towards the infirmary by his crew. As tempting as it was to Shambles away, he knew that they wanted him to fix himself and he supposed he had enough energy to do that. Forcibly, although not unwillingly, settled back down on the bed by his crew, he gathered his focus together before summoning his Room.

This time he was more careful about how he cut himself up, aiming to put himself back together properly this time, not damage his body further. His crew's attempts at piecing him together hadn't been too bad; his body had still been able to function, if not at full capacity. But he felt the difference as he slowly reversed all the changes. It took a long time, the work was delicate and required maximum concentration, but eventually he was done, wearily leaning back against the pillow.

Hands shifted him until he was lying back on the bed, the covers once again pulled over him.

"Now you just need to regain your strength," Penguin told him. "Shachi's bringing food." Sure enough, minutes later a hot soup was pushed into his hands and his crew helped him drink it. "We'll work out the exact nature of the allergy once you're back at full strength," the teen continued. "I already took a blood sample while you were out." Law nodded with a small smile and let his crew fuss over him while he recovered from using his fruit so much.

While his childhood nightmare might never leave him for good, he wasn't alone. His crew loved him, a realisation that lifted the darkness the poisoning threatened.

He still had some kairoseki cuffs to confiscate.

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #trafalgar law #penguin #shachi #bepo #heart pirates #tsari writes fanfiction #tales from the heart #allergic reaction #ope ope no mi #white lead poisoning

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angst-fairygodmother · 4 years ago

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One Fair(e) Day - Of Corsets Sexy - Klaus

A/N: I’ll be honest, this was the crazy, stupid idea that started this whole thing. Picture it in your mind. Feel it in your soul. Enjoy 😄 Word Count: 996 Content Warning: alcohol consumption DISCLAIMER: ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ACTUAL SHOWS, EVENTS, OR PERSONS IS COINCIDENTAL AND/OR MEANT IN GOOD FUN

The next sibling you came upon was the most dramatic of them, and you grinned, excited to see what he might get into.

“Klaus!” you called, greeting him on one of the shopping throughways, pitching your voice dramatically like you’d just met in an inn after many years of adventuring apart.

“Y/N!” he cried back, equally dramatic and excited, throwing his arms up and open wide.

“Where did you leave Vanya?” he asked as you two embraced.

“Awakening a new side of herself with Shakespearean sword-fighting women.”

“Oh you are naughty! I love it,” he snickered.

“So what trouble are you up to, dear Klaus?”

“I want it to be a surprise. I’ll meet you over at that table,” Klaus pointed across the way at one of the picnic tables by the pub tent and you rolled your eyes, nodding in agreement rather than wasting your breath arguing.

You had just taken a sip of your drink, the sweet tang of the mead coating your tongue pleasingly when Klaus emerged from the booth and you choked, feeling the alcohol burn a path up your nose and flood your lungs. Coughing, you bent double and tried to regain your breath as he sauntered over, grinning like a cat who’d gotten the canary.

He had traded his brightly colored top for something more…scandalous, if akin to what many other people were wearing. The corset was black brocade, with lace trimming and red bead embellishments like droplets of blood. It hugged close to his figure without creating an unnatural shape, a credit to whomever had laced him into it.

“Well?” he drawled, smirking.

When you finally recovered, you nodded, lips pressed together and eyebrows raised.

“It’s…um…yeah…” you floundered. “Uh…ah…a look. G-g-good…good look. Was definitely not expecting that.”

“Aw, Y/N. Do I take your breath away? What will Diego have to say about that?”

You shot him a glare and he giggled.

“If you’re done trying to kill me,” you pouted. “What do you want to do now?”

“Finish this drink and then go show off,” he said, picking up your mead and chugging about half of it before you could warn him.

He grimaced as the pressure from the carbon dioxide and fermentation settled into his gut and fought the tightness of the corset.

“Ow!” he whined. “Why is this delicious alcohol betraying me?”

“Slow sips, small bites, bend at the hips, and don’t breathe from the diaphragm. I could have told you that if you had asked instead of stealing my drink.” You smugly plucked the plastic cup out of his hand and took another sip.

“Excuse me!” A voice called out from the crowd and you sighed, recognizing it immediately as the Constable. “Sir! You are in violation of the laws of the realm!”

The short sandy-haired man seemed to materialize out of nowhere, hands planted firmly on his hips as he blocked Klaus’s path.

“What?” he asked, eyes wide in genuine concern that he was about to get kicked off the fairgrounds.

“You failed to stop at the designated point,” the Constable said, pointing to the little wooden sign, almost hidden among the rocks of the path.

“Oh! My deepest apologies,” Klaus grinned flirtatiously. “How ever can I make it up to you?”

You struggled to contain your eyeroll at the antics that were about to ensue. The Constable had been a staple act of the faire since you were a child, with his little wooden stop sign and ticket book. Some years, including this one, he brought “the criminal court” as a stage show which involved increasingly ludicrous punishments such as having to sing “I’m a little teapot” before the crowd or having ten people selected to shame you with Shakespearean insults, culminating in one unlucky soul being selected for the dunk tank. The more you tried to get out of your ticket, the more likely it was that you were going to be the one getting wet. And as amusing as it would be, you did not look forward to Klaus’s complaints of chaffing from his new corset and his leather pants afterward.

“Are you attempting to bribe an officer of the law?” the Constable snapped, drawing your attention back to the pair.

“Bribe? No, never! I was really aiming more for seduce,” Klaus purred, raising an eyebrow and shimmying in his new attire.

The Constable pressed his lips together and tutted, dramatically shaking his head, before whipping out his quill and pad.

“Failure to stop at stop sign, attempting to evade, excessive jubilation, knavery, consorting with ruffians,” he gestured at you vaguely before returning to checking off the boxes on the ticket. “Public indecency – St. George be praised, put on a shirt, man – and other, insincere flirtation and attempts at charm.”

He tore the little paper off of his pad and handed it to Klaus who stared down at it in confusion.

“If I see any other lawbreaking from you, I’ll be forced to have you arrested and dragged before the court at three and thirty. You may also appear there if you wish to contest any of the charges on your ticket. Good day sir.”

With a tip of his hat, the Constable vanished back into the crowd.

Bewildered, Klaus turned to you, holding the ticket vaguely in one hand.

“What…just happened?” he asked.

You giggled. “You got Constable’d. It happens to the best of us. Dressed as you are, he pegged you as someone who’d play along, and maybe draw in a few people to the show if they see you up on stage.”

“Oh…”

“So are you going to?”

“To what?”

“Contest your charges? It’s a fun show, and I know you love the attention.” You smiled teasingly at him.

“How dare you! Just for that, I think I will. And I’ll say that you forced me into it, and I’m just a poor innocent boy.” He flashed his best puppy-dog eyes.

“Save it for the jury, Hargreeves.”

#renaissance faire AU?#Hargreeves siblings #Klaus Hargreeves #reader insert #crack fic #TUA #The Umbrella Academy fic #hinted/referenced Diego x reader #two chapters in a day? madness #don't get used to it #I also have a oneshot almost done even though I got the request tonight because I'm AVOIDING MY PROBLEMS

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